In our last story, “Saying Goodbye to Our Friends,” I’d enjoyed two threesomes and two spirited wife-swapping sessions—one of which was far more pleasurable and productive than the other. In the weeks since, Sam had stayed over more times than I could count, and each visit rewarded me with the thrill of two hard cocks, devoted entirely to my pleasure.
That Monday, I’d wrapped up my jobs early and, with no little Oliver to mind, decided to wander into town for a leisurely coffee. The café was warm and fragrant with the scent of freshly ground beans. I sank into a cushioned chair by the window, nibbled a moist slice of Victoria sponge, and let the afternoon sunlight play across my fingertips. Across the room sat three naval nurses in their crisp QARNNS uniforms—Queen Alexandra’s Royal Navy Nursing Service—fresh from Haslar Hospital. Their laughter rang out in light, melodious bursts as they chatted over steaming cups.
One nurse, tall and blonde with her hair neatly pinned under her starched cap, caught my eye. There was something achingly familiar about her posture, the tilt of her head. When she turned, a radiant smile broke across her face, and I recognized her instantly: Sally from that memorable housewarming party right after we’d moved to Fareham—my story “The Accidental Swap.” Her presence was like a sudden bloom of memory, vivid and intoxicating.
Sally excused herself from her friends and drifted over to my table. Nearly two years had passed since that night, but her bright eyes and effortless grace hadn’t dimmed. We caught up on small talk—work, the weather—until she laughed and remembered the party: how the host and Bobbie had wandered around in a loose, open robe, offering that cheeky cocktail. She confessed she still regretted not taking me up on my bold invitation; her boyfriend had dumped her that very night, and she wished with every fiber that she’d left him then and there, come back with us instead. “I’ve had a few flings since,” she said with a playful shrug, “but nothing ever lit me up the way that idea did.”
My heart skipped. I leaned in, letting the moment hang between us. “The offer’s still open,” I murmured. “If you ever want to…” I paused, watching hope bloom in her eyes. “What are your shift patterns like?”
She ran a hand through her hair. “I finish a ten-day stretch—Thursday is my last day.” Her uniform was slightly rumpled from the long hours, but she flashed me a grin. “I have fresh whites at home, though.”
I bit my lip and smiled back. “Come by Friday afternoon, then. Bring a bag—you can stay in the spare room. One small request: come in your uniform. I think you look incredibly sexy that way.”
Her cheeks flushed beneath her cap as she nodded. She stood, brushed a lock of hair from her face, leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek, and whispered, “See you Friday,” before returning to her colleagues.
Walking home, the cool afternoon air tingled against my skin. My pulse throbbed with anticipation. At the very least, I’d get to watch Sally and Bobbie together. But the warmth of her smile, the thrill in our conversation—something told me this visit might be even more extraordinary. I was determined to seduce my first woman in uniform and discover just how unforgettable that sight could be.
A firm knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. When I opened it, I nearly stumbled backward with astonishment. Sally stood before me, her golden hair tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders—no longer tied up in the practical bun she wore at the hospital. She was resplendent in her full parade dress uniform: the rich cerulean of her coat contrasted sharply against the starched white apron, and a crisply perched tricorn hat framed her face, drawing attention to her bright eyes and high cheekbones. The sight of her made my pulse race and an undeniable warmth pool between my thighs.
I guided her into the lounge and poured us each a glass of deep ruby wine. As we settled into the plush chairs, the low glow of the lamp revealed the delicate curve of her neck and the faint scent of lavender on her skin. We chatted easily—about the parade, the hospital, little triumphs and trials—while sipping slowly. When I complimented her on how beautiful she looked, her cheeks flushed pink. Then, with a racing heart, I asked the question I’d been holding back: “Have you ever… played with another woman?”
A slow, mischievous smile curved her lips. She leaned forward, voice husky as she recalled her early days in basic training: a single long dormitory full of thirty girls, laughter and whispering in the darkness, bed-hopping under the muted glow of the lights. “It became routine,” she admitted, her gaze locking with mine. “I learned to enjoy it.” Her eyes shone. “Carol, if you’re inviting me into your bed, I’d be delighted.” She paused, hips swaying slightly. “It was one of my disappointments—I never made it to your home after that party. I dreamed of being in your arms, and… having your husband’s cock inside me. When you let me hold it that night, I was hooked on both of you.”
