One thing we agreed on during our periods of rest and discussion was that sex among the eight of us had improved, and was continuing to improve, over time. The more we lost our inhibitions, the more ready we became to articulate personal needs or wishes. Once expressed, the more easily were they fulfilled.
It was during this get-together, for example, that Selma confessed for the first time that she and Mike enjoyed anal sex. At first it seemed that she might be offering herself to be sodomised by one of the other men present, but that was not the case - at least, not yet. For the moment, she admitted, she was turned on by the thought of having Mike's cock in her arse while the rest of us watched. We did so with intense interest, noticing how easily a little lubrication with baby oil helped Mike's penetration of the gradually opening orifice. He began carefully, inserting his fairly slim penis to a depth of only a few centimetres before holding the position until Selma murmured that she was ready for more. Several more pauses and renewals followed until he was buried almost to the full length of his shaft.
"Good?" he asked.
"Very," said Selma, who was kneeling, resting on her elbows, her tits dangling, her distended buttocks in clear view of the rest of us. "Now fuck. But be careful at first."
Mike withdrew almost to the tip of his condomless cock (our agreement on condoms was that they did not have to be used with one's own partner). His next movement was gentle but firm, full penetration in one slow thrust. Selma gave a little gasp of pleasure. Encouraged, Mike paused briefly while they both accustomed their bodies to this new conjunction, then he began to accelerate, each jerk of his hips culminating in the slap of flesh on flesh, setting his wife's generous tits swinging to and fro.
It seemed inevitable that the delicious warm suction of a narrow anal passage, however well lubricated, would bring about a swift conclusion; but the couple had learned how to prolong the pleasure. Selma, clearly sensing Mike's growing urgency, eased herself forward so that his cock parted company with her arsehole. "Steady, darling," she said. "Control."
Mike nodded, inhaled deeply several times, then took his still erect dick in his hand and guided it back into Selma's opening, narrow still but more easily receptive. "Tight," he said, to no-one in particular. "And very nice." He began to fuck again, holding Selma's hips, drawing her on to him. The harmony they had developed was apparent with his growing urgency, seeming as though he sought to impale her more deeply with each forceful entry.
After a while, Selma's desire to be watched during this process was clearly having the effect she had anticipated. As her breathing became shallower and faster. she lifted a steadying hand from the bed to massage a distended nipple. Suddenly, she said, "Keep going, darling, if you can. I want to come." With that she took her hand from her breast, reached back between her legs hand and began a swift stimulation of her clitoris.
"Say when," Mike grunted. Responding now to the potency of his wife's need, he was able to maintain his rhythm without coming only by dint of intense concentration. The point of no return was imminent for them both.
A few moments later Selma cried, "Now, darling, now. I'm almost there." The last words escaped as a deep internal sigh, the clearest indication of a hugely satisfying orgasm. Mike, meanwhile, clung on to her hips, pumping his cock in and out of her arse almost in a frenzy until he, too, embarked on the great release. Briefly, he collapsed on to to his wife's back before recovering himself and withdrawing. As her anus began to contract, a tribute of pearly liquid escaped and dribbled on to the inside of her thighs.
It was Sally who took a tissue and wiped away the moisture. She spoke for the six of us who had watched with mounting arousal when she said, "Thank you, both. That was almost as wonderful to watch as it must have been to do."
There was mostly agreement that there could hardly have been a plainer example of our earlier belief - that sex can only improve with experience of one's partner. But just as we were about to fall upon each other anew, a contradictory point of view emerged. Alan and Trish argued that there was a unique thrill to be enjoyed from sex with complete strangers. And that led them to the story which we have reconstructed very much as they told it.
Alan and Trish's story
Trish had been to her favourite - and expensive - lingerie store in Mayfair. She had bought a silk bra and knickers set in a light tan shade that she hoped Alan would approve. It was after she had paid that the assistant handed her the small package and said, with a slight smile, "Thank you, madam. I hope we shall see you again soon. If you ever need any assistance in the fitting room, I would be pleased to help."
