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Five

By: MRawn



The bell on the door jingles, welcoming me to the domain of men. Sent here on instruction, and I hoped to a god I didn't believe in that I was in the right place.

Master didn't tell me any details other than to show up and do whatever I'm told.

It was dark, dingy, and stank of sweat. The rows of movies were too close together to avoid a second glance, and the movies seemed to have been thrown onto the shelves.

My tank top begins to stick to my skin. The heat of the place intensifies the claustrophobic feeling.

"Can I help yew?" a man drawls from behind the counter. His eyes graze over my body, slowly, casually. I'm made conscious of my legs, wholly naked but for the tube top used as a scandalously short skirt.

"Er, yes. I'm supposed to ask about the back room?"

He jerks his chin upward, indicating a door in the back right corner of the shop. 

I'd stutter out a thank you, but adrenaline floods my system. My legs feel at once cold and heavy. The carpet, trying to snag my heels, is full of holes and suspicious-looking stains.

I open the door into complete darkness and turn around, confused. The clerk at the front waves me on.

I'm not three steps in before the door is closed. 

Blackness. Silence. The smell of sweat is even more pervasive, and it's mingled with the musk of sex. No, not sex- hard, loveless fucking.

A warm hand slides from my ankle to mid-thigh, and I instinctively start to spread my legs. I feel, rather than hear, a chuckle at my ear.

A tongue, now. Flat and a bit rough, it slides up my neck. It's on the other side of my head from whomever is at my ear.

My heart beats in my clit, sharp and insistent. Every cell in my brain is telling me I should be scared, that I should want to run for the door; every cell in my body is screaming for me to stay.

Another hand cups the underside of my left breast, and already I can smell my pussy juice. I wonder just how many men are here.

My pupils try to contract to the back of my eyes. I hastily try to focus, but the light is too bright. My body is lifted up and set rather roughly on a thick wooden table.

Before the blindfold is placed over my eyes, I count five men, all black, all completely clothed. One holds a video camera up, a grin peeping out from underneath it.

Blackness again. Feet scratching against the floor, whispered words I can't quite make out. Hands grasp my knees and force them apart. Air hits my pussy, the coolness revealing just how wet I am. My wrists are jerked to either side of the table, my arms perpendicular to my body.

The hands on my knees inch upwards, excruciatingly slowly. Thick fingers grasp one of my nipples, twisting cruelly. I let out a whimper and another hand slaps me across the face.

My legs are spread wider than they were before, but of my own volition. The hands are at the very top of my thighs, just barely brushing the place I want them most. I hear a low moan, and realize it's coming from me.

The fingertips leave and are replaced with a wad of spit. Now both of my nipples are being pinched so tightly I feel as if they'll come off. Two fingers are shoved into my pussy, quick and rough. Little streaks of tension sweep downward from my breasts and upward from my pussy, contracting my stomach and slightly lifting my shoulders from the table. 

Another slap to the face, matching one to my right breast. I'm not even trying to disguise my arousal at this point. My breath comes in shallow gasps, my mouth hangs ajar, and I think my pussy is dripping- and not just from the spit.

"Little whore," someone breathes into my neck before biting it.

My left hand, still hanging from the edge of the table, is nudged open. A dick slides against my palm, and I automatically wrap my fingers around it. I hate to say it, but the stereotype is true. I doubt I could close my hand if I really tried.

The hand withdraws from my pussy and is held to my lips. I'm too far gone by this point to try to hold some ounce of coyness. My tongue savors the taste of my own pussy juice, along with the foreign taste of a stranger's hand.

The smooth roundness of a cock parts my pussy lips, searching for the hole. Another one rubs against my lips, and I open my mouth to accept it just as the other slides in. Another set of hands slap my breasts, over and over.

My consciousness switches from my mouth to my pussy. My mouth distends, trying to fit it in, my tongue swirling around the head, stroking the underside. The cock at my pussy feels so delicious, and every time he withdraws, it's as if I'm trying to draw him back in.

What is the most pleasurable is not the merciless pounding away at my cunt or throat, but the barely audible sigh of pleasure as the cock in my hand pumps warm semen onto my hand.

The cock in my pussy is roughly withdrawn and a slightly thicker one takes its place. I'm sucking on the one in my mouth with all of my might, feeling it getting harder and harder. It, too, withdraws, and my chest is suddenly covered with slightly oozing, slightly sticky cum.

I can't control the feeling inside of me, like I'm crazily spiraling upwards. My chest is coated, a huge cock is pounding me so roughly my hips are lifted from the table, and I bring my hand to my mouth to suck it clean.

"Slut." A low growl. My pussy is empty, save for the cum dribbling out of it onto the table.

The room won't stop spinning, and I can't seem to catch my breath. The blindfold is removed, but I keep my eyes shut, hearing the door open and close.

Laying there, the prickly feeling of wetness drying on my chest and pussy, I realize that I'm utterly satisfied. In a relaxed state of peace.

Maybe there's something to be said about adult bookstores after all.

Five



Five 

15. Slovakian food for five, and then a rousing game of Scrabble. 

Spring, the second year

Lifting my head, I see my love coming toward me across the bed on her hands and knees. Her face glows wetly, covered with Amy's cream. My mouth hangs open in a silent scream of passion and our eyes meet. She is so gorgeous, tendrils of her dark hair plastered to her wet face.

Beneath me, Karl lifts, driving his cock higher up into my pussy, even as Tom moves too, his own cock going in and out of my ass. I can't move much like this, being at the mercy of the cocks thrusting in and out of me.

Yana's lips cover mine as she kisses me. I taste Amy.

The orgasm that has been teasing me for the last few minutes rises up to its height and I have to break the kiss to scream. Karl cries out too, pushing up into me and holding still as he too comes. Tom, my sweet, Tom, clutches my hips and draws my ass onto his cock, speeding up now, anxious to join me in rapture. I cry out with pleasure again, clutching Yana's face and pulling her to my lips again, sharing with her too as Tom grunts and spews inside of me. 

I can't move. Slowly, gingerly, Yana and I part, and I scrape the stiff tips of my breasts over Karl's chest as I fall forward limply, and I kiss him too, feeling Yana's heavy boobs graze my back before she stretches to Tom kiss as well.

The bed moves again as Amy stretches out next to her boyfriend, joining me in kissing Karl. I taste Yana on her as she and I touch our mouths together.

This is all her fault.

Or maybe it is Karl's. Does it matter?

They'd joined us for dinner. Yana cooked Slovakian food. The meal was heavy, leaving us all languid. Afterwards, we played Scrabble, which Yana is surprisingly good at, despite English being a second language. I was enjoying myself and our company. Yana looked beautiful in very short shorts and a mid-drift baring blouse with daring décolletage. The girl knows how to dress her chest. Tom was tall and handsome in hiking shorts and one of his outdoor travel shirts. Our guests looked good together. Karl is even taller than Amy, which is so nice for her. She looked beautiful and happy with her new lover. Over Capris, she wore a cute little sleeveless top that hugged her chest provocatively. Karl was, in contrast to Tom, more fashionably dressed and he seemed quite charming.

Sometime during the game, Karl made some silly, but inevitable comment about bisexual women. Part of the reason the Yana, Tom and I were comfortable inviting the two of them over was that we felt they would accept our triad. And they do. It was so nice to be ourselves around others who didn't judge us. Karl wasn't trying to be stupid. Being stupid just comes so naturally.

"Of course," he had begun, "bisexuality in woman is almost fashionable anymore, isn't it?" 

How had it even come up?

Amy rolled her eyes. Tom didn't say a word.

"Fashionable?" asked Yana. After the months she had spent fighting her attraction to me because homosexuality—even if called bisexuality—is hardly fashionable. 

Karl went on. "Sure. We see it in movies. Television. Advertising. For a woman to make love to another woman is hardly even risqué anymore."

Yana snorted. "Tell that to my parents."

"What about you, Kelly? Do your parents know you like girls?" 

I nodded. "My mother knows." We had had quite the long talk about it.

Yana fought for her own answer. "I want to tell them. I love Gelly. I love Tom too. Love is not a fashion. But my parents are so conventional. And Catholic." She faltered, trying to deal with the very idea of confiding in her parents about her sexuality. And why? Shouldn't they love her first? Ofv course, things are not so simple. 

Amy spoke finally, seething under the surface. I could see the heat in Yana too. "Karl, you may think that bisexuality in women is trendy and popular, but could you deal with the reality of it?

"What do you mean?"

"Beyond the male fantasy? Could you love a woman who is bisexual?" Amy probed.

I shuddered. Apparently he didn't know.

Karl tried to give the very best politically correct answer. Of course he could, if he and the woman truly felt a bond. 

"Bullshit," Amy countered.

"How is that bullshit?"

"Would you want her to bring home other girls for the two of you to fuck? Would you allow her to be herself? What would you expect to define your relationship? If you loved her, would you want her to be promiscuous? What is she wanted to have sex with other women without you? What if she wanted to be monogamous? Would you bug her about having a three-way? What if she wanted affairs? Would you demand she be monogamous, for you?"

She was flustered and repeating herself. 

Karl allowed as how he would not mind trying a threesome sometime.

I think all of us laughed at that. It started roughly, then managed to break the tension.

