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DJ & Jay Ch. 03

By: helena_snow_renn



In parts 1 & 2, Tasha presents Amy with her birthday present of DJ & Jay. After a short side-track at a local store, they continue on in their weekend adventure...

III. The Hotel

So we fed the man. All of us, actually. Despite DJ’s earlier mouthings about ‘fine cuisine,’ I got my first treat of drive-through-in-a-limo. Jay insisted we all take our orders through the moon roof. While we ate, he entertained us with tales of his more stoned moments. If being given a body cavity search or waking up chained to a wall, naked, was really funny, I don’t know, but when Jay told it, it was. When he got going, you couldn’t shut him up. Still, even though or maybe because his profanity-laced dialogue was all one run-on sentence punctuated by ‘dude!’ more often than was necessary even in surfer-ese, he had us rolling. At times we nearly fell off our seats. 

In the hour-and-a-half following, we switched cars, to a rented silver SUV (courtesy of Tasha again) and drove out to her property. It nestled right up against the foothills. There were several acres, between 5 and 20, to a parcel. Jay asked Tasha quite a few practical questions about putting in roads and utilities, having horses, taxes, and the like. She had it down as well as a realtor. DJ looked at me and suggested a walk-around. Alone with him again, I was much more at ease. We walked up the fence-line slowly, trading bits of personal information. He told more about his experiences with chemo and surgery, going as far as to say that at one time he’d wished for death but now was glad it hadn’t found him. 

After Jay had seen all he’d cared to, and had lay down in the middle of a patch of marsh grass for good measure, we climbed back into the SUV and took off. I tried to remember the sequence of turns we’d taken to get there. It was a nice area, fairly isolated. Maybe someday I’d save up enough for my own place, too. Soon we were on the main road back to town. Half-way there, Tasha made an unexpected left under a stone arch-way I’d noticed before but had taken as someone’s private ranch entrance. No one else seemed to be in the dark about where we were going so I kept the questions to myself for once. About 2 miles in, we drove along a long slow arch to the left and went in an S-turn up into the first step of the foothills. As the trees opened up, we spotted a large manor-house, or what looked like a German fief. 

It really was quite amazing. I hadn’t seen anything even remotely like it west of the Peekskills. Though on a larger scale, Riverdale copied a Bavarian inn. Three stories high with a row of dormer windows over that, still the natural trees hid it till one got within a couple hundred yards. Then, the only word for it was magnificent. The driveway inclined slightly up to its recessed front doors. There was a roofed area for loading and unloading whose pillars were made entirely of rock. From the angle we approached the place, it had looked square, with about twenty windows to a side. The sun was just going down on the windless evening, and it reflected off the amber tinted windows all along the west side. “The boys,” as I’d started thinking of them, unfolded their lanky frames out of the car and Tasha and I followed suit. 

As soon as we entered the dark-paneled, plushly carpeted lobby, I realized it was actually built in an “L” formation. We approached the front desk where a somewhat effeminate young man and a small curvy woman, both in black business suits, stared us down. I came out of my daze enough to wonder, and then grasp, what the four of us must look like. As in, two players with their “escorts.” Never mind that one was obviously stoned and one looked like he was about fifteen. People would still know who they were. Tasha and I were nobody. I tried to quit gawking like a peasant at the elegant furnishings. When Tasha stepped up and handed over her credit card, I felt a little better. Maybe she and I could be the big shots and they were our escorts. 

We were shown down a hallway, at the end of which was a shiny little elevator, and to our rooms two floors up. Or rather, to our deluxe suite. One of two, I later learned. Ours was in the southwest corner. As soon as the concierge left, tip in hand, Tasha and I scampered about examining every inch of our temporary home. There were two bedrooms across from each other, each with a large dormer window and a king sized bed beneath it. They had identically equipped master baths. Either’s spa tubs could have held all four of us; I was already getting ideas. The living room area was sunken two steps and featured two huge leather couches, a corner-set gas fireplace, a computer desk in the other corner and an electronic horn of plenty. There was also a small kitchen and bar area tucked in close to the front doors, and a small bath room back to back with a walk in closet across from that. Everything was in tasteful shades of gray, black, and off-white. The more we snooped into cupboard and cabinets, the more we saw that the place was loaded for bear. There were expensive brands of shampoo, conditioners, skin care products, lotions, and to our delight, interesting lubricants and gels in the bedside tables. We couldn’t have made a meal, but there were plenty of munchies in the kitchen. The bar was well-stocked and the half-sized fridge contained a variety of mixers, and some meat-and-cheese plates and fruit. Through it all, DJ stood to the side with his arms crossed, and an amused, knowing smile on his lips. 

“First time in the lap of luxury?” he asked me. I wasn’t sure if that was just a question or if he was suggesting I was born in the barn. 

“Uh…not really….” I stammered, trying not to let my hackles rise without knowing what he was really asking. “First time in a long time, though.” On my honeymoon almost ten years ago I’d been in a couple decent hotels. Nothing near as fine as this, though. Certainly not with a hot tub in the room, much less two. 

“I grew up pretty normal,” DJ continued. “Three, four years ago I’d never seen anything like this, either. Watching you, I’m remembering that.” 

“So, you weren’t somehow calling me a hick, were you?” I cross-examined.

“Oh, no way. I’m a way bigger hick that you! Growing up where I did, I’m surprised I never dated my sister,” he snorted, trying to catch a drop of spit that flew out of his mouth. “See? I’m not exactly mister suave.” 

After that I felt a little better; less on my guard. This one at least was still semi-human. I had to wonder about Jay. He was obviously distracted, and very much out if his natural surroundings. DJ, in the next instant, set up shop as bartender and poured Tasha a rum and coke. Jay wandered over long enough to grab a “bee-ah” from him and retreated to the other side of the room. I asked DJ for a screwdriver, which he poured with a wicked glint in his eye. Tasha snickered. He dug around under the cupboard for a bit, coming up with a bottle of Southern Comfort. 

“Eugh!! How can you drink that swill?” Tasha asked. I was of the same opinion on the subject. 

“Oh, you know,” said DJ, measuring out a shot. “Every good Southern boy likes this shit!” He held his shot glass up. “Cheers!” Tasha and I linked arms, echoed him, and bolted our drinks. 

“Fill ‘er up!” Tasha commanded as she slammed down her glass. 

“Now or later?” countered DJ, leaning over and looking her straight in the eyes. 

For once, she didn’t have a quick come-back. But she found her way around that adeptly enough. Each of Tasha’s hands found a mark--one on DJ's shoulder, one on his nape. They drew together as though by gravitational pull. Disregarding the bar between them, they kissed, in a way that looked like lips fondling lips. I was reduced to standing there staring, wave after wave of conflicting emotions rushing over me. 

The scene was hot, and it made me hot just to watch, especially when Tasha literally climbed over the bar, sat on it, and pulled DJ between her legs. She grabbed his slender wrists and clapped his hands over her large round breasts, still licking his lips and playing tongue-twister with him. Unable to rip my eyes away, I was rooted to the spot and the view, a rising pang of jealousy competing with the sudden cramping wetness between my legs. After our little encounter in the dressing room, I’d marked DJ as “mine.” After all, that was how the game was normally played. In the same vein I’d automatically paired Tasha with Jay, sweeping the “oh well, you can’t have everything” feeling under the proverbial rug. At the moment, it sure seemed like whatever DJ was doing to Tasha was extremely pleasurable; she moaned and tilted her head back. Her new liaison licked and sucked his way down her neck while his long blunt fingers opened her shirt and stroked her round plump tits and twiddled her nipples. My whole lower body was pulsing and I shifted from foot to foot, in a way, grinding my hips. Even though I was hurt that DJ didn’t want to be with me exclusively, their little show was too good to stop watching. Besides, I wanted to join the action, but was hesitant to get in the middle of another couple.

Someone grabbed my ass. Completely startled, I whipped around. Naturally it was Jay, with a smirk curving his mouth. It was the closest I’d been to him so far and I found myself taken in (and turned on) by his remarkable male beauty. 

“Now that’s hot,” he remarked in his raspy voice. Then he looked down at me.

“Well, birthday girl, you gonna watch? I don’t think they mind.” He took me by the shoulders and spun me 180º. Tasha had lost her shirt entirely, and now both DJ’s hands and his mouth were moving restlessly all over her twin peaks. Her mauve-colored areolas puckered up tight, the darker tips stood out hard like the end of my thumb. She was busy with DJ’s belt buckle. Jay got right up against me and I gratefully leaned back into him. He was much more substantial than DJ, filled out, both with muscle, and with an overlying layer of flesh. I squirmed against him, trying to be comfortable while still standing up. 

“Ssh! Just watch the show,” Jay whispered. 

Show? What show? Glancing up toward the kitchen, I saw the obvious. Tasha and DJ were now half-naked. She was belly down over the counter with DJ’s cock in her mouth. He stood there like a surprised lizard with his eyelids opening and closing slowly, not moving more than an inch or two of his own accord. On her own part, Tasha’s head was bobbing busily, her painted lips clamped down tight around his shaft. It was not as skinny as the rest of him. She had grabbed him by one hip to get him where she wanted him. Her other hand, which I knew to be very strong, jingled his balls till DJ stood up on his toes. He sank his fingers into the fluff of her light brown hair and shoved his member deep into her throat. His shirt was unbuttoned down the front, the soft blue folds framing Tasha’s cheeks as she strove to take it all. Above, every taut muscle and bone of DJ’s chest and abs stood out on sharp relief. He was really a bony little shit. I had no idea why he turned me on so much but he did. Watching Tasha suck him off, and watching the sexual animal rear up and dance across his pointy face was delicious. Having Jay behind me, pressing his ever-growing lump against my back made me forget to be possessive. As long as I kept our “performers” delineated as people I didn’t know, everything was fine. 