My breath hitched. I rose, heart pounding, and guided her toward the bedroom. Under the warm lamplight, I pressed her gently onto the bed, our lips meeting in a hungry kiss. I slid my hand beneath the hem of her dress, tracing the outline of her smooth hips, then let my thumbs slip into the silky warmth of her panties. She drew a soft moan as I peeled them down, revealing neatly trimmed blond curls and the glistening petals of her swollen lips, framed by the taut straps of her stockings. “They’re mandatory on parade,” she murmured, trembling with anticipation.
“Please,” I whispered, “stay in your uniform.” My voice was breathless. She obeyed, the stiffness of her dress and the starched apron sending a delicious contrast against my bare skin. I spread her legs, parting her knees. My mouth descended in a slow exploration, lips and tongue lavishing her most sensitive places. The taste of her—honeyed, warm—sent shivers through me. My fingers found the tops of her stockings, caressing her smooth skin, while I nibbled and kissed every inch of her inner thighs. She was a natural goddess, her pale hair shimmering over her shoulders.
When I raised my head to breathe, deepening my ministrations, fingers slipping inside her one by one, curling and stroking along her slick folds. Heat radiated from her flesh into mine. Her moans grew urgent; her back arched as she pressed her pussy against my mouth, seeking more of my tongue. Then, with a gasp and a tremor, she erupted, hot pulses of ecstasy splattering across my cheeks. She trembled and shook as I lapped up every drop, her body quivering beneath my attentive lips. When she had come down, we kissed slowly, tongues entwined in the warm aftermath.
With a playful grin, she flipped me onto my back and rose to her feet, peeling off each garment—hat, gloves, apron, dress—and folding them neatly on the chair. Her breasts were perfection: full, round, with pert nipples standing to attention. She slid back onto the bed, eager and confident, and began to explore me anew: soft kisses along my collarbone, gentle sucks at each nipple, hands roaming over the valleys and ridges of my torso. I arched against her, a low moan escaping as she traced a line down my stomach, then teased my inner thighs with her tongue. Her mouth, finding my sodden pussy, licking it until my climax built and broke in a storm of pleasure.
We lay entwined, lips pressing kisses along each other’s chests as waves of afterglow tingled through us. In an hour, Bobbie would be home. We slipped into the shower together, warm water cascading over our skin while hands roamed and caressed every curve—champagne bubbles dancing on slick flesh. Afterwards, we dressed quickly: summer dresses in light cotton, deliberately omitting underwear as a secret gift for my husband.
Settling into the living room with glasses of wine, Sally and I reminisced about our pasts. I told her about Wendy, who coached me through my first encounter losing my virginity, and about Mikki and James at the party—and how those unusual living arrangements had tested me in unexpected ways.
Sally shared her own history: five years in the service, two years my senior at twenty-four, her posting to a new mess hall with only two women per room—far more privacy than her initial training dorms. She spoke of a past messmate, the secret trysts they’d enjoyed until her transfer, and her current roommate—a woman engaged to a sailor, staunchly uninterested in other women despite their close friendship. She was now a sister on the ward, and was determined to go as high as she could.
Just before Bobbie arrived, I whispered to Sally to wait for me in the bedroom. Normally, I would have told him about our plans, but tonight I craved a surprise. I hadn’t even mentioned the chance meeting at the café. When the front door clicked open, I fetched him a beer and invited him into the living room. “Close your eyes,” I instructed softly. When he obeyed, Sally and I stepped into the doorway, lifted our dresses in unison, and stood before him, dresses fluttering around our thighs, utterly bare beneath.
“Open them,” I whispered, watching his eyes widen, dancing between my nakedness and Sally’s, a slow, wry smile tugging at his lips. “This is your special surprise for tonight.”
He set down his beer and slipped his hands into ours. “Let’s go to bed,” he said simply. And hand in hand, the three of us left the room—two women hungry for his touch, and one eager husband ready to indulge us both.
In a flurry of impatient motion, we shed our clothes, scattering them like fallen leaves. The build-up to this moment had been a slow burn over nearly two years since our first encounter with Sally. The three of us ascended onto the bed, a sprawling landscape of desire. I reclined, insisting they indulge in each other while I watched, eager to spectate the unfolding dance. Their lips met in a long, languid kiss, a sensual ballet of give and take, as if each moment was a delicate morsel to be savored.
