Breaking Clichés Ch. 03

Edited by Dark Star. Thanks!

Note: This story, like most of the Breaking Clichés stories, is slightly edgier than my other stories. If you absolutely need your erotic stories to be pure vanilla, then I recommend that you read some of my other stories.

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Looking at my iPhone for the 12th time tonight, and maybe the fourth time in the past 30 minutes, I couldn't believe how bored I was. 1:25 A.M. at one of the most hyped parties in town, and I was bored. Bored as hell. Scarlett had been anticipating this party for a long while, and had even managed to impart some of her excitement to me. Usually I'm not someone who enjoys such late and loud parties, but some of the guests had seemed really interesting; a couple of musicians Scarlett really liked, and a painter who had studied philosophy. Apparently, that painter really enjoyed some of my articles, and was looking forward to meeting me. I'd seen a few of his paintings, and they looked decent enough. The musicians, Scarlett assured me, were quite interesting people as well.

In the end though, the two musicians hadn't showed up yet, and that painter's interest in philosophy was nothing but posturing. Within five minutes I knew he had only read a few abstracts of my articles, and besides hitting all the hot words, he didn't know much about philosophy at all. Nor was he an interesting person to talk with. It was quite possible for someone that hadn't read anything about philosophy to be a good debater, but not that guy.

Wondering if I should get another glass of whisky, I looked around, trying to find a potentially interesting person in the house. I failed. I knew that going outside on my own, just to kill time, would make these people believe that philosophers were even more arrogant and elitist than they already thought. "Maybe if I tried smoking cigars for the first time it would give me an excuse to go outside?" I thought, sighing. "Man, I must be truly bored!" When I realized that I said that last part out loud, to no one in particular, I was suddenly thankful for the loud music.

The only thing that prevented me from storming out was Scarlett. It didn't look as if she was enjoying this party any more than I was, so I knew I was not going to be stuck here for much longer. Across the noisy room our eyes met, and she gave me one of her peculiar smiles which managed to convey both that she was sorry, and that she couldn't leave just yet. We were at one of her good friend's home, after all.

That friend, a tall, raven haired vixen named Karianne was up on the mezzanine talking to some people I didn't know. From my vantage point though, I could see mostly all the way up under her skirt through the glass balustrade. The fact that I was standing here at precisely the right place was completely coincidental, of course. Hiding a smile with a last sip of the whisky, I glanced up again. Lit from below by all the lights, that up skirt opportunity was just about the only thing that kept me from total despair. Well, that, and Scarlett's own attire. Since I couldn't get a good look at my girlfriend from here, I kept stealing glances upwards. Karianne was a professional dancer, but not in the usual ballet style. Instead, she had picked up the traditional dancing of our part of the world. She was thin with small, but nice breasts, and a pair of legs to die for; don't even get me started on her ass.

As it turned out, I could actually see the curves of her buttocks if she moved just right. A few minute ago, I had seen her pussy flashing between her lean thighs. Shaking my head, trying to convince myself to go and get that whisky, I was pretty sure that Karianne knew what she was doing. Proving me wrong a few minutes later, she looked down, and saw me looking up. Instead of smiling immediately, she paused just a bit and winked at me. I barely knew her, having met her only once before. Suddenly, she turned around too fast, making her skirt spin, allowing me another, and much better, glimpse of her pussy and ass. Oh, she knew what she was doing alright!

Normally I'm not at all attracted to that type of body, even though I knew she had a gaggle of admirers. Her very long mane of very straight, black hair was a wonder in itself, and her delicate curves could, when she danced, become quite remarkable. But she was just too thin for my taste. Not that Scarlett was overweight, but all the curves she needed to have were filled very nicely. Tonight though, I couldn't deny that Karianne had some effect on me. I could shake my head and smile all I wanted, but I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't felt a buzz in my stomach when she twisted. Ten seconds after that little stunt, she looked at me again, winking a second time before turning her attention back to her conversation. Laughing, I walked to the bar, calling for another glass of whiskey.

