by Rex Gordon
"Yes, do me!" she cried. "Do me, do me good. Oh, yes. Do me good. Do me fantastically!"
His mouth was like more than one mouth, his tongue like more than one tongue. The pleasure was rippling through her and only now did she realize the soothing sensation of Judy's fingers as they massaged her shoulders. And she felt the sensitive tickle of Judy's hard nipples on her bare back.
Everything felt wonderful, and it made the agony of watching them last night all the more worth it. She had watched them going at each other, and now Rick was going at her in the same way, a way Brandon had never done and probably never would do.
She closed her thighs around Rick's head and began to rock her entire body against his lips and tongue and teeth. He was kissing, licking, nibbling. He was going at her so hard and so fully that everything about Leslie seemed a single sensation of pleasure.
She closed her eyes and accepted every new sensation that was presented to her. She even wondered what it would be like if Judy brought her fingers down over the front of her. What would it be like if Judy massaged her breasts while Rick was eating her pussy?
Oh, damn, damn, damn, she thought, and she could not believe the way she was thinking.
Rick spread her thighs. He moved his mouth from her pussy and looked up into her eyes.
"Don't stop," she pleaded.
"Lie back in my arms," Judy said.
She looked into Judy's eyes and shook her head, not in disagreement or rebellion, but in amazement at the sexual prowess of her two friends. She lay back in Judy's arms, and Rick climbed onto the bed. Instead of going between Leslie's legs, he went alongside her. Judy was behind her, rotating her breasts against Leslie's back.
It was not fair, Leslie thought. Judy was not supposed to be doing that. This was not supposed to be three-way sex. This was supposed to be just Rick and Leslie, with Judy watching, but Judy was cheating.
Rick brought his mouth to Leslie's mouth, and he kissed her gently, but his hand came up inside her thighs and slid to the opening of her pussy.
Leslie moaned against his kiss, and with her moan, she slipped her tongue into Rick's mouth and rolled it against his.
"I'm getting jealous," Judy said. "But it's okay. Don't stop!"
Leslie swung her glance to Judy. For a moment, as she looked into Judy's eyes, she wanted to thank her with a kiss, but that would be against the rules too, and she quickly returned her mouth to Rick's.
His fingers were going at her pussy; his tongue was going at her tongue. Somebody's hand was on her breast and she didn't care whose, because it felt so good. The pleasure was beginning to rise like the pleasure in the bathroom, like the pleasure of her dreams. It began to surge through her entire body and she was shaking.
She rubbed her back against Judy's breasts, while gyrating her own pussy against Rick's fingers. She kissed Rick fully and deeply.
She opened her eyes, and saw that Rick's cock was getting hard again. That vision overwhelmed her, and she cried out. "Oh, yes. Yes. It's..."
It was so rich and full, and so deep, she thought she was going to die from the pleasure. She kissed Rick hard and held onto his mouth with her own.
The pleasure that surged was like the near death experience she had heard about. She seemed out of herself and of herself and in herself, but she was also of Rick and Judy, and a great white light exploded in her brain. Her body tingled and shivered, and slowly, the pleasure subsided, and she went limp.
It was an unbelievable experience, she thought as she closed her eyes and floated in a state of euphoria.
"This must be what heaven is like," she said.
She lay like that for a long time, while Rick pulled away from the kiss and Judy slid from behind her. She felt the rustling of their bodies, but she ignored them, and smiled at the pleasure of her own lightheadedness.
"I told you it would be nice," Judy said.
"And it was," Leslie said.
Rick just sighed.
"We're friends," Judy said. "That's the way it should be."
"Can I learn some more?" Leslie asked.
Her pleasure had barely abated, yet she wanted more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BRANDON
"Mister Shaaa-ane," Darla, the bimbo, sang at him from the bathroom at the Hotel Alexis in Atlantic City.
"Yeah," he said, lying naked and watching the basketball game between the Sixers and the Warriors. Leslie had been gone only two days and he missed her terribly. It was so stupid to cancel a trip to Paris just to be with Darla, the secretary he had been screwing for the last three months.
