As those of you that have read my previous musings on the subject will know, apart from the one, albeit extremely spectacular, occasion I couldn't get Helen, my impeccably respectable school-ma'am wife, to allow her ‘dark side' into view. That there was a ‘Sister Hyde' to her ‘Mrs Jekyll' was beyond doubt, but she certainly kept it well under control, and I racked my brains to no avail as to how I might engineer another situation whereby I could watch her being serviced by another man, or, preferably but even more unlikely, men. There didn't seem much prospect as the only occasion on which she had succumbed had been due to a number of fortuitous circumstances and whenever I mentioned that she might like to receive another massage from an ‘expert' the reply was always along the lines of ‘been there, done that, got the tee-shirt.'
I have already related how she gets turned on by being under dressed in public, though she has, to my knowledge, never flashed another man or men deliberately. Indeed, the only times that this has happened have been accidental, an example of which was when she decided to have a tattoo done. I don't know if this was supposed to convey some subliminal message, but what she wanted was a ‘little devil' motif inking on one side of her pelvis, just above and to one side of her pubic area. Off we went to a tattoo parlour, chosen because it had a female tattooist; she picked the design, signed the form, and went into the back to have it done. The rules of the establishment meant that I had to wait outside, but during the procedure a male member of staff went in through the door for something, allowing me a glimpse of what was happening. Helen was leaning back in a chair, and her jeans were lowered to about mid-thigh. Her knickers were pulled down some way, though not as far as the jeans, and the tattooist was working away with the electric needle and a cloth for wiping the tattoo as the job progressed.
The man walked in front of Helen and the tattooist and if he had looked, which he surely would have unless he was gay, he couldn't have failed to see her hairless mound. It could only have been briefly though, as he got whatever he was looking for and exited a few moments later shutting the door behind him. In any event, the tattoo took only about ten minutes to complete and I asked her afterwards about how it had gone. She told me that she had been having it done when a man had walked in and asked the tattooist where something was. She (the tattooist) had answered him, and he had then picked something up and left. ‘Oh dear' I said, ‘he must have seen you with your knickers down.' ‘He did' she replied, ‘but they weren't down very far' and she just smiled when I asked how far.
A man and a woman got a bit of an eyeful on another occasion, due to our experimenting with toys and similar devices. One simple little appliance that was most popular for quite some time was a clitoris clip. Helen was a little reluctant to try it for a while after we purchased it, fearing that it might hurt her, but I got it on one night by sucking her clitoral hood into my mouth and slipping it on along the base. This evoked a few moans of delight, and the way it made her hood stand proud and kept it enlarged was a most excellent sight from my point of view. She described the sensation as ‘making me want to touch it all the time' and I was hardly going to tell her she shouldn't now was I!
We were going out for dinner one evening and as the weather was fine she wore just a fairly short summer dress with nothing on underneath apart from a sheer red thong out of the ‘Magic Moments' catalogue. Because the dress was partly see through in the right light, and she walked in front of the window whilst I was watching, I pounced on her before we left and indulged in some fingering, which made her very wet. For some reason the clip sprung to mind, and I fetched it from upstairs and, whilst she held her thong to one side, I fitted it by, again, sucking her clitoris and hood into my mouth.
We couldn't do any more as time was getting on, but I asked her to keep the clip on for the evening, which she agreed to as, so she told me, it was making her horny. The drive to the restaurant was about 30 minutes, and the clip was obviously exciting her as she kept moving about in the seat and touching herself, though she didn't climax. This was obviously much to my liking, but when we arrived she told me that it had begun making her numb and was starting to hurt. I therefore had to remove it, but to do so required her to turn towards me, raise her dress, put one leg up on the dashboard, and pull the thong aside. I delved down and started to remove it gently when I heard a sharp intake of breath from her and was told in no uncertain terms to hurry up. Another car had pulled up alongside us, and, because the clip was halfway off there was no way she could have shut her legs without hurting herself. She turned her head away, going a very bright shade of crimson, as the couple in the car got out. I finished as fast as I could and eventually emerged with the offending article, at which she re-arranged herself as quickly as possible.
The couple walked of towards the restaurant, though the guy did give us a backward glance and couldn't wipe the smirk off his face. Helen was mortified and said she didn't want to go in now as the people who had seen us would be in there. I explained that they actually couldn't have seen much as my body would have prevented a direct view, which reassured her somewhat. But despite this she replied that they couldn't have failed to notice that her legs were spread wide and that I was ‘up to something' under her dress. I assured her that it wasn't very important, and she had to agree so we went in. I did notice that she remained rather flushed for a while though, which I put down to embarrassment, and her nipples were clearly erect for quite some time.
