‘OK,’ the man said. The reply sounded deceptively flat. Peter could only imagine what lubricious thoughts must be racing through his French namesake’s mind.
Such thoughts were certainly racing through his own head. Peter was naked and already fully aroused, blood pumping into his erection. He felt his cock harden even further as he inched his way gingerly through the inky blackness towards the bedroom window, which was wide open. He leant against the wall at its side, taking the weight of his body on his left arm and his stiff cock into his right hand.
He looked down at the pool, illuminated first by its side-lights and then by the main external lights as Carol switched them on. Peter saw a breeze ruffle the still water, and then he only had eyes for his wife. His mouth was dry with excitement as he watched Carol, naked as nature intended, stride towards the pool, pausing only to place a towel and, he knew from experience, a pack of condoms on a sun lounger. He admired anew the seductive sway of her hips and the way her calves tapered to her slender ankles; watched as she walked, barefoot and bare-arsed, to the shallow end. Peter’s pulse beat faster still at the sight of her. He could feel it in his cheek, in his nose, in his eyes … in the veins of his rigid, straining cock.
Peter watched Carol sit by the edge of the pool for a moment, watched her step into the rippling water and then begin swimming on her back. He watched as she kicked her feet and let her hands propel her body slowly along the pool to the deep end. He watched her turn again and, lifting her arms, swim back to the shallow end. He looked admiringly at her lovely face and beautiful breasts and shaven mons. She wants me to see everything, he thought. He watched her turn once more before standing up. He looked at the way her hair dropped down like shiny black satin when she did this. He watched as she stepped, graceful as a nymph, out of the pool.
He watched her wring the excess water from her hair and bend down to pick up a towel from one of the sun loungers. He watched her fluff her hair with the towel then use it to dry her body too, rubbing at the back of her neck, under her arms and along her legs.
Peter was looking down at Carol but she, his nymph, his nymphomaniac, was not looking up at him. She would not have been able to see him in that darkened bedroom even if she’d tried. No, she was looking at her companion, this Pierre guy, who had come to join her now in the pool area. He was, Peter noted, tall, dark, well-built and good looking, just the way his wife liked them. He could also not fail to notice that the man was buck naked and displaying an impressive hard-on – just the way she liked them too. Pierre had evidently taken a leaf out of Carol’s book and had shed his clothes before coming outside.
Peter watched as that darkly handsome man took a step towards his wife, watched as he held her in his muscular arms, in a powerful embrace, her full breasts flattened against his chest. She lifted her face to his and Pierre began kissing her on the mouth, holding her even more tightly to him. Peter watched this too. He could only watch, watch as Carol took control now, watch as she got hold of Pierre’s right hand and pushed it between her legs, watch as he masturbated her. He watched too as his namesake took one of her engorged nipples first between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and then into his mouth as he rubbed her harder and harder with his other hand, working it all over her hot pussy.
Peter watched and was further inflamed, pure lust burning behind his eyes, as Carol dragged herself away from Pierre and moved over to the sun lounger. ‘I want you to fuck me now,’ he heard her say. She then lay back, splaying her legs wantonly wide. The Frenchman slipped a condom on to his cock with practised ease then moved on top of her. He pushed himself inside as she arched her back and wrapped her thighs around him.
While he thrust his shaft rhythmically in and out, Carol held him tightly and looked over his shoulder and … yes, she did look upwards then. She looked up into the dark, right into what she knew would be her husband’s line of sight. And he knew that she knew just what he was doing, knew that he was watching, watching it all and pumping his cock frenziedly in his hand as he did so.
Trembling, Peter felt the waves of his sexual excitement rise ever higher at what he was watching and wanking over. He pulled furiously at his erection as he watched his exhibitionist wife being fucked ever more energetically by this stranger while she in turn looked, or appeared to look, straight back at him, her voyeuristic husband.
And that voyeuristic husband was now in a state of the most intense sexual arousal. His tongue flicked lasciviously in his mouth, his heart beat wildly, and his hard cock flexed and throbbed within his pounding fist, ejecting spurts of precome from its tip. Peter felt giddy with desire, light-headed with his own aching, burning need for release. He could feel the determined thrust of his own imminent eruption. He was on the verge of ejaculating, right on the very brink. But don’t let that happen yet, he told himself urgently – please, not yet.
