The Summerhouse Ch. 18: Epilogue

It took a few moments for my eyes to accommodate the bright lights. The contrast between the low-lighting in the dungeon and Virginia’s space was intense. I heard the pop music as I walked underneath my house, past the litany of mediaeval torture implements and BDSM equipment to a door at the back of the room.

At the far end of the basement, Scott and his partner had transformed an unused part of the torture chamber into his girlfriend’s porn set. We had installed a double bed, four studio lights and three cameras for her camgirl shows, and the lingerie-clad woman lay on the scarlet duvet surrounded by sex toys. Clare had painted her stage name in a stylistic font on the partition wall above the bed.

Scott sat at a tiny desk, out of view of the cameras, and typed on the laptop into the adult-cam site. “Drink?” He whispered, and I shook my head. There was a sultry expression to the performer on the bed. She looked directly at the front-facing camera, and slipped a red jelly dildo to her lips, running her tongue over the ridged glans of the rubber toy. “Where’s Heather?” Scott whispered to me. “She was going to play tonight?”

“She was getting ready while Bobby and I did the dishes.” Scott hummed and reached underneath the table to pick a beer from the crate.

“Not having cold feet then?”

I snorted. “I think she enjoys spending the evenings with Clare, Virginia and Victoria too much,” I replied. “She’s got quite into her bed-hopping lesbian adventures. I think she prefers them to hotwifing. I know Bobby prefers her to have female rather than male lovers.”

Scott shook his head; I guessed what the predictable complaint that would come from his lips. “I know. And when Heather and Clare are getting it on, you’re with Bobby. Our room is next door. Do you have to make so much noise?”

“I knew that was coming. Well… he’s…”

“You are supposedly both bottoms. You should be bored together. All sockets, no plugs.”

“The girls are just sockets and they manage fine. And I’m never bored with Bobby. Last night we did massages, and then we showered, watched a film, and then a porno and cuddled up. And he does this wonderful thing with his…”

“I don’t want to know,” Scott interrupted in an annoyed voice. “Unless you need me to turn up and sort you two out!” Heather stopped the start of Scott’s rant as she entered the room, hesitant and anxious. She wore just a mask and skimpy black lingerie. It was a big step for her, but the Scottish woman had come a long way since we had first met her.

That evening, it took several glasses of alcohol before she tentatively joined the hot-tub when she didn’t have a bathing suit and she struggled with public nudity. Her body confidence was low back then, almost a year to the day. Her short stature and “B” cup breasts had always been a source of anguish for her, especially when she was next to Virginia, but she had no reason to be unhappy with her body.

Now, she was about to be the subject of online porn. With her black-and-white mask, ebony collar and dark lingerie, there was a mysterious, seductive quality to her. She shivered out of apprehension rather than temperature; the heaters and insulation in Virginia’s play space kept the room warm.

Never had Heather stepped in front of the camera before like this. Virginia had begged her for weeks, but the quiet Glaswegian claimed she was not brave enough. The ramifications for her employment – the upmarket Cheshire nursery, where the well-heeled set sent their sprogs for childcare, scared her. She did not imagine the “employee of the month” doing unmentionable things to an eight-inch rubber dildo for hundreds of masturbating perverts to orgasm to would impress the parents if they found out.

But Virginia’s channel was popular. She was a regular broadcaster who often played with others on camera and had a steady income from publishing her perversions. Scott and Virginia enjoyed being our lodgers, but eventually, they also wanted to have enough money to buy their own property.

Heather stepped into the camera as she took a deep breath. Virginia welcomed “Holly” and made space for her on the double bed. Just like her dalliances with Clare and Victoria, Heather had hooked up several times with Virginia, as she explored her bisexuality. Virginia had been a great help in showing Heather how to manage her guilt from her new sexuality, and their lustful closeness had been part of their burgeoning close friendship. However, never had a camera been in the same room. Until that point.

Scott passed me a beer. “You staying for the show?”

“I’ll stay for a while,” I muttered, and leant against the new wall. Virginia slipped her arm over Heather’s body and embraced her co-star. Their lips touched and as Virginia pressed her tongue against Bobby’s partner, her hands wandered.

Soft, gentle strokes across her breasts that enveloped the anonymous woman. Charged touches over her pale skin ended with her bra being effortlessly güvenilir bahis unclipped.

A single, smooth motion to free her compact breasts.

