Jennifer
I had heard a rumor that the “massage parlors” that had recently begun to open around town were actually thinly-disguised brothels. Yet prostitution was illegal in California, and these establishments advertised themselves in newspapers, along with clearly identifying their enterprises with neon “Massage” signs.
So one dreary night, after my girlfriend had decided my high school drop-out status probably didn’t qualify me as ideal husband material, I decided to see about getting a massage. I picked a place at random, parked in a nearby alley, walked around and went through a door marked “Open - Please Come In.”
A smiling woman behind a desk welcomed me and asked if I had come for a massage. When I said yes she replied that all the masseuses were busy, but that Jenny should be available in a few minutes. When I said OK, she said $25 was payable in advance. I paid her in cash and sat down to wait.
Soon an attractive young woman appeared and the receptionist introduced us. Jenny smiled and said, “I understand you’re here for a massage. My room is down this hallway.”
I managed a nervous smile and said, “Right.” Jenny took my hand and led me down the hall.
Inside her room she said, “My name is Jennifer — what’s yours?” When I replied with my name she said, “Glad to meet you, Don. Why don’t you strip down to your shorts and lie down on my bed?”
I must admit to being surprised to see a bed. I was expecting a treatment table like those seen in a chiropractor’s office. However, this was a regular double bed with a sheet and two pillows on it.
“OK,” I replied with another nervous smile, “I guess I should lie on my stomach?”
“Sure,” she replied, “and I’ll give you a nice back massage,” which she did, kneeling on the bed beside me. Then she said, “I can get better leverage if I’m on top of you. Do you mind?”
“No,” I said, “Do whatever works best for you.”
With that, she hiked up her skirt and straddled my back, settling on my derriere. She then leaned forward and put added pressure into her massage strokes.
After a while, she dismounted and said I should turn over. But now there was a problem. No way could I hide the bulge that had grown in my shorts as she sat on me and massaged my back. Nevertheless, I turned over and tried to pretend nothing was different. She had dimmed the lights, and maybe she wouldn’t notice.
Who was I kidding?
She sat alongside me and began massaging my chest, followed by doing my arms and stomach. “How does this feel?” she asked with another warm smile.
“Wonderful,” I replied, although the pain of my confined erection was becoming nearly unbearable.
“You know,” she said with a coquettish look, “you don’t have to leave your shorts on.”
“I — uh, well, I thought I was supposed to stay partially dressed.”
“Well, maybe you’d feel more comfortable if I got undressed, too. Shall I?”
“Is this part of the massage?”
“No, not usually,” she said. “But I like you and I want you to be at ease.”
Believe it or not, I had the feeling she was being sincere and really did like me.
“Here — I’ll get undressed and you can take off your shorts.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and bent over so that removing my shorts could be done with a modicum of privacy. Still leaning forward after they came off, I watched Jenny disrobe.
The skirt and blouse came off easily, but she asked me to unhook her bra as she turned her back to me. Well, I had to sit up straight to reach the snaps, thus exposing my hardness in all its quivering excitement. But she was facing the other way, so I was able to deal with it.
However, I quickly doubled over again as she turned to face me, as she began removing her pantyhose.
“I hate pantyhose,” she said. “They’re so darned hard to get off and on — especially putting them on — you know — getting them straight and all.”
Well, I thought, since she probably does this a few times every night, why bother to put them on in the first place? In fact, why was she wearing a skirt, a blouse, and a bra? Wouldn’t it be more practical just to wear a robe — or maybe a sexy negligee? But maybe she didn’t do this with all her customers. What a lovely thought.
I was enjoying the view of her dangling breasts as she bent forward to remove the pantyhose. They weren’t the largest breasts I’d ever seen, but they were firm and had a delightful quiver to them as she leaned forward. To me, any view of a woman’s breasts in motion is an erotic stimulus that turns my knees into mush.
Now completely naked, she asked, “Shall we get back to the massage?”
Without waiting for an answer she sat down beside me and gently nudged me into a prone position, while I was still trying to keep my about-ready-to-explode you-know-what hidden as best as I could.
“Now lay on your back,” she said rather sternly, “and don’t be shy. Everything will be all right.”
Then, pretending not to notice my desperate condition, she began gently rubbing my chest. Then she moved down to my stomach, and finally to my abdomen, where she made gentle circular motions around what could no longer be hidden. However, she never touched it — just moved around it.
Suddenly she stopped and stood up, giving me a glorious view of her full frontal nudity. She put her hands on her shapely hips and became somewhat stern again.
“I have a question,” she said. “Would you like to make love to me?”
“Make love?” I repeated as I sat up and tried to hide my feelings again by leaning forward. “Uh — I’m not sure what you mean.”
Now she gave me a look that said, “You know damn well what I mean.” But she just repeated the question.
And I still said I wasn’t sure what she meant.
“Look,” she said as she sat down next to me and put a hand on my knee, “You do like me, don’t you?”
“Yes!” I heartily agreed, “I like you a lot — a whole lot.”
“And,” she smiled, “I like you a lot.” (Again, I felt that she really meant it.)
“So if two people like each other a whole lot, what do they usually do?”
“Well, I guess they get to know each other a little better.”
Now she drew away from me with a bemused smile. “You certainly have an interesting way of avoiding coming to the point, although I see you have a definite point of your own,” she added while glancing at my crotch.
“Well, I came here tonight expecting a massage. I didn’t know anyone did anything else here.”
“We don’t, always. But if I really like someone — well…”
So I decided to bite the bullet and ask the obvious question. “Does the $25 I paid at the desk cover making love?”
“No,” she replied with a serious look. “I really need a little extra for that.”
“How much extra?”
“Well, for you — another $25 would be okay.”
“Sorry, I don’t have another $25 with me.”
“Okay,” she said, “but only for you — how much do you have?”
“Ten dollars.”
“Are you sure?”
“Check my pants pockets. All you’ll find is a ten dollar bill.”
She sat down alongside me again, and took my hand in hers.
“Look,” she said, “the boss would never let me settle for $10. I’d have to make up the difference out of my own pocket. He times how long a client is in here — and he can tell what’s going on. Your being here would actually cost me money.”
“I certainly don’t want that to happen,” I said, getting up. “I’ll just leave — but you can have the $10 anyway.”
“Oh, you really are sweet,” she said. “And I really do like you. You’re different from the others somehow. So, tell you what — I’ll let you make love to me, anyway. And maybe you’ll come back someday and bring a little more money.”
Well, talk about an offer a guy couldn’t refuse.
I had never been with a prostitute before, and had always visualized them as hard-boiled cookies who’d racked up a lot of mileage and whose idea of “love-making” was wham, bam, thank you ma’am — out the door. Next?
Yet here was a young (25ish) pretty, warm, friendly, funny, and utterly delectable creature who could have been portraying the proverbial girl-next-door in the movies. How could I resist?
“Okay,” I assured Jennifer, “I’ll come back with the rest of the money.”
“Good,” she smiled as she lay on her back and spread her legs ever so slightly.
Well, she was ready for me to climb on and dive in — but I had become uneasy at hearing my stay in the room was being timed. So I sat on the edge of the bed and said, “How much time am I allowed with you?”
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“Don’t worry about it,” she said, as she gently took my arm and pulled me toward her.
Well, I was worried about it. As a business proposition, I knew it would be better for her if I did the deed as quickly as possible and left. But I had become quite enamored of Jennifer and wanted the experience to last all night.
Well, Jennifer really did act as if time were no problem and that I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted. I found this very flattering; but was also worried I might be running up a big bill I really couldn’t afford. But she was willing to trust me about the money — so I decided to trust her and just let nature take its course.
Now I must confess to feeling awkward about putting what happened next into words. Were I a professional novelist who made a living describing passionate love scenes, this might be easy. Or, I could just say we had sex, relaxed for a spell, and I went back to my apartment with a warm, satisfied feeling.
Instead, however, I will be unwaveringly honest and give a detailed account of what happened.
I positioned myself on top of Jennifer, who accommodated me by spreading her legs wide apart. The urge to accept the invitation and thrust home was overpowering, but I decided there should be some foreplay. She seemed perplexed at first when my guided muscle missed the opening and lay sandwiched between us as I simply embraced her and kissed her.
