Kaeva

To kick off this blog, I'm going to post one old story per week until I've caught up and run out of material. Ideally, these stories should get better as they progress. Either that, or I've stagnated as a writer and I'm banging my head against a wall, however immaterial that wall may be.

This particular story is about a husband watching his wife do very unwifely things. Here's a snippet:

            A visible shiver shot down her spine, fingers finding the belt loops of his pants and twisting into them, gripping, just for something to hold.

            When she felt Mikhail’s hands grasping her bottom through her dress, she leaned into Alik, eyes squeezing shut. Her heart was pounding in the back of her neck, her skin burning.

            Mikhail was kissing the back of her neck. Eager hands were trailing the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly over her rump, revealing a single black garter around one thigh. Soft hands grasped her bare skin, thumbs playing with black lace panties.

Enjoy, or don't. This is porn. Don't read it if you're underage--or, if you do, don't tell your parents, and certainly don't blame me when your palms get hairy and you drop out of high school.

Her heart was fluttering. From the passenger seat window, Kaeva took in the familiar sight of the grand and looming apartment building. This was only her third visit, but it had taken just one for even the name of the neighborhood to twist her insides.

The car pulled into the complex. She fidgeted in her seat as her husband sought a space for their compact hybrid—hers, really, but he used it just as much. Pale fingers plucked at her thin black dress, pushing at the neckline and pulling at the straps until it sat just right over her c-cup breasts. Her raven hair was next; after freeing it from its confines she wrapped and bound it once more.

The car stopped. Her husband smiled at her, green eyes twinkling above his freckled cheeks. Stepping out, he picked at his dress pants and smart-looking button-up before opening her door for her.

This part she could do without, but she humored him. Smiling back knowingly, she took his hand and climbed out, allowing him to shut the door behind her.

After planting a kiss on her softly rounded chin, he led her to the door.

                When she stepped inside, her heartbeat grew louder. She felt warm, fuzzy, anxious and excited all at once. The elevator doors closed before her, and she caught herself wondering, not for the first time, if this was wrong.

                It was wrong. It was wrong in every conceivable way. Her parents would probably stop speaking to her if they knew. Her priests would be appalled. Or turned on. Probably both.

                By the time they passed the fifth floor, she felt moist. Her thighs shifted when they reached the sixth. Her husband’s hand felt warm against hers. She felt him pull gently, and realized she’d been staring at the open door.

                Theirs was ten doors away from the elevator. Her husband knocked. Waited. A moment later, the tall one, Alik, cracked the door open cautiously. His face peeked out—curly brown hair, dark eyes, a prickly beard produced by probably a half week of apathy. The rugged one. Seeing who was waiting, he flung it open, wrapping his arms around her husband in a warm embrace.  A kiss on both cheeks, before his rough, earthen hands turned to her.

                She smiled warmly, hugging him back as he mauled her in a bear’s embrace. Discreet as she could be, she took in a deep breath of his cologne, the source of which she had never dared to ask. Her cheeks were next, and when he stepped away, she waved to the apartment’s second occupant as he emerged—Alik’s partner, Mikhail. The pretty one, with his blonde hair and blue eyes.

                He extended his hand, and she took it. His head nodded toward the apartment. ‘Inside’, he was telling them. The impatient one.

                They followed him in. There were four glasses of champagne, and they each took one. Four adults, dressed for business. Conversation consisted of ‘How are you?’ and ‘How was your week?’, soft accents aimed at Kaeva. They worked for her husband. They saw him every day.

                Mikhail was first to finish. Her husband followed, then Alik, and then each of them were trying not to seem awkward as they waited for her. She didn’t normally drink, but she thought about what she was about to do, and swallowed the second half of the glass.

                Mikhail took her hand again, giving it a tug, gentle but insistent. She nodded, cheeks showing a hint of pink as she and two men followed. He took her through an L-shaped hallway, lined with Russian paintings and family photos, and into the small bedroom.

