Swinger's Memoirs: Episode 39
In the late summer of the eighties, I shared a recollection of a one-of-a-kind episode from my unreliable memoirs, chronicling my life's sexual encounters. Each memory is independent, meaning you can read them without necessarily going through the earlier narratives.
This particular story revolves around a wedding affair Lesley and I attended. While there wasn't an abundance of sexual interplay, it's a tale worth sharing.
During the last week of May, Lesley and I honored our commitment to some swinger companions, Mark and Sally. Lesley would be a bridesmaid at their wedding, and I was bestowed the honor of being Mark's best man.
Although we weren't particularly close to Mark and Sally, we forged a connection at a swingers' weekend in Germany nearly a year and a half ago.
Sally was likable, likeable yet relatively average in height. With her brown shoulder-length hair, a pleasant smile, and the pinnacle feature - captivating breasts, she was hard to ignore. Being a skilled model, Sally graced the tabloid newspapers' 'Page 3' on several occasions and also dabbled in Penthouse magazine. In contrast, she couldn't be called exceptionally bright but possessed a generous heart. We had something else in common, her being around my age.
Mark, a blonde dude in his early thirties, looked good. He was a computer programmer whose job paid rather well during those years. He'd requested me as his best man, causing me to feel a tad perplexed due to the lack of familiarity with him. However, given his background of growing up as an orphan, having friends either in prison or deceased, I was captivated by his story.
Bachelor and bachelorette parties in the eighties were less elaborate than nowadays. Pub crawls followed by curries were the traditional choices for men, with some enhancers like a stripper thrown in. I arranged these for Mark, having a spirited stripper be on his stag night's guest list. Sally's hen night took place in a club where male dancers performing was the norm.
On the wedding day, Lesley and I woke up early, drove from Wimbledon to Dartford in the Porsche. I left Lesley at Sally's parents' house, briefly meeting Sally, before heading to Mark's abode.
On his side, Mark was jittery, creating a sense of eagerness for the ceremony to commence so he could call Sally his wife.
"How did you feel on your wedding day?"
"Well, we didn't have the elaborate preparations that you two have for your big day. Instead, ours happened in a registry office," I shared. "We didn't even realize we were about to get married until five days prior."
"Is that legal?"
"Apparently so, provided a high court judge is the one giving the bride away."
"Do you and Lesley live normal lives?"
"Not quite," I chuckled.
While most parents would feel embarrassed by their daughter's job as a model, showing skin, Barry felt the opposite.
"She's a great-looking woman," he admitted to me at the stag night, "and she's equally beautiful inside and out."
Barry and Pearl, Sally's mother, apparently believed celebrating their daughter's union was crucial. It was to be a church service followed by a reception at a local country club. On the day of the wedding, Lesley and I made our way to Dartford from Wimbledon, embarking on the day filled with love and celebration.
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I dropped Lesley off at Sally's parents' home. Mark was awake, drinking coffee when I reached his place. His nerves were on edge.
"You good?"
"Yeah, I just want the day to fast-forward so I can call her mine!"
"Of course, Lesley communicated this to you - she's impatient too."
"Were you this frenetic on your wedding day?", he wondered.
"Not quite like that. Ours was more of an unexpected affair with a registry office, rather than the church."
"Is this a normal human lifestyle - yours?", he probed.
"Hardly!", I chuckled.
Despite the formalities of the congregation, our memories are tangled with these unique situations and rendezvous.
Originally, we planned to tie the knot the year after I graduated from university. However, many unexpected occurrences took place post-engagement. I was stabbed, and Lesley looked after me throughout the recovery process. We afterward embarked on a bike journey to Europe. At the end of summer, we felt like we'd understood each other for ages.
"So, what transpired?"
"We were at a wedding in France, and Lesley's 'right hand man'...
"The high court judge?"
"Yes, although not officially her adoptive father at that moment. Anyhow, he noticed how much Lesley yearned to marry, so he inquired about my feelings. I divulged that I, too, wished to be married. We'd only been engaged for a short period, and I was due to return to university the following weekend, but he suggested a speedy wedding.…"
Mark chuckled.
"Thank you for serving as my best man, Steven. Also, it means a lot to Sally that Lesley will be a bridesmaid as well."
"We're both privileged," I said.
The ceremony wasn't until 3 p.m., so I treated Mark to lunch at a local pub. Dressed in our morning suits, we made our way to the church. Mark's nervousness was increasing as the time drew nearer, which made me think about what he'd inquired earlier. I hadn't experienced any anxiety on my big day. I was absolutely certain that I intended to spend the rest of my life with Lesley and did not have the slightest doubt of her reciprocating.
