Chapter 217 - LAST TIME

She looked so beautiful, the wind whipping around her, brushing her blonde hair across her face and pressing her soft dress against the outline of her thɨġhs and the curves of her brėȧsts. A warmth flared under the confines of my own neat wool suit, observing her grace and beauty and remembering how we had lain together the night before, my thɨġh pressed between hers, feeling the heat of her growing arousal.

"Goodbye Emilya," she'd smiled, outwardly innocent, the sister of a colleague with a shared love of history and classic novels. "Call us to say you've got home safely."

"Goodbye Vivienne," I'd replied, sorry that my visit was over. It might be weeks before we met again. "Goodbye Stefan," I smiled at her brother, "it was so good of you to invite me. The coastal air was just what I needed."

"We're so glad you could stay Emilya," he smiled. "You certainly have roses in your cheeks again."

Saying this, he pulled me to him and kissed me, but inhaled deeply during this innocent gesture. His eyes were overly bright when he pulled back, and my wicked gaze flicked to the front of his trousers where I detected a bulge.

As I seated myself in the taxi, I made sure my skirt rode high up my leg. Glancing at Vivienne, I saw the pink of her tongue dab her bottom lip while Stefan looked wolfish. Touching my pearl necklace, my pussƴ throbbed in response and my pȧntɨės dampened.

The journey to the station flew by, as did my train ride home. I sat in the carriage with a romance novel open in my ŀȧp, but the words on the page could not compete with the vivid pictures in my head, memories of my stay and the secret trysts I had enjoyed.

Once home, I light a fire in the grate and put on some sultry music. I strip off my clothes, leaving them folded neatly on the stairs. The study is my inner sanctum; at the rear of the cottage, it is not overlooked. I lie in the deep armchair wearing only white undėrwėȧr, taking time to indulge in reminiscence of events which unfolded when I stayed with Vivienne and Stefan.

Hearing a gentle knock on my bedroom door, I paused. I'd already stripped off the warm clothes I wore for our walk along the beach and I was in just my undėrwėȧr and a string of pearls.

"Who is it?" I called out quietly, although I had my suspicions.

"Stefan," he answered.

"Come in."

I stood without being coy as he entered the room, I knew I looked good in the peach lace body. It hugs my form but does not hide the dark tips of my brėȧsts or the curls of my muff. Stefan took in my near nȧkėd state with a hungry look.

"Vivienne is making tea and crumpets, but I had to have you," he stepped closer, dragging me into a tight embrace. Every buŧŧon of his jacket dug into me, and the heat of his ċȯċk almost burned through his trousers.

"Hands on the bed you little tease."

I complied immediately, nectar gathering between my pussƴ lips at his stern manner.

"Show me how much you want this."

I rested my palms on the covers, thrusting my backside towards him. Already my pulse was thundering and my nɨppŀės tightened to hard points against the lace.

As I indulge in these sweetly seductive memories, my hands roam over my curves, delighting in my glossy stockings and the smooth fabric of my bra which cups my brėȧsts but does not conceal my aching nubs which yearn for stimulation. I run my fingers through the curls above my ŀȧbɨȧ, old-school how Stefan likes it, tugging on them sends hot tingles to my core. Unclipping my bra at the back, I free my brėȧsts and tease their tender tips, they respond to my touch as eagerly as ever.

"You ooze sėx appeal Emilya." Stefan's voice carried a raw edge. I heard him drag at his zip and let his trousers slip down his legs. "You're making me ooze, look how much I want you."

Gazing over my shoulder, his ċȯċk stood stiffly to attention, a drool of precum glossing its tip. Grasping himself with large, capable hands he began to pump his length slowly but firmly.

"We have just five minutes for stolen pŀėȧsurė. Let's make sure we come."

I was in full agreement, a buzz of dėsɨrė had held me in its thrall since I arrived at their home, moisture had clung to my pussƴ lips since we kissed each other hello in the entrance hall. With alacrity I pulled at the snaps that fastened the crotch of my undėrwėȧr, they dug into my swollen lips with bite, then flew open to reveal my arousal in all its plump, wet glory.

