Twice Bitten
by Don Jetman
I hate Halloween parties. Well, not the parties, exactly. But it always seems
I'm spending the evening in a damned uncomfortable costume, when I could be
kicking back, having a few beers and good conversation with some interesting
ghouls and goblins. This time though, I was willing to make an exception. The
host was to be Dave, the only guy to enjoy my wife on a fairly regular schedule
over the past couple of years.
L would wear her period peasant top, a present from Dave, bought at last year's
Renaissance fair. The long, full skirt she wore hid everything down to her
ankles, showing only her painted toenails and leather sandals. I had hoped she'd
show some leg, but the top was message enough, to me, and the party guests. The
top was cut very full, with roomy sleeves and tight little cuffs with three
buttons, but the neckline was scooped very low, plainly showing the inviting
crease between her modest breasts. After adding a bit too much makeup, a pair of
dangly earrings, and a few gold bracelets on each wrist, she was the living
image of a very hot gypsy wench.
My costume however, was less flattering. L had bought me a sort of tunic, blue,
with a few gold buttons down the front - and to complete my "days-of-old" outfit,
a pair of brown tights. I wasn't thrilled about the tights. They itched, and were
a bit tight in the crotch. Thankfully the tunic covered me far below the waist.
When I had initially objected to the tights, L had told me, "Don't worry, I didn't
want everyone looking at your package. The top will cover all that." She had
giggled, like it was something she had already thought about, like something that
was much funnier to her than to me. It would be kinky enough having Dave fawn over
her all night - I really didn't want to have to hide a boner from everyone as I
watched our host toy with my horny gypsy-wife.
Dave greeted us at the door when we arrived, ushered us inside, and thanked us
for coming. He was done up as Count Dracula, sporting a professional makeup job
- hair dyed, gelled, and swept back over his head from a perfect widow's peak.
The short pointy fangs could have easily been his own canines, and his always
intense eyes were somehow now even more so. Add a black, floor-length cape with
a black tux underneath, and you get the picture. He gushed over L, as usual. I
cursed my itchy tights, and L's choice of costumes. I had wanted to go as Dracula.
Now I knew why L had other plans.
Within sixty seconds, Dave had carefully stretched the neckline of the blouse
over her shoulders, baring them. He has this uncanny talent for making L look
sexier, more "available", seemingly at the drop of a hat. Why hadn't I thought
of that? Suddenly, in that minute, her appearance changed from a hot gypsy to a
sex-starved one. And there was that look in her eyes when he did his magic. My
tights were slowly getting a bit tighter.
As Dave went on, telling L how gorgeous she looked, I stood by, taking them in,
watching the electric attraction grow between them. It had been a while since we
had played with Dave, and although I thought L was less than enthusiastic
earlier at home, I could see her warming to his compliments. When he made her
laugh, I swore her top slipped a little, showing more cleavage than she was
usually comfortable with. Dave just kept ogling her, staring up and down over
her body, easily putting her under his spell as he watched her respond. I had to
admire the way the guy worked, even if it was my own wife he was working on. I
guess it's still a bit hard for me to understand why seeing L melt to another
man's mere words is so mesmerizing. It's like a cocktail in a way, intoxicating
- the excitement the vodka, the jealousy the vermouth. On this night, my first
sip was very, very dry.
Finally, Dave turned his attention to me and said, "Well, you know how this
works by now, don't you? I'd like to show her off for a while. But I'll warn
you, tonight I do bite. Can I have her, for a while?"
His grin assured me that every word meant something else. He knew damn well he
could "have" her, and that before the night was over, that she'd get "bitten". I
knew it too, but he had fun making his point. L just smiled at me, then caught
me staring at her cleavage and pulled the top up a bit after seeing it had edged
a little lower. I told him that of course he could show her off, that I knew how
much she enjoyed it. He led her away, his hand on the small of her back, my
little bare-shouldered gypsy laughing as he leaned to whisper in her ear. Had
the scene been in black-and-white, I'd have truly believed this Bela Lugosi had
instantly put the fair maiden in a trance that would open her to his most
perverse wishes. Only this time I knew this maiden had perverse wishes of her
own. Still, it was both amusing and a little chilling. But what's Halloween for,
right?
I made my way through the crowd of guests, searching for the bar, pushing slowly
toward it. Dave's house was unusually large for a bachelor, I thought, but his
guest list was again pretty long, made up mostly of thirty-ish and forty-ish
couples with a few singles here and there to keep things interesting. I guessed
their number to be between sixty and seventy, making the trip to the bar an
exercise in rubbing shoulders and "excuse me"s. I poured myself a Johnnie Walker
Black and settled in to watch him flaunt his trophy hotwife for the evening,
just as he had during our last July 4th appearance.
My part in these affairs has always been a little confused. Hovering about the
bar alone always makes me look like one of the singles. As strange as it may
seem, few of the guests make an issue of Dave spending so much time with L. At
least they don't outwardly show any interest. So, I have the enviable opportunity
of chatting with a number of great-looking women, but with the caveat that
absolutely nothing will come of it beyond some innocent flirting. I've accepted
that L has little tolerance for other women coming on to me, and none at all for
any hanky-panky beyond a sisterly kiss on the cheek. Some get the message early
on, and others never do, which is when I resort to turning my attention to L's
whereabouts and the intensity of the "take me, I'm ready" in her eyes. That said,
I'll admit I was a bit overwhelmed by the flirtations of more than one slightly
tipsy lady on the make. A scantily clad vampiress and a pirate girl with amazing
cleavage come to mind as the most memorable. "So, um, what are you supposed to be?"
Vampirella asked me while waiting for me to pour her another glass of chardonnay.
Heh - if she only knew.
Vampirella's flimsy black costume, her gorgeous black hair, and the way words
seemed to ooze from her bright red lips and hang in the air in front of me,
easily distracted me from keeping an eye on L and her own vampire, and soon I
lost track of them. I wandered outside, past the pool, and finally took a narrow
wooded path that led to a screened gazebo in a small clearing. Thinking back to
our last visit, I imagined finding them inside, a flowing vampire's cape rising
and falling over L's writhing, naked body. I was so sure I'd find them there
that seeing it empty shattered every image I had conjured on the way, and left
me a little puzzled as well. Where the hell were they?
Back inside, the party kicked up a notch. The conversation was louder and more
colorful, and the bar was holding its own, still stocked with plenty of wine and
liquor which seemed to magically replenish itself as if some generous, invisible
"spirit of the spirits" was dutifully at work. At the same time, I began to feel
a little out of place. Thirty minutes had passed since I had last seen them, and
L and Dave were still nowhere to be found.
After another fifteen minutes, I decided to go exploring. No one seemed to notice
when I carried my drink up the stairs to the second floor. I had never seen Dave's
bedroom, but was sure I'd find them there. By now my imagination was working
overtime - I was sure at least one of the scenes of perversion spinning in my head
would be close to the real thing, and I needed to see at least some of it first-
hand, even if it meant a little spying. But after prowling around in the dark
hallways for a minute or two, I found all the rooms quiet and dark. Were the hell
were they?
As I came back down the stairs, I saw L over by the bar. Dave was strangely
absent, but she was with someone else, and her bright-eyed laughter told me she
was in the company of a guy who was truly having his way with her, at least with
words. I watched from a distance for a while at the foot of the stairs. He was
dressed as a pirate, towering over her, (six feet two or three was my best guess),
with black curly hair and a matching beard. I knew what the type did for L - it
was the guy of her fantasies when we went there in bed together, the tall, dark-
haired, bearded satyr that she was so helpless to resist. She was completely taken
with this guy, gazing into his dark eyes, hanging on his every word, and at times
reaching out to touch his arm or the front of his costume when she laughed. I was
mesmerized. It was like a scene from her fantasies, as though she had brought it
to life for anyone to see.
Eventually L noticed me watching from across the room, pried herself away from
her pirate, and joined me. "Looks like you found an admirer," I told her,
grinning. "You're going to make our host jealous." She laughed and told me that
wasn't likely, that the guy was Dave's nephew. "But," she told me with a sexy
grin, "he did just finish law school...". L's fascination with attorneys had
become a well-worn joke between us. They too were the objects of her favorite
fantasies so she always capitalized on a chance to rub it in, in a flirty, sexy
way.
It was then I noticed the tiny marks on her neck, two perfect red dots an inch
or so apart, as though they had been put there with a red marker. "What's that?"
I asked, reaching out to touch her neck. Looking up at me, her eyes wide, her
expression as solemn as she could make it, she said softly, "I've been bitten."
"By Dave?" I asked as I slowly moved the tip of my finger over the marks on her
neck. "By Count Dracula," she answered. Her look was still sober, still in
character. I couldn't help but break into a grin. There were too many people
around us to make this fun, so I suggested we go for a walk. Outside, we walked
around the pool and into the wooded area behind it where only a few guests
strolled or lingered here and there.
