Sophia's Choice Pt. 07

Literotic asexstories – Sophia's Choice Pt. 07 by Alice_Nicol,Alice_Nicol
SEVENTEEN

It was half past six when the cold woke Sophia. She checked her phone and saw she hadn’t received a message from Peter. No doubt he had found comfort in the arms of the au pair before resting up for the weekend and his game of golf and day out with his neandertal friends. She made the best of a bad job by messaging him to say that the karaoke had gone on into the early hours and she had been offered the use of one of the rooms at the club, which the Japanese brass liked to use after a night on the Suntory whisky.

It was as lame as an alibi could be, but it would do. She told Peter she’d be back by eight, which gave her time to shoot back to the office and change into her sensible work clothes. She tried to get herself ready without disturbing the girls, but first Karina, then Iben woke. Iben kindly offered her the use of a new toothbrush, kissing her on both cheeks before she passed it over. After she had dressed and the flatmates had slipped robes on, Sophia accepted their offer of a quick cup of coffee, knowing that she had time on her side.

Sensing that Sophia was a little down, Iben asked if anything was troubling her. Desperate to share her burden, the older woman told them about her problem with Petsi. While Iben found it difficult to believe that the Swede wouldn’t be throwing herself at her employer, Karina – who knew the Englishwoman better – thought that her intensity might be putting the au pair off and preventing them from enjoying a closer relationship. Sophia acknowledged that she had been a little too pushy with the helper, while strategically failing to mention that she had fucked her boyfriend at the earliest opportunity. (She had recently learned from Peter that Ulf had been off the scene for a month or so, and had put two and two together about Petsi blaming her for the break-up.)

It was Iben (who had taken a shine to Sophia from the get-go and who didn’t possess a jealous bone in her body) who suggested a way in which the breakthrough might be made. Why didn’t Peter and Sophia invite the two of them over for dinner? They could help create the atmosphere in which Petsi’s resistance could be broken down. Sophia thought about the idea and decided she liked it. Liked it a lot. Having thanked the girls for a wonderful time, she left with a spring in her high-heeled step, turning the head of the postman, as he made his early morning rounds of leafy North London.

Peter was up and about when Sophia returned, getting breakfast for the children in the weekend absence of Petsi, who had been with him in her bedroom until eleven o’clock the previous evening. As fate would have it, Peter had been speaking to the Swedish girl about her relationship with Sophia, urging her to chill out when around her. Petsi, feeling that Peter was trying to push her away, had started to cry, seeking comfort in his arms. The way Peter put it was like this: Sophia wanted to show Petsi that she considered her part of the family. Drawing closer together with her physically, he reasoned, would help cement the emotional bonds between them, while establishing a mutual empathy, which could only benefit everyone involved. It might have been poppycock, but it seemed to have the desired effect.

When his wife returned home, rather than quizzing her about her nocturnal activities, Peter was very chipper, talking about what they might do the following day as a family and making her favourite breakfast of crêpes with salmon and cream cheese, while dealing with the demands of the kids, for whom Sophia had arranged gymnastic classes, which started later that morning in a local church hall.

Before he departed for his day out with the lads, as he was upstairs packing his waterproofs, he mentioned to his wife that Petsi had spoken of wanting to strengthen her emotional bond with her. Sophia knew better than to ask how this apparent change of heart had come about, but just had time before Peter left to tell him that she would be inviting her former intern (now on a short-term contract with an internet start-up before heading back to Copenhagen to finish her course) and her Norwegian flatmate over for dinner.

She believed this would provide a tremendous fillip for Petsi, since they could all chat together in their native languages (Swedish, Danish and Norwegian being more or less mutually intelligible, so Iben had told her). Peter said it sounded like a splendid idea, and suggested they talk about it again later. Peter went off with a song in his heart, as the saying goes – a song that would have segued into the Hallelujah Chorus had he known that Karina had already been having daydreams about him.

