My Boyfriend's Boyfriends Read online

  MY BOYFRIEND’S BOYFRIENDS

  Greedy Girl Stories

  Contents

  Title Page

  Proving Them Wrong – Primula Bond

  Pussy Hunt – Janine Ashbless

  Red Room – Lisette Ashton

  Everybody’s Favourite – Penny Birch

  For Better … or Better Yet – Chrissie Bentley

  A Taste for Cheating – Heather Towne

  Secrets and Seductions – Kathleen Tudor

  The Overnighter – Elizabeth Coldwell

  Anything She Wants – Giselle Renarde

  The Proposal – Dominic Santi

  More from Mischief

  About Mischief

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Proving Them Wrong

  Primula Bond

  Marrying a guy eight years younger than me was always going to stir up a debate, but I never could have foreseen how toxic people’s opinions would become, how paradoxical the noxious mix of fierce criticism and green-eyed jealousy. I was too troubled by the poison they were pouring in my ears to stand back and laugh at the sheer hypocrisy of it all.

  ‘He’ll be off once you forget to dye out the grey,’ mused my friend Rose as we sat in the salon with foil on our heads.

  ‘He’ll be having cybersex with impossibly skinny avatars to take his mind off that wobble you can’t hide when you’re naked,’ whispered my younger sister Suzie, dropping off my niece to babysit.

  ‘Mum says I’m to watch out he doesn’t try to grab me when I’m here, but he’s too old for me,’ confided my niece. ‘My boyfriend Ollie thinks he’s ace, though. He’s seen him play rugby and lead sax all in the same weekend!’

  Yes indeedy, he really is that fantastic, my husband. Rugby for fun, jazz for a living, and able to put in dream kitchens to please his wife. Sex on a stick, obviously. A brilliant father. Scandinavian. Too good to be true, you’re all thinking.

  But late last summer the comments got too much. We’d been married five years by then, our eldest was four and our twins were two years old. I was happy but I was tired and out of shape. They were all round for lunch and Rose was helping me thread tikka chicken chunks onto skewers.

  She has blonde hair to match my husband’s. Except hers is all soft, blow-dried curls. His is tough, manly hair that springs upright with a life of its own from his handsome head.

  ‘Don’t you have to keep your eyes peeled the whole time, Sara?’

  Sven was lighting the barbie and opening a beer bottle with his teeth. He wasn’t topless like the Pepsi ad, but he was in jeans and a pink T-shirt which showed the ripple of muscle down his ribs, and he was wiping sweat from his forehead, his hair sticking up in natural, naughty spikes.

  ‘Only for looking at him,’ I said, taking a swig of Pimm’s.

  ‘Oh, I could look at him all day. All the mummies cluster round at the school gate, you should see it. He’s like a magnet.’

  ‘Just like they are now, you mean?’ I threw some more mint into the Pimm’s jug. ‘What’s wrong with their own men, for God’s sake?’

  ‘They’d rather spend all day in the pub than take their wives for romantic dinners like your Sven does. They all want a piece of him.’

  ‘Who? The husbands or the wives?’

  She laughed. ‘Both!’

  ‘They can go throw stones at another greenhouse.’ I tossed some salad leaves, enjoying the wet mess of olive oil and balsamic on my fingers.

  ‘Just saying. You sure he never gets restive?’ Her lips were hanging open as her husband Jon and my Sven, still holding their beer bottles, kicked a beach ball round the lawn for the kids.

  ‘As sure as I can be.’ I picked up the plate of kebabs, trying to ignore the cold uncertainty in my chest. ‘He’s loving, sexy and faithful.’

  ‘You’re a lucky girl, Sara. Let’s just hope he doesn’t try to hump me behind the shed by the time we get to the ice-cream.’

  A couple of months later I was able to prove my so-called sisters spectacularly wrong. And after the lesson I taught them, they toe the line now. Believe me.

  * * *

  When Sven got tickets for a rugby match at Twickenham, Rose’s man Jon, my brother-in-law Rick and young Ollie all begged to come along.

  It was cold, foggy and late when they all came back to ours.

  ‘Darling, they couldn’t stop for a bit, could they, finish off that casserole and have some more to drink?’

