Mr. 2:47 By Charles E.J. Moulton

Radiant. Indescribable. Mysterious. As rich as Spanish Corona wine, as full bodied as apricot brandy, as lucious as moist Irish cream, more mouthwatering than a tropical watermelon, yummier than any other sweet pussy on the planet: salty, sweet and cumming.

When Brandy, for she bore the name of that intoxicating drink, walked into the bar that night, my heart skipped a beat, her curves a violin, her jugs a sunrise over the hillsides of Wales, her butt a spectacularly rich and dark-red rose. More than anything else, her female forms resembled the soft sanddunes of Morocco.

Her physically perfect “S” enduced in my midst a perfect inverted “T”, a long pole reaching toward her wet and dripping cunt, long, curvey sandré coloured hair reaching way below her shoulders. A black unbuttoned light blouse with red flowers, underneath it a black V-neck T-Shirt that showed off that marvelous body, watermelon-sized knockers, a cleavage-blinking glory, cum-inviting, ready to receive the distress call of any male energy in the room. The black skirt caressing her fabulously fuckable ass. My antenna wanted to plant itself into the holes of her roof, drilling up through her basement and working itself up to her top.

There she was, blouse and hair blowing in the breeze coming in from the outside of the briefly open door, remaining there for fifteen seconds, searching for someone, someone not yet there. I raised my glass to my lips, somewhat in a daze, the brandy in my glass making love to my tastebuds, Brandy by the door making love to my eyes, inspecting her, imagining what I might want to do to or with her, imagining what was like under her clothes, if she had shaved her furburger or not, if she was tight or not, if her pussy would hug my dick real hard or not while I fucked her and while she squealed like a hungry seal.

Just as I, for a moment, was about to disappear into the glass-dwellings of my second mistress, as lucious as the woman’s namesake by the large glass door with the bar’s initials, a maitre d’ stopped by Brandy’s side with a startled gaze. He’d been striding joyously across the floor in almost gay showbiz manner. When he saw Miss Nubile Nipples, the immediate change in his manner became visible: slow head movements, a transfixed gaze.

She asked him something, he answered in mumbles, Brandy seemed distraught, nodded, was shown to a table and sat down, ordering something rather, whatever it was, looking at her watch.

I knocked back my alcohol, ordered a second drink. My body made the decision for me … actually, I am sure it was my spirit, my intuition or whatever it was taking over my body and shooting up. I knew I had to talk to her.

With drink in hand, my feet strode up to her, a lump growing in pants, my masculinity bleeping proverbially like a radar, the helmet of my penis turning blue. She leafed through what seemed to be a folder of papers, at first pretending not to notice me.

The deepest and brownest reindeer-eyes I have ever seen gazed up at me, formidable sea of lush promise feeling like a bed of roses, a bathtub of coconut cream, a pool of cocoa butter.

“You seem quite …”

I half-smiled.

“… gorgeously lost.”

Brandy sat back in her chair, giving me a grin.

“There’s a pick-up line I haven’t heard befoah.”

A chick from Brooklyn? Her accent revealed as much.

“May I?”

I gestured toward the opposite chair.

“Uhm, Mister, uhh …”

I stretched forth my hand.

“Cleo, Paul Cleo,” I nodded. “Marketing Department.”

I could see the wheels turn in her mind, making her wonder what Marketing Department I spoke of.

“We work at the same firm across the street,” I laughed, “big building, 500 employees, nobody knows anyone, we just know the boss but he doesn’t know us. He just pays us. Ring a bell?”

She held on to my hand, twisting and turning it lightly, shaking my hand not up and down but sideways as some blowjob-worthy women tend to do.

”I have the office down the hall,” I added, chuckling.

I could see how the penny was dropping ever so slowly. I had said hello a few times and she had responded, but with hundreds of people working there, what would you expect?

Suddenly, a proverbial lightbulb lit up above her head. ”Mr. 2:47!”

I took a step back, almost spilling my drink. The twang in her voice caressed my enigma, at least for the moment. Had I fucked a Brooklyn crumpet yet? I didn’t think so.

“Mr. … wh-what?”

Brandy giggled, somewhat shyly now.

“The girls in our department call you that.”

This was obviously more humorous than I initially had thought. A dark secret known only to the chicks in accounting, with which I had nothing to do. Well, almost nothing.

“There’s way too little contact between the departments, I see that now,” I said, quite seriously.

“No, no,” she demanded,  “Siddown. I gotta tell you this.”

As I grabbed the chair, feeling a weird mix of eagerness and fear of being ridiculed, Brandy continued. Now I heard that something in her voice that didn’t quite match her Hollywoodesque Monaco-like appearance.

“Christmas, year befoah last, you drank yourself silly. I mean, none o’ us in gals in accountin’ knew ya, but …”

She shrugged and giggled.

“Us Brooklyn-nookies just thought you had a cute ass. We all wondered how … well, uhm … uhm … well, never mind …”

I smiled, feeling my cock rise again in spite of Fran Drescher’s voice coming from a supermodel’s body. I wondered what receiving fellatio from her would be like, Brooklyn fillies reputed to have nubile gums, also when shutting up.

“Ya know, every woman foah herself and awll that. Punch in, check out, lock down. Anyway, you were with all the Marketin’ guys. I’d been gigglin’ with mah colleagues in this huge joint they’d rented, remembah?”

I recalled that party. Huge gathering. That was when I had noticed Brandy for the first time, but only because of one of her friends called out her name real loud.

I nodded. ”I noticed you, too.”

“We were still about 100 people there, very late.”

She threw a glamorous gaze my way, one that spoke of wine, men and song. Oh, yes, and lots of sperm on those lips of hers. Maybe her complexion was so gorgeous because she had been given more than one cum-on.

“The band was playing slow dances. ‘How can I live without you?’ or sumthin’. You were dancing with a chick. Dunno who …”

“Uhm, uhm, Barbara. My ex-…”

“Ah,” Brandy said, pausing, looking at me with that inspecting gaze men take or mistake as interest, whatever the case may be. “Anywho,  out of nothing, you started shouting: ‘Damn, it’s 2:47 in the morning,’ and ya left. Your … uhm … ex?”

I nodded.

“She started laughin’ real crazy-like. Dunno why?”

I gazed downwards.

“… always said I gave her too little attention. That everybody else seemed to be important but her.”

I looked up, grinning.

“That wasn’t true, though …”

Brandy shrugged, flashing her grin. “Anyway, after that night, to us, you became ‘Mr. 2:47′.” She popped a pink bubble. Smelled like strawberry. Probably just as pink as her furburger. “She caused quite a ruccus after you left, calling you names and smoochin’ with othah guys.”

I half-smiled, really aroused by the idea of squirting on a tongue so full of diphthongs.

”She broke up with me,” I croaked. “I guess I needed some excuse to leave. I was pissed like never before.”

“Angry or drunk … or both?”

I cleared my throat. “Drunk enuff to remember your name.”

“My name?!”

There came that look I knew so well. Too well, in fact. The look that said: ‘Am I in the hands of a psycho?’ Maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with getting laid with a gal sucking on my testicles in long vowels. I held up my hands in a gesture of forfeit.

“No worries. I remember it only because I just had ordered a brandy at the bar and one of your girlfriends called out your name.”

Another pause.