It was not until the following day (after they had returned from a visit to Peter’s brother’s place for Sunday lunch) that Peter and Sophia were able to put their heads together about a possible date for the get together. In the end, they plumped for the spring solstice, 21 March, which that year fell on a Saturday, if it was good for their three prospective guests. They would ask Carrie if the kids could have a sleepover with her that night, failing which they could always go to Peter’s parents, who lived only an hour away. While the children wouldn’t be mad about the idea, Peter’s folks would be delighted. They didn’t talk about it, but Peter and Sophia knew they felt they got the short straw as far as seeing the grandchildren was concerned, even though they lived so close.

Within a few days, everything had fallen into place, and Sophia’s only gripe was that she’d have to wait the best part of a month before the deal was sealed with Petsi. That would mean she would have been in a state of the utmost frustration for going on four months. How she hated her husband sometimes for the ease with which he got what he wanted. Why did it always come with such difficulty for her?

The big day finally arrived and Sophia was pleased to see that Petsi, who had been relieved of cooking duties so she could enjoy herself to the utmost, had made a special effort sartorially. She had put on a ivory crew-neck short-sleeved crop top with a shiny black satin mini skirt with a broad elasticated waist of the type boxers wear in the ring. The top scarcely covered Petsi’s navel and the ensemble was comfortably the sexiest thing Sophia had ever seen the girl wear.

Peter had been put in charge of the dinner, which Sophia realised was a mistake as soon as their guests arrived, as they all insisted on heading to the kitchen to speak with the chef. He soon had them on a string, marvelling over not just his culinary skills but also for being a ‘Renaissance man’. Sophia was strongly tempted to show them photos of him lying on the floor of a restaurant with his neandertals after a pretty run-of-the-mill night out, but refrained on the grounds they would compliment him for his metrosexuality or some such shit. Anyway, it took a good 20 minutes to get them out of the kitchen, where Peter was taking an age to prepare the pomegranate salad, which would accompany the pulled pork that was simmering away in the oven.

Once the women were seated in the sitting room with the drinks they’d brought with them from the kitchen, much to Sophia’s dismay, the conversation continued to revolve around her husband. Karina told the story of how she’d seen a photo of Peter on Sophia’s desk when she first started working for her, and had made it part of her daily ritual to sneak a peek of it at some point during the day. Karina was sitting in the middle of the sofa between Iben and Petsi, while Sophia was sitting on the armchair at Petsi’s end of the settee. She had opted for the English Rose look – a below-the-knee Laura Ashley V-neck frock with a nipped-in waist and broad shoulder straps. Large red roses were patterned onto the cream-coloured dress, as well as onto the straps. With them she wore a pair of Italian crocheted cotton and leather ballet flats in white and deep red.

Karina was wearing what Sophia dubbed a lesbian power outfit, a white single-breasted slim-fit tuxedo over a beige T-shirt. Happily, she had taken off her passion-killing black boots at the front door. Iben had chosen an army-style khaki shirt with breast pockets. The long sleeves had been rolled up one cuff-length and the top three buttons left undone, providing a tantalising glimpse of the valley between her breasts. She had paired these with a pair of tight-fitting beltless jeans. She looked good enough to eat, thought Sophia.

After a quarter of an hour, Peter came in to a chorus of appreciation and expressions of solicitation about his wellbeing, and offered to refill everyone’s glasses. That service performed, he settled into the other armchair – opposite the sofa. He was wearing what Sophia called his ‘pulling gear’: a slim-fitting black roll-neck jumper tucked into a pair of matching trousers, with loafers.

Petsi seemed to get along with the guests very well, judging from her relaxed demeanour and the tendency for the three of them to slip into their native tongue when they got particularly excited about something. Their conversation covered a variety of topics: the respective merits of Scandinavian and British universities, AI essay-writing bots and its effect on education, democratic socialism versus capitalism, and, as is the case when two or three foreign students gather together, English food.

