Gradually, the sound of voices reached her. They seemed to be coming from a great distance, down a long dark wind-tunnel. Monique didn't really want to hear them: she would have preferred to remain here in this beautiful, dreamy pink-and-fluffy world where everything was so peaceful, so wonderfully calm.
But the spell had already been broken. Her escape into sleep had ended. And Monique slowly brought herself back from the silent, still state of rest and into full consciousness.
She was lying on one side of Michael's body and Jean was on the other. He had his arms around their shoulders, clasping them gently, his head turned towards Jean.
“She's waking up", Jean whispered, and Michael brought his face round, smiling at Monique and giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“What — what happened?” Monique asked sleepily. “I was standing next to Jean and suddenly I…” She raised herself up on one elbow. “I fell asleep!” she finished, shaking her head ruefully. “How rude of me! But I couldn't help myself, I felt so tired — ”.
“Of course you did, darling", Jean said softly. “After all, you've been through quite a lot today! It's no wonder you feel exhausted”. Monique thought that she exchanged a knowing, secret look with her husband. “How do you feel now, precious?”
Jean went on. “You've had nearly two hours' sleep, you know. Has it refreshed you?”
“Two hours!” Monique sat right up in the bed, startled. “Surely I couldn't have slept all that time!” It suddenly occurred to her that Jean and Michael had been talking together while she had been fast asleep. They seemed somehow different now. As if they'd reached an understanding…
Looking from one to the other, Monique felt sure that something had transpired between the husband and wife which concerned her, but about which she was to be told nothing.
It wasn't anything she could put a name to; it was nothing she could pin down and identify. No, whatever it was that the couple had agreed to, she — Monique — would never fully discover. She might guess at it from their subsequent actions, but the essence of their conversation would always elude her.
The girl felt upset by this realisation. It reminded that she was, comparatively speaking, a stranger in their midst. An outsider: someone who could never completely share their lives.
People who had been married for as long as Michael and Jean always retained a certain duality; however close a third person got to them, there remained a part of their lives which couldn't be shared — an intimacy between them which couldn't be penetrated even by their children.
Monique reminded herself that she should have understood this at the beginning. Despite Jean's protestations, she should have realised from the first that she could never come between her and her husband. Not in every way, not completely…
Or was she merely imagining things? Had she misinterpreted the look which she thought Jean had exchanged with Michael? Monique began to grow anxious — not because of her fears themselves, but because she had never before been subjected to such self-doubt and so deep an analysis of her feelings, and the feelings of other people.
At this point Jean's voice broke into her thoughts: “While you were sleeping, Michael and I had a wonderful idea, Monique. A new variation on our little game…”
She leaned right across Michael's body and put her hand on Monique's waist. “We thought it might be rather exciting to pretend that he has come here to buy a slave!” she went on, her voice slowly exciting Monique: not so much by what she was saying as by the sensuous purr in the woman's tone. It was soft and low, confidential and arousing.
“He would have to examine me very thoroughly, of course", Jean continued. “And it would be your job to see that all my — er — good qualities are pointed out to him!”
So Jeans to be the leading player, Monique thought with a trace of bitterness. Why not me? Why should she have all the fun?
“What do you think of the idea, darling?”
“It sounds very exciting", Monique replied. Perhaps, once they started, she could find some way of ensuring that she received a fair share of Michael's attentions. Meanwhile, she had to admit that even acting as Jean's hand-maiden promised to be a sexy pastime…
“Come on, then", Jean cried. “Let's get started, shall we?”
Monique was tugged playfully off the bed by the eager woman and she and Jean took their places near the dressing table — where the mirror reflected their alluring bodies, giving Michael a view of the girls from the back as well as the front.
They re-adjusted their single, skimpy garments; tugging the silk scarves down so that they hung sexily over their loins. Monique cleared her throat.
“Can I interest you in this beautiful girl, sir?” she asked Michael — putting a delicious simper into her voice. “As you can see, she is very attractive and her figure is one of the most well-developed you will ever find”.
Monique placed her hand beneath Jean's left breast and raised it gently: displaying the ample globe for Michael's inspection.
He got off the bed in a slow, lazy movement, then walked across and stood directly in front of them.
Monique lifted Jean's breast higher — and let her forefinger brush across the nipple. It swelled quickly, stiffening in a hard, red flowering as the girl's finger moved backwards and forwards, deliberately coaxing it to prominent, impertinent erect-ness.
Michael peered down, bringing his eyes to within a few inches of his wife's nipple. “Hm, not bad", he commented. “See if you can make the other one grow as stiff. I'm rather partial to nipples and I want to be sure she's got two good ones!”
