“Suck it harder. All of it.”
The man obliged, and the black man groaned, his legs tightening. I saw a c**k twitch in the darkness and realized the white man was hard. Very hard.
I felt Beverly tugging on me, and I blinked, stepping back, but not before my eyes locked with the woman in the room. She smiled, slowly and securely at me, and then I heard her speak to the men. “Now. Get up, both of you, on the bed. I want you to use those hard cocks on me.”
I tried to stifle a gasp, and followed Beverly, her hand tugging, pulling me to the next room. For a reason I couldn’t explain, I felt my panties sticking to me, wetness pooling.
Brad leaned against the wall, obscured by the shadows, invisible. He watched the two women walk away, watched Julia, her face as she looked in one of the bedrooms with Beverly. He saw her expression change and wondered what she saw. Maybe it had been a mistake bringing her here. Maybe she wasn’t ready.
Movement in his peripheral vision caused him to turn and he watched as a girl entered the room. Alone, wearing white, her face covered with a veil. Even in the dim light he could see through the sheer fabric of her dress, erect ni**les and bare skin underneath, nothing else. She was nervous, tentative. She gripped a glass of white wine tightly in her hand and looked around the room. He stood upright and moved out of the shadows, his steps sure and confident.
* * *
“I’M SORRY, WHAT did you ask?” I had missed whatever Beverly had said, my mind still filled with images from the first room.
“I was saying that we decorated the four bedrooms in color themes—kind of to fit different fetishes. Me, myself, I just like straight sex with different men. I don’t travel too far outside that box. But I like watching all sorts of things. That room back there was the red room.”
I nodded, vaguely remembering that the room had a red theme—dark red walls, cream carpet, red lamps and bed coverings. In another world it might be considered designer disaster, but in this setting, it fit the mood of excess.
“This next room is the blue room. I find more mellow couples tend to use this area,” she whispered, pushing the door open farther. We peered in.
Now, aware of the color schemes, I noticed the room itself first. It sported robin’s-egg pale blue walls, white furnishings, and large abstract art on the walls. There was discreet uplighting, but the room was mostly lit by candles. Two couples occupied this room, one on the bed and one on the floor, cushioned by large pillows. Both couples seemed to be caressing and kissing each other, hands gently moving everywhere. We moved on, me needing less encouragement this time.
The black room was next. “Whips and chains?” I asked, reading into the color choice.
“Not here,” she laughed. “S and M is a whole other culture, one we don’t participate in. Not because we don’t agree with it. It just has its own groups and parties. What you saw in the first room—that’s as dominant as it gets here. The black room is mostly for GB stuff. It’s the largest guest bedroom we have.”
I didn’t have a chance to ask what GB stood for, and didn’t need to, once we peered in. Six men surrounded one girl. She was voluptuous, with large natural br**sts, a soft but slim stomach and wide hips. She was bent over, on a large bed, two men at her feet, one in her pu**y, another in her ass. She screamed, loud and in pleasure, and they both moved in unison, f**king her deeply, then pulling slowly out. She supported her body with one hand, and used the other to jack off a skinny man who knelt, naked, before her. The other men touched her, squeezing her br**sts, smacking her ass or waiting impatiently for a chance at her mouth. Everywhere I looked in the room, there was movement, skin-on-skin, mouth-on-skin, and sounds filled the space. Slaps, moans, muttered phrases.
I watched, transfixed, as the woman came, long and loudly, her body shaking with the exertion and clear juice squirting from her pu**y. The man who had been f**king her, a thin man with a c**k like a f**king Clydesdale’s, swore in amazement at her gushing pu**y and pulled out, using his fingers to finish her off. He wore a dark green mask, and pulled the mask up to get a better view. His handsome face was filled with desire and wonder and sex, and I felt sudden familiarity, as I realized that my emotions matched his. What was I doing? Standing here gaping! I had an image of what I must look like and turned away suddenly, ending the view of the room and my hidden fantasy.
* * *
KATE WAS RUSSIAN, in the States on a six-month visa. A visa that could be extended if her boss—and sponsor—Mr. Gunter, agreed to continue her employment and fill out the necessary paperwork. Mr. Gunter had strongly suggested that Kate accompany him tonight. Her hesitancy at his request had displeased him, and the request had turned into a demand, complete with consequences if she did not comply. So she had yielded, and now here she was.
Earlier she had stood in front of him, naked, washed thoroughly by his staff, and he had picked out this outfit, a ridiculous white mesh dress that showed every part of her, and a white veil that did nothing to disguise her young face. He had dressed her, slowly, touching her skin and groping her curves as he pulled the material over her body. He had not tried to have sex with her. Not yet. But tonight must be the night. Here, at this party, where Americans were having sex everywhere, on couches, in pools, against the wall right next to her. She saw movement in the shadows; then a hulk of a man appeared, stepping into the light.
He had impossibly broad shoulders and muscular arms that his expensive dress shirt couldn’t hide. Standing, silent and sure, he looked straight at her, waiting. She took a few steps forward, tentative, wanting to see more but needing to be closer to do it. He turned slightly and was fully illuminated by the light.
He wore a black hood, simple dark loose fabric with two eyeholes cut out. She wasn’t sure if it was the hood or his body, but danger radiated from this man. His eyes, the only part of his face she could see, were dark brown pools of sexual intensity, blatant arousal in them. She paused, scared of him and the sexual heat that emulated from him, even with ten feet between them. Then she felt a hand on her back.
Mr. Gunter’s voice purred in her ear and she stiffened, closing her eyes briefly. Thin hands ran down the sides of her body and then moved up her front, squeezing her br**sts and massaging them. She opened her eyes, looking into the eyes of the hooded stranger briefly, then looked away, ashamed, her lip trembling. She tried to be strong, tried not to cry. The hands moved up and gripped her neck, turning her face, and she felt Mr. Gunter’s pursed lips on hers.