Leanne and Her Lovers

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She has a threesome.
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"Dammit." Leanne cursed perhaps a little loudly and, surprised at the expletive, the man seated next to her looked up. "Sorry," Leanne gave a wan smile and then lied. "I don't like flying too much."

"Hey, I understand," the man smiled, brightening considerably while obviously surveying Leanne's legs.

She noticed the flick of his eyes and sighed. 'You can piss off too, mate.' Although this remained unsaid, Leanne's glare gave the stranger no excuse for not getting the hint. This was one pissed off lady. 'I'm in no mood for chancers like you,' she thought, 'I've had enough of that lately.' She turned to the window and pretended to be enthralled by the work activities of Luton airport, ignoring the man completely. Leanne had cursed because she was angry, and the anger was directed at her former lover, or so she tried to convince herself.

The small plane pushed back and a few minutes later, climbed into the leaden skies above London. It was somewhere over the Pyrenees that Leanne accepted that she should be more angry at herself than James. James may have engineered the scene, but she was really to blame for going along with the scheme when she should have known better. At that point, high above the mountains, Leanne squirmed in the seat at the recollection of the sensations she had experienced and the itch between her legs tickled her consciousness. She felt a pulse of life as her clitoris woke and her insides clenched at the residual memory of events.

"Dammit," she cursed again, this time eliciting no response from her neighbour.

***

Leanne paused with her foot on the first step, her hand on the banister. She trembled with a cocktail mix of fear, anxiety, and a heavy shot of arousal. 'The bastard,' she thought, 'this has to be a dream,' it was too surreal to be true.

"My wife," he had said only an hour before, "well," he paused, his eyes everywhere but Leanne's. "It appears she wants to –- ah –- experience a woman."

"Your wife?" Leanne was taken completely off guard by the revelation. The implication had been that they meet for coffee as an act of conciliation, not to discuss his wife's sexual hankering.

"My wife," he confirmed still failing to look Leanne in the face.

Leanne was lost for words. She'd agreed to meet him to lay to rest the ghost of their affair. It had cost her dearly over the months. How many times had she come within an inch of calling him? How much time had she wasted thinking of him? How much love and emotion had she scattered to the winds of his indifference?

Too much.

She stared out across the pebbled beach. The dark water of the Channel in December appeared swollen; a solitary man gazed out towards France which lay beyond the horizon. Leanne wondered about his life for a few moments. What troubles did he have? Why was he standing and just staring out over the dark, tumultuous water? Perhaps he was untroubled; perhaps he'd been a mariner and was merely reminiscing of old times...

'Fuck', she cursed inwardly. 'I shouldn't have come back. This place... Him...'

"We had a chat." Leanne returned to the present at the sound of James's voice. "Well, it was more than a chat, but I'll spare detail." James fiddled with the condiments, obviously discomfited. "Go on." Leanne's curiosity cajoled her despite her better judgement.

She knew him well; she was suspicious of his motives. Was this a ruse to get her alone in some hotel so he could seduce her? Leanne knew how dangerous that was. She liked to think she was strong enough to resist him, but...

"Like I said, I'll spare detail, but the upshot is that she admitted to fantasising about another woman – about experiencing another woman. You and I have discussed your sexuality..." He spread his hands and grinned, "So?"

The question lay between them, a request on the table in front of her. It was her decision.

Or was it a test, some kind of game? He was entirely capable, the unpredictable bastard. Leanne sipped at the now tepid coffee; it had cooled, forgotten since his opening gambit. She considered her options. If it were a ruse to seduce her she hoped she had the strength to deny him, on the other hand, if it were true...

A woman, the taste of a woman, it had been such a long time. Lust burst like a hot flare and desire oozed from her sex. Her pulse quickened and she felt her nipples tighten ... Thank god he couldn't see the reaction, she wanted the upper hand, and for him to know she was aroused would be a failing.

Leanne's cup clinked into the saucer. "When?"

"She's at home now."

"Your home?"

"Yes."

His house put a whole new complexion on the situation. The risk for him, if this were a game, was incalculable. If it were a seduction ploy then where was the wife? There was no way he would dare risk being caught in flagrante delicto.

And what if it were true? The question again; a stealthy slide of doubt crept into Leanne's considerations. She imagined the woman waiting. Was the anticipation the same for her as it was for Leanne? Was she trembling with that volatile mix of fear, lust, and anticipation?

