Loving Authority Ch 12

Chapter 12 - The Third Way

Max waited patiently for Emily to arrive. He'd suggested meeting at a bar close to his place, but Emily had been insistent that they meet nearer hers. He assumed - correctly - that this meant they'd be going back to hers again that night.

It had been a bit odd having sex with her while her husband was just downstairs, but Max had questioned himself deeply and had valiantly battled with his morals -- and it turned out he was

just fine

with it.

Emily had chosen a café & bar attached to a local gallery for their meeting. It often held drinks and viewing events, and that night it was hosting a

Retrospective

to celebrate the art of a local painter. It was a classic wine and nibbles snorefest, but the place was packed. Max looked at the crowd around him; a mixture of Bohemian art folk and the well-dressed well-to-do. He cringed in his seat, feeling both bored and a little out of place in his estate agent-style shiny shoes and open-neck shirt. Fortunately, he had no intention of staying long, and he wouldn't be hanging around to view any paintings. Art was

not

his thing. He rubbed his hands in anticipation of what might occur after they left the tedium of the show. What an amazing stroke of luck to find this girl just before he left London -- a horny stunner who digged him, with no expectation of a long-term commitment.

Result!

He saw Emily arrive at the door. "

Fuuuck

," he thought to himself as she approached. She looked more shaggable every time he saw her, and tonight's 'posh girl chic' was her best yet. She blended in perfectly with the other

Retrospective

attendees, perfectly at home with her kin. He took in her new hair style and floaty dress, excited at the prospect that he'd soon be ripping it off her. He reached under the table to scratch his freshly scented balls (a quick spray of aftershave in his boxers was a regular trick of his -- he was confident it drove the ladies

wild

) before standing to greet her. Flicking a mental switch, he turned on 'socially acceptable Max', concealing 'caveman Max' with some carefully chosen words and gentlemanly behaviour that he'd learnt on a course called

'How to

Win

in Life and Love'

. It had cost thousands of dollars to attend -- but look at the outcome! Max was a

conqueror

.

"Crikey, Em, what a pearler!" said Max as she approached. He remembered his training and gave a big smile before he leant in to kiss her cheek.

"He can be so well mannered when he tries," Emily noted approvingly. "His mother taught him well."

*******

Across the room, another pair of eyes also noticed Emily's arrival. Mrs Prendergast lived a few doors down from Emily & Mark, and just

loved them

. "What a delightful couple," she'd often remark to her elderly husband Harold, who could no longer get out as much as he'd like. She was very content to tell her companions at her weekly Woman's Institute meeting that she was

such

good friends with a lawyer and a doctor. It hardly mattered that they were little more than polite acquaintances -- the ladies of the WI were jealous, and that was what counted. She lifted her hand to give a weak wave in Emily's direction, but on this occasion her neighbour didn't see her, and Mrs Prendergast let her arm drop back to the table.

"She looks like a picture herself tonight," her inner voice sang happily as sat amongst the paintings and nodded with a smile at the beautiful young lady she saw before her. "She must be here with that nice husband of hers." She turned her arthritic neck to watch where Emily went, and was just in time to see her kiss a

different

young man. And fully on the lips!

"Goodness!" thought Mrs Prendergast, feeling a little flustered, her eyes widening. "

What

is going on here?!

"Maybe it's her brother," she reasoned with herself uncertainly, "or perhaps an old friend she knows well?" Yes, that was most likely. An old friend, who was more than likely a good pal of Mark's too. That must be it. She sat back contentedly in her seat, order restored in her mind.

She watched as Emily and her friend chatted. They certainly seemed close. Emily seemed to keep touching his hand, and she watched as the man leant over the table to kiss her again. Something didn't seem right...

Emily and her acquaintance didn't stay long, swiftly finishing their drinks and leaving together, the young man's hand resting on her bottom. Mrs Prendergast watched in astonishment as she saw the fingers of that same hand give a little squeeze to the flesh, and she heard Emily giggle.

"It's nice to keep in touch with loved ones," Mrs Prendergast thought doubtfully, feeling more than a little unsettled. She caught the eye of the waiter and ordered a sherry to steady her nerves.

