Loading...“And what about you, Ma’am, how do you like to be fucked?”
It’s not a question you can ask every day, but….
They call it an expo, but really it’s a junket – an unhealthy gathering of strong personalities swapping business cards, trading success stories and basically trying to out-pitch each other.
If you were one with a wandering eye and a moral compass with a tendency to wander from true north, such events are the perfect opportunity to get up to mischief. Which is more or less exactly what I did, despite being someone whose eye was normally firmly focused and whose moral code usually kept him on the straight and narrow.
Normally. Usually.
As my company was the one sponsoring the event, I was asked by the Managing Director to get out with a microphone and interview as many people as I could about how much they were enjoying their experience. What it meant was that by the time everyone made their way out of the cavernous venue, to the restaurants and bars, to close deals and tell tall tales, I was well and truly over asking shallow, meaningless questions.
The hotel bar wasn’t too far from the venue, and as I arrived I was joined by one of my colleagues – Celia, who had been working the concierge desk ensuring all of our priority guests were given the right levels of service, and she had the same beaten look that I was sure I was wearing.
“Redbull and vodka?” she asked by way of a greeting.
“Redbull to pick you up, vodka to numb the pain.”
I smiled my agreement and watched as she walked confidently to the bar of one the standard, sterile establishments that you find in places where there’s no such thing as regular customers – just those that are in town for work.
I’d known Celia for a couple of years, and whilst we’d always exchanged pleasantries and got along well, I couldn’t say I really knew her, which is why I didn’t feel remotely guilty really checking her out as she waited to be served. She was one of those women who always wore a little too much make-up, which made it hard to tell if she was genuinely pretty. Her cleavage promised a lot, but you never knew if it was a push-up bra bra doing outstanding work or whether she was actually delivering on that promise, but the reason you never really looked at her ‘like that’ was because her humour was such that she could foot it with the boys.
When she returned with the drinks (2 each), she put mine down in front of me and promptly drained the first of hers.
“Every year I do this event, and every year I hate it more and more. Why do we do it, Ash? Why do we sell our souls?” She was being dramatic for effect, but behind the facade, I caught the hint of seriousness.
“I really, honestly and truly don’t know, Celia, all I know is that I have not got one more fake smile in me.”
I held up the digital recorder I’d been using all day, and the little microphone that I’d been dangling in front of people’s faces all day.
“You want to hear this stuff, it’s soul destroying.”
She took it from me, put the headphones in and pressed play, and it wasn’t long before her eyes widened in genuine horror. She pushed stop, removed the headphones, and – like she was handling something disgusting, she placed it on the table between us.
“I thought I had it bad, Ash. You cannot be okay after that. There’s no way in the world anyone in the world should be that comfortable spouting that much corporate bullshit.”
She seemed to have an idea. She picked up the machine, pushed record and then put the microphone to her mouth, and with a wicked grin, began to record herself.
“My name is Celia Elspeth Mullaney, I work at the concierge’s desk and I look after a bunch of utter wankers and wankettes all day every day. I like to have my nipples pinched during sex, I like it on top and in the arse, and I just hope to God that this time next year I am doing something other than selling my soul to the devil.”
She pushed stop, took another long sip of her drink and gave me a look that dared me to say something.
“So, is that true?” I asked.
“Which part do you mean?” she asked.
“Is it true that your middle is really Elspeth?”
That made her laugh out loud and she fixed me with a look.
“Now, most blokes would want to know about the nipples and the arse, and I know you probably do, too – but it’s cool that you ignored it. Ten points for the corporate-interview-man.”
At which point I had an idea.
“Let’s be an interview team” I said. “Lets go round asking people what they like in bed, and see what people have to say.”
She obviously saw the potential for tremendous sport.
“Great idea – roving reporters attempting to get to truth. Let’s start with each other, and considering you’ve already ‘done’ me as it were, let me do you.”
She got herself ready, cleared her throat, pushed the record button and began.