But Amy was on her feet, pacing. I knew she was torn up. They hadn't been dating long. Most men think they would love to have a bi girlfriend, but not many can handle it. There often comes an awkward point where the threesome prospect comes up. Being bisexual doesn't necessarily mean that the woman is going to want to invite other women into her relationship with a man or a man into her relationship with a woman. There is the jealousy, the insecurity, the doubt. I went through all of that when Tom and I gotten back together again to form our first triad with Lindsay. He had dumped me the year before and all. Of course, now I understood that was all just a horrible miscommunication, but I had been hurt, and I wondered during our first months together if he loved me or if he loved having two girlfriends.

He does love me. I know that now. Tom is smart and charming and talented and I love him for the intensity he brings to everything we do together. He genuinely cares, we talk and talk, and when he is not around, I feel like part of me is missing. With Yana now our lover, that sense of completion has bloomed into an almost overwhelming sense of satisfaction. 

The thing was, now, with Yana and Tom and I settling in to our happy little ménage a trois, I was still thinking about doing it with others. That bothered me. How could I be so in love and crave mere physical sensation. Some part of me was a voyeur, and I wanted to see Yana making love to another woman. I also liked fantasizing about having more than one man again. We three had talked about it. It made great intellectual fodder while sitting around naked together, conjuring up images of ever expanding group sex. Yana loves to fuck almost more than any other woman I have ever known. And Tom loves women. Adores them.

Still, I was a little taken aback at what happened next.

"Fine," Amy said finally, her seething anger finally overflowing. She tugged Yana to her feet, then wrapped her arms around her and held her close, and lowered her lips to Yana's as their bodies pressed together. Yana was surprised and startled, her body stiff at first, but then she relaxed and let Amy kiss her. She even moaned.

Amy tossed her head back, dark hair dancing as she looked down at Karl. Yana just kind of hung in her arms with her eyes closed.

"Guess what, Karl," she seethed. "Your girlfriend is bisexual."

Amy looked to Tom and me as we sat on the couch, the forgotten Scrabble game on the table before us. She had been with us both several times, a few months earlier, before Yana gave up pretending she was not in love with us and moved in during winter break. But Yana had not been with any other woman but me. I knew what Amy was asking. I cringed at the thought. But that thought excited me too.

What would Yana do?

Amy turned back, kissing my girlfriend again, making love to her with her mouth. Slowly, they sank into the loveseat, with Yana giving no indication she wanted Amy to stop. Their arms flowed around one another, softly touching, trailing over the lushness of another womanly body. Yana parted her legs to let Amy slip between them, pressing more ardently to her.

Breaking the kiss again, Amy turned to Karl. "And my parents don't know." Her fingers began to open Yana's blouse. Drawing it away, she exposed Yana's bra and the swell of her breasts. Dipping her head, she began to kiss her exposed flesh.

Coming up onto her knees, she turned to Karl again. "I want you to watch. Find the answer to some of those questions. Can you love a bisexual woman?"

Yana was looking at Tom and me. Her blue eyes were thick with excitement. They were full of questions. I rose from the couch and moved to her, brushing her brown hair from her face and looking deeply into her eyes. I kissed her. The kiss said everything. She wanted this.

I slipped away as Amy opened Yana's shorts. My girlfriend lifted her hips so another woman could draw them down her legs.

Moving to Karl, I led him back the couch and sat down again, Karl on one side, Tom on the other. Amy was standing, pushing down her Capris and wiggling out of them. Looking over her shoulder, she bent, dragged her panties down and off of her full round ass and stepped lightly out of them. Yana was wriggling out of her bra and blouse as Amy sank to her knees again and helped her out of her panties.

Karl gasped as he saw Yana's boobs for the first time. I leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. Before us, Amy lowered her lips to Yana once more, kissing her here, there and everywhere. Her hair dragged across the other woman's now naked flesh, contrasting sharply with the color and texture of her skin. Teeth scored the delicate flesh of nipples, drawing then up higher and harder.

My hands dropped into the laps of the two men. Both were hard. I caressed them together through their clothes, and I felt Tom press to me, his lips on my neck as one hand unbuttoned my shirt and slipped beneath it to fondle my breast. "What are you up to?" he breathed. He knew.

Watching my girlfriend being licked by Amy made me gasp. The sight excited and scared me. Slipping from the couch to the floor, I felt my shirt pulling from my jeans and my bare back scraping the upholstery. I turned, looking from one man to the other, my hands finding their hard cocks again.

All those horrible emotions were there again. Jealousy, fear, insecurity. Both Yana and Amy are curvy, while I am slender. Yana's boobs make men gasp. Amy is so beautiful. I opened Karl's jeans. Tom slipped off his shorts. It had been over a year since he had shared me with another man. We weren't in our relationship then, we were just fucking. He knew I had liked it. I told him I liked it. I liked it a lot. So much so that I had done it again without him, though he didn't know that. 

We exchanged a glance. He read my eyes and the lust in them. He knew what I wanted. He smiled and I loved him so much for that smile.

Tossing back my long, calico hair, I took Karl into my mouth. Cock-sucking is my forte. My turn to make him gasp. Pressing my lips to his lovely hard shaft, I drew back, feeling the length of him, and then I took him back in again, letting him feel my tongue laving him as my mouth surrounded him. I just love sucking cock. I love the feel of the stiffness passing my lips, the spongy head pressing to the roof of my mouth, going further even. I plunged my face down onto Karl.

Tom's cock was hard and thick and long in my hand, and I drew my fingers up and down on him as I fellated Karl. He leaned forward to help me out of my shirt and shorts, leaving me in nothing at all but my panties. Behind me, I heard the sound of my girlfriend coming.

Releasing Karl, I moved to take Tom in my mouth. I had only done that once before with Tom, moving from another man to suck him. I felt myself twitching as I did. Each cock felt so different under my tongue. Each was unique, hard and urgent.

I heard a rustle of movement behind me. Yana and Amy rearranged themselves, and I heard the familiar sounds of Amy in arousal. I wanted to turn and look, to see Yana, the woman I loved, licking another woman's pussy. I didn't know that was what she was doing. She might have been kissing Amy and using her fingers. But I wanted to think she was licking.

I let Tom fall from my mouth and turned to see. Amy was kneeling on the loveseat, back arched, her pussy pressed to my Yana's mouth. Yana's hands were holding tight to the swell of Amy's ass as her tongue lapped at the other woman's sex. The back of the loveseat was crushed under Amy's curled fingers as she hung on tightly and cried out in her excitement. Her lovely breasts rose and fell as she breathed, their nipples pointing. 

I took Karl back into my mouth, sucking teasingly, not wanting him to come, just wanting him excited and hard as he watched my girlfriend lick his girlfriend. Tom's cock glided under my fingers as he too watched one of the woman he loved make love to a woman he too had made love with. I took my time with the men, letting them revel in the exhibition before them.

Amy came with a cry and a mummer. I got to my feet and held out a hand to each man. They rose from the couch together, and I turned, catching their outstretched hands and led them to the bedroom. Once there, I stripped the covers from the bed and drew Karl forward.

"You said you wanted to try a threesome sometime," I whispered to him as I settled him on the bed. 

"I meant..."

My panties fluttered down my thighs as I rid myself of the last thing I wore. I knew what he meant. Silly boy.

"Wow."

I looked down, following his eyes. My mound looks nice bare, but I think it was the ring in my clit that he was wowing. Crawling up his body, I straddled him and let my pussy lips slip up and down the length of his shaft. I was quite wet from having sucked him and Tom. And hearing and seeing Yana and Amy making love certainly helped make me as wet as I was.

Rolling my hips, I teased the head of his cock between my lips, almost letting him in, and then coming up again. Tom fumbled in the drawer of the nightstand, found what he was looking for, and climbed onto the bed. Kneeling beside us, he took my face in his hands and kissed me so tenderly. I stopped moving over Karl and enjoyed the sweetness of that kiss. As we parted, he mouthed, "I love you," to me.

I reached between my legs and found Karl's cock and touched him to my pussy again. Tom laid his hands softly on my shoulders and pushed down. Karl slipped into me. I lifted, coming down again, taking him deeper. As I rose up the third time, Tom kissed me again, and I slammed down onto Karl.

Oh, my, my.

I rode Karl, loving the sensation of his hardness inside of me. I rolled my hips as I came down, catching the bliss of the tug on my clit ring as I ground against the base of his cock. Falling forward, I kissed him, suddenly aware that we hadn't kissed before. It was a nice kiss, hungry and afire. 

Rising up on my arms, I felt Tom's cock graze my cheek. I only had to turn my head and open my mouth to take him inside of me once again. Why did this excite me so? Having a man in my pussy and one in my mouth? What kind of girl am I?

All too soon, but not soon enough too, Tom took his cock from my mouth. I had coated it thickly, wanting him wet too. Then he was behind me, a tickle of lubricant dabbing to my ass. His finger pushed the lube into my hole. I cried out at the sting of being opened. More lube, then the tip of his cock touching me. Beneath us, Karl stopped fucking me, and my nails dug into his shoulders as Tom pushed against me there. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I tried to push myself onto him. Easing, I moved forward. Karl came out of me, almost to the tip, and I slammed back down again, feeling the head of Tom's cock pummeling at my dark star. He stretched me, opened me, and with a surge, filled me. I cried out, the sensation of the length of him inside of me making me shudder. Drawing back, he grabbed my hips and let me breathe, and then he pulled me onto his cock, going all the way in this time as I slammed down hard onto Karl.

Oh, my, my.

