Andrea went and sat beside a topless Brad. Michelle and I sat on the other two-seater sofa. She tucked her knees beneath her and leant into me. Brad had set a fire that was catching as the new music of choice kicked in: some dance-infused Bossa Nova. Brad was sipping vodka straight from the bottle. His kingly aura had returned: he was sat like a warrior recently returned from war with his admirers sprawled around him. Andrea was laying on his lap, stroking him through his jeans, purring in anticipation. She then wriggled out of her black satin leggings: she was wearing no underwear. She lay across his torso and swung her legs from side-to-side, revealing glimpses of a hairy pussy and a piercing in the hood of her clit, a silver loop amongst the thick brown coils of hair.
Brad placed the vodka bottle on the floor. "Why don't you two give us a little show?" he said with a twirl of his finger. There was no inflection to make it sound as a question; it was an order loosely veiled as a question. "Something to set the mood." Andrea adjusted herself so she was looking directly at Michelle and I.
"Oh, that's-" Zats "-a good idea, Brad. That I would like to see," she said while running her fingers across her breasts.
"Show Andrea how much you love sucking Jack's cock, honey."
"Yes. Show me!"
The flames reflected off Michelle's eyes, eyes that said "challenge accepted". She smirked and at once looked like a teenager with an 'I'll show you' attitude and also a proud warrior herself. She carefully undid my trousers, not once taking her eyes off her husband. Then, with my flaccid penis liberated, she kissed me with everything she had. Her tongue roamed around my mouth. It was a kiss that delivered a message. It said: I'm 100% into you. Let's show them how we fuck. My penis was flaccid no more. She bit my lip teasingly and licked the spot she'd just dig her teeth into. She then slid from the sofa, a slow, serpentine movement. She removed my trousers and boxers completely and said in a firm tone: "Take off your top."
She flipped from repressed wife to slinky seductress in the amount of time it takes electricity to light the filament inside a bulb. She was kissing my thigh muscles, oval-shaped slabs of sinewy meat gained from twice weekly football sessions. I settled back into the pillows, watching the hypnotic twirls of her tongue and feeling the hot pall of her breath against my skin. I was oblivious to Brad and Andrea, but I caught the glint of the vodka bottle refracted against the firelight. I allowed myself the daydream that we were alone. While watching Michelle move closer to my enlarging penis, I swore to myself that as soon as I was home, I would use my laptop to find us an available hotel room.
Michelle then did a surprising thing. She shuffled backwards, away from me, her dressing gown now riding up and over her hips, revealing her big ass directly to the fire, and she began kissing my feet. She lifted each foot in turn and covered it in kisses and inch-long licks. She inhaled the soles, her nostrils flared as she drew the scent into her, and then she began sucking on each of my toes, beginning with the big toe and working down toward the smallest. My impulse was too stop her. During this fetishist foot worship, her gaze was fixed on mine; her eyes told me to remain where I was and let her do this. Michelle took my right foot, slightly bruised after a late challenge from the weekend before, and she rubbed it over her tits, especially concentrating my big toe against and around her hard nipple. Was this a morsel of revenge for Brad ruining our post-threesome meal with a story about heavenly tits Lolly? She then returned her face to my foot and inhaled the smell with the same fervour a person breathes in the floral freshness of clean bedsheets.
"That's so hot," said Andrea.
"Hmm," replied Brad, his voice a low, bass-driven sound.
"Look at his face. He loves it."
The sight of his wife twirling her tongue around my feet caused Brad to sit up in his seat. He begin to remove his trousers. His expression was intense, bordering on angry. In the glow of the fire, there was something demonic in his face as he grabbed a handful of Andrea's hair and guided her toward his cock. Andrea's lips slid up and down his cock, well as much of it as she could take in her mouth. I could see the mound of her hairy pussy which was now a mere foot from Michelle's. I noticed Andrea rubbing at Michelle's calf with her toes. She was a multi-tasker. She sucked off Brad with such dedication that she caused Brad close his eyes and sit back in ecstasy. Andrea laughed and then, holding his meat at the base in a ring, she sunk her teeth into his fleshy cock. Brad grunted. They stared at one another with their teeth barred. She took her teeth away and began sucking him again, gagging herself as she plunged onto his enormous wood.
"Take it all, Andrea. Do what you came here to do!" he told her firmly.
The sounds of Andrea's gagging signalled the end of my foot pleasure and the beginning of my oral experience. Michelle moved swiftly from my feet to my cock. Her performance with my toes had ignited my nerves. Imagine a supercomputer sending out thousands of pieces of date to a network of receptive computers: that's what she done to my feet. My skin was prickled and my hair stood on end. So, when she took my cock in her mouth, a deep and slow movement encompassing over half of my long cock, I couldn't help but yelp and then cry out: "Oh, my fucking god."
"Mmm. You like that?" She giggled and carried on taking my length in long graceful gulps. She looked up at me and reached her hand outward. Our fingers interlocked for a moment and squeezed. I then took her fingers in my mouth and sucked on them: I needed a part of her inside me. Understanding this, she removed her fingers from my mouth, dove them into her satin panties and returned them, after a few seconds, back toward my open mouth. They were glistening and her sharp pungency wafted into my nostrils before I tasted it and sucked it off her fingers with the rapture of a man finding an icicle after a day lost in the desert.
I was aware of movement on the other sofa, and as Michelle moved her attention toward my swelling balls, I looked over at our challengers. Brad had swapped places with Andrea, although she was kneeling against the sofa rather than seated on it. His face was buried in her ass. He pulled out for some air and to deliver a resounding smack against her white flesh. A huge red imprint was left against her cheek, as thought she'd been branded. The slap caused me to wince, but Andrea flung her head back in joy and mumbled in German as Brad plunged his tongue back into her ass hole ringed by small coils of dark hair. The anal tableau was quite the stimulant: I had to wank my cock as I watched them. Brad's meaty cock was hanging before him like, silhouetted against the orange flames. I couldn't wait to see him squeeze it the German's dance-toned ass. He was forcing his tongue in the hole, as though he'd left something deep inside her that could only be removed with the tip of the body's strongest muscle. And she was loving it.
Michelle regained my attention: she stood up and moved onto the sofa, straddling me, her hard nipples inches from my mouth. "I'm yours," she whispered into my ear. I smiled, kissed her and manoeuvred my member toward her pussy. I stroked my head along her labia. She rested her head into the crook of my neck and gently bit my flesh. "Do it," she said. "Do it, Jack!"
