Erotic Disclosure 2

(story continues from Erotic Disclosure)

Chapter 2 – The House of Indulgence

Steve opened the door.  A wide, joyful smile crossed his face,  “Hi folks – come in.” 

I may have been imagining it, but his voice seemed to contain a faint thread of relief at seeing us. 

“What’ll you have? The bar’s open.” He led us to a beautiful light open area in the house – marble floors and a glass-topped table surrounded by deeply cushioned rattan chairs. 

“Just an orange juice please Steve,” I replied, “Alcohol hasn’t been agreeing with me lately.” 

He caught my eye briefly and I flashed him an arctic look just in case he failed to detect my meaning.  He chose not to see it. 

Just then, a woman entered the room from the other end. “Steve, have you seen my towelling robe?” The question was posed in a singing, melodious tone. 

She was wearing a plunging pink bikini against deeply tanned skin. It exposed her ample, bouncing cleavage.  I noticed her fingernails were painted a pearly colour that mirrored the colour of her costume.  Expensive rings adorned those immaculately groomed hands. My eyes drifted downwards.  She was sporting an elegant ankle-bracelet, which coordinated with the delicate gold filigree around her neck.  Her toenails matched her manicured fingers.

She was curvy, taller than me and slightly - ever so slightly - fleshy.  Her hair was dark blonde but streaked through with lighter shades, shoulder length and expertly styled.  She had an attractive, open face and her make-up was perfect.  It crossed my mind that this particular madam wasn’t about to sully that carefully applied canvas by entering the pool.  She was obviously expert at the dramatic entrance. 

It’s amazing what one woman can pick up about another in the space of two seconds. 

Steve had the grace to show the briefest shadow of discomfort as she entered.  “Lynn, this is Kristin, Paul’s wife.  Kristin, meet Lynn.” Steve made the introductions cordially, but obviously, I was “Paul’s wife.” Steve didn’t bother to introduce my husband to her, meaning she’d already met him. 

She smiled in my direction, “Hi – I’ve heard so much about you.” The words slipped out with obvious grace and ease. 

“That’s strange Lynn,” I said pleasantly  – but shooting an acid look at Paul – “Paul’s not mentioned you – he’s a bit absent minded at times though.  So what have you heard about me?”  Though I purred the question sweetly at Lynn, I shot another acid look, Steve’s way this time. 

I’m not sure if Lynn was picking up on the sub-text.  She maintained the friendly smile. “Oh – Paul told me about the degree you’re doing.  You’ll have to tell me more about that Kristin.  Psychology must be fascinating.  I’m thinking of studying it myself.”  The tone was warm.  Her social skills were obviously polished. 

I wondered when she’d met my husband.  Inwardly squirming, I speculated about the day I couldn’t reach him on his mobile.  ‘Be nice Kristin,’ I thought, ‘Be nice – don’t ruin a good day.’  “When did you meet Paul?” I asked amiably. 

Paul was shuffling a little. 

“Umm – he visited Steve just recently, the day before yesterday I think.  We had a great time – a bit too much to drink though.” Lynn looked briefly at my husband as she made that last comment, a half coy smile on her lips. 

I remembered what had happened on Christmas day when Paul, Steve and I had had too much to drink – but what could I say to her – ‘Did you fuck my husband?’  The thought blazed through my head – but remained sealed behind my lips.  Obviously, Paul’s “Discussions” with Steve had included female company.  It was funny how he’d forgotten to mention that. 

All four of us sat around the glass table – the atmosphere pregnant with unspoken questions and sexual tension, but glossed with the veneer of polite conversation.  After the orange juice, I needed some alcohol to relax me and I continued to nurse a large, cold glass of dry white wine. 

Paul and Steve were drinking beers. 

Elegant Lynn sipped on a dry martini, or several.  She didn’t bother to get dressed, obviously enjoying the relaxed comfort of lounging in pink elastic bands that displayed her voluptuous curves to full effect. 

I was wearing brief black denim shorts; a low cut lacy vest top and strappy sandals.  Not quite as dramatic. 