After turning around and leaning against the bar, I looked around again. If I'd been single, I would have been delighted to be here. Karianne wasn't the only other women here worthy of praise, but I wasn't single. After that amazing first day and quasi date with Scarlett three months ago, my life had changed quite a bit. Despite being much younger than I was, Scarlett had told me, and shown me, just how much I still had to learn about sex, and about love as well. That was the most surprising part of it all. Fifteen years younger than I was, still a student at the college where I teach, that girl had shaken some of my convictions.

Then, as if by magic, the crowd parted, and I had my first good look at Scarlett in a long while. The dress she was wearing was amazing! Of course it was amazing, because I had chosen it. That power over her was one of the many gifts Scarlett had given me. Tonight, I had chosen one of my favorite outfits. Except for her shoes, Scarlett only had four items of clothing on, and that's counting her stockings as two things. Those very flimsy pieces of hosiery were works of art, and Scarlett told me they had cost a fortune. Classic black, they were very fine, held up by a wide band of lacy, elastic garter half-way up her thighs. What made them so special was that the hose wasn't uniform. Instead, they had designs sown into them, from flowers to crosses to classic lace patterns.

Scarlett had very nice legs, albeit very different from her dancer friend. Whereas Karianne looked like a tall adolescent, Scarlett was all women despite her young age. From the gentle swell of her calves to the roundness of her thighs, all the way up to her hips, Scarlett's legs screamed femininity. Those stockings emphasized her curves, calling all eyes to the lace band around her creamy thighs. Usually, Scarlett chose skirts that were long enough to cover the lace part, so that she could decide when to show them, and when to keep them hidden. Not so tonight though. Tonight, everybody could see them all the time. On her left leg was, of course, her black rose tattoo, and tonight on the other leg she had worn a very special piece of jewelry. It was a series of chains attached to two clips, which were themselves attached on either side of her garter. There were five long chains, each one longer than the one above, hanging down at different heights from her upper thigh to slightly below her knee. The chains were golden and with her pale skin and dark dress, the effect was stunning.

The dress I had chosen for her was very short. In fact, there were a good two inches of bare thigh above the garter before the hem of the dress began. The dress was a tight number, very simply cut, that clung to her curves like a second skin. The stretchy material hung mostly on its own above her breasts, but there were two thin straps around her shoulders.

Despite the utter sexiness of her legs in those stockings, the fact that her tight dress accentuated the curve of her shapely ass, or the way it emphasized her small waist, Scarlett's breasts stole the show. They always stole the show. It just couldn't be helped. If you switched her breasts for average size ones, something like a 34C cup size, you'd say that Scarlett was a pretty, slender girl. Yes her thighs and ass were nicely curved, but overall, she was pretty slender. Her bra size was not 34C, not by a long shot. Instead, her breasts bloomed above and in front of her chest like gifts from heaven. Large and round, full and firm like only young flesh can be.

Sighing, I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to free them from their favorite prison. Looking down at the rest of the dress, it looked like a false nude dress, with a skin coloured fabric underneath the semi transparent lace. Then again, even a quick glance told you otherwise; you could easily see Scarlett's bra underneath. The woman was beautiful, so were her breasts, and the bra was up to the challenge. Rummaging through Scarlett's bra drawer was a pleasure in itself. For tonight, I had chosen a Prima Donna bra, the Madison demi-bra. It worked wonderfully with her low cut dress, and the lace on it matched the one on the dress.

Lower, if you dared to look long enough, you couldn't see any sign of panties visible through the dress. Anyone looking at her dress tonight would think that the part below the breasts was a false nude dress. They didn't see any panties and so assumed the false nude. It wasn't. It was a truly nude dress. When she bought it, it had of course been a false nude dress, but she had removed the skin colored fabric. The lace pattern on the dress was thick enough without it, and everybody was fooled by the false, false nude. Up top though, she knew people would see her nipples if she didn't wear a bra underneath, so she had. The reason why people couldn't see her panties was because she wasn't wearing any. Why didn't people see her bush? Because it was still completely shaven. Simple, no? Some of the most beautiful things in life had elegant explanations, I thought, smiling.

