I met her about a month ago. We were both in Central Park, me sitting on a park bench reading the New Yorker, her taking a break from her bike ride and relaxing on the bench next to mine, and both of us evaluating the mid-afternoon scene. She struck up a conversation with me. I noticed a few different things about her appearance: That her black slick biking pants fit her legs and ass like a glove, that her expertly coiffed blonde hair spoke well of her sense of style, and the ring on ring finger of her left hand. None of which she sought to hide from my appreciative gaze.
I am not sure what about my appearance caught her eye. My hair pulled back in a tail, minimal make-up, and dressed in jeans and a comfy frumpy sweater. She sat; we talked, and enjoyed each other's company. I enjoyed her company enough to ask her to my place, to "see my apartment" as the saying goes, to proffer some tea to take away the late winter chill. She enjoyed my company enough to accept my invitation.
Still in her workout wear, and with her bike in tow, she and I used the back entrance and the service elevator up to my apartment. It would not do, after all, to have anyone at her place think she was anywhere other than still on her bike ride. Nor would it do for anyone at my place to notice a married woman into my apartment. In any event, not more 60 minutes after we met in the park, she walked into my apartment.
She sat, I made some tea, and we talked. I took her left hand into mine and took renewed interest of her wedding ring. I expressed surprise that she wore it while biking. She said she always does when biking in Central Park, as she often stops for a rest and does not want complication or misunderstandings. I see, I said, and thought to myself: This is not the first time she has picked up or been picked up while on one of her Central Park bike rides.
"What does he do?" I asked, less curious about how he paid for her stylist than I was curious about what she would tell me about him
"He's on Wall Street." The alpha and omega of her explanation about him, as it turns out, as she turned the conversation back to me: "You didn't seem to mind when you invited me here."
"I don't mind at all, " I told her, matching her even gaze with one of my own, "I'll guess I'm like you: I don't need unnecessary drama in my life."
She smiled at that. I liked her demeanor, and that she would have walked out of my apartment had I not met her... terms. Probably I would have done the same in her place. Certainly, I would have thrown her out had she started blathering on about how she needs a "special friend" in her life, how "only women understand our needs" or how she had been "so curious for so long." I smiled back at her and we silently watched the sun wane over the canyons of Midtown, enjoyed the brief moment before she turned to me and asked me to show her the rest of my apartment.
Considering I live in a one-bedroom apartment, the only place left to show my new friend was my bedroom. She noticed the prints on the wall, my own bike standing in the corner, and the queen-sized bed by the curtained window; I noticed how her black biking pants perfectly hugged her shapely ass. She walked over by my unmade bed and made a show of noticing the framed print above my bed. I walked over behind her, placed my hands on her hips, and held my body close to hers. She moved back against me, pressing her hips back against mine. I imagined her then, on my bed, on her hands and knees, my hands massaging and spreading her ass.
"Are you very tight from your bike ride?" I asked, letting my hands move up the side of her body. She stood perhaps an inch taller than my 5'7" height, and though less curvy than me, retained a lithe quality in her body and movement that I found quite alluring.
"I had not been biking long when I found you." She answered my questions, both those stated and unspoken, with an economy of words I thought... tactfully direct. She had seen through and removed my pretense for touching her; that her bike ride had left her tired and strained, and perhaps in need of a massage.
"I see" was all I could muster in response.
She turned to me, kept my hands on her hips, and placed hers on mine. She smiled at me, then said with a grin: "But I'd still like a massage. Why don't you go refresh our tea while I get comfortable on your bed?"
I nodded, turned, and left the room. Oh, she was smooth. She was smooth enough to take her pleasure sans accoutrement, and expected the same of her lovers. It is not that she dislikes drama per se, I thought, but that the drama she wanted in the dynamics she established with her different lovers was that which all wanted. Which begged the question: What drama would she and I selectively add to our dynamic?
I pushed these future thoughts from my mind and set myself back to the here and now. I gathered our cups, refilled them with tea, and walked them back into my bedroom. During my absence, she had made herself quite at home. She lay on my bed, facing away from me, stripped down to a cute pair of black hip-hugger briefs. She looked perfectly comfortable. Her smooth back and legs spoke to her commitment to fitness just as the way she lay with her legs slightly parted spoke to her ease and sensuality. I set her cup down on the bedside table, causing her to jerk her head back around to face me.
"Oh, No! You're already falling asleep on me!" I teased her while sipping a bit of my tea.
"I told you I would get comfortable!" She grinned back.
"Comfortable, not comatose" I thought, but held my tongue. She propped herself on her side and with her free hand took her tea to her mouth. She wore no lipstick, yet the fullness and sensuality of her mouth stood out. I suspected men thought hers the 'perfect cock-sucking mouth' and I wondered if she backed up their thoughts with her actions. Lying as she did afforded me a view of her small breasts and very flat tummy. She seemed to me one of those women I see at the gym, with their personal trainers, exorcising the twin demons of boredom and frustration through extended repetitions on the Cybex Machines. I would place her age at 10 years my senior, yet she looked better than did half the thirty-something women my own age.
She sipped her tea silently while watching me undress for her. I shed my clothes with a certain practiced ease, adding my clothes to the pile she had created on the floor. Once down to my thong, I took her cup from her hand and motioned her to lay flat on her tummy. I made a show of re-adjusting my thong, pulling it tighter over my hips and letting it cup my pussy, and then turned back to her. She nestled her head into her arms and waited for me to join her on my bed.
I moved around the bed, letting my fingers glance over her body, and pulling her legs out and open. Her smooth skin warmed to my touch and appreciative moans escaped her mouth. I climbed on the bed between her legs, letting my hands glide up her back and down her sides. I worked back up her spine, pulling her back flat, pushing her deeper into my bed. With every stroke up her body, she lifts her ass off the bed, seeming to want to meet a touch or a tongue she will not receive until later.
I pulled her legs together, straddling her thighs under mine. I am sure she could feel it when I rubbed the crotch of my panties against the back of her thighs. I am also sure she also noticed when, after stroke of smoothing my hands down the sides of her body, I pushed her panties a little lower over her hips. We maintained ourselves, keeping this contact both erotic and impersonal, neither of us saying a word to the other.
I switched my body off hers, kneeling to her side, facing towards her feet. Almost as if sensing my next move, she lifted her ass off the bed, letting my hands pull her panties down her legs. Her well-toned ass revealed itself to me, with tan lines from a thong perfectly framing the supple curves of each cheek. The faintness of the lines told me she had perhaps vacationed somewhere warm sometime in her recent past.
"Where did you vacation?" I asked, conscious of using vacation as a verb, presuming she only took active holidays.
"St. Martin. Have you been?" She asked while I pulled her panties off her legs.
"Yes, but years back. I went to Club Orient. You?" I asked, dropping the name of a nudist/lifestyle resort while dropping her panties to the floor.
"Yes, that's where I went." She looked back at me and smiled.
"How'd you end up with tan lines at a that place?" I wondered aloud, remembering how I spent a week more or less nude during the day, with perhaps a fun party dress in the evening and never wearing panties save when I arrived and left.
"It's what was wanted of me." She explained.
"So, he was with you." I said, referring to the man behind her ring.
"Well, no. But I wasn't alone." She explained, and left it at that, as did I. Besides, I had a naked woman in my bed, and things were just starting...
I placed my right hand on the back of her neck then traced my fingers down her spine. As if by instinct, she parted her legs as my hand approached her ass. My left hand joined my right in cupping and gently opening her ass, then gliding my hands further down her legs. I leaned over, letting my nipples glace over her back, and then pulled my hands back up tracing my fingertips inside of her thighs. All of which made her open her legs just a little bit more. With every stroke of my hands, she parted her legs wider and wider.
I positioned myself back between her legs. I noticed how comfortable she seemed at that moment; her arms folded under her head, her back slightly arched, and how her curvy and slightly parted ass allowed me a peek between cheeks trailing down to the back of her bare and moistening pussy. Confident she would tell me if I touched her in a way she found displeasing, I continued my "massage."
I focused almost exclusively on her ass. My previous vision returned to my thoughts, of pulling her to her hands and knees, spreading her ass, and licking her from the base of her spine to the tip of her clit and back. Of letting my tongue part her lips, caress her clit, then slide into and taste her pussy. Of letting my tongue slide between her cheeks, feeling her relax, then pressing my tongue into her. Try as I might, I could not shake this image from my mind. Ambivalence abounded within me, for I would not want to move too fast too soon and have her flee my bed.
Perhaps it was that she sensed my mood, as all good lovers do. Perhaps she had the same vision running through her mind. Perhaps it was that I signaled my intentions by gently running my fingers between her cheeks, then smoothing her apart, spreading her ass before me. She flexed just then, winking at me. My hands moved down her thighs, breaking the moment, and continuing my sensual tease of her skin. Not content with this, she pulled her hands from under her head and brought them down to her hips. She covered her ass with her hands, and then in a move I could only describe as invitingly lewd, spread her ass for me.
She held herself like that, relaxed and poised, and so very exposed. My hands moved as if by her volition, sliding under hers, keeping her open. I leaned forward then, placing my mouth at the base of her spine, letting my tongue extend and make contact with her body. After scooting myself down on the bed, I let my mouth move lower on her with a series up upward cat-licks until I found myself tickling and touching her ass with the tip of my tongue. She relaxed, perceptibly so, and accompanied by a quite satisfied sigh.
I gave her a few flat-tongue wet licks then pulled my mouth back to examine my handiwork. It seemed as if the fading tan lines curving around the top of her ass formed an arrow pointing down to her slick, slightly dimpled anus. Her ass slick with my saliva and dimpled from what I would guess was her enjoyment of vigorous anal sex. I should know; I enjoy the same. I placed the tip of my tongue against her anus, felt her relax just as I would have, and then pressed my tongue into her ass. She responded immediately. She slid her hands, palms up, under her hips, and then lifted her ass to my gently probing tongue.
It was with a sigh that she pulled herself from me. I pulled myself back to my knees and waited on her next move. She turned over, scissoring her legs in the process, then rest on her back with her legs wide apart. It was not just her lips that were bare, but also her entire pussy. The same tan lines that encased her lovely ass served to frame her deliciously full and wet cunt. She placed her right hand behind her head, used her left to spread and open her lips, and invited me to continue. Silently, I did.
