Highly Sexed

Highly Sexed

By Justine Elyot

Resplendence Publishing, LLC

http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118

Highly Sexed
Copyright © 2012 Justine Elyot
Edited by Delaney Sullivan
Cover art by Les Byerly,
www.les3photo8.com

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-457-4

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic Release: January 2012

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

To All the Readers

Chapter One

“The thing about Laurie,” Mark Anderton said, finally coming to the point after three food courses and a brandy’s worth of prevarication, “is that she can’t get enough.”

“Enough?” Vincent left the word hanging, whether out of politeness or confusion wasn’t clear.

Mark hoped it was the former. If it was the latter, he really didn’t think he had the heart to go into the details. He simply gave Vincent a terse nod and waited.

“And that’s why you’ve been cultivating me? Nothing to do with my great company or excellent taste?”

“Excellent taste does come into it.” The words rushed out of Mark’s mouth, relief spurring them on. “Of course, it does. You like Laurie, don’t you?”

“Of course, I like her. What man wouldn’t? But, you know, I would never have let that admiration cross the boundary…not without some kind of…”

“Permission?”

“Yes.” Vincent reached for the decanter, pouring them both another tumbler.

To Mark, the gesture seemed symbolic.
Let’s talk business.
Vincent wasn’t rejecting the proposition out of hand, so there were grounds for hope.

“Permission is what I’m here to talk to you about,” said Mark.

Vincent smiled. “This is the most surreal conversation of my life,” he said.

“Mine, too,” admitted Mark.

* * * *

It hardly seemed appropriate, but Laurie felt seized by the urge to look through her wedding album before she changed for dinner a few days later.

It was less than a year since that day on the sands in Antigua. She looked at herself, beaming and beautiful with her bouquet of tropical blooms then she looked at Mark, chest about to burst with pride. They made a good couple, didn’t they? Attractive, accomplished, embodying all the social graces. Who would guess at the secrets that lay behind their bedroom door?

For a second or two, Laurie experienced regret, even sadness. If only the perfect marriage to the perfect man could be enough for her.

But then she remembered that no two people were alike and that the cookie-cutter “perfect marriage” didn’t exist, and besides, all this had been Mark’s idea. She put the album aside and smiled quietly to herself.

If she and Mark decided to bring a third person into their bed, whose right was it to judge them? Nobody was scheming to cause anybody else pain. Only pleasure would be the result—mutual and lasting pleasure.

Her phone rang. The caller display read
Mark
.

“Darling?”

“We’re just leaving Vincent’s house.”

“And he’s still okay with all this?”

“More than okay, babe. It’s going to be fine.”

“Fine?
Fine?
”

Mark laughed. “Sorry. Bad word. Shall we go with
stupendous
? Or maybe
outstanding
?”

“Either of those.” Laurie laughed, but she knew Mark would detect the self-conscious catch in her throat.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” he said softly. “It’s normal. Well. I guess. Normal doesn’t really apply to us, does it?”

“No, thank God.” Laurie’s tone was robust, and she felt her nerve creep back. She was no coward and neither was Mark. They would do what was right for them.

“Exactly. Be brave, babe. We’ll be with you in half an hour. Vincent can’t wait to see you, and neither can I.”

She put down the phone and stood up in front of the mirror, giving her nude reflection a twirl. Vincent couldn’t wait to see her, Mark had said. Was it her smooth, tan skin and her gym-toned limbs he was so keen to explore? Years of dance classes had made her supple and flexible even now, five years after giving up on her dream of pursuing it professionally. Now, she hid her charms under sensible clothes, but did she need to do that tonight? There seemed little point in getting dressed. Everyone knew what they were there for.

She pulled on a silk robe, styled her hair to look unstyled and slicked on a bit of nude lip gloss and clear mascara. Then she lay on her back in front of the mirror, propped herself on one elbow and slowly, very slowly, spread her legs. The silken material slipped from her thighs, revealing the delta within, neatly shaved and clipped to reveal plump lips and a cheeky cherry of a clit. That hungry place might finally get its fill tonight, she thought, letting her fingertips dance lightly over the area, watching the polished pink ovals of her fingernails contrast with the darker flesh.

Mark was a virile lover, but he was only human. He could make it to five then he was out for the count. Laurie, in her wild, younger days, had sometimes taken three lovers at a time, juggling each with practiced finesse. None had ever found out about the others, and Laurie had experienced an all-too-brief period of perfect satisfaction, when sex wasn’t on her mind all the time because she was getting enough of it for once.

And two lovers at the same time…she drifted off, contemplating again all the delightful variations such a ménage could offer. If it worked out, and they wanted, Mark might even introduce more men to the arrangement. She imagined herself at the center of a web of erect cocks, taking them all, front and rear, in her mouth, in her hands, between her breasts, coming over and over again until she collapsed.

It could happen. The fantasy could be reality one day.

“One day at a time, Laurie,” she counseled herself, retying the gown and hauling herself to her feet. Mark and Vincent would soon be here. She needed to organize drinks and nibbles.

Dishes of cashews and olives littered all the available surfaces and the drinks’ cabinet was open and ready for business when she heard Mark’s key turn in the lock.

She pushed the recline button on the armchair and arranged herself into the position she had rehearsed—studiedly negligent, just on the right side of risqué, with her breasts half-exposed and the hem high on her thighs.