Keeping one hand on Jean's breast, Monique slipped the other beneath the woman's armpit and slowly teased the second nipple until it sprouted as magnificently as the first. Then she let both the orbs rest softly in her fingers, holding them modestly for the man to judge their size and quality.
He reached his fingers up and, while Monique continued to hold the breasts steady, rubbed them for a long minute across Jean's nipples.
“Aren't they beautiful, sir?” Monique breathed. She let the warm, nestling balloons jiggle lightly in her hands. “Please — feel them for yourself! I'm quite certain you'll be satisfied!”
Michael held them firmly, turning them this way and that… lifting them high, then letting them fall back into position by themselves — watching the lithe bounce of Jean's truly magnificent breasts. He next pushed them tightly together, squashing the ripe dumplings so that they rubbed intimately. And again withdrew his hands so that they sprang apart of their own accord.
“I must admit they're excellent specimens!” he commented at last. “But I shall want to take a good look at the rest of her before I make up my mind”.
“Oh, of course, sir!” Monique cried.
All this time, Jean had remained quite still, her eyes impassively staring out over Michael's shoulder. She now permitted Monique to turn her round, obediently facing the mirror and allowing them to inspect her rear view. Her hand rested quietly at her sides.
“See how shapely her shoulders are?” Monique asked. “Look at the smooth skin! And her back — how firm and upright it is!”
Illustrating her praise of Jean's bareness, the girl put her hand on the woman's shoulder and let it run intimately down the flesh. When her fingers reached Jean's bottom Monique slid them over the large curves and cupped the cheek nearest to her.
“And her buttocks!” she exclaimed. “Have you ever seen such a sweetly shaped arse in all your life? Why, the suppleness and the beauty of these cheeks would put Cleopatra herself to shame!”
“Let me see…” Michael went down on his haunches to examine the much-vaunted bottom for himself. He studied it from every possible angle, taking hold of the other cheek and — with Monique's aid — opened them so that he could view the privacy of Jean's anus, tucked three-quarters of the way down the deep crease…
She kept her arse muscles submissively relaxed, letting the man and girl hold her bum-cheeks wide open. Michael motioned Monique to carry out the task of keeping the globes well-splayed and she willingly leaned over and did so: one hand on each orb now, thumbs beneath the heavy swells, ensuring that he had the completest possible view of Jean's rear orifice.
Michael fixed his eyes intently on the tiny, pursed hole. Around it extended dozens of little wrinkles where the flesh had been stretched. He put his finger into the crease and touched the inviting opening: then rubbed the digit insinuatingly into the tight, boldly displayed shit-orifice.
A persistent, prolonged examination, and he appeared to be satisfied with the state of Jean's anus.
He withdrew his finger, making a faint suction noise as it popped out of the brown passageway. Then he put the intruder to his nostrils and sniffed carefully.
“Mmm, yes", he stated at last. “That would appear to be perfectly satisfactory. Now — I must see what the girl's cunt is like”. Michael rose to his feet again, letting his horny prick rub firmly against Jean's buttocks as he straightened up.
“Of course", Monique replied quickly. “Jean — go to the bed and lie down. We want to examine your quim!”
In an extremely docile manner, Jean moved to the bed and stretched herself out, letting her thighs open slightly. The fringe of the silk scarf fell across the mound above her cunt as she assumed the horizontal position, merging with her pubic hairs…
Monique curled up beside her, tucking her legs beneath her. Michael approached them, running his eyes over Jean's lusciously almost-nude body with a kind of professional appraisal. His cock bulged wildly up in front of his stomach, swinging menacingly each time the man moved, its crown red and thick.
Monique slowly raised the silken fringe away from the slave-girl's crotch. Then she rubbed the hard mound with her fingers, gently smoothing the hairs until they were flat — and brushed away from the opening of the woman's cunt-lips.
“There!” she cried proudly. “Please examine her as intimately as you please: I know you'll be happy with what you find!”
“Thank you", Michael replied shortly. “I shall make up my own mind about that!”
He sat on the edge of he bed and prodded Jean's thighs, indicating to her that she should open them a little wider. She obeyed without a murmur, parting her legs so that her prospective “buyer” could freely examine the hidden delights of her sex.
Michael leaned towards Jean's crotch and ran his hand gradually up the inside of her thigh. His fingers came to rest on the raised curve of her mons veneris, caressing the hairy mouth firmly.
Taking his time, the man let his middle finger slip slowly downwards into her wound, wiggling it from side to side until the lips sighed reluctantly open. Keeping his other fingers on Jean's crotch, Michael pushed the penetrating digit insistently deeper — feeling it sink beautifully into the thick red meat…
Still, Jean made not even the slightest sound or movement.