The diamond of her wedding ring glistened in the ambient light in my bedroom, as did the pearl of moisture gathered at the base of her cunt. I do not know why I did, but I first kissed her wedding ring before I kissed her married pussy. She was heavy, slick, and fragrant. I let myself inhale her scent before she used her hand to pull my mouth to her cunt. I kissed her full on the lips before letting my tongue slide between her lips while my hands reached under and cradled her ass, lifting her to me. She needed more, she wanted a more direct sensation, and directed my mouth with both hands to her engorged clit.
I wasted little time using my tongue and mouth to massage, lick, and suck her clit harder and harder. I wanted to feel her pulsing on my tongue, feel her ass clench in my hands and her thighs press against my face; I wanted her to forget all but the sensation of my mouth pleasuring her. The ease of her tensions higher matched my increased tempo of gently sucking her clit deeper into my mouth. Suspecting she wanted even more, I guided the middle finger from my left hand to her slick ass, and then let her own rocking motion slide my finger deep into her ass. I was correct; she does enjoy anal sex.
My right hand went to her cunt, using my ring and middle fingers to part and then penetrate her lips. She, by now, had fingers from both of hands just as deeply entwined in my hair as mine were in her body. She rocked herself deeper onto both sets of my fingers, each slick and sliding inside of her. I spread and curled my two fingers in her cunt, massaging her spot as my mouth moved back to her clit. I licked and sucked her, felt her clit tremble under my tongue, felt her ass clench my finger while she rocked her hips back and forth on my hands, easing my fingers deeper into her pussy. She moved her hands from my hair to her knees, pulling her legs back and up, spreading herself even wider for my mouth and fingers. I pulled the middle finger from my left hand back from her ass, sensed her missing this penetration, how she yearned for renewed stretching and probing of her ass, then easily slid both the middle and ring fingers from my left hand deep into her ass. Yes, her ass was well used to vigorous and deep penetration.
She began writhing, moaning, pushing herself back to meet the thrusts of my fingers deep into her cunt and ass. While my inner fingers curled and massaged her pussy, my outer fingers spread and held her outer lips, leaving her clit deliciously exposed for my tongue and mouth. I sucked her again, hard. I pursed and pulled her clit with my lips, sluiced my tongue over her clit, formed a groove with my tongue and sucked her deeper and deeper in time with my fingers in her cunt and ass. She rocked in time with me; she let herself feel her body respond to my passion, and pushed down until my fingers could go no further into her body. She held her legs open for me in a perfect V, then forcefully closed her thighs around my face, and pulled my hair, pulling my face deeper into her. She was so close and I would not relent; not for the entire world would I let up from her. Her tensing increased, her clenching my fingers in her body, her clit twitching and pulsing in my mouth, and then with a violent arch and an exasperated and quite vocal moan she released to me, cumming for me, let these sensations overtake her body, let her cunt and ass and clit and legs release against my body.
I moved my mouth from her clit to her flat tummy, kissing and nuzzling against her. I let slide from her cunt the two fingers from my right hand, which then smoothed over her hips to under her lower back. My fingers in her ass I in place, holding her close, which I knew to be the correct sensation; having my ass still penetrated after orgasm counts as one of my favorite sensations. I moved up on her body then, pressing the heel of my left hand against the base of her cunt, then kissing and nibbling each of her small erect nipples in turn. Her hands went to the back of my head as she emerged from her post-orgasmic haze, pulling my mouth from one nipple to the next as she wanted. Finally, with my fingers still in her ass, she brought my mouth to hers. There was no small kiss in either of our vocabularies, no shared peck on the lips or cheek; her open mouth invited mine to lock with hers. She began sucking my tongue, making me fuck her mouth with my tongue, and then I began fucking her ass again with my fingers.
My right hand supported her back, pulling her to me, holding her body against mine. Her hands pulled my face to her, trying to somehow make our kiss even deeper, longer, wetter. I pressed my bare breasts against her, felt the familiar sensation of our erect nipples rubbing against our bodies, our breasts; felt her heart beating against my chest. Scissoring her left leg between mine, I then used my fingers in her ass to pull her to her side against me. She threw her left leg far over my hips, up on my body, curled to press her body against mine, keeping her ass spread for me. I could tell that, from the sensations of my mouth on hers, my breasts on hers, and my fingers sliding in and out of her ass, She was going to cum again.
Her fingers curled and pulled my hair. Her mouth gaped open then closed repeatedly, closing around my tongue and mouth. Finally, dismissing the idea of concentrating on our kiss, she pulled my mouth to her neck. Her hands went to my back, her fingers digging into me, her nails raking my back as I pressed the heel of my palm against her cunt and my fingers fucked her ass. She was so close again so quickly! I would not relent, my fingers now almost slamming into her ass, her moaning with every movement of mine. I pulled my right hand to the back of her head, pulled her head back by her hair, and yanked her face into my vision. Her eyes locked onto mine, she bared her teeth as a cornered animal bares its fangs, and she almost hissed at me. I grasped her hair even tighter; pulling her head back holding her in place, watched her mouth remain open gasping for air. She pressed her nails into my back, pulled them long and deep against me, so much so that I knew I would have marks there the next day. This rich bitch wanted this rough, hard, vigorous, and violent. And nasty... With my fingers still slamming into her ass, I pulled her head back one final time, opening her mouth and exposing her tongue, then formed in my mouth an ample amount of saliva that I then spit into hers.
That sent her over the edge. That is it, I thought: This is the drama she wants, the sensations she needs; the meeting of her mind and body needed for complete and total surrender: She needs to be the rich bitch fucked like a nasty slut. Oh, and was I ever very happy to oblige. I slipped my thumb into her cunt and pressed it against my fingers in her ass. I rubbed them together, repeatedly making circled in her, connecting the sensations in her cunt and ass. That is all she needed... she pulled me to her, curled her fingers and scratched her nails down my back, and came for me again. Not a thing separated her body from mine, not a single notion separated her from what she wanted; this nasty slut fucked her ass and cunt against my hand and came and came and came.
She pushed herself from me soon after the last tremor left her body. More to say she laid herself flat under my body, her arms at her side, her body slick with perspiration, her breasts rising and falling with her quickly regulated breaths. I kept my hand very still in her then, careful not to move anything for fear of jarring her. With a final sigh, she moved her right hand to between her legs and gingerly pulled my fingers from her ass. I rested my hand on her hip and waited for her to regain the power of speech. Her eyes focused on mine first, then she closed her legs and moved to her side facing me.
"You never took them off." She said, noticing the band from my thong under her hand on my hip.
"It didn't seem necessary." I stated the obvious.
"No, I suppose not." She agreed with me, and then rolled me over to my tummy. She pulled herself up, resting on her left arm, and running her right hand down my back. Her fingers gently touched along the red lines I am sure crisscrossed my back. "I'm afraid I've left some marks on you."
"They'll heal," I said, "the may be noticed but nobody will question them." A quick translation formed in her mind, as I knew it would, that I knew I could not have marked her as she had me, and that I was fine with that. My lovers know I sometimes 'like it rough', and I know that they know. Besides, I do not have a significant other who would question how I got these marks, and who placed them there. I laid my head flat on the bed, picked up her scent and the scent of her perfume on my sheets, and deeply inhaled both. I liked that this woman wore perfume when biking in the park, looking for lovers, and we let the mood ease down from an erotic inferno to this nice sensual flicker.
She continued stroking her hand along my back, to my hips, feeling the curves of my ass, played with my thong. "Do you let many lovers in here?" She suddenly asked, cupping my ass with her hand as she did.
"In where?" I asked, her comment jarring me from my reverie.
"Into your apartment, your bed." She explained.
"Are you asking me how many lovers I have?" I pressed her, genuinely curious about what she wanted to know.
She cocked her head to the side, then continued: "I know you have lovers, Susan. With your looks and body, how could you not? What I am wondering is... how many do you let in here? How many do you let see the real you?"
I pulled my head up and faced her. "Tell me what you mean, June."
She smiled the kind of smile one often sees when predators have they prey cornered. "Do you spit in your other lovers' mouths and pull their hair? Do you let them dig their nails into your back?"
"Sure." I said, annoyed with her tone, and dropped my head to the bed.
"Do you do that because that is what they want, or because of what you want?" She continued, "Or do you first have to play coy and naive before you get what you want?"
I smiled when I finally understood her point. The number of times I had had a woman in my bed, or me in hers, where I tried to introduce things considered kinky only to be rebuffed with a protestation on her part indicating I had given offense. Then I saw the connection she drew between my apartment and my passion. I kept "friends" at arm's length, until I sensed in them the desire to share these more... explicit pleasures. Then, they became my lovers. Of course, it next occurred me that this is what she had just done with me. This realization I shared with her by lifting myself up again, smiling then kissing her. She smiled back then pulled my hair from the side of my face.
"It's late," she announced, "and I have to go."
Yes, I knew that was coming next. As they say... better to leave them wanting more than to overstay your welcome. Besides, I could tell from the dimming light coming through my bedroom window that twilight was descending upon the city.
"When can I see you again?" I hated this part of me, the needy part, and even though it so infrequently manifests itself in my actions, still I hated that I had asked her that. Yes, I wanted to see her again. Yes, I wanted to fuck her again. Maybe next time I might actually get my panties off. Yes, she was erotic, exciting, and all of that, but why had I shown her that needy side of me? Shit!
She rose off the bed and stretched. I took a pillow and slid it under me, hugging it to me as if she still lay under me. It was not enough that my words betrayed my mood but by actions did as well. I still watched her though. I watched her regain her footing, slip her panties up until they again hugged her hips, and place her breasts back into her bra. She found her pants and top where she had placed them and quickly finished getting dressed. She came over to me then. She leaned over the bed, stroked my head, bent over, and kissed my cheek. Peevishly, I had not bothered offering her more to kiss than my cheek.
"Don't worry, Susan. I will be in touch with you." She announced as if stating the obvious, smiled again, turned and left my bedroom. I heard the sounds of her in my foyer, slipping her biking shoes back on, grabbing her bike, opening the door, and then she left. I lay on my bed, alone, with her scent in the air, her taste in my mouth, and her promise on my mind. I closed my eyes and tried to push all this from me, found I could not, then got up, dressed for the gym, and then went over and joined all those other women exercising my body while exorcising demons from my mind.
