Lust

“Sounds like a scam to con billionaires into giving him their money.” Lindsay was a great friend, but when she got hold of an idea, she didn’t want to let go.

“Then invite him to dinner and play footsie under the table. Tickle him until he promises to give you multiple orgasms all night. And if that doesn’t work, you can always give him my phone number.”

“Lindsay,” I groaned. “He’d probably love your phone number. You’re small and blonde with a perfect figure. I’m overweight with mouse brown hair and glasses. He’d laugh in my face.”

I thought Lindsay was going to explode. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life!” A hush fell as other people in the café turned to stare. “Who’s been telling you such nonsense? If it was that ass George, I’ll beat him up.”

The thought of Lindsay, five feet nothing, beating up the six-feet-four mass of muscle that was my ex-boyfriend should have made me laugh, but her expression was so fierce I could see that George would’ve had no chance.

“It wasn’t him,” I lied. “Anyway, there are plenty of overweight men in the world, and one of them will suit me fine. I was just pointing out why I have zero chance with Simon.”

I opened my mouth to object, but she was already putting on her jacket. “You can pay for coffee, as Saturday is my treat. It can be your birthday present. I’ve been wondering what to get. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

I begged, pleaded and promised, but to no avail. Saturday found us both inside a smart lingerie shop in the center of town. Lindsay dragged me past the open-mouthed assistant, past all the pretty matching sets and elegant teddies, straight to a small section at the back. I stared at the rack of vinyl and leather in front of me. “You have got to be kidding.”

Lindsay, of course, wasn’t listening. “These should do nicely,” she said, thrusting a small pile into my arms and steering me into a changing room. “Don’t put anything aside before you’ve shown me what it looks like on,” she ordered as she yanked the curtain across.

There was a bright red contraption on the top, with straps and hooks everywhere. I put it aside for when I was feeling braver. Next came a bright blue corset-style top, with four suspender straps hanging from the bottom and hooks all the way down the back. After forcing the two sides together, I did up the first few hooks, which promptly terminated my ability to breathe.

Did she have X-ray vision or something? I hoped not, as with more straining and weird noises, I eventually succeeded. God only knows what the rest of the shop thought I was doing. There was a full-length gilt mirror down one wall, but I couldn’t face it yet. I adjusted the straps so they weren’t cutting into my shoulders and positioned the cups properly. It was then I realized that breathing was possible—in a tight but not unpleasant way. It had to be a good sign. I opened my eyes.

I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. The corset style held me in and made me look, not thin, but…shapely. My curves looked sleeker, smoother, tighter. I felt sexy.

“It’s good, but not quite right. The color’s wrong.” Lindsay was unmoveable. Well, she was paying. A quick peek at the tag made me shudder. For that price, the damn hooks should have been platinum.

None of the other outfits were what she wanted, either. We were almost at the bottom of the pile and I was becoming an expert with the fiddly little clasps. “Last one,” I called, as I pulled it off the hanger. It was a black top, but longer than the others. And it didn’t have straps. I liked that. The extra inch or so of material meant it might almost cover my…Jesus. It wasn’t a top at all. It was a dress.

In for a penny. It slipped over my head like silk. Most of it was solid material, except for an oval-shaped window at the back. After my usual Birdy-Song-cum-salsa-dance, I got the dress fastened and the material smoothed down. It fit like a glove—one that was a size too small. I turned to the mirror, and saw my face crease into a huge grin. This was the one.

The black vinyl, like the first one I’d tried, held me in and made my curves look mouthwatering. It clung to me, leaving nothing to the imagination, but still looked elegant. There were three small purple bows on it, two on the hem and one on the shoulder, and there were three narrow, vertical strips of purple stitching spaced around the front. The vertical bands made my legs look longer and my hips slimmer. I loved it. If I had to look like a hooker, at least it was a high-class one.

She refused to let me pay anything toward it, and got in a huff when I tried to buy a pair of lace hold-ups to match. “You have gorgeous skin,” she insisted. “Show it off.”

I did get a shock when I realized she didn’t intend for me to wear any underwear at all. “The dress is way too short. He’ll be able to see…well, everything!”

As we walked to the bus stop, I was convinced that everyone could see inside the bag, but we reached it before my paranoia got out of control. As Lindsay was giving me some parting words of advice, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

It was him. Simon. His wavy dark hair fell invitingly over his forehead, and his deep blue eyes shone with innocent interest. A beetroot blush spread over my face, and I made a vague murmur of agreement, clutching the bag even tighter. If I dropped it and the dress spilled out, I would never survive the shame. A pack of girls across the street were gazing at him in admiration, but he was oblivious to their attention.

