Exhibitionist to Swinger: Chapter 07
After I took Ben back to his South London home, Renée and I went for a long walk together; we had taken a couple of monumental steps opening up our relationship, and I’d offered the next biggest leap to her. It was exhilarating and daunting.
I was strangely relaxed by Renée’s behaviour, and we walked hand-in-hand to the river, and then, as the sun dipped below the skyline, we sat in a bar for a couple of drinks. “I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in if it wasn’t for Marie and Graeme and Steven,” she reminded me, recounting her first few years in the company. Renée had told me before, but she loved to retell it, and I let her wax lyrical about her mentors when she was the same age as Ben.
Mixing business with her pursuit of personal pleasure and her erotic exploration was a risk, but she disregarded my concerns. “All the directors have had one-night stands or affairs with other employees,” she said. “Every single director. The Christmas party is just to match lots of people in dead bedrooms for a few hours of uncomplicated screwing. Why can men chase younger skirt, but I can’t have younger dick? If Ben reported to me, then I’d need to fill in a form and declare it to HR. But I won’t ever be his manager.”
“But rumours, whispers, gossip?”
Renée downed her drink, chuckling. “I wore a G-string skimpy bikini at the company conference. My reputation is what it is! Last year, HR informed me a list had been circulating around the male-dominated sales team of the female employees they’d most like to fuck. And I was second.” She shrugged. “I told them I was outraged and demanded to know what I needed to do to get to number one! They were planning disciplinaries too until we put a stop to it. Fantasies are fine. It just mustn’t go any further in the workplace. And it hadn’t. Not one guy had ever been anything other than respectful to me. It would have been different if they had been chauvinistic or abusive.”
We ambled back to our house and spent the evening with Poppy, curled up naked on the couch as we watched a film.
The following morning, I made breakfast for our young guest after Renée had driven to work; she’d loved the time she stayed with us and had a much easier commute. I think she wanted to move closer to Putney; Lucille was the only family she was on speaking terms with, and her friends lived too far away from the affluent village outside Windsor. We represented excitement and freedom, as well as sexual adventure. I declined her offer of a blowjob before she left, and I settled for just a kiss.
Renée worked late on Monday and Tuesday, and as arranged between my girlfriend and her latest project, I met Ben outside the bookmaker at two minutes past seven on Wednesday. He yawned as he got in the car. “Morning, you good?”
He held the book Renée had given him. “Nervous,” he replied.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
He rubbed his palms on his joggers and exhaled sharply. “Dunno. I’ve never done a proper interview before. Just McDonald’s when I was sixteen.” He was quiet as the car slipped through the early morning traffic; the complete opposite of his behaviour a few days before when his excited demeanour filled every morsel of silence. “I don’t want to disappoint Renée,” he admitted.
I’d been there, and I reassured him, but it didn’t calm his nerves. He looked at his phone and read his notes. My partner met us in the hallway with a coffee and a croissant; she was already in “work mode” dressed in a beige pantsuit.
“Eat this. Drink that. Shower through there, Suit is here. You have five minutes.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You will be,” she snapped.
“I feel sick.”
“You will be if you don’t have sustenance. Eat this. Drink that. You now have four minutes and forty seconds.”
The dominant side of Renée was nothing like the playful exhibitionist Ben was used to, and he obeyed, wolfing down the croissant.
A few minutes later, he stood in the lounge as she adjusted his tie. “What would you say your biggest weakness is?” She snapped at him, the fifth in the mock interview questions.
“Ummm …”
“Don’t say ummm. It’s indecisive.” His hands trembled as she straightened his lapel.
“Ahhh, well, errr, I’d guess it … eeee … it is that I, maybe. Well, I’ve never done ….”
His nerves were clear, and I gave my suggested response. “Obviously, my greatest weakness is my inexperience in this role. However, that also means that I am more malleable and will not be driven by preconceptions or suffer bad habits. I’m keen to learn and …” I started as Renée glared at me. “What? I’ve had interviews too!”
My girlfriend gave him a better model answer and didn’t relent, firing questions at him and testing his answers. “Refer to the notes I sent you,” she replied when he stammered again, forcing him to recite his responses time after time.
