Journal Of A Timid Temptress (4 page)

Before I became utterly frustrated, the bed shifted as Philippe sat on one side and Linds on the other. I identified which was which by scent and sounds. Philippe had on his now-familiar woodsy aftershave, while Linds wore some kind of musky perfume, heavy and extremely sensual. The rhythm of their breathing was different, too, as were the small sounds everyone makes without realizing it.

Surely more than four hands then began to touch me, to caress, pinch, poke, stroke, tickle, and rub. Wild energies hummed through my nerves. The textures of those touches changed from skin to fluffy softness that felt like fur, like feathers, like chamois or velvet. In between there were little stings, slaps, pricks and nips, piquant and bright, like a dash of lemon to freshen the palate in preparation for another gourmet dish. I could only lie there and endure--enjoy and endure, for there was pleasure in it, some of the most intense I had ever felt. My body was on fire. I could only shiver, tremble and shudder as voracious need seared through me.

Foreplay had never been anything like this before. No wonder none of my fumbling Lotharios had ever brought me to climax. They'd not even begun to awaken my body.

It was awake now, more aware than it had ever been before. I was slickly wet with my own juices, while every atom of skin was alert, attentively waiting for what came next. I'd never before thought of my entire skin as an erogenous zone, but it was. No matter where the touch was--on my soles, my legs, my back, my shoulders or spots normally more responsive, every contact was arousing.

Dimly I realized that my ankles had been freed. A hand--I think Philippe's--lifted the link of the cuffs off the hook. I was too limp and weak to do it myself, but, with an assisting push, I rolled onto my back.

I was free to move, but I still didn't dare. The blindfold remained in place. I'd started to understand that sightlessness added a new dimension to the other sensations. Now what?

Linds and Philippe conversed briefly, I think in French. At any rate, I could not understand what they said. It sounded like a bit of disagreement, words hissed and spat in taut whispers.

"You haven't said 'stop' yet." Philippe's tone held amusement, but no surprise. He seemed to know me better than I knew myself. "Does that mean you want to continue?"

"Please," I replied, hoping the question gave me the right to speak. I knew what I needed, a big O in the worst way. I could not even touch myself to ease the fiery ache between my legs.

The bed rocked then. Someone had come up over the foot and moved between my legs, which remained sprawled apart, even though they were no longer fettered. Then a hand clasped my right ankle. Wait, whoever knelt between my knees could not be doing that also. Which one was where?

My question was answered almost instantly. I felt the kneeler bend forward. Then warm lips closed over my left nipple, stiff and swollen with my state of arousal. The cheek and chin that brushed my skin held a hint of stubble; the scent that floated up to me was piney instead of musky.

Philippe. Yes, oh, yes! Fuck me. Now! Please!

After laving both my breasts with eager licks and laps, he began to work his way downward, trailing elegant loops and swirls of moist heat, as if writing love notes on my body with his talented tongue. Finally he nuzzled into my crotch, peeling the triangle of my panties away to open his path to my pussy. As his tongue quested between the labia and began to lap the juices I released, I could no longer stay silent and motionless. I writhed and moaned, half expecting a slash, but none came.

At that very instant, another set of warm lips closed over my big toe. I let out a yelp of surprise. No one had ever sucked my toes before! It tickled excruciatingly, but, coupled with the stimulation of Philippe's mouth as he explored my secret places from clit to anus and back, I was overwhelmed with sensual stimulations.

This time there was no stopping. The shudders started deep within my body and flowed to the opening where a warm tongue now probed. I jerked as if shocked, twitched and bucked and writhed as wave after wave of shattering climax rolled through me.

Every time I thought it was almost over, something else would set me off again. Philippe sucked at my clit; Linds licked up my calf; Philippe thrust two fingers into my cunt and worked them around; Linds pressed my foot between her tits where the stiff material of her bustier abraded my sole and then rubbed against it so I felt her hard nipples. My toes curled involuntarily. She laughed then, as sexy a sound as I'd ever heard.

