Brian and Steve both took a nipple into their mouths, gently sucking and nibbling on the sensitive flesh. My nipples were so hard that they hurt. I had my nipples pierced last year, and the bar that goes through them was already barely long enough to accommodate their size, but when I was REALLY turned on, the piercings dug into my flesh, creating both pleasure and pain. Steve let his other hand roam down to my pussy and commented on how wet I was already. All I could do was moan my reply, as I let myself float in the pleasure of having the attention of two male lovers.
Steve turned to Brian and said, “Doesn’t my wife have a gorgeous pussy?” to which Brian replied, “Yes, she does.” Steve told him that not only did it look good, but it also smelled and tasted wonderful. He told him to taste my pussy. Brian got down in between my legs, and gingerly licked the sensitive folds of skin there. I felt an electric shock go through my body and my nipples again responded with their pleasure/pain. I could tell that although he did have some experience in the past, he wasn’t nearly as experienced as Steve was, but the mere fact that it was someone other than my husband doing it to me, as well as my husband being there and WATCHING, that made it hot just the same.
While Brian continued to eat my pussy, Steve got up and stroked his already hard cock. He brought himself to the side of my head, and I opened my lips to take him inside my hot, wet mouth. I have always enjoyed sucking my husband’s cock and this time was no different. I took just the head into my mouth at first, gently sucking and pulling on it. Steve moans and I look up to see him watching Brian between my legs. I take his cock inside further and further, inch-by-inch, until the full length is buried in my mouth and throat.
Steve looks over at Brian and asks him if he wants to fuck his slut wife. Brian excitedly replies yes and gives my pussy one last lick before getting up on his knees. This poor young man is SO nervous at this point, that he seems to have lost his hard on. Steve looks at me and says, “Suck his cock, slut. Once he is hard again, I want you to ride him so I can watch your beautiful pussy being pounded by his young cock.”
I get up and let Brian lie down. My god, he has got such a beautiful body and I want to touch him everywhere. I am delighted to see that he is completely shaved also. I take his semi-hard cock into my mouth and start to slowly let it slip until it reaches the back of my throat. I swallow and can feel my throat closing around his cock. A moan escapes his lips and he reaches down to stroke my hair as I continue to suck his cock. Now and then I take it out of my mouth, and while continuing to stroke him with my hand, I lick the tender flesh of his balls. He moans again. After only a few minutes, he is rock hard again and ready for fucking.
I continue to follow my husband’s direction and climb on top of him, straddling his hips. I take his cock in my hand and rub it back and fourth over my wet slit, teasing him slightly and at the same time, coating his cock with my juices. I place the head of his cock at the opening of my pussy and slowly let my weight push him deeper and deeper inside. He reaches out and pulls on my nipples, as I slowly start to raise and lower myself on his cock, grinding my pussy against him.
Steve has detached himself from us at this point, and is standing behind us, watching Brian’s cock go in and out of my wet pussy. He tells me how beautiful it looks and asks Brian how much he likes fucking his wife. I lean forward and start to kiss Brian again. I love having his tongue in my mouth and I wrap my fingers in his curly hair. I can feel the tension building as I grind my pussy down on him harder, and faster. Steve is still behind us, and he puts both of his hands around my hips and pushes me down even harder onto Brian’s cock. Brian whispers that he is going to cum soon, and I can feel his hips thrusting upward to meet me. I reach back with my hand and cup his balls gently, massaging them.
Seconds later, I can feel my own orgasm approaching, just as Brian says that he is coming too. The room is then filled with the sounds of pleasure, as we both explode at the same time. Steve has come around to the side at this point and starts to kiss me, telling me just how fucking hot I am. I finally get off of Brian, and after a quick cigarette and trip to the washroom, we meet again in my bed and I got to fall asleep between these two beautiful men. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well in my life.
Early the next day, Brian left on a bus to go home. I don’t think he has any idea how much his brief stay with us affected our lives. He won’t soon be forgotten.
Chapter 9 — Spanish Dancing
A console stereo squatted in the corner of our living room when I was growing up; it had a turntable, radio and speakers enclosed in a wood-grain box, conical legs tapering almost to little points. The speakers on either side were covered with a beige fabric shot through with metallic gold threads. My dad worked as a store manager for Firestone in a dusty little Oklahoma town where farm families bought appliances, bikes, TVs and stereos, in addition to tires. The stereo had been repossessed, so my dad got a good price on it; it was a very fine piece of furniture for a young couple’s first house.
When I found an old vinyl record in a battered red cover recently, my heart skipped a beat. It was Maurice Ravel’s piece “Bolero.” On the flip side was Tchaikowsky’s 1812 Overture. It was the only classical music I heard growing up; my dad loved the 1812 Overture recording because, he always told me, they used real cannons in the recording. He would swing me up and around, narrating the events that inspired the music while the cannons roared.
Less frequently, my parents would play “Bolero.” The sinuous sound of the single oboe at the opening always made me dreamy; the drums added a strangely insistent note, never stopping through the entire piece. I knew a bolero was a Spanish dance, but that was all I knew about Ravel’s work. I let my imagination do the rest, picturing elegant ladies in black lace and men with slicked-back hair and tight pants.
My boyfriend laughed as he picked up the old LP. “Where’d this come from?”
I told him I’d found it packing away some of my parents’ old things. “The ‘1812 Overture’ used real cannons in the recording,” I said, proud of what little knowledge I had.
“ Ooohhh, Ravel’s ‘Bolero!’” He caught my gaze, his lips twitching in that smug smile that usually mean he’s hatching a plan. “What do you know about ‘Bolero?’”
“ It’s Spanish,” I said. I shrugged. “It’s a kind of dance, isn’t it?” That exhausted my entire store of knowledge about the classics. But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his grin widened.
“ A dance, indeed.” He turned and settled the vinyl disk on the turntable. “What’ve you got to do in the next, say, eighteen minutes?”
“ What have you got in mind?”
He looked so lovely, standing there, grinning at me. His jeans were tight and his Black Sabbath t-shirt had been washed so many times it had holes in it. He plays guitar; I first saw him on stage in a nightclub, so immersed in his instrument he seemed totally unaware of the crowd. He has strong, muscular arms and amazing fingers. He touched his guitar with so much feeling I immediately wanted those hands on me. It wasn’t long before he-and all his guitars-found a favored place in my apartment and my heart.
He dropped the needle onto the record and bowed with a flourish, holding out his hand like a courtier of the eighteenth century.
“ Would you like to dance?”
I took his hand as the drums took up their marching beat. He spun me slowly in a circle while the oboe began its plaintive melody. I relaxed, surrendering to his lead. With another twirl, he dipped me, low. He was looking at me with laughing eyes, not brown but dozens of dancing colors, amber to gold to deepest mahogany. We don’t dance often; usually when he is above me staring into my eyes we are making love. As that thought flashed through my mind, I could feel my nipples getting hard. He was looking at me with lust. I like that. As he pulled me back up, I could hear the violin section begin plucking notes with their fingers, not an ordinary violin sound at all.