Balustrade

by Mark Henry

  The sounds of sex blended together in the courtyard like the waller of a crowd after a jury verdict. Once again she noticed the acts going on in the rooms as she passed, whereas she didn't recall paying them any attention at all on the walk back from Ludovic's office, so flummoxed was she by the scenario.

  So turned on.

  Hilary didn't know it was possible to be as horny as she was at that moment, and for that she guessed she was thankful. She'd learned something from witnessing Chantal's oral seduction of Ludo. Something she didn't take lightly.

  Abandon.

  It had been that rare experience, once had, you long for it immediately. You mourn its passing. She could feel something akin to grief taking over her as she passed rooms overflowing with sexual bliss in all of its forms. She lingered outside, sometimes alone, at times with others, holding each other up like drunks as the participants screwed each other into shouts of oblivion.

  Hilary made her way to the second floor, to the staff floor and noticed there were curtains on the windows and names on the doors. She stopped at one and stared at the engraved plate, an odd feeling settling in like summer rainstorm. The sign read: Glynnis and Gerald Crawford.

  The suggestives were couples?

  Hilary backtracked to the previous room. Julian and Clay Ellis-McInerny. And the one before that. Alex and Sandra Marron. Rachel and Megan Rhodes-Chow. She stopped in her tracks, trying to make sense of it. The staff's behavior at the cocktail party hadn't suggested that they were anything but single.

  So many of them were surrogates, most in the rooms upstairs fucking the guests or being fucked, teaching old dogs new tricks. Old fucks, new fucks. It didn't make any sense. Hilary couldn't imagine a scenario where a couple was a better option.

  Didn't jealousy come into play? No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she began to hear a scuffle further down the hall. Muffled shouting that she couldn't resist. The voices raised in anger.

  “This is the wrong meat!” a voice cried out.

  Hilary crept closer to the room.

  “I can't take this anymore,” the same female voice said.

  “It's just five more days and then we're done. Five days isn't so bad.”

  “You can say that, but you don't know. You drew surrogate. I'm just a suggestive. The only person having any fun in this room is you.”

  “You want I should fuck you?”

  “Fuck you, Gruenwald.”

  “And you, Wraith.”

  Hilary glanced at the plate on the door: Mary-Alice and Jonathon Smithers. Gruenwald didn't seem to be an easy nickname to surmise from either of those names. And Wraith was, well, weird, to be honest. Spooky. It was bad enough that people signed up for treatment at Balustrade. But to work here?

  Who were these people? And how the hell did they find out about it? Was there some kind of online forum for voyeuristic, bossy, scribblers? And who was going to get Mary-Alice the right meat?

  What was that about? Hilary didn’t think she was talking about food.

  Hilary backed away, none of it making any sense, and let out a sharp gasp as her back hit the railing.

  “Shh!” the female voice hissed.

  Hilary bit her tongue and padded off toward the stair, slipping into the shadows of a doorway as a male figure stepped out onto the landing, Gruenwald/Jonathon Smithers, presumably. She held her breath and tried not to move. The man glanced around and then ducked his head back into his room.

  The door clicking, she finally let her guard down and her lungs clear.

  Ridiculous, she thought. What was she doing playing Nancy Drew?

  There were more pressing matters.

  And her pussy was still wet with them.

  ***

  Jack was, as Hilary suspected, splayed across the bed on his stomach, snoring lightly when she got back to the suite. His head and arms dangled toward the far wall, his bare feet jutting past the mattress nearest her. As she approached him, letting the robe slip over her shoulders and drop to the floor, Hilary noticed movement through the window on the landing.

  Glynnis.

  The suggestive was writing a note, she glanced at Hilary, gazing directly into her eyes and, startlingly Hilary felt no shame at standing before the woman completely nude, something had changed, or perhaps the tea, or simply the sexual aura of the place had finally shifted something within her, so much so that Hilary stepped forward to read the woman's direction.

  Do as you wish.

