But before Michael could move, Jean rolled herself free of Monique's embrace and threw herself into his arms.
“Darling!” she gasped. “Oh, my darling! Let me explain why we did this…” Her body, wet from the heat of Monique's lust, pressed nudely against his; her glistening breasts like twin cushions on his bare chest.
“I wanted to — ”.
“It doesn't matter, Jean”. Michael's voice was thick with emotion, his senses reeling, his prick a surging shaft of pure animal desire. Even without the intimate closeness of Jean's body he would have been unable to contain his lust. But with his wife's naked flesh rubbing against his own…
He locked his arms around her back and slowly fell forward on top of her, making her fall backwards onto the bed beside Monique. His legs pushed their way between Jean's thighs, forcing them open.
The panties were still twisted up around her loins, gathered in a tight, dishevelled bundle across Jean's thighs. Michael reached his hand between their bodies and lifted them up — making room for his prick to thrust beneath the briefs and begin to ease its hot, dynamic length into her cunt.
“No…”, Jean moaned. “Let me explain first, darling. Let me tell you — ”.
But the crown of his cock was already sinking between her quim-lips — driving thickly into her soaking sex and making the hole stretch elastically open. She could feel the fleshy arrowhead starting to pulse… its foreskin drawn sharply back as Michael fucked his prick urgently into her tight and heated pussy.
Jean clutched at his shoulders, her fingernails pressing painfully into the muscular flesh. Michael grew even more passionate as they scored his skin and then raked frenziedly down his back. He violently pushed the rest of his prick into her cunt — cramming her, thrusting his fiery weapon into her softness, until his crotch rubbed against hers: their pubic hairs mingled together.
His temple was throbbing, a hot and insatiable redness welling up in his eyes. Michael stretched his hands down to Jean's thighs again and tugged the woman's panties up… taking the waistband and drawing the elastic top ruthlessly higher and higher.
She began to sob, arching her body up as if she couldn't get enough of his prick. He quickly pulled her silky briefs over the cheeks of her bottom, feeling their taut vee-front rubbing sexily against the base of his prick; the tightly stretched pants feeling like a constant caress on the tender underside of his penis.
He slipped his hands up the sides of Jean's body, glorying in the soft fleshiness of her skin. His elbows helped him to prop his chest away from her breasts and Michael let his fingers descent onto the beauties, slowly rolling them about his wife's body, making them assume a variety of titivating shapes.
They were squashed sexily together, the pliable globes rubbed against their twins in a breathtaking embrace; causing a deep and inviting valley to appear between them…
Then he relaxed the pressure and let them swing gently back into their normal position, keeping his hands softly on the nipples. He next drew them as far away from each other as they would stretch — holding Jean's titties apart and flattening them with his palms.
Finally, in rhythm with his fucking of her cunt, Michael imprisoned his wife's nipples between the forefingers and thumbs of both hands and pinched them cruelly upwards.
This caused her breasts to distend, taking on a pear-like appearance. Michael jiggled the nipples, moving them up and down… to the left and to the right, staring down, fascinated, as Jean's snowy peaks wobbled freely under his treatment.
He was screwing her viciously now: his prick coursing in and out of her juicy little cunt with hard, manic strokes. The slit was made even tighter than usual by the constraining pressure of the woman's panties; they prevented her thighs from opening too much and thus ensured that Jean's quim-lips fastened very securely indeed around Michael's cock.
When he had first entered her, Michael thought that he could only last a few minutes before shooting his spunk. But now, becoming aware that Monique was watching their every movement, he found the stamina to restrain himself.
It seemed banal, but he was determined to show the girl that he wasn't a five-minute-man! He wanted Monique to see that he was capable of giving Jean a far longer (and far more intense) pleasuring than she had! A further inspiration occurred to him:
Why not encourage Monique to come closer and allow him to fondle her at the same time?
Michael glanced at the girl. She lay on her side, facing them, her eyes bright and unblinking as they stared at the fucking couple.
He released one of Jean's breasts and reached out his hand to her. Monique slowly moved nearer. She trembled as Michael's fingers came to rest on her hip, but offered no resistance to him when his hand started to stroke the flesh and nudge her body closer to them.
Within a few moments Monique's bottom was within easy reach of his hand. He let it slip around the girl's waist and, forcing her to keep looking into his eyes, he rubbed his fingers down the sleek slopes of her arse.
They gently explored the luscious cheeks, now rubbing, now pinching… Michael, on an inspired impulse, worked his other hand beneath his wife's buttocks and started to give her the same treatment.
