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!”