Whip Me

by Cathryn Cooper

  ‘By all means,’ he conceded.

  She lowered her neck on to the smooth wood and placed her hands in the holes on either side. She wondered just how many other necks had rested here. Hale lowered the beam over the nape of her neck and secured the device. Harriet immediately felt physical discomfort. She was standing, bent forward, her head at waist height, her hips taking the strain. She shuffled her feet, flexed her wrists and attempted to rotate her head. There was no way she could pull free.

  Hale was stand in front of her, assessing the device with a scholarly eye. His erection showed no signs of receding. If anything, it was more pronounced.

  ‘Well,’ Harriet teased, eying the swelling, ‘What are you going to do to me?’

  ‘It’s about time I got my own back,’ he replied, a note of glee in his voice.

  He moved behind Harriet and she sensed he was standing very close. She imagined his eyes roaming across her body. In this strange position, she felt very vulnerable. She trembled in anticipation. In a second, he hitched her skirt up and planted his hands on her exposed rump, a warm palm clasping each plump cheek, smoothing her prickling flesh. Harriet didn’t resist. The young professor massaged her bottom lightly, strong fingers digging gently but firmly into the supple tissue. He was taking his time, sizing her up. He kneaded and squeezed, his hands rotating wantonly, thumbs trailing over the gusset of her skimpy pink knickers, pushing the fabric deep into the cleft, easing the silky satin up her back, rendering more bare skin to his determined touch.

  She closed her eyes, savoured the resolute strumming of his fingers, a light tap and then – Ow! – a single smack. Her body jolted forward, an involuntary reaction to the suddenness of the slap rather than any physical pain. Her skin buzzed.

  She felt so naughty; she was far too old to be spanked. But she liked it. She liked it a lot. He slapped her butt again, this time more forcefully. Harriet flinched, savouring the brief sting and then the sizzling rush. Her bottom, momentarily cool, now flushed red-hot. It was not alone; her pussy was hungrily devouring the pain of pleasure. It craved attention. It ached to be filled.

  ‘Fuck me!’ Harriet cried out, spreading her taut, stretched legs apart.

  Hale wasted no time, wrenching the crotch of her damp panties to one side. His first thrust opened her up pleasingly. His second, harder and deeper, made her gasp. His hands remained firmly clenched to her butt as he thrust in and out, penetrating her further with every long stroke. Harriet felt her orgasm grow rapidly. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, held Hale’s pounding muscle tight, her cunt rippling joyously over the firm shaft. With a final thrust, he came inside her and her knees buckled.

  Standing at the front door of the museum, the breeze still whistling through the courtyard, Harriet no longer felt cold.

  Party Of The Third Part

  by Jeremy Edwards

  I think we were in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner on a weeknight, when Margaret broached the subject. ‘Julia wants to watch us,’ was what she said.

  Julia was Margaret’s best friend – our best friend, really, by this point. Though Margaret’s statement was out of the blue and, on the surface, rather vague, I tingled with a hunch. ‘Watch us?’ I replied. I poured myself a little more of the Pinot Noir that I’d retrieved from the dining-room table.

  Margaret blushed slightly as our eyes met. ‘Yeah. She wants to – you know – watch us do it. I think she’s bored.’

  I laughed. ‘She wants to watch us ‘do it’ because she’s bored? How bored can you get?’

  Margaret smiled, but her explanation was in earnest. ‘She’s still between relationships, taking some time to re-acquaint herself with herself, keeping a low profile.’ Margaret and Julia had eaten lunch together the day before. Since both Margaret and I had been out of the house till late in the evening that day, this was the first I’d heard about their lunchtime chat. It seems the best conversations always happen when I can’t attend a get-together.

  ‘Anyway . . . she told me she’s not really ready to go out looking for sex again. But I guess she’s becoming weary of the same old auto-eroticism scene. That’s why she asked if she could come over and watch us sometime.’

  Margaret made it sound so simple, so logical. Yet I couldn’t help laughing again. ‘You surprise me, sweetcheeks. From what I’ve been reading lately, masturbation is practically the hottest sex out there for the sensuous woman.’

