Her knees wobbled unsteadily. For a moment she was sure that she was going to faint. And then she knew that her quim was spurting its love-juices down her thighs; staining the silk and flowing abundantly onto Jean's quickly placed fingers.
The woman's hand lifted into her crotch, and Monique felt the sensitive, fondling fingers slip into her cunt. They took their place beside the cruel silk and tickled her on to the completion of her climax.
She managed to keep her eyes open during the prolonged orgasm, staring down at her thighs as they quivered and shook with a life of their own.
Then, her legs unable to support her for a moment longer, Monique fell half-swooning into Jean's arms. She dimly realised that she was being lowered gently onto the bed… then gave herself up to the blissful warm blanket that was slowly enveloping her…
2
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.