sway in a tantalising undulation. Her much plumper pubic mound was almost completely visible — the now cord-like pants merely drawing attention to the thick lips on either side of her sex-slit.
“Much better!” Michael commented. “What about your bottom, though? Shouldn't they be twitched up at the back as well?”
Jean put her finger to her lips in mock-reprimand. “Of course they should!” she exclaimed. “How stupid of me! Monique darling — would you mind…?”
She turned slowly around to present them with her back view. Monique began to tug the black, glossy briefs firmly up into the crease — but Jean stopped her.
“Here, let me make it easier for you to judge the appearance', she said. And deliberately bent down, practically touching her toes. The ripe spheres of her bottom pouted rudely at the man and girl, ample white globes that were already overflowing their scanty briefs.
Michael could hear Monique's heavy breathing as she took the hem between her fingers and drew it right away from Jean's cheeks and tucked it securely into the woman's arse-divide.
When the girl straightened up and moved away, Jean remained in her bent-over position. The thin line of her silken panties was now all but hidden by the lips of her quim. They stuck with a breathtakingly clear obviousness over the taut material — the whole of Jean's cunt and arse being completely visible to the watching man and girl.
Jean wriggled her buttocks from side to side, showing off her sex to them without the slightest hint of embarrassment. Michael finally got up from his chair and walked the few paces which brought him close to his bending wife.
He put his hand on the back of her thigh, slowly bringing it upwards in a caressing movement until his fingers roved over the warm surface of her bottom. They fondled leisurely at the soft cheek, then drew it carefully aside, displaying Jean's practically naked cunt more fully.
“Very sexy', he remarked. “I don't think I've ever seen you looking quite so provocative, darling!”
He kept his hand on her buttocks, making the bare cheek wobble gently under the pressure of his fingers. Jean stayed in her slave-like position, arms hanging limply towards the floor. Michael passed his other hand beneath her and idly fondled one of her breasts.
The hard-nippled orb rested sweetly under his loosely caressing fingers, and the man began to swing it slowly from side to side — feeling the heavy globe of white flesh move pendulously in whichever position he commanded…
Huskily, her voice unable to conceal her naked sexual longing, Jean murmured: “Shall I admit something to you, Michael? About Monique and myself?”
He tensed and a pulsing excitement raced through his body. It was as if he had passed his finger quickly over a live wire; the shock was not so much an electrical jolt as a sharp stab of fear at a sudden narrow escape. Part- pleasure, part-nervous tension.
Michael tried to keep his voice calm and casual. “Yes, tell me, Jean. What about Monique and you? What have been up to?” He continued to rub her arse-cheek and gently milk her breast.
“You promise not to be angry?” She felt so incredibly soft and feminine…
“How can I tell? I don't know yet what you've done, do I?” Her nipple was so hard, so terribly hot…
“We weren't just trying on panties and stockings, Michael. We went further than that”. “Yes?”
“We touched each other; felt each other… the way you're feeling me now!”
“I see…” What would it be like to watch the two of them fondling and caressing? Holding each other in the most lascivious embraces he could devise?
“You're not angry? You won't be too cross with me, darling?”
“No, I won't be cross…” He could scarcely force the words out, his mouth felt so dry.
“I promise not to do it again, Michael”. She was so meek, so maddeningly coy! Her fine, supple legs, feet well astride, stockings sticking so-tightly to her thighs… how could he be angry with her?
Michael realised suddenly that Monique was only a few feet away. The girl had melted into the background during their exchange and was standing near the bed, her fingers interlaced across her rudely displaced panties.
In a voice that he could still not quite recognise as his, Michael said: “Come here and show me what you did, Monique. Let me see how you touched each other — I promise not to be cross with you — with either of you!”
He gave Jean's nipple a final tweak, then released the bud. Her breast shook in a shivery, wobbling movement and Michael moved away.
Jean straightened herself, breathing heavily. As she faced them, she tugged her panties up — seeming to be unaware that this extra leverage had caused the briefs to slip right away from her cunt: leaving the jewelled lips totally naked. The panties were gathered up at the side of the woman's crotch, serving no useful purpose whatsoever.
She held out her arms to Monique. “We'd better do what he says, darling', she whispered. “If we don't, Michael will be terribly angry with us!”
Monique moved slowly into Jean's embrace, her pretty face flushed, her body visibly trembling.
Michael sat in the chair again, crossing his legs so that the horniness of his prick wasn't too obvious to the girls. Jean planned all this! he thought. She deliberately engineered the whole thing! But explanations would have to wait. He knew that it was simply impossible for him to act he outraged husband. She had aroused him far too intensely and he would have to see it through.
For the moment he could think of nothing but the sight of his wife and Monique drawing into a warm and intimate embrace — their excitingly near-naked bodies pressing together as their arms went about each other's waists.
His eyes felt heavy, his pulse began to race… They were actually kissing! Their lips had met in a lewd, lesbian mingling — pushing harder and harder together until he could see their tongues meeting in a wanton, perverse tasting!
Every part of their bodies was touching: Jean's large, ripe breasts joined with Monique's more youthful, smaller titties and rubbed with growing passion against the girl's hard, pointy nipples. Their tummies writhed lustfully, their cunts pressed together, their silk-clad thighs made a steady, static rustling as they began to move in a rhythmical, swaying dance… with their feet motionless on the floor.
Michael saw clearly enough that they were deliberately putting on a “performance” for his benefit. They had themselves under control, carefully slowing down their love-play so that he could savour every caress, every movement of their wonderful bodies.
But far from detracting from his pleasure, this deliberation excited him all the more. He watched intently as Jean's hands stole down Monique's back, feeling beneath the girl's panties and moving around the upper slopes of her bum-cheeks.
This action caused the waistband of the briefs to ride down a little, revealing the valley between Monique's arse-globes in all its bare splendour. Jean dipped her knees slightly — Monique's mouth bear-ring down on hers — so that she was able to pull the bikini pants right over the gorgeous cheeks and show Michael the girl's bottom in its truly naked condition.
To encourage his admiration she caressed the sweet globes for him; running the fingers of both hands slowly and beautifully down the fleshy slopes — lifting the cheeks and holding them apart for a brief, tantalising second, then squashing them tightly together again.
She did this again, seeming to derive as much enjoyment from her manipulation of Monique's bottom as Michael. Again and again she forcibly prised open the girl's nutty treasure trove, offering its deep, hidden orifice for the man's inspection.
Then, the girls moving with an almost balletic grace, they turned slowly around until it was Jean's backside which confronted Michael.
She was receiving the same treatment from Monique's hands — or rather, a similar treatment, since the French girl was giving Jean an even more intimate caress. Her fingers had also worked the woman's panties down off her bottom, but instead of contenting themselves with a loving massage of the cheeks, Monique was rubbing them in a slow-motion fondling up and down the crease itself!
Jean's body was still bent at the knee, and from his enviable vantage point Michael could see with absolute clarity the tiny orifice of his wife's arse as it was continually stroked by Monique's long, slender fingers.
