Eleanor

TEN

A spontaneous round of applause from the two men showed what they thought of the entertainment that had just been put on for them. While the thought never crossed Tony's mind, Robert couldn't help thinking that his wife had been the brains behind the show and had basically scripted the whole thing. It seemed to have gone so spectacularly given Pamela's initial hesitancy and embarrassment. Robert just couldn't conceive how a woman could flick a switch like that in terms of her sexuality. It never occurred to him that it might have been

her switch

but that it required the presence of another woman to operate it. Maybe that's what came from being not only male but the possessor of a brilliant mind who had graduated from Cambridge aged just 20 with first-class honours. He was just too rational for his own good.

Soria knew that Robert and Tony were desperate to fuck Eleanor and herself respectively, which would leave Pamela the odd person out, at least for the next round. With customary directness, she asked the men if they would like to take it upstairs, or if they preferred to 'make love' (yes, she used the phrase to pander to their sense of Byronic romanticism) to the partners there in the living room. She wasn't prepared for their unanimous decision: they wanted the fun and games to continue in the same venue. After all, as Tony put it, it appeared to have particularly good feng shui for the

ars amatoria

.

She glanced at Eleanor, who was sitting at one end of the sofa with Pamela reclining against her, using her boobs as pillows, while the younger woman's fingers ranged over her stomach, and she nodded her acquiescence.

'Since Eleanor is already acquainted with the sofa, I suggest that she and Bob use that, while Tony and I can make do with the floor. Is everyone in agreement?'

With no voice raised in dissent, the couples moved into position, leaving Pamela to take her choice from any number of vantage points around the room.

'Shall I fire the starting gun?' Pamela asked, to general amusement, helping to break the ice.

With Eleanor already being naked apart from her lingerie, Robert had in one sense the easier of the men's roles, but in another the more difficult, since his woman could hardly be seduced, not to mention the fact that she had already been warmed up. The obvious thing was for Eleanor to undress him to get him in the mood, and that is what she did. Tony had no such problems with Soria, and was already kissing her with considerable feeling.

Seeing Robert there attempting to look as suave as he could manage, Eleanor felt not exactly turned off but definitely not up for it. Even if this landed her a promotion (that would be two in the space of 15 months), she wasn't sure if it was going to be worth it on other grounds. First, would she be able to work effectively with Robert again, and second would she even want to stay in the company?

'Oh, well,' she thought, loosening her boss's belt and unclasping his trousers. 'I've made my bed so I must lie in it.'

In a matter of seconds, Robert was down to his boxers. Eleanor started when she saw the extent of the bulge which was causing the underwear to tent up. Jolted out of her indifference, Eleanor yanked the shorts down and watched Robert's penis as it bounced about. Even when it settled down (fractionally above the horizontal) it still continued to twitch occasionally, as if it were affected by a tic.

After a glance across at the other pair, where Tony, having unzipped Soria's kurta, was undoing her bra while whispering sweet nothings in her ear, Eleanor took Bob's cock lightly between her fingers. Her boss emitted a long, low 'fuck!' and Eleanor knew there could now be no turning back. Cupping one hand round his ball sac, she let the other meander over his tumescent column, picking up a drop of precum on her finger and bringing it to her lips. It tasted just fine.

Eleanor could appraise the super-heightened state of Bob's libido by the fact that he was keeping his penis at its maximum height by engaging the muscle at its base. He wanted her mouth to engulf it, to swallow it, but he wanted her to want it too. He was too proud to ask or to push her head onto his shaft. At the same time, Eleanor wasn't too proud to give him what he wanted. Especially now that she wanted it too.

Lifting the penis from its base, she let her tongue make landfall near her fingers. Bob gasped, as if in astonishment; the realisation of his long held fantasy was almost more than he could take. Eleanor's tongue made its way in a straight line towards his glans, which was more pink than brown and shiny like a polished stone. Deciding she would leave that for later, Eleanor returned by a different route to the base of his penis, before making one more trip back north. This time, though, she didn't turn back, but started to lave his head prior to engulfing it - and much else besides - in her mouth.

