Wanton Salon

Chapter Twenty-One: Want

I felt fingertips combing through my hair over my ear.  Drawing a full breath into my lungs, I stirred and opened my eyes.  The radiant warmth of Bee’s deep brown eyes and a charming smile greeted me.

“Hey,” I offered as I exhaled, reaching to caress her cheek and chin.

“Hi,” she beamed.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good!  You?”

“Yeah, really well.”  I looked past her body, over her majestic caramel curves.  “Where’s…?”

“She’s already up.”

“Ugh, she gets up so early,” I commented, baffled.

“You’re up pretty early yourself,” Bee remarked, running a fingertip along the underside of my erection as it lay on my abdomen.

“’Tis morning, after all.  But,” I continued, looking down my body to my sex and her finger gliding along, “I’m surprised I am, after….”

A “Blha!” guffawed out of Bee’s mouth.  “I know what you mean!”

“Sorry about that.”

“’Bout what?”

“About doing what I did to Jillian.”  My cock waned with my confession.  I glided the knuckles of my fore- and middle-fingers timorously over the contours of her belly, centering on her navel. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

“’Cause…”  Bee opened her eyes wide and rocked her head, conveying, And the problem is…?

“’Cause I kinda ate out your friend without even asking if it was OK.”

“Did you want to?”

“Yeah,” I replied sheepishly.

“Then don’t worry about it.  It’s fine.  I kinda wanted you to do it.”  My cock resuscitated.

“Oh?  Why’s that?”

“Because I thought it’d be really sexy.  Plus, she was licking me to a fan-fucking-tastic orgasm!”

“Ha!  Seemed it.”

“Yeah.  I hope you didn’t mind.”

“Nah, I kinda figured.” 

“Kinda figured what?”

“That you’d end up there eventually.  The couple of kisses you two shared yesterday hid little.  Seemed like your relationship had blossomed to more than just office mates.”

“Is that OK?”

“Yeah, of course!  I think it’s wonderful!”

“So you don’t mind?”

“Not in the least,” I comforted, kissing her on the forehead.

“You really are wonderful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I commented, kissing her deeply, extendedly on the lips.  I slid my hand around her hip to ass, and rolling her to me, pressed my body to hers, my cock aching against her mons and belly, her breasts trapped between our ribs, her hand caressing my back, as my fingers sank into the wondrous hemisphere of her ass.

“We should get up,” Bee urged, rolling from me and off the bed.  I stared at her ass.  My cock twitched. 

“OK.  Lemme just get rid of this first,” I remarked, referring to my erect penis.

“You’re fine,” she assured as she turned to face me.  I could see my pre-cum smeared on her belly, shellacking the wispy hairs that connect her navel to her mons against her skin.  She tied up her hair.  I devoured her tits with my eyes as she raised her arms.

“Mm,” I demurred from the bed.

“Baby,” she said, planting her hands on the mattress, her breasts swaying enticingly.  “I want you to stay hard.”  Again, my cock shuddered at her wish.

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Mm hmm,” she hummed seductively, “I like you hard.  And I’m pretty sure Jillian would want to see you hard.”  She shook her ass behind her.  A dollop of oil spilled from my tip.  Bee smiled as she watched it plunge to my belly.

“And what effect is this having on you?”

“Why don’t you find out?”  She invited, standing, pressing her thighs to the edge of the bed.

I slid my fingertips up her thigh to her sex.  Her outer lip was full, pliant and warm.  I sank my middle finger into her cleft and between her lips.  I nudged her clit and she jolted.  Her entry was already slick and scalding.  She swallowed the tip of my finger as I curled it along her inner lips.  A drawn-out, pleasured, “Mmmmm,” hung in her throat.  Her nipples popped, diamond hard.  I withdrew as my cock dispelled more crystalline essence.  My testes tingled.  I licked her nectar from my finger, savoring her spice, as I sat up.  We looked enraptured in each other eyes, each tacitly asking, “Should we go outside, or should we fuck our brains out then go outside.”

“Let’s go,” I recommended, drawing on her right hip to gently spin her.

“Good morning, Jillian,” I offered brightly as we entered the sitting room.  My erection, in hues of dusky purple, red and raw sugar, pointed directly at Bee’s ass as she walked in front of me.  Jillian, sitting on the couch, looked up from the newspaper and cheerily replied, “Good morning, you guys!”  Then, wide-eyed, commented, “Oh my gosh, Gaz!  Does that thing ever go down?”  I shrugged my shoulders.  Turning to Bee she continued, “I thought keeping up with you was trouble, but now I see you need to keep up with him!”  Bee chuckled and blushed.

“We’re a good fit for each other,” I remarked as I poured coffee for Bee and myself.

Slyly, Jillian replied, “I’d like to see that fit,” looking up from the corners of her eyes.

I leaned against the edge of the bar, crossing my left foot over my right, my cock pointing indelicately out from my body, bobbing in time with my heart.  Lifting my coffee cup to my lips, I volleyed over the brim, “I would think that could be arranged.”

Bee join me at the bar with her cup in hand.  I caressed the side of her left thigh with the back of my hand, then strode to the sliding glass door.  I could feel Jillian’s gaze on my protuberant sex as I made my way across the sitting room.  My heart pounded in my chest.

I took a seat on the outdoor couch.  I wanted to be outside, but the morning sun was already brutal.  The patio’s eaves offered enough shade to make it pleasant.  I nursed my coffee looking at the pool.  Jillian and Bee soon emerged.  Jillian sat in chair to the left of the sofa; Bee, interestingly, sat on my right knee.  My erection subsiding, my radiant penis rested on my thigh.  I listened as the ladies stewarded the conversation.  I contributed sporadically; mostly, I listened, running my hand up and down Bee’s spine.  Bee glided her hand along the length of my left thigh, her forearm brushing my cock with more consistency to be accidental.  My cock responded agreeably, rising, seeking her touch. I shifted my hips so that Bee’s arm never broke from grazing against my shaft.  My erection solidified, pointing skyward; electricity sparked through me from her touch.  Jillian’s glances became longer and more brazen.  Bee had aroused me so that, like her, I wanted Jillian to stare at my hard cock, I wanted her to feast me with her eyes.  I closed mine and tipped my head back, lost in the feel of Bee’s powdery forearm feathering along my steely cock as the hope that our display made Jillian’s heart beat a little faster, a little stronger, creating a surging, yearning in her sex. 

“I’m getting some more coffee.  Anyone need a touch up?”  Jillian offered.

The spell broken, I lifted my head.  “Yeah, I do.  Please.”  I enjoined, extending my cup, my arm hovering perpendicular to my straining cock.

When Jillian returned, Bee was fully in my lap, as I massaged her neck and shoulders.  With my thumbs and fingers, I pressed and kneaded the base of her neck, across the tops of her shoulders, along the curve of her shoulder blades, and down the channel of her spine.  When I reached the small of her back, she jutted her chest out, letting out a prolonged, “Mmmmmm.”

“Mmm, that looks like it feels good,” Jillian remarked.

“You have no idea,” Bee replied languorously.

I worked my way up her back, following the path I took down.  When I reached her shoulders blades, she leaned forward, planting her hands on my knees.  “Ahhhhhh,” babbled from her open mouth.  She began rocking her hips.  Jillian finally picked up on what occurred as she fetched the coffee.

“Oh. My. Gosh. Bee: Is he inside you?!?”

“Mm hmm,” she hummed, somewhat embarrassed that Jillian called out what we wanted her to discover.  An awkward angle, I penetrated her shallowly.  She tightened her muscles, her entry’s ring gripping the bloated head of my cock. 

“I wanna see!”  Jillian demanded enthusiastically.  She hopped up from her chair and squatted before us.  I spread my legs, forcing Bee’s legs wider.  As I did, I slid to the sofa’s edge.  The change in angle sank me deeper into Bee.  Beatrix shifted her weight, steadying herself more on my thighs; her cunt accepted more of me, swaddling me, bathing me, caressing my desiderate cock. 