That provided the cue for Peter, who had popped out a few minutes earlier, to return with the news that dinner was served. The pulled pork (which had been cooked for nine or ten hours in an aromatic sauce of apple cider vinegar, cinnamon sticks, coriander seeds, crushed chilli, black pepper, salt and brown sugar) was served in baguettes, with a pomegranate and mixed leaf salad on the side. It was a huge hit with everyone; even Sophia was impressed, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek, as she walked past him to get the dessert. Besides setting down a marker to remind the girls that she had first claims to the man, she thought the gesture might send the message that the next phase of the evening would soon be starting.

The dessert out of the way, and coffees and various teas having been consumed at the table, the party headed back to the sitting room, where Peter passed round glasses of the Heering cherry liqueur that Karina had brought along. This time, Iben sat in the middle of the sofa, while everyone else assumed their former positions. And it was to be Iben who made the first move after an hour of animated conversation – fuelled in part by the liqueur.

EIGHTEEN

Turning to Karina on her left, she kissed her on the lips, placing one hand just above her knee. As Karina started to kiss her back, Sophia looked first at Peter, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, then at Petsi, who shifted in her place a little uncomfortably and gave a nervous cough. After a minute or so, Peter got up, touching Petsi on the shoulder as he went past her, and dimmed the ceiling lights, so that most of the light was now coming from the two table lamps beside Peter and Sophia’s armchairs, respectively. Iben took advantage of the relative gloom to shift her position on the sofa so that she now had both legs under her with her back to Petsi. Placing her hands either side of the Dane’s face, she started almost to chew on her mouth, using her tongue to maximal effect.

Karina made straight for her flatmate’s breasts, moving a hand into the voluminous opening of her shirt and caressing each breast in turn with urgency. Her fingers flew down Iben’s shirt, making short work of the buttons, before tugging the shirttail from her jeans, dealing with the extra buttons, removing the shirt and discarding it on the floor. Replacing hand with tongue, she started working with genuine hunger on Iben’s nipples, causing the girl to moan deeply and regularly. At the same time, the Norwegian threw her head back. With no sofa to support it, it remained thrown back.

Suddenly, Petsi felt a hand on her knee. It was Sophia, stretching across from her chair. Instinctively, the au pair darted a look at Peter, who nodded back to her reassuringly. Standing up, Sophia squeezed in beside Iben, sitting sideways on the sofa, with her back lending support to the Norwegian girl’s head. She held both of Petsi’s hands in hers and took a deep breath – more figuratively than literally. Petsi returned Sophia’s gaze and found herself leaning in towards her employer. Rather than meet her halfway, Sophia decided to check her movement inward to test Petsi’s commitment. There were to be no second thoughts, as the Swedish beauty locked lips with Sophia and slipped her tongue between the older women’s teeth. Sophia’s tongue came out to meet the long-awaited visitor and took it on a tour of her mouth.

Now that she had surrendered to Sophia’s charms, there was to be no holding back on Petsi’s part. On the contrary, she was like a woman possessed, moulding her hands around Sophia’s breasts – breasts she had many times thought about and masturbated to. Sophia wanted to access Petsi’s magnificent pair too, but she was in no mood to allow anything to get in the way. She hitched her hands under Petsi’s crop top and in one easy movement lifted the flimsy item over her head. Without pausing, she unclasped her bra and tossed it over the back of the sofa. Breaking the kiss, she made a full-frontal assault on her helper’s incredible chest.

Karina and Iben paused – and in Iben’s case, turned – to watch the beautiful scene unfolding beside them. But not for long. Their passion reignited by the display of pure lust, they returned to their lovemaking with renewed vigour, Iben undoing the single button on Karina’s jacket and making short work of both that and the T-shirt underneath it.

Both sets of girls were working vigorously on their partners’ breasts and Peter had the best seat in the house. He undid his zip, slid down his briefs, and began working on his powerful column with slow, languorous strokes, hatching a plan to time his orgasm to coincide with whichever of the girls came first. On current form, it was likely to be Petsi. Since the barriers had come down, pent-up frustrations built up over months were being released with astonishing speed and power. She was surrendering herself to Sophia with body and soul, urging her to show no mercy, to punish her and pillage her.

