Not Her Fantasy

-=-=-=-=-=- Chapter 1 -- Not Her Fantasy -=-=-=-=-=-
The camera shutter captured it: an awkward gazelle astride a lion.
Perched on top of him in reverse, my husband bucked into her. Her porcelain thighs splayed, glossy crimson lips snug around his shaft. Slender, beautiful with scattered tresses of fiery hair, and the glimmer in her eyes burnished with a hidden emotion. A bitten top lip conveyed her muted passion.
A nagging suspicion can be wrong, ignoring my intuition is something else.
"Amy... this isn't your fantasy is it?"
She came to a halt. Apple-cheeked, a timid shake of her head followed.
Playing on their cadence, my unhurried heels clipped the parquet floor. As a shadowy presence, it darkened her pearlescent body. Shiny teeth nibbled her top lip again, it might fray like her nerves. Her glance flitted to my painted smile and back to my eyes. Only youthful naiveté revealed those off-guard moments. Asked outright, she would deny it.
My thumb dimpled her chin, the warm light reflected in those conflicted eyes. The first caress of our lips yielded a whimpered protest. Cupping her breast, it re-animated her body with a snort for air. A pluck of its hardened nipple and our lips met again. The tip of her tongue danced with mine and provoked a wanton murmur.
Looking upon her now, her flushed expression, and heaving chest revealed a once-hidden secret.
"Amy, I can take it from here. Go, sit over there and watch us."
His meaty erection fell from her sex. Her absent boyfriend, the cuckolded candualist, he had enough pictures now.
This was my idea and I would atone for its failure. Straddling his bulky frame, covetous hands roamed his broad torso. Each kiss provided the signposts to my final destination. Taken in hand, a serpentine tongue traced the long ridge of his erection. Amy's sweet juices inspired this symphony of mouth and hand. As our eyes met, his expression conveyed that impatient need.
Devouring the plump glans, hot saliva coated him. Velvet wet skin, that signature lip-locked vacuum, he was helpless now. Chunky balls held firm, his broad perineum, smooth and fat with blood. He roused with a sonorous groan. My overheated sex ached, and breeched by my slender digits, Amy would see it all. It tempered the lust for now.
Each of his airy moans ran into the back of the last. Calcified to muscular rigidity, like so many times, he was ripe for the taking. Replacing Amy, astride my brute in reverse, I rode him severely. Galloped as a prize stallion, the fat heft of his penis fed the cravings within.
Rising and falling, his groans matched my cadence and the spring of the mattress. My stare did not leave her eyes, and she devoured the spectacle. Responding to my simple instructions, Amy did not retreat as the epitome of obedience. Her legs opened, calves on the armrests and back curled. Two digits plunged into her glossy candy-pink sex, our voyeur exhibited all her onanistic skill.
The mounds of her breasts rose and fell; a mottled rash decorated her décolletage. Fingers jabbed into her cunt, more thrummed over her clit. Peaky, those fulsome lips simpered for it. I told her to climax and those automatic hips betrayed her. Her yelps fused with his moans. Heavy-lidded eyes refused to quit as she bucked and shuddered. Furrowed lines crumpled her features. Crying out at its tumult, they softened to a haze of contentment.
Her gaze remained at the pivot of our union. Beckoned with a single finger, fixed with a resolute stare, she obeyed my instructions. Knelt beside us, her caress snaked towards my sex.
Reaching to her, a lingering kiss encouraged her acquiescence, "Touch me."
The circular caress of tentative fingers merged into this conspiracy of the senses. Novice or not, I could not care less, her obedience excited me. The clarion call of my orgasm stiffened moans into cries. He knew the signs and scythed into me. Inspired, his strident thrusts provoked the endgame.
Wide-eyed, told to continue, Amy bore witness to another woman's climax. Hasty words commanded her, and she massaged his balls. The clatter of our bodies rose, his louder growls of capitulation faded to silence. Struggling, fully captured inside, the smear of my hips forced it from him. With stuttered growls and desperate shoves, his milk boiled over.
My husband filled me in the place where he sired our children. Amy's incredulous eyes watched how it twitched and pulsed. The storm quietened and her rapt expression induced a snigger.
I stole a kiss from her lips. He fell from me and a bead of cream dribbled from my sex.
"Amy, hand me my robe."
I recognised that look she gave me. A muted hunger and unrequited lust. There was no tinge of regret, Amy showed an unspoken promise.
