Tamra ate very carefully, worked out like a maniac with a whole series of personal trainers; now, the mini-vibrator buzzing against her, she watched her boobs bounce, her eyes grow darker, her lips part even further, turned on by her own beauty. As she came, she still watched herself gasp and moan and shove her clit even harder against her finger, relishing that she could bring herself to orgasm so easily, and that she loved the sight of herself in the throes.
I’m starring in my own porno, she thought with great satisfaction. Fuck it, why watch anyone else when you can turn yourself on like this?
But even a star needs supporting actors . . .
Right on time, she heard the elevator rising to the third floor. Marta had let in Tamra’s guests, given them directions to their destination, and would now be retreating to the staff flat at the far end of the house which she shared with her husband Teodor. Tamra straightened up, taking a look at her face, now glowing with the flush of orgasm, her cheeks dewy and pink, her lips moist; crossing to the coolers again, she poured icy vodka into three shot glasses, lined them up and stood there, waiting. The jacuzzi was filled and bubbling softly, fragranced with rose and chypre, underwater chromatherapy lights set to a deep pink which bathed the water with a deliciously suggestive colour. Neither of the two young men who could be heard crossing the bedroom, accurately directed by a very discreet Marta, had been here before, and, experienced as they were, their eyes widened at the sight of their surroundings, the sheer lavishness of the setting, the exquisite scent in the air and, of course, their client herself, naked and American-smooth, not a hair on her body apart from the glorious mass of red-gold hair pinned above a face that was as breathtaking as her figure.
‘Hello, boys,’ Tamra purred, slipping her dark gaze up and down their bodies, very pleased to notice that they had both reacted instantly to the sight of her. ‘This is our playroom. Come over here and do a shot with me before we get started.’
Eagerly, the young men crossed the room and took the glasses she was holding; Tamra clinked hers with theirs in a toast, then downed her vodka in one, giving them the cue to follow suit.
‘It’s Bruno and Oliver, right?’ she said, looking from one to the other.
Bruno was dark-skinned, with striking light green eyes and full, sensual lips; Oliver taller and much fairer, his features Germanic, his blond hair clubbed at the back of his neck in a short ponytail. Both young men were as handsome as the models that the escort site promised and, side by side, they presented an exotically delicious contrast. Oliver wore a tailored suit, Bruno a slim-cut shirt and equally fitted trousers. Tamra could have taken them both out to dinner, to the opera, been seen anywhere in public with them without anyone realizing that both young men were pay-to-play. They were absolutely five-star escorts all the way. Lady Margaret had recommended this agency to Tamra, and, as with so many things, Lady Margaret had been, as she would put it with a wink at the double entendre, ‘absolutely bang on’.
‘That’s right, um—’ Bruno began.
‘Call me Tamra,’ she said, smiling at them both with blinding force. ‘No formality here, boys. Now, I’m sure you don’t want to get those lovely clothes wet. Go into the bedroom, take ’em off and come back in here looking pleased to see me, okay?’
‘No problem at all, Tamra!’ Oliver said fervently. ‘Oh, and Diane said to bring you this . . .’
From his jacket pocket he pulled a bulging baggie of presieved cocaine, no rocks or lumps in it, powdery as icing sugar. Diane, who ran the escort agency, was more than happy to provide extras for trusted clients.
‘Would you like to—’
‘We’ll save that for after Round One,’ Tamra said, winking at them so seductively that Bruno swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple swelling along with the already prominent bulge in his trousers. ‘No sense rushing things. We’ve got plenty of time for me to do lines off both your cocks and then watch you lick each other clean . . .’
Both Bruno and Oliver turned and almost ran to the bedroom, so eager were they to strip naked; they practically jostled each other in the doorway. Tamra did one more shot as she listened to the sounds of zips being unfastened, shoes kicked off, near-jumping from one foot to another as they pulled their underwear off. The anticipation was making her so wet she was almost dripping on the marble floor. After all those years of having to grab sex where she could, a quick fling here and there on the road in the rare times Brianna Jade was safely looked after elsewhere, and then the time in purdah with Ken, the joy of being able to have sex pretty much whenever she wanted, with young men who looked like underwear models, was simply dazzling. Tamra had been asked out by every eligible bachelor over thirty in London and quite a lot of non-bachelors as well, but no way was she ready to date seriously, not at all. Boyfriends tied you down, and the idea of getting married again nearly brought her out in hives. She was much too busy being the merry widow.
‘Oh yeah,’ she said contentedly as Bruno and Oliver re-entered the bathroom, both stark naked and sporting the large erections she had already seen on the password-protected, security-encoded section of Diane’s website. Both young men were almost completely shaved, what they called in the US ‘slip-and-slide’, and trimmed and waxed pubic hair on men made their cocks look even bigger. Bruno’s was longer, Oliver’s wider. Decisions, decisions . . .
Tamra let out another long sigh of absolute bliss, spread her arms wide along the marble shelf behind her, and opened her legs.
‘You,’ she said, pointing at Bruno, ‘come here and eat me out. Then you get a turn,’ she said to Oliver. ‘The one who makes me come hardest gets to fuck me first.’
She judged Bruno the winner, but it was a close-run thing, and she could barely even get a word out once both young men had given it their best shot. Instead she pointed at Bruno, her eyes filmed with pleasure, her lips parted and moist.
Professional as he was, Oliver couldn’t help groaning in disappointment at having lost the competition. But a few minutes later, the party having moved to the bathtub, the noises he was making were considerably more satisfied. Bubbles pumped up from the jacuzzi’s powerful jets, surrounding Tamra, who was holding onto the edge of the bath for dear life, and Bruno, behind her, gripping her slippery hips. His cock thrust in and out of her as Tamra simultaneously sucked off Oliver, who was standing on the marble floor next to the jacuzzi, his feet planted wide, his moans of pleasure audible even over the motor of the whirlpool bath.
Unfortunately, Oliver was being too gentle with her. That was the thing with some escorts – they’d hang back a bit out of professional courtesy. You had to show them how you liked it. Managing to balance as Bruno’s cock slammed in and out of her, Tamra let go of the bath, grabbed Oliver’s hands and dragged them to the back of her head, still sucking his cock with everything she had. Oliver got it straight away, twisted his hands in her hair, started fucking her mouth hard, and Bruno picked up the rhythm, his hands digging into her now as he pounded away behind her, Tamra’s muffled moans rising to an absolute scream of pleasure that came out through her nose, because her lips were sealed so tightly around Oliver’s bobbing, throbbing, girthy cock—
‘Ah fuck! Fuck yes!’ Oliver screamed too as he dragged his cock from Tamra’s mouth just in time, Tamra rearing back to take the explosion of come over her perfect tits, water and hot young male spunk dripping from her hard pointed nipples; behind her, Bruno dragged his out too, shooting into the condom. He was a grunter, not a yeller. The sounds he made as his orgasm hit were right from the back of his throat, loud and wordless. Tamra watched Oliver, her eyes bright and wide: the sight of his cock spasming, his hands now white-knuckled on the bath again to keep him from falling, his hips rocking as he squirted his last drops on her wet skin, was so erotic that she licked her lips in sheer pleasure. She loved watching guys come, loved watching them lose it completely; that was why women liked gay male porn, of course. If you were into guys, that was where you saw them really going for it, giving it, taking it, shooti
ng their loads, their faces convulsed, their lips open as they gasped and groaned . . .
‘Nice going, guys,’ she said, approvingly. ‘Time for some coke, some liquor and Round Two.’
Oliver, who couldn’t be more than twenty-three, was already recovered enough for his cock to bob in excitement at the mention of Round Two: he held out a hand to steady Tamra as she climbed out of the bath, white bubbles mounding on the water-slick curves of her body.
‘What did you have in mind for Round Two?’ he asked, his eyes sparkling.
Tamra reached up and kissed him, pressing her wet body against his dry one, rubbing her crotch into his, feeling his cock curl awake. She drove her tongue deeply into his mouth, making him take it just as his cock had filled hers just now, her hands behind his head, removing the elastic from his hair, twisting her fingers through it, pulling it deliberately, hurting him just enough, hearing him moan in excitement and stiffen even more.
‘You want me to fuck you with a strap-on?’ she said, pulling back, still holding his head, her lips touching his as she spoke. ‘Or you want me to tell Bruno to fuck you while you eat me out?’
‘Oh man,’ Oliver breathed. ‘I want both.’
Bruno, out of the jacuzzi too, pressed up behind Tamra; he wasn’t that tall, and his cock and balls squashed into the split of her buttocks, the cock, stiffening again, pressing into her arse. He bit and kissed the back of her neck and she writhed in excitement; his wide lips were so soft, his teeth so deliciously sharp on her wet skin, she was ready to go again right now, needed a cock inside her now, now—
Bending over, she grabbed Oliver around the waist for balance, widening her legs.
‘Put it in me!’ she commanded Bruno. ‘Fuck my ass this time, and give it to me good. I want it fast and furious. Jesus, you boys are fucking gold!’
As Bruno quickly grabbed another condom, she reached back with one hand and started to rub herself; by the time Bruno slammed into her, she was already coming, screaming her orgasm against Oliver, who had dropped to his knees to support her: he held her up, kissing her mouth frantically, his arms flexing to take the impact of her body rocking forward every time Bruno slammed into her with another hard furious stroke. Tamra’s fingers never stopped all the time that Bruno fucked her; orgasm smashed into orgasm, overlapping so completely that she didn’t stop coming the entire time. Instructed to give it to her good, Bruno obeyed his client with the complete professionalism of an expert. By the time his grunts reached the pitch of a wild boar about to charge, and his cock finally pumped its second load, Tamra literally could not stand up.
She collapsed into Oliver’s arms, and he caught her with the reflexes of Prince Charming catching a fainting Cinderella, lowering her to the thick plush rug on which he had been kneeling, her head resting on his thigh. She was so thoroughly fucked that even the sight of his cock pointing straight up to his belly button, looking even wider and thicker with veins from this angle, didn’t make her turn to take it in her mouth. She was panting like a sprinter, her chest heaving, her breasts jiggling; Oliver bent over to kiss her nipples, lick and nip at them, and she moaned softly and stroked his hair, her hips still jerking a little as she came down from the crazy orgasm high.
‘This is so not like work,’ Bruno said as he disposed of the condom and washed his cock in the huge sink. ‘And believe me, I never say that to clients.’
‘He really doesn’t,’ Oliver confirmed into Tamra’s breasts.
‘I need a drink,’ she said, managing to catch her breath. ‘One the size of Lake Ontario. And I need a line the size of – of—’
‘Pall Mall?’ Bruno suggested. ‘Coming right up.’
‘Champagne,’ she specified. ‘Jesus, help me up!’
Oliver did one better; he picked her up, carried her to the soft towelling-upholstered chaise longue, and laid her down there as Bruno brought her a brimming champagne glass and the black slate with a whole series of big fat lines now decorating its surface. Inside Tamra’s suede pouch had been a razor and several silver straws: each young man, showing excellent manners, took a straw for himself and kept them separate.
‘Whooh!’ Tamra said, tilting back her head as the butter-soft cocaine slid down. ‘This is smooth.’ She grinned at the two young men kneeling by the chaise longue. ‘Diane has the best drugs and the best boy-toys.’
‘Not to boast,’ Oliver said seriously, ‘but everyone says that.’
Tamra nodded appreciatively. ‘My friend who recommended Diane is gay, and she says your girls are top-notch.’
‘Do you want me to ring for one?’ Bruno asked. ‘It’s no problem . . .’
Tamra waved a hand dismissively, finished her champagne and handed the glass to him for a refill.
‘No thanks,’ she said. ‘I like a lot of cock. And I don’t share nicely like they tell you to in pre-school.’