"So, what else did the Count do to you?" I asked. She didn't turn to see my
smile.
"He's filled me with his immortal life essence."
I smiled again. "Immortal life essence"? Had she really said that with a
straight face? Dave's words, no doubt. But her delivery was sober as a corpse.
She looked straight ahead, her bare shoulders gleaming in the darkened woods.
"Do you understand what that means?" she asked solemnly.
"Um, no, what does it mean?" I had a pretty good idea, but hell, I'd play along
here just to hear her say the words.
"It means I'm his now. I'll do anything he wants. Anything."
"You're his now? But what about me?"
"I'm sorry, but I belong to him now. Only him. Please, take me back to him. He
wants me."
She was so good at staying in character I was tempted to try to make her laugh,
joke around a bit, or even tickle her. Instead, I decided to kiss her. She stood
there like a piece of cold meat while I took her in my arms and put my tongue in
her mouth. She opened her mouth slightly, with all the passion of a dead fish,
letting me have my way with her but refusing to respond in any way. Finally, I
lowered her top and played with her breasts until her nipples hardened. Aha! Now
I was getting somewhere. She stood like a statue, staring into the night,
unflinching, her nipples the only sign of betrayal to her new "master". She was
going to play this out to the end, whatever that might be. I was impressed, and
a little amused.
"Take me back to him," she asked again in monotone.
She stayed in character as we went back inside, playing the willing mate of this
immortal Svengali so well it was almost as if I had fallen into a weird porno-
horror movie with my wife as the leading lady. So much was coming together here
in all the right ways - Dave boldly taking L early during his own party and
leaving his subtle mark on her neck that told me, "I've already fucked your wife
tonight before you even had a clue" - the sexy young pirate attorney who had
L's libido working overtime, probably within minutes after she had willingly
accepted Dracula's "life essence" inside her - and the promise that eventually
I'd get to watch Dave drive L to a frenzied orgasm long after the pirates,
witches, and an assortment of the undead had faded away into the night.
Everything clicked. Pieces of my fantasy were falling into place as though our
Count might really have had supernatural powers after all. This Halloween party
thing was growing on me, in ways I had never imagined.
Twice Bitten
-
Don Jetman
- Player
- Posts: 340
- Joined: Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:56 am
Re: Twice Bitten
~*~
Back inside, L's "trance" was becoming a little embarrassing. She walked beside
me, but didn't say a word. When we stopped by a large open archway that led to
the kitchen, I asked L if she wanted a snack, or a fresh glass of wine. She
simply stood there as though I hadn't uttered a word. I asked again, and again
she ignored me, staring out into a sea of faces. A couple nearby gave us
uncomfortable glances, then moved away. I was sure they assumed we were
fighting, that L's temper was simmering just short of a full boil.
Just then, Dave arrived with a glass of white wine for L. She took it, but her
stare never left his face. She took a step toward him, moving so close that her
breasts touched his chest. Standing frozen against him, she tilted her face up,
parted her lips, and waited. I was sure she was about to kiss him. There were
people everywhere, including the couple that fled our supposed spat, still
eyeing us from a safe distance. Time seemed to stop for me. This was all wrong.
Dave and L's familiarity in public always had an element of edgy excitement for
me, but this, this had the look of an angry, tipsy wife with a thirst for
revenge. When pressed at the last party, I had always taken comments about
Dave's obvious attention to my wife in a positive, knowing way. Now, as others
watched, I wasn't part of a threesome - I was a husband whose angry wife was
throwing herself at our pointy-toothed host. Did she even realize how it looked?
Or was she lost in the part, drowning in her third glass of wine?
Dave put a hand on her bare shoulder, leaned forward, gently kissed her on the
cheek, then took a step back. "Maybe she should get some fresh air," he told me,
grinning. When I agreed, he took her hand and led her outside. I went to the row
of sliding glass doors that led to the pool, stopped there, and watched them
stroll into the trees at the back of his property. As they circled the pool, I
heard her laugh echo off the sparkling tile.
I spent some time staring into the darkness beyond the pool, trying to decide if
and when I'd see for myself if the Count had depleted his supply of "life
essence". In the meantime, Vampirella was back with her promises of eternal
life, if only I'd let her show me the error of my seemingly celibate ways. This
time she was less coy, tempting me with phrases like "I'd love to suck the life
out of you." Hell, L would never know, would she? A quick blowjob from a hungry
vampiress in a secluded closet or bathroom? God knows I needed it. I'm usually
not easily persuaded in situations like this, but this was a woman for whom, if
I was given a checklist for the perfect seductress, I'd have put my X beside
"all of the above".
"Yes" had practically left the tip of my tongue when Dave appeared behind my
slithering partner-in-crime. It was odd to stand before two vampires and see our
host dismiss the toothy lady in black so quickly and quietly that she must have
accepted a silent message that passed between them. Dave motioned for me to
follow him, then turned and headed toward the pool. We walked along the path
into the woods, then cut left into a small clearing. Dave put a finger to his
lips and we stood in silence and watched.
L and her pirate were twenty feet away, tucked into a small opening in the dense
camouflage of tightly packed evergreens and brush. He was kissing her, his face
buried in the curve of her neck, his mouth and tongue licking and sucking,
eating her alive. L stood motionless, head back, eyes closed, breathing heavily,
her hands and fingers tightening around his bare upper arms. I knew she could
feel his beard brush her skin as he worked, and remembered how it was a part of
her fantasy - the strong, dark-haired, swarthy, primal male who would ravish her
in spite of her best efforts to resist. Soon he had worked the top over her
shoulders and pulled it down, exposing her breasts. Her skin seemed to glow in
the moonlight, her bare breasts and shoulders bluish-white against his black
silhouette. He feasted on her nipples. I could hear the sucking sounds escape
from his lips when he took the pink buttons of sensitive flesh in his mouth and
continued. L was shivering, whether from the evening chill or her pirate's
lovemaking, I wasn't altogether sure. He stripped the top to her waist and went
to his knees, lashing at her belly with his tongue. Her fingers were tangled
in his hair, pulling him closer as short spasms racked her belly and breasts.
As I stood there in the dark, holding my breath, paralyzed by the wildness of it
all, by the "beast" that was seducing my wife in the secluded wilderness of our
fantasy, suddenly I realized, "My God, she's going to have two men in one
night." I turned and looked at Dave, and he must have read my mind. He smiled,
put a finger to his lips again, and motioned for me to follow him back to the
house. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I knew nothing would stop L from giving
herself to her pirate at this point, and I wasn't about to miss the moment when
he entered her, or the satisfaction on her face as she welcomed him inside.
Suddenly, I remembered something she had told me early during our first
adventures with Dave, and again with her second lover - that for her, at least
half of the excitement came from taking a strange penis inside her for the first
time, the rush it gave her as she felt the warmth and fullness slide slowly into
her. It wasn't just the physical sensation she loved, she had told me, it was
also the taboo of living out hidden fantasies, finally becoming the "bad girl"
that she had kept in check for so many years.
I remembered how she looked at me when she told me, unexpectedly, one quiet Sunday
afternoon. She was reminiscing about her "pre-Don" life - how her family moved from
place to place each time the Air Force reassigned her dad, her high school days,
including some touching and funny anecdotes about a few old high school boyfriends.
Then it was on to college when we met, including a few teasing jabs about her
admirers there and how she had "experimented" with more than one fuckbuddy while we
were dating. It was at that moment that her eyes widened and her angel face seemed
to take on the look of a much more experienced woman. After a few moments of
silent thought, she admitted her fascination with the taboo of strange cocks in
an eerie, yet sincere and loving confession that had me shaking and breathless by
the end of it. The memory of her confession, of her face, her voice, her bright
eyes when she looked into mine, all flooded back into me as I stood in the dark
watching, imagining how she must be burning for her fantasy pirate's cock. And in
the minutes of my trance, a kind of epiphany settled over me. There was no angst,
no fear, no doubt - only an overwhelming feeling of happiness and love for L.
Although I may never know the intensity of what she was feeling, I did know how
it felt to empower her to relish the pleasure she found in her pirate's arms.
Dave's hand on my shoulder intruded on my own little fantasy world like a splash
of ice-water in my face. He motioned to me to go with him, and I did, finally,
reluctantly, if only to protest out of hearing range of the two lovers. Back at
the house, I objected pretty strongly to leaving the scene. After all, I was
there to watch, not simply stand by and wait while L had all the fun. Dave poured
me another scotch, then took me outside again and walked with me by the pool.
It was getting chilly enough to chase everyone back inside and I took the
opportunity to continue to make my case.
"So, what is it about this guy that you don't want me to see? Is it that he's
your nephew?"
"What did you expect to see?" he asked me.
"I expected to see them fuck," I told him, now a little upset.
"You seem pretty sure that they will."
"Oh, come on, you saw what they were doing. You saw her face. Why wouldn't they
be fucking, right now, as we speak?"