He stilled his hand, wanting to hold back his orgasm before it was too late. But then it was too late. He watched Carol climax, heard her animal-like moan carry into the night, joined almost at once by the strangled cry of her companion – and joined almost at once too, by his own stifled gasps. Peter closed his eyes and convulsions shook his body as warm, liquid seed burst from his shaft.
Peter made his way quietly to bed and, soon after that, he felt Carol slip in beside him. She brought with her an aroma of chlorine and sex.
Pierre had been sent on his way, of course. Like they all were. Carol always made it clear that this was going to be a once-only experience. That was the deal, take it or leave it. Pierre, like all the others before him, had taken it.
‘You awake, darling?’ Carol asked softly.
‘Uh-huh.’
Carol cuddled into him, her body warm. ‘How did you enjoy the show tonight?’ she asked.
‘It was fantastic,’ he replied. ‘You were fantastic.’
‘How do you feel now?’
‘Thoroughly sated,’ Peter replied with a yawn.
‘Me too – at least for now,’ Carol said, letting out a throaty chuckle. ‘But tomorrow is another day.’
The Best Laid Plans
Jacqui was running out of time. Right from the start there had been a strong spark of mutual attraction between the oversexed young brunette and Anne, the woman she was temporarily lodging with while her rooms in the university hall of residence were being renovated. Jacqui had firmly resolved to fully ignite that spark before leaving Anne’s home. However she was due to move back to the hall of residence the next morning and had already packed most of the few belongings she had with her at Anne’s place. So it was now or never.
It was easy to understand why Jacqui was so attracted to Anne, an agelessly beautiful woman with short ash-blonde hair, high cheekbones, and a wide, sensuous mouth. Anne’s eyes were perhaps her most striking feature. They were pale blue like a tropical lagoon; you could fall into her eyes they were so blue. She had a well-shaped figure as well: soft and full, slim but rounded. Jacqui could tell Anne was lonely, though. She had a husband she clearly adored but he made his living as a musician and was constantly on the road.
Jacqui seriously had the hots for Anne, who had an air of control about her that really turned the young woman on. She had spent every night since moving into Anne’s home pleasuring herself in bed while fantasising about having sex with her. She had found herself increasingly yearning for the real thing, though, and had finally determined to make that happen before she moved out. But she was cutting it very fine. It had to be today or it wasn’t going to happen at all.
Jacqui’s first manoeuvre on that now-or-never day was to go into her bedroom in the mid-afternoon, strip naked, and lie on top of the bed masturbating energetically, having first “accidentally” left her bedroom door half open. When Anne walked by her bedroom as Jacqui had known she eventually would, she couldn’t help but look her way. Seeing that Jacqui was stark naked and masturbating vigorously, her fingers working like fury between the lips of her sex, Anne averted her gaze straight away
and quietly shut the door.
It was enough, Jacqui was sure of it. As she continued masturbating hard, her pussy now dripping with wetness, she kept replaying that moment. She could see again Anne’s blue eyes flashing over her and widening with excitement as she took in what she was doing to herself so eagerly with her busy fingers. In that short moment Anne had registered unmistakable sexual desire before regaining her composure, averting her gaze, and silently shutting Jacqui’s bedroom door.
The thought of what she’d just orchestrated was incredibly arousing to Jacqui, causing a surge of desire to run through her like electricity. She plunged her fingers into her dripping pussy again and brought herself to a powerful orgasm, gasping and moaning, all the time thinking of the look of desire she’d seen on Anne’s face.
Jacqui then showered, brushed her hair, applied a little make-up and slipped her silk robe on over her naked form. It was time to take things to the next stage, which she knew she needed to do quickly. She had to strike while the iron was hot. Jacqui adjusted her shimmering robe to ensure it was loose at the top, leaving the swell of her breasts enticingly exposed, and pressed on with her mission to seduce the lovely Anne.
