The Energy

She knew she could stop it if she wanted to—but did she?

So much had surprised Susan already tonight. That the three of them were together at all on this delightfully warm summer night, for one. Her husband Martin and their friend Beth, here for the weekend, no kids. Theirs at camp, hers with her ex. Susan hadn't even imagined that it could happen, and she was amazed at how much it changed the dynamic between them. She'd come to dread Beth's visits. They were always so stressful, so rushed, but this was different. It reminded her what a close friend Beth really was, how much they'd shared. It brought back some of the old sense of connection, of energy.

One of their oldest friends, now—it had surprised her to realize that, but Beth really was, even though they always thought of her as young. She'd started as their sitter, but the connection had just never ended, and they'd been through tough times for all of them. Now Beth lived out-of-state, and the connection could seem forced, but here it was again. That had taken Susan by surprise too.

And then there was the energy. Beth had always given it off, sometimes subtly, sometimes almost crudely, maybe even desperately. An energy that you couldn't help but recognize as erotic once you knew her. Sometimes Susan been able to enjoy it, but more often she'd shielded herself from it, explaining it away, a little mad at Martin for reveling in it all too delightedly when Beth shared bits of her seemingly constant erotic exploits with them. Tonight was different, though. Maybe it was just the wine—as the night went on they were nearing the end of yet another bottle—or maybe it was the jolt of reconnecting. But Susan could feel it as she hadn't in a very long time, even though nothing had really been said.

And she knew something could happen. She knew too that she could stop it if she wanted to—but did she?

Of course she did, or at least part of her did: the thoughtful, carefully controlled Susan they all knew so well, depended on, and loved. But she was feeling another part of herself tonight, with a power that was more than a little scary. It was a side that was just as deeply rooted in her, maybe even more deeply, but that very few people had ever seen, because it was so inseparably bound to the erotic for her. Martin had seen it, she knew, and he loved that in her too. They'd never talked about it in so many words, but she sensed him gently helping her explore it, and she knew she responded with a powerful intensity when they touched that side—the side that wanted nothing more than to give up the control that so much of her life demanded. She knew that he'd felt her response at the thought, even the fantasy, of not being in control, even—no, especially—when it meant giving all of herself over, being opened, exposed and vulnerable. And in the erotic energy she could feel streaming from Beth tonight, that side of her was there with an intensity she couldn't ever remember feeling outside of their bed. So she wondered —if something did begin, would she stop it after all?

"Hello! Hello! Earth to Susan!" Martin and Beth were both laughing gently at her, and she could feel herself coloring in embarrassment. She'd been so lost in that train of thought that she'd completely vacated their conversation. "C'mon, Susan, 'fess up! Where were you off to in there?" Beth teased, tapping Susan's temple, "one minute you were listening to why Tom and I finally broke up, looking as though you might drop off at any second, and then suddenly you were a million miles away. For the last five minutes, you've been in another world!"

Susan stammered, pale skin blushing even deeper—"um, I - I dunno - I - I guess I was just thinking about stuff that had to be done. . . ." Even Susan could tell how lame this sounded, so she tried to continue: "you know, like tomorrow I . . ."

"Oh, stop it!" interrupted Beth, playing at impatience, "you know as well as I do that a blush that deep doesn't come from getting caught thinking about the groceries! C'mon, girl, let us in on what has you so hot and bothered—do you really want to leave it up to my

very

active imagination?" Beth raised an eyebrow and caught Susan in the sort of glance that she could pull off so well: playful but unmistakably suggestive.

"Beth!" Now it was Susan's turn to try playful indignation. "

Some

people are capable of thinking about something besides sex, you know!" She could still stop this, after all. "And besides, how I behave in private with Martin is really

my

business, isn't it?"

In the pregnant silence that followed, Susan realized how thoroughly she'd just undone her efforts at putting a stop to this development—why had she suddenly blurted that out? As she looked around her, she saw something new mixing with the surprise on Beth's face, something that registered awareness of new possibilities; and as for Martin, she realized that he was regarding her with an intensity that she really hadn't seen except in private. And then he looked at Beth, as though asking her to respond.

Instead, though, Beth turned to him. "Well, I guess that settles that, doesn't it? That should make you happy, Martin: Susan here is so carried away by what you do to her that she can't keep her mind off of it! You guys. . ." She smiled and shook her head.

