Authors: Layla Silver
Five minutes later found me sprawled on the bed in my new attire, eyes covered, legs spread and vibrator in position. I knew I was vulnerable like this, but the mood had swept over me and after all, it was my birthday. The vibration against my clitoris was driving me wild and I was wriggling and writhing on the bed when I heard him come through the door.
“Don’t move. Stay exactly as you are,” he ordered. “You look absolutely beautiful Baby and I have a little surprise for you.”
I tried to speak, but he put a finger against my lips to silence me. Next I felt his hand reaching down to the vibrator, taking it softly from my hand.
“Now that we’ve got you warmed up, you won’t be needing that...” he reasoned.
With that, he planted a kiss on my lips and I felt myself responding passionately to his familiar sweet taste. As I couldn’t see him, my senses were completely heightened and as he caressed my breasts I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter. My legs were wide open now, in direct invitation and offering to him. I was so lost in the euphoria of the moment, his hands and lips everywhere and our bodies intertwined, that I was almost oblivious to the sensation of the playful tongue coming down on my pussy. At first I thought I was imagining it, but very quickly I realised it was true; somebody (that was not my husband) was tentatively flicking their tongue over my wetness. At this realisation, I exhaled a sigh of pleasure and delight and became incredibly aroused. Who was this? Was it a man or a woman? I tried to reach a hand down to touch a head, but I felt a pair of masculine hands pushing them over my head so that I was no closer to knowing.
I squealed in response to the blissful encircling of my engorged clitoris, administered to me by a foreign tongue.
The same tongue then started to head south and inject its stiffness into my aching sex. All the while, my husband’s lips never left mine. I came hard in the stranger’s mouth whilst kissing my beloved. It was only when my husband pulled away, letting the stranger shuffle up my body, that I realised that the stranger had thick long hair and a pair of breasts that were rubbing against mine. The fact that she was a woman sent a surge of electricity through my spine and I was overwhelmed by the desire to taste her. Instinctively I parted my lips and started to kiss her, feeling her smooth and toned body on top of mine. I felt the heat of her pussy against mine too, as she rubbed herself greedily. I became more and more desperate to taste her. She seemed to read my mind, sidling up to me and straddling my face. My tongue leapt up to meet her pussy and didn’t stop lapping for some time. I’d dreamt about a moment like this for so long, but I could never have imagined how delicious another woman could taste. Added to this thrill was that of uncertainty, having no idea who she was had liberated me from any innate inhibitions. So there she was (whoever she may be) making love to my erect tongue. There were no groans in the room, other than those of contentment coming from the meeting of our lips. It was about that time that I heard the unzipping of a fly and I knew that he would be entering me soon.
“My God, you’re so fucking wet!” he uttered, through gritted teeth as he tried to withstand the excruciating tightness of my soaking sex. I tried to respond, but her pussy was still pressed tightly to my face and riding my tongue whilst he rode me with his throbbing cock. My words resonated over her pussy, causing her to come hard and scream out,
It was at that moment she gave the game away, lifting up my mask and revealing herself to me in a whole new light. It was my best friend Ana. I had toyed with idle fantasies of her for as long as I could remember and now here she was in all her naked splendour, joining in our party games. I gave her a big grin; it was all I could manage as I’d been rendered totally speechless. I stared at her lovingly, her long cascade of dark hair and those cobalt blue eyes. Here in her presence I felt hornier than ever and I wanted the three of us to have some fun.
We had always shared a psychic connection and tonight was no exception. In unison, our heads turned to my husband, who was mesmerized by the naked sight of the two of us and had his cock in his hand.
“Would you like to suck my husband’s cock?” I asked her, knowing full well it was a rhetorical question.
“It would be an honour,” she replied, only half-jokingly, as I knew there’d always been a spark between the two of them.
Without further ado she dropped to her knees before his protruding manhood. I took his good old familiar cock and guided it in into her mouth, where he was ravished by her. She took him deep into her throat, bobbing her pretty little head up and down as she brought him close to the edge with her polished oral skills. I needed to join in the fun, so I wriggled below him to tantalise his balls with my tongue. The sensation of the two swirling tongues was clearly too much for any man to take, he started breathing very heavily and warning us,
“Girls...girls...I can’t stand this much longer! What do you want from me?”