Upon reaching the church, we encountered Grant, acting as an usher. The three of us chatted as guests filled the pews. Later, Mark and I took our positions in the front row.
"Relax, it'll be over soon," I attempted to comfort him, although it likely came across as a dentist about to extract a troublesome tooth.
Fortunately, Sally didn't prolong Mark's apprehension. At precisely 3 p.m., we heard voices and commotion in the back of the church indicating the bride's arrival.
"Time to go," I said to Mark, as both of us rose from our spots.
Upon the vicar's arrival to the altar, the organist commenced playing the wedding march. Looking around, Barry arrived, walking his daughter down the aisle. Sally was a vision in her white dress, and Lesley appeared behind her, striving to be professional but couldn't hide her amused expression when she saw me.
When Barry had entrusted Mark with his daughter, he shook hands then found his seat beside Pearl, who was trying to hold back her tears. Lesley and I grabbed each other's gazes, and she smiled.
"Thanks for getting him here on time," she said.
"I couldn't have stopped him even if I'd tried," I replied.
As the vicar began, I observed how at ease he made the couple despite his advancing age. In no time, they exchanged vows. The part about forsaking all others and being faithful made me chuckle, as I was certain that Mark and Sally would honor their commitment.
After exchanging vows, the newlyweds exited the church for photos and followed by car to the reception. When they'd left, I joined the crowd in their vehicles. The tremendously varied group of family and friends at the wedding caused the photographer a few predicaments. It was 5:15 when the photographs were finally captured.
We moved into our room at the reception site, forbidden from alone time. Lesley quipped, "Want to fuck the bridesmaid?"
"Since the moment I first saw her," I replied.
"Just don't get semen on my dress," she joked.
Summoning the wall, Lesley invited me to lift her dress.
"No underwear, simply how you like me," she clarified as I felt her pussy.
I removed my trousers and allowed them to fall to the floor before lifting Lesley. She grasped both my hands around my neck while wrapping her legs around my waist.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you more than you can fathom," she responded.
"Do you wish you had a traditional wedding?" I inquired.
"I desired to wedding you. I didn't care where or how."
As Lesley centered her back on the bedroom wall, I delved into her depths. Drowned in passion, I knew this was more than just a traditional wedding. It was about love, devotion, and a bond that would last a lifetime.
Lesley gushed, "I should have snatched everyone to take part in this. It was exquisite!" She glowed, "I'm thrilled to cherish this forever."
I cupped her face, "Certainly, my queen." With relish, we consummated our marriage, assimilating into each other's lives and solidifying our eternal love.
At the reception dinner, there were approximately forty guests, most of whom were family members of Sally. By the time speeches were being made, Barry had consumed a few too many drinks and praised his daughter extensively. Given that he was footing the bill, it was understandable.
As I didn't know Mark well or for long, enlivening the best man's speech with amusing stories about his past was challenging. I settled for emphasizing his goodness and his fondness for Sally. Lesley, who helped me write the speech, brought a sense of warmth to it, preventing it from sounding like a business presentation.
During his own speech, Mark became emotional, possibly due to nerves. However, it was clear he loved Sally, which was enough for her family.
For their first dance, Mark and Sally chose 'Up Where We Belong' by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes, made famous by the movie Top Gun. The couple felt awkward on the dancefloor by themselves, but Sally encouraged everyone to join them. When it was time, Lesley and I were among the first to oblige.
After the first dance, the newlyweds mingled with guests. Being new to the social circle, Mark and I struggled to engage but were joined by the happy couple.
"Thank you for taking care of my husband today," Sally thanked me, giving me a warm hug.
"It was a pleasure," I assured her, asking about their honeymoon destination.
"No, but he told me to pack my bikini. I'm so excited. I can't wait," Sally shared.
Mark had planned an incredible surprise: a trip to the Bahamas, where he and Sally would spend their wedding night in a lavish hotel before flying off the next day.
"I just know you're going to love it. I'm so jealous, I wish I was going," Lesley admitted, her eyes pleading.
"You've already chosen your vacation spot this year," I pointed out.
"We're riding across the Rockies on a motorcycle to stay with friends," Lesley explained. "Astrid Olsen and her husband at their ranch."
"The supermodel Astrid Olsen?" Sally exclaimed. "How do you know her?"
"We just clicked in New York last year," Lesley hesitated, a tinge of shame creeping in.
"She's still gorgeous," Sally remarked.
"Oh, she is," Lesley confirmed. "And speaking of special, you two are incredibly unusual," Mark chuckled.
"We have," Sally said, turning to Lesley. "Would you mind helping me out of this dress?"
"Of course," Lesley agreed. "I'll call the boys later. There's no need to make it obvious."
