With both Clare and Sarah staying the night, we broke out the nibbles and, of course, the alcohol as we were celebrating my twenty-third birthday.

I thanked both girls for a wonderful day, and then, as it was my birthday, I suggested that we should play a game of naked Twister.

That proposal was immediately overruled. With a giggle, the girls playfully suggested that I had an advantage because my cock meant I had five appendages.

Instead, they decided they preferred ‘Naked Ludo’ and, to be honest, as long as it was naked, something; I did not care. With the heating cranked up and my lava lamp switched on, reminding my two girlfriends of what a splendid gift they had bought me, we started playing the game. 

However, while ‘Naked Ludo’ was fun, it lacked a certain something. So, together, we came up with the idea of forfeits. The rule was that the winner of each game would allocate one forfeit to each of the two losers for every counter that was not yet home.

I thought it was a brilliant idea, so I claimed it as mine, to both girl's annoyance. 

Clare won the first game, and the forfeits were quite tame. They involved drinking a measure of alcohol or doing something silly, like when I had to impersonate a chicken laying an egg. But by the end of the second game, which Clare also won, they had gotten a little riskier and more sexual.

We did naked sit-ups and handstands, and Clare gave me the forfeit of performing fellatio on a banana. I followed Clare's instructions, but due to my embarrassment, I decided to make a joke out of it and I bit off the end of the fruit.

That received a laugh, only for both girls in tandem to tell me that they would try that technique next time they went down on me!

I couldn't help cringing; my hand automatically covered my cock, which only brought further laughter from my girlfriends.

Things started to get out of hand by the third game, which I won. I asked Sarah to impersonate a dog for a minute. Her actions included begging for a bone, rolling over, and barking. However, Sarah’s embarrassment was complete when I mounted her like a male dog would do and then howled as I pretended to fuck her. 

Sarah tried to get me off her, but I held on and barked to Clare, “I don’t know what she is complaining about, as the doggy position is her favourite.”

My cheeky, yet true, comment was enough to have Clare running to the bathroom as she realised she was in real danger of wetting herself.

Sarah pushed me off, embarrassed and then told me. "You're going to pay for that, as I have some good forfeits lined up when I win the next game."

I quietly chuckled to myself; Sarah hadn’t come close to winning yet, and I felt confident.

With Clare’s return, we sat back at the table. Now, if there is any such thing as playing an intense game of alcohol-fuelled ‘Naked Ludo’, this was it. Sarah was concentrating, egging us both as she worked her four counters into her safe zone.

But then I got lucky. I had a run of high, double-number dice scores, and my four counters moved effortlessly to their home circle. I had just defeated the two girls.

I grinned, looking at Sarah’s four counters. She had played her own game by trying to get all of them into the safety zone first, rather than getting at least a few of them to the home circle.

With the straightest face I could muster, I deliberately counted them while Clare looked on, giggling.

“One, two, three, four—I believe that is four forfeits.”

I tried my best not to smirk as I asked Sarah, “Now, what were those forfeits you were telling me about?”

“I am not saying,” was all that she mumbled in return. She was annoyed that I had won again.

“Come on,” Clare urged. She wanted to see Sarah do these forfeits.

So, I reminded my second girlfriend that one forfeit was for her; after all, I needed to treat both my girlfriends equally. Clare had failed to get one counter home.

The truth is, I had no problem coming up with forfeits. Any heterosexual guy wouldn’t when there are two beautiful, fit, and naked ladies in front of him. I already had Clare’s naughty task in mind, but Sarah had four of them to do, and I wanted her to do ones that played into her psyche.

After glancing at her, I noticed Sarah looked a little worried, and I felt sorry for her. Four forfeits was quite a lot, and I felt a pang of guilt.

So, I said to her, “Being the kind, loving boyfriend that I am.” I paused and grinned at her before continuing. “I give you a choice: four small forfeits or one large one. It is your decision.” 

I turned to Clare.

“You can go first while Sarah decides... For two minutes, I want you to masturbate using the bottle in front of us as a prop.” I gave her a small Coke bottle that we had been using as a mixer for the Bacardi's we were drinking earlier.

Clare looked at it and asked, “Is it clean?”