A faint smile. ”That’s cute.”

Fran Drescher Two blew a popping bubble again. If this wonder-woman could only be quiet I’d consider burying my head inside her salty snatch.

An awkward pause followed. Two people looking right and left, trying to avoid the obvious. I looked back at her, clearing my throat, sort of wondering what caressing her boobs with my blue helmet would be like.

“You waiting for someone?”

Brandy looked around again, trying to detect someone she had missed. ”I volunteered to help with someone’s taxes, but it looks like that someone split the whistle.”

“I hope not my whistle,” I mumbled.

“Figure of speech,” she whispered, waving her eyebrows.

I have no idea how the next thing happened or why. I just knew that I sat there realizing how different your image of reality could be of the actual reality.

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice came from behind me.

I recognized the voice from all the slow dances, from a last scene at a Christmas party and from weird feelings of neglect on both sides. I know I didn’t mind hearing that voice because I had spent the past two years dreaming of it, dreaming of sweet blowjobs, chasing dreams and wanking my cock under the moonlight. I still had my manners, though, so I ended up popping up, aware of the identity of the other woman behind me.

Barbara, my ultimate dream … ex-fuck.

I think she was as startled as me, actually. She blinked, for a moment caught in a twilight zone between the current reality and the world that was. I looked at her. The edges of her sexy mouth twitched twice, an insecurity with the origin of a new life and a question of being confronted with an old one.

If I was totally honest, I think we both travelled back in time while gazing into each other’s eyes. This made me uneasily horny.

”Hi,” I said, softly.

Barbara smiled.

“Hello there,” she answered.

I pointed at Brandy, who flashed me a very quick and rather dishonest smile which disappeared as fast as it appeared. Raising my eyebrows in surprise, I shrugged at my ex- and wondered: “You getting help with your taxes?” I asked.

Barbara nodded, her C-Cups wobbling lightly inside her bra.

”Yeah,” she chuckled softly, “you know me and numbers. That hasn’t changed.”

Fascinating, how fast a situation could change and turn 180 degrees.
Inside, a very warm and cozy sensation spread from my diaphragm on to my belly and my face. No doubt in my mind what it was. Hungry for pussies.

With a very sensitive smile, I stretched forth my hand and shook Barbara’s hand. I nodded toward Brandy, who waved back with arousal. The hand I lay on Barbara’s upper arm was met by her own on top of mine.

”Nice to see you,” I blurted out.

She half-smiled, first in shock, the sides of her mouth twitching.

“Want to meet and catch up … sometime?”

She nodded.

“Why not?” she squeaked, letting her gaze travel down toward my groin.

This a time trip was one so surprising that I knew I had to fuck her now or split.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” she continued.

“Really?” I answered.

She looked down again, bewildered.

When she looked up again, she smiled, a red blush spreading across her cheeks, a blush as red and the spanked buttcheeks I had slapped rosy while fucking her asshole two years back. Sweet memories, oh, sweet and overworked penis. Yes, she had adored mine.

Holy shit, I fathomed in my brain. Here I was, Mr. Horny, wanting to hump Miss Brooklyn Pussy, and my ex-filly turns up. Was I happy? I was blissful, memories came flooding back and I found myself dreaming of having my cock embraced again so fantastically by Barbara’s hot and lickable clit.

“You still have my number?”

“If it hasn’t changed?” Barbara asked.

I shook my head.

“I’ll leave you girls alone.”

The girls both watched me leave, open-mouthed with heaving jugs.

I walked away toward the bar, knocking back my brandy in one gulp, actually contemplating giving up the drink for something more healthy … like tea. I felt bad about leaving, but Brooklyn Pussy there had triggered an erection in me. Now Barbara came along and gave me a trip down mammary lane. I just had to grab some air before my head exploded.

“See ya tomorrow, Mr. Cleo?”

I looked up from the wallet in my hand, giving Scott, the bartender, a nod.

“If I don’t win a million bucks by then and quit my job,” I swooned.

I put two five dollar bills on the counter. “Keep the change.”

“You’re a good customer, Mr. Cleo,” Scott said. “Hope you find your true happiness one day.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“What makes you think I am not happy?”

I paused.

Scott waited.

He cocked his head.

”It’s not my place to mingle into other people’s affairs, Mr. Cleo.”

“It’s okay, Scott.”

“I guess the gals are busy.”

“Must be the brandy that has me blushing,” I answered.

“Brandy,” Scott mused, serving another customer a drink, “or your brandy?”

I looked over at the two fuckable ladies, leaning over folded papers and restaurant bills. The lonely bar behind me seemed to have my pawprints all over the woodwork and Scott’s ears had turned white from listening to my glum lilt of quickies and quick cumshots.

“Both,” I mused, feeling my dick throb.

I walked out into the evening sunshine that day, looking at the huge building I worked in. It made me wonder how everyone in there seemed to know only the people inside their own department. I crossed the street, on my way to my flat, only a short walk across the plaza. To my left, the gigantic building I worked in. To my right, five minutes away, my flat. My life within a few yards and Scott serving drinks to boot.

And Brandy.

And Barbara.

I pondered over that for a bit. Barbara had quit working at Lincoln Industries after we broke up. When I left the party that night, the night they obviously named me Mr. 2:47, Brandy remarked that Barbara went berzerk, smooching with lots of guys. She could only have known Barbara through me. Barbara worked in the diner downstairs and had made no effort to contact Brandy during the party. Which probably meant she didn’t know her. What that meant about the two chicks meeting now in a bar I regulary hung out in after work? I had no idea. I just know I left the plaza behind me that night, somewhat confused as to my own feelings: my libido vs. reality, my current reality vs. what I obviously still felt about Barbara.

I went home, grabbed a few beers out of the fridge, watched a few episodes of ‘Game of Thrones’ on my laptop out on the shady balcony. I got bored rather quickly, so I googled up Bangbros and wanked my hard dick, squirting my cum on a printed out picture of Brandy from the website of our company, along with another picture of my ex-shag Barbara. I went to bed, dreaming of strangers and strange friends. My sleep was deep, deeper than a hardcore meditation filled with Linda-Lovelace-clones.

The next morning, in my office, I was in for a surprise.

“Now, what?” I pushed the start button on my Macintosh again, but the darn thing did not and would not start. ”Hell in a hand basket,” I spat and I would have laughed at my own silly curses if I would not have to finish my marketing plan for the next year.

I knew plenty about computers, but how to fix a broken one? No idea. You could’ve asked me how to climb Mount Everest or solve a nuclear physics problem. That would’ve been easier. I shot up out of my chair, peeking into my colleague’s office, but I found only an empty desk. At the spur of the moment, as I criss-crossed my office carpet, I tried to think of someone to fix my PC. Running out into the hallway, my thoughts were centered only around getting my damn marketing plan ready for the coming year.

Obviously, I was not prepared to see what I saw. The two girls I had left alone in the bar yesterday were chit-chatting, standing two feet away from the soda machines. They were holding no papers, no tax forms, no envelopes. Just two girls, chatting about whatever girls chat about. Men, muscles, blowing long hard dicks, swallowing sperm, getting fucked, riding penis? Maybe not. Shopping new hand-bags was more like it.

