Hydie searches for her phone as it rings amongst her brother's magazines, newspapers and rolling tobacco products. The device shrills on relentlessly before she finally manages to locate and answer it.
“Hi.” A throaty baritone on the other end of the line, unfamiliar. She hesitates.
“It's Patrick.” His voice is rich and smooth, like the man.
It's been two days since their encounter in the dressing rooms.
“How are you?”
“...Can I come over?”
Hydie stares at the wall clock, it's 7.30pm. She notices the stains on the clock's plastic cover, the clutter and mess around her, frowns.
“I live with my brother.”
“But. I could see you tomorrow?” She hears hope in her voice.
“It's my day off.”
“I know. Yes. Alright.” The sound of his five o'clock shadow as it catches on the receiver. “Come to my house. We'll have a drink.” His tone lightens. “I expect we'll work something out. I'd like to see you again. Come at 2.”
A sharp tang of surprise on her tongue as she puts down the handset. She makes herself a cup of tea, reads the paper, choosing to go to bed early. She calls to her brother lounging in the TV room as she pads her way up the hall.
Patrick owns a condo in a leafy street. It's a long simple bus ride to his suburb, affording her enough time to brew anxiety beneath her smile. Hydie's hands shake as she rings the doorbell. He answers in a work shirt and grey pants, like last time. Her heart does a flip flop. His sleeves are unbuttoned, he's barefoot.
“You look gorgeous.”
Hydie giggles. He leans against the door frame and pulls her to him, encircling her waist in it's pretty yellow sundress. A hot, reassuring kiss.
“Thank you.” Hydie breaks away, grinning, much more relaxed.
“Come in.” He swings the door wide and ushers her inside.
In the back room, down a cream hallway, a man stands by the window, tumbler of scotch in one hand, the other touching the flawless glass of an enormous window. Anthony turns as they enter.
Hydie shoots Patrick a look of surprise, his expression remains neutral.
“Would you like a drink?”
Patrick makes his way over to a wall cabinet, busying himself fetching drinks and ice.
Soon they are seated on the big, beige leather lounge in an otherwise sparsely furnished sun-room, Patrick sits opposite in a matching, single-seater lounge chair and his friend sits to Hydie's left on the lounge. The sun blazes through the wide window, muted by tinted glass. Hydie takes her drink and sips. Ice-cubes make a glorious clinking sound, knocking courage into her ribcage, forcing her to swallow nervously, the only other noise in the room. Anthony clears his throat.
Hydie's imagination has just begun to seed. Andy is a good-looking man. He's tall, broad shouldered; deftly cut features offset by kind, large eyes and impossibly long lashes. He looks to be in his mid-thirties. Hydie curls her toes into the sofa, under her legs. The action further crumples her pretty dress. Andy supplies Hydie with a nod before putting his empty glass down. Resting his big hands on his thighs as though to gain momentum, he stands. The gesture is older than the man himself. His whole demeanor is reluctant.
“What do you do?”
Andy shoots Patrick a meaningful glance. He stops by the door, speaks to Hydie.
“I'm an accountant.”
“But it's the weekend?”
“I'm still an accountant on weekends.” His dry chuckle follows him from the room.
Patrick hesitates for a moment before joining her on the couch. The leather makes a rubbing sound as Hydie scoots awkwardly into his arms.
“Do you like this?”
“Your house is very nice.” Her hair spills over his arm and chest.
He smiles, moving a lock of her hair aside to kiss her. Lightly.
Silence envelopes them, Hydie watches the light dance on the opposite wall, aware of the under-stated opulence of her new lover's house. After a while, Patrick gets up. He draws her up too, taking her into his arms in an intimate gesture, heightened by the warmth of his skin. Hydie plays with the buttons of his shirt, afraid to look up into tell-tale brown eyes.
“I missed you.” His voice is a whisper.
“It's been 2 days...?”
“I wanted this...”
One hot hand up comes to rest under her breasts, heating her ribs before catching her nipple suggestively between thumb and forefinger. Hydie's eyes fly open. She looks a question.
“And this... ”
His remaining palm delves under the hem of her dress, caressing her skin, creeping inch by delectable inch past her knee to touch softer, more highly sensitised flesh. Hydie's breath catches in her throat.
“You're the most beautiful woman.”
Hydie wriggles, thinking to force distance between them. It's a half-hearted struggle that succeeds only in setting fire to her senses as more of his bare skin presses against her body.
