Tim stepped out of the shower that Saturday morning, towelled himself and contemplated an unsatisfied erection. Christina, his partner, was away on a company weekend seminar and wouldn’t be back until the following evening, which left only one solution. In the bedroom, he sorted through Chris’s lingerie drawer, chose a pair of pale blue knickers and retired to the bed.

Wrapping the knickers round his shaft and stroking gently, savouring the stimulation of the soft material, he recalled the last time Chris had worn them, They were driving home from the cinema when Chris slid an enquiring hand into his crotch.

“Horny?” Tim asked, knowing the answer.

“Mm. You?”

“Any time you want.”

“Like now?”

“I do happen to be driving. Can it wait till we get home?”

“Don’t think so. I was wondering about that car park behind Saunders. Remember?”

They were almost there. The car park, unlit and at night unoccupied, was at the rear of a builders’ merchants. They had used it before, as Chris reminded him. He swung in through the approach and round to the dark area behind the building.

“Perfect,” said Chris, already unbuttoning the front of her blouse and lifting her breasts from her bra. As Tim bent to tease a firm nipple with pursed lips, she pushed her skirt up to her waist, moved the strip of pale blue to one side and began to finger her cunt urgently. “Darling, I knew we should have fucked before we came out. Now I’m so wet, I couldn’t have waited till we got home.”

They had been together for more than a year and the sex was getting better all the time. Tim had been with a number of other women before he met Chris, but none with her appetite for sex and unashamed frankness about developing it. From their earliest days together they had been open with each other about their needs and desires. Anything one could do to please the other, was done. There were no taboos.

When they were apart, they spoke on the phone daily, spoke about the routine events at home and work, and also about their physical feelings. Chris assured him that she would never go with another man, and he believed her. However, they agreed that, if the opportunity arose, there was no reason why she should not enjoy another woman. It hadn’t happened yet, and they were both disappointed.

For now, though, they were in a car park, just the two of them, intent on swift gratification. Chris said, “I have to get off – but can you do me carefully?”

“Tell me.”

“Let me have your cock in me but don’t come – can you do that? So we can start again at home, and take our time.”

It wasn’t easy but they managed. Outside the car, Chris leaned forward through the open door with her arms resting on the seat. Tim slid the knickers down to her ankles, opened his zip and eased his cock into her. She was right: her cunt was liquid and demanding.

“That’s just what I want,” she said. “Take it slowly and I’ll do the rest. If it gets too much, pull out. But if you can, stay there till I finish.”

While Tim concentrated on long, slow, deep penetration and withdrawal, Chris dealt with herself manually. At her climax he had enough control to stay buried in her to the hilt, enjoying the contractions round the base of his cock.

Chris sighed happily, straightening up. “My darling, that was very clever of you. I’ll thank you properly when we get home.”

And, of course, she did. But now, as he lay on the bed stroking himself with the warm, smooth material, he conjured up the image of Chris in the dark car park stepping out of the blue knickers, wiping first his cock and then herself before slipping them into her handbag. The memory quickened his hand until the moment came and his ejaculation soaked into them, a dark stain spreading across the pale blue.

He dropped the wet knickers into the linen basket. When they spoke later in the day, he would tell her, and when she came home she would find the evidence and be pleased.

Meanwhile, he planned a surprise lunch for his mother. A couple of years earlier, his father had walked out of the family home to go and live with his secretary. Cheryl, his wife, had long suspected the affair and was almost relieved when the cancer was removed. It was in the aftermath of the divorce that Cheryl and her son talked for the first time about sex; the subject hadn’t exactly been off limits but, as in so many families, there was an unspoken assumption that Tim had made his own discoveries and didn’t need any embarrassing instruction over the dinner table. It was Tim’s announcement that he was moving in with Chris that prompted his mother’s advice.

“I’m sure we don’t need to talk birds and bees,” she said, “and at twenty-three you are both old enough to make your own decisions about contraception. But I’ll give you some advice I wish my mother had given me: put your cards on the table about sex. Both of you. How much, how often, how – what’s acceptable, what’s not. And that’s important. Unless I’m mistaken, Chris is a very sexy lady, which means you are a lucky boy. Am I right?”

Tim nodded.

“So enjoy yourselves. But agree about limits and try not to have many – you might be missing something special. The more on the banned list, the more problems you will have.” She smiled. “OK. Lecture over. Just enjoy. Sex is the best thing there is if you take everything it has to offer.”

“I think we will,” said Tim. “But if I’m not being inquisitive, what about you? Is anyone taking care of your needs?”

Cheryl took her son’s hand and squeezed. “It’s nice that you asked. Let’s just say I’m not going without.”

“Someone special?”

“Could be.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Never you mind.”

Occasionally over the ensuing months, Tim teased his mother about her mysterious lover without eliciting any further information.

“Do I look frustrated?” she would ask, and Tim had to admit she looked anything but. Cheryl was forty-seven and in excellent shape, full busted but with narrow hips and good legs. She wore her dark hair in tight curls and dressed to make the most of her assets without testing the edges of brazenness. Tim was looking forward to taking her to lunch, knowing that observers would never believe they were mother and son.

He was pleased to see her car parked in the drive; he had wanted the lunch to be a surprise and had taken a chance on finding her at home. Letting himself in, he called quietly so as not to alarm her. When there was no reply, he walked through to the kitchen but she was neither there nor in the garden. At the foot of the stairs he was about to call again when he heard two unmistakable sounds: the subtle burr of a vibrator and his mother moaning softly.

