The Birthday Gift

I had known, of course, what I was agreeing to.
I was to be a birthday gift for the lover of a lover. I was to decorate myself and present myself, for her pleasure and his.
I had agreed, in part, because I had never been able to say no to him. And in part because I generally never said  no to degenerate, perverted ideas on principle. And so, when he picked me up that morning and took me to a posher street than we had ever visited together, I had assumed it was going to be a laugh.
I had certainly not assumed her.
She was reclined, on a recliner no less, when we walked in. It was not merely that she was beautiful, though she certainly was, in a manner of speaking. ​It was that, from her loosely tied, slightly mussed up hair, to her half-closed  hazel eyes, to her crooked smile, which later examination would reveal was caused by a rogue canine, she was salubriousness personified.
She gazed at me appraisingly for the longest time, before stretching like a cat and getting up to approach me. She was both taller than me and heavier than me, but her weight seemed to lie in all the right places. Her carriage suggested that she was older than me by a couple of years, but this was not reflected in the luminous smoothness of her skin or the utter blackness of her hair. The saree she wore was a homely chiffon, but the way she wore it, she could have carried it off on a red carpet. A very small part of me felt immensely jealous that there should be such a person, and insecure that I had been sharing a man with her. But, and I am sure this says something about me, the whole of the rest of me sweated and palpitated and wanted to fall on its knees and worship this impossible creature.
She put both her hands on my shoulders and smiled a very kind smile, though her eyes remained calculating, as though she were petting a dog at a dog pound while trying to decide whether it was worth taking it home. Her hands slid down my sides, over my arms and the side of my breasts, lingered for a while on my waist and came to rest on my hips. I am not sure why I did this, except that I badly needed to do it, but I raised a hand and gently touched the nape of her neck and drew closer to her. She pulled me in, and, her eyes on mine, brought her lips close to mine. I met her halfway.
Her lips were soft and swollen without being obscenely large, and they tasted faintly of coffee beans. Her kisses were slow and tentative at first, but then I opened my mouth and licked her lower lip deliberately. My hands, one on her cheek and the other on the back of her head, felt her shudder, and then she had grasped me by my hair and was kissing me in earnest, using her tongue on my tongue and her teeth on my lips. My knuckles ran up and down her vertebrae and her hands grasped my ass till my thighs were touching hers. After what could have been an eternity of coffee-flavoured kisses, she drew her mouth away and pecked me on my nosering. She kept her eyes on my face and said to him in husky, viscous voice, “You were right. This one is special.”
I looked at him. He was on her recliner now, looking at us expressionlessly. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t think what, and anyway, it was too late, she was pulling me to another room by my hands.
The other room was dominated by a king-size bed with a pale apple green cover, right in the center, and several large mirrors on each wall. She stood me in front of a mirror. There I was, dark-skinned, long hair tied up, in a shirt and jeans. I noticed with embarrassment that my nipples were protruding clearly from my shirt. Behind me stood she, in full glow of a child with a new toy. Behind her, at the door, he had joined us, leaning against the frame.
She undid my hair first, letting it tumble down my back and shoulders. She placed her hand on my belly, under my shirt, letting her nails graze over my curves. With her other hand she began undoing my buttons, one by one, till my shirt was entirely open from the front and she could see the swell of my breasts, covered by a black lace bra, and my navel. She lifted my hair and kissed me on my neck, then instead of taking the shirt off, she began to unbutton my jeans. She peeled them slowly downwards, revealing my matching panties, thoroughly soaked by now. I lifted one foot and then another, letting her take off the jeans and toss them to a corner. She ran her nails up and down my inner thigh, her smile becoming wider when she felt the moistness dripping from my crotch. She stood up again and, with a single movement of her hand, pulled off my shirt.
He had seen me naked several times before, but that was in bed and he had been undressed too. I had never felt so exposed in my life as I did then, standing in my underwear with two pairs of eyes exploring every curve of my body.