She also got ‘embarrassed' whilst we were on holiday at Los Christianos, in Tenerife, which was, as fortune had it, to be a most advantageous occurrence. We had rented a very nice apartment with a balcony, and she was in the habit of sunbathing out there, particularly in the morning when she would read for an hour or two. I, not being much of an early riser, used to stay in bed until she came and got me up. The architecture of the place meant that we weren't overlooked, but our apartment and the one next door more or less shared the same balcony, with only a low wall separating them. The apartment next door to us was empty, and so Helen was undisturbed whilst out there. I know that, on one occasion at least, she lay there naked, and the reason that I know this is because she told me. We had been there about five days, and I was dozing away, when she came back into the room, climbed in bed, and told me that she wanted sex. Though she is hardly backward in coming forward, I couldn't remember this happening before, though was of course only too delighted to oblige. Afterwards I asked her what had brought that on?
She answered that she had had her shower and gone outside to read. However rather then put anything on, as was her normal practice, that morning she had gone out with just her towel wrapped around her. As she combed her hair the towel had fallen off, and, because the location was private, she hadn't bothered to put it back on. Having finished doing her hair she had laid back on one of the sun-loungers and realised that she was somewhat aroused at the thought of being naked outside in the open. She told me she had begun to ‘play with herself' and after getting really worked up had come in to get me to finish the job. I knew she was very aroused because she was both extremely wet and came very quickly and very hard. I said that I hoped this would be a regular occurrence, and was told something along the lines of ‘it might be.' As it happened it wasn't to be as such, the reason for this being what happened three days later.
As was my habit, I was lying in that half-awake half-asleep state that many of us experience when there is no need to get up and we just roll over and, sort of, go back to sleep. I was semi-awakened from this state by the sound of voices, Helen's and a strange male. Clearly she was talking to someone outside, and I thought nothing more of it until she came back into the bedroom a few moments later. She had her towel wrapped around herself and was deeply flushed and obviously flustered. ‘What's the matter?' I asked, whereupon she replied that the apartment next door now had people staying in it and she had been talking to one of them. ‘So?' was my response, before it dawned on me that she had probably been lying out there naked and had been caught out. I laughed, and said ‘did he catch you with nothing on?' She nodded, and said it had been very embarrassing. The way she told it, she had been lying there for a while and had heard a few noises but hadn't realised that there was anyone else there. After about ten minutes she had heard a cough, and looked up to see a man out on the balcony next door with his back to her ‘doing something with the furniture.' ‘I think he had been there a while' she added, ‘and he must have been watching me.' ‘Didn't you see him before he coughed? I asked, to which she said ‘no, I had my eyes closed.'
‘You weren't reading then?' I asked, beginning to grasp what had most likely happened. ‘She flushed even more, and answered ‘no, I was just relaxing.' ‘Relaxing as in getting ready to come and wake me up?' I asked. ‘Yes' she said in a small voice, ‘and I think he was watching me.' I asked her what she had done when she had seen him, and she said covered herself up and made to come back inside our apartment, however he had turned around and greeted her, whereupon they had exchanged a few words before she had rushed indoors.
A portion of my anatomy was now standing rigidly to attention and I leaned towards her and pulled the towel away from her breasts. Her nipples were rock-solid, and she didn't resist as I began kissing her and gently pulled her to me. I reached down and ran my hand up her inner thigh, and she instantly opened her legs wide. I felt her smooth mound and inserted a finger - absolutely soaking - before transferring my attention to her clitoris, which felt as hard as her nipples. Within seconds she reached orgasm, and I asked her to get on top and ride me. Sometimes, though not often, when she does this she gushes if she has been really turned on before, and today was a real soaker. I thought she had wet herself as her warm juices spilled over my hips and thighs, and this caused me to instantaneously ejaculate.
