Nexus Confessions: Volume Three

by Nexus Confessions- Volume Three [Nexus] (retail) (epub)

  I held onto her, pressing her body against mine as I pumped out spunk inside her. I was breathless and sweating. Hot coils of exquisite pleasure spread out from my groin, coursing through my body like a drug.

  We sat like that long after it was over, our hot bodies pressed up against each other and her damp hair falling over us both. It wasn’t until we heard the cleaner pushing the Hoover about outside that we got up and hurriedly got into our own clothes. We tossed her new undies, now somewhat the worse for wear, back into the carrier bag then said goodbye and went our separate ways.

  The next day at work she behaved as if it had never happened. I kept waiting for a summons from Human Resources or, worse, to feel the hand at the end of the long arm of the law coming down on my shoulder, but it never did.

  A week later she invited me to her house for a repeat performance. After that we were colleagues at work and lovers in private and, though we never repeated our session in the staff room, every Friday she invites me round to her place for a private fitting.

  – Silklover, London, UK

  Effing Mablethorpe

  Last summer we holidayed in the UK. Part of it was down to John: fretting about flights, terrorists and some airport safety scandal he’d seen on Trevor McDonald. Part of it was me: too prone to seasickness to consider a cruise, and unwilling to take the Chunnel just so we could drive on the wrong side of the road and get insulted by the French. Arguments are rare in our marriage and, like most of the others, this one had ended before it properly began.

  ‘If we can’t go abroad why don’t we just go to effing Mablethorpe?’ John demanded.

  ‘Then effing Mablethorpe it is,’ I returned.

  The decision was made as simply as that. Neither of us realised how prophetic those words could be. Not that there’s anything wrong with holidaying in the UK. Or effing Mablethorpe. Admittedly, we would both have preferred somewhere with sun and entertainment but the chance to unwind for a fortnight and recharge our batteries was enough for me and John. When we arrived in the quaint little seaside town, we resolved to make the best of our holiday. A light supper, a couple of drinks, and then a walk along the beach helped us relax. It was a warm evening, the weather promised to be fine for the next two weeks, and we enjoyed the sound of lapping waves on the shore and the haze of twilight as night approached.

  John whispered, ‘Did you see that?’

  I nodded. You reach a stage in married life where you understand your partner on a psychic level. I knew what John had seen and I understood from his whisper that it had aroused him. I figured we were both enjoying a mild thrill of excitement. John was certainly walking as though he was trying to hide his hard-on. My legs trembled, the way they always do when I get that tingle. ‘Just keep walking,’ I hissed. ‘Pretend you didn’t see them.’ As soon as we had a chance to talk we fell into each other’s arms, giggling like adolescents.

  A woman and two men had been sitting together on the beach as we passed. She was striking. The swarthy complexion, dark curls and dark eyes gave her a gypsy-like appearance. The man on her left had his hand inside her blouse as he kissed her. The man on her right had his hand beneath her skirt. The woman had a hand on each man’s lap. After comparing notes from our half-glimpsed glances, John confirmed we had seen exactly the same thing. The gypsy woman was making out with two men.

  ‘I didn’t know they did that in Mablethorpe,’ I laughed.

  ‘Now, aren’t you glad you came?’ John grinned.

  I sniffed. ‘As if you’d let me do anything like that.’

  He raised an eyebrow and, although the conversation had started off as light banter, I realised we were no longer joking. After ten years of marriage, and neither of us ever straying from the marital bed, it came as a shock to contemplate doing something sexual with someone else. The idea had me more flustered than the sight of the gypsy woman being fondled by her two men.

  John asked, ‘Would you want to?’

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. But the idea wouldn’t leave my thoughts. When we got back to our hotel room I dragged John into bed before he had a chance to properly close the door. The sex was magnificent and urgent. I was dripping for him as soon as he was naked. I don’t know how long we screwed that night, or how many times I coaxed John hard after I’d ridden him dry. But I do remember, whenever I closed my eyes, I was with someone else instead of my husband. The fantasy made me wetter and more responsive. Each time I came, it was harder than the time before.