I had raised my voice in more protest, and was immediately thankful there was no
one in hearing distance. Then, two seconds later, a voice called out from behind
me.
"Well, I think our ears are burning. Talking about anyone we know?"
It was L's pirate, wearing an exact copy of Dave's grin. L walked beside him,
looking a bit flustered and mussed. Her hair was still a wild tangle even after
an obvious attempt to smooth it back in place.
"I'm Rick. It's great to meet you, Don." He held out his hand, and I took it and
shook, now very uncomfortable with the way things were unfolding. Had Dave
brought his nephew into our game, or was this an unplanned pairing with L? How
much did he know? They had returned a mere five minutes after Dave and I left
them, hardly enough time to have fucked, dressed, and arrived by the pool to
overhear my embarrassing accusation. L appeared freshly handled and a little
sheepish, but didn't wear the afterglow of sex. What the hell was going on?
Fortunately for everyone, Dave smoothed things over, suggesting we all go back
inside where the party showed no signs of winding down. We followed him, Rick
chatting up L as if I wasn't there, and L glancing at me with looks that
alternated between amusement and uncertainty.
Guys like Rick had always made me a little uncomfortable. He was polite enough,
and outwardly friendly toward me, even after the obvious grope session with my
wife, but it was, not arrogance exactly, but the skilled social extrovert in him
that got to me. It brought to the surface a nagging paradox about L's preference
in men. She claimed to be drawn to guys with a quiet intelligence and dry sense
of humor, like me, she had said on so many occasions. But all too often I
witnessed her defenses crumble, her girly side go all wet and clingy when
approached by an obvious player tossing around a confident arrogance, bringing
out the big guns, not to win her heart, but with a target much lower in mind.
L told me much later that she was completely taken by him, but at that point was
aware that I was being played and was ambivalent about what to do about it.
"I never know exactly how much more you can take," she told me. "Throwing it in
your face is fun sometimes, as a game, but I could tell by the look on your face
you weren't into the game as much as usual. I didn't know you were watching us
in the woods, but I knew you could tell we had been doing something out there.
Still, there's always the danger of it becoming more than just a game. I don't
always want that to happen, but it's still kind of exciting thinking about things
spinning out of control, don't you think?"
I knew L liked to test me sometimes, in her teasing way, even later in our private
conversations. She'll toss these ideas at me with a straight face, ideas about
"danger" and the excitement of "spinning out of control", then wait for my reaction
to her outrageously shocking confessions. She'll even let me stew for a while
before admitting with great glee that she "got me" again. But at the time, I was on
another of Dave's roller-coaster rides to some unknown, possibly dark destination.
I had been demoted from the cat-bird seat to the back seat within a matter of
minutes, and my head was reeling with excitement, disappointment, all sorts of broken
and possible fantasies, and just enough scotch to make it all seem like a twisty
French film with no subtitles.
Back inside, L divided her time between Dave, Rick, and me. She had reached her
limit of white wine half-way through the evening, and was well past tipsy by
now. It was rare to see her like that - so outwardly flirtatious, touching and
stroking whomever she happened to be with, for once not caring that the alcohol
had swept her away. She drew more than her share of attention from other men as
she became more playful, and as her top fell lower over her shoulders revealing
more and more cleavage. As she stood by me near the end of the night I remember
glancing down her blouse, shocked to discover I could easily see each firm bare
breast and most of each of the puffy pink nipples that threatened to escape from
the scoop of her neckline. A sudden perverse thrill came over me, knowing that
so many men had likely seen the same display as Dave and Rick made the rounds
with her. Two additional scotches pushed my imagination even further as I
wondered what it might be like to see her naked in the midst of the crowd,
accompanied by Dave or Rick as they flaunted their trophy hotwife for all to
see. But the reality was that there was not enough alcohol in all the neighboring
states to make it happen. Later, upon reflection, L agreed. I believe her words
were "there was 'probably' not enough alcohol" to make it happen. Probably. So,
my fantasy lives on as a possible "maybe".
The downhill side of the party began well past midnight and by 3:00 AM only L,
Dave, Rick, and I remained. The lights were low, and the music had retreated
further into the background, a steady warm hum of quiet jazz that sat well with
the wine and scotch that soaked our bodies from the inside out. The four of us
sat and talked, allowing stretches of quiet between personal offerings of our
philosophies of life and sex. L sat on the floor at Rick's feet, resting
languorously against his leg at the front of the sofa. Dave and I monopolized
the discussion, dancing dangerously close to the subject of (L's?) female
fidelity and how perceptions and expectations had changed over the years.
Rick's hand had parted L's hair and was gently stroking the back of her neck. She
arched her back like a cat as we talked, turning now and then to flash Rick a
not-so-innocent smile as his fingers continued down her back and over her bare
shoulders. She smiled at me now and then as well, knowing I was close to the
limit of my patience. The evening had been all hers, and she knew she had put me
through a gauntlet of frustrations, from secretly giving herself to Dave so
early in the evening and soon after coyly flaunting the evidence in public, to
her on-again, off-again slow submission to Rick's blatant seduction. Soon I
found myself so distracted by her willing acceptance of Rick's caresses that I
wasn't able to respond to Dave's conversation. I heard the words, but not their
meaning. I was completely zoned, aware only of the scotch in my hand and the
obvious foreplay of the couple across the room.
Back inside, L's "trance" was becoming a little embarrassing. She walked beside
me, but didn't say a word. When we stopped by a large open archway that led to
the kitchen, I asked L if she wanted a snack, or a fresh glass of wine. She
simply stood there as though I hadn't uttered a word. I asked again, and again
she ignored me, staring out into a sea of faces. A couple nearby gave us
uncomfortable glances, then moved away. I was sure they assumed we were
fighting, that L's temper was simmering just short of a full boil.
Just then, Dave arrived with a glass of white wine for L. She took it, but her
stare never left his face. She took a step toward him, moving so close that her
breasts touched his chest. Standing frozen against him, she tilted her face up,
parted her lips, and waited. I was sure she was about to kiss him. There were
people everywhere, including the couple that fled our supposed spat, still
eyeing us from a safe distance. Time seemed to stop for me. This was all wrong.
Dave and L's familiarity in public always had an element of edgy excitement for
me, but this, this had the look of an angry, tipsy wife with a thirst for
revenge. When pressed at the last party, I had always taken comments about
Dave's obvious attention to my wife in a positive, knowing way. Now, as others
watched, I wasn't part of a threesome - I was a husband whose angry wife was
throwing herself at our pointy-toothed host. Did she even realize how it looked?
Or was she lost in the part, drowning in her third glass of wine?
Dave put a hand on her bare shoulder, leaned forward, gently kissed her on the
cheek, then took a step back. "Maybe she should get some fresh air," he told me,
grinning. When I agreed, he took her hand and led her outside. I went to the row
of sliding glass doors that led to the pool, stopped there, and watched them
stroll into the trees at the back of his property. As they circled the pool, I
heard her laugh echo off the sparkling tile.
I spent some time staring into the darkness beyond the pool, trying to decide if
and when I'd see for myself if the Count had depleted his supply of "life
essence". In the meantime, Vampirella was back with her promises of eternal
life, if only I'd let her show me the error of my seemingly celibate ways. This
time she was less coy, tempting me with phrases like "I'd love to suck the life
out of you." Hell, L would never know, would she? A quick blowjob from a hungry
vampiress in a secluded closet or bathroom? God knows I needed it. I'm usually
not easily persuaded in situations like this, but this was a woman for whom, if
I was given a checklist for the perfect seductress, I'd have put my X beside
"all of the above".
"Yes" had practically left the tip of my tongue when Dave appeared behind my
slithering partner-in-crime. It was odd to stand before two vampires and see our
host dismiss the toothy lady in black so quickly and quietly that she must have
accepted a silent message that passed between them. Dave motioned for me to
follow him, then turned and headed toward the pool. We walked along the path
into the woods, then cut left into a small clearing. Dave put a finger to his
lips and we stood in silence and watched.
L and her pirate were twenty feet away, tucked into a small opening in the dense
camouflage of tightly packed evergreens and brush. He was kissing her, his face
buried in the curve of her neck, his mouth and tongue licking and sucking,
eating her alive. L stood motionless, head back, eyes closed, breathing heavily,
her hands and fingers tightening around his bare upper arms. I knew she could
feel his beard brush her skin as he worked, and remembered how it was a part of
her fantasy - the strong, dark-haired, swarthy, primal male who would ravish her
in spite of her best efforts to resist. Soon he had worked the top over her
shoulders and pulled it down, exposing her breasts. Her skin seemed to glow in
the moonlight, her bare breasts and shoulders bluish-white against his black
silhouette. He feasted on her nipples. I could hear the sucking sounds escape
from his lips when he took the pink buttons of sensitive flesh in his mouth and
continued. L was shivering, whether from the evening chill or her pirate's
lovemaking, I wasn't altogether sure. He stripped the top to her waist and went
to his knees, lashing at her belly with his tongue. Her fingers were tangled
in his hair, pulling him closer as short spasms racked her belly and breasts.
