The e-mail was brief: Please call George and Phoebe.
I showed it to Gill. “Will you ring or shall I?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter.” she replied. “You call and I’ll join in on the extension if necessary.”
“Sound good, do you reckon?”
“It has been so far.”
We had been recommended to George and Phoebe by an Indian lady sex therapist we visited when the physical side of our relationship was going through a flat patch. A couple in their fifties, they gave expensive dinner parties for carefully selected small groups – with afters. Having gone initially as cautious newcomers we found ourselves caught up in a skilfully generated erotic atmosphere and came away fully converted. Since then, we had been back twice with equal satisfaction. Now it seemed that George and Phoebe’s instinct for who would work well with whom had come up with our names again.
George answered, sounding pleased by our quick response.
“What’s on the agenda?” I asked.
“Something different,” he said. “Is Gill with you?”
“I’m here – on the extension,” said my wife. “But when you say different -?”
“We’ve had a couple recommended by the good Doctor who sent you. Young, interesting, she says, but their problem is slightly unusual.”
“In what way unusual?” This from the ever-cautious Gill.
“If you don’t mind I’d rather keep to our policy and not say more on the phone. But the good Doctor suggests that Phoebe and I take care of them ourselves; not our usual practice, as you know, but she thought it would be … beneficial on both sides. Maybe, she said, with one other couple.”
“What made you think of us? I asked.
“To be honest, it was Phoebe’s idea. She’s very taken with Gill but, as you know, we don’t get involved with clients. So what we are proposing now is that you come just this once on a different basis – as our guests, everything complimentary – see what develops. Does that appeal?”
I looked at Gill, who nodded.
”I guess you’re not expecting us to say no,” I said.
George chuckled. “This Saturday then. Come early. We’ll brief you on the other two and you can decide if you want to help the youngsters or just play with the grown-ups. It’s not only Phoebe who’s looking forward to seeing Gill again, you know.”
After he had rung off, Gill said, “It sounds as though I’ll be well looked after, but what about you?”
“Well, I’m sure seeing you in action with both of them will be a turn-on, and I’ll be interested to discover what kind of a performer Phoebe is with me.” I remembered her as a tall, elegant woman, well-rounded with a full bosom. At previous parties she had been the perfect hostess at dinner and a clever, unobtrusive mistress of ceremonies during ‘afters.’
“And what do you make of the other couple?”
I don’t know but I doubt they would have been recommended to George and Phoebe if they’re too weird. We don’t have to get involved with them if we don’t fancy them.”
“Suppose I do and you don’t?”
“Let’s just wait and see. But wear your black. George had a quiet word last time we were there saying how fetching you looked.”
“The French knickers?”
“You men are so easy to please.”
”If you think so, bend over.”
Gill’s eyes lit up. “Your servant, sir,” she said, leaning forward and resting her arms on the end of the sofa. I lifted her skirt, removed her blue panties and extracted my cock from my trousers. After contemplating her lovely round cheeks, I teased the tight pink aperture with my tongue for a few moments. Then I felt between her legs and found oozing wetness. The ideas conjured by the conversation with George had had a beneficial effect. It needed only a few strokes with my hand to bring my cock to erection before I slid it easily into her warm, welcoming cunt. The small sigh of satisfaction was her usual indication that she was ready to take everything I could give her. Saturday would probably be good, but so was this. After several changes of position, I made sure that she came; she returned the compliment, slowly, tantalisingly, lasciviously, with her mouth.
Phoebe welcomed us warmly. As on other occasions she wore a long burgundy skirt (did it conceal poor legs, I wondered) but this time with a white blouse whose deep décolleté made much of ripe breasts. Once we were inside, she took Gill’s hands and kissed her on the cheeks. “We’ve been looking forward to this so much,” she said, “George as much as I. Would you mind if – “
Lifting the hem of Gill’s skirt, she stood back slightly to inspect. “Perfect,” she said. “Black French knickers, suspender belt, black stockings. Gill, you are a darling. We shall have to tie George down. And Mark, we won’t neglect you.” Her hand brushed lightly across the front of my trousers. This was a very different Phoebe from her previous persona as the cool, subtle director of events.
In the drawing room, George poured drinks. “Here’s to a memorable evening,” he said.
“Well, we hope so,” I responded. “But do tell us what to expect.”
“Ah, yes, the youngsters. Phil and Becky, apparently. The good Doctor, who isn’t often wrong, thinks they are ready to explode but they need someone to light the blue touch paper. More often than not when she sees a couple, it’s the man who is dissatisfied because his partner won’t go as far or as fast as he wants.”