I pressed my heated body to Karl's. We were both damp with perspiration and our bodies slipped lightly on one another as Tom's fucking of my ass drove me slickly over Karl. My little breasts slid against the hair of his chest, my nipples scratched by it. That was odd feeling. Tom has almost no hair on his chest.

As Tom established a rhythm, Karl matched it, both cocks moving in and out of me together. Lifting up, I offered my damp nipples to Karl's lips and tongue, my own mouth hanging open from the intensity of the sensation of the cocks drilling inside of me. What kind of girl am I?

The bed shifted, and I looked up to see Yana crawling across it to me. Her dark hair clung damply to her face, but her smile was broad and wanton. Karl slammed into me, his orgasm near, and he and Tom drew out of me together, then I held still as they sped up their thrusts. Yana kissed me, her mouth thick with the taste of Amy.

I came, loudly enough to wake the neighbors. My lungs exploded as I took deep, shredded gasps and tried to live. Underneath me, Karl came with me, bucking his hips to drive his cock high up inside of me as he did. I cried out again, and Yana kissed me, her tongue slipping in my mouth, wriggling. Somehow, I was holding her face in my hands, letting the kiss go on. I rolled my hips, pressing my clit and her ring hard to Karl, and I came again, feeling Tom coming too this time, gasping and breathing hard behind me.

We held still then, the four of us, letting me live again. The men went soft inside of my body as our breath returned. Tom stayed in me as long as he could, knowing I crave that, but all too soon my ass pushed him out. He drew away to fall heavily on the other side of Yana. The two of them rolled into each other's arms, kissing, loving one another. Amy was there beside Karl, her long, lush body pressed tightly to his as I kissed him. Lifting her head, she joined the kiss. Gingerly, I lifted from Karl and slipped over Amy's outstretched body to lie behind her. Her skin seemed cool on mine.

Reaching over her, I cupped one of her full breasts, my lips playing lightly on her neck as I fondled her. She pressed her bottom to me, rolling against my wet thighs.

I wondered if anything we had just done would answer Karl's stupid assumptions or Amy's hard questions. Would it make it any easier for Yana to tell her parents in Slovakia that she was in love with a woman? And a man? 

The five of us lay contentedly in the afterglow of sex for a time. There was little talking, but I wondered what each was thinking.

Amy shifted and rolled over into my arms, crushing her breasts on my own as she kissed me. Reaching behind her, she took Karl's soft cock in her fingers, stroking him gently with my cream that coated him. Tom left the bed for a moment, and in his absence, I felt the bed shift as Yana moved over Karl and let Amy feed his coated cock into her mouth.

Coming up on my knees, I straddled Amy's face, lowering my pussy to her mouth. Her tongue slid over my lips, flicked my ring before she moved down again. The bed moved as Tom returned, his cock clean, and Yana cried out, muffled by Karl's cock in her mouth as Tom slid into her pussy from behind. Oh, Yana! My darling. I opened my eyes to see her fucking two men at once for the very first time. I crushed my breasts under my hands, dragging my nails across my naked flesh at the sight, at the very thought. 

"Yana, I love you."

She lifted her mouth from Karl's cock and came up on her hands to kiss me as I sat on Amy's face and she licked her boyfriend's cum from my pussy. "I love you too, Gelly."

Shifting slightly, we opened Amy's long legs and Yana began to lap at her as I bent from atop Amy to suck Karl.

At one time, I raised my mouth from Karl to look at the naked tableau on my bed. Tom fucking our beloved Yana, Yana licking our dear friend Amy. Amy with her tongue now scooping Tom's cum from my butt, and before me, Karl, Amy's boyfriend, now my lover too with his hard cock rising so splendidly before me, wet and beautiful.




Five



What kind of girl am I? Does it matter?

I lowered my head again and slipped Karl's hard cock between my lips again, feeling how stiff and velvety soft he was on my tongue as I wrapped it around his shaft as I bobbed my head up and down on him. 



Five



I've never been a big fan of weddings. I liked my own okay, but I completely didn't follow tradition. I won't go to them anymore, unless they're for someone I really like.

So when Maggie's invitation came that she was marrying her long-time beau Guy in his hometown Montreal, I sighed a long sigh. Maggie, a close friend from my former life as a career-oriented woman, was one of the people I adored enough to put up with bad buffet food, air travel and sitting at a table with people that I don't know for six hours, so that I could be present on her day of bliss.

I'd fly in Friday and fly out Sunday. I was dying to get away from the house as it was, so the invitation came at an opportune time.

The wedding was taking place at an old inn in Vieux Montreal. I had never been to Montreal before, so I was looking forward to exploring. Instead of staying at the usual large American hotel chain downtown, I opted for an independent boutique hotel closer to the inn. The web site for the Hotel St. Paul was pretty swank. 

When the cab arrived at the hotel, I felt excited to be in a new place. The building had been gutted and glammed up on the inside but left the old school façade on the street. The staff was all amazingly bilingual as I watched them interact with guests in person and on the phone. Once I got checked in, I went up to my room. I'd lucked out that weekend and somehow got upgraded to a queen suite on the top floor overlooking the street in front of the hotel. 

The room was kind of a muted brown/gray with a bright red bedspread on a dark wooden bed. Plus, the large loft windows had giant, dark brown wooden blinds. I pulled them back and let in the late afternoon sunlight. The windows were so large that they had a ledge running across in front of them that I could sit in and look down on all the people scurrying around on the sidewalk below. 

The bathroom was very modern. It had a sunken rectangle tub and a square sink bowl with square faucet handles. I really wanted to soak in that tub and then drink an espresso in the fluffy hotel robe while sitting in my windowsill reading a book for the rest of the night, but I had to get dressed for a pre-wedding party.

That Friday night, the Maggie and Guy were having a get together for a small group of close friends and family so the two sides could mingle. I guess I qualified since Maggie and I spent more time together in the five years we worked together than she saw Guy during that time. The cookout was being held at Guy's brother's house on the west end of town on Monkland Avenue.

I changed out of my grubby travel clothes and into a light lavender skirt and white twin sweater set. I looked rather domesticated, but I was comfortable, which as I get older is more important to me than a lot of other things. I applied a little make up, brushed my hair, slipped on my low-heeled sandals and was ready to go. 

On the cab ride over, I got to see many beautiful old homes. Most of them were duplexes of one kind or another, and they were separated into different neighborhoods mostly by economic status. The cab stopped in front of a small, brick duplex with a one-car garage. I paid the driver, thanked him and stepped out onto the curb.

I had gotten used to going to things like this alone a long time ago. My spouse's work kept him on the road most weeks out of the year, and now with a baby at home, we played a lot of tag team parenting. This was his weekend to make sure the baby didn't forget who he was, while I was off remembering who I was before becoming Mommy. It was good for them. I wanted our child to be able to trust and find comfort in his father, and I wanted his father to appreciate what it's like to be home with a baby, even if it was just 48 hours.

I knocked on the door, and it swung open. Guy's brother Marc answered, welcomed me in and introduced himself. "There's a buffet in the dining room; everyone is either in the basement playing pool or out in the backyard having a beer. Please make yourself at home."

I thanked him and went to the back porch. I saw the grandmothers sitting alone in folding chairs underneath a rental tent, the kids running around screaming and playing tag and my friend's soon-to-be mother bemoaning having to travel to the States to visit any of her unborn grandchildren. 

Guy's best friend Ben was at the grill. I'd met him once before when Maggie and I had taken a weekend trip to Chicago. She had met Guy over the Internet about 7 years ago, and had agreed to meet him for dinner in a city at a midway point between where they both lived. I was only 25 at the time, and Maggie was offering me a free weekend in Chicago using her father's frequent flier miles, so I went. I had been married a year at that point, so Ben and I had gotten along amiably while the nervous couple tried to get to know each other in a strange city. 

"Beer Ben. I need beer," I requested not even saying hello first. He shook his head at me, reached into a cooler, twisted off the cap and handed me a Molson. 

"It'll get better after the grandparents leave, but I'm following your drinking plan. This is my fifth," he said as took a sip of his own beer and turned the hamburgers on the grill. 

"I'll be back for one of those," I said eyeing the meat.

"Drink lots and drink often," he said to me, before he turned to an older woman in her fifties who had lined up with a paper plate and an empty hamburger bun. "Avec Fromage?"

I sighed and walked down the length of the yard next to the four foot chainlink fence that divided the yard from the neighbor's. A jazz quartet played in the corner close to the grandmothers. Periodically a relative would go and check on them to see if they needed anything. I stood at the fence for twenty minutes and watched as the three elderly women consumed an enormous amount of ice tea and potato salad. 

When Maggie and Guy found me, I was still standing at the fence. I had finished my first beer and was going to go get a refill. 

"You're looking great!" I said smiling at Maggie. "I'm so excited for you both... I wouldn't imagine being anywhere else this weekend..." It was all the small talk speech you give when you can't really sit down and have the bride say what's really on her mind: "His mother is driving me batty. My mother is driving me batty. Please tell me you have prescription drugs in your purse, because I'm going to need them to get through the next 24 hours. I just need to get my ass on the plane to Aruba, and everything will be fine."

During our conversation, Guy had gone to fetch me another beer. He returned with the tiniest woman I had ever seen. Her waist was the circumference of one of my thighs. She was flitting around Guy deep in discussion in French, like she was a hummingbird. She had long wavy dark hair that glided down the hardly there red halter dress. Her high heels sunk into the ground, but she maneuvered like she could run hurdles effortlessly in them. 

