A Girl's First FFM Threesome

"There's one thing about Tom," she said. "He has impeccable taste. You really are something special, Lauren. So tall too - here let me get you a drink." She turned and walked over to a cabinet while still talking, "Vodka okay? Ice? Mixer?"

"Do you have orange juice, please?" I said, though I did not really want to drink anymore. I had to be fully conscious for sex. It was very hard for me to orgasm if I was pissed. She went off to fetch ice and I stood wondering where Tom had got to.

The sound of her heels on the parquet flooring and she was back. Then ice clinking in a glass.

"It's so long since we brought anyone home - we haven't since before I had Jake," she said, coming over and handing me my drink.

"Your son?"

"Yes, he's two now."

I didn't know what to say. I wasn't exactly maternal back then. I think I must have just smiled sweetly.

She went on, "I never thought I'd be a mum . . ." As she was about to continue, she gleamed my lack of interest and her entire demeanour changed. "I'm sorry, Lauren, I'm boring you." She reached out and allowed her finger tips to slide down my cheek to my neck while saying. "I'm so glad you decided to take a chance on us, sweetheart. You're a brave girl. I could never have been doing what you are when I was your age."

"Did you often bring girls back here before you had your son?" I asked, immediately unable to believe I'd blurted out such an inane line. I felt my chest begin to flush and prickle.

"Oh, god, no. A girl on her own is rarer than hens teeth - that's what make tonight so special. No, usually we entertained couples - and once a gorgeous young man - but he was an exceptional specimen."

"I think Tom is exceptional," I said

"Isn't he just," she said, the ennui I'd seen earlier at the party tainting her words .

We seemed to be inching slowly towards each other as we spoke. Her body heat was now tangible, the all pervading effusion of her fragrance cloying. Breathing her in I felt impelled me to do what I did next.

I moved closer, pressing my meagre breast against her more substantial ones, my own becoming totally overshadowed by her bounteousness, making me feel almost boyish, lacking in that most basic of feminine attributes. But I did not let my sense of inadequacy stop me. I reached down to her side and took the hand I found there and slowly guided it between my legs.

And I still cant believe I actually did that. Lauren! How outrageous were you that night.

On first contact with my moistness her fingers hesitated. I wondered if finding me minus my undies came as a shock. Her momentum certainly stalled.

Then, matter-of-factly she said: "He's he fucked you already, hasn't he?"

It took me a moment to realise what she meant. Oh! Of course not - that's just me. He excites me so much," I said.

"Are you still excited?" she asked, while two fingers began to make themselves at home between my legs.

"Very!" I said with a sharp exclamation when she immediately found the spot that only a woman could have located so quickly, and with such marksman like precision.

"Do you always shave," she said.

"My last boyfriend once asked me to . . . I have ever since."

I no longer had a boyfriend but did I believe men now expected a shaven pussy. It was all that porn they watched. Gave them unrealistic expectations.

I could hear her breathing, sensed the rise and full of her breasts like boats at rest just off shore in a gently swell. Her eyes looked directly into mine, unflinching. "Is this right for you," she asked.

"You know it is." My breath now began to race hers.

Her mouth went to my neck and her extended tongue made a long smooth pass from my throat up and over my chin, breaking off at the corner of my mouth and coming to a halt before meeting the fullness of my lips.

"Your flesh is so fragrant and smooth, sweetheart. You taste absolutely delicious."

I sensed within her a rumble of sexual magna ready to erupt. But then she took my glass from my hand and, along with her own, which she drained, she placed them on a nearby occasional table.

"Now, where were we?" she said when she turned to face me again.

We stood once more with our breasts pressing together and she repeated the previous manoeuvre with her tongue, moistened it left in its wake a glaze of moistness on my neck as it journeyed to my lips. But this time she did not break off when she reached my mouth. No, this time our her lips covered mine. And oh how her tongue went-a courting, an oral waltz that went round and round inside my mouth.

I'd exchanged drunken kisses with girls once or twice before, usually in in clubs in the small hours of the morning. Nothing ever came of those kisses. Ships that pass in the night, as they say.

