Sarahs Sense Of Scents Ch 04

I want to give a special thank you to my muse, my inspiration, my co-collaborator, Aruna! She is the source of the spark (and the special twist) This will be a series, and hopefully the moderators help me get that set up right.

There are various elements to this: Fetish, Lesbian, Erotic Couplings, a little BDSM, etc., however I think unquestionably it is first and foremost a Fetish story. I hope you enjoy, and I welcome constructive criticism.

Chapter 4

As he joined us on the patio area, I noticed that P had apparently taken a quick shower. His hair was still wet but slickly brushed and he had changed clothes. He was now in blue shorts and a white button-up short sleeved shirt. It was white, and what I first missed but later figured out were penguins were all over it. The penguins were wearing beach attire.

Resigned to the fact that I wouldn't be able to bathe before I sat down to dinner, I rejoined them, and we all sat at the table. There were plates of grilled chicken breast, bowls of fruit and vegetables, and a plate stacked with pita bread. There were sauces and spices, and I planned to just watch Kareena for tips of how they put all this together to eat.

At each seat was a tall glass of an iced yellow beverage. P and Kareena drank deeply from theirs, and it looked so refreshing I couldn't resist doing the same. I was immediately refreshed by the mixture of pineapple and some other fruit juices, and it wasn't until I swallowed it that I even registered that there was alcohol in it.

I recognized very quickly that this happy concoction could be a very, very dangerous Kryptonite for me. It was wonderfully refreshing, especially after a long, hot day of work in the Florida summer heat. I realized that it wouldn't take too much alcohol for me to feel the effects.

As we ate, Kareena gently coaxed me into talking about myself. I found her to be a very enticing hostess, and it wasn't long before I was talking about my personal life, my past, my current relationship with Matt, and, with a little more coaxing, my hot relationship with Mario.

When I mentioned that the relationship with Mario was "very physical," I was on my third "Go Juice," as Kareena called them. That's probably why the quick glance between husband and wife didn't really register with me, even though I did see it. Kareena gently pushed a little on this topic.

"So, if that relationship was 'very physical,'" she asked, "how would you describe your current relationship with Mike?" she asked.

I took another drink, trying to work through the light haze of the alcohol and the physical exhaustion, which was kicking in. "Matt," I said, indirectly correcting her about his name, "Matt is...safe. He's a nice guy. He likes to make me happy. He's not..." I struggled for a word that didn't demean him - or divulge my real feelings - "...demanding." I'm not sure if I concealed the twinge of disappointment that came just voicing that reality. Later, I figured out that I didn't hide it well at all.

"Oh," responded Kareena. He sounds...safe," she used my words, but it sounded different coming from her. It seemed to rhyme with "boring" when she said it. "But don't you miss that...physical...relationship, like you had with Mario?" she said. Her smile was so gorgeous that, even though I knew she was teasing me, I couldn't help but smile back.

"Uh...yeah...that. Um, yeah, I miss it. Sometimes...I miss it a lot," I confessed.

"That's normal, Sarah. A man should be a man," she said, looking lovingly over at her husband. "He should be strong when he needs to be strong, brave when he needs to be brave, and," she took another drink from her own glass before continuing, "demanding when he needs to be demanding. Men should be men, not women in boxers."

I almost gasped at this last comment. I had almost voiced the exact same thing during an argument with Matt a month ago. I wanted him to be decisive about something; heck, I wanted him to be decisive about anything, but he was just...namby-pamby, as my paternal grandfather used to say. The argument wasn't about sex, but by now, my hunger for a strong hand in the bedroom was beginning to gnaw at my peace of mind.

Kareena continued. "When a man is a man, it allows his woman to be a woman. Or," she added mischievously, "his women to be women." She smiled at P, then at me. "A woman should feel safe in his care, but also be excited and even a little scared by his strength. No, not scared, more like...awed."

This beautiful, brilliant, wealthy business woman's description of what was very obviously the reality of her relationship with her own husband was...stirring. As in, stirring up my libido. I hadn't had even a shade of the kind of relationship she described since Marco, and I was coming to realize just how much I missed it. Matt wasn't exciting by any means, but in contrast to this he seemed absolutely bland. Tasteless.

"Wow," was my response, eventually. "That's...that just sounds so...right," I confessed. Then something clicked, a little delayed by the alcohol and the power of her words. "Did you say, 'his women to be women?'" I asked.

