By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2008 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

Bumper to bumper Saturday afternoon traffic crawled across the city, a five o’clock shadow. Irritated motorists honked and cursed, as their cars lurched in quick stops, belching gaseous emissions in their wake. Pollution oozed through my cracked window and vents into my pores, making my head ache, making it impossible to plot the elimination of all things Emily. The very thought of her sent clammy fingers slithering up and down my spine and I wanted to take the next exit ramp to nowhere. But I had created a situation that had to be handled and I was the only one who could do it. It was I who had stayed out all night, taking advantage of the fact that my wife was out of town. It was I who had been unfaithful for the first time in fifteen years of marriage and the repercussions were ruinous. Guilt, shame and self loathing clung to me like slime adheres to a victim in a horror movie and I could hardly breathe.

How had I gotten myself in such a mess and what was I going to do about it? In ten minutes, I would be face to face with my blessedly ignorant wife, Sally, who was over the moon, waiting for me to celebrate her successful million dollar real estate coup. And with her was Emily, her new boss, architect of her newly-found prosperity and my moral decline. She had seduced me last night in her condo and the last thing I told her this morning was that our indiscretion was never to be mentioned or repeated again. I had fallen asleep believing that she understood and agreed, only to awaken to her note and I could not get it out of my mind.
Contrary to your eloquently expressed opinion, we will not be ending our little arrangement. You’ve been my perfect little Baby Boy all night and all day and I intend to have and to hold from this day forward. Sally called. She‘s back and up for some Chinese. If you don’t want her finding out about what a bad boy you’ve been, you’ll keep quiet and do what you have to do to keep us both happy.
The key is yours to keep. Mi casa es tu casa. Lock up when you leave. Sally and I will be waiting at your house. Be on your best behaviour and you’ll have nothing to worry about. See you soon, Emily.

Blackmail. In twenty four hours I had changed from a happily married, faithful private school teacher to a faithless and desperate victim of blackmail. How had I managed to get in this mess? The traffic was moving smoothly again and I struggled to concentrate. But, all I could think of were Emily’s huge, ponderous breasts dressed in her black turtleneck, daring me not to look. Emily’s massive breasts, straining under her white leotard and caressing my legs as she bent over my cock. I could feel her moist warm mouth sucking my balls. I could see her tits bouncing and swaying as she fucked my brains out. And all I wanted was to see them, to feel them, to touch them one more time. My cock had grown thick and long and tingled with anticipation, mocking my total lack of restraint. I could not help myself. I gave it a quick feel. Up to this point, my fetish had been the source of great pleasure and the inspiration for four novels. But because of this woman, I had placed everything that I held dear in jeopardy - my marriage, my teaching position at Oxford High, a job I loved and would certainly lose the moment I was exposed as, what they would call, a smut writer - and I hated her almost as much as I hated myself. But even as I hated her, I wanted her, I wanted the pleasure she had given me. And as arousal flushed my cheeks, anxiety increased the pressure squeezing my chest.

I was home. I turned into my driveway, shut off the car, and pounded my steering wheel in frustration. It was imperative that I do something to end this madness, hopefully, before I brought my wife’s secure and happy life crashing down around her, a scenario to be avoided at all cost. My first enemy was myself, my obsession with Emily’s overwhelmingly beautiful breasts, and controlling that weakness was all up to me. Determined to do just that, I climbed out of my car and headed up the steps to my front door.

I was aiming my key when the door opened and there they stood, holding hands and giggling. Who was with this Emily woman? She had known us for one day and managed to turn my reserved wife into someone I hardly recognized. This obvious show of affection between them, while charming, was completely out of character for Sally, and having dealt with Emily, very suspicious.

“Get in here,” Sally commanded. “Don’t keep us waiting.”

This wife was a stranger. The abundant curls that usually softened her face had been slicked back into a severe cap. Black eye liner, grey shadow and generously applied mascara intensified the blue of her eyes. A black deeply cut V-necked top and obviously pushed up bra left me gaping. Stiletto heels and a too short skirt finished the effect and I was lost. My wife was in there somewhere, but as hard as I stared, I could not find her. I was lusting after an alien. Emily, on the other hand, looked like an over-grown school girl. Her plaid skirt teased the top of her knee high socks. A too-small ruffled white blouse, buttoned up to the neck was straining under the pressure of her gargantuan breasts and made them even more alluring and naughty than ever.