I think I waffled to and fro for two seconds, watching my ex-girlfriend chat with a chick I had had the hots for. I did wonder, however, what Barbara’s new interest in Brandy was about. Instead of actually wandering over to them and acting like a schmuck, I decided to stay on my intended course and try to fix my workplace. So down I went, below upon the floor, next to the PC Tower, under the desk, checking cables, pushing buttons, pulling switches and, oh, yes, biting my fist.

As so often is the case, my gut heard the voice and immediately ventured to look up who intruded my hard labour. What ashame the edge of my desk was in the way.

”Ow, holy shit,” I cursed. “Damn.”

I crept forth, rubbing my knuckle-like and now aching head.

“Oh, dear,” the voice exclaimed, “did I cause this?”

So, then I finally saw Barbara.

I grinned, shaking my head.

“Just male insanity,” I chuckled, looking back at my desk, still rubbing my bloodless wound. “I hate desks. Everyone should just work next to light plastic garden tables.”

Barbara laughed. She actually laughed. I’d forgotten about how she had laughed at my jokes. I really don’t know why. I never found myself very funny until I met Barbara. So I must’ve looked up at her with a kind of humorous bewilderment.

”What brings you here?”

I let go of my head and sighed.

“I’m … uhm … how do I say this? Back,” Barbara mused, causing me to widen my gaze an inch, “working here, I mean.”

“You’re kidding me,” I sing-songed. “Since when?”

Barbara looked down, smiled, looked right and left. Then she gazed back at me.

“Can I sit down?”

I was taken aback by this turn of events, but I do admit it felt like a blessing.

I ran up to the coffee table, showing her the chair, my dick throbbing again.

“Can I offer you a coffee, a tea, water?” I said, nervously pointing at the fridge and water boiler in the corner, wondering a bit why I was nervous. I did get my free weekly ration of Maxwell House and Lipton. Did I just want to fuck Barbara? I know I had cried for the first month after our break-up, but then I had buried my loss in brandy. Not the sexy chick with Fran Drescher’s accent, but the drink. You know, your worries are good swimmers. Anyway, Barbara held up her hands and shook her head.

“I’m okay,” she smiled. “Just had a decaf.”

“You still drink that shit?”

“From time to time.”

I had not forgotten Barbara’s contemplative gaze, her half-closed eyes, her concentration. I interrupted the silence with an offer to assist.

“Can I help you, Barbie?”

She looked up at me, sparkling twinkles in her eyes. Not a word was said, but I knew my old nickname for her brought back memories. Back then, calling her Barbie was met with a mix of mirth and irritation. It was my personal sign of affection. She used to answer that my name would have to be Ken. Now, it triggered something old in her. Something old that had turned new. It triggered something old in me: memories of squirting my cum into her gums.

“Uhm,” she chuckled, “actually, yeah.”

A pause, an ever so short one, before she looked up at me with those deep brown eyes. It was a direct gaze, very heartfelt.

She gave me a short smile. Then she started fidgiting with her hands. “It’s been a long time, it’s weird, I know, especially since I am the one who broke up with you.”

That warm feeling that came over me the day before now returned. Old emotions, hopes, how I had felt about myself back when I had been with her, all that resurfaced like foam rubber on calm waters, like structures revealed by the withdrawing of silk veils, like fishing hooks in Capri lit by the full moon, like sperm in bath water, like cum drooling out of a horny chickie’s mouth.

I saw her insecure gaze, her fluttery eyes, the way she bit on her lip.
Me meeting her at the bar had been a coincidence, or had it?

Barbara laughed, rather shyly, standing up.

“I’m being silly, I should go.”

I shook my head, laying my hand on her wrist.

“No, stay,” I answered, feeling like having my dick sucked.

She grinned, insecurely, sitting down again. “I  actually miss you.”

My heartbeat fluttered and I noticed how the warmth of her persona poured over me. I had even stopped believing that I could be with her again. Now that I knew I could, things started happening.

“I’ve … I’ve had a thousand one-night-stands since I broke up with you, fucking every guy I could find,” she began. “But the fact is that I was only trying to find someone with …”

She giggled, very shyly.

I stretched out my hand and lift her chin.

“Someone with … what?” I whispered.

There was that feeling again. Our gazes met, our heads, our lips. We almost fell off our chairs in the process. The warm rush of a kiss with lots of saliva and tongues. She reached for my groin and started rubbing my hard cock. Her hands, oh, those sexy red fingernails, they reached for my zipper as we smooched.

“A bigger and more lucious cock than yours,” she moaned. “There ain’t none.”

Her female hands reached past my suit pants and into my Calvin Klein’s, reaching beyond my hairy pubic region down to a stiff schlong. A groaning woman’s kiss, eating my tongue. A button opened, a buckle, and the awareness that I was in my office and that anyone could come in and witness us shagging was … fantastic. Barbara let go of my mouth and went down on her knees, forcing me up on my feet. I did what I always had done when she got that look in her eyes. I stood up, waiting for her to do her thing. Transfixed on my crotch, she spoke again:

“I have been looking all over, baby, for someone with one as good as yours, but …” She gave me the most astounding blowjob-point-of-view-gaze I had ever seen. “I want to feel your cock again, baby.” As my pants dropped to the floor and my big hard sausage bounced out of my underpants, Barbie gasped. “I’ve missed your penis.”

With almost meditative bliss, Barbara opened her mouth and lay my cock on her tongue, first letting it slide to and fro on it inside an open mouth, throbbing deeper and deeper toward her tonsils. Then she closed that mouth, embracing my helmet with her lips, painted in pink. Every sloppy plop of her mouth, every single moan, every raise and fall of eyebrows, every wrinkle of her nose, every deep throat, every button she unbuttoned to reveal a full set of sexy C-Cups, every move enticed me. She loved my cock and I loved the way that babe sucked it. Occasionally, my sex-object of a chickie looked up with enticement and blurped:

“Am I sucking it as well as back then, Master?”

I nodded, happily. “You are still the best cocksucker around, you sex object!”

“Better than the other crumpets you fucked in the meantime?”

“Much better,” I said.

“Then show me how well you can fuck me from behind,” she mused.

Without a single moment’s notice, she stood up, stripping naked, taking off her skirt, her undies, her bra, her stockings and shoes in record time. Suddenly, this bimbo stood there stark naked in my office and I got the jitters that someone would enter and see us. That would mean a probable end to my work here.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Big Cock,” she chirped. “I’ve put the “Don’t disturb! Conference!”-sign on the doorhandle. You can fuck me until I beg for mercy!”

I laughed, for then I remembered all of those fantastic sex-locations of ours. On the lawn behind bush on top of Colorado mountain, I had fucked her asshole. In the back room of a Disneyland museum, I had titfucked her, jizzing on her nipples. In the changing room at the Harrod’s clothes department, I had licked her pussy. In the airplane on our way to China, she had ridden my dick. Now, here in my office, I licked her boobs while she wanked me off. I dived into that cleavage, disappeared into it, grabbing those sweet little man-pleasers, those cockraisers, those little dickteasers. After that, I had no choice but to rip off my own clothes to the last thread, bend her over the fridge and fuck her, pounding my groin against her wobbling arse, her buttflesh bouncing like a “Toys ‘R Us”-ball.