Afterwards she got up and went for another shower, whilst I wandered out to the balcony with a coffee. I looked at the sun-lounger and, despite having only just emptied myself, felt a definite twinge down below. In order to catch the sun, Helen had turned one of the loungers so that it almost directly faced the wall separating the balconies. I still didn't know what she had been doing exactly, but, whatever it was, anyone on the balcony next door could not have had a better view. I pictured Helen lying there, head to one side and eyes closed, with, perhaps, her feet on the floor each side of the lounger rubbing away at her clitoris, and perhaps slipping in the odd finger or two. I went and stood against the wall, and I was literally only a few feet away from where the action would have been. There was no sign of anyone next door.
My erection and I went back inside, and I ventured into the bathroom with the intention of joining her in the shower. She was having none of this unfortunately, and so I had to just let it subside of its own accord, which took a little time; we had gone to the café part of the complex for a bite to eat, her lunch - my breakfast, before it had disappeared completely. She had recovered her composure, but was reluctant to talk about the events of the morning to me in any detail. We were sat at the table after eating, having a couple of drinks, when a man walked by, stopped, and said hello to Helen. She flushed bright red, and introduced me to him as ‘the man from next door.'
We shook hands and I sized him up; he was, I would have said, in the twenty to twenty-five age range, no real distinguishing features though quite well built, brown haired, brown eyed and, all in all, quite presentable. He told us that his name was Steve and he was over here on a two-week break. We chatted for a few minutes about the complex and the area, which we had visited several times previously, and then he went off to get his lunch or whatever.
‘So that's the guy who saw you' I said to Helen, who had returned to a more normal colour; ‘he doesn't seem too bad a bloke.' She agreed that he did indeed seem a nice chap, but said she was totally embarrassed about him seeing her naked, particularly, as she put it, because she was ‘so fat and horrible.' Now this is a conversation that we often have. Like many women of her age she is carrying more weight than she cares to, but, as I often have to tell her, she is still very attractive. The standard rely to this is entirely predictable - basically that I'm biased and just saying it to make her feel better. There's no resolution to this argument of course, so I just shut up and got on with reading my book until we went off to do touristy things before returning to shower and get changed ready for dinner.
We ate that night at the restaurant on the complex, and then went through to the bar for a few drinks. They generally put a bit of entertainment on in there, a singer or just some music, so that those who are in the mood can have a dance or two, but it had been quite quiet there over the last week - we usually end up there at the end of the night wherever else we might have been. We sat on a couple of bar stools at one end of the bar and had a few drinks. As people drifted in, some dancing was evident, particularly from pairs of women - the complex didn't really cater for the young and single 18-32 brigade, so most of the clientele were about our age group and in couples or groups.
It was quite late when we heard a shout as Steve hailed us from the end of the bar and made the universal sign for ‘do you want a drink?' I gave him the thumbs up, and two drinks shortly arrived, followed a few minutes later by Steve and another man of roughly the same age, who, we shortly learned, was his best mate Brian. Like Steve, Brian was just ‘normal,' with no particularly distinguishing features and, similarly, appeared to be presentable and polite. They were having a break together they said, as they had been mates since school but hadn't seen much of each other for a while, and the apartment was a timeshare owned by Steve's parents. They had got a late night flight from Manchester, arriving at about 5am, which accounted for us not knowing they had moved in.
I asked them why they weren't in the fleshpot of Las Americas if they were both young free and single, but they said that they were way too old for that. This amused Helen somewhat, as she said that compared to her (and me!) they were both young enough to be her children, which, as I suspected it was meant to, brought out a shower of comments along the lines of ‘you're never that old' and ‘no way' and all the rest of it. Now Helen is no spring chicken, but she did, to my eyes, look pretty tasty that night dressed all in white; one of those long wrap-around skirts and a sleeveless blouse with a pair of killer-heeled sandals. Underneath, as I knew, she had on a white wonderbra, which gave her a decent cleavage, especially as the top few buttons of the blouse were open, and a pair of matching knickers - not a thong but they weren't overly large.
I dare say that to a couple of twenty-odd year old lads she must have resembled their mother, but to say they flattered her would be an understatement. We could hardly return the compliment as they bought us round after round, and Helen was taken to dance by one or the other of them so often I lost count. She danced with them both at least twice, and they were obviously flirting like mad with her, which of course, made her feel very good about herself - what woman doesn't like to be flattered, especially by not one, but two, younger men. You will easily imagine the portion of my anatomy that was affected by all this attention they were giving her, and of course I began to think that maybe, just maybe, we might see an appearance by ‘Sister Jekyll.'