I observed as Sally’s hand traversed the landscape of Bobbie’s body, finally reaching his now-taut manhood. She grasped it, her hand closing firmly around his shaft, beginning a slow, rhythmic stroke. A pearl of anticipation formed at its tip. Her eyes met mine, and she whispered, “I’ve waited a long time to get my hand on him again.” I leaned in, kissing her, encouraging her to revel in the sensation.
Bobbie, in turn, guided Sally back, his lips tracing a path of soft kisses over her peaking nipples. He settled between her thighs, her back arching like a drawn bow as he made first contact with her slick, waiting folds. He lavished her, priming her for the impending union. Rising, they met in another passionate kiss, her hand wrapping around his length, guiding him to her entrance. I watched, entranced, as my husband’s body joined with hers, a moment I would never tire of witnessing.
Their bodies found a rhythm, hands exploring the topography of each other’s forms. My own hand drifted between my legs, my desire echoing theirs. I joined their symphony of moans, the three of us chasing a long-awaited crescendo. Sally shifted, straddling Bobbie, engulfing his cock into her mouth, I watched as she took him deeper. Her first taste of his hard cock.
When she was satisfied, her body taking him inside her heated depths. I had a ringside view, my own pleasure building like a storm on the horizon. I could sense their climax nearing, and I timed my own ascent to match theirs. The room filled with the heavy breathing, Sally’s whispered encouragements, and the slick sounds of our shared dance.
My fingers danced over my swollen clit, Sally’s eyes closed, her body shivering as her orgasm engulfed her. My own release joined theirs, a trio of satisfaction. Looking at my beautiful husband, I knew from his expression that he was filling her with his warm cum. As our storms subsided, I guided Sally onto her back. Looking into her eyes, I whispered, “You have something of mine, and I intend to collect it.” I licked her intimately, tasting the intoxicating cocktail of their shared passion. She was sensitive, so I gently lapped at her, cleaning her tenderly.
Soon, I felt a familiar sensation as Bobbie positioned himself behind me, thrusting into me with a strong, sure movement. He pushed my mouth harder onto Sally’s waiting warmth. This felt so right, our bodies moving in sync, a dance of give and take. Deep within me, those familiar feelings rose again, Bobbie’s thrusts pushing me towards my task. I inserted my fingers into Sally, wanting her to join us once more. Our trio built up again, and the mere fact that I’d made Sally cum sent me over the edge, joining her in ecstasy. Then it was my turn to take all the creamy cum.
It was too late to start cooking, so Bobbie went out for pizza; there was no delivery service in those days. While he was gone, Sally and I showered together, our hands exploring each other’s bodies, our lips meeting in eager kisses. She whispered a thank you into my mouth, her breath warm and inviting.
We enjoyed the shared meal and red wine, Sally recounting our afternoon to Bobbie. He smiled, knowing without needing to be told, but her openness was sweet, endearing her to me even more.
After cleaning up, I offered Sally the spare room, but added that I’d rather she join us for the night. Kissing me, she whispered that after waiting all this time, there was no way she’d sleep alone. With that, we fell asleep naked and entwined, each holding the other, our bodies sated and our hearts full.
I awoke to the golden light of morning filtering through the curtains, my hand instinctively reaching beneath the sheets for Bobbie’s cock, which was already showing early signs of arousal. I took him into my mouth, savoring the lingering tastes of last night’s passionate activities on his skin. As I worked my tongue over the sensitive ridge of his helmet, he rewarded me with a deep, guttural moan that signaled his awakening.
Sally stirred beside us, pulling back the Egyptian cotton covers with curious fingers to observe our intimate moment. When her azure eyes met mine, a knowing smile spread across her flushed face. I released him with a wet sound, then guided Sally’s delicate hand around his now fully engorged shaft. Leaning close enough that my lips brushed the shell of her ear, I whispered, “I’m going to prepare breakfast, darling. Please take care of this for me,” nodding meaningfully to where her fingers encircled him. With a lingering kiss that tasted of sleep and desire, I slipped into my silk dressing gown and padded toward the sun-drenched kitchen.
When I returned carrying two steaming mugs of freshly brewed Colombian coffee, I was greeted by a tableau of raw beauty. Bobbie lay sprawled on his back against the rumpled sheets, while Sally straddled him, her lithe body rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm. Her long blonde hair cascaded like spun gold over her alabaster shoulders, her full breasts swaying gently with each movement. Her dusky pink nipples stood at attention, pointing outward like ripe berries begging to be plucked. Her eyes were closed in ecstasy, her lips parted in silent pleasure, a radiant smile illuminating her features. Setting the coffee on the nightstand, I watched them make love—not merely fucking, but a dance of genuine connection that made my heart swell with unexpected tenderness.
I left them to their private symphony, the soundtrack of Sally’s increasingly passionate cries following me as I prepared a feast of fluffy scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, and freshly squeezed orange juice. Later, wrapped in one of my favorite satin gowns that complemented her creamy complexion, Sally joined me at the breakfast table, cradling her coffee mug between her slender fingers, wearing what could only be described as a deliciously satisfied smile. “I take it you enjoyed that, then?” I asked, unable to suppress my own grin.
Nodding enthusiastically, she confessed it had been wonderful and thanked me profusely, adding that she’d had such a magnificent night that, if it wasn’t imposing, she’d love to extend her stay.
I explained that Bobbie had always been incredibly supportive of my desires and that watching him pleasure other women was my special gift to him—my way of showing gratitude for his unwavering encouragement of my own exploration. Since Sally wasn’t required back on duty until Tuesday morning, she remained with us until Monday afternoon, our unexpected houseguest and lover.
After a leisurely breakfast, we showered together under cascading hot water, our hands exploring familiar and new territories alike, before dressing in our finest casual wear and making our way to the exclusive club. Sally was visibly impressed by the opulent décor and sophisticated atmosphere; she’d experienced strip shows in seedy pubs and rented halls before, but this elegant establishment was clearly in another league entirely. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she squeezed my hand and asked if I might sponsor her for membership.
The afternoon passed in a blur of laughter and shared secrets. As dusk painted the sky in shades of amber and violet, we walked home hand in hand, our fingers intertwined intimately, while Bobbie went to collect our dinner from the fragrant Chinese restaurant on the corner. Between lingering kisses that tasted of promise, Sally and I arranged gleaming porcelain plates, crystal glasses, and opened a bottle of chilled white wine, setting the dining table for another evening of indulgence.
After we’d finished our Chinese takeout and peeled off our clothes, we tumbled into the rumpled sheets. I sank to my knees at the foot of the bed, took Bobbie into my mouth, and savored the warm, salty taste of his pre-cum on my tongue. He leaned back against the headboard, eyes half-closed in anticipation, and I turned to Sally with a wicked grin. “I want to watch you riding him,” I whispered.
Bobbie rolled onto his back as Sally positioned herself atop him, straddling his thighs in a reverse cowgirl. Her back arched, breasts lifted toward me. With each deliberate descent, his rigid length disappeared into her glistening folds. I placed a hand on my pussy, matching their rhythm as I reached into the bedside drawer for the little chrome bullet vibrator. I switched it on low and pressed the tip to her swollen clitoris.
The effect was immediate. Sally paused mid-ride, his cock buried deep inside her, her body quivering against the subtle buzz. Turning the dial to high, I watched her arch her back as waves of pleasure washed over her—then she shattered, crying out as her hands gripped the sheets, hair tumbling around her flushed cheeks. She fell back onto Bobbie’s chest, legs slack, eyes squeezed shut, a triumphant grin playing on her lips.
Gently pushing her onto the bed, without missing a beat, I slid onto Bobbie’s length from behind, impaling myself with a single, eager thrust. His arms wrapped around me as I rode him hard, the mattress creaking beneath our combined weight. He tensed, released his hot, creamy cum deep inside me. I collapsed into him, both of us breathless, the bullet still humming at my clit, determined to coax out my own release.
As I lay there, spent and trembling, Sally leaned down between my legs, her fingers brushing through my damp curls as she pressed her mouth to my swollen lips. She licked away the mingled traces of our lovers’ cocktail, her tongue sending shivers through me. Meanwhile, Bobbie slid around behind Sally, easing into her from behind. We moved together, a slow, languid trio until at last we all tumbled over the edge of ecstasy in unison, bodies sated and entangled as sleep claimed us.
Morning light filtered through the curtains. Before I’d even stirred, Sally was on her knees at Bobbie’s side, mouth gliding over him with practiced skill. He lifted his hips, guiding her until she took him deep, hollowing her cheeks around him. She stroked and sucked in perfect harmony until he stiffened, pulsed, and emptied himself on her tongue. As she swallowed, she kissed me lightly. “You wouldn’t want him going to work with full balls, would you?”
