She let curiosity get the better of her… and boy, was she glad.
I’d reluctantly agreed to attend a business soiree at the request of my friend Dom. He was honest in his approach, saying my presence on his arm would impress his colleagues and clients. He even bought me a dress − a red satin affair, slinky over the hips, with a plunging neckline. What the hell, I thought. Free food and champers, not to mention a gratis stay at the hotel the event was being held at. And, admittedly, the idea of being someone’s arm candy had a flattering appeal. I was sold.
The first hour of the soiree, held in a grand hall, was bearable − the meal was pleasant, the hotel classy and the company, well, adequate. Then Dom took to the stage to deliver the most extensive and tiresome speech ever about his company’s profits, each table cheering boorishly as he pointed at them, declaring the millions their department had saved this year. By this point, the champagne bottle on my table was almost empty and I was beginning to drift off, imagining laying in a delightfully hot bath with a saucy novel.
A final round of raucous applause from everyone brought me back to reality and I stretched my arms before finishing off the dribble of alcohol left in my glass. As I did so, I noticed a woman standing over me with her hand extended and her full red lips curved into an affectionate smile. Lowering herself gracefully into the empty chair beside me, she enquired as to whether I was alone or not. I explained that I was there with a friend and wouldn’t be staying a great deal longer. At this she pouted disapprovingly and leaned forward to whisper in my ear.
Gesturing toward a handsome man who looked in his early thirties, sat at a table on the other side of the room, she informed me that her husband had been observing me since I’d walked in and thought I was very attractive. Surprised by this, I mumbled my appreciation awkwardly. She leaned in further still and asked if I’d like to join them for a drink and a chat in their room at the hotel, away from dreary anecdotes and tedious talks.
Shaking my head, I politely declined the invitation, feigning fatigue, and prayed Dom would cease the schmoozing he was now doing and hurry back. Again the woman pouted, flicking her long, sleek brown hair over her shoulder, but then she shrugged delicately.
“Well,” she said, “If you change your mind it’s room 104.” Then, unexpectedly, she planted a heavy kiss on my lips, creating a collective gasp from the others at the table. Pulling away, she winked and left the hall.
Once I’d regained my composure I glanced over to where her husband had been seated but the chair was now unoccupied. My table companions were whispering to each other, casting their eyes in my direction. Feeling far too self-conscious to remain where I was, I decided to leave for my room. I’d done my favour for Dom.
Crossing the lobby, heading to the lifts, I found my astonishment had already subsided and, in its place, curiosity had formed. The woman had been quite striking. And her husband? Well, I supposed that he must be quite a commanding and secure man to encourage his wife to act that way. He’d certainly been good-looking. So I ended up just standing in front of the lift, one of the doors stood open and, I can’t explain why, but, suddenly, I was determined to explore the situation; to do something out of character. To live for the moment. I decided to pay a visit to room 104.
Once I’d got in the lift and the doors had closed behind me, my heart was thumping in my chest, only beads of perspiration cooling my cleavage. Moments later, alone outside room 104, I pressed my ear to the door. I could hear soft laughter and the clink of glasses. With a deep breath and a swallow, I knocked boldly.
The door was soon answered by the husband. He smiled and, as if expecting me, wordlessly stepped aside for my entry. After I entered the room, dimly lit by a lamp in one corner, he closed the door behind me and walked across the room, sitting on an armchair on which his jacket and tie had been strewn. To my left, his wife was perched on the edge of a bed wearing nothing but a black net bra and knickers with stilettos. I couldn’t help but look at her long shapely legs which were crossed, one foot swinging delicately as she leaned back on her arms. Slowly, she eased herself up.
“You made it, darling,” she said, observing my delicate red satin dress inch by inch with sparkling eyes. Drawing closer she huskily announced, “Such a beautiful figure shouldn’t be covered up.”
I made no attempt to stop her as she then slipped the satin straps from my shoulders. It occurred to me that I wasn’t wearing a bra, but, hardly believing what was happening, I failed to react as she then pulled the dress down over my hips to reveal my lace panties and the fishnet stockings I had decided to put on hours earlier. As she did so she bent over at the waist, giving her husband a good view of her taut, svelte thighs and pert,sexy bottom.
“Beautiful breasts, don’t you think, darling?” she asked her husband, then turning to me she said conspiratorially, “He’s more into legs. Me? I like tits.”
As if to prove it, she stood and removed her own bra, one hand exploring her ample bosom, lightly pinching her nipples. Then she pressed herself against me and kissed my mouth, her tongue slipping between my lips, her nipples brushing against mine until they stood erect. With her gaze still on mine, she then bowed her head to my left breast, snaking her tongue across the nipple.