I reached behind myself and sank my middle finger into my hot, moist depths. I wanted to groan aloud but was afraid we'd be overheard. Instead I gasped and thrust deeper, fingering myself rhythmically as Stefan watched, sliding a tight fist up and down his straining erection.

I am touching myself the same way now, kneeling in the chair beside the fire, my flesh is heating when I recall the passionate look on Stefan's face as he watched me frig myself, much as I am heated by the flickering flames. Juices leak around my eager fingers while in my mind's eye I can see his face tighten and his prick purple with excitement at my lascivious display of self-pleasure.

He stepped closer. "That's right, my little sėx kitten. You want it don't you?"

"All the time," I agreed, ŀɨċkɨnġ my lips.

"I'm going to come, all over your pretty backside."

"Do it!" I urged him, lowering to my elbows on the bed before drawing my hand round to the front. I began circling my ċŀɨt at a maddening pace.

"Take it, take it all!" Stefan cursed, through gritted teeth.

With quiet grunts, he ėʝȧċuŀȧtėd ropes of warm fluid over the curvaceous orbs of my backside. I ground out a hot, tight ȯrġȧsm, but my pussƴ pulsed around nothing. When would I feel his girth stretch my ċunt? Mutual masturbation was fun, and I loved how we teased each other, but every encounter was a snack not a meal. I longed to devour him, to take everything Stefan had to give, and fall back on the bed bruised and battered but fully satiated.

Don't climax yet, I tell myself, ŀɨċkɨnġ at my wrinkled fingers with delight. I've always loved how I taste, the smell of my own arousal comforts me. I enjoy being feral, letting my libido lead the way and I enjoy the game of chase with Stefan, where sometimes I'm the predator pretending to be the prey.

"Now there's a pearl necklace to be proud of!" he admired the beads of come, before tidying himself back into his trousers. "Don't wash this off. I have marked you, and you are mine."

He pulled me up into a crushing kiss, grabbing a handful of my hair. My legs were weak with arousal and I lost myself in surrender. Then with a burning tweak and twist to one of my nɨppŀės, he was gone. I heard his footsteps on the stairs then his voice exclaiming how hungry he was for crumpets and tea.

I'm hungry too, but not for food. This is what he does to me, Stefan uses me and teases me, putting me in my place which keeps me coming back for more. I live for the thrill, gobbling up any crumbs of pŀėȧsurė he throws my way.

It was wet and sticky pulling my lingerie back over the daubs of come with which Stefan had decorated me, but I enjoyed our delicious, sėxy secret. I washed my hands and face to allow time for it to dry, then I slipped a knitted dress over the lace body and zipped my legs into soft leather, knee-high boots. I was aware of Stefan's emissions tightening the skin on my rump but, once downstairs, I smiled sweetly and accepted the cup of tea Vivienne offered.

Butter from the hot crumpets had melted into golden liquid, so I popped a finger into my mouth to lick it clean. Vivienne was watching, her gaze intense and her pupils dilated. She wanted me—I knew it then, although I'd suspected it before.

A new game of cat and mouse had begun; whenever she looked at me, her gaze burned with ŀust, then she'd lower her eyes and look away. Neither of us wanted Stefan to notice our sapphic attraction, although for different reasons. Our flirtation was subtle and covert, making my body hum like a tuning fork. When she stood close by, the urge to kiss or touch her was so strong it was almost tangible.

I cannot get comfortable in the armchair as I remember the restless, antsy energy which had me wired through that dinner with Stefan and Vivienne. Reaching under a loose cushion I locate a chubby vibrator and sigh to myself, a pŀėȧsurė deferred is a pŀėȧsurė magnified. I activate it to a pattern of low vibrations and tease my body the way that evening together teased me. My nɨppŀės respond, aching to attentive buŧŧons as I trail it around the sėnsɨtɨvė flesh of my aureolae. I lie across the chair, my buŧŧȯċks resting on one arm and my legs braced up the wall. The shelves of the bookcase are like rungs of a ladder on which to rest my stockinged feet. I feel sensuous, purring like a cream filled cat as I draw the gadget over my puffy ŀȧbɨȧ.

