Info Anne_Summer
30 Oct. '17



It is said that “Hell may have no fury like a woman scorned” but equally it may be said that “Heaven may have no joy like a woman whose sexuality is reborn”. This is the true (but anonymised) account of that reawakened sexuality and sexual rebirth of my best friend and confidante.

I worked for years in a warehouse packaging consumer goods for distribution, mostly to ladies who secretly dress in sexy undies and maybe a few kinky men who like to do the same. Then came marriage to lift me out of all that, to be followed with a sort of awful inevitability by an acrimonious, exhausting and bloody divorce. You don’t need the details, dear reader, suffice to know that I came through the final settlement to find myself a woman still in my prime, the part owner and part mortgagee of a nice little town house that I loved but could not afford. My slim reserves of money would run out within weeks of the decree absolute and my employment prospects were distinctly limited. I had little choice except to put it on the market.

The estate agent gave me a lengthy and morale-sapping tutorial, the import of which was that because there was a sharp downturn in the local housing market coincident with the final disintegration of the specialised steel industry, it was almost impossible to get a realistic price. Structural unemployment (he uttered the term with relish) was staring us in the face and I would do better to hang on for a couple of years until things might eventually recover.

I sent him on his way, his face reddened by my invective. After all, he was there to encourage me to sell my house, not thoroughly put me off the whole idea. So I called in another one and then a third and even a fourth before I gave up. They had all given me the same dismal prognosis. One had even suggested that I rent it out instead (he was at pains to emphasise that they had by far the best rental portfolio in the entire midland region) but then I would have nowhere to live myself and I did not take very kindly to his suggestion that I go abroad and live off the rental income in some tax-haven.

My only real friend in the area, Emily spent many hours with me debating my predicament albeit from the security of her marriage to an overseas oil-sector industry manager. It was after the school run one morning, and under the influence of three-quarters of a bottle of Chardonnay that she ingenuously made her epoch-creating remark.

“Nothing for it, love. You’ve got to go on The Game!”

I laughed, a faintly giggly laugh and she laughed with me. In recent months Emily had occasionally hinted at the logistics of an often absent husband and my own disintegrating familial circumstances. She had once remarked during another cheese crackers and Chardonnay morning that “It’s a pity we aren’t lesbians. It would solve all our problems, wouldn’t it!”

It surely would have, but alas, it didn’t chime with our emotional makeup. And we were both drinking too much, I realised as I took a bin full of empties to the bottle bank.

I could no longer ignore my financial plight. A particularly worrying online bank statement coincided with my main credit card reaching its limit. I was going over the edge and modest as my eating habits (but perhaps not drinking habits) are, I nonetheless needed enough to get by on.

Emily kindly loaned me £100, covering the immediate bills and seeing me through the next couple of trips to Lidl and then I made an appointment with my bank manager in the hope of getting a Greek-style bailout until maybe the house was sold.

“Call me Martin” he said with an oily smile. I had dressed accordingly, my one really good suit (bought for my distant and dimly remembered honeymoon in Vienna).

He may have been a bit on the oily side but he was by no means unattractive and post-marital frustration was lately beginning to become a worrying component of my psyche. I looked him up and down in a meaningful way and a little voice from within me whispered the phrase “two birds with one stone!”.

“Martin!” I responded, letting my voice lower just a little into the husky range that I knew could turn men on. “I’m a little financially embarrassed, just for the short-term you understand!”

He knew that I was lying, of course but then he knew that I also knew. He leaned forward across his faux-mahogany desk and responded with an equally lowered tone of voice “We don’t usually deal in short-term loans except to our commercial clients but had you considered re-mortgaging? It is your house, isn’t it?”

It hadn’t occurred to me at all but I could immediately sense that this could be a good idea. I leaned forward in a cleavage-revealing way, inwardly congratulating myself that my dress, whilst appropriately severe as befitted a business appointment was actually rather low-slung if I leaned forward and I was instantly aware that I had hit the jackpot. Martin’s eyes told me everything I needed to know.

“Herrumph!” He said, leaning even further toward me. “I haven’t time to go through all that needs arranging just now as I’ve got a staff meeting in a few minutes” ostentatiously consulting his wristwatch (a fake Rolex Oyster if ever there was one). “But you can arrange an online appointment with me – more confidential than via the desk here and I can do evenings, if that would be of any help.”

“When would be convenient then?” I asked rather more huskily.