From behind me, I felt strong hands begin to caress my thighs and buttocks − I had almost forgotten about her husband. His strokes were slow and gentle at first, then they became firmer, his fingertips digging into my flesh. Instinctively, I parted my legs, my compliance rewarded with an investigative hand reaching between them from behind, stroking my pussy through the fabric of my panties. I could feel his warm breath on my neck, then his lips and a hand brushing my blonde hair to one side. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, swooning beneath his touch and his wife’s insistent sucking of my tits. I could feel how damp my panties were and the heat emanating from between my thighs was rising through my body. My breathing quickened, as did the wife’s manipulation of my breasts.
Feeling the husband’s arms reaching round me, I cracked my eyes to see his wife suck on his fingers before he clasped my chest. He pulled on my nipples and I was already so close to coming when she gently pulled down my panties and with a manicured hand expertly stroked my clit. I bucked against her hand, forcing my chest out, but her husband pulled me back against him roughly.
Seconds later, barely recovered from my orgasm, they sat me down on the end of the bed, the wife sitting next to me.
“Now, here comes the best bit,” she purred into my ear. Her husband was standing in front of us, his eyes hungrily devouring every inch of my body. He was watching my hands. His wife reached toward his groin, stroking the increasing bulge beneath his trousers. Her fingers sought out the zipper but he held her still, insisting that I do the honours. Saturated with sexual urge, I extended a hand, running my palm against his crotch then easing down the fly. More eagerly, I reached inside and grasped his throbbing cock. It was thick and not too long − perfect for what he had planned.
I licked my lips, my eyes on his cock, his eyes on me, his wife’s eyes on us both. Stroking it slowly, a glistening jewel of pre-come bubbled from the tip. I bent my head forward and swirled it around the head with my tongue. As I did this, his wife released his balls from the confines of his clothing and knelt on the floor, massaging them both with her lips.
I fed his length in to my mouth, softly running my lips along the shaft, my tongue tasting every inch. I kept my eyes on his as I bobbed my head back and forth. Then, reaching round to his backside, I pushed him toward my mouth, encouraging him to fuck it. Not entirely absorbed in his pleasure, I delighted in feeling his wife’s fingers slip back inside me even as she began fondling his balls with her other hand. She then licked along his shaft as I held his cockhead tightly between my lips. We passed his member between our mouths, but I felt greedy and selfish. I didn’t want to share it. I wanted to taste him and feel him pulsing in my throat.
Panting and uttering praise, he told us he was about to come. His wife’s fingers pummelled my pussy, while her other hand, on the back of my head, forced me further onto his cock. Then he pulled out and frantically stroked his solid member, aiming it toward our expectant faces. With a momentary and tense pause, he screwed up his face before splashing jet after jet of warm semen over my lips, cheeks and chin. Following the last shot, he rubbed his cock across my face and his wife turned to me, her tongue outstretched to lick his spunk from my face, while her hand still frantically fucked me.
I fell back against the soft linen on the bed but, running his hands along my body, the husband told me to stand up. I willingly obeyed. He instructed his wife to bend over for him and to slowly remove her panties. He caressed her legs as she did so. Kicking the panties away, she laid on the bed, her heels resting either side of the pillows. He then told me to kneel on either side of his wife’s face, so that my derriere faced her. I gladly did as requested – by now I was well into the moment and also thoroughly excited at the sexploration that was surely coming.
I felt the wife’s tongue beneath me, working its way between my pussy lips, lapping over my swollen clit. The husband’s hand pushed lightly against the back of my head, urging me towards the neatly trimmed mound of hair between her legs. Her scent aroused me further as I then tasted another woman for the first time. Enthusiastically, I licked her sopping c**t, mixing her juices with her husband’s come still streaked across my mouth. I ground my pelvis against her mouth and as her tongue flicked rapidly across my clit, I felt his fingers probing me, opening me up.
Even with the wife’s thighs pressed against my ears, I heard the distant rustle of a condom packet. Hands stroked and kneaded my buttocks, then squeezed my hips. My pussy was sopping with anticipation and desire, and without warning he plunged deep within me, thrusting at my pussy ravenously. Faster and faster, harder and harder. The wife’s tongue still flickered over my clitoris.
A final deep jab, and the husband let out a thunderous roar, releasing himself inside me. As he banged hard against my buttocks, loosing the last streams of his second load, I gave a muffled cry and came over his wife’s face. Delightfully, I then felt her own juices flood my mouth.
It was in the moments afterwards, flushed, panting, and smothered by perspiration, pussy juice and spunk, that I decided I would never again doubt my curiosity.
