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NOT MY STORY- UNKNOWN AUTHOR,
hope I don't get into trouble for taking it, I couldn't see an author or a copywrite notice.



I have a fantasy.

It begins with a telephone call. A telephone call from you to our friend The Blonde™. After a few affable exchanges, you invite her to meet us for a drink in the city, or, better still, over to our place for dinner. Not The Blonde and her husband. Just The Blonde. All by her statuesque, Nordic self.

I know. I’ve barely begun to describe my fantasy, and already I’ve established myself as self-serving and immoral. But that’s one of the advantages, the delights, of fantasies. They owe nothing to anyone but the person who conjures them. But if it helps make my longings more palatable for you to digest, imagine that by the time you pick up that phone and dial her number, The Blonde has become a single woman.

So you smile and laugh through the initial catching up. “Yes, it’s great speaking with you again.” And then you ask that all-important question: “How about meeting us for a drink?” Or: “Would you like to come over for dinner? You remember where we live, don’t you?”

Given that this is my fantasy, she says yes to both of those latter questions.

It’s a Saturday evening when she knocks at our door. How many other times have we answered that very door to her, opened it wide to find her standing there, resplendent with sensuality and femininity? This time will be no different, except that on this occasion, she’ll be standing there alone.

We’ve prepared a meal that’s reasonably light, something with just a touch of spice. Szechwan beef, with bean sprouts and fine egg noodles. Just how much truth is there to that claim that spicy food is an aphrodisiac? Perhaps that’s a thought that will occur to us while we watch her eat, the two of us sharing an identical appetite to taste her, to feast upon her.

The meal over, we move to the lounge. The second bottle of Rioja goes down just as easily as the first. The soothing sounds emanating from the stereo chill the atmosphere still further. The Blonde sits alone on one sofa while we share another. Her black dress shows a good deal of leg. My attention will doubtless be captivated by the sight of her taut tanned thighs. I suspect yours will be too.

The conversation we share is relaxed, if not a touch prosaic. On all her other visits here, there was a single, unifying agenda. Our conversations were laden with innuendo and expectancy, and inevitably took an explicit turn towards matters of the flesh some time before that slow, delicious ascent upstairs. That’s not the case this time. There’s no defined timetable, no expected outcome, at least not on her part. This began as an entirely social affair. For it to culminate upstairs, we’ll have to manipulate events.

We’re going to have to seduce her.

Surely it’s not beyond us. Not when we have such a delicious advantage. After all, we know what a licentious creature she is. We’ve witnessed what she can become, what she is capable of, when her blood is up, when her lust is aroused.

And we know so many of the things that can arouse her.

Still, I wonder what our opening gambit might be.

My fantasy sometimes stutters at this point. What if she has no interest in a threesome? Could there be anything worse than trying to seduce someone with no reciprocal desire? Would we be able to read her sufficiently, determine whether she had any interest before we made a suggestion? What if her mood was ambivalent? Could we make our desire clear without being gauche? And how to achieve all of that, and still leave the three of us with room to retreat with our dignity intact.

So what would you suggest? Given your antipathy for mind games, untainted openness might be your ideal approach. How might you present the offer? “All those evenings we shared. Did you ever have an opportunity to experience a threesome?” Or something a tad more direct, perhaps: “You know, Blonde, we’d really love to take you to bed with us.” Maybe - since she’s already demonstrated a desire for us both - you could offer me up as a sexual inducement. “Blonde, how would you like to fuck my husband while I kiss you?”

But I’m sure you have your own ideas. I’d love to hear them sometime.

Let’s imagine that you leave the living room, and that when you return, you sit next to her instead of me. No drama. Just a change of seat, of perspective. She becomes the focus of your attention. Your eyes hold hers whenever she talks; in return, your open body language is telling her everything. It’s a subtle change of emphasis, but it’s there, hanging in the air like an electrical current.

The Blonde allows herself to go with the new mood. “Did you ever find anyone else to play with?” she asks.

“Yes,” I answer. “Eventually.”

“It took us quite a while,” you add.

Her gaze flickers between the two of us. “And did you enjoy yourselves?”

I glance towards you. In turn, you smile at our guest. “It was fun,” you say. “But nowhere near as much fun as you were.”

She arches her eyebrows. “Really?”

“We wouldn’t lie to you. Would we, EA?”

Now it’s my turn to look intently into her eyes. “No. Never.”

The Blonde pauses. “Do you think it would be still be as much fun?”

You reach out a hand, rest it atop her thigh. “I think there’s only one way for us to find that out.” And with that, you slowly lean towards her and press your lips against hers. She hesitates for a moment, and then kisses you back, her hand coming up to cup the side of your face. Your hand rubs back and forth along the top of her thigh, inching her dress a fraction higher with each upward stroke. I receive a tantalising glimpse of stocking top, and of naked flesh beyond.