  Glynnis smiled broadly, pivoted and disappeared beyond Hilary's sightline. Thankfully. And with that, Hilary could hold back no longer. She crawled over her husband's resting body, running her hands up his hairy legs, up under the robe, loosely covering his body and exposing his firm ass. She lowered herself atop him and nestled her lips into his neck.

  “You're here,” he said, a yawn clearing his throat. “That was some party, right?”

  “Shh,” Hilary whispered and slipped her hand underneath him, reaching for his cock.

  He let out a quick gasp and raised his hips for her to get a better grip.

  “We need to try a few things.” Hilary rethought, corrected herself. “I need to try a few things.”

  She cradled him, his thickening dick twisted sideways toward her and resting up her wrist, Hilary nestled her middle finger deep under his scrotum, separating his balls.

  It felt strange to be in this position above him.

  The position was not unfamiliar so much as forgotten. Powerful. Hilary couldn't deny the thrill of turning herself over to her basest physical desires, to her need to take what she wanted, to use Jack's body for her purposes. To play out a dominant role in their lovemaking.

  “Fuck, Hilary. That's a little tight.”

  “Mmm. Then I guess you better roll over,” she whispered, loosening the grip around his already hard cock slightly, even as she coiled her tongue around his earlobe.

  “Uh,” he cooed and rolled between her legs. Hilary lifted herself up a bit to give him room and to avoid the inevitable. As Jack rotated he reached for her side to lower her onto the bed, to take the upper hand. She swatted it away and lowered herself again, trapping his prick between them, sliding the lips of her cunt up and down his engorged shaft.

  Jack hadn't always been so predictable.

  In fact, he—like all men—enjoyed his lazy fucks, leisurely relishing simply laying there while she rode his cock all the way to ejaculation.

  Hilary rode him, then, too, ferociously bucking against Jack's hips, forcing his cock deep within her. He reached for her breasts and she let him knead them for just a moment, long enough for his rough thumbs to swirl about her nipples, teasing them and then she gripped his wrists and fell forward. She held them against his chest, balancing her weight on those thick hollows of bone and sinew.

  She took him.

  Jack's face was red with greedy lust, his eyes locked on her. His hips rose to meet her, pushing deeper. Their thrusts slapped wetly, echoing around the glass and concrete. She watched as Jack's breathing quickened, his stomach quivered, his hands balled into shaky fists. Not yet, she thought and flattened atop him, forcing her cunt to take him all and settling there, deathly still around his turgid cock.

  “Don't you fucking come,” she said, though it was more of a demand and from the look in Jack's eye—curious, frenzied—Hilary could tell he'd received the message.

  A stuttering gasp issued from his mouth and she covered it with her own, feeding on his tongue as he thrust it forward, instinct taking over. Hilary hadn't felt such passion swell within her or exude from her husband in years. Gone was the sad smile, replaced by a feral grin, lips curled back from his teeth.

  “You're on fire,” he hissed.

  She nodded, her eyebrow arching as a sinister idea floated to the forefront of her mind. Lifting herself off of him, she released Jack's wrists and climbed down to his wet cock, hard and aching against his belly, twitching like an electrocution. She lingered above it, taking it in, glancing to see
his face gone pale with need. She waited for it.

  “Please,” he begged. “Do it.”

  Oh I'll do it, she thought.

  And then some.

  Hilary gripped his thick cock low, jacking it off a bit, before taking it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head, making intentionally loud smacking sounds with each slobbery suck. Jack cried out, and reared up onto his elbows, intent on watching her as she blew him. Hilary raised her other hand and flipped him off. When his mouth dropped open in confusion, she forced her finger inside it and he did her bidding, sucking at it even as Hilary continued to work the head of his cock, already salty with the promise of his climax. Hilary cheeked it and let it escape with a pop.

  “Don't suck off all the spit or you'll be sorry,” she warned.

