by Olivia Fox
Demetri yawned, "Slow down. Let the girl just soak it in for a while.”
"We keeping you up, honey?" said Kay.
Then, Demetri laughed and grabbed his dick. Man alive! That cotton toga skirt left nothing to the imagination. "I'm up, alright," he grinned. Another eye-roll from Kay… And I’m thinking ‘OK, fine, at least now I know: ORGIES ARE NOT MY THING!!!’
I was half right. Kind of. But not entirely. My motor was revving, failing, stopping, starting - one moment I was leaning back against Grayson, wanting his hands all over me, the next I was shrinking back from the Kay/Demi duo, wondering where I’d put the number for that cab firm.
Anyhow, Kay decided she wanted to give me a lesson in giving head. I assured her I'd done it before, but she bamboozled me with, 'not how Demi likes it,' then stretched a black rubber cock ring around his cock and balls to keep him hard, 'just in case'. Yeeeeeesh! I think my jaw dropped right down to my toes.
Grayson wrapped his arms around me, thank Christ. "Uh, no way. I'm playing with the new girl,” he said, then he whispered in his lush sandy voice, “Honey, the bra's gotta go, though. We need to loosen you up a little."
I kind of mumbled, "Fine. The bra can come off, but the blow job's another thing entirely."
"That's my girl," he said. His girl?
Demetri laughed, apparently happy to fore-go the blow-job, leaning back onto his elbows, on the fluffy rug, so that his erection stood totally exposed and candid.
Grayson unhooked my bra and eased it from my dress. Now, I was fine with him touching me - more than fine - but I didn’t want to be staring at Demitri’s dick while I did it. Call me strange.
I let myself glaze over, staring into the middle distance. My nipples were pert and totally obvious through the sheer dress, and I tried to ignore Demetri’s stare. I lent my head against Grayson’s shoulder, and he eased both his hands beneath my halter neck straps, cupping me. Then he whispered in a low groan, “I really think you should let me suck on these.” Eeeep!
"Not yet you don't." I squeaked. I wasn’t sounding my coolest.
He laughed, kind of nuzzling into my ear, "I like that you're not saying no. All at your pace. That's just fine with me."
Then Demetri called across the room, "Hey Ana, honey!" And she joined our little circle.
Ana smiled at Demetri, and kissed Kay on both cheeks, "Kay you look divine as always."
"Ana, do me a favour and fuck about with my girlfriend," he said. And I expected her to laugh it off, but she said, "Favour?! It's my pleasure," and within seconds the two women were all over each other: tongues, fingers, the works. And, unlike Demetri’s dick, which pretty much stayed where it was, Ana and Kay seemed to be everywhere. It was impossible not to look at them.
Grayson’s hands slid down to my belly. I had this momentary flush of guilt, like I was about to step over some fuzzy moral line. Like I was about to betray Seb; which is crazy. But as Grayson’s hands inched down between my legs I didn’t stop him.
"Wanna watch?" he asked, while Ana and Kay gyrated enthusiastically.
"Uh, no that's OK," I said. I must have been a good cadmium red by that point.
"Don't be embarrassed, it'll help ease you into the swing of things. Hell, Demetri's usually here for the view too, isn't that right?" he said.
"Born voyeur," nodded Demetri.
Grayson clicked the teeny finger vibrator into action. I’d forgotten he still had it. He traced it along my inner thighs, then slid his fingers into my knickers. It buzzed like a fat little honey bee on the end of his finger, moving slowly down towards my sweet spot.
"That feel OK?" he said.
And I said… wait for the stunning display of sexiness…"Yep. Thanks." Thanks?! I ask you!
But it was a multi-faceted 'thanks'. Thanks for not abandoning me here. Thanks for going slow. Thanks for working out five nights a week. And, yeah - the foreplay - thanks for that too. God, I’m such a dork.
"Do you know your breathing's changed?” he said. “It's OK. Go with it.”
He held his finger steady, buzzing, pulsing against me, as he lazily caressed my ear with his nose, teeth, tongue… and I’m no good with vibrators at the best of times. No stamina for the long drawn out buzz fest. Just a few minutes vibration and my clit’s tingling and dancing to it’s own blissed out tune.
…Which is basically what happened.