He made a little show of punching up his diary on his tablet, paused for slightly too long in scrutinising it then, eyeing me with almost brutal directness said “How about tomorrow?”

“What time?”

“7.30 OK?”

“I’m partial to champagne!”

“I’ve got a bottle of Veuve Cliquot as it happens, just waiting for an excuse to be opened!”

I sat back a little and smiled. “I’d like that very much,” I said with full-on huskiness in my reply.

He stood up behind his desk, the bulge in his trousers not only unmistakeable but promisingly generous in its proportions. I stood opposite and held out my hand which he took and raised to his lips in a rather gallant kiss. “Until tomorrow then.”

I suddenly fancied him like mad! “Your place or mine?” I hardly recognised my own voice, it had become so husky it was positively feral.

His eagerness excited me just as much as mine evidently aroused him “Yours. I won’t be late” he smiled roguishly. “7.30 it is!”

The next day passed in a blur. In the morning I performed a frenzied, if superficial house-cleaning. In the afternoon I did an equally frenzied round of shopping. At 6pm I put a roast dinner into the oven and laid out the living room to put the sofa centre-stage. At 7pm I dug out my long-hidden prussian blue satin bedsheets and contrastingly floral very plump pillows. At 7.05 I took a shower and patted myself all over with eau de cologne. At 7.20 I dressed in my floor-length gown which had laid at the bottom of the airing cupboard since my long-forgotten honeymoon. I shuddered with erotic desire as the figure-clinging fabric slithered silkily over my tingling naked skin. It was recklessly off-the-shoulder, a deep cleavage that opened all the way down to my navel and an emerald-coloured stone there which matched the green fleck in my eyes that I considered to be my most entrancing feature. I wore nothing underneath, not even a pair of knickers, my swelling breasts invitingly revealing everything I have to offer, my dark, big nipples jutting through the fabric, pointing up taughtly in truly wanton invitation. I shuddered again, almost feeling Martin’s big hands slipping inside the opening, cupping and stroking then pushing the sensuous fabric off my shoulders to slide down my back and bunch over my hips until his following fingers would push it down to fall in a wave of green around my feet and I would be naked in his arms.

At 7.28 I stood before the full-length bathroom mirror. I was mightily pleased with myself, incredibly aroused and just a little bit frightened. I continued to scrutinise myself, from my hair, which I had ruffled just sufficiently with my hands to give it a bit of a tousled look, down over my half-exposed bosom to the curve of my hips and on down my long willowy thighs. So self-absorbed was I that my bust almost burst out of the gown’s tenuous hold at the moment the doorbell rang. I stifled a little scream. One final look of inspection, noticing for the first time how the dark triangle of my prominent pubic bush showed through the gown in an erotic invitation that was absolutely unmissable!

He was here! Martin was here, a dark shadow through the frosted glass panel of the front door. “No backing out now” I thought as I reached for the latch, my hand shaking so violently that I could barely work my fingers to open it.

Martin was here!

He was dressed in ‘smart casual’ slacks (thankfully not jeans) and a multicoloured tee-shirt open at the front to hint at a curly-haired chest beneath. His face wore a broad, if slightly diffident smile and in one hand he was holding a bag, in the other an extravagant bouquet comprising mixed red roses and white chrysanthemums interspersed with decorative foliage. His eyes devoured me, sending a rippling shiver all the way down my back and directly into my groin. “Wow!” he said in a decently awestruck voice. “My god you are beautiful!” He thrust the flowers into my arms, the floral scent of them arousing my senses just one palpitating heartbeat higher, making me dizzy almost to the point of swooning. “Come in!” I breathed, taking a step backwards then reaching out to take his wrist and draw him toward me. It was a warm, firm, muscular wrist, dark curly hairs growing up his forearm, matching those peeping out of his shirt, promising virility and promising a masculine strength that I found muskily overwhelming.

He followed me into the hall, held out the bag “It’s the bubbly. Needs to go in the fridge. For later on!” His wonderful eyes twinkled with pleasure, I felt myself melting in response to them, aware both of the odour of my own body mingling in with his male scent and an unstoppable slippery wetness spreading out between my thighs. I Glanced down. A dark sexual stain was growing around my outer labia, deliciously revealing my womanhood to him. Directly before me the rising bulge in his slacks promised me everything I had been starved of for such a long time. I really was giddy to the point of faintness, leaned forward into him for support until my lips were brushing his throat.

