Sara Has A Threesome (MFF) free porn video

It's Bev's leaving do. The girls from the department want to give their ward manager a send-off she will never forget. So it's a meal in The Raven, the posh gastropub out Brocklehill way, maybe a club later.

Sara is despondent because Bev has hardly glanced her way all evening. She has grown fond of her boss over the last two months, hoped they might be more than just colleagues. But now she wonders if she has been fooling herself, the connection she had thought they had an illusion, just wishful thinking on her part.

She obviously regards you as just another member of her team, Sara thinks; just another student, a name on the rota, one of the many girls that come and go from the ward every quarter only to be soon forgotten.

Sara is taking it steady tonight, drinks bitter-shandy, wanting to keep her wits about her. But without Prosecco to take the edge off things, she begins to feel insignificant sat at the corner of a table for sixteen, the women from the ward gathered around the extended table made up of four smaller ones pushed together.

There is no manager like Bev at The Royal. The others all say so, have done so since Sara's first day on the ward. At only twenty-four, her career has been remarkable: ward manager at twenty-two; soon to be a nurse practitioner at twenty-four. And despite her youth, she has been a mother hen to her staff. Tonight there is a sparkle in Bev's eyes, her laughter natural and warm as she exchanges jokes and banter with her colleagues. Sara watches her as she chats with those sat close as if holding court, jealous not to be one of the chosen few, seething to see that bitch Vicky Meadows smiling as Bev shows her travel snaps from her two weeks in Vietnam.

Bev has turned and seen Sara watching. Their eyes meet. Sara senses Bev disengaging from those around her, momentarily holding her gaze. She gives an intimate, knowing smile, one that a parent might bestow a sad child. It is enough to banish all of Sara's concerns. It is the peeping of the winter sun through November clouds. And then the world darkens again as Bev's attention is stolen away by Megan, the ward clerk, her silly talk of babies.

At twenty-nine Sara isn't the youngest of Bev's colleagues. But, even now, after months on the ward, deep down she considers herself too old to be starting over again as a student, despite the fact Pat Costain from her year's intake is even older than her at thirty-six.

Up until the final weeks of her mother's battle with cancer, Sara had never considered nursing as a career. It was only during those last harrowing weeks that something had awoken in her; the desire to help others, a need to become a person who could make a difference to the world. This newly found meaning in her life is something she still finds hard to understand. Previously, she had been quite happy to hand out pasties from behind the counter in Greggs.

Coxon Ward. Her first placement. Finally, let loose on actual patients after weeks in the classroom. As her mentor, Bev had always found time to answer Sara's questions, was never too busy to run through a tricky clinical procedure. From Sara's first anxious morning, Bev had set her at her ease, and over the coming weeks had helped her put into practice what until then had been mere theory.

Sara wonders if after their meal she should go on to Club Kudo with the others. Best not, she thinks: another row with Nathan is the last thing she wants — what with how things have been between them recently. But it will be her last chance to be with Bev.

She cannot decide.

When she considers her marriage to Nathan — ten years this July —she feels older than her years. And yet dressed up like this, in her heels and ridiculously short black dress, the men still stare. On nights out with the girls from the ward, or classmates from nursing school, the men eye her up with unabashed interest. Some even come to her when she dances, tell her what she desperately needs to hear.

At Christmas, there had been that bloke who'd singled her out, danced with her, his every move letting her know what he wanted. His name was Dan, a medical student he'd said, though she had never seen him at The Royal. He couldn't have been more than twenty-three. Later in the evening, he'd followed her out to the restrooms without her noticing, waited for her in the passage. When she came back through the door, it was a shock to see him standing there smiling.

No words passed between them, and she had allowed him to take her arm and silently manoeuver her into a dark corner where he had kissed her intensely, kissed her as if his life depended on her breath in his mouth. And she had responded with her own desperation, igniting a lust in him that he had returned in his kiss, and in the density that prodded her through his pants. The reciprocated passion in their kiss had been exponential. It had almost overwhelmed her.

God! It had felt so good to be desired again. He had asked her to go home with him, back to his student digs, and she had been tempted. But then the terror of having to explain to Nathan her reason for not coming home. She would have had to weave lies, say she had stayed over at one of the girls' homes. Lying was a thing at which she was exceptionally inept, and so she had made her excuses to Dan, even though she had desperately wanted his cock inside her after enduring it hard and insistent against her belly throughout their kiss.

