“Yes” he answered simply staring at her dribbling pussy before him.
“Good” she replied and placed the replica of his cock on his sternum before she raised herself up and eased the tip against her vulva. She sighed loudly as she lowered herself down the dildo, feeling her soaking wet pussy open easily to accommodate the girth. Her eyes closed behind the mask as she savoured the sensations feeling every millimetre of the fake phallus ease deeper and deeper inside her. For a moment she forgot about the man she was ‘torturing’ and lost herself in the moment.
“Oh damn, that feels so good!” she murmured as finally she felt her outer lips rest against the faux balls. She grinned broadly at her reflection in the mirror positioned above the headboard of the bed; far more tasteful than one fixed to the ceiling she thought.
Chris breathed deeply, his head and his cock envious as he watched at close hand as she used the facsimile. She twisted about grinding the base against his chest as her hands reached up and mauled at her breasts through her corset. He breathed deeply forcing his own chest upwards earning a deep sigh from the woman above.
It took all of the woman’s self-control not to simply slam down and impale herself on the fake cock; she wanted to prolong it as long as possible just as she was torturing the man beneath her. Her head slowly bent back as she felt his breaths and the plastic glans press into the neck of her womb; a shudder ran through her, literally from her toes to the crown of her head. “Bliss” she whispered almost silently as her cervix twitched within her and a flush of her juices ran out around the fake cock to pool on the man’s grey haired chest.
Chris’s cock throbbed begging for attention as the heavy musky aroma from the woman’s quim flooded his nostrils. The hot juice running from his chest down to his neck cooled quickly causing goose-bumps to erupt on his flesh. He had no idea how much of this he could take but he simply knew he had no choice. Tamara had delighted in ‘edging’ him many times but her own impatience always lost out against his. He had always known in the end he’d cum and cum hard wherever she decided that would be.
Tonight he had no idea if the woman above him would allow him any release. His cock pulsed with the thought as again his orgasm was denied by the strap cinched tightly around its base.
She swayed and groaned as she reached to the head board for support with one hand as the other pulled down the cup of her corset exposing a breast. Her hand didn’t hesitate as her nails scratched deeply into her flesh; Chris literally salivated as all he wanted to do was lock his mouth over her tit and bite and chew the hard nipple atop it.
Her groans became deeper and more urgent as her pussy demanded release; squeezing the dildo within her causing her juices to run out faster and faster. She’d lied to Chris and herself earlier about her ability to remain focused as her mind reeled with the steady tremors flowing through her began to crescendo; she was on the brink and without restraints like the ones holding the man beneath her captive she knew she was going to give in.
He watched fascinated and frustrated all at the same time. All he wanted to do was fuck the woman on top of him and yet watching her writhe and twitch as she built towards her orgasm, as if he was barely there, was quite the wondrous experience. He could see her nails dig deeply into the soft flesh of her breast, imagined her knuckles whitened as they gripped the creaking head board above him. The muscles of her body; thighs, arms, back, neck, even her feet pressed against the sides of his chest were all flexing and tightening.
From his unique and immediate perspective he could see the outer lips of her pussy grip and twitch about his cock’s replica, her juices saturating the larger than life sac and spilling onto his chest. Small rivulets of the hot sticky secretions ran away in all directions as the base of the phallus was ground against his chest.
All at once her entire body locked up, all her muscles spasming in unison as her orgasm blasted out from her pussy. Her head was thrown backwards as if she’d been struck as her back arched and she rose up on her knees; her mouth wide open as if screaming and yet no sound escaped. Chris watched as the dildo eased out slowly at first and then sliding faster till it almost shot from her gaping quim followed by a torrent of her juices. The faux cock bounced off the side of his neck as his upper chest, neck, jaw and mouth were drenched by the deluge. He lapped greedily at the hot juices as the surge slowed to a river and then a trickle; all the time her quim spasming, slowly closing as she jerked above him.
She was lost. Her senses came back gradually; the first thing she was aware of was the pounding in her chest and then she remembered to breathe sucking in a great lungful of air. For a moment she had no idea where she was, not even totally sure who she was when she opened her eyes to see a devil woman with the wrong colour hair looking back at her. A sharp pain called for attention from her right breast and her eyes dropped to see her corset askew and five deep scratches on the soft exposed flesh; two of which were highlighted by short trickles of blood.