As I stood there in the dark, holding my breath, paralyzed by the wildness of it
all, by the "beast" that was seducing my wife in the secluded wilderness of our
fantasy, suddenly I realized, "My God, she's going to have two men in one
night." I turned and looked at Dave, and he must have read my mind. He smiled,
put a finger to his lips again, and motioned for me to follow him back to the
house. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I knew nothing would stop L from giving
herself to her pirate at this point, and I wasn't about to miss the moment when
he entered her, or the satisfaction on her face as she welcomed him inside.
Suddenly, I remembered something she had told me early during our first
adventures with Dave, and again with her second lover - that for her, at least
half of the excitement came from taking a strange penis inside her for the first
time, the rush it gave her as she felt the warmth and fullness slide slowly into
her. It wasn't just the physical sensation she loved, she had told me, it was
also the taboo of living out hidden fantasies, finally becoming the "bad girl"
that she had kept in check for so many years.
I remembered how she looked at me when she told me, unexpectedly, one quiet Sunday
afternoon. She was reminiscing about her "pre-Don" life - how her family moved from
place to place each time the Air Force reassigned her dad, her high school days,
including some touching and funny anecdotes about a few old high school boyfriends.
Then it was on to college when we met, including a few teasing jabs about her
admirers there and how she had "experimented" with more than one fuckbuddy while we
were dating. It was at that moment that her eyes widened and her angel face seemed
to take on the look of a much more experienced woman. After a few moments of
silent thought, she admitted her fascination with the taboo of strange cocks in
an eerie, yet sincere and loving confession that had me shaking and breathless by
the end of it. The memory of her confession, of her face, her voice, her bright
eyes when she looked into mine, all flooded back into me as I stood in the dark
watching, imagining how she must be burning for her fantasy pirate's cock. And in
the minutes of my trance, a kind of epiphany settled over me. There was no angst,
no fear, no doubt - only an overwhelming feeling of happiness and love for L.
Although I may never know the intensity of what she was feeling, I did know how
it felt to empower her to relish the pleasure she found in her pirate's arms.
Dave's hand on my shoulder intruded on my own little fantasy world like a splash
of ice-water in my face. He motioned to me to go with him, and I did, finally,
reluctantly, if only to protest out of hearing range of the two lovers. Back at
the house, I objected pretty strongly to leaving the scene. After all, I was
there to watch, not simply stand by and wait while L had all the fun. Dave poured
me another scotch, then took me outside again and walked with me by the pool.
It was getting chilly enough to chase everyone back inside and I took the
opportunity to continue to make my case.
"So, what is it about this guy that you don't want me to see? Is it that he's
your nephew?"
"What did you expect to see?" he asked me.
"I expected to see them fuck," I told him, now a little upset.
"You seem pretty sure that they will."
"Oh, come on, you saw what they were doing. You saw her face. Why wouldn't they
be fucking, right now, as we speak?"
I had raised my voice in more protest, and was immediately thankful there was no
one in hearing distance. Then, two seconds later, a voice called out from behind
me.
"Well, I think our ears are burning. Talking about anyone we know?"
It was L's pirate, wearing an exact copy of Dave's grin. L walked beside him,
looking a bit flustered and mussed. Her hair was still a wild tangle even after
an obvious attempt to smooth it back in place.
"I'm Rick. It's great to meet you, Don." He held out his hand, and I took it and
shook, now very uncomfortable with the way things were unfolding. Had Dave
brought his nephew into our game, or was this an unplanned pairing with L? How
much did he know? They had returned a mere five minutes after Dave and I left
them, hardly enough time to have fucked, dressed, and arrived by the pool to
overhear my embarrassing accusation. L appeared freshly handled and a little
sheepish, but didn't wear the afterglow of sex. What the hell was going on?
Fortunately for everyone, Dave smoothed things over, suggesting we all go back
inside where the party showed no signs of winding down. We followed him, Rick
chatting up L as if I wasn't there, and L glancing at me with looks that
alternated between amusement and uncertainty.
Guys like Rick had always made me a little uncomfortable. He was polite enough,
and outwardly friendly toward me, even after the obvious grope session with my
wife, but it was, not arrogance exactly, but the skilled social extrovert in him
that got to me. It brought to the surface a nagging paradox about L's preference
in men. She claimed to be drawn to guys with a quiet intelligence and dry sense
of humor, like me, she had said on so many occasions. But all too often I
witnessed her defenses crumble, her girly side go all wet and clingy when
approached by an obvious player tossing around a confident arrogance, bringing
out the big guns, not to win her heart, but with a target much lower in mind.
L told me much later that she was completely taken by him, but at that point was
aware that I was being played and was ambivalent about what to do about it.
"I never know exactly how much more you can take," she told me. "Throwing it in
your face is fun sometimes, as a game, but I could tell by the look on your face
you weren't into the game as much as usual. I didn't know you were watching us
in the woods, but I knew you could tell we had been doing something out there.
Still, there's always the danger of it becoming more than just a game. I don't
always want that to happen, but it's still kind of exciting thinking about things
spinning out of control, don't you think?"
I knew L liked to test me sometimes, in her teasing way, even later in our private
conversations. She'll toss these ideas at me with a straight face, ideas about
"danger" and the excitement of "spinning out of control", then wait for my reaction
to her outrageously shocking confessions. She'll even let me stew for a while
before admitting with great glee that she "got me" again. But at the time, I was on
another of Dave's roller-coaster rides to some unknown, possibly dark destination.
I had been demoted from the cat-bird seat to the back seat within a matter of
minutes, and my head was reeling with excitement, disappointment, all sorts of broken
and possible fantasies, and just enough scotch to make it all seem like a twisty
French film with no subtitles.
Back inside, L divided her time between Dave, Rick, and me. She had reached her
limit of white wine half-way through the evening, and was well past tipsy by
now. It was rare to see her like that - so outwardly flirtatious, touching and
stroking whomever she happened to be with, for once not caring that the alcohol
had swept her away. She drew more than her share of attention from other men as
she became more playful, and as her top fell lower over her shoulders revealing
more and more cleavage. As she stood by me near the end of the night I remember
glancing down her blouse, shocked to discover I could easily see each firm bare
breast and most of each of the puffy pink nipples that threatened to escape from
the scoop of her neckline. A sudden perverse thrill came over me, knowing that
so many men had likely seen the same display as Dave and Rick made the rounds
with her. Two additional scotches pushed my imagination even further as I
wondered what it might be like to see her naked in the midst of the crowd,
accompanied by Dave or Rick as they flaunted their trophy hotwife for all to
see. But the reality was that there was not enough alcohol in all the neighboring
states to make it happen. Later, upon reflection, L agreed. I believe her words
were "there was 'probably' not enough alcohol" to make it happen. Probably. So,
my fantasy lives on as a possible "maybe".
The downhill side of the party began well past midnight and by 3:00 AM only L,
Dave, Rick, and I remained. The lights were low, and the music had retreated
further into the background, a steady warm hum of quiet jazz that sat well with
the wine and scotch that soaked our bodies from the inside out. The four of us
sat and talked, allowing stretches of quiet between personal offerings of our
philosophies of life and sex. L sat on the floor at Rick's feet, resting
languorously against his leg at the front of the sofa. Dave and I monopolized
the discussion, dancing dangerously close to the subject of (L's?) female
fidelity and how perceptions and expectations had changed over the years.
Rick's hand had parted L's hair and was gently stroking the back of her neck. She
arched her back like a cat as we talked, turning now and then to flash Rick a
not-so-innocent smile as his fingers continued down her back and over her bare
shoulders. She smiled at me now and then as well, knowing I was close to the
limit of my patience. The evening had been all hers, and she knew she had put me
through a gauntlet of frustrations, from secretly giving herself to Dave so
early in the evening and soon after coyly flaunting the evidence in public, to
her on-again, off-again slow submission to Rick's blatant seduction. Soon I
found myself so distracted by her willing acceptance of Rick's caresses that I
wasn't able to respond to Dave's conversation. I heard the words, but not their
meaning. I was completely zoned, aware only of the scotch in my hand and the
obvious foreplay of the couple across the room.
-
Don Jetman
- Player
- Posts: 340
- Joined: Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:56 am
Re: Twice Bitten
~*~
When it became obvious that I had become a zombie in the real sense of the word,
Dave asked me to give him a hand in the kitchen. He led me to the basement to
help restock his fridge and bar. There, I was sure I had found Dracula's dark
lair, the very spot where L had taken his "life essence" earlier in the evening.