I laughed, swung my legs out of bed, and headed for the kitchen. They joined me after a quick shower together, and Bobbie left for work clutching a to-go breakfast. Once he was gone, Sally and I slipped our sandals on and wandered out into the summer sun, stopping at a corner shop for sandwiches and lemonade.
Back home, she practically pushed me toward the bedroom. Slowly, sensually, she undressed me, trailing kisses over every exposed inch of skin. We took turns guiding one another to orgasm again and again, until our bodies shivered in exhausted delight. Finally, dressed and breathless, she thanked me for a perfect weekend. “I’ll call once I know my new shift pattern—if you still want to see me.”
At the front door, I kissed her softly. “I’d love to see you whenever you’re free.” She smiled, tucked her hair behind her ear, and drove off to her hospital accommodation for a well-earned night’s sleep before her early shift.
When Bobbie returned that evening, I greeted him with open arms. We made love once more, me drinking in his release both inside me and on my lips. Later, over glasses of wine, I asked, “Did you enjoy your little weekend surprise?”
He grinned, eyes twinkling. “You looked after me better than I ever imagined. And I’ve been thinking about Sally ever since she first stroked my cock at the party. I hope we get to do this again soon.”
Indeed, over the next few weeks, Sally became a fixture in our lives—sometimes just the two of us sharing whispered confessions between silken sheets, other times with Bobbie joining us in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. Her visits ranged from mid-week stayovers to languid Sunday afternoons that stretched into the evening to full weekends where her delicate perfume lingered in our bedroom long after she’d gone. I’d planned an intimate farewell gathering with our closest friends—those select few who understood our particular appetites—for Saturday night two weeks later. When Sally accepted my invitation, her voice honeyed with anticipation over the phone, I felt a delicious thrill knowing the surprise I had in store.
Tuesday afternoon, I called Sandra, Mikki’s voluptuous mother, with her knowing smile and wandering hands. I outlined my request in deliberately explicit terms, savoring her husky laugh of approval. That evening, I whispered my devious plan to Bobbie as his fingers traced lazy circles on my bare nipples. His eyes darkened with desire as he encouraged me to indulge myself completely and promised I’d find him waiting eagerly for every salacious detail.
Wednesday after work, I slipped into the gym wearing my most flattering athletic wear. After working up a glistening sheen on the machines and completing a leisurely swim that left my muscles pleasantly loose, I entered the women’s changing area. Steam clung to my flushed skin as I peeled off my damp swimsuit and wrapped a plush white towel around my curves. With deliberate timing, I pushed open the sauna door to find John—Sandra’s ruggedly handsome boyfriend with his perpetually wandering eyes—alone in the cedar-scented heat. I closed the door behind me with a soft click. Meeting his startled gaze directly, I let the towel fall to my feet in one fluid motion, revealing every inch of my naked body to his hungry stare. “How would you like to say a proper goodbye to this,” I purred, trailing my fingertips down my stomach to the neatly trimmed triangle between my thighs, “on Saturday night? Your last chance before we move away… forever.”
With a big grin, he announced, “I’ve booked a restaurant for Saturday lunch.”
Wrapping the plush towel around my damp body, I replied, “As much as I’d love that, there’s no need to waste time. My body is already yours for the taking.”
His cock twitched beneath the towel, a silent agreement. “If it’s to be our last time,” he said, his voice low and steady, “I want to do it properly.”
Saturday morning arrived with a golden sunbeam stretching across the room. I indulged in a long, hot shower, my hair cascading down my back like a waterfall. I took my time with my make-up, choosing a new dress and underwear set that highlighted my curves. The stocking tops peeked out just so when I bent over or leaned forward, a tease of what was to come. Right on cue, the doorbell chimed at 12:30 sharp. Bobbie shook John’s hand, asking him to take good care of me. With that, we set off to our lunchtime destination.
After a bottle of champagne and the nicest salad I’ve ever had—a burst of flavours that danced on my tongue—John drove me to his house. I was filled with a fluttering hope for our final time together.
Mikki and I had first met John when we fucked him as one of our challenges from the list. It was then we discovered he had a cock that was impressively large. After asking Bobbie, I’d gone back for a night on my own. Later, I set Sandra and John up on a blind date, so she found out just why her daughter and I were smiling so much after our night out. I was back for more.