Conversation picked up and I began to feel mellower.  I noticed Paul’s eyes straying to Lynn’s tantalisingly full cleavage from time to time.  He must of thought I was blind – actually, he probably wasn’t thinking at all.  Groins don’t have rational thought. 

Lynn and Paul seemed to have struck up an easy repartee, however in consolation, Steve’s eyes constantly caught mine and locked my gaze for a few seconds longer than they should have.  Those butterflies danced in my belly again. 

Steve and Paul prepared a lunch of Greek salad, fruit and ice cream.  It was a good choice for such a hot, sticky day and I decided I could easily adapt to such considerate service. 

I got to know Lynn a bit more.  She was 40 but looked younger.  She’d been a dancer – I don’t think she meant ballet – and now worked as a receptionist cum business manager at a nightclub in town. That’s where she’d met Steve.  She was divorced and her husband had custody of their two teenage children.  She’d moved away from the area and didn’t feel it was fair to uproot them from their friends and school. 

I discovered she had a warm, earthy humour and I could have really liked her, had she not been using it to such devastating effect on Paul. I thought she was supposed to be Steve’s girlfriend. 

She ruffled my husband’s hair when they shared funny story. 

‘Get your hands off him, you bitch!’ Again, the poisonous thought stayed locked behind my lips. 

I took comfort from Steve’s attentiveness and obvious interest. 

“Kristin,” he said suddenly, “You’ve not seen the rest of the new house yet have you?  These two have.  Come on, let me show you my creation”.  Looking in the direction of ‘Those two’ he quietly laughed, “I don’t think they’d notice us gone anyway.”

“That’s not true baby,” said Lynn, feigning hurt. 

Paul gave me a sheepish look. 

“OK Steve – lead on” I replied.  The wine was making me a little more than just laid-back; slightly intoxicated would have been a more accurate description.

The house was beautiful.  Obviously Steve had put a lot of time and work into it.  He’d been the perfectionist, as ever.  Of course, he’d designed it himself. 

We came to the master bedroom.  I looked out through the large arching windows.  There was a magnificent view of the coast.  You could see the Pacific Ocean and the shoreline dotted with tall buildings. 

It was then I felt a pair of strong hands gripping my waist from behind and a pair of soft lips on the curve of my neck.  My stomach flipped and that crucial spot between my legs turned to jelly.  I could feel Steve’s penis.  It was rock hard and pressing into the soft flesh of my round bum.  He was breathing fast as his hands slipped up from my waist and gently explored my breasts.  His gentle stroking felt unbearably erotic.  Almost involuntarily, I pressed my buttocks into his groin. 

He let out a low groan of pleasure. 

It was then I turned to face him and we met in a long passionate kiss.  Skin on skin became the only reality. 

In total control, he slipped off my top and bra and began to suckle.  His tongue played a delicate rhythm on my nipples.  I ran my hands through his soft hair. 

Suddenly he stopped and looked me directly in the eyes.  “Get undressed Kristin,” he commanded gently. 

Like an automaton, I did what he said. 

“Christ! You’re beautiful.”  His stare never left my body for a second.  He removed his own clothes and a large, thick penis with an angry, almost purple head stuck out before him.  He led me to the bed and we collapsed together on the soft divan.  

His hands investigated my every curve before he gripped my ass tightly.  He slipped a knee in between mine and gently manoeuvred my legs apart.  That long thick penis with the angry purple head slid deeply inside me.  His erect flesh then very delectably slithered backwards and forwards in an increasing momentum.

He groaned in ecstasy. 

My fingers dug deeply into his butt as I tried to pull him closer.  He was a big boy and I experienced a delicious thread of pain as his searching penis continued to open me. That sting just added to my pleasure. 

A sheet of sweat formed between us.  I was literally pinned to the mattress by a male body that dwarfed mine; whose hard muscles contrasted starkly with my softness. 

He continued thrusting as a hot lusting, ever-increasing ache pulsed between my thighs. 

Steve was completely lost to his cravings; nothing could have extracted him from the darkly beguiling tightness that engulfed his cock. 

I was beginning to come as the fiery throbbing between my legs climbed to a new pitch.  The muscles in that shadowy, sensuous space became tauter and tauter – then it happened – an overwhelming orgasm.  My vaginal walls clenched the head of his penis and spasmed in wave after wave. 