It was a pivotal moment. James remained silent, perhaps sensing that if he spoke, or even moved, then Leanne may just laugh in his face, tell him to stop being an arsehole, and leave.

The ooze between Leanne's legs became a trickle, she was sure she could smell her own arousal. "I'll do it."

Finally their eyes met and locked as though in battle. Leanne stared at him with a level gaze, desperate not to show any sign of emotion. She won, his eyes dropped first.

James became brusque and businesslike. "Give me fifteen minutes and then follow," he ordered. He signalled for the bill, paid, and left. In the vacuum of his departure Leanne idly watched the man on the windswept beach. Again she wondered why he stood there. What was he thinking? Was he in the eye of the storm, as she was herself? James had led her on such a merry emotional dance over the summer... Was the man on the beach enduring his own crisis, or was he just enjoying the solitude? Leanne sighed, she would never know, and she had her own destiny to fulfil. She slipped on her coat and left the warmth of the café. The cold of the day slapped into her like an accusation. Was she insane?

During the short drive, Leanne changed her mind a dozen times, but inwardly, deep inside herself, she knew she would make the date. There was the residue of her brief, but oh-so-intense affair with James. He had controlled her, played with her mind, leaving Leanne with the need to exorcise that ghost. He no longer held the power; she was going into this with her eyes open, it was her decision.

But her stomach churned and her sex oiled with barely controlled craving.

"You bastard," she whispered into the uncaring interior of the hire car.

He met her at the door.

"Where is she?" Leanne demanded.

"Upstairs," he replied and lunged. "Leanne," he groaned, "you're so sexy... I want you." James's hands were all over her body, probing between her legs, massaging her breasts. The desire flashed brighter at James's touch and Leanne heard herself groan.

Then a cold band of iron girded Leanne's resolve. "I'm not here for you, James," she scolded and pushed his hands away from her chest. "I'm here for her. I want to taste her." Hearing her own words opened the sluice and the slick oil of her arousal slid along Leanne's thighs. She ran her fingers through her short cropped blonde hair and snorted. "Get out of my way."

She pulled off the boots and quickly stripped down to just her thong. She saw the look of hunger in James's eyes. 'God,' she thought, 'he wants to fuck me right here.' Leanne turned, knowing the effect her derriere would have on the man, he'd always made such appreciative noises about her backside. In fact, the first time they'd been intimate James had buggered her – an act she had quite simply adored.

Leanne's hand touched the wooden banister while James looked on. Leanne climbed the stairs slowly, one by one, her heart thudding in her chest, her legs weak and trembling with anticipation. She rolled her hips as she climbed, teasing James with the sight of her backside. She sent a silent word of thanks to the cross-trainer god, conscious of the fact that James would be gaping up at her.

As Leanne ascended, as the door loomed ever closer, she forgot about the man. Her mind whirled, it was nine thirty in the morning, what was she doing here? Could she really be contemplating sex with another woman? A stranger. Her former lover's wife. It was insane. It wasn't real.

When she reached the first landing, where the stairs turned through ninety degrees, Leanne looked back at James. He was still immobile at the foot of the stairs. His expression gave nothing away.

'Who chose the carpet?' The ridiculous question flashed through Leanne's mind. She curtailed the unreal train of thought, not knowing that it was the need for reality that sent such an idea into her head. The situation was unreal and her mind needed something tangible to focus upon. 'Normal people don't behave this way,' she thought.

Leanne continued up the short flight – half a dozen steps. She was dizzy now and wished she'd had a glass of water with her coffee, her mouth was so dry. She felt weak, but the insistent beat between her legs urged her on. Her excitement rose, threatening to reach mercurial heights as her hand touched the door handle. Was the woman waiting for her beyond the door? A flash vision flickered across her mind's eye. She imagined the woman laying back, thighs wide, sex gaping and oozing; an invitation for Leanne's tongue...

She groaned as the lust prickled and itched between her now oily thighs. The slick lubrication slid from her body and soaked into the scrap of thong. She turned the handle and pushed the door.

The room was unoccupied. The bed sat, neatly made, mocking her.

"Bastard," Leanne muttered when the heavy fist of disappointment slammed into her abdomen. She slumped on the bed feeling suddenly ridiculous, her cheeks hot with shame and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry."