I felt another set of hands, light and warm, on my knees.  

Chapter Twenty: I Know and I Don’t Care

I was startled awake by Bee’s hand slapping my thigh, her fingers gouging my leg.  Through the sleep in my eyes, I could see, in the shadows, Bee arch her back, her breasts rolling on her chest.  She let out a, “Ngha!”  Trying to get my bearings, to ensure that she was OK, I looked down.  My eyes widened and iced adrenaline shot through me as I discovered Jillian’s arms encircling Bee’s full thighs, her head lost in the valley between. 

My cock engorged rapidly, blood pushed into it with such force it hurt.  I stretched up and kissed Bee.

I whispered, “Holy shit, Bee!”

“Hah, I know!” She replied, enraptured, breathless.  Her eyes sparkled in bewildered delight in the darkened room.

“Enjoying?”

“Oh fuck!” was her reply.  Her arm stiffened; she clawed the bed.  Her eyes rolled into her head.  She regained focus and looked at me sheepishly.  “Sorry….”

“Don’t be!”  I kissed her deeply, then slid down, stopping at her breast.  I flicked my tongue across her nipple.  Bee drew in another sharp breath.  I flicked her again.  Her nipple bunched and swelled in appreciation; her chest rose.  I flicked again.  And again.  As the pitch and volume of her voice increased with my speed, I latched onto her, drawing as much of her mighty breast into my mouth as I could, my hand gripping what remained exposed.  I savored the sylvan saltiness of her skin.  Bee cried out.  She pressed my face into her breast, her fingers digging into my scalp.  Jillian continued to minister to her clit and lips.

Bee released my head and franticly wriggled her hand between us.  “Your cock…I need your cock….”  She wrapped her hand tightly around my shaft, stroking and squeezing harshly.  She yanked on it, trying to pull it closer to her.  The thick glaze of her syrup that she coated me in earlier that night fused her hand to my shaft.  I slid next to her.  She painted my pre-cum in circles on her hip with the bloated head of my cock.  She yanked on me again.  I rose to my knees.  The scent of her dried parfum reconstituted with my fresh elixir wafted up.  She slithered herself between my legs, sliding my cock into her mouth.  She bathed me in her heat, from her tongue on the top of my cock and her breath on its underside and against my scrotum.  That I knew she was tasting us—a heady mix of my oil and her honey on my cock—stoked me.  I leaned, sucking hungrily on her left breast, craving to devour as much of it as possible.  She groaned, the reverberations ricocheting along the shaft of my cock, baffled deep inside me.  “Rrrrrahhh,” I exhaled into her breast.  I righted, steadying myself on her breast, sinking her left nipple into her pillowy bosom with my right thumb.  Bee strained to get more of my cock in her mouth.  She wrapped her right hand around my cock; I saw her left glide down her body and through Jillian’s hair.  Jillian chuckled in her throat: She knew what she was doing, that she was doing it well, and that she was in control.  Relinquishing my cock, Bee pushed on my left side.  Taking her cue, I laid down on my right.  Sliding up the bed, Bee turned her head and swallowed my cock in her mouth, her tongue swaddling me.  She twisted her body, striving to get more of me in her mouth.  In doing so, Jillian had to change her position: she let Bee lay on her right side as she rested her head on Bee’s thigh, her chin on Bee’s clit, as she feasted on Bee’s cunt. 

Bee curved her arm around my hip and, pushing on my ass with her hand, slid me in and out of her mouth, my hypersensitized corona sliding along her firm tongue.  Before me was the grand landscape of Jillian’s body: the gentle contours of her abdomen, her navel, her dainty breasts stretched tight against her chest, her powerful throat, the black blades of her pubic hair, her full thighs.  Aroused beyond reason, I scrambled for Jillian’s legs.  Pulling her to me, I pushed her thighs open.  I suddenly felt a hand cover my face.  “No!  Please!” She exclaimed, her voice tinged with concern.

“Why?”

“I get really wet.”

“I know.  I don’t care!”  Her hand acquiesced.  I plunged my face between her legs, pressing her cunt to my mouth, taking handfuls of her ass to keep her in place.  Her thighs clamped around my head, extinguishing all sound.  Her scent and flavor were more delicate, more floral, compared to Bee’s feisty spiciness.  Knowing Jillian likes pressure, I ground my chin against her clit; she ground back.  I could feel the wiry strands of her pubic hair grazing my cheeks, the thicket on her mons brushing under my chin.  My tongue fluttered along her lips, then darted in as deep as it could reach.  I sucked her left inner lip into my mouth and lapped it with my tongue.  I released it and ministered similarly to the right.  I ran my hand along her hip and side, stopping short of caressing her breast.  I stiffened my tongue and ran it along her lips, from their union at her perineum up to the button of her potent clit.  Bee continued to swirl devotedly around my cock.  

As previewed on her towel the afternoon before, Jillian was indeed wet.  I drank her nectar heartily; she warmed me as she trickled down my throat. 

Bee circled her thumb and forefinger constrictingly around my cock while cradling my balls in her palm.  Her breathing suddenly accelerated, becoming erratic.  She screamed on my cock.  Her body seized then jerked.  She was coming.  Hard.  With a muffled but full throated, “Mrrrrrrrrr!,” her mouth slacked.  My cock pulsed in her relaxed mouth, the top of my staff scraping on her teeth.  The scratch shocked me, making my muscles tense, tripping the reaction.  The coil spiraled tight, quickly, deep down.  My testes scrambled inside me.  I gripped Jillian’s ass, barking a, “Rrrrrrrrrrrrrah!” into her as my orgasm exploded, the blast shattering inside me, only able to escape through my cock.  My body shook as I came intensely, my cock pulsing and spasming against Bee’s tongue as she kept me in her obliging mouth. 

As my orgasm waned, and Bee graciously, tenderly embraced my sapped sex in her mouth, I resumed my attention to Jillian, licking and sucking on her clit and lips with renewed rapacity.  The avidity triumphed.  With her hand fastening to the back of my head, Jillian screamed as her orgasm wracked her.  Her body jolted in rolling waves.  Her cunt whelmed me with her essence as she came, filling my nose and mouth.  I drank her unquenchably, guzzling as much of her honey as I could while still focusing on kissing and lapping her through her orgasm.  She overflowed me, her cum running over my cheek and onto her thigh. 

Breathless, Jillian swung her leg off of me and laid herself flat on the bed.  Catching her breath, she dropped her right forearm across her forehead.  I rested my head on her leg and gently massaged her belly between her mons and her navel, as I felt her body relax.  Bee struck a similar pose, her head resting on my thigh.  I reached down, running my fingers through her hair.  She snuggled up to my leg.  Without a word shared, we soon were asleep again beneath the hum of the ceiling fan.

Spa

A private steam room
A water bottle’s cold sweat
Splashes on my cock

Chapter Nineteen: Urged Against

Dismissing the bellboy, I began carrying plates to the patio.  Bee and Jillian followed me on the return to the villa; I doffed my obligatory robe onto the patio sofa en route.  Together we collected more food, flatware, silverware and wine.  Seeing Bee and Jillian carry plates, forks, knives and napkins, all the while nude, was oddly quotidian and thunderingly stirring.  Concern over delivering our meal and its appointments safely to the table was comfortingly natural; seeing the raven bristles of Jillian’s pubic hair bursting from her mons as she balanced two plates on her arm, and Bee’s sumptuous breasts nearly spilling over her cradling forearms as they assisted in carrying the napkin-wrapped flatware, siphoned the blood from my face as my heart accelerated.  I felt warm, and stared at Jillian’s ass as we made our way back to the table. 