“Cat got your tongue, mister?” Emily whispered the words like a dragon breathing fire.

I had been ambushed. Again. I stood stunned, titillated and totally disarmed in the face of these two women. They pushed and prodded me through the door and down the short hall to the living room. Spread on the floor was a red checker tablecloth covered with glasses, wine, beer and chopsticks. It was the same tablecloth Emily had used the night before and a chilling reminder of her powers of persuasion. Wild flowers floated lazily in a large oriental bowl, Sally’s touch, I was sure.

“We’re having a picnic,” Sally announced. “Come, make yourself comfortable and I‘ll get the food. Emily‘s brought quite a spread.”

“Give me a minute. I’d like to change.”

I spoke firmly, breaking away and heading for the stairs. At the very least I wanted to put on some underwear and change my shirt. I went into our bedroom and, without thinking, closed the door. I felt safe, but very alone.

I redressed, starting with my most confining briefs, a fresh pair of jeans and T-shirt. I was a quivering mass of emotions. I was angry with Sally. She had brought Emily into our lives and, by her actions, was insisting she stay there. During our marriage, we had discussed role playing, but she had shown no enthusiasm. And here she was as tarted up as I ever wanted her to be. I took a few deep, slow breaths, trying to relax, trying to convince myself to simply enjoy the ministrations of these two sirens, whatever their plans were. But, everything I knew about Emily told me to be afraid. Everything I knew about Emily told me that Sally was way over her head and so was I. With that unsettling thought, I sighed and headed back downstairs.

A buffet of Chinese delicacies had been laid out.

“Come, enjoy,” Sally said.

“Thanks. Tell me about your trip.”

“It was too easy,” she said. “My first appointment was with an elderly retired couple looking to buy their dream house. I showed them a million dollar plus estate on the outskirts of town and they signed on the dotted line. It was amazing! ”

I looked at Emily, suspecting that she had closed that deal long before my wife left the city yesterday and that possibility filled me with renewed concern. Of all the men in the world, why had Emily set her sights on me? Because of my fetish for huge breasts, came my answer. Because my darling wife had seen fit to break our private trust and show her my novels, penname and all, thereby casting me in the role of addict and Emily as both dealer and drug of choice.

“Don’t you think your wife did an awesome job?” Emily prompted, before I had a chance to say anything.

“Yes,” I said, “congratulations. I knew you could do it.”

I leaned in to kiss Sally, really kiss Sally, but she playfully shied away, offering her cheek instead. I wanted to slap the smirk off Emily’s face. I felt rejected. Sally was choosing Emily as co-conspirator and the displeasure I felt was more than jealousy. It was the clear understanding that her choice came with a price tag, one we would both be paying for much too long.

“Let’s eat,” Sally said, feeding me a spring roll, and I accepted it gratefully like a recently beaten puppy accepts an unexpected pat on the head.

“Tell us about your meeting,” Emily said, staring straight through me. “It must have been important to get you out on a Saturday, even if you didn’t have to doll up in suit and tie.” Emily was playing with her pony tail, all pseudo-innocence and interest. She was toying with me, pure and simple.

“That’s right,” Sally said. “I haven’t even asked you about that. How selfish of me!”

“I had to meet my agent,” I lied. “There’s a new publisher interested in my books.”

“That’s great. Who’s the publisher?” Emily was trying to drive me insane.

“I’d rather not say. It’s too early in the negotiation and I don’t want to jinx things,” I countered.

“You must really know people,“ Emily said, changing gears abruptly. “Sally, you’re a lucky woman. I bet your husband anticipates your every need.“

“Indeed, he does,” Sally said. “I’m a very happy woman.” Sally looked at me.
Her eyes shone with love and I knew her. “Enough about us, Emily. Tell us about yourself. How did you get involved with real estate?”

Good for you, Sally, I thought, listening carefully. Emily talked a lot about studying business in college and working her way through as a part time agent, a quick marriage and divorce, but her story was very short on details. I sensed that there was much she was not saying and filed that fact away. But for now, I was relieved that the focus was off me. Sally and she went back and forth and I settled into enjoying my favourite sweet and sour chicken balls, barbequed ribs and fried rice; my tastes were hopelessly pedestrian. And just as I had the night before, I relaxed in the ambience of good food, laughter and stimulating conversation. Eventually, we had all had our fill and Sally and Emily offered to clean up.