Leanne sat at his kitchen table and ignored the proffered cup. James placed the drink in front of her, he'd seen her expression when Leanne appeared at the top of the stairs, he realised that she wasn't seeing the whole thing as a joke and he'd remained silent while Leanne gathered up her clothes and dressed in a terrible silence.

"Sorry?" She croaked and looked at James with venom in her eyes. "Why would you do that to me? Why?"

James shrugged, unable to articulate his reasoning. "Uhm... " He made a clumsy attempt. "I just wanted to see how far you'd go..."

"How far I'd go?" Leanne's tone was incredulous.

"I knew you were bi, or so you'd said, but I wanted to see if you'd really do it." He shrugged again, knowing this defence was going nowhere. He tried attack, "You played games with me, and you enjoyed fucking with my mind – when we were – together."

"I fucked with your mind!" Leanne's voice rose to strident disbelief. "You were the one who yanked my chain the last time I was here." She pointed an accusing finger and James had a clear visualisation of the cup and its steaming contents being hurled at him. "You led me a merry dance," Leanne continued, "asking me to meet you and then dropping me last minute. I was more than half in love with you when I left the country originally." The hot tears slid along her cheeks. "And when I'd gone I heard nothing for weeks – that hurt me a lot – and then when I mention I'm coming back you bombard me with messages – and then drop me again."

"I'm sorry." There was nothing else he could think to say.

"This time, when I agreed to the coffee, I was finding closure. I wanted to see you one last time and know I had the strength to put you out of my mind, to forget you." Leanne picked up the cup causing James to flinch. She took a sip of the tea, apparently not of a mind to throw it.

"Oh God, I've blown it haven't I?"

Leanne sighed, the anger momentarily dissolved when she saw the contrition in James's expression.

"You blew it last time I was in town." She recovered slightly, suddenly knowing how to retrieve her dignity. She dropped her bombshell: "There's someone else now."

James's already sorrowful expression dropped lower. "Another man?"

"Yes." Her voice was level and controlled now. "I haven't met him in person yet, but he's on my list." Leanne brightened considerably at the verbalisation of what had recently been mere thoughts and impressions. "He's a filthy bastard –or at least that's the idea I get," Leanne examined James for a reaction. "He sends me messages and tells me how desirable I am, about how he'd love to fuck me..."

James gaped at Leanne as though seeing her, truly seeing her, for the first time.

"He says he wants to have me alone at first, but then he wants to..."

"What? What does he want?" James felt the stab of hot jealousy knife in his guts. He didn't want to hear about this usurper, but was caught in a web of paradox, growing aroused despite his feelings.

"He wants to share me with another man." Leanne's eyes slitted with feline scheming and she fired the final salvo. "And when I mean another man, James, I mean all three of us together, all three of us sharing each other."

Leanne drained the cup, placed it firmly on the table, and then, with a waggle of her fingers, she left James seated at his table, apparently too shocked to react.

***

The car was parked under the M25 and Leanne heard the six lanes of traffic thundering past overhead while she waited. The question was, would this one show? Finally, the day had come to meet him. She was apprehensive. Would he like her? Would she like him?

The phone ringing interrupted her thoughts. Her heart leapt, it was his caller ID. Was he going to show?

"Hello." She tried to sound cool, in control.

His voice: "Are you in a blue Focus?"

"Yes, yes I am," Leanne turned in her seat. There was a car parked behind her.

She heard his chuckle. "I'm behind you, follow me, I know a place to go."

Before Leanne could utter another word, the line went dead and the car behind manoeuvred past. There were two options, follow him or drive back onto the motorway and leave it all behind.

Of course, she followed.

He turned into a pub car park; she parked a few spaces away. She quickly checked her face in the rear-view mirror, not perfect, but she would have to do. Then, with a flutter of nervous anticipation, she stepped out of the car.

Following a slightly awkward greeting, Leanne thought 'He's shy,' as they entered the pub.

He was slightly put off by the relative silence inside. There were two patrons, spaced awkwardly as far as he was concerned, there would be no real opportunity to speak without being overheard.

'Shit,' he cursed inwardly, while out loud: "What can I get you?" He indicated the pumps with a nod.

