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Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

Next, he extended his thumbs inward enough to brush across my bathing bra. I hissed with pleasure. He gave a little satisfied sigh, apparently pleased at my excitement. He stroked back down my curves and sent his hands around to cup my bottom, kneading me momentarily. He slipped his fingers under my bottoms to stroke my bum. My exhilaration was compounded by not knowing which of three possible men was the man in front of me, worshipping my body.

He slid his hands back out, leaving tingles behind, while he stroked upward to cup my breasts, bouncing them slightly in my bra top, then fondling them, sliding his thumb across each to target my upstanding nipple. Each time his thumbs caressed my nipple a shot of fire sped through my body, landing like lightning in my pussy. This was a man who knew how to give pleasure. Rather than dawdle solely over my breasts, he dropped one hand onto my bottoms to slip into my core between my legs. He cupped my mons in his hand. I must have felt like I was on fire. His other hand gave up on stroking my breast through my bra and he slipped two fingers under the fabric to caress my breast flesh to flesh. When he grasped my nipple lightly I moaned. He stroked forward and back across my pussy. He stroked up and down the inside of my thighs, stroking upward on the sensitive skin until he met the fabric of my bottoms. He slipped his other hand all the way inside my other bra cup, to hold and squeeze my breast. I could feel the nipple prodding his palm. He was stoking the fires that were threatening to make me cry out. I moaned again.

He slid his lower hand into my bottoms and started sliding his fingers up and down my crease, which was warm, swollen and wet with excitement. Not wanting to be completely selfish, I reached into his bathers, took his erection and stroked it slowly and lightly, running a fingertip around the helmet and rubbed the drop of pre-ejaculate that had formed on the tip on the underside of him. He started back, tearing himself from my hands. He moaned with arousal. I moaned again, pleased beyond measure. One more touch, a flick of my clit, and I knew I'd be over the top. He had to have known it.

Instead of a buzzer signalling frustration like last time, his fingers circled my centre, then flicked three times over my clit and I was over the top, orgasming spectacularly, a brief scream followed by moans as my body yielded to the pleasure and my mind blanked. I would have fallen, my knees completely unreliable, but he caught me up and settled me on one of the couches. I felt embarrassed by my complete lack of control in front of the others but I realized that all of us had been pleasured to completion, even Helen, who had always told us she was slow to climax, always slow to let go of her control. Perhaps the blindness had robbed her of her control before her man, whoever he was, had pushed her over the edge.
The last time we'd changed partners after five minutes. We hadn't intended to do that at this stage, but having a climax before we'd even lost our clothes, such as they were, hadn't been anticipated either. Certainly having additional pleasure wasn't something to object to, but it made me a little wary of just how far I would end up going tonight.

After my recovery, which wasn't helped by the number of aftershocks he encouraged, I stood in front of whoever again. He began running his hands up my legs, enjoying the feel of my soft, smooth, skin, as I enjoyed his strong, firm touch, causing little flickers of the fire that had started to consume me to reignite. He slipped his hands to the inside of my thighs and stroked all the way up to my bathing suit. My legs trembled with the feelings he created within me. My breath hissed out from between my teeth. His thumb caressed my mound through my suit. I couldn't stop myself from pressing down onto his thumb.

The muscles in my belly quivered when his hand traced a path up to my navel.

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