So this meant there was no secret lover, merely a battery-operated phallus. Tim realised he had a dilemma. If he could escape from the house and drive around for half an hour, he could return when his mother should have had time to compose herself. But if he revealed his presence by making a noise, his mother’s sad pretence that she had a mystery man would be exposed in the most hurtful way. The idea occurred that he could go back to the front door, open it clumsily and call loudly, which would act as a warning – even if, as he feared, it would forestall her approaching orgasm. Yet, even as these thoughts were tumbling through his mind, Tim was battling with another urge altogether: could he creep silently up the stairs and perhaps watch his mother masturbating? It was the moment when he should have walked away. But he didn’t.

Removing his shoes, Tim progressed as swiftly as he dared towards the sounds that are only made by a woman in heat. On the landing, he saw that he was lucky: his mother’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. He peered in – and was astonished by what he saw.

His mother lay on her back on the bed, legs spread wide. She certainly had a buzzing vibrator half buried inside her, but it was being inserted by a blonde woman wearing only a pair of white knickers. The blonde was kneeling and leaning forward to supplement the vibrator’s effect with her tongue. Cheryl, eyes closed, ws kneading her breasts, rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger. Involuntarily, Tim’s hand went to his crotch where his cock was rigid, straining against his clothing. The need for relief was overwhelming but as he tried to open the zip, he partially lost balance, put out a hand and pushed open the door.

The blonde woman looked up, gave a stifled scream and reached for a blouse which she held across her breasts as though she could hide the whole scene. Cheryl opened her eyes and sat up. The vibrator slipped from her cunt and lay buzzing on the bed. For some seconds all three, the two women on the bed, Tim in the doorway, were motionless and silent.

By far the calmest was Cheryl. Almost as though she were unsurprised, she reached for the vibrator and turned it off. Then she said, “Tim, you should have phoned, but it’s too late now. So meet the person who has been making me very happy and you very curious. This is Moira.” She gestured towards the doorway. “And, Moira, the young man standing there trying to pretend he hasn’t got a hard-on, is my son, Tim.”

Neither Moira nor Tim spoke, the blonde still covering her tits with the blouse, Tim still attempting to conceal his erection.

“Look.” said Cheryl. “There’s no point in standing there, the two of you. We can’t put the genie back in the bottle, so what are we going to do? Get dressed and pretend it didn’t happen, and never be able to look at each other again without remembering?”

Again there was no response, either from her son or her lover.

“All right, then let me suggest the alternative. We are three grown-up people. We all like sex – obviously Moira and I do, and Tim, you don’t spend your time with Chris discussing politics. So this is where we are, and we could go on from here. It’s what I would like to do.” She looked from one to the other. “Apart from anything else, I was about to come and right now I’m feeling very up in the air.”

For the first time, Moira found her voice, the alarm melted from her eyes and she gave a nervous smile. “Well, you’re not the only one. But do you mean we should start again where we left off while Tim watches?”

“We could, but it would be a bit of a waste of a good hard cock, wouldn’t it? When were you last fucked by a lusty twenty-three-year-old? And I suspect there are a few things am experienced woman could do to make Tim’s eyes water.” She looked at her son. “Oh, come on Tim, make up your mind – you could be turning your back on a chance you would regret for the rest of your life.”

It was as though she had read his mind. So many contradictory thoughts were assailing him, but none could gain supremacy over the basic message coming from his groin. He realised what he wanted and yet couldn’t bring himself to take the first step. That responsibility was eventually taken by his mother. Rising from the bed, she took him by the arm and led him to Moira. “Feel,” she said, placing his hand on one of Moira’s tits. “And Moira, undress him and let’s see what you can do for each other. I’ll watch for now – but don’t forget we haven’t finished.”

Moira’s breasts were small and firm, the nipples immediately responsive to his touch. He fondled them while his mother’s blonde lover, with whom he had not really exchanged a word, fumbled with buttons and buckles until he was naked. She looked down at the cock she had exposed, an upright, circumcised member plainly in need of attention. Finally, she held the young man’s eyes and asked in a soft voice, “Shall I?”

“Yes,” said Tim, “Please.”

A bridge had been crossed. No turning back now. Moira guided Tim to the bed and made him lie down next to where his mother sat, one hand moving slowly between her legs. Cheryl leaned down and kissed Tim on the cheek then sat back to watch. He could see that she was still manipulating herself but with no intensity, simply maintaining the desire without seeking to satisfy it. The erotic tension between the three was palpable. All were breathing deeply in the silence.

A car horn outside seemed to spur Moira to action. Taking Tim’s dick in both hands, she began a series of long, subtle strokes, the contact light and teasing until his body began to jerk as though demanding something more substantial. It wasn’t immediately forthcoming. The blonde dipped her head and flicked the tip of her tongue on his balls, up the length of his shaft and back again. His mother was right. Chris gave him wonderful, mind-blurring blow-jobs but this was a different experience, a middle-aged woman using all her skill to take him, moment by exquisite moment, to a higher stage of excitement while always conveying the certainty that there was more and better to follow. No wonder his mother’s moans that he had heard earlier had been so prolonged and so needful. This was a woman of rare sexual talent. He tried to show his appreciation by reaching for Moira’s hanging tits and moulding them, pulling gently at the nipples. A little gasp confirmed that he had found one of his new partner’s keys to pleasure.