There was a change of pace from the kitchen. Tasha must have found her groove because DJ started moaning like I’ve never heard a man do. At first it was just, “oh, oooooh” and then…

“Ah!” He sounded like he was desperately trying not to come. 

“God, oh god oh god oh god oh…”

With a maneuver of her wrist that I could only describe as “professional,” Tasha forced the circle of her thumb and forefinger around the top part of DJ’s balls where they connected to his body, effectively preventing him from ejaculating. He was going to hang there till she was good and ready. Jay swallowed audibly. I felt his cock twitch and he put his hand between us to adjust himself. The same hand came crawling around my waist and into the top of my pants. It hit me suddenly how much I wanted to be touched by him. Here was a guy I’d lusted after for years with his fingers just inches from my kitty and I was pouting over watching live sex. Stupid! While Tasha pounded away on DJ’s knob and he and his meat turned shades of pink, red, purple and back again, I stretched my arms up over my head, pulled Jay’s thick blond hair over his shoulders and mine. We both more or less luxuriated in it, mingling his with my own darker strands, breathing deeply of his scent, which lived in his hair.

DJ was carrying on almost like a coyote, the pitch of his voice getting steadily higher. His narrow hips gyrated in a crazy nonsensical rhythm that I’d have had trouble following, except I could tell that Tasha was actually leading. She had tears streaming down her cheeks with the effort. Her legs were wide open at the knees but crossed at the ankles, her feet twisting and untwisting around themselves as she ground her pelvis against the counter she still lay on. My stance in front of Jay was becoming increasingly ass-clenched and tucked-under. The man was actually teasing me. The tips of his fingers brushed lower and lower, a millimeter at a time. My insides got tighter and tighter. My skin burned as he found the top of my mound, then a little more and a littler more. In front of him, facing away like that, there wasn’t much I could do to touch him. 

“Watch,” he reiterated. 

After what seemed like a familiarization of every single hair of my bush, Jay reached my slit and with no further delay went straight for my clit. 

“Boo-ya-hah,” he breathed in my ear. I must have shrieked or gasped or something, because the other two looked over briefly. 

“You wanna see my cock?” Jay finally got around to asking. Again. 

“Damn skippy,” I told him. 

“Wait.” Wait? All his breathing into my ear was going to straight to my pussy. My panties, I know, had to be soaked through. Again. 

Jay’s fingers, soft and sensitive as a woman’s, got sticky wet as he worked my clit. It was getting hard to stand up, much less stand still. At least in acquisition of a ‘pig’ reputation he hadn’t skipped over learning certain skills. My pleasure spot was held captive under his relentless, restless digits, all that he needed or used. I was starting to get that sensation in my cunt that I needed something in me. Using the closest available subjects, I took turns imagining Jay, then DJ, then Jay again, entering me slowly, forcefully, a myriad of ways. Just as I felt the first pangs of orgasm, DJ cried out like he had been struck. At that moment, Tasha let go of his testicles. They sucked themselves up into his body cavity as his load erupted. 

“On your face!” was all he said. Tasha caught the first rope of cream with her left cheekbone. DJ didn’t stop spurting for long after. By the time it was over, Tasha had been blasted on the lips, on the forehead, between the eyes, and she had cum dripping from her hair. As DJ’s explosion was ending, she stuck her tongue all the way out and caught the last drops, licking delicately all over DJ’s beet-red cock, which continued to loose little driblets of boy-juice for some time. He looked ready to pass out. His legs shook so hard you’d think he’d just finished his first day of triple black-diamond ski runs. Finally, he simply pulled up his boxers and sat.

Having delayed my own climax long enough to watch DJ’s, I couldn’t hold off any more. Jay’s finger treatment slowed till he was hardly moving, bringing me off inch by inch. At the last, all that he did was tap my clit; tap, ever so slowly, and put the finger down, take it back; tap; tap; then, BAM! A bone crunching flash tore me open even as I crashed around it. Whatever had been squeezing down inside me released, and a wave of pearly jizz ran from my crotch. 

“Oooh a gusher!” intoned Jay, his bulge pulsing hot against my spine. Gulping in air, my tightly shut eyes opened to a quizzical, “What just happened here?” look from Tasha. I just rolled my eyes and shrugged. DJ had stood and pulled up his pants, but not buckled his belt. He was staring at me hard enough to bore holes in me. I guessed he’d liked my show, too. 

I looked at him.

“There is unfinished business here, I do believe,” was what I said; meaning, neither Jay nor Tasha had cum yet. We needed to leave them to their own devices. He nodded slowly. Tasha had righted herself and was sitting cross-legged on the counter. 

Now DJ looked at her. 

“My god, woman! Where did you learn to do that?”

Jay still held me up but his attention focused on Tasha too. “You sure did suck his dick off good! Do you think I could get one like that?” 

Once was enough for me for now, watching, that was. Tasha hopped down and sauntered to the bedroom on the right. Jay was right behind her. I asked DJ, “You wanna go dancing? No need to go back into town. There’s a club here, isn’t there?” 

He thought it over. “Yeah, why not? We better get cleaned up first, though, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah. I’m going to make use of one of those bathtubs. Want to join me?” Even though I spat it out carelessly, I wondered. After all, he just gotten an awesome blowjob from Tasha and might not want to fool around any more. Him saying ‘yes’ made me feel better. 

The room on the left was ‘mine’ by default. The bathroom opened in all its gleaming glory with a sliding Japanese-style door. The chrome sparkled so brightly I hated to mess it up with water spots, but that’s what we were there for. I cranked the taps while DJ lost his clothes, leaving them near the sink. I was about to take mine off when DJ appeared behind me. He went directly for my breasts, reaching under the little handkerchief-like thing I’d gotten earlier. He was so good, his fingers using just the right pressure and motion. As we stood there with the steam rising around us, he stroked my flesh like a man recovering from a hangover. 

For a minute, I was satisfied for a short replay of our earlier activities. And, mine and Jay's. Not for long, though. As soon as there were a couple of inches of water in the tub, I stripped and hopped on in. DJ followed. His cock was already halfway up.


DJ was nothing if not an increasing degree of contradictions. We had begun sitting side by side, but that lasted no longer than a minute. Maybe because I had my eyes closed at first, kissing DJ was a surreal experience. The heat and buoyancy of the filling tub was trippy. Nothing existed but our two bodies, sometimes separated by a thin curtain of water, sometimes skin on skin; and the steamy air, backlit by frosted bulbs; and our breath. I took my time, wanting to savor him. Since Tasha had given him earlier release and Jay had taken my edge off, the razor of desperation was gone for the time being. With no further pretence he leaned over and straightforwardly took my mouth, his tongue sliding between our lips. I met his tongue and experimentally skimmed it along his taste buds and his even teeth. I’ve always been an aggressive kisser. DJ was too; we battled it out, back and forth, first in my mouth, then in his. Moving astride his lap, I pushed my waterlogged mound against his groin, trapping his pole between us. He grabbed my ass and squeezed. Even though he looked breakable, he was surprisingly strong. Being man-handled like that always gave me a rush. It did now, and my pussy, already tingling, gave a little spasm. I moved my head around to kiss his neck. His tendons stood out and I saw some vessels jumping with his pulse. They looked utterly bite-able. 

I glanced up at him for permission to bite, which was a mistake and a mood-killer. Stupid girl, me. 

As I hinted at earlier, the first thing one over noticed about DJ was his nose. It was totally impossible not to stare and even more obvious if you refrained. Despite my silly crush or bad case of the Mrs. Robinson’s, whatever it was, when I got as close to his face as I was now, all it took was him bumping me with it once before I gave up on sex momentarily for a case of the giggles. Thoughts like, “Pinocchio! Proboscis! Look at the beak on that!” bubbled up from the depths of some long-buried junior high-ish immaturity. I wondered why this hit me now and not at the store, or the restaurant, or even in the kitchen with Tasha. Maybe because we were more relaxed now? At this rate, I was liable to across as an ungrateful, superficial little cunt. 


DJ & Jay Ch. 03



“Whaaaa—What is it?” Glancing around somewhat warily, DJ was giving me a good view of his (extremely, K-2, can we say CARROT?) sharp profile which provoked another spasm of silent laughter. 

“Nothing!” I managed between some very unladylike snorts. “God, I’m sorry!” The harder I tried not to laugh, the worse the giggles got. 

“Oh, I know what your problem is.” His eyebrows slanted down in the middle. “Go ahead. Stare. Get it out of your system. Even my mother does it when I haven’t seen her for a while.” He deliberately crossed his eyes at me. . 

So, I did. I took in, at length, as it were, every inch of his pointy-noised, knock-kneed, almost frighteningly frail frame. His ass, though I couldn’t see it in the water, was nearly non-existent; his ribs, collarbones, and vertebrae jutted painfully; his limbs resembled exclamation points. I wondered if it was some error of metabolism, and if this would happen to me. Even so--exposed, vulnerable at least in appearance, and nearly hairless--DJ was still cuter than hell. The rest of his face had a special quality about it that I couldn’t put a finger on. Tasha thought it was his eyes. I thought it had more to do with his mouth and jaw line; maybe both. 

DJ kept quiet while I gawked, but eventually his eyes started to take on a semi-evil glint. “Do you know what my philosophy about staring is? It’s really bad manners; really rude.” 

I turned red. He was right. 

“Do you know what I want from you, in exchange for your long, hard look?” he asked. 

“No. What? You want to give a long, hard—“

“Wrong! I’m going to shave you. Bald.” He lowered his gaze pointedly. “So, do you think that’s a fair trade?” 

I’d never been shaved all the way. I’m what you’d term, “neatly trimmed.” I’d actually thought of shaving off the whole mess before, but had never had the motivation. Now here sat a free bikini-area stylist who thought he was getting even. Let him! 