Covering my naked body, strong nurturing emotions illuminated my gaze into her eyes.
"Come on, Amy, let's get you cleaned up."
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Dressed, she wanted to talk to me... alone. Waiting escort bayan for the taxi in the hallway, she flustered, spat vowels, stopped, and tried again.
"This... this wasn't what my boyfriend wanted... you won't... erm, you won't say... "
A finger to her lips halted her rising emotions.
"Amy... shush, none of this goes any further. As far as we're concerned, everything happened how he wanted it to."
"That's..." and her sigh carried an air of resignation, "that's what I'm afraid of."
Concerned, "Amy, if you don't want to do this, no-one is forcing you."
Handing over the camera, she took it and gave me a weak smile, "Thank you, he won't make me do this anymore, he's dumped."
Struck by her forthright tone, it struck me how unaccustomed she was at wielding it. Folded into my embrace, I stoked her hair.
"Amy, if this wasn't what you wanted. You should have said."
"No... I should have said lots of things before this happened," and the admission seemed to calm her. "I... I experimented a bit at college, y'know? With girls. This was my first time with a couple. You two are amazing but I... I don't like having my picture taken. Not like that."
"Then delete them."
"I will."
Parted, I watched how Amy pulled herself from the brink. Crestfallen, she would not fall.
"Amy, you have more courage than I did when I was twenty-two. I remember my first threesome too, you did great."
She smiled, "Thank you. Men, huh?"
"Maybe..."
"You have been very understanding."
The rattle of a diesel engine pulled up outside; the time was now.
"Amy, I have your phone number. Let's have lunch... on me. We can talk about this a bit more. I can tell just my looking at you, there is a lot more to say."
That lip might fray this time, she nodded, "Okay."
A hesitant curl of her lips grew. With a final embrace, the letterbox clattered when the front door shut.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
We lived in an empty nest and rediscovered the appetites of our younger selves. We yearned for the experiences put aside to raise our family. Our tastes existed beyond convention and we found them on-line.
This encounter with Amy was not the resounding success we expected. The experience did invigorate my husband, not difficult at the worst of times.
My atonement was incomplete. Doused in the morning sunlight, I treated him to a sublime fuck. He took me, the only man that ever could. Nuzzling his ear, soft whispered words conveyed a new plan as he laboured to please me. Blunt heels pressed into the backs of his thighs. Exclamations and spoken desires spiced the potency of his drive. It intensified my orgasms. Rising in power, they wore him down. Mired in perspiration, weakened in his embrace, he relented and gave in. Entwined together, he slammed his essence into me.
Amy agreed to meet a week later.
Walking into the bistro, her tremulous greeting revealed a nervous energy. Angelica eyes sparkled with the first bloom of womanhood. A tender kiss brushed my cheek and her hug was unexpected, it verged on the intimate.
That tight dress was a size too small; her lissom figure carried it well. Too much make up, too much volume to her fiery hair, she did not need to try so hard.
I chose my neutral expression, a countenance not revealed in public. Dusky eyed, painted lips, veiled behind a curtain of chestnut tresses. An ex-boyfriend told me once it would be better to smile - or risk looking like an unrequited whore.
Amy drank wine in the nervous pauses, one glass and then another. What we did last week remained unsaid. Finding common ground, our conversation disarmed her reticence. The trap baited, patience would make my quarry bite. My air of detachment roused her curiosity, now she steered the direction of travel. The longer it remained unmentioned, the more it charged the atmosphere. This neutral look sought attention; I wanted the possibilities on her mind and nothing else.
You might think of me as cruel and austere. You might want to play this game and fear where to start... and who to trust. You might want to know what the bistro looked like, or the inside of our home. You might want to know why my husband worked away from home four nights a week.
What does it have to do with passion? In those moments of intense euphoria, does everything around you matter? There is musicality in the cries of passion and lyricism in emotions inspired by lust. Is it wrong to escape the shackles of reality?
This is why we did it, my husband and myself. This was a plan for her, our gift to help a lost traveller on a journey to find her true self. To see Amy was to look into a mirror, decades ago. Her Svengali ex-boyfriend, all too common in this lifestyle dented her confidence. We shared that in common. From bitter experience, unfulfilled desires and untrustworthy partners make for a miserable existence.
Your dreams might be stolen as you age, not for us. My husband and I were adana escort kindred believers. We wanted to live outside the mundane and sought the marvellous. Amy did too, I was certain of that, and she did not know how. As such an uncut gem, it made her the most precious jewel of all.