He obviously felt it and went just about crazy. 

I thought it wasn’t possible for him to thrust any harder; I was wrong.  It felt like his cock had grown even larger as his groin pounded against me in an urgent, demanding rhythm. 

I was opening and opening – blooming and swelling to meet him.  He just kept pushing, like a man possessed.  Then it happened; he came more powerfully than I ever imagined possible, accompanied by almost beast-like sounds of gratification. 

My head fell back on to the pillow as my body relaxed, then instinctively, something made me look up.  It was Paul.  He was standing at the door. It was slightly ajar.  I don’t know how long he’d been watching. 

Steve looked round. 

I saw the pair exchange a glance. 

There was a slight - very slight - smile on Paul’s lips. 

Steve gave him a barely visible nod. 

They were a couple of conspiratorial bastards! Almost without thinking, I moved to smack Steve in the mouth. 

He caught my intended blow mid-air. 

Paul slipped away. 

“Kristin calm down,” Steve said coolly.  His strong hand had my arm firmly pinned to the pillow.  “I know you like this.  I know you like me.  You need to relax more.  It’s not a sin to get turned on.” 

My anger evaporated as he buried his head in the curve of my neck, his arms wrapped around me. 

A minute or so later he started talking. Resting on his elbow, the fingers on his other hand were absent-mindedly circling my tummy.  He concentrated on his words, making sure he made eye contact.  “What do you think Paul was doing here the other day Kristin?  What do you think he did with Lynn?  Play scrabble?    He fucked the arse off of her – I watched.  What do you think he’s doing right now?”  The questions were rhetorical.  He repeated them with dark emphasis, enjoying the effect.

My stomach churned.  Somewhere, at this moment in this house my husband was fucking another woman.  Of course, I’d just been fucking another man – but the heart isn’t rational.  I was also quickly discovering the groin is even less so. 

“Thanks for telling me that Steve,” I replied ironically, “Quite a pair aren’t you?” 

He cut off any more comments with a soft and surprisingly tender kiss.

Giving up further resistance in the face of this seductive attention, I lay there for some time with him. Relaxed now, both of us fell into a light sleep. 

This time Steve woke first. 

When I came to, he was in the shower.  My first thought was Paul.  ‘Had he finished?  What was he doing now?’ 

Steve wandered into the main bedroom from the ensuite.  His naked body was quite beautiful.  He caught my eye and playfully slapped my bum.  “It’s a bit wobbly Kristin,” he teased, “But then I never could resist a girl with a big arse.” 

I couldn’t help myself, “I don’t think you ever resisted any girl did you Steve?  Isn’t that why your wife left you?” 

“Bitch,” he laughed and then suddenly turned serious, “I’ve always fancied you Kristin – always.” His voice was low and sober.  He emphasised the last “Always.” 

I didn’t want to hear it.  It was too complicated.  I met his gaze and gently kissed him on the lips. “Yeah Steve, cut the crap,” I said softly, “And by the way, my wobbly arse and I work as a team.  She takes exception to your insults.” 

“Insults!” He said indignantly, eyes dancing, “Tell her I meant no insult.  Tell her I said she’s beautiful.”  He returned my gentle kiss. 

Seeing another man screw me obviously turned Paul on.  Seeing another man gently kiss me afterwards might not be so erotic for him – and less erotic still when I responded.  My husband was playing a dangerous game. 

Steve got dressed and went to retrieve my case from the hallway where it still sat.  I needed a shower.  “Steve – Where’s Paul?” I asked, when he returned to the bedroom with my bag. 

“I don’t know.  The place is deserted.  I’ll put some coffee on.  See you out there” he replied. 

By the time I wandered out to the living area - clean and made-up once more - Steve was distractedly watching cricket on the TV and drinking that coffee.  Paul and Lynn were nowhere in sight.  My stomach churned again. 

Two cups of coffee and a whole magazine later, I heard some giggles. 

Paul and Lynn made their entrance.  A short satin ivory wrap, delicate flowers embroidered on the collar, had replaced the pink elastic bands.  Hair was still perfect, make-up immaculate. 