Michael frigged her quim methodically, his finger going in and out of the moist hole in a steady, unvaried rhythm. His knuckles rubbed at her clitoris, kneading the stalk into a thick, pulsing erectness — but still Jean played her role of the passive slave-girl to the hilt!
At last, Michael plopped his finger out and glanced up at Monique. “I want you to hold the lips open for me", he ordered the girl. Then, after considering, he appeared to change his mind:
“No — wait a minute. I'll keep them apart and watch while you lick your tongue into her cunt! You see. I must have proof that she's a clean girl…” His eyes glittered wickedly at Monique. He really is enjoying this, she thought. Even more than we are! He's getting quite a kick out of playing the dominant, must-be-obeyed male!
She waited until Michael had prised Jean's quim as far open as the lips would stretch, then positioned herself between the woman's thighs. He was holding the slit from above, resting his lower arms on the soft white flesh of Jean's belly. His fingers nipped the twin sides of her cunt — spreading the intricate layers of inner skin for her delectation.
Monique put her hands on Jean's thighs and moved her mouth until her pursed lips came into moist contact with the woman's completely bared sex.
The girl took a deep breath, then began to suck firmly: her teeth just inside the hot, odorous quim. She made a steady, even slurping sound as her lips drew the fleshy complex of Jean's sex into her mouth and she worked them with a growing intensity of pleasure around the widely-stretched hole.
Michael stared hotly at the arousing, cock provoking scene. In all his wildest dreams he had never imagined so sexy a situation! His own wife being cuntsucked by a young girl whilst he himself held her darling slit open!
His prick throbbed madly: urging him to tumble Monique away and plunge it to the hilt inside Jean's sopping-wet quim! But that would put too sudden an end to their game. He must be patient!
Meantime, he realised that he could at least give his anxious weapon some relief. Careful not to loosen his hold on Jean's lips, Michael lifted himself onto the bed and then brought his cock down so that it stuck into the softness of his wife's breast.
Her nipple burned beneath it, seeming to sink right through the flesh and into the very heart of his prick!
Slowly, Michael rode it up and down; feeling the sweet hemisphere wobbling under his rock-hard tool. In his excitement, he inadvertently slipped off the globe and — cursing violently — began to lift his buttocks and get his cock back in position.
But Jean suddenly came to life and he felt her hands take his prick firmly and maneouvre it between her breasts. Then, swiftly, she pushed them tightly together — imprisoning his fiery rod between the luscious white fruits!
Michael's eyes blazed with excitement. He started to fuck up and down: the warmth and softness of Jean's titties almost as pleasurable as the feel of her cunt…
She rolled her breasts rhythmically, making sure that they never relaxed the tightness of their embrace; never allowed his cock to feel free of their all-encompassing heat.
For several minutes the trio held this tableau, writhing on the bed in their unholy positions — Monique now inserting her tongue fully into Jean's cunt and giving it the deepest, most thorough licking it had ever received.
Fearing that it would cost him a premature ejaculation, Michael finally forced his prick from between his wife's breasts. He also let go of Jean's cunt lips, leaving Monique to manage as best she could without his assistance. It was some time before Michael felt able to continue: he needed breathing space — not because he was tired, but because he knew that at the slightest stimulation his cock would erupt in a mighty, unstoppable orgasm…
And he wanted to delay that moment until he had given Jean the greatest fuck of their married life — while Monique acted as their hand-maiden, attending to the details and generally helping them to create an atmosphere of intense eroticism.
Eventually, he had calmed down sufficiently to go on. Monique was still sucking and licking at Jean's quim, her eyes closed tightly, her pert little nose resting against his wife's clitty.
Michael moved behind the girl and caressed the nape of her neck softly. She stirred, and he drew her gently away from Jean's sex — seeing the wet film on her lips where his wife had annointed Monique's mouth with her love-juice.
He indicated to her silently that he wanted her to climb onto the bed next to Jean and help to ease his prick into the woman's cunt. She nodded briefly, and Michael thought that he could detect a sadness in her eyes.
However, there was no time to dwell on real or imagined emotions. His need was growing more vital every second and he could scarcely wait to feel his penis sliding tightly into Jean's well-sucked quim.
Breathing hard, Michael lowered his body on top of her, letting Monique grasp his cock and steer it to the portals of his wife's joyhole.
The girl rubbed the head up and down Jean's oily slit — finally guiding it into the yielding hole and allowing the pulsing weapon to sink its hilt. Then she contented herself with fondling gently at his balls, weighing the hard sacks in her palm and caressing softly at his scrotum.
