Rock My Socks Off

FROM AN OLFACTORY PERSPECTIVE, Kate was all breath mints from the neck up. But the rest of her had an earthy scent that Jacob responded to with animal interest. There was no one or nothing that could make him forget that Normandie was in the room; but Kate was, like Normandie herself, a personality and a sexuality to be reckoned with. Her hair, handsomely cut and naturally frosty, seemed to frame her as a woman who could be anything she wanted to be. She could be a boss. She could be a colleague. Or, if she chose, she could be a flowering garden of ripe sensuality and erogenous flesh.
Her face glowed with exceptional intelligence and unabashed lasciviousness. She wanted to make you laugh and make you cream. And it was obvious to Jacob that she had always been this way.
‘Relax, Jacob,’ Normandie was saying.
The three of them had finished their round of cocktails. The late afternoon sun was splashing hedonistically onto the wooden floor of Normandie’s bookshelf-and-artwork-heavy apartment. Kate was leaning comfortably into the crook of the sofa, her silver hair kissing her shoulders. She looked magical in a turquoise-trimmed black ensemble of jersey and slacks, with bare feet giving her the perfect bohemian touch. Her nose was proud and her eyes liquid with charm, and Jacob couldn’t imagine that the woman had ever looked lovelier – at forty, thirty, or twenty.
He sat tentatively at the opposite end of the generous couch. Normandie stood behind him, her fingertips pulsing excitement onto the back of his neck, making the little hairs tingle.
‘So, young man,’ Kate said slowly. ‘Are you going to handle me, or do I need to let you put me on a goddamn magazine cover first?’ And, without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward and began, expertly, to handle him, stroking with calm determination through the stiff fabric of his trouser fly and sending electricity through him. After studying his reaction for a moment and seeming satisfied with it, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips.
She kisses like a teenager, thought Jacob. It was a revelation that, just by sitting here, he was making a university chair drool and moisten her panties like the first girl he’d fucked freshman year of college. And this revelation was a serious turn-on for him. He looked over his shoulder to establish eye contact with Normandie, hoping she would see the wildness in his eyes, knowing she would approve.
But Normandie’s eyes were closed, and the hand that wasn’t on his neck was inside the waistband of her slacks. She was saying something, almost too softly for Jacob to hear. ‘Go on …’ She said it repeatedly in a staccato whisper, a breath that rode the gallop of her arousal.
He pulled down Kate’s clingy midnight-black slacks, and he noticed how powerful her thighs were. He remembered Normandie telling him that Kate was a jogger, and generally in great shape. He wanted to make those strong thighs pump in spasms of uncontainable joy, and, toward that goal, he put a tentative hand on her black lace panties. Her tight, muscular tummy peeked out between the panties and the top, and he kissed her there while continuing to stroke her.
Suddenly, Kate flopped herself face down on the couch, pulling Jacob’s hand tightly against her crotch. She kicked her feet up onto the armrest and folded her arms beneath her head. She wiggled her ass for Jacob and squeezed the innermost meat of her thighs against his hand.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jacob saw Normandie lean forward from behind him. She began to pet Kate’s hair and breathe into her ear, and he felt Normandie’s erotic power combining with his own to pleasure this strong, self-actualised, prestigious woman. The rush that he felt watching her wriggle beneath their harmonised touches was incredible.
With every writhe he elicited from Kate, Jacob was conscious that this was a woman who had been writhing for men and women, and making them writhe in return, since more or less before he was born. He wanted to fuck Kate not only for her potent, in-this-moment desirability, but also for her glorious history. It ennobled and excited him to be part of a long parade of her lovers and her orgasms.
He wanted someone to hold his cock. ‘Please – unzip me,’ he said to Normandie, quietly, as if Kate’s ecstasy were a dream he was intent on preserving. Normandie, still stroking Kate’s strands of hair with her left hand, moved forward and unzipped Jacob with the right, retrieving him from his jeans, handling his dancing flesh as only she could.
With the phallic aspect of the situation safely in hand, Jacob assessed the needs of two luscious pussies, one of which currently housed his forefinger, and the other of which was patiently clothed within Normandie’s pinstriped slacks.
‘I can just reach you if you moon me,’ he told Normandie.
She temporarily reassigned the hand that had been petting Kate’s hair to the duty of undoing her own jeans, followed by the task of pushing pants and panties to the floor. In one graceful movement, she positioned her ass so that it faced Jacob, bent to receive her pleasure, and resumed stroking Kate. All the while, she continued clutching Jacob’s cock.
Jacob began to pat and tickle Normandie all over her glorious bottom, integrating these attentions into the rhythm he was using to titillate Kate’s pussy. When his left hand migrated to Normandie’s snatch, he removed his right hand from Kate’s. Holding Kate by the knee, he moved his face in and tasted her essence.