  Sven had found me sitting at my art deco dressing table, preening in my nightie. A rather glam one, actually, dark-red silk, trimmed with lace. Not my usual attire, and probably more sophisticated than my younger mates would wear, but I was planning to remind him how much better my company would be than that of the yelling blokes he’d been with all day.

  ‘I was hoping they were all going to bugger off and leave us on our own.’ I turned my mouth down sulkily. It was painted dark red to match my negligee. Could he not see the effort I was making? ‘But I’m quite happy up here, halfway through a bottle of Chablis –’

  ‘They’re all on hall passes.’ He put his arms tight around me, kissed me on the neck, made me shiver as he knew it would. He drew his tongue down the bony ladder of my spine. ‘But they love coming to our house. It’s so laid back here, you’re always so welcoming –’

  ‘OK, you’ve sucked up enough.’ I batted him away with a smack on his cute ass. ‘Go enjoy.’

  ‘We want you to join the party. You’re nothing like the other girls. The boys have the hots for you, Sara.’

  ‘You would say that.’ I couldn’t help smiling. ‘You disgusting lot, all smelling of beer.’

  ‘All on best behaviour. They asked me to come and get you.’

  He was kissing round my face to my mouth. He knows I’m putty in his hands when he does that with his tongue, prises open the corner of my mouth.

  ‘Baby, come inject some civilisation into the proceedings. They’re all good-looking guys, right? All got hard-ons, gagging for it, waiting. Only the best for you, gorgeous.’ His hands came up over my breasts, pressed, squeezed, stroked through the red silk, started to pinch at my nipples, making them burn. ‘Show them how sexy you are.’

  ‘Have to get dressed –’

  ‘Don’t change a thing. I love you best in next to nothing.’

  He plucked the satin of my negligee, pulled it up over my thigh, over my crotch, ran his finger down the freshly waxed crack. We could both feel the beading of moisture, how damp I was already. He pushed his finger further in, parting the pink lips, ran it up and down again. I leaned back against him and moaned, opening my legs a little further.

  But he stood up and left me there, my long legs uncovered. ‘Make me proud, honey.’

  Since all the dark hints dropped by my so-called friends about getting their hands on my husband, or his hands on them, I had lost two stone. Rediscovered my cheekbones, my body, my posture. Sorted out my wardrobe. I ran my hands inside my warm thighs, taut now and slim, up to my pussy, into the warm crack where Sven had touched me.

  My head was swimming pleasantly from the wine, and I was distracted by the male laughter downstairs. Sven must have sensed it was too noisy, because he put on some dark melodic blues. He was educating his mates, my sophisticated Sven, so much classier than the others. And he knows that music turns me on. I smiled. The wives would be at home now, looking crossly at their watches.

  ‘Hi, boys. Good day?’

  I posed in the doorway, wine sloshing around in my glass. Didn’t really think it through, my entrance, but the look on their faces as I swished my hair back like a lingerie model was a picture. I stepped into my lovely sitting room, all dark-red walls, kilim rugs, low-slung sofas and mirrors
everywhere. Sven already had the lighting turned down, some candles placed here and there, and he was over at the piano, picking out the odd note to go with the music.

  ‘Hey, Sara, you look sensational.’ Jon was the first to come out of his trance. ‘Come and sit down here, between me and Rick.’

  I walked slowly over to the fireplace, moving differently in my bare feet, shoulders back, tits bouncing slightly, the nipples growing stiff against the silk, hips swaying. Ollie was slumped on the floor, blue eyes half closed.

  I stared at myself in the huge mirror above the mantelpiece. Their faces were all turned to me, mouths dropping open with lust. My husband was hidden behind the piano. I pressed my flushed cheeks and knocked my wine back like a navvy.

  ‘Hot in here, isn’t it?’ I started to pull the spaghetti straps down my shoulders. ‘Let’s see if the lady of the house can’t help you all relax after a rowdy day at the match.’

  I thought at first this would just be a little striptease, not much to take off really, a simple burlesque to show off my new, slim, bath-fresh bod, then glide away again leaving them gasping for more. So I let the negligee slip down a little further until my big round breasts were uncovered, bouncing upwards, red nipples illuminated by the firelight.