I shrugged; I didn’t know. Clare went to the kitchen and carefully washed the bottle.

Sarah and I glanced at each other. We were both surprised that Clare had not complained or said anything about performing such a kinky act in front of us.

While I knew, Sarah masturbated frequently; she had told me that she only used her fingers.

But I wasn’t so sure about Clare.

She shared a bedroom with her sister and had often told me, “There was no privacy at home.” However, Clare had mentioned that when she was on her own she occasionally used a hairbrush handle which, to get off, she pushed up her bottom.

With that thought, my cock hardened at what I was about to see.

I turned to Sarah and whispered, “Don’t forget, you're next,” now thinking more with my cock than my head.

Clare returned with the sparkling, clean bottle in her hand. There was a moment when I was sure she was just going to say something ‘witty’. Then leave the bottle on the coffee table and refuse to perform a sex act with it.

But she didn’t.

With her eyes grinning at both of us, she placed the bottle end in her mouth and teasingly licked it like it was a cock. Her tongue swirled, and then, with a sly grin, she sucked on the glass. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she let the bottle go back and forth, teasing us as she repeated the action.

With a dancer's finesse, she positioned herself on the armchair and spread her legs wide, her shaved cunt opening to our view. She was enjoying herself, putting on a show and teasing us both. Her wet pussy spread wide, her pinkness inviting our stare.

Clare gently slid the bottle up and then down her slit, spreading her cunt’s moisture and causing a barely audible moan.

Her eyes were still on us, and I had the feeling she had done this before. Then, with a sly grin, she eased the neck of the bottle into herself as a salacious look came over her face.

Clare wanted this.

With a careful push, she worked more of the bottle into her pussy, and then eagerly started using her other hand to rub her clit. The grin was now gone; it was replaced by a wave of ecstasy that seemed to wash through her.

Watching, my cock erect and ready to take one of my girlfriends, though I dared not move, Clare masturbating using a bottle was so erotic, so sexy, and stimulating... I was so turned on, and I wanted to last longer than a few dozen strokes. I knew if I touched myself or either of my girlfriends, I would soon be erupting all over the carpeted floor.

I glanced at Sarah. Her hand had slipped between her legs. She was touching herself, probably hoping no one would notice.

So I impishly said, “Don’t worry, you're next.”

Sarah’s hand promptly came up as she smiled at me, though her eyes told me something completely different. She wanted to cum too.

Clare’s two minutes slipped by. I had no intention of stopping her. Sarah and I were enjoying the show as the bottle repeatedly disappeared into my second girlfriend’s baldness. It was now past the neck, and with every stroke, she was taking it a little deeper.

There was a brief pause as Clare repositioned herself. She was now squatting, forcing the bottle deeper into her cunt. Stretching her pussy to take it all, her fingers were almost a blur as she continued to polish her nub.

She was close, Clare’s groans now clear, my erection unnoticed as it waved in front of me. One last thrust, another surge of hand movements—her body carried a red flush as she stiffened and then shuddered.

Clare came in a gush. Her pussy muscles ejected the bottle as she erupted all over my armchair cushion.

It was fair to say that my second girlfriend had left her mark, not only on the upholstery but also deep within my brain. Clare’s engorged cunt looked abused. It was swollen, gaping open, and soaked, my cock pointing the way as my eyes bored into its open wantonness.

I sensed Sarah’s eyes were right with mine, both of us looking like we were ready to dive in. Yet neither of us was able to move. For me, it was because I knew if I did, it would be a few strokes inside Clare and then it would be over. As for Sarah, her hesitation was because she was unsure. 

As quickly as it had started, the show finished, and Clare’s words brought us back to reality.

“My two minutes must be up,” she gasped, the bottle now on the coffee table.

“Just,” I said, though it had been nearly five.

“You have done that before,” I then added, grinning. 

Clare looked at me. She didn’t say a word, choosing to keep her secrets. 

“Have you done that, Sarah?” I asked.

“No” was her quick, one-word reply.

I grinned, "Now's your chance," and I picked up the bottle, handing it to Sarah.

She didn’t move. Her eyes flicked from the Coke bottle to Clare’s gaping cunt. I noticed this and couldn't help but whisper to Sarah, "Another gold mine." It was our private joke.