*******

Emily and Max walked the short distance home, arms round each other, canoodling like teenagers. This was fun! Max had taken a little persuasion to accept that Mark would be in the room with them, but once Emily had promised he wouldn't get too close, Max had reluctantly agreed to her demand. It was either that, or go home with a raging boner, standing like a Wongan cactus in the Aussie outback, tall and proud in the parched landscape, with no hope of quenching rainfall to sate its thirst.

*******

The evening passed quickly for Mark. He'd unclipped himself soon after Emily had left to go for a wee and turn up the heating, but had dutifully locked himself back in to position to wait for her return. He had to admit, it was pretty exciting, and every time he thought of her in (or out) of her underwear, he grew hard and his loins ached. It took all his self control not to gratify himself before they even got home -- but he knew the waiting was part of the fun. He closed his eyes and imagined what Emily might have in store for him.

His eyes glazed over as his mind wandered, dreams of her clothes and her body swimming before him. He thought of Emily's instructions when he had helped her to dress, her excitement when she had left him, and the smile that must be playing across her pretty face at this very moment. He envisioned her laughter, her movements, the way her basque had clung to her when he'd pulled the ribbons tight...

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of voices in the street that drifted up through the open window, and then a squeak of the front door swinging open. They were home! Their voices echoed in the hallway, with long pauses in the conversation that could only be explained by their mouths being otherwise occupied.

"

Max!

" he heard Emily giggling. "

Stop it!

At least let me get through the door!"

A few more moments of silence followed, and Mark imagined how Emily's head would be gently tilted to the side as she kissed her lover. He wondered where Max's hands were straying as his own arousal grew...

Max's hands were indeed trying to stray, but Emily wasn't letting him renege on his side of the deal.

"Upstairs," she said firmly, "now." She took him by the hand and pulled him up the staircase, but gave in to temptation on the way and stopped on the landing to kiss him again. Max was a

bloody

good kisser.

Mark listened to the noises outside, knowing exactly what was going on. He fidgeted in the bed, feeling restless with his growing urge to touch himself. He screwed up his eyes as he listened to the muffled kisses and occasional rattle of the door as the amorous couple outside bumped against it.

"

Why does this even turn me on?

" Mark wondered. He couldn't help but think of the final words of George Orwell's

1984

, when Winston finally admitted to himself that he loved Big Brother. Why had he grown to idolise the very thing that should break his heart?

The door burst open, and Emily and Max almost fell into the room as the catch gave way during a particularly vigorous fondle. Emily spun round quickly after her unexpectedly rapid arrival in the room, her cheeks flushed as she faced Mark.

"Sorry," she laughed a little nervously, "the door gave way." She looked down at Mark's erection, and realised he didn't seem to mind. "You seem OK there though," she said, smiling as she saw his excitement.

Max had stumbled into the room behind her, but had rapidly caught his balance and was now staring in revulsion at the scene before him.

"Ah fuck, Emily, you didn't tell me your fella would be trussed up like a koala in a gum tree," he said in distaste. "Have some respect for yourself, man," he added, shaking his head as he addressed Mark.

Emily turned towards him. "Now Max, be nice. Mark is here as a silent participant, aren't you Marky?" Mark nodded. "He'll be no trouble, and his presence is non-negotiable. Do you think you can handle that?"

Max scratched his chest as he considered his options. Sex tonight, or no sex tonight. It was no choice at all. "Oh fuck, alright," he sighed. "But I don't want to have to look at it," he said gesturing towards Mark's penis. "It's grossing me out."

"Oh, just look the other way," said Emily impatiently, and leant in to distract him with a kiss. Fortunately, she was a

legendary

snogger, and Max's attention was easily diverted. After a moment, Emily pulled back and began to unbutton his shirt, keeping the pace of festivities high to both keep Max's mind off Mark, and to satisfy her urge to see Max undressed again.

Shirt removed, she turned around and presented her back to Max. Mark was treated to a frontal view of his flawless wife. Although the soft pink dress pulled in tight to her curves, the modest cut and elegant-but-sweet makeup gave every impression that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

Her demure façade was quickly exposed when she looked over her shoulder to Max and batted her eyelids at him.