However much he might have wanted to resist the temptation, Bob was unable to stop himself from bringing his hands to Eleanor's head and urging her to greater things. She straightened what she estimated conservatively to be the seven inches of his manhood and started to bob up and down on it as if she were riding a pogo stick.

'Oh, god, yes!' Bob gasped.

Eleanor was kneeling on the sofa while Bob was standing on the carpeted floor. She had to crouch a bit and push her ass back, and Bob found himself dreaming of entering that ass later even as he felt his orgasm coming in the present.

'Aw, fuck!' he cried, as a jet of his sperm flew into Eleanor's throat.

Bob hoped this would be the first leg of a trifecta as far as this girl was concerned. But, for the moment, he was more than happy, having already picked up a hefty dividend on the opening leg.

Meanwhile, Tony was taking things altogether more slowly with Soria. Although he had lusted after her since the day he first met her (at her wedding to Bob nearly ten years ago) that didn't mean he had to rush things now. On the contrary, he was determined to take it slow, to make it last. Until of course the final climactic moments, when he would send her hurtling into the stratosphere.

After undressing her and paying homage to her small and rather pendulous breasts, he was now kneeling between her legs, extracting the nectar from her honeypot. He loved the salty taste of her pussy and looked forward to the time - not far hence - when he would be pounding this tight tunnel with his cock. He felt confident that his penis would be longer than Bob's - a confidence that turned out to be misplaced, even though he would never be any the wiser, so no harm would be done.

Soria thought that for a man Tony was doing a reasonable job of eating her out. At least he was thinking about her - about

her

needs - rather than his own, but this in turn pointed to something of a weakness in his skills as a lover: he was too structured, too predictable and insufficiently spontaneous. In a word, he lacked passion; a problem exacerbated by the fact that he thought he was God's gift to women.

Before Eleanor had made him come, Bob was intent on penetrating her as soon as she had finished giving him a blowjob. Now he had received that blessed release he realised that it was his duty to emulate Tony and give pleasure to his partner.

Part of him wanted to kiss Eleanor, as he had seen Pamela kiss her, but another part of him looked at it as an act of intimacy with which he wasn't comfortable. So, he began by kissing her breasts instead, which she seemed to find pleasing. The thought then suddenly struck him that once Tony had finished with Soria, he would most probably want a crack at Eleanor too. This had a galvanising effect on Bob, who upped his game, even as the thought of his corresponding coupling with the little bundle of dynamite that was Pamela made him very excited.

'Just fancy!' he thought. 'In ten years of marriage to Soria, I have had only one other woman until today (he was referring to Aidra) and here I am, poised to take two more on the same evening.'

Eleanor, expecting a perfunctory licking of the boobs before Bob got down to what he was really after, was pleasantly surprised by his performance. The true barometer, though, was the state of her pussy, and, so far as she could tell, that was becoming quite moist. Which was good, since otherwise she might feel some discomfort when Bob's dick was thrust inside her, which she couldn't imagine would be a gentle, other-centred affair.

And that time was fast approaching. Looking across at the other pair, Eleanor saw that Tony was laying Soria gently on the floor. For the first time she got a good look at his penis. It resembled a garden gnome, such was the ruddiness of its complexion. She couldn't tell if it were bigger than Bob's or not. At this point, it didn't strike her that she might find out later. Her only thought was getting through the sex with Bob so she could hitch up once more with the women.

Before she could witness Tony's consummation with Soria, Eleanor had her attention diverted by other concerns: Bob's tongue on her pussy, in particular. He must have shaved only minutes before his guests arrived, since she felt no discomfort from his chin as he licked her. In fact, she had to admit that he was doing a thoroughly good job. Her ex-husband Connor had been a proficient pussy-licker but Bob was Ivy League standard - and definitely Cornell rather than Brown.

No man had ever made Eleanor come via cunnilingus, but that was a distinct possibility now that her boss was warming to his task. When Eleanor issued a healthy 'Fuck! Yeah!' Bob went into overdrive, managing the tricky task of increasing his intensity while maintaining his composure. The result was the one he had been hoping for: an orgasm of the magnitude he used to provide for Soria before she told him that she preferred women.