Sophia slipped off the sofa and pulled the slinky skirt off Petsi. Only a pair of pink low-rise thongs stood between her and her objective. Now that she had her where she wanted her, Sophia was in no mood to hurry things, no mood to miss out on any pleasure that she might have cause to regret later. She told Petsi to turn round so she could get a good look at her ass. The sight of the tiny piece of cloth – hardly wider than a shoelace – wedged between her buttocks created a surge of desire. Knowing that Peter would have his eyes glued on Petsi, Sophia moved aside to let her husband see the table that was spread before her at last.

Caring no longer for the encumbrance her dress provided, she took it off, revealing (at least to Peter) her soft-cup lilac triangle bra of sheer mesh and floral embroidery, along with matching panties. Sophia couldn’t resist planting kisses on Petsi’s perfect ass, her hands finding her pomegranate-like breasts once more and squeezing them gently, her fingers seeking out her pink nipples and giving them a little of the attention they craved.

Knowing she must fight the ever-present temptation to go too fast and diminish her enjoyment, Sophia moved her focus to Petsi’s feet, kissing and licking first the soles and the heels, and then the toes – freshly painted in a delicate shade of rose. A sudden thought of Peter ripping off her own panties and taking her from behind flashed through her mind. She looked across at the others and realised how slowly she must have been taking things when she was confronted by the sight of Karina crouched not three feet from her on the carpet licking Iben out. She realised at this moment that her fantasy of being taken by Peter was likely to be superseded by the reality of her husband plunging his penis into the Dane within touching distance of her.

Yet still Sophia held firm, refusing to rush and determined to extract every single ounce of pleasure from this magical encounter. Spreading Petsi’s toes, she worked her way between them, encouraged by the response the Swedish girl was giving her. It was all so beautifully sensual, Sophia thought. Maybe it had something to do with having an audience; maybe even more with being in a group sex scenario. Somehow it both turned her on and calmed her down. She couldn’t quite understand why or how, but then she didn’t really want to understand. Being in the centre of a raging river, finding her own path downstream while the waters bubbled and foamed around her, was a wondrous experience and one she didn’t want to jeopardise by analysis.

She was now working on Petsi’s ankles and calves, the soft area behind her knees, her thighs, her hips, the small of her back, her neck, her golden hair, her ears.

‘Turn round,’ she whispered in her ear.

Petsi turned to face her employer with a look on her face that combined longing with a deep ache. They kissed once more – each determined to wash away the months of mistrust. Sophia was on the point of moving her hand down Petsi’s body and into her sex when she was pre-empted by the Swedish girl. Sophia grunted as slender fingers snaked their way under the waistband of her panties and dropped effortlessly into her sodden pussy.

‘Aw, fuck!’ she breathed, as those fingers probed their mistress’s cunny.

Petsi flipped Sophia over and tore off her panties. Her own needs needed meeting, and meeting urgently. She dived headfirst into the older woman’s pool without a thought for her own safety. Now underwater, she was determined to make her come before she returned to the surface. In the event, she would have no cause to worry about running out of oxygen. She had only taken three or four strokes when the upheaval she was expecting exploded around her with devastating force. Peter had been wrong: it was not Petsi, but his wife, who had been the first to reach orgasm. Shortly afterwards, Iben followed suit; but not before, sandwiched in between, Peter had launched a jet of white sperm arcing through the air. The carpet’s steam-cleaning, Sophia thought, watching her husband lose control, would have to be brought forward to next week.

NINETEEN

When everyone had had the chance to draw breath, Sophia asked the others if they would like to move upstairs to the bedroom. The answer was a resounding ‘no’. It seemed the atmosphere (aura, even) of this room suited everyone just fine. Iben got the Dane to sit with her legs raised vertically – her hands gripping her ankles to help keep her legs up. Her sex was lewdly on display, Peter being able to get a look at its gorgeous contours. After she had swept her tongue over her lover’s labia and vulva for a couple of minutes, Iben graciously turned to Peter and invited him to join them.