"Well, Sarah, what is it going to be—to perform four forfeits similar to what Clare has just done, or one large one? It is your choice.”

Sarah looked at me; her eyes were pleading, but I waited for her answer, and when it came, it was what I expected.

"One big one," she said in a hesitant, worried voice.

I smiled. Then I kissed her and whispered, “Don’t worry, it is one you will like.”

Despite many sexually charged thoughts running through me, mostly inspired by my cock, I had no intention of giving Sarah a forfeit that she wouldn’t enjoy.

“Sarah, your large task is as follows.” I glanced over at the now-recovered Clare. She was eagerly listening. “Other than your shoes, you are to remain fully nude. You are to go outside through the front door and around to the rear garden. There, you will run three laps around the garden, naked, before returning the way you came.

Sarah stared back at me, her mind calculating.

I felt the forfeit played straight into Sarah’s exhibitionist streak, but I wanted to reassure her.

“Remember, since I moved in, our downstairs neighbour’s flat has been empty. I even knocked this morning, but there was no answer, and there is still no car parked outside in one of the flat’s allocated places.”

Sarah seemed to relax.

“So your challenge is to get from the front door to the side gate, unseen. Once in the dark, private back garden, it will be easy.”

What I had said to Sarah was completely true. We hadn't seen the downstairs neighbour in the week and a half since I moved in. They were a bit of an enigma. 

“Alright, I will do it!”

I had sold the idea to Sarah.

 “We will watch you from the balcony and count your laps. Remember, it is three. It should all be over in a couple of minutes,” I gently added.

Sarah disappeared, and Clare and I relocated to the balcony. As we waited, I asked her about fucking the bottle, and she admitted that she had done something like it before, but that was all I was going to get.

There was a small noise, and Sarah suddenly appeared. She was completely naked, apart from her shoes, and looked around the corner, making sure the coast was clear. The rear garden was mostly grass, with just a couple of flower beds and a shed. There was a high hedge and trees around the edge of the lawn, and no properties overlooked it.

My blonde girlfriend darted quickly from her position, reaching the far side of the garden just as the first security light came on. It fully illuminated her, revealing every square inch of her body.

I, and especially Clare, started laughing; our hands covered our mouths, trying to stay quiet.

Sarah froze before running to the last dark part of the garden, trying to hide. But just as she got there, another security light came on. The light now illuminated the entire garden.

She squealed. There was no escaping, and we could see every detail of her naked body. Sarah just stood there; she was like a deer caught in headlights. Clare and I tried our best to contain our laughter as we watched high above, from my apartment's landing. I didn’t know about the security lights, as I had never been in the back garden either during the day or night.

Sarah ran back across the garden to where she had come. As she did so, we heard a male voice saying, “Madeline?”

The voice then asked, "Are you okay?"

There was a loud bang as my flat's front door closed, followed by footsteps on the stairs. Clare was in tears, laughing, while I tried my best to keep a straight face but failed.

Sarah walked in, clearly not amused. 

“What was our neighbour like?” I spluttered as Sarah’s deep blue eyes cut into me.

I didn’t learn.

“You haven’t finished your forfeit yet, as you have another two laps to run.”

Sarah nudged me. It was something I knew was coming, and it was deserved.

I wrapped my arms around my blonde girlfriend and cuddled her.

She melted into me and then whispered something unexpected.

“Fuck me, David, I am so turned on.”

I hadn’t realised it, but she was not the only one as my cock was prodding her.

Hand-in-hand, I led both my girlfriends into the master bedroom.

*****

Last night’s sex had been wild and maybe a little kinky. Helped by the alcohol, our threesome seemed to have no limits. Both girls appeared to spend as much time with each other as with me, and that pleased me. I felt this could be our future, and of course, I got my lesbian show.

There was no hesitation as Sarah went down on Clare and licked her pussy to a much-needed orgasm. She had done this with Ashley, but for me, this was far better as the other woman was Clare. 

The sex began with me fucking Sarah while Clare watched on. There was no lovemaking; this was raw, steamy three-way sex, Sarah, once again seemingly getting off on being watched as she rode my cock.

