Playing Doctor (13 page)

“Well, I guess we should get back to the game,” I say with a slightly embarrassed smile.

Luka gently pushes me to my feet and back further, until he stands up and is very close looking down at me.

“The game's over. We're done!” he says as he scoops me up into his arms and starts for the stairs to the loft.

So, I guess there's no turning back. I know I wanted this, and I do want it, but I haven't been with another man in nearly twenty years. Almost frantically I reach back toward my husband. “Elliott!” I plead, feeling he has to be there too. Elliott is quiet but doesn't seem angry—at least I hope he's okay with this. I wait for something from him, some response.

“I'm coming,” he drawls. “Just let me refill my glass. If I'm going to enjoy the show, I want some good wine to go with it.”

Even though I just had an orgasm, I'm already burning all over. Anxious and nervous about what's coming next, but oh so hot, hot, hot!

Luka lowers me to
the floor at the foot of the stairs, and we walk hand in hand up to the loft bedroom. My trepidation grows with each step. What will it be like after so many years with the same person? What if I don't like it, or worse, what if he doesn't like it? My forty-four-year-old female ego will suffer badly if it's a bomb. Shivering slightly, I know it's not because I'm cold.

I hesitate anxiously in front of the bed, looking down at the sheets and realizing it truly is showtime. What we did downstairs was just a prelude—the real performance begins now. Or I could just call it quits like a coward. Glancing over at Luka, I see that he is watching me intently. He doesn't look inclined to gracefully give up on the plan. Instead, he looks really turned on and wanting, his hold on my hand tightening.

I know Luka would stop if I asked him to, or Elliott would intercede if he didn't, but nervousness aside, I also know that I truly want this. At this point in my life, before I'm too old,
I
want
this!
I want sex, lots of exhilarating erotic intercourse. I need new experiences and a new lover who will bring exciting freshness to Elliott's and my sex life.

Before meeting Luka the doctor, the unexpected new man in a life that rarely meets single men, I had not even realized the wanting was there inside me. It burst forth like an exotic autumn bloom. Now I have a choice to make. I can pluck that flower, enjoy its heady fragrance, feel the soft petals' caress, and discern its rare beauty. Later, I will have the memories to cherish even as my flower fades. To walk away and leave it all untouched would be a waste of such an extraordinary gift. Something that won't ever come again, this I know deep in my being. So, taking a steadying breath, I give myself over to the moment, to consummating the agreement, to not turning back.

Elliott had followed close behind with his glass of wine. After seeing my hesitation, he gives me a quick encouraging kiss. Then turning away, he goes to the only chair in the room, a comfortable chaise, and settles back to watch.

Luka senses my consent and takes control, demonstrating that he is a self-assured, confident man.

“Lie on the bed, Valerie,” he instructs as he begins removing the rest of his clothes. I watch fascinated as he removes first his socks, then his pants, and last his briefs. He's already rock hard, jutting out strongly, and I can't help gasping. Once again, I'm struck by the newness of seeing a different naked man after so long.

After joining me on the bed, he kisses me passionately while caressing my breasts and belly. My hands slide into his thick, black hair—finally mine to caress as much as I want. It is smooth and luxurious, and I playfully tousle it. I run my fingers through the silky locks, teasing the sensitized skin on the palms of my hands. I want to crawl into that head of hair—crawl into him!

At the same time, I rub my breasts against the dark hair on his chest. It tickles, rather than caresses, the wiry curls a tantalizing torture on the ultrasensitive points of my nipples. My hands then begin to tentatively roam over his back and shoulders, and lower. I cannot get enough of touching him, anywhere and everywhere I can reach.

He is all new to me and it's extraordinarily erotic, a whole new body to explore and to discover how he feels and what turns him on. Between kisses, he murmurs encouraging sounds and moans. I guide his hand lower and he massages my clitoris through the red lace of my underwear. My moans join his and we're enjoying exploring each other's bodies.

I'm in a thick, warm fog, but I remember that I'm not alone with Luka, that my beloved husband of nineteen years is quietly watching us. Luka continues loving me while I raise my head and look at Elliott. He is staring at us intensely, watching Luka suck on my breast, and it almost looks like he is holding his breath. He stirs a little, as if uncomfortable, and I can see the bulge indicating that he is also hot and ready for me.