  John didn’t complain about this unexpected bonus to the holiday. The following morning, at breakfast, he joked that we should again examine the beach in search of anything else that might get me so horny. I hadn’t realised my reason for the previous night’s passion had been so transparent but I began to see that John found the idea equally exciting.

  ‘Wouldn’t you be jealous?’ I asked. The conversation made my entire body tingle. We were talking about having sex with other people. It wasn’t something we’d ever discussed before. ‘Wouldn’t you think less of me?’ I asked.

  He treated me to a kiss. Because we were at the breakfast table I understood it was one of his rare displays of public affection. The tenderness reminded me why we had been able to stay happily married for so long. ‘If I get jealous, I’ll tell you about it,’ he promised. ‘And I’d only think less of you if you shied away from doing something you wanted.’

  I didn’t know where the conversation was going. My heart raced and my immediate instinct was to drag John back upstairs and ride him again and again until I’d finally banished the lust from my system. I was so wet and hungry for him my hands shook and my teacup clattered against the saucer when I tried to drink.

  And then the gypsy woman entered the dining room.

  She was followed by the two men who had been with her on the beach. While she took a table in the smoking section of the dining room, her men went to the breakfast bar and filled two trays. The gypsy woman sat down, folded one leg over the other to reveal a gorgeous expanse of sun-bronzed thigh from beneath her summer frock, lit a cigarette and snatched a drink of orange juice from the table. She leant back in her chair, thrusting her full breasts out, and exhaled a plume of smoke towards the smoking section’s ceiling fans.

  ‘You’re staring at her, darling,’ John observed.

  I wrenched my gaze away and almost spilled my cup of tea. ‘It’s her.’

  ‘It’s all three of them,’ John replied. He stood up and asked, ‘Should I go over and say hello? Maybe ask if there’ll be another performance on the beach tonight?’

  I almost screeched at the suggestion. ‘Don’t you dare!’ Shaking my head, telling him to shut up, sit down and be quiet I was blushing ferociously at his absurd idea. Arousal still held a tight grip on my emotions but now it was muffled by a hot blanket of embarrassment. Not unkindly, John laughed at my discomfort and told me he was only going to get another coffee from the breakfast buffet bar.

  Relieved, I settled back to finish my cup of tea. It was only when I heard John’s voice that I realised he hadn’t been entirely honest about only going for a coffee. I glanced towards the breakfast bar and saw he stood between the gypsy woman’s two men. He laughed loudly and fell easily into their company. Ten minutes later, when he came back to our table, he explained the five of us would be driving out together for a pub lunch in the nearby town of Louth.

  I struggled to digest the news without showing panic, aware that the gypsy woman and her men might be watching. Feeling too numb to know what to do, I waved at the trio and flexed them a grin that felt terribly false. I told John to take me back to our bedroom and, when we got there, I ravaged him again.

  In all the years of our marriage I have never known myself to be so wet or so eager for my husband. The muscles inside my sex were in a constant state of frenzy that needed to be filled by his hard-on.

  Fortunately he was able to satisfy my demands and allowed me to indulge the coarsest of my appetites. In my fantasies I was the gyp
sy woman. Each time I closed my eyes I was either with her blond pretty-boy lover or I was with her muscular dark-haired man. It was only when I opened my eyes that I acknowledged my beloved John. He pumped in and out of me for an age and I think we might have spent the entire day in our room if the bedroom assistants hadn’t repeatedly knocked at the door and asked if they could come in and change our sheets.

  ‘We can’t really go to Louth with them,’ I said later.

  ‘It’s arranged,’ John replied. His voice left no room for argument. ‘They’ve been here a week, and Ricky says the three of them are bored with the town. Ronnie wants to take Carla somewhere different and, when I suggested we make up a fivesome and head to Louth, the three of them jumped at the idea.’ Giving me a reassuring kiss, promising me that nothing would happen unless it met with my approval, he told me to relax and enjoy our holiday. There was no chance to argue with him.

  And, while I told myself there was no likelihood of anything happening between the five of us, my heart still raced when the trio piled into our car. John and I sat in the front seats with Ricky, Carla and Ronnie squashed in the back. They were cheerful and good company, grateful for the chance to escape Mablethorpe for a few hours, and infuriatingly normal. I don’t know how I had expected them to behave, or what I had thought they would be like. But their conversation was so pleasant and inoffensive I quietly chastised myself for imagining the three of them to be anything different.