At last Moira put a temporary halt to the butterfly treatment. She raised her head for a moment to look at Cheryl, who smiled and nodded. She was now stroking her breast with the hand that wasn’t occupied between her thighs. Time suddenly, unexpectedly after all the tantalising, felt his cock engulfed by Moira’s mouth. She took in as much as she was able then closed her lips firmly round his cock and held the position, breathing through her nose. He thought he could feel his knob touching the back of her throat.

Soon, though, they both began to move, Moira widening her lips and withdrawing, licking with her tongue as did so, Tim pushing his member forward in a fucking motion. They caught each other’s rhythm and moved in unison, pausing from time to time to keep the tension from proving critical.

“I think I need something, too.” Cheryl quietly reminded them of other possibilities. Tim wondered what she intended, wondered whether he was prepared for all eventualities. As Moira let his cock slide from her mouth, his mother answered the unasked question.

“It’s a first time for all of us. No need to jump too many hurdles at once. If Moira would like to resume what she was doing so marvellously for me when you came in, Tim, I think you could give Moira something in return. Why don’t you take her knickers off for a start?”

He took his time, enjoying the sensual pleasure of cupping her bottom cheeks, insinuating his hand between her legs to relish the wetness of the material.

Moira pushed back against him suggestively, letting him know that this, and more, was what she wanted, too. Cheryl was now sitting at the top of the bed, resting her back against a pillow. Her legs were spread, the knees slightly raised. Puffy labia glistened with moisture generated by her own fingering.

“Now, dear, if you would kindly kneel and apply your tongue where I want it most, then Tim can get behind you and fuck to his heart’s content. And yours, I hope.”

Effortlessly, they found their positions and began. Tim discovered that the generous lubrication in Moira’s cunt allowed him immediate deep penetration. This was a mature woman’s cunt but not one that had been stretched; the muscles were firm, the inner folds embraced his dick and sucked him into the warm depths. His mind focussed on the very essence of this unprecedented experience: his cock was probing the cunt of a woman he had met only minutes earlier; that woman’s tongue was lapping his mother’s clitoris, cleverly and inexorably building her to the heights of ecstasy. All other considerations – and there many – were eliminated from his thoughts. The sensations emanating from his groin had become the core of his being.

He started slowly, anxious not to jolt Moira’s body so that she couldn’t perform properly on his mother. When he saw Cheryl close her eyes, reach for her nipples and throw her head back, he felt safe to grip the blonde’s hips and make his thrusting deeper and harder. At the same time he heard his mother urging Moira on. “Yes, yes. Give it to me, dear … Let Tim fuck you hard … Is he doing it how you like it?” A pause then, broken only by the sounds of his mother’s gulping breaths and the slap of his balls as he pounded into Moira from behind. Then, “Yes, do it like that … go on … do me the way you always do … It’s good like that … it’s getting me there … do it faster …”

Cheryl’s orgasm came suddenly and noisily, sending spasms through her whole body that needed time to subside and be enjoyed. Releasing one of her breasts, she clasped a hand over the clitoris that had been so expertly titllated, as though she wanted to keep the feeling within her. Meanwhile, Tim continued pumping with a steady rhythm, Moira’s juices visible on his engorged shaft each time he withdrew….

“Have you decided?” Christina asked.

They had been fucking for nearly an hour: Chris on her back, ankles on his shoulders, Tim buried deep inside her; next, Chris on her knees, Tim penetrating from behind with long, slow strokes; then Chris on top, nipples pert, beads of sweat on her bobbing tits. Having already come twice, Chris was thoroughly wet and ready for more but Tim, finally unable to keep control, had released the tension that had built steadily from his balls. He could repeat but usually only after a rest and some oral ministration from his partner. Meanwhile, they lay side by side on the bed with an important matter to discuss.

“You want to go, don’t you?” said Tim.

“I do. Very much, after what you’ve told me. But it’s different for me. You’re the one who has the big decision to make. And Cheryl, of course. But she seems willing. Keen even.”

“She is. That’s why it’s so tricky. Everything will come down to me. If we go, it will happen. I just know it will. Maybe not then, but soon. It so nearly did the first time.”

Chris reached up and tenderly caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. It was no small dilemma. Cheryl was Tim’s mother.

A forty-seven-year-old divorcee, Cheryl had become involved in a threesome with a blonde named Moira and her husband, Victor. While Chris had been away at a company weekend seminar, Tim – planning a surprise lunch with his mother – had stumbled upon Cheryl and Moira in bed together. Thanks to Cheryl’s remarkably cool assumption of control, they had managed to deal with the situation.

Vividly imprinted on Tim’s mind was the memory of that scene, his mother calmly removing from her cunt the vibrator Moira had been using on her, switching it off and summing up the dilemma. “Look,” she had said. “We can’t put the genie back in the bottle, so what are we going to do? Get dressed, pretend it didn’t happen, and never be able to look at each other again without remembering?”

There was some awkwardness and embarrassment at first but Cheryl, still on heat, had urged Tim and Moira to fuck while Moira resumed licking her. As Moira neared her climax, Cheryl fingered her blonde friend to orgasm, then took Tim’s cock and stroked it until her tits were covered by his cum. That was as far as it went between the two of them.

