Written by admin
22 Jan 2009
Known Strangers, hopefully with punctuation correct this time.
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20 minute read
Wearing a thong is a very meaningful gesture for me. When I slide the delicious softness over my calves, relish its touch to my thighs, tuck the scrap of fabric between my lower cheeks and feel the close caress of the scanty triangle at the front, I'm giving my body a message. Now the skimpy underwear still talks to me, whispers an ongoing flirtation into my lower belly. Every step I take reinforces the purpose of my outing today, the fabric of my tight jeans rubbing a sensuous caress over the bare skin of my arse.
Bull skirts his strong climber's hand over my backside, we exchange a smile. `Nervous?' he asks, his voice a familiar tenderness between us in this busy street.
`Of course I am.' I look into his green eyes, take in the laugh that always hovers just behind them. `You?'
He smiles and nods. My gaze lingers on his sensitive lips for a moment before I turn my attention back to the street ahead. `There.'
The pub where we agreed to meet is easy to find. Bull pats my head, a quick contact between us that says all we both need to hear. I love this man.
And I want to see his cock in another woman's mouth. In her body. I smile to myself at the contradiction.
We try not to be too obvious as we look around. `See them?' he asks. I shake my head. `Let's sit over there.'
The cafÃ© isn't very busy, we'll be visible enough where we seat ourselves. The seam of my jeans rubs against my clit, I feign mild disinterest as I let my gaze slide over the people scattered here and there at polished tables. What would they do if they knew what I'm thinking right now?
Would the chemistry be there? If not, we'll just be screwing each other tonight instead of strangers.
And that will be fine, too. We're not in this to patch something that's full of holes, we're here to occasionally elevate something that already touches the belt girthing Orion's hips.
`What do you want to drink, Love?' he asks.
`Just white wine for now.'
This is the curse of being married to a punctual man. You're always early. And everyone else is always late.
He stands at the bar and I watch him ask for our drinks. This is one reason I hate going out alone. He knows what I drink, whether I prefer dry or sweet wine, what beer to ask for if the pub doesn't have my usual. Just the thought of ordering my own drink is enough to make me break out in a cold sweat.
It's in the small things that love is made.
We're too nervous to chat, but he's comfortable with silence. I'm not, but I've learned to live with it, and he's learned to live with my occasional need to talk. Perhaps later I'll watch his eyes smoulder green fire when he's fucking her. I hope so.
We know them when they come in, he's wearing a blue jacket just as he described. He'd joked that she hadn't decided what she was going to wear yet, and I'd laughed because neither had I.
`Hello,' they greet, and we get up to shake hands. His hands are different from Bull's, smaller, but harder. His body is also not like Bull's. Leaner, taller, and his smile is good, sensitive lips the way I like them. Strong chin. Clear gaze, and for a moment I see a flash of those blue eyes watching as I suck his cock. I smile, hoping he can't read my thoughts on my face, or perhaps that he can. This is what we're here for, after all.
She's delicious, too, confident, with a laugh just under the surface, waiting for a chance to bubble from her lips and touch us all with little giggle-kisses. Her eyes are deep brown, molten chocolate, her lips soft and inviting. She bends over for a moment as she sits down and I know Bull and I are both eyeing her cleavage.
It's hard work to keep the snigger from escaping. We all look so darn normal, like a group of friends meeting for a pint, not two couples getting together to fuck each other's brains out if the vibes turn out to be right.
We chit-chat over this and that as we all enjoy a drink. We know already we have a lot in common, we've been chatting over the net for two weeks. He's sipping a pint of Guinness, she's having white wine like me. Our eyes meet, blue to brown, and she drops her gaze back to her glass. Do I meet her approval?
I pat Bull's inner thigh, resist the urge to slide my hand up his denim-clad thigh and brush my fingers over his cock.
What the hell. Screw resistance.
I feel him stiffen beside me and let out the satisfied smirk, my eyes still on her. She's not looking, and I glance at him. He did see, and he's laughing at me behind his eyes, a lock of his blond hair brushing his forehead.
There has to be that unpredictable, unforced connection for sex to work. And I think perhaps there is. We talk about work, about my cycling adventures, about their travels and Bull's climbing. I feel a touch against my knee and my eyes widen.
I lean back and talk on as if I can't feel her toes stroke gently up and down my shin. Any other time I'd consider this intrusive, but she'd read the situation right, didn't go beyond my knee. A question, this touch. A hint. A suggestion.
We move on to the second round of drinks. My eyes meet his, we hold each others' gazes for a few moments, too long to be insignificant, too short to be rude.
`Are you parked close by?' he asks when the second round of drinks start flirting with the bottoms of our glasses.
`Not far at all,' Bull replies.
`Well, do you think you'd like to follow us to our home?' she says.
Bull and I exchange glances. I wink at him and nod.
`Sure,' he says.
We get up, she and I share a smile as our men discuss some footie thing I don't give a shit about. I spare a passing thought for the wisdom of wearing black jeans. If I hadn't, the dampness between my thighs might have shown.
In the privacy of the car, Bull turns to me before starting the engine. `Are you sure about this?'
`Yes, if you're okay with it I think we can go ahead.'
`I'm okay with it.'
Excitement wraps its arms around my heart in a breathless hug. Bull starts the car. We spot them passing, he flashes the lights at us. Left, right, another right, left again, as we suck breath mints and laugh about how this is just like dating all over again. Fifteen minutes later we stop in front of a neat terrace house in a homely suburb. A neighbour bent with age shuffles to her front door and we smile our hello. We have our story agreed, the men had met when Bull was still commuting to work by train. I imagine calmly stating that we'd met through an internet site dedicated to bringing together people who wish to exchange bodily fluids. It turns me on, this knowledge of the truth when all around us people think we're normal.
We're probably more normal than all of them, but that's another discussion. One not to be had when all you can think of is what your hosts are wearing under their clothes.
Their place is modest, comfy and homey. We're introduced to their dog and I think of our cats, of the time we were fucking and one of them jumped on the bed with that `What are you up to?' meow. I smile, but this is not the time for that story.
We won't be having another drink. Two glasses of wine is about what I can manage without getting drunk, and Bull is driving, so he's not having more either. Lemonade all around then, and we laugh and flirt some more.
I'm sitting beside her and it happens without us really thinking. The touch of our legs against each other is a constant awareness in the back of my mind even as I meet his gaze, hold it long enough to tell him I want him, even as Bull and I touch feet and know we're both loving this.
We turn to say something at the same time and find ourselves facing each other. I feel something change in the atmosphere and nervousness twists in my stomach. Then she touches my face, soft fingers, soft hands, and we both lean toward each other.
Her lips are different from a guy's. Funny enough, my first girl on girl contact had been caressing a pair of breasts that wasn't mine, licking a pussy I was unfamiliar with and panicking slightly because I had no idea what I was doing. I've never kissed before. I should have tried it first.
It's unavoidable, the song just has to thrust thoughts and sensations aside and come tap on my shoulder. `I kissed a girl and I liked it.' I wonder in some compartment of my brain how many bi girls had gathered the courage to come out as a result of that song. I wonder how many straight girls had simply kissed other girls because the song said it was fun and now it was fashionable to do so.
I wonder why I have to have these philosophical discussions with myself at such crucial times, so I kick out the professor from my mind and instead just absorb what this is like.
Main stimulus: Bull is watching and getting hard over this. Two cocks are swelling at the sight of us girls getting it on.
Secondary stimulus: This is so hot. I like the taste of her, the hint of wine on her soft lips, the warmth of her unfamiliar mouth. My hand develops a mind of its own and crawls around her back, starts drawing a little private picture on her spine. She spears her fingers through my hair and I'm starting to lose myself in this kiss.
I have to feel her breasts. They looked so beautiful when I'd ogled her cleavage earlier. I just have to touch, to feel. Controlling my sense of urgency, I gently tug her shirt up and slide my hand up to her bra.
God, she's so soft. I toy over her nipple through the cup of her bra, feel her fingers crawl under my shirt to return the favour.
I want a cock in my mouth.
I break the kiss to ask. `Baby'¦'
`I want to suck you.'
She's nuzzling my neck and I can barely think. My pussy is getting so wet, I want to get rid of my pesky trousers. As if reading my mind, her man comes over, kneels beside the couch where we're sitting and rests his hands on my belt buckle. He turns to Bull. `Okay?'
When had the men lost their clothes? I watch Bull stroke his erect cock as her man tugs at my belt. My trousers get stuck somewhere along the way, he's also trying to undress her. Bull comes to help, it all goes pear-shaped and we end up in giggles all over.
`I think you women need quick-release trousers,' he jokes and I rejoice. I can find things funny that some people might not find funny at all, like the time one of my lovers was trying too hard and we fell off the bed. Instead of fucking me on the floor, the silly man got all annoyed.
You win some, you lose some. Tonight I'm winning, it seems.
We're all naked now, and I turn my attention to her nipples, his cock in my hand. It's a little smaller than Bull's, an unfamiliar shape, and he's not circumcised. Weird feeling. Weird feeling to have her nipple in my mouth, to toy over it with my tongue. Good weird, new and unfamiliar, but yes, I want it.
I look up briefly, see Bull's cock in her mouth and need stabs in my pussy. The brief look turns into a stare. I lick and suck at her nipples again, caress his balls and break now and then to watch her suck my man. She turns my chin, wants my lips around her man's cock as she fondles my breasts with deft fingers.
He slides into my mouth, I play over his head with my tongue. Is he enjoying this? Am I good enough? What does he like, dislike? I want to please him, to please her, to elevate their pleasure to the level Bull and I are at, watching each other pleased.
The alliteration chooses that moment to strike my brain and I smile around his cock.
`What is it, honey?' her man murmurs and I suppress my inner writer for a while. We're fucking, not doing a spelling test. So instead of worrying about repetition I lift his cock so I can lick his balls, run my tongue up from the base of his shaft to the head. He'll be more sensitive here than Bull is, being uncircumcised.
His gasp of pleasure tells me my guess was right. She pinches my nipples, not too hard, just enough to feel good, and I hear her moan around my man's cock. Yes, I want to say, but it's too important to keep this delicious cock in my mouth, the musky fragrance of arousal dancing a slow tango around our naked bodies.
He grips my head and the atmosphere slips. I don't like being forced with a blow job. I push him away gently. `Not like that, baby.'
`I'll show you,' Bull says, and I turn my head to take his cock instead.
Ah, familiar, thick and hard. He's so turned on, I can't wait to see him in her pussy. Is she looking forward to taking him? Will she be tight and warm around him, caressing his erection every inch of the way, or is she soft and receptive like me?
Something touches my clit and I cry out around Bull's cock. I suppress the urge to jerk away, it's her tongue. I realise her man's cock is getting no attention and turn my head to take it in my mouth again, stroking Bull with my hand as I relish the sensation of her delicate licks. God, this is so good.
It's time for condoms, methinks. I break things off, because I want to see her fucked by my man, want to feel her man's cock in me. We banter about the foil packets, joke about my nervous posts to the Swing4Ireland site about not getting the bloody things over Bull's seven inches, wonder if we could call Dora to come show us how it's done. Unroll it a tiny bit and stretch it, they'd said, and I try it, and it works. Thank god.
She's sheathed her man, and we're ready for action. I dig the lube from my little handbag, squirt some in my hand and play over her clit to apply it. She's wet already, but lube never hurts, and I work it down, down to her opening, slide a finger into her pussy and realise with an excited pang that she's tight, which I'm not. Bull is going to love this. I look at him and smile, and he smiles back, familiar gesture that says more than all the words I can think of right now.
I get on all fours, wait for it with bated breath. He's watching us, must be. As Bull's cock slides into her pussy, his slides into mine. Lube never hurts, I'd told him as we chatted, and I smile when I realise he'd taken careful note of my preferences, lubed his cock while Bull and I were staring in each other's eyes.
My smile is wiped away as the men start moving. I'd told her man not to expect me to come, not to put pressure on me to try and fulfil his expectations where that's concerned. The pressure is not there for me to perform and I can relax and enjoy this sensation, enjoy the knowledge of Bull watching as I'm being fucked by another man while he shoves his cock into another woman's pussy.
I like it deep and hard like this, can seldom take it that way with Bull because he's so big. He's still going slowly, pushing a little deeper with every stroke as she stretches to fit him. Having been fucked by that rather large cock for years now, I'm ready for her man from the word go and he thrusts into me over and over without restraint. I watch, mesmerised, as Bull moves deeper into her. And deeper. And deeper. He's a sensitive, intense lover, and I hope she'll be able to feel the full joy of that music in his soul tonight.
God, this is good. I see her breasts swinging as Bull slides almost all the way into her now, feel her man matching his rhythm. `It's okay, baby,' I say to him.
`Hmm?' both men say and I laugh.
`You, the one fucking me. It's fine, relax. You can go a bit faster if you want.'
`Mmmm, yes. That's good. Like that. Not faster, just like that.'
