Pascale held my elbow and started to steer me around the room. In a furniture grouping closest to the door on my right I saw the woman I’d met the other night in Montmartre, Genevieve. She was sitting on a sofa, holding a glass of wine and looking down at the naked woman kneeling before her, her face between Genevieve’s legs. Genevieve looked up as we paused in front of her and she raised her glass to us. Pascale said something to her in French and they both laughed, causing the kneeling woman to turn and look at us. Genevieve guided her head back and kept her hand in the woman’s hair, raising her hips off the sofa and moving her sex against the woman’s mouth. As I stared at the tableau before us a few other women came up and stood silently watching. Genevieve handed her glass of wine to a woman standing behind the sofa and then placed her hand with the other one at the back of the kneeling woman’s head. She held the head steady as she moved herself harder against the woman’s mouth, her groans erupting from her staccatolike until she came with an explosive yell. She fell back against the sofa and the woman kneeling before her came up and crawled on to Genevieve’s lap, cuddling there while they caught their breath. Their silent audience slipped away.
Pascale’s hand was at my elbow again as we made our way to the next area. She leaned toward me and whispered, “How are you holding up?”
“I’m somewhere between shocked out of my head and completely turned on.”
“Yes, I suspect this is new to you. But your shock will grow less, your excitement will grow stronger. Then we will see what you would like to do.”
At the next furniture grouping an enormous bed was surrounded by sofas and chairs, all of them occupied by women staring at a couple on the bed. One woman on the bed was on all fours and moaning loudly as the woman behind her moved deeply in and out of her with her hand. I watched as the hand curled in on itself and disappeared completely within the kneeling woman, and the moaning got noticeably louder. Some of the women on the sofas were touching themselves, others were touching the women next to them. The woman doing the fucking was also touching herself, moving her hand rapidly as she began driving deeper and harder into the woman kneeling below her, driving them both toward climax. The sound, the dim lights, the smell, the scene before me were all overpowering, and I leaned back into Pascale when she wrapped her arms around me from behind. I was fully conscious of actually being in one of my own fantasies. And then I was fully conscious of something else, the feel of Pascale’s cock rubbing against my ass. The pleated trousers had hidden this surprise from me. I think I began to purr.
The sound of Pascale’s voice in my ear seemed to break through the daze I was in. “I know that you can take it like that. I know that you love it, to be fucked so thoroughly.”
Do I? I must, for I was dripping wet. Pascale’s hands were now on my nipples, pinching lightly, her lips to my neck where she began to nibble. My eyes nearly closed, but through the slits I could see a new couple take their place on the bed. I leaned back further into Pascale’s embrace.
“Are you ready to move along?” she asked. I turned in her arms and kissed her in reply. A throat-deep kiss that had me up on my toes, my arms around her neck and pulling her as close to me as I could. When we finally broke for air she continued to hold me close. “I do not know if I want to share you,” she said. My heart sped up a little as a frisson of excitement passed through me. When had I become hers to share? Why did I feel excitement and not fear or anger? My confusion must have somehow translated into an enigmatic smile, for Pascale smiled back and we moved along.
The next grouping was quite large and featured a series of sofas and chairs facing each other over a ten-foot divide. On both ends of this corridor between the furniture were a bed and adjacent table holding brightly burning candles. The scene clearly had an established theme, for on one side were six women sitting together, all of them clearly femme. There were six women lounging about on the furniture across from them, dressed in a variety of styles. This was clearly the butch side of the aisle. One woman was apparently adopting a between-the-wars, Radclyffe Hall look with black wool suit, slicked-back hair, starched collar, ascot, cufflinks, the works. Another woman wore a very modern men’s suit of European cut, another a very expensive ensemble of vintage-looking motorcycle leathers, and so on. One thing they all had in common was the equipment they wore in their trousers.
