The Skinwalker Totem

by Amanda Clover

  “AAAAAAHHHHH!” She cried, arching hard atop Megan, all sense forgotten as she was throttled by the intensity of her climax. Her cunt clutched, her clit pulsed, but nothing was like the explosive pleasure from the nipple being sucked by Megan. She rode out the pleasure like the mechanical bull she’d bested. It was briefly intensified by Megan moving to her other nipple, which sent fresh crackles of ecstasy through Sara’s body.

  Finally, Sara rolled off her friend. But Megan wasn’t done. She intended to be repaid and climbed astride Sara’s face. Her golden thighs surrounded Sara and the familiar scent of Megan’s arousal focused Sara’s attention.

  “Oh, taking charge, are we?” The treasure hunter chuckled. “Well, I suppose I did miss my supper.”

  She leaned up and buried her tongue in the hot folds of Megan’s cunt. Megan’s thighs tensed around Sara and Megan let out a cry of pleasure that must have been audible through the hotel’s thin walls. Megan grabbed a handful of Sara’s hair and rode the treasure hunter’s tongue. Her slender hips worked as she fucked against Sara’s mouth, her tension building and building until Megan let out an even louder cry and her pussy throbbing against Sara’s sucking lips. Sweet nectar poured into Sara’s mouth as she made her friend cum. She gripped Megan’s firm bum and tongued deep into her cunt to feel the throb of Megan’s inner walls.

  “Oh!” A strangled cry of pleasure and a warm spatter of liquid on Sara’s thighs signaled Baxter’s climax. Megan dismounted from Sara’s face just in time for her to see her pet boffin squeeze the last of his cum from his red cock. She looked down at the long lines of milky semen decorating the bed and her thighs.

  “Nicely done, Mr. Honeycutt,” chuckled Sara.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, tucking his cock away with embarrassment. “I’ll fetch a towel.”

  “A warm washcloth,” shouted Sara as Baxter disappeared into the WC. She turned her attention back to Megan, who had stretched out beside her and was smiling contentedly. Sara toyed with Megan’s stiff little nipples.

  “What’s next?” Megan asked.

  “I believe I am attending a party,” said Sara, “as a prostitute.”

  “Nothing new there,” said Megan with a wink. Her joke earned her a brutal tickling from the treasure hunter.

  “Oh, you’re going with me, you naughty slapper,” laughed Sara.

  The Grand Mirage Casino and Hotel

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  The doorman looked to be 22 stone of solid muscle. He was shaved bald and had extensive biker tattoos visible on his huge biceps and down his arms. He wore an armored vest over his bare torso and a pair of camouflage trousers. He carried an assault rifle slung over his chest. The only sign that he was an official part of security and not some gun-toting criminal was the earpiece stuck in his left ear. Not exactly the sort of man Sara had expected to be working the door at a swanky party in a 30 million dollar penthouse.

  Sara was studying the man, wondering what it would take for her to bring him down, when Megan bumped her with an elbow.

  “I think I know all three women he’s checking out,” whispered Megan. “The two blondes are porn stars. Like actual stars. The brunette with the big tits in the middle is Courtney Jonas from that Lula movie a couple years ago.”

  Sara glanced at the busty woman being fondled by the guard. He made sure to thoroughly check her breasts for any contraband. The woman seemed perfectly at ease being fondled by the brute.

  “I don’t have time to go to the cinema,” said Sara.

  “She had some drink driving incident in Beverly Hills. All over the tabloids.”

  “Must have fallen on hard times to be at Jonathan Carlsbad’s swinger party,” replied Sara.

  The doorman returned their IDs and waved them through. Courtney Jonas opened the door and colored lights spilled out along with the thump of heavy, electronic music. The door closed and the hallway quieted again. The bald doorman motioned to Sara and Megan. He looked them over with a lecherous twinkle in his beady eyes.

  Sara was wearing a blue bodycon dress with an extremely low-cut front and a back scooped so low it showed the top of her bum. Of course the skirt was so short her cheeks were practically on display. A golden teardrop pendant in her cleavage drew attention to the plump swell of her breasts and the fact that she was most definitely not wearing bra. The pendant double as a communications node for Baxter to hack into the penthouse’s WiFi.

