Summers are for Decadence Pt. 01

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Summers seem to have a very strong effect on me. But then I guess lots of people might say that. I wonder, though, how many people have found summers to be so influential on their sex life and sexuality as me? Not many I suspect.

I lost my virginity in the school summer holidays when I was eighteen. Later that summer, before going to uni., I had a fling with a married man fifteen years older than me. After leaving university and starting work in an ad agency I had my first work affair, well two actually with an Art Director and a Media Planner. And the next summer I fucked my first client and I also fucked my first woman. I met my husband in a summer and we had sex for the first time that same summer. See what I mean about a strong effect?

And so it had gone on when I was young. Summer meant one thing to me, sex. And now so many years later it was happening all over again.

It was turning into a crazy summer. It was a time of excess, three months of decadence, a season of sexual intensities and behavioural extremes. It was a period where I was acting so out of character, or was I?

I can make excuses. The big four o was looming; my marriage was being strained by my husband’s murderous work and travel schedule, well he said it was work; I was lonely and even that the summer was one of the hottest on record. But they are excuses, not justifiable reasons. And for the excesses of that decadent summer, there can be no justifiable reasons.

When I say excesses that is of course relative to my normal life; you will need to judge how much excess there is to anyone else’s.

When that summer began, Luke and I had been married for eighteen years. In the main, they had been good years.

Ever since I had known him, just after I left university, he had worked hard and long. I would have thought at the age of forty eight having been successful for ten years the hours and workload would have diminished. They hadn’t, if anything they had increased.

We now rowed quite a lot. I knew full well that he had some excellent staff and I kept saying that he should send them occasionally, but he wouldn’t. From the years I had been with Luke I knew that he was a control freak and that delegation was difficult for him. It so frustrated me, though, that he just did not seem to try and when they were working on a deal he would often work fifteen hours a day, seven days a week.

Up until this stage in my marriage I was pretty content. Before I met Luke I had worked in advertising as a copywriter. Our mutual appreciation of the written word had been a bonding influence on us. When I had the children I had stopped working, but as they got older so I resumed firstly on a freelance basis. When our son went to boarding school I had more time on my hands and with a friend, I started an advertising, promotions and marketing agency.

It was fun and oddly, because neither Jane nor I put that much effort into it, it was a success. For both of us, though, it was more a hobby than a business. That may well be the reason why, at the start of that fateful summer, we employed fifteen people and had really swish offices in trendy Camden town, just down the road from where I lived in Highgate.

I had known Jane for years, since well before her divorce from her husband William. We had met when we were both in our early twenties, straight out of university and were junior copywriters at a massive, global ad agency. That was before I had met Luke. William was a client of the agency. He had a business that packaged and distributed, mainly laboratories to oilfields all over the world. The advertising and promotions he required was not glamorous; no TV or film, posters or major media ads. That’s why junior writers such as Jane and I got allocated to the account. Well that’s what we were told by the Account Directors although I have strong suspicions, however, that the real reason was that William, who was then in his mid-thirties, preferred young bits of stuff like Jane and me to long-haired scruffy male writers. It was actually really easy stuff so we were quite capable of handling William’s account. What neither of us was quite so capable of handling was William. We both committed the cardinal ad agency sin of fucking the client. That Jane then went on to marry him helped her survive in that agency as he had a profitable account. I wasn’t so lucky and was pushed out.

It was another few years before I met and then married Luke. Jane and I were each Matrons of Honour at the other’s wedding.

Jane and I are about the same height, but she has a fuller figure than me and probably weighes a little more, though she is by no means overweight. Most of that extra I acknowledge quite enviously is on her breasts that really are magnificent. Whereas she has natural, chestnut or deep bronze coloured hair and I have blonde, we wear them about the same length. She has hers tumbling down onto her shoulders in waves and ringlets whereas mine is straighter.

Ever since I had slept with William those four or five times, I had my suspicions that even after taking up seriously with Jane, he was looking for more with gaziantep escort bayan me. The glances, the ‘accidental’ touches, lingering looks, ogling at my boobs and legs and seemingly innocent double entendres all suggested that he was. But she was my best friend, I was ‘promised’ to another and, more and more, I was beginning to see him as the bastard he eventually turned out to be when the divorce proceedings showed that he was a serial adulterer, so I didn’t take him up. But there always had been a strong attraction between us, I suppose deep down I always fancied him.