He thought longingly of Leslie's innocence, even at the age of twenty-three. He wondered if their sex problem was more his than hers. He was the one with the experience. He should be doing the teaching.
Hell, who was he kidding? Darla was only nineteen, and he had learned more from her than in his entire life before that. But what was she before he hired her? A waitress, a stripper, a hooker? He did know that she couldn't type, and that at least twice he had found files she had labeled Filadelfia. Three hundred dollars a week was a lot to pay for a steady fuck and blowjob. Especially since he was already fucking up his office.
"Mister Shaaa-ane," she called again.
"What the fuck to you want?" he said.
"Aw, Mister Shane," she said, she said, doing her baby talk, as she stepped from the bathroom.
She was wearing that ridiculous schoolgirl costume again: plaid skirt with no panties, white blouse with not bra, and saddle shoes with bobby sox. It might be a look that turned some guys on, but it didn't do a thing for him.
She lifted her skirt, showing her thatch of blonde curls, and he smiled.
"Don't you like my little pussy, Mr. Shane?"
He wanted to scream at her to stop that. He had made love to teenage girls when he was a teen, and he liked it then. He was a grown man now, and he wanted a grown woman, an adult like Leslie, even thought Leslie might be naïve about things sexual.
Darla crossed the room toward him, shifting her hips from side to side and letting her tits bounce behind her white blouse.
"Don't you like them?" she said.
She put her hands around them through the cotton blouse, and her nipples jutted out against the material.
He looked at her askance, trying to let her know that he was bored with the same stupid role she had been playing for three months. She moved beside the bed, and was holding one tit in both hands, still sheathed by the blouse, pushing it toward his face.
He looked up at her and saw the fear in her eyes.
"Don't you want to suck on my little titty?" she said.
No, he didn't want to suck on her little titty, which was actually large. He wanted to suck on Leslie's. He wanted her to be here with him and he wanted to make love to her as he had never made love to her before.
"Oh, yes. I do want to suck on your titty," he said, playing her game, and found that in spite of his resolve against it happening, his cock was getting hard again.
"Oh, Mister Shane, what a hard cock you have."
Now, she held her tit with one hand and pushed it against his face, as she gripped his bare cock with the other.
His mouth went to the cotton material of her blouse. He saturated it with his saliva and rolled his tongue against the hard nipple. He felt her stroking, but he was still sucking. What the fuck was the matter with him? Why was he doing this? But it felt so goddamn good.
"Ohhh," he moaned at her. He was letting her control him again, and he didn't like it. He liked the sex. He liked the fucking. But he did not like the game they continued to play. He was becoming the laughing stock of the office, and it was probably too late for him to ever dream of a political career.
"Don't you want to feel my pussy?" she whispered.
"Hmm-hmm," he hummed, with his lips still around her tit his tongue still trying to get through the wet material at her nipple. He thrust his hand between her legs, jammed his thumb against her clit, massaged.
"Ooooo, Mr. Shan
e, not so hard."
"Shut the fuck up," he said, and he jammed his four fingers into her pussy.
He looked up, and her eyes went wide. "I like it. I like that. Oh, keep doing it that way," she said. "You're fucking me with your fingers. Yes, that's good."
Her other hand was starting to go more and more rapidly against his cock, and she was into a spastic lack of control.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes, that's it. That's it." She was talking and breathing through her teeth, as he tried to put his fingers deeper and deeper into her pussy, and it was surprisingly easy to do.
"How many men have you fucked before me," he said. He swung his legs to the floor and she lost her grip on his cock. He threw her on the bed and lifted her skirt all the way.
"How many?" he demanded.
"Some," she said, and she was breathing hard. "Put your thumb on my clitty. Please, please."
"Yes," he said, and he pinched inside and out.
"Ohhh," she moaned and he knew that he had hit her g-spot again, and at this moment, he owned her as he would never own Leslie or any other woman.
