I stow the crumpled slip of paper with the address in my purse. My hand reaches out to push the large brass knob, and while I stand here on the steps of the large manor house that towers over me and wait for a response, I feel a bit intimidated. Strike that. I feel a hell of a lot intimidated, and it takes all my concentration to keep from shaking like a leaf. The house looks as if it has been pulled right out of a cheesy movie, with those fucking huge Ionic columns framing the entrance, with all the neat bushes and trees everywhere and the gravel driveway that loops around and which right now crunches under the tires of the departing taxi. My heart does little somersaults in my chest and stumbles when a muffled, harmonic gong sounds from inside.
I hear the approaching footsteps at the last moment, just a soft pattering on carpet, and when the massive oak door slowly swings open, not fidgeting with the hem of my too short dress is next to impossible. I catch myself biting my lip and worry that my teeth may already have left small indentations there.
Then I see him. Tall and muscular, a friendly smile on his lips and what I think is a mischievous twinkle in the dark pools of his eyes. He wears suit pants and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up and the upper two buttons open, in that casual way that tells me he feels completely comfortable in that outfit, very different from those guys at my workplace who always appear stiff and artificial as if they were reluctant visitors at a costume party.
His smile widens, small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes giving away that he is a little over forty already, twice my age. “I am so happy that you came, Christine,” he tells me and takes a step closer, his voice as dark as his short trimmed hair.
He’s everything I saw in the pictures he has sent me and more, and my knees grow weak when his hands gently wrap around my shoulders. He leans forward and my eyes widen. For a moment, I think that he will kiss me, and panic and desire battle inside me with an intensity I have never felt before. But he only touches his cheek to mine and whispers, “The photos didn’t do your beauty justice.”
‘Neither did yours,’ I want to say in return, but I’m too afraid that all he gets to hear will be a needful moan from shaking lips, so I swallow hard and stammer, “Thank you, Robert.”
He leans back, but his hands still hold me rooted to the spot without effort. “You seem to be nervous.” I feel his eyes roam up my body, starting with my painted toenails and the delicate, sparkling silver high heels I had bought for this evening, over my legs which are only slightly concealed by the expensive stockings and up my front and my cleavage that is pushed up by a wicked bra, and it doesn’t help my nervousness at all. His eyes linger over the spiral pendant with the huge pearl which I only wear on the most important occasions, and heat shoots into my face. The corner of his mouth twitches, but my short, daring peek further upwards reveals a hungry gleam in his eyes.
Our gazes lock. Even in all that expensive clothing, I feel as if I am completely naked. It is probably only a second, but it feels like hours that I stand here under his scrutiny, and I can feel that same heated arousal surge up between my legs that he has never failed to stir alive in our naughty chats. This, though, is so much more. His hands let go of my shoulders, leaving behind warm tingles, and for the first time since boarding the flight, I realize that this is for real. The awareness of his proximity kindles that flame between my legs into a blazing, white-hot fury and makes my nipples tighten into painful needle tips.
“Please, come in,” he offers in that same dark, almost hypnotizing voice, laying a hand on my lower back and gently guiding me inside while taking a step to the side to give me room.
My own movement freezes mid-step and ice-cold water seems to cascade over my skin.
“Meet my wife, Helen. Helen, this is Christine.”
The hammering in my chest gets almost painful, and though my lips part, no words find their way across them. Wife? I chastise myself for a moment. Married, yes, that was what his profile said. But I had waved it off, implied that it was another online relationship and not for real. Which it was, apparently. ‘Can I share our wonderful conversations with my wife?’ he had even asked, and naive as I am, I had had no qualms. After all, to the rest of the internet site, I was only a nickname with a funny picture that wasn’t even me.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Christine.” Now that she addresses me, I have to look at her, and I feel intimidated from the first glance. She’s as tall as him in the high heels she wears and moves with a restrained grace that makes me think of a wildcat. The dark red dress hugs her curves perfectly, a daring slit on the side allowing glimpses of a flawless, well-toned leg when she takes a step forward. Her blonde hair is done up in an intricate bun, and a spiral curl frames a beautiful face with high cheekbones and full lips, a face which radiates self-assuredness. Compared to her, I suddenly feel like a silly farm girl. Which, despite all attempts to appear sophisticated and world-wise, I am.