Oh, I think I forgot to explain that when we committed the ad industry’s cardinal sin with William of fucking a client we did it together. Yes we had a threesome with him. The fact that he had shagged me and probably Jane several times before that was never discussed and didn’t seem to be of any particular importance, but then that was back in the early nineties and we were both young.


It was her birthday and he had taken her out to lunch. Around four, a slurring Jane came on the phone to tell me that she wouldn’t be back that afternoon. “William and I are having a meeting,” she giggled.

“Yeah I bet,” I laughed as I agreed to tidy her desk.

“We are,” she insisted adding. “And William wants you to join us.”

I fell for it, thinking that maybe she wasn’t as pissed as she seemed.

“OK where? At his office? When?”

“As soon as you can Claire and no not the office.”

“Where then?”

I heard some giggling and the phone went dead for a moment then she came back.

“Room six twenty in the Gordon,” she said naming a local, upscale hotel.

I suppose I was naïve, or simply didn’t think, but I assumed it was a meeting room so I packed up, told my boss that I was joining Jane and William at a meeting in the Gordon and off I trotted.

I remember it was a burning hot, August day. After having the sun scorching it since early morning, London becomes unbearable so the five minute walk was rather unpleasant. The coolness of the air conditioning as I walked into the lobby of the hotel was lovely.

I was wearing a simple, loose, cornflour blue dress, I remember. It was on the knee in length, had a halter neck with short sleeves and a slightly flared skirt. Unlike Jane who has superb, full, round breasts, mine are more modest. In the grunge dominated fashion of the early nineties, bra’s were by no means an essential part of a woman’s wardrobe and I frequently went without. That was, and still is, such a lovely feeling on a hot day, as it was on that day.

To say I was shocked when Jane opened the door to six twenty would be the understatement of the year for me, well more the understatement of my life. She stood behind the door as she opened it so all I saw was her head with the mass of unruly chestnut hair. It was not until I was inside and she was closing the door I saw what she was wearing. That was the real shock, for she was wrapped in a towel.

“What on earth…” I started saying only to be interrupted by William who had appeared round a corner.

“Hi Claire, thanks for coming,” he said, making them both burst into fits of giggles. I looked at him and had the second major shock for he too was wearing just a towel.

Looking back, it always seems amazing how things went. How they moved so quickly and how, from never having mentioned anything about sex between Jane and me, and certainly not together with William, we were in bed our bodies entwined having three-way sex.

They were both slightly pissed, that was obvious, but then it was her birthday and they’d had a long and obviously boozy lunch; that’s how advertising was back then. Jane got back into bed still wearing the towel and William, with his towel wrapped round his waist, sat on a chair, his back to the window, his feet on the edge of the bed. Still fully dressed, I perched on the bed sort of between them and quite near to William’s feet, sipping a glass of champagne he had poured for me. We talked mainly about agency things. It was all rather sterile and not at all as sexy as one would think with one girl as good as naked in bed, a man who had clearly had sex with her clad in just a towel and another girl, who had also been shagged by the man, sitting on the bed. But then I had no idea what to expect, never having been in such a situation before.

It wasn’t sexy at first, but when Jane suddenly sat up, the bedclothes fell away from her showing that the towel had also come unwrapped and we both saw her tits, bare and full, it started to become so. At that time, though, I had no idea what might happen. I had never really had thoughts or feelings about sex with a woman, other than the usual curiosity practically all girls have.

“I wasn’t sure you would come,” William said, setting off another fit of giggles between them.

“I thought you would,” Jane said, not bothering I saw to pull the sheet up.

‘She’s got nice breasts,’ I thought, my eyes probably dwelling on them longer than they should

“I assume you guessed we weren’t having a meeting,” William said, his foot softly pressing against my upper leg. “Well not a business one at least,” he smiled.

“I didn’t know,” I said lamely, feeling confused for the earlier lack of anything sexy had gone and had been replaced by a highly erotic atmosphere.

