1 comments/ 15506 views/ 1 favorites Art in the Park By: Orgin Grinder I was face down on a table, withering in pain from something being inserted into me. "Oh shit." "It'll only hurt for a minute." "It's been about five minutes, and it still hurts," I snapped back. "You're the one who wanted this, now just man up." The pain didn't let up. In fact, tentacles of it exploded through my torso. I was told this was going to make me feel great. I believe I was misinformed. "Ouch. Dammit Kelly, that hurts." "Don't be such a baby. The elbow being jammed and twisted in what I was told was my rhomboid major was there to work out a trigger point that theoretically was the bain of my existence. Whatever it was, getting rid of it was a bitch. "Shit!" "I've worked on 80-year old women that don't whine as much as you." Kelly lightened up a bit, kneading the area with fingers as opposed to attacking it with blunt instruments. She applied some Zheng Gu Shui, an Asian liniment that is advertised as having a cooling and pain relieving effect, but don't believe everything you read, then stuck her elbow back into the muscle. "Ouch." "This is where you carry your stress. If you carried it in your ass, as opposed to your traps and rhombs, relieving it would be a gas. Get it, gas out of your ass." "Funny." "Sometimes I crack myself up." She worked on the area between my shoulder blades in a quasi-gentle manner, though there were still bites of pain that shot through me as she tried to loosen my muscles. Based on experience, I would more than likely feel better a day or so later, but be back on the table in three weeks going through this all over again. "All right, that's enough torture for the day," Kelly said, and began long strokes with her finger tips from my shoulder to my butt in what she described as the relaxation portion of the therapy. She dribbled some warm oil on my back, and softly rubbed it into my skin as she worked her way up and down my back, and then my glutes, squeezing and releasing my butt muscles before making her way down my legs and feet. From the balls of my feet, Kelly kneaded all the way up my calves and the back of my upper legs along my hamstrings. She lightly grazed my balls as her hands again moved to my ass and lower back, and worked her thumbs up along the muscles on either side of my spine. This was nice. With a playful slap on my butt Kelly said, "Okay, now turn over. I think you deserve a happy ending after what I've put you through." I've known Kelly for about ten years. Our first meeting pretty much went just as this one had. I had gone to her for a massage to get rid of a nasty Charlie horse I'd picked up while playing hockey. She put me through an agonizing therapeutic sports massage, during which we chatted, I griped, almost cried, she laughed, and we generally hit it off as well as two people can when one is face down for an hour and the other is inflicting searing pain. At the end she said she felt guilty for all she put me through, asked me to turn over so she could gently work my neck and pecs. After about ten minutes of this she said, "Oh, what the hell," and finished the treatment by going down on me, prefaced of course by the declaration that she never, ever did this. To clients that is. Once she got started it was obvious she had given more than a few blow jobs in her day. After that first massage, Kelly removed my towel and found a fairly flaccid penis, but brought it to life by flicking the tip with her tongue. She covered the head of my cock with her mouth and began to suck hard, back off, then inch down a bit, and repeated this process until she had completely devoured me. She held me firm in her throat for a moment, and then slipped back toward the tip, without releasing the grip her lips had on my cock. Apparently well skilled at breathing through her nose, Kelly began to rapidly descend and retreat, her mouth never leaving what was now a pulsating organ. She cupped my balls, gave them a polite squeeze, and deep throated me in a blink of an eye. In the time it took me to say, "Oh shit," I was exploding in her esophagus. Naturally I went back for more massages, but there were no more happy endings in the therapy room. That would only happen later, after we'd had gone to a movie or out to dinner, and then we'd do just about anything imaginable, and both were extremely happy at the end. After a few weeks we were inseparable, and I quickly determined that Kelly was the ideal woman for my needs--a beautiful massage therapist with a modest inheritance and no gag reflex. Kelly pulled her t-shirt over her head and got up on the table. She slid her full breasts across the soles of my feet and over my toes as she moved upwards, and began to lick and suck on my balls. She rolled one, then the other, around her steamy mouth before taking them both in at once; and played around with them with her tongue before letting them loose with a plop. Kelly had this way of creating what feels like a vacuum around my dick while drawing it into her mouth. She oh so slowly engulfed me, inch by precious inch, until she had my entire length wedged in her throat. She held me there for a