Afterwards, it was again Cheryl who spelled out the possibilities before them.

“We have to decide whether that was a one-off or whether we want more. For my part, I do. But I think you two – Tim especially – need to consider for a day or two. Not only if you want to continue, but if you do, you have to decide whether there are going to be certain limits.”

Moira didn’t need two days. Having experienced Tim’s cock, she was very much in favour, proposing that the next time she and her husband, Victor, were having a threesome with Cheryl, Tim should bring Christina to join them. That was the proposition Tim and Chris were discussing as they lay in bed, the post-coital glow slowly ebbing as a prelude to the next session.

“I think we should go,” said Tim eventually. “I admit the idea of seeing you in action with either of them, or with Victor for that matter, is a huge turn-on for me. And if you were being well looked after, I can’t deny that I would like another go at Moira.”

“And Cheryl?”

“I just don’t know. As I’ve said, I can easily see it happening. But I’ll only know for certain when the moment comes.” Another thought occurred to him. “How would you feel – watching us?”

Chris thought for a long while. Then she said, “I suspect I would find it incredibly erotic. In the right circumstances, that is. I mean, we couldn’t just walk in and get down to it. But if we were all there – the other two as well – and things were working out … you know what I mean, that maybe there had already been enough happening to turn us all on, I think then it might just happen naturally. And yes, of course I would want to watch. Maybe be part of it.”

The thought had been enough to arouse Tim’s cock. Chris reached for it, stroked it, sat up and straddled him. When he was inside her, she said, “It’s the most marvelous feeling in the world, isn’t it, the way we do it?”

Tim nodded.

“So I can understand any woman wanting to do this with you.”

“Well, it will have to wait until they all get back, anyway.” He reminded Chris that Cheryl had gone on a Caribbean cruise with Moira and Victor, which may have held the promise of plenty of sex for them but for the time being postponed any opportunity for all five of them getting together. “So I guess we’ll just have to make out own entertainment.”

“Right,” said Chris. “But am I going to have to do all the work?”

She began to ride his cock, simultaneously handling her tits. Tim responded by lifting her off him, turning her on to her back and pressing his head between her open thighs. His tongue sought and found a protruding clit, already wet with her internal juices. As he licked, Chris began to buck and thrust, pushing her cunt into his face, seemingly unable to stop herself driving to a quick orgasm. Sensing what was happening, Tim backed off, sat up and looked down at his partner, ripe with lust, writhing on the bed.

“Bastard. Don’t do this. For Pete’s sake finish me off. Imagine you’re doing it to Cheryl. But just do it. I was so nearly there.”

Cheryl? Imagine it was his mother lying there begging him to fuck? The thought coursed through like an electric current. By then he was too far gone, resistance not an option. Taking his cock in his hand, he pressed it against Chris’s opening. The labia parted and he felt himself being sucked inside. As they started to fuck, he reached underneath, cupped his hands round Chris’s arse and pulled her on to him. This wasn’t their usual way the second time around, not the slow and sensual probing and testing, working the sensitive areas to a relatively gentle exchange of satisfied sighs. This was almost brutal, a fierce giving and taking, accompanied by effortful grunts from Tim and prolonged groans of encouragement from Chris. Somehow, she managed to come first but the accompanying contractions of her cunt muscles were all Tim needed to trigger his own fulfillment.

Soon they fell into a deep sleep, the fundamental question still unresolved.

* * * * *

Two days later, when Chris returned from work, Tim told her, “There was a phone call for you a little while ago. Youngish sounding woman with a Scottish accent. I asked if she wanted you to ring her but she said she’d call again later.”

Chris smiled. “You know who that is, don’t you?”

“Tell me.”

“Isabel. The girl from our Edinburgh office.”

Of course. Prompted, Tim remembered well. The weekend he had discovered his mother enjoying Moira’s tongue, Chris had been away at a company seminar where she had befriended Isabel, young, shy and – as it proved – with a limited and unhappy sexual past but a strong desire to rectify the situation in future. After a glass of wine too many, Isabel had poured her heart out and almost begged Chris to help her. When they ended up in bed together, Chris had concealed the fact that it was her first woman-to-woman experience, too. But she had extolled Tim’s virtues and suggested that Isabel might like to visit them and let happen what may. Somewhat to her surprise, Isabel had said she would like to. Since then there had been no contact. Until now. When the girl called again, Chris took the call in the bedroom, insisting that this was girls’ talk and Tim should leave them to it.

“Well,” she said, emerging to an impatient Tim, “how does this weekend suit you?”

“This weekend?”

“I invited her and she accepted. Want to join us?”

“Try and stop me. But what did she say?”

“Very little, really. The point of the call was to get me to talk to her mother – she’s an only child and even though she is twenty her parents keep a tight rein. Mother came on the line and said Isabel had told her how kind I’d been at the seminar (an edited version, no doubt) and was I sure it was all right for Isabel to visit me and my husband. My guess is that Isabel has painted us as Darby and Joan, kind of surrogate parents. I assured her that we were looking forward to the visit, would meet her at the airport and make sure she enjoyed herself. Think we can do that?”

“Try me.”

“I will. And so will she, I promise you.”

Chris insisted that she would go alone to meet Isabel who was likely to be little changed from the seminar: eager but nervous. “The drive back will give me a chance to settle her down a bit, try to find out how open-minded she is about the three of us together. I’ll try to give you a clue as soon as I can, but whatever you do, don’t jump on her until we are sure she’s ready. Her only experience with men hasn’t been good, but I’ve assured her that you know how to please a woman and she seemed to accept that. But make sure the wine is well chilled and then leave it to me to take the initiative.”