I think I am going mad--stark staring crazy-insane mad!

I lay there too shattered to move when they both finally stopped. The bed rocked again and I sensed that the two of them had changed places. Oh my, was Linds going to eat me also? Perhaps I tensed slightly at this notion, suddenly resenting the blindfold that kept me from seeing what was going to occur.

No, I was sure it was Linds between my knees, but something warm and larger than fingers pushed at the opening of my cunt. It certainly felt like a cock. My head spun with confusion. No, it couldn't be. Was Linds a cross dresser, a male in disguise?
But what...

Then she leaned down to rest her body against mine and I felt her nipples, jutting from the bustier to press against me. The leather or vinyl of her skimpy garments was slick and felt almost cold against my heated flesh, although her skin was warm. Yet there was no question that a cock was probing into my pussy.

My hands were still linked by the handcuffs and I still held both arms above my head. I wanted to use my hands to try to discover just what was going on, but there was no way I could. I rolled my head back and forth in frustration, even as I felt another orgasm starting to build inside me. I'd never been fucked quite so deeply before. It almost hurt, but the pain was exquisite.

All at once a picture from one of the naughty magazines leaped into my mind: a busty woman wearing a harness that held a make-believe penis! Was Linds doing me with a strap-on dildo? It must be. But it felt so real, so life-like.

I'd rather it was Philippe, but damn, the pleasure was amazing! Linds moved in such a way that the dildo seemed to twist and rotate every direction in my channel. Obviously she was getting off too because her breathing kept getting faster. Then she began to moan as tremors wracked her body. I felt that clearly as she rested atop me. I think we both climaxed at the same time. She lay there panting for a few seconds and then drew away, pulling her faux cock from me as she went.

I pictured Philippe watching us and had to wonder what he was thinking. He'd made me come first, but I'd have expected him to want to fuck me immediately after that. Perhaps he had to let Linds get off first, though. It seemed they had some kind of arrangement about all this and had done it often enough before. The whole idea still boggled my brain, but I was having a fantastic time and gaining some amazing lessons toward my real education. How could I complain?

Again the bed shifted and I caught a whiff of his distinctive scent, coupled with the pungent odors of sex, an instant before his furred chest rubbed against my bare tits. New excitement shimmered through me then. His hands slid along the sides of my face, holding my head still. "Would you like your eyes back, Geri?"

I nodded. "Please," I said.

He yanked the scarf away, pulling hair in the process, but I was so happy to regain the use of my vision that I hardly noticed. Next he reached up and pushed something on the side of the cuffs so they released as well. My arms were almost too numb to move, as if I had slept on them.

He rubbed my hands between his, first one and then the other. "Your hands are like ice. Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't think I was supposed to. And you said I wouldn't be injured. It didn't hurt anyway."

He shook his head as he muttered something under his breath. I think it was a foul word in French. Then he scattered butterfly kisses all over my face, eyes, nose, cheeks and finally my lips. As if from a distance, I heard Linds hiss something. I think he told her to shut up. My attention was fading fast, though because now his cock was finding its way into my pussy. If I had thought the dildo felt good, this was a hundred times better! He was big and powerful and hard as steel.

I wanted to watch his face as he entered me for the first time, but my eyes kept falling shut. The room was dimly lit anyway. The glimpses I got, he looked very focused, very intense. Just as he completed the first long, deep thrust, the bed rocked again, in a way that was definitely not caused by our movements. He'd paused in my depths, filling and stretching me, so we were both almost still for an instant. When I pried my eyes open again, I saw Linds kneeling behind him.

At first I could not figure out what she was doing. She was very close behind him, red-clawed fingers digging into his sides, just above where my legs wrapped around him. Finally it dawned on me. She was going to fuck him in the ass with the dildo! The shock of that almost stopped me, but I was too close to shut down.