“Well you knew it was my birthday, didn’t you, so you must have guessed we would be celebrating,” Jane said adding. “And boy what a celebration William.”

“Yes Jane it was something else,” he said, now quite overtly pressing his bare toes against my leg. It felt nice.

“Pity you didn’t come earlier,” Jane said, as they both laughed; I joined in too as she went on. “We could have all come together then couldn’t me?”

What the hell was going on? Was Jane propositioning me? Were they trying to get me into bed with them? I began to think they were as William was now rubbing his foot up and down my outer leg and going under my skirt and Jane had laid back on the pile of pillows, the sheet round her waist, her full breasts completely on view.

“I wasn’t asked was I?” I retorted, probably sounding far more assured and confident than I was feeling.

“Would you have come earlier?” She asked looking right at me.

“Not sure.” I replied.

William’s foot slid down my leg to my bare knee. I felt him wiggle his toes under the hem of my dress and start to move upwards taking the dress with it.

“It would have been nice if you had Christina,” he said.

We went on like that for a few more minutes as I finished the first and got well into the second glass of champagne. As I did that, so his foot was now lifting my skirt well past half way up my outer leg, his toes giving me lovely sensations on my skin.

It was then that Jane suddenly uttered what were probably the most erotic words I had ever heard up to that point in my sexual career.

“So why don’t we make up for lost time Christina.”

“How?” I asked.

Her reply hit me like a kick in the stomach. “Why not take your clothes off and join in with us Christina?”

God it sounded so sexy, so raunchy and horny, but inexplicably and amazingly it also sounded hugely inviting and just right, I suppose.

I can’t believe that I only hesitated for the briefest moment; perhaps a latent desire to be an exhibitionist came to the fore. I suddenly found myself standing up, reaching down and taking hold of the hem of the dress and in one flowing moment, pulling it up and over my head and dropping it on the floor. The silence as they say was deafening as for a few moments they both just stared at me, I quite liked that. It was even nicer when William said,

“Wow, Christina, you have a great body.”

“Oh baby,” Jane mewed. “You are gorgeous.”

I thought both were being rather generous, for my body was far too slim and angular to be considered great and gorgeous and me were not natural bedfellows. I suppose the term that I felt most summed me up was one I had overheard an Account Manager use about me. ‘That willowy blonde new copywriter.’

Willowy blonde was how I had then considered myself and that had stuck in my mind through to now. It was now how I would described myself although just what willowy meant I was not sure.

“How about lying on the bed, Christina?” William suggested.

Just a few hours ago such a question would have been quite outrageous to me. Now, though, it seemed perfectly appropriate and on top of that hugely appealing. I clambered onto the bed and lay beside Jane, who smiled and whispered.

“Hi Christina, welcome.”

As she did that, she pushed the sheet down and off her totally naked body. I was mesmerised. I just stared at my friend. Before that moment, I had never looked at her sexually, but as she slowly revealed her rounded, full breasted body to me, she became the most erotic thing I had ever seen. My whole being was consumed with such an extreme desire to be made love to by her that I felt as if I might orgasm simply by looking at her and imagining that.

Smiling, she reached out and stroked my wrist. I just looked at her. She ran her fingertips up my arm and rested them on my shoulder as she leaned forward a little making her breasts wobble deliciously. They hung down so erotically and as she moved her hand they swayed. They were like beacons to me, they were so appealing as if they were extending an invitation to me. All of the bi curiosity I’d had for the past few years seemed to surface and Jane’s breasts became the focus of my desires.

I felt William’s weight on the bed and he put his hand on my back. He slid his body against mine. I was lying slightly on my right side and I felt his erection pressing against my bum. The other times he had done that and in any other circumstances than these, that would have been such a wonderfully sexy feeling. But with Jane moving closer to me and her breasts dangling right before my eyes, the feel of his cock became almost an irrelevance. ‘God how can I even think that?’ I asked myself looking from Jane’s breasts to her eyes and returning her smile. She raised her eyebrows, clearly asking a question as her hand slid round the back of my neck. She looked so gorgeous. Her long, wavy hair was tumbling down over her slightly tanned shoulders. Her full breasts were right in front of me as was her narrow waist, flat stomach and shapely legs. I could see quite plainly that her hair was natural. She was pulling on the back of my neck. It could only mean one thing, be a gesture that meant only one action, be an invitation, a request or, maybe a demand for me to do just one action.