But how the fuck could she have done that — gone home with a stranger. She never had before Nathan, no matter how much she had fancied someone. So how could she with Dan — her being married to Nathan and all!

                                                       ***************

Earlier on the day of Bev's leaving do.

Sara at home. Her cosmetics and dresser mirror.

She's pissed off with Nathan, is giving him the silent treatment because of their row this afternoon when she'd told him to go fuck himself, to not bother waiting up. She'd asked if he would come to fetch her like he usually does at the end of one of her girlie nights out. He'd refused, told her to get a taxi, said that he was sick of being at her beck and call.

Now he's retreated to his man-space in a sulk, to the integral garage below their bedroom. She can hear him putting up racking, the vibrations of the drill biting into cinder-blocks and rising through the floorboards to grate on her nerves as she applies mascara. Her features have soured with resentment. She cannot get her face how she wants it.

"For fuck's sake, Nathan," she had said as calmly as she could, "It's twice a year — three at the most."

"Eight times this year — and still counting!" he'd reminded her.

Then he'd explained about the big match on the telly and how he wanted to have a few beers and so wouldn't be fit to drive. And even if there was no football, he doesn't want to drive into town and wait outside some dive-of-a-club while she says her goodnights.

"Not after your Chrismas do," he'd said, going on to tell her how he had sat for an hour in a snowstorm with the engine running, incessantly scanning the club door through arches in whiteness made by the intermittent strokes of wipers. His anger had grown as he waited for her to appear but seeing only drunken girls stumbling out into the night, some with heels in hand unprepared for the carpet of white that greeted their exit.

And all those belligerent young men looking for an excuse to punch the shit out of someone for nothing. There had been that one who had kicked the passenger door of his motor in passing. If there had not been four of them, he would have shown him, he says.

Exiting the club, on seeing his car parked up she had been so happy that he was there for her, so relieved to have him there to take care of her. She was a good wife, had not given in to temptation. God! How she had nearly blown her marriage out of the water, gone off with Dan, back to his room, his bed.

She had slipped on ice as she walked to the waiting car, had lain on the pavement for ages before he had gone to her and called her a drunken slut while he lifted her, bundled her onto the back seat.  

His anger barely contained, he had driven home like a maniac.

She'd passed out in the back, her senseless body thrown this way and that as they sped along winding lanes. And when they got home, the bastard had never even woken her, had left her passed out in the back of the car. The morning had found her shivering alone in the darkness of their garage. All he had said when she came inside to discover him sat eating bacon and eggs at the breakfast bar was, "You shouldn't get so pissed then, should you!"

Well, fuck him! She's made her own arrangements for tonight. Kath is picking her up, and Bev says she can stay at theirs. Bev says Nick doesn't mind if she stays over, says Nick says that the lovely Sara is always welcome to spend the night with them. Now all she needs to do is tell Nathan.

She remembers Bev's words: "The lovely Sara."

She wonders if Nick is like Nathan, always going on about the girls from college or the younger nurses on the ward, asking if any of them might be up for a threesome. Is that how Bev sees her: just another student? One of those girls that come and go, easy fodder for a couple's bed. Sara wonders how many students from the ward Bev might have groomed and taken back to her home and husband, waiting until their final week in the department before making her move. So many girls. Younger, lovelier girls than her.

She read her self-help, knows she's projecting and that it is all a fantasy.

Even so, Sara still imagines. Wouldn't it be ironic: her in bed with Bev and Nick, them doing to her what Nathan kept banging on about doing with Vicky Meadows? Nathan had wanted her to be friendly with Staff Nurse Meadows because she looks barely out of her teens, is blonde, petite, and pretty. He has no idea what a bitch she can be, her eye for error unnerving, her tongue scathing, her patronising smiles like scalpels to Sara's confidence. They have nothing in common, she and Vicky. Sara knows the little bitch despises her.

When she had told Nick what Vicky was really like, it had made him mad that she wouldn't even consider making friends with a, "Sexy little slut like that Vicky girl." More than once he'd told her, "You and her together... Mmm! It would be like fucking twin sisters."

Sara admits she and Vicky have a superficial resemblance. Both are petite blondes, both are lithe, girlish in their facial beauty. And that is what Sara hates about herself; that she, at nearly thirty years old, still asked for i.d. by snotty-nosed teenage check-out girls when buying wine in Tesco. She wishes she could be more like Bev: a woman with presence, a someone radiating assurance, authority, capability.

