Nandita To Nandini
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SixChapter 7: Restorative, And Then Some free porn video
Theresa was happy, she was happy to ‘go with the flow’, it seemed the right time.
Marylin was less sure, she still had the hangups about pre-marital sex; but these were becoming balanced by the two factors of ‘you agreed to do everything a wife might do’ and ‘it sounds like its fun’. This second reason was not as pure as the first, but it was starting to have a strong sway. She’d seen two girls give themselves to Martin and be delighted at the results; maybe she should know what to measure others by?
So the mutterings and discussion continued late into the night, long after Martin had gone to bed with a “Don’t stay up too late, remember its a school night. God! I sound like my parents!” To which they had all laughed and agreed that he sounded like their parents (only, of course, their parents didn’t have a golden ticket to their bodies). At length, an agreement was reached. The girls went up to their various beds, all except Chris. By common consent, she was the first to try the new regime agreed upon.
She quietly opened his bedroom door, slipped quickly in so the light did not disturb him, and slithered, almost snakelike, into his bed. He didn’t wake up, but the sense and sensuousness of a warm and soft body drew him to the centre of the bed and his arm enveloped her.
Later his dreams disturbed him. Dreams that he hated to admit to, they were always the same. The car sweeping towards him and the woman beside him; and them both unable to move out of the way. Disturbingly sometimes the woman was Cheryl, sometimes his mother, and sometimes his pet dog from childhood. He never saw who it was, he just knew who it was in his dream. He shouted out, and then calmed as her soft face kissed his and her arm stroked his. She hadn’t realised, none of them had, how deeply he was still affected.
Her hair spread out around her, like a halo. He woke in the middle of the night, and went back to sleep dreaming of the virgin Mary – a combination of the sight beside him, his in-laws’ religious beliefs, and a painting he thought he had forgotten. She curved round him.
In the morning he woke, confused. At first it was the smell of a woman in the bed. Not a sweaty, female erotic smell; the smell of perfume. His hand discovered a hand and he opened an eye to see a flowing shock of blonde hair on the pillow beside him. His dog had been a Saluki, inherited from an aunt. He was confused, how had suki come here? Then he woke more fully and she turned and he wondered even more.
“Did you get lost?”
“No. We talked. You have had two of us when your temperament exceeded your resistance. It was inevitable. So, now we all will take our turn in this bed. We will sleep ... or not. Whatever seems appropriate. Is that not the way of marriage?” She had been practising this speech in her head. It sounded better, less stilted in her head; but it came across well anyway. She smiled at him.
“Oh, right. Well ... right. But you are all school girls.”
“I know, right? Every man’s dream I would think”
He moved over and kissed her “How long are you here for then?” He liked her hair, and her frankness. Others might have taken an hour to explain the important detail ‘we’ve all agreed that you should have sex with us if you want’. She knew there was something else.
“Well, we didn’t really think this through entirely. How long do you want me here? How long before you get bored with what you want me to do?”
“A married woman wouldn’t do what I’m thinking I want you to do” he laughed; actually he wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular.
She looked at him and wondered what he had in mind. So did he, he had just said that to see what reaction he got. She hadn’t said ‘no’ out of hand; she was willing to stick to the agreement as she saw it.
“Okay, lets take up this conversation tonight. I have to get to work.” He ran the usual gauntlet of women using the bathroom. You had to time it exactly to get in; he did think of claiming a right to always have access. He would think about that again; after yesterday. In fact, he and Cheryl had only ever locked the door when having a shit. Maybe it was time to introduce that to the mix? He thought of the girls sitting on the toilet having a pee whilst he shaved; and got an erection. He thought of the girls having a shower whilst he had a piss, and his erection got harder. He made a conscious and very determined decision to listen to the news on the radio (a shower radio was his present to Cheryl two years ago – that memory helped as well) so he didn’t get distracted.
Chris was waylaid “Well? Did he?”
“No, but he will. I’m booked for tonight.” she smiled; she wondered about being an escort. An hour or two’s work each night. She said it out loud.
