Radley von Wright: Group Romance! Erotica Bundle: FFM, Lesbian, Menage and Taboo Groups

I felt a stirring between my legs as I settled on her nipples. I licked my lips as I thought about putting my mouth on them. They were slightly upturned and puffy, perfectly suckable.

“I’m Astrid. This is my best friend Hanna,” she replied in a thick accent, resting her hand on my thigh as she spun to face me a bit more, allowing me a better view of both nipples.

“Nice to meet you Astrid… and Hanna,” I muttered, distracted by the perky breasts inches from my face.

Nice to meet you, too, Eva. Very nice to meet you.”

Astrid slowly ran her slender hand up my thigh, delicately tracing the silky skin of my toned abdomen muscles and eventually settling on one of my full breasts. She cupped it with her full open palm, then started squeezing it in a massaging motion, kneading the oils and sweat into my pores.

Mmmmmmmmm.

I leaned in and kissed her, lightly sticking my tongue in her mouth. She tasted of mint and strawberries, like the smoothie they offered in the restaurant.

Astrid and I started kissing each other hungrily now, and I used both hands to rub her shapely breasts. Her friend Hanna was clearly feeling left out and moved to closer to me to join in on the fun. I felt two hands massage my neck and shoulders as I continued to play with Astrid’s bosom.

She paused our kiss to give her companion a look over my shoulder, communicating something unspoken. Astrid’s attractive features were soaked in lust as her gaze returned to my aroused body. She placed her hand on my chest and gently guided me into a seated position between the two best friends.

I was the brown meat in the middle of a Swedish sandwich.

Astrid and Hanna knelt over my breasts, each friend claiming one as their own. I watched with rapt attention they simultaneously sucked, licked, tickled and flicked my nipples, causing them to harden despite the heat of the steamy room.

They seemed to be very skilled teammates and were determined to make me experience much more than a just Swedish massage during my visit to the spa.

As a choreographed team, both of the blonde heads started to travel downwards. I could feel two sets of lips slowly kissing and sucking their way down to the wetness between my legs.

I opened my thighs to allow them access as I felt a slim finger pry my labia apart, then slowly slip into my slick folds. My head tilted back and a deep moan escaped my throat as I felt a warm tongue touch me down there. I lost track of where their fingers and tongues began and where I ended as they explored my wet depths.

My body felt hijacked, paralyzed by pleasure as shockwaves pulsated up through my center. The best friends were busy touching me in ways I’d only heard about in naughty stories told over too much whiskey on our girls’ nights out. Stuff I thought my friends back home were making up to satisfy our dirty minds before we returned to the real world of “adulting”.

Astrid and Hanna rested their heads between my legs; alternating between kissing each other and my open slit. Sometimes I could feel them combining their kisses with eating my willing wetness — when one of their tongues was buried in me, I could feel it meet the other’s through the sensitive wall of my vagina. The two young womens’ saliva and my juices mixed together as their tongues danced furiously across my swollen lips and nub. Astrid and Hanna’s fingers started to rub me more aggressively as well, fingering my pussy until I was left aching for relief. I felt like I was going to erupt with desire and felt short of breath my need for them was so acute. The two beauties continued rubbing and sucking; fingers, lips and tongues teasing my willing cunt to heights I could hardly contain.

Captive to this gorgeous twosome, I opened my mouth to warn them I was about to cum, but only a tortured moan managed to escape my lips.

My torso shuddered in climax as electric waves of ecstasy slammed my body. Warmth spread up from between my legs, coursing all the way up to flush my face. I felt my toes curl then release as I came — Astrid and Hanna lapping up my wetness with slow, savoring licks.

My ragged breathing slowed as my eyelashes fluttered open to see the two best friends engaged in a passionate kiss, apparently just getting warmed up.

Goddamn. Swedish women are unreal, I thought, still recovering from the sweet intensity of my orgasm.

I’m never one to pass up on a second course , I thought as I watched their lithe bodies grinding together erotically in the steamy air. A smirk crossed my lips as I sat up, ready to get tag teamed again.

I’m jarred from my arousing reverie of yesterday’s escapade by my husband Radley whisper-yelling in my ear, “do you think we’re almost there yet?”

Startled, I shake my head to get my bearings.

“Ummm, I dunno,” I utter over the clanking of a noisy pickup truck engine as we lumber along a bumpy snow-covered road. I’m pretty sure Radley didn’t hear my response.

I’m lodged between him and a genial old farmer who kind of looks like Santa Claus. He’s generously volunteered to chauffeur us to our next destination. The sponsor family that’s hosting our stay for the next two nights lives in a in a tiny rural farmstead outside of a very small village in Sweden. It’s so tiny it doesn’t even have a hotel. That’s where we’re headed next and the local farmer who goes simply by “Farmer Sven” knows the way to the remote address.

My husband Rad pulls out his phone and attempts to refresh his Google Maps app. “My GPS is going haywire, Eva. I think we’re close?” He whisper-yells again as he runs a hand through his dark blonde hair and shrugs with a tired smile.

We left Stockholm early this morning and now we’re out in the middle of nowhere in rural Sweden. Surrounded by nothing but a marshmallow of snowdrifts and evergreen trees that are more white than green under the heavy blanket of precipitation.

We’ve been driving for almost two hours in an ancient pickup carrying a full load of dried hay and tools in the back. Quintessential farmer stuff. I’m a city girl by nature, but these idyllic country gigs are some of my favorite. The people are always so warm and welcoming, even Farmer Sven sitting in the driver’s seat next to me. The three of us are sitting uncomfortably shoulder to shoulder. The only way we can fit all of our luggage (and us) in the cab is if I sat in the middle of the bucket seat with the stick shift knob wedged between my legs. Sven doesn’t seem to be even slightly phased by adjusting the gears between my thighs, but looks straight ahead focusing on the road as if he’s done this drive a million times. I look over at Rad nervously when I sense he’s about to make a very dirty and awkward joke about our new farmer friend, the shifting gears, and I. He gives me a playful wink but knows better from our almost 15 years of marriage to stay silent when I elbow his side gently and glare at him.

“Not your type, I guess?” Rad mutters quietly under his breath in a playful tone, a teasing grin on his handsome features.

“Not even close, buddy.” I mumble back, a smile creeping up on my face.

Radley is very aware of my “type”. It’s actually something that has made us grow even closer as a couple over the years since falling in love in high school. I’m bisexual and Radley and I live a “secret” lifestyle of threesomes. Not that it’s a secret to us or the special women who join us, just something the average person who knew us would never expect. I decided when we first started dating that I want to explore my sexuality in a safe and loving environment and Rad supports me all the way. By this point in our marriage he often knows when I’m attracted to a woman before I even say a word. Usually they’re attractive college-aged women; I have an affinity for them.