A feeling of intense power surged through him as he felt the two female bottoms. Monique's naked and completely bare; Jean's covered scantily by her tiny bikini briefs.
Greedily, his fingers travelled over the four soft hemispheres, fondling and sinking lusciously into the beautiful feminine arses.
They were his slaves! His hand-maidens! His to do whatever he liked with! Michael felt a shudder of pure ecstasy tingle through his body. They really were, he told himself, gleefully. Both Jean and Monique: their bodies eager to do his bidding! Moving willingly in whichever pose he directed!
Well, supposing he exercised his power over them a little more… He worked his fingers between the curvy slopes of Monique's bottom, pushing the cheeks apart and feeling for the precious hole of her arse — the brown secrets of which he'd glimpsed earlier…
Understanding what he was trying to do, Monique obediently stuck her buttocks out, making the globes open for him. Michael rubbed the pads of his fingers up and down the deep valley — feeling them pass over the raised bump of the girl's rear orifice.
While the hand which cupped Jean's bottom contented itself with a steady kneading, he slowly pushed the forefinger of his left hand into Monique's ripe young arsehole. She squirmed deliciously, offering a token resistance to this outrageous liberty. But, obviously, her desires had been aroused to such an extent by Jean's earlier ministrations — as well as by her first sight of a man and women fucking — that Monique soon relaxed her body completely and durance by the constant pressure of Monique's finger against the ultra-sensitive underside.
He could feel the floodgates opening. Against his will, Michael felt an overwhelming tickling beginning to well up in his cock — the spunk crying out frantically for release — bubbling up in his testicles and demanding to start that long, intense streaking action into Jean's cunt.
His fingers tore at Jean's panties, scrabbling them aside until he could feel Monique's hand. Insanely, he tore the girl's fingers away and — gripping her wrist tightly — brought them to his mouth.
Instantly, the very moment that Monique's forefinger passed between his lips and Michael tasted the rich juices of Jean's arse, he started to erupt…
The intensity of his orgasm frightened him: he couldn't remember ever experiencing so prolonged and furious a climax. His cream spurted and spurted… until Michael felt that it would never die away to a trickle.
But it wasn't merely the physical sensation of coming which filled him with such awe. The violent upheaval extended to his mind as well — making him giddy and weak. His brain sizzled as if the cells had been short-circuited. His mind felt totally inadequate to contain the sudden ecstasy which now possessed his being…
Michael scarcely knew where he was or what he was doing: his hands were full of soft, rounded female flesh; sensuous, warm skin that pleaded with him to shape it, twist it, hurt it…
All around him he felt the luscious curves, like satin blankets — warming him, caressing him… until he was completely enveloped, smothered by an all-consuming surfeitude of girlish intimacy.
Frantically, he wrung every last drop of semen from his roaring prick. The spasm was finally coming to an end, but he still felt strangely unsatisfied. His cock was as stiff as ever and gave not the slightest indication that it was going to lose its potency — even though he had yielded up such a large quantity of spunk.
He withdrew it slowly from Jean's cunt. And as the head pulled free of his wife's clinging lips, Michael realised that he was fully equipped to fuck Monique without waiting to regain his vigour.
But there was no need for haste now. The initial urgency had passed, leaving him with a more sensual desire to pet and fondle the two girls. To caress them slowly and leisurely; watching them squirm and plead with him for the final satisfaction of his prick in their cunts.
This drowsy, quietly-erotic feeling gave way gradually to an even more pleasant reverie. The fantasy grew and took shape in his mind that it would be wonderfully exciting if Jean and Monique actually assumed the roles of his fearful slaves! If they openly subjected themselves to his domination… pretending with him that he held the power of life and death over their bodies.
Michael pictured himself as an omnipotent Persian king — a mighty warrior, a ruthless man whose every whim must be instantly obeyed! And here, lying beside him on the royal bed, were two of his most delectable concubines… Jean and Monique!
But the girls had to be briefed as to what was expected of them. Before Michael could slip into his part completely and temporarily lose his drab identity, Jean and Monique would have to understand fully their own roles in the fantasy.
He opened his eyes at last and rolled carefully off Jean's body, feeling his prick sticking rigidly up in front of him — the sleek wet shaft pulsing gently.
Jean murmured drowsily in her sleep. Her unaccustomed sexual exercise had evidently tired her, and she lay with her head turned sideways on the pillow breathing deeply. Michael looked across at Monique.
The French girl's breast was still held loosely in Jean's hand, but she showed no sign of wanting to join her lesbian lover in sleep. Monique looked fresh and wide awake — her beautiful blue eyes regarding Michael with an expression of frank interest. She no longer seemed a quiet, shy little girl. The experiences she had gone through today must have brought the girl quickly through her adolescence and wrought an abrupt maturity in her character.