I pretended to need to be talked into it, though I did have a couple of real concerns. “What if you cut me? And how are you going to get rid of the hair? I’m sure it would clog the jets in this tub.” 

DJ was quick to answer. “I promise to be extra-careful. If not, I’ll let you do the same to me. And I’ll use a towel for now, for the hair. Just jump up on the edge… come on now, fair’s fair.” 

A woman’s razor appeared in DJ’s hand. 

“You have shaving cream?” I asked him in a fake Mexican accent. 

“Uh-huh,” and a miniature can of it that had definitely been in the cabinet earlier when Tasha and I inspected made its appearance.

“What else do you have up your sleeve?” I wondered aloud. 

“It’s not so much what’s up my sleeve,” DJ began. And didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. 

I needed no further convincing. 

“You were going to ask me anyway, weren’t you? Now you’ve just got an excuse. Weren’t you? You naughty little boy,” I drawled in almost-Southern similar to DJ. 

“Busted!” He grinned at me. “Now let me get to work. This might take a while.” 

“Hey! It’s not that bad. Is it?” Bad, meaning hairy. 

DJ winked at me. “Well I certainly don’t want to nick you. I’ve cut myself before and---“ he pursed his lips and sucked in his breath. “That smarts!” 

I could imagine. 

So DJ helped me up to the foot-wide ledge that ran around the tub and got between my legs. He had me to put my back to the wall and my feet up on the lip of the tub to brace them. Next he suggested I close my eyes. When asked why, he said he’d have less stage fright that way. Stage fright? Funny thing for him to say. 

“Yeah. I work fine under pressure but I’d like to concentrate. Plus, I think you’ll enjoy it more that way.”

Though dubious, I complied. 

He shook the can of shaving cream vigorously and dispensed what sounded like a generous portion of lather. A second later, the sharply scented, whipped creamy-feeling mass of it was being slathered all over my pubes. DJ smoothed it over the whole bottom end of me, it seemed: my mound of trimmed hair, along the insides of my legs, all the way down my lower lips and back to my asshole; all attended to and covered. He didn’t attempt anything sexual; it was almost like being at a salon that offered this type of service. I let out a sigh. DJ’s free hand touched one of my thighs, high up. I flinched. 

“Sssh,” he said, even though I’d said nothing. Then very softly, “Here’s the razor.” 

It was at least warm. DJ had had it in the water while he lathered me. When the sharp edge took off its first stripe, I hardly felt it. The blades ran silkily over every surface. In a few minutes DJ had taken off everything in easy reach, alternately wiping it on the hand towel he kept close. I left my eyes shut and let the sensations take over. My pussy and clit throbbed pleasantly, warming to his touch. All in all, as I became steadily balder, it was like having more and more nerve endings activated. DJ’s hands and attentions were extremely cautious and gentle. He extended one of my legs, then the other, reshaving both all the way up to the inner joint. When the razor started to drag just a little, he flicked the used blade into the closest wastebasket and clicked on another. He kept quiet but I could hear his breathing getting faster and heavier. Mine was, too. I tucked my ass under to give him better access, totally comfortable exposing myself so blatantly… as long as I kept my eyes shut. Then DJ grasped one of my pussy lips and pulled it taut. He scraped a day’s worth of stubble from the outside skin, then along the most sensitive part near the inner surfaces. He traced the hairline all the way up to where it met the other lip, right over my clit, which, unexpectedly, he flicked lightly. 

“What have we here,” he said in his most innocent voice. My eyelids cracked lazily to let him know I’d heard but he’d have to figure it out for himself. We were definitely playing this round. First he was the ego-bruised starlet, then he tried the con, and now he wanted to be naïve. He performed the same operation on the opposite side, going for the fake-out with my clit again. It was getting very interested in having him pay it some real attention. “Lick it.” 

DJ went squeamish. “Eeeugh! All that soap!” Then he nose-dived into my pie and slurped little circles around and around my distended sex button. After a good tease, he washed his mouth out with bath water and spit it forcefully against the same spot. I wiggled around, trying to get directly in line with his stream of water. Then he cupped his hands together and scooped up enough of the steaming water to rinse off all traces of shaving cream. 

“We’re making a mess,” I observed. Which we were. 

“Oh, well… housekeeping,” was all he said, winking. “Now get in here. Look at the beautiful shaved pussy you have now. I can’t wait anymore. I gotta fuck you.” 

He said it almost like he was expecting me to refuse him. Not me. Oh, no. DJ with that “I want sex” on his man/boy face was more than I could stand, too. Not realizing I’d been sitting folded up too long while DJ shaved me and that both of my legs were totally asleep, I more or less fell into the Jacuzzi tub, slashing a huge wave of water on the tile. 

“Oh, well… housekeeping,” I parroted. “Ow!” The feeling was coming back into my deadened limbs. DJ thought my predicament was amusing and was happy to take advantage of it. He sat me on the edge of the underwater seat and positioned himself directly in front of me, kneeling, only his head and shoulders out of the water. Purposely, he poked at my leg with his penis. 

“Oops!”

“That’s not it!”

He pretended to line himself up again, complete with a bit of a ‘shake your tail feathers’ wiggle, and affected a porn-star sloe-eyed sneer. It was a joke but I still thought it looked sexy as hell. The head of his cock hit me again, this time in the region below my navel. 

“Did I get it yet?!?

“That WASN’T it!” 

DJ pretended to be defeated. “I give up,” he said dejectedly, slumping his slight shoulders. 

Oh, really? He wanted me to take the lead, fine, he had it.

For the first time, I reached down and wrapped my hand around his cock. He opened his mouth to make some smart-ass remark. He didn’t have a chance. I rubbed the heat-seeker against my warmth and let him do the rest. Instinct took over. Still with the look of being almost ready to quip, DJ thrust forward and up and imbedded himself in me. His next expression, one of surprise and satisfaction, was classic. My insides jumped and tightened. For a long minute, neither of us moved, getting used to it. I was being seriously stretched. It had indeed been a long time. 

Suddenly, simultaneously, we each made a grab for the other and mashed the upper portions of our bodies together, occupied with an ever-tightening embrace. DJ worked his hips as much he could without knocking us over. My natural fluids were much more viscous than the water and he slid slickly, letting my neglected pussy to distend a little at a time, working it till he was in to the hilt. We kissed sloppily, as much licking as kissing. My hands slid over as much of his body as I could reach. He alternated squeezing my breasts or my ass cheeks, my back or shoulders like a purring cat does with its paws. It was exquisite. I made noises, not too loud because of our roommates. DJ bit his lips in effort to be silent. But he was. I on the other hand, repeated, “Oh. Fuck, fuck, oh fuck me DJ,” over and over again, going quietly crazy with the young man’s rigid tool buried deep inside me. The cramped, limited movement heightened the sensations. Every time he got his cock all the way up in me, I was able to rub my clit against him. As if I really needed any more stimulation. Not entirely over being star-stuck and honestly, as hard as I’d tried to get over it, the fact that it was DJ fucking me turned me on ridiculously. 

He shoved himself in as far as he could go and froze. I wavered on the brink of cumming.

“How close are you?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, god, don’t stop now… that close!” I bit back a moan as my near-orgasm receded. 

“Do you think you could bring yourself off, just by squeezing…on the inside… you know….?” He slowly backed across the tub with me impaled on him, legs around his waist, till he was seated on the opposite side of where we started. 

I was having difficulty speaking. “Oh, god, DJ, please don’t make me wait. I wanna cum so bad… I wanna cum on you.” 

“Do it, Amy, just do it like I said, ‘k?” 

The room was starting to spin, it seemed, as we ascended toward orgasm again. I did as he asked, squeezing and pushing with my internal muscles. One hand clamped, finger-splayed, on my ass and the other played with a breast. I wanted insanely to grind my hips; keeping still was maddening. It was going to be a long drawn-out cum when it finally came, that was for sure. For some minutes I continued to apply pressure to DJ’s cock with my insides. DJ grunted in pleasure every time I switched from in to out; the wetness generated by my crazed pussy helped with a little glide action. It was a weird sort of fucking. I knew from his eyes, and mine had to be the same, that he wanted to let go and screw the shit out of me. Just knowing and seeing that made my lust hotter than anything physical, this time. But he didn’t; we remained nearly motionless, inching along to an explosion that should leave us both screaming, but without being told I knew to hold that in, too. 

In desperation I moved my pelvis just a little, trying to speed up. I had to cum or be committed. One or the other. “Quiet,” DJ whispered, both hands immobilizing my lower body. 

“Uuuunh,” he groaned as I clamped down hard. “Oh, squeeze it, Amy. Squeeze me, bring yourself off…” his voice trailed off. I bore down like I was giving birth and his eyes rolled back. 

Stars danced in my line of vision. I felt stoned. Gritting my teeth in effort, I pulled off one of the most serious orgasms I’d ever had. The explosion started as it always did in my clitoris, a fine bolt of white lightning. It moved steadily upwards in ripples; surely DJ felt it too. His whole body went stiff like he’d been shocked. He pushed down on my hips and held me tight, beginning to shake all over. I continued to cum, my whole lower torso roiling in waves and contractions of pleasure. 

He was right about the eventual result. As soon as the first supercharged orgasm receded, another reared up; like a chain reaction two more followed immediately. It was almost too much. Breathing seemed optional; the only bodily requirement was simply cumming. DJ was holding his breath too. As the last wave hit me, he unloaded into me, shooting his hot juice till I was full to bursting. I came again, in reaction to his cream, and nearly passed out; he had to hold me up, no easy task as he was in the same condition. His strength finally gave out, after we’d had a few seconds to breathe again. We slid into the water, heads and all, like 2 de-boned merpeople. De-boned. Yeah, right. Even underwater I nearly burst out laughing. But then it was easy to be silly after cumming that hard. 

