Brazen Seduction

by Brazen Seduction (lit)

  He released Richard, then opened the condom packet. He slid the latex in place, then reached for the second item he’d brought from the nightstand drawer.

  The squat plastic jar had no markings, but the contents, when Alan opened the container, smelled light and fresh.

  He scooped a generous dollop onto two fingers, then turned with a devilish grin aimed at Molly.

  “Your turn.”

  He wasted no time, but pushed her back so that she lay sprawled on the bed, and avidly set his mouth on her pussy, using lips and tongue to taste, to moisten, to arouse. The fingers of one hand sought and found her clitoris.

  The fingers of the other caressed up and down her ass, finding her anus, coating it with the lubricant.

  Alan gently positioned her in the center of the bed without lifting his mouth from her pussy.

  “Oh God, that feels so good.” Combing fingers into his hair, she held him fast, in case he thought to just eat and run.

  She didn’t recall his declaration that first night, when he looked at her from beside his master. Not until he moaned with pleasure when Richard moved onto the bed to join them.

  Richard stretched out beside her, pulling her head back so he could kiss her. No wooing caress this time. He sought to drink, to delve, to dominate. Reaching around, he stroked her breast, plucking one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger, pinching, pulling, then switching to the other.

  Alan lifted her right leg, rolling her slightly more onto her left side, but more, offering her to their master. She understood his gesture, and it thrilled her.

  “Have you ever had a cock here?” Richard rubbed his latex covered penis along the crack of her ass, settling the hot, swollen tip against the rosebud opening of her anus.

  “Never.”

  “Good. I’m glad I’m going to be your first.” He pressed forward, one hand maneuvering his cock until it began to spread the virgin opening.

  The burning sensation of having her flesh stretched became a layer of stimulation that wrapped around her arousal, around the moist heat of lips and tongue that tantalized her labia and clit, until the burn morphed into a sharp-edged pain.

  As if Richard’s slow penetration connected her anus, her clit, and her womb, tiny fissions of electricity coiled and sparked, buzzing, tantalizing. Shivering, the combined stimulation, mouth and lips, cock and fingers, drove her arousal to impossible heights, not just centered around her pussy, but spreading, enveloping, consuming her entire body.

  “Oh God!” Her throat worked, sound emerged, but not words, not anything as civilized as words and sentences. Feral noises, the call of woman in sexual fever, the grinding, swirling, trembling reality of raw sex pulled mating sounds from her soul, drove her outside herself, away from emotion and logic and civilization. She could only feel and she could only revel. She could only reach for more. Inside, it felt as if she needed to claw to survive, that she needed more just to live.

  Alan pushed her leg higher, and she who never exercised had no problem stretching, opening herself to meet the demands of her lovers. All she had belonged to them. Giving, she knew, would get her what she craved.

  Richard pressed harder, and she felt the head of his cock finally enter her, felt him slide in and down until she could have sworn he brushed her clit from the inside.

  “More…oh, God, I need more!” Molly’s hips moved, a writhing undulation her body used to capture Richard’s cock, bring it in deeper, bring it in faster while rubbing her clit against that fabulous tongue.

  And then lips and tongue changed their cadence, their course and laved her, clit to ass, sucking on not only her pussy but Richard’s cock.

  Molly came, a blinding, exploding orgasm that cascaded in and through her, a storm of climax more powerful, more everything than she even knew existed. Her uterus clamped down, every part of her working to hold the delicious rapture, to hold it fast and hard inside so it would never end. Moisture gushed from her to bathe the waiting mouth as her body heaved and convulsed, and it went on and on and on.

  Too much, too much.

  Shivers and trembles wracked her and she thought her heart would pound its way right out of her chest. Soaring, racing, with nothing to hold her back, hold her in, it seemed as if she climbed beyond the puny hold of gravity. How could there be anything after this? Then came the slowing, the easing, the return to Earth and she couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t grasp the keening sound she heard came from her.

  “There now, there now.” Gentle arms gathered her in, gathered her close, absorbing the shocks still buffeting through her, wiping the tears from her face.

  Blankets moved from beneath her, and then she was in the center of the bed, cosseted and cocooned between two lovers who had shattered her and put her back together again in the course of mere minutes.

  “Shh,” Richard crooned as he held and rocked her. Alan left the bed but returned. He held a glass of brandy to her lips.

  Molly sipped, closing her eyes as the heat of the liquor sank down to her belly. The trembling stopped for a few blessed seconds, then started again.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why—”

  “You never have to apologize for feeling, sweetheart. That was pretty intense for all of us.”

  The sound of Richard’s voice, coming to her through the dampener of his chest as she lay atop him, soothed. “I didn’t know it could be like that,” she said.

  “First times can be a revelation,” Alan said. He climbed into the bed beside her so that she was nestled between them both. “And Molly? It’s going to get better.”

  “Better? Better might kill me.” She burrowed even deeper between the hot male bodies, soaking up the heat wrapped-in-tenderness they offered her.

  “Well,” Alan said after a minute or two, “I suppose there are worse ways to die.”