Her arms, covered in intricate lace gloves that reach almost to her shoulders but leave her fingers bare, reach out for me, and my chest wants to explode. She mimics Robert’s greeting, and her hands feel as strong as his on my naked shoulders. Her cheek touches mine, and her exotic, spicy perfume wraps around me like a sweet blanket, making me feel dizzy.
“I’ve read all your lovely conversations,” she whispers, and a shudder races through my body.
“My!” She suddenly exclaims and leans back, mustering me wide-eyed and full of concern. “You’re trembling!”
I want to kick myself. I am a grown up woman. Why do I have to stand here like a girl and feel all intimidated and embarrassed?
Her eyes take on a knowing look and she lets go of me, taking a step backwards. “You didn’t expect me, did you, Christine?”
I shake my head, taking a deep breath, and the small movement finally gets me out of my frozen state. “No, I didn’t.” My voice scratches in my throat. “When…” I look at Robert, dark red admissions of my embarrassment pooling in my cheeks, then back at her. “When your husband mentioned you, I thought it was just another of these online relationships.” I bite my lip and look down on the floor. “I should have asked. I’m silly.”
“Oh my.” There is a hint of amusement in her voice. “And now you’re quite out of your comfort zone.”
I can only nod again, my eyes locked to the spot on the carpet where the soft bristles frame the tip of her sandals, and I have to resist the temptation to put one foot down on tiptoes and wiggle it. I’m far too old for that.
“Don’t worry,” Robert chimes in and crouches down in front of me. His finger on my chin gently tilts up my head until our eyes meet. “There’s no hurry. No expectations. We’ll have dinner, and I promise we won’t touch you - unless you ask us to. If all we have is a nice dinner, it’s okay.”
A heavy load tumbles off of my shoulders and I’m finally able to draw a full breath. My giggle is still a bit forced. “I’m sorry. I really should have asked, I’m…”
“Embarrassed?” Helen picks up my thought. “No need.” Her eyes twinkle and her lips quirk upwards. “Maybe a little. You shouldn’t worry, though; you’re pretty when you blush.” The wink she gives me takes the sting out of it though, and I can’t help but answer with another giggle.
“This feel all rather crazy right now,” I admit. “I’ve thought up all kinds of things that may happen tonight.” I chuckle. “I should have done my homework.”
“Perhaps.” I’m can’t say if she’s agreeing or teasing me. “But come on in, Christine. Let’s continue this in the dining room. It should be more comfortable there than on our doorstep, now that you know that we won’t eat you alive.”
I walk next to her, and we turn to our right into a wide hallway with a dark wooden floor. The staccato of our heels suddenly fills the air, hers precise like clockwork, mine barely able to form a pattern. A huge, winding stairway goes up to our right, but we turn left and enter a candle-lit room with wall-high, seamless windows that look out into a beautiful park with a huge pond. My feet halt on their own accord and I gasp, instantly feeling silly again.
“That was my reaction too,” Helen placates me, her voice dreamy. “Feel free to be amazed. It’s a small paradise that Robert has built here.”
“It’s… wow. Breathtaking, I mean.” I reluctantly draw my eyes away from the view and take in the room around me. It is also laid out with a polished, dark hardwood floor. The walls are painted in a darker eggshell color, making it feel warm and homely, and the undoubtedly antique boards and candle holders that are spread around give it the feel of a castle.
Then there is the table in the center of the room, dark wood and long enough to seat twelve. Three places are set on one end, intricately folded napkins on the china and the glasses and silverware sparkling in the light of numerous candles. A light, exotic scent wafts through the air and I can’t help but close my eyes and draw in a deep breath through my nose.
“Please, Christine,” Robert says, having pulled back the chair at the head end of the table, “take a seat.”
“Shouldn’t you sit here?” I ask, but step closer nonetheless.
“I would, normally, but then we couldn’t both sit next to you,” he explains. “No, this is your place tonight. Tonight, you are the center of attention.”