In fact, she almost didn’t know how to react to being loved in ways other than strictly genital. She seemed further surprised, but quite pleased, when I moved from kissing her mouth to kissing her neck, her shoulders and, of course, her breasts, whose firm nipples got me even more excited.
By now, Jennifer was moaning quietly and her hips had begun to gyrate in a slight circular motion. When my kissing moved to her navel, her moaning became somewhat more audible. Then, as I began to move my mouth further south, she raised up on her elbows and said, “Oh my God — are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?”
Well, it was hard to answer with a mouthful of wet vagina and a tongue that was busy looking for her clitoris. Jennifer just moaned even louder as she collapsed on her back and let me have my way with her genitalia. I slid my hands under her buttocks and drew her wetness even closer. I sucked up as much of her insides as I could get in my mouth and ran my tongue all over it. Then I let it all slide out and began nibbling on her golden brown pubic hair. She was alternately grabbing the hair on my head, and squeezing her nipples.
Finally, I was about to come — and didn’t want to do it all over the sheet — so I deftly moved into position and exploded inside Jennifer, while she thrust her hips forward as violently as she could.
I rolled off her and we lay on our backs, totally spent.
Well, after our moment of mattress mania, we each had a cigarette and took a nap.
Kidding, of course — neither of us was a smoker, and taking a nap would have run up the bill.
However, we did lie on our backs and talk for a while. She squeezed my hand and said, “That was really great, you know. Do you think you could do it again in a little while?”
Not surprisingly, I was surprised by the question. “Won’t you be in trouble if I stay here much longer?”
She squeezed my hand harder and said, “I told you not to worry about it. We can work things out some other time.”
Meanwhile, she had reached for a box of Kleenex and removed a few tissues for tidying up.
“Maybe I can get my waterbed in here before you come back,” she said, leaning on one elbow to face me.
“You have a waterbed? Why would you want to bring it here?”
“Have you ever made love on a waterbed?”
“I’ve never even slept on one. Have only seen them advertised on TV, in fact.”
Trust me — you’ll love it.!
“But don’t they require a special heavy-duty frame? Wouldn’t that be hard to get in here? And would your boss let you do it?”
“Yes, I’ve thought of all those things. That’s why I’ve never done it. But if I knew you were coming…”
I couldn’t tell if she was joking, or what. So I said, “Please don’t move your waterbed. I mean, we do okay without it.”
She just squeezed my hand and snuggled up next to me.
Anyway, I had a question I’d been wanting to ask. “When I talked to the receptionist earlier, she said ‘Jenny will be available. But you introduced yourself as ‘Jennifer.’”
“I know — everybody here calls me Jenny. But I prefer Jennifer. I call my daughter Jenny.”
“You have a daughter? How old is she?”
“Four. She’s my little angel.”
“Well, if you don’t mind my asking, who takes care of her when you’re here?”
“My mom.”
“Not your husband?”
Her face darkened as she turned away said, “Let’s don’t talk about him.”
“Okay,” I replied. “By the way, you may think I’m just making this up, but I love little kids. Especially little girls.”
“You do? I would love for you to meet my Jenny.”
“Hey,” I replied enthusiastically, “that would be fun.” But I also realized I may be getting in over my head. Waterbed? Meeting her daughter? All I had come for was a massage. But when I looked into her soft, smiling eyes, my heart melted and I wanted to say, “Great! When can we get together?” But sanity prevailed and I didn’t.
So, by way of changing the subject, I said, “I think I’m ready.”
“To do it again?” she squealed with delight.
“Right,” I said, but not really sure I could.
“Wonderful — how about I go down on you this time?” she asked with her eyes aglow.
Now this is hard to explain, but I really don’t get as much pleasure out of receiving as I do in giving. However, accepting her invitation would have meant I didn’t have to get it all the way up — and it was still a little tired. It’s hard to fill a woman’s love garden with a zestless zucchini, but when she’s kissing it, licking it, or sucking the life out of it, relentless rigidity is not really required.
And don’t get me started on where one should and shouldn’t have an orgasm. I realize a lot of guys take pride in saying, “My bitch swallows — and loves it!” And I’ve known at least one woman who says it’s no big deal. But it’s something I would never expect a woman to do.
Anyway, getting back to Jennifer, I said, “How about next time. Right now I would just like to have my hands all over you — and maybe get into you from behind.”
“Doggie-style? Oh, I love that,” she said as she got on her knees and spread them.
I didn’t expect such a quick response and wasn’t sure my battery was fully recharged. But I got behind her and leaned forward to where I could fondle her dangling dingdongs. Well, the hardness of her nipples and the shiver I felt go down her spine gave my flashlight the charge it needed to go searching and stabbing into the depths of her soul.
The moaning and the groaning and the muttering of, “Thank you, God, thank you!” started immediately. And Jennifer became quite vocal, too.
Well, being united doggie-style gives each partner a lot of hip motion latitude, and we did our happy humping with movements of every conceivable kind. I would stop periodically to look down and marvel at the sight of my personal plaything plunging into her warm and wonderful wetness. In fact, I would slow down just to get a better look. I’ve always wanted to be a vicarious voyeur.
My hands moved from her breasts to her mound of brown hair, while an adventurous finger would try to find her clitoris, in case my other extremity was not making contact. Well, I wish I could say it kept up (no pun intended) for a half hour or so, but it was probably only about 15 minutes before I again unloaded in her.
As we again lay side by side, Jennifer said there was a shower room just down the hall where we could clean up. I agreed that this might be the best thing to do now, as I didn’t want the amount of time I spent there that evening to get her into any kind of trouble.
So we showered and then went back to Jennifer’s room to get dressed. I promised I’d be back soon and reached for the doorknob to leave. Before I could open it, though, Jennifer hugged and kissed me as though she was afraid she would never see me again. I returned her affection and said, “Soon — very soon. And we won’t need the waterbed.”
The End
Bust Stop
I thought I’d missed the last bus home. I’d a return fare: £17.50 London to Glasgow. I’d a long weekend and I was looking forward to seeing my husband. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing. I was a student at Central College. It was the only one that I could get into with the grades I got, but I was determined to succeed. But I wasn’t making a very good job of it. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I was going back. The bus was usually mobbed, so I was pleasantly surprised when I found it to be so empty. There was practically nobody on the top deck apart from the usual couple of weirdos and an old guy.
The old man must have been about 40. He had on a shirt and tie and looked ok. I sat at the back across from him, smiling, as I got into my window seat. He just kinda nodded. He looked at my face, but, like most men, then his gaze flickered down to my tits.
My husband, used to kid me on. He said I looked the spit of Boy George, but with big, big tits. He seemed to like them well enough. Sometimes I think he liked putting his cock between them for a diddy ride, more than he liked normal sex. I didn’t mind. I’d tried giving him a blow job once, but didn’t really like the taste. He seemed happy enough. I was too, but I’d never been with anyone else.
I only had on a flimsy top. I prided myself on travelling light, as if that alone, somehow made me courageous. Anyway, I reasoned, the heating on the bus was usually on full blast and it was usually too warm. I hadn’t noticed at first, until we were moving, that the heating on the bus wasn’t working. It was blowing a gale outside, so that a window seat was like being in a permanent draught. You can never sleep for more than an hour on the bus, but I knew that tonight there wasn’t even the chance of that. I felt as if I’d seen enough books to last me a lifetime, so I hadn’t even brought a book. The only think I could do was look out the window. But there was nothing much to see at night, other than motorway, and my own reflection.
We had been travelling for about an hour. But it was deadly slow and we were still in the suburbs of London. I felt as if I was the only person in the world and all the houses and all the cars we passed were full of the same kind of people as me.
In reflection, I caught glimpses of the old man sitting across from me, looking at me, or more precisely, my tits. I don’t know why I did it, but I straightened my back, ever so slightly so that they must have seemed to him even bigger. Men always looked at my tits. I told my husband I hated it and would gladly have chopped them off. But sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes, I liked men looking at them.
I must have dozed off. My head banged against the window and that woke me up with a start. I think I’d actually drooled down my face. I looked across quickly to see if the old man had noticed. He was looking straight at me. Instinctively, I said,
‘I’m sorry.’
