Transactions

Author's note: This one is difficult to categorise. I've put it in the group sex category as it is about a bisexual three-way, although the focus is on the relationship between two women. Comments are always useful so don't be shy.

*

I would later ask myself what compelled me to agree to her proposition. Was it because I liked her, or was it because the thought of someone wanting me like that made me feel attractive and desired? I still don't really know; it's a complex equation further muddied by my reluctance to admit just how much I crave sexual attachment, in an attempt to heal something much deeper.

There are things that are enigmatic, that exist just beyond our fingertips. If we attempt to make them pragmatic, they can become something other than they were originally. It is in this space that I and she exist, the space where we trade transactions and call it love.

***

"Wine?"

Her voice is deep, raspy, different to how I've heard it before. I know we're both in the same boat, excitement and trepidation; seeking reassurance that what is about to happen won't completely destroy our relationship.

"Sure. Thank you."

I flash a self-assured smile, hopefully putting her mind at ease even though mine is anything but. Looking around I notice how immaculate my surroundings are, I feel like I'm making it untidy. Clean lines, very modern, verging on clinical. They both lead me into the kitchen. As I trail behind, it provides me with an excuse to appreciate the tightness of her jeans.

She turns and catches me, knows where my gaze instinctively crept. There is something about being caught in the act which makes me feel like a small child, admonished for behaving inappropriately.

"You like looking at my bum, don't you?

My cheeks flush red; my discomfort with her bringing attention to what I want to shy away from is painfully obvious. She uses a tone that I can only describe as teacher-like; there is a constant back and forth of power exchange between us.

Although he's present, happily taking his role in the play, he's keeping his cards close to his chest, content with being an observer. When she speaks again, the change in subject is almost jarring, keeping me off balance.

Red or white?"

She's standing close to me, flirting. I can smell her perfume, want to reach out to her but I don't. He's sat himself at the counter. I can feel her presence, butterflies in my stomach making me feel sick with anticipation. She's beautiful, big brown eyes I could get lost in. Her make up is heavy, adding to her defined features.

"Red is my favourite."

"Red it is."

She picks up an already uncorked bottle and pours the liquid into a beautiful wineglass; the simplicity of the design adding to the desirability. I almost don't want to drink out of it. It sums her up, she exudes taste. As she passes me the glass, her fingers brush mine, her forwardness causing me to break eye contact.

"You're blushing... I like it when you do that."

I take a sip of my drink to try and hide from her comment, to deflect her attention. And yet, at the same time, that exposure turns me on, means she understands what her words do to me.

He stands and walks over to us, in that moment I know without anyone saying anything that we are about to cross a boundary that cannot be uncrossed. He has yet to speak, which adds to the kinkiness of what is going on, he's just been quietly watching his wife seduce me.

"You make me feel shy... you both do."

I put my glass down and watch him walk up behind her, not failing to notice the bulge in his trousers. He puts his hands on her waist and kisses her neck, her hair tied up in a ponytail. I've noticed his hands before; they look like he doesn't work a desk job. She turns and kisses him, I watch their tongues dance together, desperately wanting to know more than anything what she tastes like. He moves his hands to her bum, squeezing, making me jealous that it's not me touching her there.

Watching them together makes my stomach tighten, it's erotic. I'm a voyeur and a participant all at the same time. It's turning me on, watching their arousal, which is in part due to me, because of me.

"Kiss her."

His voice is deep and commanding. I can hear the lust. The way he makes me feel is complicated, I want to be in charge. I'm in his house and I need his permission to kiss his wife. I am competing with him, competing for her attention. I don't want to do it just because he says I can. I want to take without asking.

I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her, enjoying how she feels. She smiles, starts kissing me, gently at first, some apprehension even though she appears in charge of herself. I feel dominant, needy; I open my mouth, inviting her in. She tastes like wine, deep and complex. I move my right hand to the back of her neck, enjoying how soft her skin feels. As I kiss her more insistently, I feel his presence next to me, even though my eyes are closed.

She lets out a sigh into my mouth. It gets me off that I'm the one who caused it, not him. I know we've only flirted with each other up until this point, but in the back of my mind we were always going to end up here, that's just how it goes when you meet someone who gets what was missing for you. I move my hand around to grip her throat, feel the change in her body as I do, head tilting back, submitting. It means all the more that he's watching.

My earlier submissiveness has switched. I want to hurt her, possess her, knowing for certain that there is an intimate, unbreakable bond between us, just for that moment. I want to feel everything there is to feel as fully as I can.

He's standing behind me. I push my hips against him, enjoying how hard he is. It's been a long time since I've felt that uncompromising symbol of male dominance. It makes me kiss her aggressively. I start unbuttoning her shirt so it gapes open, exposing her stomach. My hands move inside, up her back, nails scratching her skin. I want to see the red marks on her later, know where I've been.