Grayson laughed, "Did you come so soon?” But apparently we weren’t going to stop there. “That'll have to be one of many,” he said. “I'm not done with you yet."
"Well what about you? Do you want me to - I don't know… Do you want me to - touch you?" I said, really not sounding my coolest ever :-/ !
"A girl who likes to please,"
"I sound like a moron don't I…"
He held my face and turned me a little to hold eye contact. "You sound a little nervous, that's all. I like it actually, but that's just one of my quirks I guess," then he kissed me on the lips, closed mouth - kind of sweetly - and winked.
"You like it? Why?"
No answer. Then he piped up, "Sweety, d'ya really wanna do something for me, coz I've got just the thing if you mean it." And suddenly, I’d swear Ana flashed him a warning look.
"Maybe you should tell me more before I sign my soul away," I said.
Ana definitely raised eyebrows.
"Maybe we'll save the soul-signing for another time,” he said, casually, as though nothing was going on between Ana and him. “How would you feel about being our ritual sacrifice?"
"What?!"
"No pain involved, only pleasure. And remember, cherry's the safety word. No need to do anything you don't like."
If anything, mention of the safety word made me even more nervous. "I don't know... What exactly would I be sacrificing?" I said.
Straight away, Ana interjected, “Your virginity." Grrrr… That whole virginity thing was really starting to get old.
“Your pleasure-party virginity,” Grayson clarified. “It's all very playful, but there would be sex, so if the idea's too shocking for you, it's OK…"
Too shocking? Was he doing it on purpose? I felt like Marty in Back to the Future: “Nobody calls me yellow!” I couldn’t resist the bait.
“Sex with…?” I started.
“Me. To begin with. Then, we’d see how you were doing,” he said. I was sold.
“And I can change my mind? Everyone knows the safety word?"
"Cherry," nodded Ana.
"Cherry" repeated, Kay, then Demetri.
"Cherry. Honey just try it for size. Have fun," Grayson sighed, into my ear.
Ana shot Grayson a look. Something unspoken seemed to go between them, just momentarily. She whispered something to Kay, kissed her as if to say don’t-go-anywhere, then dashed out.
Grayson was straight down to business, "Demetri, you got any tape in that trunk?"
Up until this point, I hadn't noticed, but the petite blonde who'd been chatting to Ana across the room, was now kneeling between Demetri's legs, giving him a vigorous and enthusiastic deep-throat blow job. Christ.
With concentrated effort, Demetri groped around in the trunk, then threw something white into Grayson's lap.
"Hands in front of you. Wrists together. And don’t worry," he said.
"Jesus. You're not going to go all Fifty Shades on me are you?"
Ignoring my question, he bound my wrists meticulously with the soft sticky plastic tape.
"You never know, you might enjoy it,” Grayson laughed, “Anyhow, imagine if we had an escapee sacrifice! What would the neighbours say?!"
"What neighbours?"
"If we had them."
"OK, you're good to go," he said.
"Whoa!"
Grayson scooped me into his arms; a cradle of warm flesh and muscle. Seconds later, he put me down, stretched out on my back on the make-shift altar. I recognised it vaguely from Bellevue’s decorating-day, but it looked wholly different in the dim, flickering candle-light. He deftly fastened
my wrists to a hook protruding from one end of the huge mahogany surface, and I fought back against a second wave of major guilt. I’d come to Hatherly to sleep with Seb. What on Earth was I doing?!
Seb showed up right on cue. No sooner had I told Grayson ‘I can't believe I'm letting you do this’ when Seb stepped into view, half naked in just his low slung jeans (imagine the guy from that Coke advert- all abs and biceps- but really, REALLY pissed off). Ana held his shirt and I gathered later that she'd made him ditch it if he wanted to come in. She'd deliberately gone to get him, and the look on his face said it all. Oh boy, did he look out for blood. It was lightening fast but Ana definitely winked at Grayson as Seb stormed over in our direction.
I couldn't take my eyes off him but had absolutely no idea what to say. I wasn't embarrassed exactly, though you'd think I might be, given the situation- more defiant I suppose. I'd had enough of his crap, and wanted to deflect what I thought was an impending stress-fest with minimal drama. But what could I say? Sorry, I'm a bit tied up at the moment...? Nah, bit corny. Fuck off, I’m busy? …maybe not. So I just lay there speechless, waiting for the kindling to ignite around me.
