I reclaim my wine glass as I wait for your return. My mind casts back to how we arrived at this point. How I found this stranger who sits on the couch with me on the computer. How he and I talked about what I had in mind for us to do to you. Trading pictures of us and him, starting with clothed pictures and our faces, and eventually candid images of our intimate anatomy. Sharing them with you to make sure you would find him attractive (although I kept the photos of his cock from you -- I want your first encounter with that to be in person). Negotiating where our limits were, finding out his.
It takes you some time to change. I imagine how much time you spent staring at the outfit you had laid out versus the one I had prepared for you. Did you choose immediately? Did you hesitate? Did you start to change into one, and then put on the other? What you are wearing when you walk back down the hall will tell me a great deal about how ready you are to proceed. I think that your arousal, combined with the wine and whiskey and my commands will be enough to let you completely surrender to the moment, but I confess to being unsure. Are you as well trained as I think you are?
The way that we are positioned on the couch, he is closer to the hall than I am. He will see you emerge from the bedroom before I do. He will see you in the outfit you have chosen for your debauchery first. What will he see? You had packed a babydoll in a deep maroon, with lacy black cups that would conceal your breasts, and a matching lacy maroon thong with an open gusset but which nevertheless would keep you from being exposed so long as you were standing up with your legs together. It is a remarkably sexy outfit, and one that speaks of demure submission. It is one of our favorites for you to wear, and should you come down the hall wearing that, I have no doubt our guest's mouth will water and his cock will stiffen at the sight.
I hear a click of the door, and the gentle padding of your footsteps, telling me that you are ready long before I can see you. From the way he lifts his eyebrows as he sees you approach him, I can tell that you have put on the outfit I chose for you. I smile, drink the last of my wine, and wait for you to come around the corner.
You are a vision in black lace and nylon straps. This outfit has a fine black mesh that covers your torso, with black straps that criss-cross your chest, proudly putting your breasts on display. Your breasts are not those of a young girl, but those of a woman. There are tiny stretch marks, and some sag, but they remain magnificent to my eyes, topped with thick nipples that beg for attention. Lacy straps go down from the outfit and encircle the tops of your thighs, but nothing conceals your sex from view, and when you turn, your ass is equally showcased. The fine hairs covering your pussy are slightly matted, damp from moisture, and I can see the faintest traces of your juices running down on to the top of your thighs.
He lets out a low appreciative whistle as you step fully into the room. You start towards the couch, ready to reclaim your position between us, but I stop you with a gesture. "No, no, my pet. Turn around, give him a complete view of the delights you have in store for him tonight."
You give a demure nod, your submissive demeanor in some ways at odds with the wanton sexuality of your outfit, and at the same time in some ways completely complimentary to it. You turn around in place, not quite spinning around instantly, but not lingering in your turn either.
"Come now," I chide. "You can do better than that." You frown, unhappy to know that you have displeased me. "Turn around and fact the television." You do so, and I continue my instructions. "Put your hands up on the top of the entertainment center. Spread your legs, and lean forward."
You comply, taking a wide stance as you bend away from us, letting the sturdy wooden cabinet take your weight. As you spread your legs apart, the movement helps pull the lips of your pussy open, and the glistening wet pink flesh is fully exposed. "Take your hand, my pet. Touch yourself. Make him want you as much as you know that I always do." Delicate fingers release the cabinet and move between your thighs, spreading your natural lubrication along your lips. A fingertip toys with your clit, teasing it from its hood, while another fingers slips within you. You bring your head lower, raising your ass in the air. I can just barely see the pucker of your rear passage as you bend down, and your breasts can be seen dangling below you from the view between your thighs.
You begin to move your fingers with increased speed, and you let out a small grunt of pleasure. "Stop," I say, not wanting to allow you to bring yourself to orgasm yet. I want your arousal to build and build throughout the night, not peak so early. You give yourself one final pump of your fingers before you withdraw. "Turn back around, and come over here."
When you are a few steps from the couch, I stop you before you can sit back between us. "Kneel," I instruct, and you do so, planting yourself directly in front of me. I smile, happy for your obedience, before I correct you. "No, my pet. Not before me. Before *him*."
You scoot a few feet over, and now your face is level with his crotch. I can see his pants bulge out with arousal. He clearly likes what he sees. "Offer him a taste, love." You bring your hand up, and he takes it, pulling to his mouth. His lips part and his tongue emerges to trace the tips of your fingers, licking away the traces of your fluids he finds there. He then sucks your finger, gently suckling away. "Delicious," he says.
I smile as he lets go of your hand. You bring it back, so both hands are laying palm down on your thighs. "Tell us," I say, "What has you so wet?"
You struggle to find the right words, but eventually answer. "You."
"Me? Or him?"
"Both of you," you say, heat coloring your cheeks. It is hard for you to say the words. That is why I am making you say them.