He was over like a shot, walking awkwardly with his trousers round his ankles. Iben, laughing, helped him out of his trousers, then his jumper, before pausing a moment with her hands on the elasticated waist of his briefs. He had tucked his penis back inside after he had ejaculated, but it was quickly becoming swollen once again. With Karina in a pose that she couldn’t be expected to hold for too much longer, Iben decided to hold off an assault on Peter’s obviously impressive member until he had brought Karina off.

The allure of the Dane’s stunning pussy meant that the disappointment Peter felt was only temporary, especially when Iben started to caress his manhood through the cotton fabric of his briefs shortly after he had got down to serious work on Karina’s box. It was aurally as well as visually a special engagement, with both Karina and Peter moaning and groaning, and Iben keeping both her hands busy: one on Peter’s flint-like weapon, the other working hard on her own clitoris. Indeed, it wasn’t long before the soundtrack featured three distinct voices.

At the other end of the sofa, Petsi had once more assumed control of the lovemaking. Telling her boss to get on all fours facing away from her, she had, with no preliminaries whatsoever, got to work on her asshole. Sophie couldn’t believe the change that had come over her helper. One minute, so hostile, the next so amenable. She knew she had a lot to thank Peter for. She could almost (though not quite) forgive him all those times he had banged the Swedish minx while she was not at home. In the event, though, Sophia had little opportunity to ponder these and other questions, as her capacity to think was being short-circuited by Petsi’s marvellous skill with her tongue.

‘What a funny person this au pair of ours is!’ Sophia thought.

One minute, she would be shrinking at the touch – even the sight – of her employer, and now here she was tunnelling in her most sacred and private part. Once again – as if Petsi disapproved of Sophia’s mind wandering during intercourse – the Swede regained the Englishwoman’s full attention by prising open her anus with the fingers of both hands operating like a powerful vice and driving her tongue deep into her salty passage. Sophia released a string of expletives, which spurred not only Petsi, but Peter and Iben, onto greater efforts, and put another simultaneous (or as near simultaneous as damn it) round of orgasms very much on the cards.

Sophia, though, had other ideas, being desperate to stave off her orgasm until Petsi had at least moved once more to her cunt. It was a creditable ambition, but it proved unrealistic in the extreme, as the Swedish siren smashed Sophia onto the rocks of a second coruscating climax. This time all constraint was thrown to the winds, as Sophia yelled out words, which, taken out of context, might have been construed as abusive towards her lover.

Not wanting to be found wanting in his first test of the evening, Peter threw the kitchen sink at Karina’s luscious box, helped to no small extent by Iben, who was making a valiant to attempt to deepthroat him. Peter’s reward came in duplicate, as first Karina came into his mouth in a veritable deluge and then he emptied his load into Iben’s thirsty mouth.

At this point, a time-out was declared, and Petsi and Peter snuck off to the kitchen – naked as the day they were born – to get some cold drinks and assorted snacks. That they took a little longer than was strictly necessary may be ascribed to the almost unaccountable fact that they were still in possession of a powerful, as yet unsated libido. A quick trip to the kitchen table cured this itch, with Petsi trotting back to the sitting room in awe – once more – of the Englishman’s staying power.

After the interval, Sophia suggested that they move the party upstairs. Once they got there, it was business as usual, with Sophia, more determined than ever to finally get a taste of Petsi’s delights, telling the au pair to lie down on the bed that she knew she must have shared with her husband. Having already prepared Karina, Peter was keen to seal the deal, and, after a brief consultation with both her and Iben, it was decided that they would take themselves off to Petsi’s room along the corridor – the room that had previously been used as a guest room.

Sophia crawled onto the bed beside Petsi and kissed her deeply, tasting herself on the au pair’s tongue and further stimulating her already feverish passion. When she moved to the stunner’s tits, she could already feel herself on the verge of losing control, and that lack of restraint was made manifest in the rough way she chewed on the girl’s proud nipples. Not that Petsi was complaining – far from it; the excitement so clearly present in her voice was matched by the wetness that was now flooding her vagina. One finger dropped into the girl’s sex told Sophia everything she needed to know about the heightened state of her arousal.