When he left with Renée for her work, he was more anxious than when I picked him up. But my high-flying girlfriend had done this before. She’d mentored interns, graduates, and proteges like Angelica. My lover had a way of sharpening people, honing their edges until they gleamed and shined. She recognised potential and gave them opportunities.
She assumed her latest project would be no different, and two hours later, I received a message from my girlfriend. “He did well.” Nothing more. No elaboration.
She returned home mid-afternoon with Ben, and she dialled in a transatlantic meeting while I took him back to Croydon after he’d changed out of his smart suit. He said his assessment went relatively smoothly, better than expected. He’d stumbled at first, but felt comfortable, especially with one interviewer the longer the interview progressed.
Renée recounted a similar story. “They liked him,” she told me over dinner. “Kaye particularly. His long-term plans. They appreciated his ambition.” She took a gulp of wine. “Especially when he asked his questions, and he nailed all the ones I gave him. Asking about career progression and opportunities rather than pay and holidays. But the decision won’t be made until Friday. And he won’t know until Monday.” A pause. “Kaye really liked his answer about his past misdemeanours when they raised his conviction and his tag. He handled it positively.”
“Do you think he’ll get it?”
Renée’s fork hovered over her salad as she considered my question. “Kaye’s a pragmatist, and she hates arrogance and ego. She won’t care about his record at all.” A slow smirk curled her lips. “She wants someone who will learn, do as they’re told and be quietly competent. He blushed when she complimented his suit and tie. Gordon, I don’t know that well. But I reckon so.”
Apart from a call from Poppy on Thursday, the week progressed uneventfully. Renée’s phone rang as we finished a late dinner, with Poppy’s name appearing on the screen. Renée answered on speaker. “Guess who just got a pearl necklace in the disabled toilets?” Her friend’s breathless giggle filled the room. “I wore my sluttiest dress for a date. He’s not my type as he’s a divorced forty-year-old, but any port in a storm. And my love life is like a hurricane at the moment. But the sanctimonious little twat cancelled last minute while I’m waiting outside the bar. And some posh bastard in a Barbour jacket thought I was a prossie! So, he bought me a couple of drinks, said I was flashing my knickers. I told him that’s impossible as I wasn’t wearing any and then showed him. And then we ended up in the bogs trading handies. He came all over me.”
I left my girlfriend to give sexual advice to her wayward friend, retreating to the study with a whisky as Poppy’s graphic descriptions echoed through the house. Renée’s laughter carried as I settled down with my strategic computer game.
And the young nymph’s arrival on Friday did not surprise me. Renée had tickets for a play that night, and she refused to say anything about Ben’s interview. We went for a long run on Saturday as the weather became cooler. The two women wore the skimpiest, tightest, lightweight garments that drew appreciative stares and lingering glances as we ran along the Thames to Greenwich and back again. We showered together, and I fucked my girlfriend while Poppy watched, her fingers teasing her own wetness.
Then, we dried ourselves, wrapped in towels, and lounged on our double bed. Renée’s lips danced over Poppy’s clit, drawing a squealing orgasm from the young woman. The two women met up with friends in central London, spending Saturday evening at an underground bar, downing cocktails; I picked up the pair of tipsy hedonists from the station just before midnight and they staggered into the kitchen.
Once again, I was dispatched to pick Ben up from outside the bookmaker around 7am. He thanked me as he entered the car. “Good?”
He sighed. “Signed on. But I told my probation officer about my interview and she’s happy for me. Mum’s boyfriend is giving me grief about being in the flat. Has Renée heard anything?”
“Not as far as I know.” The car rolled forward onto the empty road as Ben fidgeted with his phone. “You nervous?”
“Fuckin’ terrified,” he admitted, rubbing his palms against his thighs. “I’ve been replaying every answer in my head all week. And I’m sure I misjudged some of them. What if I …”
I interrupted him. “You didn’t. Renée doesn’t waste her time. And if she thought you’d messed it up, she’d have told you by now. Her honesty is fucking brutal.”