Her body shook as finally her cunt reminded her why she was in this state and only then did she feel the tongue lapping at the inside of her left thigh. She looked down at the man between her legs whose flesh seemed to be shining and who was busily cleaning more of her juices from her own flesh through her fishnets. He seemed to sense her gaze and ceased his ministrations.
“Hmm, you’re back!” he grinned, “I was beginning to wonder.”
****
“Damn it’s fucking freezing!” Tamara moaned as they huddled together carefully walking down the snow covered street towards the neon sign glowing above the entrance to their destination. The club was only three hundred yards from their hotel and after ten minutes fighting the elements he understood completely the receptionist’s look of bewilderment when they declined a taxi.
“Sorry you came?” he asked hugging her tighter.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow” she answered. He could hear the smile in her voice from within the snood of her arctic coat.
Chris could feel the wind buffet against them and remembered why he’d previously only ventured towards the Arctic Circle in the summer. They finally made the entrance and the large black door opened automatically into a long lobby and a second Club entrance facing them far more in keeping with his familiar London haunts than the non-descript external one. A bouncer flanked this door on the far side of the heat curtain that insulated him from the negative temperatures outside.
Almost instantly as they passed through the warm current of air their arctic jackets became unpleasant and they quickly pulled back the snoods and pulled down the zippers. The bouncer briefly appraised them and then spoke in Icelandic and Chris apologised for not knowing the language.
“Not a problem, sir” he replied in faultless English albeit oddly vacant of any accent whatsoever. “Welcome to the Aurora Club!” he translated his earlier statement and held open the door for them.
A second foyer with a cloakroom and ticket desk was revealed and they divested themselves of their outer garment; Tamara took advantage of the seat opposite to pull of her Uggs (that really hadn’t been up to the task) and slip on a pair of three inch Jimmy Choo’s which she’d been carrying within the jacket as Chris paid their entrance fee and deposited their items in the cloakroom. He looked at his wife’s shoes and regretted not having down the same as his feet were already starting to swelter within his own insulated boots.
Finally they entered the club properly to the sounds of what might have been Icelandic folk music. Chris looked about feeling a disconcerting familiarity about the venue he’d never been to before. He turned to Tamara and was about to ask her when she simply said “It’s Ronnie’s!”
He looked about again and grinned; it was indeed a reasonable facsimile of Ronnie Scotts’ world famous Jazz club in London’s Soho. His grin spread as he led his wife through the crowded room to the bar as he remembered seeing Brita for the first time in that exact venue about a year before she made the big time with her band the Sugars and their chart breaking song Venus ain’t a woman!
He attracted a barman and ordered their drinks before turning to watch the two people on stage. It took him only a moment to realise that it was actually the popstar on the stage. He knew she often performed in her own club but hadn’t ever realised she played anything but her own unique quirky music that was famous around the world.
The set came to an end and he saw a couple slip out of a side booth; “Grab that table, I’ll grab some more drinks” he suggested.
Tamara gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked away; his eyes dropped to her ass clad in the figure hugging trousers she’d chosen for the night, far more practical than her usual attire of dresses and skirts. He felt his cock stir and although for Chris it would have been difficult not to realise it was his wife and not a man, the dichotomy was still appealing. An image popped into his head and he was sure that Brita had at least once attended an awards ceremony dressed very similarly; no doubt that had been in Tamara’s mind when she had picked the outfit.
Chris turned to the bar and managed to get hold of the barman again ordering our drinks and adding “Send up a couple of decent malt Scotches to the duet, a drink that’s old enough to drink please?” he couldn’t remember if the legal age to drink in Iceland was eighteen or twenty-one.
The man looked at me quizzically, “The lady doesn’t drink, sir” he replied.
“Oh I know, add her usual as well” he agreed and left him a sizable tip before returning to the table Tamara had managed to grab.
The two of them sat idly chatting watching eight or so fans standing just before the stage talking animatedly with the petite star; Chris marvelled at the woman’s patience as he knew that she played here every Friday if she wasn’t otherwise engaged and yet she didn’t brush a single fan away. She was about to chat with the last couple when the waiter appeared at her side with three glasses one of which she took; Chris shook his head as she didn’t seem to even blink, just leant down to listen to the waiter’s message.
She finally finished chatting with the last pair of adoring fans and then disappeared off the far side of the stage. Chris frowned wondering if he had been too subtle or the waiter hadn’t told her that he had known the star was tee-total. A couple of technicians began arrived on stage and began to alter the set up in preparation for the main act which was to be a Blues group of some renown from Sweden. He kept an eye on the stage as the two of them continued to chat.
