Rub Him The Right Way – Take Two

Bdsm

Except for her hypnotic performance, everything around him was fading. Spotlights dimmed. Shapes blurred. His senses were commandeered by the ferocious throb threatening to burst his strained Burberry flat fronts.Somewhere at the other end of the main gallery, his wife would be mingling amongst semi-circled acolytes accessorized with flutes of half drunk Lyme Bay, joining in buzzed homage to the controversially explicit photographs and sculptures on display. A constellation of social luminaries, both real and reproduced, guaranteed healthy crosscurrents of murmured speculation.The sounds rose and fell from far off, a white noise surf that had nothing to do with him anymore.Concealed in the shadow of a mythical couple on the verge of an epic fuck, the nubile girl pulled him closer and whispered his most perverted desire.She backed him against the solid mass of a nude male torso, and knelt between his trembling legs.From below, her wrist breached the symmetry of her dress.He needed relief. He needed it fast.He could come in her mouth, before anyone found out.***The dress had drawn his eye first, its vivid medley of colors as striking as a life vest amidst the formal sea of beige and black.As they had entered the festivities, two male sentries armed only with full frontal staffs wanked in freeze frame opposite one another. The contorted visage on one struck him as familiar. It was rumored that some celebrities, and even a few aristocrats, had been immortalized by this particular artist. So subtle were the resemblances, that no one knew for certain. Rumors remained exactly that.Everyone agreed the turnout was impressive, both in quantity and quality. His wife pointed out the theatre legend, three middling starlets and a newly divorced duchess. He nodded politely, but their appeal was lost on him. Who would be watching fully clothed people, in a roomful of bare tits and dicks?He also couldn’t understand how the spectators could be content to swarm like a flock of strutting flamingos, rather than disperse more comfortably in the expansive hall. He hated confined quarters, no matter how expensively understated the fragrances might be.They accepted regional Chardonnay from trays circulated by smooth chested stewards in shirtless black tie.He waited until after half dozen stops on the tour before excusing himself to explore on his own. She was used to his need for solitude, and graciously accepted his peck on the cheek as she waved heartily to another couple.He wandered toward the exhibits now abandoned by the flock, seeking to indulge his own opinions about each, without the prattle of collective criticism about.Voices parried at a safer distance behind him as he reached a voluptuous kaçak iddaa rendering of two females in Sapphic embrace while ogled by a masturbating male. Embarrassed at his base reaction, he turned to see his wife in animated conversation with acquaintances responsible for their invitation.He had to admit, she looked damned sexy in the strapless cream sheath, topswells tastefully mounded beneath a perfect strand of pearls. He adored the love for adventure beneath her placid exterior. For his birthday, six months before, she’d hired a professional masseuse to give him a happy ending, captured on video for the couple’s private enjoyment. Which they enjoyed, on occasion.Something wasn’t quite right, however. He was feeling accommodated, even humored of late. He had chalked it up to complacency and the stresses of everyday life. Like all phases, it would pass.She caught his eye and tossed her ‘I’m thinking of you’ wink before re-engaging her peers. Maybe once they were alone again, he could talk her into leaving early.Meanwhile, there were the libido friendly attractions at hand, like the Sapphic duo’s tit fondling lip lock. Bet the chap who’s wanking off to the side is keen to get his woody between either set. Know I would.In a neighboring threesome, two young females simultaneously fingered one another while bestowing curious licks on either side of a much older man’s impressively curved bone. Want, was the one word review from under his boxers.A splash of startling colors interrupted his lecherous reverie. Their wearer pivoted and posed just beyond an exquisite carving that captured a self-pleasuring woman’s anatomy with the finesse of a harpist coaxing glissandos from her instrument.Normally he would have been transfixed by the latter. But his gaze bypassed the risque recital to roam a fall of silken tresses that drifted gently along the Matisse of the living woman’s back, then it locked onto the skirt’s swing as it swept her gluteal curve.A frisson of deja vu spiraled straight to his groin at the sight of the dress. He felt guilty for staring so long. Quickly he occupied himself with a much larger tableau of a well-endowed male eager to lock loins with a nearly nude nymphet.The colors crossed his line of sight again. For the first time, she faced him.The birthday masseuse!She wore that dress when I followed her to the private room…Surprise and panic seized him in warring proportions.What was a happy ending parlor girl doing at a shindig like this? Her eyes met his with the friendly nonchalance of a fellow aesthete.Maybe she doesn’t recognize me with my clothes on. She sauntered a few degrees closer and paused, studying the couple’s larger than life lust.His head bobbed kaçak bahis defensively toward the crowd.She can’t see me from this