Triple Chance #4 (Three erotic short stories) (Luke Chance Triples)

by Lucy Tucker

  "Take your gown off," she whispered. "Please … just do it."

  "I can't," said Chance desperately. "I made a promise."

  She pressed her buttocks against him, and he felt the heat of her through the thin fabric of his robe. His hands moved to the belt of their own accord, and he'd just started untying it when he realised what he was doing. Fighting his overwhelming desires, he held her round the waist with one arm and raised his hand to deliver another smack.

  "No, that's enough," she said. "Let me go."

  Chance did as he was told, and she crouched to collect her nightgown, slipping it on and tying up the belt. She pushed past him, and seconds later he heard the door open and close.

  Chance let his breath out slowly. Despite his resolve, he'd come within a whisker of breaking his promise. He could still feel Lottie's soft buttocks on his hand, could smell her delicate perfume, could hear her cries of passion. Groaning, he threw himself full length on the bed and strove to go to sleep.

  "Leave?" Harrow snorted. "Don't talk rubbish, man. You can't leave."

  "I'm sorry, sir." Chance was polite, but firm. "I have urgent business in the city. I can't possibly stay another day."

  "I insist."

  "But —"

  "Listen, Chance, Lottie's a new woman. Dammit, I heard her singing earlier. Singing!" Harrow looked up from his armchair. "Have you seen her today, ha-hmm?"

  "No, sir." Chance hadn't seen Lottie at all. In face, he'd been avoiding her.

  "Damn fine show you must have put on. Very grateful to you."

  "Even so, I really must leave."

  "I won't hear a word of it," said Harrow, raising his hand. "Got a special dinner laid on tonight. Couple of guests, as a matter of fact."

  "Oh?"

  "Lottie's sister will be here, and there's Derekson too, an old army colleague of mine." Harrow eyed Chance from under his bushy eyebrows. "I'll be wanting to catch up with him, I can tell you. Reckon you can take care of the ladies for me?"

  Chance swallowed. "Take care of them?"

  "Lottie's sister isn't married." Harrow waved his hand airily. "Don't know what her thing is, but you'll find out soon enough. Thick as thieves, the two of them. Always talking on the blasted telephone."

  "Was this, er, dinner arranged some time ago?"

  "Derekson was. Lottie tells me she asked her sister weeks ago, but damned if I remember anything about it." Harrow tapped his forehead. "The little grey cells not what they used to be, eh?"

  "I doubt that, sir." Chance also doubted Lottie's excuse. From the sound of it, she'd realised she was onto a good thing, and had invited her sister along to participate.

  "Still, you'll cope, ha-hmm? Strong hands. Good coordination. Yes, you'll cope. And no more talk of leaving, eh? Man's got to do his duty."

  "Yes sir," said Chance deferentially.

  "Chin up, Chance. I envy you, man. Wish I were twenty years younger, ha-hmm."

  "So do, sir. So do I."

  Lottie's sister was a raven-haired beauty called Carla, and long before dinner was over, Chance realised he wouldn't be getting much sleep that night. Lottie sat opposite, revealing her wonderful cleavage at every opportunity, while Carla sat beside him, wearing a dress slit all the way up her thigh. And, from the frequent glimpses she offered him when crossing and uncrossing her legs, no underwear.

  Chance ate well, knowing he'd be needing the energy.

  "Good evening, Mr Chance."

  "Evening, Lottie."

  "May I come in?"

  Chance indicated the waiting bed. "Of course. Be my guest."

  Lottie seemed to be excited about something as she climbed in beside him, it wasn't just the upcoming tryst. "What did you think of my sister?"

  "Carla? She's a very attractive woman."

  "Excellent, I'm glad you think so." Lottie regarded him thoughtfully. "Harry thinks I invited her down weeks ago, but that's nonsense of course. I only asked her this morning."

  Chance nodded, unsure what to say.

  "You see, last night was terribly unfair on you."

  "Really? In what way?"

  "Well, I got what I wanted, but you …" Lottie blushed slightly. "It was unfair, leaving you like … that." Here she glanced at his lap, as though his erection would still be present after 24 hours.

