The Cheating Game

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bdsm

It was a game we played, and nothing more. Some flighty teases here, some forbidden glimpses there, dropping my purse and bending over, making sure my short dress rode up to reveal more of creamy thighs and butt cheeks than considered proper or allowing greedy, foreign hands to linger on my body far too long, all that was part of the secret, thrilling game we used to play whenever we were spending evenings mingling with ‘society’. These games, they always ended with Paul’s arms encircling me from behind and leaving an aroused and frustrated pursuer in my wake. For me, it was the thrill of the forbidden, and I guessed it was the same for Paul. We always had the best – the roughest, hottest – sex after those nights. Once I was back in his embrace, we couldn’t wait to get inside our home and fuck like rabbits, both too worked up for any foreplay. Sometimes, Paul would let me dangle and allow my suitor’s hand to wander all the way under my skirt. He’d watch from reasonable distance how arousal and embarrassment warred inside me, drink in my flushed cheeks and breathless, half-hearted, ineffective protests against their advances. And then came that one night. I had noticed that Paul had lately let our game get more daring, only intervening when the next step would make it inevitable to keep my implied promises of more than touches, but he had deflected my slightly fearful questions with scorching kisses that never failed to derail any thoughts. We were in J’s bar, a lovely and expensive bar attached to an even more expensive hotel that was therefore free of riff-raff. “What’s the rule,” he whispered into my ear and gently nuzzled that soft spot above my collarbone that he knew made my knees weak. “Always say yes,” I whispered back, breathless excitement welling up inside my chest, while I plucked the glass of champagne from his hand. “Good,” he growled and pinched my bum, not caring if we were seen, and I had to clutch the champagne flute hard to keep from spilling it. “Over there, next to the bar. What do you think?” My gaze followed where his finger pointed. My breath hitched. Not because of the handsome gentleman in his early fifties though. “Paul,” I hissed between clenched teeth. “What?” he replied as if nothing was out of the ordinary, then winked at me with that slightly lopsided grin which – he knew that all too well – never failed to make my knees week. “He’s got company with him!” And what company it was. A sophisticated looking, beautiful lady around his age – I don’t normally use the term ‘lady’, but she was – sat next to him on a barstool, and the relaxed way his hand rested on her thigh told that they weren’t mere acquaintances. I shielded my mouth with my forearm, pretending to hold up the flute and inspect it. “Are you crazy?” “You know I am, but that’s neither here nor there,” he whispered into my ear, then nibbled on my earlobe. He knew it was my weak spot. “So again, what’s the rule?” “Always say yes.” A shudder raced through my body, and I wasn’t sure I could do this. But the moment I made my decision to go through with our harebrained game, my role settled over me like a well-worn coat. My shoulders went up, and that light, determined spring came into my steps. My heels clicked evenly when I bridged the twenty feet across the room, and my expensive burgundy evening dress with the deep v-cut swung around my hips. While I approached them, I took the time to take in their appearances. He was wearing black suit trousers, expensive ones, too. The material flowed easily, not bunching up anywhere, and it allowed me to make an educated estimate that he hit the fitness studio a lot. Wide shoulders, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a tan that went down into the small V of the opened upper two buttons – yes, he was in good shape. At the moment, he only had eyes for the woman on his side. The woman – lady – wore a classic little black dress with shoulder strings. The skirt’s hem went down halfway to her knees, and she could really afford to show off her legs in the sheer stockings and three-inch sandals. The rings around her wrist weren’t cheap. Spirals of gold were intricately woven around sea green stones. Her nail polish matched that green perfectly, and it told me enough so I judged her as adventurous. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing though. But I was almost there, and they looked at me simultaneously. “Good evening,” I greeted them, lifting up my flute a little and smiling at them, “I don’t think I have seen you around here. Are you here for the first time? My name’s Clare.” I held out my hand to the man. If I’d had misgivings that they might consider me an intruder, I had been wrong. He smiled brightly at me, taking my hand with a firm, determined grip. “Jeffrey. Jeffrey Huntings.” Yes, there it was. That warm, knee-jerking feeling when he held my hand just a moment too long and looked şişli escort into my eyes a little too deeply. “Nice to meet you,” I breathed. I managed not to let my breath flutter when I turned towards her. She had to have noticed the flirting, so her reaction now was going to make or break the evening, but there wasn’t a hint of irritation in her face either. “Monique,” she introduced herself, taking my hand and smiling at me. “Tell me, what’s a beautiful young lady like you doing here all alone?” Alarm bells went off in my head, turning into a loud chaos when her thumb brushed lightly over the back of my hand and my knees once again wanted to dip. I almost turned around to look for Paul. I had never had any feelings for women, and he knew it. I was going to need him to rescue me soon, very soon. But turning away now would be impolite. “I’m waiting for my husband,” I told her, trying to keep my hand from trembling when I pulled it back. “I don’t know when – if – he’ll come.” It was the usual spiel. “Work,” I explained with a shrug and the often practiced smile. “Oh, it would be a shame if a beautiful young woman like you had to be all alone, come sit with us.” Monique’s grip on my upper arm was only light, but it froze me in place. “Be a dear and fetch another bar stool for our new friend,” she commanded softly. A moment later, another stool was put in place between the others, and Jeffrey helped me up by my elbow. Once he was seated on his own again, my heartbeat sped up. My barstool was placed so close between theirs that our legs couldn’t escape touching. I felt both their body heat on my thighs, and the heat seemed to travel upwards and right between them. I used to be the seducer, the detached one. Now, though, I suddenly felt like nervous teenager on her first night out. “Your dress is stunning,” Monique complimented me, lifting up her wine glass. “Let’s drink to new friendships.” “To new friendships,” both Jeffrey and I echoed her words and we clinked our glasses together. “It’s actually not the first time we’re here, but it’s been at least three years since we had the chance to come here regularly,” Monique explained. “Three years and eight months, to be precise,” Jeffrey corrected with a small chuckle. “We used to come here a lot, but then work took us abroad.” “So you’re only visiting here?” “No, we’re back for good since last month. We’re staying in the hotel above the bar for now. It’s only the second time we’ve found the time to go out since then, though.” Jeffrey swirled his glass, looking thoughtfully at it. “It’s funny, because it’s also the second time we’re here since we came back, and the last time, we couldn’t help but watch a beautiful, young woman flirt rather obviously with a handsome man.” My heartbeat started to race, and the room suddenly became rather hot. A hand touched the inside of my knee, Jeffrey’s hand, and when I looked at his face, his eyes were twinkling. “The poor man,” Monique took up where he left off, “couldn’t keep his hands off her, and she even encouraged him rather blatantly. At first, we thought they were freshly married. Imagine our surprise when a man who had been watching them for more than an hour walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her.” Monique’s hand touched my other knee, and my breath hitched. “He even wore a matching wedding ring to hers.” She took a sip of her red wine, closing her eyes and sighing in delight. When she looked at me again, a teasing gleam filled them. “You’re a very naughty girl,” Jeffrey growled quietly next to me, and then both their hands were slowly moving up my thighs and taking my skirt’s hem with them. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. My skin tingled where they touched it, and I felt unable to move. “Why did you let that man touch you so lewdly,” Monique whispered in my ear. I needed to run, run as fast as I could. Cool air played over my exposed thighs, and any moment, their fingers would reach their top and… “Tell me,” Monique whispered again, and then her teeth captured my earlobe and nibbled on it. My resistance melted in an instant. “It’s a game,” I gasped, “just a game!” “And what are the rules,” Jeffrey asked, gently squeezing my thigh and shooting waves of forbidden delight through my lower body. “I mustn’t say no!” I clamped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. God, how stupid could I be? Monique grinned brightly. I tried to stand up, but right at that moment, their fingertips brushed over my crotch, and all I could do was suck in a whistling breath and contain the moan. The gusset of my lace panties grew damp. This wasn’t the game we used to play! “Jeffrey’s been dreaming of you ever since the first time we saw you.” Monique kept up her whispering. Fingers rubbed over my pussy lips, slipped inside my panties and felt the moisture there. She went for the kill. “Do you want him to fuck you?” At first, mecidiyeköy escort I couldn’t speak. The