Episodes 7 and 8 – the best part (and the part I write least well about)

As you’ll remember from Episode 6, I had left Charlotte – her mouth filled with my cum – to complete a number of assignments, while I did some other stuff I needed to do. Like, apparently, pour an entire kettle of boiling water on my left hand.

The plan had been for Charlotte and me to pick up where we had left off, for her to fluff me in anticipation of Sarah’s arrival, and for Sarah to arrive half an hour or so later.

Sarah texted, though, “I’ll be early.” In fact, Charlotte and Sarah would be together before I arrived. “You may make out. But no more,” I texted the two of them. “And don’t start drinking until I arrive.”

I knew alcohol had to be managed. I was committed to doing that, and to doing it well. And I nearly did. Or rather, I did. Until I didn’t.

So at 12:45 or so, I walked through the door of room 308 for the second time that day, to find two beautiful women chatting animatedly on the bed. Charlotte had executed all of her tasks perfectly, except one: one bingo card remained, the individual squares not yet cut out and deposited in the scotch box. Charlotte was committed to the actual bingo game. I had intended it merely as a writing prompt, intended the squares not to be filled in as we progressed, but rather, to be used as sexual prompts throughout the day. I had Charlotte execute the final bit of preparation, poured two glasses of white wine, and one of scotch – skimpy pours – and raised my glass: “To the afternoon of fun we are about to have.”

Aside: Athena and I had been discussing the hijinks that were about to ensue. Athena has a bit of an ambivalent relationship to me. She knows we are, sexually, very different. She is 12,000 miles away from me. At least for the time being. She’s in a sort of a monogamous relationship – unusual for her. And … In spite of herself, there’s something about me that she finds compelling. Or maybe more than one thing. As the threesome approached, Athena was titillated. She wanted to know about each of the women, she wanted to imagine the three of us together. She wanted to know every. single. detail.

And, she wanted to send us a little… inspiration. Just an hour or three before this moment, Athena sent a blazing hot series of photos of her in a baby blue teddy, sheer, her nipples on her big breasts, her pubic hair, clearly visible through it.

And, her pretty, pretty face in an endearing smile, egging us on. These photos weren’t for me. They were for us.

So before we got started, we perused the photos. “She’s hot!” said Sarah. “I’d totally stretch with her!”

I recorded a little video for Athena, showing her the lovely ladies reclining on the bed – Charlotte, in her grey skirt, black top, and black pantyhose; Sarah, in her torn jeans and white t-shirt.

And the time for us to get started, in earnest, approached….

Earlier, I had sent Sarah that smoking hot photo of Charlotte on stage as I stroked my cock. I had Charlotte reprise her stage show, asking her to stand on the stage again, and to come for us. I said to Sarah, “After her first orgasm, I would like you to suck my cock.”

“Of course!” said Sarah. (She’s very agreeable.)

Charlotte climbed up, hiked up her skirt, and in her trademark manner, got herself off in about forty seconds. Good it was so quick: my cock was aching to be in Sarah’s mouth. And Charlotte’s mouth.

Charlotte continued coming as Sarah removed my shoes, my socks, my pants, my boxers, and took my cock into her soft, warm, moist mouth. I asked Charlotte to strip as Sarah continued to work on my cock. And, after a bit, I had the two ladies switch places, with Charlotte accepting my cock from Sarah, and hungrily devouring me, and Sarah climbing up on the stage, and removing her clothes. It seemed unlikely Sarah would be able to make herself come up there – her orgasms are nowhere near as accessible as Charlotte’s. And, they’re impeded by nervousness.

My cock was happy though – at home in Charlotte’s pretty mouth, my hands on her lustrous dark brown/black hair, guiding her head for my pleasure.

I invited Sarah down, and she joined Charlotte on my cock. The two ladies kissed, and they licked, and sucked, together. Never mind five in a row. This surely counted as “Bingo”!

I can’t possibly recount all that transpired over the following three plus hours. All I can say is there was spanking and bruising, all sorts of pussy-licking and cock-sucking, kissing, fingering, stroking, swallowing, and coming coming coming. There were bingo cards drawn. There was wine drunk. (Just a little.) Scotch drunk. I used a paddle on their asses. All three of us took turns being ravished by the others in the under-the-bed restraints Charlotte had set up, perfectly.

Charlotte sat on my face while Sarah sucked my cock. Sarah sat on my face while Charlotte sucked my cock. I licked Charlotte’s pussy while she devoured Sarah. I devoured Sarah while she devoured Charlotte. And on. And on. And on.


There came a moment where I called a halt to the proceedings. Charlotte was feeling a little jealousy, and some processing was in order. I sent the two ladies for a walk to chat with one another. I had a cigarette. I spent five minutes chatting with Charlotte. Five more, chatting with Sarah. And we headed back to the room.

[The bottom line was that Charlotte felt – correctly, Sarah felt – that I had been attending more to Sarah than to Charlotte. She felt bad about that, feeling it reflected a difference in my enthusiasm for the two women. And, Charlotte had noticed my thumb in Sarah’s ass at one point as I was licking in her clit. My thumb – which had made its home in Charlotte’s ass plenty of times previous, and since – had not found its way to her ass on this particular day. Which further inflamed Charlotte’s sense of neglect.]

I committed to making Charlotte the center of attention for the remainder of the time, and she was, but, as you’ll read (or already did), things got… complicated.

In any event. There was more spanking. More 69-ing. I snapped some photos. Including this:

There was some more bingo – this time, at Charlotte’s discretion. “Keep drawing cards until you get one you like,” I said. Charlotte didn’t have to draw that many, though, honestly, I can’t recall anything clearly from this part of the day onwards.

It’s a cunty haze – the best kind.

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