  The final touch to Sara’s costume was a shoulder-length red wig concealing her hair. It was a good fit and a rather nice wig thanks to Megan’s last minute efforts. Sara rather fancied herself as a redhead.

  Megan, if anything, had chosen an even more outrageous outfit. Her black lace bodice left nothing to the imagination, the lace clinging to her breasts and her nipples clearly erect through the sheer material. Her hair was worn in high, bouncy pigtails and she had added silver stripes under her eyes like a club girl version of an athlete’s eye black. She had chosen a pair of shorts so short and tight that even her firm little bottom swallowed up the satin fabric. Her fishnet stockings and high-heeled boots completed her slutty look.

  “IDs,” demanded the guard.

  Sara and Megan handed over their fake ID cards produced by Baxter. Sara was Sabrina Croft and Megan had become Miko North. The IDs should have passed scrutiny, but the guard frowned and murmured something into his radio.

  “Ladies, you’re not on the list,” he said.

  “Baxter, you were supposed to handle the invitations,” muttered Sara.

  “The list must have been printed before I changed it on the server,” said Baxter over Sara’s tiny earbud. “Stall him for a tick and I’ll see if I can’t page him and force him to go back to—“

  “Forget it,” hissed Sara. “We’ll cope.”

  “Not on the list, not allowed in, ladies,” said the man at the door.

  “Oh, well, we heard about the party,” said Megan. “Our friend is having a hen party on the fourth floor and it’s soooo boring. We figured we’d come up here and check this one out.”

  Sara saw at once that the ruse was not going to work. She decided to take another tack.

  “We’d like to check it out,” she said, pawing at the guard’s armored vest. “But we’d like to check you out too, um…” She bit her lip coquettishly.

  “Bubba,” said the man. “I might be able to get you two into the party. But it’s gonna take a team effort, if you know what I mean.” He winked lecherously at Sara and flashed a silvery smile.

  Two minutes later, Sara and Megan were in a closet just inside the party with Bubba. The top of Sara’s dress was pulled down and her tits were out so the big, bald bruiser could fondle her while he sloppily made out with her. He was rather rough and liked pinching and pulling on her still-sensitive nipples. He was a terrible kisser, eager to jam his tongue down her throat, but she pretended to love everything he was doing.

  “Mmmmmmmm!” She moaned against his kiss as he gave her nipples another tweak.

  “Ohhhhh fuck,” he groaned against her lips. “Your friend is tryin’ to suck me inside out.”

  Sara had intended for Megan to whack Bubba over the head with something, but instead Megan had gone down to her knees and started sucking off the bouncer. She was bobbing and slurping whorishly all over his big cock. Her efforts were loud enough that Sara heard he wet smacking and moaning over the muffled thumping of the music through the closet door.

  “Goddamn, you are hot, babe. I gotta fuck you, babe,” moaned Bubba. He turned Sara around with her hands on the wall and lifted up the back of her skirt. He smacked and squeezed her ass and Megan helpfully pulled Sara’s panties down to her knees. Bubba took hold of his cock and rubbed it against Sara’s hairless pussy. She was wet from all the pinching and making out and his cock was wet from Megan’s blowjob. He parted her folds with his fat cockhead and she let out a groan. “Ohhhh, fuck, you’re wet as hell, babe. You want it. Tell me you want it.”

  “I want it,” moaned Sara. “Gi
ve it to me.”

  He teased her pussy with his cock and she worked her hips, rubbing her seam against him. He pushed forward just a bit, parting her folds and opening her, but pulling back before his cock slipped inside her.

  “Beg me for it,” he demanded. “Beg me for that big dick.”

  “Oh, please, Bubba,” moaned Sara, trying not to roll her eyes at the name. “You randy brute, please, fuck me with that big cock.”

  “Love you British broads,” he laughed as he slammed his cock into the hot folds of Sara’s pussy. She cried out as he stretched her wide and slapped her bum with his muscular hips. He held her shoulder with one hand, pounding her hard and fast, his bollocks swinging at her clit and his hips spanking her again and again. He reached around her to pinch and twist at her nipples, sending hot jolts of pleasure through her body.

