He breathed more heavily than ever, forced now to uncross his legs and rest his hand on the angrily swelling rod of his prick to ease its furious pulsing.
Jean and Monique were still kissing: so far their lips had not broken away and showed no signs of parting. In fact, their faces were working passionately, mouths thrust urgently together, and Michael knew that their tongues were busily exploring every tooth, every gum — slipping alternately into each other's mouths and French-kissing with complete disregard for his presence in the room.
When they at last brought their lips away the tense atmosphere was broken by the sound of their deep gasping for air. Their chins rested on one another's shoulders, their eyes closed tightly. Jean, after a few moments pause to catch her breath, began to kiss the creamy skin of Monique's upper arm — sidling her mouth along the girl's shoulder and bending her head so as to reach Monique's tender, fleshy muscle.
Her beautifully long black hair fell across both their breasts, concealing the rubbing melons from Michael's vision. But only for a few seconds.
Monique released Jean's bottom, freeing one hand so that it could slide up between their bodies and brush the thick tresses out of the way. Her fingers closed over the very tip of Jean's titty — the one nearest to Michael — and the man's prick gave another spastic jerk as the girl began to squeeze his wife's nipple…
Not satisfied with merely petting Jean's teat into a ripe, red flowering, Monique steered it carefully until it rubbed sexily against her own nipple, then took both of their tit-stalks between her forefinger and thumb and treated them to a prolonged, fantastically thrilling fondle.
Jean sucked for several minutes at Monique's upper arm, then removed her mouth and stared lustfully at the red blotch she had raised on the girl's white flesh. She turned her eyes slowly until they met Michael's.
“She's beautiful, isn't she, darling?” Jean whispered. “Her skin tastes so sweet, so very, very sweet! Shall I take her to the bed and show you what we did to each other this afternoon? Shall I?”
Michael nodded quickly, his cock now so rigid within the confines of his trousers that he was forced to stand up and unzip them. Neither girl paid him any attention as they moved, arms tightly about each other's waists, to the bed. He took them off completely, then rolled his underpants down — feeling an enormous relief as his penis at last wobbled free of its restricting enclosures.
The curtains at the windows were already drawn and as the room darkened with the approach of twilight, Jean reached out and switched the bedside lamp on. Its flowery pink shade filtered the light into a gentle, opaque glow which bathed the girl's bodies in a becoming, rather mysterious shade of pale crimson.
Michael stripped off his shirt and vest. He felt his body shiver, knowing that the tremor was due to acute sexual excitement rather than the slight chill in the room. He moved to the foot of the bed and sat down, facing towards the girls — who were already locked in another embrace, lying sideways to face each other and once more straining their soft bodies together…
Jean stroked her hand down Monique's hip and firmly, insistently pushed the girl's thighs open. She made Monique lie with her legs splayed — quickly tugging her flimsy, pathetically inadequate panties all the way down over her stockings: leaning forward for a moment to drag them off her ankles, then resuming her position next to Monique's warm cuddly body.
Her right hand again alighted on the girl's outspread thigh, now caressing with her parted fingers the satin- smooth inside of Monique's leg. She gave the girl a tender, sweetly extended massage — occasionally permitting her hand to stray further upwards and brush meaningfully against Monique's pink quim-gash.
Monique would shyly attempt to squeeze her thighs together to ward off the dangerously intrusive fingers and, each time, Jean would patiently push them apart again — giving the girl a soft kiss on her mouth and reassuring her with her eyes that she had nothing to fear.
Finally, after many preliminary sorties, Jean allowed her fingers to actually descend on the innocent lips and tickle them open.
She slipped the tips into Monique's wound and strummed them gently along the moist mouth, playing the girl as if she was a delicate instrument. The first joint of each finger curled over, working just inside the juicy slit and very slowly insinuating the inner lips apart.
While Jean toyed in this manner with her cunt, Monique positioned her own hands on the woman's bottom. The girl kneaded the rounded cheeks more brutally this time — pinching large folds of the bum-flesh between her fingers, then letting them slowly escape: gradually covering Jean's buttocks with angry-looking red marks.
Soon, however, she was sufficiently aroused by Jean's growing liberties with her quim to venture a slim finger between the latter girl's thighs.
Monique lifted Jean's leg and traced the digit firmly across the very centre of her cunt. Jean lowered the outstretched limb across Monique's hips, giving the French girl every encouragement.
Michael, now holding his inflamed penis tightly in his hand, saw Monique's finger sink beautifully into his wife's sex. It pushed succulently between the thick petal-lips and disappeared from sight — buried completely within Jean's raw and naked pussy.
She started to frig it slowly in and out, using her remaining fingers to tickle wantonly at the hot, moist length of the woman's slit.
They kissed yet again — and Michael knew that this time they had genuinely forgotten that what they were doing to each other was being witnessed by a third party. Their passion was mounting visibly, their lust growing wild and anxious for release. Jean's free hand groped desperately for Monique's breast… found and squeezed the precious melon in an agitated, furious fondling.
Moaning deliriously, the an pair girl clasped Jean's titty with a similar fury. Then, as if a starting pistol had been fired, the girls began a simultaneous fucking movement with their hips — driving their loins wildly with harder and harder strokes onto the fingers which were penetrating their cunts.
“Oh God! Oh, my darling!” Jean gasped suddenly. “I'm starting to come! I can't stop myself, darling! I can't!!”
Monique's fingers sped faster into her quim, wiggling and frigging into Jean's tight red pussy. She threw her head back, her mouth opening in a helpless, despairing cry:
“Oh, so am I, cheri! Oh, Jean, hurt me! Hurt me, my darling!! Feel me coming…!”
The silent spectator to their sport worked his fingers tightly up and down his prick. His wife and Monique suddenly stopped their threshing and remained for perhaps thirty seconds with only their thighs quivering. His own lust approaching boiling point, Michael realised that they were at this very moment jetting their girl-spunk out of their hot, damp cunts and splashing the foamy juice onto each other's fingers!!
Making a tremendous effort, he managed to contain his sperm. He wanted to be in a completely excited state when his turn came — and Michael knew that as soon as Jean and Monique had recovered their breath he was going to push his body between the two girls and fuck them until they begged him for mercy…
3
But before Michael could move, Jean rolled herself free of Monique's embrace and threw herself into his arms.
“Darling!” she gasped. “Oh, my darling! Let me explain why we did this…” Her body, wet from the heat of Monique's lust, pressed nudely against his; her glistening breasts like twin cushions on his bare chest.
“I wanted to — ”.
“It doesn't matter, Jean”. Michael's voice was thick with emotion, his senses reeling, his prick a surging shaft of pure animal desire. Even without the intimate closeness of Jean's body he would have been unable to contain his lust. But with his wife's naked flesh rubbing against his own…
He locked his arms around her back and slowly fell forward on top of her, making her fall backwards onto the bed beside Monique. His legs pushed their way between Jean's thighs, forcing them open.
The panties were still twisted up around her loins, gathered in a tight, dishevelled bundle across Jean's thighs. Michael reached his hand between their bodies and lifted them up — making room for his prick to thrust beneath the briefs and begin to ease its hot, dynamic length into her cunt.
“No…”, Jean moaned. “Let me explain first, darling. Let me tell you — ”.
But the crown of his cock was already sinking between her quim-lips — driving thickly into her soaking sex
