Chapter 8: Face-Sitting Domination
The fire had burned to embers, painting their sprawled, exhausted bodies in a faint, dying glow. The room was a cathedral of spent desire, the air thick with the musky scent of sex and woodsmoke. Char lay on her back, staring at the vaulted ceiling, Josh’s drying cum cool on her sternum. Tom’s breath was a steady rhythm against her neck. Emily was a small, warm weight tucked against her side, already asleep.
A profound stillness settled over them, deeper than sleep. It was the quiet of a battlefield after the war, of a feast after the last bite. The relentless, sun-drenched hedonism of the day, culminating in the wordless, frantic communion on the rug, had hollowed them out completely. For a long time, no one spoke. There was only the pop of a cooling ember, the distant hum of the refrigerator, the slow syncing of their breaths.
Tom was the first to move. With a soft grunt, he pushed himself up on one elbow. He looked down at Char, his eyes dark pools in the low light. Gently, he used the edge of a discarded towel to wipe the streaks of Josh’s release from her skin. The gesture was so tender it made Char’s throat tighten. He then did the same for Emily, who murmured in her sleep.
“Come on,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Let's get you to bed. Proper sleep is needed.”
They moved like sleepwalkers, helping each other up, supporting each other’s weight. They left the wreckage of the evening—the empty glasses, the rumpled rug, the towels—for the silent, judging morning. The trek upstairs to the master bedroom felt endless.
Char surfaced from sleep not with a start, but with a deep, groggy inhalation. The world was indigo and soft, the sky a deep velvet pricked by early stars. The air had cooled, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine and damp stone. Her neck was stiff where it rested against Tom’s shoulder. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. She blinked, trying to orient herself. “It is fucking dark. We’re still out by the pool.”
A low groan came from the tangle of limbs. Emily shifted, her hair a dark smudge against Josh’s chest. “What time is it?” she slurred.
Tom stirred, his arm tightening around Char. He squinted at the dim outline of the house, where lights had automatically flickered on. “Must be past eight. We slept for hours.” He moved, unfolding his large frame with a series of audible pops. “Showers. Light clothing. Dinner’s catered, delivery will be soon.” He stood, offering a hand first to Char, then to Emily, who took it with a sleepy smile. Josh was already up, stretching his arms toward the darkening sky, the muscles in his back defined in the low light before he turned and padded toward the glowing rectangle of the patio door.
The evening was upon them, a palpable shift in the air. The frantic, sun-drenched hedonism of the day was now a warm, sore memory in their muscles. This was different. A deliberate, night-time transition. They moved through the large, silent house, turning on lamps that cast pools of gold on the hardwood. The silence was comfortable, filled with the rustle of robes being shed, the sound of cupboard doors opening for clean towels.
The shower was a communal, less frantic affair than the last. It was about washing off the sweat and chlorine and sleep, a practical reset. Char soaped Emily’s back, her hands moving in slow, gentle circles over the delicate shoulder blades. Josh shampooed his hair under one spray head, eyes closed. Tom stood under another, letting the hot water beat on his neck and shoulders, his gaze distant, planning. There were kisses, but they were soft, fleeting—a press of lips on a damp shoulder, a nuzzle against a wet neck—more about connection than ignition. They dried each other with thick towels, the terrycloth rough on sensitive skin.
In the master bedroom, they rummaged through drawers and bags. The ‘light clothing’ directive was interpreted loosely. Char chose a simple, sleeveless silk slip dress the color of dark wine, which clung to her hips and thighs before falling straight. She wore nothing beneath it. Emily emerged in one of Char’s borrowed cashmere sweaters, an oversized dove-grey thing that swallowed her small frame, the neck slipping off one shoulder. She paired it with tiny, black lace shorts. The men opted for soft, worn cotton trousers and thin Henleys.
They looked like a catalog for impossible, intimate luxury. The ghosts of the day’s activities lingered in their slow movements, in the way their eyes met and held for a beat too long, in the casual brush of a hand against a lower back as they passed in the hallway.