  My wife smirked, mischievously this time. She reached forward to poke my taut belly. ‘Who says it isn’t? But, just for a change of scene, Julia wants to come over and masturbate in our bedroom. With us heating it up.’

  Call me dense, but it hadn’t yet occurred to me that lovely Julia would actually be masturbating while she watched us ‘do it’. Margaret’s eyes travelled down my body as the front of my trousers grew un-mysteriously full and hard. Half an hour later, she was riding me for all she was worth and having the most intense orgasm she’d experienced in weeks.

  Julia was wearing a shoulder-teasing sun dress when she arrived for dinner. Her fresh-featured expression and corn-blonde hair were topped off with an elegant straw hat. The hat, I was pleased to find, remained on during the meal.

  Julia was not more beautiful, nor more charming, nor more sexy than my Margaret. But she was the only woman I knew who came close in all categories. I imagine many men have a two-women-in-bed fantasy; and in my fantasy life, there was no question that the party of the third part was our friend Julia. Margaret knew this, and she was perfectly comfortable with it. So comfortable, in fact, that she had acted like I was doing her a favour when I’d joined in assenting to Julia’s request.

  The meal was less leisurely than it had been on the many previous occasions on which Julia had been our guest. We all seemed to be honouring an unspoken arrangement to keep things moving swiftly along.

  ‘I think dessert later, probably,’ said Margaret, looking to me for feedback.

  ‘Definitely,’ I said. My mind had already moved beyond food.

  ‘I hope you really don’t mind my ‘tagging along’ into the bedroom tonight,’ said Julia. ‘I was the kid sister in my family, so I guess tagging along is in my blood.’ Her sensitively-moulded face favoured us with one of its most engaging grins. She looked positively kissable.

  Margaret beamed back at her, indulgently. ‘Don’t worry.’

  I felt myself harden as we all silently acknowledged each other’s complicity.

  In the bedroom, I was a little self-conscious at first – despite my dining-room erection. It felt strange to know that Julia was watching while I gave Margaret’s luscious, bare ass an inaugural squeeze and I delivered a kiss to each hind cheek. Margaret, however, showed no signs of awkwardness.

  Taking my cue from her, I too relaxed. Quickly warming to the situation, I gave Margaret’s behind more kisses and squeezes.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Julia. She was sitting in her sun dress and floppy hat in a comfortable chair, her thighs spread just enough for me to glimpse her pink panties. Her sensual mouth was open.

  With Margaret’s bottom wiggling delectably, I could already tell that she was in the mood to be taken doggie-style tonight. Though neither of us was quite ready, she previewed the main attraction by getting up on her knees and offering herself to me, rear first. With her derriere in my face, I kissed her soft pussy lips, licking and tasting, until she was quivering.

  As I removed my mouth from my wife’s wet love-hole, something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. I turned my head for an instant, long enough to see that Julia had slipped a finger into her panties. Her body was rocking gracefully, and her kissable lips were pouting intently.

  I knew that Margaret would probably want another helping of foreplay. In this spirit, I decided to drive her wild by further stimulating her erogenous zones. With nimble deftness, my tickle finger jumped from the crack of her tingling ass to the place she likes it under her arm . . . then back again.

  ‘Oh,
yeah, tickle her ass,’ said a voice behind me. I turned my head again and saw Julia gazing at us with a milky, drunken look. Her panties were stretched to the limit and her hand was jammed in there, working herself like crazy. Her knees were even vibrating.

  A blissful ‘ooh’ from Margaret brought my attention back to where it primarily belonged. I knew this body so well, and I could tell just from the rhythm of its undulations, and the temperature and firmness of the flesh I was currently kneading, that it was time. I reached under Margaret’s chest and embraced her in an intimate hug, my hands softly groping her breasts and my engorged cock pressing against the crack of her bottom. Before entering her sweet little cunt from behind, I gave it a few strokes with my fingers, teasing the lips and spreading the fresh juices that even Julia could probably smell.

  Margaret and I sank forward as I thrust into her. While we pounded against each other, I once again titillated the sensitive flesh under her arms.