“I figured it was you!” a voice whispered in his ear five minutes later.
Chris instinctually flinched even though he saw the grin on his wife’s face a moment before. He turned and saw Brita leaning over the back of the seat with three glasses carefully held in her small hands. “Only you and Tom ever buy me alcohol and he tends to go for nice reds rather than whisky!” she explained as Chris lifted the glasses from her hands and placed them on the table in front of him as she made her way around. He figured she meant Tom Jones although she was good friends with Tom Waits as well and although he didn’t know him he figured the man wasn’t a wine drinker, more likely bourbon though that was a bit of stereotyping on his part.
“How are you Brita?” he asked as she slipped in on the opposite side of Tamara.
“I’m very well” she smiled and lifted her glass, “This is a bit of a surprise, though, a very pleasant one though.”
“A toast to very pleasant surprises?” offered Tamara as she hoisted her glass.
Chris and Tamara simultaneously said “Cheers!” as Brita replied with “Skál!”
“So what brings you to Reykjavik?” she asked.
“Simply you,” Tamara answered gaining a smile from the woman; “And in particular a tattoo!”
Brita looked straight into Chris’s wife’s blue eyes, “I only have one.”
“I know” replied Tamara licking her lips.
****
“So?” Tamara asked.
“So?” pleaded Brita echoing Chris’s wife although with a significant amount of desperation in her voice.
Chris looked up from his position between the Icelandic star’s legs at his wife kneeling across Brita’s upper arms as she held the other woman’s labia apart. He had been almost positive that the small woman hadn’t been his tormentor the previous week and long before the two of them had started edging her he had realised Brita had been playing along. The tattoo was obviously a Scandinavian design when Tamara had uncovered it but they were already having so much fun he’d been happy to carry on with the charade.
“It could be” he lied, “maybe if I felt her cunt around my cock?” he grinned.
“Yesss!” pleaded Brita.
“Hush!” Tamara ordered and dropped her own sopping quim down onto the woman’s face. “Well babe, fuck her but don’t let her come… or you… not yet!” she instructed her husband.
“As you wish!” he agreed grinning as he shifted forward sliding his knees under the trapped woman’s thighs; he groaned deeply as Tamara’s lips slid over his throbbing glans. A muffled moan rose from beneath his wife’s grinding crotch as a painted fingernail strummed Brita’s exposed, engorged clit.
Tamara smiled slyly around her husband’s salty cock head as she remembered how long the winter nights were up here beside the Arctic Circle.
****
“Hmm, you’re back!” he grinned, “I was beginning to wonder.”
“Oh god yes” she replied hoarsely. She felt her body ache as she stumbled off the prone man collapsing parallel to him. She rested her head on his thigh and stared at his rampart cock; “So how are you doing?”
“Err… wonder-” he cut off the sarcastic remark he was going to make knowing that it sounded petulant even if it was justified. “On edge, ohhh so on edge” he admitted.
“My, but that’s refreshing honesty, Chris!” she stated reaching for his aching shaft and very gently running her thumb and forefinger up either side of it. “Do you want me to bring it to an end quickly? I figure if I release your imprisonment,” she brought her hand down and picked at the buckle holding the strap; “would I need to stroke your cock? Suck it or lick it? I know if I slid my dripping cunt down onto it you would fill it instantly, wouldn’t you?”
“Definitely!” he answered.
Again her fingers slid upwards and traced over his glans mixing the fresh drop of pre-cum with the residue of previous frustrated ejaculations. “You know I reckon if I was to release your cock all I’d have to do to make you shoot your nasty load up in the air is blow on it? Is that what you want, Chris?”
With his head still raised on the pillows he looked down at his tormentor and clenched his teeth tight together as one of her nails slid into his cock’s eye. Although he couldn’t see her eyes properly her entire posture struck him as almost child-like; her breathing was still rapid as he felt her breath against his thigh; the simplicity of her curiousness was utterly incongruous.
Shudders ran through him as she moved his swollen shaft from side to side watching it bounce back to centre when she released it. She lay there catching her breath; the only item of clothing that was straight and fastened securely was her mask, her fishnets were torn, the thighs glistening with the previous flood of her juices as was her entire crotch. The attached suspenders at the top of her right thigh had sprung free and of course her thong was nowhere to be seen. The top of her corset askew, exposing her left breast with its scratch marks and a hard erect nipple atop it.