The Blonde leans back against the sofa, and you follow her down. Your kiss becomes deeper, more passionate. Her hand slips down from your face to your waist, then your thigh. She slips her hand beneath your skirt even as yours inches beneath her dress.

You break the kiss. “Perhaps we should take this upstairs,” you suggest a little breathlessly.

The Blonde nods her accord.

You get up together, and have left the room even before I’ve started to follow. For now, I’m superfluous, a fifth wheel. But I don’t mind. Actually, it’s a position I relish being in. When I glance up the spiral staircase, you’re already leading her across the landing, not in the direction of either of the guest rooms, but towards our own bedroom. By the time I close the bedroom door behind me, you’re slipping the straps of her dress from her shoulders, and her fingers are unbuttoning your blouse.

I pull up a chair on one side of our bed, immersed in the simple pleasure of watching the two of you undressing one another. I manage not to drool, but it’s a challenge. It’s been so long since I saw you together like this, semi-nude and enflamed. You’re still kissing slow and deep, and as you gradually set each other free from the clinging limitations of your clothes, your attentive hands can busy themselves with caressing soft, naked skin. I watch your fingernails trail lightly over the hollow at the base of The Blonde’s™ spine, down across her buttocks; in turn, I watch her cup your full breasts, squeeze your nipples delicately between her fingertips. Your murmurs of pleasure mingle and blend deliciously in the warm night air.

You kneel in the centre of our bed, upper bodies pressed tightly together; mouth to mouth, breasts to breasts, nipples to nipples. Her hand slips over your sex, and in turn, your hand covers hers. Transfixed, I watch as you finger each other to a shuddering first climax, my cock straining impatiently at the front of my trousers.

You turn to look at me as one, then back at each other.

“Do you think we ought to let him play now?” you muse aloud.

“I don’t know.” The Blonde looks back at me with a certain scorn. “Will he be of any use to us?”

“He could be. If he does as he’s told.”

The Blonde smiles menacingly. “If he measures up.”

“Why don’t we see?” Your own scornful glance is a close approximation of hers. “Take off your clothes. Let’s see what you have to offer to two horny women.”

I don’t need to be asked twice. I remove my shoes and socks, then shirt and trousers. The outline of my hard cock is evident beneath my cotton shorts. Both you and The Blonde eye my loins like conscientious consumers.

“Everything,” you tell me.

“Everything,” The Blonde echoes.

I push the shorts down and kick them away. Released, my cock reaches out to you both. It aches to be touched, to be stroked and kissed and nuzzled and licked. It yearns to be sucked by artful mouths, to slide inside wet, willing cunts. It is mercenary in its needs, and it has few preferences. It only hungers for the chance to pleasure - and to be pleasured by - you both.

You stretch out a hand, your fingers trailing along the side of my hard shaft. After a few seconds, The Blonde reaches out too, her fingertips dancing over my swollen glans. As you cup my heavy balls, she circles my shaft with thumb and forefinger, slowly rolling my foreskin back and forth. A sparkling drop of precum appears at the tip of my cockhead.

You smile at The Blonde. “Don’t let it go to waste,” you tell her with a wry grin.

Still holding my cock, she draws me towards her mouth. I go willingly. Her tongue laps out, smearing precum across my glans, her lips. The point where her flesh touches mine courses with electricity. She pulls me closer, easing my cock between her lips. The underside of my shaft runs over her tongue, and the groan building behind my lips finally escapes.

You get off the bed, crouch down on the floor beside me. You nuzzle my balls, licking them, sucking on them gently, all the time wanking my shaft into The Blonde’s waiting mouth. My excitement - climbing since The Blonde’s arrival, since you took a seat beside her - becomes critical. The shuddering in my belly becomes unavoidable, undeniable, and I put back my head and cry out as I climax, as my come jets into The Blonde’s mouth, as you milk me onto her tongue.

I stand there, my body sagging, my erection dwindling. The Blonde looks up at me with lust-drunk eyes, my come running down from the corners of her mouth, over her chin, dripping onto her breasts. You get up from the floor, push her back against the bed, kissing her mouth wildly, licking the come from her chin, from her breasts. Your tongue circles her nipples, and then you’re working your way down her body, planting kisses across the soft rise of her belly. You nuzzle your way across her shaven mound, your tongue probing between the soft folds of her labia. She sighs as you suckle upon her clitoris, gasps as your tongue penetrates her sex.

And then you look up at me, eyes gleaming, mouth shining.

“Care to help me?”