'Yeah! Oh, yeah, baby!' he cried, as Eleanor began to spasm - his words directed as much at his wife as at the woman he had just brought to orgasm.

With Bob having scored the first orgasm of the evening in the heterosexual arena, Tony came under pressure to come up with some magic of his own. The timing was particularly unfortunate, as Bob's yell had the effect of diverting his wife's attention just as Tony was preparing after an extended period of elaborate foreplay to press home his advantage with Soria.

'Bravo, Bob!' she called out, nodding at Tony, who was crouched over her, as if she expected him to join in the chorus of praise.

Deciding to take the path of least resistance, Tony mustered a 'Marvellous, Bob!' and, smiling at Soria to get her back in the mood, asked her if she was ready to receive his 'weapon' or whether she would prefer him to 'prepare her afresh.' Barely able to suppress a laugh, Soria told him that his 'weapon' would be her preferred option at this point (like Eleanor, she was looking forward to a bit of girl-girl action ASAP), and expressed the hope that he had loaded it well. Loving this trash talking, Tony assured her that he never used blanks and had plenty of live ammunition in his arsenal.

Soria wasn't sure what the last comment meant (she only knew Arsenal as the football team her nephew in Iran supported) but let it go and waited for Tony's next move. As, apparently, did Bob and Eleanor, who had taken a timeout and were watching the couple on the carpet. As, of course, was Pamela, who had perched herself on the arm of one of the easy chairs.

'No pressure, Tony!' laughed Bob.

Rather than getting to him, the attention he was receiving appealed to the marketing director of one of northern England's largest insurance companies. A measure of his self-confidence might be gauged by the fact that he had used himself rather than professional actors in television commercials for his company that had aired a few years back. Not only had they seen sales increase by double the break-even figure, but they had also bagged a fistful of industry awards and made Tony something of a minor celebrity in the small town where he lived, which had called upon him to judge bonny baby competitions at church fetes and perform the ribbon-cutting ceremony at the opening of the Obesity Centre at the local clinic.

'Hoping to pick up a few tips, Bob?' joked Tony, revelling in the banter.

'Number one, enter in one easy smooth movement.'

And Tony did just that, as was evidenced not just by his motion but by the whimper that escaped Soria's lips.

'Number two, establish a rhythm that is comfortable for your partner.'

He raised himself slightly so that the inquisitive might see his tool doing its thing in and out of Soria's vagina. It was a bit like watching one of those 1970s-style sex-education films, featuring a bearded man and an equally hairy woman, whose job was to try and put pubescent boys and girls off sex for life.

'Number three, give your partner the space to meet your thrust with their own counter-thrust.'

It wasn't immediately apparent what his partner thought about this malarkey, but Tony was clearly having the time of his life. Leaving them to go at it thrust and counter-thrust, Bob and Eleanor had a quick pow-wow, the outcome of which was that Eleanor adopted a position on the sofa so that her boss might take her doggy style. Tellingly, Pamela also took a new seat so that she might get an unobstructed view of Bob and Eleanor's congress. Equally importantly, it took her further away from her husband, with whose lines and antics she was all too familiar.

Remembering the thorough going-over that Tony had given Soria prior to shafting her, Bob decided he'd spin things out a bit by giving Eleanor a bit more oral attention. The only problem was his back, which hadn't been the same since he had slipped a disc gardening five years before. The uneven surface of the sofa didn't help, as the cambers of the design didn't match the curves of the brunette's body. Things were a lot easier after he asked Eleanor to get into a sort of arch position, so he didn't have to bend down so far. Thank goodness girls were so limber these days! There was a lot to be said for a membership of a yoga club.

Bob couldn't remember the last time he had given so much cunnilingus. It was probably back in his student days, with one of the girls who didn't want to 'go all the way'. One thing he

could

be sure of was that his tongue was aching quite badly from all the effort - effort which didn't seem to be having such a powerful effect on Eleanor this time round. What with his dodgy back and his sore tongue, not to mention the less than ideal platform provided by the sofa, Bob felt that time was very much of the essence.