But imagine the shock when the older woman started to eat at the banquet table from which she had for so long dreamt of partaking. Pools of her husband’s familiar tasting cum were mixed up with the Swede’s sweet essence.

‘My god!’ cried Sophia. ‘You fucked Peter in the kitchen!’

Petsi didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

‘God, Petsi, couldn’t you wait? I wish I had a thousand pounds for every time the two of you have copulated. I’d be able to buy a place in the country.’

Still no response from Petsi, lying there shamelessly with her legs wide apart.

‘Extreme times call for extreme measures,’ said Sophia, going over to the chest of drawers to fetch the strap-on.

‘I’m sure you’ve seen this before. Tell me! You have, haven’t you?’

Petsi nodded without any embarrassment.

‘Have you used it on Peter?’

Petsi shook her head coyly.

‘I’m going to fuck you with it. My only concern is that you will enjoy it. It is meant as a punishment, do you understand?’

Looking blithely unconcerned, Petsi nodded her head languidly and sensuously at Sophia.

‘You behave like a bitch in heat, so I am going to take you like one. On your knees!’

Sophia was near enough overwhelmed with feelings of tender passion for the 23-year-old, seeing her there with her alabaster buttocks, her brown puckered bud and just a glimpse of the pink hole that had been penetrated by her husband not half an hour ago. But she knew her duty lay in the path of disciplining the girl, in seeing that she received the just desserts for her consistent mistreatment of her boss for four whole months.

‘I am not going to be the victim of any more of your abuse,’ said Sophia, working herself up into quite a lather.

Sophia brought the nine-inch cream monster to the entrance to Petsi’s asshole and teased her with it. Petsi buried her head in a pillow and braced herself for the invasion.

‘Slut! Harlot! Whore! How do you say prostitute in Swedish?’

‘Fnask,’ said Petsi.

‘Fucking fnask!’ cried Sophia. ‘Take this!’

Sophia forced the dildo deep not into Petsi’s anus but into her squelchy box, eliciting gurgles from the blonde’s mouth.

‘I don’t want a peep out of you,’ said Sophia. ‘Here, stuff this in your mouth and shut the fuck up! You understand?’

Sophia threw a negligee which she’d picked out ready to wear that night in Petsi’s direction and waited till her au pair had used it as a gag.

‘You sure you understand? Not a sound.’

Petsi nodded her head as best she could.

Sophia withdrew her hammer, lined it up once more and drove it deep into the ingrate’s cunt. Petsi’s strangulated cry might have been heard in the guest room down the way.

‘I said no noise. You will be punished until you have learned your lesson.’

Back the giant fake cock went with even more force. Petsi clutched at the bedclothes with her hands and rolled her head, but this time she remained (largely) silent.

‘That is better. Now for your reward.’

Sophia applied herself to her task of fucking Petsi with tremendous gusto. Images of Peter drilling her on the kitchen table, then in Petsi’s bed, then in her own bed flooded Sophia’s mind. Moving from a kneeling to a half-standing position, she powered the dildo down with all her might into the young, unresisting, and overly willing pussy. Plopping noises filled the air, accompanied by the perpetrator’s grunts, cries and expletives.

‘Now you come, you fucking fnask!’

Persi knew better then to be disobedient to the new regime, roaring into the stuffed negligee as she was caught up in a riptide of multiple orgasms.

TWENTY

In Petsi’s room, Peter was having, as might well be imagined, the time of his life. His first job was to finish off Karina, after which he would be able to move on to the bubbly Norwegian. Before anything else, though, he needed to be helped back into shape, and he could count himself fortunate that he was in the hands of two of the best. The girls sat on the bed and beckoned him towards them. Standing there, his manhood was at just the right height for them to tag-team him. Karina, who had been greatly looking forward to this moment, had the honour of starting. Her style was a little more aggressive than Iben’s, which was fine by Peter. Vive la difference, and all that…

She certainly didn’t hang about. Within a minute, she was taking him deep inside her mouth, while Iben ran her fingers through her lover’s short hair. Peter, who assiduously avoided sounding like a porn star in his lovemaking, couldn’t help making a comment or two, telling her she was good and, very much against the grain for him, asking her to go deeper. Rather than taking offence at being treated like a pro, as Peter feared, Karina was incentivised into upping her game still further, bobbing up and down like a boxer before Round One.

Peter, realising that he was being remiss in not offering a little something in return, cupped his hands round Karina’s tiny tits and started to massage them with the lightest of touches. This had the effect of causing the Dane to redouble her efforts and go deeper still. Since the corny stuff seemed to do it for Karina, Peter gave expression to a couple of ‘Oh my gods!’ and ‘Don’t stops!’ and reaped his reward, the dark-haired woman almost gagging on his tool.

Her job done, Karina handed over to Iben, who, like a kid in a sweet shop, weighed up her options vis a vis the wildly throbbing cannon that was jouncing about less than a foot in front of her face. She opted to hold the bottom part of the shaft with her hand and go for broke at the business end with her tongue and lips. It was a move that met with Peter’s approval, especially when Karina somehow managed to find a way into what was a pretty small gap and start laving his balls. Thus double-teamed, the Englishman was concerned that he would come again and have nothing left in the bank when the girls came to make their withdrawals later.

As it happens, he was right on one count, but wrong on the other – his stamina and overall virility would somehow be able to pass all the tests that they were set that evening. Karina had worked him up to such a pitch that essentially all Iben had to do was to pick him off. Like a German sniper in a church tower in Normandy in the days following the D-Day landings, she made short work of the Englishman, knowing exactly when to pull the trigger. Having discharged his own weapon in a futile attempt at a counterattack, he slumped onto the bed, disarmed and disabled.

Back in the master bedroom, Sophia hadn’t done with Petsi. Not by a long chalk. She took off the monster dildo, walked over to the drawer and picked out a smaller one she had purchased online recently, designed for anal use. She lubed it up, strapped it on and returned to the bed. Housetrained now, Petsi hadn’t moved a muscle.

‘Have you fantasised about me fucking you in the ass?’

Petsi nodded.

‘Has Peter fucked you in the ass?’

She shook her head.

‘Did he try to?’

Again a shake of the head.

‘Did you want him to?’

A pause, then Petsi nodded.

‘Did Ulf fuck you in the ass?’

Petsi shook her head.

‘Did he try to?’

A nod this time.

‘Good. We are all clear now. Peter may fuck you in the ass if he wishes to.’

Petsi gave no reaction.

‘Do you understand?’

A nod this time.

‘You don’t deserve it but I will be gentle with you. You will enjoy it very much.’

Petsi nodded without much conviction.

Sophia told Petsi to lie on her side, took up a position also on her side next to her, lifted the Swede’s leg and moved the black dildo into position. She told Petsi to play with herself and eased the thick black cock an inch or so into her tunnel. Petsi grimaced and let out a moan – whether of pleasure or pain it was difficult to say. Holding Petsi’s leg at the knee, Sophia pushed the toy further inside the au pair, growling faintly. Petsi began to respond more openly and more favourably – telling her employer not to stop – while frigging herself energetically.

Sophia started to build up her pace and her depth of penetration, pushing the tool to the hilt: a full six inches. It was unlikely that Petsi would be able to hold out much longer: her cries could be heard by Peter and the girls down the hallway. The sensation was so different from normal vaginal sex: tighter, drier and more intense. Petsi didn’t want the experience to come to an end. She knew that if she achieved orgasm, she would be cutting off her nose to spite her face, but what was she to do? So long as Sophia kept pumping her, and so long as she kept enjoying it, she had no other way of getting out of this thing – no effective exit strategy. And the truth was that she wasn’t just maintaining a level of enjoyment; the feeling was getting better and better minute by minute. Nothing she had ever experienced had prepared her for the sensations that were coursing through her body. She felt as confused as she had ever felt when having sex: she wanted to come and yet she didn’t want to come, because coming would mean the end of the whole indescribably amazing process.

In the end, it was all academic, as Petsi suddenly went hurtling over the edge without any warning. Well, without any explicit warning in addition to the warnings she’d been receiving for the last 15 minutes, ever since Sophia had pushed the dildo into her oh so receptive ass. Thus released from her obligations Sophia-wise, Petsi put a robe on and walked down the corridor to see what was happening with the other three, while Sophia took a shower.

She entered just as Peter was sliding the cock she knew and loved so well into Karina in the missionary position, which sadly meant that not too much of the action was visible. Petsi knew it wasn’t really any of her business, but she couldn’t stop herself, anyway. She asked Peter and Karina it they would mind tweaking their positions a bit so that she and Iben could have a better look. Peter was fine with the idea, while, Karina, after she had gotten over the disappointment of having the cock of cocks withdrawn only seconds after it had entered her, was also amenable to the idea. Peter helped Karina move towards the foot of the bed, so that he could enter her from a standing position on the carpet. Not the intimacy that the Dane wanted, but at least she had the consolation of knowing that she was doing something for the summum bonum – for the highest good.

Any lingering resentment that Karina might have been harbouring evaporated the moment Peter entered her again, as the acute angle of entry was even more satisfying than the flatter angle she had just experienced. The Dane’s instant and obvious appreciation spurred Peter on, his internal metronome being adjusted to ramp up the rate of his pumping. His hands found Karina’s tiny breasts and started to knead them. How she loved the attention her often unloved organs were receiving! She especially appreciated the way he hadn’t moved straight to the nipples, as most men – and women – always did. But, above all, what she appreciated most was definitely his massive cock filling her so completely that she wondered if she would ever find another man to measure up.

Sensing that Karina was not far off coming, Peter spread her right leg wider and lifted her left leg a little to gain extra leverage and even more depth of entry. He then drove his cock in extra hard and extra fast and waited for the inevitable. It wasn’t long in coming, Karina managing to lift her head up and look at Peter with exquisite desire on her face as her body was wracked by waves of orgasm. Peter, cheating slightly, inasmuch as he looked at the cute naked body of Iben to tip him over the edge, came just as the Danish girl was riding the final wave.

Unbidden, Petsi stepped forward to take upon herself the task of making sure that he would be up to the task of pleasuring Iben. Taking his semi-flaccid cock in her hand, she first licked off the coat of vaginal juices before lapping up the semen that was still oozing from the head. God, it tasted good! While the Swede was reinvigorating his tool, Iben sashayed onto the bed and started kissing the English Adonis. She wanted to sit on his face, but realised that he must be extremely tired and would need to conserve all his energy if he was to give her the sort of service that she had been waiting the whole evening to receive.

‘He’s ready,’ Petsi announced.

‘I’m going to ride you, Peter,’ Iben told him, no longer the shrinking violet she could pretend to be. ‘I want you to fuck me with more passion than you have shown to the other women.’

Peter lay down on the bed as instructed by Iben. Mounting him, she took a firm hold of his cock and deftly guided it inside her and started to ride it, not at a trot, nor a canter, but at a gallop. Peter made a noise like a complaint – an instinctual response to the discomfort he had suddenly been subjected to. He seriously doubted he’d be able to fuck her – let alone come – with the treatment he was currently going through. Iben didn’t relent at all, keeping up the insane pace, while Petsi and Karina looked on in amazement.

‘Fuck me harder!’ she barked at him, looking as is she meant to strike him on the face.

Somehow Peter managed to stay inside her and to overcome the pain. Indeed, remarkably, the pain was no longer the problem it had been. Peter hoped it wasn’t because he had lost all feeling in his penis, but, no, he was still getting messages from there. And the messages were starting to tell a different, a more pleasant story, altogether. Iben knew it too.

‘Fuck me harder, baby!’ she cried, riding him, if it were possible, even faster.

Peter threw his head back as the hot jets of jism started to fill Iben’s tight hole. He just couldn’t help himself, his aversion to porn-style exclamations notwithstanding, as he filled the room with manifold ‘fucks!’ and ‘bitches!’ and goodness knows what else.

‘Stay inside me, Peter!’ was the last command he remembered receiving before he fell fast asleep on Petsi’s bed.