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Oh Susana 4 - Tell Me Another One (FM, FMM+)
Author: Martina Lee <susanasue@hotmail.com>
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This is the fourth chapter of my book of short stories, collectively
entitled "Oh, Susana". I am posting all 17 chapters, including reposts
of the four chapters submitted previously. Please feel free to comment.
WARNING: This is adult entertainment only, dealing with sex and sexual
subjects in explicit language and detail. If you are under age for that
kind of thing, leave now. This story, and others in the Oh, Susana
series, may be reposted on ASSM, and redirected to ASS, but may not be
put to commercial use by anyone but myself. I am willing to discuss them
on ASSD or you can email me at <susanasue@hotmail.com>
Oh, Susana!
The erotic adventures of a South Seas sexpot
by Martina Lee
4. Tell me another one
For a virgin bride, Susana was astonishingly imaginative in her approach
to love-making. From the start she was insatiable, not just for the
physical act, but also for the mental sex to which Neil was addicted.
Early on, he told her how he had once, in his late teens, "talked" a
girl to orgasm without even touching her as they sat in his car in a
beachside parking lot. Susana didn't believe him — until he did it to
her at dinner one night, leaning across their table in a quiet corner
booth at The Steakhouse, his voice barely rising above a whisper as he
told her, in explicit terms and infinite detail, just what he was going
to do with her when he got her home.
The waitress, looming up with the sweets trolley at the crucial moment,
was alarmed to find her gasping for breath and clutching at her breast,
and incensed that Neil seemed unconcerned that his lovely young wife was
having a heart attack. It was quite embarrassing. But Susana revenged
herself on him a few days later, making him cream his jeans at the
movies just before the lights came on.
Neil taught her to masturbate, to explore her own mind and body in
search of the combinations that would unlock the vaults of greatest
pleasure. She learned quickly, then insisted that they do it together.
She set their easy-chairs two metres apart in the living room and they
sat facing each other, nude, the fingers of each substituting for the
fingers, lips and genitalia of the other, and made mad, passionate love
for an hour without ever touching.
She was unrelentingly curious about Neil's past life, especially his sex
life. She asked endless questions about it, and his unashamedly graphic
reminiscences only heightened her ardor.
There was, for example, the anonymous fuck — the unknown woman he wooed
with his eyes for two hours at the Golden Dragon, without ever coming
within speaking distance of her. As far as he was concerned, it was just
a bit of mental titillation, a way of passing the time. But when the
place was closing and he was getting into his car she came running down
the stairs after him and got into the back. Not a word was spoken. He
drove straight home and they screwed their way from living room to
kitchen and finally to bed. The only time she ever spoke was to say she
was leaving the country in the morning. She was gone when he woke up. He
never saw her again, and he didn't even know her name.
Then there was the bondage. He had discovered, he said, that many or
perhaps even most women were turned on by the mere idea of being tied up
and "used". So he had fixed a large eyebolt at each corner of his bed.
Inevitably, whenever he brought a "new" woman home, she wanted to know
what they were for. And almost as inevitably, having been shown the
velvet ropes he kept in a bedside drawer, she wanted to try it out. On
one occasion, after lashing down his latest conquest at her own
insistence, he left her spread-eagled, naked and helpless on the bed,
with both the bedroom and front doors wide open, while he went to the
shop. When he got back 15 minutes later she was in such a state that she
came the moment he touched her.
Another female turn-on, he had found, was being semi-naked in public.
One hot and crowded night in the Dragon he had suggested to the woman he
was with that her knickers might be put to use as a sweat-rag. She went
to the Ladies and took them off, then came back and mopped his face with
them. He put them in his pocket. Then he took her out on the dance floor
and whirled her around trying to get her pleated skirt to flip up. By
the time the number ended she was trembling with excitement, and
insisted that they leave. She was all over him even before he got the
car started, and made him pull off the road at the first dark spot so
they could lay the seats back and make whoopee.
There was much more — a single episode with two girls in his bed at the
same time, sex in a hotel swimming pool at one o'clock in the morning,
the office churchmouse who found him working alone on a Saturday
afternoon and went down on him under his desk, for starters. Susana
soaked it all up, filed it away in her head for future reference, and
set out to write a whole new volume of entries in his erotopaedia.
