“Champagne” Time

The three of us lay in the bed, with John in the middle. He looked sheepish which I assumed was because of his quick eruption with Carol who saw it too and turned to him took his limp cock in hand and said, “Young man. You have a great cock. Don’t be embarrassed you came so quickly. I seem to have that effect on men.” Nothing if not modest our Carol, but true!

“She’s right John. Let’s face it a new cunt will have that effect till you’re more experienced.” I bent toward and kissed his cock, but it remained lifeless. Hardly a surprise given he’d come three times already in the space of a couple of hours. As I kissed it, my hand closed over Carol's and caused a minor earth tremor. No idea why. Just circumstances, I suppose, but we made eye contact. Our eyes locked. I mumbled. “Shift over John, we’ll need the space.” He understood, got off the bed, and sat in a chair to watch.

I can’t remember the last time Carol and I had a one-to-one session, but it was too long. Our lips met and tongues clashed. Hands re-familiarised themselves with each other's tits. Then moved down. Fingers in cunts. Turning taps on. Then round to back doors. Probing fingers. Staccato breathing. Soft moans. I was aware of our audience. Not because he was interfering, but because he was there. A voyeur. Taking in our nudity. Our depravity. It increased my libido. Someone watching. Turning up the temperature. Making me want more.

I broke from Carol's grip and changed position. Scissoring her. Clit to clit. I found hers. Used my hips. Back and forth. Riding to victory. The feel of our most intimate parts rubbing together. Heightening our sexual frenzy was magical. By Carol's breathing, it was having the same effect on her. I felt I was close, but didn’t want to come. I needed more. More of Carol. I untangled myself and dropped my head between her legs. It seemed so long since I’d tasted her juices. And now there was plenty to taste.

I heard her voice. “Don’t sit there, lad. Come and give my tits a workout.” I hadn’t encouraged John to join in, I’d thought he’d want to recover, but Carol had other ideas. He came over and climbed on the bed. My head was still jammed between Carol's thighs so my view was restricted. “Kneel over me,” she instructed him. “Over my head. Suck my nipples. That’s it. Harder young man.” He did as told. I took a glance. Carol was wanking him and sucking his balls. Clearly turning her on, judging by the increased flow of her juices I was trying to drink. I crawled up the bed, stole one of John's hands from Carol's tits, and made clear I wanted his fingers up my cunt. I needed to come. I’d decided what I was going to do as a finale this afternoon, but I wanted a climax first. We were a pile of bodies. Too entangled to make any action truly erotic, but the fact we were there like this, three generations, made up for it. The perversion was the heightening factor. Nineteen-year-old youth being sucked off by someone old enough to be his grandmother. It was that thought as much as John’s fingers or Carol’s lips that took me over the edge and my tremors induced Carol to do the same. No explosion from John, but hey we’d already had three!

I said earlier in the blog I was convinced I should describe myself as a nymphomanic. The afternoon had done nothing to dispel that. I’d had four orgasms — at least I think I had — yet I still had a need for something perverted. I stood up on the bed. Carol would enjoy this. I had no idea how John would react.

“Time the champagne guys,” I announced. I spread my kegs, bent my knees a little, pulled my cunt lips apart, and let go a stream of piss I’d been holding.

I aimed for Carol, soaked her tits, then moved up to her face. “Go, Hun,” she said as she opened her mouth. I filled it and she gulped it down. The sight confirmed my need for perversion again. I glanced at John. He was lying next to Carol, half turned towards her, his fingers working her pussy. His facial expression wasn’t disgust, more incomprehension. Unable to process what he was witnessing. We had done watersports but I think that Carol, this oh so respectable older (I daren’t call her old, she’ll kill me) woman would actually drink it was a shock. I hedged my bets. I wouldn’t risk spoiling the afternoon by pushing too far. (Ha!) I moved my aim, splattered John’s still flaccid (although showing signs of life) cock, then returned to Carol to empty my bladder.

I’d ask later what John’s reaction would have been to drinking it too, for now I’d leave it. A perfect, depraved way, to end the afternoon.