My lover, Marc, always tells me that no woman ever turned him on the way I do. I’ve certainly experienced many first time turn ons with him. For example, he had never tickled a woman’s ass before, but we were both astonished at our pleasure when he tickled my smooth ass cheeks. Then his thick cock was deep in my vagina, his face smirked as if he were ecstatic, the tendons in his neck rose and he seemed to breathe heavy. And he’s often joked that his orgasms with me are more like pleasurable explosions.
So when Marc told me one day that a business acquaintance he’d never met was visiting from California, I certainly did not think of a sexy woman who might be another incredible “first” for us. But there she was, in a sunny caf filled with the fresh air of many plants, and she was clearly hot. She had told Marc to look for a woman with black hair and a pink dress. We didn’t have to search Bernadette was an eye catcher.
Her curly, raven tresses tumbled every which way around her pretty cheeks, hinting at passions that were similarly wild. She was wearing a furry sweaterdress, and two arcs of creamy breast swelled out over the low cut. From her tiny waist, her hips flared out dramatically. I was instantly attracted to her.
At the time, though, I had never been with a woman before and didn’t recognize my lust. I recognized Marc’s, though, by the wolfish sheen in his eye.
“So what sights can I show you?” Marc offered over steaming cappuccino. He had promised to be her personal guide on the phone.
“The museum,” Bernadette answered. “There’s a sculpture show I really want to see and for some reason it’s not coming to L.A.”
“Somebody should sculpt you,” Marc said. “IT would be magnificent.” I was tempted to throw water on his hot balls, but under the table his hand curled around mine and caressed it for reassurance.
Bernadette blushed. “I could never pose.”
“I know what you mean,” I blurted out, surprising myself. I liked it that she could wear such sexy clothes and still be shy. “Still, to deprive people of such magnificent . . . ” I stopped, also shy.
“Thank you,” she said, gracefully.
“In fact,” Marc continued, “the two of you could pose together.” We all laughed.
But I didn’t laugh that evening when I telephoned Marc to ask about the museum visit. “Bernadette is here, I’ll call you back,” he said. I hung up the receiver and stared at it.
Still, I knew from the huskiness in his voice, just as I’d known from the glint in his eye that afternoon, that he was aroused.
I called back and didn’t say hello. “What’s happening there?” I practically shouted.
“Claire, come on. Nothing’s happening, believe me.”
“I can hear her sucking you,” I said, a little crazy.
“Claire, I’m hanging up on you,” Marc said, and he did.
Well, I wandered around my apartment, imagining them together. I saw Bernadette’s gorgeous breasts, unbound in all their robust glory. I saw her straddling Marc’s strong hips, taking the tip of his curved cock into a darkness that I knew was fiery hot. I saw him tug on her hips and her lush breasts jump up and down.
I was jealous, but at the same time, my jeans tightened on my cunt. I stripped in front of my mirror and looked at my teacup breasts, and told myself they were sexy just as they are. My nipples tilted upward, long and red. I licked my fingers and closed them on my nipples and plucked, the way I’d learned to pull a raspberry off its nub. I plucked again and again, and the waves of delight began to hypnotize me. Then, I dug two fingers into my cunt and fucked myself faster and faster.
I got the dildo that Marc bought me. As I lay down on the bed, I remembered how one night while he fucked me from behind, he pushed my ass cheeks apart with my hand and slid the dildo along my ass cheeks. The fucking made me come so strongly, I thought I’d gone to heaven. I fucked the dildo harder. My deepest muscles clenched the artificial cock, my hips lurched into the air repeatedly, and I climaxed, shuddering.
A soft knock on my door woke me. I checked the clock only an hour had passed. I knew it was Marc. I wrapped a blanket around my lifeless body. The light from the hall blinded me, but I recognized Marc’s broad shoulders.
What I didn’t see was that his cock was hard and ready. He put his hands on my waist and right there in the hallway, he picked me up and sat me on his hard cock.
“Oh, you are wet,” he groaned. “You . . . feel . . . so . . . good.”
He pushed me against the wall and thrust deeper and deeper. My legs clamped his torso harder and a groan escaped my throat.
“Come, baby, come,” he said, and I did, the spasms setting him off like a firecracker. My pelvic muscles tensed and I felt the hot liquid pouring deep inside my flesh. He carried me back to my bedroom and sniffed the air. I wondered if he smelled the sex I’d had with myself. In any case, I thought, my wetness gave me away. But I said nothing about it, and neither did he. Instead, he told me about the evening.
“First of all, nothing happened. After dinner, Bernadette asked if she could see where I live. In my apartment, she asked for a drink. They sure are different in California because she sat down on the bed and took off her dress. She had on the laciest pink underthings, very shiny and fragile. I could see her nipples through the bra. I couldn’t believe anything so delicate could hold up such weight. I saw her black hair through the underpants.”
“And it was so weird, Claire, I somehow wasn’t ready to touch her that fast. And then it hit me— I wanted to watch you fucking her, maybe with that dildo I bought you. I wanted to see you put your pussy in her face and have her lick you while I stick my cock in your mouth. My imagination ran away with me. So, what do you think, Claire, what if we have sex with her together? Would you like that?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Marc was galvanized. He shot up and spread my legs apart and knelt over me. Some women say their lovers have a surgeon’s hands I say that Marc has a surgeon’s tongue. First he thrust the tip of his tongue right into the top of my labia, sort of stirring it around my clitoris, circling it slowly, until I asked him to suck me. I put my hands down near his mouth and pressed my rounded lips out to the sides for him. The tension made me moan. He sucked on my little button and I shuddered.