He groaned deeply as she pulled his shaft over towards her face, all the way down to his thigh and held it there. A smile played about her lips as she twisted her head and looked back at him through her mask.
“Ohhh fuck” he groaned as her mouth slid over his glans and she released her grip. He stared at the bulge in her cheek as his glans pressed against it from the inside; his heart pounded as she felt her tongue sliding over his hyper-sensitive cockhead within. There was an audible ‘pop’ as she released it and it swung back up, oscillating to and fro till it resumed its upright stance.
“Hmmm, enough respite I think!” she declared and gathered herself up. She looked down at her attire before standing up on the bed, feet planted either side of his hips and reached behind her. He watched the corset shift and then loosen till it fell free hanging to her left by the remaining suspenders attached to one stocking. She grinned down at him as she tenderly massaged her bosom, fingers sliding inwards till she gripped her hard nipples and stretched them out contorting the flesh behind. She sighed loudly as she released them and her breasts bounced and wobbled before settling.
“Now, Chris… if I was to release your hands would you, could you remain my slave to do with as I please?” she asked as she reached down and unclipped the suspenders, kicking the corset from the bed.
He considered his answer before replying, “Yes.” She looked at him quizzically before he continued, “But I don’t want to be released,” he admitted.
She bent forwards and rolled a stocking down her left leg, her breasts swaying as she did; “My, but you are being honest tonight!” Again that mischievous grin appeared and she turned about placing a knee to the left of his chest and her right foot beside his hip. Her ass loomed above his head as she rolled the other stocking down her thigh and over her knee. “Are you telling me that you wouldn’t want to take your revenge on me?” she glanced over her shoulder as he gazed into the folds of her sodden snatch.
The grin was still there as a long string of her juices descended from her quim; “You wouldn’t want to have me restrained, to spank my ass till it glowed, to torture my cunt and clit till you had me begging till you finally filled my… what would your preference be? Tell me and remember, this is for posterity so be honest; my ass, my cunt or my mouth?”
“All of the above!” he grinned and strained his head forward sticking out his tongue, she moved fractionally and watched the long thread pool onto Chris’s tongue. She waited until the strand broke and raised herself up again turning about and standing once again astride his hips.
She looked down at his cock below and slowly lowered herself down till her sodden pussy hovered above Chris’s aching shaft. “Do you want it?” she asked without looking up.
“Yes” he mumbled and then groaned as she slapped his cock sideways with her hand.
“I said do you want it” she repeated firmly.
“YES!” he implored.
****
I looked past Tamara through the circular window and the troublesome, unpronounceable volcano in the distance as the airplane rose up into the sky.
“So who’s next on the list?” she asked as she rested her head against my shoulder.
“I’m beginning to doubt whoever it was, is actually on ‘The List’” I answered.
She took a moment to contemplate her answer, a mischievous fingernail descending to run up along my thigh; “Take a leaf from Holmes; eliminate the possible-s first and then consider the impossible-s! Anyway, it’s not as if it isn’t fun being a detective in a trashy, porno novel” she grinned.
I nodded in agreement, “True.” I pulled out my phone and called up the list; “Andrew Peters and his plus one!”
“Well, Andrew is definitely not the sharpest tool” she grinned, “Quite blunt, actually; do you remember his plus one?”
“Not a clue!” I admitted.
“So you’re wondering if someone inveigled an invite?”
“Our mystery guest definitely had the talent to convince Andy; so it’s a possible. I’m a little perplexed how to engineer a meeting though including his plus one” I replied.
Tamara considered the problem for a moment or two and then answered “Leave it to me!”
****
The two men sat side by side on the couch as Tamara drove her strap-on deep into Lisa’s (apparently Andrew’s plus one’s name) pussy from behind as she pulled back on her long ponytail.
“Now boys shuffle together and let’s see if Lisa can get both your cocks in her mouth at once!” demanded Tamara.
I glanced at Andrew and saw a matching grin to mine and the two of us knelt on the deep pile rug in front of his fireplace as I felt his hand wrap around my length squeezing it against his as Lisa looked at the daunting meal before her. My cock was at least an inch longer than the pop star’s but his was at least fifty percent thicker than mine. “Not a chance!” I declared.
