Billie - Part 7

Our food arrived, a hearty spread of fish and chips, and a steak and ale pie for Tom. We ate with a comfortable hunger, the conversation flowing easily. We talked about the exhibits we'd seen, debating the merits of the Egyptian mummies versus the Greek sculptures. Billie was bright and engaged, her mind as sharp and curious as her body was responsive.

As we ate, I noticed her hand would occasionally drift up to touch her new earrings, her fingers tracing the green glass teardrops. Each time she did, a small, private smile would play on her lips. I found myself doing the same with my blue ones, a silent, shared acknowledgment of the day, of the gift, of the memory we were creating.

The pub began to fill up as the afternoon wore on, the noise level rising with each new group of patrons. We finished our meal and ordered another round of drinks, content to stay in our little bubble for a while longer.

"So what's the plan for this evening?" Billie asked, swirling the dregs of her ale. "I feel like we've been so... cultured today. Maybe we should do something decadent to balance it out."

Tom and I exchanged a look over her head. "I think that can be arranged," I said, my hand sliding higher up her thigh, my fingers tracing the delicate skin there. "But first, I believe there's the matter of a reward to be discussed. For being such a wonderful companion today."

Billie's breath hitched, her eyes darkening with interest. "A reward?"

Tom smiled and said "Billie, I want you to think about what you would like to do when we get back to the hotel suite. Anything you like at all."

By the time we returned to the hotel, the sun was beating down quite hot and it felt wonderful to be back in our hotel suite airconditioning.

"I want to watch you two," she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I want to see what it's like when it's just you, without me as a distraction."

The idea sent a thrill through me. I looked at Tom, who was already smiling, a predatory gleam in his eye.

"I think that can be arranged," he said, his voice dropping to that low, seductive rumble that always made my stomach flutter.

Billie settled herself in the armchair by the window, a perfect view of the bed. She looked like a queen on her throne, ready to be entertained.

Tom didn't waste any time. He crossed the room in three long strides, pulling me into his arms and kissing me deeply. His hands roamed my body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and dip. It was different with Billie watching, more performative, but in a way that heightened the intensity rather than diminishing it.

He backed me toward the bed, lowering me onto the soft mattress. His mouth never left mine, his kiss deepening, becoming more demanding. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, a promise of what was to come.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at me. Then he began to undress me slowly, his fingers tracing the edges of my clothing before removing each piece with deliberate care. When I was naked beneath him, he took a moment to just look, his gaze so intense it felt like a physical touch.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before lowering his head to take my nipple into his mouth.

I gasped, my back arching off the bed. He sucked and teased, his hand rolling my other nipple between his fingers. I could feel myself growing wetter, my body preparing for him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Billie in the armchair. Her legs were tucked under her, but one hand had disappeared between her thighs, her movements slow and deliberate as she touched herself. The sight made me even hotter.

From my vantage point on the bed, I could see her standing by the armchair, a goddess bathed in the soft light of the setting sun. Her sundress was still on, but her hand had disappeared beneath the hem, her eyes fixed on us with an intensity that was both shocking and profoundly arousing. I could see the subtle movement of her wrist, the gentle rocking of her hips, and I knew, with a certainty that made my own pussy clench, that she was touching herself, pleasuring herself to the sight of us. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she touched herself. The sight made me even hotter.

Tom, who had been kissing his way down my body, followed my gaze. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated lust. "She's watching," he murmured against my stomach, his voice thick with desire. "She's touching herself while she watches us."

The knowledge was a powerful aphrodisiac. It ignited something primal within me, a desperate need to perform, to give her a show worthy of her voyeuristic pleasure. "Then let's give her something to see," I breathed, my voice husky with need.

Tom didn't need any further encouragement. He positioned himself between my legs, his cock hard and heavy against my thigh. He entered me in one swift, powerful thrust, filling me completely, burying himself to the hilt. We both cried out, the sound raw and uninhibited. There was no gentleness now, no slow exploration. This was a raw, primal fucking, driven by the knowledge of our audience.