I'd misread him though. Close-up there was clearly more to his mood than anger. Something else was mixed in there too - hurt maybe? Perhaps that's too extreme a word. But he was definitely battling with some major inner-turmoil, and the look he sent Grayson was brutal. Another pang of guilt rippled through me, fiercer this time. He leaned in close and insistent, "You don't have to do this. You've proved your point. Come back to bed with me."
I glanced at Grayson, who backed off, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.
As it turns out, relief, lust and determination are a heady ol’ cocktail, and we've already established I'm a light weight... I still can't believe what I said next. Who knew I could be such a diva?! Word for word: "You want to fuck me? Do it here. Now. You know how I feel about your marriage. I'm not moving." I meant ‘not moving’ on the whole adultery issue, but I guess the statement worked literally too. I really wasn't going anywhere, even if I wanted to.
Seb looked seriously torn. His nostrils flared as he forced himself to breath out mega-slowly, like he was trying to decide whether to punch Grayson's lights out, screw me, or walk out the way he came.
"You're bad for me," he said. His voice had an edge to it, but the bulge in his jeans said it all. He was staying. He was going to fuck me, in the middle of the hall, angry and lustful and out of control, and - Jesus - I wanted him. He climbed up onto the altar and knelt between my legs, never once taking his eyes from mine.
"Untie my hands," I panted. I so desperately wanted to touch him; to kiss him; to trace that sexy path of hair leading from just below his naval down into his trousers; to slide my hands down the back of those jeans and grab his tight little butt. But oh no, Seb shook his head.
"You know the code word?" he said.
I nodded. Nuff said. My hands were apparently staying put.
He pushed up my knees. He grabbed my knickers with both hands and ripped them nearly in two. Sorry, Em :-/ ! He stroked a thumb tentatively against my sex, then satisfied - I guess - that I was ready, unbuckled his leather belt, clasped my ankles, and bound them behind his back. He reached into his pocket for a condom, unbuttoned his fly, and slid it onto his sizable (no joke) manhood. Then, in one swift action, he was inside me. I gasped. I went weak. Blissful but weak. He stared at me, assessing my reaction, then pushed in further, right up to the hilt.
"I'm going to fuck you here ‘til you come, then you're coming to bed with me. No arguments.” I wasn’t planning on arguing.
He thrust into me again, clutching my butt. The rest of the room evaporated. All there was, was Seb; angry and tender and moving inside me, so slick and strong that there was no holding on to my impulses. I instinctively clenched my thighs, clamping him tight inside me, locking him there as my orgasm roared through me, deep and fierce. I wanted to grip him there, to ride it out to the end, and begin again, never letting go. But that wasn’t going to happen. My body slumped, betraying my intentions.
"Aw, so soon?" He teased. "Good, let's go."
He unstrapped me, unhooked me, and I guess somewhere along the line he ditched the condom. Because before I knew which way was up and which way down, he was adjusting my dress, then vaguely adjusting his fly, then slinging me over his shoulder fireman-style.
I'd barely been aware of anyone else in the room up to then, but as we left the hall (upside down in my case) I caught a snapshot glance of the party in full swing. Bodies sprawled exotically every which way, tongues, mouths, nipples, cocks, pulsing and gyrating to a shared energy. I remember thinking - Was I just a part of that?! - before it all spun out of view.
Now as it turns out, Seb Harper is a man with quite some stamina. When we reached the bottom of the huge staircase I said he should probably put me down. To which he slapped my butt and effortlessly climbed the stairs, with 120lb of Lily in tow.
His room (yes I did say his, not his ‘n’ hers) was first on the left. I was suddenly beyond curious. From my topsy-turvy position I scanned the place, trying to glean a fuller picture of the man I’d just allowed to fuck me on a public altar. A fourposter bed stood at one end of the huge room; above the headboard, a neat row of framed little photos. Oak bookshelves lined one wall. Taped up roughly on the other three was a series of twenty or so portrait photos. His work in progress. I craned my neck to get a better look. Each showed a crowd scene with one lone figure standing out in sharp focus against the hubbub. I recognised Piccadilly, Covent Garden, Times Square - maybe? Then my attention was pulled elsewhere.