With no one having a particular taste for anything specific, we ordered nearly every appetizer to share.  Salads, broiled pork belly, Ahi tartare, brie with apples, a five cheese board made the rounds.  The wine flowed.  The conversations followed suit.  Like the previous night, we considered film, fashion, family, pop culture, and workplace dalliances, drudgery and indignities with gusto.  That we were intimately discussing masturbation not an hour earlier—and, more intimately, orgasming with and for each other a few hours prior—couldn’t have seemed longer ago.  Dinner fleetingly detoured into that neighborhood when a drop of the pea salad’s sour cream dressing splashed on Bee’s left breast.  Letting it linger, she looked at me alluringly, her depthless eyes pulling me in, before swiping it up with her right index finger and seductively sliding it between her lips.  Chilled by my surging arousal, I looked at Jillian, who volleyed a knowing grin, but, after a beat, resumed the conversation. 

Like dinner, a selection of desserts circulated: a fruit and berry tarte, espresso cheesecake, ganache mousse shooters, crème brulee.  Though the desserts had vanished, the wine persisted.  We sat back in our chairs, goblets in hand, the razed plates scattered and stacked on the table.  The conversation mellowed, ceasing in occasional, easy pauses.  Jillian tipped her head back, her hair cascading over the chair.  She lifted her left knee, settling her foot on the seat and peered into the cosmos.  I looked at Bee and gave her a wink.  She brought her left palm to her chest, alighting over her heart, in her cleavage, her left breast cradled in the crook of her elbow.  I scanned her body.  She parted her knees, her chestnut-thatched womanhood muted in the patio’s soft light.  My cock lengthened along my thigh as I stared at the vertex of her legs.  A sharp inhale from Jillian pierced the evening’s still.  Looking at us she declared, “I think I’m going for a swim.  Anyone care to join?” 

Jillian rose and, with a graceful turn, strode wispfully to the pool.  I made my way to the patio door to turn on the pool’s lights, pausing to kiss Bee as I did.  Flicking on the lights, Jillian was sitting at the pool’s edge with her feet submerged on the first step.  Her back curled, she extended her arms, resting them on her knees, her wine balanced in her delicately entwined hands.  I scanned the contours of her back, her breasts, her thighs, her calves.

I returned to Bee, standing to the left side of her chair.  I slid my hand across her shoulders.  My cock, full, elongated but hardly erect, nuzzled her left arm; it felt warm against her cool powdery skin. 

“Quite a day,” I remarked.

“Mmmm,” she replied.  She lifted her right hand to my cock and ran the tip of her index finger along my length, lightly pushing me against her arm.  My knees weakened under her touch.  I was stiffening, soon springing away from her arm.  Her finger continued to feather along my shaft, the inside of her forearm caressing her own breast as she did.  Her berry nipple twisted and stood.

“You wanna go in?”  I asked, motioning toward the pool.

“I want you in,” she said seductively, punctuating her statement with a bite of her lower lip.

“Mm, later,” I comforted, encouragingly pushing her forward on her shoulder blades.

Jillian stood as we approached, her lean body awash in the aqua hues of the pool’s submarine lights, making her skin paler, her hair darker.  We entered the pool in unison, the water’s comforting cool tautening our nipples as we sank.  Bee and Jillian made their way to a nearby wall and rekindled their conversation.  I dove in and swam the length of the pool, exiting the other end to fetch our wines.  With Bee’s and my drinks, I took a seat on the pool steps, joining the conversation.  I stole glances at their breasts on the occasions they surfaced, envious of the water as it beaded on their skin, trickling over coarse areolae, circumnavigating erect nipples.

The conversation eventually slowed.  Silent for moments, Jillian reluctantly offered, “Well, you guys, I’m going to bed.”

Looking at Bee, I concurred, “Yeah, I think we’ll call it a night too.”

Reluctant to see this day end, we exited the pool.  Without drying, we bussed the plates and wares inside to the kitchenette.  The table duly cleared, I stepped back outside, remarking, “I’m going to take a quick shower; I wanna get the chlorine off of me.”

I started the water and entered the spray.  As I washed my hair, Jillian and Bee joined me.  I stepped from the water and began soaping up, giving Bee and Jillian a chance to get wet.  Sufficiently sudsed, Jillian shot me a glance then, turning away from me, said, “Do my back.”  She cocked her head to the left and, pulling her hair over her left shoulder with her left hand, exposed the breadth of her back to me.  Daubing more soap to the scrub puff, I lighted my left hand on her shoulder and washed her back, beginning at the base of her neck, moving in a circular motion down.  I stopped at the small of her back, focusing on the dimples just above her cheeks.  With a, “There you go,” I concluded, offering her the scrub.  She playfully shook her ass, at which she and Bee giggled, and took the puff.  As I rinsed, Jillian soaped herself, then offered to wash Bee’s back.  My eyes locked on Bee’s as Jillian proceeded to caringly wash Bee.  Beatrix alluringly scrubbed her breasts, belly, mons and thighs, paying particular attention to the space between them.  My cock thickened and elongated, the weight of the blood in my glans pulling my cock groundward.  Jillian peered at my state over Bee’s shoulder with a satisfied smile. 

“There you go, Honey,” Jillian said, concluding her care.

“Thanks, baby,” Bee replied. 

I watched intently as both women shared the spray, the water pulling the blankets of bubbles from their bodies to the shower floor.  I leaned against the back wall.  My cock rose away from my body.  Semi-erect, I stepped under the spray for a quick last rinse, purposely sliding my cock along Bee’s soft hip as I made my way, before going to retrieve towels.  Shutting off the shower as I returned, I handed each of them a towel.  We dried as we slowly made our way to the patio door. 

“You guys coming to bed?”  Jillian asked.

Looking at Bee, I hesitated, “Mmm, not quite yet,” slinking my arm around her waist.

“OK. I’ll see you guys inside.  Thank you so much for a fun day,” Jillian said, a look of humbled appreciation crossing her face.  “Thank you, honey,” she said, embracing Bee tightly.

“You’re welcome.”

They parted, looked at each other fleetingly as they kissed tenderly on the lips.

Still holding Bee’s hand, Jillian turned to me.  “Thank you so much, Gaz.”  Releasing Bee, she lifted her arms, inviting a hug.

“Oh, you are most welcome, my dear.  Sleep well.”  As we embraced, she pushed her hips forward, her thick, soft pubic hair nesting around my cock.  My penis responded instantly, stiffening against her mound.  With a whispered giggle in my ear, she kissed me on the cheek and we parted.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she said coyly, looking over her shoulder as she stepped into the villa. 

As she rounded the corner into the bedroom, Bee chided, “Like that, did you?”  She lightly slapped the top of my thickened penis, playfully displeased that my hug with Jillian conveyed more than gratitude. 

“Oh, stop.”  I took Bee by the hand.  “Come here,” leading her into the sitting room.  I sat on the sofa, pulling her atop me.  Her thighs settled on either side of mine.  Her breasts pressed against my chest.  I kissed her deeply, passionately, our tongues entwining, exploring, thirsting, as I took her ample ass in my hands, squeezing desperately.  The heat from her cunt was sweltering; her humidity clung to my cock, making it swell, extend and rise.  Her sodden lips kissed the top of my shaft as my cock nuzzled into her cleft.  Flexing my pelvic muscles, my cock urged against her, my cockhead bloating as it pressed into her perineum. 

Breathless, we broke our kiss.  Perspiration gathering on her brow, Bee whispered commandingly, “I need you inside me,” as she cradled my face in her hands.

“OK!”  I kissed her hard again as I pivoted my hips.  The head of my cock dredged along her sweet sticky skin.  My lips broke from hers and, resting my head on her left shoulder, I let out a heavy, “Arghhhhh,” as her folds yielded and my glans sank shallowly into her heat.  Gyrating delicately, my length crept into her slowly, deliciously.  Halting once I was buried deep within, I lifted her left breast to my mouth and dallied on her nipple as our bellies fused with our combined saltiness. 