moment, and then backed off the same way, actually sucking hard while letting me slowly slide out. She repeated this for a few minutes, and just as I started to feel an orgasm beginning to build, she pulled off and asked if I was close to coming. "I'm definitely headed in that direction. Why, is there a problem?" "I'm horny as hell, and I was thinking about fucking you if you can hang on long enough." "I'll do my best. Please jump on board." Kelly quickly shed what clothing remained, and got back on the table. She was very self-aware sexually, and knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. She planted her feet on either side of me, got up on her haunches, and lowered her moist, tepid pussy onto my cock. This was her position of choice when she wanted to come quickly. She was in control, and all she needed from me at this point was to lay still and stay hard. This wasn't a tough assignment. Years of experience with my lover taught me that when she was in this position she was in heaven. With mouth agape, lower lip pulled tight across her bottom teeth, eyes closed and a hint of her upper teeth glistening in a knowing smile, within minutes Kelly was panting and moaning, and quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. There were no worries as to whether or not the table was sturdy enough to handle this. After a few months of us dating, Kelly had become so comfortable with our relationship that she had a girl friend join us on the massage table. Kelly was where she is now, and her friend straddled my face as the two of them kissed and grinded themselves into multiple orgasms atop me. The memory of that night inched me closer to coming, and I had to refocus on staying hard and still. "Oh god, this feels so good," Kelly moaned as she glided up and down my slick dick. I reached up and began massage her breasts, pulling and twisting her nipples, and this began to set her over. Kelly's breathing became deeper, but sporadic, as she focused purely on her carnal needs. "Please don't come yet," she begged. "I'm almost there." Kelly raised herself up, almost to the point she was off my dick, and then slammed down hard on me. She did this one, two, three times before settling in on me, her pussy gripping my dick as orgasmic ripples flowed through her body. Quivers scurried up her torso, her eye lashes fluttered and boobs jiggled as she came off an impressive orgasm. Arching backwards, she flipped her hair out of her eyes and exhaled as though she'd been holding her breath for a month. "Oh god, did I need that," she said, still somewhat disheveled. "I've massaged two hot guys and three hotter women today. You don't know how bad I needed that. Thanks for hanging in there." "I'm surprised you didn't have a go at one of them," I said with a sneer. "It was everything I could do to mind my manors. I had this blonde, first time client, who had the biggest boobs I've ever seen. I just wanted to flop my face between them, just like guys do," Kelly said, and she readjusted her position so she was now on her knees. "And the men?" "Don't think it didn't cross my mind, but I knew this was waiting for me when I got home," and with that she squeezed my prick with her vaginal muscles. I almost lost my load right then. She leaned over, gave me a full kiss on the mouth, and started to gyrate her hips. Even her pussy was more than capable of giving me a massage. "Come inside me. I love it when I feel your come fill me up." I grabbed Kelly's hips, and jerked her toward me as I thrust up into her. The quick, unanticipated maneuver sent a shiver up her spine. "Oh shit," she yelped. "That felt surprising wonderful." She followed my lead and quickly began to move her hips back and forth, faster and faster. Kelly had me on the brink, and I noticed beads of sweat collecting above her top lip; a telltale sign of an impending orgasm. "Oh god, another one," Kelly said as she began to shudder. "Oh how I love your cock." "I can't hold out any longer." "Fill me baby; fill me with your precious come." I thrust up into her one last time, getting my cock as deep into her as I ever have, and began to shoot streams of jism into the hottest fuck on the planet. Kelly came once more during my orgasmic episode, and fell on top of me, her damp, tangled black hair across my face, her glimmering breasts smashed against my chest. It took a few minutes for us to catch our breath and gather ourselves. She finally rolled off of me, and gave the tip of my dick a quick kiss. As she went off to the shower she said, "Why don't you make pass through crap-in-the-park, and see by chance if there's anything at all worth looking at for the B&B." For the past 20-years or so the small bedroom community where we live has hosted an event called Art in the Park. For about the last 19-years or so I have suggested that they call in Crap in the Park, so the name would truly reflect what was being sold under all those white tents. From a pure numbers perspective it was a smashing success. More than 300 exhibitors, I can't bear to call them artists, display whatever it is they've concocted over the winter—paper mache lanterns, faux driftwood carvings, empty wine bottles dolled-up to be ersatz vases, macramé thingy bobs, and the like. Thousands of people walk through the town, great for the restaurants and bars, buy stuff, and make a mental note to come back and visit when there aren't thousands of people walking through the town. It would also be great for me, next year, when the local bed & breakfast I decided to snag out of foreclosure is ready for guests again. I was kitty-corner from the action, and walked across the street to enter the swarm of people in search of the last great piece of American kitsch. I didn't have far to go. Three booths in was a guy who was customizing name plaques using old license plates. Utilizing tin snips he would cut out letters and/or numbers, and hot glue them to a plank of pine wood. Who wouldn't want something like that hanging in their den? I walked around for about an hour. In that time the thermometer climbed into the high nineties and a layer of humidity crept in and smothered the crowd; great weather for walk amongst a thousand strangers. I had come about full circle when I noticed something completely wrong and afoul for the given circumstances. In the second to last booth, right across from the license plate guy, was someone who actually had the audacity to put oil on a canvass. Sitting at the back of a tent, in what little shade she could find surrounded by impressionist paintings, was a woman, probably in her late thirties, looking entirely bored and put-out while fanning herself with the event program. "You have some nerve," I said, "Showing up at this place with what could pass for actual art." She gave me a somewhat vacant stare, then said, "The registration brochure said 100's of artists and artisans." "The brochure lied. I take it this is your first time here." "Yes." "Other than being lied to, how are you doing?" "I'm hot." "Yes you are." This time I was on the receiving end of a more piercing stare, but it was followed by a chuckle. "You said it, not me," I said. "But I do happen to be in total agreement. But enough about you, tell me, is this your work, or are you stumping for the artist?" "It's mine. Only a complete nut bag would be sitting in this heat humping someone else's work," she said. "Yes, I suppose if I was out here humping I would want it to be for my own satisfaction, not someone else's," I countered. Blank, bored stare followed by a shaking of the head and increased fanning of a sweating brow. The woman got up out of her director's style chair. "I guess I'm just filled with innuendo and double entendres this afternoon," She was wearing a tie-dyed sun dress, which may have come from a couple of tents down, that clung to her body thanks to the damp summer air. Her hair was raven black with streaks of crimson and bronze, tied back in a ponytail. Her cheek bones were high and flushed from the heat, accenting deep, dark eyes. She stuck her hand out and introduced herself as Emma. "Hi Emma, I'm Mark, and I really do like your work." "Really, or is that just the line you feed to all of the starving artists out here." "Well, again, you're just about the only artist out here, and I only use that line on attractive, female impressionists." "So it's fresh material." "Basically." Most of Emma's paintings were of sea sides and landscapes, but what really caught my eye were a couple of boathouses featuring, old mahogany power boats, probably Chris Craft or Century. "My water period," she said when I probed deeper. "I spent a few summers in the La Cheneaux Islands in Michigan's upper peninsula on Lake Huron. Absolutely gorgeous about five months out of the year." The wind began to pick-up, knocking over a number of paintings, just in time for me to stop talking and making a fool of myself. I helped her tidy up the tent, and spent a few minutes looking around, seriously admiring her work. "What's this going to be?" I asked, pointing to some paint on a mostly empty canvass. "That Victorian home over there," Emma said, pointing across the street. "Beautiful colors and lines. I started it this afternoon after I got set up, but it got too hot." "Well if it's anything like the rest of your work it should be wonderful. I'll take it." "What," she said, shaking her head. "I don't even know if I'm going to finish it." "Well, you have to finish it if I'm going to buy it" "But why do you want something that you haven't even seen." "I've seen your work, and I like the subject matter. You're painting the town's bed and breakfast, which I happen to be part owner. Just then a gust of wind blew down the street, disrupting most of the tents and their wares, followed by an absolute deluge. "Shit," Emma yelped. "Where in the hell did this come from?" There was minor pandemonium as the fair-goers ran for cover, and the displayers grappled to keep merchandise dry and unbroken. "What can I do to help," I asked, as Emma scurried around with no apparent plan as the wind and the rain steadily picked up. "Shit, shit, shit. My van is about a half mile from here. This is a fucking nightmare," she yelled. "Take those paintings off the brackets, and let's put what we can under this plastic." Emma wasn't the only one cursing, as it seemed it was every peddler for themselves once the rain broke. The crowd had thinned out quickly, many probably into bars, restaurants and stores, others to their cars or homes. I gathered the paintings up as fast as I could, and Emma covered them one by one. A flash of lightening lit up a late afternoon that had become eerily dark, followed quickly by a clap of thunder. "That's awfully close," I said. "What do you think about hightailing it over to the B&B before we end up in Oz?" "Seriously, that's okay." "It's my place, and I don't think you have any better options." We grabbed a few paintings each, dashed across the street and put them in the foyer. "I'll go get some more while you dry these off. There's some paper towel in the kitchen." It wasn't letting up, and by the time I had returned for the third time water was collecting in the street, as the storm sewers couldn't take the massive amounts of rain. Emma trailed in behind me. "How many more?" "Just a few, I can get them." "Okay, I'm going to see about Linda," Emma said. "Who?" "Linda, the tie-dye queen. This is hers, and she's a friend of mine," she said as she tugged on her soaking wet sun dress. "You don't mind if I bring her over do you?" "No, not at all." I took the last of the paintings over to the B&B, and about ten minutes later two women in sopping wet tie-dye sun dresses hit the porch carrying large plastic storage containers. "Come in, come in. Hi, I'm Mark, you must be Linda. Is there anything else I can run over and get for you?" "No, no, this is great, thank you. Everything else is locked down in what is supposed to be water tight containers. I doubt if anybody is going to go around ripping people off during this monsoon. Once it stops, I'll head back over. Thanks for giving me a place to escape, it's quite lovely." Linda was the winner of the wet, tie-dyed sundress competition; that is if your one to go solely on a tight, slick fit over very large breasts. She was about ten years younger than I had Emma pegged for, stout, not chunky, with cropped red hair and a sunburst tattoo on her right shoulder. I was thinking lesbian. Emma had more of an athletic build, with nice breasts outlined in wet blue, orange, yellow and red waves, and a terrific ass. These two were definitely the most interesting pieces I've ever brought home from Art in the Park. "Now what?" said Emma, as she twisted off the band in on her pony-tail and shook out her hair. I had a couple of ideas. Kelly wouldn't be home for awhile, not that she would mind other than me not waiting for her, but passed on articulating them for the time being. "We're not fully functional yet, but the rooms are ready. Why don't you each go upstairs and find yourself a room, and grab a hot shower. There should be soaps, shampoo, and lotion, as well as robes in each of the baths. Please help yourself to the wine on the dresser." I futzed around in the kitchen a bit, and tried to tidy up. We were at least a month away from being able to open for the public, still hadn't received an occupancy permit, but the place was capable of handling a few guests. Kelly was still at the store. I texted her that we had guests, and to bring back some steaks and salmon, Romaine and other salad fixings. Probably more than what the so-called starving artists were going to have as it was. And speaking of them, I wondered where they were. It'd been about an hour since they headed upstairs, so I wandered up there to make sure everything was fine. The first door on the right was open, and I peered in. It looked like one of the two had been here, but no noise was coming from the bath area. I wandered around a bit before hearing some movement down the hall. I probably should have knocked, but I'm not sure it would have made any difference. Sliding my head inside the door I found my guests. Emma was sprawled out on the bed, each hand firmly clenching a clump of bed sheet and sporting a look that bordered between agony and ecstasy, as Linda, planted between her legs, deftly delivered what was causing the animation on Emma's face. Art in the Park Being somewhat of a voyeur, and being totally transfixed at the sight of the Sapphic sex going on right in front of me, I loitered for awhile to take in the action. Linda seemed to be working a finger in and out of Emma's pussy with one hand, while tweaking her nipples with the other. Emma's back was fully arched as she did what she could to thrust her pussy into Linda's face. Very audible growls, pants and sighs streamed out of Emma's mouth, and juicy liquid flowed from her twat as she came with a burst. She grabbed a pillow and covered her mouth, trying her best to mute the guttural cries of her orgasm. Linda kept at it, even as Emma tried to push her away with her free hand, and it sent the painter into another orgasmic spasm. Emma came louder than the first time, and squirted a bit more as she clamped her legs around Linda's head. Even with the muffle I could have heard that in the kitchen. If these two were game for a little fun, this was just what the doctor ordered for Kelly, as she had become a bit cranky lately because she was way overdue