“Fuck my face,” he said, and I did. Then he pulled away from me and started petting my cunt, lightly and quickly. The caressing sensation drove me to my third orgasm that evening. He didn’t stop petting, and I kept coming, over and over again, fantasizing about Bernadette’s glossy hair and underwear.
The next night the three of us went out to dinner. I wore Marc’s favorite dress, a white satin slip like thing that clung to my waist. I wanted to look my best. I wanted him to be proud of me, and I wanted Bernadette to feel our invitation to have sex was coming from both of us. Marc wore a white T shirt under a black jacket.
But Bernadette outdid us. A bustier enclosed her breasts securely, creating two glowing moons over the black horizon of the fabric. Emphasizing her tiny waist was a satin belt. But it was her pants that made me dampen mine. They were a transparent black chiffon, miles and miles of it gathered into a harem look, and if you looked closely, you could see she wore no underwear.
When we arrived at the restaurant, Bernadette kissed me on the mouth and expertly flicked her tongue over my lips. Then she did the same to Marc. I saw a little movement in his pants.
“You’re gorgeous,” I stammered, and she and Marc laughed.
“Is this a conspiracy?” Bernadette asked. So I winked at her, feeling inordinately sexually sophisticated.
Marc ordered a bottle of champagne and our conversation wandered onto kinky subjects. Right before our dinners came, Bernadette brought me to the bathroom to check out, just between us girls, if this was okay. Then we chatted and laughed as she fixed her makeup and adjusted herself in the bustier. I ached to kiss the generous breasts she so casually pushed around, though it was hard to even imagine that an hour later, she would be showing me her beautiful chest.
When we walked into Marc’s studio apartment after dinner, I saw another bottle of champagne in an ice bucket by the bed. Three tall glasses stood on a pressed linen napkin— how cavalier!
Marc opened the bottle. “To us,” he said.
“To our adventure,” I blushed. Mercifully, Marc continued to take the lead. “Undress,” he told me.
“Undress, that’s your favorite word,” I teased. I was tipsy, but still shy.
“Please, let me,” said Bernadette. She pushed me gently onto the bed and rolled the string straps of my dress down my shoulders.
“How lovely,” she murmured. I knew Marc was proud. Then her mouth was devouring my breasts. She nipped at my nipples with her teeth it was a pure and pleasing pleasure, and I loved it. She licked them she filled her mouth with cold champagne and let it trickle down them, then slurped it up.
I looked up just in time to see Marc snap open her bustier, releasing the tits we both adored, and I sank my hands into the thick flesh. Her nipples were toasty warm as I rolled them between my fingers, making her shiver. Then she dropped those majestic mountains over my face and I writhed and moaned. I knew Marc was enjoying the scene.
We all rather elaborately divested ourselves of the rest of our clothes. While we feasted on each other’s breasts, Marc tried to slip his swollen cock into my cunt, but I was so wet with excitement that he kept sliding away. Finally he shoved his way in, and with a little growl, he began to work his cock in and out. Glancing over Bernadette’s shoulder, I saw him fondling her big ass. Her cheeks were as round as her breasts.
Marc pulled Bernadette onto all fours and put a pillow under my hips. He began fucking us both, first sinking his long cock into me, then into her. Every time he entered Bernadette’s cunt, she shouted, “Yes!” I was so turned on that I put my hand between my legs. I beat my button in time to Marc’s pumping.
My back arched as I came, pushing my breasts into Bernadette. Breathless, I asked her what we should try next. “I want Marc’s cock in my mouth,” she said.
No sooner said than done. Dripping with my fluids and hers, his cock bounced like a playful animal as he crawled up the bed, straddled her face and stuck it in her mouth. I loved the sight of her bee stung lips taking him in, stretching wide to give my loved one joy. I moved down to inspect her pussy. I palmed the sumptuous flesh lips aside. Her red slit was gaping for the lack of cock.
I emptied the last of the champagne into my glass and, dipping my fingers into the cold bubbly, rubbed them around Bernadette’s cunt lips. She spread her legs even wider, encouraging me. So I twisted my finger back and forth and around, rubbing her with an insatiable hunger. Actually, we took turns fucking her, Marc and I. When it was Marc’s turn, Bernadette’s mouth was full of cock.
Our arousal was everywhere, our lovely smells salty and musky, all mixed together. I licked my tongue around her pussy to drink from her. And it was as if Marc saw me do it, because just at that moment, his body froze and he shouted. I knew he had just come in Bernadette’s mouth.
I thought about how he sucked me and copied him, enclosing Bernadette’s precious nubbin in my lips. I remembered how he licked me, and I copied it, flicking my tongue around all her little grooves and hills. Bernadette came, rubbing her cunt into my face and letting out a musical howl.
And so there it was, another incredible “first” for Marc and me our first threesome. How truly delicious it was, how satisfying. What’s in store for us next is anybody’s guess, but knowing Marc, I’m sure it won’t be long before we’re embarking on a new adventure.
— Name and address withheld