‘That’s ok,’ he said and smiled and laughed, a nice reassuring kind of laugh.
‘You want some of this,’ he said. He has a half bottle of Grant’s whiskey and he put his arm out and up like a Hitler salute, as if he was performing a Monty Python sketch, and took a quick slug.
‘I can’t,’ I said primly.
‘Why not,’ he said, ‘You driving?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m a Jehovah’s witness’.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said as if I’d told him I was dying.
I felt sorry for him. He was probably an alcoholic. I imagined him travelling up and down on buses just for somewhere to stay.
‘Cold, eh?’ he said.
‘Yes, it is quite cold,’ I said, ‘and I forgot my jacket.’ It was a white lie, but I immediately regretted it.
‘Bummer’, he said, taking another sip of his whisky, but this time without histrionics.
‘I mean, that’s a shame,’ he said, correcting himself.
‘Look,’ he said, struggling in his seat, to take off his suit jacket.‘Put this on. It’s too cold.’
‘It’s ok,’ I said, ‘I’m fine’. But he had already flung it and it was lying snuggled in my lap, smelling of tobacco, but still nice and warm from the heat of his body. I picked it up by the collar and went to fling it back, but he made a face.
‘It’s fine. I’ve got this’. He showed me the bottle.
That settled it. I put it over my shoulders and immediately felt warmer. But I felt bad.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘we’ll share it’. I didn’t really know what I meant, but I did mean it.
I took the jacket off and he came and sat in the seat next to me. At first I put the jacket on our laps so that he had one half and I had the other, but it was obvious that didn’t work.
I tried pinning one side of the jacket with my back and reached over and put the other half behind his back. He leaned forward like a baby on a high chair, and then leaned back again. It was a bit better. I could feel the heat from his arm, but the rest of me was freezing. It seemed even colder than before. We suddenly turned a corner to go onto the M80 and fell into each other. That seemed to break the ice. He put his arm around my back and pulled me toward him, so that we were toasty, like brother and sister.
I fell asleep leaning into his shoulder. I thought I was dreaming.I felt a hand, like a starfish, work its way slowly and surely into the back of my blouse, so that it was resting on the bare skin of my midriff. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing more than keep my breathing even and continue to kid on that I was asleep. His breathing quickened a little when his hand reached the cusp of my bra. Then it was up and under that trap and gently grasping the silky white smoothness of my skin, resting there, as if tired from all its exertions. Then it moved on, gently, so gently, his index finger, circling the cragged aureole of my nipple, so that when he did finally, almost accidentally, nudge against it, with the side of his finger, not only that nipple, but its twin on my other breast, sprang into life, like two baby’s cocks. He moved his forefinger up and over my nipple, as if measuring it and feeling for its fullness. I was finding it more difficult to feign sleep. I suddenly sat up straight. His hand seemed to whip away instinctively and cower on the neutral territory of my right shoulder.
My back was sore from were he had been pushing his bony arm in behind me and the chair. I turned away from him, his arm falling from me and his jacket falling into the gap between the two chairs. I pushed my bum out to create a distance between us. I looked out into the passing night, using its speeding blackness, as a mirror, to see what he was doing, which was a mistake. He was looking at me, looking at him. I was first to avert my eyes.
He put his jacket on my bare shoulders, leaving it hanging there as if I was some kind of mannequin. I pulled at it, to cover myself and touched his hand. His hand remained on my bare shoulder. It seems kind of strange now, with all the traffic noise and the drunken boys at the front of the bus with their stupid football songs, but I heard the creak of his chair as he moved, repositioned his legs and body, so that were lying parallel to each other. Only we weren’t parallel. He pushed one hand up the side of my blouse and straight into my bra, as if his hand had memorised the route. There was no subtlety now. He pulled and pushed my big wobbly tit about like a grapefruit and tweaked and stretched until the nipple came alive. The other hand shot up and joined its partner. I tried to pull away, but his hand followed the contours of my body, pulling me closer to his body so that I could feel his hard cock, against my ass cheeks, through my dress.
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I shifted in the seat, trying not to gasp, as the outside of his hand brushed down my stomach. He started fingering me, up and down, stroking my clitoris, until, despite myself, I cried out. I’d never had an orgasm before. I never knew that you could have more than one. I was gasping for breath and moaning, like a cow in labour, when he slipped one finger, then other, three, then four fingers up my fanny. The boys at the front of the bus had stopped singing. They were like meerkats, with all there heads pointing in my direction. But I couldn’t help myself. I gave out a final grunt, and actually swore, saying ‘oh fuck’ as he tried to his whole hand up my cunt, but he couldn’t get his thumb in. My pants were that wet that I thought that I’d peed myself.
I heard one of the boys at the front of the bus saying: ’that fat slapper’s getting fucked up there.’
I resented more being called fat than a slapper. I was almost grateful when the old man pushed my head down towards his lap. It was, as if, with the protection of the headrest, I’d become invisible. He didn’t even say anything, just pulled down his zip, and let his cock spring out. It was much bigger than my husbands, longer and thicker and seemed to bend to the left, rather than stand upright the way it should. Even the head of his cock was longer and more purpled. I tentatively touched the head of it with my tongue, gently holding the stalk of his cock and licking at its little weeping open eye. He tweeked one of my nipples so hard that I cried out. But there was no sound. He pushed roughly down on my head and pushed his cock up into my mouth so that I almost gagged. One of the rowdy gang of kids had edged his way forward. He was standing on his tiptoes so that he could see my head going up and down on the old man’s cock. I could feel it grow harder in my mouth. I used my tongue to lick at the head of his cock. I wanted to taste his spunk and fill my mouth with its goodness. But his cock would go softer and he would impatiently, tweek my nipple harder and pull at my hair, pulling my head up and down, as if he was punishing me.
The old man stopped trying to feed me his cock. He got himself an even tighter grip on my hair and pulled my head up suddenly, my mouth floundering open like a fish out of water. There was a middle aged couple sitting half way up the bus. They were looking back at me, until the woman pulled, what I took to be her husband, down into the seat. I could almost hear her tut tutting. Everyone else had left the top deck, passing us on the stairs and I hadn’t even noticed. Only the younger boys with the baseball caps remained. They weren’t leaving, at least not until the older heavier one at the front, gave them the nod. The youngest looking boy had edged his way further forward. Two or three of his pals were standing behind him, with their baseball caps pulled down, as if to protect themselves from being seen. I knew they were all watching my head going up and down on his hard-soft cock. My face flushed bright red. But the old man wouldn’t let me look away. He pulled my hair back so tight that the boys must have thought I was looking at them defiantly, with my chin stuck out. It was them that looked away first. They started to return to their seats, in ones and twos. The younger, skinner ones, first. The burly, fatter one, last. Show over.
The old man began to stand up. The momentum of him pushing forward and pulling back my hair made me stagger. His hand moved quickly, pulling down my dress and pants so that my ankles seemed locked together. My bare ass seemed more vulnerable than usual in that cold public place. I was strangely glad that no one could see what he was doing. He finger fucked me again, with two, three and then four fingers up my snatch. Once again my whole body went into spasms and as I came again and called out, ‘oh, oh, oh, oh’, each time his hand fucked my insides. I was on the cusp of coming again with my eyes shut and my neck stretched back in fucking ecstasy when he suddenly stopped.
The group of young boys had formed a half circle around our seats. The couple I took to be married fled hurriedly down the stairs. Her first and then him. She was looking forward, down the stairs. He was looking back, because my big tits were now on full show. The old guy had roughly pulled my bra down around my waist and my tits just spilled out of my blouse. He pushed me forward so that they jutted out, up over the top of the seat. I was grunting like a pig, through my nose. The old guy was continuing to slide his fingers in and out of sticky cunt. I could feel his head bobbing about down at my bum. Then he did a funny thing. He started licking my ass cheeks, one side then the other, biting on them. I pushed forward when he ran his wet tongue up and down the cleft. Each individual hair seemed to stand to attention, waiting. I felt his puckered kiss as he separated my ass cheeks and felt the way into my little hole with the tip of his tongue. He withdrew the fingers from my cunt, using the index finger of my slippery juices to get even more of his tongue up.