"It's not like

that

, Beth," Susan started in, trying to extricate herself and regain control, "I - I don't even know why I said that. . . it's just that something tonight . . . oh, I don't know. . . ." She looked to Martin, hoping he'd say something, but he just kept looking—

that

look, the one that so quietly but insistently asked her to open.

Could she still stop it? Did she even want to any more?

Martin finally spoke, quietly: "I think you do know, Susan, and I think you should tell us."

As if a switch were thrown, the dynamic of the room shifted. Susan was even more intensely aware of being the object of Martin's and Beth's gaze. If this was still play, it was a new, serious kind. Susan felt a suddenly heightened awareness of her sensations—the humidity that enveloped them, the touch of her dampened curls against her neck, each place that her sundress contacted her body—especially over her breasts, which had chosen this month to exaggerate their usual monthly rhythm and develop what seemed an inordinate sensitivity.

The silence grew. Martin and Beth waited, watched.

Susan finally felt compelled to respond, to say something. She began very quietly. "It's - it's not that I was thinking about

doing

something. It's an energy. I just, um, feel it—it

opens

me, somehow. And that's why I said that about Martin and me." Susan could hardly believe she was saying this—and in front of Beth! Something was definitely shifting in her, something that was pushing her to continue. "And somehow that energy is really strong tonight. . . ." She trailed off, feeling incredibly exposed. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, despite the warmth.

"I know the energy you mean, Susan," Martin broke in, "but I think you owe it to Beth not to exclude her—and you owe it to yourself to do this. You really don't want to close off from it like that, do you?" He reached out and gently lowered her arms. "Tell Beth, tell us both, what kind of energy this is, how it makes you feel." A pause. "You know you want this, Susan."

Susan could hardly believe what possibilities her husband was leading her towards. But she was even more amazed to realize that he might be right—could it be that she did want this, even though she didn't really know what it was yet?

"Oh, I think I know what kind of energy this is," Beth burst in, never removing her eyes from Susan, "if her voice isn't telling us, the rest of her is, loud and clear—I don't think it's cool enough in here to account for those!" She directed her glance to Susan's chest. Suddenly, Susan remembered how she'd reveled in the freedom of not wearing a bra on this glorious, childless, and responsibility-free summer day. As a result, the erotic charge of the moment had become very apparent indeed—and Beth's drawing attention to her aroused nipples seemed only to make them grow more obvious through her dress. Her arms began to raise instinctively, but Martin's hands reminded her to remain open.

"It's erotic energy you're feeling, isn't it Susan? An energy that you need to open yourself to. And it's being with Beth that has made that energy so strong, isn't it?" Susan looked down, unable to meet their eyes—but she gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"I think there's something else Susan needs to tell you, Beth," Martin continued. "When she says she feels opened, she really means it—don't you, Susan?"

Susan was still reeling, as Martin moved steadily toward revealing what she had thought was the most private of all the secrets they shared. But she knew, too, how bizarrely right it felt that this should be happening, with Beth, tonight. She nodded again.

"Go on, Susan, tell her, really tell her."

She began in a very small voice, almost imperceptible. "I - um - oh God - um, sometimes I like to - to feel, well, exposed,

made

to open. Like I, um,

have

to do stuff."

Beth broke in: "So you mean that you get off when Martin makes you show yourself to him, makes you do what he tells you sexually? Look at me, Susan, and answer."

Susan looked up, nodded, and looked away quickly.

"And you're feeling that same energy from me?"

Susan, a little shakily: "Y-yes."

"Open your dress, Susan. Show us your breasts. Now." Beth's directive was gentle, but Susan knew it marked the point of no return. If she went further, from this moment she could not, would not stop it.

Her hands reached for the top of her dress. Silently, eyes averted, she began to open the small buttons that ran the length of it. The front of her dress gradually gaped opened, the thin shoulder straps fell aside. She sat, the top of her dress fallen around her waist.

Susan had always been pretty casual about nudity, but she found this utterly different, utterly eroticized. The realization penetrated her: she had stripped herself at the command of another woman, her friend, while her husband looked on. She had never been so fully aware of her breasts as sexual organs, of her almost painfully erect nipples as blatant signs of her arousal—signs now on display in a situation no longer under her control.

Beth continued. "Hold them out to us, Susan."