When they got to us, they changed to English and Guy made introductions. Emilie. Emilie was beautiful. She was older than I was, but I couldn't pinpoint a good estimation. Her beauty was, of course, matched by a witty and wry sense of humor. I finally felt completely at ease at the party while I was chatting with her. It made the time pass more quickly, especially when Guy and Maggie moved on to talk with the rest of their guests.

"I seem to have lost my husband somewhere," Emilie said looking around the now crowded backyard. "I can't believe I don't see him. It's like not seeing a redwood in an open field, and I want him to meet you. He'd adore you," she said. 

I took a sip of my beer as she looked over my shoulder. "Ahh, here he comes! He's juggling refreshments." 

I started to turn around to meet her husband, but as I did I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. It was an odd sensation of trouble and excitement. I apparently didn't need the power of sight. I knew her husband without it. But I watched as his eyes went from happily staring at Emilie to horror when taking me in. It was such an ugly look of disdain and fear that I dropped my beer and had to lean against the fence to stay upright. 

It was Lover.

We were out of place, and it took us both several heartbeats to understand that the unimaginable had happened. 

"I want you to meet my husband..." The rest of Emilie's sentence was drown out by a baby near us that had started to cry. 

Like in all emergency situations, my autopilot kicked on. I suddenly knew what had to be done, and I did it. 

"It's so nice to meet you," I said to Lover before bending over to pick up the empty bottle that I had spilled all over the grass. "I'm afraid, I make a clumsy first impression." 

He stared at me with a slight smile on his face like I was a new acquaintance. 

"Well, you guys enjoy the food. Ben really put his all into those burgers," I said quickly. "I'm going to go find another beer."

I fled up the yard and onto the deck. Ben was passing his apron and chef's hat onto Guy's father. "Ben, I need a real drink. In fact, I need a bottle."

"Come with me," he said. "I know where Marc keeps the good stuff."

So there I was in the basement of an old girlfriend's fiancee's, brother's house in an entirely different country doing shots of tequila in front of a 46" plasma television watching the highlights of Major League Baseball with said girlfriend's fiancee's best friend.

I was enjoying my eighth shot in as many minutes when Lover found me. 

"Hey, you look like an able bodied person," he said to me nonchalantly. "Can you help me go on an ice run?"

Ben was so engrossed in the baseball discussion that he wasn't paying attention to the crazy-eyed glare I gave Lover. 

"One minute," I said pouring another shot. I drank it straight, poured another one and sucked it back too. "Okay," I said, "But we should take a plastic bag, because I've had nothing to eat, and I just chased beer with loads of tequila.

I stumbled up the stairs and out of the house onto the street. This was his world. I was a visitor, so I wasn't going to start the conversation. I was just going to sit in my impending drunken stupor pretending to disappear from existence.

"My car is this way," he said. I followed him to a moss green, four-door Volvo sedan. I know how to make him orgasm instantaneously with the touch of a finger, but I had no idea the model of car he drove. 

He held my door open while I got into the car and put on my seatbelt. It was obviously Emilie who sat their last because the seat was pushed up to the point where my knees were slammed against the dashboard. I cackled at the difference. The whole situation was intolerable.

As he pulled out into traffic, he didn't say anything. I didn't say anything. We stopped at a stoplight two blocks down the road. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. I felt like we'd just landed in Oz on top of the Wicked Witch. But where were the little happy, singing munchkins when you needed them? Then again, that thought process might have been due to the tequila.

Finally, when he pulled into the lot at the store and had parked the car he spoke. "You're here," he said. It was a start.

I pinched myself in the arm just to be sure. "Yep. Turns out Disney was right, it is a small world."

It was like he was in shock. He couldn't really form words in either of his two languages. Suddenly, I felt like I had invaded his world, even though I had no idea that with millions of people in Montreal, and the hundreds of weddings taking place that weekend in the city that we'd end up at the same one. 

"She's gorgeous, Lover," I said quietly. "She's fun and brilliant, and you never told me how amazing she is." I never understood why he was with me before I knew who he went home to. Now, I was ready to have him committed to an asylum for even looking twice at me.

"My marriage is not without—" he started. Then he sighed and thought for a minute before he spoke. "It has its problems, some big, some small, just like any other relationship."

I understood what he was telling me. It was the same discussion I have with myself when considering my feelings for Lover and my own spouse. No marriage is perfect -- because that person sees you every day at your best and at your worst. With Lover, even though I am always honest, I can muster all of my energy to be the best person I can be for him because I know after a couple hours or a couple days I can walk away. With our marriages, they encompass all parts of us, as marriage should.

"Can we get me some liquor somewhere? And would you mind just taking me back to my hotel?" I asked quietly.

"I can do both of those things, but first I have a question." I looked up at him cautiously wondering several things myself. 

"You knew I lived in Montreal."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to be in town?"

I held his gaze for a few minutes and then stared at where my knees were crushed into the dashboard. I didn't answer. 

He sighed. Then he reached over like he was going to put his hand on my knee, but instead, he reached below the seat and pulled back on the adjustment bar. The seat rolled back into place, giving my legs space. I know he was trying to give me comfort, but what it did was strike a blow to my self-confidence. If I was petite and hot, I'd fit in the tiny space between the seat and the dash.

"I'm going in for the ice. We have to go to another store for the liquor."

I nodded and he got out of the car. When I was sure he was safely inside, I started to cry. I couldn't help it. Huge tears rolled down my cheeks, my nose started running and I gasped for breath. 

When he came back 15 minutes later and put the bags of ice in the trunk of his car, I turned my head to face out the window, so he wouldn't see my swollen, red eyes. I wiped my face and nose clean with the sleeve of my sweater.

But instead of going around to his driver side door, he opened mine. I looked away to the other side of the car as quickly as possible, but it was too late. He bent over, unclasped my seatbelt and brought me toward him in a tight hug.

"I could hear your panicky brain and its massive thoughts in the checkout lane," he said gently. 

I started to cry again. This was new for us. Lover had never seen me cry before.

"In my life, you're the only thing left that's just mine. I don't have to share you with anyone. You're the one thing that reminds me of the individual I am outside of my family unit," I said starting to tear up again. "But here, here you're not with me at all. It's like I don't exist. It's like I — it's like we — don't matter."

He held me tighter. My tears ran down my cheek and onto his shoulder. "That's why you didn't tell me," he said. "Because we're in my time and space, and you didn't want to mess with that?"

I nodded my head yes.

"Give me a minute, okay?" he asked. I nodded. He kissed me on the forehead and then stood and leaned against the backdoor. He opened his cell phone and made a call. He spoke too quickly for my basic university French skills to comprehend, and then he clicked the phone shut. He knelt down in front of me again and took my hands in his before he spoke: "Here's what we're going to do: we're going to get you food, rather than alcohol. We'll take it back to your hotel, and you'll eat, and we'll watch television, and you can pass out in my arms, okay?"

"When is curfew?" I asked, skeptically, knowing he'd been talking to his wife. 

"Hey, I'm trying to be a better man here."

"I know. But hanging out with you, it's not going to work. Just drop me off at the hotel."

"I don't want you to be alone."

"Lover," I said quietly. "I'm fine." I looked him straight in the eyes as I said it hoping to sell the line.

"You're a terrible liar," he mumbled standing up and walking around to his car door.

At the hotel, the bellhop greeted me and opened the car door. I could tell Lover was disappointed at my rushed exit. When you only see each other in person every year or so, you want to milk every moment and make it last. But my heart was already broken, so I gave him a quick kiss, climbed out of the car and went up to my room.

When I was safely inside, I tore the clothes from my body, ran a hot bath and climbed into it sobbing. 

The next morning, I was a bit hung over. I slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and wandered down to breakfast where I consumed eight mini croissants with jam, six 20 oz glasses of water and some pineapple. Then I went upstairs to my room and involuntarily threw it back up. 

"This is going to be such a lovely, lovely day," I murmured closing the lid to the toilet and sitting on the floor. 

There was a quick knock at my door and suddenly my stomach felt woozy again. I didn't even have to look through the peephole. I knew it was Lover. I gripped my hand onto the tub and waited for him to go away. He knocked several more times, before I turned on the shower and got in it to keep myself from answering. 

In the shower, I did regular shower things. When I got out, I checked the peephole. He was gone, so I sat in my bathrobe and watched TV for a while before I needed to leave for the wedding. It was a 10 a.m. service at the Notre Dame Basilica, followed by a lunchtime reception at a quaint inn closer to the riverfront.

At 9 a.m., I did my hair, slipped into a short (but not too short) red flowered skirt and complimentary-to-my-cleavage black top, put on my low heels and made my way to the church. My stomach turned with every step, now more from having to see Lover with Emilie again rather than from my hang over. I had done a pretty good make up job, and in my own opinion, despite the shitty night and morning, was having a "pretty" day. On a "pretty" day, I look at myself in the mirror and think, "Not too bad." 

I stood at a side door to the church until five minutes to 9 a.m., and then I entered with an extremely late altar boy. The church was awesome and huge inside with impressively grand pews set wide enough apart to allow room for folks to kneel, per the usual Catholic service requirement. 