  My heart was pounding harder now as I realised how rapt my audience was. I’d gone past the point of no return. The older guys were trying, and failing, to look nonchalant, but I knew that look in their eyes. Ollie was sitting bolt upright on the floor, wide awake now, hand thrust firmly into his crotch.

  I let the slip fall all the way down to the floor and I stepped over it, naked but for my blood-red studded thong and stockings.

  ‘How far are you going to go, Sara?’ murmured Jon.

  ‘All the way. I dare you,’ added Rick.

  ‘Oh, please,’ whimpered Ollie.

  ‘No talking,’ I shot back. ‘Distracts me.’

  I bent over a little and let my breasts drop heavily forwards. Rick groaned. Jon grinned, stroking his upper lip. He stretched his legs out in front of him. My Sven said nothing. Just reached out and turned up the volume of the smoky jazz a notch.

  I took my breasts in my hands and started to knead them, gently at first, then more firmly, hips swaying automatically as I did so. Pleasure stirred inside me, egging me on. This was going to be my own floorshow. Just having three men and a boy in my living room, rigid with expectation, was enough to excite me. I realised I already knew where this would end.

  ‘Wow, I was right about you all along, Sara,’ said Rick, shifting in his seat. ‘Hot shit. Suzie will kill me.’

  ‘Why? You’ve not done anything wrong.’ I licked my finger and ran it over one nipple, making it go red and hard, and then the other.

  ‘Just for seeing this. For watching you.’

  ‘To hell with that. I’m the wicked one around here.’

  The men licked their lips and sat forwards, eyes fixed on my hands as I caressed my breasts more passionately, pinched the nipples into long dark points, swaying and letting my hair swing down my back, turning myself on.

  ‘Oh, you’re getting hard watching me, aren’t you, boys?’

  Heat curled up from my cunt, warming me through.

  ‘Christ, Sven, you’re a lucky bastard,’ Rick growled, turning to my husband. Sven just smiled enigmatically.

  I curled one arm under my bouncing breasts to keep them raised. With one hand I fondled and squeezed the yielding flesh, and I ran the fingers of the other down over my stomach and suddenly tweaked the diamante-studded thong sideways to show them the strip of my neat pussy. Every time I moved in this thong the little studs lining it rubbed and tickled my tender crevices.

  ‘So, you’re the one with all the talk tonight, Rick. Normally surly and quiet, aren’t you?’

  I stepped across to him, placed one foot on either side of his long legs and tilted myself towards him so that my crotch was up against his face. His hands stroked up the back of my stockings, tickled the skin behind my knees. I pushed my velvety pussy lips aggressively against his face and felt his breath blow across the bare skin. I started to sway my hips again, into him and away, unable to stop myself moving as my own desire started to pulsate and build inside me.

  ‘Lucky bastard,’ muttered Ollie.

  ‘All in good time, boys.’

  Rick grasped my buttocks, dug his fingers into them and pulled my pussy against his mouth. I heard them all groan. Sven’s fingers slipped across the piano keys. I was getting hornier now, so that when Rick’s tongue snaked out and touched my clitoris I let out a load moan and ground myself harder against his mouth.

  Then, with a superhuman effort, I stepped away again. ‘You must learn to take turns, Rickie.’

  I swayed round, pointed at them all in turn, and deliberately stepped over Ollie to choose Jon. I spread my thighs open on either side of his head and pushed my pussy into his face. He opened my wet sex without waiting, opened it up wide, stared greedily at the pink, then it wasn’t his tongue but his teeth that nipped sharply at my clit.

  I jolted with surprise as Jon’s mouth started to work me into a frenzy, grazing along the slippery lining of my pussy, running his tongue along it, warm and wet. Oh God, did he do this to Rose? No wonder she was always so smug. My legs started shaking as I tried to keep control, tangling my fingers in his hair and jamming his face into me.

  ‘Hey, slow down, stud,’ I said with a soft laugh after a few moments. The pleasure was radiating almost painfully from deep inside. I stepped away from Jon’s busy mouth.

  ‘High and mighty all of a sudden. What are you playing at?’ he growled.

