the colour red

~~ A festive treat ~~

The door opened.

I froze. We were on the bed still fully-clothed but in a state of semi-disarray having been indulging in some serious foreplay since we stumbled kissing fervently through the bedroom door and tumbled in a most disorganised way onto where we lay now.

You never know where an evening is going to go when you’re open to whatever happens, and this is where this one found me, me and him, Kris, the man from whose lips I hung like a limpet and whose hands were all over me as though he had far more than just the two.

I froze, craned my neck to the creak. There in the shadows of this room lit only by a bedside lamp and a bulb that happened to be red. I never asked why it was but it did serve to produce a certain seductive quality to what was now happening.

I froze, my eyes finding a shape coming into focus slipping into the room and closing the door behind; a person, a man. Kris seemed neither to notice or care, he seemed completely unphased, especially if his erratically-wandering hands were anything to go by which continued their impressive explorations of my body.

I whispered to Kris that there was someone there and to my surprise he replied, so what? With a cursory glance over his shoulder he then turned back to me with a grin. So what, he said again, you don’t mind, do you. A statement of fact or a question? I wasn’t sure by the tone.

Any reply I had was soon stymied when his hand went straight up my fitted black dress startling me into exclaiming something completely incomprehensible and more like onomatopoea.  My back arched resulting in any follow-up to the sudden appearance of a third party past the point of comment as I became now further swallowed by the red illumination.

His lips locked onto mine and we kissed, passionately, fervently, tongues almost down each other’s throats while I sucked what air I could from the slivers of gaps between our mouths. His hand still beneath my dress and fondling my sex, squeezing like he was teasing a lemon and effectively extracting yet more sexual arousal and accompanying wetness from me. I’d temporarily forgotten about the man.

When I looked again though the shadow, the man, also barely bathed in a deep red glow seemed to be sidling closer. Just ignore him, Kris said, pretend he isn’t there. Easy for him to say, I guessed. At first I couldn’t, but as the minutes drew out like inhalations of energetic breath I became ever more feverish, pretending he wasn’t there seemed to come easier as Kris’s hand worked some kind of dark magic on me and before I knew it I was engulfed in me first orgasm of this exchange, unexpectedly so, being distracted my body had got on with the business without my questioning mind having just eye-wateringly responded to his rough agitations under my dress. My entire body quaked for maybe ten seconds of unadulterated bliss sending me into a daze.

It was obvious to him I’d cum, if only from the unavoidable wide grin now spread across my lips.

We kissed, then he was nibbling my neck, then my bare shoulders unhindered by dress straps. The third man was still there except now, even in this dim red illumination I noticed his jeans were unfastened and now boldly stood there with his erection in his hand. It was a bit of a blur but clearly enough his firm grip between his fingers moving slowly along its length.

Teeth sunk into my shoulders though not quite breaking the skin. Kris had got a bit over-excited, I was sure that, come morning, ther’d be a bruise. With the same lemon-squeezing technique used on my groin he made his way to my breasts, pushing them up and together again while our lips became one and we effectively sucked each other’s faces like there was no tomorrow, and as though no one was watching, except, somebody was.

Strange as it seemed, I no longer minded his presence though I remained keenly aware of it.

My knickers were damp from my first and then, yes, second, orgasm, and my thighs were sweating when he rolled me over onto my tummy and proceeded to unzip my tight dress, a zip that went down to my waist. I head it come down easily and felt his hands slipping underneath it feeling their way, investigating each patch of me that was becoming exposed. He lifted my dark hair and licked the back of my neck.

Everything was so bathed in red, subtle and revealing, a room obscured by light, if such a thing was possible.

Over he rolled me again and, before I knew it, he pulled the dress down from over my strapless bra and over my tummy as I lay there arms over my head as though surrendering without question. My body was using me for its own ends and my mind was just its slave; a mind that was slowly wondering if it shouldn’t just agree with it and fully give in rather than doing what it usually does and overthink.

The dress came away slithering down my torso until it was over my hips, my black and white striped knickers on show not just to Kris but also to the stranger who stayed close holding his pleasure which had grown so much more, or so it appeared. Kris stripped off his shirt as though to make me feel less underdressed than him. He had a good build, taut but not overly-muscular, lithe, fit, and pale like me, and like me also eschewed the sun at every chance. He raised my hips to make it easier to slide the tight-fitting dress clean from me.

I lay there in underwear with him between my legs now open enough to make me feel self-conscious. The man by the door was masturbating now. Kris leaned over me kissing my cleavage, the tops of my breasts until unhooking it, pulled it away without regard to me. As a reflex I brought my arms over to cover myself, not that I was worried about Kris but for a moment was embarassed by the stranger, the watcher, the voyeur as it seemed. Kris easily pulled my arms away, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

When I opened them again nothing had changed except his lips and tongue now played over my nipples send ripples of thrills throughout my exhilarated tension.

I squirmed under his weight occasionally glancing towards the stranger.

My nipples felt erect and were covered in his saliva. All urges and desires were truly now well ablaze in me, an inferno. He kissed my tummy, kneaded my waist, tantalised my hips. I wanted him but wasn’t sure I wanted the stranger to see, even though I was uncharacteristically turned on by him being there, seeing.