The thought of Vicky Meadows in their bed turns her stomach.

Instead, she thinks of Bev, sharing a kiss, holding each other, being naked together in bed. You're ridiculous, Sara, she tells herself. Even though she is only twenty-four, Bev is already the ward manager, soon to be a Nurse Practitioner. She is always professional, conscientious. Her interest in you is that of a mentor.

 When Sara had been trying to take blood from an elderly patient and couldn't find a vein, Bev had been so patient, even when she had burst out in tears and run off to the sluice to weep alone, convinced she would never get it right. But Bev had followed her, and in the silence of the small room, she had spoken to her kindly, had even held her, comforted her when her sobbing had become absurd. She thinks of those second in Bev's arm, her cheeks resting on those large breasts, Bev's hand stroking her head while whispering comforting words.

Bev had talked her back to rationality, sat her down and explained, "Where a vein is hard to see, you can apply a warm cloth or towel to the arm to cause the veins to dilate." She had looked into Sara's eyes and seen her returning composure."I'll show you," she'd said, taking her hand to pull her back on her feet and lead out into the corridor and back to the ward.
 
Perhaps tonight she can show Bev gratitude for all her kindness. Sara has never been with a girl, is not sure she even wants to, but really wouldn't mind if it were Bev. And Nick? Well, he would be the icing on an especially delicious cake. And sex with a colleague wouldn't be a problem now Bev is moving on to the Micklehurst Health Centre, and Sara off to her next placement, in A&E. There would be no embarrassing aftermath, no weeks of awkwardness.

But a sordid night with a married couple like Bev and Nick is a non-starter. Not all couples are like you and Nathan, Sara tells herself. This is all make-believe. Get a grip. Bev and Nick are a young, professional couple, not long wed. They will be so much in love, each enough for the other. Why would they need to bring another girl into the equation, especially one emotionally dead at twenty-nine? They will still love each other like she and Nathan once had, before all the talk of bringing girls home to share in bed.

                                            *************************
                            
The evening is winding down at Club Kudos. Some of the girls have already said their goodbyes, hugged Bev, kissed her and gone outside to find the rides waiting to take them home.

Bev and Vicky are embracing, but Sara is too far away to hear their parting words. There are tears in Vicky's eyes as Bev plants a farewell kiss her on her cheek. Vicky starts to walk away but suddenly turns and says something, but Sara still can't hear. Both women turn to look at Sara, Vicky still talking. Bev seems to ignore Vicky, turns away and walks over to Sara, sits by her side.

"Are you sure you won't change your mind?" Bev asks Sara. "Nick says it's okay. He's even made the guest bed up."

Sara desperately wants to go home with Bev, but it is beyond the possible. Nathan is expecting her to get a taxi. He'll go ape-shit if she stays out all night. Days ago she'd broached the subject of her staying over with a colleague, so subtly she had thought, but the sparks of anger in his eyes had brought her hopes crashing down.

"It's Nathan. He'll worry," she tells Bev.

"Phone him. I'll speak to him if you like."

"It's sweet of you but — I just can't. You don't know him!"

 Sara looks intently into Bev's eyes hoping she will understand, that she will not be so crass as to ask how it really is between her and Nathan while desperately wishing she would.

Bev's phone pings. She reaches into her bag and pulls it out and reads the message: "He's outside."

Others are coming to say their goodbyes. Bev stands up: more hugs and tears.

Then it is just Bev and Sara. This is really goodbye. They may ever see each other again, in spite of the promises.

"I'll wait with you until your taxi arrives," Bev says, taking Sara by the arm.

"No need."

"But I want to."

Outside, Nick has parked up on waste ground across the way, his silver Range Rover unmissable. He flashes his headlights when he sees the two women.

Sara scans the road. Not a cab in sight.

"How long did they say?" Bev asks.

"Fifteen minutes. It's been that now. You go. I'll be okay."

"You could be here for ages — you know what they're like. I'll get Nick to run you home."

"It's miles out of your way."

Sara can no longer keep in check the flood of tears that have threatened to breach the mental damn she had constructed to stave off despair. She turns away from Bev so that she will not see them track down her cheeks.

But Bev has seen. She places her hand on Sara's shoulder, says her name and turns her so that they face each other again. "Hey-hey. Don't be sad. We'll keep in touch."

