Free Triptych, An Erotic Adventure by Krissy Kneen

under the steady pressure. Three of her fingers were engulfed up to the knuckles, the fourth awkwardly pushed inside her at an angle, filling the space, stretching the wet flesh as wide as the mouth of a hungry fish.
    She watched his right hand working on himself, an easy massage. His left hand reached up and stroked his chest and then, in a gesture that almost finished Susanna, he held his fingers to his nose, the delicate aroma of the prostitute still on them. He closed his eyes. Susanna saw his penis leap gently in his hand and then he regained control; she regained control. She held her hand utterly still to stop herself from falling over the edge of the void that gaped before her.
    James Bacon seemed to be a few steps away from his ultimate excitement. He reached out with his hand, trailing the delicate eau de putain onto his computer keyboard, and, with a click of his finger, transported himself to another place, no doubt to sample some other visual treat. The gentle back and forth of his fist continued. This time he held the scented hand under his nose and breathed more deeply. Then, when he hadsucked in his fill of musk and pheromones, he slipped one of his fingers into his mouth and slid it out again.
    Susanna watched the string of spit tracing the journey to his lips. Her own tongue flicked out hungrily, her own lips moist now, her mouth aching with want. It seemed that she could taste the temptress, the pretty whore. It seemed that Susanna herself could detect the flavour of cunt in the air.
    She was close, too close. She stilled her hand once more and concentrated instead on the exquisite pleasure-pain of her bladder. The thought of your warm urine splashing against my thighs…
    She saw his penis twitch once more, a squirt of pre-come trickling down the glans. She watched him take the juice and add it to the slick layer of wetness, a snail-trail of sexual congress marking the place the woman had so recently anointed.
    It was too much to bear. Susanna felt the sudden jet of warm urine trickle out around the stopper of her thumb. She felt its trail across her crotch, and flow down her thighs to pool in his shoes, James Bacon’s shoes, which were laid out neatly beneath her wide-spread thighs. She tried to hold in the flow, but the tensing of her pelvic floor only helped ease her towards the crest of her pleasure. She felt the pulsing begin. She felt her fingers crushed within the masticating jaws of ecstasy, the juices from one source mingling with the juices from another.
    Just when she was reaching the very summit of her joythe cupboard door was rudely flung open. James Bacon stood before her, the bounce of his cock so suddenly within reach of her face. She saw herself as he would see her, her dress pushed up to reveal the lewd spread of her legs, her hand buried almost completely in the wet gape of her sex, the trickle of piss reaching its most furious flow, her lips moist and chafed by the restless worrying of her teeth, one breast lifted from its little resting place, the nipple protruding from the chaste neckline of her cotton dress.
    She looked up into his face, surprised, concerned; but then with that dreamy melting unfocused dip of the eyes that indicates the inevitable approach of an orgasm.
    ‘Oh god help me,’ he said in a gravelly sigh. Then, with a laugh, ‘It seems my shoes have been baptised by the most sexy of sacred waters. From the body of an angel, no less.’
    His penis twitched twice, a fat finger beckoning to her and she answered with a downward tilting of her head, her lips parting, the scent of his excitement, and, more strongly, the scent of her: the taste of her vagina on his cock. Susanna felt the last throbs of pleasure shudder through her and felt the sudden jet of heat in her mouth, the taste of Bacon at the back of her tongue, the salty tang of it trickling down her throat.
    This was not Aaron, her Aaron of the late night communion. This was a stranger, someone beautiful but new.