I was in the middle of that glorious frigging-session when my office door opened. I think I shrieked like a schoolgirl with pigtails, but we all know that a man stops thinking when he is fucking. I was afraid of who actually barged in, but I kept on shagging Barbie’s butt, holding on to her hips.

Barbie, or Barbara, she gazed over, women being rather on top of things, as it were, knowing instinctively who was coming in. The door closed before I was even aware who had entered. Maybe my dick had the intuition of a second dream fuck entering my office, because soon I heard a key turning to lock the door. I kept on shagging Barbara’s cunt from behind, slapping her butt almost on automatic, while Brandy, chewing her bubble-gum, came over toward me and leaned against the wall. She nodded, raising her eyebrows, while I kept fucking that sexy ass, pumping my ex- like a machine.

“You’re right, Barbie,” Brandy crooned. “He is good.”

Barbara smiled, her head tossing to and fro as I banged her.

“He is, isn’t he?” she gasped. “Wanna try him?”

I really couldn’t stop fucking that clit. It was rather astounding what Barbara’s ass did to me. Her body had this addictive quality and I kept shagging, no matter what.

“Brandy wants to discover your cock, Paul,” Barbara mused.

So there I was, fucking like a crazy man, and I saw Brandy slowly strip off in the nude while I did. Off with her blouse, off with her bra, and oh, those cockteaser-titties. Off with her belt, off with her skirt, off with her undies, and oh the hairy pussy I was looking forward to lick. Soon enough, another naked female butt graced my office.

“You can switch pussy now, Paul,” Barbara chirped. “Compare us.”

Now that was an invitation I did not bother to neglect. What was even more amazing was the fact that Barbara sat down on my couch, fingering her snatch and masturbating while I slowly slid into Brandy’s body. I got the chance to be a real MCP, a Male Chauvinst Pig, a I believe these two dicklovers wanted it that way.

Here were my notes: Barbara’s cunt was not as tight, maybe some serious gang-banging had fucking opened it up, but it made more sloppy and wet noises while I shagged her. Brandy had a more trained ass, which meant that it did not wobble as much. Both pussies were unshaved and I liked unshaved: so much bush to fuck, so much hair to kiss and lick like diving into cotton candy. This was becoming a marathon.

“We want you to rate us,” Barbara sing-songed while she fingered her clit.

I was still in my frig-modus, unable to stop moving my groin, so I answered in blurts.

“Huh?” I moaned.

“Tell him, Brandy,” Barbara chuckled.

“Well,” Brandy began as I massaged her big boobs while I was fucking her clit, her big round earrings swaying as she got banged. “I knew you hung out at Scott’s Bar. After all, you were Mr. 2:47 and I knew Barbara since she broke up with you. We had shared some guys and eventually, one day after fucking a big black dude, we contemplated getting you back. I knew you wanted me and had secretly taken pictures of me bending over the soda machine. Barbara really missed you. Most of all, she missed your big dick. I was curious about your cock, so I staged this meeting at Scott’s and … you know the rest.”

There was a pause. I kept banging Brandy’s wobbly butt. She gazed over at Barbara, still masturbating her clittie.

“Shocked, you pussy-teaser?” Brandy chirped.

I laughed. “Uh-uh. Happy.”

Then, again with forewarning, Barbara stood up, followed by Brandy’s very decisive withdrawal. I don’t know where it all came from, but suddenly there was this notebook and a pencil and the girls laying up a list with different topics. I stood there with an erect and bouncing cock, looking at one page saying: “Pussy-Taste, Brandy vs. Barbara.”

“Your choice,” Brandy commanded, sitting down on one couch, spreading her legs wide opposite Barbara, also now back on her couch. “Lick us both and give us notes.”

Well, we men all know how decisive and commanding women can be. A man’s gotta do what I man’s gotta do, so wordless I knelt down and began licking Brandy off.

“And tell us what you think while you’re licking, Paul,” Barbara barked.

“Okay,” I answered, getting back to Brandy’s snatch. I opened her pussylips again and inspected it. “Dark-pink pussy with a light mid-core.” I licked. “Salty with a pleasant aftertaste. Easy to penetrate. Yummy aftertaste.”

I looked over at Barbara, who was taking notes. “Tasting of what?”

I licked again, sticking my tongue in deeper into her hole. “Salty pop-corn, I think. Lots of butter. Luciously wet.”

“Okay,” Barbara mused. “More?”

I started licking Brandy’s pubic hair a little, giving it small kisses, licking with my tongue back into her clit. “I like her pussy hair. It’s soft, sort of like silk.”

“How does she groan?” Barbara asked. “Or does she squeal?”

I heard Brandy’s horny squeal and nodded while I licked.

“A cute and horny sound,” I answered. “She squeaks.”

“Pussy rating from 1 to 10?”

I looked up at my ex-girlfriend boobs. “Is this a competition?”

The girls looked at each other and smiled.

“Just answer us with a judgment of points,” Brandy commanded and shoved me back into her hairy cunt.

“A full 10 points,” I answered. “Great taste, great hair, great colour, great lickability.”

Not a second was wasted. Brandy shoved my head away and pointed toward Barbara’s snatch. “Now lick Barbara’s pussy. I’ll take notes.”

This really felt like a university of fucking.

Off I went, running off to Barbara’s couch, Brandy following me to get the notebook and the pencil. I knew what to do. Barbara’s pussy was familiar. I had spent hours and hours licking it, but licking her again brough back fond recollections. Hers was a lighter colour, softer edges, more hair to fondle and a little harder and thicker hair at that. It was deeper and easier to sink into. It tasted sweeter, sort of like chili cheese nuggets. I gave Brandy the notes and Barbara’s cunt received a moist and horny equal 10.

Now the real fun began.

I had to judge the grabability and lickability, how wobbly or tight their tits were, how wobbly their butts were in fucking, the tightness of their assholes, the quality of their erotic dance, their qualities as cocksuckers, how good they were at riding my cock how good they were in swallowing my cum. Needless to say, I gave the two girls 10 points in all categories. They ended up licking off my dick for a full hour.

When my alarm buzzed I nearly jumped out of my bedsheets, tossing and turning a few times after banging fiercely on the clock. I lay my arm over my face and remained in that position for a few seconds until I realized what I had in my groin’s midst: a rock hard cock unwilling to limp down. I looked down onto my raised bedsheets and looked at my saluting One-Eyed-Willie, realizing I had just had my most pornographic dream, inspired by meeting those two ladies the day before. The orgasmic orgy I had just experienced twisted in snake-like patterns in my brain, causing me to gasp.

“Holy Gazongas,” I groaned. “What a dream.”

Upon stepping out of bed, I almost put my feet on the paper I had printed out the night before: pictures of Barbara and Brandy, now sodden with loads of male sperm. I gazed for a bit at my own dried cum and smiled, that cute little UK magazine named Breasty Fillies next to it, a gem with Chesty Summerville being banged senseless by a cool giant-cocked man named Kenny. Brandy and Barbara, Barbara and Brandy … and Mr. 2:47. Sighing myself into my shower, I wondered if something so incredible could come true.

I guess I wanked myself through breakfast, imaging my toast being Barbara’s cunt and my grapefruit Brandy’s left boob. It wasn’t until I reached my office a half hour later that I realized something was amiss – or at least different than usual. My secretary Amy, a buxom blonde I had titfucked now and then, jumped out of her chair, declaring seriously that I had guests in my office: guests who wanted to have a serious chat with me for an hour or so.