He put me down - giddy as a drunken teenager - in the middle the room, and cupped my face in his hands, before he spoke: "I'm sorry for before. You proved your point. I behaved liked a dick. Now, take your knickers off."
Then, “No - wait…” he said, and he led me across the room, to a huge curtained window. Standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, he lent me forward, until my palms pressed against the windowsill, supporting my weight.
"Nice apology," I said, half laughing, half gasping, as he tugged down my knickers.
"I'll admit it's not my strong suit," he said. He untied the strap of my halter-neck, then unhooked the famous new bra, finally freeing my breasts. Christ knows why that, of all things, should have felt so exposing. "Now, stay there,” he said, “Don't move a muscle."
O-kay… I thought, my knickers round my ankles, my naked behind thrust skyward.
Seb's footsteps beat a pulse across the floorboards as he turned on lamp after lamp, in quick succession, until the room glared bright as day. Then striding back to me, he thrust the curtains wide, so that the room's light reflected back off the window like a mirror.
I instantly dropped down and covered myself.
"What if someone's looking?" I said.
He just laughed, "So, now you care?"
Okay - fair point.
He knelt down and kissed my lips, parting them a fraction, then pressing his tongue against mine, moving with a slow, smooth pulse which sent euphoric little shudders coursing through me. He pulled back momentarily, then took hold of my hands, drawing each of my fingers into his mouth in turn, licking them, sucking them, while I tried to remember to breath.
"Now, we can stay down here if you like. But - it seems like everyone in this damn building has had the pleasure of watching me fuck you. Now, surely it's your turn. I want you to watch yourself while I make you come," he said. He planted another quick kiss on my lips, then stood up, reaching a hand out to me. "Too late to be shy, gorgeous."
Gulping down my sudden self-consciousness, I took his hand and stood back up. He kissed each of my palms softly, then placed them back on the window sill.
"You really do have the most beautiful backside," he said, his reflection flashing me a devilish grin. I was putty in his hands. I felt the shuffle of his denim jeans, then watched as mirror-Seb ripped open a condom wrapper. Moments later, his fin
gers were exploring between my legs, testing my readiness. My breath caught in my throat, my pulse wildly erratic, as the tip of his cock pressed into me. Then, satisfied, he pushed the length of his cock deep inside me. His arms supported him, biceps pumping and flexing, hands gripping either side of the window frame, as he pushed into me, eased back, then thrust in again and again, deeper, harder.
I gaped at the panting hussy in the window. Was that really me? Lips and cheeks flushed crimson, eyes wide and wild. With each thrust, he filled me totally, withdrawing almost completely each time, then teetering just inside, teasing me, before plunging in deep towards my belly.
Then, the teasing stopped. His rhythm quickened, growing more urgent, more forceful, each slick jolt tipping me closer to the edge. “Watch yourself,” he said. “Watch your eyes as you come.”
The woman before me was now barely recognizable - feral, wanton - her pupils dilated, hurtling toward blissful oblivion. My legs began to buckle. Christ, I thought - I’m going to come - again… and then I’m going to fall over! But right on cue, he was there with me, and as the first waves of luscious orgasm convulsed through me, he plunged in one final time and held firm.
“Watch.”
I watched my reflection, open-mouthed, breathing raggedly, holding Seb deep inside me, as he found his release.
…So now I’ll say it: Thank you, Ana Pancheva, for allowing me to fuck your gorgeous husband. One question: Was sleeping in his bed part of the offer?
The next morning, I woke with my head nestled against his shoulder, and an ache in my chest reminding me this was just sex. Nothing more. We barely spoke. He asked if I was OK, but what could I say? I was far from OK. He asked if I regretted the previous night - I told him I didn’t. But maybe I SHOULD regret it. Some part of me believed Seb Harper, swallowing his line about not really being married. And that part of me is heading for one hell of a fall. Sitting up in bed, he moved in to kiss me, but already my defenses were rebuilding. I told him it probably wasn’t a good idea, and told my furious libido to settle down and get some perspective. He’s not mine. He won’t be mine. He has a wife - not a regular wife, admittedly - but still.