“So, Ash – what do you like in bed?”
I wasn’t sure I liked having the tables being turned on me, but the alcohol was working wonders, and Celia was fantastic company, so, cautiously, I responded.
“Depends, I said. What I’d like to happen in bed, and what actually does happen in bed are two different things. I like to watch porn with my wife, by which time we’re both well and truly in the mood, and the sex is great. But I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to one day be fucking her from behind whilst she was going down on a busty brunette.”
The interviewer’s eyes twinkled.
“Nice. Does your wife know about this?”
“Yep, we tell each other everything.” I said.
“And she won’t do it for you?”
“That’s just it” I replied. “I don’t want her to do it for me, I want her to want to do it, for her.”
Celia took the mic away from her mouth, and seemed to mull my response over. As if she’d made up her mind about something, she began again.
“I see. What if you could live out the fantasy with someone other than your wife?” she fixed me with a look that might have been dangerous if you decided to see it that way.
“Not a chance. Tabby is sex, sex is Tabby – that’s what I signed up for. All I’m saying is that it would be amazing if Tabby wanted to do it with a Tammy.” I said, surprising myself at my honesty.
“What about a Tommy or a Timmy?” she asked.
“Not for me, but definitely for her. That’s her thing – being taken by two men, with one of them being black preferably.”
“Ah, a woman of taste.”
The interview was over. She paused the recorder.
“Excellent. This is great fun, let’s find another victim.”
For the next two hours we made the rounds of the bar which had filled up at some stage, and with the beer flowing it wasn’t long before people were lining up to be quizzed. We’d heard variations on the theme, we’d listened to cock-sure alpha males try to convince us that they did it three times a day every day, and those that were happy to tell us that sex wasn’t in fact for them.
We tended to stick to the bubbly ones in groups, those that gave the perception that they were open minded and up for a good time. Celia had fended off a few well-aimed gropes, and on one occasion had let a hand find its way to the target before she half heartedly patted it away.
“That was too close for comfort” she said as we left the group.
“Or not close enough.” I added.
“Oh, no, he hit the bull’s eye all right, I nearly came on the spot.”
“Is this getting to you?” I asked.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. I really, really need some relief tonight, and I swear that before I go to sleep tonight, I will be riding the wave of an earth-shattering orgasm, be it self induced or assisted.”
“Here’s your chance,” I said, as I saw a tall, dark man watching her with an amused grin stuck to his way-too-chiseled jaw. And the minute I saw her response, I knew she would get her wish after all, and that she wouldn’t be flying solo. I left her to it, and a look over my shoulder confirmed my suspicions – she was leaning in, thigh to thigh, beginning the ancient slow dance of courtship.
I ordered myself a vodka and red-bull, and as it was to be my last drink, I was taking my time, thinking about some of the truths that had been told, and wondering how many of our contributors would remember what they’d said in the morning.
Most of the bar patrons had drifted off in search of extra curricular entertainment and I found myself almost alone with my thoughts, and as ever when I was away from home, they drifted to Tabby and what she was doing right at that moment. It was late, so she’d be sleeping, and even though she told me that I had 100% access to her at any time of night, I knew that even if I was home and wanted to exorcise my demons with her, the truth was that sleep always reigned supreme. I was smiling at this, and the knowledge that so many relationships are built on half-baked promises, when a quiet cough beside me caught my attention. I turned to look, and I could hardly make her out, sitting by herself in a dark booth along from the bar where I stood.
“You didn’t ask me.”
I realised right then that from this point on in my fantasies, hers would be the face of the busty brunette that my wife was pleasuring. It would be her eyes closed as she rode the tongue of the woman I loved. It would be those lips that would slide up and down my cock as my wife licked her from behind. And now, hearing her delightful English accent, it would be her voice urging me quietly to “fuck me, please, please would you fuck me.”
“I’m sorry.” I said. “We were kind of sticking to those getting drunk and voluble.”
“How much of what they were saying was true, do you think?” she wondered.