My hip moved with the motion of his tongue, his lips, his fingers questing here and there and then into the side of my knickers when he first touched my bare sex sending a shiver right through me. Hot and cold, my body couldn’t decide which to be, I gasped, I moaned, made all the right noises without even thinking about it, it didn’t even sound like me except that it was. Then they too were coming off. I felt him slipping them down from my hips, over my smooth pubic mound, I knew by now they were sticky with my own juices.

I was completely naked, on view, on show, to Kris and the stranger who was slow-masturbating without taking his eyes off us. I’d never experienced an audience before in such a moment, even just this audience of one. It felt strange, nerve-wracking, wrong but also right, scary but definitely exhilarating.

We were kissing again, his bare chest against mine, two fingers rubbing my sex, finding my clit and unceremoniously stimulating me to extreme levels; he knew what he was doing, or he was just lucky. He seemed determined to make me cum, again! He did, I did, harder this time, and for longer. I shoved his hand away briefly clamping my legs together until it subsided.

No sooner had it subsided and I’d rediscovered normal breathing he’d grabbed my thighs and pulled them apart. At such a moment I was too weak to refuse having not fully re-entered earth’s atmosphere.

The stranger was by now overtly masturbating more feverishly. It looked painful but am guessing not, unless he enjoyed a little pain. I guessed his face was flushed now with the effort, as mine probably was, though the red glow which suffused the room made it difficult to be sure. Kris now had tone, no two fingers inside me, alternately slipping them in then out to lick them. I suppose I must’ve tasted good, of sex. I closed my eyes and failed to notice him guiding the tip of his erection to the very same spot until I felt it, craned my head up to see as much as I could in that position which wasn’t as much as I could now feel. Its wetness, its precum, and then slowly its girth, naked, bare, skin touching my skin. My sex opened for him, tightly but still freely. He was stretching me open inserting the head of his bare cock. My body gave in being no match for the determination with which he began to edge in. I winced until I felt his head had completely slipped into me slipping slickly on my vaginal secretions.

I raised my knees, seemed the most natural thing to do and deeper he went, more of his length millimetre by millimetre. It didn’t take long before we were well and truly fucking as he wasted no time now he had yet more of what he wanted from me. Nor did it take long before I could once more feel my insides reacting prematurely and about to elicit another orgasm. I did as his hips bucked forcefully against mine, I held back as much as I could but didn’t last long as his groin crashed into my clit and pubic bone, his balls slapping against me. With some men I’d noticed their scrotum tuck itself away once they’re erect, but with Kris clearly they both hung proud. It wasn’t more than a few seconds my body surrendered and flooded me with almost unbearable ripples of bliss

I tightened around his erection which was slightly painful for me and god knows what it felt like for him. It didn’t slow him though nore deter him in any way. Instead he worked even more athletically, slipping his hands under my legs and lifting them higher letting him go deeper, harder which made him feel deeper inside than was biologically possible.

We fucked and the mystery man watched, obviously still masturbating, fast then slow,l fast then slow. His trousers now down around his ankles, his back now against the door but his head craned slightly, his whole arm and hand moving at a pace that uncannily matched ours.

Kris arched right back so that all I saw for that moment was his bare chest and the underside of his stubbled chin, and just at the same time the stranger let out a low, stifled moan. I looked just in time to see him shoot a jet of white, although tinged pink in this light, sticky semen before him. Admittedly I found this astonsihing and exciting, having forgotten my own embarassment at being watched this way. My hips were now moving in time wth Kris’s.

I could feel I was close, again. Surely Kris was too, I thought. We’d been going for what felt like ages. I was so wet and sticky between me legs which he still held up as he drove himself into me without it seems letting up his now feverish pace. The friction between us was insane but then I felt a change, his cock seemed to grow harder, and am sure got thicker as I felt tighter once more. Wther all this was my imagination or a certain dizziness which can come over me when having sex, I wasn’t sure. All I could do was go with it, all the way, let it happen and enjoy every single sweat-soaked second.

I could see he was losing the battle too, his edging having been taken to its limits and probably beyond. Don’t ask me how I know but I had the impression then when he cums there will be an awful lot. I have no idea how I sensed this. I stared into his face, his expression which seemed not to even register who I was, he seemed glazed, dazed, on some kind of automatic with no off-button aand then he cum. I couldn’t initially feel it but I knew, the throbbing from his groin changed barely perceptibly but enough to make me also feel my entire body this time shudder and release itself to an inevitable final orgasm, all the while as his sperm was flooding inside me warm and salty and just as I thought, in vast quantity, or so it seemed, as it began trickling out before he was clearly finished as he kept pumping himself into me.

The room spun, I might have even blacked-out for a moment or two. I could still feel his body shuddering above me, between my still trapped thighs. I heard the door open and then close again. The stranger was gone. This room still bathed in red was once again ours alone while he stayed inside me as long as he could. All his previous tautness and strength now ebbing away until he I felt him somewhat limp and slipping out, probably against his will. 

I turned over onto my side, legs tight together, hot and slick, and looked deep into the red lamp like a moth drawn to its glow. I was falling into it, becoming it, consumed by it, contained by it, inflamed by it, I was, myself becoming the colour red.

© Emmaleela