I slipped in the back and sat on the bride's side of the church in the far corner. I didn't actively look for Lover or his wife. Instead, I focused on a spot at the back of the church near where the string quartet sat playing joyously. Marc stood next to Guy at the front of the church waiting for Maggie to make her appearance. They looked calm and happy. The music relaxed me, until I saw the wedding planner nod and the music changed to "Here Comes the Bride." The congregation stood and turned to watch Maggie and her father walk down the aisle, but I watched Guy. 

He was staring at Maggie with a huge grin on his face. Marc put his hand on Guy's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The tears started to roll down Guy's cheeks, and by the time Maggie stood next to him they were both blotting tears and blowing noses with Kleenex from Marc's pocket. 

The ceremony was long and traditional from that point forward. Marriage in this Catholic Church was about love, but it was also about duty and discipline and procreation. As an agnostic, I found it fascinating from an anthropological perspective. 

When the ceremony ended, everyone hopped to their feet and applauded. The happy couple seemed to skip down the aisle, followed by their parents and then row after row of guests. I was in the last row. So I would be the last one through the receiving line before the bride and groom left the church and went to take photos before the lunch reception at 1 p.m. 

I couldn't wander into that hall knowing what would be waiting, so I stayed in my pew until everyone had gone and the door was shut. I sat in the peace and quiet and tried to figure out the idea that is church. These were thousands of buildings erected hundreds of years ago for worship, each with their own intricate, ancient designs and amazing architecture. When the musicians packed up their equipment and left the chapel, I rose and walked to the center aisle and stood staring up at the altar. Then my eyes followed the flow of the ancient carved spiral staircases from the main floor to the balcony. I tried to feel for whatever spirit was supposed to fill the room. 




Five



I felt nothing. It was like here was this big, open secret that everyone with a religion understood, but here I was feeling no inspiration, no call of duty, no community. I was an outcast. I walked forward to the first pew and sat down where Maggie's mother had watched her only daughter marry at age 37. No one I knew got married as young as I did. Everyone I knew waited until they were 30, 35, 40. Their careers came first. I had a baby at 30, and my career ended. 

I heard footsteps behind me. It was one of the priests. "The wedding party has departed," he said. 

"I'm sorry," I responded. "I didn't mean to be in the way; It's a beautiful, beautiful chapel."

"I'm about to turn off most of the lights, until our afternoon ceremony," he said. "We like to save on the power bill, but the altar lights stay on. If you'd like to stay, I don't mind."

"Thank you," I responded. 

Thirty more minutes passed with me staring at the carved Jesus behind the pulpit. I suddenly felt calmer than I had in the last 24 hours. 

"What are you thinking about?" a voice asked quietly from above.

I looked up to find Lover was in the balcony staring down at me. 

"My head is empty," I said. "You?"

"I miss you," he said.

I looked at my feet and sighed. Several moments of silence passed before he spoke again.

"You know, my whole life, I loved and hated this place," he said casually. "I was raised Catholic, and all I could think about as I was undoing all of its guilt and restrictiveness in my twenties was how much I loved this room. I always wondered if making love in here would be an expression of my appreciation for the building or an affront to God."

"I'm pretty sure the church would find that offensive and you'd end up repenting for it for a good long time. But then again, that's what jail time is good for, if they called the police. And even if you did get away with it, you might have just earned a one-way ticket to hell," I said. 

"Yeah, but if all that Catholic mythology is true, I'm going there anyway," he said laughing. "But think of it, Christianity is supposed to be this all-loving religion. God loves you no matter what. God wants to you be good to your neighbors and go forth in peace. Why wouldn't he look at making love on an altar built to honor him as a kind of physical sacrifice, in fact a particularly joyous one on his behalf?"

"Hey, if you can get Emilie to go for it, you're all good," I said. "I'm pretty sure given our relationship, and one of the commandments being not to covet the other's wife, or in my case husband, that we'd burn up on the spot."

"Are you Catholic?" he asked.

"No," I answered. "I'm just curious." I stood up and walked toward the altar. I stepped up into the pulpit and looked out at the hundreds of pews facing me. Giving sermons in front of a packed church had to make a priest feel like a kind of rock star. 

Lover was making his way down one of the spiral staircases toward me. He stopped and stood in the middle of the aisle next to the pew I had been sitting in.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry that this happened."

"It's what I get for needing to be emotionally attached to someone before I'm able to be physical with them," I muttered. "It's no one else's fault but mine."

Suddenly the lights all turned off except for the spotlights illuminating Jesus' head behind me. 

"How emotionally attached are you?" Lover asked quietly.

This was a conversation we always avoided. We talked about our emotional connection as a list of things we were attracted to or things that we appreciated about one another. We never used, "I love you." I don't know if it's because we regard those words as too important or because we think they're said too much.

I stared at him for a moment. I couldn't find the words. So I decided to show him. I climbed down out of the pulpit, made eye contact with him and slowly slipped my shirt over my head. Then I pulled my skirt down, so I was standing at the altar in my underwear and heels. 

Lover looked around the room cautiously before meeting my eyes again. He was captivated by my reckless behavior. I spent my life as a good girl. Good girls don't get naked in church. I wasn't "that kind" of girl, but apparently, for him, I could be.

I opened my bra from the front clasp and peeled it off my shoulders. Then I gripped onto the side of the pulpit with one hand and slowly bent at the waist to take off my left shoe and then my right. Finally, I pulled my panties down to the floor and I stood there naked before him, before the church, before whatever God that was watching and in front of a very, very old sculpture of Jesus. I was vulnerable to so many things in that moment, and I was standing on my own offering all of myself to him. This was my religion.

"This is how emotionally attached I am," I said. "Now make love to me before we get arrested."

In a flash, Lover's clothes were piled next to mine. He moved the books that were on the large podium in the pulpit to the floor and then gently picked me up and put me in their former place. Underneath the pulpit was a step stool for speakers. Lover stood on it so that our hips were matched, and then he sunk his penis into my warm, wet flesh. We kissed while he moved in and out. Then I bent backwards, in an arch, so my head hung in front of the pulpit. My breasts reached toward the ceiling and my hair hung down. 

The inversion made blood pool in my head. Lover sucked at my right breast and I moaned louder than I meant to. Something creaked in the back of the church and a cello started to play Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in D Major very softly from the hallway. Lover stopped moving to look around the room.

"No," I said. "Don't stop. Just go with the music."

It was the saddest, sweetest sex I'd ever had in my life. After he came and the music ended, I sat up and kissed him. I tried to lower myself off of the pulpit, but he put his hand on my shoulder to stop me. 

"Lean back again," he requested. I arched again feeling the blood rush back to my head. Lover's soft penis was still inside of me. He rubbed my clit a bit and nibbled at my breasts. "Imagine the room full of people watching you," he said. "Imagine I'm giving the sermon. Imagine the sermon is about how to pleasure a woman. Think of yourself as a nude model in a figure drawing class. Thousands of people are watching as I give instructions. Men and women are kneeling not toward me in worship, but toward their lovers. It's a room full of women with their feet kicked up on the pew in front of them, lover's head and hands buried between their legs following my every instruction."

His penis had come out during his description. He inserted two fingers into me and turned them up. He moved them back and forth over my g spot as if he was motioning me over to him. 

"Lover," I moaned. "We don't have time—"

"Hush." He sucked on my nipple, and I felt the urge to orgasm build up. "There's always time for this," he said. He moved his fingers faster, bent down and flicked his long, warm tongue over my clit. "Come for me, ma biche. Show the congregation how it's done. Come for me—right—now."

I bit onto my hand to stop from crying out in pleasure as my body started to violently spasm. Lover's right hand kept stroking me, while his left supported my weight on the podium. When I was done, I pulled myself up to a sitting position using his shoulders to steady myself and kissed him again. My cheeks were hot with blood, but I felt like we should hurry and get out of there. As I slid off the podium, into his arms and onto my feet in front of him he kissed me on the nose. He was smiling at me as a man who'd finally accomplished a life-long fantasy. It was like his Christmas morning. 

I bent over, fetched his shirt and handed it up to him. He pulled it over his head, while I got on my knees and put my mouth around his soft penis, giving him a quick bath with my warm tongue.

Then I got dressed. As I stood after putting on my shoes, I felt drops of his semen slide out of me onto my underwear. It was like a little reminder of where he'd been and what we'd done. 

When we were both ready, I led him back through the church and out the side door where I had entered. We walked quietly together to the reception not saying anything.

When we got to the party, he sat with Emilie four tables over from me laughing and chatting with their long-time family friends. 

I sat alone, next to Maggie's Grandmother Parker, listening to her complain about having to walk three flights of stairs up to the reception room at the inn. 

I watched as Lover danced slowly with his wife. Emilie drank too much champagne and was out on the floor doing everything from the Bunny Hop to the Electric Slide. I couldn't eat my lunch watching them, so I gave my meal to Grandmother Parker, who was more than happy to steal as many shrimp cocktails as she could get her hands on. Finally, I excused myself to the bar. I ordered a vodka martini and sat making small talk with the bartender. It was an honest attempt to not feel like I was stalking Lover. But life is cruel, and shortly after I started to feel better about attending the reception, Emilie sat down on the barstool next to me.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she said. "I was so worried when you had to go home early from the cookout yesterday. But then we saw you walk in the church, you looked so much better. In fact you look, what was my husband's word? — Stunning."

I swallowed a large gulp of my drink. "Thank you," I said. Normally, I would feel the need to flee, but I sat still. 