It morphed into a full-on open mouthed, probing kiss, his tongue between my teeth deliciously exploring my mouth, his warm, moist lips melding to mine. I wound my arms around his shoulders, my breasts squashing hard against his chest, loving his firm, strong arms hugging into my back, sliding down to cover the swell of my hips, pulling my belly tightly against his fully aroused hardness. We were still tongue to tongue as his fingers probed inside and under my bottom touching my most intimate centre of pleasure and bringing a muffled moan of joyful surrender from deep inside me.

He broke the kiss for long enough to bend, slip an arm behind my knees, the other supporting my shoulders and carry me upstairs to my bedroom and my bed. He was so strong, I felt wonderfully bridal! He set me on to my feet for just long enough to push the gown off my shoulders and slide it down over my hips exactly as I had imagined he would. In one swift motion he peeled the tee shirt off over his head as I suddenly found strength to unzip his slacks and plunge my hands inside, over the waistband of his boxers to grasp the hot, swollen shaft of his manhood. Electricity flowed from my hands as I locked eyes with him, my whole body now consumed with my driving lust for him. “Take me!” I whimpered.

We fell back on to the bed together as my knees buckled against the mattress, my thighs spreading wide open to receive him. He had somehow kicked off his clothes, my hands guiding him in to my womanhood. Martin may have had a desk job but his body was anything but soft. His firm, ridged torso pressed warmly down over my soft, yielding breasts, I was gazing into those wonderful eyes of his as his big, hot member probed into my juiciness. I looked down as he lifted up on his arms, the purple, swollen head of his gorgeous penis pressing inside me, making me gasp, cry out loud as he forced me open against my long-disused tightness. There was pain. I hurt and he understood, holding back to give me time, thrusting with great gentleness in rhythm with my moans as my pain slowly turned into a great overwhelming flood of pleasure as he entered all the way inside me, his belly pressed against mine.

His eyes studied me, he stayed quite still until my ragged breathing quietened down then began slowly to pull back, his swollen shaft glistening with my emanations, such waves of sensations erupting through my entire body as I had never imagined, let alone experienced in my whole life before this. I closed my eyes and surrendered to him, beginning to lift up against him as he worked me to his own rising pleasure, his moans matching my own.

The huge wave of my first orgasm erupted through my sundered body, by far the biggest I had ever experienced, clenching my hands on to his arms with a grip that left bruises that would remind him of me for days afterwards every time he looked into a mirror. I was on the verge of blacking out for a few seconds until the seemingly even bigger wave of the second one rolled over me. After that I just kept on coming, my starved body taking its release with a greed that was seemingly unstoppable until physical exhaustion brought me to a sated place just as the spurts of his ejaculation pulsed through my glowing vagina.

He sagged over me, his body pleasurably heavy on top of mine as his erection slowly subsided and we became sleepily relaxed, entwined in our embrace. A great, glowingly warm happiness flowed through me bringing a peace into my heart that I had unknowingly been craving all my life.

It would become an addiction!

For a long time we drowsed in that entangled embrace until gradually he awakened and awakened me with him. I felt his renewing stiffness pressing against my tender belly until he grasped me around the waist, lifted me and turned me into a crouch, knees folding under me to bring my bottom high up, thighs apart once more as he mounted me from behind. I gasped once more as he thrust that gorgeous manhood inside the open curtains of my womanhood, his strong hands drawing me into congress with him as he penetrated to his full depth so deep inside my most intimate place. There was no pain any more just a glorious sensation of being fully stretched open, penetrated until his groin snuggled up against the cheeks of my bottom.

This time was different. This time he was not the gentle giant who had loved me as if I were a virgin. This time he was almost brutal! He rode me with all the force of those powerful thighs, great deep thrusts, pulling my hips hard back against him, his groin slapping against the rounded globes of my buttocks. His grunts matched my gasps of pleasure. I loved him for it, loved the power of him, the smell of our mingling body scents, the juicy sounds of his penetration. Wanted him so much, wanted him inside, stretching me against his penetration, the swollen head of his erection raking my insides and sending me inexorably to those incredible orgasms again. It was truly wonderful and seemingly endless. At each explosion of sensation, my burning vagina clamping on to him, I could hear myself crying out in the joy of my release.