for her semi-annual girl-on-girl treat. Being a man servant to a muff-diving festival, however, wasn't on my docket for the weekend, and I slowly stepped away and down the hall, absolutely praying one, if not each of them, went both ways. Linda was the first to come downstairs, about 10-minutes later. She was stoic, and one couldn't tell if she had just been having sex, or doing her taxes. "Gee, do you need any tie-dyes?" I had taken prints off the walls throughout the lower level, and replaced them with some of Emma's paintings. She really was very good, and her work fit the room nicely. Linda stood at the foot of the stairs admiring the paintings. She was wrapped in one of the B&B's robes, though not snuggly, apparently more than comfortable with flaunting her splendid cleavage. In one hand she had an empty bottle of wine, in the other an almost empty glass. She walked up behind me, gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek, and said, "Thanks again for giving us shelter from the storm." Turning to say, "You're welcome," I had a tongue in my mouth before any words came out. Ah, my favorite two tastes, Cabernet and pussy. Linda pulled away from me, sipped the last wine from her cup, and said, "There must be something I can do to repay you. Now let me think." Okay, things are headed in the right direction. "Hey, I found him first," Emma said as she came down the stairs in a marginally tied robe as well, and trying to hide the fact that she had just been eaten-out to within an inch of her life. "No, I actually found him first," said Kelly, as she walked into the room from the kitchen to find two robe-clad, breast baring, damp women holding wine glasses. "Is this what you got me at the art fair? You shouldn't have." Linda and Emma were somewhat taken back, I guess my overtures wouldn't have suggested there would be a female present, but after a few awkward moments and introductions the mood lightened. "What's this?" Emma asked, as noticed the walls were filled with her paintings, "Like I said, I like your work. And these go well here." "You want all of them?" "The ones on the wall, plus a couple of others I've set aside, as long as Kelly concurs. They are for sale, are they not." "Of course, but this is a bit unusual." She scooted up to give me a kiss, but stopped to short and glanced over to Kelly for some type of approval. Kelly nodded, then added, "I don't mind if you give him a peck on cheek, but if someone bought all of my work in one swoop, I'd think a blow job would be in order, at the least." There we nervous chuckles before Emma gave me a nice little kiss. "No, I was serious, I think you should give him a blow job," Kelly said. "That's probably a lot of money on those walls, not that I'm suggesting that you're a hooker or anything, but a hummer would be an appropriate gesture of gratitude." Kelly then grabbed Linda by the hand and said, "Let's go start dinner, and whatever else crosses our minds." After they left the room there was a spot of nervous silence. Emma finally said, "Is she serious?" "Pretty much." "What type of relationship do you two have?" "Different, but very solid. We like sex, a lot, and find that engaging with other people from time to time keeps things fresh. By the way, I love your paintings, so don't feel as though you need to reciprocate in any way. I mean, you don't need to blow me for crying out loud." "Before I knew there was a Kelly, I was planning on doing a hell of a lot more than that." "As you can see, she not only doesn't mind, but is encouraging it, though there's probably a catch." "And what's that?" Emma inquired. "She's sort of got this quid pro quo theory of sexual dalliances. If you do me, she feels she should be able to do you." "I can live with that," Emma said as she let her robe slide off her shoulders onto the floor. "I think it's time to say thanks." Emma's breasts swayed as she led me over to the sofa. I sat down and she removed my shorts and underwear, and began to bring my penis to life with tiny kisses and nibbles on the tip. She stopped for a moment and asked, "So, what do you think is going to happen in the kitchen?" "My money says dinner's going to be late, because Kelly hasn't been with a woman in about six months, and is long overdue. And based on what I saw going on in your room, Linda's probably on board." "Oh my, you saw us?" "I went to see how you two were doing, and you were doing just fine. I watched you come a few times, and came back down here." "You naughty boy," Emma scolded as she returned to my cock. She lathered it up with spit, pumped it with her fist, and sucked on my nob. It was a rather sloppy blow job, nothing wrong with that, as opposed to Kelly's tight, suction oriented approach. "After seeing you upstairs I'm a little surprised you're so inclined to do what you're doing. I really don't want you to feel obligated in any way." Emma stopped again, "What's wrong, don't you like?" "Oh no, that feels great," I said as I ran my fingers in her hair. "It's just..." "It's just that I was with a woman? Well you know what they say about artists. And besides, it seems like your girl friend didn't waste any time