Sara is enfolded in Bev's arms, all her cares falling from her. She presses her cheek against the exposed chilled flesh of Bev's shoulders, breathes in the fragrance of her shower time scents and the rich and musky perfume she earlier dabbed on her neck before leaving the house. Bev's scent, the almost voluptuousness of her body, the torrent of her dark hair let loose, coalesce and intoxicate Sara. She does not want this moment to end.
 
Bev is insistent that Sara attends, lifts her chin to look directly into her eyes. "You should have said something," she whispers, her voice husky in a way Sara has never heard before. "I had no idea." And with those words, Bev kisses Sara with a generosity of tongue that leaves Sara without any doubt.

Sara sighs as their kiss subsides, hardly daring believe what has happened. "Have you always known?"

"We're the talk of the ward!"

"Oh God! Am I so obvious?"

"I'm just teasing."

"— Is that what Vicky was saying?"

"Sara! I was teasing you. Vicky was concerned about how you were getting home, that's all."

A taxi pulls up across the road. "I have to go. Nathan will be waiting up." She throws her arms about Bev and holds her tight.

"Come home with us," Bev whispers.

Nick will have seen them kissing. What will he think? That it's his lucky day, that's what he'll think if he's anything like Nathan. "And Nick?" she asks.

"That's up to you."

They cross the road hand in hand, heading for Nick in his car.

"You two having fun?" he asks when they are settled in the back holding hands.

"Sara's staying with us tonight," Bev says. "You okay with that, Nicky?"

"Sure am. You're not tired, are you, Sara?" She sees his eyes studying her through the mirror and shakes her head. "Good girl. It'll be fun, the three of us."

"I don't want to be a nuisance," Sara says.

"Don't be daft," Bev says. She kisses Sara's cheek.

"A nuisance is the last thing you'll be," Nick adds.

She has been whisked away like a stolen bride. Sara will tell Nathan it was an abduction, that they bundled her off because she was too drunk to be tipped into a taxi on her own. She had been too far gone to refuse their kindness. Or she could say she had thought they were running her home but had passed out, hadn't had a say when they'd taken her back to their house instead.

Yes! That's what she'll tell Nathan. He might accept that. He knows how she gets on these nights out. But tonight she has shown restraint, paced her drinking, praying for Bev's insistence.  

So this is how it is to be seduced by a couple, she thinks, as Bev's tongue once again sweeps her mouth. And even if it is just her and Bev, it will be more than enough. But if Bev wants to share, that's fine with Sara. Win-win. Bev and Nick are perfect in every way. She wants to surrender to them, become a vacancy they can fill. Sex with this couple will be a memory to take back home, a consolation for her empty life.

Their house is nice. A Victorian villa. Spacious reception rooms with high ceilings, a monster wood burner smouldering in the hearth. Nick is a solicitor. At thirty, he is already a partner in the law firm where he works. Sara envies their house and Bev's taste, the refinement of the furnishings and decor, the not-trying-too-hard wonder of it.

Yes, Sara would like a drink. "Gin, please," she confirms.

Nick hands it to her and then sits perched on the arm of the sofa next to her. She is too sober, he too real. It sends a thrill of anticipation to know the handsome flesh and blood husband of her beautiful friend will soon be fucking her.

"Bev's always talking about you, Sara," Nick says. "She's always saying how lovely Sara is." He looks down on Sara from where he sits. "And you really are more than lovely, Sara. I thought that from the very first time I saw you — I told you that,  didn't I, Bev?"

Sara chews this confection of compliments, relishes their sweetness. It pleases her to know Bev has said she is lovely. Or is he just spinning her a line, hurrying his way into her knickers? She feels herself blushing.

"You're embarrassing her, Nicky. Stop it!"

"But that's what you said, Bev. Don't deny it. You said, 'You'll really like, Sara. 'She is such a beautiful, sexy girl,' that's what you said."

She imagines it: Nick saying why don't you bring that Sara Johnson home with you one night?

 Sara looks up at Nick and sees his need for her. It burns in his eyes, a fire that will consume him, them both.

"Do you two make a habit of this?" she asks.

"Only the beautiful students," Nick says. "Bev has this thing about beautiful students... Don't you, darling?"