As I saw her arching her back slightly and pushing her chest forward so I let my upper body and my head go with the pressure she was applying. We moved towards each other at the same time and pace. Nearer and nearer. It was as if my all my bisexual dreams and fantasies were coming to fruition. Everything I had visualised, imagined and masturbated about with regard to woman to woman sex appeared to be concentrated into those two delightful orbs that were now nearly brushing against my face. Jane sat up, she took one of her boobs in her hand and lifted it. It was such an obvious, but so erotic a gesture that a small sob escaped from my mouth as she whispered the second most erotic phrase I had ever heard.

“Would you like to feel my breasts Christina?”

My heart seemed to crash against my ribs as the enormity of her question hit me. I gasped and a low moan slipped from my lips.

“Would you Christina?” She persisted.

“Yes,” I stammered.

She smiled and went on softly, almost huskily.

“Would you like to play with my tits, Christina?”

“Oh God,” I groaned. “Yes Jane, yes I would.”

“Then feel them for me Christina,” she whispered as my hand reached out and touched them. They felt amazing.

“Mmmm, nice,” she said as I cupped both orbs and ran my fingertips across her, already hard, nipples. “You like?”

“Oh yes, yes, Jane,” I groaned, stroking and cupping, pressing and squeezing my friend’s boobs.

We caught each other’s glance and we both smiled as I continued fondling her gorgeous tits. The look in her eyes as my hands gave her quite evident pleasure and excitement sent a surge of pleasure and arousal through me. It made me feel so good to realise how I was affecting my friend. I liked that.

In almost a growl she said. “Suck my nipples Christina, please suck my tits.” The words crashed into my mind as I realised just how far I was going in such a short time.

I did and it was all and more I had imagined for so long that it would be. Then William joined in as well. I was in somewhat of a conflict about that. On the one hand I felt a slight resentment to him. It was as if he was intruding. Jane and I had started something that I badly wanted to finish and, in a way, William’s involvement prevented that. On the other hand, though, in my mind, his presence sort of legitimised the situation. It made my involvement with another woman more ok. I wasn’t being lesbian for there was a man involved too. So, as I indulged myself on my friends’ ample breasts and as I parted my legs to enable her hand to touch me where I most needed to be touched, the feel of a man’s hard cock on my bum and his hands on my nipples were welcome participants.

We moved around quite a lot, far more than I was used to when having sex one to one. William had Jane on one side of him and me on the other. He put his arms round both of us and pulled us towards him. He kissed me, then Jane and then me again. I saw Jane run her hand down his fairly hairy chest and slip her fingers slightly into where the towel was wrapped round him. The champagne and the combination of that, seeing the shape of his erection through the towel, Jane’s naked breasts, him kissing me and now stroking my breasts was immensely arousing.

It took just a few more moments for the three of us to be kissing and touching each other and just a few more for his towel to be removed and my panties to come off.

So that was my initiation into girly stuff and threesome sex. As William firstly shagged me, then Jane and I made love and then she and he shagged, neither of us let on to the other that he had fucked us individually before. It was some years until we admitted that to each other.


Time moved on. William and Jane married, I met Luke and we married, both couples had children and we lived our lives. We drifted apart, both us couples, Luke felt William was a little flash and rather coarse, and Jane and me as individuals.

Oddly, in some ways I always thought, Jane and I never had sex together alone, if that makes sense. We had another session with William a few weeks later, which was fine, but a further one went wrong when jealousy reared its head: it can be awfully difficult watching a man you fancy like hell shag another woman, even if she is your best friend and you will get to fuck her shortly. Our final ‘involvement’ was on holiday in Switzerland when we got drunk and ended up in bed with a ski instructor. The next morning we thought it had gone rather well, so we repeated it on the next two nights. That was the end of my adventures into threesomes and largely into girls as well. I did have a couple of one to one flings, but to be honest, I actually got bored with it. In any case Luke was now in the picture and was absorbing my sexual curiosity and fulfilling my sexual needs.

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