  He opened his mouth and swiping across his tongue, Hilary took her finger back and slipped her hand between his legs, finding his tight little anus and wet it with his own saliva, drawing circles around it. She felt his legs quivering, lifting, giving her more room, as she knew he would. Jack whimpered. As she took his cock again, swallowing it to the hilt, Hilary pushed against him, wriggling inside, one knuckle, then two, until her middle finger was deep within him and his feet were kicking against the bed, his cry feral, trapped between pain and ecstasy.

  “Oh my God,” he cried out and then again a second later, when his come spurted into the back of her throat.

  Hilary fingered him throughout, stroking the ruddy bit of flesh inside of him, fucking him, milking the whole of his manhood for everything he could give. Thick and salty turned thin and flavorless as the semen kept coming. And she slurped and let it drizzle back over his purpled cock before swallowing it again, cleaning it and then finally, when he couldn't stand it any longer, she raised up off him. Stared down at him as she wiped it from around her lips, sucking the last of it from her fingers and then made a deliberate show of swallowing.

  “That's mine,” she said, pointing at his lilting cock.

  Jack merely nodded in amazement. Hilary crawled up him then, straddling his shoulders and presented her cunt for him to feast on again.

  Hilary settled around his jaw, lowering her pussy lips gently against Jack's tongue, already struggling to meet her, lapping at her opening with a vigor so often reserved for the pre-orgasmic and not one who'd been so thoroughly drained. But she couldn't criticize him for being eager—who did that, someone undoubtedly crazy, and undersexed, which certainly would have described Hilary even days before they had arrived.

  But not now.

  She found herself insatiable. Thrusting forward against Jack's long strokes, even going so far as to relent to his hands on her hips, allowing him to direct this for a moment and then pushing against him roughly as his lips circled her needy clit. Sucking and thumping it sensually with the tip of his tongue. From the moment in the shower, and now, it was clear that Jack had been clued in to some sensual knowledge of cunnilingus, whether it had come from Glynnis or not, Hilary couldn't be sure, but what she was certain of, was that he was getting her off like a motherfucker.

  She ground against him and he fed on her snatch greedily, moaning and humming happily as he busied himself fucking her hole with his tongue. The sounds vibrated his lips and through her cunt deliciously.

  “Yes. That's good. That's good,” she found herself repeating.

  Jack slipped a finger inside and found that greedy little nub of flesh hiding up inside her and he worked it in measured strokes as though turning a wheel, slowly, even as he circled her clit expertly, fluttering his tongue against it one moment, stroking it briskly the next. The pressure of his finger, now fingers, inside her as he ate her was almost too much and she thought he'd take her to that place where she couldn't circle back, where she'd go over, plummet, eyes wide, heart racing.

  She tossed her head back as waves of pleasure rolled through her, tensing her stomach, her thighs.

  So close. So close.

  Hilary glanced down and watched with increasing interest as Jack's brow knitted, his eyes closed tight with intent. She imagined it was the kind of focus he dedicated to his workouts, to his job and now to eating her cunt. She was very nearly impressed with his commitment to her pleasure. It wasn’t like him. But so much of this, this weekend, this situation wasn’t like him.

  He sucked at her, plunged his fingers in and out until Hilary was riding both his hand and his face, snuggling up close until she worried that he wouldn’t be able to breathe, and then, seconds later forgetting the concern as her desire exploded into crashing waves of sensation. Her orgasm tore through all her niggling assessments of their relationship. Settling the issue in one fantastic ripple after the next.

  Hilary had become her sex. She tossed her head back, screamed and gripped the headboard, the muscles of her thighs quivering, threatening to give out. Jack seemed to recognize the effect of his pussy eating and he supported her ass in his strong hands.

  He lay beneath her slack, his jaw shifting as though determining whether he had injured it in his mad and forceful lovemaking.

  Afterword, and in keeping with his roll of surprising her, Jack wanted to talk.

  “What got into you there?”

  “I’ve come to the realization that there are certain things that I won’t deny myself anymore.” She paused. “Did it make you uncomfortable, since you…”

  “Since I what?”