“When we’re done, we’ll have a treat for you,” Sally said.

Emily passed me a beer, my third, before gabbing their way toward the kitchen. Everyone was pleasantly tipsy and I made a mental note to insist that Emily take a cab home. I struggled clumsily from the floor, lay down on the couch and closed my eyes. It was good to relax. Too soon, the ladies were back.

“We’ve got a game for you,” Sally said. “It will test how well you know your wife,” she looked excited as she rushed toward me. “Sit up,” she said. I did and soon found myself blindfolded with a scarf that smelled strongly of Emily’s perfume. “It’s a guessing game so there’ll be no talking. I’m wearing some of Emily’s perfume, so we’ll smell the same. The only difference will be in our touch. One of us will touch you and you’ll have to guess which one it is.”

It didn‘t escape my notice that Emily must have brought her perfume over, must have planned this whole thing. “What happens if I’m wrong?” I asked.

“Ever played strip poker?” Emily asked.

I could hear them laughing, as I tried to gather my thoughts. Having just spent the night with the voracious Emily and knowing the gentle sensitivities of my wife, I believed that I would have no trouble telling them apart. All I’d have to do was feign a few mistakes, lose a sock or two to keep them happy, win the game and send Emily packing. I marveled at how quickly my mind had assumed Machiavellian instincts for survival and subterfuge, but this was no time for contrition. I was in a fight for survival.

“Okay, bring it on,” I said, praying that I wasn’t making the mistake of my life.

“Perfect,” Sally said. “Now on to the floor with you! We need to be able to move around you.”

Sally, I think, took my arm and I was led off the couch and eased down to the floor. The giggling seemed sinister when listening from my dark world. The smell of Emily from the scarf over my eyes and from the women was a constant reminder of how easily I’d fallen under her spell. She was a good player in this game of cat and mouse and I realized that an integral part of her strategy was to never let me forget that I was the mouse. “Now clasp your hands behind your head and relax.”

I couldn’t believe how vulnerable I felt, lying supine with my hands trapped by the weight of my own head. “When will the game be over?”

“When you are naked or you give five right answers,” Sally said.

“Whichever comes first,” Emily said. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen a beautiful man’s body.”

“Let’s not frighten our baby. Now husband, from now on, all you’ll hear is “who‘s touching you‘, ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ and may the women beat the pants off you.”

I was in the twilight zone. ‘Let’s not frighten our baby’? Sally had never called me her baby in our lives. She was my baby, in our relationship, and the edge of condescension in her voice surprised, aroused and disquieted me.

“You’re both hilarious, but don’t get your hopes up,” I said, bravely.

I could both hear and sense them moving around and I had no idea who was where, but it did not matter. I was totally confident in my ability to tell their touches apart even though I’d noticed during dinner that Emily had cut and tapered her nails to the same length and curve as Sally’s. Now I knew why. They had really thought this through. I had reason to . . . Gentle fingers circle my cheeks, trace my jaw line and smooth my brow. A single finger outlines my lips, runs its length between them, inveigling them open to cruise my teeth. My tongue is seduced and paints it with lust and saliva. My teeth begin to nibble, my lips suck like a hungry baby at a mother’s teat. And then it is gone and pleasure fades . . .

“Who was touching you?” a chorus of two asked.

I didn’t have to think about it. “Sally, of course.”

“Wrong!“ More giggling as two hands captured one sock each.

I should have expected subterfuge, I chided myself. Just as they had altered their appearance, they were changing the qualities of their movements and strokes. Knowing that, I could still win. I would just have to concentrate harder, try to . . . Fingernails tickle the arches of my naked feet. A giggle escapes me. I gasp at the fluid absorption of one, two toes in a mouth’s warm moisture; one foot and then the other. Sally knows how that tongue running under my toes connects with my cock which begins enlarges, presses against fabric. I love the sensation of its throbbing spurts, its urge to escape confinement. The tongue slips between each division of toes, fucks the lines between my toes . I squirm with pleasure as pre cum oozes from my little head. This is no longer a game. This is pleasure beyond belief. My toes are again swimming in warm liquid velvet. My other foot is being tickled and caressed. And I want more. I want to see and feel Emily’s humongous tits. And then everything stops, the pleasure wanes . . .