"Take my cock in your hand, you little bitch."
"Yes, sir," she said, and it made him angry.
The very game that attracted him to her now repulsed him. In and out he went with all four fingers, massaging her clit with his thumb, and rubbing his fingers against her g-spot from within.
She was moaning and writhing, and her ass was off the bed, trying to work her pussy against his hand, but she had not yet taken his cock as he had told her. He'd fix the little bitch, he thought. He pulled his hand away, and rolled from the bed.
He stood over her, his cock standing tall, and she was confused.
"Do it, the hand thing. Do it!" she said.
"Fuck the hand thing. I want to do the cock thing," he said, and looked down at her.
"Rip me apart before you do," she said. Her eyes went insanely wide.
"What?"
"Rip me. Rip me apart," she said.
He did not like her giving him orders any more than he liked the little girl game she continued to play, but he was angry. He reached down to the material of her blouse and lifted her from the bed. He brought her face to his and he kissed her hard, biting her tongue as she tried to stick it into his mouth.
He gripped both sides of the button-up blouse, and ripped it open. Her ample tits flopped to the sides, as he pushed her back on the bed. He lifted her skirt, spread her legs and slammed his hard, thick cock between them and into her wide open pussy.
"Ooo," she said. "Yeah, fuck me."
And he did. He was angry with himself and with her, but she was the only one enjoying the anger as he plunged in and out of her. In and out.
At this moment, he hated her and didn't want her; he wanted her to be his wife.
"Oh, Leslie," he said.
"Yes. I'm Leslie. Fuck me like you fuck Leslie. Yes, please, fuck me the way you fuck your wife."
He was pumping in and out of her the way he pumped in and out of Leslie, trying to give her the same pleasure he felt but he always failed.
"Oh, yeah," Darla cried, and Leslie would never do that. Leslie was a lady with a lady's sensibilities, choosing to lie there and be fucked by a husband as was her wifely duty.
"It's wrong," he said.
"Nooo, nooo, Mister Shane, it's right. It's the rightest thing you've ever done. Fuck me like you love me."
"Call me Brandon," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"No, sirs. Just call me Brandon."
"Yesss, Brandon," she said, and he went in and out of her until he came for the fifth time that day. Now he was through with her. Maybe he was through with her forever.
He wanted that to be the case, but when he rolled over and stared at the ceiling, Darla had his cock in her hand, and she was drawing the head into her mouth.
"Is this how Leslie does it?" she said.
"Yes," he said, but it was a lie. Leslie never did it, and he had never taught her how to do it.
Yes, he thought, the failure of the marriage was as much his fault as it was Leslie's. In fact, as he had been thinking for days now, the failure of the marriage was all his fault.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JUDY
"Are you going to wear your dragon shirt again?" Judy asked.
"I feel like a dragon in this shirt," Rick said, grinning.
They had spent all afternoon, and much of the evening in bed with Leslie, but it was time to get something to eat – but this time, food.
"Just because you made it with two women, you think you're hot stuff today." She giggled. She was wearing her red blouse and dark skirt again. Judy did not understand why this very normal outfit turned him on, but it did.
"Are we ready yet?" Leslie said, stepping into their room. She wore a satisfied grin, but she was shaking just a little as she glanced at Rick.
Judy was jealous, but only a bit. She was glad for her friend and she had certainly enjoyed what they had just done, but she wanted Leslie to be even freer. Not only had she and Rick talked about how to get that to happen, and fucking Leslie had given him new confidence. He had gone to the bistro next door, to make sure that what they planned for Leslie would actually happen.
Judy saw how Leslie shivered through the day, with her nipples growing periodically hard under the halter. From time to time, Leslie would button her dark jacket, sometimes to hide the hardness of her nipples, and other times because of the chill in the air. Her fingers trembled now, but that was not from the cold. Her voice cracked at every comment as they went downstairs in the elevator, and Judy knew Leslie was ready for sex again.