“Let’s just warm you up a little,” the pig-tailed blonde muttered. Virginia slipped down on the bed and gently tugged on the black briefs. Heather mewed, and Virginia tossed the lacy lingerie to one side. She slowly eased Heather’s legs apart. I heard the quickened breathing and gentle moan. I could feel the arousal burning from inside Heather and the hesitation in her body language. She wanted it, and that scared her.

The long discussions Bobby and I had had with Heather to explain our sexuality. At no point, when a man was balls-deep in my arse, or I wrapped my mouth around a prick, did my love for Clare wane. I may not have been sexually straight, but there wasn’t a dick in the world that would change how I felt about my fiancée.

Virginia knew how to make Heather feel comfortable. She teased with soft, butterfly kisses on her inner thigh, and gently ran her fingers over the delicate folds in Heather’s pussy. Her middle finger danced from the top to the bottom of her slit, sliding over her clit and her opening and causing the Glaswegian to gasp.

And again. Repeatedly, Virginia’s mouth caressed the inner thigh while her fingers danced over the sodden snatch. Teasing her. Scott flicked between the three camera angles on the laptop; Virginia kissed her wet lips and then pushed her tongue against her clit. Heather squirmed and panted.

Virginia ran her tongue over the engorged button, causing the squirming woman to gasp and squeal with every flick. Her finger pressed against Heather’s hole and probed it gently, before running her slippery fingers over the Glaswegian’s wet nipples.

Both Scott and I were erect; I was naked, and Scott’s loose shorts hid nothing. He loved the erotic display as much as I did.

There was something majestic and beautiful. There was a closeness and tenderness about their sex. It was sensual and delicate. Virginia was taking Heather on a voyage of delicious discovery that would touch her core.

Apart from my romantic escapades with Clare and the hook-ups with Bobby, the sex which I had was rough and energetic. It was dirty, passionate, lustful filth that was satisfied and sated primal needs. It was unexpected to see Virginia be so loving towards Heather.

The camgirl grinned at the camera and slipped her fingers inside Heather’s sodden hole. Gentle kisses on her clit and firm strokes on her G-Spot. Bobby’s fiancée panted. She looked directly at Virginia as the blonde woman intensified her movements.

Faster, quicker, firmer. The camgirl was sending the respectable nursery worker towards a climax. A lesbian orgasm on camera for the first time. They stared at each other. Heather gasped, squealed and cried out a deep, guttural cry as an unstoppable wave of ecstasy enveloped her body.

Virginia smiled and removed her fingers, letting Heather ride the orgasmic wave with soft kisses on her clit. Then, with a smooth motion, she picked a small red dildo from the bed, and positioned it at her entrance. Gentle pressure caused the Glaswegian woman to gasp.

“Amazing. Virginia does well, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Scott mused, and rubbed his chin. “She’s incredible. And she’s always horny after showing off.” He winked at me. “If Heather’s game, we will have a threesome. I so want to plunder that woman.”

I smiled at the cheeky Geordie. “What would Bobby say?”

“I have twenty quid and two public blowjobs riding on a wager that says I can unload in her cunt. Double that if I get to tap her ass. I reckoned after getting on camera, there ain’t nuttin’ she won’t be up for.”

“Well, good luck,” I mused and walked upstairs. The house was quiet, and I sauntered out of the side door, through the gate in the fence, and entered Victoria’s B I knew the keycode to their private living space. “Hello!” I called out as I walked through the open lounge door.

The small fetish-themed B the millionaire couple kept most of the house for their private use, except the large dining room and expansive dungeon, which was now accessible from the back garden. They had converted the stable block into five luxury en-suite double rooms, and four deliberately austere single rooms. All the rooms contained different combinations of bondage furniture, with various St Andrews Crosses, cages, gynaecological chairs, throning chairs, swings, hoists and fucking machines scattered across their new accommodation. The barns were a “Phase 2” project, and Victoria had plenty of ideas on her drawing board.

Clare and I were some of the guinea-pigs and we testified to abundance and variety of tools in each chamber. My favourite was the Jade Room, which had a fucking machine, a four-poster bed and a Scorpion Chair, and had a wonderful evening and night with my fiancée.

In the first few weeks of opening, Victoria and Martin had over a hundred people stay with türkçe bahis them. Their guests ranged from couples with dominant-submissive relationship to single men who combined their trip with Victoria’s dungeon, Victoria, Clare and their toys.