He hummed, and there was a quiver in his voice as he recounted his week. Renée kept telling him, “No excuses,” when he tried to excuse a misfortune in their interview prep. His background, his school, his college, his conviction and his curfew were not reasons to fail, and she underlined this forcefully and explicitly at the time.
But I recognised the fear. He viewed Wednesday as a pivotal point in his life; if he failed to land the role with Renée’s company, then he would go back to job hunting that would fit around a college course he might not be able to do. While trapped in a small flat with difficult living conditions.
The alternative was that he started employment at a major company, earning money and working towards his qualifications. Kick-starting his career and getting his life on track.
Ben was silent as the car moved forward. “You won’t be waiting long,” I told him in the silence as the driveway loomed ahead and I parked on the gravel drive. The front door swung open before we reached it, and Poppy stepped from the house wearing nothing but Ben’s new tie around her neck. She twirled on the front step, letting the silk tails flutter against her bare breasts. His eyes widened as she beckoned him from the vehicle with her outstretched finger.
“Does she ever wear clothes?” He asked, half-laughing at the playful twenty-something.
“Not unless she really needs to,” I replied, shaking my head at Poppy’s antics. The girl was shameless in her exhibitionism, a trait Renée often adored. Ben hesitated only a second before leaving the car and following her inside, his excitement overriding his nerves. The house smelled of fresh coffee and feminine perfume. Floral and fruity. My girlfriend stood at the bottom of the stairs in a mesh robe and high heels, holding her hand out for our guest.
There was an elegance to her, contrasting with the playful exuberance of the younger Poppy. She tossed her gown onto the floor as she stepped into our lounge, her shoes tapping on the hardwood. Ben’s fingers trembled as she picked up an envelope from the sofa. His eyes stared at her curves as she seated herself. “A letter for you. It was going in the post on Monday, but I said I’d pass it on,” she explained, and he reached for it. “When you are properly dressed.”
Poppy giggled, cocking her hips as she stepped towards him. “Or undressed.”
I noticed that the envelope was thin; there was just a single piece of paper within it, and I instinctively imagined a “thank you for your application, but” letter. Poppy’s fingers closed over the hem of his T-shirt as she helped undress the nervous teenager. His joggers fell to his ankles, and he stepped out of them.
“Please?” he asked, holding out his hand, and she passed it to him. “You know what it says?”
“I have an idea,” Renée replied, her expression plain and calm. “But I don’t know.” His hands trembled as he struggled to open the envelope; the near-naked Poppy placed her hand on his lower back as he ripped apart the flap and pulled the paper free.
“Thank you for your application and interview. We are delighted to offer you …” he read aloud, his voice trailing as his eyes scanned the letter. “I got it?”
Renée beamed. “It would appear so. In which case, there will be a full contract of employment and reference request pack going out too then. He needs a professional reference and two personal references. They need to have known you for at least a year, and they cannot be an employee of the company or anyone living with them.” She looked at Poppy. “Maybe you would?”
“But we only met a few weeks ago …”
Renée interrupted him. “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”
The young woman understood before Ben did. “Of course. We’ve known each other for years. Old friends,” she giggled, tapping the naked man on the arm. “I’ll give you my number.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, rereading the letter. He couldn’t hide his grin or his smile. “And twenty-three thousand pounds. That’s … like … a fortune. I can afford to rent a house with that, can’t I?”
Poppy sniggered. “Not quite. A room definitely. Or maybe a flat with someone.”
“Oh …” he sighed.
Renée stood up and held out her hand for him to take. “But we have to celebrate. We’re going to have a shower together, and then you’ll have two women to enjoy. And we have somewhere to go this afternoon. That’s a bit of a surprise.”
Ben allowed Renée to lead him away towards the stairs. Poppy followed, her fingers trailing behind him. My sweetheart and I had discussed what would happen, although I didn’t know when he would get the good news – if at all – and I was comfortable with the arrangements. Excited even. While they showered and teased the young man, I made myself a coffee, enjoying the fresh, bitter scent of the ground beans, before slowly padding up to our bedroom.
I had to watch. Renée wanted me to witness Ben filling her and using her. Not to humiliate or degrade, but because our play, outside of our relationship, had to enhance us as a couple. It had to strengthen the bonds between boyfriend and girlfriend, and seeing the first time she took pleasure from another dick while in this relationship was important to her.