I had no idea this would be so incredibly erotic, being made love to while being watched by another man. I've never been into exhibitionism, but giving a private show is turning out to be a real turn-on for me.

As my attention returns to Luka, I take his hand and slip it under my panties and feel a jolt of pleasure as I feel his finger slide into me. I'm about to go over the edge again but want to take him with me. Writhing and moaning, I am ready to surrender to him.

“Luka, I want you inside me, please,” I murmur into his ear.

He slides my panties down and then reaches for a condom. We've agreed that we'd play it safe, of course. I take it from his hand and relish the opportunity it gives me to touch his penis. Carefully, I roll it down over his long, thick shaft and then wrap my fingers around him and slowly slide my hands up and down, holding tightly. Luka rewards me with a loud groan, before pushing me back down onto the mattress and raising himself over me.

Holding himself on his arms, he asks, “Are you ready?” and I know him to mean, are you sure?

In answer I raise my hips and rub against his cock, inviting him in. As Luka passionately kisses my mouth, he slowly enters me an inch at a time. Moaning, I rock into him. I am so turned on that I want it fast…now!

“Shh,” he says. “We're going to take this slow and build it. You will like.” His accent is now very thick with his excitement.

So I settle back and let Luka guide me. We luxuriate in fucking ever so slowly, and I feel so wicked observing my husband watching us. Elliott's pants are unzipped now and his hand is working his cock, matching our tempo. Luka's mouth settles on my nipple, and he bites down sharply.

“Ahhh,” I squeal more from surprise than pain. My eyes shift back to Luka, and he is grinning naughtily at me. It seems he wants my full attention on him while he slowly builds the tempo. I am wildly turned on by the novelty of a new lover after so many years and eagerly match his pace.

Luka continues to increase the speed, pumping me more rapidly and harder, until I'm gasping and holding on to his back, urging him on. Then I feel myself exploding, a climax so strong I scream out my moan. Luka joins me with a hard rapid thrust, and I raise my hips to meet him one last time.

Slowly I come down to earth. Luka has collapsed onto me and is breathing hard. “That was amazing,” he whispers.

“Yes, it was,” I reply, but I'm already thinking about my husband and what will come next.

Elliott stands up and walks over to the foot of the bed, looking down on our wet, panting bodies.

“I believe it's my turn now,” he groans out. I can see he's still rock hard.

Luka drops a kiss on my chest, pulling out and rolling away in one fluid movement, heading for the bathroom. Elliott removes his clothes while I watch, and Luka returns with a towel wrapped around his waist ready to take his turn as voyeur.

Feeling overwhelming affection for my husband, I reach out and entreat, “Join me, Elliott. I love you. I want you.”

There is an intensity about him, not exactly anger, but something. It is clear that he is in the grip of strong emotions, and I'm hopeful that he doesn't regret our ménage.

Climbing on top of me, he looks down into my eyes and says, “That was, perhaps, the most fucking hot thing I've ever seen! I feel some jealousy too, I guess, but all I want now is to fuck you hard and long.” His eyebrows rise in question.

“Yes, right now. Do it now,” I urge him. I can't believe I'm already hungry for more.

Over the years we've done it many ways and at many tempos, but tonight he's driven to work me over, and I'm ready for it. Firmly grasping my body, he swiftly rolls me over onto my knees. Panting and grunting, we fuck hard and long doggy-style. Perhaps he's working out some angst over my assignation with Luka. Or, maybe he was deeply turned on by watching me with another man. I don't care as long as he continues to love me.

Even as we rock the bed, I feel added excitement knowing that I'm being watched again by Luka who is standing right next to the bed looking down at us. Surrendering to the intense feelings, I climax for the third time this evening, followed swiftly by Elliott's cries of release.

Slowly coming back to awareness, I lie down as Elliott cuddles my backside. Luka's still by the bed so I reach out and pull him down in front of me. Together we three lie there in what I later name the “Valerie Sandwich.” Shortly, we'll need to go home, but for now I'm enjoying feeling like a woman well loved.