The bar shut at about 1am, and the four of us walked back to our apartments. Steve said he had a bottle of wine in the fridge and asked if we wanted to join him for a drink on the balcony. Helen looked at me and I said it was fine, but that I was tired and wouldn't stay awake very long. I said we would go into our apartment and join them on their balcony in a few minutes. Helen and I went in and I asked if she was OK with having a few more drinks with Steve and Brian. She said she wasn't in the mood for bed yet and quite fancied staying up a bit longer. We opened up the patio-doors and ventured out onto our balcony - the two boys, as I thought of them, were already outside on their balcony with a bottle of rosado and four glasses.
Helen said she didn't fancy climbing over the wall, so the two of them hopped over to our side and Steve poured out the drink. All holiday apartments wherever they are seem to have a plastic table and four plastic chairs for outside use. Ours was no exception, and so I sat myself down on one of them whilst Helen put the back of one of the sun-loungers up and, after laying down a towel, sat on that with her legs out straight. Steve and Brian sat on the other sun-lounger, though side on so that their feet were on the floor. We chatted away about all sorts for a few minutes and then I said I was falling asleep and was off to bed, if they wouldn't mind. Helen said she would follow me shortly, but would finish off her drink first.
I went inside and up to the bedroom, which, as the apartment was what the Spanish call a duplex, was on the first floor. As you can well imagine, sleep was the last thing on my mind. I went over to the window, which we had left open and found that I could see most of the balcony through a chink in the curtains and all in all had a pretty good view because the light from the lounge flooded the balcony. I could also hear what they were saying provided they didn't whisper.
The talk soon took a racier feel; the two had been complimenting Helen whilst I was with her in the bar, but now they began telling her that she looked really fantastic. As I've described, she had on one of those wrap around skirts and as she shifted position the wrap around bit slid off her legs, exposing one of them up to about mid-thigh. They both whistled at this, and she made no effort to cover up. Steve told her she had really nice legs, and asked he if she ever wore stockings. She was, it has to be said, lapping up the compliments, and laughingly told them they shouldn't be asking her such ‘naughty' questions. They persisted, and she replied that yes, she did wear stockings and suspenders on occasion but not in Tenerife as it was too warm. This elicited groans from the two, as they bemoaned the fact.
Helen finished her wine and Brian asked her if she wanted some more, to which she nodded. He took her glass to the table and filled, it but as he passed it back to her some of it spilled onto her skirt. She cursed, and got up, saying she would have to put it in the sink otherwise it would leave a stain. She then disappeared into the apartment, and I expected her to come upstairs to get something else to wear. I heard her downstairs in the kitchenette so I quickly stripped off and got in bed so that I would be ‘asleep' when she came up. She didn't however, and on hearing her voice on the balcony again I speedily went back to the window.
She had just walked out without the skirt and resumed her position on the sun-lounger. Steve and Brian looked on appreciatively as she resumed drinking her wine, and I looked on even more appreciatively. She really wasn't showing much to be truthful, as the blouse came down to just below crotch level, and she had her ankles crossed on the lounger. One of them again complimented her on her legs - ‘now that we can see them properly' - and she said they were being daft and her thighs were too fat and similar. Naturally they would have none of this and told her she had excellent legs and basically carried on with the flattery.
I could she was getting flushed, though whether with the drink or lust it was hard to say. I saw her glance up at the window where I was a couple of times, but she was certainly showing no inclination to bring the night to a close. The two young lads, as I can't help thinking of them, were looking pretty flushed as well, and I was stroking my erection gently as I surveyed the scene.
It was Helen who ratcheted up the potential a few notches, by declaring that she was hot and uncomfortable. She got up and went back in the apartment, and reappeared a few moments later declaring ‘that's better.' I couldn't see that anything had changed, until she leaned back. She had removed her bra, and hadn't bothered buttoning the blouse back up fully. There was just one button, at about navel level, holding it closed, and as she resumed her position on the sun-lounger I could clearly see the inside curve of her breasts and her nipples pushing through the thin material. I wasn't the only one who could see, and Steve and Brian were goggling at her, much to her amusement; ‘stop staring' she giggled at them, ‘you see more than this on the beach every day.' The two of them, feeling the heat in more ways than one perhaps, had already stripped their shirts off and now Brian moved from his position on the lounger to one of the chairs around the table. He carried this over to Helen's lounger, and sat down looking across her to Steve, who was still on the other side.