  I heard Julia cry out in glee when I came. Moments later, with my hand and her own working her clit as a practiced team, Margaret shuddered around my numbness. We collapsed in a heap, and she kissed her pillow as the delirious aftershocks rippled through her.

  Dessert was anti-climactic. Julia and Margaret made plans to have lunch together again, and the conversation drifted into upcoming concerts and vacations.

  When Julia bent to collect her tote bag prior to leaving, I noticed the clinging wet stain on the underside of her panties.

  ‘She wants to do it again,’ Margaret said over supper, after she’d next seen Julia. ‘We were thinking this Friday.’

  We were thinking this Friday. I noted that there was no doubt in any of our minds that the arrangement would be agreeable. It was merely a question of what day would work.

  Margaret and I had been fucking with even less inhibition than usual since Julia had watched us. Tonight, fresh from our discussion about the next session, we practically ground the mattress into the floor.

  Margaret and I had already undressed when Julia suggested a variation.

  ‘How would you feel if I were closer this time?’ she asked. ‘The bed is pretty big… I thought maybe I could sit at the edge and watch from there.’ Before we had even answered, Julia was sitting, tentatively, at the corner of the bed, testing its bounce. She looked like a hotel guest who has yet to discard her shoes and freshen up, but who wants to sample the inviting mattress before doing anything else.

  Margaret and I exchanged glances. Her half-nod of hopeful encouragement, along with her trademark indulgent smile, confirmed that she and I were on the same page.

  ‘Make yourself at home,’ I said to Julia.

  I dived onto the fitted sheet with Margaret. I was totally naked; she was nude except for the no-longer-closed front-closing bra that flapped enticingly around as I licked at her nipples. It was a bit surreal doing all this with Julia seated neatly at the edge of the bed – dressed elegantly in a skirt, a floral blouse, and stockings. But though it was weird, it was also a turn-on – for me, certainly, and for Margaret as well, I could assume. When I thrust my arm between Margaret’s legs and rubbed her pussy with my wrist, Julia’s slender fingers darted neatly up her own skirt. And when I began fingering Margaret’s asshole, I noticed Julia’s breasts pressing discreetly against her blouse.

  Cock entered cunt, slowly, and I now held Margaret’s arms gently above her, opening her body to all the pleasure that my mouth could deliver across her torso while the pulse of my prick throbbed through her interior. Julia’s rear began to bounce sympathetically on the mattress she’d tested earlier.

  ‘Put your finger back in her ass,’ Julia urged.

  ‘Hey, no comments from the peanut gallery.’ It just felt like the thing for me to say. After all, Margaret seemed happy – to say the least – as we were, and, well, a guy only has two hands.

  I saw Julia grin at my retort. I observed that she had her right hand around the back of her skirt, under which she had presumably found her own anus to tease. At the front, her plump pussy lips flashed us as they enjoyed the full attention of her left hand. Stockings, yes; panties, no, I realised. She looked gorgeously lewd, doing herself in both holes.

  A shout of acute bliss from Margaret turned my eyes back her way, and soon we were trembling together. The bed bounced emphatically when Julia writhed to her private climax, her digits frenetically active.

  By the third Friday evening, we had settled into a routine. Margaret and I cooked, and Julia brought the wine.

  As dinner wound down, I could see that Julia was getting wound up. Again, she raised the subject of ground rules.

  ‘I know I’m here only as an observer. But I was wondering…’ she began, tentatively. ‘I was wondering if I need to remain dressed this time. And if it would be OK if I… if I…’ she lowered her eyes; was she actually blushing? ‘If I touched you both,’ she finished.

  ‘You want to touch us?’ Margaret, too, looked flushed – and intrigued.

  ‘Yes, Margaret, I want to touch you, while you . . . do it,’ Julia averred. ‘Maybe be touched by you, too, especially when I’m . . . getting close.’ Her eyes now met mine directly.

  The implications of Julia’s proposal, and the delicate way she had delivered it, were making me predictably horny. Yet I was confused. ‘If you actually get undressed,’ I said, ‘and touch us, and are touched by us, and are brought to orgasm . . . in what way, exactly, are you just an ‘observer’?’