"You're number one on my list, Steven," Sally informed me.
"There is a list?" I questioned, amused.
"No, not really," she replied with a smile. "But there are others we've had fun with."
Finding ourselves outside, Mark and I indulged in Cuban cigars and some pints. Although we could smoke indoors, we opted for the less smoky patio of the country club.
"Congratulations," I toasted Mark with my glass.
"Thank you," he replied, returning the gesture.
"Do you feel any different?"
"Yes and no," Mark responded. "We've lived together for over a year. But I used to have no family. Now I do."
"You're indeed a lucky man. Sally's wonderful," I told him. "And she's fortunate to have you. Don't forget that."
"Speaking of hot models, Astrid Olsen, huh?" Mark mused. "I vaguely remember seeing pictures of her when I was younger."
"Most guys would," I responded. "In fact, probably many do."
Almost fifty minutes had passed before the girls made their debut. When they appeared, Sally seemed slightly flushed while Lesley appeared to be the one who had just received something exceptional. Both were looking remarkable, though if it had been my wedding night, I would have opted for something a bit less revealing than Sally's tight-fitting spandex dress. Lesley had also gone for something adventurous, selecting a strapless blue satin outfit that landed well above the knee. Both were bursting with energy and ready to rock the party.
"You two look wonderful," I stated.
"And you," Mark concurred.
"Thank you," Sally responded, acknowledging Mark's words. "But there's no need for flattery. I'm a sure thing tonight."
"And what about me?" I asked, directing the inquiry towards Lesley.
"Oh, I'm keeping my options open," she giggled.
If the reception was based around family, then the evening's disco was centered around friends. The scales had been tipped a bit since Mark's colleagues from work and teammates from the local football club he played for were now celebrating with him.
Sally's counterparts were her coworkers from the exhibition trade where she worked as a promotional girl. They were all similar in appearance: attractive, busty, and very flashy. One of them I recognized as being a "page 3" model like Sally. Besides possessing an impressive body, she had a beautiful, angelic face. It was a sight to behold.
Another girl, I believed I'd observed from a motorcycle magazine. Buying these periodicals was a guilty pleasure of mine, and like many motorcycle magazines they often featured a topless centrefold. This brunette had legs to die for, and I had seen her naked, draped over a red Ducati sports bike in the most recent issue.
Curiously, none of the girls' partners were physically attractive. Some seemed almost Neanderthal. Jean Claude van Damme's partner was an exception. He resembled Jean Claude van Damme slightly, and I pondered if he might be a professional footballer or similar.
Of course, the girls desired to celebrate and Sally was the catalyst for their entrance into the dance floor. Mark and I prefered to stay seated, watching and chatting from the sidelines. Eventually Mark's coworkers approached him, drawing him away from us. I was left alone to observe Lesley for a while. Jean Claude van Damme took the opportunity to join me at the same table.
"Hi." he shouted. "Can I join you?"
"Yes, of course," I responded.
"You're the best man, right?"
"That's correct."
"Jane and I paid a visit to the church earlier today," he informed me. "It was a lovely ceremony."
"It was," I replied reciprocally. "Have you known Mark and Sally for some time?" I surmised the answer as I posed the query.
"Probably both, I guess."
"Martin," he offered by way of introduction.
"Steven," I returned, extending my hand.
"You're not keen on the dance floor, are you?" he inquired.
"I have a belief that only single men take to the dance floor," I shared with him.
"Which one's yours?" he questioned, nodding at the dancing ladies.
"The redhead," I replied with certainty, as Lesley was the only redhead on the floor.
"The bridesmaid, was she not?" he guessed.
"Indeed."
"I suspect she's not a model or promotional girl."
"You'd be correct if you assume that."
"Jane is the girl in the pink dress," he volunteered.
"I cannot disagree that I've already noted her," I revealed. "She's quite the head-turner."
"She does have an incredible beauty."
"I'd be telling a lie if I said I hadn't already appreciated her," I admitted. "In fact, I think I've seen her before. In a motorbike magazine, I believe."
"The Ducati," he acknowledged.
"Indeed. She was titillating."
At that instance, Mark reappeared from a conversation with his coworkers and greeted Martin, who heartily congratulated him. Mark thanked Martin for being present and it was clear that the two were acquainted but not close friends.
When Sally saw the four of us together, she solicited the attention, gathering Lesley and Jane to introduce everyone. Sally warmly hugged Martin, and Lesley hugged him in return. Jane offered to shake my hand but instead embraced me, bestowing a kiss on my cheek.
"Finally, successful men," Jane accentuated. "And the three most gorgeous ladies in the room, naturally," Martin observed.