We chatted for a few minutes, but I have absolutely no memory of what we said. He smiled at me before he left, and my knees grew weak. Lindsay was right. I couldn’t go on like this. It was getting ridiculous.

At half-past five that afternoon, I stood outside Simon’s door, biting the fingernails on one hand and clenching his spare key tightly in the other. I was wearing the minidress, black high-heeled boots and an overcoat. No underwear.

It wasn’t too late to change my mind. Once I was inside, it was do or die, but if I left now, no one would know. Except Lindsay, and she’d never shut up about it—but if I was going to go through with this, it would be for me. That way, if it all went pear-shaped, there’d be nobody to blame but myself. For a moment, I considered the humiliation I’d suffer if he really didn’t fancy me. Still, I looked good, I felt good, and I would always regret it if I left now with my tail between my legs.

I opened the door and replaced the spare key under the holly bush. The bedroom was the obvious place to wait. I’d been to his flat before, but had never seen inside that inner sanctuary.

The bed was massive. It dominated the room, and the thought of all the women Simon had probably had on top of it made me pause. But I wasn’t backing down now.

I stretched out on the dark blue bedding and waited. And waited. Every second felt like an hour as anticipation began to build, sending shivers down my spine.

At quarter-to-seven, I heard a key turn in the lock. Finally. But there were two voices in the hall outside. If Simon had brought a girl back, I was going to dissolve into a puddle of embarrassment right there on the cream carpet. I strained my ears to catch what they were saying, but only indistinct murmurs filtered through.

Suddenly, there was silence except for creaking floorboards. I was concentrating so hard, it took me a few seconds to realize the creaking was getting nearer. They were coming toward the bedroom. Shit!

I made a dive for the en suite bathroom, only just reaching it in time. The bedroom door was flung open and passionate kissing noises were clearly audible. Forget the whole “no one to blame but myself” pep talk, I was going to kill Lindsay. This was all her fault.

I couldn’t resist a quick peep. Did Simon prefer blondes or brunettes? I peered round the still partly open door and got the shock of my life. Simon was wrapped around a tall, blond… man. He was gay? Terrific. My humiliation was complete. All I could do was pray to every deity I knew that somehow I could escape unseen, and return to my uneventful, suddenly idyllic-seeming life with Simon none the wiser. I’d just sit on the edge of the bath and wait. In a minute or two.

The man with Simon was less classically good looking, but a few inches taller, and as blond as Simon was dark. His black trousers and white shirt outlined an equally muscular build. Lips and tongues moved in perfect harmony, merging and separating in an erotic dance, and their arms were wrapped tight around each other. I’d fantasized about watching two men kiss, but to see it for real… I wasn’t surprised when my body responded. My breasts became full and tight, and my nipples ached. Moisture trickled between my legs as the hard peaks rubbed against the silk, growing harder with each accidental touch. When I looked down, I could see them straining against the material, like little twin soldiers standing to attention. Oh, how badly I wanted to touch them.

But my attention was diverted by what the men were doing. Simon’s head was thrown back, and pleasure was written all over his face as the other man squeezed his nipples through the shirt.

“You’re so turned on already. Did you see your hot little friend today?” Paul’s voice was deep, inviting and in total control. I was so seduced by it, at first I didn’t realize what he was saying.

I couldn’t believe it. They were talking about me. I squeezed both my nipples desperately, and twin darts of pleasure shot straight to my groin. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted Simon’s large, calloused hands on my breasts, cupping and stroking. Paul’s mouth on my stomach, edging lower…

Paul was speaking: “…told her about us yet? I know how much you want to confess the horny details.” One finger was stroking up and down the bulge in Simon’s jeans, and Simon’s whole body was trembling.

“Imagine it. She’s so turned on. Her nipples are so tight and hard, and she’s moaning so beautifully. You can’t resist teasing them with your tongue, just for a moment. Yes, she likes that. Just a bit longer.”

Paul’s fingers were now inside the jeans, his hand wrapped around Simon’s cock, and Simon’s hips were bucking helplessly. He was nearing climax. I could tell from his face. I slipped a hand under my dress as Paul’s hypnotic voice continued the fantasy.

“Her breasts are so plump and soft, even through the material. You need to see them, don’t you? Quivering and eager, with hard, brown nipples. Such a naughty girl, not wearing a bra, but you’re so excited, you don’t care. You want your hands slick and wet, rubbing moisture all over those tits. You want to press them together so you can slide your cock in between them, trapping it in that slick passage as she squeezes her own nipples in excitement, watching you move back and forth, back and forth….”