Stefan was courteous but distant that night, thinking he was keeping me on my toes; little guessing that I was stalking his sister. When he left the room to get more wine, I slipped my hand inside her blouse. My fingers brushed her braless brėȧsts, slicing across the buds of her nɨppŀės with my short nails. Vivienne closed her eyes and squeezed her thɨġhs together, biting her lip so she wouldn't mȯȧn aloud.

Now I use the same slicing motion on my brėȧsts, but more harshly than I did to her, needing hot pŀėȧsurė not just a tingle. I trail my fingers through the pelt above my pussƴ and, pulling the skin tight, I press the egg shaped vibe against the cluster of nerves that is my ċŀɨt. My body jerks in response so I ease away from the pŀėȧsurė, my game has just begun.

While we ate, making polite conversation, Vivienne insinuated her nȧkėd foot between my legs. I parted my thɨġhs which allowed her entry, then her agile toes teased my stocking tops. I don't know what Stefan and I talked about, but I had to keep the conversation flowing so that her secret touches would not stop.

"I'm so thirsty," I cried, draining my glass of water. "Stefan could I have some more?"

When he left the table to replenish my drink, I pulled down the neckline of my dress to display my brėȧsts, my nɨppŀės now dark and engorged from her foot play. She responded by delving one hand under the table. She brought it back to display index and middle finger shiny with nectar, which she slyly licked clean just as her brother returned.

Such a delicious memory. The more illicit the behaviour the more arousing, I decide, ŀɨċkɨnġ my liquid arousal from my own probing fingers before running the vibrator through my folds to thrilling effect. Not wanting to rush, I stroke around less obviously erogenous zones with the buzzing gadget, the backs of my knees, underneath my brėȧsts, inside my elbows.

Vivienne had touched my wrist, that night, as we sat side by side on the sofa, an audience to Stefan's lecturing on some historical point. I would normally hang on to his every word, finding his mind very sėxy. But that night I could only think of the delicate woman beside me and how soon I could get her into my bed. Her light touches electrified my body, heat and sensation were zinging from nɨppŀės to ċŀɨt while my pussƴ dripped with arousal which was quickly coating the tops of my thɨġhs.

"Tomorrow," I whispered to Stefan and demurely kissed him goodnight. I nipped his earlobe so briefly that nobody would notice, but so he would realise I was serious about not visiting me.

Remembering how I lay nȧkėd in their guest bed, waiting for Vivienne's soft tap on the door, my arousal ramps up. Each time the vibrator slides between my ŀȧbɨȧ I slip closer to my goal, but why not edge myself a little longer? I'm enjoying the sweetness of my recollections.

Vivienne stood just inside the door, in a shaft of moonlight. My curtains weren't fully drawn because I wanted us to observe one another. She shrugged a silk robe from her shoulders in a move that spoke of dėsɨrė without self-awareness, she had no idea how beautiful she was. I could see the pale triangle on her mons and the darker circles of her nɨppŀės, high on her ċhėst because her brėȧsts were small. Her moves were sinuous as she climbed into bed beside me, and grabbed my hand.

"I've never done this," she whispered.

"Had sėx?" I sat up, surprised.

"With a woman," she clarified, so I silenced her with a kiss.

"It's easy, you already know what feels good. So do what you like, but do it to me."

Saying this I captured one nɨppŀė-tip in my mouth, suċkɨnġ and squeezing I rolled it with a pressure which escalated from tentative, to ȧssertive to vicious. She tried not to mȯȧn, yet every tiny noise she made fed my voracious appetite. I treated her other brėȧst the same way and was delighted when she began rubbing her mons against my leg. The slick and heat I detected was a green light and I began to finger her, easing two digits in from the outset. As I thrust, I rubbed her ċŀɨt until she ġrȯȧnėd and came.

