Bombshell in the Berkshires - Sex Stories

Bombshell in the Berkshires

... instigation, and how things had gone from there. How we had graduated from masturbating together, then each other, to oral pleasures. Nothing Barb didn't know already.

Was she just trying to confirm stories? When it comes to conversation she's usually mostly a straight shooter, not the cunning lawyer type. It didn't feel like a cross-examination situation, more just "tell me your side of the deal" thing.

She listened carefully to everything that had been said. There was not a moment where she looked irritated, or hurt, or even uneasy. That alone was both not what I expected and encouraging as well.

"So Clay insists it's only about the cock, right?" She addressed this to Roger.

"Clarification." I raised my hand. "His balls too. They're heavenly."

Luckily both of them laughed, and I described them to Barb in perhaps overly poetic terms, their size and shape, furry scrotum nest, their smell and taste. She listened with interest while Roger looked a bit embarrassed.

"You guys ever kiss?"

Roger's face got indignant. "Never!"

Of course Barb had asked me this too, but I thought she looked amused at the vehemence of Roger's reaction.

She took a sip of her wine and sat back in her chair, her favorite, with the worn armrests and the little table next to it where she kept her reading glasses, often a book, and a coaster for her wineglass.

"I would like to see both of you in action." She paused. "See what you do when you get together."

She looked at each ...

... of us in turn. "And are getting aroused."

Roger gave a start and shifted awkwardly in his chair.

"What do you mean, Barb? I think I've told you about what we do, and Roger has too," I interjected, unsure of what she wanted.

"Yes, you have described things. I want to watch in person." She looked at me.

"Do you take his clothes off?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Usually we take off our own clothes. Sometimes not always all the way."

She laughed. "Just enough, I get it. But sometimes?" She turned to me.

I nodded. Then held my breath.

"Why don't you get our friend comfortable, Clay? It's gotten warm enough in here that bare skin won't be a problem."

She was right about the room's air temperature. She also said "our friend."

Was she looking at me the way a voyeur might? Or just curious to see how'd I'd react? This was not my first clue that this was going to be Barb's night, that things were going to go as she directed, but it was the most overt indication.

I stood up and moved over to Roger, who looked distinctly uneasy. I reached out a hand and pulled him gently up from his chair, and we looked at each other.

I removed each item of his clothing deliberately, wordlessly: his plaid shirt, boots and jeans, each stage generating a bit more tension, until he was standing in front of the fire without a stitch on.

That hairy, round chest with the dark nipples. Strong short legs, similarly furry.

And those glorious balls hanging low, underneath his ...