Our relationship with Eve had always been built on raw nerves. Five years of marriage, and she still managed to knock the ground from under my feet. Especially on days like this. Our wedding anniversary - to her, it was a sacred date, an excuse to outdo herself in inventiveness. That morning, she had been suspiciously quiet, just smiling out of the corner of her mouth while stirring her coffee and throwing me brief, lingering looks that made me ache between the legs.
Late that evening, when the bedroom was drowned in the thick, orange glow of the floor lamp, she ordered me to sit on the edge of the bed. A strip of black silk flashed in her hands - her favourite sleep mask, soft and completely lightproof.
"Adam," she breathed into my ear, tying the knot at the back of my head. Darkness fell instantly. I sat there, hearing nothing but my own pulse. "You trust me, don't you? We're going to play tonight. Promise me you won't take off the blindfold and that you're going just feel, not look."
I nodded, feeling my throat go dry. I trusted her, sure, but this woman was capable of just about any fucked-up fantasy.
At first, I heard footsteps. Eve walked out of the bedroom, but returned almost immediately. Only the footsteps were different now. Softer, stealthier. The scent of Eve's perfume - sharp, with notes of cinnamon - mingled with another fragrance: sweet vanilla, delicate and floral. My heart skipped a beat. I realised we weren't alone in the room.
"I want to give you a present, darling," Eve's voice came from somewhere near the armchair opposite the bed. She didn't come closer, clearly settling into the role of a spectator. "At your complete disposal tonight is someone very special. Don't be afraid. Recognize her."
Someone approached me. I felt someone else's cool fingers rest on my cheek. Not Eve's - I knew her hands down to the last line. These were plumper, softer, with noticeably longer nails that gently scratched my cheekbone. The sweet scent of vanilla enveloped me. No words. Just breathing - anxious, hitched, right in front of my face.
The girl, whoever she was, dropped to her knees in front of me. I heard her joints crack slightly. She moved uncertainly, as if asking for permission, but there was no fear in her movements. Just anticipation. Cool palms rested on my thighs, squeezing them through the fabric of my trousers, and her hot breath touched my fly. Eve was silent, and only by her rapid breathing could I tell how turned-on she was by the sight.
I couldn't see a thing, but I felt everything so much more intensely. How someone else's fingers, trembling slightly, tried to struggle with my belt. How the zip gave way with a quiet rasp that felt deafening in the silence. How my cock, already aching from the surge of blood, was finally freed, instantly pressing its head against something wet and soft. Her lips.
The first touch of her tongue was timid, exploratory. She didn't pounce like a starved whore; she was tasting me. She slowly dragged her tongue around the head, pulled back slightly as if gauging the texture and scent, and then slid back down, taking me deeper into her mouth. A soft groan drowned in my flesh.
"Do you like it?" Eve's quiet, self-assured voice came from the darkness. She wasn't speaking to me.
"What does he taste like, Lilith?"
Lilith. The name fell like a flash of light. Lilith - that was her best friend's name. A quiet, modest married woman whom we often saw at dinner parties, and with whom we had never, ever crossed the line into suggestive jokes. I sucked in air sharply. Eve had driven me mad. She had given me to her best friend while sitting there and watching.
Lilith's mouth was hot and unexpectedly skilled. She worked diligently, licking my dick from my balls to the very tip, gathering the pre-cum with her tongue, slurping and sucking with a wet, filthy sound I never would have expected from such a reserved woman. Her long, vanilla-scented hair tickled my lower stomach as she slid down especially deep, taking the whole length down her throat. And every time she managed to swallow particularly deep, she let out a quiet, satisfied hum, and I heard Eve make an approving sound from the armchair.
"And now," Eve spoke up again, her voice hoarse and commanding, "I want to see him come. Right now. Do it, Lilith. I'm giving you permission."
Those words made my balls tighten.
It wasn't a request; it was a command. And Lilith obeyed. She groaned - openly now, greedily - and worked her head as quickly and deeply as she could One hand kneaded my balls, gently pulling them down, while the other gripped the base of my cock as her tongue worked something incredible on my dick. In the absolute darkness, orange spots drifted before my eyes, while a wet, slurping rhythm filled my ears.
The orgasm twisted me double. I arched into her mouth, gripping the duvet in my fists, and began to spill in long, pulsing bursts. Lilith didn't pull away. She drank it all, swallowing greedily, as if trying to drain every last drop out of me until she felt the pulsing die down. Only then did she gently let me slip from her mouth, licking her dry lips at the last moment to catch the remnants of my come.
For several seconds, there was silence. Only the three of us, breathing heavily.
The armchair creaked. I heard Eve's soft, cat-like footsteps approaching the bed. She sat down beside me and took off the blindfold. I blinked, adjusting to the dim light. Down at my feet, kneeling, was a flushed Lilith - wearing nothing but her underwear, her lips swollen from my size, her eyes glossy and dazed. A thin thread of spit and semen stretched from her chin.
Eve leaned over and locked her mouth to mine in a long, searching kiss. She licked my lips, pushing her tongue inside, and I knew - she wanted to taste her, to smell her on me, without mixing it with herself.
"Happy anniversary, darling," she whispered against my mouth, stroking my still-strained neck. "Now... you don't mind if Lilith watches how much I love riding your cock until it gets hard again, do you? The fun's only just getting started."