"He wishes!" Bev says, giving her husband daggers. She comes and sits next to Sara on the sofa. "Ignore him," she says as she reaches out and brushes the hair from the corner of Sara's left eye. "But you know what's happening, don't you, sweetheart?" She pauses, looks Sara in the eyes intently,

"I think so..."

"Because if not, Nick can do one."

Sara holds Bev's gaze. She will accept whatever they have decided, knowing now her friendship with Bev is secure, Nick or no Nick. She turns her head and looks up into Nick's eyes. "Yeah. I'm up for it. Why not? You only live once."

Nick looks dumbfounded. It's as if he can't believe it. He asks, "The three of us?"

She nods.

"Are you sure?" he asks. There must be no doubt.

"Three is a nice number," Sara says.

"A very nice number," Bev adds.

"The best number ever," says Nick.

She has to use the bathroom, freshen up, asks where it is. She follows the pair upstairs as a hundred moths with powder dry wings hatch to flutter inside her belly. Before she goes into the bathroom, they point out their bedroom door at the end of the long landing. They will be waiting for her. She must hurry.

She is done, now stands outside their bedroom door hardly daring breathe. She turns the handle and pushes the door gently and peers through the widening gap.

They are standing together at the foot of the bed, Bev already naked and leaning against Nick. She looks somehow diminished set against his muscular mass, more fragile than Sara could have imagined, her flesh rendered soft focus in the forgiving hues of lamplight. It is as if both their naked bodies meld, become one delicious sexual entity. But it is the shock of Bev's utter nakedness, her womanly curves and softness, that take Sara's breath away.

They hardly notice her enter — or so it seems to Sara. Each is totally absorbed in the actuality of the other. Bev's head is thrown right back as she leans against her husband with languorous abandon. He kisses her cheeks, her neck, her lips, his mouth never lingering in one place while his left-hand plays gently with her right nipple, his right-hand stretching downwards so that his fingers become tangled in the thicket of Bev's pubic hair, lustrous and dark. His face now nuzzles amongst her long, thick locks,  his tongue trawling her fragrant neck.

Seeing the couple like this brings home to Sara the reality of her situation. This is the beginning of her betrayal, her double cheating on Nathan, driven to it by a deficit of love.
 
The reality of Bev naked for her, seeing her large, firm breast and curvaceous hips quickly extinguish all Sara's misgivings. The presence of this voluptuous woman arouses in Sara a desperate desire to run her hands over the smooth skin that calls to her. Her nipples tingle, her cunt is now sodden, its brew seeping into her knickers. And beneath her newly unfolding same-sex yearning for Bev, there roars an old need; the one for a cock to push inside her, open and fulfil her.

She walks towards the couple yet never seems to arrive, the room's dimensions turned all Alice in Wonderland, her mind intoxicated by the site of the couple's mingled compelling beauty. It is a spectacle that has robbed her of any notion of sense and decorum. Her soul is giddy, her cranium stuffed full and spinning with feelings she can hardly put a name to. Bev's head is thrown back, slightly turned and tilted upwards, her lips parted to receive Nick's plunging tongue. It seems to Sara to take three lifetimes to reach the pair.

She has often imagined a moment like this but never dared believe it could happen without Nathan. The imminence of touching and tasting Bev's flagrant nakedness is like standing high on a precipice, about to fall. She is an addict, the syringe primed. She reaches out with tentative fingers to feather both Bev's breasts, sliding the knuckles of both hands gently over her nipples, the backs of her long painted nails scoring the surface of her skin as they travel.

To feel Bev's warm and lovely breasts sends a surge of tingles racing from Sara's fingers, along her arms to her shoulders, on and on to her own nipples, making her gasp her delight. Sara squeezes both Bev's nipples between two fingers, eliciting moans of encouragement that inform Sara what she likes. And Sara soon learns what those things are: scratching nails and spiteful teeth.

She closes her eyes as she runs both hands down Bev's sides, has become a blind girl mapping the contours of terra incognita. She tastes one nipple and then the other, leaving with a nip before letting her mouth roam to the other, nipping again on each coming, each going. As she does so, Bev reaches high with both arms to run her fingers over Nick's scalp revealing the secret flesh of her underarms where it is all milky pale, suffused by an antiperspirant fragrance that mingles with her underlying muskiness, ripe pheromones made airborne to perform their magic.