  The banter between us thinned as John drove away from the coast and negotiated the meandering Lincolnshire roads connecting Mablethorpe and Louth. I navigated from an out-of-date map and, eventually, we worked out a route that might get us where we wanted to go. I glanced into the back of the car, about to apologise for the unexpected delay.

  My eyes opened wide and I couldn’t speak.

  Carla was squashed between Ricky and Ronnie while the two men fondled her. Carla’s T-shirt had been pushed up to expose her bare breasts, although they were hidden as Ronnie cupped her left and Ricky held her right. She had an arm around the shoulders of each man and her legs were draped over their knees. From my position at the front of the car I could see directly under her frock. Ronnie had a hand at the top of her thigh. But Ricky’s fingers had punched inside the lips of her sex.

  Carla’s gaze met mine. The air inside the car throbbed with electric tension. ‘The boys were just distracting me from the monotony of the journey,’ Carla explained. She spoke evenly, with only a suggestion of arousal in her tone. Neither Ricky nor Ronnie made any attempt to stop what they were doing while we talked. They fixed their efforts on pleasing Carla. ‘This doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it?’

  I wished I could be as confident and cool and struggled not to show how flustered I felt. It was difficult to tear my gaze from the sight of Ricky’s fingers slipping in and out of her sex. The dark curls around the lips had turned black with wetness. ‘It doesn’t make me uncomfortable,’ I said, as calmly as I could. ‘Only jealous.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ John cried. I glanced at him and saw he was looking in the rear-view mirror. I doubted he could see as much I had seen but I figured he had noticed enough to get the general idea of what was going on. ‘You three don’t waste much time, do you?’ he laughed.

  Carla ignored him. ‘There’s no need to be jealous,’ she assured me. ‘We have three men here and two women. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement where everybody is happy.’

  I squashed a hand into my lap.

  I barely remember what happened when we stopped in Louth. John found us a pub that served food. The five of us enjoyed a meal and a couple of drinks together, and the conversation was a stumbling exchange to which I barely contributed. Ronnie and Carla explained they had been married for six years. Ricky was a close friend to them both. They returned to Mablethorpe most years: it was the place where Carla and Ronnie had met as childhood sweethearts. Ricky had been accompanying them for the past two years. Carla said, whenever the three of them got together, ‘We fuck.’ She used the word in a way that made it sound like she was describing something magical and special. Her quiet revelation hit me with such a strong arousal I quivered in my seat.

  I said very little during that exchange. John talked for the both of us. ‘What do you fancy doing while we’re here in Louth?’ he asked cheerfully.

  Carla glanced around the pleasant pub and stretched out her arms to caress Ronnie and Ricky. ‘The town looks pretty dull,’ she confided. ‘I can’t be bothered looking round breweries and antiques shops. Why don’t we drive somewhere pleasant and fuck?’

  Everyone stared at me, as though waiting for my approval to this suggestion. ‘That sounds like a fun idea,’ I said, forcing myself to sound casual. ‘Do you know anywhere in the Wolds that would be appropriate?’

  Carla treated me to a wicked smile.

  I don’t know what I was anticipating but, as I visited the ladies room before we set off, I told myself I had plenty of time to make up my mind about whether or not this was something I wanted. However, when I went out to the car park and saw Carla sitting beside John in the front, and Ronnie and Ricky waiting for me in the back, I realised the chance to back out had already slipped past me. I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat.

  ‘I know a lovely beauty spot not far from here,’ Carla explained from the passenger seat. ‘I thought I’d be better able to give your husband directions if I sat here in the front with him.’ She flashed her wicked grin at me again and said, ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head.

  ‘Ricky and Ronnie will take care of you in the back,’ she grinned. ‘They’re marvellous travelling companions.’

  I felt sick with excitement as I squeezed into the back seat between the two men. I wished I had been given more time; time to make sure John was comfortable with what we were doing; time to make sure I was comfortable with what we were doing; and a chance to decide if it was what I really wanted. But, by the time John had pulled out of the pub’s car park, Ricky’s hand rested on my right leg and Ronnie’s was on my left. The decision had been made for me.

  ‘John was right,’ I breathed. ‘You two don’t waste any time, do you?’

  Ricky’s hand stroked my right cheek, drawing my face to look at him. To my left I could feel Ronnie stroking at my left breast through the fabric of my blouse. ‘Holidays go by too quick,’ Ricky whispered. His fingers fell lower, heading towards my right breast. His pretty-boy smile was an invitation to kiss. ‘Why would anyone want to waste a moment of their holiday?’

  I couldn’t think of an answer. And because my mouth was locked against his, with our tongues meeting and touching, I didn’t have to reply. I could feel Ronnie’s fingers working swiftly to unfasten my buttons and, with Ricky’s hand creeping higher up my leg, my arousal soared.

  The scenery sped past us in a blur.

  The only time I broke my concentration from Ricky and Ronnie was when I glanced into the rear-view mirror and met John’s eyes. I could see he had been watching me, and I knew the broad grin in his smile was fifty per cent excitement and one hundred per cent encouragement.

  I reached into the laps of both men on the back seat and stroked the lumps that nestled at the fronts of their jeans. They were both hard. Without breaking from Ricky’s kiss, and without disturbing Ronnie as he fondled my left breast and teased the stiff nipple, I was able to release both their hard-ons.

  It was the first time I had ever touched another man’s penis in more than a decade. It was the first time ever I had held two hard-ons at the same time. Ricky’s length was long, slender and beautifully smooth. Ronnie’s erection felt shorter, but thick and with a base that was coarsely coated with hairs. I slipped my fingers around each hard-on and stroked up and down.

  Ricky’s fingers pushed my panties aside and found my sex.

  Ronnie’s hands stroked at the tops of my thighs, and then he was teasing my pussy lips as Ricky pushed in and out of me. The tingle
s of pleasure that had nestled in my sex were now tremors that rocked my body. I was breathless, excited, and desperate for orgasm. I kissed Ricky with more urgency and stroked Ronnie faster.

  ‘Is this OK for you?’ Ronnie asked.

  I pulled away from Ricky’s face and turned to smile at him. ‘It’s not what I expected to be doing on this holiday,’ I admitted. ‘But I’m not complaining.’ He laughed, and didn’t stop chuckling until I’d lowered my face over the thick head of his hard-on and sucked against the purple end.

  ‘No fair,’ Ricky complained. It wasn’t genuine upset in his voice: only playful teasing. ‘How come Ronnie gets head and I’m left with a wrist-job?’

  I lifted my face and turned to grin at him. ‘Since you asked so nicely,’ I began. And then I pushed my mouth over his hard-on. If I had taken a moment to think about what I was doing I’m sure I would have leapt from the moving car. I had never behaved with such abandon but, with these three people, and because of John’s encouragement, it felt like the natural thing to do.

  ‘Poor John,’ Carla murmured. She wasn’t looking at my husband. Instead, when I glanced up, I saw her staring at me. Now that I had shifted position I wondered what sort of sight I presented. I had my mouth around Ricky’s erection while my bare buttocks were shoved in her husband’s face. Fingers and a tongue fluttered inside my sex and I could never remember feeling so wanton. ‘John’s being neglected here,’ Carla declared. ‘And he’s doing all the work for us.’ There was the sound of a zipper being pulled down before she said, ‘I’ll have to make sure he’s amply rewarded.’ She winked at me before turning away and lowering her face over my husband’s lap.

  It was a car journey that set the tone for the remainder of the holiday.

  When we arrived at the isolated beauty spot the five of us staggered from the car and fell together as though it was the way we were meant to be. John and Carla lay across a picnic table as she sucked his penis and he licked her sex. Their clothes were already loose and quickly discarded. But this was a detail I only noticed from the corner of my eye. Ronnie had been aroused as he tongued me on the journey and I was equally desperate to have his thick erection in the eager wetness of my sex. I knelt between the two men as Ronnie took me from behind and I sucked and licked Ricky’s hard-on.