I looked at Gill who nodded knowingly. Up to a point that had been our problem, but it was cured on our first visit to one of these dinner parties.
“In this case it seems to be the reverse. The good Doctor says she persuaded Becky to admit to all kinds of fantasies, though the confessions didn’t emerge easily. Also, Becky seems to think she may not want to put any of her ideas into practice.”
“Because she and Phil are having good sex anyway.” Gill suggested.
“Far from it. If they were they wouldn’t have ended up in the good Doctor’s consulting room. No, in this case, Phil is the one with serious hang-ups. The Doc thinks he is repressing a very strong sexual urge out of undue concern for Becky.”
“And that’s what this evening is supposed to resolve?”
“Hopefully. But there is another factor. Phil, apparently, is exceptionally well endowed.” I glanced at Gill. She kept a straight face but her eyes twinkled. “He’s afraid of hurting Becky. And there’s the problem: a woman who is secretly dreaming of being shagged to exhaustion, and a man with the the equipment to give it to her but is reluctant to do so.”
There was a silence while we all pondered this scenario. Then Phoebe added, “The Doctor’s theory is that we can create an atmosphere that will overcome Phil’s inhibitions to the point that he uses this weapon of his on someone else and will see how much pleasure it gives. If, at the same time, Becky is – “
The door bell rang, cutting short any further explanation, but the picture was clear. I hoped I wasn’t going to be embarrassed by the size comparisons but otherwise I felt the situation had real possibilities. As for Gill, I would have been surprised if she wasn’t wondering exactly how big Phil was. But, of course, this wasn’t just a cold, clinical operation. Personalities came into it. George and Phoebe’s success was based on their instinct for the chemistry between certain couples. Normally, they didn’t participate themselves. This was unknown territory for all of us.
On one count, at least, we needn’t have worried. As soon as Phoebe brought the newcomers into the room it was clear that they were – for want of a better description – our kind of people. A little older than I’d assumed, late twenties probably, smartly dressed, touchingly holding hands. Phil was about six feet, broad shouldered, with a straightforward look. Becky was petite, very dark-haired, with blue eyes that smiled, if somewhat cautiously. She wore a navy silk knee-length dress that flattered her slim figure. When she sat, she settled the hem without affection an inch or two above her knee. Already I found myself wanting to see more.
Phoebe broke the ice from the outset. “Perhaps it would help if I explained a little about this evening,” she said. “I expect you are nervous, people who come for the first time usually are – Mark and Gill will tell you that. But here they are again.”
Gill smiled encouragingly.
“We’ll have dinner in a few minutes, and the sex will come afterwards. We all understand that’s why you’ve been sent to us, but it isn’t like visiting the dentist. I can assure you of that. And I will repeat now what you have already been told: you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you are so minded, you don’t have to do anything at all. George and I will enjoy Gill and Mark, and you may be content just to watch. Or you may be moved to join us. You won’t be pressured to do anything, but please feel free to get involved if you wish. Nobody here is going to be shocked by anything.”
Phil looked at Becky who said in a quiet voice. “Yes. We were told what to expect – and we did discuss not coming. But we’re here and thank you for being so frank. We’ll see how it goes.”
Over dinner the conversation was superficial and understandably somewhat strained. Facing Becky, I was aware of the contrast between her small but not insignificant breasts and the voluptuous mounds that were only half covered by the blouse worn by our hostess. If the after-dinner mood developed as hoped, it was possible that I would experience both women for the first time. When I began to visualise Phoebe with her head between Becky’s legs, I decided it was time to focus my mind elsewhere to prevent myself getting up from the table with a give-away protuberance.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have worried because, once coffee had been served, Phoebe decided to raise the temperature. “We usually move into our playroom about now,” she told Phil and Becky, “but sometimes George needs a little persuasion,”
A blatant lie, as Gill and I knew, but George, presumably in a prearranged move, pushed his chair back from the table and said, “Come on then, darling. Do your worst.”
Hitching her skirt up to her knees, but frustratingly no further, Phoebe knelt in front of her husband and parted his legs. “Show me, then,” she said firmly.
George very slowly unzipped himself and withdrew his penis, something Gill and I were seeing for the first time. In its limp state it looked no bigger than average, which was a relief: I wouldn’t have wanted to compete with George as well as Phil. Before long the organ in question, massaged gently by Phoebe, began to raise its head. Phoebe’s tongue flickered across the tip, descended to the scrotum before licking its way up the shaft. When George groaned, Phoebe opened her mouth and engulfed the now rampant cock.
Gill nudged me, indicating the younger couple. Hands interlocked on the table top, Becky squeezing Phil tightly, their eyes were riveted on Phoebe’s expert fellatio.
