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Summers are for Decadence Pt. 03

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This finalises my ‘summer series.

Although, of course, the characters have been changed the events as described broadly did happen.

I can hardly wait to find out what summer 016 has in store for me.

Thanks for reading this.

Love Christina xx

PS I would love to hear from you with your thoughts on this series.


Summers are for Decadence Part 3.

I get interrupted as William fucks me.

I was fumbling with his belt and zip. I had stroked, rubbed and caressed his hardness outside his thin, wool, suit trousers for some time. Now the need to feel his bareness, hold it in my hand and press it against me became paramount in my mind.

He helped me and suddenly everything was open and I was holding his cock. The cock that had fucked me several times all those years ago, the cock that I had watched sink into my work colleague Jane and, yes, the cock that had subsequently fucked her so many times when she was his wife. I don’t why or how, but the thought came into my mind as I greedily ran my hands up and down its sturdy length, ‘This is the cock that had fucked the cunt that I had finger fucked in this house just a few days ago.’

It was all happening. Nothing was reserved, everything was in play; his cock, my tits and all of our bodies. He fiddled my trousers undone and squirmed his hand inside. He rubbed me momentarily outside my Janet Regar knickers, but then quickly he got his hand inside them. It was right on me, right on my wetness, right on my lips. Fuck that was good. I thought as his fingers slid into me, ran along my slit and then found that bud of such wondrous pleasures. He was doing precisely the same thing to me that his ex-wife had done to me. What a fucking turn on that was.

“Come to bed, William,” I whispered in his ear.

“Fuck that,” he croaked back sliding my trousers and panties down in one go. He turned me round and pushed the top of my body forward. “I’m gonna fuck you here, right here and now.”

“Oh shit, yes,” I groaned as my bare breasts were squashed against the cold granite worktop.

The idea of being fucked in my own kitchen, partially dressed, my knickers and panties round my knees, my bra still on and my tits pulled out of it turned me on so much. Me like that and him still wearing a white dress shirt with his boxers and trousers in a pool on the floor, presented such a marvellously sordid and wanton situation.

Then he fucked me. Again there was no ceremony, but then none was needed. I was bent over the work surface my breasts were squashed against it, my legs were open. I was ready and totally available. And he did exactly what I wanted him to do; he fucked me hard and quick and dirty.

I felt totally embarrassed at work on the Monday after my time with William. Jane and I had a financial and operations review meeting so I was with her from the seven thirty breakfast meeting through the day long sessions with our team.

I couldn’t concentrate and contributed little to the long, at times boring, but absolutely essential series of meetings. My mind was in a whirl of conflicting views and thoughts. When I looked at Jane, I saw her naked, I saw her full breasts, bloated nipples and wet, velvety pussy. I imagined my mouth on her tits and hers on my nipples. I recalled the feeling of her warm wetness round my fingers and the shuddering sensations of her fingers driving deep inside me. But then the time with William would fill my mind. Us tearing at the others clothes in my kitchen, my tits yanked out of my bra, his cock in my hand inside his boxers and my knickers round my knees. Me bent over the work surface with him fucking me from behind as I gradually collapsed in a sobbing wreck of orgasmic delight and sexual shame.

I wondered where both my affairs would go? I also wondered why I had become quite such a bitch and why I had such a need for this odd buzz? Why I had reverted to wanting to have sex with another female again after all that time and why it had been with my best friend and business partner? Why had I let William keep phoning me, why I had exchanged increasingly flirty and intimate texts, why had I let him come to me in my moment of desolation and, of course, why had I let him fuck me? Why, why, why was the word that kept reverberating round my brain. I had no answers, other than, ‘Well it is summer!’ I mused philosophically.

The weekend had been quite amazing. He had stayed Friday night. We went out to dinner on Saturday and he stayed again. He had plans on Sunday so I was alone, but went and saw some friends in Oxford.

After the initial fervid sex in the kitchen, he prepared lunch, which we ate on the secluded terrace in our back garden.

“See almost as good as Villa d’este,” he joked, sitting across from me in a white tee shirt and shorts I had lent him from Luke’ wardrobe. I was wearing a black bikini bottom and yellow tee.

“Not such a good view though.”

“True, but better sex.”