Wasting no time, we undressed, our clothes falling to the floor. We climbed into bed, the sheets cool and crisp against my skin. I grasped his cock in my hands, pulling the foreskin back to reveal a pearl of pre-cum on the tip. Licking it off, I took him into my mouth, working him until he was stiff and ready. I knew from previous times he was big, but it felt even larger than my ten-inch porn star dildo that my friend Helen had made me buy.
I needed to know just how big. Stroking his shaft a few times, I got out my sewing tape measure, placing the end in his coarse pubes at the base. I gasped as the tape measured eleven and a quarter inches. Then, I lay back, gripping the tape with thumb and finger at the right place. I put my finger at the entrance to my pussy, slowly moving the end over my lower body, above my belly button. I looked in amazement to see how far that thing would go inside me.
Discarding the tape, I straddled John, holding his monster at my entrance. I lowered myself, easing back then lowering further each time, until the whole cock was buried deep inside me. We built up a steady pace, his hands around my breasts, teasing the nipples until they were hard peaks. After a while, he pushed me off onto my back. Kneeling between my thighs, lifting my ankles over his shoulders, he pushed that huge cock into me in one go. In this position, I’d never felt so full, so completely taken.
John was in no mood to delay things. Like a piston, he worked my pussy, each time he hit home, I felt a little pain on my cervix, a nice warm pain that sent shivers down my spine. When I was climaxing for the second time, he let go, flooding my womb with his swimmers. It’s a good thing I was on the pill.
After a rest, I sucked him hard, asking him if he wanted my ass. Smiling, he passed me the lube from the drawer. Squeezing a big dollop onto my hands, I stroked it all over his cock, knowing it would stretch me so much. On hands and knees, he fucked my bum with long strokes, each one making me whimper out loud, rubbing my swollen bud, building all the time.
John warned me he was coming. With fingers a blur, I orgasmed as I took his second load in my bowels.
On his way to the kitchen, he washed and dried his softening cock. With two glasses and a bottle of champagne, we celebrated a successful evening, chatting and laughing. Spooning, we fell asleep, my hand wrapped around his soft cock, which still felt huge.
Waking up, I pulled the covers back, revealing the start of a morning woody. Taking him in my mouth until it was ready to ride for the last time. It felt so good, my nipples being pinched just as I liked. Before I knew it, I was climaxing, shaking, I couldn’t take any more. Putting my mouth over his cock, slowly wanking it until he filled my mouth. Swallowing it all, I wanted to go home with all my holes full of his cum, I dressed. John drove me home, where my wonderful husband stood waiting. I kissed Bobbie, then John, who thanked me for a wonderful night he would never forget. Then, shaking Bobbie’s hand, he said, “You’re a beautiful couple, so right for each other.” With that, he climbed into his car and drove off.
We went to the club, then had Chinese. Afterward, we made love as I recounted my visit to John’s house.
Monday morning, Bobbie kissed me goodbye and headed off to work, leaving me alone in our house. Only three weeks remained before we’d trade the bustle of the city for the salty air of Cornwall. I curled up on our worn leather sofa, phone pressed to my ear, and gave Sandra every delicious detail of my night with John—the champagne, the measuring tape, the way he’d filled me completely. Her throaty laugh crackled through the line.
“God, I’m so glad you got to see him one last time,” she purred. “Best blind date I ever went on, thanks to you. I’ll make him tell me everything tonight and see if your stories match.” Before hanging up, I blew kisses through the phone for Mikki, James, and little Oliver, my voice catching slightly on the goodbye.
I’d already cleared out my desk at work the previous Thursday, leaving me free to organise our farewell party, bubble-wrap our memories, and prepare for our coastal future. Tuesday afternoon, my phone lit up with an unexpected call—Claire, the curvaceous blonde from that wild wet t-shirt contest with Mikki. Her voice sounded honeyed and slightly nervous as she suggested coffee “to catch up.”
Wednesday morning, I stepped onto the ferry bound for Portsmouth, the grey sea mist curling around the deck as I reapplied a swipe of crimson to my lips. The outline of the mainland solidified into docks and rooftops through the windows. When we docked, I navigated the narrow streets until I found the tiny coffee shop, its honeyed light spilling out between a weathered bookstore and a boutique hung with 1950s-style frocks.
