Going Home

Going Home

Presenting the second prize winner in our Jo Divine’s Diary competition by Instagram’s @suzyjbl.

The smell of her hair and perfume lingered as I drove away from the flat. The thought of the firmness of her tongue against my skin simply served to increase my desire again and I continued to gently throb.

The suggestion of us being able to have a weekend away at the beach was intoxicating. I desperately wanted to be able to reciprocate the touch, the taste, the passion.

As I approached home, my thoughts then shifted to Mr D, Sophia and I had promised we would talk him through our liaisons as they happened, but in how much detail?

How could we frame that incredible encounter in order to continue our connection? How much detail will have the effect of further arousal as opposed to raising concern about a deepening emotional need. Stopping now was not an option.

Was the next step really a couples weekend for me and Sophia or was this the right time for Mr D to join us?

When we initially met in the coffee shop, as a threesome, there were suggestions, from Sophia, for all of us being involved. “…our adventures don’t have to be the stories you hear” Sophia said, delightfully goading Mr D.

A wave of selfishness totally consumed me, I wanted to be the first to taste Sophia’s wetness, to use my feminine softness to tease her clitoris to the edge and back. I wanted her. But I wanted her to myself.

Perhaps Mr D would be satisfied with a voyeuristic role initially, I visualised him quietly in the corner of the room, with his phallus firmly in his hand gently guiding strokes to caress a monumental erection, while he watches his wife expertly bring Sophia to the edge of a climax like no other.

The car pulled quietly into the drive like we were tiptoeing in after an illicit night out. Was it illicit ? Had Mr D’s blessing been genuine or simply to placate an overly, inquisitive spouse ?

His words were ambiguous yet clear “To say I’m happy with this is wrong… not that I’m unhappy with it. But, I do allow it” Mr D had said when we’d initially met.

Mr D had given us his blessing. Despite that , the nervousness of the evolving ambiguity was now tangible .

The house was bathed in darkness, a small light was on in the study. I could smell a heavy mix of coffee and alcohol. I made my way through the hall towards the study, soft classical music was audible in the background. I stood silhouetted in the doorway.

Mr D sat quietly in his deep leather, wing backed chair, a large glass of red in his left hand, his right silently beckoned me over.

I stood, child like in front of him, unsure of the cause of the palpable tension – was this sexual tension or deep seated jealousy ? The uncertainty made me shiver. Perhaps that beautiful evening with Sophia was the end rather than the beginning. I couldn’t let that happen. The silence lasted way too long for my comfort and then suddenly one word shattered the quiet.

“Kneel” he said firmly.

I silently knelt between his feet.

He leant forwards, towering over me and guided his hand down towards my still engorged pussy – touching her as if reclaiming it from my evening of folly.

“Details…” he said, the firmness not abating.

I lowered my eye – line, still unsure what type of fire I was about to fuel further.

I began to softly talk him through the evening – pausing momentarily to reframe language and sexuality. Pausing to catch my breath as I relived the intensity and the passion of the last few hours.

As I navigated my way through the highly charged encounter – I was continually drawn to the movement in his groin, the familiar shape straining to be unleashed. It would seem that my exploitations with Sophia were continuing to fuel this unexpected yet exhilarating fire.

I finished my story, moistened my lips in expectation, the erection I was desperate for was released from its restraints. Mr D slowly grabbed a handful of my hair and lowered my mouth over the top of his pulsating member. I drew my lips around the shaft, using my tongue to swirl around the firm head. The drop of saltiness increasing the anticipation of what was about to happen – I was consumed by the taste. Mr D controlled the movement, for that instance he controlled me.

The speed, the moisture, the heat, all rapidly increased. The deep penetration into the back of my throat, the sense of connecting on a purely physical level, the gradual crescendo of his breath, his rasping growl and quivering thighs created a throbbing in me so intense that we orgasmed strongly and violently – the taste was complete. I was home.