enormity of the moment squeezed the air out of my lungs like a huge, iron vice, and I sat frozen, eyes wide and frightened like a deer’s in the headlights. I waited for the safety of Paul’s strong arms, started to speak, halted, but the time stretched like tough syrup, and finally I had to admit that this time, the game’s stakes had risen. “Yes,” I finally gasped, trembling from head to toe, my voice little more than a whimper – a whimper which I involuntarily followed with a real one when a strong finger pushed shamelessly inside me past smooth, slick walls and stirred up a blazing fire. “Don’t let her fool you,” Jeffrey growled. Monique had leaned over the counter to whisper to the barkeeper, and now she was scribbling something on a sheet of paper. Jeffrey’s finger crooked inside me and I almost slipped off the barstool. “She’s just as hot for you as I am. She’s a devious, dirty girl in bed. Do you want to make love to her?” Monique had meanwhile handed the paper and a cash note to the barkeeper, and now two pairs of eyes were once more watching me intently. I had never made love to a woman, never even, in all my debauched, horny games, felt the tiniest temptation. It felt wrong and dirty just to think about it. She licked her lips, ever so slowly, her rosy tongue travelling over dark red, shiny lips. She winked at me, and her hand slid up my thighs once more. Her gaze bore into mine and her index finger found my clit, slowly circling it. Her next words took my breath away. “Do you want to be my whore?” Blazing fire turned into white-hot inferno. I teetered on the edge of cumming, right here in the middle of the crowded bar, and only one magic word could earn me some reprieve. “Yes,” I gasped again and her finger’s motion stopped, as did Jeffrey’s. I took a few calming breaths and wiped away the sheen of sweat that had sprung up on my forehead. Monique looked me up and down with a sly grin. “I guess this isn’t how the game is normally played.” “No,” I admitted. “It – it should never have gone this far.” “And yet it will go much further.” I had no idea how to respond. The breathless, all-encompassing need from a minute earlier was now mixed with an embarrassment that permeated every fiber of my being. My heart beat erratically. My palms were sweaty. Disbelief battled with a forbidden, guilty arousal. A whimper escaped me instead of words when Jeffrey’s finger withdrew from my soggy pussy and painted a depraved, moist line down my thigh, His free hand cupped my chin and turned my head to his, forced me to meet his hungry gaze which reached directly into the darkest recesses of my mind. “Do you want to take off your dirty, soaked, naughty panties, right here and now?” Dirty words always get me going. It was as if he could read every depraved little thought. Yet taking them off in public was unthinkable. Even further beyond contemplation was letting them see those panties, that naughty, depraved little secret that was part of the game. I slowly shook my head, unable to look away from Jeffrey’s hypnotizing, dark brown eyes, and whimpered, “Yes!” I wasn’t allowed to say no while I played the game. “Lift your bum.” I propped myself up on the balls of my hands. Their hands roamed over my hips, and like a well-practiced duet, slid the fabric down over my bum cheeks then along my thighs in one drawn-out, shameful caress. I shivered. They slipped over my knees and pooled around my ankles. Jeffrey put one hand on my back and raised an eyebrow, all the signal I needed. The game had been figured out, so there was no need to wait for his veiled command. I pulled up my legs, ignoring the possible – even likely – stares from around and wiggled the black lace over my heels, bunching them up in my hand and feeling my cheeks heat up to boiling point. Monique’s well-manicured, green-nailed finger tapped a slow rhythm on the counter that drew my eyes to it. She didn’t mean I should… but yes, she meant it. Her soft nod confirmed it. Fresh sweat broke out on my forehead. “Please,” I pleaded quietly. She smiled gently. “Do I have to ask?” What could I do? My fingers shook, and I almost dropped the panties, but in a determined effort, I managed to ignore the gut-wrenching shame and unfold them on the counter, brushing out the wrinkles and sitting back with hitching breath. “Oh god,” I whispered and looked at the floor, because there was another condemning evidence of my secret depravity, now bared to their eyes, and I could hear Jeffrey chuckle and Monique giggle in delight when they took in the sparkling, elegant sequin letters at the front of the gusset, letters I had never expected anybody but Paul to read. Slut. “Let’s go to our room.” Panic gripped me at Jeffrey’s words, but before I knew it, he had helped me from the barstool. Instinctively, my hand shot out for my panties, but he caught my wrist. “Don’t you think we should leave that as a little tip?” My feet trembled, my hands shook, but I