If I’d been a real witch, the deadly cold look I shot in their direction would have turned them both into a pile of dry ashes in the middle of the floor.  Luckily for them, my shamanic powers, if I had any, were dormant. 

“Who’s the guy you’re with Lynn?  I don’t recognise him.” My words were full with a dark, writhing malevolence – a spitting snarling monster. 

“Well honey – who’s the guy you’re with?”  She good-humouredly replied. 

The spitting, snarling monster wouldn’t abide such sweetness and reason.  Within seconds, a coffee cup went flying in the general direction of Paul’s head.  My aim wasn’t bad.  It missed him by only a millimetre, splattering its contents down the newly painted cream coloured wall - creating a large dent - before shattering into a hundred pieces.  It obviously had some force behind it. 

Steve jumped from his seat in a moment and grabbed me just before an almost successful second attempt to inflict damage.  I was about to smack my husband in the mouth with a very heavy ornament.  The mouth was saved - the ornament less fortunate.  I broke down in Steve’s arms.  He held me soothingly.  Still, my monster had had its revenge. 

Paul looked hugely uncomfortable.  He tried to touch my shoulder.  Bad move. 

I screamed, “Get fucked!” Followed by a more thoughtful, though no less venomous, “Sorry, I forgot – you already have!” 

At that juncture, Steve guided me to the outside entertainment area and poured me a very stiff drink.  I don’t know what Paul and Lynn did then.  They could have burnt in hell for all I cared. 

Steve spent a lot of time with me, calming me down, cheering me up and plying me with more alcohol. 

I wasn’t being rational.  I’d been fucking another man at the same time and – to be perfectly honest - enjoying myself.  Steve got me laughing at the situation.  Paul still loved me.  He wasn’t about to run away.  He was just a very horny, manipulative bastard that liked to get his own way.

When it was obvious to Steve I was feeling mellower, he mentioned there was another part of the house I hadn’t seen.  He called it his “playroom”.  He invited me to see it.  In fact, he was very keen for me to check it out.  It was a personal creation. 

By now, I felt much more laid-back.  Let’s face it - I did enjoy Steve’s attentions.  It was hardly fair of me to be so nasty to Paul, but the jealous monsters that hide out in our hearts never learnt how to be fair.  With rising curiosity, I agreed to see Steve’s handiwork. 

He led me to a locked door and opened it with a combination number. 

As I stepped inside, the heady aroma of a dark, spicy incense hit my nostrils.  However, that was nothing to the sight that met my eyes.  It was an extremely large and invitingly spacious room, completely decorated in the colours of night.  Heavy closed black velvet curtains cut out the sun completely. 

Steve told me there were outside shutters on the windows as well.  The only light came from subdued red lamps that glowed strategically. 

It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust.  I felt the deep, soft carpet beneath my bare feet.  I noticed the walls and ceiling were lined with plush, dark material that appeared to be padded.  Everything was a stygian black.

In the middle of this big space was a very large spa, gently bubbling away.  It depths shimmered with restrained coral pink illumination, set in black marble. Sitting on the edge was a neat, thick pile of soft looking black bath sheets.  

The room also contained several large dark leather armchairs.  They were lushly cushioned, but more intriguing were a number of black leather slings hanging from the ceiling.  I caught my breath; it didn’t take a giant leap of imagination to divine their purpose. 

There were also several double mattresses near the edge of the room, covered in fitted black satin sheets.  At that point there was some relief from the dark furnishing.  They were strewn with large, brightly coloured soft cushions.  The hues were rich and threaded with gold and silver. 

Leading off this spacious room were three doors. 

I discovered one led to a small kitchen and one led to a shower area, graced with considerately provided wardrobe space.  When I peaked into the wardrobe, I discovered a large array of sexy lingerie as well bundles of rope and various other un-named items. The last door led to a toilet.   

All three areas were tiled in black, though normally lit.  You wouldn’t want to pee on your foot in the loo or slice off a finger in the kitchen.  They were also decorated with very explicit, though tasteful, erotic pictures.  They were black and white photos on white surrounds, framed in deep grey.  Steve said he’d taken them himself.  Obviously, this dark, taciturn Scorpio man had unplumbed depths. 