When at last it was finished and our sweating bodies cool again he broke out the champagne, the erupting cork seemingly having an orgasm of its own, the foaming emissions a sexy reminder of Martin’s so recent ejaculation. We sat side by side on the bed, our bodies snuggled against each other in happy repletion.

The bottle was near empty when I felt able to broach the subject of our relationship. I met his eye rather warily. “Martin” there was a slight tremor in my voice “I am going bankrupt and I’ve had to borrow money from my friend Emily.” I saw his eyes narrow slightly and I think he realised at once what I was driving at. “I don’t have any means of support so” I tried to look ingenuous, took his arm in mine “I’m .. I’m going to have to..”

I didn’t have to finish, saw that oily look reappear. He simply said “How much?”

Two words that changed everything, my innocence instantly crushed. “How do you mean?” I quavered.

He pulled me around to sit across his knees “I suggest you are worth £150 a throw” An oily harshness had come into his voice. “On which basis that comes to £300 so far. If you let me do anything I want to, that will become £450 plus a bonus: say a round £500. Especially if I can bring a friend along with me next time”.

I stared at him, wide-eyed with shock at the suddenness of the transition. This was all going far too quickly and I felt myself beginning to panic.

“Next time?” I could feel that he was getting hard again, pressing under my thighs then rising between them. ‘Some manhood’ I thought’, awe mixing with a frisson of fear. He smiled lasciviously “Give me a couple of days to arrange it and I’ll call you.”

He raised his glass to mine, we swallowed the last mouthful, he took mine and set them aside on a side table. “Hands and knees. Like last time” It was a command. I dropped numbly to the floor, crouching once more. He did something with a pot of cold cream as he squatted behind me, gripped my hips once more then released one hand to grasp his erection and rubbed it between my bottom cheeks, the coolness of the cream mixing deliciously with the heat of his member. Then he thrust himself inside me. It was so sudden that I didn’t even tighten against it. I felt him slide fully up, so amazingly easily until his groin was hard against my buttocks. It felt incredible. I heard myself moan, a mix of fear, surprise and, yes, pleasure! He nibbled my neck murmured breathily “Just relax, you’ll love it!”

And I did.

Martin departed just after midnight, with a promise to call me the following weekend. “I’ll bring Steve with me and we will stop overnight. If that’s all right with you?” he added, almost as an afterthought.

I nodded in a faintly bemused manner.

“Oh, and by the way, he pays for himself. It’ll be a profitable night for you, I can promise!” he smiled, albeit in that oily manner that I found faintly worrying.

After he had gone, I was far too wrung out to be able to go to sleep and so ran myself a bath with plenty of bubble stuff in it. Sinking back into the luxurious layer of perfumed foam, I began to mull over the life-changing hours I had just spent in bed with Martin. My body positively glowed! Between my thighs a great warmth, an afterglow of seemingly insatiable pleasure taken, my reawakened vagina quietly throbbing, memory of being so delightfully stretched and so widely opened by Martin’s magnificent manhood. My bum ached in an equally pleasurable reminiscence and although I had not climaxed again, he certainly had! To my surprise, since he had already spent himself twice, he went at me with an eagerness that could only have been because he enjoys it more hat way. “A lot more, judging by how he grunted and gasped and the animal snarl of pleasure as he released himself” I pondered ruefully.

“Martin!” I thought, “You can do that to me any time you like and as often as you like and especially” fondling the envelope that I had folded and pushed into the soap tray “if you continue to reward me like this!”. It contained 25 £20 notes, brand spanking new ones as befitted his Bank Manager status. “Yes, anytime!” I concluding, wriggling my bottom appreciatively. “And I didn’t want that ache to go away any time soon.”

Eventually I settled down and slept until late the next morning. The ache and the pleasurable glow were still there but fading now and my thoughts were already turning on renewing them! So I phoned Emily and Emily was at home, bored, husbandless and with an unopened bottle of Chardonnay already in the fridge.

She invited me round to share it with her on the understanding that I brought a chinese takeaway with me and so it came about that once we were seated at her dining table, conversation could begin.

“You look positively radiant! Tell me about it.”

“Oldest game in the book, darling”. I grinned conspiratorially, causing her eyes to open up like organ stops. I had rendered her satisfactorily speechless and made her eyes open even wider if that were possible by dropping the bundle of £20 notes on the table in front of her. “Last night” I said “and he is absolutely gorgeous!”