  “Our loving you won’t kill you,” Richard said. “But it might keep you in a state of constant satiation.”

  Molly felt herself drifting toward sleep. Loving, he’d said. She wished it could be true.

  As Morpheus pulled her under Molly wondered if these men could ever come to love her the way she knew she already loved them.

  Chapter 9

  Richard liked both men and women as sexual partners and had for most of his adult life. But over and above that, he liked women for being…well, women.

  They were just so different from men. Not only in the frilly, lacey things they tended to put on under their clothes—something he always found extremely arousing—but in their creams and lotions, powders and sprays. And in their thinking.

  Women also possessed very sexy minds—and again, different from men’s.

  While Alan took a quick trip to reassure Mrs. Smyth-White that her project not only remained on target but at the center of his universe, Richard drove Molly to her apartment so she could pick up a few things to bring back to his house.

  “Grab enough to stay the week,” he told her.

  “All right. It won’t take me long.”

  The next day was Memorial Day. He and Alan didn’t make any plans this year, thinking just to take the holiday as an extra day to relax at home together.

  “Anything special you’d like to do for the holiday tomorrow?” he asked as they entered her apartment. If she’d had her heart set on doing something, then they’d do it. He could be a very accommodating man when he wanted to be.

  “I hadn’t made any plans,” Molly said. “I was just looking forward to having another day off work, maybe read a book or two.”

  Richard took advantage of the opportunity to have a look around her apartment, a simple way to get to know the lady a little better. One thing he could say about Molly. She seemed efficient. Her living space stood neat and tidy. It didn’t look like she owned a lot of doo-dads or knick-knacks. Not even a plant waited to greet her upon her arrival, and what there were of possessions looked to be in their place. In fact, her living room and kitchen, small though they might have been, didn’t even l
ook lived in.

  He followed her into her bedroom and sighed with relief. Here at least there seemed to be a bit of feminine clutter. He bet her dresser couldn’t hold another bottle or figurine. One bra hung half-out of a dresser drawer as if trying to escape. A wicker clothes hamper had been tucked into one corner. It stood gaping open, with clothes half in, half out, as if Molly tossed them in from various points around the room and been satisfied if the garment landed merely in the vicinity of it.

  He turned his attention to the woman herself just as she pulled a duffel bag out of her closet.

  “You don’t have a suitcase?” Richard asked. He tested the bounce of her mattress, falling onto the bed, then scooting up and stacking both pillows behind him. He stretched out and laced his fingers behind his head and put his full attention on her.

  “I never really go anywhere, so no, no suitcase.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Travel?” She seemed to have no trouble paying attention to the conversation while she sorted through the clothes in her closet.

  “Yeah. You know, see the world, maybe a tour of the youth hostels of Europe?” He didn’t think she’d be able to get all the clothing she’d pulled from the hangers to fit into that bag.

  “I’m a little old for the youth hostels of Europe. There are places in the world I’d like to see. Scotland. Australia. Someday in the future, when I’m ready. ”

  “Wyoming?” Richard asked. Molly laughed and Richard liked the sound of it.

  “My brother and his wife usually make the trip home at Christmas because her family lives in the area, too. That might change when they have kids. Who knows?”

  “Do you talk to him very often?”

  “My brother?”

  “Yeah.” Richard tried not to laugh. Molly’s lips twitched, indicating she realized he was on to her. He said, “Aren’t you going to say his name?”

  “Well I would, but I don’t want you to think I’m using my safe word.”

  “Point taken. I’ll give you another safe word.” He looked at her, at the serious light that entered her eyes. “Though I have a feeling you’ll never use it.”

  “Why would I? You’d never hurt me.”

  She’d said that so matter-of-fact, as if stating a simple truth. Truth it was, but he marveled that she had such faith in him after such a short time.

  Or maybe not so short a time. He’d wanted her forever, it seemed. How long had she wanted him?

  “Come here.”

  Molly didn’t hesitate. She walked around her bed, then sat down beside him so she faced him.

  Today she’d pulled her wild Irish hair back, mercilessly capturing it with an elastic band. The sweats he’d given her to wear so she wouldn’t be naked on the street nearly swallowed her, even with the sleeves and legs rolled up. Altogether the look made her appear as young as a school girl.

  He knew better, of course. She was all woman.

  He cupped her face, bringing her forward. His mouth brushed back and forth, and then settled fully onto hers. Richard glided his tongue over her lips and drank deeply when she parted hers for him, when she used her tongue to taste him every bit as thoroughly as he tasted her.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Trusting me. It means the world to me.”

  “How could I not trust you?”

  He thought she would say more, thought he read other words, a strong emotion in her eyes. But she left the words unsaid and because she did, he could push away that he knew they existed.

  She might think she loved him now, but he didn’t count on that lasting.

  He intended to stay his course. That meant he and Alan were, hopefully, a lifetime deal. A woman signing on to that kind of living arrangement would have to figure the same terms. She would have to love them both equally.

  He didn’t fool himself. His preferences were unique to say the least. He couldn’t expect a woman as young as Molly, with so much life experience yet to be tasted, to be willing to settle in and settle down for the long haul with two bisexual men.