Suddenly, Paul withdrew his hand and stepped back. Simon staggered for a moment, then recovered enough to glare at Paul. “What the hell are you doing?”

Paul met his gaze calmly, but I could see the bulge at his groin. “Punishing a bad boy for having such wicked thoughts about a close friend. She’d be horrified if she knew. I think…yes. A good spanking will do. Get undressed, but keep the briefs on.”

Paul sat down on the bed, his eyes doing the talking. Standing up is supposed to be a position of power, but all the control was in Paul’s hands, and both men knew it. I never doubted what Simon would do.

He undid the last few buttons on his shirt, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms rippled invitingly as it dropped to the floor. Shoes and socks followed, and then he eased the jeans over his swollen cock and down strong, muscular thighs. The jeans joined the pile on the floor, and he looked at Paul.

“I feel stupid,” Simon muttered, and I wanted to laugh. But only for a moment. Paul’s hand came down sharply in response, and the slap was very loud in the silent room. Simon gasped.

The hand came down once more, and Paul started counting. “Two, three, four, five…” Simon was squirming, and each slap was punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. His erection was rubbing against Paul’s groin, and watching their faces as their cocks rubbed together was driving me crazy.

I braced myself against the wall and my fingers found my clit. The picture of the two men in the next room was imprinted on my mind, and their aroused grunts and moans could be clearly heard. I flicked my clit faster and faster. I was going to come. Then the noises had stopped. Had they climaxed already? Damn it, I wanted to come with them. I opened my eyes.

Paul was lounging in the bathroom doorway, watching me with a smile on his face. “Don’t stop on my account,” he urged. Then, as I just stared at him in mounting horror, he said, “Do you have a name?”

I closed my eyes, but opened them again when Paul chuckled. “So, you’re Simon’s hot little friend.” He eyed my heaving breasts with masculine appreciation. “Hot, definitely,” he murmured. “But little…certainly not.”

My nerve broke. “Excuse me,” I gasped, and ran for the door. I hoped to dash past before he could react, but he clasped my arms and swung me round to face him. His grip was firm, but his voice was gentle.

His lips closed over mine, and my clit pulsed. They were warm and soft, coaxing me to respond, and his hands felt so strong. His tongue was slow and sure as it teased my lips, and they instinctively parted. His erection nudged my thigh and I wiggled eagerly, trying to get closer.

Another hard, male body was suddenly pressed against me from behind, and another pair of warm lips was trailing kisses down my neck. How did he know my neck was so sensitive? It felt divine, and I melted into their arms.

Paul raised his head. “Indeed. But as stunning as you are in that outfit, it needs to come off.” He dealt with the fastenings in seconds. Clearly, it wasn’t his first time.

Paul gently removed my glasses and placed them on the windowsill. Then he put his hand on my stomach. “I’d love to explore these curves, but Simon’s about to explode.”

“In that case…” Paul took my hand and led me to the bed, lying down on it and pulling me down next to him. “I’m going to play with your tits, and I’m sure Simon wants to join me.”

I shuddered with delight as Simon joined us on the bed, one man on each side of me. Every caress, every look spoke of desire. I’d never felt so sexy, or so turned on. Simon’s touch was softer than Paul’s, less expert, but just as arousing. My nipples were stroked and teased, and the pleasure intensified when hands were replaced by mouths. Soft, warm lips suckled at each breast, and I got wetter and wetter. One dark head and one blond were framed against my fair skin, and the visual contrast was incredible. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Paul kissed slowly down from my breast to my stomach, where he lingered until I was begging him to move lower. I tried to force his head where I wanted it, but he resisted, and then Simon caught my wrists and pinned them to the bed. I meant to tell him to let go, but I kept forgetting, and finally I realized I didn’t want him to.

Paul kissed all the way down to my foot, and suckled each toe in turn before licking an unhurried path up the inside of my leg. The back of my knee was given special attention, and by the time he reached my thigh, I was desperate. The evil snake used his tongue carefully in the crease at the top, then switched to the other leg and began the whole process again. “Bastard,” I hissed, and he dared to laugh.

Simon was enjoying my excitement. He let go of my wrists, pressed my breasts together, and took both nipples into his mouth at once. It felt great, and he’d somehow lost his briefs along the way so his erection was rubbing frantically against my thigh. That felt even better.

I stroked his hair with one hand and sent the other exploring. There were small male nipples that were deliciously sensitive, sleek muscles and soft, springy hair to discover. His penis was stiff and swollen, but velvety soft. I wanted more.

