She moaned quietly at where the conversation was going, her lips briefly revealing her annoyance.
"You're learning, sweetheart. That's good." My hand rested lightly on her exposed sex, her legs spread wide open, her hands tied to the headboard above her. "Tell me again what happened this weekend in Cincinnati."
She took a breath, a tear escaping from her closed eyes. This was torture for her; I knew that. But she could stop it anytime; she knew that.
"It was Friday night. We'd just finished the week's classes and we were all burnt. There had been a couple of guys flirting with me all week. It was amusing. And flattering. Oh!" My finger touched her clit. "...and I had this thought that I could probably get them to buy me a few drinks and...then..."
I stroked her a little bit more, feeling the moisture leaking from her lips. "...and then?"
"Unnhhhh...then...hnnnhh...I thought about seducing one of them..."
"One?"
Her eyes shot open as I pressed a little harder against her clit. The thought I might have suspected her interest in bringing both of them back to her hotel room collided with her realization that she had never said it out loud but
had
been thinking it.
"So?" I pressed harder.
"Maybe." She whispered.
"Okay. Maybe." I pushed a little harder against the wall of her pussy, close to, but not at
that
spot. She moaned and tried to push her pelvis against my hand. "When's the next training?"
She inhaled sharply. "Next week."
"Same guys? Henri? Jim?"
"Unh hunh. Same training for all of us. They said they'd be there." She squirmed trying to get relief.
"Hmmm...So you checked, eh?" I pushed again, my fingernail scratching on the inside of her wet wall. She let out a little cry.
"Yes! Yeah...we're all supposed to stay in...ohhhhnn...touch."
"Excellent. Okay. Here's the deal." I settled back to get more comfortable, my finger exiting her vagina, my thumb resting on her mound. She looked down her body at my hand and then up to my face, the craving in her eyes so beautiful. "Next time? Next time you're going to seduce them. Both of them. Same night. Together."
She shook her head, "No, no, no, no. I...can't. No. Way. No Ray!" She stopped and looked at me, her face a mixture of disbelief and denial.
How could you want me to do that?
written in her mouth and eyes.
I set my lips and stared at her, my hand leaving her mound, bringing my fingers to my nose. "You want it. I want it. What's the problem?" She stared at my fingers, her pussy lips opening like flower.
"I'd...I'd get a...reputation...my career. I couldn't." She knew what she was saying, what she was implying by denying my suggestion. She was either giving up on our deal or setting herself up for something even more...challenging.
We had come to a crossroads in our relationship a few months prior. The inevitable boredom of remaining monogamous - for us it had lasted a couple of years - but we both knew it when it happened. I was a little surprised when she brought it up.
"We're in a rut," she said after a particularly uninspired round of sex.
I couldn't argue - I'd been finding myself flirting with some of the women at work - not something I had expected. "What are you saying?"
"I dunno."
"Are you interested in trying something a little different? Public nudity, perhaps?"
She giggled and slapped me lightly. "No, stupid. It's not the variety. It just feels...safe, I guess. I like the 'edge,' you know?"
I did know. It was what had attracted us in the first place and what I had always loved about her. The edge. I think it was the first time she'd spoken it as a word, but it defined much of what we did, how we acted.
The conversation continued over a period of days, weeks really. We'd approach it like a dangerous insect - small enough to avoid, we didn't want to get too close, but so intensely threatening it kept us coming back. Eventually, we'd landed on an understanding: we were free to explore other lovers. But, we were each held to an equal and opposite commitment: for me, I couldn't tell her about any of my outside escapades, and for her, she had to tell me everything.
Not being able to share with her my intimate narratives was as much torture for me as her being forced to expose every detail of hers. I insisted on a ceremony the night we made the pact. Stripped naked, standing in the center of our apartment, the lights down, candles around us, we fucked standing up, exposed to only ourselves, not hiding in the dark, not under the sheets. Neither of us came, it wasn't enjoyable in the superficial way sex can be - it wasn't meant to be. I demanded we take a Polaroid of it. I made sure it was in her panty drawer where she could see it every morning.
"You know you're going to see them again. And you know you want to explore two guys. Look," I slid my finger into her, "it's obvious."
"Hnnnnhhh....noooohhh...god, no, no, nnnnnnnn....okay...don't stop...don't stop...okay...okay. Yes. Yes. Yes! Noooooo...you bastard!"
I studied her face as my finger brought her to the edge and to her agreement. She wrinkled her nose but didn't turn away when I painted her lips with her moisture, eventually pushing into her mouth and feeling her tongue stroke her juices off me.
"Please," she pleaded, pushing my finger out with her tongue, "I'll do it. I'll do it. Just make me come, Ray. Please."
As I plunged my cock into her, an image of her being violated by her two lovers nearly pushed me over the edge; the need to be there feeding the fire in my balls. I stopped, my cock impaling her, lifting up on my elbows. "Hey."
She looked at me, pleading and confused.
"One more thing: you're going to photograph it."
Before she could react, I pulled out and slammed into her, hard, fast and deep. The way she needed it, the way she craved it. I knew she'd be sore the next day - I was already feeling a burn, but I couldn't let her protest.
She screamed: a mixture of surprise, intense pleasure and a weak denial, all wrapped into a gorgeous uninhibited climax. She was going over the top, my cock shooting a stream of hot cum into her.
* - * - * - *
She finished packing, the night before her next trip. She looked up, a smile on her face at the present I had for her.
"What's this?" She took it - a box with brightly wrapped paper and ribbon.
"Something to think of me on your trip. Open it." I sat on the bed next to her suitcase.
I watched her face as the wrapping came off, my cock getting hard at the scenes I imagined in the next couple of days.
She gasped, the commitment remembered. She looked at me, terror and protest mixed with expectation and excitement. "You...you were serious...?"
I nodded slightly, motioning her to open the box. "It's not expensive, or complicated, but we should make sure you know how to work it."
This was before the digital age - cameras came in a variety of shapes and models. This wasn't a cheap snapshot version - it had auto-advance, auto-flash, what we might think of as a "point-and-click" today, but back then was middle-of-the road expensive.
She took it out of its packaging, looking at the various hatch doors, each inspection reminding her of what was in store. She put in the batteries, opened the film and loaded it, and clicked it shut. With it sitting on her lap she looked up at me, the struggle written in her eyes.
"Are you really serious?" She whispered it, hoping I was, hoping I wasn't.
"Try it out."
She turned it on, its lens cover irising open, her eye peering through the viewfinder. The flash caught me by surprise and she laughed, breaking the tension.
* - * - *
When I picked her up at the airport we were both so aroused we could think of nothing other than getting home. She smiled at feeling my erection against her, her hand drifting down to rub it. I had already confirmed she'd gone through with the agreement; we'd talked briefly the day after it happened. I insisted on no details until she came back, knowing the anticipation would add to her discomfort.
"But how are you going to get the pictures developed?"
I could tell she had been struggling with the question since the idea had first come up.
"Brad."
She looked at me, her hair a foggy frame on the pillow. "Brad?"
"Yeah. He's a guy at work - into photography. Has his own dark room. He's suggested he'd be more than happy to show off his skills if I had some shots I wanted developed."
"You
told
him?" Anger replacing the original curiousity.
"Hey. Hold on their tiger. He doesn't know what kinds of shots. He's a photo-nut. He says it to everyone. But, yeah, I'll tell him in a New York minute if that's what you want."