“You’d be surprised” he replied in his swarthy accent as Lisa grinned and replaced his hand spitting onto each of our cockheads in turn. To give the woman her due she did manage to get both our glans inside her mouth along with an inch or so of shaft before she gagged and no amount of thrusting from my wife was able to get anymore. She actually seemed a little disappointed in her effort whereas I had wondered if we were going to dislocate her jaw in the process.
We finished that session with me throat-fucking Lisa as Andrew drove into Tamara from behind forcing her again and again into the abused Lisa. Two tender sixty-nine’s afterwards as boys cleaned boys and girls cleaned girls.
I was in awe of Lisa; how she managed both our cocks, albeit partially, when I struggled with just Andrew’s fat and depleted length afterwards I’ll never know!
How Tamara and I got there had been simple. There had been no cunning plot or ‘happenstance’ meeting; she had simply rung him up and expressed a desire to ‘abuse that ‘young filly’ he had brought along to the New Year’s bash. After explaining the meaning of ‘filly’ in this context he’d been happy to oblige asking if I would be present and particularly happy when she confirmed it.
And, alas, no tattoo and her pussy was nowhere near tight enough. Considering her partner’s girth it wasn’t actually a surprise!
****
“I said do you want it,” she repeated firmly.
“YES!” he implored.
Another slap and Chris moaned deeply feeling his cockhead swipe back and forth across the woman’s wet lips; “Please… please Mistress!” he begged.
He slammed his eyes tight shut seeing sparks behind the lids as she dropped down swiftly engulfing his length till his glans pushed hard into the neck of her womb. The two of them sighed in unison as she ground her crotch hard into his.
“Mmmm… I knew it would be just right… even better than the fake thing!” she murmured and a look of pleasurable concentration washed across her mouth as she squeezed his manhood inside her. Chris shuddered beneath her as he felt the stranger’s pussy grip him tightly as she slowly twisted her hips; he pulled against his restraints as he marvelled at the woman’s internal dexterity. He could feel the mouth of her quim tightening hard around the base of his cock as her cervix flexed and rubbed across his glans.
The masked woman leant forward resting her hands on Chris’s chest opening her eyes; a smile of pride appeared on her lips as she watched his mouth drop open and she flexed her cunt muscles again barely moving her hips. His cock throbbed and twitched hard within her, dry-coming once again; she tightened and relaxed her pussy mimicking his spasms within her gaining a deep guttural groan. As the twitches faded away she settled back upright once again and reached down behind her cupping his balls; Chris sighed in response and opened his eyes.
“How many times is that, Chris?” she asked.
He breathed heavily as she massaged his sac, “Three… four,” he shook his head, “at least.”
“They’re filling up again nicely” she commented and extended her forefinger to tenderly scratch a fingernail along his taint.
“Ohh… damn!” he responded.
“My turn!” she declared releasing his testes and lifting herself up till just his glans remained within her and slammed down hard impaling herself fully. She shuddered and lifted up slightly before looking down and reaching between them and gently twisting the Arab strap around the base of his shaft. Happy that the rippled fob was positioned correctly she rose up slamming down again feeling her engorged clit strike it. She shuddered and rose up and slammed down again and again using the man beneath her for her own intense pleasure.
Chris thrust upwards meeting the woman’s thrusts feeling their pelvic bones strike violently against one another and the stranger’s cunt pulsing each time he filled her. The bed creaked and shook as they bounced up and down; in the midst of their exertions he felt the Velcro cuff on his right wrist loosen. I don’t want to be free he thought to himself and span his hand about gripping the tether as he arched his back up raising his ass off the bed and felt his cockhead slam brutally into the woman’s cervix.
The masked woman screamed as she felt her cunt filled completely by Chris’s swollen cock; the sweat dripped off her naked body as she re-doubled her efforts and fucked him remorselessly. Her pussy began to twitch beyond her conscious control and within seconds it locked down on his invading shaft and her orgasm exploded outwards from her core. “FUCK” she shouted as wave after wave on intense sensations radiated outwards through her being.
Chris shivered as the woman’s pussy locked down tighter than any he had ever known around his shaft and a flood of her juices squirted out around it spreading outwards running over his hips, into his navel and down between his ass cheeks. He felt it pour over his pucker, hot and sticky and wet and his own orgasm rushed up trying vainly to get past the Arab strap. He jerked and pulled at his restraints as his eyes rolled back in his head and all he became was his cock futilely spasming within the stranger’s hot, tight cunt.
