Just Dessert

He pours the last dash of an 88 Haute Brion into her glass, and I watch her throat contract smoothly as she swallows it. The soft movement of muscle under skin builds the anticipation of having that length of creaminess under my mouth.

I gaze at you, the corners of my mouth upturned, my eyes dreamy, the elixirs of wine and food and desire sliding through my body like warm silk. He presses my knuckles to his lips. You drape your arm around her shoulders and she snuggles in for a moment. Our dinner plates stretch before us on the white table cloth. Dessert awaits.

He pushes back from the table and extends his hand for hers, helps her stand, leads her to the living room. We follow.

You tangle your fingers in my hair, grip it at the roots, tilt my head back, kiss me. The tip of your tongue slides across my lips. I turn in your arms and the kiss grows. My desire throbs in the tender flesh between my legs. We break apart, slightly breathless, to find her kneeling, bent forward.

He is winding red silk rope around her wrists, securing them to her ankles. Her skirt rides up, revealing the tops of her black stockings. He pushes her head to the floor and her ass rises up, exposing her bare pussy, then he comes to me, kisses me deeply. "Suck him," he says.

I drop to my knees and look up into your eyes as I unzip your fly to reveal your rock hard cock. Just as I slide you into my warm, wet mouth, I hear her moan, and I know his mouth is on her, his tongue sliding her open, circling that spot of pleasure, teasing, pressing, flicking, diving in to devour her sweetness.

You fill my throat with hard flesh, and I look up at you as I slide the tip against the back of my throat, across the soft washboard of my palate, until I'm sucking only on the tip, my tongue circling and lapping it inside my closed mouth. I plunge you back inside, swallowing you up, sucking and lapping at you with each stroke, then circle your cock with my fingers, twist and push down, listen to your moan mingle with her moans, and notice that her breathing has changed, and that he is inside her, his long, thick cock pressing against her other sweet spot. His right hand is pressing into the center of her ass, his left hand is pulling her hair. "Do not move," he demands. I hear the sharp intake of breath, the slow slapping of skin. I know how his straight cock can reach into the depths of a woman. He is being gentle.

I stop to watch him, my juices running down my thighs. Suddenly I need to be filled ... right now. I stand and you bend me over the couch. The first stroke makes me cry out. Your sheathed cock pulses as you press yourself into my tight box, and I feel it inside me, one, two, three. I know I am in trouble.

"No," you say, and pull out of me abruptly. You leave the room, and return a few seconds later, naked, holding a clear bottle and a strap-on. "I think it's about us tonight," you say.

You buckle the strap-on around my waist and push me back to my knees. As if choreographed, he lays on the floor and pulls her onto him. She is still bent forward, tied wrist to ankle. He braces her shoulders, begins to kiss her slowly, his tongue dancing, exploring. I understand what I am to do.

I kiss the warm exposed skin at her low back, run my hands over her hips, her flat stomach, the curve of her ass. She presses back into my hands as I smooth over her, letting my fingers slip between her legs to tease, to flirt with her most private openings. Her need joins with mine, making the room close in around me. All I can see are the bodies moving before me. All I can feel is breath, and the low vibration of energy seeking release. I circle his cock as she slides up off of him, then traps my fingers between their bodies for a moment. I feel their heat, and blood rushes down, flushing my pussy, opening it.

I slide down to lick and play with her tight rosebud, and it begins to relax. I insert a lubricated finger and hear her moan against his mouth. I can feel his cock inside her and I look up at you. Your returned glance is a warning. I am not to come. Not yet at least. I insert a second finger, and a minute later a third, twisting my hand gently, opening her. Then, I trade my fingers for the lubricated dildo, and we are both fucking her.

You stand in front of me, your erection instructing me. I pull you back into my mouth and swallow you down my throat. I match their rhythm, pushing and withdrawing the dildo, sucking and releasing your cock, until her tight body begins to spasm. I tilt my head up and look you in the eyes, vigorously pleasuring you with only my mouth. A loud, low rumble of pleasure erupts from her throat, and your whole body tenses. I know his movements, his sounds, and I am certain he is cresting with her, her pussy clamping down in contraction after contraction.

I suck you faster, closing my eyes, feeling the pleasure of your flesh inside my flesh, of your building pleasure. I grab you and stroke your wet shaft with the same rhythm, letting my palm smooth over the round tip just before pulling you back in. Gooseflesh creeps up my skin, from my tailbone to my nape, and I know I will not be able to stop the orgasm from breaking through my body. Sometimes, pleasuring others is more intense than being pleasured myself. I suck you and open my eyes, catching yours in an intense exchange, and you explode in my mouth, down my throat. I cannot help but swallow. A gush of warm liquid splashes down my legs.

I collapse, shaking, against her back, my mouth finding her neck, kissing her gently. Her breath comes hard. He is panting beneath her. Before I withdraw, I turn her head and kiss her deeply. She tastes you in my mouth and wants more.