She turned me around and began kissing me again, first on the mouth, then on the throat, then on my collarbone. I wrapped ​a leg around her waist and arched back, allowing her to brush her lips against my sternum and through the fabric of my bra, making her way all the way down to my belly button. After this, she got up and, without touching it, moved her shoulder in such a way that her anchal fell off her front, revealing the biggest, most luscious pair of ​breasts I had ever seen, hidden in a low-cut blouse.

I could not have resisted even if I had wanted to. I started kissing her near her shoulders and then over her swells, finally burying my nose in her cleavage. With my teeth, I began to unhook her blouse, though this was much trickier than it sounds, especially when one gets to the lowest hooks that are sunk deep into the folds of the underbreasts. But finally they were undone and I peeled the cups off her with my mouth and she shrugged the garment off. She was wearing a cream-colored bra embroidered with tiny pink flowers. For the first time since puberty, I felt underdeveloped in the presence of another woman. I don’t think so much perfection should be pinned down by numbers and letters; it should suffice to say that they was enormous in size and heavenly in shape.
She allowed me a moment to gape breathlessly, as she no doubt did for everyone who saw them so close for the first time. Then she drew me towards her, positioning us so that he could see, and pressed my bosom against hers, black against cream, nectarines against muskmelons, till they distinctly flattened themselves and I could feel her nipples prodding against my soft flesh. Like this, breasts to breasts, flesh to flesh, we kissed again but with so much hunger this time.
We drew away, boobs popping back in shape, and I began to unwrap the rest of her saree. I could have done it in one place, but it gave me pleasure to undo the folds as I circled her, till finally the whole 9 yards came away in my hand and I stood behind her, she in her cream bra and satin underskirt. Keeping my eyes on his, not removing eye contact even once, I undid the knot that held up the skirt and let it fall on the floor in a ring, out of which she daintily stepped out, now in a pink panty with tiny cream flowers. I embraced her from behind, letting my fingers run over the smooth skin of her belly and lightly slipping my finger just under the elastic of her underwear.
She drew me to the bed and we sat with our legs dangling, two dark, full-bodied women in their underwear. In tandem, we reached behind each other and undid the other’s clasp. Together, we removed the other’s bra and set free two pairs of large, ripe breasts, with raised throbbing nipples and covered with goosebumps of joy. I rubbed her nipple with my thumb, even as she kneaded and squished my boobs, or what fraction of them fit into her hands. We touched our nipples to each other, realizing that while her breasts may have been larger than mine, my nipples  were significantly bigger, firmer, accompanied by a wider areola, and even darker, a bitter chocolate brown to her fandango pink. Then, almost simultaneously, we both bent down to suck and bumped our heads. We laughed, realizing that that particular action might not be physically possible, but another might yield similar results.
She lay down on the bed on her back, nearly spread-eagled, and I got on my hands and knees near her head. I crawled into position such that my tits hung like low fruits on her face, and waited for her to latch on with a moan of joy before I made a beeline for her chest, gathering as much warm flesh as I could, first into my hands and then into my mouth. I remember whimpering, or that may have been her, or perhaps both of us together. Peripherically, I saw him moving till he was standing right in front of me across her sprawled body. He bent and began to ease her panty off her ass, hips, and legs. When he was done, be bent her legs at the knees and parted them wide, pausing for a moment to admire his own handiwork before moving again till I could no longer see him.
​Before I had time to wonder where he went, I felt hands cupping my raised buttocks, just sort of enjoying the shape of them, before peeling away the thin piece of lace covering what modesty I had left. My whole body shivered as the cold air hit my ​wetness. I lifted one knee and then the other to help him take it off. Without being able to see him, I could tell when he brought his face close to me and inhaled deeply. He always said he loved the smell of my arousal, but even during our encounters, which were rarely short of epic, I don’t think he had ever seen me this aroused.
​He moved away, and I saw him come back to his position of advantageous view, holding a panty in each hand like a prize​. As I watched, he held mine against his face, then hers, then mine again. This potential intermingling of our fragrances and our juices was too much for me. I moved forward, plucking my nipple from her happily sucking lips, moving forward to her naked pussy.