As we passed through a hallway into an unfinished storage area, I peered into a
room nearby, lit only by a few flickering candles. At its center was an unmade
bed, a sheet lying in a tangled pile on the floor, and two pillows wrinkled and
strewn at odd angles at its head. I could imagine L lying there with her legs
spread, inviting her caped lover to enter her while her unsuspecting husband
fended off temptation upstairs at the bar.
Dave forged forward without a word, robbing me of the details of what must have
been a scene that I'd have paid dearly to see. Were the sheets still moist from
their sweat, or from the "life essence" that must have leaked from her? I knew
what Dave's answer would be, that there were some things I would only know if L
agreed to share the details. And I knew that if I asked, she would tease me for
days with innuendo, rationing precious seconds of her vampire sex for nights to
come while I begged for more in our own bed. Knowing better than to attempt to
invade Dave's privacy, I followed him through a door just past the bedroom,
leaving the details of what happened there to my imagination.
Once inside, Dave took an empty box and began to fill it with bottles of wine
from a six by three foot wooden rack along the far wall. It was hardly what I'd
call a wine cellar, but over half the spaces were filled with bottles, all
different, each thoughtfully selected as he placed a half-dozen or so in the box
at his feet. I stood there watching for a while, pretending my thoughts weren't
on what may be taking place upstairs, pretending that L and Rick would be just
as we left them when we returned. It wasn't long until Dave's purposeful silence
got the best of me.
"So, does Rick know about - um- what we do?"
Dave glanced up at me. His expression was unchanged.
"He knows you aren't the jealous type, if that's what you mean."
He was dancing around an answer, baiting me. Was his evasiveness meant to test
me, to see if I minded revealing our private life to an outsider, or was it a
dare to ask for more, a dare to beg him to say the words out loud that would
make my suspicions real?
"What I mean is, is he here for a reason tonight? Is he here to hit on L?"
"What you really mean is, is he here to fuck her? Is that what you'd like? Or is
that what you're afraid of?"
"I'm not afraid of it."
"Are you sure? From where I stood it looked like more than puppy-love to me. It
might be more like making love than fucking. Would you want to see that?"
The son-of-a-bitch knew just which buttons to push. It was indeed a dare, a dare
to look in one of those dark corners that I had learned to avoid, to detour, at
exactly those times when L's lover was just a bit too perfect. I recognized
the jab at the ego, the subtle wedge that opens a crevice of angst or doubt, not
overtly, but as a slithering annoyance in the gut. But recognizing it didn't
kill the little nasty he had planted. It was still there, under control, but
slithering and twisting just the same.
"I can handle it. I mean, it's not like we haven't done this before."
Dave continued to pull bottles from the rack here and there and place them in
the box.
"OK, if you're sure. Just checking."
Dave was taking his time choosing the wine, enough time that it became clear
that he was stalling. My thoughts shifted to what may be going on upstairs. When
we had set off to the basement I had assumed we were giving L and Rick some time
alone, and I imagined returning to catch them at some light (or even heavy)
petting. A few minutes away so the mice could play, so to speak, was Dave's
intent, I thought. I'd get to witness the scene as a kind of suggestive
foreplay, Rick would take his leave, and Dave would let me watch as he filled L
for the second time that night with his "life essence". But as our time in the
basement seemed to drag on, I became less certain of what any of our parts were
to be by the end of the evening. Evolving thoughts of what L and her fantasy
pirate were doing upstairs, after ten minutes, then twenty, had me anxious, both
about what was happening, and whether I'd ever get to see any of it. Dave had a
real talent for doing this, for involving us in a fairly predictable situation,
bringing out a flavor of sexuality in L that I could rarely summon on my own,
then somehow surrounding me with slyly crafted unknowns and doubt. And he would
do this in a way that was completely transparent to L, so as not to chance
inhibiting her celebration of the "bad girl" he had help her release. Each time
he worked his magic, I knew what he was doing, yet it was always enough, enough
to make me feel I was no longer in control, that I no longer could control what
was to happen. Although L appreciated his social sophistication, and his
predictable lovemaking skills, what she hadn't fully experienced was Dave's
ability, from my perspective, to weave a certain edginess into our games, again
transparent to L, but precisely delivered to me in a series of pin-pricks that
made me flinch a little at each stab.
Dave passed the box to me, took another two bottles from the rack, and we headed
back upstairs. As we passed by the open door where I had imagined him to have
taken L only a few hours before, he paused, and turned to go back to the storage
room.
"Ah, just a minute, Don," he told me. "I forgot something."
I stood there, peering into the room, now lit with only a few remaining candles.
I was literally eight feet from the likely scene of L's surrender to her Count.
I could take a few steps and be at the bedside where it happened. In my scotch-
soaked mind, my curiosity finally out-ranked Dave's privacy. Still carrying the
box of wine bottles, I walked into the room and went to the edge of the bed. I
set the box on the floor and ran my hand over the sheet. It was cool and dry to
my touch, showing no sign of the Count's immortal bodily fluids. I picked up a
pillow and smelled it. Was it L's perfume, Dave's cologne, or a mixture of the
two along with the odor of sweaty sex? It smelled intoxicating, whatever it was,
a blend of the feminine and masculine. Was the hint of sex really there beneath
the odors that L and Dave must have left behind, or was it my imagination
working overtime?
Looking about the room, there were no other clues about who was last in the bed
and what went on there. Flickering candles on small nightstands at each side of
the bed had nearly burned themselves out, almost whispering to me that they had
been witnesses to whatever happened there very early in the evening. "She was
here with him," they seemed to say. "She was here, in his bed." I slid open the
drawer in the nearest table, slowly, silently, hoping for any kind of clue - her
panties, a used condom, anything at all to complete the picture I was painting
in my head. Nothing. It was empty. So, was I supposed to find this suggestion of
L's surrender to her vampire lover, or was it up to L to tell me later, how and
when he took her just minutes after we arrived? I knew better than to ask. No
doubt it was set up to torture me, but it was the secrecy, the mere implication
without visual evidence that bothered me, the slight hint that it was not an
agreeable hotwife, but a wife so hungry for sex that she couldn't wait till
evening's end for Dave's ever-reliable cock. Which was fine, but dammit, I
wanted to watch! I wanted that memory, the look on her face when she came with
him in the shifting candle-light of his crypt.
"Exploring?"
It was Dave, standing in the doorway. I had no idea how long he had been there.
I guess I grinned a bit sheepishly, then picked up the box of wine and followed
him upstairs. He hadn't said another word.
We put our cargo on the counter in the kitchen, then headed back to the living
room. As I passed under the arched opening, I stopped and stared. L was facing
her pirate, straddling his lap. Her top was pulled down around her waist, her
long peasant skirt gathered around the tops of her bare thighs. She clung to his
shoulders, her bare breasts pressed against his hairy chest, her face turned
away from me, hidden by his thick, dark beard. Her body rose slightly with each
sharp, rhythmic jolt, delivered from Rick's hips as he pummeled her from below.
She seemed unresponsive and limp, a tiny, exquisite doll made to dance for her
master. Then rising quietly from the shadows where their bodies met, the little
unintelligible sounds she made became clearer. Her words were evenly spaced,
repetitive, almost as if sampled by a machine adept at mimicking L's voice at
the height of her lovemaking.
"Ricky - Ricky - Ricky - oh God - Ricky - Ricky - Ricky..."
When had "Rick" become "Ricky"? The sudden intimacy sent a chill through me for
a second. She was into this guy - I had no doubts by now. A bit more alcohol
than she was used to went a long way toward letting her show it, and it was
clear that she was in her own world, so deeply involved in her fantasy that no
one else was part of her world, not Dave, and especially not me.
Rick's hands ran up and down her bare back, wandered under her arms to caress
her breasts, then returned to stroke her back. He feasted on her shoulder,
biting and sucking, finally moving up along her neck, tracing lines along the
tendons and muscles that stood in shadowed relief as she lowered her cheek on
his shoulder. L loved this. I knew all too well how sensitive her neck was, how,
during sex, all I had to do was lick her there at the right moment and she would
cum, instantly.
And then, just as I thought the thought, her slim arms tightened around him, her
back tensed, and she erupted in a series of short, muffled whimpers. I'm not
sure how long it lasted - the sounds she made were like a siren's song, drawing
me in, making me want her, telling me she was both slut and Earth Mother, and
pledging to Rick that she had given her body to him completely.
There is still something uniquely exotic about L cumming for another man. The
imagery is laced with both sensuality and a sense of loss. A woman's orgasm is
given, not taken. She opens herself to the man she's with, trusting him,
accepting him, wanting him, admitting him inside her for the most intimate of
acts. Her orgasm is her word, the key to her body and mind, given freely,
without reservation. A wife's orgasm adds another dimension. A wife serves up
not only her body and mind, but also the sexual allegiance to her husband. Her
body betrays the myth that she's his, that she belongs to him, that her orgasm
can be summoned by her husband alone. The feminine satyr that's unleashed at
that moment is a mixed bag of emotions for me - lust, admiration, and a hint of
possessiveness that refuses to be chased away, even with the most rational
thinking and repeated hotwife experiences. Fortunately, reliving L's orgasm as a
memory or even bed-time foreplay is forever free of the niggling angst felt at
the time. When rewound and played back in my mind, her whimpering and twitching
is every bit about her, not her partner. Knowing this has helped me appreciate
the sting that goes along with witnessing her surrender first-hand. So, I stood
silently and watched.