It glimmered in Amy's eyes, I was certain. The plan shared with my husband, I would take her as my lover. A blank canvas to educate and transform her into the spectacular. I would encourage her to overcome the acrid fear of novelty. When Amy was ready, I would bring her back to him, moulded as the perfect foil to our new fantasy.
The irony of her personality meant she lacked self-will.
It was a casual offer to give her a lift home. In the car of all places, an apprehensive caress of my thigh. Soulful eyes petitioned with her giveaway bitten lip. For such a passive creature, it was a bold move.
As an invitation of endless euphemisms: coffee... we never drank it.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The clatter of the letterbox echoed through the hallway and she succumbed at the first kiss. Reciprocating with the zest of a novice, Amy kissed me as she would a man. I showed her a different way. Extracting her confession, it was not love but need. Her capitulation signalled with a passionate clinch and shattered breaths; I revealed my plan between soft smooches.
"You... you have a wonderful body," Amy trembled, her eyes weighted by lust.
"So do you. Do you want this? You are going to bring out the best and worst in me."
"Yes... yes...", and she swallowed, "I... I want it all."
Holding her clammy hand, led to our bedroom, she practised more and more. Each time she got it right, a discarded item of her clothing fell to the floor. Reduced to lace panties, her nostrils flared for air. Too naïve to bluff, I caressed her slender curves, smooth as timeworn marble.
A stray thumb glided over a hardened nipple, the start of a caress down to the inside of her thigh. A touch close enough to feel the heat, diverted at the last minute to her loins. Quivering, weighted eyes looked into mine.
"You have 'experimented' before, Amy?"
A tentative nod with wide-open eyes, our sexual chemistry would turn base metal into gold.
"Show me."
I rose from the bed and opaque sunlight illuminated the object of her desire.
My wraparound dress pooled around my ankles. Attired for this moment in raven black, as decadent as an upmarket Berlin brothel. Sheer stockings, suspenders, breasts shaped by the seamless contours of a fitted brassiere. Between my legs, nothing felt as good as silk on my naked sex.
The click-clack of my heels on the parquet floor would not match her anxious heart. Clasping the edge of the dressing table, my stance curled my body, and the posture of my mons needed no words. Pulling the silk to one side, I would not ask.
Amy knelt between my legs. Her hot breath grazed my inner thighs. To console her pensive eyes, outstretched fingers ran through her hair. Edging closer with flawless eye contact, I pulled her towards it. Velvet tipped, it breeched my sex. Murmured long and low, I purred with appreciation. Circling its hood, an adroit flick surged electricity through me. Held in place, she did not struggle, there was no reluctance now.
Connected to her soul through those hopeful eyes, her patience aggravated the binding tension. Her skills betrayed her understated ability. Just her mouth and tongue, it cast aside the world around me. The need to gasp rose, an outlet for the faint echoes of a rising ecstasy. Almost half my age, that deficit in confidence no longer mattered. I tried to maintain the upper hand; instead, the compulsion to climax soared.
A gasp stiffened into a cry as Amy looked up at me. The first cramp of muscle squeezed at the pressure inside. Another spasm loosened it as each limb tightened. She did not fight as I rubbed my cunt onto her face. The need for release nurtured until it burst forth as noise and gratifying judders. A blessed release throbbed through me, relief from so much angst.
Bathed in its warm glow; Amy continued.
"You... you can stop..." rushed on the exhalation of a deep breath.
For a moment, our dynamic hung precariously in the balance.
Helped to her feet, taken into my embrace, a shower of kisses confirmed her obedience.
"Good girl, that was very good."
"It was?"
Placing my lips to hers, it mixed gratitude with affection. Rewarded for her naiveté, the temptation of surrender surged through me. Gentle fingertips skirted her erogenous zones, and she whimpered for more.
"Lie on the bed."
Eschewing my lingerie, I wanted her to admire me... to yearn for me. Prone, she surveyed my semi-naked body without a word spoken. I worked hard to maintain the figure of my youth. A harder sacrifice as each year added to the tally over forty. Savouring her latent elegance, she trembled as unconquered territory, petite and so fragile.
"Amy, adıyaman escort remove your panties."
They looped in an arc to the floor.
As an obdurate stare, it never wavered; knelt alongside her, there was no bargaining. Splayed legs crooked and slender arms aloft; her excited torso heaved. Her pale marble pallor mottled again with hot pink. Breasts stretched taut like upturned dinner plates. Scrunched nipples stood proud, long, and delicious.