The doorbell chimed, a melodic echo through the house. Tom went to deal with the delivery, returning with insulated bags that emitted fantastic, savory smells. They unpacked the feast on the broad dining table without ceremony: seared scallops, a salad of bitter greens and roasted pears, cold poached salmon with dill, a still-warm baguette. They opened a bottle of crisp white wine, then another.
They ate standing around the kitchen island, using fingers and good bread to sop up sauces. The conversation was light, lazy, punctuated by the clink of glasses.
“That fucking sun,” Josh said, shaking his head. “I’m roasted.”
“You’re not the one who was on their knees on hot stone,” Char replied, arching an eyebrow, and the shared memory flashed between them all, a current under the surface.
Emily giggled, sipping her wine. “Worth it.”
They migrated to the living room, where Tom put on music—something low and rhythmic with a deep, electronic pulse. The lights were dim. The wine and the food and the residual exhaustion from the day combined into a warm, buzzing lethargy. But it was a fertile lethargy.
Char set her glass down on the limestone coffee table. The music thumped softly in her bones. She looked at Tom, who was leaning against the far wall, watching her. She looked at Josh, who was sprawled on the deep sofa, Emily curled against him. Without a word, she began to move. It wasn’t a performance. It was an unwinding. Her body, still tender, swayed to the beat, the silk of her dress whispering against her skin. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back, her arms rising slowly.
Emily watched, mesmerized, then unwound herself from Josh. She stepped into the space beside Char, her movements smaller, more tentative at first, then gaining confidence. They danced not with each other, but in parallel, two expressions of the same sensation. The oversized sweater slipped further down Emily’s arm. The hem of Char’s dress rode up her thighs.
Tom pushed off the wall. He moved behind Char, his hands settling on her hips, his body fitting against the curve of her ass. He swayed with her, his chin resting on her shoulder, his lips near her ear. Josh rose, drawn to Emily. He stood before her, not touching her, just moving with her, his eyes dark as they traced the line of her neck, the exposed curve of her breast from the gaping sweater.
The dancing was a slow burn. A hand would land on a waist, then slide around to the stomach, pulling a body close. A kiss would be placed on a pulse point, then another on a waiting mouth. The music faded into a new track, the bass heavier. Char turned in Tom’s arms, kissing him deeply, her fingers tangling in his hair. When they parted, she was facing Josh. She reached for him, pulling him into her, kissing him with the same open-mouthed hunger while Tom’s hands cupped her breasts through the silk, his thumbs finding her nipples, making her gasp into Josh’s mouth.
Emily watched, her breath quickening. She slipped her hands under Char’s dress from behind, her small palms smoothing over the perfect curves of Char’s ass. Char broke from Josh, throwing her head back against Emily’s shoulder as Emily’s fingers dug into her short blonde curly hairs just above her pussy . Tom, seeing his wife enveloped, reached for Emily. He turned her head and kissed her, his hand sliding under the cashmere, finding the bare skin of her back, then sliding down to grip the flimsy lace covering her ass.
It was a slow, deliberate undressing. The silk dress was peeled from Char’s shoulders, letting it puddle at her feet. The cashmere sweater was pulled over Emily’s head, leaving her in just the lace shorts. The men’s Henleys were tugged off, their trousers pushed down. They moved to the larger, open space of the rug before the fireplace, a landscape of bare skin in the firelight that Tom had lit with a remote.
Tom laid Char down on the thick wool. Her body was a pale arc in the flickering light. He knelt between her legs, but didn’t enter her immediately. He simply looked, his gaze traveling from her face, down her throat, over her breasts, to the thatch of blonde curls and the swollen, glistening lips beneath. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Josh guided Emily to her knees beside Char’s head. “You wanted to learn,” he said, his voice rough. “Watch her. Learn from the best.”
Emily nodded, her eyes wide and serious. She watched as Tom lowered his mouth to Char’s cunt. But he didn’t just eat her out immediately. He talked her through it, his words muffled against her flesh. “See how she swells,” he said, using his thumbs to part her, exposing the slick, pink inner flesh to Emily’s rapt gaze. “Taste here,” he instructed, his tongue delivering a long, flat stroke that made Char jolt and cry out. “It’s all salt and her.”