  ‘It’s all in the attitude,’ Julia answered, with a return of her poise. ‘I will maintain a detached, aloof attitude.’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you expect us to buy that?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted graciously.

  That night, Julia reclined on our bed, enjoying a nudity that suggested oil paintings. Her hand felt sweet on my thigh as I pumped into Margaret. Margaret, in turn, clasped her friend’s other hand in a tender grip, even when orgasm claimed them both. The picture was completed by the presence of my fingers just inside the lips of Julia’s cunt, where she gyrated around my passive presence. With minimal help from me, she coaxed herself first to dampness and finally to climax.

  Another week passed, and Julia arrived for dinner with more wine . . . and more boldness.

  ‘OK,’ she said over salad. ‘Who am I kidding. I want to hop in the sack with you two and have it all.’

  ‘I guess this was inevitable,’ Margaret laughed, her eyes twinkling.

  As the three of us undressed, I felt like we were on a swim team. But I knew I was getting ready for something better than a swim meet.

  Julia was the first to break the ice. ‘Do me a favour,’ she requested of me. ‘Give my ass cheeks a couple of little slaps. They’re itching for it.’ She pointed her enticing bottom my way and sent a hand into her own crotch. Margaret nodded to me, and I complied, relishing Julia’s wiggles and giggles beneath my gentle palm. Within seconds, the hand she had wedged into herself brought forth a playful climax.

  ‘That’s what I’ve been missing,’ she said. ‘It gets lonely back there when I go too long without some friendly stimulation.’

  A few minutes later, I found myself lifting the topsheet so that it covered two sets of feminine legs to the back of the thigh, with the result that two lovely bottoms were framed above the border of the sheet. Where my Margaret’s had a quiet, statuesque grace, Julia’s boasted a winking sexuality. Its modest roundness drew the eye in from the streamlined territory of her petite, milk-white back.

  I could not keep my hands off either of these glorious derrieres. I was tempted to climb atop them and grind myself against the cheeks, rolling from one behind to the other, until I should orgasm all over the inviting flesh.

  Something flashed through my mind. ‘Put your finger back in her ass.’ Julia from the peanut gallery, two weeks earlier, when her participation in our lovemaking had been indirect. And so, in the midst of stroking my wife’s cunt lips with my left hand, I placed the tip of my right forefinger in our friend Julia�
�s tidy asshole. It made me incredibly aroused to see them both wriggle beneath me. My wife’s brown hair and Julia’s blonde hair were twin manes of dynamic sexuality as they pressed their hot faces into their respective pillows.

  When I saw a hand touching Julia’s cunt, I initially thought it was her own. Then I realised it was Margaret’s, and this realization further augmented my erection.

  I flopped on top of them, still keeping one hand in Margaret’s cunt and the other in Julia’s rear. We formed a sort of flattened, rudimentary human pyramid, a jiggling pile of flesh that was awake to all pleasures. My head was level with their shoulder blades, and my rigid cock pushed deliciously into the crevice formed where their thighs pressed together. The soft flesh on either side of my member formed a metaphorical cunt; and, while I kissed their dainty backs and tickled their orifices, I felt like I was fucking a new, abstract woman, a collage of flesh and scent and sensation into which my wife and our friend had merged. Even the sounds they made began to blend . . . so that instead of hearing Margaret’s happy whimpers on my left and Julia’s intense moans on my right, I began to hear a musical composite, in which it became difficult to distinguish the individual voices. This choral effect gave a transcendent, sublime quality to the entire sensory experience, and when their orgasms triggered my own I felt like I was having a dream – a wet dream.

  Margaret got up to pee, and Julia headed for the living room. I thought we might be finished for the evening. But then Julia came back, still beautifully nude, with a fresh bottle of wine. And as she returned from a second trip – with glasses and a corkscrew – Margaret emerged from the bathroom, sighing with the synergistic contentment of orgasm followed by bathroom break.

  Julia held the wine bottle up. It was a luscious prop in the hands of such a sexual creature. ‘Will you join me?’ she asked with a slight formality that seemed humorously out of place, under the circumstances.

  The rich red glasses of Cabernet must have looked striking against our three pale bodies, as we sat comfortably on the bed.