They were intertwined on the bed; Poppy’s lips were around Ben’s thick cock, sucking him with squeals of enjoyment, while her fingers scissored into my girlfriend, who was kissing Ben. Renée had placed a stool under the window for me. The cuck chair. A front-row seat to the ensuing debauchery in my bedroom.
He pulled away from the kiss, and his eyes followed me crossing the room to my vantage point as my girlfriend spoke. “He’s going to enjoy watching you fuck me. What position do you want, tiger?”
Ben hesitated, glancing at Poppy’s eager mouth glued to his prick. “I don’t know. I’ve never …”
“How about doggy?”
He gulped, nodding, and Renée rolled onto her hands and knees, looking directly at me. Our gazes locked, and she smiled, arching her back until her ass lifted. Offering herself to Ben while Poppy guided his prick to my partner’s cunt, dispensing advice. “Grip her hips; she likes to be taken. Firmly.”
I tuned out of it, my mind whirring and wandering. My cock strained in my trousers and underwear as I watched the impending performance of my girlfriend’s infidelity.
Renée’s moan snapped me into the moment. Ben’s eyes flicked to mine, questioning and almost apologetic, as his hips jerked forward, sliding into her with one slow, deliberate thrust. Her fingers gripped the sheets; the act so taboo and filthy. “Don’t hold back,” Poppy instructed. “Fuck her. And fuck her hard. Make her beg for mercy.”
“Oh, God!” Renée squealed as Ben’s bare prick slammed into it, harder than before. And quicker. And then they were fucking. Every thrust pushed her breasts against the bed, and Poppy sat beside her, fingers rubbing Renée’s clit as he pounded her with long strokes, his nervous hesitation gone.
He wasn’t tentative anymore. Not with Renée screaming encouragement, her voice cracking as he ploughed into my lover. “Oh fuck, Ben! That’s … ahhh … fucking … yes.” Poppy motioned for him to slap Renée’s buttocks, and he left a red handprint on her flesh as my girlfriend yelled in delight. “Oh, Christ!”
My partner’s thighs trembled, her knees sliding apart as Poppy’s fingers circled faster. “Ben, you need to come in the slut,” Poppy told her. “Don’t ask. Don’t tell. Just release.”
My eyes widened as he looked at me, his breathing laboured and ragged, as his hips slapped against Renée’s ass with lewd wet smacks. It was visceral and hedonistic. Her glazed expression oozed pleasure; her groans and cries had turned into a constant squeal of noise; with Poppy’s fingers and Ben’s prick, her body radiated bliss and ecstasy.
“Oh fuck! Please, Ben!” she begged as he spanked her a couple more times and then his grip tightened on her waist. He groaned louder, and I strained against my trousers, my erect prick in soaked, wet underwear. Renée’s moans became breathless pleas. “Don’t stop! Oh God! Oh Christ! Oh Yes!”
Renée gasped sharply, her back arching violently as her two lovers drove her over the edge. The inexperienced man pounding into her, and the promiscuous slut rubbing her clit. She shuddered, her thighs quivering, her cunt clenching around Ben as she came with a scream, staring directly at me as an orgasm ripped through her body.
And then another. And another. Near constant pleasure, as she writhed, fingers clutching the sheets, toes curling as Ben fucked her through each convulsion, his own release building. And then the moment that will stay with me forever. He came. His pupils dilated, his body slammed into her, and his buttocks flexed as his cock emptied his balls into Renée.
She felt him release. Another line we couldn’t uncross.
The room smelled of sex and exertion, and my partner collapsed onto her stomach, panting. Ben pulled out, his softening cock glistening with her slickness and his own cum dripping from his dick. Poppy leaned in immediately, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop before cleaning him. Her mouth moved to her friend, making Renée moan, oversensitive but unwilling to push her away.
But I wanted my girlfriend, and Poppy sensed that. “Let’s have another shower,” she offered, leading him towards the shared bathroom.
Renée’s eyes met mine. The moment Ben left the room, I shed my trousers and sodden boxer shorts before roughly manhandling Renée onto her back. She laughed as my cock slid into her wet, creamy cunt.