The butches continued to talk and laugh with each other as one of them rose from their ranks and made her way to the other side, stopping in front of one of the femmes and extending her hand to her. The femme looked up and took the hand, rising to meet the butch and be led toward one of the beds. The chatter on either side of the aisle became quieter as everyone adjusted the way they were sitting to get a better view of the bed. The butch, the one in the leathers, took the femme in her arms as they stood by the bed, kissing her passionately, almost as if they really meant it. As I watched I was struck by how much the scene played out as if this were a couple who were in love, who knew each other’s bodies well, who regularly had sex and were very tender with each other. The butch slowly removed the femme’s clothes and then lay her down on the bed. She removed her own leather jacket, but nothing else, and then draped herself over the naked woman, kissing her way down her body. She spent time arousing the woman with her mouth before reaching down to undo her leather pants and take her cock out. The femme grabbed the cock with some urgency, spreading her legs and pulling the butch on top of her with one motion, crying out as the butch entered her and slowly started to stroke. Now the area was silent as all eyes were on the couple, watching as they kissed and fucked and moaned and then screamed their release.
I was mesmerized, and now almost desperate with arousal. I turned to find Pascale. She was just taking a seat in an easy chair on the butch side of the aisle and she held out her hand to have me come over. I did so, quite quickly, and stood between her legs, looking down at her, holding both her hands. We stared at each other for a while before Pascale reached for the zipper of her trousers and slowly lowered it, reaching in to take out her cock, holding it in her hand. With her other hand she tugged lightly at my arm, urging me down, and I fell to my knees before her, still staring in her eyes but seeing her hand move up and down the cock. Pascale reached toward my neck and brought my head downward, aiming her cock for my mouth, watching me with eyes wide open and bright. I had a moment of confusion, of remembering that this was my least favorite activity when I used to have sex with men, that there was something particularly debasing about it with a man. Now I couldn’t wait to take Pascale’s cock in my mouth and drive her mad with desire. As my lips came around the head of the cock I heard Pascale groan, saw and felt her raise her hips, urging me to let her in farther. I opened myself to her and let her glide in and out, pushing back against her so that the base of the cock hit her clit. Her breath became raspy, loud, and she muttered something in French. I could tell that the eyes of all of the butches were upon us, and some of the femmes had walked over to watch as well.
Pascale held my head still and slowly withdrew from my mouth. She was breathing heavily and looking a little desperate herself. I reached for her face and said, “What? What do you want me to do? Tell me, Pascale.”
“Take off your clothes,” she said, watching me closely as I removed my slacks and sweater, glad to be rid of the weight of them. Pascale then rose from the chair and steered me to it, placing me so I faced the back of the chair, my knees on the seat, my hands gripping the back. I felt her move behind me immediately and enter me, the sharp sense of discomfort almost instantly replaced with intense pleasure, a feeling of pressure that grew with each stroke. As I gazed straight ahead I had a direct view of a group of women in the far corner of the room watching a bound woman being teased by a vibrator. As that woman grew closer to orgasm, so did I, so did Pascale. I could hear her groans grow louder, could feel her thrusts become faster and deeper. Pascale’s arm came around my waist and found my clit, rubbing it back and forth as she drove into me, sending me screami
ng over the edge and into a stupefying orgasm. The woman with the vibrator roared out as well, followed by Pascale’s hoarse cry and collapse against my back. I heard a general murmur of appreciation from our audience, but they had moved away and left me and Pascale alone by the time I caught my breath and was able to move. Pascale seemed to regain her senses at the same time and once again slowly withdrew from me.
“Oh, mon Dieu. You are amazing,” she said. “I had such a big come.”
I turned around and sat in the chair, making room for Pascale to collapse beside me. I curled up against her, feeling strangely at peace given the setting. “I cannot believe what I just did in front of all those people. Don’t get me wrong, I had a giant orgasm too. I just can’t believe I managed to come with an audience watching me.”
Pascale looked a little reflective. “It’s funny. I didn’t even realize they were there. That is unusual.”