“Will you take your clothes off?”
Her eyes are bright, her dark pupils struggling to stay focused. She doesn't smile. Hydie suppresses a shudder of delight.
“Andy is in the other end of the house.”
“I don't know...?”
“I'll take mine off too.”
Hydie sets about her task, making a show of unbuckling the decorative belt at her narrow waist, un-doing the tiny zip at her side and unbuttoning large, white buttons on her chest. She loosens the top of her dress and pulls it down over her breasts, revealing an intricate, black lace bra. Hungry brown eyes watch her progress. Patrick reciprocates, pulling his shirt over his head, mussing his hair. He unbuttons his trousers. Hydie's body responds, becoming languid. Moisture wets her knickers anticipating what's to come.
Patrick removes his socks and boxers. A smile plays on her lips for a moment as she notes the difficulty he encounters manoeuvring fabric over a protruding, pink, swollen cock. With her cotton dress at her feet, Hydie's confidence soars. Her bra and lacy knickers accentuate her ripe curves.
“We play a game?”
Hydie licks her lips. She takes a step towards her lover.
“I want you to trace your hands over my body. The game is not to touch me. I want to feel the heat of your hands all over my skin but without making contact. I will do the same.”
In strange silence, their game causes sexual tension in the room to sky rocket. Patrick's desirous eyes note goosebumps rising on the skin of her arms and belly as if Hydie's skin is attempting to reach for him and bridge the gap. He is diligent to the game, teasing her to a more potent arousal. Shallow breathing hides the silence in the room.
Hydie moves away. She is too ready, too hot for him. Heat in her blood makes her light-headed, her pussy throbs, clouding her judgement. She shakes her head, skipping over to the couch but she misses and tumbles, landing conveniently on her hands and knees by the armchair. She thinks to pry herself up and regain her advantage. She scrambles, her traitorous limbs glib and rubbery, blood singing in her ears.
An airy squeal escapes her lips as Patrick grasps her legs from behind and tugs, parting them. With her back still turned, he wastes no time slipping his adventurous tongue into her plush, sopping pussy. She squirms at the delightful intruder. He buries his face in the tiny piece of lace material separating her knickers from her slick folds. Too late, Hydie realises there will be no denying just how hot she is. The coiled spring in her belly tightens, unsure if it's nerves or arousal, Hydie spreads her legs, taking more of his inquisitive tongue.
He suckles on her labia, running a flat, eager tongue up her clitoris. His hands coax the tiny scrap of lace off her pussy and down her legs. Hydie's knickers end their journey laced around one ankle, forgotten. Patrick slides his tongue down her unimpeded wetness. One slick, slow movement. Hydie closes her eyes and her legs begin to shake.
Patrick nuzzles, she jiggles and rolls her hips, willing him to taste more. Hydie's expression is glazed, her body hums with arousal. A sound in the room snaps her pretty dark eyes open. The door latch gives, Andy re-enters the room. Stunned, caught, Hydie tries to close her legs and call a halt to the divine attentions trained on her pussy. Patrick's firm hold on her thighs prevents it. He stops licking her slit momentarily. Hydie hopes he has seen the room's additional occupant.
She lounges aghast and panting, her arms spread across a beige arm rest, her delectable pussy splayed. Hydie wets her lips, tries to order her muddled thoughts. Behind her, Patrick resumes his task. Her reason slides away with each stroke of his masterful tongue.
Hydie tries to swat his mouth away from it's delirious torture. Her breathing shallows.
“I want to watch.” Andy speaks softly from the door.
Hydie lifts her eyes, her expression doused in pleasure. In his pants, Andy's cock begins to grow.
Her hair falls in thick, dark waves around her face. She bucks against Patrick's touch as he rims her anus with his tongue and slides two, slick fingers into her waiting pussy. He performs the action deliciously slowly so his digits stretch her just enough. Patrick keeps his fingers inside her, poised. Hydie waits, pinned under Andy's hungry gaze. Frustration drives her to push back onto Patrick's hand.
“Ohh...ohhh..?” Hydie's lids grow heavier.
Thick, slick fingers find their way deeper into her sopping peach. Patrick grunts. Andy steps further into the room. His trousers have a thick, full-grown attraction. Enchanted, Hydie finds her voice.
“Do you want to see his fingers inside me?”
“Patrick.” Hydie calls softly.