‘She likes getting fucked up the ass,’ he said to the watching boys, as if in explanation. But, at home, my husband apologised, even if the touched me there with his hand, accidentally. I put that thought out of my mind. I was a slut and I wanted to be used as a slut.
The boys seemed to have taken the old man’s statement as some kind of invitation. The heavier older one was first to react. He touched one of my tits as if it was going to say boo to him and make him run away. But then he got more confident, feeling the plumpness of one then the other. He made his choice and slid into the window seat grabbing greedily at the tit nearest him and getting as much of it in his mouth as he could: smooth skin, rough aureole, and nipple. The other three boys, pushed and jostled and pulled at each other to grasp and feel and squeeze my other tit. It was difficult to say, with all the name calling and showing off, what his name was, but the smallest one, with red hair, I think they called him Giro, was the first to get my other big nipple, into his mouth. He closed his eyes. It was lovely, like getting mugged by a gang of babies. I never thought that my nipples could get any bigger, but they did. I’d have liked to squirted my milk into their mouths.
My legs were shaking. The old man was propping me up. His cock was half hard, like a rubber ring. He was rubbing it up and down my ass, stopping at my little ass hole and trying to force it in, but it would just plop out again and he would go on with his rubbing, until I felt it get harder, as hard as it had been that long night.
One of the other boys had worked his way under the seats, into the gap between the seat and my knees, kneeling in front of me. Maybe it was that which made the old man’s cock hard. Maybe it was because I’d already stepped out of my pants and knickers and was practically nude. Maybe that made him hard. Or maybe it was the way I was using what seemed like the youngest one of the boys, the one they called Rab. I wasn’t just letting him lick my pussy. I was pushing down hard with my hips, grinding my swollen pussy into not only his waiting tongue, but also his nose and chin. It seemed like I was covering his whole face with my juice so that I could get his whole head inside my pussy lips.
The old man had stopped rubbing up down my cleft. I could almost feel the intensity of his concentration. He’d got a little bit of his cock up my ass, but it came back out again. He was holding the head of his cock against my arse hole and he was spitting on his fingers and using them to prise it open. I felt the bell of the tip go in. I stopped grinding down on Rab’s face, but he, just as quickly, moved forward, parting my pussy lips and splashing about inside of me with his tongue. But it was long enough. The old man got an inch of his cock in. Inch by inch he pushed it up, as if testing his grip. It felt strangely cold. Then he started banging slowly at first and then faster, his balls playing their insistent beat off my bum cheeks, banging young Rab’s head off the back of the chair. I squealed and tried to get away. It was like being tickled from the inside. But there was no where to go and no where I’d rather have been. Giro was still sucking away as if it was the best thing that he had ever had in his life. My nipples were getting that sore that I thought they were going to come out by the roots. David had immediately replaced the heavier boy Mick, on the window seat on my spare tit, as soon as it plopped out of his mouth. David was strangely gentle with my tit, kissing it, caressing it and touching the nipple with the tip of his tongue. I thought he was going to talk to it at one point. I patted him on the head, encouragingly.
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Although I was practically nude, the boys were strangely reluctant to show any part of themselves. They still had their Wrangler jackets on. But there cocks were playing a different game and trying to push out of their trackies. Mick, the older burly boy, was the first to get his out. He simply pulled the band of his boxer down into a v shape. His lovely thick cock sprang up and out, with its veins bulging, as if it had been working out. I reached down to touch it. But I wasn’t quick enough. Two rubs of his dick and he came, like a high pressure water pistol, squirting up into the roof of the coach and into my hair. His cock momentarily drooped, but seemed to recover and stay thick and hard and long, about 9 inches.
Mick stood on the two seats, using the bent backs of the two boys in front of him to balance. He pushed his cock towards me. But he was still too far away. I could just reach it with my hand. I started with two fingers, pulling the foreskin back and forward. He still had a drip of spunk coming out. It tasted like a tadpole. The old man behind me, fucking my ass had slowed down. I could feel him tensing. His cock got harder and bent inside me and then it popped out, leaving his creamy goodness inside me. I was kinda glad because my ass was getting sore. The old man slumped back in the chair behind me. He buttoned his trouser and went and sat at the back of the bus. That meant I could lean further forward towards Mick’s nob which was waving in front of my face like a metronome. It was just out of reach of my mouth. He pushed further forward.
I tasted his young fat squirming cock for the first time. But the backs of his pals gave way. His cock came out of my mouth and my chaffed nipples were free for the first time that night as they all fell backwards. I pulled my pants and skirt up with one hand, as Rab seemed to disappear like an insect caught in the light below me. I pushed up my bra and adjusted my blouse, looking at myself quickly in the mirror of the bus window. I looked contented. My nipples were sore, my fanny was soaking and my ass was well lubricated with the memory of a nice ache.
Mick’s cock began to droop, like a flower that had too much sunshine, in front of my eyes. It seemed rather a shame, a waste even, but that was life. And it was getting light outside. But Mick wasn’t looking at me. He still had his cock in his hand, test wanking it, with two or three pulls of his foreskin, to see if it still worked. He seemed to look three seats down, at the old man.
‘Is that it for the night?’ he said in a pleading kind of voice.
The old man was drinking the last of his whisky. He got up slowly adjusting his weight to the swaying of the coach as he moved down the aisle to be beside us. He stood over me, looking into my eyes. The first button on my blouse had broken. He reached across and undid the other three, pulling the ends up out of my fastened skirt. The boys watched, pushing, crowding in again, as he slid it off. I sat, with my skirt smoothed out, as he reached down and roughly pulled my bra cups up, over my tender breasts. I held my hands up, like a child getting ready for bed, as he jerked it off and placed it on the seat beside us. There was a slight tint to the windows. But it was light enough, for other motorists to catch a glimpse of me, with my breasts out, half naked. The old man cupped the breast nearest to him, pushing it up towards my mouth.
‘Suck on it,’ he said.
I’d often wondered when I was younger and hated my breasts and used to strap them down, because the boys called me bad names and girls hated me, what it would be like if I let a boy touch them. Suck on them. I knew it was wrong, but I had to know. When everyone else was sleeping I’d put one tit in my mouth and suck on its nipple. Then the other. Then I’d push both together and lick them like a windscreen wiper. It comforted me. I stood up a little and showed the old man that I remembered how to do it. Traffic on the motorway slowed down and horns travelled away from us, but I continued licking until the old man told me to stop.
The boy’s faces behind the old man were feral. There eyes were dilated, chins stuck out and jaws clamped. There was a palpable heat off them and they looked ready for a fight. But they were quiet now. There was only the sound of the coach travelling through the dawn. The old man tugged at my skirt and grabbed at my panties, pulling them down over my hips and letting them slide to the floor. He piled my clothes on the chair beside us and put my sandals on top. I was naked as Eve.
The old man took a hold of my hand as if we were a married couple. Davie grabbed at one of my tits and Mick grabbed at my ass, but they were token gestures, as they let us past. The old man moved into the booth of the back seats, which because of the stairs no one could really see you. I moved to get in beside him. But he pushed me two seats across, to the middle seats. I sat there shivering, with my legs shut and my arms across my breasts.
‘Open your legs,’ said the old man.
I opened my legs. The hair on my mons pubis, higher up, was full of coarse little curls, I’d never noticed before. The lips of my labia majora were red and inflamed. I could feel a tingling in them. ‘Wider,’ said the old man.
I slouched down on the chair and opened my legs as wide as I could. The boys, as if drawn by the musky smell, formed a screen in front of me. They could see right into the darker redness, almost purple of my vestibule, right into the drip of my wide open cunt lips.
‘Masturbate yourself,’ said the old man.
The folds in my prepuce were already wet, but I pulled at the skin, with two fingers, with both hands, at each side so that my clitoris stuck out even further, like a sticky out flap of brown cockrel head, wedded to my insides. I closed my eyes. Almost as soon as I touched it I grunted.
‘She’s all yours,’ said the old man.