“Who was touching you?” the chorus asked again.

“Sally,” I said, sure that she would never allow Emily to suck my toes or tickle my feet, knowing what it does to me.

“Wrong, again! Lift up your hips.”

I could never have imagined how quickly and easily two women in concert could remove a man’s confidence, convictions and jeans. My cock sprang to, a rigid pole holding high a white cotton tent. I was so embarrassed, so humiliated that I knew that the game had been lost. Sally had betrayed me, Emily had out foxed me and my own body had committed treason. I was a man making his last stand, a man trying desperately not to come. And all I wanted was to see Emily’s tits. I was . . . Hands reach under my shirt, butterfly brushes leading up to my waiting nipples. Yes, twist them, harder, I pray. I feel tits, heavy tits in cotton frill, momentarily grazing my side. I’m so hungry for them. Their image is too clear. Fingernails lightly circling their way downward, toward my belly. Fingernails plumbing my belly button. Somebody gasps and I feel those tits again brush against me. They are heavy. They are breathtaking. I can hardly hold on. My cock is quivering in full view of my wife and my lover. I am ready to beg . . .

“He can’t take anymore,” Emily said, letting the fullness of her breasts rest on my thigh. “I’ll leave you two alone. Take care of your hubby.”

I didn’t want Emily to go. I wanted her to stay. I wanted to see her playing with her tits, sucking them like she had the night before.

“Yes, go away, Emily,” Sally said, breathing hard.

Sally massaged my cock through my briefs. She breathed hot air and then sucked my balls through my briefs. I needed to see her. I needed to touch her.

“Can I move? Can I take off the blind fold?”

“No. Stay.”

I’d never heard such a primitive, demanding hoarseness in her voice. She yanked my briefs down over my hips, from my feet. She climbed on top of me. Her pussy was a throbbing, grasping, wet, hot unbridled thing. She moved up and down, rode me in circles. But I held on. I was insane with lust, but I held on. Greed demanded I hold on. Until I heard, “Hurry! Now!” And it was Emily’s voice. In one rapid movement, I tore the silk from my eyes. Sally was riding me, eyes closed, her head flung back, her fingers busy with her clit. Emily was kneeling beside us, legs spread. One hand massaged her tit and then twisted her long nipple. The other was buried deep between her legs. And in that moment I loved them. I loved the bouncing animal, Sally. I loved the beautiful carnal Emily. Emily suddenly thrust her soaking wet fingers under my nose and they offered the smell of a woman in extreme heat, of a woman wanting me, owning me. And it was over. I came with an unearthly scream. Sally was whinnying her come. Emily came with a cougar’s snarling growl. That storm raged until all that remained was ragged breathing that dissipated into an emotion laden silence that was rife with wonder, uncertainty and fear.

It was awhile before Emily broke the silence. “I’ll be back,” she said, getting up and heading toward the washroom.

Sally had collapsed on the other side of me, but now turned into me, clinging hard and desperately. “What have I done? You don’t know what I’ve done,” she sobbed.

“It’s alright,” I said, holding her close. “We were all here. We’re all responsible for this.” Sally’s sobs grew louder. “It’s alright.” I held her like that for a long time, until she was still.

“Emily’s coming,” I whispered. This was good; us against the world again.

“No, you don’t understand. You don’t know what I’ve done. What me and Emily did this afternoon. I’m sorry.” She had become hysterical again and I rocked her like a baby.

“Take care, you two,” Emily said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Sally, it‘s been wonderful.”

“Goodnight,” Sally managed.

“I’ll see you out. Be right back, Sally,” I said.

I scrambled into my jeans and walked Emily to the door.

“Everybody’s getting what they need here. We’ll do it again, soon, and next time we’ll share everything,” Emily said, and she stalked out into the night.

I closed the door and rushed back to my wife. She lay crumpled in the same spot, her eyes wide open, but unseeing. I sensed what had happened. There was no doubt in my mind that Emily had seduced Sally just as she had seduced me. She had given us both excruciating pleasure and it was threatening to cost us souls, everything that was honest and sure.

“Come,” I said, helping Sally to her feet. Let’s grab a shower and go to bed.” Sally sighed deeply, holding on to my arm as we climbed the stairs. “Everything’s going to be alright, I promise.”

And it would be. No matter what it took. I would see to it.