I came home from work the next day, and found a package awaited me at the concierge's desk. A cream monogrammed vanilla envelope appeared, obviously from her, obviously delivered by courier service, and my spirits rose as the elevator lifted me to my apartment. The bills and Vanity Faire could wait.
You are a lovely and passionate woman. It's so rare for women like us to find each other; like orchids we are tender and strong, striving to bring our own special form of beauty to this city. Did you think I would not contact you? Of course you did. Do I fear you will not answer this invitation? Of course I do. But I hope you will.
A friend from the fashion world is throwing a party at the Cellar Bar two days from now. They are closing the place for this, and your name will be on a guest list. I do not know your real last name so I have given you one: Susan St. Martin.
Do come to this, Susan. Say 'YES!' to this! Do not let last night be our sweet sorrow! Let us meet again, and let us smile.
I smiled and smiled. Her command of Shakespeare lifted my spirits, her invitation tickled me, and I thought 'Thursday could not come quick enough!' Yes, I was still miffed she left me wanting and in a needy mood. Now I knew she shared my same needs. I wondered who would be at this party. I was reasonably sure that she would be the only person there I would know, but I could not have cared less. I quickly brought my personal schedule to mind, remembered a fun and funky couple with whom I had a pre-existing commitment, evaluated my next move for perhaps 3/10 of a second, and fired off an email to them seeking a rain check.
I had no way of sending a message to June; the envelope had no return address, I knew the courier service would not tell me who had sent her message, and her note did not contain an email address, a phone number, or even who was throwing the party at the Cellar Bar. No matter, I thought: She knew I would appear, and so did I. I sent my RSVP via ESP.
A fashion event... I tore through my closet early on that Thursday evening wondering what I should wear. I knew that nothing in my closet would be hip and trendy as anything adorning the tall thin angular bodies of the fashionistas sure to attend at this soiree, so I went basic. Basic black fuck-me pumps with a 3" heel and basic black thigh-highs, both with a smooth satin finish, served as my basic black base. I thought about and then discarded the notion of wearing panties; with luck they would not be necessary, plus since I had not had a chance to remove my panties the first time we fucked, I thought it opportune to banish this decision from her mind. I shimmied into one of my more interesting little black dresses. It was long enough to hide the tops of my thigh-highs, short enough to show ample leg, tight enough to mold itself to my body, and with a halter-top generously displaying my cleavage. The low-slung back would display some of the marks left by June, some of them fading from view like the tan lines on her ass, and my longish blonde hair would hide the rest from the hoi polloi; but June would get the signal. I put on my coat, grabbed my purse, and left.
"Name?" The living breathing porcelain doll standing guard at the entrance of the cellar asked me. She was impossibly thin, impossibly delicate, and making in a month what I make in a week, hoping someone would 'discover' her this evening. She looked at me and, after taking in my full measure and comparing it against hers, saw an older successful woman with fading beauty and sagging body. I looked at her and saw Bambi growing stale, with fading dreams and sagging prospects, and a series of creepy middle-aged married men circling her, enticing her with offers of travel and dinner and clothes and all else that is part of having a 'mutually beneficial arrangement' with such men.
We exchanged looks of pity then I gave her my nom de la soiree, "Susan St. Martin." She barely glanced up to me; already looking over my shoulder to the next in line, while the tall beefy hunk manning the velvet rope did take notice of me, as I did of him, and then let me pass.
I did not spot her at first, and did not made a point of looking too hard for her. I was there at her invitation, and she could well find me when she wanted to. I moved to the bar as the background lighting effects changed from chartreuse to vermilion. The bar truly is a cellar, with vaulted ceilings, subdued lighting, low seating, and a wait staff seemingly lifted from the pages of Vogue.
Then I spotted her. Yes, she was there, wearing a very slimming black pantsuit, the top of her multi-fabric and multi-hued bustier peeking out from behind the deep V of her jacket, on the arm of a man more than 10 years her senior. She was there with her husband. Curious, I thought, until I remembered his job. She had probably sent her RSVP for both of them weeks before, then placed it on his schedule thinking his work or some dinner or something would interfere with his attendance. She caught my eye long enough to establish a look, and then turned back to her group.
I ordered an apple martini (best in New York) and waited.
I ordered a second apple martini and waited.
Yes I talked and flirted with the men and women there, but the men were all 'modelizers'; and had no interest in schmoozing and/or hitting on a thirty-something woman with her own consulting practice. The women were more interesting, which is to say interesting to look at, for since I am not in the fashion business I had little in common with those there. Certainly, I had little to offer in the way of professional contacts. Besides, I was there to meet someone... else. Therefore, I contented myself with surveying the canvas of wool crepe and bare skin and getting drunk.
I caught June's eye when I could and found her still occupied by her husband and their friends. He was holding forth, as Master's of the Universe will do, flapping his fish-like lips, pontificating on some subject, which apparently did not interest anyone else assembled before him, including June. She managed a smile when he looked away, and I smiled back.
I was about to order a third apple martini when I decided a trip to the Ladies would be in order. I flashed a look over my shoulder to June, noticed she had noticed my movements, and then disappeared stage right. June made her appearance after my third time washing my hands. Our eyes met in the mirror then she walked past me and into the far stall, and closed the door. The other woman primping herself in the mirror did notice this; and shot me a smile and a look on her way back out to the bar. I walked loudly to the far stall and pushed the door back. June was there, standing, waiting for me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think he would be here." She said as she pulled me into the fully enclosed stall, pulled my body to hers, and locked the door. It was as if we were in a closet, away from prying eyes.
"I know, don't worry, it's fine." I hugged her back assuaging her fears. She looked imposing and fabulous; her Gucci pumps added an additional 4" to her height, she now stood two inches above me. I leaned over to kiss her when she stopped me, holding my mouth back from hers.
"Don't. We can't kiss, "she exhaled quickly, and all too obviously worried I would leave her mouth a mess, and then screeched at me "We don't have long!" She reached behind my neck and unsnapped my halter-top, freeing my breasts.
It's fine!" I repeated for emphasis while managing to open her black coat and feeling the fabrics of the bustier that encased her body and breasts.
She pulled the hem of my dress over my hips, and then quickly moved her right hand between my thighs to my pussy. She either did not notice or had expected me to not be wearing panties. In any event, she continued, "Open your legs, please! We don't have much time. He'll notice!" She begged me, sincere concern edging into her lustful voice.
"June, calm down!" I eased her nerves with my voice as I pushed myself back against the wall, "We'll have enough time!" I lifted my left foot to the cover on the seat, opened my legs, guided her right hand back to my pussy, and pulled her in. Yes, I am well versed in the practice of fucking with high heels on.
"No! We don't!" She hissed at me, her fingers already rubbing me, parting me, spreading my cunt open. "You don't understand. I have a room here. It's in your name, your fake name. I wanted to meet you, fuck you, and come back to the party... You're not..."
"June, what... I'm not what, June?" I asked her, feeling her fingers slide inside my pussy. I had been moist from the moment I started getting dressed for this evening, and positively slick the moment I arrived. I pulled her hand closer to me, her fingers deeper into me with her palm flat against my clit.
"You're not my only lover here!" She spat out at me, seeing her well-laid plans falter before her eyes, and her anger and resentment at her husband bubbling out like her saliva did from the corners of her mouth. I swooned. I literally fucking swooned. She had set me up to whore me to one of her other lovers.
She pushed me back with her left hand, placing her hand at my sternum, moving it up to press against my collar bone, then placing her hand at the base of my neck, gently squeezing me. I placed my hands over hers, covered her hands at my neck and cunt with my own, signaling to her: 'Yes, It's OK... I understand... I want this, too...'. The look in my eyes and the contractions of my cunt told her all she needed to know about how, even though sight unseen and gender unknown, I would have answered such an outlandish proposition. I wanted so much to kiss her, to tell her how excited she made me, to tell her yes I would have; I just wanted to kiss her.
"I wanted to tell you in the hotel room. He's here at the party. You would have wouldn't you? You would have spread your legs for him." She both asked and accused, her fingers moving faster and faster in me. Indeed, we did not have much time, nor would I last very long until I came. She let go of her grip on my neck and moved her left hand down to my right breast, took my nipple between her fingers, and then rolled it and pulled it between her gracious long fingers. She formed her fingernails in a crowning pinch around my nipple, squeezed very hard, and asked again: "You would have, wouldn't you?"
"Yesssssss," I hissed through clenched teeth, feeling her spread me wide almost lifting my body up with her hand, "Yes I would have!" I amazed myself that I agreed so quickly, under such circumstances, and that I remained standing. She pressed her hand flat against my breast, pushing me back against the wall, inflaming the marks from two days before. "Who...?" I started to ask before she cut me off.
"He's here. He's seen you." She leered at me while answering my question without telling me a single damn thing. She pressed her hand hard against my breast, flattening my breast against my body and my body against the wall, pressing my nipple between her thumb and forefinger. My hands went to my sides, flat against the wall, gripping for and finding no perch or handhold against the smooth surfaces of this enclosed scene.
Why was she telling me this, I thought. As clouded as my thoughts may have been, I retained at least basic deductive reasoning abilities. She had managed to hatch another plan, I was sure. "Please, June!" I begged, "Tell me what you want." Further speech was not possible, as I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming, to keep from moaning, to not let everyone in the bar know this woman was finger-fucking me to an imminent orgasm.
"He's leaving tomorrow. He's gone this weekend." She explained the imminent absence of her husband and the beginnings of her fallback plan, "He's coming over Saturday night. He's going to fuck me hard. He's cut, thick, gorgeous." she panted, describing either his cock or his body, or both. "I want to watch him fuck you, I want to watch him fuck your cunt and ass," she hissed, selecting that moment to add a third finger to my cunt, spreading me open even more, now spreading my breast against my body, pulling my nipple in every direction she moved her hand about, pressing me even harder against the wall. I was holding on for dear life, not wanting to fall over, not wanting to break our silent embrace. My hands grasped and clawed; She became my Mistress, tormenting my body and mind, turning me into a caged bitch in heat, and I fucking loved it!
"Say you'll come to me. Say it, Susan! Tell me you're a nasty slut, that you'll come to me Saturday night!" Her fingers really in me, the heel of her hand pressing against my clit, that familiar reservoir deep within me welling, bursting, flowing, ready to let loose. I could not believe this woman had me like this so quickly, so effortlessly. I could not believe I would be so easy for her. I begged her with my eyes to not make me speak, that I could not contain myself if I so much as opened my mouth; I begged her to leave me some reserve of dignity; even though I knew she would not. I knew, at that moment, that I would not deny her, neither then nor on Saturday evening.
"Say it!" She seethed at me through gritted teeth, her blue eyes aflame, and her soft look never more hard and serious than that moment. She added with her command a final vicious thrust of her fingers in my cunt, gripping me and lifting me, violently grinding her hand against my clit.
"YES! Oh G..." I wailed and moaned, agreeing to her plans, to her terms, while she moved her left hand from my breast to my mouth muffling my cry to the Almighty. Oh, God... The look in her eyes, her pressing my head back and pressing her body against mine, pressing me back against the wall, and then I lost it. Deep with in me my last reserve broke and I clenched and let loose for her, my cunt contracted then flared and pulsed on her hand, my hips grinding back and forth, my arms wrapping around her and pulled her even closer to me, and I came for her. I came and came and came. Her left hand never left my mouth and her right hand never left my cunt. Indeed, she now repeatedly pressed her body against mine with every stroke, meeting my gyrations with her own, pressing me back against the wall, fucking me back against the wall, fucking my cunt harder every time, her fingers spreading and splaying me wide with every stroke. When finally my body began settling into something resembling a normal rhythm, she pulled her fingers from my cunt and ran them up, pinching my clit hard, made me scream into her mouth, and buckling my knees. She pulled me down off the wall and guided me down, sitting me on the toilet. My breasts still hung down, my dress bunched around my waist, and my bare ass against the toilet seat cover.
She stood back, took in this sight, and smiled. She made a lewd display of licking and sucking clean each finger that she had used to fuck my cunt then came over and towered above me. She bent over and took my left nipple into her right hand, gave to this nipple the mixture of pleasure and pain she had given to the other, pulling and pinching my nipple between her fingers. She placed her left hand on the back of my neck, took hold of my hair, and yanked my head back. She leaned closer to me, I opened my mouth waiting for her to do the same, waiting for the sensation of her lips on mine, her tongue on mine, for us to share a kiss. This was not to be, as I found out when she held her mouth above mine, pursed her lips, and then spat the mixture of my cum and her saliva into my waiting mouth. She released my hair and my nipple and I closed my mouth then hung my head down, the sensations both physical and psychological overcoming me. Involuntarily, I savored this new taste in my mouth as I squeezed my legs together and cupped my tortured breasts with my hands.
"Susan?" She asked, looking for my attention.
I still had not regained the power of conversation, so I looked her evenly in the eyes and nodded for her to continue.
"I'll send a car for you, on Saturday. I'll have them pick you up at your place at 9:00. I'll need to have your last name; you'll need to tell me so I can tell them. What is it?" She asked and waited, making sure I understood her.
I mumbled it to her, and then asked for hers.
She ignored my question with a smile, and continued: "You'll come to my place, he'll come over once you're there. He's tested and clean. I am too. Are you? Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
My cunt gave an involuntary twitch when I realized what she was saying: That her lover fucked her bareback, and would fuck me the same way. I nodded and mumbled my understanding, and my consent to this.
"I need to go. I will see you on Saturday." She turned, unlocked the door, and closed it behind her. I leaned over and locked the door after she left.
I heard the sounds of her washing her hands and then waited for her to leave the ladies room before I stood up, smoothed my dress down, and re-attached my halter-top. My nipples screamed in protest; thus eliciting from my body and mind price of my passions. She had left me marked yet again, and I wondered what other marks I would receive on Saturday night. I regained my balance as I stood up, left the stall, and approached the mirror. My mussed hair, smeared lipstick, and dazed expression looked back at me from the mirror. I composed myself, fixing my smile, and quickly fluffing my hair back into place. I washed my hands for the fourth time in 15 minutes then left the room.
June and her party had moved to one of the tables off to the side of the bar. She was sitting back, legs crossed, now with sunglasses hiding her eyes, looking Mod, stylish, and enthralling those around her. She gave no overt notice of me, yet I sensed her giving her hips an involuntary clench as she unbuttoned her coat and lay back on the couch. I quickly averted my gaze and found a spot at the now-crowded bar.
I was about to order my third apple martini when the bartender set down a shot glass containing some layered concoction in front of me. Equal parts Irish Cream, Kahlua, and Midori; I recognized the drink immediately. I also knew who had sent me this drink. I dismissed him and his unctuously discreet demeanor with a flash of my eyes. I held up the drink, turned in profile to June, and in one fell swoop swallowed the sweet mixture of this 'Quick Fuck' while still feeling the effects of the other quick fuck.
I left soon after that. I did not look for June's (and my soon to be) other lover. I knew the search would be fruitless, and I wanted to keep it as fantasy until Saturday evening. He did fuck me that evening, though; with June, my lover, the Moon holding me in her luminescent embrace. I let my favorite jelly vibe take his place; fucking my cunt hard and fast until I rolled to my side presented my ass to his surrogate cock. I fell asleep alone, sated for the moment, and yearning for more.
The intervening days passed in a blur of work and working out, then Saturday sprung heavy and turbulent, capable of change at a moment's notice. I took my coffee black, bitter, it's fragrant earthy aroma rolling my mind awake. Thoughts of June and her lover, never far from my mind, came back in full force for quite some time until I noticed the passage of time. I had spent the morning with my mind locked in a battle between the virtues of caution and reckless abandonment while my coffee had grown cold in my lap.
I showered and dressed. My thinking being that, like all ambivalent moods, a shopping trip often strikes the perfect balance between apprehension and inaction, I found my way down to Spring Street in the Village. My mind did find distractions as I acquired a few winter things on sale at one store, then switched seasons and stores and picked up a fun frilly gingham print summer dress, and then got some sassy cosmetics at a third store.
Feeling better about myself, or at least feeling better about placing my mind elsewhere, I made my way to Washington Square Park, content to get some coffee and watch the day pass. Time would move without any thought by me, but my decision would not. Or could it? Could I just not be home at 9:00, not be there when the driver came to deliver me to June, pass up this her latest invitation? No. Abdicating on a decision still selects a course of action, and I have not desire to move through my life choosing my destiny through avoidance. Besides, by dismissing this invitation, I knew there would be no others, and I wanted there to be others. I would go to June this evening, to see if her scene matched my mood. If it did not, I would leave. If it did, then I would let our combined mood carry the evening. Above all else, I would be the mistress of my own destiny.
With a renewed sense of balance and purpose, I walked along the streets lining the north side of the park, looking for a particular boutique mentioned in passing by a 'friend' some weeks ago. Finding the place proved elusive, but rewarding. Their shoe collection displayed along one wall, with everything from ankle-strap pumps to thigh-high leather boots. Mannequins displayed a few of their dresses: A liquid metal strapless mini-dress in ruby red with keyhole cutouts on both sides; a slinky long velvet evening gown in royal blue with a slit high up one side and a scoop-front plunging neckline exposing both cleavage and belly button; and on and on. My 'friend' was right: This store had a very fun, daring, exciting collection of club-wear and party dresses.
Reasoning they would be on my body longer than the dress, I started with the shoes. I spied a pump, a simple sleek black satin D'Orsay pump, with a 4" heel and an ankle strap. The salesgirl mysteriously and majestically appeared at my side as soon as I held this shoe in my hand. Yes, they had my size. They looked incongruous when I tried them on, matched as they were with my casual wear, yet I could feel my calves and ass flex under my jeans, and reasoned with one of the dresses lining the racks behind me, I would look delicious.
With the shoes in hand, I next went looking for a dress. One caught my eye, a rose-pattern lace dress with four ties on each sides and even the spaghetti straps tied behind the shoulders to the back of the dress. It did not have a lining, my fingers almost visible under the nearly opaque and very delicate fabric. The dress I pulled out was two sizes too large for me. The salesgirl nodded approvingly, dug into another rack, and emerged with the same dress in my size. Both dress and shoes went with me back to find a dressing room.
I stripped down nude before slipping my new shoes on. I was right, the lines of the shoes worked well with my toned legs and ass. Putting the dress on worked best if I untied one set of the side ties, slipped the top over my head, pulled the rest of the fabric around my body, and then reattached the open side of the dress. The ties on each side allowed me to cinch and pull the fabric, to adjust and move my breasts, until the dress became a second skin. The back hem of the dress was just long enough to cup and hug around my ass, the bodice curved around my body, and the cinched side and shoulder straps lifted my breasts. Sitting down on the chair in the dressing room and facing the mirror, my cunt peeked out from between my uncrossed legs. Standing and approaching to the mirror, I could just barely discern the outline of my nipples through the lace. This dress was decadent to the point of indecency, was truly lingerie masquerading as eveningwear, and I loved it.
The salesgirl waited behind the counter, waiting patiently for me to emerge from the dressing room. She made mention of and motioned to a selection of chokers and necklaces displayed behind the counter. Initially dismissive, I noticed a set of satin chokers embossed with roses in a selection of colors. Accessories should always unite the shoes and clothes, as did one black satin choker embossed with black roses. Lightning struck thrice as they had my size, the salesgirl helping attach the choker snugly around neck. I faced the mirror behind the counter, pulled my hair back, moved my head side to side, and loved the look. The signal conveyed by such a thing would be as unmistakable as those sent by my ankle-strap pumps and peek-a-boo dress. The choker tightened around my neck as I threw my head back. I remembered June, how she had placed her hand there, on my neck, how I had placed my hand on hers, how she had gently squeezed, just as I had wanted her to.
Five hundred dollars later I had my outfit for the evening. Sometimes your body pays the price of passion; sometimes you get to use American Express. No matter: The bill always comes due.
I got home with 4 hours to prepare. I first set about preparing my body, cleansing myself inside and out, then removing any unwanted body hair, and then resting in a tub full of scalding hot water and rose-scented bath oil. I emerged from my bath, scented, slick, pink, and smooth. Body oil came next; in the same scent as the bath oil, to my neck and shoulders, to my arms and chest, to my breasts and tummy, to the full length of my legs and between my thighs, and in the furrow of the cheeks of my ass.
I let my body absorb the oil and exude the scent as I did my make-up, black matte kohl lining my eyes mixed black matte eye shadow a coal black eye lashes, clear gel shaping and defining my brows, and a luscious wet red lipstick applied to my mouth. My eyes would smolder beneath the mask, emphasizing my mouth. This is what I wanted. I remembered thinking that men probably thought June had the 'perfect cock-sucking mouth' and I wanted June and her lover to think the same of mine. I wanted him to notice when I talked and smiled, notice of my lips, to imagine them wrapped around his cock; when he looked at my mouth, I wanted him to see a cunt.
After using some gel to tame and style my hair into a loose French braid and quickly doing my nails in a red shade reminiscent of my lips, I noticed the time would not allow anything more than slipping my dress into place, locking my feet into my heels, and embracing my neck with my choker. My coat and purse stood ready by the front door, waiting for the call summoning me into the disturbingly dark night. I caught my reflection while walking around my apartment, walking off my nervous energy, and feeling the shoes the dress the choker constricting and exposing my body. My appearance was overt, conspicuous, and sexual. I looked like a whore. My body tensed at this revelation. My left hand moved from my side to between my legs, my dress came up as my middle finger found then rubbed my clit, my cunt clenching then flowering, opening itself to my finger. I had moved beyond being moist or damp to being slick and wet. I brought my finger to my mouth and tasted my arousal, realizing as well that I felt exactly as I looked, when the concierge called, announcing the driver had arrived.
It was a quick 15-minute ride up Eighth Avenue to June's Central Park West apartment, and then another couple of minutes in the elevator up to her floor, door-to-door in 20 minutes. Her apartment took up the entire floor, and I stepped from the well-lit elevator into the dimly lit foyer. The elevator doors closed behind me, delivering me into this dark recess, seemingly closing off my last means of escape. Just as I was about to call out her name, June appeared in the doorway, silently sweeping her right hand back, inviting me into her lair.
The gallery held scarcely more light than in the foyer, yet the ambient light gathered around her body, giving her an appearance best described as luminescent. Her frosted hair slicked black from her sharply angular face, her shaped and plucked eyebrows framing her sparkling blue eyes, the long string of pearls wrapped around her neck and dangling down between her breasts all served to draw attention to her mouth. With her full sensual lips coated in a gloss a few shades lighter and brighter than my own, she had done as I had done by presenting hers as the 'perfect cock-sucking mouth'.
I shook off my coat, handing this and my purse to her, which she placed in the closet to the right, thus giving me a full view of the beautiful gown she wore. The ivory silk of her dress flowed simply over her body, presenting new lines and surprises as she moved back and forth before my eyes. Dual triangles, little more than strips of cloth, hung down from the halter-top just barely covering her nipples and areola. The plunge of her gown exposed much of her flat, toned abdomen, the twin V's of her dress and the pearl necklace serving to accentuate the length of her body. Turning her back to me, I noticed the tie of her halter-top, long silk strings dangling between her shoulder blades, leaving her back fully exposed down to the supple curves of her ass. The open slit on the right side of her gown extended past her hip, completely revealing her leg as she moved back into the gallery.
She walked past me into the living room, setting herself down on the left side of the couch facing the gas lit fireplace. Bejeweled open-toed sandals covered in a silk matching her gown adorned her feet, ankle straps holding them firmly in place. The length of her heels matched mine, meaning she still had an inch on my enhanced height. I followed her into the living room, moving around the coffee table to take my seat on the other side of the couch, setting myself down like her on the edge of the couch with knees pressed together. On the coffee table stood a bottle of very expensive vodka, three tumblers, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and an ashtray. She pulled two cigarettes from the pack as I busied myself pouring us a couple of liberal drinks, she lit both cigarettes at the same time, handing me one as I passed her drink to her. We clinked our glasses together in a silent toast, both of us taking long drags on our cigarettes after, letting the exhaled smoke add to the room's atmosphere. We were alone, for the time being.
"I love your dress," she started our conversation, "something new?"
"Yes," I answered, "I got it just this afternoon at a boutique I found in the Village."
"Is that also where you got that?" She asked, nodding to my satin choker.
"Yes and the shoes." I said, nodding down to my feet.
She took another drag from her cigarette, perched it on the lip of her ashtray, and then leaned back into the deep plush couch. She crossed her left leg over her right, letting the silk of her gown slide over her legs. Her legs shined, her pearls lustrous between her breasts, and her eyes sparkled, all from the light of the fire. I smiled as I set my cigarette next to hers after matching her drink for drink.
"And your dress?" I asked, turning my body to face her.
"A shop in Madison" was all the answer I got from her. She switched subjects, "I'm pleased you're here."
Shooting her a look, I asked her "Pleased I am here or pleased with yourself that you got me here?"
She threw her head back and laughed at that one. "Both, of course! You want to be here as much as I want you here." She pulled her right to behind her head, resting back against her hand. With her gown cut from a single piece of silk, meeting at a point just above her left hip, her right side almost completely exposed to me. Her gown was as long and flowing as mine was short and form fitting, hers displaying her lithe and supple body while mine served to accentuate my curves, even the fabrics and colors we chose contrasted and complimented each other. That and we have very similar taste in shoes.
She was right, in a way, with her comment about me wanting to be there. I could not deny that once I decided to accept her invitation, I jumped in with both feet. "And who else is coming over tonight?"
"He'll be here later. Right now is just about us." She extended her right hand to me, holding my hand as we talked. I envied her ease in this, how she created this scene, how it matched her mood; and how she made things open and inviting, letting me evaluate things before I committed further than I already had.
"I almost didn't make it" I admitted, "I sat and thought I could just not be home when the car came for me."
If this surprised her, her expression betrayed no outward sign of this. "What made you want to come here?" She asked while looking away and taking another sip of her drink.
"Just that I wanted to make a choice," I said, "to decide for myself what would happen; I don't like avoiding things. I've never regretted what I've done, but I have regretted what I've passed up. Does that make sense? Besides, we're just holding hands and having a drink. We haven't done anything besides that."
"Yet" she finished my sentence for me.
"Yet" I agreed and laughed.
"And yes, I know what you mean. For years, the houses, the vacations, the clothes were enough. Then suddenly they weren't and I wanted out." She explained, surveying her surroundings. "I wanted to be single again, and I told him I was leaving. He threw a fit." She grimaced, remembering the fights while drowning the bad memories with another drink of vodka.
"Obviously you resolved your differences." I led her on with my statement.
"In a way, yes. He reminded me that our pre-nup would leave me single, and broke. I didn't want to be another middle-aged woman selling perfume or shoes at Bergdorf's that I couldn't afford," she sniffed at the thought, "so I stayed. He told me he didn't care if I had another life, so long as I was discreet and was there when he needed me. Having a social wife for charity balls and the like helps his career."
"What do you get out of this?" I asked, knowing she is smart enough to take care of herself.
"Isn't that obvious?" She laughed at my question, yet again answering my question with one of her own. "I get the houses, the vacations, the clothes, and I have my other life. He doesn't know, doesn't want to know, and I make sure nobody ever finds out. That was over 10 years ago, Susan, and I haven't regretted anything since."
I lifted my glass to my lips; it was my turn for a drink. While not the first married lover in my life, I marveled at how she came into this arrangement before creating her other life. I imagined her first tentative steps, placing discretion over enjoyment, until she established her own rhythm and discovered her own tastes. I smiled at her, bowing my head to her signaling both my understanding and admiration.
"What about you?" She asked, my turn to share.
"Nothing so dramatic as that," I said, "I didn't marry well and I married too young. We divorced when I was 25 after three years waiting for each other to change. I had 'bought' into what everyone else said I should do, and avoided making my own choices, until like you I wanted out. There wasn't a gilded cage keeping me there," I said with a sweep of my eyes, inferring that I recognized hers for what it is, " and I did become single, broke, and alone. But, it was my life to lead."
"To Freedom!" She smiled and raised her glass to mine.
"To Freedom!" I echoed her and clinked my glass against hers. We understood each other perfectly.
I leaned over to kiss her then, when her hand moved to my shoulder, holding me back. "That comes later, after he's gone." I immediately understood: this her placing the sexual before the intimate.
I placed my empty glass on the coffee table and pulled another cigarette from her pack. After lighting it, and taking a long drag, I leaned my left side against the couch, bending my left leg under me and sitting on it, and then rested my right hand on my right leg. "When does he get here?"
"We have a few more minutes. He knows better than to be early, or late." Yo-yo cock, I thought. She has him on a string, pulling it close and wrapping it in her palm when she wants, then letting go after.
"And then what?" I teased her, wondering just what I could elicit from her.
"What do you think will happen?" She asked, pulling the cigarette from my fingers and taking a drag.
"Well, I don't know. I'm here to find that out." I said, scooting closer to her until my left leg again touched hers, feeling my dress ride up my hips. "Do you know what will happen?" I asked, fixing my eyes on hers with an even look.
"Yes" she answered my question and my look.
"What?" I hid my surprise by turning and looking into the blue flames of the fire.
"To share an evening with you. Unhurried, and unrushed. To share my lover with you, then share my body with you. Sharing everything between us." She almost whispered to me, placing the cigarette back in my fingers.
"How did you meet him?" I asked, indulging again in our mutual oral fetish.
"Does it matter?" She shot back, answering yet another of my questions with a question, accompanied as it was by her amused expression.
"I thought, from the party, you only wanted to share me with him. I thought you wanted to arrange it so you could see." I looked back at her, noticed her shaking her head back and forth, and I asked with arched eyebrow and a drag on the dwindling cigarette, "You're not a voyeur?"
"Sure, that's part of it," she started, pulling the cigarette from my fingers, "but not all of it. If all I wanted to do was watch him fuck, which I have done before, I would have arranged something different. I'd have gotten an escort." She waved in the air, dismissing the thought and her exhaled smoke
"What's so different about me?" I pressed her on the point.
"Is that how you feel?" She turned the question back to me.
"What do you mean?" I asked, playing coy with her.
"Do you feel like that now, like you're turning a 'trick'?" She finished her point, zeroing in on the point she wished to make.
"Sometimes, I don't know, I mean, maybe. It depends on my mood, I suppose." I babbled on.
"Susan," she startled me with her sharp tone, "I don't want to know if you sometimes feel like that. I want to know if you feel like that right now." She passed the cigarette back to me.
My mind raced back to the scene in my apartment, just before the call from the front desk announcing the driver had arrived, and how my look and feelings matched each other perfectly. I took a long last pull from the cigarette, stubbed it into the ashtray, exhaled long into the air, and nodded my head as I leaned back into the couch.
"Susan," she placed her hand on the back of my neck, turning me to face her, "how do you feel right now?"
I swallowed hard, proudly lifted my chin, exposing my neck and choker to her, and told her: "Like a whore."
She smiled at my revealing this to her. "Do you like feeling this way?"
I placed my hand on her thigh; she uncrossed her legs, and met my gaze. "Right now? Yes. Yes, I do. Do you?"
"Your mouth is perfect." She non-answer answered my question. She missed her true calling, I thought: She should have been a tax attorney.
"For what?" I asked even though I knew the answer.
"For sucking cock." Came the expected answer. "You like doing that, don't you." My hand gripped her thigh, my mind recalling all the number and manner of cocks I had sucked. "Are you a good cock-sucker, Susan?" I pressed my face closer to hers, seeking to kiss her, when her left hand found my braid and held me in place. "Answer me."
I gave her a non-verbal answer. I pulled my smile wide, leaving my mouth open and wet in front of her, and licked my lips.
"Do you know what I remembered most about our first time?" She asked, glancing over at our two empty glasses.
I took her hint and poured her another liberal drink, filling my glass after having done so. We clinked our glasses again, toasting the moment, savoring the taste and the feeling. I nodded for her to continue.
"You did things in reverse." My apparent confusion showed, and she explained: "The first place I felt your tongue was on my ass. You only licked my pussy after I rolled over. It wasn't until after that that you even bothered kissed me!"
"You didn't seem to mind" I shot back at her. She was right, of course. I had savored that moment from the moment it had happened.
"No, I liked it" she went on, rubbing her leg against mine. "I liked your tongue on my ass, in my ass. You're good at it."
"Thank you," I accepted her compliment without shame, "I had thought of doing that the moment you laid down on my bed." I pressed my knee back against hers. "I had this image of you, bent over, or on your hands and knees, with my hands spreading your ass."
"You'll do that again, you know." She declared, nodding towards me, as if stating a self-evident truth.
"Do what again?" I teased.
"Lick my ass" she finished her thought as she took another drink. I did the same, though unlike her, I extended my tongue to taste the rim of the glass, sensed her watching this, while I wondered if her body relived the sensation of me rimming her ass while my vodka slipped past my lips.
"Do you know what I've noticed about our times together?" I asked after finishing my erotically ostentatious drink.
"What?" she said with a bemused smile.
"I may have done things in reverse, but you're stuck on second base." I gave her a look, accusing her of timidity, and then finished with a tease, "For all I know, you don't like doing that."
"Oh," she assured me, "I do. We just haven't gotten to that."
"Yet" My turn to finish her sentence for her.
"Yet" she agreed with a laugh.
She moved her hand around to the front of my neck, tracing her fingers over my choker, seeming to notice the detail of the embossed black roses, receiving both the signal implicit in such a thing, and the feel of my pulse. "Are you staying?" Came her simple question.
"Yes" I said without hesitation.
She circled her fingers around my neck, gently squeezing me. "Tonight's going to be rough. You understand that, don't you?"
"I understand," I told her, even though I really did not.
We sat there, looking at each other, her with images of what would be flashing through her mind, and me wondering what these images were. Yes, I remained the mistress of my own destiny. For that night, I knew my destiny lay in her very capable hands.
Her phone rang; she leapt at the sound, scurrying to answer by the second ring, her long gown flowing behind her. Her lover had finally arrived. She beckoned me to follow her, to stand with her in her foyer, waiting for his arrival. The doors opened and out he came, sensing the same tumult I had when I emerged from the light into the dark of June's apartment. His, no doubt, assuaged by previous experience.
I did recognize him. He was the same tall beefy hunk who had manned the velvet rope at the party two nights ago. If I had to guess his heritage, I would place him as Cuban, Dominican; African and Latin bloodlines mixed deep and running coursing through the veins of his thick neck and arms, with a height a couple or a few inches over 6', and his head and face as bald as my cunt. He wore black slacks, black shoes, and under his black leather coat sported a black muscle tee showing this side of beef regularly frequented one of the muscle gyms which dot Manhattan. Yes, tonight would be a very rough evening.
June made quick introductions as he had obviously already recognized me from that party. She gave his name as Carlos with a sweep of her hand up his body. June announced me by name to him and did not present me so much as she presented my body by taking my hand and twirling me before him. We exchanged very few pleasantries, mainly him complimenting June and I on our revealing outfits. With June leading me by her right hand, and me pulling his huge left hand with my right, we circled back around the left of the elevator, down a dark hallway, to the smallest of June's three apartments.
Neither artwork nor furniture cluttered the room; save a full-sized platform bed centered in the room, platform being the operative word, as the low-slung frame sported neither head nor footboard, with the mattress more hard than firm. June flipped a switch and circle of recessed lighting above the bed illuminated it, giving it the appearance of a halo. It was as if those on the bed could do as they wished while others could remain hidden by the shadows on the periphery of the bed. A simple white sheet covered the bed, with no comforters or blankets or even a top sheet getting in the way. Incongruous to the rest of her apartment, a deep cut pile carpet went wall-to-wall in this room. June closed and locked the door behind us. True, there was nobody else in her apartment; just another signal sent to the players of June's little scene.
As if by some pre-arranged signal, he took position behind me. His hands pulled mine behind me, gently holding me in place while letting me know I was not going anywhere. June went over to the closet lining the wall next to the door, reached in, and produced a pair of lined leather cuffs. My look of surprise must have registered even though the shadows of the room.
"We've done this before." She explained the obvious, passing the cuffs to him, and then bringing her hands to my breasts after that.
"I can tell. The others were the escorts you told me about?" I asked, noticing a nervous edge slipping into my voice as Carlos quickly and expertly slipped the cuffs over my gathered wrists.
"True rough trade whores are hard to come by," his baritone voice reverberated from behind me. "Besides," he continued, "They don't let the dog go raw." If his comment had not made me swoon at that moment, her fingers pinching my nipples through the lace of my dress did.
"You asked where we met, Susan," she purred, barely looking up from taking delight in the sight of her hands on my body, "Carlos is my kickboxing instructor. And no, you're not the first woman we've had in here."
My hands secure behind me, Carlos let his hands move my sides through the many openings in my dress. For such a strong man he had a very soft touch, his fingers teasing me until his hands rested on my hips.
"Have you had many back?" I thought I better held my nervousness in, but by delivering my question in a flat monotone barely above a whisper, my voice signaled more than it had before.
"Some," she said, smiling at the thought, but then added "Sometimes they get scared, sometimes they break."
I gulped; I actually and audibly gulped at her comment. At the same time, Carlos pressed his still covered cock into my open hands. More like, he pulled my bound hands up to his crotch, but whatever. One can never tell until the actual article is in one's hands, or mouth, or cunt, or ass, yet from his turgid and growing length I could tell that June had not exaggerated when she had told me about his cock.
"Do you like that?" I mumbled out, feeling her hands reaching between my thighs, Carlos helpfully lodging one of his thick legs between mine.
"Scaring them?" She again answered my question with one of her own.
"Breaking them," I exhaled as her fingers began teasing my clit.
"Yes" she said, elongating the sibilant until it filled the room.
"You need breaking, little girl?" Nobody had called me a 'little girl' in quite some time, and at my height plus 4-inch heels, they rarely do. Yet, considering her inch and his three inches on me, I was indeed the little girl in the room, not to mention that my weight plus hers probably just barely matched his. "Do you?" he asked again, accentuating his point with a pull of my hair.
I was dizzy then. My fate firmly in their hands, and I would not have selected another time and place for this, for all the tea in China. My sibilant matched hers as I answered his question with a "Yes" all my own.
June noticed this immediately. She instructed him to hold my head back, then told me to open my mouth. I did, willingly. I opened my mouth and extended my tongue, watched her through slit eyes take my mouth in her right hand, holding my jaw open. Her face approached mine, her mouth pursing and gathering, and then her pursed lips spat her saliva into my mouth and on my lips. She let it stay there, this lone strand of her saliva, until her finger wiped it clean, for the moment preserving my lipstick.
Both their right hands rested on my shoulders then, hers on my left and his on my right. With a pull of the strings, they untied the shoulder straps on my dress. I continued massaging his cock through his trousers, feeling his length and width take shape. The ties at the sides of my dress were next, my dress peeling down my front and back, exposing my breasts to June.
She took and held my breasts in her hands, signaling him to continue. He did as she instructed, simultaneously pulling the strings at my rib cage and then at my hips while she massaged my nipples erect and began pinching and pulling them, much as she had done Thursday evening. The dress now hung by the strings around my thighs, my pussy exposed to her as my ass was to him. He pulled both these remaining strings at the same time, separating my dress into its two parts, and let it fall to my feet. I stood there between my two lovers, feeling more exposed than nude, feeling the constrictions around my neck, my wrists, and my ankles.
June reached down and pulled the gathered fabric away from my feet. Standing back up she spun me around back into her arms, facing me to Carlos. He took the hint and pulled this muscle tee over his head, commenting to June how hot my body looked. His shoes came next, kickboxing them into the corner. She pulled my hair back, pulled my ear to her mouth, told me she wanted me on my knees in front of him. She wanted him to pull his pants off then place his cock in my mouth. She wanted to watch me suck his cock.
For whatever reason I decided this was the perfect time to exhibit my 'smart-assed masochist' tendencies. "Make me" I dared her while smiling at him.
The salesgirl at the cosmetics counter, when I bought my other things, had tried to sell me a concealer that admittedly did almost perfectly match my skin tone. I had demurred, I am fortunate in that I rarely if ever need such a thing; but had not planned on what would happen next.