The softly-spoken young woman who shook Tim’s hand that Friday evening was close to the picture Chris had painted. Isabel was about Chris’s height and build, but darker complexioned, hair in short waves each side of an oval face, blue eyes, high cheekbones, a promisingly full mouth. She wore a dark trouser suit, no doubt the same outfit that Chris had removed on their previous encounter to discover larger breasts than had been apparent and excellent legs. Tim hoped that, as Chris had suggested, she was wearing knickers in his favourite black.

“I’ll just show Isabel the spare room,” said Chris. “She thought her mother would feel happier if she wore this outfit, but she tells me she has brought something … more interesting to change into.”

Fifteen minutes passed very slowly before spare room door opened and the two women reappeared. To say that Tim was not disappointed would be an understatement. Isabel now wore a dark blue blouse with a high collar, but the addition, he presumed, of a good bra gave her breasts the prominence they obviously deserved. Her skirt was knee-length over dark stockings that did justice to elegant calves. Without being in any way flagrant, she was eminently sexy.

“Well?” asked Chris. “You could say something to a lady who dresses to please you.”

“I’m sorry,” said Tim. “Chris told me you were very pretty, but I think she was selling you short.”

Isabel bobbed her head awkwardly, clearly on unfamiliar ground. “Thank you.” Then after a pause and taking a deep breath: “She did tell me that black is your favourite colour.”

The evening, thought Tim, seemed to be getting off to a good start, but he knew he would have to wait to find out if Isabel’s remark meant what he hoped it did. They had agreed to have dinner at a local restaurant: Chris had argued that would keep the conversation general and give Isabel the chance to relax in their company.

Back at the apartment, the chilled wine forming small beads on their glasses, there was the briefest moment of uncertainty before Chris spoke.

“I think I told you,” she said, smiling reassuringly at Isabel, “that Tim and I have no secrets from each other. So he knows how much I … enjoyed your company before. But we both wondered if you would want to follow it up. Was it difficult?”

Isabel sipped wine thoughtfully. “It wasn’t easy. Once I’d made up my mind, you helped a lot by talking to Mother. But now I’m here, I feel almost as though I’ve surprised myself.”

“Nervous?”

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

“It’s natural. But nothing will happen unless you want it to. And any time you say stop, that will mean stop.”

“I hope I won’t want to. Last time was very precious. Exciting for me. The first time, you know?”

“Look, why don’t you come and join us – sit between us?”

Chris and Tim made room for her on the sofa. “Now, if we are going to enjoy this properly, there’s no point in being coy. Tim has been bursting to investigate under your skirt, so why don’t we start there? Are you all right?”

“I think so. I feel very wet.”

Nodding with the smallest inclination of her head to signal to Tim, Chris took the glass from Isabel, placed it on a side table and then leaned forward to kiss her. Tim saw the girl open her mouth to receive Chris’s tongue. Her eyes were closed and she reached for Chris’s breasts. When Tim put a hand on Isabel’s knee, he felt her go momentarily tense and then relax. Peeling back the skirt, he feasted his eyes on white thighs, caressed them gently. Isabel wriggled her bottom forward to allow him further progress.

Black knickers came into view. Tim sighed, waited, then eased her legs apart and felt with two fingers. The girl wasn’t mistaken. The moisture was all the evidence needed to demonstrate that she was already in a state of high arousal. But he knew it was important to remember that this was a relatively inexperienced young woman taking her first tentative steps in unfamiliar territory. They needed to lead her forward slowly until the desire between her thighs took charge and brushed aside any last remaining inhibitions. Tim reached across her, took Chris’s hand and guided it to the spot his fingers had vacated.

Ending their kiss, Chris said, “Isabel, darling, I think we are all overdressed. May I?”

Apparently unable to trust her voice, the girl turned her back so that that Chris could unbutton her blouse. When it was laid aside, Tim admired the breasts that responded so well to the support of a black bra. That, too, was removed and the nipples Chris had described as broad as a small coin were revealed. A few flicks with Chris’s tongue brought them instantly to prominence. Then she helped Isabel to her feet and unfastened the skirt. Stepping out of it, Isabel saw the yearning in Chris’s eyes as he took in the slim figure, the full tits, and the black ensemble below, garter belt, stockings and knickers. Chris gently turned her and bent her forward until her hands rested on the arm of the sofa. “Didn’t I tell you?” she asked Tim. “Isn’t this the most gorgeous arse?” Then to Isabel, “Still all right?”

“Yes,” in a small voice. “It’s good.”

Chris gestured to Tim. “Enjoy. Both of you. Take your time. And then, I think, the knickers.”

He stepped forward, ran his palms over the curves of a small, pert bottom, the knickers stretched tightly across rounded buttocks. His touch elicited a little sigh of gratification. He lingered, caressing, squeezing, exploring. A wriggle of Isabel’s bottom urged him to continue. Eventually, he slid his hands inside the waist elastic and, inch by inch, let the silky material glide down her thighs and all the way to the floor. His cock had never felt so stiff, so in need of the welcoming wetness of a hungry cunt. “Isabel,” he said, “you are so very sexy – I hope you are going to want to fuck.”