Emboldened, Emily leaned down beside Tom’s head. She mimicked his motion, her tongue tentative at first, then gaining confidence as Char’s hips lifted off the rug. Char’s hands flew to both of their heads, her fingers threading through their hair, not guiding, just holding on as two mouths worked her. The sensation was unbelievable, a double-pronged assault of licking and sucking that had her seeing stars behind her clenched eyelids. “Right there, both of you, don’t stop,” she chanted, her voice breaking.
Josh watched, stroking himself with a slow, tight fist. But the sight of his wife eagerly lapping at another woman’s pussy, being taught by her husband, was too much. He needed to be inside that heat. He moved, positioning himself at Char’s mouth. She opened her eyes, her gaze blurry with pleasure, and saw him there. Without a word, she opened her mouth, her tongue darting out. He fed his cock to her, and she took him deep, the penetration of her mouth syncing with the dual rhythm below.
Tom lifted his head, his chin slick. He looked at Emily’s diligent, hungry work, at his wife’s body writhing under the twin attentions. “Now me,” he said to Emily, his voice a command. He shifted, lying back on the rug. “Sit on my face. Let me taste you while you taste her.”
Emily didn’t need to be asked twice. She straddled Tom’s head, lowering her dripping cunt onto his waiting mouth. He seized her hips, pulling her down firmly, his tongue spearing into her. Emily’s cry was muffled as she immediately leaned back down, burying her face between Char’s legs again with renewed fervor.
Char was lost in a whirlpool of sensation. Josh’s cock fucking her throat, the two hot, wet mouths devouring her pussy, the sounds of sloppy, hungry eating filling the room. Her orgasm built not as a wave, but as a sudden, catastrophic detonation. It ripped through her without warning, a silent, breathless convulsion that locked every muscle. She screamed around Josh’s cock, her back arching violently off the floor.
The violent clenching of her cunt against their tongues made Tom and Emily redouble their efforts. Emily came with a sharp, keening wail, her juices spilling into Tom’s avid mouth. Her convulsions made her grind down on him harder, which sent him over the edge. He gripped her ass, holding her tight as he licked and sucked her through her climax, groaning into her wet flesh.
Josh, feeling Char’s throat constrict around him in a rhythmic, gagging pulse, could last no longer. With a shout, he pulled his cock from her mouth, stroking himself roughly. Thick, hot ropes of cum splashed across Char’s breasts and neck.
For a long moment, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and their collective, shattered breathing. They lay in a spent, glistening heap on the rug.
Later, much later, they found themselves in the master bedroom. The emerald silk curtains were drawn against the night, and the only light came from a single low lamp, casting the king-sized bed in a pool of soft gold. The earlier frenzy had mellowed into a deep, liquid desire. They were sore, sated from one kind of hunger, but awake with another—the last one, the farewell.
Char stood by the bed, looking at Josh, who sat on the edge, his body a landscape of hard muscle and fading sunlight from the day. She walked to him, placed a hand on his chest, and pushed gently. He fell back onto the mattress, and she followed, climbing over him, her knees settling on either side of his head. She lowered her hips, her swollen, sensitive pussy hovering just above his mouth.
“Make me cum with that talented tongue,” she breathed, her voice husky with promise.
Josh needed no further invitation. His hands came up to grip her thighs, pulling her down onto his face. He didn’t tease. He devoured. His tongue plunged into her, lapping at her juices with a focused, greedy intensity. Char cried out, her head falling back, her hands bracing on the bed behind her.
On the bed beside them, Tom watched for a heated moment, his cock already hard again. Then he turned to Emily, who was watching Char and Josh with wide, hungry eyes. He took her by the hips and turned her, guiding her onto all fours. Her petite body was a beautiful contrast to the dark expanse of the duvet. He positioned himself behind her, his hands smoothing over the perfect, round globes of her ass.
