There’s tension in the air by the time the foursome arrive back at the house. It’s nothing heavy or unpleasant. It doesn’t sit heavy upon them, ominous, diverting, but it’s there all the same: a subtle presence generated by the group’s shared knowledge of what is to follow.
There is no sense of fear. The four of them have been here before. Now they’re returning for a second glimpse, for a further taste. There’s a shiver of anticipation in each of them, a thrilling blend of nervousness and excitement. It could become addictive.
Perhaps it already has.
The living room is warm. The lights are left low, the music soft, sensual, underlying the mood perfectly. Logs crackle in the hearth, and the shadows cast by the flames dance back and forth along the cream walls and reflect off the hanging art. Two men and two women sipping their strong drinks, banishing any lingering reserves of uncertainty there might be, ensuring that their desires are allowed to flow unhindered.
The quartet talk easily about everyday things, but their minds are on more intimate subjects. Last time marked their first meeting. The awkwardness of how to begin that night might have prevented anything from happening at all. This time, though, they’re better prepared. They know how to begin, and though the specifics are not set in stone, they all understand what will happen next. Experience has released the chains of apprehension.
The red-headed woman finishes her drink. Without saying a word, she stands up, walks across the room, and sits down on the leather sofa beside the woman with long, blonde hair. Both are dressed femininely, provocatively, in tight, buttoned blouses, knee-length skirts and high heels.
The redhead smiles at her companion, and then she leans forward and tenderly kisses the blonde on the mouth. The tips of their tongues dance slowly as their kiss waxes and wanes. Steadily, their passion builds, their hands reaching for one another’s bodies. Their kiss doesn’t hesitate as their fingers move deftly over the fastenings of their blouses.
The blonde draws open the redhead’s blouse. Beneath, she wears a black brassiere, with cups diaphanous enough to reveal that her nipples are already taut. The redhead pulls the two halves of the blonde’s blouse apart to expose a white lace bra. The contrast between the women – one blonde and tan, the other Titian and pale – is accentuated by their respective choice of lingerie.
The men sip their whisky, watching in rapt silence.
The women cup and fondle each other’s bare breasts with wondrous softness, with exquisite artfulness. If they are aware of the intensity with which their partners watch, it doesn’t show. They are in a world of two, a world in which the crackling of the fire and the quickening breathing of their men is light years away.
With a look of something akin to sadness, the redhead breaks the kiss. “We might be more comfortable upstairs,” she says.
“I think you might be right.”
The women get to their feet. The redhead takes the lead, reaching behind her for the blonde’s hand as she goes. She leads her lover out of the living room and up the sweeping staircase without looking back at any of the people present.
The men regard each other in silence for a few seconds. No grinning, no winks: just a measured acceptance of what is to follow, and an unspoken acknowledgement of how fortunate they are. Carrying their glasses, they follow the women upstairs.
The only light in the bedroom comes from a number of church candles placed upon the windowsill. The men take their seats, just as they did the first time this happened. Sultry music bleeds into the room from concealed speakers.
The women slip off their shoes and sit down on the edge of the bed. With neither words nor awkwardness, they slip into a second kiss as though the first had never ended. Gradually, their hands come up to their bodies again, and they slide the blouses from each other’s shoulders and let them fall to the bed.
From here on, clothes will be little more than an encumbrance.
The blonde eases one of the redhead’s bra straps from her shoulder and draws the cup downward, gradually revealing a pale pink nipple already darkening with lust. The blonde bows her head and rains delicate kisses down upon the soft flesh of her lover’s breast. Inevitably, her lips find the taut nipple, and the tip of her tongue paints damp circles about its hard crown. The redhead’s eyes flutter closed as she gasps. In darkness, she runs her fingers through the blonde’s fine hair, lightly draws the tips of her manicured nails along the other woman’s shoulders and down the outsides of her arms. Eventually, she reaches behind her lover’s back and releases the fastening on her bra. The blonde does the same, and the woman ease their brassieres off just as they did their blouses moments before.
There is no mistaking the men’s hungry expressions. Yet they hold their places at the edges of the stage. They know better than to interfere.
The women kneel on the bed, face to face. Their kisses are deeper now, intensifying, making them moan into each other’s mouths. They pull one another tight, naked torsos pressed together, and the softness of their breasts merge. The redhead cups one of her own breasts and guides it so that her hard, pink nipple presses against the blonde’s hard, chocolate brown crown. They pause their kiss and look at each other, nothing but lust and the desire to be fulfilled in their gazes.
