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  • My Initiation Pt. 03

My Initiation Pt. 03

12

After wiping off all the cum, his and mine, with the designated post-sex towel, I'd gone for a long heavy piss that burned slightly, not entirely uncomfortably. While in the bathroom I saw more glimpses of their married life: photographs of them on holiday, trinkets from those trips and the comfortable disarray of two people's belongings scattered across the surfaces of their countryside haven.

"Beer? Whisky? Vodka?" He asked in his booming, still American-accented voice when I came out of the bathroom.

Brad, his cock now holstered inside a pair of boxers and light blue denim jeans - out of my sight but not out of my mind -, became the amiable host once again. It was as though I hadn't been licking his ass minutes before and sharing his heavy load of warm cum with his wife; or that I hadn't recently deposited a voluminous amount of my own cum deep inside his wife who had begged me to do so. We could've been two friends catching up after a separation.

"A beer, please. And a glass of water."

"Thirsty business, eh?" He winked at me and jogged downstairs, light-footed and sprightly. "One cold beer coming up." It was Michelle who was now the more reserved of the two. She looked exhausted when she came out of the bedroom wearing a white dressing gown. But there was a sly smile on her face, the expression of a conqueroress. She didn't say anything. Instead she gave me a kiss and rested her head on my chest.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"I'm amazing. Thank you, Jack. I'm going to have a little soak to soothe my war wounds. See you downstairs in a bit. Have a smoke and put your feet up."

I dressed in jeans and t-shirt and followed the sounds of clinking glasses and Brad's feet padding through the kitchen. He was pouring my beer into a glass. I marvelled at his body. His torso was so powerful and ripped: it was the torso of a man who spends his days lifting heavy things and twisting his core to place them somewhere else, not the typical body of a man was secures deals and charms clients. I knew he'd shown some promise as an athlete at college. The body must've been a happy relic from those sporting days. I felt woozy at the thought of Brad and his teammates hitting the shower after a game.

He and I moved to the living room to enjoy the sound system. Brad wasn't exaggerating: Michelle could roll a perfect joint. He put on some droning, hypnotic music I wasn't keen on, but the joint, the frosty-cold beer and the respite from sweaty, exhausting sex made the Tibetan music bearable.

"So, how did all this begin?" I asked him when we sat in the living room, track 1 of his hippy chill-out music beginning.

"Ha! It started when we were both seeing other people, and we met and started flirting. We texted for a while and then agreed to meet in a hotel with the sole intention of a one-time fuck. But we couldn't stop just the one, you know, we were hooked on each other. And when we ended those relationships and fell in love, we still didn't want to give liberal attitude to sex. We agreed on a number of rules, actually more an agreement, and we've been happily doing this for four years."

"That's brilliant. I'd love something like that," I said, even though I knew his story was off. Perhaps it was the joint: he was blowing a huge plume of smoke out of his mouth. But I'd heard a different story about how they ended up together, one that placed him in a less heroic light. He was a loud and brash man, and when his ego revved up it seemed he began twisting his tales so that would enhance his ultra-masculine persona: that of a rampaging sex god.

"It's not for everyone, bro," he warned with his index finger. "We're both lucky because we very like-minded. Tread carefully. Jealousy will destroy a relationship faster than any drug or money problem. Jealously is in here." He stabbed his chest. "Those things, money, drugs, whatever, are all extraneous, and can be fixed...most of time."

"I understand." I wanted to ask if jealousy had ever been an issue, but I didn't want to besmirch the convivial atmosphere. "The important things is you guys are sound."

"Sound as a pound, like you English say."

He passed me the joint and we lapsed into the contemplative silence of two friends comfortable in silence. Or maybe it was the weed and the post-sex lethargy. I felt very happy to lay there. I thought about the sight of his cock entering Michelle, the way it teased her lips inside and out with each thrust. I thought of the sensation of her vagina. I was getting aroused and enjoying the post-orgasmic ache in my cock as it tensed against my jeans. Brad was flicking through his phone and sipping his vodka, the ice cubes clinking when he returned his glass to the art deco table. We were both worn out.

