It was yet another of the group’s usual parties. Twenty or so couples, mostly aged mid-to-late thirties.

Too much booze, too much cleavage, too many wankers (stockbrokers, merchant bankers, lawyers).

Too much chat about hedge funds, Ferraris, expensive holidays, and golf.

Declan was an academic. He lectured in modern European literature at the university. His flighty wife Prue, a high-powered financial journalist, had disappeared to play with some stud with whom she had paired up quite early in the evening.

Declan wasn’t fussed. He knew that Prue would be primed for a proper fuck when they got home, much later. Meanwhile, he should be able to find himself a bit of reasonable quality tit and maybe cunt, preferably someone who didn’t want to just talk about mercenary topics.

Across the room, he could see that his feisty friend Bec was chatting intensely with the lovely Bridget. Bridget was dark-haired, tanned, and slightly above medium height. Her tits looked to be more than slightly above medium size. Declan had only chatted with her very briefly at one previous gathering, but had found her to be an excellent and witty conversationalist, as well as being very easy on the eye.

Unbeknown to Declan, life at home was far from satisfactory for Bridget.

Bec, never one for polite preliminaries, topped up Bridget’s glass, and asked, “Are you loving your hunky husband’s huge cock?”

Bridget had been married for eighteen months to Gerry, good-looking, wealthy, tall, and known to be extremely well-hung.

“What’s the use of eight and a half inches when it is used like a crosscut saw?” snarled the usually affable Bridget.

“Oh, not a considerate lover, then?” replied Bec.

“Totally boring,” said Bridget.

“Missionary every time. I’m going to borrow the nickname of the philandering ex French Premier Jacques Chirac,” added Bridget. “He was known as Mr. Three Minutes, including the shower.”

Bec guffawed, choking on her Riesling.

“He won’t consider giving me any oral,” added Bridget, angrily.

Bec understood that this would be an enormous deprivation for her long-standing friend, who had been an avid cunnilingus aficionado back in the day. She recalled the lovely evening in Berlin, ten years ago, when the two German studs she and Bridget had picked up at the nightclub went to town with their tongues.

Bridget had produced extraordinary shrieks as Manfred had adeptly tongued her clit and her cunt. Then she just sobbed when Jurgen gave her seconds. As she settled after two extraordinary climaxes, Bridget reciprocated by giving Jurgen a sensational blow job. Bec and Manfred had greatly enjoyed watching as they fucked, gently at first, though Bec had soon demanded harder and deeper thrusts from Manfred’s gigantic uncut cock.

Bridget continued her lament. “Six weeks ago was the last time I was tongued. I went the pub with my slutty friend Lexie for some cougaring. I picked up a gorgeous young footballer. He tried hard, but his clit-licking was mediocre, and at times painful. At least we finished off with a passably frenetic fuck.”

Bec replied with appropriately sympathetic comments, and then briefly whispered something to Bridget, glancing across the room at Declan.

Bec then nodded to Bridget, and sashayed over to Declan.

Bec was short and blonde. Her full, prominent lips somehow hinted, correctly, at a very hearty libido. During their brief, intense relationship when they were post-graduate students, Declan had loved experiencing those luscious lips around the end of his cock. After going their separate ways they had somehow found a way to remain great mates.

“Hi gorgeous,” said Bec. “I see your tarty wife has fucked off with that tall blond wanker of a broker. Never mind, the lovely Bridget desperately needs some company.”

Bec proceeded to describe to Declan in considerable detail the inadequacy of Bridget’s marital love-life. “I’ve explained to Bridget that when we dated, I found that you were particularly adept in Mouth-to-South manoeuvres,” said Bec, smirking as she recalled how skilful Declan had been when he had given her genitals a workout with his lips and tongue.

“I suggest you take that expensive bottle of Chardonnay over to Bridget, and top up her glass, for starters. I wouldn’t try to disguise that increasingly prominent bulge in your trousers. Oh, and I’ve organised for that apartment at the bottom of the garden to be unlocked, with fresh sheets on the bed.”

Bec gave Declan’s firm cock a discreet, affectionate rub through his trousers as she moved away to chat to lovely big Jamal. Jamal was an accomplished Project Engineer, renowned for his rapacious sexual capacity, and substantial anatomy.

Declan followed Bec’s advice and wandered across the room, bottle of white wine in hand. As he topped up Bridget’s glass, they easily fell into a lovely, relaxed conversation.

Bridget was vice-principal at a prominent senior high school. Her subject was English literature, and she loved to read for leisure. She particularly enjoyed D.H.Lawrence’s work. Declan was an expert on his books and poetry, so they discussed that subject at length.

“It’s wonderful the way that Lawrence advocates ‘tender-hearted fucking’,” said Declan gently, his gaze flicking between Bridget’s eyes, and her wonderful deep cleavage, engendering a sudden gush between Bridget’s legs.