The blonde breaks the impasse. She reaches behind the redhead and unbuttons and unzips her skirt.
“Lie down,” she says.
The redhead complies with the request, the order, allowing the blonde to draw her skirt down the paleness of her legs. She wears black panties that match her bra, and hold-up stockings with deep lace tops.
With tender deliberation, the blonde strokes her hand over the redhead’s breasts, down her trembling belly and onto her mound. She eases three of her fingers down between the redhead’s parted thighs and presses them gently against her sex through the gossamer thinness of her underwear. The blonde smiles, satisfied by the warmth and moistness she feels.
The blonde swings herself elegantly off the bed and stands up. The other woman merely turns her head to watch as the blonde removes her own skirt. Underneath, she wears a white thong that cleaves the peach of her behind in two; her long, tanned legs are bare, gleaming in the candlelight.
The blonde climbs over the prone body of her lover, supporting herself on hands and knees. She lowers herself gradually, until their lips meet again, until their bodies press tightly together, two becoming one. Neither man is aware that he is leaning forward, straining to be closer without moving from his seat. One of them strokes his chin ruminatively. Beads of perspiration have gathered at the temples of the other.
The redhead’s legs lift up, encircling the blonde’s hips so that their sexes are forced tightly together. Lips, tongues, hands, fingers … they go wherever they want, no plan to follow, no sense of urgency. They take their time, ensuring that they miss nothing, that they explore everything. It’s clear that they both want to discover every delightful sensation that they can.
Now they roll onto their sides, still facing each other, fingers finding their way into the waistbands of their panties. Each draws the other’s down her legs, their movements a little jerkier now, a little less composed in their eagerness to be free, to be bare.
Now only the flickering shadows of the candlelight conceals their nakedness.
The women kiss, stop to look at their men, and then begin to kiss again.
As one, the men rise to their feet and begin to undress, quietly, without drama. Neither man’s gaze strays from the tableau before him. They strip themselves naked. They are already hard, and they begin to stroke themselves leisurely as they watch their wives slip their hands between each other’s thighs, seeking out the succulent, velvety flesh.
Unhurriedly, the women caress one another: with knowing fingers, they explore the soft, engorged labia, circle the tight clitorises, slip inside the warm, wet depths of their cunts. The men watch spellbound, caressing themselves as they watch fantasy becoming flesh before their eyes. The women groan with the pleasure of sensation, and the men groan with the pleasure of the voyeur.
The blonde eases herself down the bed, kissing a lazy path that entwines itself about the redhead’s alabaster body. When she presses her lips against the redhead’s mound and then against the outside of her sex, the redhead’s partner cannot stop himself from gasping and clutching at his hard flesh.
The blonde runs her tongue along of the cleft of the moist sex before her. Then she lifts her head and turns to regard both men, licking her lips as she does so. Like a snake striking, her man steps forward and kisses her, so that he can savour the taste of another woman on his wife’s lips. She smiles knowingly when the kiss ends, and then turns her attention back to her lover. Her partner watches even more raptly.
The blonde’s tongue flickers out, grazing the redhead’s clitoris with the slightest of touches. It is still enough to make her cry softly with pleasure, to urge her sex up towards her lover’s mouth.
Gradually, the room absorbs the musky sweet fragrance of enflamed womanhood.
The blonde circles the redhead’s clitoris with her tongue tip several times, then slips her tongue lower and presses it deep, deep inside her cunt, tasting her fully. The redhead cries out again, louder now, and she writhes against the softness of the bed. The blonde kisses her way upwards, her lips and her chin glistening with the redhead’s lust; she strums her tongue across her lover’s clit, concentrating the pleasure, urging her towards her first orgasm and the redhead responds by reaching down and plunging her fingers into the blonde’s long hair.
Both men struggle to maintain their control, to keep their distance. It’s the blonde’s partner who weakens first. He walks around the bed so that his wife’s raised buttocks are towards him. He strokes the smooth, tanned buttocks, draws soft lines across her skin with his fingernails. He hears her groan contentedly and so he draws his caresses inwards, towards the softness of her inner thighs.
He slides a single finger over the nude lips of her sex, draws it up and down the damp valley and then pauses with it resting atop her clitoris. When she presses herself back against his touch, he stokes her delicately, once, twice, three times, draws a line between her labia and then sinks his finger inside her heat.