scurrying away Linda. You must be used to it." "Hey, no worries here." I guided Emma's mouth back to my dick and relaxed back against the sofa. She bobbed up and down for a minute or so then stopped. "Like I said, I was planning on doing a hell of a lot more. I hope your girl friend didn't expect me to stop with a blow job." Emma placed her robe underneath me and joined me on the sofa. "Hate to stain you're pretty furniture." And facing me, slowly guided my well lubricated cock into her sopping pussy. "I don't know what it is," Emma said as she began to grind her pelvis into me. "But after I have sex with a woman I get so horny for cock that I can't stand it." Emma's breasts were modest in size, but sported prodigious areolas with nipples like baby carrots. She lifted and squeezed them with both hands before leaning forward and feeding me the right one. I sucked on it like I was taking mother's milk, while finessing the other one with my hand. "That feels so good," Emma said while increasing her pace atop my cock. Her breathing deepened as mini quakes ran through her body. She pulled my head tighter to her chest, urging me to take as much of her breast into my mouth as I could. Emma got into a nice rhythm while I clamped down on her boobs. As her paced picked up, so did her vocal expressions of pleasure, though this time she didn't even try to muffle her excitement. Emma was a loud fuck, and didn't mind letting everyone else in the house know she was enjoying herself immensely. She held me tight while riding up and down on my dick, her juices flowing over my legs. Emma's breathing accelerated, like a runner trying to gasp air while trudging up-hill. She paused for a second, then startled me by slamming herself down on my cock. Emma screamed out as her body shook with a fierce orgasm. Emma held me tight as little waves of electric pulses shot through her. "Wow," was all she could muster, as she finally exhaled and opened her eyes. "Wow is right," I said, finally catching a normal breath myself. Emma brushed her hair away from her face and leaned back, her hands bracing behind her. "I told you I needed some cock." "Never doubted you." "Did you come," she sheepishly asked. "No, I was too busy trying to digest your breast." She giggled, still coming down from her orgasm, "Sorry." "Don't apologize, that was wonderful." "Do you want to come? "Any guy who answers 'no' to that question is lying." "I would hope so," Emma said as she rolled off me onto the sofa. "But before we continue, I need some hydration. As you can tell, I tend to lose a lot fluid when I have sex." "How does lemonade sound," I asked. "Great, better yet with some vodka in it, if it's not too much to ask." "We're in the hospitality business. Your wish is our command." "Hey wait, what do think is going on in there?" Emma asked. "They're either making a Caesar salad or making love. Either way, I'm going to get us something to drink." "Do you want to put your pants back on?" "No, I'm fine. Kelly has seen me, and I'm sure Linda knows what one looks like." "Linda's not a total dyke," Emma said, getting more comfortable on the sofa. "She's had an on again, off again thing with Bobby, the license plate guy in the booth across from her, for about ten years. I just think she's more of a sexual opportunist, and being bisexual doubles your opportunities." "What about you," I asked. I wasn't totally interested in their pasts, but since Emma brought it up. "I started out straight, which sounds fairly strange, and still consider myself that way." "But," I interjected. "But I have a hard time saying no to Linda." "Really?" "The first time I roomed with her was in Cincinnati a couple of years ago. We went out for quick dinner. A couple of bottles of wine later I found myself in the same position you caught me in earlier. The only difference is that Bobby was taking her from behind while she went down on me." "Hmmm, who'd a thunk it?" "Then of course I had to have Bobby, which she was more than happy to share. My first lesbian experience and threesome, all in one fell swoop." "Go big or go home." "Speaking of big, Bobby's cock is huge, but anyway, playing around wasn't my style at all, but there's something about her that brings out an entirely different person. And boy, she gives really, really good head," Emma said. "I mean you saw us, she almost had me on the ceiling. And Bobby says she's the best cocksucker he's ever been with, and like I said, he's huge. I guess she's orally gifted." "Sounds like a great guy, that Bobby," I said. "So, just Linda, or do you play the field a bit?" "God, I can't believe I'm telling you this," Emma said as her cheeks flushed red. "Okay, there have been two others. Always at shows, and Linda always had something to do with it. She's a party girl." "Hey, everybody loves a party." "Well, if things keep going like they are, I'm sure she'll be turning this weekend into that and more. Now go get me something to drink." I was still semi-erect when I walked into the kitchen, hoping to come across another lesbian love scene, but I was disappointed—no one there. I hadn't heard them go upstairs. Hmmm. We had lemons, but no