I shrugged, sort of taken aback by this strange turn of events. The CEO and his Vice President? Had someone found out I slept around? My hands started shaking and suddenly I feared being fired. Weird, though, because as I walked toward my office door, I thought I heard Amy giggle. I didn’t react to it, though. What I did notice, however, were the giggles and moans coming from the inside of my office.

Once I entered the room, my eyes caught sight of two stark naked ladies, fondling each other’s tits. They looked up, smiling happily. “Brandy here,” Barbara squealed, “has been hearing so much about your big penis, she just had to see for herself to believe it rules.”

At that very moment, my secretary wandered in, hanging the “Don’t disturb! Conference!”-sign on the handle, locking the door behind her. As she strutted over to my desk, giving me the sexiest strip-tease I have ever seen in my life, dropping her garments on the office floor, I realized I was going to have the time of my life. Soon enough, there were three naked women opening my fly and sucking on my balls. And I knew, right then and there, that reality sometimes offers you a better ride than any erotic dream: a fantastic and fucking fabulous foursome with constant switches between nine holes on three frolicking females. When you have three red mouths, three wet cunts and three tight assholes to fuck, you know that a sensual paradise is only a cumshot away. Mr. 2:47 was a lucky man.

And you know what I found out? That Brooklyn chicks do profit from mouthing in diphthongs. We all live together nowadays, the four of us, and I fuck them in rotation, they keep strict track of my track record, but that is an entirely different story. And, oh, yes, the Brooklyn Pussy has won my heart as the best dickpleaser on EarthParadise By Ty Vossler

An island paradise, all-inclusive, water sports, yoga, massage, aromatherapy…

The advertisement went on to describe a rich, natural experience waiting for adventurous couples.

After fifteen years of marriage, we deserved it, needed it. Lucia and I lived busy lives trying to balance work with family so that our three-year-old, Rita, would have memories of energetic, fun-loving parents when she was older. Yet, sometimes our best efforts weren’t sufficient to stave off evening lethargy. Lovemaking became ritualized, so that that every two weeks Lucia obligingly opened her thighs and said, “This’s just for you, Mr. Costner.”

Sixteen years ago Lucia obtained an educational visa from her native Mexico. I had just published my first novel, and was invited as a guest speaker for an English class at an adult school. I noticed Lucia right away sitting in the back, flashing her thousand-watt smile. She had inscrutable almond-shaped eyes, and short-cropped black hair. It all boiled down to chemistry—even as I delivered my lecture and started the class on writing project. There was just something about her. I pursued, she let me chase, and after a good amount of time, she slowed down enough for me to catch her.

After all these years, Lucia and I still love each other. After time, marriages evolve into a series of agreements, and sometimes they’re not healthy—companionship without passion, a sexless friendship. We were determined never to allow this. Middle age was upon us and we determined not to evolve into old fogies.

We live on a small family ranch in Tlaxcala, Mexico with Lucia’s mother, her stepfather and a younger half-brother. As teachers, we enjoy a simple life. Our combined earnings allowed us to travel a bit. Yet, disconnectedness had crept into our relationship—a natural consequence of responsibility. Occasionally, Lucia’s mother babysat, allowing Lucia and me to catch a movie, enjoy a quiet dinner, or sneak off to a motel for a few hours. Those stolen moments were spiritual, magical, yet far and few between. Just as we reacquainted, the date ended and we were thrust back into our busy worlds.

Clothing optional, said the ad, rekindle your passion, make new friends––couples only…

“It’s worth a try,” I said.

“Two days and nights—but it’s so expensive.” She countered.

“We’re worth it.”

“Rita will be in heaven. She’ll be the center of the universe for her grandparents.”

“Spoiled rotten when we return.”

“I’m going to try and lose my belly,” Lucia determined. Her figure was matronly after the birth of Rita.

“I think you’re just right,” I said.

“That’s because you still love me. I don’t want to walk around naked on a beach looking like this.” She went into the kitchen.

As Lucia blended a green drink to begin her diet, I set about booking tickets, and with a ceremonious final click our decision became irrevocable.

It was surreal, departing from temperate Puebla and arriving to the humidity of the Mexican Riviera. We boarded a ferry in, Playa del Carmen, which floated us to Paradise Island, a tropical spit of private land cut off from the mainland by ten miles of turquoise water.  Dressed in a thin, flowery skirt and a red cotton blouse, Lucia looked younger than her forty-five years, and I was still fit at fifty-five.

There were about ten other passengers aboard the ferry. We conversed with an elderly couple that said they’d been returning to the island for the past fifteen years.

“What’s it like?” Lucia got right to the point.

“The fountain of youth,” said the woman.

“Like being a kid again,” said the man.

Lucia and I went to the front railing of the ferry and let the ocean spray mist our bodies. Rita dominated our conversations until we docked at the island. What was Rita doing at that moment? She was getting so tall, wasn’t she? We’ll have to find something to bring back for her. Should we call to make sure everything’s all right? It took some time for the jungle atmosphere of the island to trickle its way into our consciousness.

Attractive young men dressed in linen shorts and a Hawaiian shirts welcomed us at the dock. Waiters carrying a tray loaded with extra large margaritas followed him closely. Each visitor got the royal treatment. They all spoke Spanish, yet my grasp was good enough by then to understand.

Our host had large, brown eyes and an easy smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Costner, on behalf of our entire staff, welcome to Paradise. I’m Mario, and I’ll be showing you to your bungalow.”

“Thank you. Please call me, Wyler, and this is, Lucia.”

He shook my hand and kissed Lucia on the cheek. We gratefully sipped as Mario took us on a walking tour.

“Your things will be placed in your room for you.” He pointed out gravel trails leading to various locations on the island. We saw naked couples, young and old, walking hand in hand. Most were just like us—imperfect bodies. Yet none of them seemed self-conscious.

“I feel better now,” Lucia whispered. She had managed to lose some of the puffiness in her tummy, yet not as much as she’d hoped. Squeezing her hand, I smiled and bumped her hips with mine.

We were led to our bungalow, a handsome whitewashed stucco affair with a thatch roof, French doors, and large windows all around. Dominating the bedroom was a king-size bed covered with colorful throw pillows. Snuggled in an ice bucket was a bottle of champagne. The ambiance was beginning to humidify any concerns we may have had. The bathroom boasted a walk-in shower that doubled as a wet sauna, with a tiled bench wide enough to lie on.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy the garden,” Mario said, opening double doors to the back yard. Orchids dripped from privacy walls—there was a large outdoor table with cushioned chairs and a private Jacuzzi surrounded by thick candles. Between two ancient Jacaranda trees hung a hammock built for two.

“Here’s my card,” the Mario smiled, “If there’s any way I can be of service, don’t hesitate to call.” He gave Lucia an uplifted eyebrow and excused himself.

“Mario wants to service you,” I chided.

“Mmm,” she moaned, “shall I call?” She held out the card.

I shook my head, “You’re all mine, Mrs. Costner,” and took her into my arms. Of course, I wanted her straight away. Lucia suggested that we stroll the island to allow the champagne to chill. We followed a trail—not remembering where Mario said it would lead. The island was small enough that we couldn’t get lost.