"Why don't I entertain the old bat for a while at your table. You should dance at least once. Take my husband, he won't mind." 

She had no idea what I'd already taken from her husband that day. But this was the last time I was going to be able to see him, until who knows when. So I took the opportunity to be forward, more like myself than this sad, pathetic creature at the bar.

I approached Lover at his table and slid into Emilie's seat. Then calmly I said, "Your wife told me to ask you to dance." 

Lover gave a slight nod of consideration before he put his flute to his lips and took a sip of champagne. "Well, then, we better do what she wants." 

He stood, offered me his hand, which I took, and led me out onto the dance floor. I put my left hand on his shoulder, and he held my right hand gently. We were close, but not too close. We chatted like people getting to know each other would. He made me laugh. His eyes were fun and loving. They were tender and enthusiastic. Then at the end of the dance, he looked me dead in the eyes as the music stopped. It was an intense gaze of a dominant animal. It said that he was seconds away from either devouring me or bending me over the head table and mounting me. I wasn't sure which would be worse.

Like a good girl, I backed away. I excused myself to go pass on my best wishes to Maggie and Guy, and I let go of his hand before he let go of mine.

When I left, Lover and Emilie were sitting together at their table again. Emilie was feeding a piece of wedding cake to Lover. He smiled at her, but his eyes were flitting around the room when she wasn't looking at him. He was looking for me. 

He found me at the stairs. I gave him a small smile and lifted my hand to say goodbye. He furrowed his eyebrows and mouthed, "Tonight?" 

I shook my head no. His whole face fell in disappointment for several seconds. Then his features suddenly looked softer, more hopeful. He watched Emilie deep in conversation with the couple next to them out of the corner of his eye. Then he raised his glass to his mouth on her side and mouthed, "I miss you" behind it.

I nodded my head in appreciation of his declaration, even if I couldn't hear it. Then I fled down the stairs, out the door, down the street and to my hotel. I packed as quickly as possible while I called to change my flight.

I sat on a nearly full flight headed back to the states. I leaned back in my chair and stared out the window. I had been in Montreal for a little over 24 hours, and in those hours I felt I had found myself and lost myself all at the same time. As the plane took off, I stared at the city below. Then some minutes later, I put my earbuds in and let the music wash over me until I felt numb. 



Five!



My husband Rick and I had a good marriage over twelve years. We had bee high school sweethearts and married at the young age of nineteen.

Within the first year of our marriage out daughter Jessica come along. Not surprisingly so as we had been fucking without protection since I turned eighteen.

We had only been married less than two years before Rick coaxed me into a threesome with him and his brother Rob. Next followed the threesome with Rick and his dad. Before long we had several selected friends who we shared our bed with.

I felt guilty about having two lovers at the same time and suggested to Rick that we have a threesome with my younger sister Monique. I knew Nikki would be up to it she had often remarked on what a "hunk" Rick was and that she wouldn't mind getting off with him in her. We I suggested this to Rick he surprised me by declining explaining that two pussies and one dick would be a waste. He said one woman could easily accommodate five men.

"Let me get this straight," I asked him, are you suggesting I fuck five guys?"

Rick just smiled.

Over the following days I could not get the thought of being with five guys at the same time out of my mind. Threesomes were one thing, but five guys!

Finally I gave in. "Which five guys did you have in mind?" I asked Rick out of the blue.

"They would be carefully selected to bring you the maximum pleasure." My husband tempted.

That did it! We agreed on the following Saturday night to be my entry into gangbanging. 

Rick was very approving of making the event something I would remember. He gave me carte blanche on spending for an outfit and a visit to the spa prior to my initiation to multiple cock heaven. I knew they specimens he choose for me would be everything I expected.

I must admit as Saturday drew neared I begin to get nervous wondering what I had let myself in for. I am a reasonably attractive woman standing five foot five coming in just under one hundred and thirty pounds. My shoulder length auburn hair frames my incandescent green eyes. Generous 38C breasts and just a patch of ginger pubic hair complete the package.

I spent Friday afternoon choosing my outfit for the following night's activities. I found a Bridal lingerie set in La Senza that consisted of a veil, a virginal white bustier and white thigh high stockings. The bustier would hold my body, pushing my ample boobs up over the very low top. It had one continuous zipper down the back for quick removal.

Saturday finally arrived. I was booked in at Roberto's for the "$195 package" which included hair wash and blow dry, manicure and pedicure with varnish and completed with a full body massage.

I lay on the table while Enrico worked the tension out of my body. Damn he was good! He knew all the "spots" to work to make me putty in his talented hands.

"Roll over onto your back." my masseuse requested.

Enrico and I have an intimate relationship, we had dispensed with the modesty of a towel long ago.

I lay on my back with my eyes close dreaming about the coming night while Enrico's fingers unlocked my pent-up emotion. My massages routinely climaxed with my orgasm.

"Oh yes Enrico!" I moaned as his finger delivered my bliss.

I rushed home lightheaded knowing I would need to nap to recover from Enrico and prepare for the night's big staggering task. Five guys!

I lay in my bed naked with my viberator buzzing deep inside of me. Sleeping was hopeless; my head was filled with visions of cocks. Big cocks, circumcised and uncut, in states or erection that were every woman's dream. All of these cocks were waiting to invade my body.

Rick was scurrying around like a kid on Christmas Eve, ensuring the bar was well stocked and the caterer had delivered the "finger" food as ordered.

It was time for me to get dressed.

I sat naked before the mirror carefully touching up my make-up. A sprit of Jon Patou's "Joy" between my pendulous breasts. Carefully I fixed the white veil on my head.

I rolled the sheer white knee-highs up my shapely legs and then wrapped myself in the bustier.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad! My fiery bush was just visible below the bottom of the bustier and from the rear my rounded ass cheeks peeked out. I was ready!

Rick had gone to the trouble of printing out the "batting order" for tonight. All the invitees had confirmed they would attend.

The first was Bernie Mosca, a former C.F.L. football player and currently the salesman we had purchased out last Buick from. Mosca was a giant of a man. Standing over six feet tall he was in excess of two hundred pounds of muscle. An awesome challenge.

The next was Barry Stewart. Stewart was of normal stature but was legendary for his giant cock. Stewart was a local porn star that Rick had convinced to participate.

In addition to Mosca and Stewart my "dream team" would include non other than the mayor of out burg, His Honor Lloyd Jackson. Jackson was a distinguish venerable man and believed to be a millionaire. What he may lack in physical ability he would supplement with respectability.

George Lang was the "dark horse". George was a strapping six-foot black man and my husband's barber. Sam Maura, a fellow Italian barber, would accompany Lang. 

Rick poured me a double gin as I sat waiting the bewitching hour. My nipples were like bullets in my flimsy outfit and the a/c belting full blast. Rick said I would appreciate it being cool when the action heated up. Promptly at eight o'clock the doorbell rang.

All the participants arrived in Mosca's Chrysler so not to draw the neighbors' attention to our gathering. Nosy Mrs. Spence across the road would be puzzled when she saw the five men get out of the car and file into our house.

The group intimidated me as I was introduced to them as their entertainment for the night. Before they went home tonight they would all have deposited their sperm in me.

Rick was the perfect host ensuring everyone had a drink and an opportunity to talk to his charming wife. The guys were surprisingly respectful and pleasant considering I was to be their slut for the night.

"Have you done this before?" his Worship he mayor asked.

"So far the most men I have had at one time is two." I confessed.

"Well this should be an experience for all of us." He replied with a twinkle in his eye.

After the first couple of drinks the guys casually begin stripping down for a piece of me. Soon guys wearing no more than their underwear and openly stroking their cocks while they played with me sitting on the couch surrounded me.

Rick was busy with our new videocam recording the events as they unfolded.

I felt the zipper sliding open on the back of my bustier and quickly it was taken from me leaving me only in the veil and white stockings.

Right away hand grasped my bare breasts and kneaded them like Silly Putty, mouths clamped over my nipples and inquisitive fingers explored my open pussy. I knew I was committed, past to point of no return.

Hands lifted me and maneuvered me onto my back. My legs were spread open and the first stud mounted me.

In deference to his office I was offered to Mayor Jackson first. Jackson easily slid into my waiting pussy that I had prepared earlier with my viberator. Once I was fully impaled I embraced him wrapping my stocking covered legs around his hips and pulling him into me. It took Jackson about five minutes to come while the others gathered around to form a cheering section. Jackson groaned and I felt my first load of cum christening my pussy.

While I was being initiated Rick had been busy and dragged out his weigh-lifting bench. It was the perfect size for me to lie on and my pussy and mouth would be at the right height to accept the cocks of men standing bedside me.

Once again hands lifted me and I floated from the couch onto my "workbench". My legs were forced apart and I looked down to see Stewart positioning himself between my white stocking legs. I could not see his weapon from my vantage point but felt it as he fed his rope into me.

Glancing up I saw a huge black cock looming inches over my face. Lang stood above my head offering me his black dick to feed on. I had never had any prior experience with black men but his cock sure did look impressive. As Stewart slide in and out of me in extraordinary long strokes I reached up and grabbed Lang's ebony log.

The black cock's head was massive; I had to open my mouth wide to take it in. Once the head was inside my mouth Lang thrust forward sliding more of his dark meat into me. When the helmet touched the back of my throat my lips sealed around the thick girth of his cock. Supporting his huge balls in my hand I began sucking while Stewart continue sliding what felt like a foot of rock hard cock in and out of my soaking pussy venturing into unexplored territory.

