They are in the hotel room, waiting. The television is on but they are watching without seeing. He flicks round the channels, switches off. She takes a sip of wine from her glass.
"Nervous?" he asks.
"Yes. We knew we would be."
"You know you can always opt out. We could just go home."
"Yes, I know. But now that we've come this far ... I mean, it's taken us a long time."
"Perhaps he won't come. Just a time-waster."
"It wouldn't really be a solution, would it? We'd just start looking for someone else."
"We don't have to."
She takes another sip of wine. "But it's what you want, isn't it?"
"Yes. Now I've made up my mind. We talked about it long enough, didn't we?"
They sit in silence, remembering, recalling the nights when they had fantasised about someone else in the bed with them, and the sex had suddenly grown more intense, more demanding. Afterwards they had talked about it, wondered if it would ever be possible. His cock had hardened again and the second fuck was as fierce as the first.
He says, "How much longer do you think we should give him?"
"Who knows?" Then, coming to a decision. "Half an hour. If he hasn't arrived by then, he'll be more than an hour late. He isn't coming."
"OK. Half an hour."
They sit in armchairs in opposite corners of the room, facing the empty bed, covers turned back, ready. Now, it seems, for nothing.
Ten minutes pass. He is looking at his watch when his mobile phone rings. "Hi ... Yes, we are ... Well yes, but we waited ... Room 436. Left out of the lifts ... yes, of course."
He switches off the phone, tells her, "It's John." He has told them that's his name; perhaps it is. "Had trouble getting here - only just found somewhere to park. Here in five minutes."
She nods. It is impossible to know whether she is pleased, relieved, anything. She gets up and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
She has not emerged when there is a gentle tap at the room door. He opens it and John enters. Somewhat awkwardly, they shake hands. "Sorry I'm late. Did you think I wasn't coming?"
"We were beginning to wonder. But never mind. It's good that you've made it." He gestures towards the mini-bar. "Drink?"
"Thanks - but I'm driving. Best not."
John has told them he is twenty-nine, which would make him more than ten years younger than either of them. He is tall, sandy-haired, slim and smartly dressed. Casual jacket, pristine white shirt, no tie. He looks round, seats himself on the edge of the bed, relaxed, confident. But slightly puzzled. "Is she - er?"
"In the bathroom. Are you OK with what we agreed?"
"Sure. If that will be what you want, both of you."
"Oh yes. We've talked about it. Just the way we agreed on the phone. Don't hold back. She wants to do it. And she's good. Can you - make it last?"
John nods. "Be a waste not to, wouldn't it?"
"Good. I'll get her."
He taps on the bathroom door. She appears immediately, as though she has been waiting for the summons. Any fears he may have had about her commitment are dispelled by her appearance. She steps forward wearing a lacy black bra - necessary to support ample breasts - matching black french knickers, suspender belt, black stockings, high heels.
She says, "Hello. You must be John." Only the huskiness' in her voice reveals that she is not as assured as tries to appear.
"And you,"says John, rising to take hold of both her hands, surveying her at arms' length, "you are even more gorgeous than I was led to believe."
She bobs her head awkwardly, pleased by the compliment, unsure how to respond. Instead, she moves into him, clasps her hands behind his neck and kisses him. It is a long, deep, open-mouthed kiss, tongues exploring, asking, consenting. John cups his hands round her bottom, feeling the firm shape of the buttocks, pulling her against his groin.
The husband, satisfied that the first moves have been made promisingly. returns to his armchair in the corner. He delves into a bag and extract a camera. This is part of the deal with John.
Meanwhile, the couple’s kiss has melded into a stripping session. The wife has been impatiently, opening buttons, belt buckle, easing him out of shirt, slacks, socks until all that remains are boxer shorts with a stiff extension at the front. Now John is removing her clothes, one item at a time, extremely slowly. The bra comes away and is allowed to fall to the floor. John bends his head and licks first at one nipple, then at the other. The husband half rises from his chair to frame the erect dark protrusions as they react to John’s tonguing.
“Wonderful tits. My cock will feel good on those.”
This is part of the deal. John gets to do anything the wife is prepared to accept as long as he provides uninhibited comment for the husband and his camera.