Being surrounded by so much flesh was intimidating at first. Yet everyone was very friendly, stopping to ask where we were from and how long we’d be staying. One man was strolling alone and he stopped to smile at us.

“Bit hot for clothes,” he said, “isn’t it?’

Lucia didn’t skip. She was out of her clothes in less than a minute. I followed her lead, not wanting to appear prudish.

Much better,” the man said, nodding at Lucia.

We continued on the trail. Songbirds filled the perfumed air and we heard the chattering of monkeys and parrots.

“Wonder what Rita’s doing?” Lucia asked.

“Enjoying a vacation away from her parents,” I said.

The humidity made us perspire, yet the ocean breeze cooled like a ceiling fan. The trail terminated abruptly at a lushly forested oasis, fed by a ten-foot waterfall. On a manmade flagstone embankment beside the cascade, a couple was making love. We spied from a camouflage of orchids. A handsome middle-aged black man was attending to a beautiful brown-skinned Polynesian-looking woman. She groaned deeply and dug her heels into his lower back as he plunged forward.

“Oh god, that’s good,” she moaned, “I love your cock…mmm.”

They were sweating and oblivious to rest of the world. I stepped behind Lucia to put my arms around her. Their primitive utterances meshed seamlessly with the forest sounds of water, birds, frogs, and the clattering forest animals.

We watched for another minute before withdrawing soundlessly and finding the beach trail.

“That was—

“Pretty sexy,” I finished.

“Yes. Did you see his—?

“Very impressive.”

“She liked it.”

“Like to try it out?”

“Let’s find the beach.”

Along the way, I stopped to kiss her beneath a canopy of trees, smelling the ocean and feeling like Adam. I wanted her on the forest floor, yet she tugged me toward the sound of the sea.

There were about two-dozen others laying beneath the sun, or shaded by large umbrellas at wooden tables. Others swam in the clear waters of the Caribbean. A quaint little grass hut bar served refreshments, and cheery waiters kept everyone hydrated. It was all part of the package.

Lucia drew plenty of notice as we walked. Her large brown nipples were stiff and the gentle swell of her tummy curved down into a dark, natural thatch.

We walked to where the sugary beach ended in a border of large boulders. A natural stone archway led through to a thin, sandy path. We followed the weaving footpath around more boulders and stumbled upon another couple blocking the path.

“Oops,” Lucia said.

The woman stopped churning over her partner, “Hi…oyyy,” and she resumed, sending him in and out of with graceful, ballet-like movements. “Don’t go away…mmm!” She was a beautiful black woman with straight dark hair flowing midway down her back. Her Latin lover urged her on in Spanish.

“Que rico, ay si, eso se siento bien!”

“Like that baby?”

“Ay si…me vengo!”

“Yeah baby, cum…let me feel it!” She gave us an enigmatic smile as he growled and spurted. She lay for a moment on top, and then lifted off of him. “Let’s let these people by.”

The man got to his feet and smiled as Lucia and I walked past and found a plot of sand between two boulders by the end of the trail. I kissed her, and the memory of what we’d seen so far made my cock into stone.

Lucia and I assembled our clothes into a makeshift bed. Yet, rather than lying down, she bent over, placed her hands on top of a low boulder and splayed her legs. I opened her ass-cheeks, bent my knees and slipped in easily between the mocha-colored folds of her lips. She groaned deeply and reached a hand between her legs to massage her tiny pearl- drop. Within minutes her pussy was quivering. She gasped and I felt her flex around me. I watched her asshole contracting with each successive spasm.

“Ay-ay-ayyy,” her pussy squeezed as I drove to the hilt, tapping at her  tissue boundary.

The other couple watched. Lucia bent her knees so that I slipped out, and then she lay on the makeshift bed. I settled between her brown legs and she waved over my shoulder to our audience.

Provecho,” said the man.

I lifted Lucia’s knees, scooted forward and pushed inside. The natural sunlight illuminated every detail of her snatch. Again, Lucia found her tiny clitoris. Our climax coincided and I cupped her ass, pushed in all the way and growled, spurting over and over. I stayed hard until her final shivering follow-up. When I pulled out, a stream of semen tangled in the pubic hair around her slit, and dripped on our clothes. We were both sweating profusely.

The onlookers blew kisses and walked back toward the beach. I brushed sand from Lucia’s backside and she wiped semen from her trickling snatch with my underwear.

“Hey, why not yours?” I complained.

“You’re responsible for this mess, Mister Costner,” she reprimanded.

We followed the trail to the beach. Ironically, both couples we’d seen earlier were cooling off in the shallows. The black woman waved for us to join them.

“I need to rinse off anyway,” said Lucia.

It seemed odd being introduced in waist deep water to people we’d just watched fucking.

The waterfall lovers were William and Tasha. Enrique and Maribel were the beach couple. The men’s eyes roved over Lucia and I have to admit, she was the prettiest fish in the sea.

Lucia is able to carry out a conversation about almost anything, captivating others with intellect, humor, and her unconscious sensuality. She has what the French refer to as, je nais se quoi. I’m more of a listener, although I can hold my own if I have to. We briefly shared personal essentials. William was a retired professional baseball player. I knew enough about baseball to recognize his name, and impressed him by recalling that he’d won a batting title. Maribel was an architect, Tasha owned an import store, and her husband, Enrique, was a real estate broker. Obviously, they’d come to an adult understanding regarding the sharing of spouses. William laughed when Lucia told him she was a math professor.

“When I was playing ball, I couldn’t even figure out my own batting average.”

I shared a blog site where they could purchase or download my books and short stories.

“Brought my Kindle,” said Maribel, “I’ll check you out tonight.”

“Not tonight, baby,” reminded William.

“Oh, that’s right,” she nodded.

Enrique turned to Lucia, “We have the leisure hall reserved for tonight. Would you and Wyler like to join us?”

“What’s happening there?” The look of innocence on Lucia’s face was priceless.

“Ah, well, you never know what might happen,” answered Tasha.

Lucia smiled and waited for my input. The warm water was full of colorful fish and the moment was intoxicating. “Sure, we’d love to,” I answered.

The island leeched anxieties from our minds and a crisp, cool breeze whispered of adventure in Paradise. After a time, we said our farewells and agreed to meet at nine in the leisure hall.

On the journey back to the bungalow, we wondered about Rita. After a cold shower, we called home and listened to her adorable rendition of, Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Then my mother-in-law gave us a delightful summary of her day with Rita.

We optioned for clothes to have dinner. Lucia wore a spaghetti-strap red dress that showcased her smooth brown back, cut low in front to reveal other assets. I’m admittedly biased, but Lucia was the most delightful looking woman in the dining room. I opted for a simple pairing of beige linen slacks, and a black cotton shirt. We sipped a cold, refreshing white wine and ordered seafood dinner salads.

“What do you think will happen tonight?” Lucia asked as the setting sun painted the sky a bright orange.

“You never know,” I repeated Tasha’s words, and arched my eyebrows.

Lucia glanced at her watch. I held her hand, kissed her fingers and told her how much I loved her. She returned my sentiments. After dinner, we took a trail that the waiter said would terminate at the leisure hall.