Oh my gosh, that memory is so sweet, coaxing the first climax out of a vɨrġɨn. I press the vibe hard against my ċŀɨt, making my body tremor and thrust against it. Then I draw it up to my mouth to suck and lick the silicone, fragrant with my musk.

"Now darling, lick me the way you enjoy it." Then I sank my hot pussƴ against her mouth.

Her first touches were so tentative, they tickled and made me squirm. I blew gently against her throbbing ċŀɨt, knowing it must still be pulsing from her recent release. Soon she grew braver, more accustomed to the taste of me, and I began teasing her pussƴ from the outside working inwards. I gloried in the sighs and slurping sounds she was making. When her hands gripped my thɨġhs to pull my vulva hard against her mouth making my arousal spiral, I knew she was no longer afraid.

My pussƴ is slippery with juices now. I wish I'd thought to bring a dildo on which to thrust, but perhaps this is truer to my memories of Vivienne, ŀɨċkɨnġ and suċkɨnġ on my ċŀɨt until she brought me to a trembling, thrusting climax against her face.

We fingered and fuċkėd each other the whole night, sometimes dozing, but she was so eager to learn all the ways of lesbian love that I didn't sleep for long before she demanded more. When I taught her rimming, I almost forgot that Stefan had branded me with his come. Luckily I'd had a whore's bath before retiring to bed, but as she bit experimentally on my fleshy buŧŧȯċks I had to suppress a smile.

I marked her in my own way, a livid purple love bite to the side of one brėȧst. As I suċkŀėd hard, drawing the flesh deep into my mouth I had kept eye contact with Vivienne, had seen her wince and bite her lip. But she was delighted with the end result, preening in the mirror and asking for more.

I'm pressing the silicone coated vibrator against my pussƴ, pulling my ŀȧbɨȧ tight so that my ċŀɨtȯrɨs cannot escape the sensations. The urgency is building and all my nerve endings are alert, waiting to take flight. My body shakes and I brace my legs against the wall. When the spasms in my core become throbs in my ċunt they transport me with delight, I draw my legs together to consume all the sensations and tip over into the abyss.

What a ride, I sigh with contented release and stroke my hands over my body as I come down from the climax. I smile to myself as I recall my parting words to Vivienne before she tiptoed back to her own, cold bed.

"When that bruise begins to fade, you need to call me, and we will do this again."

"You will mark me again?"

"Of course, you're my girl now." I smile and tuck her hair behind one ear. "Stefan must never know."

"He wouldn't approve," she shook her head.

"You can visit my cottage."

She smiled eagerly, "and sometimes you can come here, I'm sure Stefan will invite you again."

"I hope so."

Luxuriating in the chair beside the fire, the sensations of my ȯrġȧsm slip gradually away, leaving me content and relaxed. I'm happy in my new roles, both mistress and plaything, it's the best of both worlds.

The next morning, at the breakfast table, there was a jewellery box on my side plate. I looked at Stefan questioningly.

"For your birthday, dear Emilyia," he smiled. "From both of us." He touched his sister's hand.

Vivienne looked at me encouragingly. "Open it."

So I did, coffee and croissants forgotten. Inside it was a pair of pearl earrings, which I hastened to put on.

"They're beautiful," I exclaimed admiring myself in the mirror. Stefan stood behind me, allowing me to detect the heat of his arousal. "You're too kind!" I exclaimed.

Later, kneeling in the guest bedroom, with Stefan fuċkɨnġ my throat while his sister was occupied with the washing up, I showed him the extent of my appreciation.

Now, as I let my hands roam the smooth curves and dips of my body, I'm anticipating how much fun I'll have with both of them, keeping each one a secret from the other, just like last time.

Ends