In that moment, their eyes met and Trish instantly and intuitively read the message. She was as certain as she could be that if she were to return, the assistant would offer more than just professional fitting advice. The experience was new to her. She had not lacked for opportunities to indulge her bisexuality but that had always been with Alan and another couple. Here she had just been offered, if not quite in so many words, sex with a total stranger. And she was undeniably aroused. For a moment, she wondered if she could invent an excuse there and then but, annoyingly, nothing came to mind. When she looked back from the doorway, the girl was nowhere to be seen.
Parading her new purchases for Alan's benefit that night, she told him that she had had an interesting encounter when she bought them.
"Tell me," he said.
"Fuck me," she replied, stepping out of the knickers and lying back on the bed with her legs spread. "Fuck me slowly, and I'll tell you."
It was a while before she was able to do so. Before she could begin, Alan filled her mouth with his cock; when that sprang to life, she insisted that he should reciprocate. Cunnilingus was a speciality for them both, a lengthy process of licking and sucking and penetrating with tongue and fingers which invariably brought Trish off as the prelude to a series of orgasms by other means. On this occasion, though, she stopped him when she was almost on the brink.
"I want you in me while I tell you,"she said. "Missionary, but deep and not too fast. I want us both to enjoy this." She slid a pillow under her buttocks, raised her knees and opened herself for Alan to enter. After savouring the hardness of him right at the top of her cunt for a few moments she told him what had happened - and what hadn't happened - with the lingerie assistant.
"Did you want it?" he asked, provoked into quicker firmer strokes by the vision of his wife being worked on in the lingerie cubicle.
"Yes,," said Trish. "I did. I reckon I was pretty wet so I think I wanted it quite a lot. Would you mind?"
"Not if you told me all the details afterwards."
"I'm sure I would," she said, "if it had this sort of effect on you."
No more was said as they concentrated on a fuck that now was so fierce it could not be held at bay. Trish cried out at the climax and a few moments later Alan emptied himself into her welcoming inner depths. Replete, they quickly fell asleep.
Nothing more on this subject was said for several weeks but both understood that a new possibility had been entered on the pages of their sexual lexicon, albeit one that awaited practical definition.
The opportunity arose, surprisingly, in Budapest. Alan, a high-ranking civil servant (and thus one who had every reason to be circumspect in his sexual adventures), was sent to Hungary for a three-day conference. Knowing from past experience how boring it would be listening to entrenched positions being expounded, translated and rejected, he suggested that Trish should accompany him. By day she could shop, sightsee or just laze by the hotel pool, and at night Alan would have company and a welcome relief from the stultifying atmosphere of the conference.
It was on the second night at dinner in the hotel restaurant that Trish put a hand on Alan's arm, leaned towards and said quietly, "I think something very interesting has just happened."
Puzzled, Alan raised his eyebrows.
"Remember that experience I told you about - when I went shopping a few weeks ago?"
It took several seconds before Alan made the connection. "The lingerie assistant?"
"Exactly. When you can do it carefully, look over your left shoulder - just don't make it too obvious. There is a woman there with a small balding man."
After a brief glance, Alan said, "I see the couple you mean. She looks twenty years younger than him."
"Is that a problem?
"Anything but. But what are you telling me?"
"I'm telling you, darling, that our eyes met and she smiled in the same way that girl did in the shop. She wants what that girl wanted."
"Well, it didn't happen then, my dear, and I guess it won't happen now. You can hardly walk over to their table and ask her if she wants to take you to bed, can you?"
Trish pondered. "I guess not. But I'm not mistaken."
"Just let it be a nice fantasy. Let's go and have a nightcap in the bar and then we'll go up and make our own entertainment."
As they left the restaurant, Trish glanced at the woman again and was rewarded with a smile and raised eyebrows. In the bar, she told Alan of the way the woman had briefly allowed the top of her tongue to protrude between her lips. "She would do it, I know, but the trouble is the little bald man."
Trish could not have been more wrong. A few moments later, the couple came into the bar and, having seated his companion at a table facing Trish, the man walked over to them and said something in Hungarian. It seemed that he had anticipated not being understood. Instead, he took his hotel key card fromhis pocket and placed it on the table in front of Alan. It bore the name of Sandor Horvath. The room number was 842.