He leaned over Jean's slumbering body and drew his mouth close to hers. They kissed with their eyes open, and Monique's tongue crept between Michael's lips; stealing deliciously into his mouth and licking sensuously across its roof.
He cupped her other breast and gave it a friendly squeeze-then let the orb loll gently in the palm of his hand, supporting it with a soft caress of his fingers. Monique leaned towards him as they continued kissing, letting her hand stray as if by accident to the stiff erectness of his cock.
She stroked tenderly up and down it, using only the very tips of her fingers. Her gentle, coaxing touch filled Michael with an aching longing for the very young, very beautiful girl.
But at the same time it reminded him of his de* sire to play the part of a ruthless, terrible monarch: forcing both Monique and Jean to attend to his needs on pain of fearful punishment. He ended their kiss and started to whisper secretly in the girl's ear, finally bringing himself to voice his urgent need. When he had finished explaining to her in halting phrases what he wanted them to do, Michael steeled himself for Monique's refusal. For her mocking laughter, for her cold contempt…
For anything, in fact, but the girl's surprising agreement and willingness to do anything he asked of her!
“That sounds sexy!” Monique murmured. She rubbed her cheek against his. “We'd have to dress up, though, wouldn't we? I know — there are some old bangles and beads in the attic. I'll go and fetch them while you tell Jean what she must do. And we can wear your silk scarves… Oh, Michael! It's going to be so exciting!”
She kissed him quickly, then bounced off the bed, looking for all the world as if she was about to go and dress up for a fancy dress party!
Michael watched as she swiftly pulled her panties on — then stopped short, smiling ruefully down at herself and exclaiming: “Silly! I won't be needing these, will I? I'm going to wear a much sexier costume!”
Monique peeled them off again and posed proudly in front of him for a moment. Then she hurried out of the bedroom, leaving the door open behind her.
Jean had roused at the girl's voice and she now opened her eyes wide, looking at the empty space on the bed where Monique had been lying. “Where's she gone?” Jean asked Michael sleepily. “Did you tell her we wanted to be alone?”
“Not exactly”. Michael settled himself comfortably on the pillow, putting his hands behind his neck and stretching himself luxuriously. His prick hobbled stiffly and Jean ran her eyes over it, licking her lips in anticipation.
“Will she be back soon?”
“Yes — quite soon, darling. But I want you to get two of my silk scarves out of the drawer and go up to the attic with her: Monique will explain what we're going to do”.
Michael's voice was so matter-of-fact, so casual, that he might have been asking his wife to perform an ordinary household chore. His body seethed with a new-found confidence; he felt almost disconcertingly in full control of the situation.
“But, Michael — there's so much I want to tell you, darling! We've got so many things to discuss”.
“Later, Jean. We can talk as much as you like, but not now! Please — Monique is waiting for you”.
Reluctantly, Jean got up from the bed and adjusted her panties. She smoothed them out so that they once more resumed their function of concealing her sex. Michael smiled.
“You won't be needing those, darling!” he told her. “I think you'll find that Monique has a rather more interesting garment for you to wear!”
Jean stared at him, a frown beginning to crease her forehead. “The scarves?” she whispered. “Is that what we're going to put on?”
Michael nodded. “That's right, Jean. We're going to play a little game, just the three of us.” He ran his eyes leisurely over his wife's scantily-clad body. “You're going to be a slave, darling — a docile, obedient little slave-girl! You'd like that, wouldn't you, Jean?”
She trembled visibly. Her teeth chewed on her lower lip, sucking the corner of it into her mouth anxiously. “Michael — hasn't this gone far enough?” she ventured. “We can't go on; at least I can't! I must have been crazy to start such a thing! Let's put an end of it — please, darling!”
He smiled calmly at her. “As you said — you started it, Jean. And I'm afraid I don't want to stop, not just yet anyway!” He seemed amused by her obvious discomfort.
“I'm enjoying myself, darling. I'm having fun! What's the matter — aren't you?”
“Michael, we're being — I don't know — we're acting like irresponsible children instead of adults! We simply can't let this go any further.” She was getting panicky now, searching frantically for some reason why the menage a trois she had initiated should now be disbanded. “For one thing, it's not fair to Monique!” she blurted out. “That poor girl — she's scarcely older than Cathy — !”
Michael broke in on her irritably. “For God's sake, Jean. What the hell do you take me for? You have deliberately set out to excite me by pretending to have an affair with the girl — oh yes, please don't think I haven't seen through that little scheme! — and now that I've swallowed the bait you're starting to have cold feet!