Now it’s the blonde’s turn to gasp with pleasure.
Her man explores her with his fingers for a time, then crouches down behind her. He leans in, kisses her labia, draws his tongue along the moist valley of her sex and then drums it against her clitoris, forcing another series of pleasured sighs from her mouth even as her tongue is propelling similar sighs from the redhead’s. Reaching up, he cups her buttocks, opening her sex to his tongue’s advances, stoking his wife’s lust just as she stokes the redhead’s.
The redhead’s partner crouches beside the bed, his face close to hers. He turns her face towards him and kisses her, deliberately, passionately, savouring the way she groans into his mouth as the blonde’s tongue pleasures her sex. He strokes her breasts, relishing how her flesh yields to his grasp, the way her taut nipples feel against his palms.
The blonde’s man gets onto the bed behind her, brings the head of his hard cock to her now sodden sex. With nary a pause, he presses himself inside her, and the blonde cries out against her lover’s cunt as her flesh is filled.
The redhead lifts her head and watches enviously, then turns and looks into her partner’s eyes.
“Give me your cock,” she says in a low, insistent whisper.
He stands immediately, kneels at the edge of the bed and offers his tumescence to her mouth. She accepts willingly, greedily, her lips caressing the burnished glans, her tongue snaking around its corniced edge, her hand cradling his laden balls. He closes his eyes and sighs, then opens them again, his gaze flicking back and forth along the line of the flesh they’ve made.
Four bodies linked as one. A unique form, one dedicated to sensation and satisfaction.
The air is redolent with the scents of sex and the sounds of pleasure. Lust courses unrestrained through each of the four that makes the one, and when the one breaks apart, it almost immediately reforms, a hedonistic arabesque creating a new array of decadence. Now it is the blonde who writhes against the bed, gasping about her man’s hard flesh as the redhead’s tongue and fingers pleasure her sex in cycles that seem never-ending. Now it is the redhead who cries out against the blonde’s sex as she is taken from behind with long, measured thrusts.
Once again, one becomes four, breaking apart as though the creation is unable to contain the simmering desires within. When it reforms for a third time, the women are lying on their sides, facing one another other. As they kiss passionately, as they caress each others’ breasts, each others’ sexes, their partners are fucking them from behind. There is a confusion of caresses, a wickedly wanton meandering of hands and fingers across breasts and nipples and cunts as they are pleasured from in front and behind, and each time they reach out to find the other’s woman’s clitoris, they can feel the cock of the other man as he thrusts in and out, in and out, in and out, can steal a touch of the underside of his hard, thick shaft, can cup his heavy balls, can trace the slickness of the other woman’s cunt upon his flesh.
The form breaks once more. The redhead reaches out to a bedside cabinet, and produces a leather harness fitted with a phallus that is larger-than-average in both length and girth. She looks up at the blonde.
“Use this on me,” she says in a quiet voice. “Then I’ll use it on you.”
The blonde only nods. She slips her legs through the leather thigh loops, fastens another strap about her waist, and then tightens all three until the phallus is seated snugly against her mound. The presence of such weight and girth is unfamiliar to her, slightly unnerving and yet exhilarating all the same.
The redhead rolls over on the bed, coming up on her hands and knees. She looks back invitingly, imploringly. The blonde kneels behind her, her feet hanging over the edge of the bed. She holds the phallus, guiding it until the tip of its head nestles into the redhead’s sex. Then she eases forward, a woman fucking a woman in the style of a man.
The redhead groans each time that she is filled. Her partner takes up a position at the head of the bed, so that she can fellate him while she is being fucked. It’s as though the redhead is being taken by two men instead of only one. The first time she’s experienced the feeling; she hopes to repeat it, perhaps with a duo of men instead of just one.
The blonde finds a rhythm that suits them both, stroking the redhead’s arse as she fucks her, reaching beneath her to cup her swinging breasts, to find her ecstatic clit. Each time she thrusts forward, the base of the phallus presses firmly against her clitoris, inflaming her own lust. The sensation becomes addictive. Her pace quickens.
She is so absorbed, she barely notices her partner moving behind her again. And as her imitation cock thrusts ever more deeply, ever more rapidly into the redhead, her partner’s flesh-and-blood cock finds its way between her thighs and past the harness, and slides deep into her delicious wetness.
And after a time, the one breaks and then reforms. And breaks and reforms. And breaks and reforms….