angle, the girl spoke with reassuring softness. “Your secret will be safe.”So much for not being recognized. He knew his face had reddened. ‘Awkward’ didn’t begin to describe the situation. This girl had seen him naked. Had rubbed her oiled hands and firm tits all over his nakedness. Had kneaded, teased and sucked him off to two explosive ejaculations.She had even gone so far as to…Because he wasn’t sure what else to do, he sipped courage from his glass. Part of him wanted to run, but curiosity tagged in and started wailing on panic when her fresh, non-designer scent roused appealing memories.He certainly wouldn’t have minded running into her again. But here? Now what?”That’s right, carry on as if you’re alone,” she encouraged. “Pretend to admire the frescoes.”He marveled at her cool control of the situation. Just like my birthday, when she lay on top of my back and told me to put on the blindfold…”What do you make of what you’ve seen so far?” she bantered.”It’s…arresting, to say the least,” he answered tightly, fighting off flashbacks of her unclothed comeliness.He shot an anxious look down the gallery. His wife, farther away now, was chatting with a curator they knew. Reprieved, his gaze returned to the younger woman, but his mind raced to recall how much of her appeared on the video he and his wife had seen.Her affable smile grew confidential. “I saw you checking out Lady Swinburne and Lord and Lady Entwistle a few moments ago.”He was puzzled. The Sapphic scene with the male voyeur? “You can’t be serious,” he scoffed.”I assure you it’s the truth. I know the artist personally.”Shock registered on his face. The ice was broken. “Y-you mean–?” She nodded. ‘Lady Swinburne and Lady Entwistle are–“”Yes. They are. But as you could tell, Lord Entwistle is just fine with it. Did you spot Brian Kellers on your way in?”The rugby superstar? So that’s why the sentry looked familiar!”On the wall nearest the Entwistles, you’ll find three large photographs,” she directed. “Lani Kalenas, Sharon Bloom, and Wyndham Winston. We call them the MILF Muses. Go on, have a look.”He ambled over to the nude portraits of the journalist, the veteran actress, and the talk show host. Their poses were identical – manicured hands hoisting luscious, large nippled tits aloft. Everything else was carefully concealed by selective lighting.When he risked a sideways glance, the girl could not be seen, which gave him the confidence to return to her orbit.Her expression was playful. “Would you have been able to tell, if you hadn’t known?”He felt oddly pleased to be privy illegal bahis to such insider information, though given the source, he wouldn’t dare pass on these tidbits at home. The new secrets glittered between them, shiny trinkets to be carefully stored upon parting.”Paulo had a lot of fun working with Veronica Bangs and Luisa-Martine, too.”He brightened at the mention of his two favorite porn stars. At first opportunity, he’d have to check out their contribution to the evening’s attractions.”But theirs weren’t finished in time for the opening. Paulo thinks it will be sometime next month.”Wait a minute. Exactly how does she know this artist, this Paulo? Is he one of her other massage clients? Did he get the same VIP treatment? He was annoyed with himself for feeling annoyed.Oblivious to his pique, she motioned toward the couple before which they stood. “Astonishing, isn’t it? It took two years from concept to finish. Note the attention to detail in the musculature…” Her caress floated over the male’s flexed thigh.He tried to ignore the stab of longing – how he wanted it to be his thigh! – to ransack his memory for that giveaway visual he might have overlooked.How much of her could my wife have seen? The long hair, yes, but what about her face? Obviously she wasn’t wearing that dress at the time she was teasing my cock with the silk knickers she’d just taken off……or with her…No. That part was strictly off the record.Stop it! You can’t risk a hard on here, in front of… Leave! Now! But his vintage Cole Haans weren’t receiving the message. They shuffled. They shifted. They remained in place.Her photo had not appeared on the massage therapist’s web page. Of that, he was certain. He had looked it up one ball aching afternoon while he was alone in their flat. Thinking to scratch an impulsive itch with a repeat performance, he had phoned, but a recording announced the shop was on holiday for the next two weeks.Since she’s keeping herself hidden, what difference does it make? He decided to relax and enjoy the guided tour.”See how the artist has interpreted her excitement?” she gestured.  “Her top is still on, but just barely.” She traced the pouting bubbles of the female’s exposed underswell in a slow, horizontal figure three.As her tender palms cupped petite nipples and began a sensual journey down the nymphet’s torso, he wondered how his palate could suddenly feel so dry in spite of the recent wash of wine.”She looks ready for him, doesn’t she?” One finger edged along the ripple of engorged labia, then delicately circled the marbled jut within. “And she needs to be. Look how large he is.”Please, no. Don’t show me like that.But her hands-on demonstration had already shifted back to the heft of the man’s inner thigh, brushed the heavy dip of his balls, and tickled upward until the base of his inflamed rod was nearly wrapped in her hand, its girth too broad for complete enclosure.

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