And then Sara is aware of her own clothes, the absurdity of still wearing a dress. She wants to be rid of it, to never be clothed again. Reaching behind herself, she pulls the zipper down, sending its opening rip slicing through the silence of the room. When the garment is pooled at her feet, she squeezes her breasts together to loosen her front-fastening bra, giving slack to the material so she can slip hooks free of eyes.  

Finally naked, she reaches out for Bev's chin, easing her head around from kissing Nick to face her. It is the beginning of a kiss that will plunge them into a dark well where only their lips and tongues exist. Bev's rapture is imminent. The excitement already stoked by Nick's touch and kiss has brought her to this meridian of lust, this zenith of her need.

He has prepared her well.

The two women kiss long and deep. Nick comes and stands behind Sara, his jutting cock brushing her sides and rump as he re-positions himself, settling his cock in the small of her back as he begins to kiss her shoulders, her neck. Then he is sliding both hands between the two women's chests, palms down on Sara's. His cock is a bar of calcified flesh moulded into Sara's flesh. He pushes hard against her, re-positioning himself and driving against her so hard that she becomes aware of her own spine, the knotty bones that lace her lower vertebral column; his balls cushioning against her squirming buttocks are a counterpoint, a delight.

To know the couple finds such pleasure in sharing her body with each other makes Sara happy in a way she had forgotten she could ever be. This is something she could never have dared believe herself ever experiencing. All that talk with Nathan of a threesome was only ever an improbable fantasy, never believable, unachievable.

She lets their combined and growing passion for her body sweep all thoughts from her mind, just like their hands and lips chase tension from her body. Her pussy hums a calling to the two tongues that skate and slide all slippery and smooth to every cranny, soddening her flesh with their shed saliva.

Bev's rapacious tongue slides down to Sara's breasts, lashes each nipple in turn, back and forth. While behind Sara, Nick has dropped to his knees to lick the under cheeks of her buttocks, parting them, slurping and gently biting the double convexity of her clashing cheeks. Then he pushes deep. It is a moment of unforeseen delight that makes Sara gasp. His tongue is determined to taste her like no other ever has. Her hips wriggle their welcome.

Who could have believed her nerve ending could be coaxed into giving her gratification of such intensity? She grips Bev's shoulders with nails like fastening talons while she endures the delight of the unthinkable, her arse-speck circled and lavished by Nick's altruistic tongue. He directs it blindly, yet his aim is incisive, uncanny. And to her front, Bev's upper lip blankets Sara's pubes, her tongue darting between her labia to circle the maw of her cunt. Then deeper still, flick after flick, tasting. A viper's kiss.

On her back now. It is seamless, this transition from standing to prostrate, laid out tractable on the board expanse of their bed, the chilled, sumptuous bedding cooling her flesh. Nick kneels at her head with his cock in hand. He handles himself deftly, guiding its grazing tip to skim her facial features: her cheeks, chin, down to her neck before bringing it back to her lips. She smells the exposed tip, his pre-cum, as it rests momentarily beneath her nose.

She wants to taste him, her mouth almost beyond restraint snapping for it before it slides away again. She wants it inside her; mouth or cunt. Either will do. She does not remember the last time she wanted anything so desperately.

He draws the length of it sideways over her half-parted lips, her tongue peeping from its burrow to taste its tang and silkiness sliding back and forth. He tilts her head, so her cheek is against the pillow, pursing her lips to shape them just so. Pucker up and open wide: the dentist will see you now. Her lips become a second cunt which he fucks while shaping them to give his cock's coming and going just the right pressure.

Bev's face next to Sara's ear. "Do you like it, Sara... sucking him, my bloke, my husband?"

"She loves it," Nick replies. "You wouldn't believe what her tongue is doing inside that pretty mouth of hers. Mmmm!"

"Didn't I say how delectable she would be? Now say thank you, darling."

"Thank you, darling! Thank you, thank you. Thank you."

This is their deliciously sick game. Sara new to the table has been invited along to make up the numbers, playing a slut they have dragged in off the streets and paid to satiate their secret, long-held dark desires. It turns Sara on to hear them talk about her like this, to be described as delicious, an object, their fantasy made a reality. How many times before this night have they spoke of her, outlined what they would do with her, plotted and schemed to have her?

"I bet her pussy is tight," Nick says,

"Why don't you fuck her and see?"  Bev says. "You've wanted to since you saw her at Christmas."

"You first. You know how I love to watch you when you..."