  “Ohhhhh bloody hell, that’s good,” admitted Sara.

  “Yeah, you like that big American dick,” he laughed. “Always puts you foreign girls in line.”

  He pounded her relentlessly, pawing at one of Sara’s breasts while the other bounced with each forceful stroke. He pulled out of her suddenly and Sara heard a gurgling, slurping sound as he fed his cock into Megan’s mouth. He pulled his cock out, slapped it on Megan’s face, and then thrust back into Sara’s slick cunt. He repeated this several times, each time making Sara’s toes curl in her high-heeled shoes until she was on the brink of cumming for him.

  Bubba didn’t care about that though. He bellowed with pleasure and pushed Sara’s face into the wall with one hand on the back of Sara’s head. He grunted as he pulled his cock out and wanked it until he spunked all down the crack of Sara’s ass. Her arsehole was coated in spunk and his load was left dripping like melted wax from her cuntlips and down the backs of her thighs. At least he didn’t get any on her dress.

  Once he’d finished cumming, he directed his cock to Megan’s mouth and Sara’s hot friend dutifully cleaned him with her tongue. When he was satisfied, he stuffed his flaccid cock back into his blue jeans and said, “Sabrina Croft and Miko North are on the list. You two have fun tonight.”

  He winked and backed out of the closet without waiting for them to clean up. Megan searched the closet for something to help on that point, but couldn’t find anything. Sara sighed and stripped off her panties. She used them to mop up all of Bubba’s cum and discarded her panties in the closet.

  “Everything moving forward?” Baxter asked.

  “We’re on our way in now,” said Sara. “Have you accessed the WiFi yet?”

  “Not yet,” said Baxter. “Several layers of security. Have a look around. According to rumors, Carlsbad has a private room that only a few people know about. Like a secret lair within the penthouse where he takes the women.”

  “We’ll look for any secret doors,” said Sara, smoothing her dress down over her hips. She nodded her readiness to Megan and they opened the door and stepped out into the party.

  Carlsbad’s penthouse was luxurious and seemed purpose-built for an orgy. There were nude statues, erotic art, and couches, hot tubs, beds, alcoves, and even glory holes all over the place. Most of the Las Vegas strip was hidden by heavy velvet curtains. There were people – mostly women – making out, dancing, and fucking everywhere. There were men too, mostly much older men who seemed to be of the sort that would be friends with Carlsbad. Sara recognized businessmen, billionaires, a handful of retired athletes and movie stars, and at least two US Senators.

  “Is that the head of UKIP over there?” Megan asked, pointing to a man on his hands and knees being pegged by a ravishingly beautiful Latina wearing a strap-on.

  Sara squinted. “No, I think it’s his brother though. The one who ran for mayor of London.”

  They moved through the party with ease. There were so many girls that they blended in with the crowd of beautiful women. A few men they passed grabbed at them or fondled them when they could not easily get away. Even the worst men were so drunk and over-stimulated that none of them tried to stop Sara or Megan from escaping.

  “I’m not seeing Carlsbad or his special room,” said Sara, trying to watch the flow of women through the party. “There are cameras everywhere. Can’t you hack into those and find it?”

  “No luck,” said Baxter. “Got tripped up on the last layer of security and it’s on auto-lockout for an hour. If I try again before then it’ll set off alarms.”

  “Dammit,” murmured Sara, smiling as a man walked past her wearing nothing but a condom.

  “Royce Darvish,” said Baxter. “Do you know him?”

  “No,” said Sara, dancing a bit with the man wearing only a condom. “Is this going somewhere?”

  “Yes, he’s Carlsbad’s best friend and he’s on the guest list tonight. If anybody knows where Carlsbad’s secret lair is hidden, it’s him.” Baxter continued as Sara bent over and let the naked man spank her bum. Megan joined in, spanking Sara’s rear to buy Sara time to talk. “Darvish is a bit of a pig. Many wives, known philanderer, left one wife while she was recovering from surgery and paid for breast implants for his 20-year-old mistress.”

  “I do not like where this is leading, Mr. Honeycutt,” said Sara, smiling with feigned pleasure as the man behind her lifted her skirt and spanked her ass with his cock.