"Well, the bride is always the most beautiful tonight," Sally joked. Turning to Mark, she quipped, "We promised mum we'd thank Aunty Pam for her wedding gift, so we'll catch you all later."
With a grin, Sally guided Mark off, leading him away. It then struck me that Sally might be attempting to arrange a meet-up between Mark and Jane with Martin.
The dialogue paused as Martin decided to steer the conversation.
"Steve recognized you from your Ducati photo shoot," he told Jane.
I felt somewhat smug when he said that, but Jane seemed to see it as a compliment.
"You looked magnificent," I mentioned.
"Thank you, that's so kind," Jane answered.
Lesley appeared curious and thus I shared the story of coming across Jane in one of my motorbike publications.
"Is that you?" Lesley asked in disbelief. "I remember it. You did look hot."
"I didn't realize you perused my motorbike magazines," I shared.
"I skim them when you're not about," Lesley revealed. "Do you enjoy motorbikes?"
"Not overly. I'm more of a 'fast car' enthusiast," Jane confessed.
"You ought to approach Steven," Lesley said.
"What's that?" Jane wondered.
"A Mini," I shared.
"That's cool," she remarked politely.
"He's just joking with you," Lesley explained. "He has a Mini, yet he also possesses a Porsche 911."
"The black one in the parking lot?"
"Yes."
It's remarkable how one becomes accustomed to certain things. I'd possessed the Porsche for some time now and it just appeared like a car to me. While it executed its duties impeccably, I'd never really adored it as I did with my Mini.
"It's not entirely mine," I explained. "It's a corporate car."
"Would you give me a test drive of it?"
"I'm a touch inebriated this evening, but if you're staying around the next day, then I'd adore to."
"We shall," Jane affirmed eagerly.
"What do you do to earn such a glamorous car?" Martin probed.
I tried to clarify my profession, and Martin and Jane appeared to listen, although they probably perceived me as a financial trader, the ones who owned the speedy vehicles.
"And what of you, Martin?" Lesley enquired, aiming to keep the conversation balanced.
"I'm an apprentice stuntman," Martin announced. "It takes years to become proficient but my father's teaching me."
"Perform in television or film?" I inquired.
"Mainly TV, yet I wish to work in movies. The financial gains are greater."
"Martin's part of the film crew for his very first film, isn't he?" Jane disclosed proudly.
"Indeed. It's a sequel to Alien with Sigourney Weaver. They're filming at Pinewood studios and my father enrolled me on the crew."
"Well, that explains the physique," Lesley complimented him.
"Thank you," Martin acknowledged, accepting the compliment. "The job involves a substantial amount of running and fighting, thus being fit is important, but mainly it's about not sustaining injuries."
"Martin's not married to a couch potato either," Jane pointed out to Lesley.
"He's not too awful," Lesley joked, giving me a hug.
"Do you want to dance?" Jane inquired.
"Certainly," Lesley affirmed.
We couldn't escape the dance floor this time, nonetheless, the prospect of Martin and Jane indulging in extramarital affairs encouraged me. Lesley always amused me when she danced, and she danced next to Jane while Martin and I attempted to blend in.
During the first slow dance, Lesley stopped me and asked, "Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Certainly," I said. "Sally thinks you and Martin might be swingers," I added.
"I hadn't considered it," Lesley answered. "Do you want Jane?"
"A little," I replied softly. "And Martin's not undesirable, is he?"
"Perhaps," Lesley answered noncommittally.
During the next slow tune, we were interrupted by Sally and Mark. Sally yearned for me to partner swap, clinging to me like a limpet.
"Once I return from my honeymoon, I'll ravage your mind and coat your bosoms," she whispered to me.
"I'm eagerly anticipating it," I replied. "Sally, are Martin and Jane swingers?" I asked.
Sally snickered in response, providing little help. After that, she began swaying her body against me and kissing my neck. Had the dance floor not been so crowded, our actions could have been more apparent. I was relieved when the song finished, as it was time to relinquish Lesley to Mark.
The DJ played another sombre tune, and I regarded Lesley to gauge whether she desired to dance again, but she was already inquiring if Martin wanted to dance with her.
The tune was ""Three Times a Lady"" by the Commodores, and Jane and I swayed to its rhythm without uttering a word. Generally, when slow dancing with an unfamiliar person, one keeps their hands on each other's waist to avoid any potential offense. Jane, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the same concerns and slowly explored my back as we danced. I responded with a squeeze, and she applied the same amount of pressure back, resting her head on my chest briefly. I struggled against an erection, attempting to think about my job to keep it at bay.
As midnight approached, Mark and Sally had to depart for their hotel and the flight departing the next morning. Their goodbyes were a prerequisite before their departure but were still filled with emotion.