She smelt ethereal, a mix of coconut water and overripe fruit. She was no jungle, neither was she as clean-shaven as I was… she had a very nicely trimmed bush. She raised her haunches to make it easy for me to bury my face in her pubis and my tongue in her slit, even as she pulled my hips down on her face. I heard her gurgling in pleasure as I licked and then nibbled her clit and I quivered and nearly keeled over when she stated doing the same to me.
The posture was obviously not enough for her. She pushed me upwards and wiggled out while instructing me to hold my pose. Kneeling next to me, she guided me towards the edge of the bed, still on my hands and knees, and positioned herself
​in an identical pose directly​ behind me. I spotted us in one of the mirrors, two naked women positioned like bitches, and then I saw her, before I felt her, dip her tongue into my exposed cunt.
I have always maintained that when it comes to knowing the pleasures of a woman, nothing can beat another woman. She knew. Where to lick, where to bite, where to graze, where to probe, it was all on the tip of he tongue. I let myself ride one wave of orgasm after another as she brought forth more pleasure than I believed possible.
I had possibly forgotten about him altogether, and started a bit when I felt fingers on my dangling nipples. He was bare-chested, sitting next to and facing me on the bed, and as soon as he had alerted me to his presence, he began milking me, like one would do to a cow’s udder. He gripped the base of each breast with a hand and squeezed it downwards till he finally reached the areolae, which he pinched and pulled down till they almost touched the bed, and then cupped each breast upwards, almost pushing it back into my chest. It was intensely painful and pleasurable at the same time, and I found myself moaning in rhythm to both his hands and her tongue.
​I opened my eyes when he stopped, and found that he was now standing in front of me, unzipping his fly. Due to the height of the bed, I found myself directly face to face with an old friend. I generally take control in such situations, but then, I am generally not in a bitch position being eaten by a demigoddess. Anyway, he did not give me the chance; he grabbed ​me by my hair and soon I was deep-throating the whole of his girth, swaying now to a faster rhythm as her tongue also picked up speed, caressing his tip with my tongue and then swallowing him whole again such that my lips were encircling his base. My tongue, I noted even in the heat of the moment, was following exactly the movement of he tongue, as if my body was the mere conductor of a tremendous mouth job being transmitted from her to him.
When his thrusting reached a familiar crescendo that signaled the onset of his climax, I slowed down, and as though by physical telepathy, so did she, even though I in fact had climaxed to her tongue multiple times. I had no intention of letting him bow out so soon. I removed my mouth, as did she, and we both sat up, our faces glistening with sweat and juices. We made room for him on the bed and he lied down between us, still in his trousers with his throbbing member exposed. She undressed him with the tenderness of an old lover, and together we licked and kissed his cock, she nibbling the tip, me using my tongue on the body, and then changing position. She took hold of my breasts and massaged him with them, and I did the same for her, till we finally decided to share by enfolding his member in her right breast on one side and my right breast on the other. We linked fingers, forming, as it were, a handmade fleshlight, and with this we pleasured him. With my spare hand I cupped her breast, and she stroked the side of my belly and my waist, as our lips met again.
He must have become impatient at the sudden neglect; he grabbed me by my upper arm and pulled me so hard that I landed on his chest. His eyes were forever devoid of expression, but they seemed to glower with demand as he fixed his lips on mine and pushed his tongue down my throat. When he released me, I saw that she was resting her chin on his shoulder, licking his ear. She had a mischievous smile on her face as she signaled me to pull myself upward, as did she, till his head was level with our chests. She took my nipple between he fingers, and rolling it, guided it to his mouth; at the same time she touched her own nipple to his lips too. His reaction was instantaneous; he began sucking both breasts with such force that I began to worry he might suck mine clean off. I put my foot on his cock and stocked him with it. With his hands, he began to caress my cunt, and, going by the way she bit he lips, hers too. He had always claimed to be ambidextrous, but I was still glad I was on his right side. My toes curled up, as they do whenever I am overaroused, and her foot joined mine in massaging him. His fingers, large but nimble, knew exactly what they were doing, and, unable to keep still any longer, I rolled sideways with a moan.