Kareena had a bit of extra courage from her glass, then there was that mysterious smile. "Did I say that? Hmm." That was all the answer I got. At that, she got up, taking our plates inside to the kitchen, refusing my offer to help. "No, sit. Enjoy the company. I'll be back in a few."

The sun was setting, and the deck area where we were sitting faced towards the west. In spite of the weather of the last few days, it was a beautiful sight. I stood and stepped over to the railing, resting my hands on it and feeling the breeze in my face. After the heat of the day, it was refreshing.

I heard music begin to play, a light jazz, and turned to see P operating a remote control, slowly boosting the volume until it was clearly audible, but not obnoxious. Satisfied with it, he put the remote back on the table where we had been dining, then stepped over to me.

"Sarah, would you dance with me?" he asked, putting out his hand. "Please?" he added, smiling. He had a confidence that was absolutely magnetic, and I almost automatically obliged him.

"I, I shouldn't..." I declined. "I'm hot and sweaty..." I started, "I stink, and besides, I don't imagine Kareena would be happy to find me dancing with her husband," I offered, smiling, though my resistance was already crumbling. I'm pretty sure P recognized that even before I did.

"First of all," he began, taking my hand in his in spite of my declining, "my wife is absolutely fine with it," and with that, he nodded towards the house, where his gorgeous wife was smiling out at us through a window. She waved, then pantomimed dancing. "Second," he continued, drawing my attention back to him, "you most certainly do not stink."

I scoffed at him. "Oh, please. I've been sweating all day, and I may have had a few drinks, but even I can smell myself." I made as if to smell my own armpit; a big mistake, as even through the alcohol, it stirred me. "Trust me," I went on, "I stink."

P smiled at me, being careful not to seem condescending. "Sarah, you don't stink. Do you have a scent to you? Yes. But most people, well, Americans, anyway, are so focused on not smelling like a natural human being, they bury themselves in soaps and perfumes and scented deodorants and lotions and all kinds of things. But for many of us, the body's scent can be...wonderfully natural. In India, there are many things I wish would 'catch up' to the rest of the world, but we are a very natural people. So for us," he actually leaned in, his face near my neck and left shoulder, "you don't stink at all. In fact..."

I almost jumped as Kareena's face appeared from behind me just over my other shoulder. Her lips drew near to my right ear, and she continued where P stopped.

"In fact, we actually find your natural scent..." she sniffed behind and below my right ear, "...delicious." She kissed the back of my neck lightly, and only then did I realize that, in my nervousness, I had begun to sweat back there. "So..." she pulled back, then I was shocked by a swat on my right buttock. I immediately realized her bare hand was the instrument of the smack. "Go on and dance with my husband. He's been eager to take you for a spin...around the deck," she teased, and I had little doubt there was a double meaning to that last bit.

I'd like to say it was the alcohol. Or the heat. Or that the long day had diminished my capacity to make good judgments. Or it was the alignment of Jupiter and Mercury. Or the El Nino winds.

But all I know for sure is that, at that point, they could have asked me to go rob a bank in my pajamas armed with a spoiled banana, and I'd have done it. P confidently, smoothly led me in dancing slowly around the patio area. We didn't cover much territory, but I was walking on air. He rarely broke eye contact; I sure didn't, either.

I don't know if we danced for 3 minutes or 3 hours. Eventually, we were just kind of swaying, not moving much at all. I had a sense of being like a helpless rabbit, swaying under the spell of a cobra, unable to flee my impending fate.

Still swooning as I looked up into his dark eyes, I only lightly registered the presence of his wife as she rejoined us, her front gently nestling in against my back, matching the slow pace of our slow dance. Again, she nestled her face against the side of my face.

"Sarah, Pankaj and I both find you...irresistible. Delicious. We would really like to...enjoy your company...more deeply..." Each pause was a chance for her to place soft, light kisses along my neck and jaw. "There's no pressure; if you don't want this, you're free to leave. P can drive you home; he only had one drink." She kissed me on my ear lobe this time; one of my most erogenous and vulnerable zones. "We can all laugh this off, we can blame the drinks." She paused for a breath, maybe two.