"I wish we could take you with us," Sally expressed, clearly trying to conceal her feelings.
"I wish we were going too; I'm so jealous," Lesley offered in a sympathetic tone. "But you'll have a fantastic time and have a wonderful life together."
Mark appeared emotional at this point.
"We owe you both, not just for today. If it weren't for you, we probably wouldn't be together."
"The two of you were destined to be together; it's clear for everyone else," Lesley asserted. "Now go and enjoy yourselves, and we'll see you when you get back."
Martin and Sally exited in a rental vehicle with "Just Married" scrawled across the back windshield and a trail of tin cans. The crowd of attendees waved them goodbye from the entrance. The DJ ceded control, and the hotel staff started to dispose of the leftover glasses.
"Well, I suppose that's it then," Martin remarked.
"It is, I suppose," I responded, secretly hoping it wasn't.
"It was enjoyable meeting you both," Lesley told them. "Thank you for the pleasant evening."
"Thank you equally," Jane replied. "See you at breakfast."
Leaving was a disappointment. Either Jane and Martin weren't swingers at all, or nobody was bold enough to initiate something. Despite this, the outcome was the same.
I put on a polite smile and took Lesley's hand, prompting snickers from Jane and her.
"You two look so disillusioned," Jane observed with a smirk.
"They do, don't they?" Lesley chimed in.
"Is this a joke?" I questioned.
"Of course it is," Lesley confirmed. "Sally introduced us at her bachelorette party, but we wanted to have some fun with you first."
"So, the two of you are swingers?" Martin inquired, eagerly seeking confirmation.
"We are," Lesley confirmed.
"I thought you were right," he exclaimed to Jane.
"You did. But you guys are just ineffective in executing it," Jane retorted.
"It's true," Lesley admitted.
"But given that we've now established the truth, why don't we all go upstairs?" Jane suggested.
Lesley tossed a wink at me, and we accompanied Martin and Jane to their room. Evidently, some planning had been done beforehand; our rooms were adjacent to each other. Even more convenient, they had connecting doors that hotels use to join two rooms into a single, larger suite. So, we opened these doors, after which we reassembled in Martin and Jane's bedroom.
Conversation ceased. We had all been anticipating this moment and were now ready to enjoy it without any more conversation. Jane and I faced each other, and she smiled gently at me. I placed my hands on her waist and reciprocated her affection with a kiss. Our lips made contact, and her hands slipped around to my back. With her sigh, the initial gentle kiss transformed into something more passionate.
Martin and Lesley burst into giggles behind us. They had seen Lesley had already removed Martin's shirt, likely intrigued by his well-defined physique. Martin's body was a textbook example of musculature, boasting almost no body fat. It was clear that Lesley was impressed.
"Why don't you come with me?" Lesley suggested, taking Martin's hand in hers.
Martin looked at Jane, who gave him the thumbs-up. They promptly exited, heading towards the connecting bedroom.
"Your spouse is quite daring, isn't she?" Jane laughed at the situation.
"She is when she knows what she wants," I observed, and she smiled. "But witnessing Martin's body just now, I can't say I'm truly surprised."
"And what about you?" asked Jane, continuing.
"I'm less confident," I admitted. "Beyond that, I'm consistently astonished and eternally grateful when a stunning woman chooses to spend time with me."
"And do you consider me stunning?" she inquired, seeking confirmation.
"I believe you're more than stunning," I stated, offering her a compliment.
Jane raised the hem of her gown, revealing a petite set of underwear. Uncertain if this was intentional or not, I pursued her to the bed, grabbed the panties, and pulled them off. She was mortal from a harrowing night on the dance floor, but I'd traversed throttling vaginas in worse shape.
Jane's nether regions were well-maintained instead of fully shaven. She had strategically removed the surplus hair near her labia, resulting in a fashionably cropped bush. This arrangement made discovering her clitoris simple and spared me from having to endure an unnecessarily hairy mouthful. Men of today remain blissfully unaware of this blessing. In those days, it could be a jungle down there, figuratively and literally.
I began to caress Jane's clitoris as she played with my hair. Once I and my member were resilient enough, I firmly grasped her buttocks and stretched her cheeks apart, then moderately pressed my thumb against her anus. It was a dangerous move with some women, but the faint guttural sound she released illustrates her approval, enticing her to sway her backside in contact with my thumb.
Earning a woman to orgasm via cunnilingus appeared effortless for some people. I've encountered tales of men who would never perform oral sex on a woman, and I could never fathom that. While the frequency at which a woman reacts varies, the ultimate process poses no mystery: caress her clitoris until she makes tiny, almost microscopic, bodily movements with her hips, raising the tempo and intensifying the pressure of the tongue.