How we all managed to move in the same rhythm I have no idea, but we did. I would never have believed I could come three times in less than an hour either, but I did. We all yelled, more or less in unison, with the climaxes that rolled from me to Philippe to Linds in a tidal wave of titanic power. No wonder people make so much of sex. I never knew, never guessed it could be like this. What a surprise! What a trip! What an education!

Sometime near daybreak, Philippe drove me back to my place. I was so sore and exhausted I could barely stagger into my apartment after he kissed me tenderly and told me to rest for the remainder of the weekend. My education was well and truly underway.

April 21

Well, I have actually babysat Becky a number of times now, as well as spent a couple more weekends with just Philippe and Linds. I have slowly come to feel some sympathy for her. She lets little things slip, enough I can sense she's always felt as if she were a misfit, always kind of dangling between worlds. Not really a lesbian, she enjoys the status of being a married woman, but she has some kinky tastes. She dotes on Becky as much as Philippe does, and she doesn't get along with her blue-blooded New England family too terribly well. I'm sure she knows she's not beautiful and never will be, but she can be striking when she dresses right, and I told her so. I've made a few suggestions and I think they've actually helped her. I mean we are kind of partners here, so I felt obliged.

Philippe and she met when they were both in college some years ago, both kind of part of the hippie scene it seems. Somehow they reached an arrangement that suited both of them. A wife is almost a necessary appendage for a professor, and one with academic credentials of her own is most impressive. Imagine my amazement when I learned Linds is a scholar of French literature. She's actually been to the Sorbonne and the Louvre! I am
so
envious. The cachet of that is just awesome.

I still help Philippe by grading tests, finding books and other little errands I can run for him. He rewards me with a few minutes here and there, a quick tête-à-tête in his office or slipping off for a quickie when he's bringing me home when I have actually babysat Becky. Yes, you can do it in the Triumph, although the Volvo station wagon is a bit more convenient.

I am dreading the end of the semester now, to be honest. Going home to Maizeville is going to be such a let down. There is not one single man in that entire county worth spending even an hour with. They simply can't compare.

Now that I have known erotic pleasures so far beyond the fumbling lust of farm boys, I'm sure I'm spoiled forever. I still prefer one-on-one with a skilled lover like Philippe to a ménage and I am not greatly interested in a long term affair with another woman, but I have learned so much. I'm sure it will serve me well in time. My future mate will not have to train a naïve country girl in the amorous arts, at least.

May 12

Oh this is fabulous, better than my wildest dreams! I do not have to go back to Maizeville for the summer after all. Thanks be to all the gods. Linds and Philippe are going to France for ten weeks, both of them to work on their doctorates. Of course they'll take Becky and, since they'll both be quite busy with their research, they need a nanny. Naturally I'm first in line as the obvious candidate for the post.

I actually get along with Becky splendidly, and I'm already planning some of the fun things we can do. Whether or not there will be time and opportunity for any more parties of three, I don't know, but I can hardly imagine living in the same house with the two of them and not ever engaging in any of the games we've been perfecting the past two months. I generally play the sub to their two doms, which is just a bit peculiar, but it works for all of us. I still prefer the times when I have Philippe to myself, but the variety keeps things fresh and exciting.

And who knows, Frenchmen are well known for their amorous expertise, so I just may find time to perfect my new skills with some further education. What we could do with a foursome. Oh, I'm getting hot just imagining that!

I've told Mom and Dad that I won't be spending the summer at home. Oh, I'll try to visit for a week while Philippe and Linds are getting ready for the trip, but I think I can handle that, knowing it's temporary and that such fantastic adventures are waiting for me, right around the corner.

Philippe said I may be able to sign up for a course or two also and that it will look wonderful on my future resume to have foreign study. He did suggest, though, that I should attempt to find a venerable and elderly individual with a doctorate with whom to pursue such studies. I do believe he is just a teensy bit jealous of sharing his star pupil!

Isn't education just the most marvelous of institutions? I will never mistrust fate again either. Just think, if I had been assigned to Dr. Butterworth's class as I had planned, I would have missed all this! For some courses of study, the eldest and most venerable of professors are not the most ideal.