“You….” her voice was a hushed croak. “His name’s Martin. He’s not only gorgeous, he is loaded! He’s a Bank Manager.”

Emily’s voice went from a croak to a squeak. “Is this for real?” she managed. I smiled broadly, reached across and took her hands in my own “Emily, darling. It is not only for real, it is just wonderful and I can hardly wait until the next time.”

“You mean it, don’t you?”

“I most assuredly do!” My voice lowered. “He’s coming round on Saturday evening.”

Emily looked as though she was going into shock.”

“To your house?”

“Bringing a friend along” This came almost unbidden to my lips.

“Bringing a friend?”

It came to me quite suddenly. I honestly hadn’t thought of it before but there it was, a perfect idea, perfectly formed. “Why don’t you come, too?”

So that by the end of the afternoon and a second bottle of Chardonnay, Emily had had time to absorb the concept. “I’ll phone you tomorrow” she agreed. “I need time to think this over.”

In fact, she phoned me as soon as she got home. Actually she sounded a bit tipsy, but then, so was I!

“I want to see their photos.”

“Good idea! I will text Martin straight away.”

I got an immediate text back. “Emailing you with the details. M.”

Five minutes later I was opening the attachment to his reply that ‘we usually work out together at the gym. Enjoy!’

It was a video clip via youtube. I watched it fascinated. In fact, I watched it several times through, positively drooling over the sight of these two hunks of proven masculinity strutting their stuff. They were wearing nothing but the briefest of shorts but bizarrely they had covered their heads in black balaclavas (for anonymity, I later realised). Each clip was a few seconds long, while they exercised on different kinds of multigym equipment. It was the rowing machine that I found the most stimulating, in fact it was a positive turn-on that made my still-tender insides begin to quake with desire. I forwarded it on to Emily with an appropriate comment.

There was a second email.

“Expect us at 6pm, Saturday. You are to wear a red miniskirt over a tight G-string with a black jersey top and no bra underneath. Black fishnet stockings and suspenders to match. You may wear a suitably sexy nightie for overnight, I will leave the details up to you to delight us. M.”

It was half an hour later that Emily phoned. “Darling, you are such a wonder. We need to go shopping, don’t we? I’ll be round in the morning! Love you!”

On Friday evening at Emily’s place we had a session of letting our hair down. First we feasted on that excitingly erotic youtube until we could imagine every detail with our eyes shut and by then be slightly tipsy into the bargain. Next we changed into our newly acquired attire, admired each other and ourselves in the wardrobe mirror. I had never worn a g-string before, never imagined how sexy it could be, what an almost permanent turn on it was, nestling snugly inside the cheeks of my bottom, the little triangle of velvet perfectly covering my mound of venus. I just loved it and judging from the moou of pleasure Emily made, so did she just as much me. The miniskirts were so skimpy that just by bending forward we showed everything we had and we had hysterical fun wriggling our hips before the mirror. Only, tomorrow we would be in another dimension of pleasure and maybe a little twinge of pain, remembering Martin at his most forceful!

She stayed over and we snuggled up together in her matrimonial kingsized bed, warm, like a slightly inebriated couple of kids and too excited to get to sleep until well after midnight. I remembered as Emily’s breasts pressed up against my own in drowsy naked embrace that if this was being a lesbian then I could be persuaded! Except that my last pre-slumbering thought was the heat in Martin’s engorged penis as it entered my bottom, that incredible sensation that somehow goes beyond description. I was becoming a bisexual!

In the morning we were both as high as kites! After coffee and toast for breakfast which we bolted down in eager haste we tried on our new purchases again amid floods of giggles. We looked amazing! Just slightly bending forward exposed our stocking tops and a little further revealed that delicious g-string tight inside the crack of our bottoms. I felt the beginnings of a spontaneous orgasm, so excited was I and it was obvious from the look on Emily’s face that she felt much the same.

We played around lightheartedly until midday or so before dressing more soberly and going out to a nearby fast-food palace. Afterwards, mindful that drinking wasn’t a good idea in the circumstances and as time was beginning to run towards six-o’clock, our mood changed somewhat but not sufficiently to deter us from dropping in to Anne Summers’ shop and buying two identical frilly nighties – blush pink and sexily cut. By the time we made it back to my place it was gone 4pm and it was time to shower and prepare for Martin and Steve’s arrival. By 5pm we dressed once more in our dating outfits and immediately the sexual tension began to rise between us. It was the g-strings mostly but also spending time studying each other and both of us a pair in the wardrobe mirror was setting the emotional tone. Emily is beautiful in a willowy way and the miniskirts with those revealing black, low-cut tops made us both well-nigh impossible not to turn on any man who came through the door. I was particularly delighted noticing how proudly our nipples poked out against the soft fabric of our tops.