There was my Helen, dressed only in her knickers, an open blouse and stilettos, half-lying between two obviously lusty young men. I loved it, and my erection grew stronger, forcing me to leave it alone for a minute or risk an eruption. It was Steve who took the issue further; he asked her to show Brian ‘her tattoo.' She looked at him; ‘ so you were watching me,' she said accusingly, at which he nodded and replied that he most certainly had been, and ever since then he had been mightily turned on. Helen, I thought, was going to give him a piece of her mind, but to my surprise and delight, she squirmed on the sun-lounger and, looking him in the eye said ‘since you know where it is, then you show him.'
Steve reached over and pulled her blouse up so that her knickers were fully exposed. He then tugged the waistband down, exposing the ‘little devil' to Brian, who probably wasn't watching as the top of her smooth mound came into view.
This was too much for me, and I had only time to grab my underpants from the bedroom floor before using them to catch my ejaculation. Helen made no effort to prevent herself being more or less fully exposed, but as Brian reached from his side to assist Steve in what was an obvious attempt to remove her underwear she told them to stop.
‘Dear me boys,' she said, slapping their hands away, ‘do you think you can get my knickers off that easily?'
The two of them stopped and her clothing snapped back more or less into place. ‘If you want to get into my pants you'll have to convince me it will be worth my while' she told Steve and Brian, who were sitting there looking somewhat lost and evidently unsure of what to do next.
‘How do you mean?' I heard one of them ask.
‘Do you know how to make me, or any woman, orgasm?' she replied.
‘Well . . . yeah, sort of' came the answer.
‘So tell me how you would fully satisfy me . . . assuming I let you try of course' Helen asked, leading, once again, to an exchange of glances between Steve and Brian who seemed unsure of what to say.
‘By . . . er . . . penetrating you and . . . ehm . . . fucking you' came the hesitant retort from Brian.
‘Not the right answer' retorted Helen, who then went on to tell them that, although it could happen, most women, herself included, usually needed other stimulation in order to climax, at least the first couple of times.
‘If you wanted to fuck me, you'd first have to make me cum, more than once, before I was ready for you' she finished.
I wondered where all this was going, but still found myself getting aroused at the sight of them calmly discussing the matter whilst my dear wife lay between the two young men in a state of undress. Her blouse still, just, hid her breasts though it couldn't hide the fact that her nipples were as hard as bullets, whilst her knickers, although they had snapped back more or less into place, still showed signs of the attempt to remove them; the waistband was now situated just above her depilated pubis. Helen changed position so that whilst one of her feet was still on the sun-lounger with the leg stretched out, the other foot was on the floor. Consequently her legs were rather more than slightly open with the gusset of her knickers clearly in view. In her left hand she held the glass of wine whilst the other rested suspiciously close to the waistband of her underwear. She was shifting somewhat uneasily and her right hand seemed to be lightly caressing her lower abdomen. I could see that her upper body, neck and face were flushed; taken together these were all symptoms of her being in a state of great arousal.
‘How would we make you cum?' asked Steve, who was making the running in comparison to his friend; Brian largely remained silent but could hardly take his eyes off Helen's recumbent form.
‘By playing with me of course' answered Helen, before adding in a husky voice, ‘and by licking and sucking me.'
‘Would you like us to do that?' asked Steve.
‘I would' my darling replied, at which my penis became rock hard and felt ready to explode, ‘but,' she continued quickly, ‘I'm afraid you aren't going to get to play with me tonight.'
At this Steve, who had seemed ready to move on her, sat back a little and groaned with disappointment.
‘Look,' she explained, glancing up at the bedroom window ‘my husband is asleep up there, and,' she continued, ‘I'll bet neither of you have any condoms, and if I let you play with me you'd want to fuck me afterwards.'
Steve and Brian shook their heads, obviously deeply frustrated and, I was certain though I couldn't see any direct evidence, they were each sporting erections that must have been painful; I certainly was, and one touch would have set me off.
‘If you won't let us play with you, then maybe you could just show us what it is that you like,' suggested Steve.
‘I think you already know what I like' retorted Helen, ‘since you were very wicked in peeking this morning, but if you mean you want me to strip off and play with myself, exposed out here in the open with my husband asleep nearby, whilst I let the two of you watch then you are even more naughty than I thought.'