When Jane's climax arrived, she clutched my head down, fearing I would discontinue. Unbothered, I remained there, even accelerating my efforts until she softly requested that I cease. I obeyed, rising from my bed of ecstasy.
"Lie down," Jane ordered as she returned to consciousness.
I complied, swiveling my body onto the mattress. Jane dismounted and climbed atop me.
"You were rather skillful at that," she commented, removing her gown and unfastening her bra.
"Impressive," was the only speech I could muster as I beheld Jane's naked body.
Jane's bosoms were ideally proportioned, and I couldn't resist massaging them with my hands.
"You're rather fond of my appearance, aren't you?" she inquired playfully as she pulled my shirt open.
"You're unequaled in the skin," I acknowledged.
Jane's lips tenderly kissed mine before commencing to remove my trousers. She undid the button of my jeans, then took to undressing me. Weaving my fingers across her legs, Jane perused my torso. Ordinarily, I was comfortable in my own body, but comparing myself to Martin instilled self-doubt.
The initial detail Jane detected was the line of my scar. Females tended to exhibit two response types to it: they would dismiss it then inquire after it, or their inquisitiveness would prevail, and they'd seek clarification right now. Jane unequivocally fell under the second category.
"That looks painful," she disclosed, moving her hands across this ridge. "Describe the incident."
"It occurred nearly two years ago in Marseille, France. I was assisting a woman, who had offered me a summer position, purchase a property there. We were attempting to locate a taxi back to the lodging when we were mugged in an alley by two criminals donning knives. They targeted our money and Ruth's gold-adorned rings. She was unable to remove her rings, so they considered amputating her digits. I had to act."
Jane took an audible breath.
"What did you perform?"
"I felled the first assailant senselessly, then slammed the second against a wall, shattering his skull. Although it's likely he was aiming to stab me, I seemed to have collided with the knife either way.
Disturbance emanated from the adjacent room, where Lesley seemed to be relishing her communion with Martin.
"Your wife appears to be very content," Jane observed while straining to lower my jeans.
I rigorously pushed my lower limbs into the air to facilitate motion and present myself to the quick reactions of Jane. When my undergarments were down, Jane straddled me.
"I favor being ridden hard," she shared before pushing her head into my chest.
I pushed myself deep inside her, holding her down as I did so. Jane gave a squeaky grunt of approval, setting the tone for the next few minutes. I tried to make each thrust more forceful than the last, but after a while I hit a plateau. It was time for a change, and I knew just what to do.
Rolling Jane onto her side, I got her knees up to her chest, then knelt on the bed and pushed myself back into her. This position allowed me to thrust more aggressively and get deeper inside her. As before, I pulled her onto me with each stroke. This position was more beneficial for her than me, which meant I could last as long as my stamina allowed.
Jane enjoyed herself immensely, grunting her approval each time I thrust. Increasing my speed, I fucked her harder and harder until her noises of pleasure stopped. She lay back on the bed, her face slightly sweaty, and smiled up at me. I positioned myself on top of her, adopting the traditional missionary position, and was about to resume. She wrapped her legs around me and squeezed them tightly.
"Slowly," she whispered. "I want you to make love to me."
This unexpected request surprised me.
"And how do you want me to do that?" I asked.
Her grin widened as her fingers traced patterns into my back. "Well, you can start by kissing me."
Leaning in, I kissed her passionately, then pressed my nose into her neck, eliciting a been-there-done-that giggle. My tail took the hint and nuzzled her, causing her to laugh even more. I continued to fuck her, softly this time, savoring every moment as her hands explored my back.
"You don't need to tell me how attractive I am," I told her, noticing her gaze as it traced down my body. "Looking at you, you'd think you were made for this. Those legs... those boobs... and that face? My kind are lucky to kiss you."
Kissing Jane again, I felt her hands wrapping around my neck, nails biting into my skin. I increased the pressure. I sensed her enjoying myself.
"I want you to cum in me," she whispered, her breathing labored.
I began to ramp up my speed, Jane urging me on as she dug her nails into my shoulders. I could feel my orgasm approaching.
"I'm going to cum," I told her, bracing for her response.
"Then cum in me, baby," she encouraged, her voice slowed and sedate.
The last few seconds became more frenzied, her whimpers matching my own as I neared climax. With a grunt of effort, I released everything I had. The feeling of relief washed over me, and I relaxed into her arms.
"Thank you," I told Jane.
"You're welcome," she said playfully, "I bet you can cum again."
I chuckled. "Perhaps, after a rest."
Jane giggled. "Well, there's always a next time."
"I'm not sure Lesley saw it that way," I reminded her. "She likes having cum inside her."