Kissing Mandy, compared to those anonymous girls in clubs was the difference between pot noodle and the finest gourmet meal. She held me to her so tightly, one palm between my shoulders and the other flat in the small of my back, drawing me full against her wonderful, cushioning breasts. I stretched my arms about her and rested both my hands low on her waist in the place where her buttocks began, where her flesh became ample. She was so womanly, so abundant in curves, heavy laden with feminine appeal. Her tongue curled and slid around my lips, deep in my mouth, hustling my own tongue into giving its all. Her lips with gloss were sumptuous and sticky. Our saliva was copious. I had to swallow continually.

Just then Tom returned. During our kiss I'd just about forgotten all about him, his return almost a surprise. I disengaged myself from Mandy and turned to watch his entrance. He had taken off his jacket and bow-tie, rolled up his sleeves, and was heading for the drinks cabinet. For some reason I felt I had been caught out doing something forbidden, that a guilty secret had been exposed.

"Don't mind me" he said, hardly paying us any attention, pouring himself a scotch.

Mandy and I now stood side by side. She had her arm around my waist, pulling me to her so our hips touched. She said to Tom, "Lauren and I were just getting acquainted, darling."

"So I can see," he said. "Half your lipstick is now on Lauren's lips." Then looking directly at me he asked, "And what do you think of my Mandy, Lauren?"

I found myself strangely lost for words. Even though I thought Mandy absolutely gorgeous, had loved kissing her and being in her arms, for me to actually say I found her sexy, and that I wanted more of her - well, it was inexplicably hard to say out aloud.

"Don't embarrass her, Tom. Can't you see this is all new to her," Mandy said.

Next thing I knew I was in her arms again and looking into her eyes and telling her I thought she was beautiful. Then we were kissing and I felt myself growing limp and breathless like some silly heroine in an old romantic novel. Her softness pressing against me took my breath away, both through seer excitement and also because of the physical manner in which she embraced me. Her arms about me drew me so close that I felt as if I were melting into her.

Tom was behind me, unzipping my dress and sliding it from my shoulders. Mandy stepped back to allow it to fall to the ground. It was soon followed by my bras.

On seeing my exposed breasts a beam of delight lit up her face. She reached out and drew the backs of her knuckles gently down my chest until they passed over my nipples, where she flipped over her hands and placed her warm palms there, covering both my breasts completely.

"Oh, sweetheart, you are adorably lacking. Divine." She said,

She tried to lift them appraisingly but there was very little for her hands to support. My nipples grew hard, becoming pert and eager, plucky little fellahs determined not to let the side down. She stooped a little and took each one between her lips in turn, leaving behind a lipstick smear like some gaudy ring of Saturn. I gasped out loud as she nipped and sucked. Behind me, Tom gathered my newly released hair into a ponytail and held it to one side so he could kiss and my neck, gently biting with gentle hungry snaps.

Synchronised, their mouths began a slow descent of my body, she to my front and he behind. Softly over my belly her lips travelled, while across the expanse of my back, Tom's mouth savoured me inch by inch.

When Mandy's lips arrived at the topmost point of my slit, I looked down and saw her wide, dark eyes looking up and back at me while her tongue found its niche and did what only tongues can do. She was on he knees now, though still fully clothed. Her palms stroked the backs of my thighs, up and down, as she lapped my cunt like a happy pet.

When Tom reached my buttocks he kissed each cheek in turn, then his tongue licked along the entire length of the fissure in sloppy-slow sweeps. At first I was afraid he might try to part my cheeks and send his tongue delving in search of that one spot rarely visited. For a moment I thought, do I really want that.

Oh, Lauren, what the hell.

I remember thinking: So this is what it is like to be ravished. Not just ravished, but ravished by a sensationally good looking married couple. Yes, it's happening. My cunt was humming like flying saucer, and something electro-magnetic sparked in my every nerve. It was fiesta time inside Lauren and every ganglia and their synapses had joined the celebrations.

That second orgasm frightened me. It just went on and on. My body jerked and twisted and they had to support me where I stood, even as they continued to please me. While I shivered and gasped he remained kneeling behind me, his tongue skimming lightly between my buttock cheeks. Mandy on her knees, still fully dressed, flickering her tongue all about my cunt, her arms stretching high for my nipples. She and he gave and gave. I was overwhelmed by their opulent attention.