Mark came in first, laughing and casual in an open-necked shirt and cotton trousers. When Vincent followed, he stopped in the doorway for a moment and looked Laurie up and down as if he was a lion who had just spotted lunch.

Laurie was wet already. She wanted to give herself to him, drop the robe and open herself up and say,
I’m ready
.

She’d mentioned how attractive she found him the day he’d started working at Mark’s firm of solicitors. Mark, never the jealous type, had seemed to bring him up in conversation more and more, first just generally then during sex, inviting her to imagine Vincent’s cock plunging into the place Mark had just used, while he fingered her to yet another of the orgasms she craved.

The idea of bringing him into their relationship had grown by itself, without any particular force or pretext on either of their parts. It simply seemed a sensible solution to an unnecessary problem.

“Interesting choice of outfit,” said Vincent, accepting the drink Mark poured for him.

“Don’t you like it?” Laurie shifted a leg ever so slightly, just enough to pull the robe’s hem dangerously high.

“Like it? Oh yeah, I like it. I just wasn’t expecting…” He sipped his aperitif.

“Oh, Vincent, are you self-conscious? Do you want to do small talk? Come and sit down.” She patted the arm of the sofa, set at a right angle to her chair.

He took her up on the offer, watching her minutely over the rim of his tumbler. Mark stood at some distance, leaning against the wall units.

“I’m sorry,” said Laurie, batting coquettish eyelashes at her prospective lover. “This is such an unusual setup. I suppose we cope with it in different ways. Mine is to be over the top vamp—it’s a role I like to play. But you need to ease into it. I understand that. So…how was that movie you two went to see?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, it was good, I guess. Not his best work, but it’ll get an Oscar nomination or two. Listen, you look good enough to eat. Can we skip dinner and…?”

Laurie leaned over to him, running one fingertip underneath the robe, crossing her breasts, edging them into a better display. “You don’t want to talk any more?”

“I don’t think I can.”

She laughed and looked over at her husband. “Well, what do you think, Mark? Shall we dispense with the social conventions and just…?”

“Kiss him,” said Mark, his voice harsh, sandpapery.

Laurie and Vincent found themselves standing up at the same time. She stepped easily, effortlessly, into his arms and put her face up to be kissed. Relaxing into his clean warmth, she noticed how the angles of his face differed from Mark’s, which was broader and rounder. Vincent’s nose got in the way more than Mark’s did, and his lips were softer, almost like a girl’s. She reveled in the differences, and behind the physical enjoyment was an intellectual pleasure at being able to finally do this. It felt forbidden, even though it wasn’t, and the back-of-her-mind voice telling her that she was a bad and wicked girl only turned her on more.
I’m kissing another man while my husband watches…

Vincent’s tongue snaked into her mouth, and she pressed harder against him, fusing her heat with his, finding that central hardness she craved and grinding into it.

“She wants it all the time.” Mark spoke up unexpectedly, his voice sounding desperate, almost pained. “I give it to her until I’m sore, and she still wants more. It’s like nothing can fill her. I’ve tried everything. Once, I put a vibrator in her for two hours straight, and she still wanted to fuck after I took it out.”

His words drove Laurie into a fit of mindless lust. When Vincent’s hands slipped inside the robe, she gasped into his mouth and pushed her breasts at him, demanding that they be handled. After attending to them, he took a handful of her bottom, squeezing and kneading it, keeping her close and tight.

“Put your fingers inside her,” urged Mark. “She’ll be wet. She’ll be the wettest pussy you’ve ever had.”

Vincent obeyed the instruction, and Laurie moaned as her ever-needful cunt was opened and probed, the slender fingers scissoring inside.

His mouth left hers for a moment.

“You’re right,” he said to Mark. “She’s fucking soaking. Really tight, too.”

“Take off her robe. Get a good look at her.”

“Mark!” Laurie tried to contain the temptation to snap at him. “I’m not a doll. I’m participating in this. Vincent knows what to do, and I know what I want him to do. Okay?”

“Sorry.” Mark was sweating, and he’d had to take off his jacket, gripping it close to his chest like a comfort blanket. “Sorry, Lo. I’m just a bit excited.”

“I know. Sit down. Enjoy the show. You know your turn’s coming anyway.”

She turned back to Vincent, her expression softening. “All the same,” she said. “Not bad advice.”

She put her shoulders back and untied the belt, letting the robe fall open and enjoying the play of shadows and light on Vincent’s face as he took in the sight.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed. “Exactly the way I’ve always imagined you. Except this…” He put reverent fingers to the tiny, jeweled ring in her navel. “I didn’t know about this.”

“Do you like it?”

“I like it all.” He freed the robe, letting it fall down her arms as if it had a will of its own. She stood perfectly naked and unashamed before him.

He put a hand on her hip, nudging her toward the sofa.

“Sit down,” he said, “and spread your legs. I want a good look at you.”

Chapter Two

Laurie perched her naked bottom on the sumptuous leather and slowly parted her thighs. She noticed Mark edge closer, his brow crumpled, his face red. He dropped the jacket on the floor and moved as close as he dared to Vincent’s side.

“What do you think?” he asked, as if anxious for his colleague’s good opinion of his wife’s pussy.

“Sweet,” said Vincent, crouching between Laurie’s widespread knees. “Sweet and hot and ready for a lot of attention.”

“Oh, yes,” agreed an ecstatic Laurie. “A lot of attention. Give it to me.”