I wondered if the other two couples had children. The subject hadn’t come up. Lucia and I loved each other, and our beautiful Rita completed us. The island was bridging a gap. The others were probably patching up holes too. Their means were unconventional, yet Lucia and I had enjoyed watching the unfettered freedom of their pleasure, and our subsequent lovemaking was spontaneously stupendous.

“Darling,” Lucia said as we walked, “what if something does happen?”

“How would you feel about it?”

“We love each other, right? It would just be—

“For fun,” I finished. “Let’s see how it plays out.”

Two monkeys darted in front of us, chasing each other. I was reminded of three brittle threads: Fear, Ignorance, and Guilt—puppeteers of modern society. On Paradise Island, primitive instincts were encouraged to frolic and chase, like the monkeys. Eating, fucking, and sleeping were the only valid currency.

Dense forest, heavily scented orchids and jasmine vines surrounded the leisure hall. Forest noises filtered through a light ocean breeze. A double door entrance was open and the inside was illuminated by dozens of candles. Hidden speakers played ambient music.

“Wow,” Lucia whispered. A small man-made cascade splashed from a wall into a pool filled with freshwater tropical fish.

Centered in the room was a large, circular raised platform covered with supple, black leather padding and throw pillows. A hookah pipe with six hoses and an ember pot sat to one side.

“I want one of those,” I gestured to the pipe.

“You had your chance when we visited Istanbul.”

“They sell them in Mexico too.”

We heard distant laughter, and soon the others entered. They were also wearing clothes.

“I never grow tired of this,” William lifted his hands in the air.

They climbed the dais to greet us warmly with hugs and cheeky kisses.

“Ah, the pipe, have you ever tried?” Tasha queried.

“In Turkey,” Lucia answered.

“Are you Turkish?” she asked.

“Mexican. Wyler and I visited Turkey a few years ago.”

“You have such a great look,” Maribel added, “You could be Indian, Japanese, Italian, Middle-eastern…”

William set up the pipe with tobacco that he’d brought with him. “Ah yes… the pipe,” he said.

The fragrance of the pipe was sweet as we sat around it. I put the tip of a hose to Lucia’s lips and she inhaled deeply. When she exhaled, the cloud dissipated rapidly and she said it tasted of rose pedals.

The power of the vapor flowed quickly into our brains, and after three or four pulls the candlelight seemed to sway rather than flicker. Lucia leaned her head on my shoulder.

“What’s in this stuff?” I chuckled.

“Mind cleanser,” said Enrique.

“Spirit awakener,” added Mirabel.

“An aphrodisiac,” added William.

Lucia played her fingers in the air, “I’m floating.”

Enrique was kissing Tasha’s neck and shoulders as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse. Mirabel opened William’s shirt to trap a nipple with her front teeth.

I lifted Lucia’s face for a kiss. The mysterious vapor made our lips super-sensitive. I lowered a strap on her dress and took a brown nipple into my mouth.

Within the vaporous mist moans issued, along with sighs, and moist sounds. We observed each other. Enrique saw Lucia lift her dress over her head. Tasha’s eyes followed as I lowered my pants and Lucia leaned back on her hands and lifted her ass for me to pull her panties off.

“Gotta love that,” William smiled and nodded slowly as he gazed at Lucia’s snatch. Mirabel whispered something into his ear and his smile broadened.

I took Lucia into my arms and peppered her with kisses. My cock was pulsating— lifting with each beat of my heart. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Tasha take Enrique into her mouth. Lucia watched William lift Mirabel’s thighs to bury his face between them.

Time slowed to a single pulse. There were no questions, only answers lying everywhere around us. Moments focused and blurred as Lucia’s hand closed around my cock and jacked me back and forth. Then, there was movement—bodies shifting. Somehow I was on my back and Tasha was giving me head. Enrique was pushing into her from behind. Lucia was on my left with William between her legs. Her hands were flat against his chest as Maribel sucked her nipples. I saw William slide his knees forward. His mouth opened as if he’d found something he liked.

I didn’t remember us wanting this, yet we must have. Tasha was painting my cock with her tongue and I shut my eyes tightly. When I opened them, Mirabel was grasping William’s broad shaft and teasing it up and down over Lucia’s outer lips. She was thrusting desperately against him.

“Get inside…ohhh, get inside me,” she begged. Her eyes were glazed and she groaned deeply, rubbing her calves over his ass.

“You think you can handle this cock? You’re such a tiny little thing…” Mirabel teased.

“Ay, yes…I want it,” Lucia answered.

William pushed—Lucia’s head jerked back and her mouth opened wide. She gasped and drew a deep breath. Her eyes were tightly closed as William gradually disappeared down and in.

“Ahhh, now that’s some tight pussy…ahhh, Jesus.” He smiled over at me as reached Lucia’s boundary. She let out a long, staccato groan, and Mirabel kissed her.

“You did it…you took every inch of that big cock. Feel good?”

“Ayyy, yes…huh…ugh, ayyy…”

“Mmm,” William moaned. He pulled back and stroked forward.

Tasha paused on my cock because she was cumming. Enrique’s balls slapped against her ass and her orgasm was a high seagull cry. I reach up to twist her nipples and turned again to watch Lucia with William.

William drew back his impressive length and Lucia pulled him back in with her legs. He leaned forward for a kiss her and Mirabel was there—all three tongues lashed hungrily as he continued relentlessly, back and forth. Lucia was panting now—circling her hips—delirious.

“Ohhh… ayyy… huh, guh… oh, oh…” she crested and spilled over, “Oh guh… ayyy!” Her head thrashed side-to-side and she ground against him.

Tasha straddled me and lowered over my cock. Enrique put a dab of jelly on his cock and pushed into her asshole. I felt Enrique’s cock through the thin separating membrane. Tasha twisted her nipples and shouted, “Ohhh my god…ohhh, shit!”

Mirabel straddled Lucia’s face now, and Lucia was licking but had to stop when another climax loomed, “Hyyy, ohhh, ay, ay, ayyy!” Her climaxes was monumental. Her head jerked back, as William thrust harder.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” He grunted with every forward thrust.

Lucia gripped his shoulders, “Oh, uh, guh.”

Mirabel urged him on. I heard his balls slapping as he drove into her. Then Mirabel grabbed Lucia’s attention again. “Keep licking, baby…that’s it…yeah…don’t stop…lick my pussy!” Mirabel stiffened, shuddered and then bucked, “Yeah, ohhh yeah, oh right there… ooo, huh… ohhh, oh, oh, ohhh!”

Lucia’s tongue lashed at Mirabel’s clit. She tasted salty and smelled musky. She managed to free a hand and inserted two fingers into her cunt, curling them so that she could stimulate her G-spot. Lucia’s face was soaked with Mirabel’s juices. She turned her head and saw Enrique and Tasha watching her, mesmerized by the spectacle of so much primitive passion spilling out all at once into the room. She felt her juices traveling down her outer lips, into the crack of her ass. Her pleasure combined with everything that was taking place around her and she was surprised to hear herself crying out.

Within the misty vapors, a cacophony of moans sighs outbursts of pleasure. They were awash in the smell of sex—musky and intoxicating. They had become one, adding to the oneness. She heard Wyler growling as he spurted. Lucia transcended mere pleasure now. It was if she were experiencing a strong, continuous orgasm.