When Alan looked up, the man eased back his cuff to show his wristwatch, then spread the fingers of both hands. He touched Alan gently on the shoulder, smiled, picked up the key card and returned to join his partner. The woman looked at Trish and nodded twice. The invitation was unmistakable. "They want us to go to their room in ten minutes, don't they?" said Trish.
"And suppose when we get there they relieve us of every penny we have?"
"Darling, don't be silly. We know his name and his room number. And as for her, I swear I'm not mistaken." She paused, made up her mind. "Look, we can go to our room first, leave all our cash and credit cards behind. And I might just fancy a quick change of underwear. Black knickers and suspender belt. What do you think?"
Any reservations in Alan's mind were overcome by a more basic feeling in his groin. "All right," he said. "But let's be careful."
When Alan tapped on the door of room 842 it opened at once, as though there had never been any doubt that the invitation would be accepted. The small bald man made one more attempt to communicate in Hungarian but succeeded only in conveying the information that his partner (wife?) was named Magda. Then he sat on a sofa beside her. Alan and Trish took in an elegantly dressed woman, more pretty than beautiful, with dark hair and eyes, a full, sensuous mouth and generous breasts.
There was a brief moment of uncertainty: what should happen next? Magda solved it, rising to indicate that Alan should take her place on the sofa. Even as he was doing so, the woman crossed to Trish and held her at arm's length, appraising her, smiling, nodding and clearly approving. The kiss that followed was spontaneous and prolonged, Trish opening her lips to accept Magda's tongue, then breaking away before reciprocating.
The pattern was set. Magda took the lead, but Trish showed herself a willing participant allowing herself to be bent forward at the end of the bed while her skirt was raised to reveal the black knickers, the suspenders and black stockings. Sighing with pleasure, Magda ran her hands over curves that were accentuated by the fabric tightened across them. A small nudge persuaded Trish to widen her stance so that Magda could pursue her exploration.
At length, the Hungarian woman, stood back and raised Trish beside her. Slowly, her eyes now fastened upon Trisha's, Magda began to undress. When she had stripped to reveal green bra and panties separated by white flesh from matching hold-up stockings, she stopped and gestured for Trish to follow suit.
Another lingering, sensual kiss eventually led them to the bed where Trish in her eagerness pushed up her bra and thrust her breast into her partner's mouth. Soon both were naked, hands and tongues searching each other's every curve and orifice. The common language of pants and sighs was all the communication they needed. Who led and who followed was impossible to tell from one writhing embrace to the next.
The atmosphere of unrestrained lust had its effect on the men. Sandor, who had been stroking his cock while watch the women at play, rose and stepped out of his clothes, took Alan to the bed and helped him to strip, too. They both masturbated slowly until at last the women had given each other a series of subtly varied orgasms and lay back to rest. But not for long. Magda made what must have been an admiring comment about Alan's now rampant cock, for Sandor guided her to the Englishman and bent her head to do its work. Then Sandor took charge of Trish.
Condoms were produced, seductively rolled into place, clearly signalling that penetration would not be limited to natural partners. The couples fucked side by side, changed partners, changed again, mingled in every combination. At one point Trish was sucking Sandor's cock while he parted the buttocks of his kneeling partner for Alan to apply his tongue to a responsive anus.
At the end, Sandor kneaded Magda's tits while Alan drove his cock again and again into her cunt, driven on by the woman's squeals of joy until he could hold back no longer. When he removed the condom, Magda held out her hands to examine the generosity of his spend. The she poured it on to her breasts and indicated that Trish should massage the sticky liquid until - aroused one last time - the Hungarian fingered herself to orgasm. Trish, meanwhile, was kneeling to allow Sandor to reach his climax while mounting her from behind.
Courtesy was maintained when Trish and Alan were ushered to first use of the bathroom. And then, dressed again, the couples exchanged handshakes and demure kisses before parting.
Back in their own room, Alan conceded that Trish's instinct could not have been more correct. Might it happen again the next night, they wondered. But in the morning when they enquired at reception they were told that Mr and Mrs Horvath had already checked out.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/spanking/the-friends-of-paul-and-sally-part-two.aspx">The Friends of Paul and Sally - Part Two</a>