I become aware of my jeans being unbuttoned, his fingers moving to undo the zip. I hate myself for how much my body wants him. He pulls them down, along with my underwear, leaving me exposed. I've broken my kiss with her so I can push her shirt off her shoulders, enjoying how slutty her bra is, red seems to be a theme. I know she's looking between my legs, seeing how wet I am, watching his fingers making contact with my clit, sending jolts through me.

He's rough, not like a woman would be, clumsier and yet more insistent. She reaches out and places her fingers on top of his, guiding him, causing me to lean back against his chest, enjoying being touched by two people who haven't touched anyone else for a very long time. I feel like they are taking me into their confidence, sharing a part of them which is usually kept away from outsiders.

I want his cock, I want to watch her go down on him and I want to go down on her. He shakes me from my reverie by turning me around and bending me over the worktop, yanking down my jeans so they are just above my knees.

"What do you reckon, Charlotte? Shall I give her what she wants?"

As I hear him unzip his fly, I suddenly feel very vulnerable. It's her that comes up behind me; reassuring me. I can feel the material of her trousers against my bare skin, irrationally worried that they will be soiled by me.

"What do you want, darling?"

"You. Please."

She plunges her fingers inside me, making me grunt from the suddenness of it. Two, then three, she meets little resistance as she finds the ridged spot that drives me crazy. I want more, need more to work on. I know he is watching, watching his wife finger me and its making me feel very dirty.

I can see him off to my right; he's taken his clothes off, dick standing to attention; the size of it intimidating me. His arms are built, a hint of muscle on his stomach. I want to run my tongue over his dark skin, to taste him. He could pick me up and do whatever he wanted with me and I wouldn't be able to stop him. There's something very appealing in that thought, and at the same time very repulsive.

And then I realise she's watching me watch him, that smile dancing on her lips.

"I thought you were gay, Izzy? Doesn't feel like you are, you're soaking wet."

"You're the one fucking me; want to see more of you."

She pulls out and starts undressing, tells me to do the same. I can't take my eyes off her, her body is amazing. She looks good in clothes, but I hadn't realised just how gorgeous I'd find her. She isn't thin; instead she has shape where there should be shape, individual to her. I want her thighs wrapped around my face. I lift her onto the counter, spreading her legs wide as I move between them.

"I'm not going to ask, I'm just going to take. Like you do to me."

Kissing her is addictive, I never want to stop. I imagine this is what injecting heroin is like, that rush of absolute euphoria, pupils dilating. I pull her hips towards me, feeling her wetness smearing against my skin.

"I want to fuck you Charlie, while your husband watches. Does that get you off?"

She nods, looking slightly ashamed. I turn to him, beckoning him over. I push her gently, so she's on her back, legs still over the edge of the counter. She's so very wet. I hook her legs over my shoulders, running my tongue along her cunt, enjoying how mature and unashamedly female she tastes. I want to bury my face in her, coating myself in her wetness.

I feel him against me, threatening entry. I'm desperate for him. I know he's discretely put on a condom, its bringing back memories of the last time I did this. He's big, stretches me, feels uncomfortable at first but then feels oh so very good. I'm teasing her, trying to focus on what my tongue is doing, trying to remember to breathe. I know she's watching us, looking down her body at her husband fucking me while I lick her out. They've let me into their love for each other; I can see it in her eyes.

"I want to watch you fuck her arse, Tom."

Hearing her say that makes me grunt into her, my fingers already teasing around her arsehole. He pulls out, leaving me feeling empty. I hear him spit into his hand; know he's coating his already lubricated sheathed cock just a little more, out of courtesy to me.

"She loving it; I didn't know you were such a whore, Izzy."

"Fuck you."

"I think it's the other way around."

She's close; I can feel the tremors rippling through her body. As he enters me, I look up into her eyes, my body being forced forward by his thrusts. She's flushed, as no doubt am I. It's like she's the one fucking me, not him. She told him to do it, she knew how it'd make me feel and she did it anyway. She's using him to get me off and I like her even more for doing so.

I stop teasing and give her exactly what she wants, maintaining a rhythm she seems to like. She reaches down and grips my face between her hands as I watch her stomach tensing. She's loud, louder than I expected her to be. I refuse to let her pull away, making her ride it out for as long as possible.

Watching her cum triggers my own orgasm. Its building somewhere deep inside me, feels different because he's in my arse, and because of the situation we're in. He has to support me, my legs nearly giving out underneath me as I buck against him.

As it subsides, all I want to do is kiss her, move up her body and find her lips so she can taste where I've been, to share the intimacy all three of us have created. Before I can stop it, the question escapes my lips.

"Can we do this again?"