It might be teasing, Judy thought, but she was determined to drag it out. The longer Leslie's needs were suppressed, the more active a participant she would become at the next incident.
"Let's go to the bistro and get something light for dinner," Judy said.
"Yes, the same place, almost next door. We can get something to go and—" Leslie cut off her words, and glanced quickly at Judy and Rick, letting them know she was ready for anything. Take out food, take out wine, anything, then back to the hotel.
"Nah, let's eat in here," Rick said.
Armand drew closed the last of the blinds.
"It looks like they're closing," Leslie said,
"Let's see," Judy said, tapping on the window.
The tall, good-looking Frenchman opened the blind and smiled at them.
"Ah," he said, and unlocked the door, and with a sweeping gesture, indicated they should sit anywhere they liked. Judy picked a small table that gave a view to the counter; she had her reasons for doing it. As they sat, he locked the door again. The blinds were still drawn.
"I am pleased that you have returned to my humble bistro. I am here to serve you in any way I can."
Judy noticed the way Armand looked straight down at Leslie's thighs, and she smiled to herself. In her seated position, Leslie's dark skirt had crawled nearly halfway to her waist, and there wasn't a real man alive who could resist that kind of show.
As Armand studied Leslie's thighs, Judy watched the bulge at the front of his tight jeans. He's a Frenchman all right, she mused. She was getting anxious, but as much as she liked the appearance of Armand and his bulge, she knew that it was Leslie who needed the lessons in love.
"We'll have something light. A broth and a salad maybe," Judy said. She certainly did not want Leslie to be screwing on a full stomach.
"For all of us," Rick said, then went about looking at the menu to select the specifics.
"Wine first?" Armand asked.
"Of course," Rick said.
Armand's gaze seemed attached to Judy's face, but his cock was more interested in Judy's naked legs and what was between them. "I'm so glad you chose the broth and the salads," Armand said. "I was about to close. I've already sent the chef home, but I will be most happy to serve you myself."
"I'm sure everything will be fine," Rick said.
Armand went to the
kitchen that was against the wall behind the counter, like some American diners.
"He's a hot one," Judy said.
"Yes," Rick said. "I saw how much you liked him, and the place is empty?"
"Why did he lock the door?" Leslie said.
"I suppose because he doesn't want any more customers to come in."
"Who knows why the French do what they do?" Judy said. Then she added, "He might be a good match for you. Look, he cooks too."
Leslie blushed as Armand stepped from behind the counter, and at the same time, Judy slid her hand over Rick's thigh, and gripped his cock through his trousers as she did this afternoon. Rick didn't protest.
Armand brought the wine, and poured four glasses.
"Do you mind if I sit with you for a moment?"
"Not at all," Leslie said. Her voice cracked as it had been doing all afternoon. Her fingers were trembling, if not in anticipation, perhaps in fear, but definitely with desire.
Armand sat next to Leslie, but he grinned seductively at Judy who was across the table from him. Judy nodded with a slight tilt of her head toward Leslie. She was very good at directing things.
"Yes, of course," he said. He held his eyes on Judy, but he was reaching under the table, his fingers moving toward Leslie's thigh.
"Oh!" Leslie said, and her cheeks flushed.
Judy sensed the movement as Leslie slid down in her chair, spreading her legs, inviting him to reach even closer to her pussy. His hand slid farther and farther upward, and Judy was surprised to see that Leslie wore no pants.
"Oh," Leslie said. It was her second "Oh," but this one was something like a squeak.
Not knowing what was going on, Rick frowned, but Judy squeezed Rick's cock and regained his attention.
"Oh, God," Leslie said, and Judy smiled.
"It will be my pleasure, Mesdames et Monsieur. Your dinner is on me, and perhaps we can, shall we say, 'play' in my little bistro."
"Is this okay with you?" Rick said to Judy.
"Anything is okay with me."
"Me too," Leslie's said, out of breath. Her breasts were heaving. Her nipples were like fingers pressing against the material of her halter, and she was so full of enthusiasm she was bouncing off the chair.