Later, with lots of lube, Sarah let me take her anally. Since losing her anal cherry in Crete, we have been regularly having sex this way. With my cock in her ass, she came as soon as Clare licked her folds. It did seem to me that Sarah got more pleasure from the touch of Clare’s tongue than having my cock stuck up her bum.

When it was Clare’s turn to be with me, we had anal sex for the first time together. She had promised me her ass ever since we got together; it was her thing. It was my thing too, and the girls knew it, even occasionally teasing me that I must be gay because I liked anal sex so much.

With the generous use of lube, it didn’t take long for me to realise just how much Clare enjoyed anal sex. She came and came, soaking Sarah as she tried to repeat what Clare had done to her earlier.

After showers, I drifted off to sleep, tired and content, even if I was another year older.

My dreams were of Clare and Sarah making love to each other in a lesbian sex show. As I dreamt, I felt movement in the bed, or maybe it was just in my mind. It felt so real, and I wondered if they were doing it as I slept.

It was with that thought that I awoke the sun already high, and peeping around the curtains. The two girls were asleep and spooning with each other. My dream faded as reality kicked in. I had to have another shower and ‘cook’ breakfast.

As I quietly left my bedroom, I saw the lava lamp, smiled, and then turned it on. It was my way of saying good morning to my two girls. 

*****

After Clare had gone home, a reluctant Sarah and I knocked on the downstairs front door. It was the same doorknocker that I had used nearly every day since I had moved in, yet I had never had an answer. However, today was set to be different, as we now knew that someone was living there.

It was maybe thirty seconds later when we heard someone shuffling behind the heavy front door. Sarah stood back and stepped behind me. Her action made me smile, but I also liked the idea of being her protector, and it made me feel important. I was Sarah’s James Bond.

The door opened, and in front of us was an older man, who I noticed was using a walking stick.

“Good afternoon,” we both said before I carried on. “We are your neighbours from upstairs, and we just wanted to say hello and apologise if we woke you up last night. We thought this place was empty.”

The neighbour looked at me but did not say anything until he saw Sarah, and when he did, his face lit up. It was obvious that he had just seen something he liked.

"Good afternoon," he said in a firm and slightly posh, clear voice. “I am Mr Stone, your landlord, and you are?”

“David,” I replied, “and this is Sarah, my girlfriend.”

I was somewhat thrown by the fact that the man standing in front of us was my landlord. Up until now, everything that concerned renting my flat had been done through Roger and his letting agency. I had assumed the property was an investment, and the owner lived some distance away, not beneath me.

“Come on in and let’s have a cup of tea and get to know one another a little better,” he said, before smiling and adding, “Though I have already seen quite a lot of your young lady.”

It was a remark that had me smiling and instantly liking Mr Stone, though I felt Sarah cringe behind me. I knew she was embarrassed, and when I glanced in her direction, I saw that she was blushing.

We walked through a dark hallway and into a large and very well-lit lounge. Its warmth and brightness were helped by the large glass orangery. It was a structure that I could see from my balcony as it projected out into the back garden from the lounge's rear wall. 

However, the difference in contrast between the hall and the lounge was striking, and it took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the bright, enhanced light. When they did, I was surprised at what I saw, as I was in an artist's studio and there were paintings everywhere, many only half-finished.

Sarah was equally looking around, each direction offering a new view. We were both taken aback by our surroundings. There were paintings of battleships, lighthouses, and woodland scenes, as well as quite a few semi-naked ladies. It was a room that felt like you had entered another world.

Mr Stone was looking at Sarah and me. He was smiling. His expression was that of a man who had just pulled a practical joke on us. He then told us to look around while he put the kettle on.

As Mr Stone limped away, I looked closely at him. He was slender, shorter than Sarah and me—maybe five feet seven. He had fairly short grey hair and wore thin round glasses, which sort of dominated his face. I guessed that in his youth, he had been quite handsome, and even now, he still carried a youthful, even cheeky, glint in his eye. It told me that, despite his obviously broken body, he was very much alive inside.

As for age, it was difficult to tell. His bad right leg, exaggerated limp, and stick made me think he was around seventy, yet if you took those away, he could be ten years younger.