“Mmm,” she murmured, her fingers sliding over my shoulders. “You liked that?”
I didn’t answer with words; I just drove into her harder, reclaiming her as my hands pinned her wrists to the bed. Renée’s laugh dissolved into a gasp as I bent to bite her throat. Possessive and aggressive, I slammed into her with urgent thrusts.
But it felt so good. Better than usual.
These were angry, instinctive slams into her. She wrapped her legs around my waist as I fucked her harder and stronger than ever before. And her cunt was different. Slicker and wetter.
Ben’s cum. His virile seed in my girlfriend.
And that thought electrified my libido; I was close, and Renée’s slick heat clenched tighter around my cock as she sensed the possessive fury coursing through me.
I panted as I reached my point of no return, crying out as I reclaimed her with a growl, spilling inside her with shuddering thrusts.
“Yes,” I admitted, answering her question between pants. “Yes, I did.”
She gave me that satisfied smirk, begging to say “I told you so” but refraining from it. “Shall we do it again sometime?”
I rolled from her, cum leaking obscenely from her flushed cunt. “Yeah, we could, I suppose.”
We showered together, and then heard the two youngsters screwing in Poppy’s bedroom. It was 10am when they came into the garden, naked and barefoot. I poured them coffee from the cafetiere, and they sat and ate a meagre feast of toast and jam.
“When does he start work?” Poppy asked.
“When references come back and everything’s sorted. A couple of weeks, maybe.”
“What do I need to say on the reference?”
“Oh, just how wonderful and reliable and responsible he is!”
She ran her hands over Ben’s naked thigh. “Well, he’s brought me to six orgasms since I’ve met him. Does that count?”
“Please don’t put that on the reference,” Ben squeaked, blushing.
“No, you call it ‘accommodating’ with ‘excellent stamina’,” I joked.
“He has a probing personality …” she added. “And very keen to learn.”
“You are an enthusiastic teacher!”
“He is a very keen and diligent student. With excellent equipment.”
“I’ll help you,” Renée promised, shaking her head. “But obviously, I have nothing to do with it!” Ben smiled, and my girlfriend addressed him. “You will need to speak to your probation officer or whatever he or she is called. For two reasons. One, they have to know about your new employment. And also, there may be overnight stays away. I had a quiet chat with our corporate lawyer on Friday and contingencies can be made. But they have to be asked for, and the better the relationship with your supervisor, the easier it’ll be. And you might want to try to have your curfew adjusted.”
Once more, Renée was practical, and she spoke pragmatically to the naked teenager as the sun warmed our bodies. After midday, Poppy asked for Ben’s “help” in her bedroom, and they scampered upstairs; we heard them through the house before they showered once more, and the young minx made Ben wear his suit.
The two women wore smart, rather than sexy, outfits, and a taxi took us to a two-star Michelin restaurant in the heart of Notting Hill. “This is one of my favourite restaurants,” my girlfriend told Ben as they walked up a small set of steps to what looked like a terraced house. “I promised Poppy I’d take her sometime.”
The Maitre D’ recognised Renée immediately, welcoming her to their upmarket eatery. Cream ceilings, blue walls and matching plush chairs, the venue screamed elegance. “This is Benjamin Richards,” she replied, introducing the startled young man to the serving staff. “We’re celebrating his promotion, and I’m sure one day he’ll be in a very senior position in my firm.”
“Congratulations, Sir.” He spoke reverently, making Ben blush further as the man, old enough to be his grandfather, tilted his head in respect.
“Jesus!” he whispered as he sat down at the table and received a menu. “Have you seen the prices here?”
“No worries ‘bout that,” Renée muttered, airily ignoring his complaints. “The venison is amazing, but I love the cod.”
Poppy bit her lip; the fine-dining restaurant was considerably more extravagant than what she was used to. But my lover made Ben the centre of attention; she ordered a bottle of champagne, and the sommelier poured a small sample into his glass to try before filling everyone’s glasses.
Poppy sat close to him; she gave him some of her scallop tartare, and he put some of his Scottish ceps on his fork, feeding her. “I thought it was fish. It’s just mushrooms,” she replied.