I had more cock in me than I had ever had in my life! Stewart's endless cock piston in and out of my cunt while I slurped on Lang's gigantic black schlong, I was in heaven!

Lang ejaculated first spilling his thick creamy goo into my waiting mouth. The strings of his cum slid smoothly down to be stomach as he emptied his huge balls into me.

Quickly I felt the warm sensation of Stewart hosing out my pussy with a fresh load of his sperm, adding to the mess Jackson had left in me.

Two more cocks awaited my mouth when Lang surrendered it. They dueled with each other to use my mouth.

My pussy felt void as Stewart withdrew his dripping cock from my harbor. It was only moments before I felt another enter me. Looking down I saw Sam the barber was fucking me.

Load after load of cum was dispatched into my mouth and pussy as my studs followed each other into my orifices. Rick busily recorded my humiliation for posterity.

I was positioned "doggie" on the bench when Mosca took me anally. Ten inches of thick hard cock invaded my ass. Firmly holding my bare hips he rocked me back and forth on his cock like an old boot. Each time he slammed forward he would drive the cock in my mouth further down my throat.

Now cum was trickling down my thighs from both my cunt and my asshole. The thick white goo dripped from my chin and my bare breasts glistened with a coating of male sperm. I was a cumslut!

The five guys took close to two hours to exhaust their supply of cum into and on me. As the evening drew to a close I was a beautiful mess, cum everywhere.

Rick did not allow me to shower that night, he took me to bed soiled by his friends' sperm and made passionate animal love with me.

Rick says next time we should up the ante to seven or eight guys?



Five A.M.



Lia wakes against the still dark morning and heavy hotel drape shadows and wraps herself in the sheet, tighter against him. Aidan sleeps; she can tell by his deep, even breath punctuated with light fluttery snores. Still, though, as she circles herself in white Egyptian cotton and his skin, settles her head into the hollow beneath his right arm, he mumbles "Baby," and trails his left hand over her hair.

This is love, Lia sighs to herself, still sleepyish, even if it shouldn't be, even if it wasn't what we agreed on. It's love anyway. Normally this revelation, since she has it every time they're together, would cause her to jump up, run to the bathroom and hide until she felt more in control or convinced herself of her own insanity. Somehow, though, it seems too much trouble to unravel her arms and legs and sheet, and what if Aidan wakes up? She's awakened him twice already this night, and he has a major meeting in a few hours. Better to breathe and doze and stretch and meow, and besides, his nipple is about an inch from her tongue.

Lia wonders idly if her husband will remember to get up to take the children to school, and decides it's all right if he doesn't. She wonders idly if Aidan's wife will remember to walk his beloved wolfhound, and decides that the dog might be more insistent about peeing than her children might be about their education. And anyway, it's been three months since she got to wake up beside Aidan, and that time, her husband was in bed with them, so it wasn't quite the same. And the time before that he didn't get to stay over, so it's really been a year since she had Aidan all to herself for a night. Lia smiles and sighs and trails her fingernails lightly over his chest, kissing his rib lightly. Aidan stirs and his arms move tighter around her, his hands large and sensual and comforting.

Dozy sighs and not quite a sunrise later, Lia wakes again next to air and skin and part of a pillow to find that she has rolled over and that Aidan, who never moves, is in exactly the same spot as before, except that his hand is now resting on her hip instead of her hair. Fully half of the king sized bed is unused unless you count that they fucked on that side before they went for dinner last night, before they fucked again on the mirrored vanity across from the mirrored closet doors, before they fucked again on the bed, before they curled against each other and smiled like contented kittens, before dinner and drinks and flirtation and a bad, forgetful young waiter who made Lia very happy she was with a man old enough to have a clue about anything, before they came back and fucked some more and fell asleep. Lia's brain tiptoes through recent memory and she giggles a little at mental ukuleles and Aidan, being Aidan, wakes up.

"Hi, baby," he says groggily, grinning, reaching one hand for his glasses on the nightstand and the other for her. She rolls into him, onto him, lazily dragging the tip of her tongue across his lips. He's awake enough to catch it, and they settle into a few minutes of tongue tag and lip nuzzling and Lia always finds herself wanting to lick just along his beardline at his neck, because he smells so himself, so sweet, just there. She sneaks a look at the alarm clock on a tongue upstroke to find that it's just after five in the morning, so there's time, and she leans over and over and slides down and sinks him into her mouth just so, inhaling the scent that is her favorite aphrodisiac. If anyone ever bottled Aidan's scent I'd pay whatever, she thinks, wondering momentarily if that makes her a pheromone addict. He's not hard yet, but it doesn't take more than a minute for him to get that way and Lia makes happy girlish whimpery sounds in her throat when he moans. 

Pulling him out of her mouth she slides over him like a snake and brushes her nipples up his chest and he kisses her cheeks and her lips and she flicks his nose with her tongue. Reaching between them, she finds him hot and hard and ready and quite nicely willing to fuck her again. Lia sheaths herself around him, sitting up enough to feel him against her cervix and then leans into him enough to brace herself, hands on his chest, and she moves, and he groans and smiles. 

Orgasms don't come quickly on round five (is it five, or six?), if they come at all, and she isn't really trying to make him come anyway, because she wants him again before he has to go, before she has to drop him off downtown and drive like a maniac home. Lia wants Aidan's cock inside her just because, because she wants to remember him later when she misses him so much that her chest hurts. She wants to keep him with her, and this seems the best way, the closest way. Shaking off the flash of bittersweet, she concentrates on his cock, the feel of his body between her thighs, under her hands. He pulls her closer to him and arches, grasping her nipple between his lips, pulling her body inside his, as he is inside her, and then Lia can't remember to think at all.

Time and lovers move more slowly, Lia leaning all the way in to chase kisses across his neck and shoulders and face, then sitting up to let him stroke her hips, her waist, her tits. Aidan's hips carry her like waves of surf onto autumn beaches, rolling and riding and sliding and crashing into tan sand or pale skin, and their rhythm is varied but constant, gentler and harder and gentler again, and she feels the languid crest of a half-sleepy, dreamy climax washing through her in slow motion, rippling lightly through her cunt and over him so quietly he doesn't seem to know it's there, but he pulls her to him and kisses her softly, like velvet and satin, and rolls her over to her hands and knees so he can take her from behind.

Sheets under fingernails and his hands tight on her hips, one reaches up the back of her neck, grasping her shoulder, holding her hair because it pulls just mmmm, like that, and back over her back to her hips again, he rocks back and forth as she tightens around him on the outstrokes, how does he know how to hit that perfect angle every time? She whimpers and moans, rocking in opposite motion against him, their fucking faster and harder and hotter and wetter and bigger and tighter and she gets dizzy and he calls her "baby" again, louder, "Oh, god, babyyy.." and groans as he spurts hot jets inside her, as she tightens around him, filled and warm and shivery and perfectly, completely happy.

"Hi," Lia says, breathless.



Five Alarm Blaze



It was because of Jason that she was in this predicament, she thought to herself. Who knew that a chance online encounter would have culminated in her absolute and abject humiliation? It's not that she was hard-core into the whole dom-sub thing; it was just something she 'played' at from time to time. Savannah moaned, in part from her impending embarrassment, but also in part due to the butt plug that was firmly embedded in her ass. She watched as the state trooper approached her car as viewed from her side-view mirror; trepidation and an uncontrolled arousal shook her in her seat.

Earlier that morning her flight had arrived in Atlanta. The key to the locker had been waiting for her at the Courtesy Desk, just as Jason had promised. With shaking hands she'd unlocked number 294J and retrieved the black gym bag that had been waiting for her. Quickly she'd walked with her 'treasure' to the nearest bathroom and into one of the stalls. Per the instructions on a piece of paper she found inside, she'd quickly changed clothes. Off came her business suit and kitten heels.

She'd donned the 'costume' that had been provided for her; a dark blue jean bustier; a matching mini-skirt that flared slightly from the hips; a pair of red stiletto heels. No panties or bra had been provided. In a plastic baggie were the promised butt plug and a small tube of lube. Quickly she had applied the lube to her ass and plug and inserted it into her rectum. Helplessly she moaned as the unforgiving rubber invaded her ass. Next Savannah had attached the straps that would help keep the plug inserted. She'd stuffed her clothes into the bag along with her shoes and slid the baggie containing the lube into a side pouch. Licking her lips nervously she had then exited the stall and went to one of the sinks.

She'd placed the bag on the floor and with a quick look around to make sure no one was around had spread her legs and bent forward at the waist. Jason had instructed her that she was to masturbate until she had an orgasm, and not to stop until she was done, even if someone were to walk in. So she'd quickly set about trying to do just that. At first she had been unable to relax at the thought of someone walking in on her, but after a few moments the self-inflicted pleasure had wiped all concerns from her mind. Over the next several minutes she'd rubbed her clit furiously and finger-fucked her wet cunt until her legs wobbled and her breathing became erratic. 

At last she'd cum, and had just pulled her skirt down around her hips when an elderly woman had walked into the restroom. She left without washing her hands as Jason had instructed and had quickly made her way to her waiting rental.