With a measured and icy tone, June told Carlos to come over to where we stood. He grinned, perfect white teeth lining his smile. June held my head by my hair, firmly exposing my jaw to him. With a measured gesture he fitted my jaw with his left hand, pulled his right hand back, and smacked me clean across my proffered left cheek. My head yanked right before June yanked my head back in place, never loosening her grip on my hair.
"Hit her again, Carlos. She won't break." She spoke over my shoulder to him, assuring both of us with her smooth tone. His look froze for a moment, just a moment, necessitating her to tell him in her sharpest tone yet: "I said, 'Slap this cunt'."
Slap me he did, his open palm striking the left side of my face, harder this time than the time before. June let go of me the moment his hand struck me, letting the force of his slap spin me until I feel to the bed. I rolled over in a daze, noticed them standing there, his open palm resting at his side, and her seemingly ready to pull me back up to my feet and let him strike me again. He gave the look of a wild beast ready to unleash a pain he found pleasurable as she did upon my waiting body, and her look actually dared me to be a smart-ass with her again. No, I thought, not now. For now, I would be a very good girl.
My cheek began to swell as they pulled me from the bed, sitting on my legs in a supplicating position under June while facing Carlos. His shark-tooth smile calmed down to a wide-mouthed grin and he proceeded to undress. With a flourish, he undid his belt and unzipped his pants, and let them fall to his feet. I knew from my previous explorations he had not bothered wearing anything under his slacks, from which he stepped out naked as the day he was born.
Indeed, as June had described, he was impressive, and yet impressive was an understatement. His smooth body tapered from his broad shoulders to his muscled chest, his ripped abdomen leading inexorably to his groin. His public hair trimmed back to a patch and framed his jutting cock, with his bare balls hanging below. Shiny precum coated the head of his cut cock, dripping down and glistening in the light. I have known some large cock in my day, and 'Oh, My!' did this man qualify as one of the larger cocks I had recently seen.
My mouth watered as my cunt clenched, imagining his cock sliding into the many passages of my body. My tummy tightened just then, recalling June's prophetic words that she would watch him fuck my cunt and ass. I imagined the soreness I would feel the next morning, matched by the slaps I had received to my face and those I would receive elsewhere; I imagined sharing this beautiful man with June, and I moaned.
June pulled my hair back again, motioning him to approach us. She knew the effect he had on women, as she had no doubt felt it herself, and as she said I was not the first woman she had invited to share him. I took her movements as a show that she truly savored this moment, the first time her gorgeous lover touched another woman with his cock. He approached us then, lifting his cock to my waiting mouth.
She stroked my hair back, purring to me to open my mouth wider, telling me I needed to suck him hard for her. I understood immediately, she wanted me to fluff him for her. He would fuck and ruin the look of my 'perfect cock-sucking mouth' while she readied herself for his cock. He teased me with his cock, letting the tip just rest on my tongue before pulling himself away. Efforts on my part to chase his cock made me look like a snapping turtle and met with the resistance of June pulling my head back away from his cock.
Finally, he rested his cock on my tongue long enough for me to wrap my lips around him and then suck him in. He began sliding his caramel treat deeper in me, pressing his head deeper into my mouth with every stroke. I opened my mouth, sat my hips on the backs of my heels, and invited his cock deeper into my mouth with every stroke. I stuck my tongue out, let his cock rest deep in me, my throat relaxed, feeling him just barely press against the back of my throat. Saliva freely escaped my mouth to my chin just as his ample precum leaked onto my waiting tongue.
He enjoyed the wet sucking of my mouth; he enjoyed pulling his slick cock completely from my mouth and circling my lips with his drooling cock before letting me suck him again. He playfully slapped my face and lips with his cock, smearing my saliva and his precum all about my face. He slid back into my mouth, resting his right hand on the top of my head, bobbing my mouth back and forth on him, feeling my mouth open and my tongue extend until my mouth freely flowed and my chin was covered and as slick as his cock. His bobbing my mouth on his cock produced more precum and saliva, my open mouth letting it seep out, until I felt the thick gooey strands extending from my chin to my breasts. Had my hands been free, I would have continued sucking his cock while pretended this was his cum on my breasts and massaged this delicious mixture into my skin.
From my angle, I could just barely look up at him. I sensed them passing self-congratulatory looks between them over luring another woman into their trap. I questioned whether a willing woman qualifies as a trapped woman when their revelry broke my reverie. They freely traded banter about me knowing I would not interrupt them. He told her I am an excellent fellatrix, which pleased her. She could feel me bouncing back between her thighs and his cock, impaling my mouth on him with every move. She placed her hand on top of his, both on top of my head, and then pressed her knees into my back until his cock slid as far into my mouth as possible.
His control was amazing. He pressed and prodded, gently sliding his cock down deep until I felt his balls pressing against my slick chin and his coarse kinky pubic hair tickling the end of my nose. He held himself like that, feeling my mouth mold to his cock and my well-conditioned throat wrap around and accept the head of this cock, and feeling my tongue massage and stroke the front side of his glorious tool. He cried out, telling June what a well-trained cock-sucker I am, and then June reminded him not to cum just yet.
With an exclamation and a moan, he held my head still and eased his cock from my mouth, pulling with it all the gathered saliva and precum out over my lips. I could not see but could feel my mouth a wet sticky mess, my lipstick ruined I am sure and saliva surrounding my lips and dripping from my chin until, to the untrained eye, one would have thought he had cum in my mouth. Still tasting his precum mixing with my saliva and savoring the mixture, I gathered what remained into a singular yummy pool on my tongue, and then swallowed hard. He moved off to the bed, laying back and stroking his cock, waiting for June. She pulled me back up to my knees, lifting me forcefully by my hair, and then came around to my front. Her hands still held my head back; she lowered her mouth to mine, and in an act both sensuous and lewd, licked the combined saliva and precum from around my mouth.
She stood back from me, letting her right hand reach behind her neck and untie the back of her halter-top. The ivory silk of her gown cascaded down her body, bringing to mind the dramatic nature of a waterfall. She came back to me, clad only in her pearls, her heels, and her smile. I remained kneeling by the side of the bed, with her lover lying on the bed, both of us waiting for her. Without a word or an instruction, she lifted the left leg of her glistening body to the bed, leaving her right on the floor, and waited for me. Yes, I had prepared his cock for her, and now I would prepare her cunt for him. I scooted forward on my knees; my hands still bound behind my back, and brought my mouth to her pink open cunt.
She had been like me the entire night, bypassing moist and damp while remaining slick and wet during our chat, while watching me suck his cock, ready for this very moment. I craned my neck, pressed my lips to hers, and let her pussy cover my mouth. She pulled my head to her, rubbing her pussy on my mouth, feeling my tongue slide in and around her cunt, imagining I am sure the feeling she would soon experience of having his cock slide deep inside of her. This urgency built up within her until she pushed me back until I sat again on my heels, my preparing her body complete, then turned to the bed and straddled his body.
June hung her long body lewdly over his, first licking his considerable length before licking up his body to his neck, rubbing her body against him and dangling her pearls over his body as she went. I positioned myself behind them, watched with bridled envy as he reached down and nuzzled the slick head of his cock against her slick hairless cunt. Splitting her just so, his hands went to her hips, as she used her left hand to help guide his cock into her body. Lowering herself on him elicited shudder after shudder through her body while his hands spread her ass forcing her to take his full length within seconds of placing his cock between her legs.
She placed herself upright on his body, grinding her ass back down against his spread legs, accommodating herself to his abundant size. Feeling herself finally stretched and opened by his glorious tool, she went back to hands and knees, her hands continually grasping at the single sheet covering the bed. He placed his hands back to her hips, spreading her ass, giving me an unobstructed view. He was bouncing her up and down on his cock, enjoying having her feel his considerable length, enjoying no doubt the squeeze and twitch of her pussy around his cock. Every time she came off his cock, every time she clenched and flexed her body, I could see her abundant lubrication coating him, creaming the length of his cock, pooling on his balls. Were my hands not restrained behind my back I would have been vigorously fingering myself; matching their energy with my own, yet the leather cuffs bound between my wrists would not let my hands free.
"Susan, GOD! Get over here!" She screamed in between moans celebrating this hale and hearty fucking she was giving herself, "God damn it, do something!"
I quickly moved to her side, kneeling beside her on the bed. What she wanted me to do I have no idea, bound as I was. "June, what do you want me to do? I can't move my hands!" I was just as excited she was, and even more frustrated.
"You stupid slut! You stupid fucking cunt! Get behind me, lick my ass, suck his balls, DO SOMETHING!" She screamed before throwing all her energy back into fucking his cock.
He pulled her flat against him, and held her there. Once flat, he again spread her ass, letting her anus peek out from between her cheeks. Yes, just as I had suspected so many nights before, she does enjoy rough anal sex. The only way I could do as she asked was to straddle his legs between mine, then place my body flat against his thighs, inching my face to her ass. She stopped fucking him long enough to let me get into place, then began pressing herself back feeling his cock and let my take tongue delight in pleasing her body.
"YES!!! That's it, you slut, you fucking whore! Lick my ass; slide your tongue in my ass! Fuck my cunt and ass harder!" I could do little to fuck her harder, though Carlos did his very best to make his wish come true. He continued moving her hips down on his cock, keeping her spread open, letting my tongue lick then press against her ass. I licked up from the base of her cunt, spreading a mixture of her lubrication and my saliva over her ass, before pointing my tongue, and pressing into her. I wanted nothing more than to double her penetration, to have her feel his cock slide deep in her pussy as my tongue slid into her ass.
"The little slut's licking my ass, Carlos. I told you she's a nasty whore, I told you she's a cock-sucking slut!" She screamed at him, perhaps confirming her to this point unsubstantiated boasts about me, his deep baritone ringing agreement with her statements. That is what I was at that very moment, an ass-licking cock-sucking slut. I wanted nothing more than to feel my lovers cum, to help them cum with each other, to feel her as clench around my tongue as he pumped his cum so deep in her creamy cunt. I could sense from her movements, from her clenching, that she was getting so very close. With a final effort I covered my mouth over her ass then pressed my tongue into her, pressing past her resistance, letting her ride his cock and my tongue to a screeching orgasm. She was loud, abusive, nasty, and fantastic.