She knows she won't handle too much more before cumming explosively in front of the two men. Hydie doesn't want to lose her cool yet and the realisation stiffens her resolve. She wants to stay aroused and in control, dripping with confidence. She pushes herself up off the couch, batting her lover's hands away from her slit. A reckless, desirable, maker of day-dreams.
She leans back and winds her thighs around Patrick's head, falling onto the carpet in front of the couch onto her back, taking Patrick with her. He crawls up her length. Heat covers her body slowly. He kisses her soft skin, rising to reach her mouth. He tastes of her honey-ed sweetness, spice and desperation. Patrick rubs his cock against her sensitive slit, nestling gently into her folds, licking her full lips as he plays.
“I want..?” Hydie pants.
“C'mon. Anything.” He surrounds her face with his broad hands, stroking her hair.
“I want to wait.”
She wriggles out from under him, crawling on her hands and knees. Long, elegant, cat-like paces, her breasts bob from the movement, encased in fine, black lace. Having crossed the floor, Hydie stands, silhouetted against the window. She looks first at Patrick and then to Andy, unclasps her bra, cupping her full breasts.
Her voice is husky, it's the first time she's said his name. She drops her bra to the floor. Her hands sweep over the pale flesh of her ample orbs, fighting the urge to delve lower and test just how wet Patrick ministrations can make her. She tries to concentrate wholly on massaging her milky white flesh and teasing her growing, pink peaks.
The man is transfixed, pupils dilated, itching to touch her. Like a dog. Hydie thinks, pleased. She doesn't go to him, merely nods. Hydie arches her back as he approaches, pushing her chest forward, bending her hips like a supermodel. He lowers his head and suckles her breast, teasing the tasty nub until it pebbles in his mouth.
“Enough!” Patrick growls possessively.
He sits on the beige couch, legs splayed with his proud cock between them and darkness in his eyes.
His voice is uneven, he strokes a thumb and two fingers up his impressive, uncircumcised shaft, looking at Hydie. An arrow of raw desire drops through her middle and nestles like fire in her pussy. Crazy with lust. Patrick responds, either to the thrust of his own hand movements or the heat of their exchange, she doesn't know. His cock twitches and his balls tighten. The other man turns from his task, lifting his head.
“Just watch.” Patrick growls.
Hydie plants a kiss on Andy's lips as she passes him, dishevelled, derailed by longing. He tastes of nutmeg and cigarettes. She breaks the brief kiss and without a backward glance, pads over to the couch. Hydie doesn't need instructions as she meets her lover's molten, steady gaze.
Patrick holds one arm crooked behind his head, arrogant despite his straining erection. Hydie squats over him, beginning her descent onto his cumbersome cock. Patrick's poise deteriorates. As two slick inches disappear inside her, he grips her hips with both hands, brown eyes focused on her plush mouth. Hydie gives in to sensation, a rising, delicious fullness derived from Patrick's thick, eager cock. She continues to envelope him, easing his throbbing shaft into her trembling pussy.
She's stuffed full, knees pressed to his shoulders, Patrick's turn to guide their love play. He slides his hands under her rump, fingers tingling her skin. He picks up her fine arse and drops it. Her juices coat his cock. He repeats his motion. On the other side of the room, Andy unzips his fly. Hydie's eyes are closed, a sustained flush on her cheeks, half-drowsy, half-tormented. For a moment Patrick's weak heart betrays him, he wonders whether he loves her, this woman he barely knows.
Hydie rocks her hips and opens her lids. She catches him staring, a strange light in his eyes.
He picks her up and drops her.
Andy punctuates their activities from across the room.
“That's so hot.”
“You like that?” Patrick addresses the other man but his eyes burn into Hydie's.
In answer, pussy muscles catch his cock and massage him deeper into her cunt. Hydie wreathes her arms around his neck, lost in a deluge of sensation. Patrick's thighs tense, pushing his buried cock deeper.
She shakes her head, cascading curls caress his shoulder.
“What about Andy?” Her accent is thick, her control slipping.
“Andy is fine.”
Behind her, the sound of jeans dropping to the floor.
“Maybe he wants something too?”
Hydie frowns playfully at his consternation. She licks his face. Patrick kisses her, whipping her languid blood into fiery retaliation.
She drops to her knees, her lover's cock still hard inside her silky depths.
“I want to suck him.”