Soon Michelle joined us. She was still wearing her white dressing gown and a pair of flip flops. Her skin was pink from the heat of the bath water, but she appeared rejuvenated. She collapsed onto Brad and they kissed once. He ran his hand up and down her calf, although there was no erotic undertone now, it was merely affection. Everything had become very pleasant. I wondered how long it would be until things became a sordid fuckfest once again. For now, the conversation turned to food.

"I can whip something up," Michelle offered.

"Please, baby. I'm starving," said Brad.

"OK, I'll go and have a look and see what we've got." She stood up and then looked over at me. "Oh, shit, what terrible hosts we are! Would you like a shower, Jack? You must be all sticky."

"Yes, that'd be nice. Maybe after dinner? I'm pretty chilled right now."

And chilled is how I remained. While Michelle went and busied herself in the kitchen and Brad smoked and flicked through a book a friend had gifted him at the party, I dozed. I was woken by Michelle nibbling at my ear lobe. "Dinner's ready, handsome."

Dinner was typical of such a successful, cultured couple: salmon, quinoa and sticks of steamed asparagus. Brad had opened a bottle of champagne, a gift from a man in senior management who'd visited the party, and we toasted to the evening ahead and to our new friendship. Throughout the meal, they held hands whenever they were using their cutlery; Michelle also constantly stroked my feet as well. My penis, quite spent and feeling dull and heavy, quivered at her touch, but didn't come roaring to attention.

"Jack was asking how all of this began," Brad said as he finished wiped his mouth was a napkin.

"How what began?"

"Us fucking other people."

She giggled. "We started fucking each other while we were seeing other people."

"That's what I told him."

"We had to meet up because you wouldn't stop texting me. And all those cock pics. There'd be a puddle in my chair at work every time I received one from you. You had an artistic streak."

"It's all about the angles," Brad replied, and laughed before reaching for his glass.

"We fell in love straight away," said Michelle before tweaking her declaration: "Love and lust."

"Cheers to that."

"We're not as wild as we were any more. We're getting old," Michelle said.

"Ha! Speak for yourself," said Brad, slapping his thigh and leaning back on his chair.

"Who was the first other person?" I asked, scooping up my final balls of quinoa.

They looked at one another, but Brad was the one to respond: "Ellie. Wow, she was fucking amazing." Brad was very animated. He refilled my wine glass (we'd transitioned from champagne to white wine as Michelle believed it would complement the fish) while telling me the story of Ellie. I glanced at Michelle, whose foot no longer traced along my leg. She looked thoughtful, downcast. She gathered the empty plates and took them into the kitchen. It was the first time I'd seen her behave like this. It was the first chink of jealousy I noticed between them.

"Ellie could suck a cock like you wouldn't believe. You know the cliché about the golf ball through a hose pipe? If there was a competition to find the world's best cocksucker, she'd be my entrant."

"Where did you meet her?"

"A fucking wedding!" Brad's exclamation carried through to the kitchen where Michelle set the plates down with a loud crash; her hubby failed to notice.

"We were at the meal of this boring wedding. We started to get very drunk with this woman at our table, Ellie. She had massive tits, massive. A big laugh and filthy sense of humour. We were sitting with some aunts and uncles and this girl left them gobsmacked. Myself and old boys there couldn't stop staring at those tits! They were the ripest things ever. They made you feel as horny as the devil and as weak as a baby. And she kept making these filthy jokes about cocks and how she was only satisfied with big ones, you know, that kind of shit. Then she would laugh like a madam in a brothel. She knew how to whip us guys to attention.

"At one point in the meal when I was very drunk, I made a little boast in her ear about the size of my cock. She bristled at the sound of that. Suddenly there was this...glint in her eyes. She'd had a lot of wine and she was buzzing for some fun. She told me she had some coke on her. Did I fancy a line? I said, yes. Michelle wanted to get away from the table, so she came with us. I whispered in her ear that we could have some fun with Ellie if we wanted to. Michelle was so-so about the idea because Michelle's not hugely into girls, but she said she'd watch.