Soon she had had enough. She literally lifted herself off his cock, disengaging from him with a slick pop, pulling herself to her side with her knees pulled to her chest. Whatever veneer, control, or respectability she had at the beginning of this scene, for the moment it was lost. I remained where I was, straddling his legs with his slick cock under my mouth. Without even so much as a moment's hesitation I began licking and sucking her cream from his cock. I cleaned her cum from him, from the tip of his cock down his glorious shaft, taking that pool of her cum from the base of his balls.
Moments after finishing my job, and before I would have quite willingly done it again, June was at my side. Invigorated by her moment's rest, her composure back, she pulled me off him and had me rest on my tummy in a tight fit between the two of them. Not a moment after that, Carlos rose from his spot on the bed and went between my legs, pulling my legs wide. He lifted me up to my knees, pressing my head against the bed, and began rubbing his still-erect cock against my cunt. He had not cum yet with his sense of urgency not in the least abated by June's descent into delirium.
June held her hand in mine, letting my bound hands grip something more than thin air. I tightly held her hand as Carlos began sliding his cock into my pussy. I could not see nor could I control how much of his cock I would take, and I suspected that Carlos would waste little time until his cock fully explored every inch of my pussy. He spread my lips, gently eased his cock head inside me, let me flare out and accommodate him, then pressed his full weight against me, sliding his cock deep in me in one fell swoop. I threw my head back in an involuntary gesture of pain mixed with delight, then let the pleasure cover the momentary sting of this invasion as he gripped my hips and fucked me back on his cock just as he had done with June less than 5 minutes before.
Oh, God... was he good. He knew when to let me feel his length, when to let his cock rest in my pussy, when to pull out and slap my cunt and ass with the head of his cock. June had this man well trained. He would not cum until I had, or until June told him to, or both. Realizing I was along for the ride, I contented myself to lay my head flat while keeping my legs open, desiring nothing more than to let my body be a warm wet tight inviting place for his cock and cum. More than once the man had me close before he sensed this and pulled himself back; much to June's delight I would push my ass back seeking the sensation of his cock filling me again, letting mewling begs escape my mouth, begging him to fuck me harder and harder.
There is a moment in every sweet surrender when your lover(s) realize and understand your needs better than you do. Indeed, at times, these needs seem as foreign as does the proverbial snowball in hell. Now was one of those moments when June left the bed for just a moment, sitting back down next to me facing Carlos. He continued his vigorous fucking of me, and I remained lost enough in my haze to not sense any of the signals which passed between them. It was with a start and a slight yelp that I did realize what they had next planned for my body when June, her finger holding a dollop of a cooling gel, began spreading this lubricant on my ass.
I flipped and bolted, or tried to in any event. Between his strong hands and huge cock, I was not going anywhere. June did her part too, switching to straddling my head and pressing her knees against my shoulders, holding me in place. I had had cock in my ass on numerous occasions before, but never in such a scene, and never with a cock quite so large as his. I resorted to begging them, genuinely concerned that his cock was too big to fit comfortably into my ass. Finally, June had had enough. She pressed her left hand between my shoulder blades, firmly pressing me to the bed, while Carlos held my hips keeping me impaled on this cock.
June moved to my side and bent over so she could look me in the eyes, and then talked to me. "Susan," she started, making sure she had my undivided attention, and that I would remain silent, "You cannot control whether this will happen or not. You can only control how it will happen. Do you understand this?"
Carlos kept fucking me, sliding his cock in and out of my cunt, and feeling me grip then loosen around him; opening my body to him as my mind took in this idea. I recalled his gentle touch in the beginning, how he gave everything with measured and controlled energy, and remembered how I had thought about this from the moment June mentioned this to me last Thursday. There was a gentle force behind her, the iron hand in the velvet glove pressing me by the back of my neck into the bed, and I relented. No, that is accepting destiny by default, and this night was not about that. I looked back at her, let her see my eyes as open to hers, as hers were to mine, and nodded.
She produced one of the pillows that had lay on the bed before Carlos had thrown them to the floor. She folded it, placed it under my tummy, and then resumed slicking my ass, preparing my ass for his cock. She slid her finger just into my anus, feeling me clench and then let go, feeling me let myself relax. When relaxed enough, she resumed her preparations using two fingers, each curled inside of me while she remained kneeling by my side, petting my hair back while dilating my ass.
"He'll take it slow, Susan. His cock will fit in your ass, but he'll take his time getting it there. You'll see." She cooed to me in a singsong voice. His cock kept me hot, her fingers kept me open, and her voice soothed my nerves until she nodded for him to continue.
It was h-u-g-e. His fabulous cock was long and hard, as I well knew from his deep fucking of my pussy. He first pressed his cock insistently against my anus, letting his weight and the abundant lubrication gently nudge his head into my ass, pressing his head just inside of me then rested while enjoying the feeling of my anus stretched and wrapped around his shaft. June stood at the ready, watching my ass stretch to accept him, readily applying more lubrication as his length began to descend deep into my ass. I had not told him how, yet he instinctively knew, that the best way for cock to service my ass was to inch in bit by bit letting me rest with each deeper intrusion, until his full length found its way into my ass. Perhaps June was the same, perhaps all women are; in any event I soon felt the front of his hips meet the curves of my ass and I found this filling sensation had quickly moved past discomfort to a gentle, tight buzz.
June continued to stroke and pet my hair, to stroke my back, to feel my breath quicken and rise then moderate the same with her hand on my back. I even let my bound hands relax, pulling them just a bit up my back, letting Carlos hold and control more of my body as he began sliding his cock in and out of my ass. His strokes quickened in me, surprising me that I found this lewd invasion so pleasurable so quickly, making my cunt begin to flare out again, begging for sensation or penetration or both. I began moaning in time with his increasingly vigorous thrusts, telling him yes I loved his cock in my ass when he asked, telling June she was right that he is a fabulous, talented lover. Indeed, our sharing had been as complete as I thought possible, until that point I could not have thought of what else we might share during this our first true night together.
He began first with a few play-spanks, delivered as I began to press back against him, as I began to fuck my ass back on his cock. Yes, it felt that good. I surrounded him as he filled me, as his well-timed and placed spanks brought color to my cheeks and increased the heat in my body. His stamina was amazing! Thus far, he had fucked my mouth, her pussy, my pussy, then my ass, without once needing a moment's rest. I suspected his recuperative abilities would impress me as well.
I began hinting, then begging, June to let me touch my clit. I begged Carlos to let me cum, then returned to June begging her to reach under my body and stroke my clit until I came. I tried reasoning with her, telling her I had thus far been a very good bad girl, which only elicited from her a wicked cruel laugh I instantly adored. Is this what they meant when they said they enjoyed breaking women, pushing them past previous barriers I asked? June only laughed her wicked laugh in answer.
I began kicking at him, trying to raise my heels back, pulling my feet up to knock him off his stride. He responded by deftly grabbing both my feet, bending my legs back by the knee, holding on to my spiked heels while continuing his powerful thrusts deep into my ass. His entire length was in me as his entire weight smothered me deeper into the bed. I began writhing under him, begging him and her "Please" followed by all manner of lascivious and lewd promises of what I would do if only they would let me cum for them. His hands pulled my legs up and tight making my ass grip his cock with every thrust of his hips; with every pump deep within me my ass stretched to take his full length inside me, as I had no man before him. His perspiration coated my back, his sweet breath caressed my neck, and I sensed his imminent release when June told him to let me up.
After easing his cock from my ass, June took the lead by rolling me over to my back. She kept my hands restrained behind me, then placed her bent knees back at my shoulders, straddling my face. It was not for me to lick her pussy that she did this, but for her to help hold me in place. Carlos took my legs in his hands, bending my legs back until my thighs pressed against my breasts, and completely exposed my ass to his cock. Exposed: no. I had exposed my body the moment I took my coat off after stepping into June's apartment. My ass lay open and vulnerable to what came next.
I looked up to June only to see her smile. She could tell from my breathing and the sheen of sweat covering me that I remained quite close to exploding before her eyes. This is what she wanted, I decided, but not to have me orgasm into a pillow or a bed sheet. She wanted to see my face and watch my eyes as Carlos fucked me to orgasm.
Though still dilated, Carlos used blessed patience and care when sliding his cock back into my ass. It was not long before I found myself bouncing my ass up and down on his cock, with Carlos first holding my legs spread wide and then bending them pressed flat against his chest. June added to my arousal by again pinching and pulling my nipples between her long fingers. At one point she pulled my nipples hard, forming cones from my breasts, shaking her fingers back and forth. My nipples were so erect, my cunt engorged from the repeated ass fucking delivered by Carlos, and my mouth retained the taste of her cum, her ass, and his cock. I was on the verge of tears when June, finally, let slip the fingers from her right hand from my breast and let then trail down my body to between my legs.
She instructed Carlos to hold me tight, to hold my legs flat and fast against his chest, knowing the inevitable clenching and squeezing of my ass around his cock served to engorge my cunt and clit to a point just South of bursting pressure. He did as told, sliding me back and forth on his cock by rocking my body against his, gyrating his hips back and forth, stretching my ass and filling me deep with his cock. When June's middle finger finally found its way between my legs, when she finally managed to slip her finger along my very full cunt, pressed together between my legs, when she finally reached and rubbed my clit, this trip-wire sprung free with an organic, orgasmic energy I thought not possible between such new lovers.
She held her finger in place just over my clit, letting Carlos's hip gyrations lift me and press me against her extended finger. Finally seeing this crescendo building to a fever pitch, she relented and furiously rubbed my clit in small hard fast circles, pulling the length of her finger against me as Carlos renewed sliding the length of his cock in and out of my ass. She placed her other hand on my chest, looked down from on high into my eyes, and told me to cum for her. I pulsed and shook, my hands pulling the sheets under my body, my contractions welling deep inside higher and higher in my body until the flowing sensation seemed to start at the top of my head and roll down over my body until it pressed down against her finger and his cock. I pulled myself up off his cock then pushed my ass back down, violently fucking my ass on his cock, pressing my clit against her finger, once more expelling this reservoir from my body. I letting it drain out of my body, let it pull down my spine, my vision growing fuzzy, and my head became dizzy as tingles swept from my fingers and toes to the center of my body then down to my twitching clit. With a final deep exhale I slid my ass down on his cock as far as it would go, pinioned between my two beautiful lovers, and I let my entire body relax.