“Patience,” interjected Chris quietly. “I get a share of this, too, and I think Isabel may feel the next thing is for her to undress me.” She retrieved the discarded black knickers and handed them to Tim. “If you’re going to watch, I suggest you strip off, sit over there and do some work on your cock so Isabel can see what a treat she has in store when you start to fuck.”

The explicit language was no accident. This was the next subtle stage of drawing out the inherent sexiness in their first-time partner, the breaking down of inherent shyness, the transition from a strict Calvinist upbringing to full awareness of her sexual potential. But softly, softly. “Please, Isabel. My turn.”

Isabel started with another deep kiss while opening and removing Chris’s blouse. The bra soon followed but then the Scots girl lingered to fondle the luscious tits and suck the nipples. When the last garment came off, Chris stooped to pass her pale beige knickers to Tim. He held them to his face while continuing to stimulate himself with the black knickers he had wrapped round his erection. His eyes remained fastened on the two women.

“What would you like?” Chris asked.

There was a pause while Isabel summoned her courage to ask a sexual favour of another woman while that woman’s partner watched and masturbated. Then, very quietly: “Could you go down on me?”

“Yes, but we’ll be more comfortable now in the bedroom. Come with us, Tim – this is what you’ve been dying to see, isn’t it?”

Taking Isabel’s arm, she led the way into the bedroom. Urging her willing friend to lie back. Chris arranged pillows to support the Scots girl’s head and shoulders so that she could watch. Tim drew up the dressing table stool to the side of the bed and craned forward as Chris went to work.

She began with the nipples, teasing and gently nibbling. Then she worked her way down, paying attention to the navel, then stroking the neat triangle of dark hair, before nudging the thighs apart. Puffy labia hinted at a strong reaction to the preliminary stimulation. Parting the lips with her left hand to reveal the nub of a gleaming clitoris, Chris inserted…

“Would you mind if I asked you something?”

“Of course not,” said Tim. He was driving Isabel to the airport at the end of a memorable weekend. Isabel was a twenty-year-old from Edinburgh whom Tim’s partner, Christina, had met during an office seminar. The two women had ended up in bed together, a first for them both, although Chris had concealed the fact from her new friend. The age difference was only three years, but sexually Chris was infinitely more experienced and adventurous. Before they parted, she had told Isabel about Tim and invited her to visit them. Such had been the success of the visit that Isabel wasn’t looking forward to returning to her straight-laced parents.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking in the past two days,” Isabel said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for the way you and Chris have introduced me to things I’d only read about. And I suspect you would be happy for it to happen again.”

“We would.”

“Well. so would I. But I’m not sure I can keep finding excuses for my mother and father, and even if I could, I don’t think I want this on a now-and-then basis.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“There’s a lot of movement in the firm, people transferring from one branch to another. If I look out for an opening in the office here and apply for a transfer, how do you think Chris would feel about it?”

“Pleased, I guess.” Tim’s mind went back to the previous evening and the lesson Chris had given Isabel in fellatio. Remembering the way their guest had wrapped her lips around his cock, Tim thought he, too, would welcome more frequent opportunities for a repeat performance.

“You know, after Chris took me shopping, I was so thrilled by the new undies. The knickers did something for you, didn’t they.”

“Of course.”

“Well, when I had to leave them behind in a drawer in your guest room – my mother would have had a fit if she’d seen them – that made my mind up. But would I be imposing on you two? I wouldn’t know anyone else down here.”

Tim took a hand from the wheel and squeezed her knee, sharing her regret that she felt the need to return home wearing the trouser suit in which she had arrived. How much he would have preferred to have her beside him in a skirt and stockings that did justice to her legs and perhaps gave him an occasional glimpse of white thighs and more. Inexperienced she may have been, but over the weekend she had opened those thighs with increasing desire. He said, “I think you would soon have plenty of admirers, but, of course, we’d look after you until you felt secure. What about your parents, though?”

“They won’t like it. I probably won’t tell them until I’m sure I’ve got the move, and then we’ll all just have to live with it.”

For a while they drove in silence until, stopped at a traffic light, she laid a hand in his lap. The gesture was tentative but the way she inched her fingers towards his groin was a clear indication that events of the past two days had removed some of the inhibitions she had brought with her.

“There’s something else,” she said.

“Tell me.”

“It’s about … ” she hesitated. “Well, you know when I was kneeling … “

“When I was going into you from behind?”

“Yes, then.”

“Wasn’t it good for you?”

“Oh, it was good. More than good. But I felt it was something very special for you. It was as though your … as though you got bigger in my … you know, inside me.” She broke off. “I’m sorry, you’d like me to use the words we used last night, but – “

“Not necessarily. You’ve seen enough of Chris and me together to understand how plain talk plays a part in our sessions. It always excites us, and we were both thrilled when you began to join in last night. But now, in the car … well, perhaps it’s just as well if we don’t start something we can’t finish.”

“Yes, I expect you’re right. It’s just that there’s so much new that I’m coming to terms with.”

“Believe me, you’re doing all right.”

“But am I right? It wasn’t only how hard you were when you had me that way. It seemed to give you such a charge – you were pushing into me so fast, and harder and harder, until you came. I admit it was great for me, especially because Chris would always finish me off if I still needed it afterwards. But what is it that’s different about that position for you?”