L rode him for a while after she came, again a fragile but willing doll tossed
by the unrelenting hips of the pirate under her. After a few minutes, she pushed
herself upright, separating her breasts from his chest, and took his face in her
hands. She said something - I couldn't hear what - and then gently dismounted
from his lap. She sprawled on the sofa beside him, propped up on her elbows, her
face inches from his erection. Slowly, she unrolled the condom off his cock and
dropped it on the floor. Her hands dipped between his legs, unseen in shadows,
but undoubtedly caressing his balls, playing with his sex, bringing his wilting
erection to a rigid, veiny, post of flesh. She worked on him so gently, so
carefully, so intent on owning his erection, on making it respond to her touch.
When he began to go soft again, she'd take the head of his cock in her mouth for
a few seconds, then lick it with the tip of her tongue, finally licking deeply
into the crevice where a bead of pre-cum appeared, again and again.
It was a beautiful scene. L's skirt was around her waist, her bare legs splayed
comfortably over the sofa, her tight little ass mostly exposed just below the
rumpled skirt. Rick was naked from the waist down, but still wore the open shirt
and vest that had attracted L so early in the evening. I could see the top of
his cock and her hands on it, then, unexpectedly, now and then, L's head lower
over it, her hair parting just enough to catch a glimpse of her lips kissing,
then lightly grasping his cock-head, her small fingers surrounding him just
inches from her suckling mouth. Rick's head was back, his eyes closed, no doubt
now concentrating on his own orgasm. When it finally happened, L pulled her
mouth away, letting his semen flow over her hand as she continued to stroke him,
gently milking the remaining cum from his twitching cock. Soon after, they
collapsed on the sofa, side by side, belly to belly, and slept.
As Dave led me to a guest bedroom, the images and the gamut of emotions I felt
stayed with me, the intensity never fading as I stumbled into bed. As I lay
there in bed, saturated with scotch, too drunk to masturbate to the night's
events, there remained a nagging inequality about the night. Yet, I had been the
subject of one of Dave's elaborate scripts, one he knew would be the perfect fit
for both L and me. Had he arranged every detail? The very early taking of L's
Halloween night "virginity"? My temptation by persuasive party sirens, a choice
he must have known would be maddening? And finally, the pairing of Rick and L, a
fit so perfect that the result was practically guaranteed? And then there were
the unknowns, the pieces I hadn't been allowed to witness - the finish of L and
Rick's session in the woods, her sex with Dave, the taking of his "life essence"
inside her (had they used a condom?), and lastly, the intimacy L and Rick now
shared, lying together belly to belly, L's bare thighs still intertwined with
his, holding each other in a sound sleep as I lay in Dave's guest room alone
with my thoughts.
My inclination was to go back and watch them for a while, to see L's body glued
to his with a hunger that had begun hours ago, even as she slept. Would they wake
in the night and fuck again? Would she take Rick's "life essence" inside her as
well?
But before the thought was finished, I slept.
When it became obvious that I had become a zombie in the real sense of the word,
Dave asked me to give him a hand in the kitchen. He led me to the basement to
help restock his fridge and bar. There, I was sure I had found Dracula's dark
lair, the very spot where L had taken his "life essence" earlier in the evening.
As we passed through a hallway into an unfinished storage area, I peered into a
room nearby, lit only by a few flickering candles. At its center was an unmade
bed, a sheet lying in a tangled pile on the floor, and two pillows wrinkled and
strewn at odd angles at its head. I could imagine L lying there with her legs
spread, inviting her caped lover to enter her while her unsuspecting husband
fended off temptation upstairs at the bar.
Dave forged forward without a word, robbing me of the details of what must have
been a scene that I'd have paid dearly to see. Were the sheets still moist from
their sweat, or from the "life essence" that must have leaked from her? I knew
what Dave's answer would be, that there were some things I would only know if L
agreed to share the details. And I knew that if I asked, she would tease me for
days with innuendo, rationing precious seconds of her vampire sex for nights to
come while I begged for more in our own bed. Knowing better than to attempt to
invade Dave's privacy, I followed him through a door just past the bedroom,
leaving the details of what happened there to my imagination.
Once inside, Dave took an empty box and began to fill it with bottles of wine
from a six by three foot wooden rack along the far wall. It was hardly what I'd
call a wine cellar, but over half the spaces were filled with bottles, all
different, each thoughtfully selected as he placed a half-dozen or so in the box
at his feet. I stood there watching for a while, pretending my thoughts weren't
on what may be taking place upstairs, pretending that L and Rick would be just
as we left them when we returned. It wasn't long until Dave's purposeful silence
got the best of me.
"So, does Rick know about - um- what we do?"
Dave glanced up at me. His expression was unchanged.
"He knows you aren't the jealous type, if that's what you mean."
He was dancing around an answer, baiting me. Was his evasiveness meant to test
me, to see if I minded revealing our private life to an outsider, or was it a
dare to ask for more, a dare to beg him to say the words out loud that would
make my suspicions real?
"What I mean is, is he here for a reason tonight? Is he here to hit on L?"
"What you really mean is, is he here to fuck her? Is that what you'd like? Or is
that what you're afraid of?"
"I'm not afraid of it."
"Are you sure? From where I stood it looked like more than puppy-love to me. It
might be more like making love than fucking. Would you want to see that?"
The son-of-a-bitch knew just which buttons to push. It was indeed a dare, a dare
to look in one of those dark corners that I had learned to avoid, to detour, at
exactly those times when L's lover was just a bit too perfect. I recognized
the jab at the ego, the subtle wedge that opens a crevice of angst or doubt, not
overtly, but as a slithering annoyance in the gut. But recognizing it didn't
kill the little nasty he had planted. It was still there, under control, but
slithering and twisting just the same.
"I can handle it. I mean, it's not like we haven't done this before."
Dave continued to pull bottles from the rack here and there and place them in
the box.
"OK, if you're sure. Just checking."
Dave was taking his time choosing the wine, enough time that it became clear
that he was stalling. My thoughts shifted to what may be going on upstairs. When
we had set off to the basement I had assumed we were giving L and Rick some time
alone, and I imagined returning to catch them at some light (or even heavy)
petting. A few minutes away so the mice could play, so to speak, was Dave's
intent, I thought. I'd get to witness the scene as a kind of suggestive
foreplay, Rick would take his leave, and Dave would let me watch as he filled L
for the second time that night with his "life essence". But as our time in the
basement seemed to drag on, I became less certain of what any of our parts were
to be by the end of the evening. Evolving thoughts of what L and her fantasy
pirate were doing upstairs, after ten minutes, then twenty, had me anxious, both
about what was happening, and whether I'd ever get to see any of it. Dave had a
real talent for doing this, for involving us in a fairly predictable situation,
bringing out a flavor of sexuality in L that I could rarely summon on my own,
then somehow surrounding me with slyly crafted unknowns and doubt. And he would
do this in a way that was completely transparent to L, so as not to chance
inhibiting her celebration of the "bad girl" he had help her release. Each time
he worked his magic, I knew what he was doing, yet it was always enough, enough
to make me feel I was no longer in control, that I no longer could control what
was to happen. Although L appreciated his social sophistication, and his
predictable lovemaking skills, what she hadn't fully experienced was Dave's
ability, from my perspective, to weave a certain edginess into our games, again
transparent to L, but precisely delivered to me in a series of pin-pricks that
made me flinch a little at each stab.
Dave passed the box to me, took another two bottles from the rack, and we headed
back upstairs. As we passed by the open door where I had imagined him to have
taken L only a few hours before, he paused, and turned to go back to the storage
room.
"Ah, just a minute, Don," he told me. "I forgot something."
I stood there, peering into the room, now lit with only a few remaining candles.
I was literally eight feet from the likely scene of L's surrender to her Count.
I could take a few steps and be at the bedside where it happened. In my scotch-
soaked mind, my curiosity finally out-ranked Dave's privacy. Still carrying the
box of wine bottles, I walked into the room and went to the edge of the bed. I
set the box on the floor and ran my hand over the sheet. It was cool and dry to
my touch, showing no sign of the Count's immortal bodily fluids. I picked up a
pillow and smelled it. Was it L's perfume, Dave's cologne, or a mixture of the
two along with the odor of sweaty sex? It smelled intoxicating, whatever it was,
a blend of the feminine and masculine. Was the hint of sex really there beneath
the odors that L and Dave must have left behind, or was it my imagination
working overtime?