I can feel my cock becoming heavier, wanting to stiffen again, even as I climb onto the bed to join you between her thighs. Your tongue is already criss-crossing her labia, lapping around the opening of her cunt, and so I press my lips to her clit. It’s the first time I’ve ever tasted her, though I’ve longed to on so many occasions. I flicker my tongue across its succulent hood, trace the contours of the throbbing bud. My cock stiffens a little more with every sigh that slips from her mouth. I descend a little further, my tongue colliding with yours as we both seek to savour the nectar oozing from her sex. We kiss passionately, our mouths and our tongues drenched with The Blonde’s lust. For minutes, we alternate our oral attentions between her and each other, and when I slip one hand between your thighs, my fingers sinking effortlessly inside you, you grasp my burgeoning erection, working it restlessly. And whether it’s the pleasure that comes from being orally pleasured by two people simultaneously, or from realising that you’re actually the centre piece of a delectable threesome, or from a combination of the two, when The Blonde orgasms, the waves of pleasure that wash through her body leave her gasping and trembling in their wake.

You kiss your way back up her body to her mouth.

“Enjoy that?” you whisper to her.

She nods raggedly, the ability to form words beyond her for the moment.

“I think you’ll enjoy this, too.”

With that, you swing yourself around so that you’re straddling The Blonde’s head, your sex a few scarce inches from her face. You reach between your own thighs with one hand, opening your labia, unveiling your swollen clitoris. You inch yourself down a fraction, and The Blonde’s tongue darts out greedily, arcing through the tight valley, swirling around your clit. I see your teeth sink into your bottom lip as the feelings of pleasure well up inside you.

You fall forward, your face covering her mound. Your hair cascades down around you, blocking my view, but The Blonde’s renewed groans of passion give away that your tongue is now just as busy as hers.

I stand back, pleasuring myself as I watch you pleasuring each other. I want to stroke your back, run my fingertips down the line of your spine, across the glorious roundness of your arse, but I don’t want to distract you, to divert the attention of your senses. The Blonde comes a second time, even noisier than the first, her breath harsh and ragged as she comes down from the high. Your orgasm follows quickly afterwards, and the unmistakable sound of your climax brings my cock to full hardness.

You turn your head to look at me, your dark eyes full of wanton mischief. The Blonde’s thighs are spread wide; I can see how her labia are engorged with lust, wet from your tongue. Her cunt is open, beckoning shamelessly.

Your gaze narrows. “You want to fuck her, don’t you?” you ask softly.

“You know I do.”

“Then fuck her.” You roll your hips languidly, still enjoying the attentions of her tongue. “Can’t you see it’s what she wants too?”

I wait a few seconds, then clamber onto the bed, hesitantly slipping between The Blonde’s thighs. If any doubt lingers in me, it seems that none does in you. You reach out with both of your hands. One grasps my shaft; the other slips over The Blonde’s sex, opening her still more. You draw me forward, until my cockhead is nestling between her labia.

I look down at the point where our flesh meets, scarcely able to believe that this is actually happening. I watch as you circle her clitoris with the tip of my cockhead, hear The Blonde’s sigh of delight. Round and round my cockhead goes; where it stops, only you know. And then you’re drawing my cock down, until my glans is poised before the opening to her sex.

Again, you look up into my eyes. “Fuck her. Fuck her while I watch.”

I ease forward, and my cock slips deep inside The Blonde’s soaking cunt. She feels so like you inside, and yet utterly different. It’s a little like coming back to a well-known town a decade later, seeing what’s familiar, being aware of all that has changed.

I fuck her with long, even strokes, your gaze transfixed upon the point of our union. Your arousal at the sight is palpable, and stirs me too. The fact that I’ve already come once takes the pressure off, helps me to maintain control. As I fuck her, you lower your head once more, kissing her mound, her labia, her clitoris. You stroke my chest, my nipples, my abdomen. Every seventh or eighth stroke, you coax my cock out of her, suck her juices from my cockhead, my shaft, and then slip me back inside.

It becomes more debauched by the minute.

I find myself at the centre of a whirlpool of sexual pleasure. I’m lying on my back, the two of you on either side of me, sucking my cock together. The sensations that flow over me, through me, are exquisite. Then The Blonde is lowering her sex onto my face, even as you’re impaling yourself on my shaft, and the two of you are kissing and licking and caressing one another above me as you ride me to climax in tandem. Then somehow, you’re in a sixty-nine again, you on top, and I’m fucking you from behind, The Blonde’s tongue running over my balls and your clitoris. And at some point, I must enter heaven, because the two of you are lying face to face, your pussies pressed tightly together, and I kneel behind you both, between your thighs, alternating my cock between your cunt and hers; and when I come this time, I spend myself inside you both. Best of all, when we fall asleep, it is entwined together, and when something stirs me in the dark, it’s the sound of two women pleasuring one another, or the sensation of their hands and their mouths upon my cock.

Here endeth the confession.



NOT MY STORY- UNKNOWN AUTHOR,
hope I don't get into trouble for taking it, I couldn't see an author or a copywrite notice.

this is my first story- i will hopefully be posting some of my own soon.
1 comments

READERReport

2006-05-10 18:57:58
now that is a well written peice of lust, MORE

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