Rather than waiting for a reply however, she put down her wine glass and set her other foot onto the floor so that she was laid back with her legs straddling the lounger. Her hips were thrusting up and down slightly as she reached up and grasped her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse and pushed them together with the heel of either hand. As she pushed them upwards her nipples became even more prominent, if such a thing were possible, and her fingers flicked across them causing her to moan. She released her breasts and grasped both nipples through her blouse, twisting and pulling them through the material.
A hand reached across and went for her blouse button, undoing it swiftly and allowing the garment to fall fully open, though her breasts remained covered because of the simple fact that she had hold of her nipples through the cloth preventing it from slipping off. Steve and Brian had quickly moved and were now kneeling each side of her sun-lounger, and both of them were stroking the inside of her thighs on left and right respectively. These caresses were perilously close to her crotch, which she appeared to be grinding against some imaginary object, and I fully expected them to be reaching under her gusset within seconds.
That they didn't was entirely down to Helen, who stopped manipulating her nipples and reached down to grasp their hands. ‘No, don't touch me there' she told them, ‘or you'll make me cum.' She placed their hands one on each breast, now naked as the blouse fell away, and began running her own hands up and down the insides of her upper thighs, moaning and gasping as the two lads began to massage and knead. Her hips bucked upwards violently, and a gap escaped her mouth, as Steve, whilst squeezing her left breast in both hands, lowered his head and began sucking and chewing on the nipple. Brian swiftly followed his lead, and I watched as these two young men, not to mention my wife, indulged themselves.
Helen is very sensitive in the nipple department and she can be brought to a state of near orgasm through such play. She looked and sounded extremely close now, and I could tell she was having difficulty keeping her hands away from her crotch; she kept just touching herself there before moving her hands away, her hips bucking, albeit slowly, the whole time whilst she emitted soft gasps and moans.
This went on for several minutes until Steve moved away from her breast and began kissing and licking his way down her abdomen; one hand remained tweaking and twisting her nipple whilst the other went to her stomach. Helen placed her hand in his hair and allowed him to nuzzle as far as what looked like, from my vantage point, the waistband of her knickers, already lower than normal thanks to the earlier attempt at removal, which he had by then grasped. Her other hand went to the waistband and grabbed it to prevent him pulling it further down, though she could have prevented him from proceeding by the simple expedient of bringing her legs up. Brian stopped his oral work on her right breast, though he continued to pull at the elongated nipple, and watched this ‘contest' avidly.
Though loath to miss a second of the spectacle, I dashed across the bedroom and grabbed my digital camera from the bedside table. Though I doubted that the light would be good enough for any decent pictures I knew I could probably utilise the optical zoom facility in order to scrutinise certain features of the action. By the time I got back to my vantage point and had the device switched on Steve had managed to get the top of Helen's knickers down a bit further; I don't think her heart was really in the effort to try and stop him, whereas his enthusiasm could hardly be doubted.
I focussed the camera on her gusset, which was in my view as Steve's head was still over her pelvis, and zoomed in. The ‘little devil' was now again visible as was, just about, the top of her slit; it was obvious that Helen was, and probably had been for some time, lubricating freely as there was a stain between her legs. My penis was now in danger of spontaneously ejaculating and any touch, no matter how light, would have been fatal in this regard.
As I watched this fascinating sight, Helen brought the proceedings to a close by lifting her legs up and thus forcing Steve's head away. This manoeuvre also prevented him from pulling her knickers any further down. Any disappointment Steve and Brian, and I, who had resumed viewing without the camera, felt at this was however dispelled when she, with one swift movement, removed the offending garment, pulling it down over her stiletto clad feet, and flung it aside. She then lay back and brought her knees up to her chest, spreading her legs as wide as they would go.
‘Watch' she gasped to the two, who shuffled down to the end of the sun-lounger and knelt there; both had by now, I didn't know when, unfastened their trousers and were stroking their erections. My masculine pride suffered no dents as I noted that neither of them was possessed of anything other than what appeared to be a normal sized, though extremely hard, penis.
‘Watch' she repeated as she stroked her hands down her body towards her lower abdomen. I used the camera to focus again on her pubic region - and immediately, without any physical stimulation at all, ejaculated onto the curtains at the sight. Her vulva was swollen and puffy, gaping open, with her inner labia and clitoral hood engorged and erect. My head swam as I recovered from a terrific orgasm; luckily I had put the camera strap around my neck or I would probably have dropped it, but the sheer delight of what I was seeing refocused my attention almost immediately.