Inside, Claire was already seated at a corner table, her blond hair tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders. She wore a simple blouse and skirt that traced the gentle swell of her hips and the curve of her waist. The moment her emerald eyes found mine, she rose as though drawn by gravity, then closed the short distance between us. Before I could offer a greeting, her lips met mine—warm and insistent, a sweep of cinnamon on her breath. Her tongue teased mine, playful and curious, and I tasted the faint bitterness of coffee on my own tongue as we reluctantly broke apart.
“Wow,” I whispered, pressing into the chair as pink crept across my cheeks. Steam curled upward from two untouched lattes on the table. Claire’s grin was mischievous, her eyes alight. We spent a few minutes catching up—updates on work, friends, the slow passage of weeks since we’d last spoken—before she leaned in and lowered her voice.
“I called because ever since that night at the club—when we kissed after the wet T-shirt contest—I’ve been thinking about what it would feel like to be with another woman. And after we kissed then, when our bodies pressed together…well, I can’t stop imagining it. You’ve had experience with Mikki, so I thought you could…scratch my itch, if you know what I mean.”
Her hand trembled slightly in mine, and I felt my own pulse quicken—this electric thread weaving between us. I squeezed her fingers. “I’ve thought about it too,” I admitted, my voice hushed. “I’d love nothing more, if you’re sure.”
Claire slipped a note of relief into her laugh. Tom was away on business, her parents were on holiday, and the house lay empty. “Let’s go back before I chicken out,” she said, gathering her bag.
It was barely half-past ten, and I felt a warm fizz of anticipation. We climbed into her car and drove through sunlit streets to the quiet cul-de-sac where her parents’ house stood. Inside, the air smelled faintly of lavender polish. She led me up the stairs to her bedroom—a small sanctuary with pale walls and a window overlooking a neat lawn.
She shut the door and, without a word, pulled me close. Our lips met in a slow, exploratory kiss. My hand drifted beneath the thin cotton of her blouse, feeling the soft curve of her breast. undoing her blouse, dropping it to the floor. She wore a lightweight bra; I felt the fine ridges of her nipple harden under my touch. I paused to savor that moment, then slipped one finger into the band of her bra, unfastening it and letting the fabric fall away. Her silky brown areolas came into view, the taut peaks begging for attention.
I guided her gently onto the bed, cushioning her with a soft pillow. Pressing my mouth to her left breast, I lavished my tongue around the taut nipple, swirling in slow circles until it pulsed with need. My hand kneaded her other breast, fingers tracing lazy figure-eights. Soft moans drifted from her lips; I reminded myself to stay mindful of her newness, to let her set the pace.
Swiftly, I shed my own dress and bra—heels clattering on the hardwood as they hit the floor. She shed her skirt and pumps at my request, revealing pastel pink panties that showed the outline of her bush. She looked radiant, a flush on her cheeks, the small excitement in her eyes. I coaxed her down to the bed again and returned to worship her breasts, pressing gentle kisses along the slope of her sternum, then trailing lower to her belly button, where she giggled at the teasing tickle.
Her knees parted, and I pressed soft kisses along the inside of her thighs, inching closer until at last I could taste her. Quickly pulling the panties off, joining the other discarded cloths. My mouth found the slick folds of her pussy, the tang of desire coating my tongue as I licked a long, deliberate stroke from bottom to top of her slit. She arched, pressing into my mouth, and I deepened the thrusts of my tongue, gathering her nectar and sending tremors through her body.
When she was quivering, I wrapped my lips around her little pearl, gently sucking until her moans turned to cries of delight. Her hand tangled in my hair, guiding me with urgent need. I slipped a finger inside her, then another, curling them upward to hit that perfect spot. She cried out, clenched, and came with a shuddering wave that rolled through her limbs. I didn’t let her fall away completely—instead, I rode the edges of her release, alternating between sucking her bud and circling her entrance with two fingers. Until she reached a second more powerful release, she sank back onto the sheets, breathless.
When she whispered, “No more, please,” I held her close, pressing my lips to hers in a tender kiss. Her eyelids fluttered, lips parted in a soft smile. “That was incredible,” she murmured. “The strongest I’ve ever had.”
I promised her there would be more. Without pausing to dress, Claire padded down the hall to fetch coffee. I made my way to the bathroom, washing away the evidence of our first encounter, smoothing my hair. She returned with two mugs of steaming brew, and we sipped in companionable comfort, letting the adrenaline ebb.