I was hit with a tidal wave of cocks. Two were slammed into my mouth right away, pushing me back on the seat. They were pushed in and out like gobstobbers. I couldn’t even wank them, because someone else was trying to ride me from the side and no making a very good job of it. So I got his cock and started wanking it. Someone else was on the other side kneeling, nuzzling and sucking on my nipple and trying to wank on them at the same time, so I had to help wank him. One of them, I don’t know who, rubbed a forefinger along my perineum and pushed it up my ass, as if it was a dipstick.
The pace slackened a bit as the Mick and Rab came in my mouth, almost at the same time, as if one cock was urging the other on. I felt their cocks momentarily lift and harden in the roof of my mouth. They quickly pulled out together as if they had been embarrassed at being so intimate with each other. Some of their spunk hit the back of my mouth, but strands hit my lips and nose. I licked my lips and tired to catch the stray bits with my tongue.
Giro was trying to mount my tits. I felt sorry for him. He was the smallest and he had the smallest dick. He’d red hair and it looked as if he would be bald in a few years. I’d have held my tits together for him, but Davie was like a jealous kid on the other side, wanting to make sure that his mate didn’t get more than him. He’d nothing to be jealous of. He was a handsome boy, with black hair and model good looks and with 12 inches, the biggest cock of the day. I kept tentatively wanking Giro, but decided to give Davie the prize. I leaned sideways, eye to cock. I took as much of Davie’s cock in my mouth as I could, gagging in the process. I wanted to fully taste him. I let go of Giro’s dick, just as he was coming. He wanked himself into the hair on the back of my head as I nudged Davies legs apart and tasted his musky gym filled, jockstrap, balls.
But it was his cock he and I wanted in my mouth. I wanked it with lips and tongue and with the salvia in my mouth: spitting and sucking and licking the shaft and bulb of its head, like an old pro. I felt the ecstasy of him coming, travelling like a stillness through his body. And I nipped and sucked at his cock some more, urging him to spit it out, to give it to me. I licked at his clear precum and jerked his cock out of mouth, getting up off my knees and looking into his eyes as I protectively pillowed it between my white tits. I didn’t even have to jiggle them, the way my husband liked it, Davie had already cum. I’d never seen as much spunk. It dripped from my chin onto my tits. I rubbed that into the crack of my fanny. I left the spunk on my forehead cheeks and nose, I let him see me, like some kind o f bad actress, slowly put into my mouth and lick off with my cunty, shiny, hand. I liked him watching me do that with his kind eyes.
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The boys were standing behind me, wanking themselves, feeling at my tits and bum and trying to spunk in my hair to catch my attention. But there was one more thing I wanted to do for Davie. I gathered up as much of his spunk off my face as I could and put it strand by strand into my mouth. I got unsteadily to my feet, lay on top of him and kissed him, forcing my tongue between his lips and down his throat. He didn’t respond at first. Then he was kissing me as hard as I kissed him. It was our secret. I was unravelling his spunk and, like a baby guillemot, I was feeding him back his spunk. I wanked his cock and it grew quickly hard again. I bent down to suck on it again, licking on his nob, tasting on its salty goodness.
Mick was roughly fingering my ass and cunt, making up for what he didn’t know about technique with enthusiasm. I wanted Davie’s cock inside me. But I bent over and sucked on Mick’s pug cock. The other two cock were thrust at my face like eager puppies. I took a lick out of each, bent over, wiggling my bare ass in front of Davie, but he didn’t seem to be taking the hint. I needed him inside me. I felt back for his cock, keeping the other boys at bay with an eager hand and tongue Davie was still hard. I couldn’t see what I was doing but I didn’t need to. I levitated his whole body up by gripping his cock and guiding him inside my dripping cunt. I felt as if it was his first time.
Then he started banging me as hard as he could, his spunk filled balls smacking against my bare ass. I pushed forward, trying to get even more of his cock inside me, my big tits jiggling with the movement of the coach and a good humping. I was greedy now trying to get three other cocks into my mouth at once. I felt Davie slow, and tense, and squirt apologetically inside me. His cock slid out as easily as it had slid in. I pushed back with my bum, but he was all done. His cock had turned into a little mushroom. I sat on it. I wanted to protect him and it. I fiddled with it a little until it came alive enough to put up against my puckered ass hole.
Mick grabbed my hair. He was sick of sharing me with the others. I was wanking them with my hands, but he dictated the pace that he fucked my mouth. I could feel Davie’s cock growing. I opened my legs wider, showing off my gaping gash and pushing down on his little button cock, with my littlest hole. I pushed down again and I felt him adjusting his legs and fingering his cock until it was semi hard. I pushed down again, pushing it back, until force met force.
I don’t think I could have taken Davie’s cock up my ass unless Rab had began to fuck me from the front. He’s pulled away from my hand and kinda ducked under the others and stood up and began to bang seriously hard, as if he was determined to come, even if he was shot down doing it. I liked it. I grabbed at his head when it came into reach, pulling him towards me, kissing and letting him taste Davie and Rab’s cocks on my tongue. As if to emphasise the point, I pushed a finger up his ass. He came immediately.
‘Gross,’ said one of the other boys
Davie’s cock was growing inside my little ass, but it was too big and splitting my insides. He seemed to sense this and stopped pushing up, simply sat there with most of his cock impaled up my ass.
The other boys fell away and formed, what seemed for them, an orderly queue. Mick seemed to like putting his cock in my mouth and tickling my ass, so that more and more of my weight fell on Davie’s cock. Mick’s pace quickened. He grabbed at my hair to pull my head down to lick the last spurting juices of his cock. He watched fascinated as I licked and sucked for all I was worth. When Giro pushed his cock forward his cock I tried two cocks in my mouth again. Then I let Giro bang me as I worked on Mick’s cock. His cock went into spasm and I could taste his precum, when he pulled it out of my mouth.
‘I want to fuck you up the arse,’ Mick said in an aggressive tone, but the next bit was more like a little boy that had lost his penny marbles, ‘I’ve never fucked a girl up the ass before, but I’ve wanted to.’
‘You’ve never fucked anyone before full stop. None of yous have’, said Davie, out of breath, pumping away, showing off, because he could.
I knew Davie regretted saying it, just as I also knew it was true. But I now wanted his big cock inside my cunt, not my ass. I needed him to finish me off.
I staggered forward pulling Davie out of my ass. I pushed him back, down on the seat and pushed his legs apart. I tasted the freshness of his big cock once more, before squatting, pushing my fanny lips up and over it swollen head. Motorists could see my tits flopping about as I rode him like a jockey in a donkey derby. But as I grunted and writhed in my own juices, I needed something more to cum.
‘Now’s your chance Mick,’ I spat out as he fondled my bum cheeks, ‘fuck me hard up the ass’.
Although he tried he couldn’t fall in with our rhythm, couldn’t get it up.
Giro was the first to lose his anal cherryhood. The gooey white settling spunk from Davie’s cock lubricated his entry. And as he pumped my ass he pushed further and further onto my Davie’s waiting cock in my pussy. Giro’s legs buckled before mine. He unloaded inside my ass, mixing his juices with Davies, and fell back, as if the weight of his coming made him stagger.
Rab quickly replaced him, fucking my ass, with his bony little frame and cock for all he was worth. His enthusiasm seemed to be catchy. I found myself making strange animal noises again and I rode Davie’s cock my body heaving with orgasm, after orgasm. Rab, like Davie, lubricated my ass, but the bus slowed down. We were on the outskirts of Edinburgh and would soon be in Waverly station. I kissed my Davie for the last time, shuffled up the aisle with spunk running down my bare leg. The boys stayed in the back seats, casually moulded to them, as if they had been there all of their lives. They watched while I put my clothes on.
Some passengers got on and sat on the top deck at Waverly. It was only a fifteen minute journey to Glasgow, Buchanan Street. Mick felt his way like a crab up the couple of chairs that separated us. When he sat down I quickly saw why he moved so strangely. His cock was still pushing out. I stroked it, through his trackies, like an old friend. It grew bigger. He looked about and pulled the band down again, nodding as if to give the all clear. I had its taste in my mouth, when a conductor walked up the stairs, quickly walking down again, just as Mick spat his cum in my mouth. I licked at his cock once last time, draining every last bit of his spunk. I kept it there, like a chipmunk, in a pouch in my cheeks. I kissed him passionately just as we were coming into Glasgow. I knew that was what he wanted to taste most. I could see my husband on the concourse, pacing up and down, in that way he did.