“Hard to say, but at least they had a little fun, and you never know, someone might get to live out their fantasies because of it.”
Her gaze was steady, but softened by her catlike eyes, and I was totally in her thrall.
“Ask me now.” She said.
“I don’t have the recorder, Celia’s got it over there -” I turned to see that she had gone, and tellingly, so had tall-dark-stranger-man.
“I don’t need it recorded, I just need to be asked.”
“OK” I said, and swallowed the rest of my drink. “What do you like in bed?”
Instead of looking at me as she answered, she looked past me, almost as if I wasn’t there at all.
“I like to be taken somewhere during sex.I like to start out on the bed, but I like to be so connected that somehow I’m transported – to a couch, a floor, a boardroom desk, a park bench, a seat in a train – wherever – but I like to be so turned on that I am moved. I like to be fucked so deeply, so resonantly that it’s like I’m lead by my cunt into some other realm. In this realm I’ll do anything. I’ll fuck anyone. I’ll lick other cunts, I’ll put my fingers up arses, I’ll receive any number of cocks, I’ll swallow cum, I’ll let my body be totally and utterly used.”
I was speechless. I’d read erotica before, I’d imagined scenarios, but never had I heard such graphic, powerful, emotive words. She was still looking past me, she hadn’t finished.
“I close my eyes and I hold on to that sensation for as long as I possibly can, because I know when the last tremors have left me, I’m back to being a good girl, a girl for whom ‘fuck’ is a word said only when you stub your toe on the door frame when no one is around to disapprove.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I said. “Other than….thank you.” I said, feeling inadequate.
“You don’t need to say anything’,” she said, “because I’ve always believed that actions speak louder than words.”
At which point she took my hand, pushed it up between her legs, under her black dress to the gossamer that covered her cunt. I didn’t wait, I pushed past the barrier and buried my finger up to the hilt, whilst using my thumb to strum her clitoris. She came in seconds. And kept on coming, with her eyes closed, and as she came, I had the fervent hope that wherever she was, she wasn’t playing the part of a good little girl.
As she basked in the glow of what must have been a very deep orgasm, she opened her eyes and smiled at me.
“I think it’s my turn to thank you” she said.
I was already feeling guilty, and she saw it in my face.
“Don’t let this get to you, you were little more than a scratching post, albeit a very skilled one. Can I tempt you back to my room?”
Despite wanting to with all my heart, I declined politely.
“Well then, I shall slip out into the night better off for having come like a freight train, and you can go to bed and wank yourself silly wondering what might have been” she said mockingly. “But I can’t go and leave you empty handed, can I?”
With that she slowly eased her knickers down and off, and held them to my nose. “A parting gift” she said as she kissed me on the cheek, dropping them softly in my lap.
I finished my drink, and left the bar feeling an unnerving mixture of excitement, frustration and guilt, and I found my way to my room where I was confronted by an expansive bed and I was considering a raid on the mini bar when a text came through from Tabby.
T u ok?’
A Yep.
T U alone?
A Haha. Yep
T Poor you. Not found your fantasy women?
A Ur my fantasy woman. Y r u up so late?
T Chloe was talking in her sleep. Better
get back to bed.
A Ok, sleep well. Love you
T Luv u 2. Ash, if she’ll go down on
another woman, and she wants u, u’d be a
fool not 2.
A Tabby?
T Nitexxx
The conversation threw me. I don’t know what turned me on more – the fact that I could live out my ultimate fantasy, or the fact that my wife had given me permission to do it in the first place. It was at this time that I realised how bone-tired I was, and the sandman was not slow in arriving.
I must have been asleep for a coupe of hours when I slowly drifted back to consciousness, and I realized that something was different. It was pitch black, and despite it being a generic, featureless hotel room, I knew something had changed, and what struck me was the scent – the air was redolent with the unmistakable smell of a highly aroused vagina, and as my senses awoke I noticed the sound of very quiet, very shallow breaths.