I didn’t reply, it sort felt disloyal to criticise Luke, which was odd bahis firmaları considering I had just committed adultery and most probably would do so again very shortly.

“Wasn’t it?” He persisted.”

“You may think that, but I could never comment,” I smiled using a saying I recalled from a book or play.

After the sex in the kitchen, we had showered, separately, dressed and had some champagne. As he prepared the lunch I made some calls to my parents to let them know we hadn’t gone to Italy. Cunningly, it was also to ensure that none of them would be likely to pop into my home for any reason, as they did sometimes. I was becoming sly, I thought, the subterfuge of an affair thrilling and disappointing me simultaneously.

It was a lovely day and sitting under the wisteria covered pagoda was really quite romantic. Actually, with our recent, extreme sex still fresh in my mind, with William around me, the way I was dressed, I hadn’t bothered with a bra, and the prospects of what probably lie ahead it was more highly erotic than romantic.

The Monday meetings dragged on and on. I became bored and more morose, I snapped at people, but asked few questions. I was tired, confused and full of guilt. I’m not sure whether those feelings were relieved or strengthened when around four Jane whispered.

“Anna’s away for the night.”

I had told her about Luke when she was in Edinburgh and this morning when we’d met I had let her know the bastard was still away.

“So what did you do over the weekend?” She had asked after telling me about hers with Anna in Scotland.

“Oh not much I was pretty pissed off with him.”

Jane was not one to be judgemental and she rarely criticised anyone, but she did remark.

“You’re entitled to, the bastard needs to sort himself out, or someone else will come along.”

I nearly said ‘That’s precisely what William said,’ but just managed to bite my tongue in time.

I looked at her and touched the back of her hand as I muttered. “Maybe someone has Jane.”

She gripped my hand and whispered back. “Yes Christina, maybe someone has. So what did you do?”

“Oh I picked up a few guys and got myself laid and had a gang bang most of the weekend,” I told her joking, feeling that was better than telling plausible lies.

I was gradually being drawn into that world of lies, excuses and subterfuge. I wasn’t sure I liked it, but it gave me a tingle.

She smiled. “Now that does make me envious.”

That evening we went further. After undressing and then lying on Jane’s bed and fingering each other to lovely, long and quite powerful orgasms, we did what we both most wanted to do and what we knew was inevitable.

“Ok?” She had whispered as her head slithered down my body, with her lips planting little kisses in a trail from my breasts to my pubic line.

Her intent was obvious, her question was unnecessary, her plan was enthralling.

“Of course darling,” I sighed opening my legs to the slight pressure she applied to my thighs.

I threaded my fingers on one hand into her long, lustrous, chestnut coloured hair and let her grip the fingers on my other hand as my body received her precious gift. The feeling of a tongue on that most sensitive, female place, is always immense. When a female is doing that, when she is tipping your velvet the sensations are magnified many times.

I gasped with the sheer extreme nature of the pleasure I received from my female lover licking my cunt. It was amazing. I pressed her hand to my breast, grabbed a handful of her hair, and feeling a deep, grunt slide from my mouth I gave into the orgasm and I let Jane make me cum.

It was not a million miles, I realised as I lay in her arms coming down from the soaring height of that wonderful climax, from Friday with William.

“Come and sit on my lap,” he had said, after we finished the salmon salad, the raspberries and the cheese washed down with a bottle of Chablis Premier Cru and half bottle of Chateau Talbot; he always had a great taste in wines I recalled as a slight breeze got up in the garden and the sun went behind some clouds.

I did as he asked, I wanted to, it seemed just right.

“No not like that,” he said as I sat on his legs my side towards him.

“How then?”

“Face me, a leg either side of my hips.”

I clambered around to comply with his order, which I found mildly exciting.

“Now get your tits out,” he ordered grabbing my bum with both hands. Although i felt I was a fairly liberated woman, in keeping with many sisters, I liked being ordered around at times. Slight domination brings the, possibly, natural submissive out in me. It was something I had always liked about William and had missed with Luke.

Luke and I had lived in the big, four storey townhouse in Highgate for almost fifteen years and had never had sex in the secluded garden. I had been having an affair with William for a little over three hours and here I was about to be fucked by him on the terrace of the garden. Again, I was putty in kaçak iddaa his hands.