She looks at Patrick, though his expression is dark, he acquiesces. She reaches, taking the approaching stranger in her hand, fingers encircling his width before she raises her eyes to his face. Large eyes appraise her actions in disbelief.
“Do you want me?”
“YES.” It's a harsh whisper.
Hydie scoots over and twists her hips, Patrick's meat still pressed inside her. His big hands help support her torso as she shifts position, accepting the other man's cock-meat into her mouth. She leans over, licking around his shaft, enjoying the unfamiliarity of his clean, velvety flesh. She licks his helmet and on down the vein to his balls, adding saliva to the rest of his shaft.
Andy stares down at her, transfixed. Hydie's tongue surges up his length towards the tip. She sucks, drawing him into the intense warmth of her mouth. Beneath her, Patrick tenses his butt cheeks on the sofa. He moves inside her. Hydie uses her hand to increase the sensation up and down Andy's cock, bobbing her head and blowing him rhythmically. She picks up the pace. Patrick twitches. He licks his thumbs and plies her nipples with his hands.
The two men don't speak. Amidst the sound of skin on leather and Hydie's occasional moan of ascent, they arrange their bodies until Andy kneels on the sofa, his hard cock continuing to travel in and out of Hydie's lips. Patrick stands on the floor with her ripe arse at a delicious angle, allowing him quick access to her wetness.
Patrick slides his cock home, causing Hydie to pause, gripping Andy's stick. She tries to focus her eyes on fine hair below Andy's belly button. She tries to think up a diversion from the growing waves of orgiastic pleasure in her cervix. Patrick thrusts and she bursts into flames.
As Patrick pounds, Hydie stuffs her mouth with Andy's man-meat, willing one of the men to fall with her over the cliff-edge. It doesn't take long. Andy's dick spurts ropes of sticky jism as she withdraws. His sauce catches on her cheek and her neck. Behind her, Patrick's rhythm intensifies. She drops onto her hands and takes the force of Patrick's lovemaking, Andy moves out of their way.
Patrick holds her cheeks and strokes. It's hard to think as the vigour in his pace brings about another rush of heat, another round of splintering, glorious sensations that tickle her scalp, raise the hair on her arms and stuff her with sweetness. Patrick licks his thumb. As he works them both to breaking point he inserts a digit into her sphincter. Hydie has never felt anything so delicious.
She reaches down past her breasts and pussy, covering his balls with her moistened hand. The movement of his thrusts allows her to stroke him. Patrick lets out an appreciative grunt and then finally, his impossibly engorged cock pumps cum into her slit. Hydie cums too, right when his dick lengthens with effort, stretching her one last time.
They groan together, sated, wasted.
Andy sits on the ground, his back supported by the beige lounge, naked from the waist down, ogling the lovers as they break from their reverie.
“Wow.” He says, shaking his head.
Patrick shifts onto the couch, he pulls Hydie toward him, folding her and her rubbery limbs so she is mostly sitting across him. He wipes strands of sticky hair from her face and tucks them behind her ears. He plants an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on her jaw. Hydie struggles for breath, her chest heaves. Patrick holds her steady, his hands wrapped around her waist.
“Chicken?” He nuzzles her neck.
“Mmm?” Hydie opens her eyes at his endearment.
“You said you wanted somewhere with less mirrors.” Hydie waves an arm in agreement, unable to form words. “You said you wanted me to bring someone to watch.”
A moment passes, Hydie clears her throat.
“It's a gift.” She smiles slowly, tired now, her fever cooling. “Thank you.”
She takes his face in her hands, kissing him soundly. It makes a languid, smacking sound.
“Andy.” Patrick's voice is slightly terse. “Go now, clean up in the other room. I'll spend some time with my girl.”
Hydie watches him issue his command. He is a man used to delivering orders. She taps his lip with lazy fingers.
“With Hydie.” She says, correcting him.
“You're not my girl?”
“My. Name... Is. Hydie.”
Hydie snuggles into his chest. The other man leaves the room. Patrick wraps her in his warm, powerful arms. Their bodies are sticky, his chest hair tickles her cheek. Patrick kisses each of the fingers on her much smaller hand.
“Hydie is very beautiful. Even if she is not wholly mine...” Patrick's voice is a whisper, he makes no effort to move. “...Yet?”
His heart beats just below her ear, buried in his chest. His body trembles slightly, from exhaustion or proximity to her, she doesn't know. A smile creeps onto her tired lips as she closes her eyes.