And when it happened, when those the thunderheads of orgasms rolled over the expectant landscape of my body, I cried out loud. I'm not usually an "Oh-my-god" kind of girl - but oh-my fucking-god! The sounds I made were just that: sounds. Even to my own ears they were the cries of an animal in distress. They certainly weren't the of moans of pleasure a nice girl like me usually makes when in the midst of making love.

Afterwards they eased me onto the sofa where Mandy sat beside me and gently stoked my hair.

"Sorry if things became a little . . . Impromptu," she said, "We just couldn't help ourselves - really we couldn't, sweetheart. That's how gorgeous you are. But I suppose you know that already, don't you, princess." Then she stooped and began to remove my white boots. "Here, let me take these off." she said. "Much better. Your legs are really stunning. So long. So smooth." She caressed my calves, then gently up over my thighs, back down again.

"We should go upstairs," Tom said.

"Would you like that, sweetheart? To spend the night with me and Tom" she asked gently - though there was no need. As a woman she would know how much I now needed Tom's cock inside me.

"You take her up to the guest room, Tom, while I take a peep at Jake. I want to make sure he's sound asleep."

And with that she left the room. Tom came to me and reached out with both arms. I took each hand and he pulled me up on my feet, my bare soles sticky on the parquet.

We were alone again and I remembered how much I fancied him.

"You okay?" he asked.

"This is all so intense," I said

"We like to look after our guests, make them welcome."

And with that he suddenly lifted me up and into his arms in one swift action. I became like a sleepy child cradled in his arms. He carried me from the lounge and through to the hall and up their wide, elegant staircase. The ease with which he did this astonished me, his core strength more than even his muscular body suggested. I thought of a male dancer and the ease with which he might lift a prima ballerina. I hadn't been carried in such a way since by my father all those years ago. It felt familiar, so nice, as if I no longer had to worry about anything. I rested my head against his shoulder and breathed in the newly washed fragrance of his crisp, white dress-shirt, mixing with fading after-shave; and beneath those, his own bodily aroma. I closed my eyes and became content. I wanted to stay with him in this house for ever.

The bedroom was large and had a double bed loaded with elaborately decorated cushions, and a sumptuous quilt that chilled my backside when Tom placed me gently down.

I watched him undress. His shirt removed and then his trousers, which he folded neatly and placed on the flat on the bare dresser. After those, his boxers gone, to reveal a cock already primed. It had a such bulk and weight, and pointed forward as he walked towards me, swinging densely from side to side with each step. I lay back on the bed anticipating his arrival, parting my legs for him. Even though the two orgasms I had previously enjoyed had been wonderful, what approached me now was what in my heart of hearts I had craved throughout the evening.

He lay on the bed beside me and I turned to him and we kissed again. My hand went to his cock to cherish its bulk, Then I kissed my way down his abdomen, the his muscles beneath a veneer of skin all rippled like drying sand on a beach left ridged by a gently retreating tide. When I was where I intended, I greedily stuffed all him into my mouth - at least, as much as I could accommodate. Oh god, the taste of him. That first time his flesh filled my mouth was something special. Then I caressed his balls while my lips slid from off him to allow my tongue to circle the exposed, raw tip. Then I traced a wet line with my tongue back down the length of the underside of him and back again. Repeat.

But he eased me away from his cock, saying, "God, Lauren. I'd rather cum in your cunt . . ."

I lay on my back, widened my legs and raised my knees. I wanted him to see me clearly, see my cunt in all its shaved glory. I love men to look at my cunt. It gives me sensual thrill of conceit to see what an enchantment something so commonplace, yet seldom seen, can cast on a man. How often a new lover has gaped at my cunt as if it held the secret of all secrets. And when they had seen enough of that spot, which obsesses men so much, I like to watch their faces as they lower themselves onto me with expression determined not to disappoint, their resolve not humiliate themselves.

Tom was no different. He kneeled on the bed, cock straining. For a moment he also just stared. "I love shaved pussy," he said before taking his own cock in his hand and directing it between my legs. I was so glad I did not have to guide him, so glad he did not fumble at the crucial point. So many men do, you know. And for me it's a complete downer when that happens. Swollen tips fudging between my buttocks, pushing uselessly against my perineum. Clumsiness: a passion killer.