For a short while Tim said nothing, formulating a lie that wouldn’t hurt Isabel. He said, “I suspect most men are turned on by rear entry. It’s partly visual, being able to see your wetness on me when I withdraw, and then how easy it is to go back deep inside. After that, maybe it’s no more than a small change of position, yours or mine, perhaps a little twitch of your muscles, and that does the trick.”

Isabel’s hand had encountered the bulge of Tim’s erection. “I hope this isn’t starting something we can’t finish.”

“For now, I’m afraid it is. Though there’s nothing I would enjoy more.”

“Me too, But I understand.” She withdrew her hand. “And thank you for wanting me so badly.”

After they parted, Tim drove home in thoughtful mood, pleased he had managed to divert Isabel’s questions about their doggy-style fucking, but uncomfortably aware that the underlying problem would have to be resolved soon. Sex with Isabel and Chris had been as enjoyable as any he could remember, Chris’s skilful manipulation having contrived for much of the time to keep at least two of them in a high state of arousal. Often it had been relaxed, sensual interplay of fingers, tongues and genitals, the giving and taking of slow pleasure, but there had been times when they had each, Isabel not least, been consumed by overpowering, uncontrollable surrender to orgasm. What Tim had been unable to tell Isabel was the image that so easily triggered his frenzied thrusting into her receptive orifice.

That same weekend when Chris had met Isabel for the first time, Tim had surprised Cheryl, his mother, a divorcee, in bed with another woman. Thanks to Cheryl’s composed reaction, the encounter hadn’t led to embarrassed excuses all round; instead, it had culminated with Moira, the other woman, licking Cheryl’s clitoris while kneeling to accept Tim’s rampant cock. Cheryl then revealed that there was a third party involved: Moira’s husband, Victor. Why didn’t Tim and Chris join them some time?

Since then, only a Caribbean cruise for the other three, had kept Chris and Tim from accepting the invitation. But it was while fucking Isabel from behind when she was using her tongue on Chris that Tim had suddenly had a vision of the earlier encounter. Although his cock was pistoning the Scots girl, his mind was picturing Moira and his mother. Until finally he could not be sure which of the two women in his imagination was drawing him in. More crucially, he became daily more certain which of the two was the magnet attracting him inexorably towards another opportunity.

Entering the apartment, Tim found Chris seated in an armchair, legs crossed, telephone receiver to her ear. She put a finger to her lips. Several minutes passed before she said, “I’ll talk to Tim and we’ll get back to you later.”

“Who was that?” he asked/

“Cheryl. They’re back from the cruise, which seems to have been a wow. There was the usual predatory steward on the prowl for single women, so you can imagine his surprise when he picked up Cheryl and found himself the fourth member of the party. Not that anybody complained – according to Cheryl the steward was exceptionally well endowed. Apparently pretty well everyone had everyone and now they’re back in town eager for more. Which means us. Next Friday night.”

“Oh.”

“Darling, I know what you’re thinking, but you can’t keep ducking a decision. Last time we talked about it you said we would go and see what happened. Does that stand?”

“I can’t see any alternative. And I don’t know if I want one, anyway.”

“I’ll ring Cheryl and tell her. Then bed. Clean sheets – last night’s will have to go to the laundrette to get the stains out. Happy memories?”

“Yes. Very.”

“I sensed Isabel had it inside her, but I was surprised how much emerged. By the end I think she did almost as much for me as she did for you. And I have to say I enjoyed watching the two of you together. Let’s hope she means it when she says she wants to come back.”

“She does,” said Tim, and recounted the substance of the conversation in the car. “What do you think?”

“I think we should wait and see if she can pull it off. Those parents of hers sound pretty fearsome to me. It would certainly do her good to get away, and if that means coming here – well, I don’t have a problem with that. Rather the reverse. If this weekend is anything to go by, the three of us could have a lot of fun together. And who knows what might develop. Introduce her to Cheryl and her friends, maybe.”

“Now you’re looking too far ahead. We don’t know yet what’s going to happen on Friday.”

Chris said, “Let’s go to bed and have a rehearsal.”

*******************************

They called to collect Cheryl before driving to meet Moira and Victor, who had agreed to act as hosts; desirable, said Cheryl, because they had a suitable playroom to accommodate all five of them. The couple, childless, were well off and able to indulge – among other things – their erotic ambitions. They had dabbled tentatively in the swinging scene, with mixed success, but always constrained by the need for strict security. Both had public positions with plenty to lose. Vic, she told them, had been head-hunted a few months back for the European Financial Director’s job with a huge global concern. The final interview, just before they left for their cruise, had been gruelling, but he had returned to the news that the job was his. “So tonight we’ll be celebrating that. And having a good time in other ways.”

“In every way?” Tim asked.

His mother understood the implication of the question. “I hope so, but why don’t we just wait and see? There’ll be a lot that’s new for all of us. You and I, for example,” she said, smiling at Chris. “We’ve known each other for almost a year but I hope we’ll know each other a lot better before the night is over. Do you mind if I ask if you’ve been with another woman before?”

“Not since last weekend,” laughed Chris. It was time for a brief account of their Scottish liaison.

“Now that does sound interesting,” Cheryl remarked when she had heard the basic details.

“If your Isabel does return I’d very much like to meet her.”

“Give us time, and I think she might be more than willing,” said Chris.

Cheryl looked at her watch. “I’ll hold you to that. But it’s time we were moving. Vic and Moira are looking forward to this as much as I am.”