We settled down into the slowly cooling water. I kissed the end of DJ’s nose. He leaned over and licked my ear, giving me delicious aftershocks. He ran his fingertips over my face and neck and l just reclined back against him, taking it all in. 

From the other side of the suite we heard sultry laughter, then a squeal. Tasha and Jay were obviously bantering, and more than that, but we couldn’t hear the exact words. Even so, I’d heard the tone enough times in that East Coast nasal I could tell Jay was saying something utterly filthy about how hot he was, and what was she going to do about it? It was quiet a minute, then Jay moaned, loudly, and long. “Stop, stop, stop!” he yelled. Then nothing. DJ and I exchanged glances again, too intrigued to talk. Then they both moaned, not as loudly, and Tasha said clearly, “Spank my naughty ass!” SMACK! She got her wish. DJ and I dissolved into another fit of giggles. 

“I’ve gotta see this,” DJ told me, pushing me off his lap and rising from the water. 

“What, you’re going to watch?”

“I told you… I’m a voyeur. Well, are you coming?” 

As much as I wanted to see Jay naked, still, how would Tasha react to being observed? DJ toweled himself off and wrapped a complimentary robe around himself. The walking string bean effect became obvious again. 

“Last chance,” he grinned at me. The moaning and smacking sounds resumed. I caught the towel he threw at me and followed him on shaky legs. 

DJ and I conspiratorially crept out our door and across the common room. As we neared the other bedroom, he actually knelt down and motioned for me to do the same. Slowly, inching his way, DJ peeked around the door frame. Then, when he could see, he just as slowly made room for me to do the same. What a sight!

The noises had forewarned us, but it was still impressive. Jay and Tasha were butt naked in the middle of the huge bed. Tasha was on her hands and knees, her whole body tense, with her thighs splayed wide, fists nearly ripping the spread, a look of intense ecstasy on her face. Jay slammed her powerfully from behind, grunting with very thrust. She couldn’t see us even though she was directly facing us. Her eyes clamped tightly shut, her head was thrown back and her jaw thrust forward in aggressive enjoyment of the fucking she was getting. One thing about Tasha, she’s always polished. She even looked good in the midst of raunchy sex. Her brows, drawn down in concentration, were the only rumpled thing about her. Jay’s pale skin was slightly sweaty already, the lighting making him look luminescent. His hair swayed forward and back with his motion as he watched the sheen of his lubed stick disappear and reappear. Tasha’s breasts swung heavily underneath her, like ripe fruit. The golden boy lunged forward especially forcefully and flung his mane back; Tasha yelped and backed down on him. 

“Faster,” she spit out. Jay complied, flying in and out of her. She met him in the middle every time. He had her lush ass cupped in his hands but she needed no assistance. They were both near cumming from the looks on their faces. As if I hadn’t already had 3 wrenching orgasms earlier, my body was responding to their show. Momentarily, I was confused. I wanted to be violently fucked like that, and for damn sure I wanted it from Jay. DJ was breathing heavily down my neck. What about him? Why was I not satisfied with all the pleasure I’d gotten already? You don’t just do that, bounce from one to the other, fucking for the fun of it like it was nothing. Yet in a way we’d already switched partners, twice in my case. 

Maybe it was the sense of my own doom, the uncertainty of if I’d even be around in another year that let me to say, “What the fuck?” Here we all were, all of a mind to have some fine ‘experiences,’ as Tasha and I always called our ancient history. If nothing else, none of us would ever have to do it again. On the bed, Tasha cried out like a porn queen in heat and Jay spanked her hard, first on one side, then other. 

“Y’ like that baby, huh? Y’ like it? Ooooh, Jay is the master of the pussy.” He was positively growling.  

“Please, please, oh, uh….” she was incoherent and so close to her climax I could almost smell it. Far be it from me to say watching her wasn’t sexy. It was. I identified with her; it was me there, getting the shit banged out of me. A definite ooze was snaking its way down the insides of Tasha’s legs as Jay’s thick shiny rod went in and out of her faster yet. When she came, we all knew it. I’d never seen anything like it, not in real life. Tasha has a sweet soprano singing voice and when her orgasm hit (like a freight train by the looks of it) she let out a wail that was more like a song. It had a truly angelic quality to it; she gave her full breath to it for a good 20 seconds while her internal crashing went on and on. Jay all the while kept smacking into her with his mobile cock, his balls bouncing off her ass, and for good measure, slapped her another sharp one on the backside. When it was over, she slumped down on her elbows, ass still high in the air. 

Jay was very close, himself. He was flushed from his hairline all the way down to mid-chest, rivulets of sweat running from his temples. Strands of hair were stuck in it. He suddenly pulled out Tasha and sat back on his heals, cock in hand. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m gonna come all over your ass,” he moaned. He apparently had caught sight of DJ and me at some point, because as he spoke he was leering in our direction. 

“Watch me yank that shit,” he went on, stoking himself deliberately. The man had a look on his face like the devil himself: full debauchery. He leaned forward and hit Tasha’s butt with his raging piece of meat several times. This he did it for his own pleasure. With no further warning, exclaiming, “Here’s the jizz!” he delivered, snarling, shooting in streams all over Tasha’s back and buttocks. She looked startled, disconcerted. She was always telling me how she hates getting sperm on herself, and here she had just gotten it for the second time. She wasn’t complaining. 

Something warm and runny hit me on the back of the leg. I swiveled my head back to DJ, who had whacked himself so quietly and unobtrusively I hadn’t noticed a thing. His eyes closed tightly, the vessels in his forehead all reared up and pounding. Cum splattered against me in several rushes. When he opened his eyes, looking sheepish, I was ready. Smearing his semen up my leg, across my stomach, up to my tits, I stared him down. Though he didn’t say, I was pretty sure that such a visual creature got off on the sight of his leavings being absorbed in to the skin of his lover. 

Jay had keeled over on his side and Tasha flipped on her back, catching their breath. The intensity of it broke over all of us as we threw wordless looks back and forth across the room. God knows what the guys had seen already in their not-so-long lives. This was something totally new and unexpected for me; Tasha too, I was pretty sure. Right then, it was like we could read each other’s minds. 




DJ & Jay Ch. 03



Tasha and I didn’t talk about it in full, really breaking it down minute-by-minute, till much later. When we finally did, we realized we had been right about our corresponding thoughts. She had started out looking to give me a proper send-off, if it came to that, to get a little amusement over my unerring ungracefulness, and maybe sell some of her land. She got all that and more by the time our weekend was done. There, as it started, both of us reeking of sex, naked, and out of our normal comfort zones, we both saw in the others’ face that life as we knew it was over. 

These guys had helped awaken a need to have something more, something else, than what was expected. Maybe they learned that in their little world, but it was spilling into ours. If I survived, I’d come out of it with a totally new way of looking at things. 

For one thing, I’d just learned perforce that jealousy was pointless and redundant. I’d gotten so much more from two, or three if it came to that, than from one person. Not that there was anything wrong permanent partners. It just didn’t have to be that way, and didn’t reflect badly on anyone if it wasn’t. Tasha’s continuing hands-on demonstration enlightened me to the fact that there were no stars and no celebrities where it really mattered, that its all a chimera, that we’re all just people who do what we do; some happened to be more visible than others. Tasha had an advantage in that she’d grown up with money, but she had rejected it. I still didn’t have a clear picture, just bits and pieces, but things were starting to fit as I watched her interact with strangers. 

DJ and I decided the night on the town could wait. We were supposed to be up early to meet a realtor in the morning, and Jay had to do what he mysteriously named as ‘research’ later. The four of us all climbed into the tub in the larger bedroom and got it as hot as we could stand the water. My newly bald pussy soaked up the heat and healed from the stretching it had received. We cut eyes back and forth, everyone touching everyone else and pretending not to. It was silly, but after a good hour of teasing and bullshitting, hard-ons much in evidence, we still wound up paired. At one point I sat between DJ and Jay, one cock in each hand while Tasha leaned back opposite and played with herself under the water. That was as far as it went; Jay pulled Tasha out, though I’d swear he’d been wanting me, lay down on the bed and said, “Start sucking!” DJ and I made our exit across the main room to ‘our’ bedroom, where DJ lay down on the bed, pulled a ‘Jay’ face and said, “Start sucking!” I was more than happy to.



DJ & Jay Ch. 04



In previous parts to this story, Amy received her birthday present of DJ Qualls and Jason Mewes from Tasha. In this episode, Tasha gets what, or who, she's always wanted. 

IV. Tasha's Interlude

They let her pick the activity for the evening. There was not even a question. She had to get up to Avellea for the races. Tasha was a self-confessed lover of fast cars. Had been for years. There was just something about the power of it, the sheer horsepower under her control, the screaming rpm's, that got her blood hot. She wished she could afford something really fast and EXPENSIVE. But, seeing it up close was sure to be almost as good as driving it, temporarily anyway. DJ was eager to go, he was thinking of buying something; Jay was harder to convince. He just wanted to sleep but she reminded him he could do that on the way up. Amy was no problem. She'd follow any of them anywhere. 

The drive was somewhat long, 4 hours from start to finish. They took the main state road to the interstate, followed it for the next 2 hrs, and then had to join a line of cars, mainly new EXPENSIVE ones, Tasha noticed, up the winding road to Avellea. They climbed nearly 4,000 feet via a series of roads that clung to the nearly vertical mountains. Sincerely hoping their guys wouldn't get altitude sickness, Tasha passed around bottles of water and a few pieces of fruit. Amy and DJ were talkative for the first half of the trip, but then got quiet. She didn't have to check her rearview to know what was up. Jay crashed and stayed out most of the way. Even as she slowed her speed to a crawl, having to make a few stops in the village, he barely changed his breathing.

