Mel here!
I thought I'd introduce myself. I'm a late 30s, 5' 7", voluptuous, natural redhead with long legs and 'an outrageous pout' (my husband's words!). I'm also a naughty girl, as you'll find out...
We have decided to spice our lives up a bit, and to take things to the next stage, we are looking for two men to pleasure me while my husband watches. Don't worry- I'm more than enough for two men.
You'd have to be 30- about 45ish, clean, discrete and fun loving, not too fat, not too thin etc, preferably photogenic! Email a pic, full body preferably, and I will try to reply to each; if you're what we're looking for, my husband will meet with you and discuss the arrangements. He knows what I like, so I'll trust his decision!
The kind of thing we envisage is to invite the lucky two to our hotel room, in a mutually convenient location. I will be in character, dressed like a tart, in thick makeup, short skirt and stockings (trying to be slutty- I'm a classy bird, BA hons)! I'll be completely available to you- you'll be able to fuck me as much as you like, cum in me (there'll have to be tests, to be on the safe side), in my mouth as well, until you're completely satisfied. My husband will watch, make suggestions and take photos/video clips, but not participate.
If it's a success we'll be doing it again; if I like you, you'll be invited back!
* * * * *
We sit on the bed together, and I ask her if she's OK.
"I'm a bit nervous..." she replies, but I can tell she's excited, too. I check her look. She is wearing a tight, lacy, pink vest top and a matching, very short skirt, which finishes an inch below the lacy tops of her holdups. We thought, when we bought the top, that it was intended to be an item of underwear, really, but decided it would suit our purposes admirably. The material is so flimsy that it doesn't even begin to conceal Mel's black Wonderbra in any way, and her boobs are perked up wonderfully. The black stockings terminate in a pair of platform-heeled shoes, more appropriate for a teenager but right for the look. Looking upwards again, a string of 'precious' stones hang from a choker-style necklace, pointing downwards to the promise of her cleavage. Her lovely face, usually made up so naturally and subtly, has been treated to a much more obvious, cheap look. She's wearing heavy eye shadow, mascara and, the first time in my memory, eyeliner as well, and her lips are the most provocative shade of red, applied thickly and glossed to the degree that when she pouts, they almost drip. She looks absolutely as we intended- like a shameless tart.
I'm so used to seeing her dressed classily, that every time I catch sight of her I feel incredibly aroused at such a cheap, slutty display. Her hair is heaped on the top of her head, provocatively, inviting me to kiss her neck; she's wearing Obsession, and it's a crushingly sexual scent, sure to have the desired effect. I put my arms around her waist, and squeeze her, nibbling her earlobe. "Mmmmm...."
She pushes against me, giggling and standing up. "Hey, watch out. My face is caked, you'll get covered in goo!" I reply that she's the one who's more likely to be covered in goo, by the end of the night, and she gasps, wide eyed, in pretend shock.
"Give us a twirl, then!"
She performs a slow, exaggerated catwalk towards the mirror, hands on hips and wiggling her bum suggestively. At the mirror, she stops and blows me a kiss over her shoulder. She bends down to her bag on the table, her legs straight and the skirt riding up to expose her black stocking tops. I watch her in the mirror as she takes out her cigarettes and lights up.
Mel doesn't smoke very often, but when she does, she prefers those brown More 120s; She enjoys the flavour, she says, and also the attention she gets as she styles it up, the More poised between her fingertips as the sophisticated lady exhales creamily at the ceiling, a glass of red wine in her other hand.
Tonight, however, she's a Silk Cut girl.
She struts back towards me, her cigarette dangling from that cartoon slut mouth, and kneels on the bed beside me, purposely stretching across me towards the ashtray to flick her ash. Her scented cleavage fills my world, as she forces her breasts into my face. Finally, she winks at me, emphasising her overdone eye make-up. "Shall we go?" She breathes, smokily.
"So," I say, "Remember what I said..."
"Yeah. Eye contact..."
We had, of course, discussed the various permutations in great depth, adding in little details that appealed to us. There was one particular aspect we were both intoxicated by. We agreed that she should make eye contact with me whenever possible. Narrowing her eyes in pleasure as she is penetrated, struggling to take as much length as possible in her mouth, and, above all, when either of the guys ejaculate in or on her, she would look at me with wanton, defiant pride. I would be just a couple of feet away, watching every ounce of pleasure show in her face.
In a way, this aspect was central to the whole experience for us. Perhaps some would see such an MMF situation as being submission on the woman's part; I saw it as the complete opposite. She would take her pleasure from others with my consent; I would be a passive observer as she slutted herself between their cocks, the eye contact completely underlining her power over me.
The lift deposits us downstairs in the foyer; we say hello to the pretty reception girl who checked us in this afternoon, and she does a double take at the sight of Mel, in her New-Look finery, and I feel her watching us walk to the bar.
We see her later, as we leave the bar. She's getting ready to go home, and I imagine the conversation, when she arrives, to go something like this:
"They just looked really normal checking in; she were really classy, with black trousers, this jade-green cardie and a silk scarf on. I just thought they were here for the conference!"