At the car, Cheryl put a hand on Tim’s arm. “If you don’t mind, Tim, Chris and I will ride in the back. Just head in the general direction and I’ll guide you when we get much nearer. It’ll take about forty minutes, so if Chris makes herself comfortable, I fancy a sneak preview.”

In the event, it took more than forty minutes. Tim drove slowly, having angled the rear view mirror so that he could steal periodic glimpses of the activity behind him. He saw Cheryl draw Chris to her for a kiss and the opportunity, he suspected, to fondle her breasts. That was confirmed when Cheryl enquired, “Do her nipples always stand up like this?”

Chris giggled while Tim concentrated with difficulty on the road. The next time he glanced at the mirror he saw Chris had pushed her skirt up round her thighs with one hand, while the other was guiding Cheryl’s exploratory touch. Deep breathing gave way to the little moans that invariably foretold Chris’s orgasm. Silence followed until Tim detected effortful movement behind him. A convenient traffic light at red allowed him to turn and see Chris with her head buried between his mother’s legs. As he resumed driving he heard Cheryl say, “Yes, dear. There. Just a little more like that will do it.” And it did, accompanied by a deeply satisfied exhalation of breath. By the time they arrived at their destination, the two women had composed themselves, although Tim noted the little nod of approval Cheryl gave him as she emerged from the car.

The house was a large detached affair in stockbroker country. Moira welcomed them at the door and escorted them to a commodious drawing room where, to their surprise, two men were waiting. Victor introduced himself, shook hands with Chris and Tim, kissed Cheryl on the cheek. For a man who had to undertake his share of business lunches, he was in good condition: reasonably lean, something under six feet tall, strong features, thinning grey hair. “And this,” he said, motioning the other man forward, “is Colin. I think Cheryl may have told you that we had a happy encounter on our cruise. We knew Colin was due shore leave and, as he wasn’t going on the next voyage, we suggested he might like to call. Tonight seemed the perfect time. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” said Chris, a shade too eagerly, Tim felt. So this, he thought, was the exceptionally well endowed steward. As if the occasion was not complicated enough already. On the other hand, perhaps this dark-haired, thirty-something gigolo with a big cock would occupy Cheryl sufficiently to postpone any other consideration. But then he found himself resenting that possibility: and that was a defining moment, a moment when he at last came to terms with the situation he had created by creeping up the stairs expecting to spy on his mother in the act of masturbating. He realised that now he was ready to confront the opportunity when it arose. More than that. Looking at Cheryl, he was suddenly impatient, aware of a hardening of his member, conscious of the bulge at the front of his trousers.

So, too, was Moira, standing at his side while the introductions were concluded. She put out a hand to feel the erection. “Oh, my word,” she said. “I can see Tim has come prepared.”

Cheryl laughed. “I’m afraid Chris and I may have had something to do with that. We did get a bit carried away on the way here. But I have to tell you, Moira, this young lady has a lot to offer.”

Unexpectedly, the ice had been broken. There was no awkwardness; half-a-dozen people, some of whom were virtual strangers while others knew each other intimately, made an easy transition from semi-formality to open acceptance of the reason for their being together.

Moira said, “If that’s the case, let’s go through to the playroom. Vic will open the champagne.”

The so-called playroom proved to be an extension built on to the back of the house. At first sight it seemed to be occupied by nothing more than a full-sized snooker table, but then Moira turned the key in a door at the back of the room and ushered them through into a spacious, subtly lit area. In the centre were were two beds with scatter cushions, round the walls were armchairs and sofas, and in one corner there stood a refrigerator and drinks cabinet.

While Vic busied himself popping a cork and handing round glasses, Colin spoke for the first time since the introductions. “I suppose I’m the interloper here, so I’m grateful for the invitation. I do have very good memories of Cheryl and Moira, of course” He smiled at them. “And I’m looking forward to more of the same. But if I may, I wouldn’t mind starting with the sexy Christina.”

Chris looked at Tim. No point, he thought, in being churlish. It was going to happen some time, so why not now? Besides, it would be the first time he had seen Chris being fucked by another man and part of him was excited by the prospect. He nodded and Chris stepped forward to kneel in front of the steward. Colin needed no further hint. He swiftly took off his shirt, unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his trousers. Chris reached up and removed his boxer shorts. For a moment, she paused.

Well, Tim reflected, they were right: there was a lot of him where it mattered, at present dangling limply a few inches from Chris’s face. His partner’s next move was a surprise. Leaving the tempting member hanging, she slowly unfastened the buttons of her blouse, extracted her arms from the sleeves, folded it and handed it to Tim. Next, with her eyes holding Colin’s as he looked down at her, she reached behind her back to unclip her bra. She let it slide to the floor. The four onlookers saw that she was achieving her objective. Colin’s cock was visibly hardening. Satisfied, Chris rose and took him to one of the beds where she asked him to lie on his back. Then she knelt astride his face, leaned forward and allowed her tits to sway against the rising dick. Soon she was massaging the length between her breasts and the full size of the erection that had ploughed into Moira and Cheryl on the cruise became apparent. Tim caught a grin from Victor that seemed to suggest that Chris was enjoying every woman’s dream.

It was Moira who took Tim’s arm and led him round the bed so he could see Colin’s tongue beginning to lap at the folds of Chris’s cunt. “I expect you want to watch this,”…