“You remember what to do, baby?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
“Yes,” Emily whispered, pushing her ass back towards him in invitation. I've watched Char do it, I learned!
Tom spat into his palm, slicked his length, and guided himself to her entrance. He pushed in, not slowly, but with one deep, solid thrust that buried him to the hilt inside her! Emily gasped, her back arching, her fingers clutching at the sheets. “Fuck, Tom, so deep, so quick, so nice!”
He began to move, setting a punishing, rhythmic pace. His hips snapped forward, driving into her with wet, slapping sounds that echoed off the bedroom walls. Each impact was a sharp, meaty crack, a brutal counterpoint to the wet, sucking sounds coming from where Char rode Josh’s face.
Char was grinding herself against Josh’s mouth, her hips making slow, deep circles. “Yes, just like that,” she moaned, her eyes closed in concentration. “Use your tongue… fuck, Josh… right there.”
Josh’s response was to dig his fingers deeper into her ass cheeks, spreading her open wider for his tongue, which speared and circled her clit with relentless precision. He was fucking her with his face, his nose buried in her blonde curls.
Beside them, Tom’s thrusts grew harder, faster. He was pounding into Emily with a ferocious hunger, his balls slapping against her ass. Emily was moaning incoherently, a stream of “yes” and “more” and “don’t stop” tumbling from her lips. She pushed back against him, meeting each thrust, taking everything he gave her. The sight of her, so small and being so thoroughly claimed, sent a fresh surge of heat through Char.
Char’s orgasm began as a slow, deep ache that tightened low in her belly. It built with each lap of Josh’s tongue, each groan from Emily, each wet slap of Tom’s flesh against Emily’s. She started to rock faster, fucking Josh’s face in earnest now, her cries climbing in pitch. “I’m gonna come… oh god, I’m gonna come all over your face!”
Her climax hit her like a tidal wave. It tore a raw, screaming shout from her throat. Her body locked, then convulsed, her pussy clenching and fluttering against Josh’s mouth as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. Josh drank her in, his tongue working her through the violent pulses.
The sound of Char’s screaming peak pushed Tom over the edge. With a guttural roar, he slammed into Emily one last, brutal time and held there, his entire body rigid as he emptied himself deep inside her in hot, over 10 hot pulsing jets. Emily cried out, her own orgasm triggered by his final thrust and the feel of him filling her. She felt every delicious spurt against her vaginal walls then collapsed forward onto the bed, dragging Tom down with her.
In the sudden, heavy quiet, broken only by ragged gasps, Char slowly lifted herself off Josh’s face. She was trembling, weak-kneed. She crawled down his body, her mouth finding his, kissing him deeply, letting him taste herself on his lips and tongue. Then she turned, still shaking, and saw Tom and Emily collapsed together on the bed, still joined.
She moved to them, curling against Tom’s back, her hand reaching over him to rest on Emily’s heaving side. Josh joined them, spooning behind Char, his arm draping over her waist. They lay like that, a tangled, sweat-slicked chain of limbs and spent passion, in the quiet, gold-lit room. No one spoke. The farewell had been given, raw and complete. The only thing left was the gentle, slow descent into sleep, wrapped in the warm, shared breath of their extraordinary, ordinary night.
The only thing left was the gentle, slow descent into sleep, wrapped in the warm, shared breath of their extraordinary, ordinary night.
A thin, grey light was seeping around the edges of the curtains when Char opened her eyes. The room was a still life of tangled limbs and bare skin. Tom’s arm was heavy across her waist. Emily’s hair tickled her shoulder. Josh’s breath warmed the back of her neck. She lay perfectly still, cataloging the aches—a pleasant soreness in her thighs, a deep twinge in her core, the faint burn of stretch marks on her skin.
She carefully extracted herself, limb by limb, from the knot of bodies. The cool air raised goosebumps on her skin as she padded silently across the plush carpet. In the ensuite bathroom, she turned the shower to a hot, stinging blast. The water sluiced away the night—the dried sweat, the phantom traces of touch, the lingering scent of sex. She scrubbed her skin until it glowed pink, feeling both hollowed out and impossibly full.