“So this is your playroom Steve,” I said with teasing irony and looking at him in fascination added, “You’re very creative.” 

He grinned.  He hardly ever grinned. 

I felt his mouth nuzzling the back of my neck again.  “Come on Kristin,” he said, “Let’s try out the spa.” 

With all the alcohol and the dramatic events of the day, I didn’t need much persuading.  We slipped off our clothes and I stepped into the warm bubbling water. 

Steve joined me after placing two glasses of cold champagne on the edge, as well a bottle of it in an ice bucket.  

We floated there in heaven.  I sat on his lap while he clasped his hands across my belly.  He gently rocked me back and forwards.  I could feel his penis harden against my “Big” bum.  He continued to nuzzle my neck. 

“Not yet Kristin, not yet.  I’ve got plans for you” he whispered. 

I was drifting blissfully in a sea of erotic decadence – the hedonistic slut appeared to be winning out – when the door to the room opened.  Obviously, someone else knew the secret of the combination lock. 

Paul and Lynn slipped into the room.  They weren’t surprised to see us.  Paul looked quizzically in Steve’s direction, “Is it safe yet?” He asked. 

“Yeah mate, it’s safe,” Steve laconically replied. 

I was beyond caring. 

The pair slipped out of their clothes and joined us. Paul placed two more glasses on the side of the spa. 

Lynn settled into his lap. 

I noticed Paul was gently rubbing his cock into the soft flesh of her butt. 

Lynn looked at me and a faint smile played on her lips.

I just raised my eyebrows and sighed peacefully. 

We stayed like that for a while, all four of us.  Steve, Paul and Lynn chatted and joked.  I stayed mostly silent, closing my eyes in relaxation.  I wasn’t in the mood for light conversation.  That was my husband sitting opposite me and that was another woman he was mauling.  Jealous monsters of the deep move to their own logic. 

After a time, it was obvious Paul was heavily turned on.  His rubbing was getting harder, more insistent.  He was squeezing Lynn’s breasts appreciatively whilst biting into her neck. 

She stretched her body backwards, gently stroking her own pussy. 

Steve’s grip around my belly tightened.  He was looking, no staring, directly at my husband.  “Why don’t you do something about it mate?” He said huskily. 

“Yeah, I will,” Paul replied distractedly, in between more kisses on Lynn’s neck. 

Paul gently helped her from the spa and in a few steps, they were next to one of the leather slings.  He placed her deftly and expertly in it.  Obviously, he’d had practise.

I was watching, hypnotised.  The breath caught in my throat.

Paul left her there, peacefully swinging for a few moments, while he briefly visited the shower room.  He came back with a bottle of lubricant.  Slowly and deliberately, he rubbed it into the wide-open crimson-flushed rose in front of him. 

She moaned with pleasure. 

When he thought he’d thoroughly completed the task, he protractedly spread more of the slippery substance along his own flesh. His hard erection glistened.  He was enjoying the job.  

Paul’s butt faced the spa. 

I suddenly saw his body jerk in a rapid movement as he entered Lynn with a single, sharp thrust.  He was holding her hips tightly as he excitedly pulled her further towards his groin.  He bent his legs a little at the knees, so her buttocks were resting ever so lightly on top of his powerful thighs.  He moved his hands and his fingers dug deeply into to the round swelling flesh of her ass.  Then he started in earnest.  His buttocks began vibrating, obscenely and unrelentingly, as he pumped in excitement.  It was a scene reminiscent of a dog copulating with the neighbourhood bitch.  I don’t think Paul would have even noticed a cold hose. 

She whimpered from time to time. 

I think the angle was rather deep, but he didn’t seem to care. 

My husband was making guttural animal-like sounds as his frenzy increased.  Then he made a final deep, reverberating groan, which was unmistakable.  He’d shot his load. 

As he watched the scene, Steve’s grip around my belly was almost involuntarily tightening. 

When my husband spent himself inside Lynn, Steve bit into my neck and gently moaned.  He turned me round to face him and showered me with hot, lingering kisses.  We continued in that passionate embrace for an unknown time.  It cut out any other reality. 