The town, deceptively quaint, occupied one side of its mountain valley and crawled up the evergreen-covered hills. There was still enough snow for the upper third of the peaks to be covered, despite it being nearly 60º on the valley floor. The track was out by itself on the opposite end of the 3 mile vale. As they neared, she could hear some of the enhanced engines roaring. She wished she could gun hers like that. If she had been a man, she would have had a massive hard-on before long. 

While Amy and DJ disentangled themselves in the back seat, deceiving no one, Tasha trolled for a parking spot. There was nothing closer than the east forty. So be it. She took a spot toward the end of the rapidly filling lot and shook Jay awake. He looked more than a little out of it. She made him take some water, and they started off slowly on foot. Jay rubbed his forehead like he was hung over and said little. 

Paying a decidedly bored attendant the charge to enter, they were admitted, passing under a gate in a long brick wall. It stuck Tasha as castle-like. Inside, huge yellow-and-red striped awnings were strung over stands that went halfway around the oval racetrack. They stood now in a broad alley where concessions rimmed the back wall, and the skeleton of the grandstand looked at them from the other side. That was as far as it went toward "racetrack." Everything else was extremely upscale, from the espresso bars, to the kabobs, shrimp on the Barbie, and energy drinks with ginseng made to order right there. Nowhere did you find "hot dogs and a coke." 

The four of them made their way through scattered people to the entrance of the stands, to a point where they could go up, or down. So far neither of the guys had expressed much of any opinion about anything, either being there at all, being her and Amy's company while there, or about where they would stand, sit, eat, drink, anything. It was starting to unnerve her. Jay was simply bored, and after a quick trip to the men's room he was stoned again. She wondered how much of his life he spent that way. DJ seemed rather taken with Amy, which was ironic and slightly morbid, she thought. At least he got her to talk. Well, here they were. She wanted to drool on the engines and DJ had mentioned looking to buy. No time like the present. 

Down, she decided. She wanted to be as close to the pits as she could get. That was where you saw the real action. Curiosity about what other famous people might have turned out ate at her too. Never before had she been even vaguely interested in star-gazing. Amy's little fantasy world, as she called it, had merely amused her, more because of Amy's commentary than anything. What did she care what color eyes these people had, or how old they were, how tall, background, filmography, etc.? There was only one she cared about, and she already knew as much as she ever would. She could not deny that their adventure with "the boys" had been interesting so far. Tasha led the way down several more risers and found enough room in a row not too far from the front for them to sit. Jay followed her like a sleepwalker.

It would be a good hour before any races started. She was glad they were early, though, or they'd have had to resort to rather remote seats. Within ten minutes every other spot in the lower section was taken. She made sure to have gotten the aisle seat, just in case she needed to get up and move around. Being surrounded by people made her a little claustrophobic. Especially this kind of people. The sheer number of them didn't bother her. The whole attitude of the place was another thing. It wasn't like she'd never been here before, so she was expecting it and indeed had been raised in it, but the posturing and parading of wealth that went on made her slightly nauseous. All she cared about today was the cars; the majority of these people had to display themselves in every aspect, it seemed. She and her friends looked slightly shabby, she thought to herself. That was exactly the kind of thought she did NOT care to have. It was so snobbish. 

Some hawkers were walking up and down the aisles. Tasha realized she'd been driving for a good stretch with no real sustenance. Amy wanted something to eat, too; DJ was craving some kind of herbal concoction she never tried. She flagged one of them, a Scandinavian-looking young woman in braids and bellbottoms, and ordered from a selection similar to what they'd seen behind the stands. Amy forked over a $20 and it was gone with a wave of "keep the change." Finally, it appeared that Jay was coming out his stupor, or whatever that had been. He ordered and paid for himself. Beer. The waitress or whatever she was curled her lip slightly but handed it over, for $7.00. It was some microbrew that Tasha supposed didn't resemble Budweiser much. 

She crunched into her jumbo shrimp-on-a-stick, scanning the lower reaches closely. There were so many excellent vehicles today, all looking their best for the pre-race laps. Each entrant had its little crowd of mechanics, owner, driver, and of course, press on a number of them. God, all that horsepower and she without her trust fund. Well, it had been worth it, to actually call her life her own. Strangely, she hadn't seen anyone she recognized, either the old crowd or the Hollywood type. But then her family's cronies had mostly been into the other racing, purebred horses. Just as well. It was making her moody just to think about that mess again. Normally Tasha considered herself an accomplished conversationalist. She didn't have much to work with at present, and she was distracted by her thoughts. And then…

Tasha's eyes bugged out. She choked and nearly spit out her drink. She couldn't believe her eyes. There HE was, the man who had occupied her fantasies since grade school. There amidst the pricey muscle cars in a tight racing jumpsuit stood John, looking as fine to her as he had twenty-some years ago. Coughing, she turned her back and tried to collect herself. Forget Amy with her gape-mouthed routine. Tasha knew that wouldn't work on someone who'd been 'known' over half his life

Between the coughing and hacking and her obvious blushing, she already had her little party's full attention. But not the one she was looking for. As soon as the red disappeared from her face, she looked for John again. He had moved. For one frantic second she thought she'd imagined it. Then she spotted his clean, almost military haircut, his broad and muscular back, and one fine ass in that sexy suit. Tasha waited impatiently for him to look in her direction. Jay asked her what she was buggin' about. She didn't say. By then, Amy was scanning the crowd on the ground below around the track and in the pits. When John turned enough so they could see his profile, she flashed Tasha a Cheshire cat smile. She knew all about John Fucking Travolta. Oh, yes. 

Distracted as he was, or should have been, with his upcoming race, John himself was staring at her now. Even from fifty yards, she was positive she could make out the piercing blue of his deep eyes, the perfect teeth, the dimple in his chin. Tasha tried to act cool, she was practiced in that art as well, but her heart was pounding in her chest. Giving him the international "good luck" sign, she sat back down. Far be it from her to cause even one second's lack of concentration for a driver; it could be fatal. 

Eventually she calmed down enough to pay attention to the track itself. The opening heats started a few minutes later. Fast cars, that was all she wanted to look at now. Since Tasha had one more reason to keep her attention directed trackside, Amy took over most of the conversation. She had finally found her feet, in that regard. Jay came out of his torpor with his motor-mouth intact; there was not much needed besides listening and throwing in a 'yeah' and 'uh-huh," every so often. He was in the process of revealing his purpose in being here this weekend. 

"….so I'm supposed come out here and learn about small towns, and mountains, and what it's like in the west. What do I know about that? I've only been outta Jersey like, three times. So I figured, hey, why don't I look for somewhere to build a house, you know? 'Cause I always wanted to live in the mountains, like secluded, but like not all the time. So anyway, Kev says to me, "Hey man, you go check it out, and get back to me on what you find out." We gotta like, go hiking or something and see it up close. I've been checking out the architecture and shit…."

Tasha wondered how he knew such a big word. Meanwhile, she was watching John sliding in through the window of one of the best looking cars down on the field. He adjusted his headset, pulled on a helmet, and started up the engine with a roar. He was driving? Better and better. All of Tasha's old boyfriends had driven killer cars. It was the only way she'd go out with them. She felt the familiar stirring that meant, "hot man, hot car." The races today had not been very long, maybe 10 or 20 laps. This one would be 100. She would get to see some action mid-way through. Cars like this, even as streamlined as they were, still ate up a lot of gas and they burned the hell out their tires. She just wished she could be in the pits to get in on the action. 

The time came for John's race, finally. For the last half-hour, Tasha had had the feeling she was being watched. At first it made her nervous, and then she began to play it to the hilt, applying and reapplying her lipstick, sipping at her drink whenever she felt that presence's eye on her. She watched John squeezing his jumper-clad body in through the window of his racecar and stood up to cheer. Her companions had been throwing looks between themselves and smirking for the duration, but they joined her in rooting for John. She wouldn't have let them do otherwise. 

John's car was a deep midnight blue with a purplish tint. There were a lot less decals and signs on it that a lot of the other entrants, making it stand out. Engines roared so loudly that the stands began to shake. The line poised there for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the signal. When the flag dropped, he jumped quickly into the lead, but it was no easy place. At the fifth lap, a low-riding lemon-yellow car crept into the lead, little by little, nosing in on the inside. Tasha yelled herself hoarse, convinced that John couldn't see him. When he finally insinuated himself in along the inside rails and made his bid for the lead, she screamed in frustration and sat down. Not for long though. Another racer, a red-orange one this time, bolted up the outside and overtook both of them, as John still struggled for second, now. Back and forth they went, first blue in front, then yellow, then blue.

Time stood still for Tasha. When the pit crews scrambled to prepare, she hadn't noticed. The blue-purple car sped right in and stopped on a dime. The crew got to work frantically. A helmet appeared out of the driver's side window, followed by the rest of John. One booted foot hit the ground, then the other. She was lost in time again, simply staring, waiting for him to off his helmet so she could see his face. When he did, he shook his head from side to side and throwing sweat in all directions. Someone handed him a water bottle and he chugged it so fast that trickles of it ran down each side of his face, leaving clean trails in the layer of track dust coating him. Tasha wondered if she'd acquired tunnel vision. She couldn't see anything but John. He finished the water and was talking very quickly to a man with a baseball cap and a speaker in front of his mouth. They paced back and froth from the car to the track and back several times, staring both ways. The pit crew had popped the hood and was busy beneath. More of them were changing out the tires. John leaned over and whispered in the boss's ear. The man raised an eyebrow questioningly. John smiled, and looked over in Tasha's direction. He spoke again. The other man beckoned another crew member over and spoke to him. Tasha had unmistakable feeling she knew what was going to happen, but first there was a race to finish. 

He won. Of course he did, he had to. Couldn't happen any other way. During the last dozen laps, Tasha had been on her feet, screaming her head off. Amy started to look askance of her exuberant behavior but Tasha's adrenaline was running too high to stop. The blue-purple car sped across the finish line half a length in front of the lava-colored one, the lizard-yellow low-rider a close third and the pack straggled in shortly after. Amid all the jumping around and a victory dance of sorts, a man with a blond crew-cut, by his dress another of John's pit crew, approached her from below the front of the stands.

"Hey! Hey you there, miss!" 

Tasha looked around to see who he was talking to. 

"No, you. Brown hair, blue shirt. My boss wants a word with you." 

"Are you serious?" Tasha shouted back. She moved up to the rail and leaned forward to hear better over the crowd. 

"Yes. Mr. Travolta knows a fan when he sees one and would like to meet you." He paused, as if considering how to best word something politely. "Are you interested in helping him celebrate his victory?" 

"Are you serious?" Tasha asked as second time. Not that she really doubted it. After the track-side huddle earlier, what else would it be? Her brain must be failing. 'What a twit!' she berated herself. 'I hope Mr. Travolta likes 'em empty-headed. 

Years of practice in highly intense social situations took over. 

"Yeah, I would very much like to," she told the lackey. "Tell him I'll be right over." 

"I'm supposed to escort you," he said. "You ready? Tell your friends 'bye for now. You'll be back in a couple hours." 

Turning around with the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable, she spoke to Amy. "Well, girlie… you got your wish, and now I'm going to be mine. I think, anyway. You guys look for a car for DJ, go get drunk, I don't care. Just meet me back here in two hours." 

John was gracious when he met her. The perfect gentleman. He looked her up and down, smiled and asked if she'd like to take a drive with him. Obviously they were going in his racecar. 

"Last chance…" she told herself. There was no backing down, though. She let him hand her into the car, and shut the door for her. 

The usual cage around the driver's seat was either lacking or had been removed. The interior was really no different than any other high-end sports car. John plunked himself in behind the wheel and sped off around the track and then out a side gate Tasha hadn't noticed before. They came out onto a gravel road that ran straight for the nearest mountain and began a twisting and turning ascent. Tasha turned in her seat and openly stared at him. John noticed her doing so but just smiled. 'God, I love that smile,' she repeated to herself, smiling too. 

The road got rougher as they went upwards, and the turns more perilous. Tasha trusted John's driving ability but not the road itself. It was narrow, and they slid on the gravel with each curve. Besides, though she fought it, Tasha was afraid of heights. Not the mundane ones—she was able to go on carnival rides, for instance—but being up several hundred feet with no side guards was beginning to unnerve her. She shifted around in her seat, looking out the window and gripping the armrest attached to the door. 

"What's the matter?" asked John. "Scared? This road is a little treacherous, all right." He spun the wheel hard and sprayed gravel off the drop. Before she could see it reach the bottom of the canyon, they were sprinting forward again, over the top of a would-be bluff up a new, steeper face of the mountainside. Higher and higher, the road cut into the cliffs, the switchbacks getting narrower each turn. John gunned the engine and peeled out each time they hit the outside of a curve. It dawned on Tasha that he was scaring her on purpose. He seemed to be getting some kind of thrill in seeing her white-knuckle the edge of the seat and her door handle. His smile had turned feral; he kicked it to the floor once he had maneuvered all the switchbacks successfully. Tasha breathed deeply in relief, trying not to think of having to get down again later. From there, the road ran on top of the mountain, though it was nowhere near as tall as the ice-covered peaks still towering above them.

A few minutes later, they came to a bridge that spanned from the modest mountain they were currently on, to one of the monsters back behind them. It was old and rather out-of-use looking. Made from rusty iron or steel, it looked like a metal spider-web to Tasha. It was hollow underneath in the middle, the support pieces piercing rock to hold itself up. John rolled his car forward to the middle of it, and stopped. Looking to her right, Tasha saw the fuzzy lights of Avellea below them. Her stomach tightened into a knot as she realized how far below they were. 

"Well, here we are," John announced. He turned to Tasha, and then took her into his arms. She melted. Never mind waiting for him, she kissed him square on the mouth before he could even start. He seemed surprised, but did not break off, and pulled her tightly against his chest, running his fingers through her hair. They made out for a long time in the cramped front seat, till they were both breathing hard. Tasha wouldn't let up. She had to, needed to kiss, or lick, or bite every part of John she could get at, not the easiest with him still wearing his racing gear. He seemed to be enjoying it, and then he surprised her. 

John opened the door on his side and made to get out. Before he stood, he reached deliberately across her, brushing his arm against her tits, and opened her door from the inside. He turned his head to look into her face and said, "Come on, baby. Let's look at the view." A wave of dizziness washed over her, but Tasha was determined to show no weakness. She slowly put one foot on the bridge, then the other. When she stood up, vertigo took over and the world wobbled on its pins. She slammed her arm down on the hood of John's car for balance. He had been over by the waist-high railings, looking over. "You ok? Tasha? Hey, come look at this, it's great!" 




DJ & Jay Ch. 04



Tasha found herself powerless to move past where she stood. She froze. The wind was whipping around her ears, and she was highly aware of how far up they were, and how far down it would be if she fell. Since she was a child, she'd had nightmares that she knew many people did—of falling and falling, never hitting, but sure that any second her body would be broken on the earth. She also dreamed of flying, which was pure animal pleasure. The two were like two sides to the same coin. 

John stood limned in the dimming light, one hip leaned casually against the railing. Tasha wondered if he ever thought about what would happen if his lost his balance. "Well, are you gonna come look?" She took one slow step, then another, wanting to be brave, wanting to be with John, wondering why he had to have a thing for bridges, of all things. 

"This is 1,200 feet above town," John told her. "The drop is straight down. You probably didn't notice, but we drove under this earlier. Look, you can see the road." 

Tasha still wasn't near enough to see anything. John was getting impatient. He walked over to her and steered her to railing, facing her straight into the chasm and pointing to a spot nearly directly below them, where he wanted her to look. 

The rails weren't nearly thick enough for Tasha's taste. She felt totally vulnerable. John was up against the back of her, which she found exciting, but he was also pressing her even further forward, even to the point of leaning forward over the void. Totally unable to speak, she just nodded, hoping that would make him happy. 

Apparently it did. "You know why I took you up here?" John asked. 

She decided to throw a little attitude, scared stiff of not. "Yeah, to impress me with the car, pretend to throw me off this bridge till I'm scared enough to piss myself, and then fuck me. Right? Am I right?" 

John seemed at a loss for words. Maybe no one had ever called his bluff before. Finally he came back with, "Yeah, that's exactly it. You're really that scared huh?" And he bent her over further, till her feet nearly came off their platform. 

Tasha screamed, and John laughed. "Go ahead, scream, get it out of your system. I've got ya. You're not going to fall." 

That said, John zipped his jumper down as far as he could reach, still holding Tasha around the waist. With the heavy padded nylon out of the way, she could feel his erection against her ass. It was not unexpected, but she still didn't care for his choice of venue. Not at all. Here she was, dangling a quarter mile above the ground, no one knew where she was and this man she'd had a secret crush on for years was turning into a real prick. Well, if she couldn't get the knight on the white horse, she was at least going to get a good fuck out of the deal. 

"Yeah, ok fine. You'd better not drop me. I know what you want; you know what I want. This bridge thing sucks, John, if I can be so bold as to tell you, so why don't you whip it out and do your thing and get me the hell back to town?" 

"Oh, but it's not just my thing, baby," John said softly into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "It's 'way more intense in an extreme setting, didn't anyone ever teach you that? If you're not walking on the edge of fear, then it's not good sex." 

"Oh yeah? Where I come from, they say any sex is better than no sex." 

She hadn't really meant it as a joke but all of a sudden John hauled her back and started to laugh. 

"They also say bad sex is better than no sex." That only made him chortle harder. Tasha was getting pissed off. She crossed her arms and glared. Did he really expect her to hang off a bridge while he fucked her?

"Ok, you've convinced me, no-sex girl," he gasped. "I'm sorry; I can see you were really scared. I just have this penchant for vertigo. It's like a fetish. I forget not everyone does. Come here now; let's go over by my car." 

Just as he had bent her over the railing a few minutes before, John bent her over his front fender, pulling aside her clothes. 

"Now you're gonna get it," he said, low in his throat. 

"Well, then, give it go me, "Tasha egged him on. By then she was naked from the waist down, or her pants were down around her knees anyway. John had unhooked her bra. His big hands were squeezing and massaging her breasts as he pushed his cock against her woman-flesh. When he did enter her, it was very quickly and with force. Tasha cried out, her voice lost in the wind. She arched her back to take it all; he was slightly larger than average but so hard there was no bend at all to his shaft. John thrust into her maybe a dozen times, and blew his wad. She felt semen hit her cervix and begin to drip down. What else, she couldn't believe it was over that fast. But John proved her wrong. 

"Don't worry; I'm just getting started." He kept on thrusting and didn't go soft at all, like she'd expected. He slowed on his timing till he was barely moving at all, drawing his sticky cock out a inch at a time, then pushing it back into her, over and over. His fingers traced all the lines and curves of her torso very delicately; that in itself made Tasha's body quiver. She wanted… she wanted… to cum, to cum hard, soon. After his maddeningly slow discovery of her upper body, one of John's hands dipped lower, reaching for her nether lips. He continued to thrust in and out of her, speeding up imperceptively. When he touched her clit, she ground back into him. Her hips began to move of their own accord, in a circular motion, and she moaned. It seemed to be a signal to John. He went back to his original rhythm, rocking her body with fully buried thrusts. He grabbed her around the waist and speared her fiercely, making her howl. She wondered if they looked like a pair of half-dogs, carrying on like that. 

John's voice rose as well as he smacked into her backside repeatedly, rude noises issuing from both of them. Tasha could feel his sac drawing up; the hairs on it tickled her sensitive female flesh. Finally, she just let herself go, let herself give it up under his crashing masculinity and she came, moaning in a high-pitched wail. John reamed her three or four more times, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back to bite her throat. For a minute, she wondered wildly if she's happened on one of the undead, but then his hot cum-cream hit her insides and she realized this was a normal human, fetishes aside. She took the time to enjoy it; jet after jet bathed her snatch, filing her. Oh, it felt so good. John Fucking Travolta. Oh, yes, he was. 

She didn't really even recall the ride back down.



DJ & Jay Ch. 05-06



So far, Amy got a birthday present from Tasha: DJ & Jay. They went shopping. They went to the track. They got it on. The adventure continues...

V. In the Club

The Riverdale's dance bar, better known as just The Club, covered half the basement. You'd never know that from the outside, or the inside for that matter. It was reached by a long, rather steep metal staircase followed by drab and featureless cement-block hallway. That served it well for noise control. As we were to learn, the music throughout most often thumped in a decidedly sexual beat, like the orgy scene of a recent movie. Four-inch thick metal doors opened outwards from the seamless grey wall. Four room keys, the plastic-card kind, had been left with us at the start of our stay. We each carried one, just in case. As soon as he saw the passes, the tuxedoed bouncer shoved us through into strobe lights and banged the doors shut so close behind Tasha and me that it was wonder we didn't get our clothing caught in it.

Inside, a warren of small dance floors and partial walls led in a semi circle around the central bar area. Each floor, six of them, had its own unique shape and theme. There were an assortment of permanently placed tables and booths extending from the walls around the edges, and various other moveable furniture. A lot of large couches and overstuffed chairs were scattered about, too. Some of these rooms were built with sunken levels. While you could get glimpses of the others when you were on one, it was impossible to see much more because of the walls in the way. Blacklights were standard; I understood now why all the white. I looked at Jay and he positively glowed blue where he stood. 

Maybe two hundred people were already inside. Most were sitting around, talking quietly and smoking. The smoke hung in the air and the intermittent flashes of strobes caught in it. Not many were dancing yet, that I could see, but within minutes of being there I knew that's what I wanted to do, all night if possible, or at least till something better presented itself. 

Jay nudged me and asked what I wanted to drink. Just Corona. I wanted to get a slow buzz tonight, but not be totally wasted. Dancing was best that way. DJ and Tasha had wandered off by themselves, exploring one room and then the next, but I waited where I stood, leaning against the wall and swaying in time to the beat. A hand appeared around the side of my face with a bottle of amber liquid clutched in it. Another landed on my waist, and pulled back. Jay bit my earlobe and breathed into my ear. "What do you say we show 'em how it's done, huh baby?" The blunt end of the bottle bumped against my chest and slid down into my cleavage. "Come on," Jay wheedled. "You want to dance; I can tell just by the way you move your ass. From what I hear they do more here ('hee-ah') than just dance." 

There was no point in saying no; I just wanted to say yes, to everything. Appropriating the beer bottle, I drained half of it in one long draw and turned around to face Jay. "You're on." 

"Yeah," he said enthusiastically. The beat was changing, the upbeat music that was in evidence when we first walked in slowing slightly, with a techno drive to it. Dark trance, I was pretty sure. There was a small knot of people dancing already on the closest floor. Jay led me out near them and looked at me expectantly. "What?" He looked to one side then the other, and cocked an eyebrow. I knew what to do. Dance. This was as natural as breathing. 

The trance beat was so perfect; it went on and on and on. Dancing was a response, a call, and an offering. Though Jay was there, and he was a good partner with a good sense of rhythm, for a while I didn't really pay him much attention. I was lost; it was just the music. After a half hour, DJ and Tasha showed up and joined us. Jay took a break and got more drinks. I left them to their own devices, and just danced. The music was sinuous, dark, hypnotic. Exactly the way it needed to be. The people all around us must have felt the same. The movements we were all making were complimentary to the music. It was starting to resemble a rave as more and more people came out. Strobes flashed and white-clothed bodies gyrated. Jay's blue-tinted mane appeared over the crowd and he handed me another bottle. Thirsty, I threw it back and handed it back to Jay to get rid of. He walked off. Shortly thereafter, he was behind me, grinding against my ass.

We didn't need to talk, we just followed each other's moves. Jay was expansive. He hopped around and gestured with his arms. When he wasn't doing that, he was either up against the back of me, moving in a very dirty fashion, or to the side, one or the other leg out in my direction, inviting me to do the same to him. Though there was plenty of that type of thing going on, even people starting to take off clothing, I didn't. I waited, and let the slow burn rise. Jay was more about showing off at first anyway. He got plenty of attention to stoke his ego. Many of the women were watching him, some more obviously than others; some of the men too. A few came up and cut in but I didn't mind. During those intervals I'd find wherever DJ and Tasha had moved to and join them. They seemed to be happy with whatever groove they'd found, but indulged me to dance as their third leg several times over the period of the next hour. Jay always found his way back. Then he'd grab me, give my butt a little squeeze and push his groin against my back. He was getting pretty worked up with all the dancing. I was, too, besides hot and sweaty and sometimes out of breath. 

He got back from one more session with an aerobicized-looking female with short spiky blond hair and slammed into my backside with more force than before. His cock was hard as a rock and he wanted to play. He was chanting to himself under his breath, "Uh, uh, go Jason, go Jason, it's your birthday…" It stuck me so funny I broke into wild giggling, but at the same time whipped around and plastered myself to his front, grasping his upper arms to steady myself. The trance beat took over. We humped ourselves all over each other on the floor. It was like riding the ocean: powerful, flowing rhythmically up and down. At the same there was much room for hip-writhing, grinding, hair-throwing, and skin-kissing. 

"You like my guns?" Jay yelled over the noise, tightening his biceps. Hell, yes. Running my thumbs over said 'guns' I manually appreciated, but didn't stop there. Tipping my head back, I gazed woozily into his innocent-dirty blue eyes and systematically went to work discovering all of his body I could lay my hands on. His arms were first, then up to his long tower of a neck where his pulse pounded hyperactively, then over his sweet pointed chin, the lips he was pouting for all he was worth. Reaching to tuck his messed-up strands of hair back over his ears, I traced each, and tugged gently on the earrings in the left one. He had two gold hoops tonight. Jay performed similar ministrations on me, all the while keeping his timing. His hands snaked lower and firmly grabbed me on the buns. I leaned back slightly, and did the same to him. We ground against each other steadily, lower, then back up, finding a pace just short of ecstatic, electronica overwhelming every sense. Jay's white silk shirt got steadily damper with his sweat and clung to him. I could see his pale pink nipples through it, and unable to help myself, tweaked them. His expression turned surprised, and then he closed his eyes and went with it, once again mirroring me. My own breasts got hard under his caressing palms, straining against the lacy bra I'd picked out. 

Bare skin gleamed among the swaying bodies. Jay's was next. Never missing his rhythm, he unbuttoned his shirt from the top down, and peeled it off. His skin turned all the colors of the neon flashing around us in quick succession, flashing with the strobes. Carelessly he threw the garment over the nearby wall. As I watched it drop, I felt him lift the bottom of my shirt, a classic "artist smock" type with long draped and dagged sleeves. Unsure this was a good idea, I smoothed it back down. 

"Look around, look at people," Jay asked, his eyes darting left then right. Again, I did. Seemed like every time I chanced to look at the crowd, thicker around us now than before, there were fewer clothes and less left to the imagination. He was right with his observation. I let him pull the shirt over my head. He tossed it to the side and it landed next to his on the wall. Ridiculously modest, I hugged him around the back so our chests would be pressed together too. He didn't mind. The music changed slightly. The pulse was even deeper, slightly faster. Jay slid his slick smooth chest against my breasts. I'd been aroused for at least an hour. This made me wild. All of a sudden I wanted to be naked, dancing and sexing at the same time, moving against Jay while he moved in me. I let myself go, and let Jay lead as he'd been trying and I'd been resisting. 

Crouching slightly, he stroked my thighs while I invaded his hairline and became his human comb. My 'thing' for long hair had never really gone away, even after it became less fashionable for men to wear it that way; I was loving it so much I threw my head back and my hips forward, got one leg up on Jay's upper thigh and spread my crotch against his for the next song. He became more urgent, not so much in the moves of his dancing, but in the way he was looking at me and the way he handled me.

A waitress moved among the crowd with her little rack of shots held high and a fan of bills threaded through her fingers. Jay pushed me off him momentarily and dug in his front pockets for cash. He found some bills and signaled the girl. She made a detour in our direction, eyes widening slightly, but she recovered herself. He made some gesture that she understood, and she handed him four of the little vials. With a wink and an obvious come-hither look, she wandered off again, as much dancing as walking, herself. Jay spared a look at her ass, which was adorned with a skirt so short you could see the bottom of her cheeks. He grinned to himself, then pulled the cork off the first tube with his teeth and spit it to the side. He threw his head back, exposing his throat, which I wanted to bite, and bolted it. He did the same thing with the next one, but didn't swallow. Giving me look like, "Oh, did you want some?" he raised his eyebrows at me. The message was clear. I crossed the couple feet of space that had opened between us and presented my face. Leaning down, he kissed me, finally, as I'd been wanting him to all weekend. His lips stayed closed till I couldn't stand it anymore and prodded my eager tongue past and into the cavity of his mouth. Warm, sweet liquid gushed into my mouth, tasting of rum and brown sugar and banana. He pressed our lips into a seal and let me take it all. 