The wife says, “Not until I suck it.” Her fingers are inside the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down. He steps out of them. His cock springs up at an angle of forty-five degrees to his flat torso. The head, engorged, a deep red in colour, is circumcised. The husband wonders if John will be able to fulfil his promise to prolong the encounter. His own cock is pressing against its confines.
John has been led to the bed where he is lying on his back, cock pointing almost to the ceiling. She crouches over him, licks the tip, drops saliva on the shaft and grips it with her right hand. As she goes to work, licking, sucking, handling, the husband moves round to get a shot of her raised arse distending the black knickers.
It’s time for John to make his contribution and he doesn’t disappoint. “Take it all in, darling. As much as you can cope with.” Pause, the only sounds are the wife’s greedy slurping and the clicks of the camera. “That’s good. Lick under there, then suck - faster, harder.”
The husband is back in his chair, checking the shots already captured. He lets his hand descend to his groin where there is a growing demand. He says, “Keep talking, John. She’s a fantastic sucker, isn’t she?”
“The best. My cock’s right at the back of her throat. She’s not gagging, but I want her on her back. Get your camera ready.”
Positions change on the bed. John is now kneeling beside her head, stroking his increasingly potent cock. “Open your mouth,” he says. “Wide. Then suck when I start to face fuck you.”
Her lips close round the knob, the shaft slides in. He begins to fuck. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks.
John looks at the husband. “Brilliant,” he says, “you don’t often get a mouth as clever as this. And the way she uses her tongue ... slowly, darling, you don’t want a load down your throat yet.”
Her hand snakes inside the waistband of her knickers, fingers searching out her clit. Another camera shot. He could get this at home during one of their mutual masturbation sessions, but now she has a stranger’s cock ramming in and out of her mouth and she is on heat in a way she seldom experiences.
A glance down shows John the woman’s self-stimulation. He asks, “Is she going to cum? She’s a repeater, I take it?”
“As many times as you give it to her,” the husband says. “Watch her arse come up off the bed. That’ll tell you.”
Seconds later, she writhes and jerks, clamps her hand on her cunt lips to sustain the orgasm, then subsides. John withdraws his cock from her mouth and looks down approvingly. “If you fuck as well as you suck,” he says, “you are something else.”
“Just try her,” the husband tells him. “Get her knickers off and get your head in there. Taste her. She loves that.”
Soon the knickers, a dark silky pool, join the bra on the floor at the side of the bed. John wastes no time in parting her legs with two hands as he bends his head to the cunt lips still puffy from the attention she has given the clit herself. Difficult now for him to continue his running commentary, but they have foreseen this. During cunnilingus, she will be more vocal.
“Is it good?” the husband asks, knowing the answer.
“Yes. He’s clever. Go slowly, John. Lick up and down the sides. Like that. Yes, that’s good.” Her hands are moulding her tits, fiddling with the nipples. Then, “Now hold me open with your fingers. My clit’s quite long, isn’t it?”
A groan of agreement from between her legs.
“Make your lips tight round it and lick the tip. Just the way I was doing your cock. Yes ... go on ...yes. Keep doing it, John. Go on. Go on. I’m nearly there!”
Confirmation isn’t long delayed. Another buck and heave have John clinging on to maintain mouth to cunt contact. Sighing deeply, she subsides. Ready for the next.
“Finger fuck, now,” says John. As she spreads herself to accommodate him, he slides in two fingers.
The husband is close with the camera. “She’ll enjoy this,” he tells John. “Just get a steady rhythm going and when she’s ready use your other hand on her clit. Guaranteed to get her off again. Isn’t it - ”
Heavily aroused in an unguarded moment, he has almost let slip her name - something they have agreed not to do. She realises and tells him to look after himself. “About time you had your cock out or you’ll burst. John won’t mind, will you John?”
“No. We agreed. Wanking is fine. I don’t mind. As long as you concentrate on my fingers. Work with me. No hurry. Just work it up slowly. Not many women can fuck like this after they’ve just cum twice. But you’re special.” He turns to the husband who is now naked below the waist and has temporarily put the camera aside. He is stropping a large erection. John tells him, “It’s like she can focus her whole body on her cunt. And I haven’t even had my prick in her yet. She’s just a slut, a magnificent slut, a fucking machine.”