                The setup was familiar. The king sized bed was neatly made, covered with beautiful red satin sheets.

The color of sin.

Her cheeks flushed deep red. She eyed the chair in the corner, near the foot of the bed. Her husband sat in it, leaning back, smiling softly to himself.

He looked nervous, to her.

Excited.

Mikhail stepped behind her as his own lover approached. The two shared a brief kiss, and Alik turned to her, the three of them standing by the bed with her sandwiched in the middle. His hands found her jaw, and he slowly stepped closer, until his lips crashed into hers.

                A visible shiver shot down her spine, fingers finding the belt loops of his pants and twisting into them, gripping, just for something to hold.

                When she felt Mikhail’s hands grasping her bottom through her dress, she leaned into Alik, eyes squeezing shut. Her heart was pounding in the back of her neck, her skin burning.

                Mikhail was kissing the back of her neck. Eager hands were trailing the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly over her rump, revealing a single black garter around one thigh. Soft hands grasped her bare skin, thumbs playing with black lace panties.

                When the pretty one’s hands slid up her bare sides, they felt like fire. She could feel his need pressing against her back, even as Alik kissed her cheek, then her throat. The rugged one let his fingers fall to her shoulders, then her chest, thumbs grasping her dress and pulling it slowly to either side.

                Swollen breasts fell free, pink rigid nipples begging for attention. Alik quickly obliged, his back arching as he stooped down, tongue snaking out to attend her flesh.

                Her black eyes fluttered open, falling to her husband. He was still smiling. Eyes meeting hers, he nodded slowly. Go on.

                They fell back shut. Her hand slid down Alik’s shirt, hesitant, until it reached his groin. She squeezed. Felt it swelling beneath her fingers. Another tremble shook her, skin breaking out in goose bumps.

                Mikhail squeezed her bottom. His fingers slid below, feeling the fabric against her heat. Sopping wet. He pressed, twisting his fingers in little circles.

                Kaeva gasped, surprised, back arching into Alik’s eager tongue and fingers squeezing his length. She felt filthy. Disgusting. Salacious. Every bad word in the dictionary, each one better than the last.

                The impatient one grasped her panties, again. He pulled them down, letting them drop to her ankles. His right hand slid back down, the left crawling around front. His teeth found her ear as he dipped a single digit between her folds, even as his left hand found the swollen nub up front.

                Her gasp grew to a moan. Her toes curled and her fingernails found Alik’s back, trailing up his skin.

His lips rose back to hers, patient and sensual, his tongue meeting hers.

She leaned into Alik’s lips, fingers squeezing his sides, her shoulders twitching as Mikhail found just the right spot. Her teeth found flesh, biting gently, his breath hot against her skin. Her mind flooded with thoughts, hesitations, desires, a slew of memories that seemed so distant yet, so real. The first time. The second.

She heard a zip behind her. Felt the hot flesh of Mikhail’s length rest against her spine. He grasped her thighs, beginning to spread them as he pulled his hips just far enough to drop his need between them.

Alik pulled away, chuckling to himself. A broad paw found Mikhail’s face, cupping it, shoving him backwards onto the bed. The rugged one said something in Russian. Both of them laughed.

Taking her hand, Alik led her gently to the bed. As she sat on the edge, his lips found hers again, and he pressed her backwards onto the mattress. Gently, he lifted her legs, easing them onto the bed, until her head was on the pillows and her feet pointing the right direction. He smiled. Mikhail was so hasty.

She felt Mikhail’s arms around her middle, turned her face toward his and, without warning, pressed their lips together. Mikhail gasped, waiting a short moment before pulling his face away. He mumbled something thick and accented about comfort, and she shrugged, dropping her lips to his neck, instead.

Growling quietly, Mikhail rolled her over, pushing her into the middle of the bed on her back. Crawling down her torso until he was kneeling between her knees, he pulled his shirt above his head, resting it behind his neck rather than bother taking it off. Kicking his pants just a bit lower, he spread her legs.

Her eyes turned back toward her husband. His smile was gone, replaced by something carnal. Something zealous. Again, he nodded. Then nodded once more.

She looked back up to Mikhail, and licked her lips.

His glans spread her folds without warning or hesitation. His hips shot forward, and in a single motion, he buried his length between her thighs.

Her back arched, a loud moan piercing her throat as her fingers clenched the sheets.

He was moving already, quick desperate motions, as if he’d been waiting eagerly these past six weeks, obsessing, counting the days.

Her breasts began to rock, her feet finding the mattress below. She pushed back, biting her lip, her body just as ready despite her mind’s hesitations. When she felt Alik scooting up beside her, lying perpendicular to the two of them, on her left, she reached for his collar. It was gone; he had patiently undressed beside her. Grabbing the back of his neck, instead, she pulled him down and bit his lip.

He chuckled above her, hands finding her tummy and pulling up at her dress. Up, and up, and soon he’d freed her breasts entirely. He paused for a moment, watching her chest move with quiet fascination, but soon he was lifting her shoulders from the bed. The dress slipped up and over them, and she held her arms above her head.

The black fabric flew toward the corner, landing in her husband’s lap.

Eyes panning up and down Alik’s curly-haired chest, she quietly moaned his name. He grinned, shaking his head and sliding a hand down her stomach. His fingertips found her clit and he moved them in patient circles, Mikhail’s eager length brushing against his skin with every hungry motion.

The pretty one moaned quietly. Kaeva groaned loudly. Teeth grasping again at Alik’s lips, she slid a hand up his thigh, grasping his length and squeezing tight.

Alik gasped softly. Smirking, he finally nodded, climbing up the bed and kneeling before her face, one knee by her arm and the other scooting under the pillows. His broad hand reached down to cup her hair, lifting her head toward his groin.

She paused for a moment. Something about being used by Mikhail, being taken, felt so… automatic. So natural. Even as her hips ground against his, participating in every motion, it was almost as if it was all his fault and she could walk away proud. Innocent.

Mikhail grasped the underside of her knees, pressing them back, and back, until they met the mattress. Sliding up, he trained his eyes upward, staring at his partner’s flesh as this girl’s lips engulfed it. Slow at first, Mikhail thrust against her walls, but before long he’d lost the patience to do anything but fuck his hardest.

Kaeva felt a quivering groan in her throat, in her lips. Alik’s length twitched against her tongue in response. This was filthy. This was her. This was all her fault, and as her mouth slid along his shaft, tongue teasing the underside, she decided she was going to hell. Heaven was boring.

A quiet, needy moan escaped Mikhail’s lips. He leaned farther in above her, until his hips were almost on top of hers. His tongue found her stomach, her breast, her nipple. Craning forward, he gave the base of Alik’s shaft a gentle lick. Began sucking on the side. His hips slowed, but his motions grew rougher, every thrust rocking Kaeva’s body against the sheets.

Her groans grew louder, her motions sharper. She tried to push back, but her body was pinned, his thick length was pounding her most sensitive places. One of her free hands cupped Alik’s bottom. The other Mikhail’s head. She pulled him forward, pressing his lips against Alik’s stones. Even as her lips sank further, and further still, swallowing Alik’s shaft, she smiled inwardly to herself. Glancing up, she found his eyes clenched shut, his lips barely parted. No man could live through this.

Mikhail released Keava’s right knee, pulling her foot to his shoulder. His hand craned down, finding her nub, thumb twisting in tight circles. As her back arched and her fingers clenched his hair, his hips pulled back slowly, only to slam down. He was growing close, but he needed hers to come, first.

Kaeva’s head spun, her lips falling free before her teeth clenched tight. She squeezed Alik’s shaft in one hand, eyeing him apologetically, even as her head rocked back against the pillows. She pressed her foot as hard as she could against Mikhail’s shoulder, twisting her hips, impaling herself on his shaft. Her hand on his hair pulled his face back, shoving him at Alik’s glans. When he took it, she smiled, newly freed hand sinking down between her thighs, past Mikhail’s fingers. She squeezed the base of the pretty one’s length, cupping his stones, her breasts rocking with every thrust. The hand from the rugged one’s shaft found her own breast.

Reaching down, Alik took a fist full of Mikhail’s hair. His own hips began to move, his eyes on Kaeva’s body as he fucked his partner’s face. His breath was growing ragged, his body on edge, but he needed theirs to come, first.

Mikhail’s thrusts grew sharp, ragged. His body shook, his motions impulsive, thoughtless. As his throat sunk over Alik’s shaft, he pressed harder at Kaeva’s nub.

Her shoulders went rigid. Her face jerked to one side, then the other, soon burying itself in Alik’s thigh. Every muscle in her body was going stiff, the heat exploding within her so hard, so suddenly, that she could hardly breathe. Her toes curled. Her fingers squeezed tight, both on herself and on Mikhail’s shaft. Her hips pushed back, ever harder, until they went so rigid that she could no longer move them. Spasms shook every corner of her frame, her moan rising to a shriek before it cracked and disappeared altogether.

Mikhail shuddered, a quiver riding up his spine as Kaeva’s folds squeezed him tightly enough to hurt. He pushed back as best as he could, his own head going light, vision blurring. Contractions seized his groin first, then his shoulders, then his fingers. His face fell free from Alik, pressing into Kaeva’s shoulder as he rocked against her. Something deep inside burst, and he felt his hot seed spraying free, filling his boss’s wife as she clenched and cried out and squirmed.

When Kaeva’s vision finally cleared, Alik was gone. She blinked, looking around, only to see him gently pushing Mikhail away with a smirk. He took her thighs in his huge hands. She felt herself being yanked down the bed, felt his body enter hers. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she clenched the pillow behind her head.

She was filthy. Wicked. Wrong. As Alik ground slowly against her walls, always patient, savoring every inch of her depths, her lips twisted into a little smirk. When his face fell over hers, his breath growing heavier, heavier, she licked the underside of his chin. Twisted her hips, grinding her flesh against his. Whispered to him. Told him to fill her up. His boss expected no less of him.

His shoulders shook. His hips went stiff. Driving himself as deep as he could, he stayed put, groaning loudly as he burst. More hot, sticky seed poured into her waiting depths, filling her, mixing with his partner’s and coating his length.

When Alik finally pulled away, he took a moment to admire the sight. She was sopping, juices from the three of them coating her inner thighs and leaking out of her depths across the sheets. He gave her a sloppy smile, and crawled clumsily atop Mikhail’s drowsy form, closing his eyes.

She rolled over, too. Away from the two bodies. Her eyes fell shut, and the world seemed to quiver, shake, as though it were spinning inside her head. When she felt something warm against her cheek, she wasn’t sure how long she’d been lying there.

Kaeva opened her eyes. Her husband was standing there, shaft free from his dress pants, swollen and rigid and twitching miserably. Her tired eyes met his, and she gave him a small smirk. Leaning forward just a bit, she took the glans between her lips. Slid her head down. Down, down, until her lips met his groin.

His hands found her hair. A hungry, quivering sigh left his lips, and his hips eased slowly back, then carefully forward. Once, twice, three times. By the sixth, he gasped, clenching her hair tight and pressing her lips against his stomach.

Her tongue clicked. Four times, five. When he finally pulled away, she glanced up with satisfied eyes. Gave him a weary grin.

Kneeling beside the bed, her husband kissed her softly on the lips. Gently. A careful motion the two of them had shared time and time again. One that said more than words ever could. Yet, for good measure, he still whispered the words themselves.

She returned them. Closed her eyes. Moments later, they lazily opened, only to find her husband gone. They fell back shut, and she went to sleep.