  "It's okay, Lottie, I understand. I promised your husband —"

  "Yes, yes." Lottie gestured impatiently. "No sex with me. I know that. But, er, Carla is willing to stand in, as it were. The poor girl has been inconsolable since her husband left her last year. She's been getting rather uptight, as a matter of fact." Lottie looked at him hopefully. "You don't mind, do you?"

  "It would be an honour," said Chance, with a smile. "Your sister is almost as attractive as you are."

  "Oh, hush. You're getting me all hot and bothered."

  "Your sister, does she have any … preferences?"

  "Well, it's not my place to say …"

  "Of course."

  "… but she does buy an awful lot of baby oil." Lottie realised she was revealing rather a lot, and it wasn't just her loosely-tied nightgown. "Never mind. I'm sure she'll explain later."

  "I'm looking forward to it."

  "Yes, and unlike me, you'll be able to have your wicked way with her." Lottie leaned closer to pinch his cheek, and her gown fell open to the waist. "Dear me, I seem to have disrobed. Would you care to help me out of the rest?"

  Slap!

  "Aaahh!"

  Slap!

  "Aaahh!"

  Chance may have been tired, but he never gave any less than his best. Lottie writhed with pleasure as he spanked her, every slap of his hand across her buttocks making her cry out with pleasure and pain. Her fair buttocks grew redder and redder the more he spanked her, her cries more strident, until finally she begged him to stop. She leaned on the windowsill, panting hard, her hands clenching and unclenching.

  Chance put his arm around her, helping her up. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm … a little … steamed up," confessed Lottie, between breaths. She turned to him, circled his chest with her arms, pressed herself against him, and he felt the hammering of her heart against his chest. She kissed his neck, his cheek, and then pressed her lips to his, hot with desire. Her tongue sought his and her grip tightened as their passionate kiss burned at their resolve. Chance was as hard as a tree trunk, and his member felt as large as one too, pressed against Lottie's soft belly. She began to move against him, pressing her breasts to his chest, her nipples twin points against his skin. He held her hips with his hands, knowing he only had to lift her a few inches, clasp her to him, and his straining shaft would sink into the moist warmth between her legs. She stood on tiptoes, her arms around his neck, half-lifting herself, daring him to go the rest of the way.

  Then she sighed, and relaxed. "I can't. I just can't."

  "It's okay."

  She released him, turned away. "I'll get … Carla," she said, before hurrying from the room.

  Chance took a deep, ragged breath. Desire rushed through his veins like fire, and his loins ached with passion. He truly wanted Lottie, was desperate to slake his desire - and hers - by taking her in his arms, pinning her to the bed and finishing them both with a frenzy of thrusting, but rules were rules and promises were promises.

  Carla slipped into his room half an hour later, wearing a silk nightgown. The ruby-red fabric accentuated her skin, and her eyes were liquid in the semi-darkness. She had a small bag over her shoulder, which she set on the floor beside the bed.

  "You poor dear," whispered Carla, as she got into bed. "Lottie told me everything. You must be on fire."

  "I'm a little warmed up," admitted Chance.

  Carla placed her hand on his chest, gently moving it in circles, arousing him with her firm touch. "Well, darling, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement. Did Lottie mention my little peccadillo?"

  "No, not in detail."

  Carla put her mouth to his ear. "Baby oil," she said, in a throaty whi
sper. "Rubbed in well, all over me. Everywhere."

  Chance swallowed. The thought of smoothing oil all over Carla's naked body, her soft skin glistening, the sensuous feel of her under his hands … it was almost too much to bear.

  "Then, when I'm properly warmed up, we'll see what we can do about your little problem." Here she moved her hand to his crotch, sliding it up and down his member. "Oh my, I do apologise. You have a bigger problem than I thought."

  Carla got herself ready, spreading a bath towel on the bed before removing her gown and lying face-down on the towel. Chance straddled her legs, kneeling up with his buttocks just touching her calves, pinning her legs together. His member stood like a flagpole, the crown swollen and desperate for action.