simply hung my head and let myself get steered across the room by Jeffrey’s hand on my bottom. Hands on my bottom, short feels of my tits, perhaps an equally short moment of brushing against my panties’ gusset – that had been the most I had allowed others in the teasing game to date. That was about to change, and with the inevitability of a countdown before a rocket launch, every step towards the exit made my heart beat faster. Just before we crossed the threshold, I turned around and searched for Paul, letting my eyes roam along the free wall where he’d normally be leaning with that amused, self-assured smile on his lips which always made my knees weak. He wasn’t there. And then the soft ding of an elevator sounded, followed by the swooshing of its doors, Jeffrey pinched my bottom and I stumbled inside. Monique pushed the button for the twelfth floor and I leaned against the polished metal wall, suddenly trembling in high frequency. “I don’t know if I can do it,” I gasped, staring at both of them alternatingly, pleading them with my eyes to give me some time to breathe and get my thoughts in order. The elevator started moving, and the short, unsettling feeling perfectly matched my inner turmoil. Monique stepped to my left and Jeffrey to my right. The air grew thick and hot. Then their hands were once more on my thighs and travelling upwards to my now naked pussy. “No!” I gasped and spread my legs to allow them access to that hot, forbidden part. “Yes!” I whimpered when two sets of fingers brushed over my labia, teased their way between the soft flaps of skin and tickled all the perfect spots. The hands travelled further upwards and took the fabric of my dress with them. “Nooo!” I couldn’t let them undress me here in the public elevator, where anybody might see me! Monique pointed above her shoulder with a finger, and I noticed the black, round lens of a camera pointing directly at me. I grew dizzy and lifted my arms, allowing Jeffrey to slide the dress completely off. My chest heaved and my breath whistled over my lips. Shame rolled in waves down my body, and I hated the delicious heat it stirred in my pussy. The thick, musky scent of arousal filled the elevator. I couldn’t believe that I let them do that. My black lace bra, mid-thigh stockings and thin-striped stiletto sandals were the only things I was wearing, and they covered little. My pussy was in plain view for the world to see, swollen and wet, and I could only pray that nobody would be outside the moment the elevator door opened. “I told you she would be perfect,” Monique whispered to Jeffrey while she folded my dress and stowed it in her large designer purse. “She is,” Jeffrey answered and ran his fingers teasingly under the seam of one bra cup. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling dizzy and hearing the blood rushing in my ears, free-falling into a depraved abyss. He pulled down the cup and my breast spilled over it. A drop of sweat trickled from my temple. He gently massaged it, and Monique’s fingernails caressed burning lines of need up my thigh. “A proper slut,” she whispered into my ear and I shuddered. Ding. I froze. The doors slid apart in slow motion. The corridor was empty! I breathed a sigh of relief. Monique took my hand, and I stumbled after them, as good as naked and on wobbly knees. I hadn’t watched at which floor we stopped, so I was caught unawares and taken aback by the grandiosity of their room. Strike that. Suite. One wall was almost completely made from glass, and it looked out over the smaller houses and allowed us to see the lights along the river a mile away. The floor of the suite was dark hardwood, shiny and elegant. At one wall, a huge four-poster bed stood, and on the opposite side there was a huge sunken jacuzzi. The room was big enough to hold a dance party for ten couples and had to cost them a fortune. Paul’s income wasn’t shabby by any means, but this was far above what we could afford. I was ripped from my musings by Jeffrey’s hands roaming up my back and his mouth kissing a hot trail up the side of my neck. My skin trembled under his touch while I watched Monique slip off her dress. My eyes must have widened when I saw that her body had been completely naked underneath, and her B-cup breasts looked as firm and even as those of a woman twenty years her junior. She apparently recognized my look. “Boob job. One of the upsides of having money,” she explained with a little shrug while she folded the little black dress and laid it on the dresser, but then a gleam came into her eyes and she sashayed towards me. She had an all-over tan without the tiniest hint of bikini lines, and I couldn’t help but feel attracted by the rhythmic swaying of her hips and determined footsteps. She was only an arm’s length away when the clasp of my bra sprung open, and as if choreographed, she reached out and pulled it down my arms.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın