Descent into Depravity – Chapter 5.3

Latest erotic coupling stories: Descent into Depravity – Chapter 5.3

He stepped forward, intending to give me one of his usual boob crushing hugs, but as he got to me he realized he had a sharp knife in one hand and a soiled apron in the other. I moved quicker than him and gave him a peck on each cheek before he could figure out what to do with his hands. Not quite an air kiss, but nothing like I’m sure Hervé had in mind. I stepped to one side and did a quick pirouette making sure my jacket opened just enough to give him a brief peak at my breasts showing through my lacy bra and sheer blouse.

Then I stepped in close to him again and said, “So Hervé, what’s for dinner tonight?” As I spoke I lightly touched the inside of his right thigh, dragging a finger tip up just an inch or two, not to his crouch, but moving in the right direction in a promise of more as the evening progressed.

Hervé was undone. He was planning a seduction, and here he was with his hands encumbered with the tools of his kitchen and his target for the evening flirting outrageously with him.

He stepped away from me, his face blushing and responded in a blizzard of French, at least I think it was French, but it may have been the French-Basque patois he reverted to when stressed. Then he fled the room, retreating to his kitchen.

As the door to the kitchen swung closed Joan burst out laughing and I joined her.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect,” she said. “I’ve never seen him unstrung like that.”

I took a small bow in response, letting Joan have a peak at my tits in the process.

She turned and led me to a wet bar at one end of the living room where she quickly fixed us each a gin and tonic, mostly gin.

We were sitting working on our second drink before Hervé worked up the courage to return with a round of hors d’oeuvres. This time he had left the knife and apron behind.

He set the platter on a low table before us. I had deliberately released the button holding my jacket closed as he came in. Now I made sure he got a good look at my breasts as I leaned forward to pick up an hors d’oeuvre. “Oh Hervé, these are so good.” I leaned forward to get another, again giving him another good look at my thinly-clad breasts.

“Hervé, get yourself a drink and join us,” Joan said.

He jumped at the sound of her voice, a man suddenly torn from leching over a woman casually displaying herself to him by the interruption of his wife’s voice.

“Oh oui. Oui. A drink. That sounds good. I have a little time, and then I have to get back to the kitchen.” He walked to the bar, poured himself a double shot or so of whiskey, and returned, sitting next to Joan and opposite me. Joan leaned against him and put a hand on his knee. I wouldn’t say he ignored her, but his eyes remained focused on me and my now almost fully-exposed breasts. I was lying back against the couch and had let my jacket fall open to my sides. I crossed my legs slowly and carefully, letting him see a lot of thigh, but no more. He gulped his whiskey as he stared at me.

“Doesn’t she look nice, Hervé?” Joan said. Her hand had slid a few inches up the inside of his leg, dragging her long fingernails as she rose up his thigh.

He jumped, no, more of a twitch, as he remembered his wife’s presence. “Oh mais oui, mais oui. Alice you’re lovely tonight.” He muttered a French expletive under his breath. Then he turned then and whispered something to his wife that caused her to choke on her drink. He gulped down the last of his drink and retreated to his kitchen.

“What did he whisper?” I asked.

“Well it was in that French-Basque patois of his, so I can’t give you an exact translation, but I think it amounted to, ‘I want to fuck her so bad,’ or something along those lines. You have him going.”

I smiled and re-crossed my legs, letting Joan have a better look than I had provided Hervé. This was fun. “Shall I make him beg?” I asked. My legs were now spread apart, so I was assured Joan could see my thong and my swollen pussy so poorly hidden beneath it.

“If you keep that up, I’ll be begging,” she said.

Good, I thought. These two were going to use me for their plaything tonight, but now I have them both going.

“How much time do we have before dinner?” I asked. I was holding my tits in my hands in invitation to her.

“Oh Alice, you are a shameless slut.”

“Thank you,” I said, punctuated with a wink.

“Not enough,”

“Not enough?”

“Not enough time to do what I would like to do to you.”

“Oh,” I said. I dropped my hands to the insides of my thighs pushing my dress up and my legs farther apart. “And what is it you want to do to me.”

“Make you scream in passion.”

“How?”

“You’ll find out later.”

“Oh.” I made a pouty face and then finished off the rest of my drink, leaving my legs spread indecently.

“If dinner will be ready soon, I had better powder my nose,” I said, rising from my chair.

“Down the hall and to the right.”

I peeled off my jacket and stood briefly before Joan with my breasts pushed out, barely covered by my bra and blouse. “Are you joining me?”

Now it was her turn to play with me. “No, we don’t have enough time.”

“Don’t think you could stop once you got started?”

Joan laughed. “Alice, you are shameless tonight. I love it. I never thought you could be like this.”

“There’s more to come. Lots more,” I said as I walked down the hall, swinging my hips as I had practiced earlier in the afternoon.

She’s right, I thought. Well, she was when I was married to Larry. There was no way I would act like this. I couldn’t have. But now . . . things had changed.

I walked into the bath and flipped on the lights. Looking at myself in the mirror, I stripped off my blouse and my bra. I continued to watch myself as I masturbated my tits. “No, that’s too far,” I said to myself. “Not yet.”

I put the blouse back on and tucked my bra in a drawer, hoping I would remember where I put it in the morning. When I looked at myself in the mirror again I realized just how sheer the blouse was. There was nothing about my tits left to the viewer’s imagination. I smiled at a thought. I hoped Hervé wasn’t using a sharp knife when he saw me. Might cut a finger off.

“Yes. Yes, this will do just fine,” I said to myself. Then I had one more thought. I hiked up my skirt, peeled my damp thong off, and tucked it in the drawer with my bra. I had definitely moved from “slut-lite” to “full-slut” now.

When I returned to the living room Joan was gone, but I could hear her talking to Hervé in the adjoining dining room. As I approached the room, I could see that Hervé had set out salads for the first course, along with a bottle of wine and glasses. Now he was standing behind Joan He had both hands on her ass and was massaging it. As I watched, she pushed back with her butt so she was rubbing his upper thighs. He had moved his hands around in front of her and was fondling her tits through her dress. Hervé was whispering something in Joan’s ear. Something dirty I was sure. “No, not tonight,” she said in a tone of mock outrage. She reached around behind herself and slid a hand between her back and Hervé’s belly. Then she worked it down below his waist and began massaging. I couldn’t see, but I assumed it was a very erect cock she was massaging.

“Hello,” I said as I walked in. They jumped apart like a couple of teenagers caught smooching by their parents.

Hervé began talking, “Oh Joan, you’re here. As you can see, our first course is . . . ”

His sentence died as I stepped into the light from the darkness of the hallway and he could see my nearly naked tits.

Hervé stood with his mouth hanging open. “You like these?” I said holding out my thinly-veiled tits towards him.

Hervé stood frozen, looking like a frog with its mouth open waiting for a fly. No sounds came out. Joan spoke up, “Beautiful, just beautiful,” she said. Joan at least could talk, but she was licking her lips as she stared at me.

“Shall I pour the wine?” I said as I walked towards the table. I really hadn’t buttoned my blouse up—just tucked the tails loosely into my skirt. I could feel my nipples peeking out as I sashayed across the room. When I bent over to pick up the wine bottle, both of my boobs were fully exposed to Hervé and Joan’s lascivious stares. As I poured each glass I leaned forward again, giving them each another good look.

Hervé and Joan watched in silence. When I finished pouring the wine I stood looking at them as I slowly rubbed the chilled the chilled wine bottle against one and then the other of my tits. I could feel my already swollen nipples growing further in response to the cold. As I set the bottle down I said, “Shall we?” gesturing to the salads. I looked down and saw that the condensate on the bottle had soaked the fabric of my blouse, making it fully transparent over the tips of my breasts.

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