Chapter Eight

A Night At The Opera

The men wore black tuxedos; white Marcella-fronted shirts, black ties and black, patent leather shoes. Elegance was a priority and, just before they left the Penthouse, Sappho, in all her finery, asked her two lovers to let her suck them as a prelude to the champagne reception.

She removed her cape, fished-out her tits and, kneeling in front of them, opened first, Jackson’s pants and took hold of his long, thick, black phallus which moved swiftly to full-on hardness. She tongued him, mouthed him and, eventually, wrapped her ruby-red lips around his shaft, lifted her eyes to look into his and swallowed him and his eruption.

Afterwards, she did the same thing to Johnston.

“What was that all about?”

“Well, Jackson, I just want you to think of this as a cadenza for what comes after the Opera.”

“Ga’ad, Sappho, you’re somet’in’ else; I love you, Babe; here, let me kiss you before you repair your lipstick!”

The limo took them to the Opera House where Jackson had reserved a Box, but, first, they were entertained amongst the ‘Great and the Good’. On seeing several of the City high-fliers, Jackson nodded, smiled and suaved his way around the personalities introducing, briefly, Sappho and then, Johnston, and making small talk such as to suggest ‘no-engagement, tonight, please’. This is an accepted rite in social etiquette and no-one took offence yet there were a few tongues wagging at ‘two-men-and-one-woman’ but the brother-bit softened things and it was soon glossed over.

The irony is that Jackson had chosen ‘The Pearl Fishers’ which is a story about two fishermen whose mutual love for a young priestess led them to discord. Just before setting out in search of their catch the virgin priestess arrives to pray for their safety and is recognised by one of the men as this same woman. Instead of praying for the safe return of all of the fishermen the priestess says she will pray only for him and, soon, the other fisherman recognises her and, once more, strife is aroused. Soon, a double execution is arranged for the man and his priestess but, just before they’re put on the pyre, the whole village is set ablaze and the pair are released by the one whose love is frustrated and who remains to recognise it is in vain.

The Pearl Fishers is sung in Italian, and, as well as understanding every word and nuance, Sappho knew the Opera; so, was the choice ominous? Was it foreseen by the guests? Perhaps it was intuited by the twins? Whatever the fates, Sappho had made clear her love focused on one man only and that she was prepared to use her body as the cement that bound them together but not that which would keep them apart. So, had her foresight steered a course away from troubled waters into an ocean of calm?

The arias were heart-rending; the costumes and the theatrics magnificent; the orchestration divine and the duet brought tears to Sappho’s eyes: all was movingly appreciated by the audience in a performance that left the threesome stimulated physically, emotionally and erotically.

When they got home Sappho positioned herself in the middle of the Drawing Room; hands on hips with the twins standing off. The backless, bosom-to-floor gown accentuated her height, her curves and, with her hair piled on top of her head and the earrings and choker setting off her neck, the swell of her breasts showed in the canyon; rising and falling as she breathed.

“I want you to make love with me! Both of you; together, and with as much power and passion as you can muster; after this evening’s performance my body is open for business so, use me and abuse me: anywhere, anyhow and with anything because I’m at your service.”

At that, she took off her jewellery, reached round, unzipped the dress and let it fall off her breasts to crumple around her feet. The sight of this slender woman with an unblemished body, nude and shaved standing in a pool of fabric with her tits heaving and her nipples filling with blood inviting them to come onto her was unusual but it did the trick.

Jackson led the way and brought over a long, padded footstool, asking Sappho to position herself while they took off their clothes. Neither was in a hurry and, once unclothed, Sappho anticipated 400 pounds of black manhood descending on her relatively tiny white body.

Just as in their first encounter, her lover started at her pussy by pointing his tongue at her clit and slowly laving-up her syrup from around the petals. Then he pressed his tongue deep into her folds, parted her pussy with his thumbs, closed his lips around the delta and sucked her dry.

