"Every Man For Anne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Peters Staci)

Chapter 12

"Anyone for more tea?" asked Anne.

Silke shook her head.

"Not for me," replied John, popping another grape into his mouth. He was reclining full-length along the couch. The coffee table in front of him was overflowing with the debris of theft lunch.

The girls had improvised a kind of Roman banquet for their late Sunday lunch. There were grapes, peaches, a couple of pears, and a succulent pineapple. They'd started with a tin of imported pate that Anne's mother had been hoarding in the back of the cupboard. And there was a cucumber salad in a light oil dressing, followed by slices of ham and liver sausage, lettuce, some new potatoes, and a creamy coleslaw that Silke had fixed. Then there was a variety of cheeses with stoned-wheat crackers. And all of it was washed down with a light German white wine which Silke had magically produced for the occasion. Now they were sampling the fruit.

"Have you tried some of that pineapple?" asked Silke. She was lying recumbent on a pile of pillows opposite John.

"I couldn't eat another thing," he said with a low belch of complete satisfaction.

"How about you?" Silke asked Anne.

Her friend was sitting cross-legged at the end of the table. She held up her hand. "Got to leave room for some special desert."

Anne eyed John suggestively. She took another sip of jasmine tea, then lit up a cigarette. They'd all showered after the morning bout on Silke's bed I and then dressed appropriately for the session they knew was bound to happen. John was still wearing the crimson kimono.

"That was quite a stunt you pulled this morning," said John.

"Betcha you were fooled for a moment." Anne giggled at the thought.

"Maybe for a moment my heart was in my mouth… "

"That's not to mention what was in my mouth," Silke chipped in.

It was a game. It had all been a game. Each of them knew that. They'd all been willing players in a delightful charade. An exciting game. And one that you didn't get to play too often. John knew he owed the girls a great deal. Things were going to be different from now on.

Silke was describing in great detail how. John had reacted to the sight of Anne playing with Michael, the television repairman: "… did he ever get serviced," she joked.

The talk was already stirring their emotions. Anne got up and put some easy-listening disco music on the record-player. She stood with her back to them and tapped her foot to the beat.

"An after-dinner cabaret?" enquired John.

"Sure," said Anne, looking back over her shoulder. "Why not?"

"Go on, then," said John in a firm masculine tone. "Silke, you come and sit over here."

Silke went round to where John patted the cushion. He draped his arm lightly around her shoulder.

Anne reached up behind her and slowly pulled down the zipper of her dress. With one lithe movement she shrugged it off and at the same time shook her long hair free. She liked stripping. It was an arousing ritual both for the audience and for herself too. She felt flattered that others admired her so. Anne basked in that admiration.

She put her hands beneath the skimpy lace bra that cupped her breasts high, pushing them forward close together.

"You like?"

"I like!" said John.

"I like… too," added Silke. She traced her fingertips along John's leg but didn't take her eyes off Anne.

Anne turned to one side, then the other, to show off her figure in profile. Her, skin was smooth, tanned, flawless. She massaged her fits again, squeezing them until the mounded flesh almost spilled out from the half-cups which strained to contain them.

John slipped his hand under Silke's skirt and began caressing the firm flesh of her thigh. Anne dropped her hands to her hips, grinding her pelt around to the music. She turned her back to them again. Her sheer panties were stretched taut over her buttocks. She spun back and jerked her hips forward; they threatened to split over the bulge of her crotch.

She knew John admired her underwear. There are few men who are not turned on by frilly, lacy underthings, and John wasn't one of those. His cock uncoiled and grew stiff at the very sight of Anne slowly unclasping one of her nylons. At a tantalizing pace she unrolled the stocking, lifting her leg as she did so to afford them both another glimpse of that grotto between her legs. The wisp of filmy nylon hardly concealed the dark fur delta, the plump outline of her cunt showing clearly through. She tossed the stocking away. It floated to the carpet.

Anne ran her hands up me other leg, over the calf, past her knee, up her thigh. She continued the stroke in one flowing sweep and lightly touched herself in the mossy notch between her legs. She fingered her crotch gently as though tickling a kitten. Anne's gaze never broke from John. Next, she unclasped the other nylon and rolled it down at the same leisurely, teasing pace. She dropped that one too on the floor. John felt, though he had not consciously realized, that Silke was stroking the hairy sac of his balls.