He set a punishing rhythm, his hips pistoning into me, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside with every stroke. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting his thrusts with my own desperate upward movements. The room was filled with the sounds of our passion, the slap of skin against skin, our ragged breaths, our cries of pleasure.

I could feel my orgasm building, a tight coil of tension low in my belly, growing tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. I looked over at Billie, her eyes locked on us, her hand working furiously between her legs. The sight was my undoing.

"Tom," I gasped, my nails digging into his back. "I'm... I'm going to cum..."

"Me too," he groaned, his rhythm becoming erratic. "Cum with me, Anne. Let her see us cum together..."

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside me, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself, his hot cum flooding my insides. The feeling of his release triggered my own, and I shattered, my orgasm ripping through me with the force of a tidal wave. I cried out his name, my body convulsing, my pussy clamping down on his cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

We collapsed onto the bed, our bodies slick with sweat, our breathing ragged. For a long moment, we lay there, just trying to catch our breath. Then Tom rolled off me, a satisfied, lazy smile on his face.

"That was incredible," he said, his voice a low, contented rumble. "Being watched. I found it exhilarating."

As if on cue, Billie began to move. She walked over to the bed, her movements fluid and graceful, a predator who had just feasted and was now ready for her own turn to dine. She slipped the straps of her sundress from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet in a soft whisper of fabric.

She was naked beneath, her body a vision of aroused beauty. Her breasts were flushed, her nipples hard, dark peaks. And between her legs, her pussy was swollen and glistening, a slick, wet evidence of her self-pleasure.

"Looks like you have been enjoying yourself, Billie," I said, my voice soft but teasing. "Just as much as we have enjoyed being watched."

Billie flashed a wicked grin, her eyes dark with a renewed, hungry lust. "I'm not done with you yet," she purred, her voice a low, husky command. "Tom, please get off Anne."

Tom, ever the willing participant, did as she asked, moving to sit beside us, his eyes bright with curiosity and anticipation.

Billie didn't hesitate. She got on all fours, crawling up the bed until she was positioned over me. She bent her head, her dark hair falling around her face like a curtain, and went straight for my pussy. Her tongue was hot and insistent, delving between my folds, lapping up the mixture of my arousal and Tom's cum, cleaning me with a thorough, possessive hunger. It was an act of pure, unadulterated wantonness, and it was the single sexiest thing I had ever experienced.

As Billie feasted on me, Tom moved behind her. I watched as he lowered his head, his mouth finding her slick, swollen pussy. He began to eat her out with the same raw hunger, his tongue delving between her folds, his lips closing over her clit, sucking it gently.

Billie moaned against my pussy, the vibration sending a fresh jolt of pleasure through me. She lifted her head for a moment, her eyes dark and intense. "I like this," she breathed, her voice thick with desire. "But I want more. I want Anne to describe to us how I am eating you out. I want Tom to listen to what Anne says and do the same thing to me that Anne is describing out loud."

The suggestion was so decadent, so beautifully depraved, that it took my breath away. I looked at Tom, who was watching me, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He nodded, a silent agreement to this delicious, new game.

"Okay," I said, my voice trembling slightly with anticipation. "Okay. Use the tip of your tongue, Tom," I began, my eyes locked on his. "And draw small circles around the base of my clit. Keep going."

I could feel Billie's tongue change, mirroring my words. And I could tell by the small moan that escaped her lips that Tom was doing the same to her. It was a strange, intoxicating sensation, describing my own pleasure while knowing that the same pleasure was being inflicted on another, and that her reaction to it was, in turn, being inflicted upon me.

"The instructions continued," I said, my voice growing stronger, more confident. "Flatten your tongue now and do long strokes up and down my entire pussy, from the bottom all the way over my clit, and back down again. Up and down."