I lifted the tee up and over my head and flaunted my tits at him, momentarily wondering what he saw in those compared to his ex-wife’s big D+ beauties.

“God they’re great,” he, almost growled, gripping one, slightly roughly and sucking my nipple into his mouth. Although I am slightly disappointed with the size of my breasts I do feel that when making love my rather prominent nipples go some way in compensation. William had always said that all those years ago and remarked on it again now.

My mind immediately went back to earlier when Jane had done exactly the same. His mouth on my bare breast, being in the open air, thinking of Jane and feeling his bulge pressing right against my pussy, covered only by the small bikini panties, really got me going.

I watched fascinated as he unzipped Charles’ shorts. He lifted his legs up a bit causing me to rise in the air and pushed his shorts down; the dirty sod hadn’t bothered with boxers. His cock reared upwards, pressing against my spreaded pussy lips and running right across my uncovered clit. I pressed forward so that my bikini panty covered sensitive spots rubbed against his erection. I was still looking down as he continued alternating sucking my right and left tits and nipples. I saw him get hold of the gusset of my bikini. He tried pushing it to one side, but it was too snug and tight.

“Fuck this,” he growled grabbing the shiny, thinnish material with both hands.

“What you doing?” I asked, a little alarmed as he tugged the panties causing them to dig deeply into the crease of bum.

“Just this,” he croaked as he yanked hard on the panties.

I’m not sure what thrilled me more seeing the material rip or the noise it made. Whatever it was, suddenly the part of my body that we both wanted to be bare and available was exactly that; my naked cunt was staring at him.

He ran two fingers along my slit, looked up, smiled and then licked one finger as he continued to stare at me.

“Mmmmm, nice,” he whispered holding out the other finger, obviously for me to lick. I had never done anything like that. It struck me that I had done more outlandish things during my three hour affair with him than I had in all my years married to Luke; that made me feel adventurous and bold. I grabbed his hand and avidly sucked his finger into my mouth just as I would a cock. As I did that, two thoughts came into my mind. One, I would probably soon be doing just that, for I remembered how both Jane and I had fellated him; he loved it. And two, the taste on my fingers was just like that which had been on my fingers before, when I had finger fucked Jane.


“Yes,” I replied feeling him pulling on my bum. He lifted me up a bit with one hand and pulled his erection away from his, slightly paunchy I noticed, stomach with the other.

“For what.”

“What do you want me to be ready for?”

“Me to fuck you, is that what you want?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

He nuzzled the tip of his cock against my clit. The sensation was so strong and the pleasure so quick, it made me jerk.

“Then say it.”


“That you want me to fuck you, I want to hear you say it.”


“Because Ms butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth it’ll excite me. I love my women to talk dirty.”

The words, ‘my women’ and the reference to butter not melting in my mouth when I was also having sex with his ex-wife, excited and amused me. Again it was something I had never done with Luke. The idea, though, appealed. I pressed myself against the bulbous head of his cock.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Nice,” he said pressing the end of his dick on my lips, slightly parting them.

“How much?”

“How much do you want me to fuck you?”

“Lots, loads…” I paused. “Fucking plenty, please fuck me William.”

“Where do you want my cock Christina.”

“In me, up me.”

“Up where baby?” He said leaning forward and biting my right nipple, rather hard. “Where Christina, where do you want my cock?”

The feelings washing over me from the sheer sordidness of our situation on the terrace of my back garden and talking dirty with him made me groan.

“Say it,” he grunted through his teeth clamped round my nipple.

“In my cunt, William.”

“Say it again, say more.”

I took a deep breath and held his head in my hands as I said quietly, yet firmly looking right into his eyes.

“I want your big cock in me William and I want it right up my cunt.”

Without any further ado he pulled hard on my buttocks and surged himself forward causing exactly that to happen. I gasped with the amazing sensation of his thick cock filling me and rushing up that so sensitive passage.

Like that, sitting in my garden he fucked me making me cum at least twice, but then I wasn’t counting.

Ridiculously, as Jane’s tongue had licked so gently along my lips I suddenly thought ‘I hope she doesn’t smell William’s cum.’ Of course she couldn’t kaçak bahis and wouldn’t for I had washed very carefully both after the sex in the garden and that during the long and lovely nights and the next day I spent with him.