And then Bev is gone, and Sara hears the creak of wood, a drawer sliding open. She tries to look but sees only hair and abdomen as Nick's cock comes and goes. Then the mattress at her feet dipping. Bev adjusting Sara's legs, arching and spreading them before kneeling, her smiling face looking down while adjusting straps of leather, fine-tuning the angle, making the ungainly phallus her own.

Nick extracts his cock, tells her to look at what Sara has, lifts her so she can see clearly. "See how big it is!" he says.

"This is my favourite part, Bev says." Sara does not know if the words are for her or Nick.

She wonders how it will ever fit. And even though her pussy is beyond sodden, the latex dildo is an imposition. But she does not have time to consider the matter further. Already she is on her back again, Nick's cock coming and going between her lips as she gags her discomfort at the first intimation of an imminent penetration. She groans pitifully as she sucks the pacifier of Nick's engorged cock.

Bev hardly controls what she wields, until she has the best part of it buried inside Sara's pussy.  "Am I hurting you?" she asks. "It'll be okay... Just let me, oh, it's too — ah!" Then her rhythm is impeccable, determined, almost male. Bev grunts like a scrum-half with every push she makes. Sara finds herself responding with noises of her own — though repressed, made guttural by the turgid flesh that gags her mouth.

Soon Bev is thrusting with a meanness that makes Sara want to cry out. This is different: bliss amid the pain. But she is opening, accepting, becoming more than accommodating. Her internal muscles are responding: slacken, clench; slacken, clench. Each time Bev eases back before thrusting again, she pushes her chest down low so that her breasts clash with Sara's, so diminished from lying supine.

Sara Brings her legs up, ankles over, calves to encircle Bev's torso, her heels pressing into twin hassocks of flesh. She uses the balls of her heels to urge Bev to push deeper, fuck her harder, faster.

The couple gives her no respite. She does not know where or when this will end. Does it even need to stop! She will be happy for this to go on and on. She salivates from his pre-cum, gets her tongue to do what it can in the claustrophobic Calcuttan hole that was once her mouth. While below, when Bev pushes deep, there is the clash of mons, Bev's wiry pubes almost rasping Sara's downy mons.  

Nick's saying stuff now. Talking like its porn. "Oh, yeah, baby. That's right. You got it, oh yeah."

Does he have to? He sounds ridiculous. It snaps her from the moment. And then he is groaning like it's the end of his life, his cock in spasm inside her mouth. His cum is an inundation that even her desperate gulps hardly drain that she cannot swallow fast enough. It dribbles from the corners from her lips, tracking in two viscous streams down to her chin from each corner of her mouth.

She turns her head to the side to lose his cock. It dangles half-limp, dripping cum from the tip. He moves away, stands, and is gone.

Just Bev now. She has the angle right, her rhythm is as pure as newly oiled machinery. Soon Sara will cum. Oh, God!. She feels it first in her abdomen, her muscles primed on the edge of convulsion. The electric shock of what begins there ignites a chain reaction that is sent arcing across synapse after synapse, on and on in leapfrogging bursts of scintillating delight. And then her body is not her own, her orgasm a seizure.

Someone, please! Give her softwood or leather to bite on. Her hands clutch Bev's buttocks in a desperate bid to retain contact with a fast-vanishing reality, taking copious palms of her flesh and squeezing to hurt the one who robs her of her self, her rational mind.

Bev is kneeling on the bed and removing the strap-on. She lets it fall down the side of the bed, landing with a bump on floorboards telling of its wicked dimensions. Now Bev straddles Sara's head and lowers her cunt onto expectant lips. The descending lurid gaudiness of another woman's sex fills her Sara trepidation. She is on the threshold of the unknown, tries to imagine the taste of it on her tongue before committing.

This moment is something she has often speculated on, has tried to picture many times but always fearing she might baulk in the face of such intimacy. Never ever, had it been like this in her mind. In her fantasy, her same-sex lover would be lying flat on her back, perhaps with knees arched or pulled right back, never anticipating a scenario such as this: the slow descent of plump buttocks; the raw gash and the glisten of what seeps.

Now she shuts her eyes tight and breathes deep, allowing the bouquet of feminine scent to infuse her mind. She imbibes the soapy sandalwood of shower time that masks the feral zest of Bev's long night. Sara's tongue already peeps, and then the ferrous tang of exposed tissue is watering her mouth.

