Insatiable threesome (Part 9)

19.08.2012 | By: Miriam

What did Miriam experience after ringing the doorbell of the two beautiful lovers she watched having sex?

(PhotoXpress)

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George the sculptor opens the door with messed-up hair. He smiles casually: “Hello, Miriam.”

I can barely manage to say something in reply. I enter, George’s hand spontaneously slides across my back; it burns me like a stove through the thin raincoat.

“Donatella, this is Miriam,” he introduces me to his wife, the beautiful black-haired girl who writhed beneath his arms so very much just a few moments earlier. Donatella is now wearing a white silk robe, through which I can see the outlines of her hard nipples. It’s not that warm yet. She greets me warmly and pleasantly.

We chat while drinking excellent espresso and I can’t ignore the movement’s of the sculptor’s hands which I’ve seen working on Donatella. I think George noticed that my eyes are almost closed and foggy when he speaks to me and watches me intensely. I’m all aroused and full of adrenaline just from watching the action in bed. At one point George grabs my wrist for a moment. He must have noticed that I trembled and he might have heard me whimper inside. When he’s holding me like this and looking me straight in the eyes, the whole world disappears – even Donatella with her pleasant voice and her apricot smell.

The conversation turns towards the start of the bathing season which is approaching and I tell them I’ve been swimming the entire winter.

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“Then you must have a beautifully shaped back,” George says and looks at Donatella, who nods and explains to me that George must sketch backs. “Go sketch her, I’ll make some pasta,” the beauty in the silk robe tells us. I hope she will change into something else when she starts cooking.

Nobody asks for my consent, I merely follow George to the part of his studio with the roof. He turns an electric stove on, sits on a hard chair and gets his sketch book ready. I quickly take my top and bra off. “The pants as well,” he says calmly.

And so I stand completely naked in front of him – it’s actually more precise to say that he’s sitting behind me. It’s quiet for a while and then he says: “Beautiful back,” and then I hear nothing but the sound of charcoal on paper.

I try to think about bills, accounts, taxes, classifications, but nothing helps. I keep seeing images of George and Donatella, George and me, me and Donatella.

I’m so involved with my internal struggles that I don’t notice that George has stopped sketching. He surprises me from behind. I feel his breath on my neck, his stubble and warm, moist lips. “I know what’s going on inside you. I saw you looking at us,” he whispers into my neck.

He slips his hand between my slightly spread legs which tremble when he pushes two fingers into my wet hole without hesitation. He thrusts deeply into me a few times and tests me as if he was trying to get to know me better as soon as possible. When I become too loud, he shuts my mouth with one hand: “Donatella is going to kill me, please be quieter.”

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He then sits on a chair and plants me on his fat tool – he penetrates me slowly, half an inch (one centimetre) at a time. I bite his arm in order not to scream with painful ecstasy. When I’m sitting on his lap with his cock deep inside of me, we both calm down and his rugged hands start slowly moving from my nipples to my clitoris and back again. My pussy embraces him even more firmly due to all the stimulation and I finally start moving. I want to scream with every movement, but I only pant loudly. George is watching my back, stroking it and saying: “That’s right, baby, embrace me strongly with your pussy. That’s right. What’s the rush, take it easy.”

I ride him and my loud breathing turns into silent screaming, which brings Donatella into his studio. She’s outraged. She’s glorious, her eyes are flashing and her cheeks are completely flushed. George pushes me off and goes to his wife, who then slaps him. He calmly grabs both her hands and is telling her something silently. The flashing of her eyes calms down, she nods and starts giggling. She allows her husband to take off her apron, cotton shirt and skirt, beneath which she’s wearing nothing. She surrenders to his fondling like a kitten. When they’re kissing, George gestures at a very smooth marble sculpture of a phallus, which is suspiciously similar to his penis, and pushes a can of linseed oil into my hands.

I’m so very aroused that I don’t think but instantly lubricate the phallus and sit on it slowly. The stone is smooth but ice cold. I watch George placing Donatella’s leg on a chair and penetrating her from behind. Her melon-like breasts swing wildly when he thrusts into her. The scene is beautiful. I can see George’s fat organ disappearing into the smooth, insatiable pussy. I’m embracing my stone phallus with my muscles and only circle with my hips. I stroke and caress my clitoris and try to come at the same time as them.

George comes in front of us and his wife shivers slightly and backs off. She spreads her legs above me, grabs my hair and commands: “Drink his sperm out of my pussy.”

She presses my lips against her clitoris. I suck it gladly, embrace it and start hitting it with my tongue. She’s surprised by the pleasure, her grip on my hair loosens, I go lower with my tongue and really drink the cocktail of their juices. Then she again presses my head with her hands, so that I have no other choice but to nibble and suck on her very aroused clitoris. Her arousal turns me on, so that I start poking myself on the stone phallus with increasing speed. When she comes, all my reservations disappear and I bring myself to an orgasm as well.