"One caveat to our agreement, is that we always pause and ask the other one if it's what we really want. Michelle pulled me to one side and asked the question. I said yes. We all snuck into a toilet in a quieter part of the hotel, did a line and started giggling like idiots. Ellie was fidgeting and looking at my crotch, then she says, 'Let's see it then.' So I take it out and her mouth drops open and her eyes light up. 'That's the cock I need in my life.' Michelle was sitting on the sink, sipping a glass of wine. Ellie dropped to her knees and dived onto my cock. She was kissing the length of it. Then she practically burrowed her face into my balls and was sucking them. She had this no hand technique, just her lips and mouth. So, while she was doing this she was undoing her jeans so she could finger herself. Man, that was so fucking hot! I was hard as wood by now and she repeatedly took it all until it grew harder and she couldn't quite mange the whole thing, but she came close. It was like she was possessed because she kept trying to take it all, and she came close. Some women just love sucking cock and take pride in their ability - and so they should - and Ellie was the par excellence: a cock-goggling goddess. It disappeared into her mouth and down her throat. All the while she kept her eyes on mine. Actually, she occasionally paused to look at Michelle, who was rubbing her pussy through her dress, happy just to watch.

"Then, oh man, then Ellie whipped out those tits, and they were the most beautiful pair I'd ever seen. Humongous. You could've hung your coat off her nipples. She plopped them around my dick, almost covering what is quite a big dick, and began to wank me off with them while licking at the very tip of my cock. I can still feel that sensation of sliding through them for the first time, so smooth and tight and warm. It was heaven. That is heaven. Being titfucked by her is heaven on earth!

"I came so hard I nearly cracked my head open on the wall behind the toilet. She wanked me off onto her tits and used my cock to rub it all over them, like a baker glazing his buns. Then she put her bra back on, a bra that should could barely stuff them into, without cleaning the cum off them. Can you imagine the smell? Michelle was a bit fed up by this point. So, we did another line of dreadful coke and the three of us went back to the party, back to the table and the miserable couples.

"I still meet with Ellie, make four times a year. Get this: she's very much into being dominated now. Which suits me fine. We normally start out fun with me leading her around on a leash while she begs and whines for lick of my cock. It's so hot!" He sat back, exhausted with the telling of his story.

It was as if Michelle had been waiting for the end of Brad's tale, because she returned to the dining with three coffees on a tray right on cue.

"But there's only really one woman for me," said Brad as he lifted the hem of her dressing gown with his index finger. I saw a glimpse of a pair of red satin panties.

"Naughty man," Michelle said, spinning out of his reach and going back into the kitchen.

"Where are you going now?" he called in that large booming voice.

"I want some chocolate," she called.

"Oh god, her chocolate obsession. You know what she wants: she wants to fuck a black guy soon. Maybe more than one! That's on her bucket list. Jesus, after that she'll have a bucket. How about Jeremy in IT, is he single? He looks like a guy who knows how to fuck!"

"He's gay, I think."

"Fuck! Then he's mine." Brad guffawed and slapped his own thing. His sex drive was insatiable. I would've bet a lot of money that he had more partners than the more tempered Michelle was aware of.

"Well," she said, returning with a box of chocolates, "you get to fuck Miss Boring Massive Tits, why can't I have a Mr Big Black Cock?"

"There's a handsome man with a big cock there for you?"

"Yes, there is. But doesn't the idea of seeing a black dick inside your wife's tight white pussy do it for you?"

Brad shrugged. "So long as you share."

"No! That one would be all mine. Anyway, no more cock or tits talk while we drink out coffee. Let's be civilised for a while."

I'm no budding psychologist. I'm a software developer. But even with my untrained eye, I noticed a germ of dissatisfaction between them. Michelle was jealousy of Ellie, and maybe Brad's other lovers. And the way he'd said the word black through gritted teeth told me that he wasn't keen on a black man depositing a load inside his wife. I wondered whether they sought their own ends away from the marriage, whether they weren't as open and honest about everything as they could be.

"She likes to pretend she's prim and proper, and not a total cock slut."

"Brad, please. Let it go for a while."

There's little more awkward than a couple having a difficult moment in front of you. They both lasped into silence. Michelle was selecting a chocolate from the box, while Brad was swiping through his emails, his phone's screen out of Michelle's sight, not that she seemed even the slightest bit interested.

I felt bad for Michelle. No, I was beginning to feel protective. I'd been learning about their past, which I'm almost sure was a relationship created by mutual design, but their present ideologies seemed to be clashing, even though they remained unspoken. The surface of their union seemed superficial, something I'd never noticed until spending this time with them. I found myself looking at Michelle when no one was speaking, when I was pretending to flick through the glossy Guardian magazine that was on the table. I found her beautiful and alluring. I started to imagine trysts with just the two of us, alone, uninterrupted.