I sit down and he gently pushes the chair forward, a perfect gentleman. Suddenly, his breath tickles my ear. “You blush as prettily as you described it to me.”
I’m at a loss for words while they sit down as well, Robert to my right, but before we can start conversation, I see movement from the corner of my eye and notice a maid with two big plates in her hands.
They’ve got a fucking maid! My cheeks light up in flames at the inappropriate wording of my thoughts, and I feel like they must have been audible to everyone around me. But nobody looks at me, and she sets down the plates on the table between us with a curtsy and a quiet, “Enjoy!”
Helen fills my plate with rice, strips of meat and small cut vegetables, something Asian no doubt, and it smells delicious.
“I wanted something not too heavy for tonight,” Helen explains. “I hope you like Asian food.”
“I love it!” I blurt out without thinking, far louder than planned.
“You know that you always pick the right thing,” Robert praises his wife with a wink, thankfully ignoring my outburst. “Now tuck in!”
We start to eat, and for a moment, the room is completely silent. The food is delicious, everything cooked right to the point and the taste of each ingredient distinctive and ripe on my taste buds. There’s a sweetness on my tongue that spreads with each bite, filling my senses and relaxing me. “Whoever cooked this is a genius!”
“I’ll relay your compliment to Melinda,” Helen tells me with a smile. “Though you may want to wait until dessert to fully appreciate her skills.”
“Christine’s right though,” Robert said with a dreamy expression, “she’s outdone herself today. Her cooking is almost as yummy as our guest looks.”
I blush again profusely.
“Don’t make her uncomfortable,” his wife admonishes him with a wink.
“Uncomfortable? I don’t think so. A little bit embarrassed? Very much. You said yourself how prettily she blushes. She should be doing it all the time.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Helen giggles. “I love the pendant you’re wearing. It’s elegant and light, it fits you perfectly.”
I feel her eyes on the spiral ornament and become aware that they also take in my cleavage. “Th - thank you, Helen.”
“It is so pretty. If it had feeling, I’m sure it would be in heaven, being able to be so close to your beautiful breasts, adorning such a sweet body.”
“Please,” I reply, feeling as if the heat in the room has been raised by a number of degrees, “they’re much too small.” I look at my plate and shift a slice of carrot around.
“Nonsense!” Roberts’s deep voice is full of conviction, and I look up at him to find that gleam that made my knees weak back in his eyes. “They are two beautiful halves of an apple, ripe and just a perfect handful, crying out to be cupped by gentle fingers and worshipped like they deserve. I’m sure that there’s hardly anything more beautiful in the world than they are.”
“Robert!” My protest, delivered with fresh flames coating my cheeks, turns out breathless, and I feel that the heat between my thighs must be palpable for everyone in the room. I look slowly over towards Helen, who has leaned back in the chair and watches me with avid eyes.
“He is right,” she purrs and tilts her head, smiling at me with almost angelic quality. Her absent-minded finger trailing along the neckline of her elegant dress draws my gaze though, and my eyes linger too long on the soft skin of her cleavage which it touches. “If you revealed the beauty of your little orbs to us, we would both have to struggle to keep from falling to our knees in front of their beauty. From all that I can see, they are magnificent.”
“Helen!” My vocabulary appears to narrow down to their names, and I feel silly again. I should be able to meet their compliments with full sentences at least. But the blush on my cheeks and the increasing tingles between my legs make it harder and harder to formulate intelligent replies.
“Would you show them to us?” Her voice is smoky and her green eyes appear covered with a fine mist. “Please say you’ll allow us to enjoy our meal while we admire such absolute perfection.”
My breathing hitches and my eyes widen. The heat increases dramatically, and I feel small beads of sweat form on my forehead, quite unladylike and unsettling me. But her eyes implore me, and when I draw my gaze away and look at Robert instead, his own mirror the want in his wife’s eyes.
“Please say you’ll do,” his bass voice pleads. “Remember, no touching happens that you don’t want. You’re so pretty. Please be the most beautiful ornament on our table tonight.”