William shouted, “I’m gonna nut…oh Jesus…!” He arched his back, pumped his hips, “ohhh, oh shit…oh, oh, awww!” His ball sack lifted and flexed with the force of his ejaculation. Lucia was still cumming, forcing air and semen out from her taut lips.

Enrique grunted, pushed deep into Tasha’s asshole and let out a long groan. Cum dripped to my lower thighs and when he slipped out, it splashed on my legs. We collapsed into an exhausted heap of tangled arms and legs. William pulled back, and my ears were so sensitive that I heard the breaking of suction as his cockhead popped out of Lucia’s gaping cunt. Then there was the sound of semen-laden air frothing out of her. William lay on his side to watch.

Mirabel had her face there, watching her husband’s semen flowing from Lucia. “Dear god…that’s amazing. Push, Lucia…push it out honey.” Lucia pushed. There was the sound of more air escaping wetly. “Jesus, Will, you’ve been savin’ this up.”

“Come here you guys, you gotta see this,” William gestured.

The rest of us gathered to watch the spectacle of a seemingly endless flow of cum seeping from Lucia’s yawning cunt—stretched out by the thickness of William’s cock. Mirabel rubbed my back. “Don’t worry, baby, it’ll shrink back down in a few hours.”

Enrique used two fingers to gather a good amount of semen from around her cunt, and then placed it back inside Lucia. “Oh man, that’s so sexy.”

“Jeez,” said Tasha, Enrique’s ready to go again.”

Lucia’s mouth was still ajar. Her eyes were half open. She closed her legs and began wagging them side-to-side. “Think I’m finished,” she said.

Amazingly, I was hard again. Mirabel looked away from Lucia’s saturated snatch. “Wyler…somethin’ happening there?” She sidled toward me and pushed me to my back. Enrique stilled Lucia’s legs by placing his hands on her knees. Then he opened them and climbed between.

Tasha giggled, “After William… you’re gonna fall in.”

The cycle was sustained throughout the night. Whatever was in the vapor allowed continuity. When I finally had a turn with Lucia, her pussy was still gaping, and saturated with sperm. I easily slipped in and added more a short time later. Soon after, my cock was eased into Mirabel’s asshole with Enrique on bottom filling her cunt. It all became a blur after that. The last thing I remember was Lucia’s voice saying, “Slow… go slow… uhnn…”

I awakened within a tangle of arms and legs. Mirabel and Tasha were snuggled into William and Lucia was sandwiched between Enrique and me. She had her back to me with a leg draped over his hip. My cock immediately hardened, and I scooted closer. She twisted her head around.

“Wait,” she whispered. Lucia lifted her leg and I saw that Enrique was still inside of her. She gingerly disengaged and his cock slithered out to slap against his thigh.

Without a word, we wobbled to our feet, found our clothes and padded out into the beginning rays of dawn.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch,” Lucia complained with each step.

“You okay?”

“I think so. Nothing permanent.”

The sky was turning from pink to orange. Once outside, I took Lucia into my arms. She disengaged for a moment and used her panties to wipe fresh semen from her seeping snatch. Dry sperm covered her pubic hair, her thighs and ass. Even her tits were dotted with dried remains.

“Love you,” I whispered, holding her again.

“Te amo,” she returned, her head fitting against my chest so perfectly.

“Can you walk okay?”

“Think so,” she answered.

Returning to our bungalow, we showered and fell into a deep slumber, arms and legs akimbo. Late afternoon, we awakened and began the day with a long, lingering kiss. My hardness stabbed into her belly.

“How can you even…?” She pulled back and slapped at my cock.

“Guess the effect of the pipe hasn’t quite worn off yet.”

“That was––

“Amazing,” I finished.

“Can’t believe we…”

“Just did that,” I concluded.

“Wonder what Rita’s doing? Should we—?

“Let’s hold off a while longer.” I jabbed her playfully with my cock.

“Darling, I can’t possibly. I’m not even sure I can walk.”

“William,” I said.

“Did he fuck you in the…?”

“Mmm.” She nodded. “That’s the sorest part.”

The phone rang and Lucia answered.

“Hi…we’re both fine…tired and sore…yes, I think we can…okay…about seven… okay… ciao.”

“Let me guess—our new friends want to get together?”

Lucia nodded, “Just dinner. They’re exhausted too.”

“Don’t look at me,” I put up my hands defensively.

We took another shower, and as Lucia was soaping her pussy, she said, “It’s not as tender as I thought.”

I took her soapy body into my arms and kissed her. We were reconnected


Trained for Success

08-08-2018
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Video Description: Masseuse Lily Adams is helping her newest trainee Bailey Brooke settle in. Bailey's been doing great work so far and is getting excellent feedback from their clients, and Lily sees her as fast on track to becoming her next star employee. But if there's one thing Bailey needs more practice in, it's to be less shy - especially with showing off her beautiful body and perky breasts! Lily decides that the best thing for Bailey to do is to shadow Lily with one of her clients, and the timing is perfect because Lily's favorite client Tommy Gunn just walked through the door.

Lily leads Tommy to the shower, with Bailey following behind. Bailey's only given regular massages so far and has no idea what a NURU massage entails, so she's a little surprised when Lily tells her that all three of them will be taking off their clothes and hopping into the shower together. But Lily's a great trainer, and she helps ease Bailey in to the process and makes sure Bailey feels right at home while rubbing down Tommy's tense muscles. When the two girls get to Tommy's throbbing hard-on, Lily explains that at this spa, they don't clean their clients' dicks off with their hands - here, the masseuses use their mouths! Bailey is eager to do a good job in front of her supervisor and shows off her oral skills, blowing, kissing and sucking alongside Lily as they both tend to Tommy's huge shaft and balls.

After the shower, Lily and Bailey bring Tommy over to the mat and give him a four-hands massage with plenty of NURU gel. They cover themselves as well and once the girls are nice and slick, they take turns giving the client a thorough body sliding massage, first with Lily showing Bailey how to do it, and then Bailey following suit. Lily guides Bailey through the motions and even helps guide Tommy's cock straight into Bailey's pussy for the final step of the massage.

Tommy can't believe this is Bailey's first time doing this, but thanks to Lily's hands-on training, Bailey is all set to start servicing her own clients! As their threesome comes to a cum-covered end, Lily and Tommy both agree that Bailey has a bright future as a masseuse ahead of her.

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You could do the massage with just a little oil. That's not even a fucking massage to barely oil themselves up with the slop and that's it. I don't like this slop nonsense. The PornPros.com porn site knows how to do a massage with the guy first, rubbing between thighs coming closer to the clit, rubbing the clit, sticking one finger in and out then two fingers in and out slowly and methodically. Now, that a hot massage. You're shit FSM is fucking crap. It's a bunch slop together for no fucking reason looking like a jelly fish landed on their genitals. Massage is in the title to the site, but it's nothing but crap. Ever see a girl give a guy a real massage and massage that dick until she gets on top of it and rides it to 7th heaven. You fucking idiots don't have the imagination or brains for massage porn.
2018-10-16 06:09
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Lily looks amazing.
2018-08-22 01:13
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Hertz van Rental: Dutch pornstar!
Bailey and anyone make a good combo! Keep more Bailey Brooke scenes coming. Love these group nuru scenes, simply lovely!
2018-08-12 07:33
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Bailey and Lily make a great combo.
2018-08-10 04:40
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