Although it was my birthday, I knew that it had been so long since my best friend had felt a man’s cock inside of her, so I altruistically declared,
“You're going to fuck Ana and then me.”
They both looked at me soberly for a second, checking that I wasn’t just speaking in a frenzied moment of madness.
“Are you sure baby?” he double-checked, running a hand tenderly through my hair.
“You heard me!” I reiterated, authoritatively.
They needed no further encouragement. Within seconds Ana was on her hands and knees, ready for him to take her from behind. I positioned myself on the bed, so that Ana’s face could be in direct line with my insatiable pussy. She needed no other hint, getting straight to work on my clitoris with that skilled tongue of hers. As my husband fucked my best friend, they both screamed out in a combination of physical ecstasy and psychological thrill at what was going on. I quickly pulled her face back to my soaking pussy; I couldn’t let her stop. The sight of her pleasuring me was clearly too much for him to take; he warned us,
“I can’t hold out much longer, what shall I do?”
Ana didn’t wait for my reply; she intervened.
“Make your wife come, that’s what you should do!”
With that we switched positions and Ana watched as my husband and I made frantic love, spurred on by her tight vigilance as she played with herself simultaneously.
“I’m going to come...now!” he exploded, pulling out of me.
Ana and I dipped down to his erupting member, feeling his explosion over our faces and our tongues. We were so caught up in desire, that all we could think about was how to get more, so we took it in turns to suck at his glistening cock.
When we were totally spent, I declared,
“I don’t know about you guys, but I feel like getting cleaned up. Who’s for a bath?”
With that I ran another steamy bath, going downstairs to bring a couple of extra wine glasses. We chatted, drank and giggled well into the early hours of the morning, letting the clean water wash away all of our sins. It was by far one of the most memorable birthdays I had ever had.
Diamonds, Casinos and Handsome Young Men
We’d been sailing for just a couple of weeks and the monotony had already set in. I could feel myself being dragged deeper and deeper into this sinking sensation with the passage of each day; I felt there was quicksand under my perfectly manicured stilettoed feet and at any time I might go under. Wasn’t this every woman’s dream? I asked myself this question time and time again. To be sailing on a luxury cruise-liner, carelessly whiling away the long languid days and being brazenly seduced by the glittering allure of the casino nights. I contemplated these profound questions, staring deep into my gin and tonic, looking for some non-existent tea-leaves to point me towards my destiny, for I was sure I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere.
“If you cross my palm with silver, I’ll reveal your future,” were the words humming at me from a low-pitched voice and accompanied by a conspiratorial wink. It was the bar-tender, interrupting my deep reverie and bringing me back to our floating reality. He was stereotypically tall, dark and handsome and the way he walked affirmed that he most certainly knew it. I decided to play along and I pushed a couple of coins resting on the bar towards him.
“Your palm, Ma’am, if you please,” he said dramatically. I turned my bejewelled hand around so that my palm was up facing. Now he leant over the bar slightly, holding my diamond and emerald-adorned fingers carefully, clearly accustomed to wealth. I could smell his recently showered freshness and the tingling mint of his hushed breath as he spoke softly to me:
“I can see a man, a slightly younger man. He’s tall, dark and some even say handsome. Though he can’t buy you diamonds, he could show you a mighty fine time.” He held my hand for just a second, gazing straight into my hazel eyes and melting something long since frozen inside of me. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror behind him and indulged myself in a moment of pure narcissism, taking in my luxurious dark hair that fell softly onto my shoulders, flowing onto the undulence of my generously rounded breasts. My eyes shimmered under the potent spell of desire and gin and my long dark eyelashes seemed to flutter in slow motion as I endeavoured to take in his handsome youth. His eyes left mine for a second to slide down my womanly curves and I felt the pulse in his hand beating to the same rhythm as mine. At that very same moment, I caught sight of my multi-millionaire husband’s stocky frame, wobbling its way towards me.
“My husband,” I blurted out, dropping his hand and breaking the spell.
