Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I had my two former professors over for cocktails one night. Peter taught me American literature, Paul taught me educational history. I got A’s in both their classes, but that was about five years ago when I was still in college. Both Peter and Paul were about twenty years my senior, but we sat and talked amicably like old friends into the wee hours of the night, when we had all had a few too many drinks. Peter mentioned something about marital indiscretions, and that got Paul started on open marriages. Peter rallied with a quote from Emerson and a short speech on ethics.
“This open marriage thing is more interesting to talk about than Emerson,” Paul said.
“You know, Eileen and I are in an open marriage.”
Peter looked amazed. “Really?” Peter glanced at me before saying, “I’m allowed to have conference sex. No affairs.”
“I’m certainly not looking for affairs,” Paul said.
“Angelo and I are also in an open marriage,” I added.
Peter looked at me. “You’re kidding.”
“Not at all,” I said, uncrossing my legs and leaning closer, resting my forearms on my legs.
“So if Peter and I wanted to double trabzon escort up on you right here on this patio…” Paul said, trailing off.
“It would not be a detriment to my marriage,” I said, smiling at Paul, then looking at Peter, who sat, pensive.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Paul told Peter.
“I’m thinking,” Peter said.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked. “Whether you want to fuck my pussy or my mouth?”
Peter heaved a great sigh. He seemed genuinely saddened.
“Well, I want to fuck you,” Paul said, and snatched me up from my chair. He pulled me close, fondled my ass and crushed my breasts against him.
I let him pull my tank top off over my head. My breasts spilled free, and he filled his hands with them, squeezing, caressing, and bent down to tease my left nipple with his tongue. He twirled me around, grabbed me by the forearms and held my arms behind my back.
“Come here, Peter,” Paul said.
My nipples felt jolts of electricity as Peter stared at one, and then the other, before reluctantly standing and making his way across the patio.
“Touch tunceli escort her,” Paul said, holding me roughly out to him.
Peter approached me and stood facing me, his breath hot against my lips. He drew one hand up to his mouth and deposited saliva on the tips of two fingers. He reached under my miniskirt, deftly pulling aside my thong and eliciting chills as his slippery fingers caressed my clit, explored and slipped deep inside me, thrusting.
A moan escaped me.
“That’s it,” Paul said, and let go of my arms. He unfastened his pants and his erection was suddenly pressing against my ass under my miniskirt, which he reached around to unbutton. I stepped out of the skirt and slid my panties down to my ankles. I dropped to my knees and began to unfasten Peter’s belt.
Paul was groping my breasts from behind me, spitting in his hand and working his erection, guiding it into my wet cunt, slowly, letting his girth stretch my tight pussy. I arched my back and pressed backwards against him, taking all of him, feeling his rock hard cock pulsing inside me.
Peter stepped out zonguldak escort of his pants and pulled his sweater off over his head. He stood before me, naked, his erection wavering before me. He got down on his knees and thrust his bulging cock into my mouth, pushing it hard against the back of my throat before he slowly pulled back out and I sucked, bringing his foreskin over the head of his dick.
And Paul began to thrust harder, rocking me forward and back, grasping my buttocks and squeezing and slapping, watching my ass cheeks jiggle as his balls slapped against me. He lay himself over on my back to reach around and squeeze my nipples, teasing them.
Peter began to fuck my mouth harder and harder, grasping my face with both hands, and I struggled to breathe, my eyes watered, I felt pre-cum trickling down my throat.
Paul moaned and then drilled me, and I felt him explode inside me, his hot cum filling me and dripping out onto the ground when he pulled out.
Peter heaved another great sigh and sucked in his breath, and then I tasted the wet warmth of his semen spurting across my tongue and down my throat. He released my head and pulled his erect penis from my mouth, a string of saliva depending from it.
I swallowed, looked down at my breasts with hand prints and scratch marks in red.
Peter turned to retrieve his clothing, and Paul, who was walking towards the wet bar, asked, “Who needs another round?”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