That last sentence, cheesy as it may sound if you read it somewhere, does it. I can’t say if it is the word ‘ornament’ and the feeling of being a pretty fixture in their otherwise perfect home, or if it is the constant onslaught of compliments which have coated my soul with a dripping sweet sheen. I only know that a barrier of modesty inside me gives way and dissolves. My heart wants to burst from my chest and my breathing flies.
Both sets of eyes watch me with rapt fascination when I brush first one, then the other strap of the dress over my shoulders and brush them down my arms. The moment when the air touches the upper side of my smallish breasts feels overwhelming, and my nipples rejoice by contracting almost painfully.
I had purchased the bra especially for tonight, flimsy half-cups made of the most intricate lace ornaments and revealing more than it hides. The top halves of my areolas peek out in their pinkish, slightly bumpy glory. It was made to seduce and to show off, and the small gasps of delight from both sides tell me it succeeds and fill me with pride.
“How pretty!” Helen’s exclaimed compliment touches right between my thighs and stirs the ever-mounting heat there. I have never before thought sexually about other women, but the desire I see reflected in her eyes and the sensual looks she sends me touch a hidden part inside me.
“Like the finest porcelain,” her husband whispers, “the most beautiful art I have ever seen.”
They do not let up with their compliments, and there is no chance to even out my breathing. A rational part of me knows exactly what they are doing. This is seduction at its finest, but I cannot bring myself to mind. Their praise drips over me like sweetest sugary syrup and I want to twirl and dance in these moment of feeling utterly beautiful and desirable.
“Are your nipples sensitive?” Helen inquires, smiling like a cat. She knows what she is doing and she enjoys it.
“They are,” I whisper in response. “Very much so.” Even at that moment, I can feel that sensitivity when they strain against the fabric that covers them.
“Robert’s got a magic tongue. It’s incredible what he can do to my nipples,” she tells me, her voice low.
He chuckles in response. “She’s got a wicked tongue of her own, Christine, believe me. After her looks and brains, it’s one of the things that attracted me so much to her.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes becoming dreamy and one of his hands rubbing subconsciously over the noticeable bulge at the front of his trousers. “I still remember it as if it was yesterday. We were around your age when we met, in Venice in Italy, to boot. We had both travelled there with some friends and got fed up with the hubbub they made.”
“You had,” Helen chimes in, a knowing smirk on her lips, “I had planned to visit the art galleries there all along.”
“Well, be it as it may…” Robert smiles softly. This is obviously a discussion that they have had before. “...I sought some solitude in the Gallerie dell’Accademia, which is definitely worth taking a day to admire centuries of art which has changed the world. But then I encountered the most beautiful artwork I had ever seen, sitting on a bench in front of a wonderfully sensual painting from Tiziano.”
“You wouldn’t have look twice at me if the girls in the painting hadn’t had their tits out in the open,” Helen teases him.
“You’re hurting me deeply, love of my life!” he shoots back, clutching his chests in mock pain.
“It was you who asked me if I wanted to re-enact the painting and show the world that it could have become a masterpiece if the artist had just had the right model!”
They are both chuckling by now, lost in the memory of their past, their faces beautiful and relaxed, full of a joy that comes directly from their hearts. There is a short stab of envy. I want to feel such closeness to, have someone love me so intensely after such a long time. For a moment, I feel like an intruder, but then Robert blinks and looks at me, his grin softening.
“She had that same youthful radiance in her face that you have, the same beautiful, soft look of wonder. God, she was so desirable. She still is now.” His voice trails off, and the dreamy expression is back in his eyes.
“It was crazy. I was crazy,” Helen takes up where he has stopped. “I had never been one of the wild girls, but looking at all these barely covered nymphs in the paintings had freed some chains around my spontaneous side, and his funny, if a little cheesy, pick-up line touched something inside me. I think I had fallen in love at this moment, but even more important, I had discovered a sensual, sexual side in me that had been dormant. I…”
Now her voice trails off too, vanishes in a whisper, and they both sit there, eyes locked with each other’s and lost in their memories. The only movement comes from the soft flickering of the candles. I don’t want to spoil the moment, so I keep quiet, but the seconds seem to stretch endlessly and I have to know.