Jacqui padded bare-footed downstairs and into the living room. The windows were curtained in dark patterned linen and heavy net. There were several throw rugs on the parquet floor, black-lacquered furniture, a black leather suite.
Anne was seated on the couch, leafing through a glossy magazine. She looked up and gave Jacqui a pleasant smile that gave nothing away. There was not even a glint in the eye to say that she had been affected by what she’d seen her doing, nothing to acknowledge the desire that Jacqui was now sure she felt for her.
‘Anything I can do for you?’ Jacqui asked meaningfully, raising a sculptured eyebrow. Her body was tingling with anticipation.
‘You could get dressed,’ Anne suggested, barely looking up from her magazine. It was not an encouraging response.
Jacqui however was undeterred. She was determined, come what may, to have sex with Anne before the day was out. ‘I’ll go and put some clothes on,’ she said.
‘Fine,’ Anne replied, flicking onto the next page of the magazine. She appeared to be indifference personified but she couldn’t fool Jacqui. She had seen that look in Anne’s eyes when was outside her bedroom earlier.
When Jacqui returned to the living room she was still bare footed but was otherwise dressed … sort of. She had on a red singlet that was very tight, her beautiful breasts pressed against the thin cotton, her erect nipples plainly visible. She was also wearing an extremely tight pair of soft black leather shorts. They were cut very high indeed, exposing smooth bare thighs, the cleft of her sex, and much of the curves of her shapely backside.
Jacqui felt very aroused by the shameless way she was exposing her body to Anne. ‘I must have put on weight recently,’ she said giving her a wicked grin. ‘I could barely squeeze into these leather shorts.’
Jacqui certainly had put on weight lately but only in the sense that she’d regained all the pounds she’d lost a few months ago when she’d dieted with unduly excessive zeal. She’d bought the tight leather shorts when her weight had been at its lowest. They’d looked incredibly sexy and provocative then. They looked more than that now: they looked positively obscene.
Anne put her magazine onto the coffee table. ‘I can well imagine you had difficulty squeezing into your shorts,’ she said, hardly taking her eyes off her this time. ‘I’m surprised you can even move in them.’
‘Oh, I can do that all right,’ Jacqui said, giving Anne a sexy, full-face smile, a challenging smile. She did a seductive little walk, sashaying back and forth in front of Anne, her unbound breasts swaying and jiggling and her thighs quivering and rubbing together as she moved.
Nothing could disguise the desire she saw in Anne’s eyes as she flaunted herself in front of her. Jacqui was wearing no underwear and the thin strip of black leather was pulled up tight between her pussy lips, rubbing against the wetness of her sex. It aroused her even more, making her nipples poke even more insistently against the scanty red cotton top.
‘I think you’ve made your point – or should I say points.’ Anne smiled, eyeing her rigidly erect nipples as they strained against the tight material of her singlet. Rising gracefully to her feet, she stood in front of Jacqui. She then reached out for her, took her by the waist and pulled her close. The two women looked at each other for a long moment and then Anne put her warm lips to Jacqui’s and kissed her hard. The women kissed deeply, Anne exploring Jacqui’s mouth with her wet tongue, letting her breathe her hot breath. ‘This is what you want, isn’t it,’ she whispered.
‘Yes,’ Jacqui replied urgently. ‘And a lot more besides.’
‘You want to go all the way?’
‘I’d love to go all the way.’
‘Even though you know that I’m a happily married woman?’
‘That just makes you all the more appealing to me,’ Jacqui said, ‘all the more tempting.’
‘And that makes you a bad girl, doesn’t it?’ Anne’s impossibly blue eyes were shining brightly.
‘That makes me a bad girl,’ Jacqui agreed.
‘Let’s sit together on the couch and take things from there,’ Anne suggested huskily.
‘Yes, let’s,’ Jacqui replied, her own voice hoarse with excitement, and they sat down side by side. Things were really going Jacqui’s way, she thought. She felt in control of the situation.
Then all of a sudden she didn’t. ‘As far as I’m concerned bad girls like you need to be punished,’ Anne said, her voice suddenly cold. She took Jacqui firmly by the hands and pulled her across her lap. Jacqui turned and looked over her shoulder at Anne, catching the gleam of determination in her eye. Jacqui may not have been in control any more but she as sure as hell knew what was coming next and it made her shiver with excitement, made her heart race wildly in her chest. She was about to get rather more than she’d planned for today – and that was just fine by her.