While Mr Stone was making the tea, we could not help but be drawn to the paintings, and even an amateur like me could appreciate the quality of the work. It was excellent.

About a third of the paintings were landscapes, and many of the places I recognised were local. The other two-thirds were portraits or nudes. These paintings were what stood out. I also noticed each finished painting was signed, Stanley, then had a date after the name. The one closest to me was a lighthouse landscape, which was still on an easel. In the bottom right-hand corner, it was signed: Stanley 1987.

My mind turned to wondering how much each painting was worth when Sarah said something that caught my attention.

“The lady in this painting looks like an older version of me.”

It was a portrait of a woman who did look very much like Sarah, though, as suggested, older. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. I would have put her age in her late forties. We were standing in front of the painting when Mr Stone walked back in carrying the teapot, which he put down on the side table. I noticed the milk and tea cups were already there.

“That is a painting I did some years ago, and it is of my late wife, Madeline,” Mr Stone told us as he poured the tea.

“These portraits are excellent,” I said to Mr Stone. “How long have you been painting?” 

Mr Stone smiled at me and then indicated a small two-person red settee.

“Come and sit down,” he said, without directly answering my question. “Let’s get to know each other a little first, and I'll tell you all about my painting.”

Sarah and I sat down opposite Mr Stone, and I was surprised at just how comfortable the two-man settee was. He took what I suspected was his normal corner seat, and as he did so, his eyes kept flickering towards Sarah.

The tea was poured, and my girlfriend did most of the talking. She told us most of our history together and a little about our backgrounds. Mr Stone seemed extremely interested, though as I drifted, I did wonder if that was because he did not get many visitors.

As Sarah finished, Mr Stone asked, “Who is the other beautiful girl I saw yesterday with the unusual reddish-brown hair?”

For some reason, Sarah blushed again and went quiet, so I answered. "That was Clare; she is our close friend; you will see quite a lot of her as she visits us most weekends.” As I said that, I had the feeling that Sarah wanted to give me a nudge, but she didn’t, probably because we had company.

Mr Stone smiled. It was a warm and understanding smile. “I guess you would like to know a little about me. Now where do I start?”

“First, my name is Stanley. So please call me that, as Mr Stone is too formal and it reminds me of my ministry days.”

With that, we learnt over the next fifteen minutes and a cup of tea about Mr Stone's history.

He was sixty-three and a widower, as his wife, Madeline, had died two and a half years ago in an awful car crash. It was the same car crash that shattered Stanley’s right leg and left him walking with a stick. However, with time and another knee operation, Stanley remained hopeful that he could eventually discard the stick.

“My wife was French, and we lived in Paris for thirty-five years while I worked as a British diplomat. It was a life we loved, and oh, those parties...”

A smile crossed Stanley’s face as he remembered a joyful memory. Then his expression turned sorrowful, even forlorn. 

“However, as my parents grew old and frail, I was forced to return to England. It was a difficult time, as neither of us, but particularly Madeline, wanted to leave Paris. Perhaps if she hadn't left, she would still be with us today.”

Stanley glanced out the window. It was clear that he found it difficult to talk about his wife and that he felt some guilt over her passing.

"Eventually, I left the diplomatic service and relocated here after securing a job as an executive for the renowned entertainment company, GEL International. As you will know, their headquarters are just down the road. That is when I purchased this place.”

“I was working towards retirement when the accident, which was not our fault, happened, and with that, I felt that my life was over as I had lost the only woman I ever truly loved.”

Stanley paused again and then looked around the room.

“As for this place,” Stanley waved his hand to emphasise what he was saying. “I realised the house was too large, and as you can see, I can no longer climb stairs. So I decided to split it in two and rent out the top half.”

He then offered information I was not expecting.

“It is not that I needed the money. I am already wealthy, and anyway, I have no family to leave it to. It’s just me, my widowed sister, Maggie, and her grown son, whom I have not seen in years. She lives in Margate, and I have been staying with her while the builders were turning my house into the two flats.”

He grinned and looked at Sarah. “I know you thought this place was empty last night, but in a way, you were unlucky, while I got very lucky. If you don’t mind me saying so, you are extremely attractive, Sarah. Though last night when I saw you run past, I thought at first that I was seeing my naked wife.”