Helen reached down and, having placed the first finger of her right hand at the very top of her slit, pulled her hood back exposing her pearly-white, glistening, swollen clitoris to Steve and Brian. I lowered the camera in order to take in the whole scene and saw that the two of them were still kneeling, but had leaned forward so that their faces were mere inches away from Helen's display of her most intimate parts. I returned to camera view, and watched as she allowed her hood to slowly slide back, before pulling it clear again. She repeated this several times being careful, it seemed, not to directly touch her clitoris or indeed any other part of her swollen vulva.
‘Oh God, oh my God,' I could hear her muttering to herself as she continued this slow masturbation. Clearly visible to me through the viewfinder, and undoubtedly even more starkly to her closer observers, juices were trickling out of her and down over her fourchette. Her vagina was expanding and contracting as she tensed and relaxed her pelvic muscles in time with the indirect clitoral stimulation.
After what seemed like several minutes of this, during which I found myself stroking a penis that was hardening again with some rapidity, I heard her croak that she was going to make herself cum. I zoomed in a little closer and watched enraptured as she pulled her hood clear, once again exposing her distended clitoris. One finger of her other hand was inserted into herself, and quickly withdrawn as her vaginal muscles involuntarily tensed around it. This digit, gleaming with her juice, she then used to lightly and briefly touch her exposed clitoris with a tapping motion. As contact was made her pelvic muscles instantly contracted, forcing more wetness out of her, then, when contact was broken, relaxed, allowing her vagina to gape open again. She touched her clitoris three or four more times, the muscular contraction being stronger on each occasion, before, obviously feeling the approaching orgasm was unstoppable, plunging a couple of fingers, maybe three, into herself. The resultant climax was, from my somewhat distant viewpoint incredible; from Steve and Brian's it must have been awe-inspiring. I lowered the camera and watched as she bent nearly double with the force of it.
They had moved back slightly as she writhed, moaned and shook, but moved back closer as her spasms subsided. Without removing the fingers Helen lay back again and placed her feet back on the floor each side of the sun-lounger. She continued to finger herself, the soft squelching sounds being just audible to me, as her eyes opened and she gazed at the two lads who were still kneeling on either side of her. Both were still sporting full erections, and, neither it seemed, had ejaculated.
No-one said a word, but Helen stopped fingering herself and, sitting up, motioned for Steve and Brian to stand and move closer - one on each side of her. They did so, and as they got level she reached up and took a penis in each hand. As she stroked them she gazed from one to the other, then moved her head and took Steve in her mouth. She sucked and masturbated him for about half a minute, before turning her head in the opposite direction and doing the same to Brian.
Both of them had a hand on her head as she sucked and caressed them in turn. I was well aware of course of just how phenomenal Helen's fellatio technique is, and that Steve and Brian were beginning to experience the same awareness was obvious from their gasps and moans as each had their turn. Though they were both clearly in a state of advanced arousal long before she began, her skill and knowledge ensured that neither of them was allowed to orgasm too quickly. It seemed that when she felt one of them was about to explode in her mouth she would stop, though maintaining a firm grip, and turn to work on the other. It was Steve that came first; Helen increased the pace at which her lips moved up and down his shaft and, as he groaned loudly and tried to pull her head onto him, she eased his penis from between her lips and directed his stream of semen down onto her bare breasts.
As he dribbled the last of his ejaculation onto her, Helen turned and gave Brian her full attention. He seemed to be attempting to hold back but she was having none of it, and within a minute he too was spurting onto her breasts. I thought that the show was now all but over; Helen however had other ideas.
‘God that was nice,' she said, ‘but I'm still horny.'
She then lay back, legs once again each side of the sun-lounger, and, placing her hand on her mound, inserted two or three fingers and began to massage herself internally. She was, as I knew, searching for the soft, spongy, spot on the front of her vagina and quickly she found it. As Helen worked her fingers, arching her back as she kneaded, Steve and Brian stood above her watching and quietly stroking themselves back to rigidity. By the time an extra powerful spasm and gasp from my wife announced she had succeeded in bringing herself to orgasm, the two of them looked almost fully hard again.
Helen rose from the lounger, the blouse hanging from her and streams of semen drying on her breasts, and told them to sit on the other sun-lounger side by side. This they did and she knelt in front of them and, turning to Steve, once again took him in her mouth. This time she worked on him for several minutes as he leaned back supporting himself on his arms. By the time she turned to Brian, who had masturbated as he watched, I could see that Steve was fully aroused. She sucked and manipulated Brian's penis for longer than she had Steve's, taking his full length into her mouth and then sucking on the head as she pumped at his shaft. Steve meanwhile was viewing the scene whilst stroking himself vigorously, and when Helen again turned to him she continued at it without moving back to Brian. After what seemed like several minutes Steve began to groan and, as before, Helen directed his ejaculation onto her breasts.