“Well, if you imagine that I'll say: 'All right, darling, what we're doing is wrong — let's call the whole thing off you're crazy!”
He softened his voice. “Jean", he went on, more reasonably. “Can't you see what's happened? I know what you were trying to do when you let me catch Monique and yourself together…
“Well, it's worked, darling! I haven't felt so excited and close to you for years! Why break it up just when we're having such a wonderful time?
“Go on — go upstairs and make yourself ready. Monique will be wondering what's happened to you. I promise you we'll talk it all out later…” Michael leaned forward and gave Jean's hand a reassuring squeeze. She looked down at him doubtfully, then gave a small, uncertain nod.
“All right, Michael. If you're sure we're doing the right thing…”
“I'm sure”. He watched her as she walked slowly out of the room. Her bottom swung sexily under the tight panties, the cheeks sticking out boldly on either side of the cutaway silk.
He was alone. For a few minutes there was time to bathe in pleasurable anticipation of the joys ahead. Michael decided to have a cigarette while he waited for Jean and Monique to return. It would help to soothe his nerves, perhaps quieten the pounding of his heart.
As he inhaled the smoke deeply into his lungs, he felt again that glorious sensation of freedom flowing through his body. No matter what finally developed from this lustful evening, he thought, one thing was certain: he would no longer have to search for a young and adaptive mistress.
She was right here in the house at this very moment — upstairs with his wife, changing herself into a voluptuous slave-girl!
Monique! Michael breathed her name out in a wraith of blue smoke. Monique! He ran his tongue sweetly around the word, savouring its exotic, sexy connotations.
Unwittingly, poor Jean had supplied him with the very girl he had yearned for. She had been right under his nose for the past three weeks and he had not so much as given her a second glance! Michael put his cigarette in the ashtray and let it burn down unheeded. He didn't really want to smoke. He rather enjoyed the quickening of his pulse, the way all his senses felt keen and sharp.
Poor Jean! he smiled again. He had to admit that he would never have thought her capable of such a crazy, desperate plot! Even now Michael could hardly credit the fact that his wife had arranged such an intriguing and daring scheme to reawaken his interest in her.
She must be quite desperate to risk such a blatant, obvious ploy; why, he might have reacted very differently for all she knew! Another man would probably have walked out on her for…
Michael stopped, his thoughts suddenly sticking in a groove. “For all she knew…” The phrase ticked irritatingly in his mind.
Out of all the possibilities at her disposal, why had Jean arranged a “lesbian scene” to seduce him?
Could it be… could it be that she knew him better than he thought? Yet surely he had never so much as hinted that he found the spectacle of two young women cavorting sexily together an exciting one? He couldn't have! As far as he could remember, the subject had never arisen in their infrequent conversations.
Was it that indefinable (and probably fictitious) quality they called “feminine intuition”? Perhaps… Michael felt rather uneasy all the same. If, somehow, Jean did see through to his most secret fantasies, she was in possession of a deeper knowledge of him than he realised. It implied a greater understanding of his psychological make-up than he himself possessed.
Absently, lost in this uncomfortable speculation, Michael reached out and crushed the remains of his cigarette to a mashy pulp in the ashtray.
Perhaps Jean was a better partner for him than he had previously imagined. He didn't want to believe this, but the idea was taking firm root in his mind and refused to be shifted. Also, Michael was growing increasingly aware of the fact that Jean had shown no trace of embarrassment or shame when he burst in upon the girls.
Quite the contrary. And when she and Monique were making love, Jean had been the one to take the more dominant role. He saw suddenly that his wife simply couldn't have been caressing Monique merely for his benefit! Obviously not!
She hadn't suffered a rather unpleasant intimacy solely to please her husband. Jean had got as much enjoyment out of the situation as Michael!
He allowed the thought to settle, to sink fully into his brain. It changed quite a lot of his feelings towards her; she was clearly a far more complex person than he'd understood her to be. Well, he mused, he would see what developed during their next bout of love-making.
After all, there was no need to choose between the two girls yet. For tonight, at least, he could enjoy them both!
Michael felt comforted and reassured by this last thought. It was nice not to have to make a decision of any kind — and there was plenty of time to make up his mind whether Jean or Monique would ultimately become his lover…
He could now hear them coming back down the stairs, their soft footsteps just discernible as they approached the bedroom. Michael's heart beat faster, his imagination rushing ahead to imagine what the girls would look like in their “slave-girl” costumes. He was confident that they wouldn't disappoint him…