Suddenly it was five minutes to six and I was certain they would be punctual to the minute. I wondered exactly how they would react to Emily being beside me when I opened the front door and soon enough we were destined to find out because they were actually three minutes early!

A double shadow through the frosted glass. I looked at Emily and she at me. She was gratifyingly frightened now that there was no backing out. I squeezed her hand, mine not shaking this time but feeling hers trembling violently. I felt in control. I felt just wonderful. This was going to be heaven, I knew it. My body was going into sexual overdrive, unstoppable warm wetness in my groin, my breasts tingling with the need to be fondled, kissed, suckled. A little catch escaped my throat!

I opened the door. Martin holding flowers in one hand and his bag with the bubbly in it in the other. Steve beside him, an identical double-act. It was a beautiful moment. Their eyes rivetted on first me, then Emily, then both of us. Their expectant smiles frozen into open-mouthed awe.

‘I wonder if Steve will have me first and Martin take Emily? Or the other way around!’ My gaze drank in every detail of Steve, starting with the swelling bulge in his slacks. He was every bit as much a man as Martin, more so if it were possible. An unstoppable shiver of desire flooded through me.

This was it! It was time!

Martin recovered his elan very quickly. He thrust his bouquet into my arms, set down his box of goodies, bent and lifted me off my feet. I squealed with delight as his strong arms raised me to waist height, my breasts squashed against that lovely torso of his.

“love your body!” he murmured into my ear. My belly was pressed hard up against his chest, the mini skirt had ridden up around my hips and now he let me slip down until I could feel his rising manhood grown hard against my belly with only the g-string between me and his slacks. I wound my arms around those powerful shoulders and kissed him, pushing my tongue between his lips, my heart pounding fit to burst my eardrums.

He carried me upstairs to the bedroom and set me down on the edge of my king-sized mattress. The movement somehow separated me completely from my skirt, leaving me dressed only in the low-slung top, g-string and suspender belt plus the fishnet stockings pointing down the slenderness of my legs to my (though I say it myself) trim ankles.

While he was peeling off his top, Steve had likewise carried up an equally squealing Emily and deposited her next to me. He turned to exchange a lecherously charged look with Martin and also peeled off his top. Acting next with almost military precision they both dropped their strides and underpants in a seemingly synchronised move, standing proudly and magnificently nakedly erect before us. I felt a huge shudder shiver down my back, a clench of sheer wanton need in my insides. I pulled him forward to straddle me as I lay back on the bed, Steve and Emily beside us in the same embrace. My hands found and held him, guiding him inside me, the threadlike g-string slipped to one side.

I could hear my own moan of joyfully ecstatic pleasure and dimly that of Emily, her high-pitched yet throaty cry the more so as Steve, beautiful Steve plunged himself deep inside her belly. Our double coupling became a delightful, confused tangle of bodies. The heady scent of sex swirled around around us, the men’s grunts and groans in their sheer animal pleasure, the deep, so deep, tight, so tight plunder of our bodies as they serviced us.

The first repletion came quickly. It was raw, almost frenzied lovemaking. Afterwards I lay on my side, facing Emily with Martin at my back and Steve behind her, drowsing now, my body once more aglow with the aftermath of such pleasure taken and given back in equal measure, dreaming. I had still been tight against Martin’s manhood but there had been no significant pain, just the lovely stretching of my insides as I took all of him, the shuddering ecstasy of my pulsating orgasms, each seeming to lift me higher until the explosion of his ejaculation released both of us into that dreamy afterglow of release.