"Just an alcohol free lager, I have a way to drive yet." Leanne took advantage of the moment, "I'll be back in a flash." He watched her lithe figure as she moved out of the bar.

He ordered the drinks and steeled himself for the next few minutes. They would prove crucial if things were to progress any further.

Leanne returned after a couple of minor, and unnecessary in his view, amendments. The conversation turned to the ordinary, pleasantries exchanged, enquiries made. During the conversation he made a conscious effort to touch her lightly from time to time, nothing overtly odd, just a brush of his fingers along her arm, a kind of punctuation at the end of an anecdote, an entirely friendly gesture.

She liked him, he was good company, witty, and okay to look at. He paid her compliments about the way she looked and her style of dress.

Then, his hand rested on her leg for longer than was polite, and Leanne allowed it to remain.

"I have to go soon," she murmured reluctantly. "Sorry, but I'm expected."

"Okay," he acquiesced, with a hint of disappointment. "I could get us a room?" The afterthought was almost blurted.

"I would love to," Leanne responded, "but they're waiting for me..." she shrugged; the situation was beyond her control.

Out in the car park the goodbyes were stilted. Until, to her surprise, he grinned and said, "I just have to check something." Then, without waiting for a response, he lifted a surprised Leanne off her feet. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist as he supported her, his hands under her buttocks. "I knew you'd be perfect," he growled in a low, sexy voice that made her insides clench. "I could fuck into you, as I hold you up like this."

"Kiss me." Leanne whispered the words and pressed her lips to his.

His mouth opened and they kissed gently, exploring each other for the first time, sharing that soft, intimate moment. The kiss lengthened and grew more urgent. Leanne felt his fingers dig into her buttocks and she groaned into his open mouth. Her sex flooded with warmth and her nipples grew taut under her sweater and brassiere.

"Damn, I want to fuck you." His words, so coarse, fuelled her lust. Leanne felt she could strip bare in that car park and let him push his tongue deep into her body. She ached to feel him inside her. She wanted to taste him; she wanted to taste her own musk on his tongue as he kissed her.

"Dear Lord," she groaned. "I... I... "

Thirty minutes later, Leanne was grabbing at his belt. She fumbled, frantic and trembling with desire. The phone call had been made calling off her meeting while he found the hotel. She was so damned horny; the meeting could go fuck itself. She wanted to feel him inside her body. She wanted to fuck him. The feelings were so intense. She imagined her pussy all hot and swollen as he pushed his length into her body.

"Take them off," Leanne growled, frustrated by the belt. "Take those trousers off, I want to see your prick."

Confident now, Luke grinned at her ardour. "You want to see my cock? I want you to do more than look at it." He unbuckled the belt and flicked the button open.

His long, thickened penis slipped into view and Leanne gasped. She knelt in front of him and lifted the heavy thing to her mouth. She kissed the head of it and slurped her tongue along the underside. It stiffened fully and Leanne growled as she curled her fingers around the shaft.

"Jesus," Luke sighed when Leanne's quick tongue slavered around and around his cock head.

Leanne let out unintelligible sounds as she slurped and drooled. She was lost in the moment. Her pussy clenched with desire and her clitoris pulsed with the ache of frustration. All through the intervening minutes, from kiss to hotel, she had been waiting for the moment when Luke split her labia with his prick, when he entered her for the first time, when he speared her with that angry looking penis.

"Lick me, lick me," she grunted with an urgency that sent waves of lust over Luke's senses. Leanne nearly ripped her clothes from her body such was her desire. Finally she lay on the bed before him, her nipples taut and huge. Her vulva was swollen and slick. "Lick it, please, babe, lick me."

Luke moved between her legs and lifted them wide, holding her behind the knees. Leanne felt her slit gape open. "Please," she gasped, ignoring the inelegance of her exposed position. "Please use your tongue on me... I'm going to explode... Please."

Luke dabbed his tongue at her distended clitoris. The heat from her sex was unbelievable. He couldn't recall ever having seen a woman so aroused. He lapped at her like a dog, tasting the slick honey that slid from her opening.

Luke took stock, part of his mind diverted from the wanton display in front of him. She was so sexy. Over forty years old, but what a body! He'd noticed how trim and fit she was as she hurriedly undressed. He'd seen pictures, but to experience her in the flesh, naked, that neatly shaven mound...