"Help me with my dress?" she asked, replicating her earlier words to Mark. She swept her hair to the side to allow Max easy access to the zip, and both men in the room watched transfixed as the zipper was lowered and the dress fell away. Mark knew exactly what lay beneath, but Max stood hypnotised by the sight of the pale-grey material covering the flawless skin of her back, the ribbon bow just begging to be undone. He reached out for her and placed his hands on her sides, feeling the curve of her body beneath the textured stitching of the lace.

Mark, too, appreciated Emily's beauty and sensuality as she stood in her underwear, her body still facing towards him despite turning her head towards Max. He felt aroused for himself and excited about what might happen, but he also began to feel a new emotion he couldn't find a word to describe. Almost happiness, but not for himself -- and certainly not for Max. No, a happiness for Emily -- a deep contentment that he knew she was certain to be satisfied, even if it wouldn't be by him.

His brain whirled as he thought back to trawling sites that discussed FLR and other kinks weeks ago. He was

sure

there was a word for this -- the joy one could experience from seeing their partner fulfilled and of enjoying their sexuality, even when it was with another soul. It was the very

opposite

of jealousy he felt, but what was the word for that? Non-possessiveness, perhaps? Emotional empathy?

He felt secure in a way he couldn't explain while watching Emily. He

knew

she loved him, and seeing her gratified could only enhance their relationship. Her pleasure was his pleasure, her exultation was his delight. Mark watched in complete contentment as Emily turned her body to face Max, the lovers wrapping their arms around one another and kissing again.

And now, Max knelt down before her, running his hands down her body. He stopped when his face was level with her hips and leant in to kiss her, his lips brushing the soft material of her knickers. Emily slowed her breathing and lifted her eyes as he did so, fixing her gaze on the picture rail running around the room in an attempt to gain control of herself. She felt Max slip his fingers into her waistband and gently ease her underwear down, and heard his burble of delight when he discovered her freshly waxed body. Her ran his fingertips over her, just as she had guided Mark hours earlier, but his fingers lingered over the gap between her legs for much, much longer, feeling her, rubbing her, probing her... and she let him.

Before she knew it, Max was covering her in kisses, teasingly moving his mouth to press his lips to her legs or her abdomen, then running his tongue over her most sensitive parts. The sensation was electric, and wonderful, and almost too much to bear, and... then it stopped.

She looked down to see Max grinning up at her, his upper lip covered with a sheen of moisture.

"On the bed, please," he asked.

Emily looked back towards Mark, who still lay handcuffed to the headboard, craning his neck to see her.

"OK, honey?" she asked him.

"Yes," he confirmed serenely. He was more than OK. He could see the need in her eyes, and he wanted more for her.

Emily walked to the bed and sat between Mark's outstretched legs. She rested her hands on his ankles and then lay down, her head resting between his thighs so that she too faced the ceiling. She still wore her expensive basque, and from this angle Mark had a perfect view of the lift it offered to her breasts, which rode high and proud in the elegantly crafted cups, her cleavage perfectly defined, her skin contrasting beautifully with the rich material. The rise and fall of her chest in the tight bodice exposed how fast she was breathing, and how out of control she felt despite her outward appearance of composure. Emily held Mark's ankles for support as she closed her eyes and slowly spread her legs.

Max was still kneeling. Shuffling forwards, he kissed her again. Mark felt the mattress begin to shift as Emily moved her pelvis towards Max, her fingers gripping ever tighter as she shifted to allow Max full access, pleading for more with her posture. But Max was a tease, and had already pulled back. He watched as Emily pushed herself towards him.

"You like that, then?" he joked. Mark felt Emily's hair tickle his legs as she nodded.

"Yes," she confirmed breathlessly.

"Want some more?" Max asked.

Emily nodded again, lying ready and exposed. Max leant forward, eyes wide open as he watched for Emily's response. He pushed his tongue as deep as he could manage, running it upwards and lifting to dwell for a brief moment on her fuchsia-pink clitoris, swirling his tip around it before lifting away. He repeated the process over and again, scrutinising Emily's face as he did so, noting her posture and quiet gasp each time he entered her.

