Free The Pleasure Quartet by Vina Jackson Page A

kissed
them, keeping his profile to the side so that I could see. My own nipples were hardening in response. I dared not make a sound, not a single sigh of pleasure, for fear of startling Iris and causing
a scene. I sat silently, pressing my thighs together hard as I felt my desire quickening inside inexplicably fanned by my status as an intruder, a voyeur.
    She lifted her buttocks slightly from the coverlet, allowing him space to peel away her skirt. He left her knickers on. A lacy lavender-coloured pair that I hadn’t seen before. Another
gift, I guessed, and a presumptuous one at that. A piercing stab to my heart, a burning knife twist, knowing that Iris had hidden them from me.
    Thomas stood and undressed. Removing his own clothes, he was hurried and clumsy and I took a small delight in watching him struggle to wriggle his tight jeans down his calves, totally failing to
maintain any dignity at all. Iris stared as he slipped his grey cotton jocks down to his feet and his cock immediately sprang out. She looked away quickly, shocked, embarrassed perhaps. A flush
crept up her cheeks.
    ‘Touch it,’ he said, and she turned back and reached out a hand, hesitated, and removed one glove. Her bare fingers crept closer until she grazed the head, and then trailed down his
shaft and finally took his balls into her hand and cupped them gently. Thomas’s eyes fluttered closed. He moaned softly. She gazed up at him with an expression of wonderment plain to see on
her face. I resisted the urge to throw my glass of wine over both of them and rush from the room.
    His eyelids flickered open again and he stepped closer towards the bed and laid his palms over her breasts. For a moment, my view of Iris was obscured, bar one of her feet and a hint of her
ankle. Instead I was faced with Thomas from the back. His buttocks were hard with one dimple indenting the base of each cheek. Thick thighs. His legs were long and covered with a light coat of
downy hair that extended only to the onset of his arse. His back was totally smooth and hairless. He was lean, almost but not quite thin.
    Perhaps sensing that he was blocking my vision, Thomas lifted Iris up and scooted her body along the bed at an angle, so I could see the full length of her. He raised himself up onto his knees,
leaning over her, and pulled down her knickers, exposing her bush.
    Somehow I hadn’t expected that he would go down on her, but he did. He slid down the length of her body and inserted himself, kneeling, between her legs, then lowered his face to her
pussy, pulled her lips apart and began to lick.
    Iris groaned, and her whole body sank as she relaxed on the coverlet, melting into his touch. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held his head, pushing his face into her slit.
    Unbidden, the taste and smell of her arose from memory in my mouth. My tongue moved between my lips and I closed my eyes and imagined that I was pleasuring her. Wetness seeped between my legs. I
hitched up my skirt, as quietly as I could manage and began to rub my fingers against my clit. Wondering if Iris would notice.
    I opened my eyes, they were both oblivious to me. Thomas was totally engaged in his task, ignoring any discomfort that might have arisen in his knees or his hunched-over back as he continued to
lap her, his arse pointing into the air. I admired him, begrudgingly, for attending to her pleasure. Somehow, I hadn’t thought that he would.
    Her lips had parted and her eyes were closed. I could tell that she was close to orgasm. Her arms moving over the bed, octopus-like, grabbing and pulling at the blanket, then embedding her nails
in a pillow and then pushing it aside in frustration and returning her grip to his hair. Thomas did not falter, despite the fierce grip that she had on his locks, or the violent squeeze of her
thighs against her head. I knew from experience that Iris was ferocious when she was about to come. Licking her until she exploded was akin to riding a