The two of them trembled and shook as they lost themselves in their own orgasms. This time Chris opened his eyes to see the masked woman looking down at him; “Just one more” she whispered and slowly rose up off his shaft and shifted forward, devilish delight filling her eyes. He watched as she reached down and grasped her ass cheeks pulling them apart and resting her pucker atop his engorged glans.
“Oh god” he whispered as he felt her sphincter spread and stretch over his cockhead, She shook as she eased herself down his length, her eyes glazing over as he filled her up.
“Ohhhh that’s so good!” she declared, “but…” she grinned and reached down to the bed beside her and moved her hand around behind her.
Chris bucked wildly as he felt the slim vibe pushed into his ass and turned all the way up. The masked woman groaned loudly as the vibrations radiated from his ass and up his shaft. His cock twitched and trembled as again it attempted vainly to ejaculate. In his miasma he felt her fingers push deep inside her cunt, her knuckle rubbing against his shaft through the thin membrane between her holes. It didn’t matter that she clumsily pushed the vibe in and out of his ass it was equally effective as one dry orgasm followed the other.
“Please” he begged, “Oh god please!”
“Ahhh… as you… wish!” she panted and suddenly freed his shaft from the Arab strap.
Almost instantly it felt as if his cockhead was exploding as his frustrated balls sent rope after rope after rope of his seed deep into her ass.
He twitched and writhed as he experienced what he knew was the most intense orgasm of his life.
The next he knew his cheek was being slapped lightly bringing him back to consciousness; “You did so well, Chris…. Now just clean me up like a good boy!”
He felt her shift about and blearily opened his eyes and stared at the stranger’s ass hovering over his face. “Yes Mistress” he agreed and formed his lips over her pucker as she pulled her cheeks apart and wormed his tongue within.
When she was happy with his work, that he had sucked all of his semen from her ass, she climbed off the bed. She smiled down at him; “Such a pleasure, see you soon!” she declared picking up her discarded clothing tossing her red lacy thong onto his spent, abused cock before turning and walking away.
He struggled to untangle his hand from the tether and all at once knew he wouldn’t be free of all his bonds before she left. “Please stop” he called and she paused at the door to his bedroom before turning back.
“Yes?” she asked with a broad smile.
“Please, who are you’ what’s your name?” he begged.
She tilted her head considering her reply; “Hmmm, let’s say… Buttercup, yes Buttercup will do. Ciao Chris!”
He collapsed back on the bed looking up at the ceiling suddenly feeling the aches of the rigour his body had been put through. “Fuck” he whispered.
****
Fortune favoured us with Gerry and his wife. Gerry and I had been friends for well over twenty years and as he was an actor our business path’s rarely crossed and he wasn’t even potentially a client; if you’ve heard his singing voice you’d understand. It was only a week later when we were round at his house for dinner and although both he and Giselle were as enthusiastic as any at my New Year’s bash that tended to be their one and only hedonistic impulse each year.
Once again Gerry had cooked a divine meal; I was vaguely perusing the Blue-ray discs on his shelves gently swilling the remains of the Merlot in my glass. “Another fine meal, Gerry” I commented, “I guess if the acting amounts to nothing you could open a restaurant?” I glanced at one of his Oscar’s sitting on the floor being used as a door-stop.
“Not a chance!” he replied lounging back on one of the pair of large sofas as the girls occupied the opposite one. “Far too much like hard work… we may put a lot of hours in on set but most of its waiting around!”
I shifted my gaze back to the spine of a Blue-ray holder and eased the film out from its position suppressing a smile as I realised they were sorted by the main actor and alphabetically at that. I turned it to look at the jacket to see Andre the Giant holding up a portcullis. “Buttercup?” I whispered.
Tamara twisted her neck to look at me over the back of the sofa she was sat on and saw the title raising a questioning eyebrow. I raised it in Gerry’s direction; “You don’t do comedy… you’ve never done comedy!”
He laughed aloud and Giselle smiled broadly; “Nope, never… probably only been offered one or two that I can think of!” He took a sip of his wine before continuing, “Now comedy is a singular talent and alas I’ve never felt it’s been in my repertoire. I’ve did a couple of cameo’s on ‘Friend’s’ but I was playing a straight man really.”
“I always thought that was a little out of left field!” Tamara suggested.
Gerry nodded in return, “Greasing the wheels!”
I walked around the sofa and warmed my back against the log fire, “So who’s the Princess Bride fan?”
“That’d be me, definite top five” Giselle replied, “Though I have converted Gerry!”