Susan's breasts were firm, even in middle age, so it took only a small motion of her arms for Susan to comply, cupping them, feeling their weight and raising them toward Martin and Beth, who sat, still fully clothed, before her. As she did, though, she felt the gesture as hugely significant: she was openly displaying her sexual being, making an offering of herself in a way she'd never imagined—or perhaps she had. . . . But now, her will, her choice, seemed to have nothing to do with it.

It was not Beth but Martin who first moved to explore the consequences of Susan's offering of herself. "Caress those lovely breasts, Susan—squeeze your nipples and let Beth see them even more swollen. Squeeze them—harder."

Susan obeyed, feeling an arousal that heightened almost to the point of pain, given this month's special sensitivity and the already distended condition of her nipples. Involuntarily, she moaned. Beth looked on, as intensely as ever, but beginning to squirm pleasurably herself. "Just wait, Beth, Susan has much more to show you."

"Unbutton your dress the rest of the way, Susan, and come to me," Martin continued, standing up. It was clear to Susan, now, that Martin would not hesitate to open her fully to Beth, and humiliation and anticipation struggled within her. Her hands, meanwhile, obeyed, and her dress fell to the floor, revealing a lacy black thong that stood out sharply against her pale white skin but did little to conceal her orange-red pubic patch. (She had thought to surprise Martin with the thong, one she hadn't yet shown him, later that night.) When Beth whistled, they all laughed, and although the tension remained, it was pleasantly regrounded in awareness of their closeness. Martin led Susan by the hands and placed her on her knees, legs spread, on the Turkish carpet of their living room floor, facing away from him. He placed a pillow on the floor before her and directed her to bend over, placing her head on it.

As she did, Susan's breasts hung to the floor; she exhaled sharply as her nipples rubbed across the rough-soft wool. There was a pause, while Martin and Beth stood admiring the highly erotic display before them: Susan prostrate, her face in the pillow concealed by her long red hair, her full rear cheeks elevated and tightened, completely revealed but enticingly framed by the narrow silken bands of the black thong. In the center, the diaphanous fabric stretched tautly over swollen labial lips that were moist enough that the fabric was close to transparent.

"Pull down your thong, Susan."

At Martin's words, Susan reached her hands back. Because her legs were spread, she could only lower it partly down her thighs, and there it remained, encircling them, while above it, her sodden cleft and the tight hole above it were fully revealed to the warm night air and to Martin's and Beth's eyes.

Beth sighed. "You are simply stunningly beautiful my dear. I'm going to want you exposed all the time! Martin, I simply have to see you using her like that."

"I thought you'd never ask!" he shot back. "But please—enjoy her a bit yourself first."

Face buried in the pillow, Susan could no longer see what was going on behind her, but she suspected that Martin was stripping. And then she felt it—Beth's hand, first caressing her rounded ass and then just a finger, slowly moving down her crack. As it rimmed her rear hole, she knew she would not last long before she would come. Although it played at pressing inward, though, it moved on, and Susan soon felt one, two, three of Beth's fingers, moistened by her arousal, entering a slit that she knew had now swollen into another blatant display. She pushed back, wanting, unable to pretend otherwise. But Beth withdrew.

"O God, Martin, now I know why you must love using her from behind. Take that lovely cunt for me now, please!" As she said this, she drew Susan's arms behind her back, clasping them gently but firmly at the wrists.

For Susan, the feeling was almost indescribable. She'd always felt this as the position in which she was most vulnerable, most helplessly exposed, and knowing that Beth was not only watching but enforcing so graphic a display of submission on her body raised the sensation to a new height, as Martin effortlessly inserted his erection into her from behind. The tensions that had built inside her exploded, and she came violently after only a few hard strokes. She collapsed to the floor, her white skin mottled red.

Martin withdrew, still fiercely erect. "There," he said, "look at our lovely Susan—no more secrets now."

To Martin's—and Susan's—surprise, Beth disagreed. "But that's just not true, Martin—you've only scratched the surface. You men are all out

there"

—she smiled at his hardness—"But

I

know Susan has so much more within, and we're going to reveal that, too."