Since being on board, my husband had spent the majority of his time in the casino. The bright lights flickering through the cigar smoke clouds didn’t appeal to me and nor did the testosterone-fuelled cheering and jeering that accompanied victories and losses. That’s why I would frequently find my forty-five-year-old diamond-dripping self in one of the many bars, alone save for the inquisitive gaze of some bartender or other. I had started frequenting this particular bar due to its tranquillity. I was usually the only woman in there and could be tended to by the most conscientious of waiters. It also had the advantage of being right next to the casino, so that if necessary I could retrieve my husband in his inebriated state and accompany him back to the cabin. So this place had become my nightly haunt and I would perch on one of the bar stools, my long legs dangling provocatively under the spotlights. I would notice the waiter’s eyes sweep over my legs as he darted past me, busying himself with some invisible cleaning.
Tonight had been the first time he’d tried to spark up conversation though, for he was clearly twenty years my junior and guessed we wouldn’t have much in common. I knew that I could still attract men; the years had agreed with me in spite of the marriage I had been through. Let me tell you a little bit about myself, for every story must be told within its context. I’d married young and I would like to say for love. He was the boss and I was the secretary; the usual cliché. There had been an affair, a messy divorce and all the usual awkwardness of life’s transitions. He was fifteen years my senior and now bore the mark of those sixty years. Unlike in my case, the stress had been etched as deep wrinkles on his once handsome face. His propensity towards fine-dining resulted in an ever-growing waistline and a regular drinking habit gave him a rosy complexion (not of country walks, but of burst blood-vessels). Needless to say, I felt little sexual appetite in his presence and our marriage had become very dull indeed. I was fairly certain that he had taken on a younger lover – maybe somebody from the office – as he had stopped asking me for sex. The only emotion I felt was that of relief, if he left me alone then this was better. I can hear you thinking, why didn’t you just leave? I wasn’t ready and I loved him, at least in the nostalgic way that you love an old piece of furniture. I was comfortable in my mediocre existence filled with all the material delights I should crave, yet deep in my soul I felt very unsatisfied and yearned for deeper meaning on some level.
I couldn’t help but feel like I’d let some of my best years slip through my fingers as readily as the money had through my husband’s gambling hands. He’d only been the second man I’d made love to and I had been completely faithful to him, even if at present our sex life had been replaced by a toy. However, as I lay by my husband’s side that night, trying to sleep in spite of his incessant snoring, I started to toy with thoughts of the waiter and how my skin had quivered under his fleeting touch. Images of his youthful vigour flashed through my mind; I imagined him serving me cocktails with nothing on but that little white apron and the cheeky conspiratorial grin I had previewed earlier. I tossed and turned with these images whizzing through my mind, creating my own erotic film. It was useless staying in bed like this, for I knew I wasn’t going to sleep. I decided I would get up quietly and go for a walk on the deck, in hope that the cadence of the ship could lull me into a soft sleep. I crept around the room as silently as possible, feeling a little sneaky in my pursuit, though I wasn’t sure why. I accidentally knocked my phone from the bedside table to the floor and I thought that this would be enough to wake him, but to my relief he just made a grunting sound and turned over. I slipped back into the long black evening gown I had been wearing, climbed into the high heels, grabbed the key and made my way out of the cabin.
The cool night air sent shivers through my restless limbs and I felt a surge of liberty run through me as I watched how we sped through the choppy waters. There was nobody in sight and this was quite a refreshing change from the vibrant buzzing of the ship by day. I gazed up at the stars and then at the moon, feeling its beaming ray shining down on me like a great theatrical torch. I realised that I was the key protagonist in my own life and really had to take control. Such was the depth of my thoughts before they became fragmented as I heard footsteps coming towards me. I turned to glare at the intruders into my solitary moment and my eyes were met by two great masculine silhouettes, seemingly coming towards me. One of these figures was tall and slender and it was with a wicked chill that I identified him as the bartender. The second was slightly shorter, but this lack of height was more than compensated for by a healthily robust stature. He looked like a young man who most certainly knew how to work out. They came close to me and I knew for sure the first was the guy whose hand had clasped my very own just hours ago.