Only seconds after he had eased into me, Mandy entered the room and came and sat at the edge of the bed, next to my head. She sat mesmerised for a moment by the rise and fall of her husband's buttocks as he began to find his pace. Then she turned and studied my face, scrutinising my expressions as if they would tell of some secret soon to be revealed. I held her eyes with mine, even as the mass of Tom's cock made me want to gasp and grit my teeth. I wrapped my legs about him and drew my knees way back, cradled his head in my hands, and while I did so Mandy stroked my hair and spoke to me gently.

"Sweetheart, please tell me how he makes you feel . . . How much his cock fills you. Is he enough for you, Lauren? Is he everything you thought he would be?"

Her tone was low and sultry, over- laden with husky arousal. Seeing me beneath her husband was exciting her. Her fingers stroked my face, parted my lips and rubbed my gums, probing deep into my mouth, her nails hard against teeth.

If someone had told me one day I would be having sex with a man like Tom while his wife sat by my side talking to me, asking me how I found her husband - asking me like any other person might ask if the wine they had served up at a dinner party was acceptable - well, I would have said they had a twisted imagination and that I would never dream of doing such a thing.

But I was excused the need to answer her questions when her lips covered mine and her tongue paid a return visit to my lonely mouth. And so she kissed me with deep sensuous care while her husband, with arms as Doric Columns raising him above our kissing heads, relentlessly fucked me in carefully metered thrusts. My palms left Tom and enfolded Mandy's cheeks, holding her head in place, not wanting her to abandon me.

Tom had that knack that too few men have learned; that of grinding his pubic bone against mine when he was at the deepest point of his thrusts. Rarely do I cum from being just fucked. It is only if a man realises the source of a girl's pleasure is there a possibility of that.

I can't say for sure he would have managed to bring me to orgasm on his own, because it was at this point that Mandy lent a hand; literally lent a hand. Her palm slid over my belly and, in a apt moment between Tom's rise and fall, guided it down to my clit. His thrusting would press her hand against me when he descended, and as he rose it would be released again.

My orgasm arrived when his cock was deepest. I raised my hips and drew him tight to me by pressing my ankles into the small of his back, imagining I could force him deeper, but there was now no deeper for him to go. And all the time I held Mandy's head firmly between my palms, forcing her to maintain our kiss even as my head twisted one way then another, bodily control long abandoned in the mind-altering bliss of my orgasm.

Both of us drenched in sweat, he remained fully on top of me while his cock softened inside me, his elbow easing his weight. I looked at Mandy and was amazed to see she was still fully clothed. All the time I was being fucked by Tom I was aware only of her face as we kissed.

She stood and went to the dresser and removed her pearl necklace and earrings. She came to the foot of the bed, looked at me while saying, "Now it's time for Mandy to have all the attention. Be a real sweetheart, Lauren. Come and help me with the my dress."

I went to her quickly, stood behind her and unfastened the zipper. I had to peel the dress from her body, it clung in all the right places and in others not intended. When she was free, I stood up but left her dress on the floor. She seemed irritated that I had neglected to pick it up, gracefully stooped and retrieved it herself. She walked away with the dress and carefully draped it over the back of an occasional chair, one of three that were in the room.

I watched her return and noticed for the first time that she wore flesh coloured nylon-stockings supported by short suspenders dangling from a black panty-girdle. Her legs were long and sturdy, her flesh showing tanned where her stockings failed to cover at the top.

Her bras was front fastening and she had to squeeze her breast together to undo it, in so doing she emphasised her cleavage. Then in a simple kata of two movements it was gone and all her prodigious flesh was free. I already knew their substance but now saw how amazingly firm they were. I wondered if she'd had work done but they looked so natural. I'd imagined women of her age as beginning to lose the firmness a young woman is blessed with. And later in our friendship she did confess to having a surgeon, her breasts not the only work he had performed. Her surgeon was gifted.

She pressed those wondrous naked breasts against me and held me to her and I became overwhelmed by her curvaceous embrace. The softness of naked breasts against me was something I'd never experienced. I thought the moment magical, the way she enfolded me was all-consuming. Once again I breathed her in and her fragrance reassured me, made me feel, in some strange way as if I had come home. She had taken me under her wing. I felt mothered.