Before he had finished emptying himself she moved back to Brian, and this time she really had to work at it. After what must have been ten minutes or more, the eyes in his head began to roll and as he leant back I could see Helen's head bobbing up and down furiously as she forced him into another climax. He let out an almighty groan as he erupted, but this time Helen didn't remove him from her mouth but continued sucking. She must have swallowed, as I could see no sign of anything dribbling from her mouth when she eventually released him.
She got to her feet and stood facing them; Brian still recovering from his climax and Steve attempting, it seemed, to stroke some life into his near-flaccid organ. I heard her announce to them that she ‘needed to cum again' as she put one leg up on their sun-lounger and, with her legs apart and still standing, she reached down to finger herself again. I couldn't see any of this in detail of course, but Brian and Steve could and they watched intently as Helen reprised her earlier performance, which concluded in her letting out a great gasp as she brought it to a shuddering culmination. What I did see, as she removed her hand, were traces of liquid running down the inside thigh of her straight leg.
She sat back down on her sun-lounger and picked up the glass of Rosado she had put down what seemed like ages before. She took a sip, but immediately spat it back into the glass, announcing that it was warm.
‘I think' she then announced, looking at the two young men, ‘that it is time for bed.'
They again glanced at each other, and she divined the ambiguity of her phrase.
‘I didn't mean that' she giggled. ‘You two go back to your flat, and I'll go to mine.'
They laughed back at this, and said they would indeed go to bed, before picking up their clothes and starting to climb over the dividing wall.
‘Er . . . do you think . . I mean will we . . . like be sort of . . . doing this again tomorrow?' said Steve from the other side.
Helen, who had been retrieving her discarded underwear and removing the towel, which had a very large damp stain on it, from her sun-lounger stopped and looked at them. ‘I don't know' she said coquettishly, ‘I haven't even had a goodnight kiss from you.'
Brian, who had not long since ejaculated into her mouth, immediately stepped back over and, grasping this virtually naked ejaculate stained figure that was my darling wife, gave her a long lingering kiss. Steve seemed reluctant to follow the example, for perhaps obvious reasons, but after hesitating for a few seconds did likewise.
Both then climbed back over and disappeared from my view. Helen continued tidying and then re-entered our flat. I removed and switched off the camera before, as I heard her stilettos on the stairs, jumping back into bed and feigning sleep.
Real sleep was going to be difficult, as the scenes that I had seen were vividly impressed in my imagination and kept replaying in my minds eye. There was also the matter of the raging erection that they had caused! I heard Helen in the shower and wondered if she would be in the mood for further sex when she got to bed, though, having climaxed twice before, I wasn't sure that a man my age would be capable of sustaining an erection for long enough.
Helen finished washing and came quietly into the bedroom. I lay silently with my back towards her and, sure enough, a hand reached over me and felt for my penis. A murmur of delight escaped her lips as she discovered my erection, which she began to work on. I muttered as if I were being woken and rolled over onto my back, at which she climbed on top and, without foreplay - which would have been superfluous as she was absolutely soaking - guided me into her.
She rode me hard, rubbing at her clitoris the whole time, and, within a minute or so, came to a juddering climax. It was, no doubt, my earlier emissions that prevented me from doing likewise, just as visualising the scenes that had caused them kept me very hard. So hard indeed that Helen remained on top and went on to do it again. Her second orgasm however set me off as well, and I ejaculated what was probably an embarrassingly small amount deep inside her.
She climbed off and cuddled up to me, and I, as innocently as I could, asked her ‘what brought that on?' ‘I've been wanting you for ages' she replied dreamily, ‘only I couldn't get rid of those two until just now.' Stifling a laugh I grunted a non-committal answer. Helen turned over and yawned, adding in a soft sleepy voice that we would have to be careful or their presence next door might become a nuisance. I smiled to myself as I drifted off to sleep, thinking that, with such willing pupils and such a competent teacher, this could turn out to be a most interesting holiday.
( 7811 Views )
Rating: no ratings yet
Posted: Friday 31 August 2007