"But..." she continued, and she lightly sucked on my earlobe. I immediately felt my panties grow wet. She went on. "But if you stay with us, if you play with us, if you let us enjoy you," her hands went around my waist, and her hands slowly, slowly crept up and cupped and lifted my breasts, brushing my nipples against her husband's chest, "if you let us teach you, I will guarantee you this, dear..." Her thumbs and forefingers closed on both my nipples at once. The little traitors were already betraying me, poking out boldly. "I promise you, you will never, ever be satisfied or happy with 'safe' again." She put an exclamation point to her promise by pinching both of my nipples, not painfully, but enough to draw a gasp from my lips and a moan from my soul.

I didn't even realize my eyes had closed until I opened them when I felt P's hand gently cupping the left side of my face. As if I was waking from a dream I didn't want to stop, I slowly opened my eyes, and I was looking up into his dark pupils. The sky behind him was dark; the sun had gone down at some point but I hadn't paid it any mind.

"So, what do you say, Sarah? Do you want us to stop and take you home to, what's his name? Mike? Mark?" he asked, smiling. I didn't respond; honestly, I couldn't remember Matt's name at that moment. I wasn't even sure I'd have known my name if he didn't say it. "Or do you..." he leaned in, stopped briefly, then kissed me, softly. "Do you want to stay here with Kareena and I," he kissed me again, a little longer this time, and his hands, which had slid to my waist at some point, pulled my hips and my belly against him, "and play with us."

I wanted to answer. I wanted to respectfully, politely decline. I wanted to explain that my relationship with Mark, I mean, Mik-, I mean, MATT! was important for me, and I didn't want to jeopardize that with a physical tryst with two of the most amazing and sexy people I had ever met. So, No, thank you, but I'll go home now.

Instead, I just nodded up at him.

P smiled, but then he spoke. "No, Sarah. We, I need to hear you say it. Say it, Sarah."

"Yes," I just kind of mumbled. I could now feel Kareena's breasts against my back, her own nipples making themselves known.

"Yes, what, Sarah?" she whispered in my ear. "Tell him. Tell my man, our man, what you want. Do you want him to take you? To take control of your pleasure? To take control of your body?"

"Yes, please, P. Take me, I want you to take me," I said, regaining my voice as I let the lust take over my brain. "I'm yours," I offered, then I turned to face Kareena. "And yours, Kareena. Please, will you both..."

Kareena cut me off by kissing me. There was no hesitance like when P had kissed me. She ravished my mouth. I felt her hands go down to my waist, and then I felt her bare palms against my sides, slipping under my shirt.

Sliding upward, her hands pulled my t-shirt up, up, until she had to break the kiss to pull it over my face. I had extended my arms straight up, to facilitate her removing it, but when she had the shirt over my head, but the arm openings around the middle of my bicep, she held it there, trapping me with my arms helplessly raised above me.

"Come here, dear," she whispered, but when I looked at her, I realized she was speaking to her studly husband, not to me. I looked at him, only to see him bending down, and I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he moved right past my face, continuing down. He briefly kissed my hard left nipple, and pulled at it with his mouth just enough to make me moan, but then he continued down. At my side, right at my ribs, he kissed me again, and I realized that I'd never ever had a man or a woman kiss me there.

Slowly, he kissed and licked his way up my ribs. It was an odd sensation, one incontrovertibly erotic but also slightly ticklish. Soon, though, the kisses and licks were mixed in with the sound of him inhaling deeply. As he approached my armpit, the licks and sniffs became more and more intense. After a long, wet lick up my armpit, I

Groaned. I was confused; why was this such a turn on? It was a fleeting thought, though; soon I was just lost in the sensations, and I couldn't care less why it felt so hot.

I'm not sure when I realized that Kareena wasn't holding my arms up in place. I suspect it was about the time that I felt her hands unbuttoning my shorts and sliding them down over my hips. Her fingers slowly found their way under the thin pink panties, drawing little circles that led lower and lower. I found myself wanting to lift my hips to expedite the touch of her fingers in my lady bits.

I was awash in a storm surge of sensuous delights, a bold, exotic and dominant man lavishing attention on my stinky armpit, while his gorgeous wife finally, finally slid her slender fingers gently over the hood of my swelling clit, only to continue south, frustrating me. When her fingers reached my pussy, she and I both discovered that I had a hot spring of female lust down there. The panties were no doubt soaked, and all three of us could hear as she began to explore me.