lemonade. Given that Emma was satiated, I figured I could take some time and make some up. It took me a few minutes, but now we had a fresh pitcher of ice cold lemonade, and vodka, don't forget the vodka. When I returned to the parlor I found the missing pair. Kelly and Linda must have worked their way through the back of the house, and wandered in upon my freshly fucked friend. Emma had covered herself, somewhat, with a throw on the sofa, and Kelly and Linda were comfortably snuggled on a loveseat opposite the sofa, each with full glass of wine. "Emma tells us she thanked you for buying her paintings, but said something about you not coming, pity," said my sneering girlfriend. "It's just...," I started to say. "She said you must be getting old," Kelly continued. "I didn't say that," Emma countered. "She looks like she's a hell of a lay, so it can't be her," Kelly said. "She is a hell of a lay," Linda said. "Is that so?" Kelly said with an alluring glance over at Emma as she clinked her wine glass together with Linda's. "You know Emma, he did have a pretty good orgasm about two hours ago, but men of a certain age have a difficult time rebounding, even with a gorgeous woman like you. Don't take it personally," Kelly continued to prod. "I'm not of a certain age. I was just being a gentleman," I said. "I don't think he looks that old," Linda said. "And that cock is looking pretty appetizing. I bet I can get him to come." "No worries here," said Kelly. "If you do get him to come, make him promise to buy all of your tie-died tee-shirts." "Have at him," said Emma. Linda dropped her robe off her shoulders, and beckoned me with her index finger to make my way over to her. My dick started to twitch just with the thought of getting sucked, and I put the lemonade on the coffee table and walked over to the loveseat. Linda carried a bit more weight than the other two, but it definitely enhanced the fullness to her breasts. They were big, inviting oval orbs that a guy, or a girl, could lose themselves within for days. I didn't mess with pretense, and stepped right up to her so my cock was mouth level at her face. This didn't faze her a bit, and she gobbled me up and began sucking with earnest, fisting my dick and feeding it into her mouth, while rolling my balls around her free fingers. Kelly leaned over to get an up close and personal look, along with playing with Linda's boobs. Emma, spent and content, stayed on the couch poured herself a drink. Linda took my cock from her mouth, and ran it over her breasts, flicking her nipples a few times, and letting Kelly lean over and play with it for a minute or so. My girlfriend briefly sucked in the head and twirled her tongue around the tip, which was growing increasingly sensitive, then gave me a little bite before letting Linda take over again. Pussy-eating aside, Linda also knew how to suck cock. She held me firm at the base with her thumb and index finger, and slowly and confidently worked her way up and down my shaft. When she took in all of me, she lingered there a bit, subtly emphasizing that she was in fact deep-throating me and that perhaps I should be impressed. I almost came when I was fucking Emma, and about five minutes into this I began to feel an orgasm building in my legs. I reached down and grabbed one of her breasts; partially kneading and playing with it, partially for balance. She had a sense that I was getting close, and began to pump me with her hand along with bobbing on the upper portion of my cock. Slurping and slobbering noises filled the room, accompanied with my intermittent panting and gasps. "Oh, Linda, I'm gonna,,," Too late, as I shot stream of jism into her mouth before I could properly alert her. It caught her somewhat by surprise, though I don't know why, cum shooting out of my dick was pretty much the purpose of this exercise, and she gagged a bit; a glob of seaman trickled down over her chin. She pulled me out of her mouth, but to her credit kept jerking my cock, though aiming me slightly more south. My next blast banked off Kelly's cheek, who was still feasting on Linda's luscious fun bags, and I finished by pasting those delicious melons with three or four more streams of hot sticky cum. "Whew, oh boy," I mumbled as I stepped back a bit and took a seat next to Emma on the sofa. Kelly wiped her face with her forefinger, and made an absolute production of cleaning off her finger with her tongue. She then returned to Linda's boobs and massaged my spunk around her breasts, intermittently attacking Linda's nipples with her teeth. "How was it?" Emma quietly asked while leaning up against me. "You're right, she gives great head." I said reaching for a lemonade and vodka cocktail. "Told you," Emma said, fiddling with my well spent cock with her fingers. I nodded toward my girlfriend, who was licking my cum off Linda's chest. "Kelly's just been dying to get some pussy, and it appears her wish is going to come true. I think you'll be impressed with what you're about to see." "I don't mind watching, but this party has definitely started, and sooner or later I'm going to want to have some for myself," Emma responded. "All in good time."