“I take that to mean you’ve been here a few times before.”
“Of course. Did you think something different?” She looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“No. And that doesn’t matter anyway. But what was unusual?” I leaned back so I could look into her eyes, and she returned the gaze with the most unguarded look I’d seen from her.
“I have been here many times. Sometimes I’ve arrived alone, sometimes I have brought dates. Either way I have always been very much aware of what others were doing, whether they were watching me, how many were watching me, what they were doing while watching me. But tonight, just now, it was as if we were here alone. I knew nothing other than being with you, being inside you.” Pascale looked completely confused.
I chuckled as I ran my fingers through her hair and then held the side of her face with my hand. “Poor Pascale. That must terrify you.”
“Yes, it does a bit. But never mind.” She leaned over to kiss me and then held me close. “What do you say we leave and find a nice café for a bite to eat? And then you come to my place and we can be alone.”
“Are you sure you’ve seen all you wanted to here?” I asked. I knew I’d about had my limit for the night, though there seemed to be a bit of spanking going on a few yards away that was catching my eye. Pascale followed my gaze and smirked.
“I see I have introduced all kinds of possibilities to you,” she said.
“Oh, I think the possibilities were always there for me, but you’ve made some of them realities.”
Pascale picked up my clothes and started to help me into them. “We do not have too much time before you go back to America,” she said, watching as my head disappeared into my sweater. When it popped back into view she said, “We best get to work making some of those others a reality as well.”
“You know,” I said, “I might have to wrangle some vacation time here so we can do the job properly. How often do these parties take place?”
“Monique has hosted these parties once a week for as long as I can remember.”
“I think another fortnight in Paris would be a big help to me, then. What do you think?”
“I think that it will be the best April in Paris ever.”
Private Caller
Radclyffe
“Hello?” I said absently, most of my attention on the report I was reviewing.
“Do you know what I’m doing right now?”
I glanced at my watch. It was later than I thought. Almost 8 p.m. I was most likely the only one left in the office, which, considering that I was the boss, was probably appropriate. I leaned back in my chair and smiled at the sound of my best friend’s voice. “Well, Sylvia, I imagine you’re doing something very exciting, like—”
“Oh I am,” the breathless voice said. “I’m lying outside on the patio, nude, and I’m imagining you beside me while I touch myself.”
“Jesus, Syl,” I said, sitting forward sharply. Sylvia and I had once had a sweaty, frantic, fabulous night of passion on a narrow bed in a cramped dorm room. That was before she met Alan, the love of
her life, and settled down with him to raise children and do whatever
it is married straight women do. “Are you hitting the champagne again?”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to numb my senses. Not when I want to come as much as I do right now.”
I heard the hitch in her voice and I knew with absolute certainty that she was masturbating. And I also knew it wasn’t my friend Sylvia. My mind went blank for a few seconds. I’d never had a phone call like this before. I stared at my desk console, saw that my personal line was blinking, and checked caller ID. Private number. Jesus.
“Who?”
“Oh, God…it makes me so wet to think about you fucking me. So deep inside I—”
“I’m sorry, you’ve got the wrong number.” Why the hell was I apologizing? I was on the receiving end of a dirty phone call. Still, perversely curious, I strained to hear her voice, trying to place it. But I couldn’t.
“No,” she said, sounding dreamy and needy at the same time. “It’s you, Avery. It’s you…oh, I’m going to come soon…touch me there oh yes…ohh—”
I slammed down the phone, shaking, and stared at it as if it might come to life and bite me. I’d never heard anything like that in my life. So…so…sexy. Jesus, she’d sounded so sexy. I stood up abruptly and paced in front of my desk, the sound of her voice, her excitement, burning the surface of my brain. My clit thumped with every step, but I refused to admit that I was aroused. Finally, I searched the outer offices and then walked up and down the hall looking for a light, some sign of where she might be. She knew my name. I had to know her. There was no one. I went back to my office but I couldn’t work. An hour later I went home and had a stiff drink. That night I dreamed of a woman whose face I couldn’t see, writhing beneath me while I fucked her until she came with her nails raking my back. When I woke the next morning my clit was hard and I came in the shower and pretended it was just like any other day.