“What… what did you do?” I ask quietly.
Helen’s eyes meet mine, and I’m astounded about the intensity with which they flicker.
“I reached up,” she starts to whisper, and I subconsciously shift forward on my chair, “very slowly, my eyes never leaving his.” Her hand mimics the movement, touching her shoulder and sliding down her arm. “I knew right then that there would be no other man that I could love. I wanted him, wanted him to know that I needed him. I brushed the strap of my dress down my shoulder. I wasn’t wearing a bra. I let my breast spill out for him to see. I felt the need to do something far crazier and more intense than just flirting back.”
While she re-tells her actions, my breath speeds up, and I’m glued to her lips and frozen by the intense gleam in her eyes. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips appear even poutier than before. She is beautiful, and I can just see her in my mind, twenty years younger and so incredibly in love.
“I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I had never seen anything so erotic before. There was a tree which moved in the wind in front of the window, and the bright sunlight and soft shadows swirled all over her skin and caressed it. She was an angel who had stepped down to earth.” Robert’s deep voice is shaking with emotions.
“It sometimes pays to be a little crazy and daring,” Helen reflects, and her eyes meet mine again. “Sometimes, you have to gamble to win the big price.”
She holds my gaze, unwavering, and I’m falling into her eyes. I know what she is asking of me, but she leaves me with the option to fake ignorance. As if I could. The sensuality of their retelling, everything that has happened before and the days of impatient, aroused excitement run together in this single moment in time.
I have a feeling that all my life has been just to reach this one moment when I stand on shaky legs and reach behind my back. The claps unhooks easily, but my heart thumps madly against my chest the moment it does so. My skin begins to burn when I slowly slide my bra down my arms and let it drop to the floor.
“I’ve done it!” I suddenly want to shout to the world, and I can feel the freedom she has described.
Their eyes roam all over my heaving chest, and there is no hint that they notice the small rings of imperfection around my hips. Instead, I see only pure adoration. I’ve never felt so beautiful. They look at me as if I was a goddess, and it makes them both so beautiful themselves.
“Christine,” Robert’s deep voice whispers, and I shake with every syllable.
“Beautiful,” Helen gasps and my heart dances.
I take a deep breath, my soul soaring on wings woven from their admiration, and my shaking fingers unclasp the tiny belt, removing the last resistance that keeps my dress from succumbing to gravity.
A whimper escapes my throat when it slides down and cool air brushes over my body. I’m not wearing panties, having put them back into my suitcase in a bout of naughtiness. Now nothing hides my perfectly shaved pussy from their eyes, and I feel them roam over it with hungry gleams.
“Oh god,” Robert almost growls, his eyes dark with desire, making my nipples throb with yearning, “Such art! Such beautiful perfection!”
“What,” Helen asks, gripping the edge of the table, and I can see that she has to restrain herself from jumping up from her chair, “do you want us to do?”
The intensity is mounting to incredible levels, and my body’s need merges with all the times when I had felt ugly and unloved. A volcano starts churning between my legs and my whole body trembles, the yearning becoming almost painful.
“Love me!” I whimper, and a tear slides down my cheek, “Touch me! Please!”
Robert picks me up and carries me out of the room, with Helen just a step behind us and caressing my cheek, soothing me and keeping the overwhelming emotions from swallowing me up. Each little touch leaves butterflies dancing on my skin, and I can only focus on the sweet, loving smile on her face and Robert’s strong arms and heated body.
My breath hitches when I am gently laid down and find myself on a huge bed with white, silken sheets and covered in rose petals. Candles line the walls and tint everything in a warm glow.
I watch them undress each other, and despite the urgency in their eyes, they do it slowly and sensually.
Their bodies are perfect. Robert’s muscular chest and stomach ripple with each movement, and Helen is the epitome of femininity with wide curves and silken skin. They kneel on the bed, Helen to my left and Robert to my right, and my whole being oscillates in high frequency. I’m weightless.