The reawakening of desire came soon enough, the joy of exploring each other’s bodies, touching, sucking, kissing our most sensitive and erotic places until we were sighing and moaning, ready for whatever penetration our paramours desired from us. This time it was a first, too for each of us as Steve brought me to my knees and entered me from behind, Martin next to us in the same position taking Emily rapidly into a prolonged cadence of those throaty gasps and crooning cries matching my own almost incoherent sobbing. Much slower now, his engorged hot erection opening me, filling, stretching, far up into the centre of my womanhood. So delightful, so much longer to bring me to those sundering orgasms and then holding me there. I just kept on coming, reaching back against his hard muscular torso in seemingly endless waves of sensation until eventually he could hold back no longer and I gathered up his ejaculate to mingle in with Martin’s as we sank back replete in a warm close embrace. With Emily and Martin also finished at least for some time, we all became drowsy and would, I’m sure have fallen asleep except that somebody brought out the bubbly and turned the aftermath into a gentle, soft session of giggly cuddles and stroking each other which brought eventually to nightfall and sated sleep, anticipating the morning. My last waking thought was how Martin had so powerfully thrust himself inside my bottom the last time and how much I wanted him to do it again when we awoke in the morning. And this time we would have much more leisure in which to drown in their lustful embraces.

As it happened we all slept in late so there was a lot less time than I had hoped. But Martin found enough time, and was extremely eager, thrusting himself inside my equally eager bottom and this time, yes, I had orgasms, huge bed-shaking ones that caused me to cry out, pressing myself up against him, grinding my bottom against the hot shaft of his manhood. I was distantly aware of Emily and Steve doing exactly the same as ourselves, her equally aroused womanhood, her cries of abandoned pleasure matching my own.

Once Martin and Steve, almost in the same minute had gasped out their ejaculations we fell quiet until they had softened and subsided inside us, then slipped wetly out, dribbling their love juices over us, ruining the already stiff and stained sheets from that delirious night before.

Next it was time for them to go. Martin led me to a quiet corner, said “close your eyes”, then put something into my hands. I opened them, intrigued to find myself holding a very large, lifelike and just sufficiently stiff replica of his own erection to rouse me again, a shivering thrall coursing down my back, ending with a quiver somewhere deep and hot between my thighs. “Keep him by you until I call or text you to tell you to use him and then remember me. Only then will I allow you to release yourself and prepare your mind and your body for when I come to take you again. Do you understand?”

I gripped his avatar tightly in both my hands, leaned up close to his still glowing body and whimpered “Yes, Darling Martin, Yes! So much yes!”

“And by tomorrow there will be another copy for Steve to give to Emily. Afterwards you may call her and then you can work together for our pleasure”

I shivered in ecstasy one more time. “Don’t keep me waiting for too long then.”

After which they left and I opened the envelope with the bundle of £20 notes in it while Emily was doing the same sat next to me.

Our eyes met, knowledge flowing between us.

“We’re on the game now, aren’t we!” There was awe in her voice. I nodded, sat back down on the towel which was slowly soaking up the juices still dribbling from inside me and felt absolutely wonderful even though I would be tender inside for the next couple of days. Until, in fact I was ready and awaiting Martin’s next command, ready to anticipate the renewed joys that he would awaken inside me. I sighed and wriggled my hot, tender bottom on the pillow. I was very happy!

We spent much of Sunday eating, drinking (the last bottle of Chardonnay which prompted me to make a note on my memo pad) and reliving the delights of yesterday. We were both absolutely besotted. We both agreed wholeheartedly, and with our bottoms continuing to wriggle in wetly pleasurable reminiscence that we had never had sex even remotely like it and we could hardly wait for our bodies to recover before wanting more, wanting to go there again (and again and again) and it almost couldn’t be soon enough).

Emily finally went home on Sunday evening. In the quiet aftermath of our delirious weekend I began a recovery workout. I ate and drank healthily and on Tuesday resumed my routine of a twice-weekly six mile run, more to keep my muscles taught and my figure trim than for any pleasurable aspect of the activity other than endorphin release which, of itself was highly cathartic and enabled me to sleep deeply afterwards and hopefully stop me from getting wrinkles in my skin.

On Wednesday morning at a ridiculously early eight o’clock the phone rang.

He asked my name, then “I’m Wayne and Martin has commissioned me to install your webcams. I was hoping to do it this morning if that is alright with you?”

It was several seconds before I stopped hyperventilating and asked him to repeat what he had just said. “He wants me to install a couple of units in your house. I the bedroom”, he said. “So I need to assess the job and then get on with it. He said he would like it done ASAP.”

I must have said a spluttered “OK then, that’s alright with me” because he rang off and I was left to react and make whatever preparations I might come up with by 10am when he had said that he would arrive.