P's right hand slid down my left side, and reached around to cup and squeeze the left side of my ass. As he did this, his face rose to mine, and he smiled at me, looking me in the eyes, though mine were half-slitted in my lust. His smile was bold, confident, just a hair shy of a smirk. He knew that he had me, that they had me, that he and his gorgeous hot wife could do anything to me right now, and I would eagerly embrace it. He bent down slightly, and his hand slid halfway down the back of my left thigh. Effortlessly, he rose, pulling my leg up.

Now, I was balanced on my right foot, supported on my left by his right arm, by his wife pressed tightly against me on the right. The result of his lifting my leg was that my dripping wet sex was opened up even more, and Kareena immediately took advantage of this, plunging the middle and ring fingers of her right hand deeply up my molten passage. Her slender but strong thumb slid up over my clit, beginning to rub circles around the hood but cruelly avoiding my hot button.

"MMMMMmmmm," I moaned into my boss's mouth, because he had sealed his lips on mine just as she invaded my netherlands. Later, when my head was cleared and the incessant waves of lust had dissipated, I would realize that I was probably not the first woman they had done this with; they worked together like a well-oiled machine, bringing me repeatedly to the edge of ecstasy, only to pull me back, denying me until I was mad with desperation.

"Please...please..." I begged Kareena, turning my face towards hers, panting at her in my heat like a dog, "Please, make me cum...!"

She just smiled at me, and kissed me deeply, but her hand just kept up the cycle of build, edge, and retreat. "No, don't ask me..." she told me. "If you want to cum, then, like a good girl, you gotta ask Daddy. And before you ask Daddy, I think there's something you need to do first," she said, and she pulled her hands out of my panties and away from my wet pussy, making me moan in my need.

She turned briefly to her right, not quite letting go of me, but leaving more of my weight to lean on her husband. She pulled a cushion from a lounge chair, and dropped it on the deck in front of me.

She placed a hand on either side of my face, and drew me to her, kissing me deeply, passionately. It was a kiss I felt in my soul, and it melted me. That, apparently, was the desired effect. Her hands went from my face to my shoulders, and she gently pushed down. It took only a moment for me to recognize this age-old signal, and I quickly knelt on the cushion.

"Now, that's a good girl, Sarah," she cooed at me. "Now, if you want something nice from Daddy, I suggest you offer him something nice in return."

I turned towards P, who from on my knees looked even taller and more intimidating. I reached my hands up and made towards the button and zipper of his shorts. I was shocked when his wife stopped me.

"No, that's not the way it works, Sarah. You need to ask Daddy first for permission."

In a logical state of mind, I might have laughed. I've never known a man who would refuse a woman who wanted to suck his cock. Hell, most of the men I've known would beg me - or any woman, to be fair - to suck their cock. Good looking as he is, I mean, why would I need to-

"Please, Daddy," I heard my trembling voice ask. "Can I...May I please suck your cock?" I begged.

I was learning so much about myself that evening. I learned that I was not above asking permission to suck a cock. I discovered I could bottom to a woman, without even seeing her naked yet. And I learned that, in spite of my damaged and dysfunctional relationship with my real father, I could quickly adapt to calling a man from the other side of the earth "Daddy" and mean it in the most lewd sense of the term.

P smiled down at me. "Yes, my little Pet, you may remove my clothes, and then you will please me completely, do you understand?"

I nodded and replied verbally as well. "Yes, Daddy. I promise, I will take care of your sweet cock, sir." And with that, my hands returned to the waistband of his shorts, and I quickly unbuttoned them and drew down the zipper. I slid my hands up to his sides, coming just up above the shorts, then sliding the last digits of my fingers into the waistband and beginning to slowly lower them.

I had only his shorts in my grasp, so as they slid the shorts down, I took sight of a pair of dark red boxer briefs, made of a lightweight, thin stretchy material. As my hands pulled the shorts down off of his muscular butt and slid them down his muscular thighs, I was confronted with the large, prominent evidence of his masculinity. Even veiled behind the thin burgundy veil, I could tell that this would be the most substantial male member I'd ever encountered.

"Now, Pet," teased Kareena. She was nestled into P's side, her right arm around his back, her left hand on the crown of my head. "Unwrap the best present you've ever gotten from a man," she instructed me softly.