Looking about the room, there were no other clues about who was last in the bed
and what went on there. Flickering candles on small nightstands at each side of
the bed had nearly burned themselves out, almost whispering to me that they had
been witnesses to whatever happened there very early in the evening. "She was
here with him," they seemed to say. "She was here, in his bed." I slid open the
drawer in the nearest table, slowly, silently, hoping for any kind of clue - her
panties, a used condom, anything at all to complete the picture I was painting
in my head. Nothing. It was empty. So, was I supposed to find this suggestion of
L's surrender to her vampire lover, or was it up to L to tell me later, how and
when he took her just minutes after we arrived? I knew better than to ask. No
doubt it was set up to torture me, but it was the secrecy, the mere implication
without visual evidence that bothered me, the slight hint that it was not an
agreeable hotwife, but a wife so hungry for sex that she couldn't wait till
evening's end for Dave's ever-reliable cock. Which was fine, but dammit, I
wanted to watch! I wanted that memory, the look on her face when she came with
him in the shifting candle-light of his crypt.
"Exploring?"
It was Dave, standing in the doorway. I had no idea how long he had been there.
I guess I grinned a bit sheepishly, then picked up the box of wine and followed
him upstairs. He hadn't said another word.
We put our cargo on the counter in the kitchen, then headed back to the living
room. As I passed under the arched opening, I stopped and stared. L was facing
her pirate, straddling his lap. Her top was pulled down around her waist, her
long peasant skirt gathered around the tops of her bare thighs. She clung to his
shoulders, her bare breasts pressed against his hairy chest, her face turned
away from me, hidden by his thick, dark beard. Her body rose slightly with each
sharp, rhythmic jolt, delivered from Rick's hips as he pummeled her from below.
She seemed unresponsive and limp, a tiny, exquisite doll made to dance for her
master. Then rising quietly from the shadows where their bodies met, the little
unintelligible sounds she made became clearer. Her words were evenly spaced,
repetitive, almost as if sampled by a machine adept at mimicking L's voice at
the height of her lovemaking.
"Ricky - Ricky - Ricky - oh God - Ricky - Ricky - Ricky..."
When had "Rick" become "Ricky"? The sudden intimacy sent a chill through me for
a second. She was into this guy - I had no doubts by now. A bit more alcohol
than she was used to went a long way toward letting her show it, and it was
clear that she was in her own world, so deeply involved in her fantasy that no
one else was part of her world, not Dave, and especially not me.
Rick's hands ran up and down her bare back, wandered under her arms to caress
her breasts, then returned to stroke her back. He feasted on her shoulder,
biting and sucking, finally moving up along her neck, tracing lines along the
tendons and muscles that stood in shadowed relief as she lowered her cheek on
his shoulder. L loved this. I knew all too well how sensitive her neck was, how,
during sex, all I had to do was lick her there at the right moment and she would
cum, instantly.
And then, just as I thought the thought, her slim arms tightened around him, her
back tensed, and she erupted in a series of short, muffled whimpers. I'm not
sure how long it lasted - the sounds she made were like a siren's song, drawing
me in, making me want her, telling me she was both slut and Earth Mother, and
pledging to Rick that she had given her body to him completely.
There is still something uniquely exotic about L cumming for another man. The
imagery is laced with both sensuality and a sense of loss. A woman's orgasm is
given, not taken. She opens herself to the man she's with, trusting him,
accepting him, wanting him, admitting him inside her for the most intimate of
acts. Her orgasm is her word, the key to her body and mind, given freely,
without reservation. A wife's orgasm adds another dimension. A wife serves up
not only her body and mind, but also the sexual allegiance to her husband. Her
body betrays the myth that she's his, that she belongs to him, that her orgasm
can be summoned by her husband alone. The feminine satyr that's unleashed at
that moment is a mixed bag of emotions for me - lust, admiration, and a hint of
possessiveness that refuses to be chased away, even with the most rational
thinking and repeated hotwife experiences. Fortunately, reliving L's orgasm as a
memory or even bed-time foreplay is forever free of the niggling angst felt at
the time. When rewound and played back in my mind, her whimpering and twitching
is every bit about her, not her partner. Knowing this has helped me appreciate
the sting that goes along with witnessing her surrender first-hand. So, I stood
silently and watched.
L rode him for a while after she came, again a fragile but willing doll tossed
by the unrelenting hips of the pirate under her. After a few minutes, she pushed
herself upright, separating her breasts from his chest, and took his face in her
hands. She said something - I couldn't hear what - and then gently dismounted
from his lap. She sprawled on the sofa beside him, propped up on her elbows, her
face inches from his erection. Slowly, she unrolled the condom off his cock and
dropped it on the floor. Her hands dipped between his legs, unseen in shadows,
but undoubtedly caressing his balls, playing with his sex, bringing his wilting
erection to a rigid, veiny, post of flesh. She worked on him so gently, so
carefully, so intent on owning his erection, on making it respond to her touch.
When he began to go soft again, she'd take the head of his cock in her mouth for
a few seconds, then lick it with the tip of her tongue, finally licking deeply
into the crevice where a bead of pre-cum appeared, again and again.
It was a beautiful scene. L's skirt was around her waist, her bare legs splayed
comfortably over the sofa, her tight little ass mostly exposed just below the
rumpled skirt. Rick was naked from the waist down, but still wore the open shirt
and vest that had attracted L so early in the evening. I could see the top of
his cock and her hands on it, then, unexpectedly, now and then, L's head lower
over it, her hair parting just enough to catch a glimpse of her lips kissing,
then lightly grasping his cock-head, her small fingers surrounding him just
inches from her suckling mouth. Rick's head was back, his eyes closed, no doubt
now concentrating on his own orgasm. When it finally happened, L pulled her
mouth away, letting his semen flow over her hand as she continued to stroke him,
gently milking the remaining cum from his twitching cock. Soon after, they
collapsed on the sofa, side by side, belly to belly, and slept.
As Dave led me to a guest bedroom, the images and the gamut of emotions I felt
stayed with me, the intensity never fading as I stumbled into bed. As I lay
there in bed, saturated with scotch, too drunk to masturbate to the night's
events, there remained a nagging inequality about the night. Yet, I had been the
subject of one of Dave's elaborate scripts, one he knew would be the perfect fit
for both L and me. Had he arranged every detail? The very early taking of L's
Halloween night "virginity"? My temptation by persuasive party sirens, a choice
he must have known would be maddening? And finally, the pairing of Rick and L, a
fit so perfect that the result was practically guaranteed? And then there were
the unknowns, the pieces I hadn't been allowed to witness - the finish of L and
Rick's session in the woods, her sex with Dave, the taking of his "life essence"
inside her (had they used a condom?), and lastly, the intimacy L and Rick now
shared, lying together belly to belly, L's bare thighs still intertwined with
his, holding each other in a sound sleep as I lay in Dave's guest room alone
with my thoughts.
My inclination was to go back and watch them for a while, to see L's body glued
to his with a hunger that had begun hours ago, even as she slept. Would they wake
in the night and fuck again? Would she take Rick's "life essence" inside her as
well?
But before the thought was finished, I slept.
-
Don Jetman
- Player
- Posts: 340
- Joined: Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:56 am
Re: Twice Bitten
~*~
During the days and weeks that followed, L made good use of my memories (and
questions) of that night. She's become adept at replaying them during foreplay,
blending her memories with mine, and teasing me with tempting revelations of the
pieces missing from my part of the puzzle. She delighted in dangling the details
in front of me, revealing just enough to make me want more. But above all, she's
learned to weave all this into our lovemaking that often becomes "fucking", a
feat many wives in ten-year marriages wouldn't begin to be able to accomplish or
understand.
Finally, days later, L made her late-night "life essence" confession:
"So, were you really carrying Dave's semen around inside you at the party? I
mean, after you disappeared, then showed up in your trance, teasing me with all
that 'life essence' stuff?"
"Well, I don't remember telling you anything that night that wasn't true."
"Everything you said was true?"
"Hmmm, yes, I think so. But later, I'm not so sure. You know how much I had to
drink."
"So you let him cum in you, without a condom? I thought we agreed not to do
that, even with Dave."
"You didn't think it was exciting? Knowing I was carrying his semen right there
in front of you, in front of everyone at the party?"
L is on her side beside me in bed, naked, now trailing her fingertips up and
down over my erection.
"So you were? Really?"
"I told you I was telling the truth. It made Dave's idea more real to me, and I
thought it was really sexy. I mean, there was a real connection between us,
because part of him was in me. It made me feel 'owned', like I really was under
his spell. Anyway, you thought it was sexy too - I could tell then, and I can
tell now."