She plumped up the towelling-covered pillows behind her and pulled herself up to sit a little higher, her long slim legs stretching out in front of her. And yes, her stomach pooched out just a bit when she didn’t lie completely flat, and no, she didn’t give a damn about it. She reached up and stretched her arms, a long sigh of contentment issuing from her lips, the coke buzzing through her bloodstream. Bruno returned with the new glass of Cristal, and she took it, sank two fingers into it and then into Oliver’s mouth. He licked the fizz off eagerly, his red lips parted, asking for more; he was such a good kisser that she filled her mouth with Cristal, bent over, let it flow slowly into his, feeling him kiss and swallow, kiss and swallow . . .
‘Bruno, you ready for Round Three?’ she asked. ‘I want you to fuck Oliver’s ass when you are. Just like this.’ She stroked Oliver’s cheek. ‘Just like this,’ she purred, sliding three fingers into his mouth now, feeling him suck on them hard, her other hand delving into his hair. Bruno was already unwrapping a condom, picking up the lube which she had laid out on the counter, squirting some onto his hand. She knew both young men were fully on board with fucking each other as well as her, had chosen them specially; Oliver’s eyes were already wide with anticipation as he braced himself, knees on the rug, hands on the chaise longue, to take Bruno’s cock.
‘And if you take it all, right up your ass, every inch of him . . .’ Tamra filled her mouth with Cristal again, let it flow into Oliver’s, felt him swallow every drop – ‘you can fuck me after. Any position you choose. Wherever you want to put it.’
Bruno was working lube into Oliver’s ass, his hands dark on Oliver’s paler skin, his cock distended as he slid the condom on. Oliver was already moaning, both at the pounding he was about to take and the prospect of fucking Tamra afterwards; she kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth as Bruno started to work his cock inside, and Tamra felt that too, felt Oliver shudder and buck as the cock slid inexorably further into him, Tamra kissing him so hard now he could barely breathe, had to gasp for breath through his nose, as she had had to when his cock was jammed right up to the roof of her mouth . . .
‘How are you going to fuck me?’ she whispered against his lips as Bruno started to move faster, beginning to slam Oliver’s more slender body against the chaise longue. ‘Where are you going to put that big fat cock of yours? You better keep it hard for me, you better not come now with Bruno’s cock up you . . . you better save it for me or there’ll be trouble . . .’
Oliver wrenched his head back.
‘Now,’ he pleaded. ‘I want to fuck you now, now, let me do it now . . .’
Tamra felt an actual spark between her legs, as if a vibrator with a faulty connection had given her a tiny, very pleasurable electric shock.
‘Awesome idea!’ she said, jumping up and going to grab a condom; a bare minute later she was stretching out on the big rug, Oliver above her, his big cock, meaty and wide, making her scream as he drove it into her in one shocking, almost painful stroke. Bruno was deep inside him, waiting for his cue to start moving again, and now he did, plunging in and out of Oliver in the same rhythm that Oliver fucke
d Tamra, a chain of fucking, Tamra’s legs spread as wide as they could go so that Oliver could kneel between them, and Bruno behind him. Oliver’s fair hair hung round his handsome face, his cheeks bright red, his eyes almost glazed with the intensity of what they were doing; Bruno’s dark curls damp with sweat.
Thank God they both came already, Tamra thought, her back arching, her hands grabbing onto the legs of the chaise longue, determined not to close her eyes for a moment, to watch this whole thing, Bruno fucking Oliver fucking her. I want this to go on for ever. I want them to hold out as long as they can, the dirty fuckers! My God, Oliver’s cock is huge, it’s like a battering ram – Jesus, this is so fucking hot . . .
‘Don’t either of you dare fucking come for hours, you bastards!’ she panted, as her head bounced up and down on the rug with the vigour of their efforts. ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’
Chapter Six
The Century Club, London
‘Ethereal! Other-worldly! Fairy tale!’ Milly read from her pale blue leather Mulberry notebook. ‘Spiritual! Poetic!’
Her round blue eyes lifted from the book, fixing limpidly on her wedding planner.
‘You said to think of five buzz-words for this meeting, and that’s what I came up with,’ she said. ‘That really encapsulates how I feel about this wedding.’
Ludo Montgomerie, wedding-planner extraordinaire, who had a client list as packed full with celebrities as Spago’s during the Oscars, raised his Botox-arched, manscaped brows as high as his injectables would let him.
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