“At seventeen, I languidly masturbated my way through Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” said Bridget casually, gazing at Declan’s bulge. “Reading that book greatly advanced my appreciation of my easily aroused clit,” she added, as she asked Declan for more wine.

They re-filled their glasses, and wandered outside to a dark corner of the garden, where they found a bench seat. Just off the patio they glimpsed Bec and Jamal locked in a passionate embrace. Bec’s top was down, revealing her lovely smallish perky tits. Jamal was fondling her erect left nipple. Bec’s hand was down the front of Jamal’s jeans.

“Yet again, my libidinous friend exhibits her penchant for BBC,” observed Bridget, as she and Declan resumed their chat. “She has always been so insatiable. But enough about Bec. Please tell me more about Lawrence.”

Declan slipped an arm around Bridget’s shoulders and toyed with her thin strap.

“Well, there’s no doubt that he loved to write about tits,” said Declan.

“For example, in ‘Sun’ Juliet’s breasts were ‘Like long white grapes in the hot sun.’

“Then in ‘Song of a Man Who is Loved’ we have ‘Between her breasts is his home, between her breasts’.

“In the poem ‘Sickness’ there’s : ‘Catch my hand between your breasts’

“You just know how to make a girl want to show you her tits, you cunning bastard,” smirked Bridget, as she hooked her thumbs under her straps and slipped her top down.

Her breasts were a lovely bell-shape; narrower at the top, full and heavy at the bottom - Declan’s favourite kind. Her dark nipples were beautifully erect. Bridget moaned as Declan squeezed them, gently initially, but then more assertively.

Declan leaned forward, and in turn kissed each of Bridget’s engorged, aroused nipples. She responded by reaching inside his trousers and grasping his rigid cock.

She tugged the shaft briefly and then moved to his knob. She murmured appreciatively at his pre-cum, and made him moan as she smeared it around his knob and along his shaft.

Declan steadily increased the intensity with which he kissed and licked and gently bit Bridget’s hopelessly engorged nipples. “Oh fuck,” Bridget said. “I’ll go crazy if you are that good at licking my cunt. Let’s go and find that fucking apartment.”

Bridget left her top down as they wandered through the garden to the apartment, drawing appreciative and envious stares respectively from various straying males and females groping and tugging in the shadows.

The apartment’s bedroom was warm. Beside the bed was an ice-bucket with another bottle of quality white wine.

Declan poured them each a glass as he watched Bridget unhesitatingly remove her shoes, stockings, dress and G-string. Declan was pleased that she hadn’t shaved- it was becoming a minority view, but he loved the natural appearance of her very thick jet-black bush. The copious amounts of Bridget’s juices soaking into her pubic hair and staining the tops of her thighs was an extraordinarily arousing sight.

Bridget lay back on the bed, two pillows under her bum, gorgeous long legs invitingly spreadeagled, as she watched Declan disrobe. His torso and arms were moderately but not grotesquely muscled. He slipped his pre-cum stained jocks off to reveal his beautiful cock, totally erect, mushroom knobbed, not huge, but very adequate.

From her marital experience, Bridget knew well that size alone was an unimportant parameter. She was so totally horny from Declan’s subtle erotic conversation, and wonderful nipple work that she was totally disinterested in his dimensions. She just loved Declan’s cock because it was part of him.

Bridget took a sip of her wine, locked eyes with Declan, and said, “I seem to recall that our man Lawrence liked to write about his ladies’, er, bits.”

“Let me quote from Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Chapter Twelve,” said Declan, lowering his gaze to the exceedingly moist region between Bridget’s legs.

Declan continued to stare longingly at Bridget’s hyper-aroused pussy as he recounted the words of the gamekeeper to Lady Chatterley.

“Th’art good cunt, though, aren’t ter? Best bit o’ cunt left on earth”.

Bridget sobbed, overwhelmed at the contrast between Declan’s subtle, sophisticated, erotic, loving approach with her husband’s crass technique.

Declan lowered his lips to Bridget’s aroused, distended clit, and kissed and sucked it tenderly. Then he pushed the tip of his tongue into her needy slit. He pushed his tongue in and out firmly a few times.

“Oh, I love your tongue pushing my lips apart, and pushing deeper into my cunt,” groaned Bridget.

Sensing that Bridget was close to climaxing, Declan withdrew his tongue, making her groan with a mix of frustration and ecstasy.

Next, Declan took Bridget through a cycle. First, light clit-licking with the tip of the tongue. Then, firm pressure with the flat of the tongue on the labia, both sides, long strokes, going the full length.. They were like warm, wet silk. And then tongue-thrusting, decisively into the vagina; fucking with a tongue instead of a cock. He repeated the cycle over and over, backing off whenever Bridget neared orgasm.

Bridget was overwhelmed. She whimpered, and screamed, and gushed cunt-juice. Declan loved her taste. He looked forward to kissing Prue when they went home, and experiencing her reaction when she tasted Bridget’s dried juices on his lips and tongue.