Meanwhile, Johnston began his work at the other end; kneeling over her head he kissed her full on the mouth using his tongue to swipe the insides of her throat and, at the same time, leaned over to cup her breasts and squeeze the nipples between the cleft of his thumb and forefinger.

Sappho was moaning, already, before Jackson knelt up, slid his cock into her slot and raised her thighs to comfort her. As the rocking started, Johnston opened his thighs and positioned his asshole over Sappho’s mouth; he didn’t need to prompt her because her tongue snaked-out to circle his sphincter and, using her own thumbs, prised open the hole, slightly, to delve inside. Johnston’s prong was elongating like a telescope and almost reaching the valley between her tits so, with a small forward adjustment, and with Sappho still rimming his backside, he squeezed her globes around his cock and did her in a reverse-tit-fuck.

Soon, his semen sprayed out to puddle in her navel before he stepped back, planted his dick in Sappho’s throat, bent over and lapped-up his own emissions. Sappho was still being pussy-fucked by Jackson, who had already shot into her, when he, too, withdrew, covered himself with a condom and slipped his fat, black dick into her tight, white asshole.

The men set up a rhythm, sliding gently into Sappho’s gullet and bumhole, alternately compressing and relaxing her body between their motions until both erupted; one stringing a warm rope of fluid into her belly and the other filling his pouch nestled, snugly, in her ass.

It was time for a break and, as two of the three decamped to the bedroom Jackson produced a bottle of Scotch, some soda water and ice and poured three measures. They sat against the headboard, Sappho in-between, her tits pouting out in front of her and the pussy-lances in the men’s groin refusing to lie down.

Sappho had the slightest inkling of what to expect: they were going to DP her, for sure, but she wondered, whether, after reaming her ass and pussy, they’d try to fit both big black poles into her vagina. She didn’t have long to wait because that’s what happened.

Johnston started in her ass with Jackson in her pussy and, as they progressed, Sappho started to buck and writhe; moaning, squirming on their cocks and producing her own movements stimulated by their impaling as she wrapped her arms around Jackson’s shoulders and pressed her lips onto his. Soon, the perspiration broke and, with it, two floods fired into Sappho’s insides.

The time came for the men to use her in parallel and Jackson took the same lubricant he’d used the first time on her ass. Sappho was a willing partner, but a bit apprehensive, and, without saying, pleaded with her eyes for them not to stretch her pussy muscles beyond their natural elasticity. Jackson, alerted, reassured her silently that he’d make sure of it.

For this, neither used a condom and both smothered their cocks with the gel before Johnston lay flat on his back, positioned Sappho on his chest, wrapped his arms around her boobs and made his entry. When she was comfortable Jackson knelt between her legs and aimed his prick at the point where her clitoris met Johnston’s dick and pressed.

Because their dicks were enormous there was some initial discomfort but Sappho encouraged them and, gradually, Jackson found his cockhead inside her perimeter. Once passed this band his progress was easier but he kept his rate slow and, gradually, with the sensations spangling on the top of his poker from Sappho’s tight ring and, on the underside, from the throbbing of his twin’s iron rod, he managed full entry to lie alongside Johnston.

Jackson kissed Sappho, who was creaming; her fluids were oozing from her own arousal and her whole hole was now slippery which made movement inside her passage easier: but only one guy at a time could move and, because Jackson was on top, it was him.

Very gently, he withdrew and pressed himself back in until she relaxed, then he was able to increase his pace when, all of a sudden, he couldn’t hold it anymore and loosed a stream of juice that flowed deep into Sappho to swirl around his brother’s knob. Meanwhile, Johnston was ready to explode and, after levering them over he managed to get himself on top, where he found the extra lubrication from his brother made it easier for him than for Jackson to rut her pussy. So, he held her hips and, squatting on his haunches above her in a doggy style, took advantage of the permission she’d given him and proceeded to fuck the shit out of her.