After the Promenade
I mentioned at the end of my last blog that I’d tell you about the evening with Carol and Charles after my adventure on the promenade, so…
I mentioned at the end of my last blog that I’d tell you about the evening with Carol and Charles after my adventure on the promenade, so here it is.
Driving back to Carol’s I wondered if the day could get any sexier. I’d just spent a horny few hours flashing on the sea front and bringing myself off in the car with an audience. I was seriously happy. I’d moved up a gear, (or three or four) in the flashing stakes, but still felt the need to do something, anything, horny.
Carol and Charles were not about to disappoint.
On our drive back Carol asked me about my ‘man phobia’ and whether I felt I was getting to master it. Perhaps I ought to say a word or two about it. I’ve said countless times I’m not going into my marital problems in detail. Suffice to say they took me to a very dark place. So much so that by the time of my divorce the mere accidental brushing of a man against me could cause a panic attack. ‘Man phobia’ is not a medical term, or at least I don’t think it is. It’s my phrase for summing up my relationship with the male of the species.
It doesn’t mean I hate men. Some people are allergic to cats. They don’t hate them, they just can’t handle them. They might want to. They might want to stroke and pet a kitten, but can’t. I’m there with men.
It has improved slowly over the past couple of years. I can now shake hands without needing half a dozen diazepam tablets. I can sit around a table with men (as you know if you’ve read my other blogs) and discuss work related matters and over the last couple of weeks, I’ve managed to be in a sexual environment with men. I’ve watched Charles wank himself off while I peed in front of him, and watched my daughter wank her partner off.
I’d also now exhibited myself full throttle in front of men. That last frontier of touching one in a sexual environment was still on the no-go side though.
Carol knew all this well. She had been a rock for me in my dire hours of need and had always been there to help me through. I think it’s one of the reasons she was so willing to involve herself in my little escapades. To ensure I was safe.
That day had seen me advance a few more steps and she was asking how far I might be able to go.
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, given the right man, are you ready to fuck?”
“God no!”
“Be fingered? Groped? Kissed?”
“No! None of the above!” I’d replied in a light-hearted tone which in itself was an accomplishment. Talking sex and men in the same sentence and not freaking out! Wow, one for the home team.
“But you happily watched Charlie shoot his load the other day.”
“That didn’t involve physical contact did it?”
“No, but given how hot you say you were, would you have let him touch you? Perhaps shoot his load over you?”
I could see where Carol was going with this. Did I want to go there? Yes. Could I actually bring myself to allow it? Even in the safe environment with Carol watching Charlie’s every move? The way I felt in the car at that moment, there was only one answer. “God Carol, I’d love to try that.”
“Then we shall my lovely. Charlie deserves a treat.”
Wow. My best friend’s husband was going to shoot his load over me. My pussy was still wet from earlier and the thought of this just increased the flow. I should have apologised for what I was doing to her car seat, but given how laid back she was about her carpets I didn’t bother. I simply imagined the coming scene. I’d been close to his cock anyway when I’d drunk his piss. This wasn’t really any different, was it? Just a variation of the bodily fluid. I felt positive and couldn’t wait to try.
“Does Charles know?”
“We discussed it before I left. I said if I thought you were in the right frame of mind I’d suggest it.”
Such friends! Charles putting himself out like this to help a friend. (In case of doubt I’m being facetious. I know full well most of you readers would jump at the chance and was sure Charles would hardly object!)
Walking up the path to the front door I felt as if I was visiting a dentist. Nervous anticipation. The pain would be mental though. Excitement yes, but apprehension in bucket loads.
Charles greeted us both with a paternal kiss on the cheek. I was ushered into their lounge and given a glass of wine and Carol outlined what I’d been up to. She showed him the photos, including the one of me topless walking down the prom, and it visibly excited Charles. Carol rubbed her hand over his crotch. “I think his lordship can start whenever you’re ready Hun. Want to undress?”
“Mm, not really.” It didn’t feel right. It was too mechanical. A surgical procedure. “Strip off, my husband’s going to cover you in jizz” A rotten thing to say considering what my friends were doing, but I couldn’t react as I should. But I was sizzling. Something had to happen. I had an idea.
I stood up and walked towards Charles. Walked towards a man who clearly had a hard-on. In itself a minor miracle. I stood a couple of feet in front of him, looking into his eyes. There was lust there for sure, but also kindness. A ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ I smiled, leaned forward slightly grabbed the hem of my skirt and lifted it to my waist, opened my legs, and started feeling myself. That felt better. I was showing off, not being told to. Similar to the man on the prom. I was back in control. I’m not sure Charles was! His hand clamped over his groin.
“Let me see it, Charlie,” I whispered.
As he was undoing his zip I felt Carol behind me, undoing the neck of my halter top.
“Don’t need this, do you, Hun?”