His wife kept Martin busy. He cooked the breakfasts and did most of the cleaning, but on the weekends, he and I donned maid’s outfits and cleaned the rooms. Victoria also involved him in the play occasionally, but the married couple were keen to employ one or two discreet employees to take on some workload as their business grew.

Naked men and women wandering around the grounds was not unexpected, and the luxury rooms shared a large hot-tub, open-air stockade and pillory, in the middle of a U-shaped stable block.

Victoria was in their private lounge, poring over her laptop. “Hiya Jon.” She took a sip from her long high-ball glass and grinned when she looked at my crotch. “I see Clare isn’t caging you at the moment.”

“I’m not fond of it.” She snorted derisively. “You know, it’s not my sort of play. I know Martin likes it.”

“Martin hates it,” Victoria corrected me. “He thinks it is a horrible, evil torture that he despises. So him wearing it makes me happy. And by definition, he is happy. But he loathes it.”

“Well… I have one on when Clare demands it, but normally…”

“… Your little prick hangs free.”

“Yeah. Do you know where Clare and Bobby are?” She raised her lips to her glass and took a sip of her scarlet alcoholic drink, before setting the cocktail gently on her table.

“Willie and Jason had to come back to finish trimming the laurels down near the bypass. It’s a warm day. They were shirtless. And your fiancée’s cunt started leaking, and they took her off to get her more acquainted with their dicks.”

“Oh…”

Clare was fond of the two men from Ashfield Gardening; Victoria and Martin had used them for years, and Victoria had seen Jason mature from a shy teenager into a desirable, confident twenty-something.

Only the week before, we had a couple of tall trees adjacent to the summerhouse that needed severely lopping, and the two gardeners viewed the job and gave us a quote.

Clare deliberately greeted them in a mesh dress that fluttered in the breeze. It hid nothing before she stepped outside of the house and was a clear, open invitation to the two men. She wasn’t in the mood to play hard-to-get and showed them the 10m tall trees which needed cutting to a manageable size.

The four hundred pound quote was already a reduction on the normal price. She took them into the summerhouse for further negotiation. The expansive timber fuck palace was still my home on two nights of the week, and it still served as my office.

I looked from my desk and watched as Clare disrobe for the two gentlemen. She eyed the elder gentleman first, and the widower ogled with rapt attention. Her hands caressed his body through his navy T-shirt and her eyes focused on his.

She never uttered a word, as her fingers reached under the hem of his top and pulled it over his head. He may have been in his late fifties, but he had the frame of someone fifteen years younger. My fiancée cooed as her fingers danced over his lightly tanned skin wrapped around an enviable physique.

His hairless body was was meaty, without being clad in muscles, like a lower league footballer. He smiled and reached down for a kiss, which my partner happily reciprocated. His palms cupped her ass while her hands lowered his shorts.

She exposed his tan lines and a forest of black pubic hair, and Clare ran her fingers through his fuzz.

“For a man who gets paid to trim bushes, this is unexpected.”

“Celeste never liked it cut,” he replied, almost apologetically. “And I’ve never…”

“It’s perfect,” Clare swooned. “I love your bodies, so much.” She wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft and kept eye contact with him as she dropped to her knees. Her lips touched his cock, and he groaned. She knew she was going to do that the moment she donned her black fishnet dress, and she gleefully sucked the contractor to his fullest length.

I was hard, as I lay on the floor, watching the unfolding sex show through the gap in the balcony. My dick pressed between the varnished wood and my naked hairless mons, as my fiancée gleefully worshipped the prick of the gardener. He was old enough to be her father, and that mattered not a jot.

He came with a cock. A meaty prick that Clare could enjoy and savour. It didn’t matter if he was eighteen or eighty, my partner would appreciate her fucking.

Jason undressed himself as he watched his boss experience the fruits of my fiancée. He was a keen disciple of the local gym, and his bulging pectorals and biceps caused his T-shirt to wrap tightly around his torso. He towered over Clare, and the fitness freak looked exquisitely perfect. Flawless, smooth skin that wrapped over a delicious frame.

Clare openly toyed güvenilir bahis siteleri with Willie; she made long licks of his prick with her tongue before sucking the glans and ran her fingers over his distended muscles. With a grin, and a glance at the voyeur on the balcony, she stood up and leant on a bar stool.