As I reached for my bag from the luggage rack Davie slipped me a bit of paper. I knew it had his phone number on it. But I was a married woman. What kind of girl did he think I was? But I did smile at him.
‘What happened to that old guy?’ I said.
‘What old guy,’ said Davie, looking at Mick for guidance.
‘The one you were talking to,’ I said to Mick, ’the one you thought was my husband’
‘There was only us on the top deck,’ said Davie and Mick together.
I knew they were lying. They must have been lying.
The End
It Happened at a Party
The scene - Work Christmas party. At a plush, partner’s house. By the time the band starts playing everyone is drinking pretty heavily and there will be about 80 people in the big room off the expansive pool area and about 20 more out by the pool. It’s about 2 in the afternoon on a hot December day, but the air conditioning in the room keeps it nice and cool. Heavy curtains also keep it a little dark and the effect is in stark contrast to the bright sunshine outside.
A Work Band has been formed and we’re playing a series of covers (about 20 we know and few more we can muddle through if we play loud enough) from a hired stage about 2 feet high. One of the girls there is a research clerk about 22, at the end of her law degree. Fair skin and flaxen blonde hair. Tallish and toned, but not skinny with nice curves and long legs. Brash and bold beyond her years and very attractive. Short brown suede A line skirt and strappy hippy heels. Woven cotton top in burnt oranges and yellow horizontal stripes with a neckline that plunges deeply and shows quite a bit of cleavage and skin, middrift exposed, shoestring straps. It shows the shape of reasonably large, very round, firm breasts and semi erect nipples. Her breasts are full and thrusting and jut from her body so that the top is stretched a bit at the nipple area and the under-swell is quite pronounced. The top falls away from her body when she leans over and she can show lots of cleavage and an occasional nipple glimpse if she wants to. Straps slip off shoulders regularly as she dances (often suggestively), her breasts move tautly, full round and firm. The curve of the underside of the breast is enticing and the stretchy (but slightly loose) top clings to it, also revealing the paler side swell considerably with low and cut away design under the arms.
Before the band starts to play and most people are outside (I have just finished setting up and I’m tapping away and getting the drum heads positioned) Jo comes up and asks if she can have a turn. I say sure, and she sits on the stool. I stand next to her and immediately start to stiffen as I see how much I can see down her top, almost to her nipples. Also, when she puts her feet on the high hat and base drum, her thighs are quite parted and the skirt rides up. The only reason I can’t see more is because I am standing sort of over her shoulder/next to her. As she plays (badly) around I try to help her and, naturally end up behind her holding her arms with my head over her shoulder, our faces quite close. She smells like shampoo and perfume and something deeper, tantalising. When I have her right hand on the high hat and her left on the snare drum the way her arms cross over pushes her breasts together nicely, and the movement of hitting the drums makes them bounce a little. She looks at me looking down her cleavage and grins a little as the left strap slips off her shoulder. The top slides down and is only stopped by her semi erect nipple. She pretends not to notice. With the next few beats it peels outward and slowly reveals a nipple rapidly becoming quite hard as I watch. It is a light brown colour in contrast to her pale skin. “You want to get that?” I ask.
She says “Do you?”
“Sure,” I answer and take the strap and slide it back up her arm. The fabric of the top has fallen under her breast though and as I pull the strap up it lifts the breast as well, before it slips suddenly over and the firm weight falls back. She sighs in mock exasperation and adjusts her self by reaching a hand inside and adjusting the top.
“If it happens again, now you know what to do,” she smiles, knowing that watching her touch her breast like that and seeing her nipple exposed and hard has caused a large lump in my pants. She can’t see this but she deliberately leans back into it.
One of the partners says to the few remaining people “C’mon, everybody out to the pool, we have a few of those silly awards to hand out.” I know who got them already so I don’t leave. Neither does Jo. We are alone in the room now.
I move around the other side of the kit with the intention of putting a bit of distance between us but belatedly realise that from here I can see straight up her skirt, which, being quite short, has ridden right up her thighs with the way she is sitting. She makes no move to close her legs and keeps tapping away, getting a little more co-ordinated and having a great time. I can see the way the very thin lace cups her pussy and the light over the kit is conveniently located. She sees me looking and says “Copper.”
“Pardon?” I reply, a little confused.
“My g, it’s copper. The colour? What there is of it.” And at that moment the top comes down again.
“Pesky thing,” I say, “Should just take it off.” Her breast is exposed down to the top of the aureole as she keeps playing away.
She says “Why? Don’t you like copper?”, deliberately misinterpreting me. She stops playing and her head tilts to one side. As the tip of the drum stick rests against her nipple she smiles and says “Well? Did you mean I should take off my top or my bottoms? Cat got your tongue?”
I say “Whatever you like, but I think a few people might notice if you suddenly appear topless.”
She laughs and says “What? Notice this?” and pulls both straps down to fully expose both breasts, looking down at them. “Yeah, I suppose so.” Her hands cup them as she looks up at me. “They are pretty noticeable. Guess it’ll have to be the g then.” With that she closes her thighs and, leaving her breasts bare, reaches under her skirt as her ass raises off the stool a bit and wiggles as her hands come out drawing the tiny g down her thighs, over her knees and down her calves. She slips it off her ankles and feet and tosses it to me.
“Cheeky aren’t you?” I ask.
She grins and says “Cheeky doesn’t start to cover it,” and puts her feet on the pedals again, without playing. I can, of course, see exactly what I could see before but now without the panties in the way. Her lips are shaved and smooth, a little glisten of moisture that I can feel on my fingers where I am holding the g. “You better leave this on Jo, that skirt is pretty short. You don’t want everyone seeing what I’m seeing now – no matter how much they might enjoy it.” I move to hand the g back to her and she pauses for a moment looking at me before saying “Come round here and help me.”
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I smile, toss the g to her and say “I don’t think that would be a good idea. See you outside.” And walk out.
Later, we are playing a 20 minute set before the massive, hired, stainless steel monstrosity of a BBQ gets fired up by the caterers for the Chef to do a huge amount of steaks, kebabs etc for the late lunch. For one number Jo grabs a mike and is on stage doing a do-wap thing and she comes back to where I am playing the drums. Her back is to everyone else and while she do-waps (pretty well actually) and bops the strap slides off a shoulder and the material slides down again and exposes her breast and still erect nipple. I look, she notices and, grinning broadly, leaves it like that while she jiggles and sings a bit then fixes it and turns away again.
She comes around behind me and bends over close to me and in between do-waps, says in my ear “You like my tits don’t you? I like them too. They’re great tits. They feel great too.” Her great tits are pressed into my back as she says this and they certainly feel great there. Then she bops back to centre stage front and hands the mike over for the next song.
From where I sit at the back and to one side of the room I can see into another room on the side wall closest to me. It is about 5 feet from me. The door opens so that the gap when it is open about a foot or so is on the side farthest from me and therefore only I, at the back of the room, can see in. There is junk on the floor in front of the room, like the cases for the hired kit, etc. Joe enters this room and no-one seems to mark this fact.
The door is open about a foot and a half and I see nothing until I see her move into the space I can see, barefoot and rummaging in an overnight bag, still grooving to the music (which is now a very bluesy version of Tracy Chapmans Gimme one Reason. I remember this because we were really nailing this song, it was easy on my right arm which was getting tired, one of the secretaries was doing a bloody good job on the lyric even though she hadn’t rehearsed with us, and because of what follows).
She withdraws a pair of togs, a bikini, chucks the bag out of sight, drops the togs at her feet and starts moving a little to the music while her hands unzip the skirt. It falls around her ankles and she kicks it out of site. Her long pale legs look fantastic and the copper coloured g-string sets her legs and ass off beautifully. She is almost directly under a halogen down light and her flawless skin is well lit. Her nipples are really prominent under the fabric now but then she turns her back, stops dancing, and slowly peels the top off over her head, the muscles in her back moving smoothly, her perfect ass delectable.