Eventually, Steve whispered in my ear, “Kristin, I said I had other plans for you.  Come with me.”  He led me to one of the other slings. 

I was in a dreamlike state. 

Paul and Lynn had withdrawn to their own haven on one of the mattresses by this time.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her legs were spread apart. My husband was dedicatedly and slowly bringing her to orgasm with his tongue. 

Before I’d had a chance to let my gaze linger, Steve skilfully strapped me in to the gently swaying sling. Obviously, he’d also had a lot of practise.  The contraption spread my legs wide open.  My pussy was helpless and vulnerable. 

Steve knelt down, his hands gently resting on the inside of my thighs.  He pushed them ever so slightly further apart.  His mouth quickly found my little red bud and he expertly suckled on its scarlet protuberance.  From time to time, his tongue darted deliciously inside my inflamed flesh.  He was silently devoted to his mission. 

I wasn’t rocking on a sling; I was rocking amongst the stars.  From the infinity of space I also heard other muffled sounds.  I think Lynn was beginning to come.

Paul was still sucking gently between her legs, on her little red bud no doubt.  I’d experienced his skills many times myself.   

I barely noticed Lynn’s loud moans as she came – because my own orgasm followed soon after.

Steve lifted his head, a large smile of satisfaction on his face.  However, that look was quickly replaced by one of almost lewd anticipation.  It was his turn now.  His expression and demeanour left me in no doubt – he was evilly determined to fuck me on his own terms.  Roughly, he pushed my legs further apart then savagely thrust himself inside me.  It was a very hard, very sharp movement.

I flinched, not that he noticed.  However, despite those pangs, my pussy swelled and welcomed the intruder with depraved satisfaction and mounting heat.  Unsurprisingly, I hardly noticed the stirrings in the corner, until a warm mouth found its mark and a searching tongue sought out mine. 

Paul!  He was kissing me passionately while Steve continued to fuck me with animal-like pleasure.  One of my husband’s hands tenderly rested underneath my head, his fingers caressing my hair.   His other hand rested on my belly.  He began to whisper hoarsely in my ear, “I want to feel you come again Kristin, I want to see you come.”  

His hand was placed on my abdomen for a purpose.  When I orgasm it always tightens and becomes taut with bliss.  That’s what Paul wanted to touch, wanted to drink in and consume. 

It also fleetingly crossed my mind my husband was marking out his territory.  Another man could fuck me, but it was for Paul’s pleasure – I was his. 

Paul continued whispering slowly and deliberately in my ear, “You were my Christmas present to Steve – and a Christmas present for me.  I wanted to watch your face as he fucked you.  I wanted to watch his face when he lost control inside my wife’s sweet pussy.  That’s what mates are for Kristin; they help each other out.  He’d wanted to screw you for a long time.” That low whisper dripped triumph, dripped satisfaction, dripped enjoyment. 

Meanwhile, Steve was fucking me like some kind of Satan. His thrusting cock was a weapon of dark bottomless power that had - utterly and absolutely - opened up my scarlet offering. His groin was chafing my still protruding bud with every lunge – and every lunge increased the tension in my womb, causing that receptive bud to swell still further. 

I was coming again, hard and fast. The waves flooded over me.  My powerful vaginal muscles convulsed repeatedly, as if straining to eject Steve’s flesh from my body. 

He had to fight to stay inside me and he pushed against those muscles with vicious determination.  His fingers dug painfully into my butt. 

Paul knew my orgasm had arrived.  His kisses became hard, passionate and demanding.  His tongue was deeply inside my mouth, his hand still rested on my belly - consuming my pleasure at each forceful contraction. 

Steve came too – at almost the same time.  As he spent himself inside me, he was in a groaning, grunting frenzy.  Once he was finished, he almost collapsed in exhaustion, but he met Paul’s eyes for a brief second. 

“Well done mate,” Paul softly said in Steve’s direction.  He had a faintly triumphant air.

So much for not letting two over-sexed musketeers call the shots.  The rebel was losing out badly.

 

 

09.09.07

story continues in Erotic Disclosure 3

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