The bend down simultaneously, and my lips part willingly for Helen’s tongue. She tastes sweet and spicy, but all thoughts leave me when I feel another pair of lips tickle me between my thighs, slowly pushing their way between my nether lips, and when a hot, moist tongue slides slowly through my folds, my world narrows down to their wonderful kisses.
My back arches and my heart races. I’ve had sex, yes, but these touches are so gentle and intimate that they shake the foundations of my world. Robert’s tongue finds my swollen pearl and tickles it. Helen kisses me hungrily, conquering my mouth with her tongue.
And it happens. One moment, I’m spiraling upwards and upwards with arousal, the next I’m toppling over the edge and feeling waves of pleasure carry me away. I moan and gasp, and I think I’m even shedding a few tears, shaking and writhing in absolute fulfillment.
Then they are both kissing my lips, and I can taste a musky hint of my juices on them while I slowly come back down from the most intense climax of my life. Their fingertips roam all over my skin, just soft, feathery caresses that keep me sighing in delight.
But the need inside me hasn’t gone away, and when my eyes fall on Robert’s big, stiff manhood with its purple, swollen head and the shiny drop of cream at its top, the need to be taken by him becomes all-consuming.
I try to tell him, but all my shaking lips manage to form is a needy whimper of, “Nghhh.” I almost sob with despair and will my body to obey my orders. “Inside!” I finally gasp. “Me!” My hands ball into fists and my nails dig into my palms. “Now!” I groan. “Please!”
Robert understands though and moves between my outstretched legs. “Are you sure,” he asks with a hint of concern, and I answer with a frantic nod and more whimpers.
“I’ll be gentle,” he tries to reassure me.
“No!” I shake my head wildly. “Not! Gentle!”
Our gazes meet and time stops. His eyes are wide, just as wide as mine, and I put all the emotions I feel into them, the need and yearning, the heated arousal, the love.
A short, sharp pain races through my lower body, but as quickly as it came, it is replace by a wonderful fullness. My soft, wet walls stretch around his rod, even try to clench down on it, but he is already pulling out again. I keep holding his gaze and he jerks forward, burying his length inside me once more, making me groan in delight.
“Yes!” I shout, and even louder, “Yes!”
He fucks me. He fucks me as hard as I need it, and the feeling of his steely flesh spearing me makes me writhe and cry out in pleasure. Helen’s skilled hands caress my breasts and toy with my nipples, and the spiral of lust starts again.
Higher and higher I fly, sweating by now, mumbling nonsense between shouts of joy. He drills my pussy faster and faster, his hips bumping against mine and his balls slapping audibly against me.
Suddenly, he stiffens, freezes with his cock buried all the way inside me, and I watch myriads of emotions race over his face. His pubic hair tickles my clit and his cock throbs, pulses inside me, and then I feel the spurts of come fill me up.
I come too, rolling in waves of delirious pleasure and reveling in the beautiful picture of his release. Again and again I jerk and moan, until the world before my eyes grows blurry and I am completely spent.
Helen lies on her back and pulls me close. I snuggle into her body, resting my head in the crook of her arm.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and I am momentarily taken aback.
“What for?” I ask, stumped.
“For letting me watch and be part of something so beautiful.” Her hand caresses my cheek and my breathing evens out. This feel so right.
Robert spoons me from and echoes her. “Yes, thank you, Princess.” He plants small kisses on the back of my neck, all the way down to my shoulder, and I sigh in delight.
“Helen,” I ask softly, “what about you? You’ve not…” I blush, which is crazy after everything that happened. But crazy is a good word to sum the whole evening up. Wonderfully crazy.
“Don’t you worry, Princess,” she tells me softly, picking up her husband’s endearment. “We’ve got a whole week ahead, don’t we?” She leans over and kisses me softly, and I sigh into her mouth.
“That we have,” I whisper back. “And I’m so glad!”
“What did you enjoy most tonight?” Robert wants to know while his hand softly strokes my thigh.
‘Everything,’ I want to reply, but there is one thing that made everything so special. So instead, I whisper, “That you didn’t touch me. That you didn’t try to force me.” I giggle softly. “That you managed to undress me with words.”
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