There was no smile and the back of my hand grazed her face, "My turn."
A simple touch on her knee, her thighs fell open, the bare hillock of her mons rose at their confluence. Wide eyes revealed her vulnerability and she trembled with fractured breaths. With a feline stretch, Amy flexed as tantalising fingers edged closer towards her rapture. Denied, they retreated. Invisible patterns drawn on her body and undulating hips betrayed her need. Each gasp shorter than the last, her sex cleaved open and the tirade of her enthusiasm spilt forth.
Caught by surprise, she gasped when penetrated. Sodden, a rich warmth coated my probing fingers. An outstretched thumb applied pressure; it circled and rubbed that slippery button. Combinations tried like a thief until I found my ill-gotten gains. It glistened like morning dew and squishy sounds competed with her shallow moans.
Eyes closed, Amy lamented with broken whimpers. A squeeze of her breast, its long nipple plucked, it provoked a guttural moan. Edged to the precipice of release, held back again, she writhed on a plateau of arousal.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, each kiss on her inner thighs marked time. Loitering, she witnessed my determination with that fevered gaze. Taunting, so close and then backing away as her soft whimpers of frustration rose.
Prowling as a decisive hunter, no quarter given, and her surrendered body writhed for it. Lips pursed, cool air bathed her glossy sex. A smooth pillow, fine labial lips, clit prominent... it peeked through its hood. She bobbed as jetsam on a roused ocean, her sex offered to devour. So near, yet so far, and bit her bottom lip. Eye-to-eye, a string of saliva fell towards her swollen vulva. On impact, she gasped black mouthed.
"Pay attention."
Opened like the petals of a flower, a flick of my tongue, and her hands gripped the bedsheet. A metronomic cadence called out by long moans of frustration.
My lips ensconced it, variations of fingers and tongue sent airy gasps rising on the crisp air. The waves of rhythmic muscle built and Amy revealed her struggle. Commanded to beg, she gave a timid plea. Insufficient, the cycle began again, closer to release and its promise snatched away. The strength of her petition grew until she writhed.
Her hands dared to touch me, to direct me. The threat of restraint provoked a flood of her juices. Gripping the bedstead, it rattled with metallic complaint. Clasping her thighs, those louder cries begged for relief. Imploring me with a repetitive lament, she trembled at its precipice.
Trapped in the web of my design, shrill cries echoed at its tumult. Her fragile jawline, chin pointed skyward, her back arched. Limbs rigid, the rising judders seized to the point of a motionless singularity. Howling, sinews stretched then vibrated as piano strings. The tension revealed lithe muscles beneath her flawless skin.
She fell and huge lungfuls of air matched her convulsions. Flailing, crying aloud to exorcise the pent-up state of her mind and body. It overwhelmed her, the temptation of lunchtime, the unspoken seduction, and the emotions of so many secret fantasies.
Her dishevelled hair rested as a fiery explosion. Flushed, in a refractory state, her mantra of repetition begged for more. Greedy or abandoned, time would tell.
"Very good, Amy."
"Thank you..." her words lacked strength, "thank you..."
Onto her knees, adapted as a living doll. Leant forward, her forehead placed onto the soft mattress. Her arms placed between open thighs, the ratchet of cuffs fastened her wrists. She wore it without complaint: a soft leather collar on a chromed leash.
Light bondage, nothing too much, it signified her status. A spice that flavoured the dish, I wanted to enflame, not make it unpalatable. My husband and I toured the fleshpots of Europe. We witnessed and sampled many sexual peccadillos and tastes. This was our kink, enough beyond the norm. We could spend years finding the right person to fulfil it. Now, I wanted to possess Amy's mind, the most sexual organ of all.
Cool exhaled air, a zephyr breeze caressed both her holes. The tip of my sharp tongue could be acerbic. Now, it circled that intimate knot of muscle as my thumb penetrated her sodden cunt. It pleased me how she begged with conviction. Another boundary exceeded, another point awarded to the many so far.
The mere touch of the slender buzzing toy made her flinch. Its volume subdued when pushed into her tightest hole and my reward was her loudest cries of all. Slim and quiet, it belied its power. The slow licks of her sex lulled her into a false prospectus. Attuned to her breathing, as my fingers breached her, only then did she understand.
Her old life washed away; these new experiences defined it now.