  I kept one hand on my tits and the other cupped tight over my puss, trying to quell the quivering excitement there. I forced myself to keep my fingers still, in case I flicked the button way too early. Then I lowered myself to the floor. I spread my arms and legs in a welcoming gesture, and lay back on the blood-red rug.

  ‘Not high and mighty at all,’ I whispered, wriggling luxuriantly. ‘As low down as you want.’

  Rick and Jon were crawling all over me immediately, stroking and kissing up and down my prone body, licking, pulling my legs apart. One of them brought my hands up above my head and bound my wrists with a tie. There was more male laughter and mumbling, drowned by the music which Sven gradually turned up.

  I rolled and twisted as they manhandled me, still biting and licking, one of them nibbling up the inside of my thighs, the other kissing round my neck, pulling my hair out of the way, then moving down towards my breasts, which he pulled and squeezed until my nipples were taut. I wriggled and squealed, imagining myself floating above the scene, watching the fantasy. Imagined Sven’s face. Best of all, the other women’s faces if they knew!

  ‘Come on. I want you both,’ I suddenly shouted, struggling to sit up and give myself more authority, but one of them just pushed me down again. ‘I want to feel you both inside me. Now.’

  ‘Ordering us about now, madam?’ Rick sniggered with his usual arrogance. ‘She’s tied up, and she’s lying down. So who’s the boss now?’

  ‘Not too tight, eh, Rick?’ called Sven casually.

  ‘Let me at her,’ said Jon, as he pushed Rick aside and straddled me. He brushed his mouth over mine, but I turned my head away.

  ‘Yeah, no kissing, like all the hookers,’ he muttered, his insults giving me a dirty thrill as he fondled and pinched my stiff nipples.

  God, I was really doing this. Letting another man touch me not only in front of my husband but in front of his mates as well. A brief fluttering of anxiety about Sven, what he thought about seeing me lying there on the floor, my tits bare, my legs open and his friend getting ready to fuck me, was weirdly shoved aside by an evil coiling of excitement.

  ‘She’s wet, see, and welcoming. There won’t be anything left for you lot,’ Jon said with a chuckle, running his fingers down my crack before squeezing my breasts again.

  I glanced round at them. Rick glowering because Jon had got there fi
rst. Little Ollie, craning forwards, hand clamped desperately round the growing bulge in his crotch.

  ‘Man alive, this is horny.’

  In my mind’s eye I could see the wanton woman sprawled on the floor. My body ached and felt deliciously bruised.

  ‘Let me show you how it’s really done.’

  I lay back, hands still tied above my head, and relished how Jon smoothed his hands up my sides, pushing my breasts together, letting them bounce. He darted his head down and caught one nipple in his mouth, bit it hard, made me squeal.

  ‘That’ll make Sven jealous. He loves my tits!’

  ‘I think you’ll find this will make Sven jealous.’

  Jon’s cock was huge. Bigger than Sven’s. Bigger than anything I’d ever had. I couldn’t see Sven’s feet under the piano. Had he left the room? But all thoughts were knocked out of my head as Jon’s cock nudged at me, pulled away, nosed inside, pulled away again.

  ‘Let’s see how long we can draw this out, eh, Sara?’

  His deep voice in my ear. It was like we were the only two people here. How did he do that?

  ‘The others,’ I whispered, my pussy clutching instinctively to try to hold the tip of him inside me just as he teased and pulled it away again. ‘They want their turn.’

  ‘Tough.’

  ‘Hey, Jonny, less talking, more fucking. I’m bursting my load here!’ Rick grumbled.

  ‘Sophisticated as always, Rick!’ Jon chuckled and bit at my nipple again. His cock was huge and heavy between my legs, and rock hard.

  ‘It’s not supposed to be like this,’ I whispered again. ‘You’re not supposed to be this good.’

  I lifted my legs and pulled him into me, my breath jagged now.

  ‘You’ll want me again and again, I promise you that.’

  Jon pushed his knob inside me, very slowly, still fondling my breasts, his face hanging above mine, diamonds of saliva gleaming on his lips in the firelight. I glimpsed the other watching faces, couldn’t see Sven there. Still Jon’s cock was going in. I could feel my body drawing it further inside, and then he arched his back and gave one almighty thrust, pushing me right across the carpet.