On an impulse, I felt we should make a contribution. I rose, edged Gill’s chair back from the table so that she was in full view, stood behind her and bent to nuzzle her neck while my hands fondled her breasts through her dress. Instantly understanding, she pushed her skirt up her thighs and slid a hand inside her knickers. A little sound escaped Becky. I couldn’t tell what it indicated, but it drew Phoebe’s attention. She raised her head from George’s groin. “I think we should move on, make ourselves more comfortable. Becky, Phil – are you still with us.”
Phil nodded. Becky said, “So far,” but the words were hoarse from a dry mouth. I sensed that any resistance on her part was beginning to be eroded. As for Phil, it was impossible to tell.
We all tidied ourselves as much or as little as we felt appropriate before George, holding his still erect penis in one hand, led the way from the dining room, along a passage that led to the kitchen, and across a yard into the old stable block that had been converted into a playroom. By now we were familiar with the huge bed on its slightly raised platform, the mirrors, the towels and tissues, the supply of condoms, lubricants and dildoes neatly arranged to one side. Phoebe ushered Becky and Phil into the two central armchairs in front of the bed where Gill and I had sat the first time. On previous visits, George’s contribution had been to manage a small control panel that varied the intensity and direction of a number of concealed lights, focussing on areas where the action was at its steamiest. Now he set the controls so that the bed are was brightly lit while the rest of the room was in near darkness. The bed had become a stage and the first to display their talents were to be Phoebe and Gill.
My wife told me later that while we were crossing from the dining room, our hostess had murmured in her ear, “It would be good, my dear, if you and I start. The men are always turned on by watching two women – and, anyway, I shall die if I don’t have you soon. Let me lead. Come if you want to – I’ve seen you go from one orgasm to another without any trouble.”
I sat on one side of Becky, Phil on the other. George stood by the bed, ostensibly to be on hand to pass any gadgets that might be requested, but in reality, I suspected, to get a close-up view.
“Now – Becky and Phil, please be comfortable and relax. Remember, that you can join in at any time if you wish, but only if you wish.” she reassured them. “But no more speeches. Gill, will you undress me, dear?”
The white blouse went first, disclosing two magnificent breasts, supported solidly by a white underwired bra. Then my wife persuaded the older woman to sit on the end of the bed facing the armchairs, while she knelt behind her. Leaning forward, she murmured, “Mark is going to adore these,” before her tongue darted into Phoebe’s ear. Meanwhile, her hands reached for the prominent pink nipples and rolled them between finger and thumb. Beside me, Becky was breathing deeply.
Gill’s next move was to ease Phoebe further on to the bed so that she could recline full length and raise her hips while her skirt was removed. That answered one question: her legs were magnificent, long and encased in white stockings which were supported by a matching suspender belt. She wore no knickers.
At Gill’s request, George passed her a cushion which she placed under Phoebe’s bottom. Then she raised our hostess’s feet to rest flat on the bed and parted her knees. She stood back for a few moments to allow those of us in the armchair clear sight of Phoebe’s shaven labia. “Mark, darling,” she said to me. “can you help me?”
Turning her back to me, she raised her arms so that I could lift the dress over her head. I removed the bra, knowing that her breasts needed no support. “Knickers off, too?” I asked.
She looked directly at Phil. “Would you like to choose, Phil?”
He swallowed, moistened his lips and was silent for a few seconds, looking at Becky. “It’s all right.” she said, “Would you like her to keep them on. Just for now, I mean.” Once again, I felt that her deeper instincts were coming to the surface.
“I like them,” he said. “You look good in them. Very sexy.”
“Thank you,” said Gill, smiling. Then she climbed on to the bed beside Phoebe and leaned forward, presenting her hardening nipples to the other woman’s mouth. At the same time she reached down with one hand and began to stroke Phoebe’s inner thighs. Each time her fingers approached the vagina lips a little responsive twitch spoke of the arousing effect she was having. Phoebe, who was so astute at controlling the tempo of these sessions, was being given some of her own treatment. Eventually, she could stand it no longer. Extending her arm, she gripped Gill’s wrist and pressed my wife’s hand hand against the mound. “Please, my dear. I’m so wet. Don’t make me wait too long. I’ll do it for you then.”
Gill’s response was to change her position. Kneeling astride Phoebe’s face, she pulled her knickers to one side so that Phoebe’s tongue could explore her. For a while she remained upright, once again giving the audience every opportunity to see what was happening; but when Phoebe again began to beg for satisfaction, Gill completed the sixty-nine and started to lick and suck the swollen lips, searching for the stalk of the clitoris, tasting for the first time the flavour of Phoebe’s juices. Suddenly, the woman drove the soles of her feet into the bed and began to buck, pushing her pelvis into Gill’s face, grasping the back of her head to hold her there until the orgasm burst upon her.
