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“Sophie, that wasn’t very nice,” Neil scolded, sounding more like my Sir than my husband. “Get over here and clean it up.”
He got to his feet and adjusted his own erection then moved to the head of the lounger. “Give me your hands,” he ordered El-Mudad. “You know the safe word.”
With a grim laugh, El-Mudad lifted both arms over his head, and Neil took hold of them, pinning them to the cushion.
My tummy jumped. Post-orgasm torture was one of my favorite porn topics to masturbate to, but Neil would never, ever let me try it on him. Now, El-Mudad fixed me with a gaze that both pleaded for mercy but begged for torment.
I knelt on the folded towel Neil had left on the stone and rubbed my fingers through the small puddle of cum on El-Mudad’s stomach. “I’m sorry I ruined your orgasm,” I simpered unconvincingly. “You must be so frustrated.”
“And sensitive,” he whimpered, his hips shifting restlessly away.
“I know.” I gripped the base of his cock and rolled his foreskin back. He hissed loudly and twisted a little, his eyes squeezing shut.
“No,” I snapped. “I want you to watch.”
Neil made a surprised noise, and I grinned to myself. Yeah, you’re not the only one who can boss people around. I slowly lowered my fingertips, lubricated in El-Mudad’s semen, and rubbed them directly on the pulsing red head of his cock.
He yelped in distress and immediately started fighting, an involuntary reaction to the pain of overstimulation. I just went faster, and would until he safeworded. I spit on his shaft and used both hands to glide up and down the length of him, far too fast and definitely too rough, until he shouted and begged and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
“Don’t forget, you can always say red, and this will stop,” Neil reminded him. But El-Mudad didn’t say red. He didn’t say anything but “No,” and “Please,” and finally, with a shocked cry, “I’m—”
His hips lifted up, and for a split second, I thought about ruining his orgasm, again. I wasn’t fast enough; he came hard, breaking Neil’s hold and curling up from the lounger with a long low wail. I pumped my fist until his body relaxed, then released him, letting his raw, throbbing cock slap against his stomach.
“Sophie, I had no idea you had such…creativity in you,” he panted.
“Yeah, well. It was a good way to bust stress.” I shrugged.
“Bad day?” Neil asked, tossing another towel to El-Mudad so he could clean up.
“Yeah. You could say that.” I stopped myself. “I don’t really want to talk about it, now. But we do need to, later.”
“I’m intrigued,” Neil admitted. “But I can wait.”
El-Mudad stood and pulled up his swim trunks. I’m surprised they’d even bothered with them. Especially since the head of Neil’s erection was still pressed firmly against his stomach above his waistband.
“What about the two of you?” El-Mudad asked, gesturing to Neil’s cock. “You didn’t finish.”
“There’s always later,” I said with a shrug. The weird thing was, I wasn’t really that into the idea of continuing. Giving El-Mudad pleasure had been a fun spur-of-the-moment thing, but until I unloaded the story of what had happened today, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate to get there, myself.
“I fear all I’ll be doing is watching,” he said with a short laugh.
“Oh, no, do we have to put our pitcher on the DL?” I laughed.
“Just give me a night off.” He grabbed me up in his arms and slid his hands down my back to squeeze my butt.
“Julia left us asparagus cannelloni and an heirloom tomato tart in the warming oven,” Neil informed me. “Or we could go out, again, if you prefer.”
I gestured to my outfit. “Do I look like I would prefer?”
“Fair enough. Why don’t El-Mudad and I go get dressed while you set the table?” he suggested.
We parted ways so I could, arranging three places around the kitchen table. While I set out the plates and silverware, my mind whirled with possible ways I could initiate the conversation. Funny thing, someone asked me for an organ today. Probably not the opener that would keep Neil from exploding with rage. There was no way he would react positively to this. I could practically hear him arguing over the “excessive risk” and “needless endangerment”.
And I wondered how he would react to El-Mudad hearing the news at the same time he did. Would he feel like I’d betrayed a marital bond?
The guys came back just as I retrieved the tart from the warming oven. Neil hurried over to place a trivet on the tabletop—something I always forgot to do—and El-Mudad used a kitchen towel to protect his hand as he got the other dish.
“I hope you don’t plan on feeding me like this the entire week,” he joked. “I don’t think I can maintain this body you love so much if you do.”