L rolls toward me and takes the head of my cock in her mouth. She's taken
control of the conversation by bringing it to an end. I let her work on me for a
while, thinking about that room in Dave's basement, how they must have had
sudden, feverish sex with little foreplay, and how he emptied himself into L in
a moment of passion that, planned or not, played so well into the theme he had
concocted. Had she been swept up in the moment, or had she willingly taken him
without protection?
I reach down and gently take her face in my hands. When she looks up at me, her
eyes are fiery, her lips slightly open and moist.
"You have to tell me. You let him cum in you?"
"Don, we didn't fuck. We didn't need a condom."
"B-but, then, how were you carrying his life essence inside you?"
L looks at me for a few seconds, as though she's giving me time to think. She
looks amazing - hungry. I watch her lips as she answers.
"Don, I swallowed it."
She lowers her head and takes me in her mouth again. And she tells the rest of
her story without a single word.
During the days and weeks that followed, L made good use of my memories (and
questions) of that night. She's become adept at replaying them during foreplay,
blending her memories with mine, and teasing me with tempting revelations of the
pieces missing from my part of the puzzle. She delighted in dangling the details
in front of me, revealing just enough to make me want more. But above all, she's
learned to weave all this into our lovemaking that often becomes "fucking", a
feat many wives in ten-year marriages wouldn't begin to be able to accomplish or
understand.
Finally, days later, L made her late-night "life essence" confession:
"So, were you really carrying Dave's semen around inside you at the party? I
mean, after you disappeared, then showed up in your trance, teasing me with all
that 'life essence' stuff?"
"Well, I don't remember telling you anything that night that wasn't true."
"Everything you said was true?"
"Hmmm, yes, I think so. But later, I'm not so sure. You know how much I had to
drink."
"So you let him cum in you, without a condom? I thought we agreed not to do
that, even with Dave."
"You didn't think it was exciting? Knowing I was carrying his semen right there
in front of you, in front of everyone at the party?"
L is on her side beside me in bed, naked, now trailing her fingertips up and
down over my erection.
"So you were? Really?"
"I told you I was telling the truth. It made Dave's idea more real to me, and I
thought it was really sexy. I mean, there was a real connection between us,
because part of him was in me. It made me feel 'owned', like I really was under
his spell. Anyway, you thought it was sexy too - I could tell then, and I can
tell now."
L rolls toward me and takes the head of my cock in her mouth. She's taken
control of the conversation by bringing it to an end. I let her work on me for a
while, thinking about that room in Dave's basement, how they must have had
sudden, feverish sex with little foreplay, and how he emptied himself into L in
a moment of passion that, planned or not, played so well into the theme he had
concocted. Had she been swept up in the moment, or had she willingly taken him
without protection?
I reach down and gently take her face in my hands. When she looks up at me, her
eyes are fiery, her lips slightly open and moist.
"You have to tell me. You let him cum in you?"
"Don, we didn't fuck. We didn't need a condom."
"B-but, then, how were you carrying his life essence inside you?"
L looks at me for a few seconds, as though she's giving me time to think. She
looks amazing - hungry. I watch her lips as she answers.
"Don, I swallowed it."
She lowers her head and takes me in her mouth again. And she tells the rest of
her story without a single word.
-
SutterKane
- OHW Addict
- Posts: 1608
- Joined: Sun Jul 16, 2017 7:27 am
Re: Twice Bitten
Don, you are the MASTER! My wife and I love this. She has a Vampire fetish, you know...
"Women and cats will do as they please,and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea"-Robert Heinlein
"Gratitude is riches and complaint is poverty and the worst I ever had was wonderful"Bro. Dave Gardner
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus!
"Gratitude is riches and complaint is poverty and the worst I ever had was wonderful"Bro. Dave Gardner
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus!
Re: Twice Bitten
Excellent story, very erotic thanks Don
I cant help but think a lot of your writing ability has to come from personal experience.
I cant help but think a lot of your writing ability has to come from personal experience.
Re: Twice Bitten
Yes : Brillant !
Re: Twice Bitten
Great story, enjoyed this one heaps.
Thanks Don
Thanks Don
Re: Twice Bitten
Dear Don,
Thank you. You've done it again. Brilliant!!! You are a STAR!
54321
Thank you. You've done it again. Brilliant!!! You are a STAR!
54321
FANTASTIC story!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Congratulations!!!-
Don Jetman
- Player
- Posts: 340
- Joined: Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:56 am
Re: Twice Bitten
Many thanks, everyone! This one's an oldie from many years ago when we first started playing. I hadn't read it in years, so it was a stroll down memory lane for me. We were so new at this...
Don
Don
Re: Twice Bitten
Don
have you and L. got a big night in the work"s for tonight.
look forward to hearing if you both had a fun halloween.
keep us posted.
have you and L. got a big night in the work"s for tonight.
look forward to hearing if you both had a fun halloween.
keep us posted.
-
Don Jetman
- Player
- Posts: 340
- Joined: Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:56 am
Re: Twice Bitten
Actually, we did another of Dave's parties last weekend and are back home. Work schedules required rescheduling the party a week early. It will take a little time to write up, but I'll post it eventually. "Demon seed" was involved...
Don
Don
Re: Twice Bitten
Don
now that we all know that you and L. went, to one Dave"s parties.
can"t wait to read all about it .
keep us posted.
now that we all know that you and L. went, to one Dave"s parties.
can"t wait to read all about it .
keep us posted.
Re: Twice Bitten
Looking forward to hearing about it Don.Don Jetman wrote: ↑Thu Oct 31, 2019 3:56 pmActually, we did another of Dave's parties last weekend and are back home. Work schedules required rescheduling the party a week early. It will take a little time to write up, but I'll post it eventually. "Demon seed" was involved...
Don
-
DbdChap
Re: Twice Bitten
Sooooo looking forward to this. Love your stories (even if they do get me feeling all angsty!!)Don Jetman wrote: ↑Thu Oct 31, 2019 3:56 pmActually, we did another of Dave's parties last weekend and are back home. Work schedules required rescheduling the party a week early. It will take a little time to write up, but I'll post it eventually. "Demon seed" was involved...
Don
Re: Twice Bitten
Don
i have been wanting to ask this, after you posted going to one of Dave"s parties.
you said it Demon seed was involved did it happen to be Sir Steven as the Demon seed.
i am looking forward to reading the next chapter.
keep us posted.
i have been wanting to ask this, after you posted going to one of Dave"s parties.
you said it Demon seed was involved did it happen to be Sir Steven as the Demon seed.
i am looking forward to reading the next chapter.
keep us posted.
-
Don Jetman
- Player
- Posts: 340
- Joined: Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:56 am
Re: Twice Bitten
Nope - not this time. The Demon was played by a guy we hadn't met. A BIG guy who fit the part. L's helping me with the story, so it's taking some time. Interesting getting more of her POV this time. She was very, very impressed with the Demon...
Don
Re: Twice Bitten
Don
like i asked i was just thinking that it , might have been something he set up.
for her while you both were at Dave's so on that note did Steven show up at all.
keep us posted.
ps i am now looking forward to reading the story now that there is a new guy in the mix. can"t wait to read all about the Demon.
like i asked i was just thinking that it , might have been something he set up.
for her while you both were at Dave's so on that note did Steven show up at all.
keep us posted.
ps i am now looking forward to reading the story now that there is a new guy in the mix. can"t wait to read all about the Demon.
-
Don Jetman
- Player
- Posts: 340
- Joined: Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:56 am
Re: Twice Bitten
No Stephen, Ping, or Gail. It was a smaller party than usual. The Demon was the main attraction - for L.dana007 wrote: ↑Sun Nov 10, 2019 4:24 pmDon
like i asked i was just thinking that it , might have been something he set up.
for her while you both were at Dave's so on that note did Steven show up at all.
keep us posted.
ps i am now looking forward to reading the story now that there is a new guy in the mix. can"t wait to read all about the Demon.
Don
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DbdChap
Re: Twice Bitten
Soooooo exciting Don!!! It’s going to be wonderful to have L’s insight into the eveningDon Jetman wrote: ↑Sun Nov 10, 2019 3:09 pmNope - not this time. The Demon was played by a guy we hadn't met. A BIG guy who fit the part. L's helping me with the story, so it's taking some time. Interesting getting more of her POV this time. She was very, very impressed with the Demon...
Don
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SutterKane
- OHW Addict
- Posts: 1608
- Joined: Sun Jul 16, 2017 7:27 am
Re: Twice Bitten
Don, I've gnawed the computer down to a nub waiting for this next piece! And my wife is sweating and mumbling to herself and spending a lot of time in the bathroom "Soaking" in the tub with the door locked!
Sutter
Don, help a brother cuck out!
Sutter
Don, help a brother cuck out!
"Women and cats will do as they please,and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea"-Robert Heinlein
"Gratitude is riches and complaint is poverty and the worst I ever had was wonderful"Bro. Dave Gardner
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus!
"Gratitude is riches and complaint is poverty and the worst I ever had was wonderful"Bro. Dave Gardner
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus!