“You’re the critic. Tell me what you think.”
A recent article in the local paper she had picked up at the airport said The Ethiopian Sea was a “quaint little Bohemian favorite” because the wine was made from local honeybees whose sugary potion was good for your health. And unlike the California Napa Valley Chardonnay Stormy usually preferred with meals, that tended to make her tongue and lips pucker. No matter how much butter and oak flavoring the menu claimed, the honey in the homemade wine relaxed her tongue and warmed her cheeks with an incomparable natural sweetness that melted into the flesh of her cheeks with a pleasing ease. Still, it was hard to imagine consuming this wine with anything other than the food from the Motherland or a semisweet dessert. But she didn’t say any of that. She had learned that people were more comfortable with her if they thought they were smarter than her, so as she had with Berta, she acted uninformed, simply responding, “This wine is very sweet.”
“It is good,” Hartford said, sipping a freshly poured glass of the foggy topaz-colored brew.
After their food arrived, they ate in silence for a while. Stormy struggled to keep her notebook clean as she jotted down notes, and Hartford struggled not to eat too fast.
“So, what kind of music do you make?”
“I’m actually an executive producer. I used to do R&B, jazz, and contemporary stuff you might hear on the radio, but now I handle music scores and soundtracks for major motion pictures.”
“Umm,” Stormy said, swallowing. “Anything I might have seen?”
His mouth was full of boiled egg and she giggled, sipped her wine, and waited.
“Have you seen Tatiana’s Revenge?”
“Have I? I loved Tatiana’s Revenge. It reminded me of an old school movie called I Spit on Your Grave. It was about a woman getting revenge on some wild woodsman who raped her.”
Hartford’s eyes lit in pleasant surprise. “Yes, yes, though the writer and producer would never admit it publicly, Tatiana’s Revenge was ripped off that movie.”
“Hmm,” Stormy said. “Well, the music was the shit.”
Stormy and Hartford dined and drank wine and talked for more than an hour, about music, movies, cooking, and his family.
“Well, I guess since you’re considering melting that ring into an X, you aren’t real happy with your wife.”
“To be frank,” he said, his speech slightly slurred from the wine, “my wife is spoiled and boring.”
“Is she socially or sexually boring?”
“Both. It’s not a good look for the wife of a music man, if you know what I mean,” Hartford countered Stormy.
“By that you mean?”
“I mean, I get all kinds of play, all the time, from women, and some men, trying to break into the entertainment business. Not just singers and musicians either, but actors and producers as well. Most of them are willing to do most anything to get a token to play the fame game.”
“Oh?” Stormy heard herself ask in a little girl’s voice that made him look at her funny.
“Just the other day I got an invitation to a Calistoga Springs Nature Man Spa from a client’s agent.”
“Is that unusual?”
“I usually welcome the opportunity to get away from my wife for a few days, but when I checked the place out, I discovered it was clothing optional.”
“Why did that make you uncomfortable?” Stormy asked. “Are you uncomfortable with your naked body? It looks like you’re in shape.”
“The invitation came from a man.”
“Oh.”
“So I had to wonder, what kind of man wants to conduct business with champagne springs bubbling up his ass?”
“Oh, so you’ve never been with a man?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Hell no.”
“I don’t mean any offense. I’m only asking because the invitation seemed to stir you so much. I don’t find the idea repulsive at all.” Stormy chased her last bite of beef tips with her final swallow of honey wine. “You know, there’s a magic button in your ass that only gay boys and old guys seem to know about.”
Hartford shifted nervously in his chair, and for the first time since they had begun speaking, he didn’t look into Stormy’s eyes when he spoke again. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I don’t even know you.”
“That’s because it can be easier to talk to people you don’t know. Don’t worry about it. Go ahead; I’m a good listener.”
“Well, I know about the button you’re talking about. I had a happy ending massage recently,” he confessed. “A friend of mine took me to a massage therapist. First, she gave me a massage, and then she jacked me off. Only this chick had one hand on my dick and one hand in my ass.”