Bridget was on tenterhooks, expecting that Declan would become sick of all this oral stuff, and would need to switch to fucking.

However, Declan’s intention was to drive Bridget over the brink with pure cunnilingus. Between licking and sucking he murmured phrases praising the appearance and taste of her genitals, sometimes gentle comments, sometimes vulgar ones. The contrast drove Bridget wild. She begged for him to let her cum.

So eventually it was time. After another round of clit and labial tongue work, Declan went to town with the third phase of the cycle, with one embellishment.

As well as thrusting his tongue forcefully to and fro in Bridget’s luscious cunt, he gently inserted a finger, generously lubricated with Bridget’s juices, into her arse. At first it was just the finger-tip, but then he inserted the whole length of the finger. He slid it in and out in phase with his skilled tongue movements.

A few minutes of this sent Bridget totally out of control. She shrieked and screamed as her pelvic muscles contracted uncontrollably – it was a prolonged orgasm of unmatched intensity.

Declan gradually slowed his anal thrusting, and withdrew his finger. He also eased his tongue out of Bridget’s sodden cunt. He moved up the bed, and slipped his tongue into Bridget’s mouth as they kissed. She loved tasting her own juices on her new lover’s lips and tongue.

Bridget dropped a hand to Declan’s cock, and despite her post-climax state, was immediately aroused by its hardness. She lowered her experienced mouth to Declan’s groin, and delicately licked and sucked his lovely knob and shaft.

The cunnilingus had been great, but Bridget clearly needed some cock for dessert.

Declan went to mount her, but Bridget pushed him away.

“No, darling. Missionary is all I ever get at home. I want to sit on your beautiful cock,” she said, as she straddled him, dangling her wonderful tits in his face.

She went to town, vigorously moving up and down on Declan’s excited dick, tits bouncing beautifully, while Declan craftily pulled away at her nipples .

There was a tap at the door. Without waiting for an answer, in waltzed Bec, still topless. Her lovely, pert tits were covered with bruises and bite marks. Clearly, big Jamal had given them a harsh working over.

“Just popping in to check on progress. It looks as though all is going reasonably well,” chuckled Bec. “So much so that I really am going to have to join in, if only for old times’ sake.”

Bec peeled off her lower garments. Her recently dried juices were obvious at the tops of her thighs. Unlike Bridget, she had partially shaved, leaving just a trim blonde landing-strip.

Declan expressed surprise. “Bec darling, when we were dating you were always so proud of your lovely thick bush.”

“Actually, I shaved especially for last weekend,” replied Bec. “I went out cougaring. These days so many of the young studs I pick up prefer at the most a landing-strip. Don’t worry Declan, you’ll still enjoy the taste.”

Without further ado, Bec climbed onto the bed, and straddled Declan’s face, lowering her dripping pussy for him to lick. She was facing Bridget, who was maintaining a good pace, thrusting up-and-down on Declan’s aroused rigid cock.

Bec reached over and grasped each of Bridget’s beautifully engorged, protruding nipples. She squeezed and pulled them with great skill.

“Bridg, this replicates the scenario in Milan a decade ago with that stud Lucio. I recall sitting on his face, playing with your tits while you went berserk riding his gigantic Italian cock. Did I tell you that I went around to his apartment by myself the next day. He gave me the best anal fuck I’ve ever experienced.”

“No, you didn’t tell me, you slut,” pouted Bridget, feigning jealousy. “Nothing you got up to on that horny European jaunt would surprise me, though. But back to the present. Does she taste familiar, Declan?”

Declan took a break from licking Bec’s taut clit and juicy cunt to reply.

“Yes Bridget. She tastes lovely – it is just as I remember her taste to have been all those years ago.”

“Well, no,” said Bec slowly. “What you are tasting now has an additive, namely Jamal’s load. You are tasting my juices, plus Jamal’s recent wonderful ejaculate.”

Declan was delighted. “That’s a first,” he cried. “I have never previously tasted a lovely slutty wench’s cunt-juice peppered with BBC cum”.

“Well, no, said Bec, slowly again.

“Remember, back in the day, just before we broke up, there was a wild party at your share house. When we went to bed that night, it was the last time I sat on your face.”

“Oh yes, I do remember. You were quite insatiable,” replied Declan, as Bridget continued to slide up and down on his rigid cock.

“Well,” continued Bec, “A little earlier I had slipped away for a brief play with your lovely Nigerian housemate Devon. His gorgeous cock was even longer and thicker than Jamal’s.

“So when you licked my pussy that night, I’m afraid it was another instance of tasting cunt-juice mixed with BBC cum.”

This was too much. Declan grunted and shouted a range of obscenities and expletives as he climaxed uncontrollably.

Equally aroused by Bec’s account of her filthy young exploits, Bridget had another shrieking orgasm, and Bec rapidly followed suit.

Sated, they companionably quaffed the rest of the wine, and agreed unanimously that it should not be too long until the three of them again shared a bed.