It was her idea, on a star-bright but moonless night soon after they
were married, to make love in the nude on the front lawn, with only the
straggly croton hedge shielding them from the road. When he climaxed,
she had to clap both hands tightly over his mouth for fear that his
cries would attract the attention of people at the bus stop barely a
half-dozen metres away.
It was her idea, coming home from the movies, to "park up" by the
seawall and recreate for him the frantic kiss-and-fumble
let-your-fingers-do-the-talking car sex of his youth. After about half
an hour of grapple-and-grope she had a better idea. She halted the
handjob and packed him back in his pants, sat up and peeled off all her
clothes, then pulled the seatback release and lay back, her naked brown
body gleaming in the moonlight. "Now," she said. "Drive." She made him
tour the city for an hour and a half, refusing to cover herself even
when they were caught at a red light and a bus pulled up alongside.
It was her idea, on a wet day, to have lunch in the car in the middle of
the university's main parking lot. When they'd finished their sandwiches
she slipped out of her knickers and offered herself for dessert. Then,
on the drive back to work, with the tyres hissing on the wet road and
the windscreen wipers beating a copulatory cadence, she laid her head in
his lap and returned the favor.
Like masturbation, these and other similar episodes stretched the limits
of her self-awareness and taught her that her mind was the most
sensitive, and most important, of all her erogenous zones. They also
helped to keep Neil in an almost constant state of arousal.
He encouraged her to fantasise, and to share her fantasies with him.
When they went out dancing he enjoyed watching her hone her seductive
skills by flirting with other men. Later, in bed, she would tell him how
this guy or that had felt on the dance floor, precisely how he had tried
to chat her up and, in great detail, what she would have done with him
if circumstances permitted. Then, occasionally, they would act out the
fantasy with Neil in the role of her unsuspecting victim.
It irked her, however, that she had no true stories of her own with
which to regale him. She made the most she could of Alipate, the
good-looking youth who had trapped her in his flat a few months before
she met Neil and badgered her into jerking him off. Neil enjoyed hearing
about that, but it was a poor adventure at best and she wished she could
offer him more in return for his own outrageous tales. About a year and
a half into their marriage, her wish was granted.
For some months Susana had been having a regular weekly night out "with
the girls". She and two or three girlfriends would meet for dinner, then
head off to a nightclub for a few drinks and some serious dancing.
Occasionally they would accept an invitation to a party, and sometimes
she didn't get home until close to dawn. Neil didn't seem to mind,
although he invariably sat up and waited for her, and she was able to
bring home a string of imaginary lovers to tease him with when she
dragged him off to bed. One night at the Tropicana she and her friends
Milika and June found themselves the centre of attention of an entire
visiting Australian soccer team. They danced and danced, and were
overwhelmed with the kind of courtesy that was hard to come by in a
Pacific Islands nightclub.
All the guys were perfect gentlemen. They were under manager's orders to
be back at their hotel by midnight, but they made it clear they would be
partying on in Room 323 when the manager sacked out, and why didn't the
girls come and join them later? Susana said they might, and at one
o'clock when the Tropicana closed they talked it over and decided to
take up the offer. All more than a little tipsy, they sneaked giggling
past the hotel reception desk and had a bit of trouble finding the room.
But eventually they were standing in front of the right door and could
hear music playing behind it. Susana knocked, then had to knock louder.
The door opened, the music poured out into the corridor, and there was
the goalkeeper, wearing only his underpants. In the room behind him
Susana could see several of his team-mates in a similar state of
undress.
"Hello," said the goalkeeper. "We didn't think you were coming." He
stepped back against the wall and made a courtly bow. "Come on in," he
said. Susana looked at her friends, shrugged, and walked past him into
the room. June and Milika followed. It was actually a suite, the
connecting door to the adjoining room was open, and the whole touring
squad was there. A couple of them were wearing laplaps, two or three
were still dressed much as they had been at the nightclub, but most of
them were no more covered-up than the goalkeeper — and at least one was
clad in nothing more than a jockstrap, a garment Susana had never seen
before.
The goalkeeper, playing the attentive host, shooed two of his team-mates
out of the armchairs beside the low table and called for another from
the next room. As the girls settled into the chairs the tall striker
loomed over them. "What will you have to drink?" he said. "We have beer,
beer, and beer." They settled for beer. There were no glasses, but what
the hell. Susana took a pull at her bottle, then accepted the striker's
invitation to dance and got to her feet. Milika and June were soon up
alongside her, each with a semi-naked man as partner.