“No, they are very expensive mushrooms,” he responded.
We spent two hours at the restaurant and racked up a £1500 bill, which Renée paid on her credit card. Ben thanked her multiple times, as my girlfriend lavished on Ben’s celebration.
The moment we arrived at our house, Poppy grabbed him by the tie, pulling him towards her. “One thing that I love is men in suits,” she said. “And as you need to take that off before you go home, shall we have one last playtime? Who knows when you’ll see me again?”
Ben hesitated, glancing at Renée, who arched an eyebrow. “I’m saying nothing,” she said. “I’m not your mother.”
“Just as well after what happened earlier,” Poppy teased, grabbing hold of Ben’s hand and dragging him upstairs.
“You have an hour. Ben has a curfew, don’t forget.” Renée looked at me. “And I find men in suits sexy too.”
“Ben doesn’t have the energy for a threesome,” Poppy shouted from the landing. “And I am not prepared to share! This is a one-to-one lesson!”
It wasn’t what my girlfriend meant, and I tugged her wrist, drawing her closer. I tasted the expensive champagne on her lips as we kissed, my hands sliding over her designer dress. None of our clothes lasted long, discarded in our lounge, before we lay naked on a large blanket in the garden.
My touch danced over her hip and then her bosom before I drew her into a kiss. Our mouths locked as our fingers explored on the beautiful summer day. Ben and Poppy were upstairs, enjoying their last hour together, and Renée and I had stolen our own moment in the afternoon sun. I showered her with kisses, running my lips over her sensitive flesh as she bathed in my attention and the warm rays.
Her fingers played in my hair, and she sighed as I flicked my tongue over her nipple, sucking her delicate points as she writhed under my touch. My fingers easily found her G-spot, and she melted into the blanket as my foreplay brought her to a sensual peak.
And then we fucked. Slowly and deliciously, our bodies moved in sync as I made calm, rhythmic strokes that teased; long, deep thrusts that caused her gasp and melt, as well as some short and shallow movements that provoked desperate whimpers.
Lazy Sunday afternoon sex in the middle of our garden, surrounded by nature. Delicious, wonderful intimacy that unfolded and developed naturally, as I savoured the feeling of Renée’s skin against mine. Our soft, loving moans interspersed with the sounds of birdsong and the aroma of flowers and cut grass. And after I came, I waited, losing my erection as my cock stayed buried inside my lover, kissing as we didn’t care that we’d made a mess of the blanket.
For all the amazing sex we had experienced, unhurried outdoor garden fucking was my favourite.
Poppy and Ben were naked and cuddling in Poppy’s bed. She begged for “just another ten minutes” but Renée snapped at them both, turning from friend and mentor to dominant and responsible mother figure in seconds.
Our guest dressed in his cheap clothes and took his letter as I drove him to the sink estate he called home. He chatted incessantly in the car; excited about his new job and very enchanted by Poppy. Still not able to believe the cost of the fine dining restaurant. “See you soon,” I told him as he left my car outside the betting shop. “I’m sure Renée or Poppy will message you.”
He showed me the chat application on his phone where his female lover had sent a naked picture of herself.
“Missing you already,” it read.
“She’s not subtle, is she?” I joked.
“No. And thank you.”
And later that week, Renée had a proposal for me. “Poppy has asked if she can stay here for a while.”
“Sure, why?”
My girlfriend looked up from her phone. “Her and Lucille have had a falling out. A bit of a row. And she wants to give Luci space. Plus, she doesn’t like it in Windsor.”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind. What do you think?”
Renée smiled. “I think it’ll be fun. And I reckon she’s ready to latch onto poor Ben.”
“Is that wise? Bad influence and all that.”
My girlfriend scowled. “Ben’s alright. He’s had a bit of a rough start in life, but if he works hard and applies himself, then …”
“I’m talking about Poppy!”
“Oh, yeah!” Renée giggled. “She’s dreadful. But Ben won’t mind. We have to show him how to deal with nymphomaniacs and filthy women.”
“Well, let me know when you’ve figured it out. It’s a skill I need too.”
I had to dodge the incoming cushion from my insatiable lover.