Minutes passed. Max raised his eyes still higher as he tried to calculate which bit she liked to be licked most, but when Emily turned her head while writhing in pleasure, he caught sight of it again.

"

Yuck.

"

Emily watched in frustration as he stopped, his offering obviously over.

"Nah, it's no good," said Max, looking up from the floor at Mark's erect penis. "I can still see it -- it's

so

off-putting."

He bent down and picked up Emily's knickers from the floor where he had dropped them. Getting to his feet, he shuffled round the bed and inched forwards with care as if defusing a bomb, trying not to get too near Mark's body. Reaching as close as he dared, he tossed the underwear onto Mark's dick, where it caught round the tip and covered it.

"That's better," Max said, relaxing.

Mark wriggled his hips a little as the material settled on his throbbing glans; this lightest of touches had almost been enough to finish him off. He'd always been terrible at fairground games, but that night he scored his first success at 'hoopla', his movement causing the knickers to slip down his shaft. His purple head now poked through one of the leg holes, now looking for all the world like an alien planet, with Emily's panties providing the orbiting ring system.

"For fuck's sake, man," came Max's exasperated response as he saw what happened. Emily leapt up to keep the peace, her own pleasure now on hold.

She kissed Max again, then knelt herself. She wasn't keen on giving him a blowjob, but an urgent diversion was needed, and anyway, it would be fun to torment him as he had teased her. She unbuttoned his fly and pulled his jeans and boxers off in a single move, his erection springing up in front of her face. She leant forwards to kiss it, and Mark saw her flick her tongue over the top, returning the favour that Max had just paid her. Max closed his eyes in ecstasy as she continued her work, his mind completely emptying of any concerns about what Mark might look like in the nude.

Mark watched opened mouthed (much like Emily now was) as she took Max between her lips, moving her head slowly back and forth to gain control of the situation. His warm flesh filled her mouth, and though his shaft was rock hard, the head felt smooth and spongy to her tongue

"This isn't as bad as I remembered," Emily mused, beginning to enjoy herself and the effect she was having on Max. After a few moments, she began to whirl her tongue around him, while watching carefully for any warning signs of approaching release. But Max seemed in control of himself, his eyes simply remaining shut in a state of bliss.

After a couple of minutes of quiet work, she pulled away and stood. That had actually been quite fun! Max looked disappointed to finish; the hand he had rested on her head tried to persuade her to stay, but did not stop her withdrawing.

"Come here," she murmured huskily to Max, "I've got something better than that." She led him to the foot of the bed and leant forwards, resting the palms of her hands on the covers by Mark's feet. Emily now looked towards her husband, but in the same movement she deliberately flexed her back to raise her pelvis, before spreading her legs to offer herself to Max in the most carnal of ways.

Her shoulders rose as she positioned herself for sex, pushing her breasts forward, and she lifted her head so she was now on a level with Mark's eyeline. Looking towards Mark, she maintained unblinking eye contact, her face alive with energy. Max, in full heat of desire, stepped up behind her and gripped her hips, pushing himself inside her without a second thought. This time, she was ready for Max's entry, and slowly exhaled through pursed lips as she relaxed into him. Max began to drive himself forwards, his repetitive motions leading to increasingly loud squeaks from the floorboards as the bed bounced up and down.

Mark's head rested on a pillow to give him the best view in the house. He watched the scene in fascination, the sight of his wife's obvious pleasure giving him a sense of sympathetic joy. The word he had been looking for popped back into his head as he watched Emily's lip begin to quiver.

Compersion

- the pure happiness derived from observing your partner's joy and success.

He remembered now. It wasn't a term from FLR at all, but from the polyamory community. FLR sites rarely mentioned much about the subservient man's feelings, and simply required service and obedience. It was only when he had lost himself down a rabbit hole of links and clicks that he'd found the concept of compersion. And what an amazing idea it was! The suggestion that someone could be genuinely pleased for their partner, with no reservation and no sense of loss for themselves, had struck Mark as wonderful -- almost religious in sentiment.

Mark and Emily were soul mates. They had been together for years, shared experiences, tears and laughter, and were each other's best friend. This was something new, a mutual experience despite their different roles. Emily was receiving great pleasure, and Mark was glad for her.