Jane's eyes widened as she stared at me. "Really? I'm not like that."
I shrugged. "There are worse things, I suppose."
"I'll show Martin," she said. "And we can both take turns."
"So you like confident, cheeky guys?" I asked, my gaze traveling over her body.
"Confident, cheeky and a little bit dangerous," she said.
"Then you're in luck," I told her.
Jane disappeared into the bathroom, emerging clean and fresh a few minutes later, her make-up removed and her bare skin glowing in the lamp light. I joined her, gently washing my body, paying special attention to my own anatomy.
"How'd it go?" she asked, a cheeky smile on her face.
"You could say it was... wet."
"Good!" She stepped into the shower with me, water cascading over us both. "I want to tidy up now."
"Is that so?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm a bit of a neat freak," she smiled. "I like to be clean after sex."
"There's nothing wrong with that," I agreed. "My sexy fairy must like it clean as well."
Jane's laugh rang through the room as I washed the rest of my body. When we reemerged, I climbed back into bed, Jane wrapping her arm around me and settling in close.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For...everything," she replied.
"Your welcome, princess," I said. "Now that's two thumbs up."
"I bet your wife will give three or four."
"You have a point," I replied, my tail slipping under the sheet. "You've got me feeling frisky."
Jane giggled. "I'm sure Martin will be more than happy."
"I'll let you find out," I offered, my eyes already imagining the future encounters to come.
Jane laid back against the pillow, passing out almost immediately, her fingers tracing me. "You know..." she said, her voice slurred and quiet, "try not to wake me up."
I pressed my ear against her chest. I drifted off soon after. The last thing I heard before sleep claimed me was her giggle - the sound of pure, unadulterated happiness.
"So you guys want to change rooms for the rest of the night?"
I informed her, "It's not required if you feel uneasy."
"We're just trying something new tonight," she replied. "To be honest, we've never tried sleeping in different rooms before."
I responded, "I wasn't aware of that."
She continued, "It's not your fault. Lesley led Martin away without resistance, and I didn't either."
Jane contemplated for a moment, then said, "Let me check."
Going into the other room, I heard a brief conversation. When she returned, she slid the doors that partitioned the rooms and went back to bed.
"You can have me for the night," she stated.
The Following Day
Jane and I were engaging in bedroom playfulness on Sunday morning when someone knocked on the partition door.
"Can we enter?" Lesley's voice was heard from the other side.
"Yes, please," Jane responded.
Lesley and Martin entered the room, both in the nude. I took a look at Martin's body, which was quite ripped, lacking any trace of fat.
"Leave that woman alone," Lesley told me teasingly. "She's far too much for you."
Lesley hopped onto the bed between Jane and myself. Martin got behind Jane, sandwiching us all together. They spooned as couples.
"Did you have a good time last night?" Lesley inquired of Jane.
"I had a fantastic time," Jane responded.
Lesley leaned over and gave Jane a kiss, hugging her afterward.
"I also had a fantastic time," she mentioned. "Thank you for sharing your boyfriend with me."
There was no awkwardness in being on the bed with Jane and Martin, which was reassuring. I had anticipated having sex again, but instead, Lesley reminded me that she required my assistance in taking Jane for a ride in the Porsche. We went back to our respective rooms to get dressed, agreeing to meet for breakfast at 9:30. I didn't get much time to inquire from Lesley about her experience with Martin, but her demeanor suggested she had enjoyed herself.
Several individuals were present at breakfast that I recognized from the previous night, yet it seemed most of the guests had either driven or taken a taxi home following the party conclusion. I pondered Mark and Sally and how, if all went according to plan, they would have been boarding a plane by this moment.
We were all dressed in jeans, at least all except Lesley, who wore a pair of costly Guess jeans that tightly hugged her lithe physique. She'd been advised of the brand by Kate, who was a fan, and while they were much more expensive than a typical pair of Levi's or Wranglers, I couldn't help but appreciate how they flattered Lesley's body. Jane commented on them as well, boosting Lesley's self-esteem.
After breakfast concluded around ten, I suggested to Jane that we took a drive. She seemed excited. However, as we left the restaurant, Lesley drew me aside.
"Steven, would it be okay if I slept with Martin again while you're gone?" she inquired abruptly. "To be honest," she added, "we've got to vacate the room at midday."
"Two hours, is that correct?" I inquired.
Lesley seemed a bit embarrassed.
"Have a good time," I told her.
"Thank you," she replied, then added, "I love you."
We retraced our steps into the parking lot and, after Martin and Jane observed the car, I proposed that we depart. Jane attempted to access the car's passenger side, but I stopped her.