  “Neither do I,” said Baxter. “But I don’t see much choice. Make him talk, Sara. Or you can wait an hour and I can try the firewall again.”

  Just then, the man behind her began rubbing his cock against Sara’s arsehole. His intention was clear. She straightened up and shook her head emphatically. Megan did the same when he gave her an imploring look. He cursed something lost to the thumping music and stumbled drunkenly away.

  “Alright,” said Sara. “I’ll find this Darvish chap. Describe him to me.”

  Royce Darvish was the most disgusting man Sara had ever seen. He sat on a couch at the back of one of the darker rooms of the apartment, stripped down to his boxer shorts and argyle socks. He was soft-bodied, though not hugely fat and nearly hairless in a disturbing way that made his pink flesh seem partially cooked. These were not the traits that made him disgusting. It was his face. An upturned nose, watery blue eyes, thinning and yet unruly brown hair, and a thin upper lip that curled into a permanent sneer. His teeth, though straight and white, were small and spaced as if he had too few teeth in his mouth. Something about him was ageless. He could have been in his thirties or his late fifties.

  “He looks like a pig,” muttered Sara as she watched Darvish recline on the couch with his arms around a pair of tanned blondes in lingerie. One girl rested her head on Darvish’s shoulder, the other on his paunchy abdomen. The girls might have been twins. They had the same lidded brown eyes and model-sharp features. Darvish licked his lips and slid his pudgy hand down the back of one girl’s panties and began fumbling with her arse. Sara added, “Bloody revolting.”

  “I tried to warn you. Perhaps Megan should handle this,” suggested Baxter.

  Sara glanced at Megan, who looked just as appalled by Darvish’s ugliness as Sara felt in the pit of her stomach. No. She could not subject her friend to this. She would do the dirty work herself.

  “Watch the door,” said Sara to Megan. She stepped into the room. The two girls curled against Darvish lifted their gaze and regarded Sara with drugged stares.

  “Ooh, why hello there. I do like redheads,” said Darvish, his voice unpleasantly high and with a slight southern accent. “Do you speak English, sugar?”

  “I do,” said Sara. She cocked her head to one side and swept a lock of her red hair behind her ear. She smiled at him like she was interested in the slovenly sight of him. “Interested in some company?”

  Darvish grunted something in Ukrainian and the girls shifted to either side to make room for Sara. She approached the couch, but did not immediately sit. She stood over him, watching him as he took in the sight of her body in her form-fitting dress and appreciated her incredible curves. She wanted to knee him in his piggish nose. Particul
arly when he massaged his groin so that he was grabbing his cock through his boxers as he met her gaze again.

  “You’re not from the European agency are you?” He drawled. “They never have English speakin’ girls. Do you have any specialty?”

  “I have a few,” said Sara. “But I want something.”

  “Cocaine? Pills?” Darvish snorted. “You’re not supposed to ask for no tip.”

  “Information,” said Sara and she climbed astride Darvish’s lap. He leaned back on the couch and chuckled with surprise. His pudgy hands cradled the firmness of her ass. He squeezed and his crooked smile spread.

  “Stock tips?” He chuckled as he kneaded her bum with his fat fingers.

  Sara worked the shoulders of her dress down, peeling the dress beneath the impressive swell of her breasts. The sunburn had mostly healed, but it still showed up as a darker shade beneath the reddish color of the lights. Her nipples were puffy and soft, but stiffed as Darvish slid his fingers over her mounds and began to play with them.

  “I want to know where Mr. Carlsbad is hiding out,” she said. “I hear he has a secret room where all the good girls get to party with him.”

  “Oh, sugar,” moaned Darvish, distracted by Sara’s breasts. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her left mound. His fat lips dragged across her thick nipple. He lashed her sensitive bud with his tongue and began to suck at her teat. Pleasure crackled through her from his urgent sucking.

  “Mmmm, pay attention,” she said and pulled his head back by his thinning hair. His lips popped loose, leaving her nipple wet and glistening. He looked up at her, drunk on lust.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” said Darvish. “How come you’re not in there with him? He’s missing out with tits like these… ahh…” He opened his mouth, tongue flexing and reaching, but she held him away from her stiff nipple.