And with that, she removed the pillow from beneath Susan's prostrate form, placed it at her hip, and rolled her friend over. Susan was surprised to see that now Beth, too, had stripped, revealing her skin, a lovely golden caramel tone, and breasts smaller than Susan's, with large, dark aureoles. Beth, she noticed, was completely shaven. By the time Beth finished rearranging her friend, Susan was on her back, the pillow raising her mound in a pose that might have seemed obscene if Susan's face hadn't compensated with the genuine radiance it was projecting (albeit mingled with more than a little uncertainty).

"Even Susan doesn't really understand—yet. She thinks that she's through: she's had her orgasm, and a very nice one indeed"—she smiled at the embarrassment Susan still managed to display at this—"and she thinks that energy is released. But this is just the beginning."

She looked intently into Susan's eyes once again. "Susan, I'm going to push you harder now. Just listen and obey. Believe me, it'll be worth your while." And with that, she positioned Susan's legs far apart, opening her completely once again. She brought Susan's hand to her mound and began to move it in a gentle self-caress. Susan flinched, her clitoris still hyper-sensitized. "There, my lovely friend, push past the tenderness—gently—but you

will

do this for me."

Now she included Martin again. "As I said, Susan can open further—her inside, her mind, can be as utterly naked, as exposed as her body is now—with our help." Susan's frame shuddered slightly at this, though she was uncertain whether it was with lingering fear or renewed arousal. She wasn't sure the two could be separated in any case.

"Susan," Beth continued, "as you touch yourself, keep your eyes open; keep your eyes on mine. You're going to show us not just your body, not just your eyes, but what's behind them. First, Susan, tell us—what are you doing?"

"But Beth—you can see me! I - I can't say that!"

"Susan—you

will

obey. Now—tell us."

"I - I'm t-touching myself, I guess."

"Yes, Susan, you are. And why?"

Susan's voice was still hesitant, but she responded more quickly now, and Martin and Beth saw that her hand was beginning to move more vigorously. "Because - because y-you told me to, Beth." Her wide, pale eyes now locked on Beth's dark pupils. Unbidden, she felt tears welling up.

"Yes Susan, I am. Now you're beginning to feel it more deeply. And you can do better than that.

Really

tell us what you're doing, what we're doing to you."

Susan felt as though her mind were overflowing with her eyes. She let herself say it: "I'm playing with myself—with my - my cunt. In front of you, and Martin. I'm lying naked on the floor in front of you, on display, playing with myself. Because you told me to. Because I have to do whatever you tell me. Because—o god—because you guys love me so much! Because I love you." She fell silent, tears streaming from her eyes.

Beth's small golden hands gently cupped Beth's face, brushing the tears. "That's it, Susan, now you're really opening. Just a little further now. Don't just tell us what you're doing—tell us what you imagine—what you'll do for us, what we'll do to you. While you look at me, give us your mind, the images that you see while you rub your cunt for us."

Susan's breath was growing ragged now, and her eyes left Beth's momentarily. Beth's followed them. "Ah, you see my breasts, don't you, Susan? Suck them for me—you want that, don't you?"

Wordlessly, Susan opened her mouth and reached out her tongue. Beth lowered her small, firm breast to Susan, who suckled her younger friend, finding a deep pleasure of a kind she had never experienced before.

"That's lovely, Susan—but now

you

need to tell us what you're seeing. Your mind needs to be as open to us as your lovely cunt has become—let the energy merge them—your mind, your cunt, you, us."

Susan could never quite grasp what happened during the next few minutes. She continued to gaze at Beth's eyes, to follow her direction. And she began, perhaps, to speak. Or was she acting? Or being acted upon?

I - I'm touching Martin with my other hand - he's . . . very . . . hard. Beth is lowering herself over my face . . . just . . . above it. My tongue . . . reaching . . . reaching out . . . I - I want . . . I . . . o please . . . let me lick . . . bend over me . . . use . . . use my . . . my face. . .

As these images flowed, Susan felt that layers of herself were being peeled back, bringing forth ever deeper ones. Her self-exposure, her responsiveness, were becoming total. And in utterly abandoning control of herself and her sexuality, giving herself over completely, she re-encountered the energy. But now she knew it was not simply emanating from Beth. It was something much larger, more encompassing. It embraced them all—her special sensitivity this month, the chain of coincidences that had brought them all together, Martin's unusual boldness in front of Beth. . . . It enfolded them all, lifted them, and Susan found herself at its very center. It was as though, in opening herself, emptying herself, she became the will, the energy that was using her.