Anne unclasped the garter belt and tossed it over to the couch. Silke caught it and put it down on the coffee table. All that Anne now wore was the half-cup bra and flimsy, sheer panties. She crossed her hands in front of her and ran them slowly down her sides. She half-closed her eyes and blew John a kiss. She ended up with her hands crossed in front of ha pants; she rubbed and caressed herself through the skimpy material. Anne's breathing changed. It was deeper. Each time she exhaled, she uttered a low moaning whimper.

She pushed one of her hands down the front of her panties. With half-hidden fingers she probed herself blatantly before them. Ann arched her hips and swiveled her body in sinuous, suggestive patterns. Her parted lips glistened as she ran her tongue across them. There was an audible squishy sound as she plunged her finger into her cunt hole. Anne shivered and groaned with pleasure. She withdrew her hand and displayed the finger slick with her own juices. Anne licked it greedily.

John was breathing faster now and not only from Anne's tantalizing performance. Silke held his cock in her hand and was slowly massaging the shaft. Anne reached both hands behind her and unclipped the bra. John had seen her naked, of course, but each new unveiling was a fresh revelation of her enticing young body. For a moment she clasped the cups in front of her, then, peeled them away to cast the bra aside. Anne massaged the naked flesh of her fine, firm breasts. She milked the teats toward John, who stared with open mouth. Anne rolled the stiff buds between her fingertips. Oh, she was enjoying it so.

Eventually she released the quivering nipples and slid her hands down her sides once more. The ripe mounds jiggled as she swung to the music. With her thumbs down the inside of her panties she edged them down inch by inch over her hips. First, she revealed the dark bush of her pubic curls that covered the mound beneath. She dragged them lower as she turned around. The creamy cheeks of her bum-contrasted with the rich tan that covered the rest. Anne bent forward for a moment to display the furry crevice from a rear angle. She slipped off the panties completely as she spun round to face them.

She was completely naked. John drank in this beautiful vision. Without the slightest sign of shame, but rather with a childlike innocence, Anne reached forward between her legs. She peeled back the outer lips of her cunt, spreading them apart to reveal the rosy pink flesh of that inner recess. She sighed with pleasure as she stroked her fingertips back and forth across her swelling clitoris.

Both John and Silke were transfixed by the climax of Anne's improvised display.

"Bravo," cried John.

Silke echoed him.

With a mock curtsey, Anne turned and walked into the bedroom. She rummaged around in the top drawer and found the toy she was searching for, but when she returned John and Silke were too busily engaged to look up at the vibrator she was holding in the air like a victory torch. Anne plonked herself down in the armchair and hitched one leg over each of the arms. Without switching it on, she began to ease the plastic wand into her cunt.

Silke was now reclining on the couch. John was kneeling beside her, half-crouching over her body as he stroked and playfully pinched her nipples. Each tweak sent a tiny shiver through her. He stroked his hands over her flat belly and caressed the soft skin of her beautifully shaped thighs.

John brought his hand up and broke off their kiss to lick his finger and thumb; thoroughly wetted with spittle, he reached between her legs and began to massage her chit, rolling it and gently rubbing it up and down. Silke lay passive, reveling in his experienced touch. He wriggled lower and pushed her thighs wider apart. Hugging his arms round her hips, John lowered his head to the feast. The touch of his tongue was amazingly light and feathery although he applied himself eagerly to the task. Silke reached down, watching him closely as she stroked his hair.

"Push it into me, John," she asked in a low voice.

He pressed his lips closer to the very mouth of her cunt hole. His tongue worked in tiny wet circles, sucking, licking, probing. Finally, he forced the point of his stiffened tongue into the innermost slit. Silke drew her knees back and his tongue flickered deep into her cunt passage. She linked her fingers behind his head and squeezed her thighs together. She had John completely trapped, forcing him to reach higher and harder. She was very wet now.

Silke choked back a scream of utter satisfaction. Anne could see her breasts heave as her breathing became faster. She arched her back, her hips bucked in John's face. Then she came. Silke was engulfed in a tidal wave of orgasmic pleasure. Her heart was thudding as the surging passion slowly subsided. When the spasms had passed, she sagged back quite loose, and all her muscles went limp. Her legs released their grip. John emerged smiling, licking the juices from his lips.

"It's my turn to say bravo," Anne whispered. The two of them looked across at her; Silke nodded in agreement.