Later, as we are turning to leave, I laughingly say, “Guess what, boys? My fantasy bucket list is getting remarkably shorter, thanks to both of you.”

Playfully I reach out and give each of my guys a quick thank-you kiss. Leaving with my husband, I am truly looking forward to experiencing all that our “friends with benefits” liaison may bring in the months to come.

It is a cold
January in Boston, and we're in the third month of our ménage à trois. I'm well pleased with the arrangement, and the guys sure haven't complained. I've crossed off several more items from my unofficial fantasy list. We've settled into a routine of meeting about every other Saturday at Luka's apartment when he doesn't have his kids. It's exciting but also freeing—a night with no kids, no obligations, and such wild sex that I couldn't have known I would ever experience in my life.

I'm excited because it's Saturday night again and we're about to knock on Luka's door. Now that my toe is all better, I'm never out without sexy high-heeled shoes. Tonight they are red platform pumps that advertise, “Fuck me.” Both Elliott and Luka have been so accommodating, doing anything I've asked of them, and my tentativeness and mild embarrassment are a thing of the past. Tonight is going to be lots of fun!

As I'm ringing the doorbell, I ask Elliott what is in the bag he is carrying. I hadn't noticed him putting it in the car earlier.

“You'll find out soon enough,” he says secretively.

Luka greets me with a warm embrace and offers me a sip from his glass of ice-cold white wine. I kiss him passionately and don't want to stop to even shut the door. He leads me by the hand to the couch, and both men sit down, looking at me with conspiratorial glances at each other. After dropping my coat on a chair, I turn to join them, but Luka holds up a hand to stop me and looks over at Elliott.

“Should I tell her or do you want to?” he asks.

Standing there, I'm beginning to get anxious. Are they calling it quits? Have they had enough already? I haven't, not yet!

In his refined Bostonian accent, Elliott says, “We have done everything you have asked of us. And we are not saying we haven't enjoyed it, but tonight we think it is time we turned the tables. Tonight it is our turn. Tonight you are going to be our sex slave and do whatever we say the entire evening. Do you understand?”

All over my body, my skin begins to tingle, and standing there in my very high heels I begin trembling, wondering if I'll be able to remain standing with my legs feeling like mush. Wow, this was a complete surprise, and so, so hot!

After all these years, I completely trust Elliott. I know he'd never hurt me or do anything to humiliate me, but he can also be exceptionally adventurous when it comes to sex. We've done lots of things in bed that I've never told anyone, and I wonder what Elliott's clever mind has planned for me tonight.

“Well?” he says.

I can tell Elliott is completely serious as he relaxes on the sofa. Glancing at Luka, I see that although he is smiling, almost apologetically, he is also looking too eager by far.

I nod yes to the two men, not sure if I'm acknowledging my understanding or my compliance. I am already feeling like an object on display as they look me up and down in my tight-fitting blouse and short skirt. Perhaps the platform pumps were not such a good idea tonight.

“Good,” responds Elliott, clearly in charge of tonight's festivities. “Take your clothes off…slowly.”

“Whaaa, what?” I mumble. I can't seem to get my mouth working.

“No talking. Slaves don't question their masters. They just do what they are told. Now strip for us. Tonight you will serve us without comment and without clothes.”

Nodding again, I feel both excitement and trepidation. This is so erotic, but doing the bidding of two men all night and without clothes, while they remain fully clothed… And, not being able to talk, to voice any objections or wants—that makes me feel helpless, at their mercy.

This is not something on my fantasy list! This thought pushes into my consciousness as I stare at the two men like a deer in the headlights. It's a game surely, I think, as my mind slowly acquiesces. I'll go along for the ride, hopefully a very sizzling, erotic ride!

To get better balance, I spread my trembling legs apart a little and quickly regret the more provocative pose, an upside-down vee that leads straight to my pussy. But rather than appear inanely modest at this late stage in our threesome, I keep my feet spread and reach up and begin to slowly unbutton my blouse from top to bottom, letting it drop open to reveal my sexy black bra. The men nod for me to keep going, so I let the blouse slide off my shoulders to glide to the floor.