"Now you do it," he said when we finally broke off. I had to stop dancing or I'd have fallen. Handing over the remaining two vials, I broke the seal on the first, threw back the peach-tasting shot, and held the second in my mouth. Jay was too tall; he'd need a straw, I thought stupidly. Looking around, the man backed me up to one of their half-walls and boosted me up. On the wall, I was sitting about four feet off the floor, enough to be a few inches 'taller' than Jay if I sat up straight. It was hard not to swallow the liquor in my mouth, and I was sure I was salivating in it enough for him to taste that too. Once up there, Jay tilted back his head and waited with an expectant look. I leaned forward and let him have it. God, I wanted the man. I let him know with the kiss, with the movements of my lips. At first I wouldn't let him open my mouth, going instead to the side, and leaving a tiny trail of liqueur down his neck. Then the other side. He got too inpatient and captured my mouth before I was really ready, but I managed to seal my lips against his invasion, and clenched me teeth behind them. I was going to make him work for it. Jay licked my lips with the point of his tongue, trying to weasel inside, but no. He licked them fully next, with broad swipes, which tickled, but he was unsuccessful. It was becoming a battle of wills. He wanted the booze, and I wanted him. 

"Give over, Amy," he said. "You're going to get what you want. No worries." He moved in for a kiss again and I gave it to him, putting my hand over the back of his head to make sure I didn't accidentally drop any liquid. I kept it in the cavity under my tongue till he was just opening up his mouth, then let it spill forth. As he was still swallowing, open-mouthed, I followed it with as much fervor as I could muster into a deep soul kiss. He received it, and then reciprocated with his own version, the kind I'd watched over and over on DVD that made me wet just to watch, and worse now. My snatch gushed like it was spitting, and there I was with liquid running down my legs and down my face too. Jay and I were not being neat with our making out. The alcohol we'd swallowed off each other seemed to make us much more salacious; we were literally drooling all over each other.

"We gotta get outta here," Jay said with quiet desperation. "I'm gonna cum in my pants, you slut." Once again, I took that as affectionate. He grabbed my hand. Pulling it far enough down to reach his penis, he forced it down over the distended shaft and pressed. His pupils were dilated so far I couldn't see anything but black and a thin ring of blue. "You feel that? You know what you're doing to me?" 

"You can't see it, but it's the same with me," I informed him seriously. "So what say we take this upstairs?" He nodded slowly. 

It took a minute to locate our clothes, as by now there were many more piled on top of ours. Jay buttoned his shirt halfway up the front and left it untucked. For obvious reasons. He took my hand and threaded his way back around the semi-circular bar to the entrance. I hadn't bothered covering myself. Half the people on the floor were less than decent. The doorman stopped me. "You have to be PG to go back into the main area," he said sternly. Fine. I dropped my blouse over my head but didn't bother to retie the laces. 

Somehow we made it upstairs without totally embarrassing ourselves. I located my room key first and sprung the door for us. As soon as the door closed, Jay spun me around and pushed me up against it. He was a hungry as I was. We squirmed against each other till he had lifted me up to be on a face-to-face level and brought my legs up around his waist. With me clinging to him, he staggered toward the bedroom on the right, the one he'd shared with Tasha the nights before.

He threw me backward into the middle of the bed and landed on top of me a second later. So intent was he at getting my clothes off he didn't even notice he was ripping his own in the process. Less than a minute later we were both naked, struggling in the pile of abandoned clothes and rapidly rumpling bedding to just get to it and fuck like dogs. Jay shoved his knee in between my thighs. More than ready, I spread them as far as they'd go. I just wanted him in me. He pulled his mouth off mine long enough to say, "You want my cock?" and shoved it in. My underwear, like it had been all weekend, and been wringing wet when he'd pulled it off of me, and when he filled me the slide felt so damn good that I came immediately. He was thick, hot, and pulsing, I could feel every revved-up beat of his heart in his rod. I was slick enough that Jay didn't have to hold back. He went into long, deep strokes right away. He fucked me savagely, like I'd seen him do to Tasha, like I'd wanted for myself. I tucked my knees up to my armpits, trying to let him in deeper. We panted together like Lamaze mothers, faster though, as our frenzied movements took on new meaning. Jay grunted and growled to himself; I was letting out little squeals like a virgin teenager, totally powerless to stop myself. Jay continued to grope me as we went crazy, nor could I keep my hands off him. His skin was satin-smooth for the most part. His biceps flexed and his ass muscles flexed in time to his rhythm; I couldn't decide which I liked better. My hands went from one part to the next and back, trying to take it all in. His hair fell in a curtain around our faces. It swayed with his movements as he pumped his hard tool in and out of me. He smelled so good, like cigarettes and herb and the shots we'd downed in the club. The scent came off his skin and tasted the same when I licked it off his neck, his chest, even his fingers, which were salty-sweet. Jay's nostrils flared; the smell of our sex was rising too. 

My second orgasm went off after less than a minute of Jay's rough, raunchy stroking. My cunt squeezed down on his cock hard, repeatedly, milking him for the pent-up juice he still held control of. My insides were spasming, cream flooding and washing over his burrowing member. Jay threw back his hair and watched me cum, and I watched him as best I could with the whole universe turning to molten lava all around me. His eyes were all alight with a fever that was bound to break soon, his face red with effort. He watched, yes, but didn't let up on the pounding he was giving my pussy. Another wave broke over me almost right away, in response to the last. As I writhed like a cat in heat, Jay flattened himself on me, bit down on my shoulder and gave another half-dozen lunges into me. He screamed, actually screamed, and unloaded his balls in shot after shot. After the first, he started to shake and his eyes rolled back. My stomach was quivering inside and out from cumming so many times. When his hot cream hit, my body went off again; all four of my limbs wrapped themselves around Jay. I came so hard I wondered if I was going to have any female parts left on Monday or if they'd all imploded. The explosions had been so intense it was a wonder something didn't rupture. It was almost scary. Except for the fact that Jay had his whole length holding me flat to the bed so it was not possible, I wanted to curl up around myself. 

Jay recovered first. "Holy shit, woman. You had me screaming like a little bitch, did you hear that shit?" 

He rolled off me onto his back, shiny with sweat. I didn't want to ever stop touching him, and drew little circles around his chest and stomach with my fingertips. "Yeah, I heard that. If it makes you feel any better, I loved it. And I wasn't any better. Did you hear the squealing?" 

"So, it was good for you?" he asked with a smirk, unnecessarily.

"No, duh!" 

"Good, 'cause, like, me too. I'm usually too ripped to fuck."

"Huh? I thought you'd fuck anything that moves…" 

"Yeah, theoretically…" Where was he getting these big words? 

"Well, I'm glad you were up for this one," I teased him gently, kissing his shoulder. He went to do the same to me and noticed the toothmarks. 

"Did I do that?" Jay asked, apparently having no recollection of his act of vampirism. 

"Yeah, you did. And it fucking hurt, too. Not that a little pain isn't good, sometimes." 

"I got something to take the edge off, if you want." 

So that is how I wound up smoking a fattie with Jason Mewes. It was some mellow shit, and we sat there, naked, stoned, for a good two hours staring at each other and trading off smart-ass remarks, movie quotes, dirty jokes, and the like. The buzz threatened to last till morning, so finally we wandered out to find some snacks and settled down to sleep, curled up in ear other's arms, not interested in the least in any kind of a second go at sex. We never did forge any kind of deeper connection like I had with DJ, but it was still a link of sorts purely in its shallowness. There was a sense of loyalty in Jay, and I knew I'd always be able to call him a friend, if nothing else. 

VI. We End It




DJ & Jay Ch. 05-06



Somewhere on towards four in the morning DJ and Tasha appeared, the Club finally having closed and neither of them inclined to find out if the rumors of an after-hours club on a further subterranean level were true. I woke up just enough to be aware of their presence, of DJ staring in at Jay and my naked sprawls on the bed, and then some heated whispering. I drifted off again. 

Some time later I woke again with the realization that Tasha and DJ were in bed with us, and that they were in the midst of some elaborate foreplay. Having been taught first-hand about DJ's preference of restraint, I figured I'd leave them to what was sure to be a lengthy session and went back to sleep. 

In the morning, I became aware of two things simultaneously. First, sunlight in my eyes; not directly, but brighter than I liked. Second, I had one man in front of me, one in back, both of them were fully erect and they were just about to violate me in two holes. Tasha was curled up with her back to us and I was loath to wake her. I let myself be filled to bursting and more with young hard cock, being the middle-man between DJ and Jay as they stared each other down and moved in me, separated only by the membrane within me. Neither of them said a word or made a sound. For once, neither did I. Four hands found all the places that needed touching on me, tweaking my nipples as I came over and over again; one kissing and one biting my neck; a tongue in each ear. 

As it was, DJ, facing me, who set the pace. It was so languid at first you could barely see movement. It was all sense. After my first few orgasms, he sped up significantly, letting go of his control and simply fucking for the sake of it. He was damn good at it. The kid had a quiet desperation to him that one could only read as animal magnetism. Jay, behind, kept whatever rhythm DJ led with but damped it down. Either he was still groggy from the night before or he realized that I was not used to ass-fucking, but he took it very easy. Towards the end, as DJ neared climax, Jay went still while DJ threw his body back and forth on the sheets till he spewed. Moments later, DJ, still inside me, drew my leg over his hip and squeezed my ass cheeks hard when Jay slammed his hard cock down into my asshole, coming in great shudders.

I did likewise, and eventually one or the other of them carried me to the tub. It was Monday morning, I realized. Time to get myself to the hospital. 

They all took time to wish me luck, there at the front door. Jay, with a kiss on the cheek, a squeeze to the tit, and an overused cliché I'd heard come out of his mouth a thousand times. DJ, with a regift of the bouquet I'd received at the beginning, and a deep, deep kiss, his eyes searching my soul, it seemed. Tasha, with a hug, a 'good luck' and a wink as one last Happy Birthday.