The first few times my phone rang in the office, my heart pounded as I answered it. I almost expected—hoped—it would be her. After a while I realized I was being foolish and vowed to forget about the strange call. And I did, for all but a few fleeting moments each day.
A week later I returned from a business trip and stopped by the office on my way home from the airport to check my mail. My secretary had already left and it was quiet in the building. Just as I sat down at my desk, the phone rang.
“Avery Campbell.”
“Do you know what I’m doing?”
I caught my breath and gripped the phone so tightly my fingers ached. “Who are you?”
“I’m lying naked on my bed. The windows are open and I’m surrounded by the toys I like to fuck myself with. I love to slide something big inside when I’m ready to come. I imagine it’s your hand and I come so hard.”
I saw it, every movement, felt her cunt close around my fingers. “Look, I’m not going to play—”
“Did you…oh that’s so good…did you…have a good flight?”
I was listening hard, trying to place the voice, and I heard a choked moan. My stomach spasmed and I felt a flood of come between my legs. I couldn’t help myself, I had to know. “What are you doing?”
“I’m playing with my clit. I like to pinch it…until I have to come.” Her breath shuddered. “My nipples are super sensitive and sometimes I stop to squeeze them. That makes my clit harder.”
Mine was like a stone between my thighs, but I kept my free hand firmly on my desktop. I would not be seduced by a voice. But I couldn’t force myself to hang up the phone.
“It feels so good,” she crooned. “So good when you rub my clit, when you lick me… oh, yes lick that spot…you’ll make me come…”
“Don’t come,” I heard myself say, not believing I’d actually spoken.
“Oh, I want to. Please, I want to come for you.”
“Not until I’m inside of you.” I hunched over the desk, my eyes closed, straining to hear the smallest sound, completely focused on her and h
er pleasure. “Do you have a cock there?”
“My favorite,” she whined. “B-but I can’t wait.”
She was gasping, muttering broken words, moaning steadily. “Stop it,” I said sharply. She whimpered. “Get that cock. The big one. Our favorite. The one that makes you come all over it when I fuck you. Do you have it? Do you?”
“Yes. Yes…but I…please I’m going to come soon.”
“Not until I’m inside you. Put my cock between your legs. Hurry. Do it.”
I stopped breathing. I heard a cry, a wild sound of anguished pleasure and knew she was starting to come. I shot to my feet, shouting, “Can you feel me fucking you? Can you? Can you?”
“Yesssss,” she screamed as she orgasmed, and I quietly disconnected.
“Jesus Christ.” My shirt was soaked with sweat. My crotch was just as wet and I wondered if I’d come. I might have. My clit was throbbing the way it did right after I climaxed, but I couldn’t remember it. It had all been her. All I could feel was being inside her while she came. I’d never been so aroused, or so satisfied. “Oh fuck.”
What had just happened? And who the hell was she?
I sat down and stared at the phone, willing it to ring. Call me back. Please call me back. I needed to hear her voice. I craved it like a touch. I wanted to make her come again.
A day passed. Another. And another. The phone rang. It was always business. I took care of it with the part of my mind that was capable of functioning at top efficiency no matter what was happening around me. But my body remained poised, coiled like a tight spring, for the sound of her voice to set me off. My clit was always hard. My cunt was always wet. I didn’t masturbate, even when I lay awake tense and throbbing every night. Once I jolted awake, just after dawn, emerging from some erotic dream that left me hovering on the edge of orgasm. My clit was twitching and my brain was too slow to prevent my hand from squeezing the hot need between my thighs and I came sharply, straining to hear the sound of her voice.
Extreme Passions Page 33