Unable to thrust, and not wanting to draw too much attention from our guest, presumably asleep, in the next room, Bee flexed her muscles, her cunt caressing me, massaging me, milking me, stroking me.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot, Bee.  I love it when you do that.”

“Oh yeah?  Why’s that, baby?”

“Just feels awesome.”

“Do you think you can come again?”

“Mm, don’t think so,” I replied regretfully.  “Do you want to come again?”

“No, I’m actually OK,” she said, lightly kissing my face.  “I just like the feeling of you inside me.”

“Like this?”  I asked, tightening my muscles, making my cock bloat, jolt and lengthen within the grasp of her canal.

Bee drew in a sharp, offguard, “Ha—!,” digging her fingers into my ribcage.  “Mmmm, yeah, like that,” she cooed.

I kissed her neck, wrapping my arms around the small of her back.  She rocked her hips subtly, my cock sliding along her superheated, tumid walls.  I widened my legs, drawing air between us, cooling my scrotum, contracting it.  She moved, her hips spasming as her distended clit grazed the top of my shaft.  I could distinctly sense each of us: my cock was steely hard; her vagina was thick, molten.  I could feel every inch of her enveloping me as I penetrated her.

We kept on like that, flexing, swelling, clutching, massaging, kissing, caressing, melding, until the night swallowed us.

Chapter Eighteen: But I’ll Tell You This

I lifted my head, which cried to remain still.  The room was murky; twilight was quickly succumbing to evening.  I looked at the sofa; Jillian had rearranged herself.  She had lain along the couch, her head nestled in the cushions of Bee’s thighs.  Jillian’s legs were wound, her knees pointed out, her shins pressing into the sofa’s padded arm.  I could make out the grand curve of her hip as it receded to the smooth contours of her abdomen and ribs.  Her dainty breasts receded into her chest, her powerful plum nipples betraying their secrecy.  Her eyes were closed, unaware of Bee’s heavy breasts and taut nipples hanging above her.  Beatrix soothingly stroked her hair. 

I sat silently, enjoying the quietude.  Bee sensed my presence and looked at me.  Even in dusk her eyes melted me.  I smiled in return.  I rose, topped off her wine and handed her her glass.  Adding a splash to mine, I lifted it in a silent salud and took a sip.  Standing up felt good.  I stretched, lifting my arms and arching my back.  My abdomen and legs elongated, forcing my sex outward.  Bee offered a muted wolf whistle.  I exhaled sharply and dropped my arms.  She rocked her head side to side sassily, her eyes never breaking with mine. She took an alluring sip of her drink.  Jillian began to stir.

I stepped out to the deck and, lighting a thick column candle at the table’s center, took a seat at the patio set that offered a view of the pool as well as anything that occurred in the villa’s sitting room.  With my right foot on the ground and my left on the seat, I rested my extended left arm on my knee, my hand cradling my wine glass; my right hand rested on my thigh, my fingers infrequently dallying with my scrotum and recuperating penis. 

The slide of the patio door added to the desert’s evening hum.  Jillian’s long silhouette emerged, stretching as she did, her arms reaching skyward.  Bee followed; having slid the door closed, she turned and walked toward me.  Her arms raised akimbo, she was reining her unruly hair with her black scarf.  My stare locked on her as she stepped into the patio sconces’ amber glow; her tits always look great when her arms are up.  Her pubic-dressed mons ebbed and flowed from the shadow of her thigh with each step.  She knew I was drinking her in and I could tell from her step she liked it. 

Jillian plopped in a chair on the other side of the table.  Bee took a chair equidistant from Jillian and me but moved it just off the table’s coast; in doing so, she sat and faced me, offering me an unobstructed view of her body.  My eyes gulped her.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” I chided Jillian.  She stuck her tongue out at me in mock anger.

“So, how was that?”  I asked.  Knowing the subject had to be broached—not doing so would have been awkward—but not knowing exactly what to say, “how was that?” was the best thing I could muster. 

Leaning forward, Jillian slapped her hands on the table’s glass top and said ebulliently, “Oh my gosh, you guys!  That. Was. Amazing!”  Bee chuckled. 

With equal parts relief and joy, I billowed a hearty, “Good!  I’m glad.”

Cocking her head to the side, she glared at me with concern, “How was it for you?”

Adrenalin splashed through me.  “It was…different.”

Jillian sat back. “You didn’t like it?”  She asked, sounding deflated, verging on annoyed.

“Oh, no, I did!”  I declared reassuringly.  “But it was a little weird.”  The ladies listened intently as I offered my assessment.

“I mean, I never really masturbated in front of anyone before, especially not for someone to specifically watch me do it.  And I certainly haven’t done it front of someone that, up until yesterday, I’ve only had a few lunches and dinners with.  And no one, aside from me, ever knew how I used to get off when I was a teenager.  So to show all that was, you know—phew, a bit of a wild ride.”  Both women smiled.

“But as each of you got into it, I really got into it, got lost in it.”  The mood around the table changed.  The electricity strengthened.  “Seeing how sexy each of you looked totally washed away any self-consciousness I had.  I just got into watching each of you, seeing how each of your bodies was responding, which was, candidly, so fucking hot that I couldn’t help but make myself come.”  I sensed each was a little embarrassed by that, as both Bee and Jillian demurely looked down.  “So how was yours?”  I asked.

“Well, first,” she started, graciously, leaning toward me, “thank you for doing that.”  I bowed my head and raised my glass to her.  “It was, I dunno, a little strange, a lot of fun,” she said, struggling to put her emotions into words.  She then declared, “But it was a fabulous fucking orgasm!”  We all laughed.

“Really?”  I inquired.

“Oh yeah!”  Jillian affirmed, looking at me intently, her brow furrowed.

“So what made it so?”  I sought.

“First, getting you to do what I asked you to do?  Big turn on.  Then, it was just everything.  Seeing your dick hard, watching you stroke it, er…hold it, or whatever it is you did,” we all chuckled, “to make yourself come.  And seeing Bee,” Jillian turned her attention, “watching your legs and your cute butt tighten and relax, watching your back get all sweaty, it was just…Whew!”  Jillian fanned herself with her hands.  Bee giggled embarrassedly.  I looked over at her.  Bee was transfixed on her friend as she recounted her orgasm.  Bee sat curled in the chair, her legs up and her feet tucked beneath her.  She leaned on the chair’s right arm.  Her left arm rested on her hip and her hand dangled over the globe of her ass.  Nearly imperceptibly, her hand pendulated; though difficult to confirm in the patio’s delicate light, I’m convinced the tips of her left index and middle fingers were gliding through the lips of her sex.  I extended my right leg and tapped Bee’s knee with my toe. 

“And how about you, m’dear?”

Her eyes lit as she nodded.  “Mmm, nice.” 

“Only nice?” I queried, perplexed.  “Seemed more than nice, stronger than nice, to me.”

“Mm, it was good,” she nodded as she spoke.  “It’s just…I don’t do it that way anymore.  I haven’t gotten off like that in a loooong time,” she admitted with a light smile.  “But since one of the rules was that we had to it as we use to do as kids, that’s how I did it,” Bee said matter-of-factly, raising her hands.  I craved to taste her fingers.

“So how do you do it now?”  Jillian asked.  I looked intently at Bee, hanging on her every word, my pulse quickening.

“Well, all the grinding I had done—on my hand or against pillows—always felt incredible, but the orgasms I had were never really strong.  And at first I don’t think they were orgasms at all; it was just this nice, warm feeling between my legs you, know?”  Jillian nodded appreciatively.  “Then one day at about 14 I was rubbing my legs together and I squeezed my thighs together tight and I had a really big orgasm.  It took me by complete surprise.  It was at this point that I said, Screw this, this feels too good, I gotta find a way to do this more!”  We laughed.  “So from there I began exploring myself more directly, using my fingers more.”

