Then there was that lovely opportunistic tongue darting in to take advantage of Bel’s surprised gasp. And suddenly they were tongue-dancing, mouth to mouth, breast to breast, body to body, and Bel damn near came in her panties from the sheer pleasure of it.
Her pussy gushed at the thought and clamped down tight on Dan’s cock. He gave a hard grunt in response, and she thrust up to meet him with renewed energy.
She’d hurried away from her massage session all flustered and confused. Oh, Ellen had offered an embarrassed apology, but in the car on the drive home Bel had come, with her fingers raking at the crotch of her knickers, while sitting there in traffic, thinking about Ellen’s luscious mouth, thinking about the feel of Ellen’s titties against hers. And oh, how she had come! It had been so easy. And now, with Dan tensing at the approach of his orgasm, she thought about what would have happened if she had slid Ellen’s hand up under her skirt. Would the woman have fingered her wet pussy? Would she have guided Bel’s hand to return the favour? And what would it feel like to diddle another woman’s cunt? God, she suddenly wanted to know.
‘I’m coming,’ Dan gasped, with a thrust that felt like it would go clear through her.
Thinking hard of how it felt to come on her own fingers, knowing just how soft and warm and wet a woman’s vulva is when she’s aroused, thinking about Ellen’s sweet lips, she gripped his cock with her cunt, bore down hard and tumbled over the edge with him.
* * *
Francie would have laughed at the irony of the situation if the joke hadn’t been on her. Her bedroom window faced Dan’s bedroom window. She knew that because he told her. He told Francie that there were nights when Bel was asleep that he would stand in front of the window and masturbate thinking of her. There had even been nights when they’d seen each other, and she had stood naked, wanting to show herself to him. Oh, she knew he could barely see her at that distance. But while he masturbated, he would know that she was naked with her fingers dancing over her clit and dipping between her labia while she thought of him. And she wanted him to know that.
But he wasn’t at the window tonight. He was fucking his wife. She felt that knowledge with an ache that was almost physical. She felt it down low between her hipbones. And she was horny. It really pissed her off that, for some stupid-arsed reason, knowing the two of them were humping and grinding and grunting made her outrageously horny, even as it ripped her heart out.
She untied the knot that held her robe closed around her waist and let it slide off her shoulders. Her breasts felt heavy and full, and the cool breeze blowing in the window made her nipples pucker and stretch. She could smell her pussy, like a warm brimming tide pool. She slipped two fingers in between her folds and felt her silky slip and slide yield to the touch. She wondered if Simon had smelled her when he found her in the greenhouse, all wet and slippery from just coming. Surely he had. How could he not?
Oh God, Simon. He had made the rest of her day bearable. If Cook hadn’t interrupted, would he have fucked her right there on the staging table in the greenhouse? She wouldn’t have needed a courgette. She smiled as she thought of the size of his cock pressing so anxiously against the thin fabric of her panties. Would he have actually fucked her, though? Or would he have been a gentleman and perhaps asked her out for drinks first?
And what about her? Would she have let him take her, knowing why he was in the position in the first place, knowing that her tears and her distress had motivated him, that she had thrown herself at him like some brazen slut. And yet he certainly wasn’t put off by her advances. He seemed happy to take it to the next level. And he was a gardener. Good with his hands. She could tell that by the way he handled her seedlings. She wondered what else he could do with those lovely hard hands. Her pussy gripped and pouted, gripped and pouted against the scissoring of her fingers, and her clit felt like it would burst with its fullness.
She looked out at the darkened window of Dan’s room. Then, thinking of Simon rubbing against her crotch with his heavy erection, she leaned her back against the window frame and perched on the sill, carefully moving aside the hefty forest cactus cascading in the moonlight. Once she was settled, she lifted one leg on to the sill and opened herself lewdly, imagining what might have happened if she’d had time to undo Simon’s trousers, release his hard-on and shove aside the insubstantial crotch of her already wet panties. He was right there, so close, so ready. And she was slick and swollen. He would have barely had to do anything but shift his hips slightly. She would have guided him in, in deep and hard and tight. Then she would have laid back on the table, wrapped her legs around him and watched him through the shafts of sunlight flooding the greenhouse. She would have watched him thrust and shove and grunt until he came, until they both came, and that empty spot for Dan would somehow not be quite so empty any more. In her mind’s eye, she imagined what Simon’s lovely face would look like when his body tightened in the throes of an ejaculation. And with a gush of wetness and a shudder that nearly knocked the plant off the sill and shook her to the core, she came on her fingers, imagining that she’d been riding Simon Paris’s cock, while Dan looked on longingly from just outside the greenhouse door.
Chapter Four
Ellen Martin went to the homes of her more exclusive clients. They paid her a lot for the privilege. She was that good. But Bel enjoyed going for her massage at the health club surrounded by the sweaty metal-and-leather atmosphere of the gym. OK, it was an exclusive club, and it never really smelled like sweat, but the atmosphere was still there. Today the workout had been particularly hard. The shower afterwards was cool and bracing, but it hadn’t been enough to take Bel’s mind off Ellen’s kiss or the fact that it had been thoughts of Ellen that had sent her over the edge last night when she had sex with Dan.
She hadn’t been able to sleep afterwards, and when she finally did, long towards morning, she dreamed of Ellen. The dreams were super-heated, with visions of Bel nursing at Ellen’s lovely breasts while Ellen stroked and caressed between her swollen labia; of Ellen’s lovely mouth lapping and nipping and sucking its way down over Bel’s breasts and belly and right on into her pussy. In the morning, the need was so great that Bel had had to bring herself off while she was sitting on the toilet.
There had been no planned massage for the day, and she seldom came to the gym two days in a row, but she couldn’t resist. A little extra exercise was always a good thing, Bel convinced herself, and luckily Ellen had a light day and could fit her in.
Surely Ellen could figure out that it wasn’t a massage she really wanted. The problem was, Bel wasn’t actually sure what she did want. She didn’t want to cheat on her husband, and God knows there had been plenty of opportunities. She wasn’t unaware of the looks and the come-ons of other men. She knew she was an attractive woman, but she was also a faithful woman. Bored, but faithful. She figured if Dan could endure the boredom, so could she. And in truth she had never been tempted before Ellen’s kiss.
But somewhere last night in the tossing and turning and listening to Dan snore, before she tiptoed off to her own bedroom, the thought had come to her as clear as daylight: how could it actually be cheating if she were with another woman? There’d be no penetration, no testosterone, nothing for Dan to be jealous of really. In fact Dan, being a typical bloke, would probably really get off on the idea of two women going at it. And it wasn’t like she would actually fall in love with Ellen or anything like that. It was just sex. It wasn’t even real sex, right? It was two girls fooling around. It meant nothing really. Other than the fact that she might actually get some satisfaction that didn’t involve the same old, same old she endured with Dan a few times a month.
She would never look at another man. She took her marriage vows very seriously. It was just, well, their sex life was such a bore, and she was a sexual woman. She had needs, needs she had been perfectly happy to take care of with her growing collection of sex toys, but then Ellen had kissed her. OK, she had to admit she’d harboured secret thoughts about Ellen even before the kiss. She had thoughts of Ellen’s tight nipples popping out of the top of her vest, thoughts of Ellen’s lovely massaging hands moving right on down over her belly and in between her legs. She’d made herself come to those very thoughts more than once. But they were just fantasies. Everyone