The cunt in question came into contact with my tongue, and with no conscious thought on my part I began licking. My actions were met with an appreciative groan, and it was only as I was setting back about my work that It dawned on me that my cock was being caressed by the softest, most exquisitely talented tongue. My mind was reeling, I couldn’t speak for the cunt on my face, and I dared not move in case the spell was broken.
Beyond the strong scent of sex in the room, I became aware of another scent – one that was vaguely familiar, and I was racking my brain to establish where I knew it from. It was a strong, confident smell, the kind a sales-woman would wear, or maybe a receptionist, or – a concierge. When I moved my hands up over the beautifully smooth buttocks and up the back of the woman grinding away on my tongue I wasn’t entirely surprised to discover a mane of thick hair that I had been admiring only hours before.
“Pull it” Celia ordered. And I did as I was told, although not to her satisfaction.
“Pull it harder, yank it!” Which I did, and the sharp intake of air told me that I had done well this time.
I reached up and took her breasts in my hands, and they felt incredible.
“Celia, you have the most amazing tits.” I said.
“Great” she grunted, and you know what to do with them, don’t you?”
I pinched her nipples, softly at first, then harder until I thought I had to be hurting her.
“Oh, here it comes – ohhhhhhhhhh, fuuuuuuuuuck, here it comes.”
My face was raw from the assault, but there were no complaints coming from me, when the blood is running, there is nothing quite like getting as close as humanly possible to the cunt of one’s partner.
As she came down from her orgasm, she held her hands over mine which were still holding her breasts.
“In the cold light of day they’re boobs”, she said, “but right now they are tits, tits for the taking, much like my pussy. How did I taste, by the way?”
“Come down here and find out” I invited, and she wasted little time in kissing me deeply, sucking my tongue to sample her own flavours.
“Ohhhh, there’s nothing quite like a little lust is there?” she asked.
The whole time we were talking, my cock was being treated to wonderful caresses. It was time to find out who was responsible for such sensations. I reached over and switched on the bed-side lamp which cast a soft yellow glow over the scene before me. There, on her knees, sucking me for all she was worth was my last interview subject. Her eyes met mine as she sucked, and the twinkle in them told me that she was enjoying herself immensely.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Celia asked?
“Drop dead gorgeous.” I agreed.
“Can we keep her?” Celia said, laughing.
“Where did you find her?” I asked, trying to keep my composure.
“I had just had a very anti-climactic experience with my conquest. He got me going, got inside me, and got off – which I didn’t mind as such, but with the offload went his desire, and he wouldn’t be persuaded to get down there and do the decent thing.”
“Shame, all that work for nothing.” I said.
“Indeed, and when I let him out of my room, Petra – that’s her name, by the way – was walking past and looked more than a little bit lost. So, one thing led to another, and here we are”.
“How did you get into my room?” I asked.
“When you work the concierge desk, you get the keys to every room, and before I finished this afternoon I grabbed yours just in case.” She was smiling wickedly. “You’ve got to help me, I’ve been asked by Petra to go hard on her tonight, to leave no hole un-plugged. A look of surprise flashed over her face, “Oooooh’ She gasped. I looked past her to see that Petra had buried her head between Celia’s buttocks.”
‘Ohhhhhh, she’s licking my arse, ohhhhh.’
Seeing it so close, and hearing about it from Celia’s perspective was deeply erotic, and I decided to get around behind Petra for a better view. She was on her knees at the end of the bed, bathing Celia’s arse and cunt with her tongue, making small noises of pleasure as she went about her work.
With my wife’s instructions fresh in my mind, I got between her legs and slid the length of my cock into her. There simply aren’t words to describe the sensation of sliding into a gloriously wet cunt. As boys we dream of it, and as men we desire it constantly, and here I was experiencing the sensation of a different cunt for the first time in 18 years. I decided I had to remember every detail of this encounter, because I knew deep down that it would be a one-off. My hands roamed over Petra, from the small of her back, along her sides, to cup the tits that were hanging heavily from her as she worked on Celia. I marveled at the difference of them, so different, but just as sensitive to the touch.