  “You normally take that role in the bedroom.”

  “It wasn’t always like that. You used to be ravenous when we were younger.”

  “And sloppy.”

  “I like it sloppy.”

  She debated on whether to tell Jack about the scene in Ludovic’s office and decided that if what they were doing here at Balustrade was working on their relationship then keeping secrets probably wasn’t the best course of action.

  “I was already horny by the time I came back.”

  “No shit.” He laughed, propping the pillows up behind him and shifting up to sit, the sheet draped across his lap comfortably and his arm stretched out across the top of the headboard. His chest and abs still glistened with sweat and the scent rising from him was undeniably sexy.

  Like he’d taken a class. The thought came back to her for no discernible reason. Had Glynnis been providing extramarital tutelage?

  “Ludovic called me into his office and then, well, Chantal came in and gave him head.”

  “Wait. What?” Jack’s eyes widened in confusion.

  “Yeah, I know.” Hilary took to her feet, pacing the room naked as she talked. “It was astounding. I was both horrified and soaking wet. It was quite possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. They acted out this scenario completely without shame and that’s probably what I reacted to. And then, when Ludo came…” her words drifted away.

  “Yes?” Jack asked, his stare somewhere between a question and an accusation.

  “Chantal spit his semen back into his mouth. And he, well, he ate it.”

  Jack shrugged, but his lips curled into a scowl. “I’m glad you didn’t opt for that move.”

  “It was this astonishing moment. As though Chantal had complete dominion over him, but then the final act seemed, well, wasteful as though giving back didn’t complete the domination, you know?”

  “So, you were dominating me, just now?”

  “I guess. Yes, I was.”

  His eyes fell on his hands, open in his lap and he frowned, mulling over what she said. Finally he looked up, nodding, resolute. “Okay. I’m okay with that.”

  “Good. Because that felt right.”

  “It absolutely did.”

  Hilary smiled and left him for the privacy of the bathroom. She had surprised herself in those frenzied moments, not shocked that she'd enjoyed it, not embarrassed that she had no regrets—though that was something she certainly would never voice—but rather shocked she'd wished there was a third person in their bed, thrusting his big Montenegrin cock into her pussy.

  Ludovic.


  The flush was instantaneous at the thought, not just in her cheeks but also across her chest. Embarrassment at letting herself think about the surrogate like that. She supposed it shouldn't be shocking; she had, after all, certainly coveted Chantal's mastery of the man, making him her dominion with little more than a swizzle and a spit. Thinking back on the act, it was both filthy and genius. Glorious. Hilary couldn't stop thinking about it and began to assess her performance with Jack in relation to this new gold standard.

  Had she been Chantal's equal?

  She didn't think so. Jack, on the other hand, laying passed out on the bed a rictus of pleasure on his smug face, he might have given her higher marks than she would herself. But there'd still been something missing.

  Ludovic.

  8

  Hilary told Jack about the events in Ludovic’s office the following morning over coffee and croissants in the courtyard. She figured he had it coming considering his active participation in the indoctrination orgy. He stared at her across the table, mouth struggling for words.

  “It was…symphonic,” she said, finally.

  Jack’s face screwed up in confusion. “What?”

  She played him not like an instrument, but an entire orchestra.

  A smile blossomed on his lips. “That’s how it was for us last night. I’m surprised I can even walk.”

  “Next time we’ll get you a cane.”

  She refrained from mentioning the strange happenings on the second floor, though the floating red eyes and that single sinister statement, “This is the wrong meat,” clung to her memory like a tumor.

  Despite that and the previous night's dream, she was feeling almost optimistic about Balustrade as though her newfound grasp of her controlling sexuality might actually save her marriage...or at the very least serve to ensure some damn fine orgasms.

  At 9:55 a.m. Hilary led Jack down the long hallway off the courtyard to Ludovic's office, she rapped on the frame of the door and when no one responded, crept in and then, finally took her seat on the couch.