“Don’t be a pillock. An escort works all night, she ‘escorts’ the man. A prostitute lets some smelly greasy turd fuck her for money for an hour, or however long her pimp decides to farm her out. You wouldn’t like it, Chris.” said Helen. Chris put on a robe, leaving off her night clothes, and went down stairs. Martin looked up and realised what he had just left, lying in his bed, untouched. He gulped, and understood that concentrating on work wasn’t going to be easy today. Her legs slid forward through the opening in her robe, revealing more and more thigh. It was a deliberate ploy, aiming to attract him, and it worked. He knew, already, what was at the top of her legs, yet the picture still turned him on. Above, the tie barely kept the two sides of the robe covering her breasts. Smaller than Helen, but still young, firm, perky and attractive. He was a man, any tit was going to turn him on. He had even been turned on by the a painting of the Madonna squirting breast milk at Saint Bernard.
Toast and cornflakes were ready for him when he came down. That rota worked well, though the quality of toast varied. Sarah always made very pale toast, she hated any black on her toast. Helen liked to cut off the crusts and always put milk on the cornflakes, so they were soggy when he ate them. Angela sprinkled sugar on the cereal and put out a range of spreads – marmalade, marmite, peanut butter. Theresa liked well done toast; hers was always half-black. The best was, he had to admit, Marylin, who would stand and wait for him to come down. When he appeared, she would pour his tea, and whilst he ate his cornflakes, she would make the toast. It was hot and fresh when he got it. He thought of making her do it all the time, but that would be unfair to her; he also thought of telling them all they should do it that way, but was stopped by the realisation that that would be him breaking the agreement. No man who wanted to live a long and happy life would dare openly criticise his wife’s cooking, especially of something like toast; so he had to work with what he got because they were ‘in loco uxorem’. He was sure the latin wasn’t quite right, but it made sense to him.
At work, he could have made much of having half a dozen nymphets at his beck and call; but he didn’t. One or two men had made remarks like “Cor, you lucky fucker”; but since this was the result of his newly dead wife being deceased, this was regarded as bad taste by most of the office. A feminist manager had taken him to task for agreeing. He told her (which was true at the time) that he had no intention of misusing them. She thought that the very fact he had to deny he would meant he had considered it. He couldn’t see how he would win that argument since it involved convoluted female logic that started with the assumption the man was wrong and then worked out why. He had the sense not to say that.
Returning home, he found the girls doing their homework. Most of the science was beyond him, though it did prompt an interesting discussion on how fast scientific knowledge was moving. He had not left school that much before them and yet they were learning things he didn’t know about. It was also true that some things he had learnt, regurgitated in the exams, and promptly forgotten again.
He found himself making dinner again. Then, at 8pm they all sat down to (yet another) curry “Do you know how to make anything apart from curry, Martin?”
“Yes, I know how to make you do the cooking – haha”
“Point taken”
And watched university challenge on television. Now it was true there were seven of them, but their team managed to answer questions on science, arts, music and cookery (“Garam Masala! YES! Ha!” Martin shouted triumphantly) very commendably and they finished reasonably confident that they could have given Surbiton University a run for their money. A couple of the girls went to wash up, without being asked; he wondered if this would continued when they went home.
By 9:30, he was ready for bed, he was actually tired. Chris took him by the hand, waved at the others and led him upstairs. This was not the way it was originally planned to be. They were meant to be following his lead, but you would need to be a very strong, or uncaring, guy to insist on six girls just fucking you to oblivion. He wasn’t, he was a normal, civilised, man.
In the bedroom, she hesitated, and he was able to take the lead. “Don’t bother with the sleepwear, just undress to your, umm, panties? Knickers? Pants? What do girls call them?”
“Depends ... Okay” she watched as he too undressed. He didn’t stop, removing his underpants and showing an obvious appreciation of her revealed body.
“Sorry, it’s a normal physical response to a lovely body”
“S’alright. You’re quite good looking aren’t you? And brains as well judging by your University Challenge answers”
“We all made a good team. As for good looking, I can’t judge, but you are – what was it you said this morning? A man’s dream? Give us a twirl”
She held her arms out and turned slowly round, eighteen years of firm flesh; gravity defying breasts; rounded bottom; luxuriously glorious blond locks; pale grey/blue round doe eyes; and a red mouth that must surely be makeup? (“No, it isn’t allowed at school”).
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