Like the rest of the club, the private room was spacious and well-appointed. At the centre was a large free-standing bed, on the ceiling above it, a mirror. A bench seat stretched around two walls and was interrupted by two built-in arms, glass topped for drinks. A squat sofa sat in the corner. The walls were a deep red and the dim lights made the room welcoming and warm.

Mary clicked the door shut as a signal that the room was occupied, there was no lock but club etiquette meant that no one would disturb them. Mary took Andrew’s glass and placed it, with her own, on a bench seat table. Joyce sat with the drinks, parallel to the bed and Andrew looked a bit lost.

Mary came to him with a slow French kiss and Joyce felt the same jealous pang watching her man being unfaithful right in front of her, she forced it to pass. She’d been to Rani’s picnic and more than joined in, she’d fucked Nyall, sucked Paul and had been taken home by Michael for a seeing to over the kitchen table. All of this unbeknown to Andrew, it was only fair to even the score. Under her breath, she whispered,

“Sauce for the goose,” and she mentally readied herself. She’d detached sex from marriage and she’d had fun, now she had to do the same for Andrew. He didn’t love Mary Foulton, he simply wanted to fuck her the way she wanted to fuck Michael, but as Mary slipped a hand into his boxers and he closed his eyes, she had the feeling he’d forgotten she was even in the room.

Mary kissed him again and Joyce couldn’t help but tingle a little, Mary was sexy in her French knickers and stockings, she remembered how she’d said ‘and you’ at Badminton and she wondered when that chance might come.

Mary slid both hands into the band of Andrew’s boxers and pushed them far enough that they fell then she manoeuvred him onto the bed, onto his back. She moved down his body, gripped his shaft and took his whole length into her mouth,

“Oh God,” he sounded astonished and after a moment of shock, his whole body relaxed as if someone had opened a valve and let some of the air out. When he turned to rest his head it was away from Joyce. She felt the pang again, why didn’t he turn to her, to see her, to share? This was very new and the jealousy and the faint anger were still there. So too, she realised, was a new voyeuristic thrill and she determined to enjoy the show. A hand slipped into her knickers.

Mary gave Andrew a long sloppy blow job, sometimes licking his balls, sometimes his cock. She wanked him but never quickly, she teased him by sometimes sitting on his cock, holding it and sliding him into her Frech knickers letting him feel the moisture on her cunt. He held her hips and tried to enter her but she pulled away. He was moaning and sighing in rhythm with her every action and Joyce was learning to love it. She began to see Mary as an expert performer and her explicit burlesque was erotic and slow, ever tempting, ever teasing, she saw Andrew transfixed by her and strangely, that felt good. Mary slipped backwards off the bed, dropped her knickers and came round to straddle Andrew’s mouth. Softly, she said,

“Love me,” Joyce watched Mary pinching her nipples and slowly grinding on Andrew’s mouth and the fingers in her knickers found her clit. She’d been stroking and touching herself, pushing a finger into her entrance matching Mary’s slow execution of the sex acts she presented but now they found her clit and she made little circles on herself. Mary had been grinding for minutes and now she slid back down Andrew’s body until their faces met, she kissed him deep and slow and then pulled up,

“Are you ready for me darling?” A tiny smile spread onto her mouth,

“God yes,” Andrew breathed the words and Mary gave a tiny giggle as she moved into position. She turned her head to look at Joyce and her face made a question. Joyce wanted to say no, every instinct in her said ‘That’s my man, you may not fuck him’ but she had instigated this, she had talked him into it. She bit her lip and gave a tiny nod.

Mary gripped Andrew’s shaft, hard with lust for her, and moved him up and down her lips, onto the inner lips, against her entrance then she oh so slowly engulfed him. An inch, another, pulling back, the ultimate tease and Joyce reeled with mixed emotions. Another inch,

“Fucking hell,” came from Andrew, he was quivering with sexual potential. Pull back, another inch, and eventually, achingly, she had all of him.

Mary hummed a deep sound of pleasure and began to fuck Andrew better than any fantasy whore. She leaned back with her flat hands on his abdomen and she set a slow rhythm for her thrusts. Andrew tried to match her pushing up into her palace but she clamped him, this was her show and for now, her pleasure. Occasionally, she’d stop. She’d pull up and enjoy his length for a few strokes where she’d allow him to push into her and then she’d envelop him again to feel his manhood fill her. She looked at Joyce and smiled. Then she closed her eyes. Joyce felt another pang of jealousy, Mary was truly enjoying her husband.

After minutes, Mary slipped up and off of Andrew and he propped himself onto one elbow. He looked as if he were under a magic spell and his eyes never once left Mary’s body, never turned to Joyce.

“Your turn,” Mary said and she turned, fell onto all fours then onto her back with her legs open. She offered herself to Andrew and he was up and at her in seconds. He gripped his manhood and slid into the older woman.

Andrew started slowly, giving Mary his length and pulling almost fully out but soon, lust took over. Sweat beaded on his brow, the feel of Mary’s bouncing hips in his hands, the squeeze of her palace on his rock hard cock, he wanted to possess her, to own her physically and she was happy to surrender. He started to pound Mary and she cried out,

“Fuck me Andrew,” as his manhood filled and refilled her. Her husband was ten years older than Andrew and had nothing like the ardour, Andrew was wonderful. Joyce watched still slowly masturbating but something had changed, something had changed in her husband.

He had the look of deep joy and abandon that a man has when he truly loves the woman he’s making love to, when he cares. When lust for her takes him over and propels him into a lived fantasy, an ecstasy. Joyce had never seen that in Andrew in all the years they’d been married but she saw it now, she saw it as Mary bucked and squealed as he mercilessly impaled her. Mary was screaming,

“Fuck me harder,”

What had she done? She’d put Mary on a plate for him and this was his reaction - what would he be like with Gwen who she’d permitted him to chase? If he caught her, trapped her and made her surrender the thrill might be even greater. She was jealous and she wanted them to stop. To stop having pleasure in each other to stop creating orgasmic joy, just to stop. She’d brought him here and brought this upon herself. There was nothing she could do.

Sauce for the goose.

When Andrew climaxed Mary grabbed his buttocks and pulled him into her, her head fell back at the edge of the bed, her eyes shut tight and her mouth open. He looked the same as he let out a cry full of the deepest pleasure. They looked like a couple and Joyce had to watch. She understood now why Jake had left the room, why he played separately. Joyce was committed to the revolution and she imagined that after tonight, Andrew would be too, but she’d learned a lesson. She could separate sex and marriage, she could allow Andrew the same but she couldn’t watch it happen.

Andrew rolled off of Mary and lay panting on his back, Joyce felt awkward like an uncovered voyeur, she’d been the audience at the show but was his the end or the interval? Andrew had taken the pill and was still hard, at this point she should say ‘reclaim sex’ and fuck his brains out, but somehow, she didn’t want to. Conflicted, she stood and came to her husband, she tried her best to smile,

“I’m going for another drink,” she looked down at his sex drunk, wide eyed face, “welcome to the revolution.”

I do hope you enjoyed this extract from my erotic Novel "Spice!"
If you did, swing by the website and check out my eight other published books;
www.janicejames.co.uk
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