Michael felt a fierce, ecstatic joy welling up in him as his prick crammed greedily into Jean's cunt. She really was a beautiful, tight little girl, he thought proudly. So hot… so very, very wet!
He began to screw her, using deep, slow, satisfying strokes — pausing with each inward thrust and letting his cock remain in the depths of her pussy for a count of five: then drawing it gradually back again — feeling it sliding gloriously against the hot walls of her sex…
In… out! In… out!!
He met Jean's eyes, seeing in them a fire and love which matched his own. She looked incredibly lovely! Her black hair was strewn over the sheets, its abundance making her face seem so tiny and child-like. A great protective urge flooded his being. How he adored her at this moment!
And she was grinding her hips in that slow, special wonderfully sensual way; something she hadn't done for years! Her spunk flowed sweetly over his prick, making it hotter and even more slippery: bathing him with a caressing, milky flow which symbolised her love…
Michael had almost forgotten Monique in his awakened ardour for Jean. The girl lay on her side against them, her fingers still massaging his testicles.
Suddenly, he found that he resented her presence. She shouldn't be here, intruding on their intimacy! It was obscene, unnatural… she was nothing but an outsider — a corrupt, interfering little -
Michael caught himself up. He remembered that if it hadn't been for Monique, he and Jean would most likely never have rediscovered their passion for each other! He tore his eyes away from her — and as they met Jean's once more he realised that she had seen from his expression what had been going through his mind.
She smiled: a tender, wistful little smile that begged him to be gentle with the girl.
Michael moved his head in an almost imperceptible nod — and resumed his piston-like fucking… now driving his prick in and out of Jean's cunt with a wilder, more intense passion; making it thrust into the heart of her female sex urgently… frantically…
Out of pity rather than desire, he reached his hand between Monique's thighs and started to insert two of his fingers into her smaller, probably virginal quim.
The girl tried to close her legs, reacting against Michael's belated attentions. But he overcame her weak resistance easily, and as soon as she felt his fingers sinking between her sex-lips, Monique gave a heartfelt sigh and relented.
She pulled her hand from its place on Michael's crotch and wriggled her body up the bed until her breasts were level with Jean's face. Michael's fingers had retained their sinecure inside Monique's cunt and they continued to frig steadily at the girl's slit, tickling and teasing; moving without cessation up and down the long, unfucked wound.
Monique suddenly gripped Jean's head, her slim fingers gathering up the woman's hair and forcing her to confront the breasts which Monique was thrusting towards her mouth.
“Kiss them! Suck them!” Monique urged her. “Go on — bite them if you like!” Jean could see tears in the girl's eyes — her voice was bitter and wild.
“What are you waiting for?” Monique demanded. “Aren't they good enough for you now? You liked them enough this afternoon, didn't you? Remember how you touched them then? Go on!” she shrilled. “Show him how you sucked them!!”
The girl was approaching hysteria, her lower lip trembling violently. Jean quickly moved her mouth forward and took one of Monique's breasts between her lips. She drew on it deeply, flicking the nipple with her tongue and feeling it harden and ripen.
“That's right!” Monique sobbed. “Harder — harder, damn you!' She thrust Jean's mouth against her breasts with both hands. “Oh, damn you! Damn you both!! You've been using me — that's all! That's all you wanted me for! As a — a stimulant!”
Oh, no, Jean wanted to cry. That's not true — it's simply not true! But her lips were choked with the softness of the girl's breast, and Monique's hands held her tightly in position; her fingers crooked into her hair.
And anyway, she realised with a terrible sinking feeling, what Monique had cried out in frustration wasn't so far from the truth after all. Perhaps both she and Michael had intended nothing but the restoration of their waning love and desire all along. Perhaps -
But Jean could no longer think clearly. The frenzy of Michael's prick as it coursed again and again into her cunt made her slowly oblivious to everything.
She let her teeth sink remorselessly into Monique's nipple (using her again for a purely selfish motive?) and brought her ankles up around her husband's back — urging him to penetrate her as hard and as deeply as he possibly could.
Her spunk suddenly spurted without warning, and Jean was transported into a fantastic world of blinding white light; unbelievable peace flooded her being — she lived an eternity of bliss during the timeless throbbing of her orgasm…
And then, to make her joy complete, she felt her body being slowly filled with hot, life-giving fluid: and realised dimly, before every corner of her mind was lifted into transcendence, that Michael had reached his climax in perfect timing with her own…
As he spent his semen in an excruciatingly long and sustained shuddering, Michael thought only of Jean. Before he, too, gave himself up to the sweet death of orgasm, his mind recalled a hundred beautiful moments they had shared. He remembered, in a total recall which is granted a drowning man, the way their life together had begun… and the way it should have continued…
But these memories gave way inevitably to a metaphysical, mystic communion with the normally inaccessible regions of his unconscious — and Michael surrendered his last small contact with reality, striving with pure instinct to force as much spunk into Jean's beloved cunt as he could muster.