She removed the top and her hands cupped my tits. I shivered at the touch and felt her breath on my neck. I was tempted, oh so tempted, to ignore Charles, to forget I was fighting my demons, and turn and have a session with Carol. I resisted though. I need to try to cross this bridge. I let my eyes register what they were seeing. Charles had his cock firmly in hand. It wasn’t huge, from my vast experience of half a dozen or so cocks it looked an average sort of size. A totally irrelevant fact. It wasn’t going in me. No way.
My fingers had done their job, I was leaking copiously. The combination of Charlie's cock and Carol’s hand had brought me to the brink so quickly. But considering what I had done earlier it was hardly a surprise. Did I want to come before Charlie’s semen touched me? No, if I could hold it I would. Where did I want him to shoot his load? Face? Tits? Tummy? Pussy? I decided tits or tummy. The least intrusive places. This time. This time? I expected to be doing it again! Another positive sign.
“ Can I lie down?” I asked, somewhat unnecessarily.
“Of course Hun.” Carol let go of my tits and I lay on the floor in front of her husband. My eyes were glued to his cock, now being massaged at quite a rate. I carried on fingering myself. He asked the question, which I thought was sweet. “Where do you want it, my dear?” Still addressing me like a daughter.
“On my…” I’d decided to say tummy, but changed my mind at the last moment, “…tits.” The words were breathed out. I was so tense. I kept telling myself it was hardly different from drinking his pee, in fact, less deviant, but it was cum, with all the connotations that brought to my mind.
“Of course my dear.” This use of my dear. It wasn’t unheard of, him using it when addressing me, but it wasn’t that usual. He was definitely using it deliberately. I wondered if there was some deeper kink lying hidden. A thought to explore another time. Not now. Now was the moment of truth. He knelt beside me, his breathing getting staccato, his hand a blur. My breathing had almost stopped. I had to concentrate on watching his cock. I didn’t want those dark black thoughts intervening.
A grunt announced the moment. I remembered the large amount of cum he’d shot the first time, when I’d peed in front of him. That wasn’t a fluke. The explosion seemed to go on forever. Time stopped as the sticky substance coated my tits. I’d held my breath as one does awaiting the prick of an injection. After the first touch of his semen, I breathed again. I hadn’t freaked out. I could enjoy it. I took in the view. My best friend's husband kneeling next to me, his cock like rock, expelling semen over my tits. His wife sitting a few feet away feeling herself through her jeans.
Could I go further? Could I touch him? I tried. I really did try, but my brain would not give my hand the instructions. I satisfied myself by collecting his cum on my fingers and licking it off. So many years since I’d tasted cum, especially with relish rather than by strict order.
I needed sex. I looked at Carol. Her trousers were now down to her knees, her hand deep in her knickers. Her eyes weren’t on me though. She was looking at Charles.
“Know what I need Charley? I need you and this young slut licking me out. Will you do that for me?” That reference to young. Was it coincidental?
As she said this she stood up, stepped out of her jeans and knickers and came and stood over me, legs apart over my head. A delicious view. “Here, you deserve this.” I thought, hoped, she was going to pee on me, but she didn’t. She squatted down presenting her pussy to my lips. I obliged. She was wet this time, wetter than before. I loved the taste. I loved pushing my tongue into her, tickling her clit. I became aware of Charles kneeling next to me, his leg actually touching me. He was kissing Carol. Was he going to touch me? Would I freak out if he did? I hardly dare breathe. I so wanted him to. I so didn’t want him to.
I couldn’t see much with my head between Carol's legs, but felt a hand touch a boob. I froze. My stiffness conveyed itself to Carol who murmured to me, “It’s me, Hun, don’t worry.” I relaxed and enjoyed the groping as I continued with my tongue. It’s strange, but as sexy as I was, as wound up as I was, I felt totally relaxed. But my body wouldn’t let me stay that way. The combination of sensations my body was enjoying, soon had me at boiling point. I could sense Carol wasn’t far off either and I managed to get a hand to her pussy to massage her clit with a thumb. The added stimulus did the trick and she erupted with a huge sigh. Her body collapsed on me which put her head in my groin. My best friend demonstrated she was no virgin at giving oral! Her tongue and lips soon had me following her.
She rolled off me and looked at her husband. “My word Charlie, how was that?”
“Need you ask?”
“Not really. And you Miss Slutty Pants, how was it for you? No panics?”
I was lying back. Euphoric. I’d come through. Another step on the road to normality.
“It was good. Excellent! Fabulous! Oh god, think of a better adjective! Yes, no panics. Thank you, guys. Thank you.”
“Not sure we need thanks, it was hardly a chore. Anyway, what are friends for?”
I wondered how many friends would let their husbands do what we had just done, to see if their friend was halfway sane, but I kept quiet. I hoped we’d be able to talk about things once we’d calmed down. The afternoon had raised queries in my mind about these two friends and I wanted some answers.
And I got them.