It was an open offer to the older gentleman. She winked at him. “Well, go on then.”

Both men were aware of the constant availability of the women in the house, and it was not the first time either of them had been blatantly propositioned, but Clare was clearly in heat and desperate for attention.

Her legs parted, she used her fingers to guide Willie into her open hole, bareback. It was normally a red line for us, but Willie’s enforced lack of sex since his wife had died a few months previous, and his past wholly monogamous relationship, meant he was of little risk.

And Clare loved fucking without condoms. She adored feeling bare dick in her and gestured towards Jason. The buff man with a short, thick prick groaned as Clare’s lips curled around his tool.

The two alpha men timed their thrusts. Either accidentally or not, they pistonned their pricks in a smooth cadence that impaled my wife in sync with each other. Clare groaned into the dick rammed into her mouth, dribbling as the gardeners seized control of my fiancée.

Their plaything. Their sexual object. A vessel for their cocks, as they furrowed their manhoods into her writhing, groaning body. Her hands gripped the meaty, hairless thighs of Jason as he smoothly worked his glistening dick across her lips and tongue. The room was full of groans and slapping flesh. Cries of passionate voices. My lover squealed as Willie pushed his dick deep into her. “I’m going to come!”

Clare bucked her hips and grunted as Willie held on to her waist, and his thighs shook. He flooded the inside of a woman for the first time in months, and cum leaked from her swollen cunt as he withdrew his dripping prick.

Clare never noticed; she detached her mouth from Jason’s cock. “Sloppy seconds or a blowjob?”

“My girl never gives me head.”

She giggled. “Every lady should give as much head as they can!” Her lips closed around Jason’s short, meaty dick and she eagerly worked her mouth. Quick, passionate, desperate licks and sucks of the gardener’s stout tool.

My cock had leaked. I had covered my mons in pre-cum as I watched with rapt attention. I always did when I got to witness my fiancée being unfaithful. She adored cuckolding me, and I loved watching it. A delicious, delicate, evil torture.

Jason grunted and cried. “I’m gonna…”

Clare continued; she always swallowed and groaned as the first stream of his cum landed in her mouth. Her hand touched her clit, and I watched as my fiancée frigged herself to a squealing, squirming orgasm with a mouthful and cuntful of his juices.

She washed her hands, and herself, and then returned with a couple of bottles of beer from the kitchen. “Now, boys. This is a drinks break. During your work to remove the trees, I will offer you two breaks and provide lunch. Do you want to revise your quote?”

They did the job for half-price and Clare got well stuffed. Victoria smiled as I recalled the filthy antics of my wife with the gardeners. “And Bobby?”

“Martin and Bobby are at the shelter,” she said with a grin. “I know you want to go down there. It’s been busy of late. I think the cyclists use that route too.”

“Well…” I blushed, and the dominatrix just shook her head knowingly.

“Tell Martin he needs to clean the Lilac Room tonight. We have a last-minute booking for tomorrow.”

“OK.”

At the far end of the grounds, and about a third of a mile from the house, was an old, one-room workman’s cottage. When Martin and Victoria bought the property, it was in a dire state of repair. Martin, Bobby and I had help, but between us and a handful of tradesmen, we replaced the roof, doors, electrics, and floor. Bobby re-plastered the walls and a local plumber installed an electric boiler, urinal, and taps.

Afterwards, we built five gloryholes in a partition, with one side of the cottage only accessible from the grounds of the kinky B&B and the other side, reachable only from a large secluded layby on the bypass. Scott took me there before in a yellow dress and an adult nappy, as it was a well-known spot for gay cruising.

The hut was just like the sauna, and in recent weeks had become extremely popular. A switch beside the back door controlled the red light over the entrance and lock of the shelter door. Several of Victoria’s guests had spent many hours giving blowjobs, while Bobby and Martin were constant visitors.

Bobby smiled as I opened the door to the small room. “Hiya,” he called. “How’s Heather?”

“Enjoying herself,” I replied and took a moment to check the CCTV and Martin, who had his lips around a dark cock. “Busy tonight?”

“Yes. There’re four lorries parked up in the layby and a cycling club came through half an hour ago. We had one guy from the stable block here too, and he has a bellyful. I’ve had three. Martin’s being greedy, though.” It was a common squabble between the two naked men.