As it goes up she turns around smoothly and with her eyes closed and her head back it slides up her arms and over her head. Her breasts lift with her movement and her nipples are rock hard. She discards the top and without pausing she turns side on and slowly slides the g string down over her hips and down her legs as she bends forward at the waist. Her breast presses against her leg.
Viewing all of this through the partially opened door is fantastically erotic but it seems to be happening very quickly.
When she stands up she is looking down along her naked body. Her fine blonde pubes are trimmed to a little strip. She walks out of view and comes back with some 30 plus in her hand and proceeds to slowly apply it to her naked body. I am thinking “oh my God. She must know I can see her,” but she has not even looked toward the door and from in there under the light it would seem dark out where I am. The way she puts the lotion on her body is designed to be provocative, and it is. She seems to be looking into a mirror I can’t see (a fact I later confirm) and assessing with evident satisfaction the appearance of her naked body.
Her eyes stare straight ahead into the mirror and her body is in ¾ front profile to me. Her hands slowly smooth the lotion onto her arms and shoulders, then her stomach and chest, lingering a little to cup her breasts as her fingers roll the cream into her long, erect nipples. She occasionally pauses and admires herself from different angles. As she puts the cream into her back her contortions have an erotic appeal as her toned body bends and twists and her breasts thrust out as she tries to reach the middle of her back. When she bends at the waist to do her legs she does so with her ass to me and I see the pink lips peeking out as her hands smooth the cream into her skin.
At the end she is drawing her hand up her inside thigh and it keeps travelling up to cup her pussy. I watch her mouth open in a sigh as her hand moves between her legs slowly, naked under the light, her other hand pulling on her nipples as she watches herself in the mirror. The hand begins to move more rapidly and she thrusts her hips forward, feet apart and looks down along her body as she fingers herself faster. She changes to rubbing her clit and soon I see her cry out as her body shakes and jerks, her hand still pinching and pulling her nipples and squeezing her firm tits.
Her orgasm is silent to me as she resumes fingering herself, the climax peaking then passing. She looks toward me for the first time and smiles before she puts the bikini on, puts her clothes back on and comes back out. The whole thing has taken only the Tracey Chapman song and one by Everclear. Luckily one I knew well, because I was distracted. That’s the last song in the set and everyone bar a few people move outside around the pool.
I say to her when no-one can hear “You tell me how great your tits are and then cover them with more clothes. Hardly seems fair,” but she looks me straight in the eyes and says
“What, didn’t see enough when I got changed?”
I said something like, “Don’t know what you’re talking about, I was concentrating on my stick control.”
She laughs and says “Nice try. Enjoy the show? Act 2 will have to wait until I’m sure someone won’t walk in on me. Or us, if you like…” and she walks off grinning, swinging her hips provocatively. I’m in a bit of a turmoil. How far do I want to take this? I watch her talking to people as I circulate and chat etc, and soon people are jumping in the pool. I watch as she strips down to her togs and dives in cleanly. Others watch too. It’s nice to watch. When she comes up in the shallow end and stands her hard nipples are pronounced under the small triangles of lycra covering her full breasts.
The water beads on her skin. A pool volleyball gets hit to one side and I walk over to throw it back in. She turns to me as I do so and I am the only person on this side of the pool. The people who are paying any attention at all are watching me throw the ball and they don’t see her swiftly but smoothly pull the fabric outward from her breasts briefly before covering them again. In that 2 seconds I see the ultra hard nipples and aureole puckered from the cold water and her mischievous grin.
I end up playing volley ball too, but other than hope and expectations, the occasional brushing touch and the eyeful she presents, the only bit worth mentioning is a brief squeeze of my semierect cock as she moved past me once. When she gets out of the pool (after me) I bring a towel over to her. She is facing me and as we chat I manoeuvre so I am in the corner of the undercover bit outside the pool hut and her back is to everyone. The huge towel is around her shoulders and back right down to mid thigh and while we chat she casually pulls the fabric of her top away from both of her breasts, never breaking eye contact with me. I smile and tell her she is a tease. She says “It’s no tease.”
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When someone wonders up, she just pulls the towel over herself a bit. Her nipples are so erect I can hardly stop myself from sucking them. She says “I told you I have great tits.” I say something like “yes you did” but I am distracted because she is casually playing with them as we speak. Squeezing them and rolling the nipple between her fingers. I ask her if she is enjoying herself.
She says something like “I love the feel of my body. My skin gets so soft when I get turned on. I’m enjoying watching you want me. I love the way the guys have been staring when they think I’m not looking. It turns me on. Now watch carefully.” Her hand slips down the front of her bikini bottoms and I watch helplessly as I see it move between her thighs. Her breasts are still bare to me when she says “I’m quite wet you know.”
Her eyes lock mine and her hand keeps moving and she says, suddenly business like, “This is a work Christmas party. It’s all without prejudice. I won’t be working here next year and I’m moving to the US anyway. I’m a little pissed but I know what I’m saying. I’ll be clear, I want to fuck you. I’ve been thinking about where and how and this is what I reckon…” Her hand comes out of her pants and she covers her breasts with the towel. “If you’re interested.”
I say “I’m all ears,” and she opens the towel again with a grin.
“I hoped you would be! There is a gym type thing near the garage. It’s got a door direct from the outside. I unlocked it a little while ago. After you guys stumble through your next set-”
I interrupt “Our last one.”
“Oh good,” she says, “Just wander outside, down the side and come on in. I’ll be waiting.” Her smile is great. So brazen and sure of herself, of her desirability. She looks over her shoulder and then back at me. “Why don’t you have a preview. Touch me.” So I do. I can’t not. It seems pretty harmless. Less than a lap dance. My hand cups her breast, feeling it’s resilient weight. I squeeze the nipple. Her skin is cool and a bit wet. She sighs and squirms a bit, “Nice, but I didn’t mean there.” I hesitate.
She looks over her shoulder again and everyone is moving back inside or over to the outdoor bar on the other side of the pool. For a brief time we are unnoticed. “Now or never.” She says as she pulls the front of her bikini down. I slide my hand down the front and feel the cool dampness of her pubes, then the wet heat of her slippery lips. As my finger slips inside her tight pussy she grabs my wrist, pulling my finger deeper into her and says “Imagine that feeling around your cock. I’m imagining it already.” She covers her breasts and turns away as she says “Remember, I’ll be waiting.”
The sun is down and I struggle through the set. Apart from being pretty drunk, which actually seems to improve my playing, Jo is in the crowd dancing, or over by the bar. Wherever. I track her around the room. She was just wearing her bikini with the towel around her waist for a while. At one stage someone pulls the string undone at the back and she does the decent thing and covers herself, but not before a lot of people have seen her hard nipples and jutting tits. She uses this as an excuse to slip into the room and get changed but she closes and locks the door this time, and just as well.
A couple of the drunk lawyers grab a camera and try to open the door. When she comes out she has changed into a tight pair of low cut jeans and a gauzy top with a floral design on a black background through which you can see her black lace bra. Her hair is out and she looks hot. I’m not the only one to notice. We play the same song in this set she was singing to the first time and she does the same routine as before. This time when she turns to face me she is grinding her ass and giving the crown a show they hoot and show appreciation for. While looking at them over her shoulder her body is bent forward toward me and her top gapes showing me her skimpy, almost transparent bra.
The song ends and I launch into the old standard strip rhythm and one of the guys on guitar picks it up straight away. I learnt the routine when I played drums in a school play and one of the guys dressed in drag was doing the feather boa bump and grind thing as part of one scene. Because Jo is centre stage all attention is on her. Everyone is pissed and rowdy and without exception the encouragement and cat calls surge, even from the girls. She mock frowns at me and then starts to bump and grind her hips in time with her ass to the crowd and her hands over her head. She really knows how to play a crowd . She undoes a few buttons facing me then turns to the crowd.
She opens her top a bit and points at her bra questioningly and the roar of approval is palpable. Her hands slide up her back and I see her undo the clasp. She makes a show of pulling it out through the sleeves but does this with her back to them again. Her breasts are visible quite clearly through the thin gauzy fabric, but the design makes it a little less blatant. All the same, the firm round shape of her tits is quite visible, as are her nipples. She slides the fabric aside for me and I can see her nipples are very erect. Then she spins to the crowd, still doing the bump and grind to the music and starts swinging the bra over her head before letting it fly. It lands across one of my cymbals.