They danced, drank, danced some more, drank some more. There was some
low cheering from the adjoining room, and Susana went to investigate.
She had to push past several hard bodies standing in the doorway. Two of
the guys had stripped completely and were standing facing each other in
the middle of the room, masturbating. From the encouraging noises being
made by the audience, it was some kind of contest. Susana watched in
wonderment until one of them ejaculated and was proclaimed the winner,
then pushed her way back to her chair in the other room, picked up her
bottle and took another swig.
She looked around, found that everything was slightly out of focus, and
shook her head to clear it. Milika was in one of the other armchairs,
deep in conversation with a guy who was sitting on the floor beside her.
June was dancing with a jockstrap, who kept leaning over and whispering
in her ear. Suddenly she stopped, pulled her dress off over her head and
threw it on the table, then unsnapped her bra and stood stripped to her
white bikini briefs.
Someone cheered and June laughed, a little hysterically Susana thought,
then started dancing again. Her partner peeled off his jockstrap and
stood rampantly naked in front of her, obviously daring her to do the
same. June shook her head, came back to the table and had another drink.
Behind her, three more guys stripped off their last remaining garments.
When she turned back, the four of them formed a semi-circle which closed
around her as she stepped into it. There was more cheering, and June
laughed again as she danced around the circle from one guy to the next,
rubbing against them and touching and fondling their rapidly developing
erections.
Someone else walked up to Susana, slipped out of his jockettes and
invited her to join the fun. She smiled sweetly at him and declined his
kind offer, then craned her head around him to see what all the noise
was about. June was on the bed with a naked man on either side of her,
her hands busily pumping their pricks. A third guy knelt on the end of
the bed and fitted himself between her feet. Susana had another drink,
watched with a kind of detached interest until June's right-hand man
came in a paroxysm of groaning and hip-twitching, to a fresh round of
clapping and cheering, and the foot-fucker shot his load all over her
legs. As the first-comer rolled off the bed, another took his place.
Susana tapped Milika on the shoulder, rolled her eyes towards the
connecting door, and the pair of them got up and walked into the other
room.
The guys in there were sitting on the floor playing cards. Susana and
Milika joined them, shared a succession of bottles as they were passed
from mouth to mouth around the circle, and made small talk. Every so
often there was a spate of groaning and clapping from the other room,
and a minute or so later another happy tourist staggered through the
door, dripping with sweat and looking for a place to rest. As time went
on, some of them went back for seconds.
At about 4am Susana decided it was time to go home. Silence had fallen
over the adjoining room and, after checking that Milika also wanted to
go, she got up to tell June. There were two guys asleep on the bed and
another breathing heavily in one of the armchairs. There was no sign of
June. Susana tested the door to the bathroom, slid it open. There was a
man sitting on the toilet. June was on her knees in front of him, her
head in his crotch, and the goalkeeper was on HIS knees behind her, his
hands grasping her hips and his taut white buttocks beating out a
bossa-nova rhythm.
Susana coughed politely. The goalkeeper didn't break stroke, but June
lifted her head and looked around. Her eyes were glazed, her lips red
and puffy. "We're ready to go home," said Susana. "Oh," said June. She
thought for a moment, then: "Alright. I'll see you later." She grinned,
and turned back to carry on the great oral tradition of her ancient
people.
Susana slid the door shut and went back to collect Milika. They thanked
their hosts for a lovely evening, and left.
It was several days before Susana plucked up the courage to tell Neil
all about it. They had just finished a marathon session of love-making,
but the story re-inspired him and they started all over again. Later, he
told her it was not so much the thought of June's endeavours that turned
him on, as the fact that Susana had been there to see it. He never
questioned her fidelity, never suggested that she may have been more
than a passive observer. Somehow, it confirmed the trust he placed in
her, and knowing that made her love him all the more.
She retold the story dozens of times in the next few years, and it never
failed to have the desired effect on him. On both of them, in fact.
There was no need to embellish it. The mere re-telling, even years
later, was enough to put them both into a frenzy of lust. Susana had her
story at last, and it was one which could not be topped.
Until Peter.