Matt is the special guest at a bisexual swingers party.
"Jasmine," she breathed. "My favourite." She slipped out of her stilettos, groaning. "God, it's good to get those off," she said. Her feet were red where the shoes had rubbed against her bare skin, her perfect toes painted the same bubblegum pink as her fingers. She looked at him and smiled. "Where do you want me to sleep?"
He felt crushed suddenly, and looked at his feet. "Well there's the sofa," he said. "Or the guest bedroom. It's just through there." He gestured to the small hallway to his left. "Or...' He looked at her, wondering suddenly who was the teenager in the room.
Her feet squeaked on the varnished wooden floor as she padded towards him, holding out her hands. "You're so cute, you know?" she said, taking his hands in hers. Her palms were warm and dry. The strap of her dress had slipped again, almost down to her elbow. He could see that she was not wearing a bra, and that her nipples were hard against the coarse fabric. She looked up at him, her brown eyes expectant.
"Well," she said. "Aren't you going to kiss me again?"
He did not remember how his lips met hers. Almost in a frenzy, he buried his hand in her hair as he devoured her mouth, running his free hand over her other shoulder, pushing the strap down, pushing her backwards in the direction of his bedroom. She clung to him, whimpering noises leaking from her mouth as she returned his kisses with equal force.
When the back of her legs hit the bed, she let him go, falling backwards onto the soft mattress. He looked down at her, breathing heavily. Her hair was spread out like a fuzzy halo, the material of her dress barely covering her breasts. He pulled off his sweater and jeans and knelt before her. "Beautiful," he murmured, putting his hands on her knees and sliding them upwards over her skin, taking the dress with them, up over the sides of her hips, her waist, her chest, her shoulders. She sat up, letting him pull the dress over his head then lay down again. She bit her lip as he studied her body, looking suddenly awkward under the intensity of his gaze.
Her breasts were plump but firm, her nipples the colour of milky coffee. A glittering jewel nestled in her belly button, drawing his eyes south. She was wearing briefs with little pink flowers dotted across the material which was stretched across a mound of springy black fuzz. Some of it was poking out of the sides. He ran a finger along the elastic, gazing at her as if she was a precious sculpture. He took her hands in his and pulled her up so she stood in front of him.
She looked down at his tenting boxers and smiled, hooking her thumbs into the elastic of her briefs and pausing there. "I'm game if you are," she said, and he did the same. The scraps of material hit the floor. His eyes were drawn to her thick bush, and his cock twitched, oozing out a tear of liquid.
"Oh god, Bee," he breathed, kissing her again, hugging her to him so he could feel the bristle of her pubic hair against his thigh, his cock sandwiched between their warm bodies.
He lay down on the bed, and she crept beside him, her eyes dark. She stroked his chest lightly, her fingertips leaving burning trails along his skin. When he could stand it no more, he kissed her again, rolling over, pushing his leg between hers. Again, that scrape of hair against his thigh. His mouth left hers and he began to lick and kiss his way downwards, along her jaw, to the point where her pulse beat in her throat. She moaned and pushed her hands into his hair until his mouth came to her nipple. Breathless, he sucked it into his mouth, tonguing the dark point, laving it with saliva. She arched her back slightly and gasped, grinding her heat harder into his thigh as he trailed his tongue across to her other nipple, taking her breast into his hand, pushing it towards his needy mouth.
The feeling of her hard little nipple against his tongue sent his head spinning.