Months of discussion, research and vetting, by her husband Bob, of potential subjects had led up to this moment. Ever since that
Stepping Stones
weekend with Joe and Samantha, a new light had shone in Hannah; one of expectation and anticipation. And if that heady mix of feeling had not been enough over the months, it was certainly enough now to set her nipples tingling and her juices to dampen her labia as she waited upstairs.
Gone, she hoped, was the shy, guilt-laden woman her mother had turned her into. Gone was the collection of doubts about what this might do to her marriage. Gone was the
slightly-curious-but-scared-to-try
persona that had been hers throughout her teens and twenties. At least, she hoped it was gone; as did Bob.
They had met when Hannah was twenty-seven and Bob twenty-nine. One year of dating and five years of marriage had led to them to this night, via
The Stepping Stones
some months earlier. What a weekend of awakening
that
had been.
Since that weekend and despite its profound effect on them, they had still, to be fair,
talked
more than acted-on the idea of her
'cheating'.
But they
had
experimented with her spending the night with two different male friends and telling Bob about it when she got home. Bob loved it; as did Hannah, but had yet to achieve true comfortable acceptance of the fact that she loved it.
With some patience, it has to be said, on Bob's part, they had moved onto the idea of him watching. At the two friend's houses, she had surprised herself by how fully and eagerly she had engaged with the experience; successfully shrugging off the taboos that had beset most of her young adulthood and letting her lust run riot through her. But she wasn't sure if she could act with such abandon with her husband actually watching. Despite everything thus far, she still struggled to freely admit that... she loved fucking other men.
Although disbelieving and fearful at first, she come to accept and trust in the fact that Bob didn't simply want to get some kick out of her being with other men. He wanted her to experience the power she could feel by doing so.
It had been a strange concept at first but that aspect of it all had led to a growing interest in taking two - or maybe more - guys at once. The stories they had both listened to, in awe, at
The Stepping Stones
meeting had stoked a fire. Igniting it for real though had still proven to be a stumbling block.
Until tonight.
She heard the doorbell go several times and strong male voices as Bob welcomed his successful
candidates
into their home.
She examined herself in the mirror once more. Roman-style sandals on her feet, laced a little way up her calves. Her slender legs were otherwise bare until they met the leather strands hanging down from a belt which formed the impression of a pleated skirt, until she moved and they parted to reveal more flesh. At the sides, any observer would have noticed that she wore no knickers.
Her waist and tummy were already naked, exposing her belly-button, decorated with a small sapphire piercing. Her firm 34 DD breasts were, as yet, still hidden, though with a tantalising amount of their flesh showing either side of her nipples.
The top was blue like an azure mist; gossamer-like fabric which she had chosen from a local, upmarket, adult boutique. The colour darkened the closer to the middle of each breast, teasing and tempting curiosity as to how she would look when it was removed by untying delicate strings at the back.
Lightly covering all this was a translucent pale yellow gown that hung beautifully from her square, wonderfully feminine shoulders. Bob loved how, when she had danced that night with her arms around the neck of her first additional lover, the hunching to reach him and her hair hanging down her back had made her look so helplessly full of wanting.
Topping everything was a discreet, slim tiara which held her lengthy dark brown hair from her beautiful face. Another sapphire-coloured stone shone from the middle of it.
As Bob had helped her dress in readiness for the arrival of her
subjects
, he had told her that she looked like an empress. As she heard the doorbell chime again, she finally began feeling like one.
Presently, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs and the door gently opened.
"They are ready and waiting for you, My Love," Bob told her.
Breathing deeply, flicking her head regally, then exhaling slowly and calmly, she merely nodded.
In the lounge, drinks, bowls of fruit and snacks were laid out on the long coffee table a little way in front of the sumptuous sofa. At one end, ninety degrees from the sofa was a matching armchair, placed some feet back. Bob had dimmed the main light and an oil lamp shone slow-moving and morphing shapes onto the ceiling and walls.
With the air of the empress she had become, she descended the stairs, her hand held out and supported by her consort, who then guided her to the armchair and only let go when she was comfortably seated. She crossed her legs, the leather strands parting and exposing one leg right up to the hip. She rested her arms on the chair's and took a deep breath again.
"Show them in," she said to Bob. "One by one," she added, still not knowing how many he had found for her.