There she was in front of me through the parted crowd, standing sideways. I heard myself growling low in my throat at the sight, and wondered why I was not crossing the room to grab her. Instead, I took a deep breath, a sip of the surprisingly good whisky, and counted my blessings: The two thighs whose skin I could see between the garter and the dress, the two asscheeks whose curves stretched the bottom of the dress behind her, the pussy barely hidden between her thighs and of course, the two breasts being lovingly held by a great bra. Seven blessings, or was that seven sins?

When Scarlett saw me, she finished her conversation and walked towards me. Stealing a large gulp of my whisky, she leaned close to my ear and said, "I'm just about ready to drop dead from boredom, sighing, yet clearly rubbing her breasts against my arm. "I'm really sorry about this John. Did you have some fun at least?"

"Well," I said, turning so that my mouth was near her ear because of all the music, "what would you say if I told you that Karianne flirted with me?"

I don't know why I said that. Scarlett wasn't the jealous type, and she had no reason to think I'd ever cheat on her, but what was the point? Scarlett's reaction surprised me. Not the first time it had happened, and probably wouldn't be the last.

"What? Oh the little slut!" she said. Her words were hard, but since she was laughing as she said them, I was startled and looked at her. "Oh John, don't worry about it. After the show where you met her last month, she told me that she thought you were extremely hot."

"Say again?" I asked, flabbergasted. "When?"

"While you were away, maybe to the bathroom?" Scarlett laughed again. "Don't worry. Karianne is a tease, but I don't think she'd try to do anything more than flirt." As she paused, I shook my head and drank more whisky. "That is, unless you want her to."

I nearly had to spit my drink out when I heard Scarlett say that, which was exactly what she wanted me to do, but I didn't because the whisky was too good! Yet as I tried to drink it without coughing, I looked at my girlfriend, who was properly stunned. She grinned, then leaned close again. "John, if you put your hand up my dress and caress my pussy, I'll tell you a secret, but keep your mouth shut." Damn that woman! She was going to be the death of me! After I slipped my free hand down between our bodies, and pulled her dress up slightly, I felt her warm pussy.

Gently, with the back of my fingers, I began caressing her, and she started to whisper into my ear. "John, let me make something perfectly clear. I'm really not into open relationships, and I do want you all for myself like a greedy little bitch." She knew I liked it when she talked like this. The first time I called her a bitch during sex, I stopped and apologized, just to hear her laugh and reply, "I am your little bitch, John." We laughed and then fucked most of the night away. In any case, that was neither here nor there. She resumed, "But Karianne is beautiful, she's a wild girl in bed and she tastes heavenly." Scarlett had told me that she'd had a few bisexual experiences, but up to now, the information I had was pretty vague. All of a sudden my mind was conjuring images of the two of them having sex. "Yes, Karianne and I spent a few nights together while we were both single. It was wonderful! She isn't the first woman I've had sex with, but she sure is the best, but most importantly for the topic at hand," Scarlett said, "she knows how not to mix sex and love."

Looking right into Scarlett's eyes, feeling her pussy becoming hotter and wetter against my fingers, I asked, "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"What do you think I'm saying, Professor?" Scarlett asked, in the high-pitched voice she used when she called me professor.

"You'd let me... sleep with her?" I responded, questioningly.

"Sleep? No, silly," she laughed, "I'd invite her to our bed so we could both fuck her." Lucky for me, I had chosen not to drink more whisky during the conversation. I coughed nonetheless and felt Scarlett's hand brushing against my cock. "Ooh," she said, "you're already hard! Shall I invite her right now?"

Laughing out loud, I pulled my hand from Scarlett's moist pussy and turned around, facing the bar to hide my erection. Staring at the most beautiful and sexy woman I had ever seen in my life, I grinned, telling her again that she was going to kill me. "That may be," she said, leaning in close for a kiss. "but not before I've ridden your cock and your heart so hard that you'll die a deeply happy man."

"When are you going to stop surprising me?" I asked, still stunned.

"It's very simple, lover; only when you have ridden me and my heart very hard for a very long time..." A pause, a smile and, "Wanna get out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" I said, relieved.

Before leaving, we did say goodbye to our hostess. Karianne was busy with people, and in some strange way I felt grateful that Scarlett couldn't extend to her some sort of intimate invitation so soon. She did kiss my cheek a bit more wetly than was necessary, but nothing more.