His fingers have kept up the rhythm but gradually, almost imperceptibly increasing speed. A nod from the husband indicates another impending orgasm. “Come on, then. I want him to hear that cunt squelching. Give me this one and then you can have my cock up there. You know it’s what you want, don’t you.”
For answer, she suddenly reaches down to grip his wrist and guide him through the final moments. The climax arrives accompanied by a deep gasp and a tightening of her legs, trapping his hand while she eases herself back from the summit.
“Now I’ll fuck her,” John tells the husband. “Doggy first?”
“She loves that.”
Without waiting to be told, she is on her knees, hands behind her pulling the cheeks apart. John positions himself behind her, cock in hand. “It will do her good to wait,” he says. He rubs the knob of his cock against her cunt lips but makes no move to enter her. He slips two fingers in,brings them out shining with her juices, puts them in his mouth and licks appreciatively. “With a woman like this, once you get her going, she’s permanently ready.”
He drives into her, hard, one swift, fierce movement. His groin slaps against her arse. He grunts. “Starter for ten,” he says. “Different this time. Lots of wham bam.” He is as good as his word, rigid cock moving like a piston. Her lubrication makes it easy.
The husband busies himself again with the camera as John fucks, humping with metronomic regularity, always ensuring full penetration with each stroke. After some while, he says, “The only problem with this is, she’s not going to cum unless she helps out with her fingers. Do you want that?”
The question is directed to the husband but it is the wife who answers. “No, I can do that any time. I want a proper fuck.”
Whatever the husband may have been hoping for from this encounter, it is now exceeding his wildest expectations. His wife has shed all inhibition and is an active partner. He attends to his cock, pauses to take a few close-ups, then resumes masturbating. Meanwhile, the couple on the bed are repositioning, she on her back with legs spread wide. John once again hesitates and looks to the husband. “How about her arse? Does she take it up there?”
This is something they haven’t foreseen. Yes, they practise anal occasionally and she can accommodate her husband’s cock but it’s not on their agenda frequently. The thought of watching John’s cock penetrating that tight little hole gives him a surge of excitement. But they haven’t discussed it. There is no lubricant to hand. John is not huge but big enough.
She senses the hiatus and settles the matter. “No,” she says. “Not this time. Maybe if we do this again - “
“Cunt then,” says John. They chose him during the long introductory process because he gave every impression of being educated and refined. And so he is. But he believes that - once the gloves are off - what they both really want is a fuck as basic can be. By profession, although this is unknown to them, he is a jobbing actor. If she wants a bit of rough, he knows how to play the part. “How do you like this up there?”
Just as he had when he took her from behind, John’s initial thrust comes without warning, his knob brushing apart the labia, his shaft burying itself into the hot wetness below her shaven mound. “Now, come on. Get your arse working to meet me. Like this.” He grunts as their bodies meet.
Incredibly - for they have been at each other for well over half-an-hour, John’s stamina is never in question. They fuck, feverishly, always on the edge of total abandon, but he hs an uncanny sense of when she is about to explode, reining back just enough to deny her. The coupling goes on and on, dialogues largely forgotten until unexpectedly John pauses, his cock almost fully withdrawn. “You should get a close-up of this,” he tells the husband. “Let her remember how wet she was - look you can see how slippery she’s made me.”
The husband focuses, the camera clicks and John returns to his endeavours. “This time,” he announces. “Where do you want it? Tits? Face? In your mouth?”
“No,” says, urgently needing to keep him inside while they both come. “Where you are.” Her glance towards her husband is seen and understood. As she wails through her orgasm, taking spurt after spurt into the depths of her cunt, the cum that covers her tits is her husband’s
In the aftermath, while she cleans herself in the bathroom, John reveals himself as the educated, refined person they had anticipated. He politely expresses his appreciation for a memorable experience, hopes that he has provided what they wanted, offers his services again if they wish, insists he won’t be offended if they don’t.
He leaves, she emerges from the bathroom and takes her husband in her arms, hugs him, says nothing.
“Well?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” she replies. “It couldn’t have been better. Not for me, anyway. How about you?”
“It was good. I was surprised.”
“But what you mean is, shall we do it again?”
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
“And the answer is, I don’t know. It may take a while. Can you accept that?”
For now, he is content with the long distance they had come. The future is another day.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/first-time/better-late.aspx">Better late</a>