He fused with her completely; until, at the end, there was no real comprehension in his mind where her body ended and his began… coda
They watched as the train drew slowly to a halt and the doors started to swing open, craning their necks for a first glimpse of their daughter. Michael gripped Jean's arm. “There she is!” he cried, pointing as a pretty, dark-haired girl stepped down and waved excitedly.
She dropped her suitcase and came running eagerly towards them, arms flung wide. Michael caught her up and swung her round, kissing her cheek and laughing.
“Cathy!” Jean struggled to separate them, her hat knocked sideways as the trio embraced, reeling about the platform, arms about each other's necks. “Oh, it's so good to have you home again, darling! We've missed you so much!”
Holding hands, Cathy in the middle, they walked to the car. “There's so much to tell you, Mummy", the girl said. “It seems ages since I went away… We've got two new teachers — oh, and they're having an open-day soon. You will be able to come, won't you?”
She chattered incessantly, trying to talk to both of them at the same time. All the way home, Cathy gossiped about what had happened during her term at school, while Michael and Jean exchanged amused smiles over her head.
She seemed to have grown up during her absence this time. The rather gauche schoolgirl who had left them three months ago in tears now looked remarkably self-possessed and assured. To his surprise, Michael felt a strong paternal pride in her. His daughter was an attractive, intelligent girl, he realised. It amazed him to think that he had scarcely even noticed her before today…
After dinner, Cathy went to bed early — tired by the journey and the excitement of her reunion with her parents. Michael and Jean listened to her footsteps disappearing up the stairs, then turned to each other.
He kissed her affectionately and hugged her close to him. “I love you", he whispered, and felt Jean's body strain sweetly against his.
Linking arms, they went into the lounge and sat together on the settee. The lights were dimmed.
Jean reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. “No regrets, Michael?” she asked, looking up into his eyes.
He returned the pressure of her fingers. “No regrets", he replied softly.
They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then Jean said: “You don't think we were too cruel to her, do you? She wouldn't do anything silly, like — ”.
Michael put his hand quickly over her mouth. “Of course not, darling”. He moved his fingers to her neck and caressed it gently. “She was very upset by what happened. Naturally — she would be. But she'll get over it. She's very young, and soon she'll look back on it and be glad of the experience”.
Jean shook her head and looked doubtfully at him. “I wonder… I don't think you knew her as well as I did, Michael. She was quite a highly-strung girl really. And I keep worrying that she might — ”. * “Darling!” Michael drew her face next to his and kissed her firmly on the mouth. “Honestly, we've got enough to do getting to know each other better, without concerning ourselves about a girl who only stayed with us for three weeks!
“Come on, stop thinking about her so much. She's all right. Just be thankful it didn't turn out any other way. Look what we would have missed!”
He kissed her again, then nestled her head against his shoulder, stroking her long black hair. Jean closed her eyes and wound her arms about his waist, snuggling as close as possible to her husband. She wished with all her heart that she hadn't stood by while Michael had deliberately told Monique that she was nothing but a little tramp; a whore; a perverted, cheap…
She tried to stem the memory of that horrible outburst but she knew that it would always be present in her mind. Why had he done it? There had been no necessity for him to be so cruel.
And yet… And yet it had given them a completely clean break from her. She saw now that that was the reason why Michael had behaved so terribly. If he hadn't driven her away so effectively there would always be a slight doubt in both their minds that Monique would be an ever-present threat to their new-found happiness.
Only by rejecting her so savagely could they be quite sure that she would want nothing more to do with them — ever…
And by remaining silent Jean had implicitly rejected her as violently as Michael. She understood that now. Even if she wanted to, she could never again enjoy Monique's trust and affection — or her love. The incision which Michael had made with his words had been sharp and deep but perhaps, in the long run, it would prove merciful.
She could only pray that Monique would find some way to heal the wounds they had caused her. If she didn't — then they would be as guilty of her death as if they had plunged a knife into her…
Michael was squeezing her hand. She opened her eyes and he got up from the settee, drawing her with him.
“Let's go up to bed, darling", he whispered. “I want to make the sweetest, gentlest love to you that I can…
He led her to the foot of the stairs and they paused for a moment. The hall light sent their shadows racing ahead of them — twisted, dark, elongated shapes which seemed to stain the stair carpet a forbidding black.
They walked quickly up to their bedroom, holding each other very tightly.