Brad caught me looking at her and he smirked. There was an element of measuring in his, as though he'd glimpsed something that might be revelatory.

"Do you mind if I have a bath?"

"Of course! Brad would you grab him a towel?"

"Sure thing."

It was nice to be alone. Over dinner, the atmosphere in the house had soured. I could hear their voices from the kitchen but not what they were saying. There wasn't much interaction between them. What there was, seemed clipped and abrupt. I relaxed in the bath and made sure I gave myself a thorough clean all over, arse, cock, ears, armpits, every nook and cranny.

Because of everting that we'd shared, I didn't feel it necessary to lock the bathroom door. So when Brad knocked and let himself in, without waiting for my consent, he caught me in the act of soaping up my penis.

"Hmm," he said, a greedy grin crossing his face. "You have an amazing bod, man. How much do you work out?"

"About four times a week."

"Keep it up, solider. Sorry to interrupt. But we're going to have extra company."

"Extra company?"

"This chick, Andrea, has just text me. Sometimes she just turns up out of the blue, so at least we have fair warning. She knows all about our lifestyle. In fact, she's participated."

"With Michelle as well?"

"It's the farthest I've seen Michelle go."

Brad sat on the edge of the tub. I could tell he'd had a few more drinks since I'd left them alone. His eyes were glassy. He seemed ever so slightly preoccupied as he fiddled with the lint on his jeans. "Andrea has a heavy...energy. She can be wonderful and loving and vivacious. Or she can be a real downer, a troublesome presence. Judging by her messages, she seems to be in a good mood but we'll see."

"Shall I go?"

"Fuck! No! I thought we could all have fun. These women need our dicks. I need yours. I think you need mine."

I did. I could see it formidable shape in his jeans, bunched against his left thigh. My own cock was rising through the soapy bathwaters. I was thinking about this mysterious, temperamental woman. I imagined a scenario with each of us working at pleasing someone else in an jungle of sweaty legs and arms.

"Is she attractive?"

"She is. She has quite harsh features. She has a very toned body: she dances. Michelle's got that meat that I love."

"Me too."

"Hmm. I can tell you're into Michelle," he said before a moment's pause as he regained his line of thought. "Andrea's like an athlete. She fucking loves anal. If we double penetrate her, she scream the house down." He laughed as he ceased fiddling with his clothes and looked into the bathtub. It was as though he'd been waiting out of discretion. "I see the thought of a foursome appeals to you, Jack."

"Why stop at three?"

"Yes! That's what I say. Michelle on the other hand." Palm facing down, he waved his hand over and side to side. "We'll see. Can I clean your cock for you?"

Brad reached toward me. With one hand he gently people back my foreskin and with his other he scooped a palmful of water over my swelling head. "See. I can be caring, as well, no matter what the boss downstairs says. You like that?"

I did. "Feels nice."

"You remind me of myself when I was your age. I was still in the States, and I wanted to try everything." He dipped his right hand into the water and began gently fondling my balls, stroking my perineum with the tips of his fingers. My rejuvenated cock now ejected through the surface. He slid the fingers of his left hand up and down my shaft. "You'll fuck so many broads with this thing. God, to be your age again." His began tugging me, but very gently; he didn't want me to blow my load. I looked at his wedding band, glistening starkly against our white skin.

"You're not doing too badly though," I said.

"Hah!" His big booming exclamation was followed by a thoughtful expression. "We'll see how long she's happy like this for. She's tell me when she's had her fill. And you know," he leant in and lowered his voice, "she's only joking about the black guys. Just to push my buttons." He winked at me. He was squeezing me a bit harder, and the bathwater was sloshing up the sides of the tub.

"You don't want her to fuck a black guy?"

"Are you kidding, man? I want her to fuck ten...at once!" He pumped hard now, so most of his hand disappeared into the water. He was staring at my cock, but he was thinking about the scenario of Michelle and the black men.

"Best keep you fully loaded. Michelle's a big cum lover. Save it for her."

He removed his hands from my genitals and shook them over the water. While wiping them, he said: "Paso a paso, step by step. Let's see how tonight goes. Let's see what Andrea's mood is like. Step by step, you know. You like anal?"

12
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