“You mean her finger, right?” Stormy asked, laughing. “I mean, if she got her whole hand in there…”
“Yeah, man, yeah. It was just her finger. But it relaxed the fuck out of me. I’ve never come so fast. I’m sorry if I’m being too blunt. This wine really creeps up on you.”
“So would you let a woman go there with you?”
“I told you, I already have.”
“No, I mean, go there. I mean, strapped up and everything.”
Hartford laughed out loud and looked around the restaurant nervously. “Check, please!”
“Aw, don’t be shy now. This conversation is for grownups. It’s not like it would make you gay or something, if you let a woman please you in that way. If you like it, you could get your wife to do it.”
“Now that’s never going to happen.” Hartford cleared his throat, and then sat back in his chair. “Have you done it before?”
“Me? No. It’s just a fantasy; something that’s been slipping into my shower thoughts lately. I only want to watch. I think watching a woman and a man in reverse position would be such a huge turn-on. Just talking about it now is making me really hot, really wet,” Stormy said, shifting her hips back and forth in her seat.
“So if you’re watching, who is fucking?” Hartford inquired.
“Oh, I’m fucking. I rarely pass up the opportunity to fuck. I love to fuck, but I especially love to be fucked. In my fantasy, I’m on my back, there’s a big strong man thrusting his dick deep inside of me, I’m holding his back and ass, and pushing him deep inside of me. When I was fucking men, I always liked it like that, deep and missionary, sharing heartbeats. I suspect that your wife and I have that in common.”
“You can say that again,” Hartford said, laughing. “You mind if I order us another bottle?”
Stormy nodded and continued with her verbal seduction of the man she had targeted to fulfill Korea’s fantasy. “You know, Hartford,” she said, touching his hand softly. “There is something hot and intoxicating about breathing in the same sex-filled steamy air between two people. I can close my eyes now and feel it.” Hartford watched her full mouth as it opened and closed, expelling imagery of her fantasy so vividly, he was living it. “…his tongue is in my ear, he’s sucking my lobe and whispering secrets, his sweat is in my mouth and eyes, my hair is bunched in his fists and his dick is so deep inside of me, I can almost feel it in my throat. Oh, yes, honey, you can best believe I’m fucking.” Stormy paused to check Hartford’s face. “Are you blushing?” she toyed with him.
“I don’t know. Am I?”
“Yes, shall I go on?”
“Wait,” he said. Berta brought them another bottle of honey wine and cleared their trays. “Go on.”
Stormy closed her eyes again. “In my fantasy, while this man is fucking me, a beautiful woman slides upon him from behind, rimming him with her tongue. When she does this, I can feel him growing stiffer inside me.”
Her mouth is fantastic, Hartford thought.
“She oils his back and glides her breasts across his body, massaging him. Then she mounts him from behind; she’s gently pushing into him, forcing him deeper inside of me. I can feel the weight of the two of them pressing into my clit and I’m on the verge of exploding. He’s whisperi
ng in my ear, telling me to instruct her when to back it up and when to go deeper, his dick is getting harder, she’s deep in his ass…Aaagh,” Stormy gasped as Hartford slipped his tongue inside her mouth. “Whoa! I’ve got to go!” Stormy said, interrupting his probe. “We’re getting carried away here.”
“Not as carried away as they are,” Hartford said. He nodded his head toward the booth next to hers where a man’s hand had disappeared up a woman’s dress.
“Oh…” Stormy said. “Now I’m embarrassed. Do you think they were listening?”
“Let’s get out of here before you get cited for starting a riot.” Hartford dropped two hundred dollars on the table and led Stormy to the door.
“You are quite the storyteller,” he said when they were outside. “You sure you haven’t done that before?”
“No. I think my lady wants to, though.”
“Listen, it’s only eight o’clock. You want to get a nightcap?”
“Oh shit! I’m supposed to be on the nine o’clock flight back home. It was nice meeting you. I have to find a cab.”
“Wait, not so fast. Where is home?”
“Oakland.”
