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Pièce maîtresse

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In truth, Metella took it for a joke at first, another one of their absurd ideas. But then... as far as Bobinet and Gardefeu’s ideas went, it wasn’t the worst. Better this than something that might get them into trouble, when it hadn't been long since they last managed to escape it. So even though she’d just gotten out of the bath and was going to focus on her toilette, she decided to humour them for a bit. If without much enthusiasm.

When Bobinet stopped just short of her sex to pull down her stocking with his teeth, she could barely keep herself from rolling her eyes. She had only just put the thing on and moreover, if things already had to go this way, she preferred them to at least move along faster. It was just like Bobinet though. Stalling not only before the main event but before the prelude itself, an unnecessary overture for an overture. She supposed it was understandable now when, after escaping the clutches of cousin Juliette, he was only starting to get comfortable with their new arrangement. Gardefeu's teasing was of a different kind. He kissed the back of her hand as if he was still but an admirer or hers and Metella recognized it as payback for all the times she had tormented him before. But then he turned her hand and put his lips to her palm with a sensuousness reserved for other places and she felt gentle fingers on her sole sending shivers down her spine... Metella realized that they were sincere and what's more, it was actually not unpleasant. So while she had planned to put an end to this ridiculousness sooner rather than later, when two pairs of eyes fixed on her she found herself saying, after a moment of pondering, “Continue.”

Emboldened, Bobinet lightly traced a fingernail down the middle of her sole. Then a hint of stubble scraped against her skin as he kissed her arch. At the same time, Gardefeu’s soft tongue was dipping into the spaces between her fingers, tracing lines on her palm. And, caught up, she allowed herself to just feel — hot breath turning her moistened skin cool, tongues just this side of ticklish on places she would have never considered particularly sensitive. And of course, Gardefeu’s head bowed, Bobinet on his knees, lavishing attention on such usually neglected parts — everything came together to bring on a slow and creeping heat to her. In short, Metella felt tingly all over and quite pleasantly teased and she was happy to be suspended in this space of lavish attention for a while. Yet she inevitably found herself craving more. Feeling the urge to bring some relief to herself, she almost put her other hand between her thighs. But well — she rather enjoyed being fussed over at the moment.

Metella pulled her foot out of Bobinet’s grip and placed it down firmly on his crotch. He looked up at her, gaping; she felt his hardness twitching even through the fabric. And when Gardefeu paused, she fisted her fingers in his hair and pulled him down to her chest. Her dear husband needed no time to figure it out. Pushing her robe aside with nimble fingers, he sucked the tip of her breast into his mouth with a groan she couldn’t help but echo, finally—

Well, almost. Poor Bobinet, bless him, hadn’t quite caught on. Judging by the blush on his face, he was still processing her foot on him, eyes barely dropping when she spread her legs wider in invitation.

“It’s not the theatre, you know. There won't be a programme,” she said, keeping her voice as firm as she could while she was starting to feel rather shaky under Gardefeu’s ministrations. It seemed to her Bobinet needed a firm voice just now. And maybe a little more encouragement, she thought, and hooked her leg over his shoulder to provide some guidance in the right direction. The lack of pressure seemed to have allowed some blood to rush back to his head and thus alleviated his condition, for Bobinet leaned forward hastily, grabbing at her thighs. She bit her lip and threaded her fingers through his hair as he finally put his mouth just where it needed to be.

At last. Metella leaned back and closed her eyes. Bobinet’s enthusiastic tongue was moving between her folds, Gardefeu’s teeth were grazing her nipple — a firm hand on each head, she was directing them to her pleasure and when she slid her foot along Bobinet’s back, the rasp of fabric against her skin made her shiver like never before.

Truly, if only their ideas always turned out so interesting.