He was grunting and thrusting into my hand. I tugged his head away from my breasts and looked into his eyes. “Please,” I whispered, and tried to guide him sideways. He moved quickly once he realized what I wanted. Soon he was flat on his back on the bed, angled slightly so I could reach his groin, his feet pointing past my head. Paul was just sucking on my little toe, and I took all my frustration out on Simon. Payback can be such a bitch.

Simon’s eyes burned with lust as my fingers teased his inner thighs. I savored the warm satin and his erection strained toward me, but it would have to wait a bit longer. I rolled his balls tenderly in the palms of my hands, and he sighed with pleasure.

Paul’s mouth, which had been edging toward my thigh, stopped. “What a great idea,” I heard him say, but was too distracted to look. I leaned forward, wrapped a hand around Simon’s cock, and took the head into my mouth. He tasted of sweet salt and male arousal, and smelled like Simon. His hips thrust faster and faster, and I felt him lift his head to watch. He was enjoying the show.

There was movement to the side of me near Simon—Paul’s legs and lower body were wiggling about in my peripheral vision. Finally he relaxed on the bed. His cock was erect and straight, and the tip twitched as his hand idly caressed it. Simon’s cock was swelling and throbbing in my mouth, and I knew he was watching Paul touch himself. Then Paul’s tongue returned to my thigh, and my pussy flooded. Damn, I wanted to come. But Paul again refused to speed up—until, that is, Simon’s mouth closed round his cock. That was what Paul’s maneuvering had been for. His tongue slipped a little toward my muff, but resumed its teasing. Simon was clearly used to giving head, and from the look on his face, he loved it. I certainly loved watching him.

I started sucking Simon’s cock in earnest, rhythmically stroking the shaft, and almost immediately it had the desired effect. Simon’s increased arousal was passed on to Paul through the mouth clamped round his cock, and Paul faltered. I took his head in my hands and urged it toward my pussy.

He tried to resist, but I think the scent of my arousal drew him on, and after his first taste, he was hooked. His hands parted the soft folds and his tongue began to probe inside. I trembled as he flicked my clit over and over again. It was a delicious chain reaction, and I wanted it to last forever, but of course it couldn’t. Pleasure was quivering along every nerve, and I was too close to the edge. Simon was thrusting faster and faster into my mouth, but my eyes were fixed on his tongue wrapped around Paul’s cock, and the look on his face as he teased and coaxed Paul to climax.

Pressure built inside me with every flick of Simon’s tongue I glimpsed, and with every corresponding suck Paul gave to my clit. Their grunts of arousal and their harsh breathing was the sweetest of music, and their excitement was irresistible. I came fast and hard, and the peak was so intense, I almost forgot where I was. But Simon still hadn’t come, and his moans were getting desperate.

I ran my nails lightly down his perineum, that responsive area of skin between balls and anus, and squeezed his shaft with my other hand. He shouted my name as his seed spurted into my mouth, and I swallowed without thinking, claiming my prize. A few seconds later, Paul’s cries joined ours, and I couldn’t stop trembling as I watched Simon swallow as eagerly as I had.

When I recovered, my head was cushioned on Simon’s thigh, and Paul’s head was resting on mine. Simon’s head was in a similar position on Paul’s stomach.

Paul’s stomach was flat and beautifully toned and gazing at it, I felt all my insecurities come flooding back, but I refused to let them ruin the moment. The men loved my curves, they’d made that clear, and besides, there had to be enough of me to go round. There were two of them.

My clit pulsed, and I smiled. Even the thought was exciting. A spark of light caught my eye, and I looked over to see the three of us reflected in the distant bathroom mirror, all curves and soft edges in the shadows. “How beautiful,” I whispered. “A perfect triangle.” Then I giggled. “A sex triangle.”

Simon murmured in agreement. My heart swelled as I looked at them, and I was still smiling when sleep claimed me, lured by the warm contentment that surrounded us.

Lindsay never lets me forget that it was all her idea. Simon and Paul treat her like a beloved younger sister—much to her pretended disgust. She knows they would never look at another woman except me, and what on earth would make me want to look at other men?

They will insist on giving me chocolates. They say I need the calories to replace the ones we burn up together. Once I suggested dieting, and they threatened to throw the diet sheets out the window. “One of the first places you’ll lose it from is your breasts,” Simon said fervently. “No way.”

It’s nice to be appreciated. Though if any of us does put on weight, we’ll all have a hell of a time fitting on the bed, huge as it is. Lindsay joked we should replace all the furniture with a gigantic wall-to-wall bed that takes up the whole room.