Wrapped in a soft robe, she headed downstairs. The house was profoundly quiet, a cathedral holding the echoes of their laughter and moans. In the kitchen, she moved with a quiet purpose, filling the silence with domestic sounds: the clink of ceramic, the hiss of the coffee maker, the sizzle of butter in a pan. She whipped eggs, fried thick slabs of bacon, sliced fruit, and piled toast onto a platter. The smells, rich and greasy and comforting, began to displace the musk of the night.
Footsteps on the stairs, slow and tentative, announced the others. Josh appeared first, dressed in his jeans and a t-shirt, his hair damp. He smiled, a little shyly, and came straight to her at the stove. “Good morning, Char,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. He wrapped his arms around her from behind in a loose hug, his chin resting on her shoulder.
Emily was right behind him, slipping into the hug, her arms around Char’s waist. “Oh, Char,” she murmured, pressing her face into Char’s robe. “I love you so much. I’m going to miss you every day.”
Char turned off the burner and turned in their embrace, smiling. She placed a light, soft kiss on Josh’s lips, then another on Emily’s. “I’m going to miss you both, too,” she whispered. “Now eat. Before it gets cold.”
They settled around the kitchen island, loading plates, the mood a comfortable, sleepy silence punctuated by the clatter of cutlery. Tom appeared last, freshly showered, in a simple t-shirt and shorts. He gave Emily a bright, warm smile and a brief, firm kiss on the cheek. He approached Josh, offering his hand for a solid, meaningful handshake. “We have so enjoyed our weekend with you guys,” Tom said, his pilot’s voice clear and earnest. “It’s been a very memorable and quite remarkable time with you two. We look forward to having you over again very soon.”
They laughed then, the sound easy and real, as they reminisced. “Remember when you couldn’t find your shorts?” Emily giggled, pointing a fork at Josh. “They were on the cabana roof!”
“Or when Tom did that dive and made a splash bigger than you,” Josh countered, grinning at Char. “And you just gave him that look.”
“The look that said ‘my hero’?” Tom joked, puffing out his chest, and they all laughed again, the sounds mingling with the scent of coffee and maple syrup.
The goodbyes at the door were prolonged and warm. There were more hugs, lingering kisses on cheeks, promises to text about the drive. Char watched from the doorway, her arms crossed against the morning chill, as Josh packed their bag into the car and Emily blew one last kiss. The sedan pulled away, the taillights disappearing around the curve of the long driveway.
Tom closed the door, turning the quiet house inwards once more. He leaned against it, looking at Char. A slow, deep smile spread across his face. “Did you ask Emily if they would like to come over maybe one weekend each month?”
Char’s eyes sparkled. She walked to him, sliding her hands up his chest. “Yes,” she said, her voice low and playful. “And she said, ‘How about twice a month?’”
Tom barked a laugh, loud and joyful in the stillness. He pulled her into a tight embrace, spinning her once. They held each other, their laughter subsiding into soft, shared smiles, just imagining those future happenings.
In the car, the silence was different. It was the silence of a world re-adjusted, of returning to a reality that now felt slightly foreign. Josh drove one-handed, the other resting on the console. After several miles, he glanced at Emily. “I hope we can see them again one weekend.”
Emily looked out the window, a small, secret smile on her lips. “I told Char maybe twice a month might be nice.”
Josh’s breath caught. He shifted in the driver’s seat, the denim of his jeans suddenly tight across his lap. Emily noticed the movement, her smile widening into a knowing grin. She reached over and placed her hand on his thigh, feeling the hard proof of his arousal through the fabric. “I think we both learned a lot from them this weekend,” she said softly, her fingers tracing the taut line. “Which changed us for the better. Better lovers. Better givers. More trust in each other.” She squeezed gently, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And, well… to be quite honest, . . . .a lot more great fucking than I ever expected.” Josh laughed as Emmy unzipped his pants, worked his now erect cock out and began to gently suck him. . . . .off!