Soon her gaze drifted to me, a playful tilt to her lips. “Your turn,” she said softly. Gently, she eased my panties down, adding them to the growing pile on the rug. Her hands cupped my breasts, and I leaned back on the bed, heart fluttering. “Guide me,” she whispered, and she followed my instructions like a quick study.
Her lips found my wetness, and within moments she sent me spiraling over the edge with a moan of pure satisfaction. She coaxed another wave from me with her steady rhythm, and we lay tangled together until the sun climbed higher. Later, we showered side by side, laughter echoing off the tiled walls as we washed each other clean.
Dressed at last, we lingered in the kitchen while I called Bobbie. He likely assumed I’d be late. When I explained with a bright smile that I’d met someone—female—his chuckle came easily over the line. He’d met Claire once before, and he was unfazed. In fact, he told me if I wanted to stay the night, he’d be fine—and planned to grab dinner at the pub. Come morning, he’d leave early for Plymouth.
Claire’s eyes lit up when I relayed his offer. “Yes, please,” she said, voice soft with relief. That evening, we dined at a cozy Italian bistro—striped tablecloths, red wine, and heaping bowls of pasta. We talked as though we’d known each other for years.
We tumbled into bed long after midnight, bodies slick with sweat and desire until neither of us could so much as shift a muscle. By midmorning, sunlight filtered through the curtains as we lay tangled together, sipping strong coffee and nibbling buttery toast, our limbs still warm from the night’s heat.
Later that sunny summer afternoon, Claire slid behind the wheel and drove me home. We settled on the porch swing, the air alive with birdsong and the faint scent of honeysuckle. I turned to her, curiosity sparking in my eyes, and asked about her sexual history.
She laughed softly, tracing patterns on the wooden armrest. Tom, she said, was the sixth man she’d been with—and her first truly serious relationship. Before him, it had all been short hook-ups and experimental explorations. She blushed at the memory of her first blow job in the backseat of a car: how she’d gagged when he came too soon, her throat tight with surprise. Now, she confessed, she loved the way a man’s release tasted on her tongue.
Tom had been the one who’d gently introduced her to anal sex; it had since become a regular, thrilling alternative.
She paused, surprised, when I admitted I’d tell Bob all about yesterday’s escapade. I smiled and explained that Bob and I shared everything—and that we’d given each other the freedom to play with others. Then I dropped my little bombshell: I loved watching Bob with other women.
Her cheeks turned flame-red. I leaned in, voice low, and added that what I really wanted was to see Bob fuck her.
She stiffened for a moment, then confessed that Tom had once begged her into a threesome with a friend of his. She’d said yes, though at first his friend had been the less appealing choice. The second time, she chose the other guy herself—and it had been infinitely more satisfying. Later she and Tom had shared one of her girlfriends in bed, and she still buzzed at the memory of watching a couple fuck in real life.
An idea flared in my mind. “We’re throwing a moving-away party next Saturday,” I said. “A few special friends, some drinks, music—and yes, some open swapping. How much you join in is totally up to you.”
Claire’s eyes lit up. “What about Tom?” she asked, hesitating. “Would you want to fuck him?”
I nodded, grinning. “He seems sweet enough. And I’d love for you to watch.”
Her face softened. “I’d love that, too. I want to try everything—Bob, other men, and women now.” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “I’ll talk to Tom. Maybe the offer of your pussy will convince him.” She promised to call me tomorrow.
That evening, Claire drove back to her parents’ empty house—Tom was staying over while they were away—and I prepared a special dinner for Bobbie. Later, as his hands roamed my curves, I whispered into his ear, all the activities from the fun with Claire, and shared her stories. I felt him twitch inside me, his hips stuttering until he spilled his cum deep inside me, trusting me to catch every drop.
I told him how he’d been eyeing Claire in the club, how I could tell he fantasised about her. “If you’re lucky,” I murmured, “you just might get your chance at the party.”
We drifted off to sleep wrapped in each other, hearts full.
The next afternoon, my phone rang. Claire’s voice was bright on the line: she and Tom would both be there—and ready to partake fully. I smiled, excitement thrumming through me at the promise of one last, glorious night of shared abandon.
I thoroughly enjoyed these last three adventures. My cock count had stayed the same at twenty-seven cocks, and I’d gone from eight women to ten pussies.
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The upcoming story sees Bob and Carol opening their house to a Farwell party with a select group of friends. All intent on a fun evening with food, wine, and plenty of sex. To set the scene, the theme was nudity!