Aware that Gill hadn’t come yet, and knowing that she would be tantalisingly close, I went to the bed and supported her in an upright position so that her opening was raised an inch or two above her partner’s face. Phoebe needed no further invitation. She clasped Gill’s thighs and drove her tongue into the slit that was now oozing moisture. While she lapped, Gill did the rest, fingering herself to a deeply satisfying, breathy climax.
When the two women rolled apart, I saw that George had already stripped. I was following suit when my attention was caught by activity in the armchairs. Becky was murmuring into Phil’s ear, too quietly for anyone else to hear, and she was opening his trousers. Presumably persuaded by Becky, he removed them together with his underpants before lying back in the chair with his eyes closed. The penis that Becky took in her hand certainly lived up to its billing; already hard, it stood proudly towards his navel. Big it undoubtedly was, but not worryingly so, I thought.
George stepped forward and said to Becky, “Give me your hands, and try this.” When she did so, he applied a generous blob of lubricant to each palm and stood back. The girl understood. Her hands were quite small, so that she was able to grip Phil’s impressive member with one above the other. When the massage threatened to be too effective too quickly, Phil gestured to her to stop. That was when she looked us and said, “I seem to be overdressed, don’t I? Would anyone like to – “
I didn’t hesitate, taking off the navy dress with eager fingers. Her bra and panties were dark blue, her skin creamy and enticing. Hesitantly, she turned round for us all to see. Then she said, “You can touch, if you want to. I think I would like that – if Phil doesn’t mind?”
Wide-eyed, Phil nodded his agreement. He was clutching his penis and stroking it slowly.
“Just touch, please, for now. Perhaps later – I don’t know.”
I took off the bra and saw small, pointed breasts with nipples that were almost black. I touched them gently and she shivered, I think with pleasure. My hands found the back of her knickers, caressed the tight, pert bottom. She shifted on her feet, steadying herself with her hands on my shoulders while I felt between her legs. The gusset of her knickers was soaking. She allowed me to explore for a while, then gently took herself away. “It was nice,” she said, “but I think we would like to watch again now.”
On the bed, George had already been enjoying Gill’s black knickers, but now he stripped them down her thighs and held them to his face. “Gorgeous,” he said. “Do you want to fuck?”
“Badly,” she said, taking the cushion she had used for Phoebe and placing it under own bottom. “But let me taste your cock first.” I was watching him feed it into her mouth, when I felt Phoebe’s head sliding between my legs, intent on a similar assault. So we fucked, in pairs, in threes and in one complicated foursome. I was aware of Gill erupting into another writhing orgasm shortly before Phoebe gasped, “I’m coming, Mark, go faster.” I did and felt her cunt muscles tighten round my cock as she drove herself over the edge.
I’m still not sure how I managed to keep control myself, but I needed to becase as I withdrew from Phoebe I was aware of a new pair of lipsticked lips closing round my knob. Becky was about to start realising her fantasies. So was Phil. And so, in the most lustful exhibition I had ever been part of, were Phoebe and Gill.
George and I, it is fair to say, were not backward in fulfilling all Becky’s desires, missionary style, doggy fashion, and all variations, letting her decide when she wanted a tongue, when fingers, when a hard riding cock. Her last layer of inhibition shattered when she cried out, “Phil, look at them fucking me, filling my cunt. You could do this.” And Phil paused briefly from plunging his huge member into Phoebe before saying, “I will, darling, I will. But I want to fuck Gill next.”
The finale was unforgettable. George and Phoebe, Gill and I sat, almost sated, in a circle on the bed. In the centre, Becky was on her back, cushions under her, with Phil kneeling between her spread legs, fucking in long strokes with deep, deep concentration. Once half his cock was buried, he withdrew, the shaft gleaming with the evidence of Becky’s liquid tunnel. “I can take it all,” cried Becky. “All of it, darling. Start slowly and get quicker. But don’t stop until you come.” When Phil enthusiastically complied, George demonstrated that somehow he had waited for this moment by ejecting a stream of cum on to Becky’s tits, where it was rubbed in by Gill and Phoebe.
The good Doctor, ably abetted by George and Phoebe, and with a little help from us, had solved another problem.
When we had showered and dressed, Becky and Phil were fulsome in their gratitude. When Phil settled their account, I hear him promise that they would return. And so, of course, would we.