In the car, before starting the engine, I looked at Scarlett and did my best not to stare at her stocking covered legs. Sitting in a deep car seat, her dress was forced up, and I knew that if I leaned forward against the wheel I'd be able to see her pussy. Specifically not doing that, I asked Scarlett, "Were you serious in there?"

"Yes, but then again, remember I said that I didn't believe in open relationships," she paused, thinking about the possible confusion and contradiction. Those few months with me had forced her to be more careful about how she explained her ideas. "I wouldn't want you or me to feel like we could fuck anybody any time. That wouldn't work at all, but if we both want and plan it, why not? As far as Karianne goes, I know her quite well, and if anything like this ever was to happen, it would have to be as clearcut as possible. A nice evening of pleasure with nothing more in the balance."

"Hmm, you think that's possible?" I asked.

"Yes, if you're careful enough. If you had asked me about a threesome with some of the bimbos at the party, I would have made a scene, emptying your whisky on your head!" she finished, smiling prettily.

"But isn't that what you yourself proposed to me?" I asked, befuddled. I realized at that moment that, as wild as Scarlett could be in bed, we had never ever talked about a threesome.

"Yes, and no. I can't say that I would be 100% unafraid if we ever gave Karianne that sort of call, but are we limited to doing only the things that make us feel 100% safe?"

She was referring to a discussion about fear, free will, and haunted houses that we had a few weeks ago. "Of course not Scarlett, but there's the quantity of risk, and the nature of the risk. Even a 1% chance of dying is much worse than a 75% chance of getting punched in the face!"

"Ha! I know that, but confronting your fears is also part of what makes life worth living! Do you think I was utterly unafraid when I met you at that first car show three months ago? I decided to come to that event dressed provocatively, a woman alone in a sea of men, most of them uncouth and probably dangerous if met in a dark alley. I knew you were a special case, being a philosophy professor, and car lover at the same time, but have you ever thought about what I felt when I came to see you? My mere presence, and clothing was an admission of defeat in the face of your arguments, and lust." she said, smiling. "I was facing my fears, utterly vulnerable."

She stopped talking, then grinned, taking my hand. Even though that day must have been very stressful for her at first, it had ended being an amazing moment for the both of us. She had been utterly vulnerable at the end of the day when she gave me her throat to fuck, but at that point it had become something very different. I started the car, that same 1968 Charger, and we smiled when we heard the rumble that had been responsible for our meeting in the first place.

It was clear that we were going to talk about this threesome business later. I now knew Scarlett enough to know she liked to make dramatic statements that later had to be specified. As such, I didn't know if I could seriously begin to fantasize about Karianne in our bed or not. It was clear, though, that I had to find out.

During the weeks that followed, I expected to have more discussions about a threeway with Karianne. After all, it was a delicate subject, and Scarlett had opened it in a very confident fashion. Sadly, it didn't really happen. I broached the subject a few times, but every time Scarlett would engage the conversation only to turn away from it rather quickly. Strangely enough, the one time we talked about Karianne for more than five minutes was during sex. I was on my back, and she was riding me gently when suddenly she asked me, "Close your eyes John and Imagine that I'm Karianne. What would you do now?" My initial reaction was to laugh, and push myself harder into her. When I heard her quick laugh I opened my eyes, but she placed her hand on them, blinding me again. "I'm serious. What would you do?"

"Well, I'd start by looking for you my love."

"Oh, sweet man! Okay, imagine that I'm kneeling behind her as she's fucking you, caressing her all over." she said, slowing her rhythm on my cock.

"I'd put my hands on her thighs and..."

Scarlett stopped me by saying, "Do it."

So I did. I tried my best to imagine that Scarlett's round thighs were Karianne's long and lean ones. I'm sure that the feeling would be very different, but I felt a thrill nonetheless. Sliding upwards until I reached her thighs, I moved both my hands inwards toward her pussy. "I'd slide right up to here, and check if she shaves her pussy like you do."

"Hmmm..." Scarlett moaned as I touched her mound, labia and clit. "Nope, she doesn't. She always leaves a strip of hair above her lips. Rather wide actually, but trimmed close to her skin. What next?"