"The steering wheel's on the opposite side," I explained.
Jane appeared perplexed and asked, "Me drive this?"
"It's simple," I assured her. "The insurance is under the company. As long as you have permission, you can drive it."
"True," Lesley confirmed.
Jane seemed hesitant but eager to try. I handed her the keys and Lesley suggested that they left us alone.
"It's likely Jane doesn't want an audience," she argued.
It seemed a polite move, but of course, Lesley had other intentions. It was nearly ten fifteen by now and the clock was ticking.
Jane looked anxious as she got behind the wheel and adjusted the seat.
"It's just like any other car," I encouraged her. "The driving is effortless."
As we left the parking spot, Jane started to enjoy herself.
"Where are we heading?" Jane inquired.
"There's a cafe at Box Hill if you'd like a cup of tea," I suggested. "I often visit it on the motorcycle."
Jane felt more confident as we approached the M25 motorway and drove in the fast lane. She was beginning to enjoy herself.
"Where are we headed?" she asked.
"There's a cafe at Box Hill if you'd like a cup of tea," I suggested. "I like to go there on my motorcycle."
Jane's smile grew, and she stroked the steering wheel. "Set the GPS to Box Hill," she instructed.
We sped along the highway in the fast lane, with Jane gradually growing more confident behind the wheel.
"I'm well aware of it. My ex-partner owned a motorbike. He would take me there every Sunday. I haven't visited this place for quite a while."
There's been a cafe at Box Hill since the 1920s, and it has been synonymous with motorbikes, while being used by hikers too. We ordered two cups of tea and sat outside basking in the sunshine, chatting while we observed the bikes and their riders.
I found out that Jane grew up in Walthamstow, located about ten miles or so from where I had grown up. Until the age of 16, we shared similar childhoods. But then she left high school and got a job as a sales assistant in a high street clothing store. In addition to that, she started modeling in the evenings.
"How long have you been with Mark?" I inquired.
"We've been together for five years now and have been living together for three."
"Any plans to be like Sally and get married?"
"Mark won't marry me unless I quit modeling, and I'm not quite ready for that. Besides, we're saving up for a home, and at the moment, I make more money than he does."
"I see."
"It'll change when Mark becomes an established stuntman, and it'll take even longer for him to build a positive reputation. Furthermore, glamour modeling is a young girl's game. I've probably got just a couple of years left in it."
"How old are you?" I asked curiously.
"Twenty-three."
"That's incredible! I assumed you were older than that."
"You're off by three years," I stated.
"So who do you think Lesley fancies now?" Jane inquired.
"Lesley and Martin."
"How long do you think they've been dating?"
"Lesley told me that she wanted to have sex with Martin before we left. Lesley often asks for permission before engaging in a sexual encounter. I imagine she enjoyed being with Martin the previous night."
"I had instructed Mark that I was comfortable with him having sex with Lesley this morning, but he shouldn't hound her for it."
"I'm confident he wouldn't need to," I joked.
"Just so you know, I had a fantastic time with you last night," Jane confessed.
"You're an attractive girl, Jane," I stated. "But what I truly enjoyed was your company."
"So it wasn't the sex that you preferred?" she inquired.
"Yes, it was the sex for me as well," I laughed.
"I was wondering if I could rest my head on your shoulder?"
"After what you did to me last night, it wouldn't be viewed as too inappropriate," she giggled.
I placed my arm around Jane's shoulders and things began to heat up quite quickly. Before long, we were kissing like two young lovers.
Jane felt more confident behind the wheel of the Porsche on the way back. I started to worry about her speed, but I kept my anxiety inside. Thankfully, we managed to avoid attracting attention from the police. Once we reached the country club, it was teeming with golfers who had clearly been enticed by the late May sunshine to play a round. Jane parked the Porsche, and we went in search of Lesley and Martin, who we quickly found in the bar.
"How was it?" Lesley questioned Jane.
"It was a blast," Jane responded. "And how was it for the two of you?"
Lesley turned to Martin, and they both exchanged smiles.
"We had a wonderful time," Lesley confirmed. "And thank you both for being so understanding."
"We planned to find a pub and have lunch," Martin added.
"It sounds like a great idea," I said. "Any suggestions for a nearby pub?"
"It's just Martin and me going to the pub for lunch," Lesley clarified. "I've got a bit of a late checkout on our room. Can I have the keys to the Porsche? Then we'll leave the two of you alone and return at around two o'clock?"
"Can you make it 2.30?" Jane requested playfully...
Read also:
- Strange and Wild Chapter 2: The High Priestess
- Anu's Merging: A Harmonized Combination
- My delight: Chapter 1
- In Bangalore, overlooking the omission of Trisha
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