  Chance studied Carla's body, from her shapely thighs to her rounded buttocks, from her hips and waist and up over her back to her shoulder blades. Then to her slender neck, and her luscious dark hair. He could feel her warmth, smell her fresh scent, and his desire was overwhelming. But first, he had to prepare her, to bring her to a fever pitch matching his own.

  He took the bottle of baby oil and squirted a generous amount into one hand, before rubbing both hands together to spread the oil. Then he placed his hands on the back of Carla's legs, just above the hollow behind her knees, and he slid his hands upwards in one smooth motion, splaying his fingers.

  Carla's breath hissed through her teeth, and when his hands stopped near her buttocks, she groaned. "Ohh. Nice."

  Chance did it again, this time slipping his hands round the outside of her legs. The oil did its job, and her skin felt slick and supple under his hands. He kept moving his hands around the outside of her legs, until he was cupping the front of her thighs, and then he slid his hands back down to her kneecaps, keeping up a firm pressure.

  "Ahhh!" murmured Carla.

  He ran his hands over her again.

  "Oh my."

  And again.

  "Oh, God," she groaned.

  This time Chance curled his hands, his fingers reaching her inner thighs, spreading the oil. Carla struggled under him, trying to raise herself towards him, but he held her down, pinning her to the bed.

  "Mmm!" she groaned. "You're very good at this."

  Chance applied more oil and worked his hands over her shoulders, kneading the muscles and working his way across to her arms before gently running his splayed fingers up the back of her neck. He kept going, sliding his fingers through her luscious hair, eliciting groans of delight as he massaged her scalp.

  Then he returned to her shoulders, before sliding his hands further round until he encountered the swell of her breasts. She arched her back slightly, raising herself on her elbows, and Chance felt his member straining as he held her large, rounded breasts in his hands. Her nipples were hard, fully erect, and he toyed with them, rubbing them with the slick oil before pinching them, circling them with his fingers, flicking them lightly, both together and alternately.

  Then Chance spread his fingers wide, cupping Carla's breasts with his hands, massaging them gently with the oil. Carla writhed under him as he worked his hands over her slick skin, her passion rising, and he grew excited with her.

  Chance applied more oil, and placed his hands either side of her waist, moving them over her hips before shifting inwards, to cup her buttocks. She strained on the bed, trying to raise her hips, and her buttocks glistened as he applied the slick oil. Then he placed his thumbs between them, moving down her valley, spreading her. He left the tip of one thumb pressing on her anus, and moved the second lower, lower, until it encountered her the soft lips between her legs. He meant to tease her, to run the tip of his thumb around the outside, to enter her with shallow strokes. Carla had other ideas, and she pushed back hard, lifting him off the bed and driving his thumbs halfway inside herself with a powerful thrust of her hips. She cried out with pleasure, straining every muscle, but was unable to hold Chance up for long, and slumped back on the bed. He let his thumbs slip out again, until they were barely touching her.

  Carla breathed once or twice, then raised her buttocks again, straining with all her might. Chance felt himself lifted up, but he kept his thumbs firm and pointed, entering her deeply.

  "Ahh-ahhhh!"

  Carla's passionate cries echoed around the bedroom, and Chance could feel her quivering with passion. After a third straining press-up, he took pity on her and eased both thumbs inside, bearing down on her, pressing her to the bed.

  "Ahh! Ahhh! Ohhhh!"

  Carla writhed under him as his thumbs went home, delving deep inside her. He moved the tips, increasing her pleasure, and she began to pant, her breathing low and fast. He felt her buttocks clenching, her muscles working under him, and he realised she was approaching her climax.

  Chance slid down the bed and lowered himself onto her, pressing his member between her legs. As he entered her she sought his hands, gripping them tight. He closed his eyes as her delicious warmth enveloped his shaft, sliding deeper and deeper into her as he brought his weight to bear. Her oiled buttocks met his flat stomach, gliding and slipping under his skin, and it was the most sensual experience of his life.

  Then he started to thrust, with long, unhurried strokes, some deep and some shallow. On every deep thrust Carla put her head back and groaned, then took a deep breath as she waited for the next, anticipation building, not sure which it would be.

  "Ah … ah … ah … aaaahhh!"