Three cups of coffee followed by a hot shower roused me sufficiently to become curious about what was likely to happen next. Yesterday’s run had left me with a vibrating tingle in my musculature and actually I felt enthusiastically curious about who the mysterious Wayne, the electrical engineer would turn out to be. And what on earth his webcams were for. Especially as he had mentioned the bedroom which had immediately suggested to me in my heightened emotional state, ‘something very naughty’.

He towered over me in the doorway. He was at least 6ft 2, mid to late twenties, lithe, dishy, blue eyed and with an Australian accent. He was carrying a big bag of paraphernalia in one hand and a large drill with a cable wrapped around it in the other. “Come to fix up your film studio missus.” His voice matched his physique and immediately reached the parts of me that only so recently both Martin and then Steve had awakened. He was wearing shorts and tee shirt, both of which showed up his torso in exquisitely fancyable detail. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him but he was belly-wrenchingly beautifully muscled and I felt distinctly dizzy just taking him in. The bulge in the front of those rather abbreviated shorts promised ripe fruit, ready for the taking.

I stepped back to invite him in. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It was like drinking in the Elixir of the Gods. I was suddenly aware that I was clad only in my rather flimsy housecoat and a pair of tatty slippers but that he was eyeing me up in a distinctly predatory sort of way so I was obviously making an impression on him. My voice, when I was able to stammer a response seemed to find huskiness all by itself.

“Take about an hour to install followed with a functional check. Then I’ll be ready for a little light refreshment, assuming you approve of course so I can get you to sign me off.” He grinned. I melted inside.

Without further ado he went upstairs with his equipment and almost at once started drilling into the walls up there leaving me standing, stunned in the hallway and wondering what on earth I should do next. I must have stood like that, open mouthed, gazing upstairs for a good few minutes while the whirlwind in my mind slowly calmed down and I decided how I should respond when he had finished whatever it was he had been sent (‘commissioned’) to do.

I made myself a cup of coffee while I considered. I thought about Martin and his ‘present’ to me but it paled into insignificance compared to the author of those drilling noises upstairs. So I sat in numb indecision while the wall clock crawled round to ten o’clock and the deemed period of the works would be completed. Two minutes after what seemed to be the final act of engineering and footsteps suggesting that Wayne was in clearing up mode I slipped off the housecoat and dressed in my g-string, pulled it deliciously tight so that it stimulated my womanly parts and put on my best, black lacy underwired bra. Then I went upstairs.

He had just finished packing away his tools and straightened up when I appeared in the doorway. It was his turn to be stunned into immobility as he stared at me, a flush slowly rising in his cheeks and the bump at the front of his shorts swelling enormously. We simply stared at each other, my eyes locked with his as I melted inside for a gratifyingly long minute until he slowly reached to his belt and unbuckled it, pushed the shorts over his hips along with his blue boxer shorts, releasing his by now straining manhood. As they dropped around his ankles he peeled off his top revealing a matt of brown curly hair over a hard, muscular chest. I shivered with truly visceral excitement as he pulled me into his arms and my body collided with the heat of his. I heard myself moan softly until his mouth crushed over my open, parted lips in the kind of kiss that had me panting with the urgency of my want for him.

I just had the wit to throw a towel on to the bed before peeling off the bra and I was under him, grasping that hot, beautiful erection and guiding it inside me. My body became one shuddering wave of sensation, my cries of ecstasy echoing in my own ears, mingling with his deep groans as those powerful thighs thrust his manhood deep inside me. I wrapped my legs around him, ankles crossing in the centre of his back, lifted myself eagerly up to him squeezing my belly hard against his groin. Wayne was a man possessed. Unlike Martin or even Steve, there was no restraint in him. He rode me with a force that drove me to the edge, that place when pleasure and pain become one. My gasps and cries urged him on, my orgasms sundering me. I bit his neck as he exploded inside my pulsating vagina, thrusting with such power deeper inside my body than any man had ever reached before. He slackened briefly, his breath roaring in my ear then stiffened anew and now he was gentler, settling into a delightful rhythm that took me into a trance and kept me there where only his manhood inside me existed, his breath in the side of my face, his softer deep purring moans of pleasure close to my ear and my limbs wrapped around him in an embrace that I wanted never to let go.

When at long last his second ejaculation pumped his seed inside me I felt one more gentle, concluding orgasmic ripple through my so widely stretched womanhood and relaxed into sleep dreamily knowing that I had fallen deeply and completely in love with him.