Things had been complicated further by the fact that Pamela was right in his peripheral vision. How lousy he would feel if he couldn't perform again! In one way, he wished that Eleanor hadn't given him such a good blowjob; he'd have a lot more in reserve now. On the other hand, if he shot his load into Eleanor now, there was a decent chance that he wouldn't be able to get it up at all when it came round to Pamela's turn. She obviously had a bit of a thing for him; it had even crossed his mind that her ultimate reason for going lesbian with his wife was so that she could get closer to him. So - bottom line - he didn't want to disappoint her, especially when Eleanor had already been given such a good run for her money.

It was while he was having these and such other thoughts that Bob realised what the solution was: he would bring Eleanor to orgasm while keeping his own powder dry for later. Buoyed by the application of the problem-solving skills for which he was well known in his trade, Bob brought his shaft to Eleanor's pussy and eased it forward. With his hands on Eleanor's rump and his head raised so that his chin jutted out, he resembled (in his own eyes at least) Ben Hur holding the reins of his chariot tightly as the adoring crowd in the Circus Maximus looked on. He began to pump his stallion back and forth but was surprised by the lack of friction, or even resistance, that he could feel. Looking down, he realised with horror that his John Thomas had thrown in the towel.

His embarrassment might have become total humiliation had not Pamela come to the rescue. Knowing how intolerable her life would be if Tony was able to claim bragging rights in the 'biggest and best cock' department, she appeared like an angel of mercy and soon had her laughing gear around Bob's flagging member. To say that Bob perked up would be the understatement of the century. In less than a minute he had gone from skinny boy with acne who always gets picked last to MVP in the Superbowl.

With a nod of appreciation to the departing Pamela, he thrust his throbbing member deep into Eleanor's love tunnel and began fucking her like a man possessed. The thought of all those times he had had to go to the executive washroom to jerk off over his new deputy head of cyber security came flooding back to him. Throw in visions of Pamela splayed out on the double bed upstairs begging to receive his monster and a positive outcome to the current coupling was doubly assured. With a loud cry of triumph, Ben Hur saluted the emperor and his beautiful sister-cum-wife as he passed the finishing line ahead of his mortal enemy.

But that foe had not yet finished with his mount.

'Number eleven, eject your life-giving seed and come together in glorious harmony!'

Which, in Tony's mind, anyway, is precisely what happened, as a second woman was left feeling frustrated and planning a way in which that frustration might be worked out in the absence of the men.

ELEVEN

'Right!' Soria said, back in her favourite role - firmly in the saddle.

Once she had everyone's attention, she outlined her plans for the rest of the evening. Essentially, it involved the women going upstairs to, as she put it so succinctly, 'further their friendship', while the men remained downstairs and caught up with their news. There must, she said, be so much for them to talk about after not having seen each other for, what was it?, nearly three months since the corporate golf day which Tony's firm sponsored.

Adept as he was as an advertising man at masking his true feelings, Tony had the look of a man who has heard the announcement over the public address system that the horse he has just won £10,000 on has been disqualified for interference in the home straight. What could he possibly find to talk to Bob about for, what?, maybe an hour - possibly more? They'd had a phone conversation no more than two weeks ago and they had swapped stories about the young female talent in their respective offices and their opinions about England's chances in the forthcoming Ashes series.

Bob was altogether more philosophical, but then he had cause to be, having received an absolute belter of a BJ from Pamela. And what a dark horse she had turned out to be! Now that they had got past first base, he reckoned he was in with a real chance of clinching the deal with her in the not too distant future. The only cloud on that particular horizon was his wife, who might veto the idea, however much Pamela was craving for his cock. Indeed, the more Pamela wanted it, the more Soria was likely to put her foot down. She was contrary like that. Bob decided to wait it out until Pamela had got over her lesbian phase, when he could make his move. Perhaps when his wife went to visit her relatives in Paris, he thought - a trip she made twice a year.

Leaving the men to enjoy what Pamela called an opportunity for male bonding, as she began to ascend the stairs, the three women (each clad in a silk gown that Soria had provided them with) made their way to the bedroom and closed and locked the door.

'I must have a shower,' said Soria with something like disgust.