CHAPTER 8: DP VARIANT
Home Sweet Home. The loving, safe place. Tensions can evaporate. The body can re-energize. A place to be yourself without fear. A place where airs, images, and pretending can be left behind.
Right. It wasn't in my home, either. Growing up certainly wasn't. There were always the expectations for school and performance in whatever other activities there were. Marriage... it seemed pretty good but... what did I know. A lack of conflict means everything is good? What we found was neither of us was getting what we wanted, much less needed.
Here, though... here is different. These two have it figured out. How did they do that? The second marriage? Learning from mistakes of the first? I know they aren't opposites. They are similar in many ways. They are both strong people, though Mr. is far more aggressive, especially in business. Mrs. is more social, easily flittering around and through groups large and small. Complimentary. Not opposite.
And then me. I fit between them so perfectly. It is as if I were molded from a lump of clay shaped by their mutual hands in a shared and coordinated image of desire and need. They each guide me and handle me effortlessly, sharing what I can give, instructing and guiding toward what either conjures for more. I am content. Content... it seems so... mellow of a word, expression of feeling. The feeling is more than merely happy, relaxed, or satisfied. I am those things. I am at ease, unthreatened, secure, safe, and protected. But there is always a fire inside me ready to burst into consuming energy and titillation. How is it that I can feel so at peace, so secure, so at ease in this new life and at the same time, the next moment in that life be physically teased, probed, fondled, or be given a cock to suck or pussy to eat or be ravaged by cock or toys for the pleasure of others? The anticipation, the potential of it happening, is that fire inside. The mere touch or word or, sometimes, a look and that fire erupts in flames to consume not only me but the other who lit it. It is an odd state to be in... at peace but ready to explode.
My name is Karen Samson. I am a mature woman. I was married. I am divorced. I have other names: slut, cunt, bitch, whore. I have responded to all of them in situations. Here, though, with them, I am Karen or slut. I am submissive to both of them. My singular desire is to please and serve these two. I follow their instructions and directions to the letter. I satisfy their wishes and desires to my ability. They promised me I would always be learning and experiencing. I am thrilled with each new experience to satisfy them in a new way. I am a slut. Their slut. Mutually and openly. I am rarely fully dressed in the confines of their home and private yard. They desire to have access to my body, to my holes. Their desire fuels my desire. Much of my pleasure comes from pleasing them individually, combined, or including others. Who or how is irrelevant. Submissive slut. It is what I am... what I do. It has taken some training, some experience, some time. Now, it is who, what I am. I may be a maid, servant, cook, confidant to them. Those roles provide pleasure in serving. The true vessel holding the flame, though, is being a toy with three holes ready to be used at any time, in any way, wherever either or both desires. I am a slut.
The thoughts of what and who I am fills my mind in quiet times. Many times of quiet, I will wear special, noise-canceling headphones that provide a calming, soothing, peace of mind and soul through the music and sounds they generate. They were a gift of Trinity Enterprises to relieve the stress of my former husband leaving for an overseas assignment. The headphones were a miracle. With them, I was able to not only cope but to thrive. When I was served with the divorce, that peace helped me get through it and allowed me to see myself in new ways I might never have imagined, new ways that must have been buried deep inside me. I continue to use them now when cleaning, cooking, and times of quiet. It no longer is to relieve stress or tension. It might be partly habit but also it continues to take me to a special place in my mind where I am invigorated, reinforced, and encouraged deeply in my soul.
Right now, I am perfectly content and at peace. My couple is reclined against the headboard of their massive bed, each with a glass of wine. Shortly before, we had all three of us orgasmed together. Sometimes it is almost a game to see if I can manage climaxes to erupt at the same time. Tonight, it worked. I had used a vibrating dildo and my mouth and fingers on Mrs. Baldwin while he fucked me. Sometimes I am not specifically pleasured at all but merely used to pleasure the two of them as they fuck each other. In such cases, I masturbate later. There is no frustration on my part. My intention is their pleasure. My masturbation relieves physical tension so I can focus on them. I masturbate a lot. I use a collection of dildos, vibrators, eggs, plugs, and clips... to supplement my fingers.
This night we all orgasmed. They are relaxing. I am doing what I enjoy doing when they are relaxing like this. I am sprawled out with them but without a drink. My mouth is occupied with his cock. I have long since cleaned it of our juices and now sucking and licking casually. It is almost comforting in its own way. A sort of pacifier. It has softened but I have not allowed it to fully soften. As I contentedly suck, my hand is spread over him to her. She has one leg draped over his, her wet pussy open to my fingers as I play over the lips, clit, and her hole. There is no urgency or overt stimulation in my action. I am merely keeping them 'warmed up', their sexual engine idling smoothly should they desire to begin, again.
Sometimes they are talking about what just happened, or their days, or something at the company, or an upcoming social thing, or the house. I am never completely out of it, though. Their fingers lightly caressing me keeps me a part of it... my mouth and fingers, too. Tonight, she is probing more into what happened with the Vice Presidents.
Her voice is incredulous, "You double-penetrated her vagina? James... what got you thinking... Karen, dear, did it hurt terribly?"
I pulled my lips from the head of his cock, raised my head to look at them, "It did, ma'am. At first. Do you remember how big that man was and how big his dildo is? Remember how it stretched you the first time?" She nodded and I could see in her expression how the memory ignited a response inside her. I smiled at the reaction. She wasn't that much different than me... she's just strong and in control. "At first it felt like I might tear. I was stretched so much. Then, I adjusted. It was like being fucked by a pole." She shook her head in wonder. I returned my mouth to his cock and slipped two fingers into her pussy. She gasped at the suddenness of the penetration.
She playfully slapped my hand but didn't stop it. "You wicked slut. Are you trying to make me cum, again?" I giggled around the cock.
It was quiet for a moment. My sucking increased and my fingers moved more intentionally. The memory of that night aroused me, not that it takes much. I feel his cock swell in my mouth and know he is thinking something, either reliving the moment or something else. She opens her legs a little more and I respond by driving my two fingers deeper and my thumb on her clit. Soon, both are breathing heavier and soft sighs and moans cascade down over me.
Then, his cock springs to full erection in my mouth and I know something is coming. He is thinking something.
"Since that night... the double-vag... I've been having this thought... something different, new, outrageous. The double penetration has been amazing and I know Karen has felt the same way."
She responds to her husband, her hand also moving to caress my head sucking her husband. "Thinking something outrageous? Dear, neither of us would be surprised." I giggle around the cock, again. "What is it you've been imagining but not saying?"