The noises of pleasure were back, and as I settled into my rhythm, I concentrated on not getting too carried away in order to prolong the magic. To my left on the bed was a handbag – whose I didn’t know – but a few items had spilled out onto the bed with all the movement. One particular object caught my eye, and I reached out and picked up what looked to be a vibrator the size of a little finger. I switched it on at the base and it buzzed into life with a promising hum. I reached down with it and introduced it slowly alongside my cock until it was wet with Petra’s intimate fluid. She bucked against me, and I removed it slowly, keeping it in contact all the while with her flesh. Her moaning redoubled as I slid it over her perinneum and against the rosebud of her anus.
“Please, Ash, just slip it in, just do it, please.”
So I did it. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of the little vibe being swallowed by her arse, nor the sound of her moans as she began to come, nor the sensation from my loins as I loaded Petra up with what felt like a lifetime’s supply.
She was moaning constantly as she pulled away from me, rolled onto her back, and with one hand holding the vibrator firmly in place, used the other to maul her clit and cunt, prolonging the sensations of her orgasm. Celia took the opportunity to squat over her, and Petra’s eyes opened up to focus on the magnificent sight, a sight which threw her into a fresh paroxysm of pleasure. She licked for all she was worth, her hand was a blur between her own legs, and she seemed to be entering a stage of nirvana before she finally threw her head back into the bed and seemed to pass out.
“Wow” was all Celia said. She climbed around Petra on the bed, and reached down to gently remove the still buzzing vibe from her bottom.
“That was incredible” I stated impotently, knowing that there was no description for what I’d just witnessed.
“What would your wife think of all this, then?” Celia asked.
“I’ll tell her when I get home, I think she’d be excited.”
Celia looked doubtful, but wasn’t about to ruin the moment. She lay her head in my lap in a gesture of affection, but it wasn’t long before her proximity caused my cock to stir to attention. She smiled and took me in her mouth, sucking gently, coaxing me back to full arousal. Gone was the frenetic need to invade each other, replaced instead by the desire for a leisurely, comfortable fuck between two people that now had something special to look back on forever more. Celia lay beneath me and guided me into her, and we locked eyes as we slowly moved together.
Our movements awoke Petra from her trance, and she looked on admiringly from her place on the bed.
“You two look so beautiful” she said.
Celia looked over and beckoned Petra to come closer. “I rode you, now I’d like to return the favour”. With that Petra lifted herself over Celia, facing me, and placed her pussy above Celia’s waiting tongue. That beautiful woman locked her eyes on mine, she alternated between stroking and pinching her nipples, and she reached down and fingered her clit gently as she built herself up to another crashing orgasm. I’m not sure if we all came together, all I know is that when I came, a wave of pure exhaustion crashed down upon me, and as I slipped away I heard the echoes of two women moaning in pleasure.
—————————–
I awoke with sunlight streaming through the window, and I was relieved to be in the bed alone. As much as I would often relive the moments of the night before, the intimate moments of waking are the province of lovers only. If I didn’t have Tabby to wake with, then I would prefer to wake alone.
My phone bleeped, and wearily I reached over to see who it was that would text me so early. Of course it was Tabby.
T So, r u alone, or did P&C stay the nite.
I was stunned.
T It’s ok, they txt me when u were sleeping.
There was more.
T U chose well, they’re hot!
This really threw me. I scrolled to the photo-library on the phone and sure enough there were photos of both girls, in the bathroom, obviously after I had passed out from the exertion of it all. They looked like two naughty school girls, smiling cheekily at the knowledge that they’d just gotten up to some first class mischief. I scrolled to the ‘sent items’ in the MMS folder to find that there was a message sent at 3:15am.
“Dear Tabby, you are the luckiest woman alive. We can’t thank you enough for loaning us your husband, he is the best. If you’re ever in town…….”