"Anyone for pineapple now?" asked John.

"I'm full," said Anne, with a wink. Only about an inch of the vibrator handle remained visible. It was buried to the very hilt in her quim.

"Well, maybe you could just handle a banana," said John as he stood up. His cock was a rigid pole of flesh. "I'd forgotten what a turn-on a good pussy-licking could be."

"Come over here," Anne said, pointing at the beanbag. John flopped back on the leatherette bag and wriggled his butt into a comfortable position. Anne threw a cushion between his legs and got down on her knees.

"Where's that vibrator?" he asked.

Silke had picked it up from the chair. "Right here."

"Good. Bring it over," John patted the carpet alongside where he was sitting. She sat facing the opposite direction to John, where he could easily reach down and stroke her still-juicy cunt. Anne had already begun to fellate him.

She wrapped her lips around the head of his massive dong. He thrust his cock forward, filling her mouth, probing the very back of her throat; He began frigging Silke with the vibrator to the same rhythm that Anne was sucking him. He held the plastic tool in such a way that, with each forward stroke, the knuckle of his thumb pressed lightly against her clit. It rubbed back down across it with each withdrawal. It was only a few moments before she reached her second climax. This time it was even more intense. Silke had her hands on the carpet behind her; she forced her weight back and drove her hips forward to meet each thrust. She shuddered and cried out for joy. The orgasm erupted in her cunt and spread like waves of fire, through her entire body.

Anne was still playing with the livid knob of his penis, moving her tongue in butterfly circles around the overhanging ridge of flesh. Again she sucked on him deeply. She drew her mouth back almost letting John escape from her lips, then let him push it back in. Silke, somewhat recovered, patted Anne on the shoulder, indicating that she too wanted to join in the action.

John smiled and climbed unsteadily to his feet Anne clamped her mouth round his tool even as he rosй. Silke clambered onto the beanbag behind hint and clasped her arms in.a circle around his hips. John flexed slightly at the knees as the point of Silke's tongue poked its way into the crack between his cheeks. He rocked his hips, riding the wicked tip of her tongue into his asshole, while Anne urged him further into her mouth with each forward push.

With one hand caressing and bouncing his heavy balls and the other working up and down the slick skin of the shaft, Anne was lovingly milking the essence from him. Perhaps she'd been a little mean before but now she wanted to please him, to make amends, to do something very special. Anne opened her throat to him and urged him deeper and deeper. Silke was using her hands to spread his cheeks wider. She lodged her tongue in his hole. Anne's hands clutched him by the hips; her nails dug into the firm skin. He was repeating their names over and over, moaning sighs of heightened sensation. Anne felt almost lightheaded. She wanted to catch her breath. Even more she wanted him to come now. His muscles tightened and a shiver ran through him.

Silke poked her tongue harder. Anne sucked the fluids from him. John groaned as if in a kind of ecstatic agony. His great cock twitched hard and flooded Anne with a warm, salty tide of milky spunk. She held him closer. With each jerk the thick cream spurted out and gushed down her throat He pulled back as if to withdraw but Anne still kept him between her lips, sucking the last pearly drops from the fountain.

John lifted Anne up from the floor where sits was kneeling and clasped her to him. They kissed. He clamped his mouth to hers wide open and pushed his tongue in to share the thick salty taste of his sperm. Silke stood up and he rewarded her with a lingering soul kiss. The three of them stood there in the center of the room, arms Interlocked in a mutual embrace, exchanging kisses of affectionate gratitude.

It was a couple of hours before John was ready to leave. He took a shower upstairs and changed back into his workaday clothes. Anne had left their papers lying on the chair with his shirt and things.

He rolled them up and stuffed the bundle into the pocket of his corduroy jacket.

"You're not going to lose them?" Anne queried him.

"No way. I look forward to rereading your paper with great relish," he said. "They're going to bring back some delightful memories."

He paused by the door to give them both a farewell kiss.

"Its funny," said Anne, "you know, I still didn't get around to fucking you."

"You were beautiful," John said. "You both were. And as for that screw, can I take a rain check?"

"You betcha," Anne chuckled; "Any time'll do. Any time at all."

John grinned and walked out the door. At the top step he paused and turned back to the girls. "Thank you both for having me for the weekend." He fingered his neck. "I did enjoy being your house guest."

"Thank you for coming… " said Anne.

"… and coming and coming," Silke added with a grin.