Bev's hips undulate over Sara's mouth while Sara sends her tongue to stir and circle, dashing and lapping and probing between labia lips. Then further still, penetrating deeply, imbibing the slick brew that greases Bev's cunt. Both Sara's palms are full, each kneading a buttock cheek, splitting and pulling and stretching each half to the boundaries of the possible, finally releasing to allow each half to collapse and clash with the other. This she does over and over, savouring with her palms the sumptuously pliable, tender flesh.

Sara's tongue laps frantically, and she senses Bev's orgasm on the threshold of erupting. While above her, Bev rotates her hips wildly, milling Sara's, mortar and pestle. Her hips are caged dancer's, a gyroscope of flesh fueled by desperation, the need for a conclusion. Her full weight descends to smother Sara's face, her buttocks settling and cushioning her pretty features. It is like an act of compassion; done to end a life.

But wait! There is a reprieve, a breathing space. And so it goes on. And then it is the pinnacle, Bev in freeze-frame above Sara's face as she experiences the explosion of an orgasm. In that second before the eruption, Bev is quite still, poised, statuesque. It is a moment of out of time, an end to chronology. And then all her props are gone, undermined by Sara's mouth. Her tongue, her skill, her mere presence. Her orgasm is an inundation that sweeps her clean of need. When it has passed, she is free of detritus, made new.

The two women together on the bed, arms and legs twisted, knotted, their bodies pressing softly. It is as if they are under some enchantment, a spell cast so they will remain here until the cessation of time, the flesh of seeping into that of the other until they are merged, become as one. Now they are lost to each other as they kiss with all time's blessings. No end to it.

The door opens. Nick is back. His entrance is almost a surprise, neither had noticed his absence. He has brought beer, places three bottles on the dresser before joining the two women on the bed.  He kisses his wife, tells her he loves her.

"You know what I've always wanted," he says.

Bev does not answer him, says to Sara. "He wants us side by side." Then she is easing Sara onto her back before lying on her back too at her side. Bev's left leg straddles Sara's right, crossing at the knee.

And then it is Nick, his cock inside Sara. Bev waits her turn as he fucks Sara as if she needs to be taught a lesson for all her disgusting, girl-cunt licking. He kisses her as hard as he fucks her — she, knowing she deserves it, the unfaithful slut she is. A wicked straying wife.

Sara's mouth, lips, and tongue respond to him with a ferocity of their own with a rapaciousness that astounds her. Her knees come way back, her thighs as vices securing him. His hands slide beneath her buttocks, lifting her and gathering the pudge of her two cheeks and drawing them down to the split of her arse, the pillowing flesh bunching against his balls as his cock comes and goes.

Without warning, he withdraws and moves to his wife, his cock all of a glisten in the lamplight, made a spectacle by the viscous cum that coats the shaft. Sara turns onto her side to watch how he fucks Bev with gold medal determination. He lunges at her with spiteful jabs of his cock, his upper half propped on arms while his face looks down. Sara sees the love they share, an exchange of truth while they fuck for their audience of one.

And then he withdraws, turns to Sara and eases her on to her back. She is so wet. This fuck is frictionless. Her muscles constrict to give him traction. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze release.

And that is how it is. Twenty thrusts for Sara. Twenty for Bev. It is cock Russian Roulette.  It goes on and on. Who will get the bullet? Perhaps the gun is not loaded. On the fifteenth change, Sara intuits a stirring in his depths. His groans dispel any thoughts of a false alarm. Time is stalling. She feels the immense volume of his cum as it travels the up the core of his shaft before bursting free to fill her.

During the time Nick is limp, Bev and her tongue ensure Sara wants for nothing.

Nick's cock is a wondrous thing, it's capacity to recover, a teenage boy's. No sooner has he fucked her, his jizz an inundation, then he is hard again.

Sara does not sleep. How could she? They will not let her be. She loses count of the orgasms — both given and received. It thrills her that she can inspire such lust in the beautiful persons Nick and Bev both are. Each takes a part of her and will not give it back.

When they have had their fill of her, and she is left to lie awake between them unable to sleep, she thinks about her life with Nathan. She is going to tell him about her tonight.  His reaction will determine what she will decide.

Downstairs, in the purse she has left on the sofa, her phone gently buzzes. In the morning, she will see the log of Nathan's incessant calls.