Jacqui cried out when the first stinging blow came down, the flat of Anne’s hand slapping firmly down on her rear cheeks. It was an explosion of pain, a raw livid sensation that turned her skin red. Then the second stroke came down and it was as sharp as the first, the sound reverberating around the room. Anne held Jacqui down, keeping her in place across her lap. She spanked her three more times in quick succession. The pain escalated with each blow, a fire building on her flesh.
But those few blows were only the beginning. Anne continued unremittingly, cracking her hand down onto Jacqui’s backside with relentless vigour, following one smack after another in swift succession. The cheeks of her rear smarted with a heat that made her tense and squirm and, with each slap, her tensing and squirming increased.
The robust spanking went on and on, the living room continuing to echo with the sound of hand on naked flesh. Anne simply did not let up and the pain burnt hotly on Jacqui’s backside, sinking ever deeper. But with the pain came pleasure and throughout the beating Jacqui could feel its heat build up in her sex, which rubbed excitingly against the thin strip of leather pressing tightly against it.
Jacqui wanted, no, craved more. She arched her back, lifting herself, offering the reddened cheeks of her arse to Anne’s fiery strokes. The pain was intense. So was the pleasure. When the smacks landed now it was almost as if her pussy had been caressed. She was slick with her juices. She was soaking, dribbles of love juice smearing her thighs. Her clitoris throbbed with pleasure as she lifted herself, opening her thighs so that Anne’s fingers landed on the soaked leather between the lips of her pussy, landed too on the lips themselves.
At last the thrashing stopped and Jacqui twisted round to see the curves of her cruelly spanked backside. They were dark red against the black of the ultra-brief leather shorts, the imprint of Anne’s fingers on her flesh merging into a deep flush of pain. Jacqui tried to get up but Anne kept her in place. She began to run her hand over the soreness of Jacqui’s rear,
feeling the burning heat that she had inflicted on her skin. Jacqui sighed as Anne went on to stroke her fingers between her wet thighs. She pushed the leather deeper between her pussy lips, making her shudder with desire.
Jacqui sighed again and shuddered even more as Anne’s fingers pressed harder against the wet material. She arched her back, on the verge of orgasm as Anne pressed her fingers harder still against the love juice-soaked leather. Then Anne stopped, pushing Jacqui off her lap. ‘Bend over the edge of the couch and wait,’ she ordered, getting to her feet.
Jacqui was soon in position, breathing heavily with sexual arousal. The blood pounded in her veins and her throat was dry. She closed her eyes, wondering excitedly what form of chastisement Anne was going to subject her to next. She also wondered, as she listened to her leaving the room, how long she’d make her wait for it.
Anne was not gone long. Jacqui’s eyes flew open and she cried out loudly as the crop came down in a swift trajectory, striking a line of fire across her backside. ‘I gave up riding years ago,’ Anne said. ‘But I hung on to this. I always knew it would come in handy one day.’ Jacqui let out another loud cry of pain as Anne brought the crop down again, further inflaming her backside as it bit into her flesh. Then she sliced the crop through the air a third time and a further red-hot strike landed across Jacqui’s rear cheeks. It was followed by another harsh stroke, and then another.
Anne began to beat Jacqui with even greater ferocity, slicing more and more red heat through her body. The crop struck her bum in a regular harsh rhythm, and each time it cracked against her skin it planted a flame-hot line on her flesh. Jacqui responded to each sharp strike with a cry of pain … and pleasure. A red heat seemed to be burning into her skin, sinking deeper and deeper.
Anne started to strike more quickly, inflicting even more excruciating pain on her, which brought with it even more intoxicating pleasure too, and Jacqui’s cries came faster and faster. Tremors of pleasure-pain ran through her body and she could feel the heat blazing on the cheeks of her backside, the skin raised and imprinted with the pattern of the crop.
Sweet Torments: The Best of Alex Jordaine Page 9
