For several horny minutes the French girl ran her tongue tastily over Jean's arse orifice, curling the tip and pushing it sexily into the hard, tight nutmeg.
When she finally withdrew her mouth, Jean turned over, her breasts shaking voluptuously — the beads swinging delightfully against her nipples. The silk scarf had fallen back into place across her honeypot, modestly shielding the thick-lipped jungle from view.
“I'm sorry', she whispered. “I was very naughty and I deserved to be spanked! Of course we must do as we're told: it was very wrong of me to disobey! Come, let's do as our Master bids us…”
And she pulled Monique gently down beside her, one hand stealing about the girl's waist, the other going up to clasp Monique's shoulder. The girls cuddled warmly together, lying side by side on the carpet just below Michael's eyes, shamelessly kissing and caressing each other — knowing that he could see every movement they made.
Monique's right hand stole down until her fingers rested over Jean's silk-covered crotch. She massaged the place lovingly, moving her hand in a beautifully slow up-and-down rhythm so that the scarf was pressed tightly against the woman's sex.
The thin silk rubbed excitingly on Jean's cunt, and as Monique experimentally pushed her finger into the yielding hole, the underside was gradually forced inwards: penetrating Jean's hot, moist quim.
“Mmmm”. Monique sighed prettily as she slowly tucked her finger (the material of the scarf acting as an improvised sheath) into her lover's tight slit.
Firmly, the digit was thrust fully into Jean's ticklish sex, Monique working it around and around — taking care to push the silk in before her finger and make it touch every inch of the woman's throbbing vulva.
Soon, Michael could see that his wife's cunt was crammed with the scarf. Monique had cleverly stuck it so far into the slit that, when she pulled her finger out again, only the fringe was left to dangle sexily outside the ripe wound.
Jean herself, meanwhile, had not been idle. While her hands had been caressing Monique's bottom (unfortunately out of Michael's line of vision), she had drawn Monique's scarf tightly between the girl's thighs. It could now be seen — as Jean's body moved slightly away from Monique's and again lay in repose on the carpet — that her fingers were holding the very end of the scarf tautly under Monique's bottom.
This naturally caused the silken neckwear to be pulled as constrictingly as possible against the girl's crotch; and for it to twist into a very narrow strip — thereby cutting firmly into Monique's cunt, leaving the lips themselves to protrude nakedly on either side of the swathe.
While Michael's eyes were glued on this erotic spectacle, Jean gave him a brief look — then began to jerk the taut length of silk scarf backwards and forwards between Monique's thighs.
The effect was startling. Michael felt his prick rising to a frenzied erectness. It moved of its own volition against the sheets and for a moment he feared that he would shoot his spunk onto them prematurely, so urgent was the prickling sensation at his scrotum.
Monique's quim was drawn widely open by Jean's manipulations: the scarf had become no more than a strip of silk about an inch in diameter and it sank deeply into the long gash of the girl's sex, forcing the lips to stretch open.
As he stared, the girls climbed slowly to their feet. Jean retained her grip on the scarf and, standing by Monique's side, facing towards the bed, she continued her steady tugging…
Monique's crotch was level with his eyes now, and Michael could see even more clearly the unnatural pout of the girl's cunt-lips. They seemed thicker than he remembered them… and he suddenly realised that this was due to fact that the tight cut of the scarf was forcing them to protrude; curving them out of Monique's pussy and squashing them severely!
For Monique herself the sensation was unbearably sensual. She could feel Jean's hand under her bottom, could feel the constant drag of the material into her inflamed cunt…
Her knees wobbled unsteadily. For a moment she was sure that she was going to faint. And then she knew that her quim was spurting its love-juices down her thighs; staining the silk and flowing abundantly onto Jean's quickly placed fingers.
The woman's hand lifted into her crotch, and Monique felt the sensitive, fondling fingers slip into her cunt. They took their place beside the cruel silk and tickled her on to the completion of her climax.
She managed to keep her eyes open during the prolonged orgasm, staring down at her thighs as they quivered and shook with a life of their own.
Then, her legs unable to support her for a moment longer, Monique fell half-swooning into Jean's arms. She dimly realised that she was being lowered gently onto the bed… then gave herself up to the blissful warm blanket that was slowly enveloping her…
2
Gradually, the sound of voices reached her. They seemed to be coming from a great distance, down a long dark wind-tunnel. Monique didn't really want to hear them: she would have preferred to remain here in this beautiful, dreamy pink-and-fluffy world where everything was so peaceful, so wonderfully calm.
But the spell had already been broken. Her escape into sleep had ended. And Monique slowly brought herself back from the silent, still state of rest and into full consciousness.
She was lying on one side of Michael's body and Jean was on the other. He had his arms around their shoulders, clasping them gently, his head turned towards Jean.
“She's waking up', Jean whispered, and Michael brought his face round, smiling at Monique and giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“What — what happened?” Monique asked sleepily. “I was standing next to Jean and suddenly I…” She raised herself up on one elbow. “I fell asleep!” she finished, shaking her head ruefully. “How rude of me! But I couldn't help myself, I felt so tired — ”.
“Of course you did, darling', Jean said softly. “After all, you've been through quite a lot today! It's no wonder you feel exhausted”. Monique thought that she exchanged a knowing, secret look with her husband. “How do you feel now, precious?”
Jean went on. “You've had nearly two hours' sleep, you know. Has it refreshed you?”
“Two hours!” Monique sat right up in the bed, startled. “Surely I couldn't have slept all that time!” It suddenly occurred to her that Jean and Michael had been talking together while she had been fast asleep. They seemed somehow different now. As if they'd reached an understanding…
Looking from one to the other, Monique felt sure that something had transpired between the husband and wife which concerned her, but about which she was to be told nothing.
It wasn't anything she could put a name to; it was nothing she could pin down and identify. No, whatever it was that the couple had agreed to, she — Monique — would never fully discover. She might guess at it from their subsequent actions, but the essence of their conversation would always elude her.
The girl felt upset by this realisation. It reminded that she was, comparatively speaking, a stranger in their midst. An outsider: someone who could never completely share their lives.
People who had been married for as long as Michael and Jean always retained a certain duality; however close a third person got to them, there remained a part of their lives which couldn't be shared — an intimacy between them which couldn't be penetrated even by their children.
Monique reminded herself that she should have understood this at the beginning. Despite Jean's protestations, she should have realised from the first that she could never come between her and her husband. Not in every way, not completely…
Or was she merely imagining things? Had she misinterpreted the look which she thought Jean had exchanged with Michael? Monique began to grow anxious — not because of her fears themselves, but because she had never before been subjected to such self-doubt and so deep an analysis of her feelings, and the feelings of other people.
At this point Jean's voice broke into her thoughts: “While you were sleeping, Michael and I had a wonderful idea, Monique. A new variation on our little game…”