Hartford smiled. “And you thought you could get away from me.”
“Do you live in Oakland?”
“Yes, I do. I have a car waiting. Why don’t you let me give you a ride to the airport and you can tell me all about your lady friend? What’s her name?”
“Korea.”
During the ride, Stormy told Hartford all about Korea. She arrived at the airport just in time for her flight. She thanked the driver and jumped out of the car before Hartford could get out and open her door.
“I’ll be back home in a few days,” he said through the window. “Here, take my card. You know, when you were telling your story, I couldn’t help but to see myself in it. Tell Ms. Korea I’m down if she is.”
STORMY CAME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE. In all these years, Stormy had never disobeyed Korea and Korea had never spent the night out. It was a true sign that their relationship was ending. She didn’t spend the night moaning about it. She used her time to crank out the article. By the time she finished and emailed it to T. Calloway, the sun was coming up.
Korea came in smelling of pussy at five in the morning. She didn’t say a single word to Stormy. She got in the shower, put on her suit, and left again.
CHAPTER 12:
CIVIL SERVICE
All afternoon Shawna cleaned, shaved, picked, plucked, and planned in anticipation of the two men in blue to arrive. Her mind had been flooded with the most insane imagery all day. While she washed her hair, the thought of being handcuffed and fucked with a cocked gun possessed her. When she shaved her pussy, the thought of having one in her ass and one in her pussy at the same time; their dicks rubbing together, with only her thin skin separating them, was so intense she had nicked herself. When she closed her eyes and wet her face to wash her mask off, the image of both men ejaculating in unison all over her face could not be rinsed away. Today she was going to live out as many fantasies as she could think of. And she knew just where to start. She wanted to live out the fantasy that had been getting her through all that boring sex with Hartford—water play. All of these thoughts sent an unbearable throbbing to her clit.
She looked out of the living room window again. “They’re late,” she said, disappointed.
She was lying on her bed with a bullet on her clit, just giving in to a tiny quake when Robeson called from his cell phone, to make sure it was still alright to stop through.
“Yes. It’s cool,” she said, sounding a little breathy.
“Good, then come to the back door; we’re already here.”
“Shit!” She sat up, hopped off the bed, and went to the door. “Well, would you look at The Officers Friendly,” Shawna said to the two uniformed men standing in front of her.
Robeson smiled when he saw Shawna standing in a short silk robe and fuzzy glass slip-ons. “I told you,” he said to Davis.
“So…uh, how is this going down?” Davis asked.
“Well, first, I’ve got to get you guys as wet as I am,” Shawna said, stepping boldly to the two men to grab hands full of their crotches. Without any words, Robeson and Davis followed Shawna to the master bathroom, stripped themselves, and stepped into the shower with her.
It was Davis who surprised her with the size of his dick. He couldn’t have been more than 5’8” but the dick he owned should have belonged to Robeson, who towered over him but only had about seven inches to offer.
“You want to frisk me?” she asked Robeson, turning her face to the shower wall to let him know he would be on ass detail. Shawna had a deep, wide pussy that needed girth and length. She wanted Davis’ big black nightstick inside of it.
Robeson lathered his hands and washed her ass cheeks, letting his hands slide up and down her crack. Davis slipped himself between Shawna and the shower wall. He took the showerhead off of the hook, rinsed underneath his dick and balls, and then he aimed the pounding flow at Shawna’s pussy, sending her clitoral sensations that nearly crippled her. Her knees buckled and her legs shook. If not for the two strong men holding her up, she would have hit the shower floor.
Robeson stepped from the shower. He dried his dick and searched his uniform pockets for a condom. Davis took the opportunity to test the pussy out. Spinning Shawna’s back against the wall, he bent his knees, aimed his dick at her center, and ripped past her pussy lips like a bolt of thunder through a stormy sky.
“Uhnnngh,” she grunted. “Wait, wait,” she said in phony protest.