Reaching behind me, I unzip my short skirt and push it down over my hips, slowly revealing my lacy black bikini. Stepping out of the skirt, I look at the men and stop moving. Maybe this is all they expect, not so bad really, since it's as much coverage as a swimsuit.

Both men are enjoying their cold chardonnay and watching my every move like two predator cats, male ones. Licking my lips, I think I'd really enjoy a sip or two. Maybe I'd down a whole glass as fortification. I start to walk toward Luka and raise my hand to take his glass.

Luka shakes his head no.

“You haven't finished yet. Everything goes”—he pauses to look me over—“except perhaps those sexy shoes. You can keep those on.”

I guess he's not just going to be a bystander this evening after all. Well, if I'm going to do this, I might as well make it the best show I can. I'm slightly nervous, but the appreciative smiles and nods are encouraging me. Throwing both men a big compliant smile, I reach behind and unhook the bra. Then almost caressing myself, I pull it off my breasts and toss it at Luka. Catching it with his free hand, he then raises his glass to me in silent salute.

I'm in no hurry, so very slowly, bit by bit, I slide my hands under the sides of my panties and push them down my body until they fall to the floor. After scooping them up, I flip the undies toward Elliott and stand facing the men, legs spread provocatively apart, hands on hips—stark raving naked except for my flaming-red “fuck me” platform pumps.

The men look well pleased with themselves lounging there, ogling me up and down and all but licking their lips. My stomach is doing flips, and my snatch is so hot it almost hurts.

As he puts his glass down, Elliott says, “That's good. Now come here,” pointing to a spot just in front of him. “That's right. Kneel before me.”

As I submissively go down on my knees, he reaches for the mysterious bag and takes out a hair clip. So I guess slaves get their hair done by their masters? Taking my hair in his hands, he fashions a sort of French twist and clips it up off my shoulders. After pulling a few strands out to curl around my face and neck, he nods and reaches for the bag again. Now what? All the while Luka is watching me and sipping wine that I now really want as my throat has suddenly gone dry.

As Elliott pulls out another object, I gasp and my eyes flare. Is that really a slave collar in his hand? It's black leather with sparkling rhinestones and a ring attached to it. My breathing is coming in gasps now, and I'm not sure if it is excitement or panic. Reaching around me, Elliott straps it onto my neck and then takes out a long, thin, almost pretty, silver chain that he clips onto the loop on my collar. I'm really breathless now, and desperate to know what comes next.

“There,” says Elliott. “I think you are now dressed appropriately as our sex slave. Don't you agree, Luka?”

His voice sounds tight, and I realize he's really turned on. A quick glance down as I stand up confirms a ready bulge in his pants.

Talking to Elliott but looking at me, Luka says, “Shit—that's hot, really hot!”

That is so unlike Luka, with his slightly formal foreign way, that I laugh and smile.

As I feel the chain being tugged gently down, Elliott says, “I don't think I'm done with you yet. I have a need, and my slave's going to take care of it.”

Slowly he pulls the chain down until my face is inches from his crotch. “Suck me off, slave, and don't spill a drop,” he commands.

The tingling excitement I've been feeling since we started this game is now a boiling fever in me, and I readily comply. After kneeling between his legs, I unzip his pants. He's got the leash coiled firmly around his hand with my face held just inches from his long, hard dick. I know it's a game, but I also know he's dead serious that I'm commanded to suck him dry, and he won't let me up until I do.

Elliott knows that while I like licking him, I'm not usually into swallowing his cum. But I think this game has him feeling in control, making his deep desires known, and in my submissive role I'm actually excited to see this through.

His hold on my chain loosens a little to give me some room to maneuver, and I take his penis in my hands and begin to lick him. I start with a small swirl around the tip, gradually licking him up and down, over and over. Elliott relaxes back against the cushions and sighs his appreciation.

I wonder if Luka is watching, but my husband's tight hold on the leash prevents me from lifting my head. Being in this subservient position—servicing one man, while another man waits his turn—is so erotic that I'm becoming damp and so turned on that I need relief now. I reach my free hand down to touch myself between my legs.

“No,” orders Elliott. “Slaves get their release when their masters say they do. Right now, you are commanded to service me.”

This only turns me on more as I burn to fondle myself or have either of them pet me.
Yes, pet me, treat me like your pet, anything! Please just touch me!
Elliott rests his hand firmly on my free hand; he means to withhold my pleasure, to tease me. I groan in desire and my body is starting to writhe in want.

Returning my attention to Elliott's cock, I take him fully into my mouth and slowly slide up and down, gradually going faster and faster. His answering moans and pants tell me I'm doing it right. Then he grabs my head, more forcefully than ever before, and pumps my head up and down on his penis. I moan in answer to him, and suck and lick as fast as I can, until his body goes firm and he gasps and shoots warm, thick cum into my mouth. He holds my head firmly in place, his commands in my thoughts. It tastes salty, and I follow my master's order and gulp it down. Elliott lounges back while I dutifully and submissively lick him clean.

Once done, he releases my leash and pats me on the head. “That's a good slave. Now see to your other master's needs.”

Leaning back on my heels, I look at Luka and he shakes his head no.

“I'm hungry for dinner now, but you'll take care of me later,” he promises. “Go get the dishes of food in the kitchen, slave,” he instructs.

Looking at Elliott, Luka says, “I thought we'd go a little Middle Eastern tonight to go with our slave theme.”

As I bring out the platters stark naked to serve the clothed men, I feel so hot and bothered, wondering when or if I'll get to have an orgasm this evening. The food is an assortment of dips—hummus and such—along with olives, pita bread, and stuffed grape leaves. As I set them down on the low table in front of the couch, I see Luka pour a small glass of clear liquid from a small decanter.

“This is for you,” he says, handing it to me. I've been coveting the cold wine, so I eagerly take a big drink, and choke and sputter on the liquor as it burns down my throat. I don't know what it is, but it's both sweet and strong—something foreign. I guess they want to get me drunk before they do whatever they plan to do. That thought both excites and unnerves me at the same time. Liking the warm feelings the drink engenders, I quickly raise it back to my lips, but this time take just a little sip and enjoy the sensation of warmth trickling down my throat.

“Sit here at our feet like a good slave,” orders Elliott, taking the glass and putting it on the table.

Wow, they are really getting into this slave business, aren't they?
I think. He pats my head like a lap pet, but then Luka leans forward and gives me a long, passionate kiss while dropping his hand down to fondle my breast, which sets my head spinning. Can we just skip the meal and get on with it?

I sit quietly sampling the delicious, sensual food, while the men talk about their week and eat. I have drained the small glass of liquor and want more, but maybe not, as my head is already foggy. Occasionally as we eat, either Luka or Elliott reaches down to fondle my breast or to feed me an olive or something. I know it's obscenely subservient, but I'm so turned on that I just can't help leaning into their hands and practically purring each time they deign to give me some attention. I open my mouth to ask for more of the drink, but Elliott puts his finger to his lips. They are set on having me silent and compliant this evening.

Dessert is an assortment of small little baklava sitting in honey, Turkish delight, almond cookies, and other foreign treats. Bite-sized, and they order me to feed them dessert. Each time I place one in their mouth, they suck on my fingers, pulling them into their mouths and sometimes licking down to the vees between my fingers. I can't help moaning loudly. I want to rub myself along their legs, anything to relieve my building sexual tension. They are taking turns feeding me small pieces of the sweet desserts, and I suck strongly on their fingers too. Soon there is nothing left but a little puddle of honey on the dessert plate.

After Elliott gets up for more wine, Luka stands and orders me to lie down on the sofa. The leather feels warm along my naked back and legs, and my nipples tighten as Luka looks down at them. After kneeling and picking up the empty plate, he swipes some of the remaining honey onto his finger and then swirls it around my nipples and areola. He leans down and takes my nipple, then my whole breast into his mouth and swirls his tongue languidly around and around the breast. It's so intense that I gasp and moan and hold his head to my breast. Luka then begins on the other breast, while placing a finger full of honey into my mouth for me to suck too. I'm so close to coming, just a little more and I'd be there—please, please, please—but Luka raises his head and slowly stands up.