And now here she was; on the side of a remote Georgia highway waiting for a state trooper to ticket her. She resisted the urge to pull her skirt down from its current position. Another set of instructions had been waiting for her in the car. Pull your skirt up until it barely covers your lovely pussy, Savannah. Hump yourself on the plug and finger your pussy during your drive. You must bring yourself to at least four orgasms on the two hour trip, I will be listening. Drive 5 miles over the speed limit the entire way and if you get pulled over do not pull your skirt down and continue to ride the plug....Jason.

The trooper arrived at her window and Savannah nervously rolled it down.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. May I see your driver's license, registration, and proof of insurance?" His polite command vaulted her into action. Dammit, she should have had those things ready. Now she would have to bend over in her seat to reach the glove box and expose her ass and what was in it.

She handed him her license, and taking a deep breath did what was required. She could hear his sharp intake of breath behind her and couldn't help but smile. Silly girl, she scolded herself. You know you like showing yourself off, this is no different. Relaxed now she took her time about it, making sure she let the trooper get a long good look at the protruding butt plug. She moaned softly as she sat upright, rolling back fully onto the toy.

Peering up at him through thick eyelashes she could see a red stain marking his cheeks. This could be fun, she thought gleefully. She handed him the packet of information and asked him sweetly, "Sir, may I get out and stretch? I've been driving straight for over an hour and feel a bit....stiff". She eyed his crotch and the growing bulge on the last word, before once again locking eyes with him.

"Uh, sure ma'am, that's no problem; just leave your keys in the ignition." With that last instruction he walked hurriedly back to his cruiser as she climbed out of her rental. Deliberately she walked to the rear of the vehicle and faced the trunk lid. Bending slightly at the waist she raised her arms above her head and rotated her torso. Her skirt had maintained its raised position quite nicely and Savannah took advantage.

Turning slightly to her right she raised her left leg and placed her foot on the rear fender. If he cared to look, and she could tell he did from the corner of her eye, he would be able to get a good glimpse of her shaved, bare pussy. Balancing on the one stiletto she leaned forward and began massaging her upper left thigh with both hands; each upward stroke came nearer and nearer to her cunt. Seriously turned on Savannah noticed her juice flow increased, and she could feel it coating her lips and rolling down her right inner thigh.

She placed her foot back on the ground and carefully sat on the trunk of the car. She spread her legs slightly and leaned back onto her hands. She stared directly at the trooper through his windshield, not even trying to conceal her intent now. How hot would it be? her eyes asked. She watched as he licked his lips and slowly lowered the walkie-talkie to its resting place. He climbed out of the cruiser and walked slowly toward her; sexual intent now radiated from his eyes and hard body.

Savannah now understood why Jason had instructed her to take this roundabout route to her destination; she had yet to see any other car since she'd turned onto it...save the trooper, of course. Without preamble his hands pulled her legs further apart, fully revealing the wet treasure between them. Briefly Savannah glanced at his name tag. Travers, it read.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. Fuck me" she demanded.

His hands made short work of his trousers and just that quick he had his dick buried deep inside her. She quickly opened the hooks of her bustier and let her breasts swing free. His "oh shit" made her laugh, but then she wasn't laughing when his lips latched on to one turgid tip. His hands were on the trunk lid either side of her as he fucked her. Savannah wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer to her. The hot sun beat down on them; sweat rolled down his face and little droplets fell onto her chest as he continued to relentlessly hammer her. 

All too soon Savannah felt her orgasm over take her; Travers followed a few moments later. She could feel his hot cum fill her pussy. He gave her a big wet smack on the mouth and pulled his clothes together. Savannah still lay half-reclined on the trunk, too weak and satisfied to move. Gently he closed the hooks on her bustier and pulled her skirt down. He offered his hand and Savannah gingerly sat up; the plug was still making its presence felt. He escorted her to her car and even opened her door for her. Once seated and safely buckled up, he leaned into the car window and gave her one last long kiss.

He tossed the ticket he'd written onto the seat beside her and tipped his hat. As he walked away Savannah heard him say, "Tell Jason thanks!" Her mouth was still hanging open in shock as he drove past her. Bemused she started her car, remembered in time to hitch her skirt up once again, and began the last hour of her journey.

Travers' cum oozing from her cunt onto the car seat reminded her that technically she still had two more orgasms to achieve before she was to arrive at her destination. After the encounter she'd just had it wasn't all that difficult. She had to restrain from achieving a fifth orgasm. Jason's instructions had not said whether it was to be allowed or not so to be on the safe side, and not knowing exactly where the listening device was located she decided it was best to not cum again.

By the time she arrived at the rural fire station Savannah was a sticky mess between her thighs. The seat beneath her was likewise messy and sticky, yet the car smelled wonderfully of sex. She resisted the urge to clean up with a Kleenex and grabbing her purse exited the rental. Hurriedly she walked up the path leading to the entrance of the brick building. Inside it was cool and quiet. On the wall in front of her was a hand-written sign. THIS WAY it said and an arrow pointed to the left. She followed a trail of signs until finally there was a door in front of her. Another sign, reading ENTER, SAVANNAH, was taped to it.

Slowly she opened the door. The room before her was enormous; it appeared to be a common area. To the left were a kitchen and some dining tables, to the right a pool table, and directly ahead were several plush couches and glass topped tables. Five men were seated on the couches, all of them naked as the day they were born. Now this, she hadn't expected. But looking at the gorgeous variety before her, Savannah wasn't about to complain.

She recognized the man that was standing up to be Jason and made her way to him. He held her head in one hand and with the other reached down between her legs with the other. He carefully collected semen and her own juice on his fingers and then slid them into her mouth. Obedient to his unspoken demand she sucked every last bit from them.

"Savannah, you were amazing." His tongue darted inside her ear as his hot words rolled over her. "My friends and I heard every last moan, scream, and whimper."

"Your friend said to thank you," she managed. Jason just chuckled.

He walked her over to the arrangement of couches before letting go. He sat down on one of them and started stroking his very hard cock as he ordered her, "Take off the clothes, sweet. Everything but the plug."

Eagerly Savannah complied and soon she stood barefoot and naked before the five men, all of whom had their dicks in their hands.

"Lay face down on the table." Eyeing the glass-topped table Savannah carefully lowered herself as instructed. "Spread your legs until your feet are on the floor." Jason's rough voice spurred her to action.

Quivering in anticipation Savannah was startled when she felt a big hand smack her on the ass. Her yelps and moans were drowned out as one hand after the other relentlessly spanked her. By the time it was over a fresh supply of her own juices had escaped and now puddled on the glass beneath her. She begged and pleaded to no one in particular to fuck her.

"What do you say, Jason? Should we do as she is so nicely begging us to do?" Amused male voices laughed all around her but Savannah was unable to work up any feminine outrage. Her body was demanding release and she was helpless to its desires. 

"Why not, Mark? But, I'll go first." Good natured grumblings echoed in her ear as she felt Jason's hands pull apart her pussy lips for better access. Crouched behind her he shoved his dick full length into her tight cunt. 

Savannah couldn't help but moan as that wonderful thick cock invaded her needy flesh. "Yeahhh, fuck baby; damn you're so hot" Jason muttered behind her. 

"Damn, Jason hurry up and let us have a turn" another voice said.

"Hell, I'm not waiting; here baby, suck my dick" Mark commanded. His thickly, curved length slid into her mouth and Savannah eagerly wrapped her lips around it. Mark's hands grabbed her by the skull and held it steady as he carefully face-fucked her. The entire length eventually made its way down her throat and all Savannah could do was suck and swallow as the flesh relentlessly invaded. 

"Hey, Jason; pull that plug out, man; one of us can fuck her up the ass." Savannah groaned just thinking about it. A few frantic moments later she had been repositioned onto Jason's dick as he lay under her on one of the couches, and the dick in her mouth had been replaced by another, Mark came up behind her and prepared her for a backdoor approach. Oiled fingers probed and stretched her anus until he was confident she would be able to accommodate him. 

With very little preamble Mark shoved the head of his dick up her ass. Savannah squealed around the dick in her mouth. Oh, God it felt so good, she thought. The man with his dick in her mouth must have thought so too because when she squealed his hot cum erupted down her throat. She had barely swallowed that load when another dick, fatter and longer, presented itself at her mouth.

The next few hours were a sexual, pleasurable blur for Savannah. She never went for more than a minute without a dick in every one of her holes; load after load filled her ass, pussy, and mouth. Sensation built on sensation as she was thoroughly fucked in every position imaginable. Her orgasms rolled over her in great waves, each one a catalyst for the next.

Warm water encompassing her used and bruised flesh brought Savannah out of her sexual stupor. Jason's broad chest supported her back behind her as he gently soaped and rinsed away the last traces of cum from her body. Never in her life had she felt so completely satiated. A glass of wine appeared before her and Savannah eagerly took a long draw of sweet, red liquid. Sighing contentedly she lay her head back onto his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"No, my sweet", he whispered. "We're not done yet; open your eyes." Savannah slowly opened her heavy eyelids and gasped in pleased surprise. The state trooper stood by the tub, fully naked. The aches and pains melted away, and as if in a trance Savannah climbed out of the tub and approached him.

"Assume the position, sweet" Jason's voice ordered behind her. Without hesitation Savannah kneeled before Travers and engulfed his dick with her mouth.

His "FUCK" exploded above her and Savannah grinned. She may be the submissive to Jason's dom, she thought, but it was she who had the real power. And by the end of the week, Jason and his friends would know it. With that happy thought in mind, Savannah let herself go.