  He did not doubt that whatever she felt right now, those emotions were sincere. But they were likely of the moment. This arrangement—this ménage relationship—was likely nothing more than an exciting novelty to her.

  So he wouldn’t likely have her forever. But while he had her, he sure as hell planned to enjoy her.

  He stroked her face, looked down at her body. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me my clothes back. Right now.”

  “Now there’s a surprise.”

  He couldn’t keep his grin from going wide when she stood and shucked his sweats. Then she straddled him. Taking his hands, she placed them on her breasts.

  “I need your hands on me. I need your cock in me.”

  “You’ll have them. Set your hair free.”

  He loved the way annoyance flashed across her face. She didn’t want to take the time away from what she wanted and needed. She wanted the main prize, and she wanted it now.

  He would have to teach her what it meant to be a sub. When it came to this, to the sex that already sizzled so hot and good between them, she needed to learn patience.

  Maybe he’d introduce her to the concept of tantric love. What a nice thought! He could easily imagine her sputtering and demanding when he withheld orgasm from her time and time again. Ah, but there were definite limits to his own patience so that, unfortunately, wouldn’t likely happen. He caressed and stroked her breasts, keeping his touch light, and enjoyed the sight of her nipples beading. No tantric love, but he could still withhold the orgasm from her.

  “I’m going to go catch the noon news headlines on the tube. You’ve got about ten minutes to get packed and get dressed.”

  “You’re going to go watch television now?”

  No mistaking the sulk in her voice or the pout on her face. “Yes. You want my hands and my cock and you’ll have them. When I’m ready to give them to you.”

  He thought she’d say something more, but she just got off him and yanked open one of her drawers, temper giving the action a little extra force.

  Smiling, Richard got off her bed. He couldn’t resist the cliché of swatting her ass as he went past her on his way to the living room. He thought she might have growled, but he didn’t call her on it.

  He didn’t really want to watch the noon news, but flicked on the television anyway. He turned the volume to a just audible level and let the images and sound become background buzz as his thoughts centered on the woman in the other room.

  With Alan, there was never any question of who was in charge when it came to lovemaking or when it came to their lifestyle. Alan wanted Richard to be his master. Sometimes, Alan would initiate sex with a touch or a look, a kiss or a caress. But he never demanded. Richard didn’t honestly know if Alan had it in him to demand anything of his master.

  Molly could and would make her own demands. As much as she seemed to get off on being dominated by him, she wasn’t a sub by nature. And that was fine because he wasn’t a Dom by nature, either. The same psychology worked for them both. The relative roles turned them on, aroused them, and added an extra edge to already spectacular sex.

  A photo flashed on the screen and Richard did a double-take. He turned up the volume even as his eyes focused and he realized that, despite his first gut reaction, the woman whose picture lit up the screen was not Molly.

  “…Virginia Townsend, aged twenty-five, of Listowel Avenue was last seen Friday night at a bar in the East End called Hog Heaven. Anyone having any information as to the whereabouts of Virginia is asked to contact city police, at Precinct Six. In other news this afternoon…”

  Richard turned off the television. Restless, he got up and paced the room. Why did he feel a shiver go through him when he saw that woman’s picture? For just a bare second, he’d thought he saw Molly’s face looking out at him from the television. That woman, Virginia, could have been Molly’s younger sister, except she didn’t
have quite the same intelligence in her eyes or quite the same level of confidence on her face.

  His sense of disquiet remained. Richard pushed it back, then turned as Molly came into the room. Her duffel bag looked crammed to the max.

  “Is it because I demanded? I’m a sub and I’m not supposed to demand, am I?”

  Her face no longer wore her pout or defiance. In their place he saw curiosity. Richard walked over to her, stroked his finger down her face, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

  “Partially. It’s also called delayed gratification. And besides, although there will be times when I’ll enjoy you all to myself—as Alan will—I find I’m in the mood for the three of us to indulge in water sports.”

  “All right, then.” Molly smiled and then stretched up and placed a kiss on his lips. “I forwarded my land line to my cell phone.”

  “Good thinking. Do you have everything you need?”

  “Not yet. But you’ve promised water sports.”

  Richard laughed. “So I did. Well let’s get to it. I want you wet and wild.”

  “What a coincidence. I want me that way too.”

  * * * *

  Molly tilted her head to the side to study the man who’d been the beginning and end of her sexual fantasies since she’d understood what the term meant. Looking totally relaxed, he lay beside her, naked, with his head on an inflated plastic pillow while the hot water bubbled around them.

  When he’d left her alone in her bedroom, naked and needy, she sensed that she’d done something wrong, made some mistake. Clearly, he’d denied her what she wanted—what they’d both wanted if the firmness of the erection under her could be any indication. And when she joined him in the living room, she sensed that something wasn’t quite right with him.

  Molly leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She hated second-guessing herself in any situation. Maybe she should just turn off her thoughts and simply be. She could relax, enjoy the here and the now. She could let the hot water do its work.