I chuckled. I didn’t mind Stanley complimenting Sarah, especially as there was a growing part of me that liked showing her off.

In response to our landlord's words, Sarah blushed again and looked down into her cup of tea, attempting to conceal her redness. However, inside, I was sure she loved being complimented. She had gotten used to it, even if this time it was partly because she looked like Stanley’s dead wife.

He continued…

"Last week, I decided to move back. My sister drove me here yesterday on her way to her son's house, as I am currently unable to drive. So, I moved in yesterday afternoon, and I rang your doorbell to introduce myself, but you were out.”

I injected, “It was my delayed birthday celebrations, twenty-three by the way.”

Mr Stone smiled before saying, “Happy birthday. Mine was last month.”

“You asked about my painting... It has been both a hobby and a passion for me. I studied art at college and again at university. Art was my second subject after politics, but it was while living in Paris that I truly developed my painting techniques. I found myself surrounded by talented artists, and with their help, I practiced and improved. As you can see, I have got to be of a reasonable standard.”

Sarah and I agreed, though we both knew he was underselling himself.

“Today I am a fairly well-known artist and can sell my canvases for several or even many thousands of pounds each; they are mainly commissions... Painting is what has kept me going the last two years, but there is something I need to ask you both.”

I looked at Sarah and held her hand, feeling that what Stanley was going to say would involve her rather than me, and I was right.

“As you see, when she was younger, Madeline looked very much like you, Sarah, and I painted her many times, mainly nude.”

Stanley pointed to a painting that hung on the wall; it was one that I had not studied yet. The image depicted a nude woman lying sensually on a rock, gazing into a pond. Her right arm reached out, her hand almost touching the water, but not quite. The lady’s face could be seen in the reflection, her beauty captured for all to see.

“I painted that one in our courtyard when we lived in Paris. It must have been over thirty years ago. We were so young and in love.”

Stanley paused. He was reflecting once again.

“However, my painting skills are so much better today, and I have been trying to recreate some of my early works. I have attempted to recreate some of my early paintings of Madeline, but I find it challenging to work solely from old photos and paintings. What I really need is a live model.”

He stopped and looked directly at Sarah.

“When I saw your naked figure last night, I instantly thought of my late wife when she was young and we had first met. It is the paintings of her I did then that I am trying to recreate.”

"So, I'd like to politely ask you, Sarah, if you'd be interested in modelling for me. It will be mostly fully nude, and some of the poses I might ask you to do will be somewhat risky, but I will pay you well and by the quarter hour.”

With that, Stanley gave Sarah the hourly rate. It made my eyes open, as it was a lot higher than the one I currently earned at work, and I thought that I was making good money.

Sarah’s hand gripped mine tight. I thought she might have been interested even without the money, but the rates Stanley was offering made it almost a certainty. She had already done nude modelling for both Brenda and me. She loved doing it but had never been paid.

I looked at her and said, “It is up to you.”

Sarah then asked about something that I had not thought of. “Stanley, if I model for you, would you also help me to speak French? I have been learning it, but I need practice.”

"Ce serait un plaisir,” Stanley replied.

I had no idea what that meant, though I noticed Sarah had smiled.

Stanley then said to me in English, “It would be a pleasure.”

With those words, Sarah agreed to model nude for Mr Stone. Her only condition was that he didn’t tell anyone. He immediately agreed, explaining that he didn't know anyone who lived here and hoped that we could become friends.

For my part, I kept silent, happy for Sarah. I had no objections. The idea of Sarah showing her sexy body off to an old man made my cock hard—something not lost on Sarah when she subtly checked. 

Not long afterwards, we left Stanley to his painting, having exchanged telephone numbers and hopefully having made a new friend. Sarah had secured a new part-time job, though we both agreed that it was not the sort of new employment that we were expecting or looking for.

We spent that Sunday evening, as usual, with our friends at Sarah's local pub, the Bat and Ball. We mixed with people there, none of whom knew about Clare and our increasingly bohemian lifestyle.

Authors Note: All characters engaged in sexual acts are 18+ ©2024 wxt55uk. This story may not be reproduced in any manner without the author’s express permission.