  Chance felt the pressure building as her cries, her soft body, her warmth, overwhelmed his senses. He'd been building to this moment for hours, and now it was approaching he wanted it to last and last. Carla gripped his hands tighter, and he heard her gasp, felt her spasm as the first waves hit.

  "Ahh! Ahhh! Ahhhhh!"

  Chance gave himself over then, plunging deeper and deeper with every stroke, light-headed and wracked with spasms as he emptied himself in a glorious, unending orgasm.

  Then he lay on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows as he revelled in the delicious afterglow.

  After a few minutes he lay alongside her, still breathing hard. Carla smiled at him in the darkness, then moved closer, placing her knee across his thighs. "Seems a pity to get cleaned up so soon," she whispered. "Don't you agree?"

  Chance felt himself stirring, and as she rolled on top, straddling him, he realised he most definitely agreed. Carla guided him inside her, then pinned his arms to the bed and took control, her breasts swaying as she rocked on top of him, driving him deep inside herself, engulfing him with her warmth until they came together. Then she collapsed alongside him, one hand draped across his chest, and they slept until dawn.

  "Looking a bit peaky this morning, Chance. Not sleeping well?" Harrow chuckled to himself, highly amused at Chance's haggard appearance. "Bed not comfortable enough for you?"

  "I'm fine, sir. Nobody died of a late night or two."

  "That's what Morton said. They carted him out the next morning, stiff as a plank." With this cheery rejoinder, Harrow offered Chance a sherry. His hand was steady on the bottle, and he looked strong and healthy.

  "I must say, sir. You're looking particularly well today."

  "Of course I am, man. Been getting nine solid hours a night since you've been here." Harrow sipped his drink. "Should have you down here more often. Maybe every month or so eh?"

  Chance coughed as the sherry went down the wrong way.

  "By the way," said Harrow. "I'm expecting a couple more guests this evening. You'll like 'em, I'm sure."

  "Oh, yes?" said Chance warily.

  "Elderly couple. Known them for years."

  Chance breathed a sigh of relief. An elderly couple sounded safe enough, provided they weren't geriatric swingers.

  "Bringing their daughter with them, too. Twenty-something, classic beauty but very shy." Harrow chuckled. "The quiet ones are the real firecrackers, believe you me. I've no doubt she'll be expecting your company."

  Chance groaned inwardly. Was Harrow trying to do him in? Had he slighted the old man
somehow?

  "Yes, I'm sure you'll look after her needs," said Harrow, with another wheezing laugh. "Stiff upper lip, eh? Drink up, man. Drink up."

  Chance spent dinner between Lottie and Carla, both of them gracing him with warm smiles and tempting flashes of flesh. Across the table, directly opposite, sat Melanie, the Smyth's 20-year-old daughter. She was blonde, with pale blue eyes and fair skin, and she was wearing a low-cut yellow dress. Her smooth round breasts bulged over the top every time she moved, and there were occasional glimpses of her pale nipples every time she leaned across the table to take the salt, put the salt back, take the salt again … so often that Chance took it and placed it next to his glass, out of her reach. She merely smiled, and started taking the pepper, putting it back, taking it again … deliberately giving him an eyeful every time.

  Lottie had her hand on his left thigh. Carla had her hand on his right thigh. Chance was cornered, with as much chance of escape as a stud horse, and he knew it.

  He ignored the distractions as best he could, keeping his eyes on his plate and shovelling food down like a stoker on Titanic, trying to build his reserves for the night ahead while idly wondering whether there were any icebergs around.

  After dinner Chance saw the three women in a huddle, each casting the occasional lingering glance at him before resuming the discussion.

  Harrow came over and offered him a drink. "Chin up, Chance."

  "Yes, sir." Chance nodded towards the ladies. "Do you happen to know what they're planning?"

  Harrow clapped him on the shoulder. "They're arranging your evening schedule, lad."

  Chance drained his glass and held it out for a refill.

  "Good idea," said Harrow. "You're going to need it."

  Lottie came to him first, and he spanked her with gusto, making her cry out with pleasure. When he was finished she took his member in her hands, feeling it, sighing wistfully. Then, after lingering glance, she left him to the next visitor.