To use the age old adage, the crowd goes wild. They can see her breasts bouncing inside the shirt, and quite bit of skin as the top moves around with the buttons undone down to her belly. Even the girls are having fun.
Then she starts slowly undoing the button fly on her jeans and the tension in the room increases. I start to wonder how far this will go. Everyone is pretty drunk and Jo is pretty horny and about to leave town, so I’m expecting a good show. She finishes undoing the fly, kicks her clogs off and then - Whoosh – the jeans are around her ankles. There is a clumsy moment as she pulls them off her feet and then she stands up straight with a flourish. Her ass is to me, and the pale globes of her firm cheeks are split by a tiny black g string. She steps back into her clogs and I realise that she is not going to take the g off. But as she turns her ass to the appreciative crowd I see her wink at me and undo the remaining two buttons on her top.
She opens it while still facing me and lets it slide down her back. As she looks over her shoulder I feast on the firm, jutting breasts bouncing with her raunchy movements and the hard nipples. I can see her pussy lips through the lace of her g string. She is so sexy. When she turns to face the crowd she closes her shirt and they boo good-naturedly and scream for it to come off. I am thinking it won’t, but then she just flings it open, off and starts swirling it over her head like the bra. Everyone is cheering.
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She turns slowly through 360 degrees really hamming it up for the crowd and it feels more fun than sleazy. She bends at the waist with her ass to the crowd shaking her bum and with her hands cupping and squeezing her breasts only a foot or 2 from my face she says “The lights! get ready to kill the lights. You’ll know when. Finish up the music.” Because I am effectively in the corner of the room the light switch is just behind me on the wall. She turns back to the crowd and as we approach the end of the repeated riff and she gets saucier with her gyrations, caressing her breasts and stomach, running her hands all over her body and working up to something, I notice her hook her fingers in the sides of the g string.
We hit the last guitar wailing, cymbal crashing bars (Brian on the guitar heard what she said to me and he’s on the game) and in one smooth movement the g comes down her long legs and I kill the lights, plunging the room plunges into blackness. The crowd, who would have seen nothing but the fact the g was coming off, wail in outrage. She grabs her clothes and I dimly see her slip into the room off to the side and close the door. I bring the lights up and Brian tells everyone thanks for coming, that’s the end of the show and brings up the programmed party music through the bands gear. Everyone starts doing whatever, a few guys congratulate me on having the best seat in the house and after a few minutes I hear someone ask where Jo is. I say she got a cab and left.
I wait a bit after the set, wrestling with the dilemma then figure, what the hell, probably not much will happen anyway, and even if a bit happens, I mentally compare it to a lappy, provided things don’t go too far. I have this silly rule about getting action from people I work with, but my resolve is wavering. So I slip outside on the pretext of having a cigarette (I still smoked then) and walk quietly up the side of the house. I see the windows to the gym (which is attached to the garage, but separate) with the horizontal blinds shut, but some light coming around them. I try to see in but I can’t. I steel myself and slide the glass door back quietly, step in and shut it behind me, locking it before I look around.
The only light is coming from the windows to the steam room and the sauna (I love this gym!) which has the light on inside, and from under the door to the shower and toilet. I sit on the end of weight bench facing the door and wait. As I listen, the sound of running water stops and minute later Jo steps out, hair wet and wrapped in a blue cotton bathrobe that stops about mid thigh. She smiles and says “Well they had all the gear so I thought I’d wash off the Chlorine properly. You like?” she asks, doing a pirouette. The wet patches on the robe indicate she is still damp underneath and it clings to her in all the right places.
“Spectacular. Nice show, I think you have won a few fans. How’d you get here?” I say.
She leans back against the steam room door with her hands behind her and says “All the rooms on the outside of this place have sliding doors to the outside. So, you came. Well (chuckles) not yet.”
“You’re beautiful. And dangerous.” I tell her. She stands up straighter, leaning away from the door. Her hands pull the drawstring on the robe and she slides it off her body. It falls at her feet and she is standing there naked, her skin lightly touched by the sun where the bikini did not cover.
She walks over to me and indicates I should slide back on the bench I am straddling. I do and she sits facing me, straddling the bench also. She leans forward on her hands and kisses me. I am a willing participant in the slow searching kiss, but I do nothing else. She leans away and asks me if I will put some moisturiser on her. I agree and she stands up and walks into the bathroom. I watch her naked ass and back and then her tits and front as she comes back. God. Very nice. She has a bottle of Nivea. I remember that because I didn’t think it was being made anymore. I say this and she says neither did she.
She moves over to a proper massage table against one wall, one with the hole for your face and everything (the partner that owns this place has a wife with a healthy personal beauty budget it seems) and lies on it face down. I stand up and begin to massage it into her body. I take my time, using this as a stalling technique I think, but when I start to smooth the fragrant lotion up her calves and thighs and onto her ass, my fingers running up her inner thigh and I feel her heat and moisture. She sighs and her ass raises slightly, thighs parting a bit, and then my middle finger slips inside her.
She is wet, slippery and hot. Her face is turned to one side and with her eyes closed. I push into her deeper and she groans, her hips starting to move. As I slide in and out of her, her fingers find and squeeze the rigid shaft inside my linen jeans. She starts to pant and I move a little faster. One of her hands slides under her body and begins to rub her clit in little circles. Her other hand grips the bench tightly and then she begins to come. Her gasps and tiny yelps quiet but intense as her body jerks and jumps a little.
“Getting near to ground zero now bucko,” I think.
Suddenly she rolls over onto her back. “Now the front,” she sighs, closing her eyes. I admire her body. Her firm breasts fall outward under their weight, full, firm and ripe. Her nipples are rock hard points. I poor a trail of Nivea from each ankle up her legs, over her stomach in swirls and over and around each breast, finishing with her arms. I start with her arms, kneading her flesh slowly. Then I move to her chest and breasts. Lingering to feel the resilient firmness and the hard nipples. Her hand has undone my pants and is inside, removing my throbbing cock and stoking it slowly as I work. I move to her feet and she has to let me go.
Starting with one leg I raise her knee and work from her calf to her thigh. I can see her smooth, bare lips. Glistening. She moves one hand to her breasts and as she feels herself the other slides down along her body and I watch as she softly traces her delicate lips before sliding a finger inside. She is breathing heavily and writhing slowly on the table. I move to the other leg and as I reach the top I place her hands above her head and cup my hand over her warm, wet lips. She opens her thighs to me and I slide a finger into her as I lower my head to her breast, licking and sucking softly and gently at first. Her hand grabs my hair gently and guides my mouth as I suck and flick my tongue over her long, hard nipples.
I slide 2 fingers inside her and she gasps. I alternate between that and rubbing her hard little clit and soon she is gasping again. I kiss down her body and move around the table. I slide her body closer to the edge and go down on her slippery pussy, licking, sucking and probing until her second orgasm crashes over her, this time more intense and noisier. I look up along her body as her hands pull on her nipples and she gasps and writhes under my mouth, her thighs clamping on my head as she comes.
I am desperate for release at this point and as she raises herself from the table and starts pulling my clothes off I enthusiastically assist, all other thought subjugated to desire. She kneels before me and takes me into her mouth, sucking, licking and swallowing me completely. She takes me from her mouth every so often and I slide my cock between the soft skin of her tits as she sucks the head when it comes out the top. I can see her naked body in profile in the mirror to my right as she kneels in front of me. I am soon thrusting into her wet hungry mouth, my hands in her hair as I groan and breath like I have run a race.
She stops for one second, looks up at me and says “Just come. There’s plenty of time for more.” So I do. Pumping into her mouth and throat as she sucks and swallows me forcefully and wanks me rapidly, her breath coming in gasps around my shaft as she swallows and trys to keep breathing as I spurt hot come into her mouth. I can feel my cock slide right into her throat as my body jerks and spasms. The long arousal makes the orgasm so intense I barely keep to my feet, leaning heavily on the edge of the massage table as I expend myself in abandon. Come dribbles from her mouth and runs over her tits.
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