Retribution was swift and harsh. A stinging slap landed on my ass, from him, and another on my breast, from her. I enjoy pleasure tinged with pain and shame, but this was so sudden that I felt tears well up under my eyelids.
As though this were some sort of signal, they both got up at once. He grasped my hands above my head and cuffed them to the bedstead. She held my feet apart and tied each to a corner of the bed. He fit a pillow under my pelvis​ and she gagged my mouth with a satin kerchief. They debated​ ​briefly​ about tying up my eyes, but decided to refrain when she insisted that she could come a wine glass full just by looking into my eyes. They stepped back to admire the scene for a second— their plaything trussed up, gagged, and helpless for their pleasure. Then they bent down to explore me with their mouths and hands, kissing, biting, smacking, leaving angry red welts and hickies, till they reached my breasts, to fondle and tease till my moans could be clearly heard above the gag. Then they each took a nipple in their mouth.
I had never before suckled two people at once; it was bizarrely gratifying. For one thing, I could, if I focused, differentiate between their styles quite easily. She was playful, and sweet, peppered with a slight streak of nastiness that gleamed now and then; he was almost vicious in his force and his use of teeth. But the funny thing is, the two sensations melted into one by the time they were processed, leaving me with the concept of a violent but tender pleasure.
​ I was so aroused that I could feel my vagina throbbing, and it was an immense ​relief when they both began playing with me there, she on the surface between the folds of my labia, he deeper in, feeling the texture of my walls with rhythmic in-and-out motion. I came no less than twenty times on their fingers as they sucked me in their mixed-impact style.
She moved first, getting up on her knees and undoing my gag, as he started untying my feet. I was initially dismayed that it was over, but soon understood. She took the nylon cords that held my feet apart and began tying up my breasts with them, so tight that they looked like water balloons filled to bursting. Holding one end of cord in each hand like a rein, she mounted my face and expertly positioned herself so that I would have room enough to breathe but not to turn my head. Meanwhile, he was holding my legs up and apart by my ankles, poised to enter. As soon as he put his tip on my slit and began to push, she tightened the cord holding my tits tight, and I began to lick, her beautiful folds, the pink flesh within. As he filled me up entirely, I stretched my neck upwards to delve as deep as I could. As he thrusted slowly, I gently nuzzled her labia. As his speed increased, so with increased energy I sucked her clitoris. Once again, I was the conduit, transferring his fucking to her cunt with a degree of transmission gain.
I have been told that I hum just prior to a major orgasm. I think it may have been the humming that pushed her over. She let loose the reins and held on to the bedstead, heaving her pelvis all over my mouth, and as she grew more excited, all over my face. He too had peaked, I could tell by his tempo even though I could not see him. And I was as taut as a drawstring. And then it happened together. He released inside me, I came on his cock and squirting everywhere, and she orgasmed on my face in such a deluge that in more sensible times I would have panicked about drowning.

And that is how it ended, with both of them collapsing happily exhausted on me, and forgetting to untie my hands till I reminded them, then walking me over to the shower, where we cleaned each other up and they spent ages bickering about who gave me which mark, and then back in bed where she plaited my hair and he checked his mails with his head in my lap. And then, we turned off the lights and I lied down face-to-face with her, literally our faces touching, and he spooning me from behind, with his hands on my belly and his tired animal snuggled in the crack of my ass. And just before I fell asleep, I heard her telling him, “I’m keeping this one. I want this one forever. I want to do everything to her,” and him responding with a sleepy mumble. And the last thing I remember thinking was that there is no other thing I would rather be than her pet and his slave, to own and do things to, a juicy piece of sirloin for her to taste and savour and feed him by the forkful.


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