“So you prefer your fingers?”  Jillian continued to probe.

“Now I do, yeah.  I still do the crossing my legs and rubbing my clit thing, especially if I am pressed for time or someplace sort of public—movie theater, train ride, behind my desk at the office.”  Bee unfurled herself, putting her feet on the ground and sitting back.  Her knees parted.  Her left arm rested on the arm of the chair; her breasts cascaded down her chest.  “But alone, naked, I typically start out tracing small circles around my outer lips, lightly stroking around, teasing, dipping a finger inside to collect some moisture but nothing more yet.” Bee slowly drifted into her own head; her thighs flexed in a gentle rhythm.  “Then slowly sliding one then two fingers in, thrusting and moving out to my clit, until finally furiously rubbing my clit through at least two orgasms…sometimes three.”

“Oh!  My!  Gosh!  Bee!  That’s amazing!”  Jillian proclaimed, snapping Bee back to us.  She looked at me, stunned.  “How do you keep up with her, Gazzie?”

“I have my ways.  So how many can you have?”

“Sometimes I can have two, like today,” Jillian informed, her answer hinting a hue of inadequacy.  “But usually I’m a one-and-done girl.”

“Yeah, I can usually only achieve a couple of orgasms a day.”

“So how many have you had today?”

“Two.”

“Oh really?”

“But I will tell you this,” I added.  “I had a multiple orgasm, which is something that doesn’t happen very often.”

Jillian was agape.  Stunned, she sat up, offering a husky “Wow.”

“Yup.  Tis true,” I said, my reply somewhat smug as I sat back in my chair. 

“So how’d that happen?”  Jillian asked with near disbelief.

“Well, I came when Bee started to come.  Then, as I was coming, you started to come.  My orgasm was just winding down as you started having your second orgasm, so I pushed down hard on the top of my cock with thumb and thrust my pelvis out, pushing my cock through my hand, and that just triggered it, and I had another small orgasm.  Watching you,” I said flatly, attempting to underemphasize the effect that watching her come had had on me.

“Huh!  I’ve never heard of that happening to a guy,” Jillian remarked incredulously.  Her breasts danced on her chest; her nipples puckered.  My cock slithered slightly in my lap.

“Yeah, I had heard of it but, kinda like you, I didn’t believe it, until it happened to me for the first time,” I stated.

“When was that?”  Jillian asked, curiously.

“I’m not really sure.  It’s a more recent thing.”

“Does it only happen when you’re jerking off or has it happened when you’re with someone?”

“So far, I’ve only been able to make myself do it.  It’s never happened when I’m with someone.  I’m usually so focused on the person I’m with—making them feel good, making them come—that I kind of push my orgasm aside.  But when I’m on my own—especially if it’s been awhile since I last came or I’m really wound up—I can bring myself to a multiple orgasm.” 

Bee stared at me, a look of determination etching into me. 

“So is it that…grip, that makes you come twice?”  Jillian pursued, her right hand circling in the air as she asked.

“No, my usual technique usually gets me there.” 

“And what’s that?”  Jillian asked, leaning forward in her chair, her head cocked to the side, peering mischievously, seductively from the corners of her eyes.  Bee, too, rearranged herself, sitting up in her chair, bringing her knees together.

“Uh….”  I blushed and stammered.  I was surprised that I found myself off guard, that explaining my bringing myself to multiple orgasms was somehow easier to share than my preferred method of making myself come.  But breathing deep, I offered, “It’s pretty simple, really.”  The ladies’ attention was rapt.  “Once I’m hard I’ll lightly caress the side and underside of my cock.  Then once my pre-cum comes out, I start stroking in earnest, using three or four fingers sliding along the underside of my shaft.”  I could feel my cock swelling and hardening as I spoke. 

“That’s all?”  Jillian pushed.

“Sometimes I’ll slide my fingertip along the ridge of my head, and if I’m really slick, I’ll caress the head with just my thumb and finger.  Then, as I get close, sometimes I’ll push my hips up and run my left hand along my thigh, and grip my cock in my hand as I come.”  I shrugged my shoulders, communicating, That’s pretty much it.

Jillian rose and leaned over the table.  Her hands planted flatly on the table and her arms straight, she looked me in the eye and asked provocatively, “Care to illustrate?”

“Damn, woman!” I protested.  Jillian cracked a smile and looked over her shoulder at Bee.  I looked at her breasts as they hung deliciously from her chest and at the gentle curves of her hip and thighs.  Jillian returned her look at me and smiled invitingly in the candlelight.

With artificial indignation, I declared, “Fine!”  I shifted my butt to the edge of my chair, letting my knees fall wide.  I picked up my cock with the tips of my right index and middle fingers.  I was already leaking pre-cum which, mixed with the remnant semen and saliva from earlier in the afternoon, made my cock superiorly slick.  I ran the length of my index finger alongside my urethra on the underside of my cock, feeling the yield of the channel and the rigidity of my shaft; my knuckle nudged the ridge of my glans.  My breathing deepened and slowed.  I switched my grip, gliding the pads of three fingers along the underside of my cock, steadying my shaft with my thumb.  I caressed my hanging scrotum and right testicle with my ring finger on each downstroke, my pinkie settling into the nest of my pubic hair.  I closed my eyes.  Though my cock was steely hard and slick, made harder still by the audience, it was also somewhat numb.  There was no way I could come again.  Bringing my ministrations to a stop midstroke, and shooting glances at both women, I flexed my muscles, making my erection elongate and my cockhead thicken.  Bee smirked; she’s seen—and felt—me do that when I’ve been in her hand.

I released my cock.  “Sorry.  After this afternoon, I don’t think I can come again,” I apologized, wiping the clear essence of my cock from my hand on my thigh as another bead emerged and rolled down my shaft, cooling as it glided. 

“Thank you again, Gazzie,” Jillian said with gentle appreciation.

“Well, you’re welcome.  Sorry I couldn’t— ” 

“Don’t worry.  That was incredibly hot,” Jillian affirmed. 

“Well…good, then.”

“I love watching a guy jerk off,” Jillian confessed.  “So incredibly sexy.”

“Huh!  Really!”

“Mm hmm,” Bee added hungrily.  “Hard to explain but so erotic.”

“That’s funny: I think there’s nothing sexier that watching a woman bringing herself to an orgasm.”  I paused.  “Or two.”  Bee and Jillian laughed.

“I need another drink!”  Jillian declared, as she started to stand.

I quickly rose.  “Stay, I’ll get it.  And is anyone getting hungry?”  There were affirmative nods at the table.  “OK, let me the get the room service menu.  I assume we want to eat here?”  Jillian’s eyes darted to my erection.  Bee locked her eyes with mine as she discretely cupped her left breast.  “That’s what I figured.  I’ll be right back.”  I leaned, kissing Bee deeply on the lips, her hand releasing her breast and wrapping around my cock.  She gave it a tender squeeze.  We broke.  I slid my hand along her breast as hers trailed along my thigh and hip as I made my way back into the villa.

Chapter Seventeen: You Haven’t Started

We tumbled through the villa’s door, our shopping bags careening off the entryway walls like drunkards in an alley.  Closing the door, we set the bags around the room: Jillian’s next to her travel bag by the bathroom; Bee’s at the feet of the sofa’s end table; mine, indiscriminately, by the sitting room chair.

