Masturbation Monday - Orchestrating Manoeurvres #erotica #romance #menageatrois

Masturbation Monday has been going for a whole year - Happy Birthday! - and it's only now I get round to joining in... here goes...

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The life of a broken hearted supermodel can get pretty dull - there's only so much champagne and caviar one can handle. So, when the opportunity to hook up with two stunning Italian pianists with talented fingers, perfect rhythm and sublime composing presented itself, what could I say but yes, yes yes!

I flopped back on my mountain of pillows, gasping, writhing and shoving Enrique—my new thick, black Rampant Rocker vibrator—into my pussy higher and harder. He was great—long, wide and lined with vein-shaped ridges. And because he was so new to my collection, he seemed to have extra energy, extra enthusiasm for pleasing me. It was as if he was competing for a favoured position in my top drawer.

“Oh, yes, yes,” I called out, upping the speed and finally letting his wicked forked attachment buzz around my clit. “Oh, yes, Enrique!” I twanged forward, sweat forming in my cleavage and my heart pounding. Flattening my palm over my pussy, I held him against my deliciously tormented clitoris. Electric sensations surged through my nerves. My internal muscles clamped and moisture seeped over his shaft, easing his way as I pumped his impressive girth in and out, in and out.

I squeezed my eyelids shut and instantly Dale’s face appeared before me, a hot sheen on his brow and his mouth parted as he gave in to a fierce climax. Tearing open my eyes to shake the painful, memory-laden image, I stared at the huge framed poster of my own face gracing the cover of Vogue last month and came—sharp, intense and breath-taking. God, Enrique is good, worth every penny.

Panting, I pulled Enrique out and tossed him to the bottom of the bed. He’d served his purpose. Started my day with an orgasm. That was why I’d bought him. Carlo just wasn’t doing it for me anymore, his pink, plastic shaft pale and insipid, his rotating glans no longer a novelty and he just didn’t hit the spot with his thin little ears.

I glanced at the clock and sighed. Ten forty-five. I supposed I should get out of bed. Perhaps I could go and get a pedicure—I was already fed up with the Baby Bunting-coloured nail varnish I’d had applied three days ago at The Spa. Or maybe Naomi would be up for champagne and caviar at Jenson’s. I frowned and tried to remember if she was eating at the moment. I couldn’t be sure, but it was worth a try. I rolled onto my stomach and reached for my cell. There were two missed calls, one from my agent and one from my mother. I would sort them out tomorrow.

“Naomi, darling,” I said when she answered on the first ring. “What are you doing today? Fancy some bubbles?” I flipped onto my back and stretched my legs up towards the ceiling, a combined inside leg of an impressive sixty-six inches.

“Tiffany, babe, I thought you would be here. It’s the Tiara event.”

I sat upright and folded my legs. “What...today?”

“Yes, didn’t you speak to Rachel?”

I groaned. “No, I’ve been avoiding her. She’s crazy at the moment, too many hormones.” My agent of four years was in the first few months of pregnancy and driving me nuts with her talk of babies. As if I would be interested in babies—if I didn’t have a perfectly flat stomach I would be out of a job.

“Well you ought to give her a call.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll brace myself.”

“Come on, snap out of it. Where’s your spark gone? Enough moping already, get back out working, if not for the money then for your sanity.”

I could always rely on Naomi to say it how it was. Since Dale had left me three months ago, I’d struggled to get my usual enthusiasm for the world of modelling that I loved so much. Some people had their hearts broken and threw themselves into work—not me. I just wanted to lounge around, play with my toys then head out for something bubbly to drown my sorrows in.

“It will do you good, Tiff,” Naomi was saying, “to get some gigs in the diary and meet some new people. Don’t let him win like this, babe. Show him what he’s missing and he’ll come crawling back.”

Sliding to the side of the bed, I had a sudden rush of determination. She was right. I would snap out of my wallowing. Okay, so Dale had wanted a ‘break’ from dating one of the UK’s highest paid models but still, surely I could find a way with all my connections and attributes to make him wake up to his foolishness. Let him see that I was more than just a face and a body.

I’d made him happy, he needed me in his life, our love was meant to be. I knew all that, so why didn’t he?

I stood and squared my shoulders, pulling in a deep breath. Yes, I’d hit him with a media slap so hard he’d crawl back, begging, on hands and knees. I would teach him that asking for a ‘break’ then not calling all this time to make up was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

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