London 1:3 - the bedroom

The day had been spent dealing with business - Sophie slipped away for the afternoon to wrap up her financial dealings, whilst I spent a little time catching up with friends, telling them a little about my ongoing adventures in Paris, sharing a few ideas for paintings. By late afternoon we had both settled into the rented townhouse - part of a gorgeous Victorian terrace off Russell Square - and after tea together, we readied ourselves for the evening ahead. I dressed casually (we were, after all, the hosts of the evening's entertainment), and Sophie slipped into a stunning and sheer black dress, contemporary and stylish, exquisitely figure-hugging, her breasts barely covered by the deeply plunging halter neck. She looked good enough to eat. I very much looked forward to doing just that, later in the evening.

I knew that Sophie would have rules that she expected would be adhered to during the evening, but we didn't discuss it. I knew by now that her mantra at the beginning of these sessions - the instructions she liked to give when all were present - were actually part of the foreplay for her. It excited her to set these limits, and it needed to be done at the appropriate time. It gave her an element of control over the proceedings, control that excited her sexually - and she was the only one who could allow those limits to be broken (as she had the time that she and I watched the other couple, in similar circumstances to these). Sophie was always in control, and I was finding it increasingly arousing.

Henri and Kathryn arrived as arranged. Both were clearly nervous as I took their coats and led them through to the lounge - I wondered about their conversations together on the way to join us - had they set limits to one another? Would they simply watch? Would they feel compelled to touch each other, or had they agreed to retain their composure? Neither of them had done anything like this before, had never witnessed another couple making love - I felt sure this was by far the most sexually adventurous thing they had ever tried. All the more reason to try to ensure that this was an intense experience for them - I wanted to see them naked. I wanted to see them fuck each other. Such a wish might take extraordinary visual provocation. This was definitely going to be fun...

A glass or two of wine, and Sophie led us all up to our bedroom - a subtly lit extravaganza of silk drapes and velvet curtains, sheets of the softest cotton, a bed big enough for four, should such prove necessary. Just as she had during our previous brush with voyeurism, Sophie had arranged two chairs at the foot of the bed, soft and spacious, large enough to accomodate movement should they become aroused, close enough to enable them to touch each other as they watched us, and close enough to the bed to allow them to see whatever they wished.

Henri and Kathryn each took a seat by the bed. The wine had lowered their inhibitions a little, and despite a certain nervousness that still seemed apparent, an apprehension over what lay ahead, both seemed warm and aroused as they settled into their seats. Offering each other a reassuring glance, they looked to Sophie as she held my hand next to them, poised for our next move.

She spoke to them, then, quite firmly, so that no misconception could be construed. 'You are not to touch us,' she told them, 'We will brook no discussion about this. You do not have permission to touch us, no matter what you may see us do. You may look at us, if you wish, but you may not touch us. You may simply watch, and observe. Should you feel the need to touch yourselves, or each other, please feel free to do so, we wish you to enjoy yourselves.' Sophie smiled at them, turned to me, and kissed me softly. 'And now - please make yourselves comfortable in your seats, and we shall begin...'

to be continued...