In silent, ingenuous unison, we began disrobing, peeling our sodden clothing from our bodies.  Bee and Jillian, having catnapped in the car, revealed a refreshment in their movements; I—having driven across the desert in the afternoon after shopping, drained of the adrenalin deluge that gushed as I caressed Beatrix to three orgasms in the front seat as her friend slept behind us, in a car whose air conditioner battled valiantly against the climate outside—was bleary and depleted.  I kicked off my sandals, each crashing into the bags by the chair.  Jillian freed her hair, the long, glossy black torrent falling down her back, then carefully untied her wrap and slipped it from her shoulders.  Her breasts yearned outward as she drew her shoulder blades toward each other and extended her arms back, letting the garment glide down her long, smooth arms; her nipples hardened in the room’s cooled air.  In a move I’m certain designed to instigate, she bent at the waist, her legs long, straight and dignified, to remove her shoes. Her right foot crossed in front of her left, her hair draping around her face, she reached for her shoes, stolidly undoing them, gravity doggedly trying to pull her dainty breasts away from her chest.  Past her, Bee turned to face me, her back to the patio door.  She determinedly pulled her shirt skyward, her breasts catching within the bunching fabric.  Outlined by the afternoon sun, I could still see her majestic breasts crash down on her chest once freed from her shirt, the shockwaves reverberating within them, her nipples tensing in response.  (It was apparently unnoticed, or knowingly yet politely unmentioned, by Jillian that Bee had emerged from the car without the bra that she had worn to the car.)

I could feel my heartbeat quicken, but at that juncture even my cock was too tired to react.  Brutishly I pulled my shirt over my head and forced my shorts and boxers down my legs.  Bee and Jillian conversed breezily as they removed their pants.  As Jillian charmingly folded her clothes, I grabbed mine from the floor in my right fist and, without a word, stumbled vacantly toward the master.  I tossed my clothes in the corner of the room and poured myself into bed, the cool sheets embracing me.  Though the desert heat had beaten me, afternoon slumber welcomed me like the parent of a wayward child.

Spindrifting giggles and an urge to pee woke me.  I tossed and turned in vain, my full bladder baffling any chance of my getting back to sleep.  Begrudgingly I kicked the sheet off of me and stumbled to the lavatory.  As I expelled, I knew it was best that I got up; dinnertime had to be approaching.  Relieved, my cock plunged down and to the left; still warm from sleep, my slackened sac hung low, the draped skin of my scrotum grazing and clinging lightly to my thighs as I stepped.  I padded to the living room and plopped myself on the couch next to Bee.  I slumped back, bringing my left forearm to rest on my forehead, my right hand settling on Bee’s smooth, full thigh, my cock arching over, the crown breaths away from my left leg.  Bee tussled my hair.  I glanced at her and was greeted with a warm smile and her captivating brown eyes; her right arm, crossed along her abdomen, tenderly cradled her breasts.  I closed my eyes and smiled lightly in reply.

Jillian sat in the chair across from us.  Her voice appetent, she said, “So, ya ready to show me?” 

My eyes snapped open.  She was leaning forward, her hands cupped together and set upon her right knee, her nutmeg nipples pointing at her thighs.  Her eyes gleamed. 

I rocked my head on the sofa cushion.  “Oh, ga, Jillian—I just woke up!”  I squawked, adding, without thinking, “Besides, do I look ready?”  I motioned toward my groggy sex. 

“Well, hurry up!” She commanded cheekily.  Bee giggled.

“Well, how about a little help?” I replied cannily.

“Ohhh, no,” she protested.  “You’re doing this on your own.  Remember, you’re supposed to show me how you used to do it.”

“Oh, I know.  I’m not reneging, and I’m not asking you to do anything with me.  I’m just saying, how about a little help to get me hard?”  My cock acknowledged the words leaving my lips; I could feel it begin to heat, to swell, to stiffen.  Bee also acknowledged my words and flicked my leg with her finger.

“Ow!”  My leg jolted as I glared at Beatrix; she looked back knowingly.  Jillian deferred with a sly smile, “See?  That’s Bee’s department.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I get it.  But….”  I paused; Bee and Jillian listened intently.  “I just think that if you’re the one who wants to see me masturbate, it’d be nice if you could be the one who gets me to where I want to masturbate.”  My cock swelled as the word “masturbate” floated toward Jillian, but the rising intensity of my negotiations with her also siphoned blood from my sex.  Sitting up, I leaned in and looked at her intently.  She recoiled, “I dunno….”  Bee’s fingertips began trailing up and down my right thigh.

“Look, I’ll make it easy.”  She looked up at me.  I could feel Bee’s eyes on me as well.  “Since I told you about my first time and early technique, why don’t you tell us yours?”

“No.”  She shook her head adamantly.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because…?  You masturbate, right?”

“Yes.”  She glared at me like I was being thick.

“OK, I figured; just wanted to make sure,” I said, defusing.  “Then,” I followed, attempting to strike a blend of insistence yet understanding, “what’s the issue?”

“I have my own way of doing it.”

“As did I.  So?”

“So,” Jillian returned, bearing a piercing vulnerability, “I don’t want you guys to think I’m a freak.”

With hands waving in front of us, and our heads shaking, Bee and I quickly replied in concert, “Oh no no no, never!”

“Aw, baby, you know how much I love you!” Bee intoned soothingly.  Jillian returned a warm smile.

“And with all that we’ve shared, all rather quickly, in the past 24 hours or so,” I gestured to our common state of nudity, and tacitly implied that she caught Bee and me fucking last night as she slept in our bed with us, “there will be no judgment, no being freaked out, just sharing stories.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed hesitantly.  “Promise you won’t think I’m a freak?”

“Promise,” Bee and I both pledged.

“All right.  But I need some wine first.”

I slapped my hands on my legs and stood.  “Coming right up!”  I strode into the kitchenette to fetch a bottle and some goblets.  I could feel my cock swelling again; a tear of pre-cum splashed on left thigh.  I returned, placed the stemware on the table and corked the bottle.  Glancing down, my cock was pitched down but had thickened appreciably, the vein on the left side near the base bulging, the head broadening, turning a dusky purple.  All three glasses filled, I distributed them, and taking my seat again next to Bee, raised mine and pronounced, “Cheers!”

The ladies contributed their “Cheers,” raised their glasses and we each took a sip.

With a deep breath exhaled with an “Haaaaaa…,” Jillian sat up and undid her hair which she had tied up during the afternoon, shaking the tangle out to her natural, raven wave.  Inhaling deeply again, she said with a breathy heaviness tinged with reluctant embarrassment, “So….”  Then, drawing in an empowering breath, Jillian looked Bee and me in the eye and declared, “I’m a humper.”  Halting to confirm that the sky had not fallen, she imbibed and continued: “When I was growing up, I shared a room with my older sister, so I didn’t have much privacy.  I had this long pillow that I always snuggled up with. I used to wrap my legs around it and sort of…wiggle a bit.”  She shimmied her hips quickly in her chair.  Her petite breasts danced on her chest.  Seeing them quiver made my heart accelerate, forcing blood into my cock.  It warmed, and I could feel it slither over my scrotum, the head creeping along my left thigh.  Preparing her next statement with a sip of wine, she said, “When I was about 13, it started to feel warm and really pleasant between my legs when I rubbed against it.”  Exuberance crept into her voice.  My cock rose.  Sitting up with my left leg bend, my foot resting on my knee, my cock was now parallel with the cushion beneath, hovering in the air, faintly pulsing.  I took a mouthful of wine.

Bee set her hand on my hip, her index and middle fingers meandering through the edge of my pubic hair, sending flashes of electricity through my groin. 

“So one night, I rubbed a little harder, a little faster….”  Jillian was now playing with her delivery, growing more comfortable in her recollections, and seeing the effect she was having on me, as my gaze locked on her, my eyes unblinking, my cock peering over my ankle at her. 

“Until I felt this weird sensation wash through my body.  At first I froze—I thought I hurt myself!”  Bee and I chuckled.  I blinked.

“But after the panic went away, I realized how good it felt, and I wanted to do it again!”  She said excitedly.  More laughter, more wine. 

“It was only later—looking stuff up in some of the books and magazines my sister had that I found out I came.”  The verb astounded me.  As she was carefully unfolding this tale, I was certain she would use the word “orgasm”; that she chose the phrase “I came” made my cock swell rapidly.  It stood straight up, tilting slightly left, the rapid influx of blood agonizing.