She whimpers, rests an elbow on the couch and reaches for my breast with the other hand. I close my eyes as she softly pinches my nipple. Oh, god, oh, god this is so good'¦
`Do you want him to play with your clit while he's fucking you?' I ask her.
`What?' She sounds almost panicked, and for a moment I worry that she's maybe not ready for this. Her hand slides to her man's arse, she seems to be encouraging him, and my fears are allayed.
`Do you want Bull to play with your clit while he's fucking you?'
`Yes. Oh, Jesus, yes.'
I use the couch myself for support now, turn my head to look up at Bull. `Reach around her and use your fingers to stimulate her clit. Not too hard.' It's difficult to get the words out. I so love the sensation of an unfamiliar cock in my body. Smaller, but thrust in hard. A body that's lean where Bull's is big, hairy where Bull's is smooth. I reach back between my legs to caress his balls as he's fucking me. He's shaven, not like Bull, and the unfamiliarity of it all is half shocking, half arousing. I really should shave my man one of these days.
Her man slows, withdraws, and for a moment I worry something's gone wrong and he's not happy any more.
`You want to go up to the bed?'
I meet his blue gaze, then look to Bull for confirmation. `It's fine with me,' he says.
Her man leads me upstairs, we enter a bedroom filled with small signs of her care. Bedside table with a digital alarm clock. Hand cream in a jar, girly deodorant.
He curls his fingers over my breasts and cups them, squeezes and smiles down at me. He's so much taller than Bull. I feel intimidated for a moment, wonder if Bull is enjoying himself, then smile. Of course he is. Knowing I'm being fucked will increase his pleasure. Knowing he's being fucked increases mine.
Her man pushes me back onto the bed and nudges my thighs aside. `So, you like the missionary position best, do you?'
Words abandon my brain like darkness fleeing from blinding light as his tongue touches my clit. I claw at the duvet cover, restrain myself from clutching at his blonde hair to push him closer, keep that marvellous tongue on my nether lips. God, he's almost as good as Bull with this. And yes, I know it's probably just a matter of Bull knowing what I like, what I prefer. This man, given time, would probably be as good.
And even then, he'll never be Bull. He'll never be my other half.
But hell, he's a good fuck.
He slides over me, slips his rubber-sheathed cock into my pussy and I thrust my hips up at him. I like the way he moves, like the way he stimulates my pussy. This is so good. I want him to come, want to feel him lose it, want to hear him groan in my ear as he unloads deep in my body. I scrape my nails over his back, down to his tight arse, whisper naughty nothings in his ear as he moves deep, intense strokes into me.
I'm not going to cum. That's not what this is about for me.
More, more, deeper, he's losing it, and with a sense of triumph I feel him blow his load. I stroke his hair, feeling somehow motherly to him all of a sudden, wanting to soothe him and assure him it's all right.
`I wanted you to cum,' he mumbles and I treat him to a gentle laugh.
`I told you it's unlikely.'
`You didn't try.'
`Yes. You're right. Later tonight, Bull and I will tell each other all as we fuck. That's when I'll cum, around his cock, and shortly after he'll pump his cum into me. And it will be because of you, and because of your woman.'
He slides out of me, holding the base of the condom, and I approve. Maybe I'm not the only one who's read the pamphlet with the instructions inside the box of foil-wrapped rubbers. Maybe he just had a good teacher. A quick sideways movement - this is seldom pretty, but then, neither is sex - and he has it off, wraps it in a tissue from the box on the bedside table, beside her deodorant.
Cuddle, he touches my breast, but I don't want that now. I move his hand to my lips, kiss his fingers and plant him over my belly button.
`I want to do this again,' he says. `I want you to cum for me.'
Yah, maybe. I'm such a bitch, aren't I? But yes, I'd like to ride him next time. I'd cum that way, for sure. `You realise you'd be nothing but a toy to me, if I use you again?'
He thinks about that a moment. `You're such a bitch.'
Great minds think alike. `I know, baby. If you want me to cum around your cock, I'll have to ride you.'
`Whatever you want.' Mischievous smile, and I really would like to be with him again.
`Do you think they're done yet?' I feel hot again at the thought of Bull cumming in her pussy.
`I don't know.' Then we hear them on the stairs, we get up to meet them. I caress my naked man, smile up at the dark green satisfaction in his eyes.
Later tonight. Later tonight we'll fuck, and tell each other every detail, and cum inside and around each other as we mingle the memories.