The summer rolled on. Things got worse between Luke and me. As I more and more bitched at him, so he simply worked longer hours or stayed away from home more and for longer periods, I was never sure which was which. I started going out and not mentioning where I was going. Like the bastard he was turning out to be, he frustrated me, by not even enquiring where I was going or where I had been when I came home after him.

I was now having sex with Jane most weeks and with William on average, probably twice a week. I had none with Luke and I moved out of the marital bed on the grounds that I didn’t want him waking me when he came home late. The truth was I didn’t want to wake him when I came home late, sometimes smelling of William’s distinctive aftershave; it didn’t matter if I smelled of Amada’s perfume, for he wouldn’t even recognise mine let alone another woman’s.

To his credit, he insisted on moving into the main guest room, the room where Jane and I had first fucked and the room where William and I had slept. Even then, I was rather guilty of using the marital bed for my clandestine, adulterous sex. As that decadent summer wore on, that soon changed. There was even a time when William fucked me in my marital bed in the afternoon and I had sex with Jane in the evening at her apartment.

As the school holidays came about, I was more restricted with using Highgate for sex, especially with William. I could get away with it more with Jane, although actually sleeping together when the kids were there was a bridge too far.

We couldn’t use William’s house, the one that he and Jane had shared in Chigwell, for he had moved his parents into the five bedroom ‘mini mansion.’

So we took to using hotels, which I loved, I found checking in so erotic. Daft, but then there you go!

We had lots of sex in his car. Not the Porsche that often, although I did straddle him once like the terrace fuck on our first day, but in his other Porsche, the Cayenne, which he had recently purchased.

Jane and I made love most frequently at her apartment in Docklands, but sometimes in Highgate.

“Where are you?” I said when William phoned one Friday around seven whilst I was working on a particularly difficult piece of copy.

“I’m in Saint John’s Wood heading east and am badly in need of a fuck. Any ideas?”

I smiled. “Not really, how about you?”


“Such as?”

“Well how about I pick you up, take you to Highgate and fuck you rigid?”

“The second bit sounds good, but the kids have friends there for the night.”

“Fuck, that screws that. Fancy a hotel?”

“Tell you what, you come here and we’ll see what we can do,” I said feeling immediately very raunchy, which was becoming a fairly common occurrence during that amazing summer.

Since Jane and I had started making love, we had installed a shower room. Ostensibly for the staff after they cycled to work, the latest trend for commuting, or had been for a run at lunchtime, it’s main use, however, was for us after we had made love in the office. Yes we had overcome the sordid feeling of that.

“I’m outside,” William said into my mobile.

I buzzed the door unlock.

“Come in and come upstairs to the first floor.”

I sat there sipping a glass of Chablis waiting for him. The door opened.

“Wow this is some place,” he said looking round the boardroom.

It had a beech wood table that seated ten in plush leather chairs. At one end there was a floor to ceiling window overlooking Camden Lock and the market. At right angles to the window there were two four-seater sofas facing each another and a longer six-seater one backed up, against the window. They were made from a rich, black, soft leather, were extremely comfortable, were intended for more casual than board meetings and were perfect to have sex on, as Jane and I had found out several times.

I was sitting on the big sofa framed by the colour and lights of Camden lock. I was wearing my power stuff as I had been to a presentation earlier. White blouse with buttons up the front, a black’ Karen Millen skirt and jacket suit, self-support, lacy topped stockings and black patent leather high heels. I was lying back on the sofa and I had my feet on the smoked glass coffee table with my ankles crossed.

“We like it,” I replied.

“And wow Christina you look great,” he went on walking over and kissing me.

“Hi,” I whispered reaching up and holding the back of his hand. “Had a good day?”

“Great,” he said eyeing me up and down and seeing that where my skirt had ridden up there was an inch or so of lacy stocking tops on show. “And the closer I get the greater you look.”

Almost immediately I had heard his voice on the phone half an hour or so ago, I wanted him, I wanted to be shagged and I knew we would have sex, somewhere. As soon as I put the phone down I decided it would be here, in Jane’s and my office, our agency and right in the inner sanctum of the boardroom where she and I had made love.

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