“And I found out about my clit and what it does and how it could make me feel, so the next night I tried it again!”  She faced Bee but peered sideways at my cock.  “That time it was a little quicker but a little stronger.  I did it almost every night, but I started to feel a little freaked, doing that with my sister across the room from me—did she know what I was up to? Could she hear me?—so I tried to get the same feeling elsewhere, especially in the shower or the furo—”  Bee and I stared at her blankly.  “Oh, sorry.  The bath.”  We nodded comprehendingly.

Jillian resumed, “I experimented with wash cloths, just my fingers, the water running out the faucet, but the best for me was with my pillow, just before I went to sleep.”

There was a hush as Jillian surveyed Bee and me.  “Wow,” was all I could muster.  “And so you’ve stuck with that technique ever since?”

Jillian shook her head, her eyes widening with an understanding affirmation.  “Mm hmm, pretty much!  That’s what’s always felt best for me.  When my sister moved out to go to college,” she strode on, “and I had more time to myself in the house since both my parents worked, I tried some different things to grind on: cushions, the arm of the sofa, stuff like that.”

“And how were those?”  Bee asked, her tone more clinical than prurient, as though she wanted to learn a new method.

With near exuberance, Jillian replied in a singsong tone, throwing her head back, “Ha, the orgasms were FABulous!”  We all laughed. 

Still chuckling, I queried, “So, what was so bad in admitting that?” bringing my wineglass to my lips, hoping to dispel any residual unease.

“I dunno….”  Jillian’s voice trailed off as she turned to the window.  “I just don’t think many women do it that way.”

“I do,” Bee chimed in.

“You do?” Jillian asked with assuaged excitement.

Turning to her, perplex, I echoed, “You do?”

“Mm hmm!”  Bee replied with a wide-eyed nod similar to Jillian’s.  In a declaration of solidarity, Bee said, “I also shared a room with my sister….”  She punctuated the statement with horizontal curved punch through the air with her right fist.  Her breasts swayed, her right knocking into her left, capturing my attention.  “And I’m a front sleeper, I like sleeping on my front.”

“That’s true,” I interjected.

“And I used to fall asleep with my right arm buried under me.  So kind of like you, I discovered that it felt really nice pressing my pussy against my hand.  At first it was just…comfortable; it wasn’t like I came or anything.  But I think when I was around 14, I was doing that, and I kinda curled my fingers around, so I was sort of cupping myself in my hand, and this wild, amazing feeling blew through me.”

“So’d you keep up with it?”  Jillian asked.

“Ohhh, yes, but as I could do it with my hand, I could get those feelings sort of sneakily elsewhere—while I was watching TV on the living room floor, on the bus.  But the best was still in bed at night.”

“So what is it about humping that you like?”  I asked openly, my voice infused with prurience (though hopefully only subtly). 

“It’s the pressure,” Jillian answered unhesitatingly.  Setting her wine on the table, she straightened her back and planted her palms flatly on the seat cushion on either side of her thighs.  Her hips rocked almost imperceptibly. 

“Yep,” Bee concurred.

“I like the feeling of pushing and pressing and grinding,” Jillian added.  “It tightens me up like a spring inside.  Then when I finally get there, I feel warm all over, and my whole pelvis pulsates, with my area feeling like it pushing down and out against whatever it is I’m rubbing on.”  I smiled lightly at her choice of the word “area.”  “I can feel it vibrating in my thighs.”

“That’s fantastic,” I said.  My body was electrified.

Jillian leaned in, her palms still by her thighs, her nipples pebble hard.  “So…you ready?”  She thrust her jaw out and shot a look at my cock. 

I looked down.  “Uh….”  My erection, pointing toward the ceiling, bobbed with each thunderous beat of my heart.  A strand of pre-cum connected the head of my cock to my left thigh; it seemed to swell thicker the longer I looked at it.  “Yeah…I think so.”  More pre-cum emerged; we watched as it percolated out, slid over the head and plunged down the strand to my thigh.  I shifted in my seat; the heavy scent of my sexuality, spiced with the remnant parfum of Bee’s cunt, wafted.  Nearly every muscle in my body twitched; I was convinced I was visibly shaking.  Now Bee and Jillian were transfixed.

“OK,” I broke the silence.  “I used to do this on the floor, but I think I’ll use the ottoman,” I said, gesturing to the oversized rectangular footrest in front the other living room chair, almost thinking aloud.  “I should also get a towel,” I added.  I stood and walked uneasily to the bathroom; I felt chilled.  My cock pointed straight out at Jillian, steely and a frustrated crimson.  Her eyes widened; I could hear her breathe a little deeper.  As I exited, Jillian whispered, “Oh my gosh, Bee!”  I smiled.  That eased me.

I grabbed a bath towel purposefully from the mounted rack above the toilet.  I turned to leave, but hesitated.  Turning back I grabbed two more.

Returning the living room, I announced, “OK, I’m going to do this.  But you two,” tossing a towel each to Jillian and Bee, “are going to join me.”

“Ohhh, no.  That wasn’t part of the deal,” Jillian disputed.

“Well, it is now,” I answered in mocked defiance.  “If you get to see me come, I don’t see why I can’t get to see you come.  That seems fair.  Doesn’t it?”

“Uh…no!”  Jillian chided.

“Why not?” I bandied.  “Look, same rules’ll apply:  I’ll show you how I used to make myself come, and you can show me.”

“Mm mm,” she hummed in protest.

I raised my hands and shook my head with quizzical disbelief.

“I’ve never masturbated in front of anyone before!”

“So?  You think I have?”  I retorted.  (Of course I had, just yesterday, with Bee on the patio, but as I didn’t come, I was prepared to argue that that didn’t count.)

“Enough!”  Bee said authoritatively, quashing the brewing argument.  “Andiamo!”  She circled her raised right hand in the air like a rallying signal, then stood and unfolded her towel.  Her breasts quaked as she shook the towel out.  The look of her—her deep brown eyes, her heavy breasts pouring off her chest, her full hips and thighs, the toned contours of her calves—made my cock swell; thinking that she was just moments away from, hopefully, grinding herself to an orgasm as she bent to arrange the towel on the sofa, her glorious ass jutting out, her raw sugar tits capped with paprika nipples plunging down, made my cock pound.

I unfolded and spread my towel across the ottoman.  Jillian rose with a huff.  “All right,” she said with perturbed disinclination, and stomped over by me.  I looked at Bee who flashed me a coy smile as she sat on the edge of the couch.  Jillian undid only a couple of folds of the towel, extending it along the arm of the sofa, but maintaining a few layers.  I looked at her curiously.

“I can’t see you from over there,” she remarked.

I looked at Bee again, who winked with a Cheshire grin as she reposed on the sofa along her right side, her head resting in her hand, her eyes radiantly mysterious.  Her left hand lighted on her hip as she tugged absentmindedly on cinnamon strands of her pubic hair.  I smiled deviously back at her.  Bee looked ambrosial.

I knelt on the ottoman and sat on my heels, spreading my knees in a wide V.  Straightening my back, my cock pierced forth from the junction of my groin and lingered above the towel, pulsing and bucking faintly; my scrotum skimmed the terry.

Jillian stationed her hands, one behind the other, at the sofa arm’s edge as she slung her left leg over like mounting a saddle.  Fleetingly, I could see the outline of her delicate yet distended inner lips protruding beyond her outers before she settled herself on the armrest.  She put her hands on the tops of her thighs near her hips and shimmied her pelvis slightly, seeking the perfect angle.  The flex and strain of her thigh muscles, the undulation of her compressed mons beneath her midnight pubic hair and the gentle roll of her abdomen mesmerized me.  I stared at her belly.  The color of heavy cream, her skin was exiguously speckled with birthmarks—two to the right of her navel, one to the left near the bottom of her ribs—like a photo negative of a twilight sky when only the brightest stars emerge.  Her breasts and thatch were in my periphery.  Returning her hands to the CPR stance before her, her arms obscuring her nipples, her navel and her pussy, she leaned forward, breaking the spell she held me in. 