“I’m not going to nut in you,” he said. “I just want to see what I’m getting myself into.” Davis’ dick was so fat, that her pussy hole was stretching to receive it, as he thrust in and out of her. His dick was so long she could feel it poking her cervix. “I’m going to put a condom on in a minute,” he whispered desperately. He reached under her arms, lifting her a bit, putting his hand on her shoulders, and then pulled her down hard on his dick. “I’m real modern about these things,” he whispered into her ear, digging deeper, this time. “But my dick is old school.”
“No,” her mouth said as her thigh slid up his leg, exposing even more of her throbbing cunt to him. Feeling the dangling showerhead bouncing off her leg, she reached for it and handed it to him. “Okay,” she whispered back, “you can hit it a couple more times, then you have to strap up, okay?”
“Okay,” Davis said, getting even more excited. Davis quickly pulled out, flipped her around, pushed her face to the wall, and dug so deep inside of her, his dick seemed to grow another inch. And when he put that showerhead to her clit again, Shawna could not feel his nut for her own.
“No parking,” Robeson said through the shower door.
Shawna’s legs shook involuntarily as she stepped onto the tile floor. “You can’t get tired yet,” Robeson said, picking her up, and carrying her to the edge of the bed. “You have some tickets to work off.” He bent her over the edge of the bed and twisted the top off of a tiny tube of lubricant and squeezed it on her asshole. He rubbed the lube around and ran his finger in and out of her.
Davis found his rubber and placed it, unopened on the night-stand. He sat back on the bed as Robeson positioned Shawna on her knees, and hung his big dick out for the housewife to suck.
When she didn’t move fast enough, Robeson gave her ass a smack. “Don’t just stare at it, crawl up there and put it in your mouth.” Robeson followed behind her on his knees, sliding himself into her tight ass, as she took Davis into her mouth.
“Yeah, suck it,” Davis said, pushing the back of her head down, forcing his dick to the back of her throat until she gagged.
Robeson moved slowly, easing his way into Shawna’s ass. His short, fat dick massaged her walls and her body began to rock slowly back and forth. With his hands, he guided her hips; with his thumbs, he massaged her hipbones. Davis got up on his knees in front of her. With both hands on her head, he massaged the base of her skull
and pushed his dick in and out of her mouth. The men found no need for conversation or commands. They were a silent team, communicating though eye contact and body language. Shawna felt her tension drain from her. Her clit even calmed down as the rest of her body made its presence known and appreciated in ways she had forgotten about since she had become a wife and mother. Shawna felt as light as a feather, floating back to the comfort zone of passivity she had enjoyed before her husband and children came to steal her joy. The three hovered there in that space for a while until both men came together; Robeson into his condom, Davis down her throat.
“Good girl,” Davis said, pushing his tongue into her mouth, sucking anything remaining of himself off of her tongue. “You didn’t spill a drop.”
“That felt so good,” Shawna said. She could still feel her back and hips and head tingling with tiny muscular orgasms.
“You like that, huh?” Robeson asked, smacking Shawna’s ass softly as he pulled out to change his rubber and to choreograph the next scene.
Davis spread her legs wide so Robeson could get a good look at his handiwork. “Look, partner,” he said. “You got her little hole stuck open.”
Robeson strapped up again and lay on his back on the bed. Davis picked Shawna up and placed her on Robeson’s lap so she could swallow Robeson’s dick with her ass again. Davis pushed her back against Robeson’s chest and shoved his diamond cutter inside of her. A deep moan escaped her lips as the cocks pushed against one another inside of her.
There, wrapped between these strong cops who risked their lives every day for a city that hated them, she surrendered control. She let Robeson and Davis bite and beat and fuck and suck whatever they wanted to and was not about to apologize for any of it. Shawna wanted to make sure she had some real men in her life. I’ll bet getting them on all fours would be impossible, she thought, as visions of Hartford getting fucked by the dirty biker flashed in her mind. Her pussy was so wet, Davis was swimming in it as her walls seemed to collapse and give way to a river of her juices. She began to cry and to buck wildly, making both dicks slip out of her body.
The Punany Experience Page 18