“It’s a wonderful film… love the book too” Tamara enthused.
I pondered the cover; “So, who’d you play, Gerry?”
He looked into his glass studying the reflections cast by the fire; “It’d have to be the baddy of the piece! Chris Guest’s role as Count… Rugen!”
I puzzled for a moment; “Ahh… the torturer, yeah that’d be you! Didn’t fancy- My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!”
Gerry laughed aloud, “No, Mandy nailed it and even if I’d been offered on the original shoot by Reiner, still would’ve gone for Rugen.”
Tamara turned to the actress in the room, “What about you, Giselle; Princess Buttercup?”
“Thanks!” she smiled back, “Very happy to be considered in the same league as Robin Wright! Nah… think, and not too many female roles… although Countess Rugen?” she looked up lovingly at her husband raising a quizzical eyebrow.
“Yeah I can see that” he replied.
She returned her gaze to Tamara, “I guess Carol Kane’s role would have been fun, ‘specially working with Billy! Though I reckon ‘corpsing’ could be an issue!”
“Miracle Max’s wife?” asked Tamara receiving a nod in reply. The two of us locked eyes and it passed Gerry by as we both shook our heads minutely.
Giselle looked at Tamara and then up at me and back again to my wife. “I get the feeling I’m missing something?”
Gerry simply looked perplexed as he looked around the three of us; “Fuck, I’m always the last to know!” he said resignedly.
“Well?” Giselle asked simply.
“A bit of a mystery,” Tamara answered, “Shall I?” she asked me.
“Please by all means,” I smiled back and went to the sideboard and opened a fresh bottle of wine and topping up all our glasses before sitting down next to Gerry.
Once everyone’s glass was full Tamara began to tell the tale of the final part of my New Year’s bash. She deferred to me on a couple of details but by now she’d heard the story a number of times and of the four of us she seemed to be the only one not squirming or adjusting their ‘dress’. I could plainly see Giselle sat on the opposite end of the couch to my wife with her legs drawn up and her thighs squeezing rhythmically together. Only a vague glance in Jerry’s direction was necessary to see the bulge in his trousers.
“So, as you see, we’re on a bit of a quest. Who is Chris’s Buttercup?” Tamara finished.
“And we were or rather I was a suspect?” beamed Giselle; I nodded in response.
We all turned to Gerry as he spoke, “I can alibi my wife… and I saw your mystery lady!”
“You did?” I asked.
“Yeah, it had to be her… afterwards! We were playing pool and I saw her walk across the lobby… I remember those heels clacking on the marble and looked up. She was still wearing the mask and carrying the rest of her outfit in her arm. Guess she was headed to your cloakroom” he suggested.
“You were playing Pool… at an orgy?” Tamara asked gaining a snort from Giselle.
Gerry nodded, “Doubles… really difficult game too!” he smirked.
Neither me nor Tamara spoke and waited patiently only for Giselle to explain, “When you’re taking your shot… distractions are aloud… and both Dani and Rick are very good at distracting!”
“Damn game took ages…” Gerry turned to me and asked “Have you ever tried to take a shot while Dani was deep-throating you?”
I laughed aloud, “No I can’t say that I have…” and then added, “Dani and Rick were with you?”
The two of them nodded in agreement as I turned to look at my wife; “That’s it!”
“No one else you can think of?” she asked.
I shook my head, “Got to be a gate-crasher; maybe someone who had been at a previous party but that list… I wouldn’t know where to begin!”
We sat in silence for a few moments and then Giselle twisted on the couch and hiked up her dress; “Well, I don’t know about you, Tamara but Buttercup had some fine ideas!” She gazed across at her husband, “Be a good boy, Gerry, and come over here and eat me out cause listening to that has made me fucking horny!”
Gerry glanced at me and grinned, “Damn emancipated women!” he declared and dropped off the couch and crawled across to his wife.
“Seriously, you need telling?” asked Tamara as she adopted an identical position to Giselle.
The two of us knelt before our women holding their knees. “Chris… bottle of Macallan for the man who makes his wife scream first?”
“You’re on!” I agreed and dived between my wife’s thighs.
I should have remembered that Giselle was a natural screamer and that Gerry rarely made bets he thought he might lose; on the plus side it was my wife that begged to be fucked first. Although we never swapped partners that evening we did spend the next couple of hours watching each other; it was quite the turn-around for Gerry and Giselle and their normal ‘once-a-year’ dalliance.
****
To be continued…