“Phew! OK,” Jillian said, breath taken.  “Come on.”  She gestured toward me, her face flushed.

Bee rolled onto her front, but not before lifting herself on her hands to bring her eminent breasts comfortably between her and the cushion.  She settled down and rocked to the left as she slinked her right hand under her to her mound.  Reaching its destination, Bee immediately began pushing her pelvis against her hand.  Her eyes closed, her lips parted, her face ruddied.  I was now engrossed by Bee as her ass and legs flexed, her face contorting in her desperate climb.  A staccato “Ah!” escaped her.  She bent her left arm, her left hand crawling beneath her breast.

Forgetting Jillian’s presence, I asked, “You pinching your nipple, baby?”

“Mm hmm,” she replied from her throat as she licked her lips. 

“Pinch it hard for me.”

She drew in a sharp “Hu!” as she followed my command.

“You two really are fucking hot,” Jillian contributed.  “Ah!”  She cried.

I broke my gaze from Bee and looked at Jillian.  Her knuckles were white as she dug her fingers into the sofa.  Her hips rocked in a steady, even rhythm.  She watched Bee from above, afforded, undoubtedly, a spectacular view of her back, ass and legs as her body surged and ebbed in its journey to an orgasm.

I sat and absorbed the moment, enjoying the electricity that filled my body and ricocheted through the room.  My cock felt distended, thick, heavy. 

Jillian turned back to me.  Her eyes glassy, she admonished me breathily, “Hey, you haven’t started.”

I held my gaze with her then looked down at my cock, furious in its shades of reds and purples.  “You’re right,” I admitted.  Recalling my earliest technique, I extended my feet, the edges where my toes join my feet sank into the ottoman.  I sat on my heels and placed the pad of my left thumb on the top of my erection near the base.  My thumb at a right angle, I pressed my palm into the padding of my mound, my index finger nuzzling my tightened scrotum.  I pressed down with my thumb and back with my palm.  My shaft elongated; the skin stretched, more veins emerged.  I pushed my fingers into the flesh behind my sac.  I flexed my muscles, making my cock throb and the glans bloat.  Pre-cum poured from the tip, leaving glistening droplets on the towel below. 

I looked Jillian in the eyes.  I saw her stealing glances.  She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes.  I gulped her body with my eyes.  Her chest blazed red.  The sides of her breasts (the foci were obscured by her forearms) quivered as she ground keenly on the sofa arm. 

Bee moaned again.  “You close, baby?”  She asked.

“Getting there,” I assured her.  “You?”

“Mmm, yes,” she said in a heavy breath, her eyes closed.

I returned my attention to Bee.  “Mmm, nice.  Then why don’t you do it?  I want to hear you come.”  Bee thrust her hips, her cunt pounding against her hand.  “Come for me.”  I switched my grip: rotating my hand, my thumb remained at the base of my cock, but the tips of my four fingers came to rest along the right side of my shaft.  I rose up on my haunches and thrust my pelvis against my open fist.  My cockhead was a deep purple, the corona an inflamed red. 

“Oh fuck!”  Jillian exhaled, looking at me unblinkingly.  A frantic, rising, “Mmmmmh!” was trapped in her throat.

Bee’s breath quickened, shallowed and became erratic.  Gasping short, sharp breaths, she said, “Ah, I’m gonna come.”  Gaining a momentary focus, she appealed, “I want you to come too.  Come with me, baby.  Fucking come with me.”

She thrust against her hand one last time.  “Oh FUCK, I’m coming!”  She cried out, her mouth open, her face strained red as her legs and ass quaked involuntarily.  The initial explosion past, she thrust her hips more, drawing out more of her orgasm. 

Her words pierced me.  I settled down one last time, my scrotum pressing into the cooled pre-cum that sprinkled beneath me.  I rose up on my knees, thrust my cock toward her.  I tightened my muscles.  My cock strained as the beginning of my orgasm sparkled within like a roman candle.  Spreading through my groin and down my thighs, my orgasm snapped.  I let out a growled, “Ngha, fuck!”  My cock ejaculated the first blast of semen onto the coffee table, landing with a subtle splat on the glass.  Realizing I extended the end of my cock beyond the edge of the ottoman, I cupped my right hand beneath, my scalding coulis drizzling into my palm.

A muffled, delirious, “MMMMM!” reverberated in Jillian’s throat.  She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingers into the sofa’s arm.  Her legs clamped tightly and shook uncontrollably.  She panted sharply, rapidly, then squealed through her grit teeth as her thighs shuddered again.  Her body stiffened.  The pleasure finally passing, she released her grip on the couch, and dropped her head, her hair draping around as she fought to catch her breath.

Finding the sights and sounds of two women less than a foot from each other orgasming within seconds of each other torturously erotic, I pressed my cock through my ringed grip again, coaxing a second, diminutive orgasm.  As my orgasms subsided, I sat back, caught my breath, and massaged the pearly glaze of my semen onto my cock. 

Sweaty, I struggled to rise, my legs unstable.  Upright, I began to make my way to the bathroom to clean up and cool down, wiping the residual cum from my hand with my towel as I stepped.  Making my way uneasily around the coffee table, Bee sat up and stopped me with an extended left arm.  Turning me deliberately, she looked up at me mischievously and, without a word, closed her glinting, bottomless brown eyes and took the length of my waning cock in her mouth.  She let out a satisfied “Mmmmm,” as her tongue swirled and bathed and cleaned me. 

“Oh, wow, Bee,” Jillian exclaimed in disbelief, as I watched her watch us.  Bee giggled on my cock as she ran her fingertips up my thighs and over my ass to my back, pushing more of me into her warm, silken mouth.  I had to steady myself, placing my hands on her shoulders.  I closed my eyes and dropped my head forward as her tongue swathed, cradled and caressed my hypersensitive cock.  With a dragging “mmmm,” and a punctuational pop, she unsheathed my cock from her lips.  Kissing my stalk, my mound and just below my navel, she patted me on the ass and sent me on my way.

I rinsed my hands and splashed water on my face.  Drying with a hand towel, I felt refreshed yet drained.  Returning to the living area, Jillian had dismounted the sofa arm and sat snuggled up to Bee, who supported Jillian’s head with her upper right arm as she ran her fingers through her hair.  Making my way to my chair, I noticed a pronounced wet spot on Jillian’s towel. 

I sat, leaned my head back and looked at the ceiling.  “We should probably order food,” I said flatly to no one in particular, to which no one particularly replied.  We just sat quietly, the room turning copper, orange and pale violet as the desert sun slid behind the mountains.

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Anonymous asks: When was the last time you came hard? And what brought you there?

I usually come pretty hard with my beloved. With two bodies in motion - always subject to time, place, mood - the quality of my orgasms with her vary.  I know I had a pretty strong one with her recently, but I can’t recall when exactly. But if I recall, she was on top, my hands on her hips, her hair draping around her face, her petite breasts swaying delectably before my eyes, her nipples taut. The heat was searing. As being on bottom, which is my favorite position, I was able to relax a bit, which allowed me to explode deep inside her.

As for self-induced, again it was recent, but I don’t recall exactly when. I think I started on the path working on the current chapter of the ongoing serial that’s the core of this blog. Then I think I found a video of a woman masturbating. It was homemade, which I prefer - I can’t stand commercial porn - and what grabbed me was the way she moved her hips as she caressed herself, thrusting her hips off the bed, slamming against the imaginary cock that penetrated her. It was that abandonment - of the presence of the camera, of self-consciousness, of time itself - that mesmerized me, and I came thunderously. 

Thanks for the question!