by Tammy Goaren
I collapsed to the ground and lay there motionless for several seconds. I was about to ask one of them if they had a cigarette when I saw Johnny drop something onto the floor.
“Put it on,” He commanded.
I looked over at the item that Johnny had dropped onto the floor. Lying on the tan carpet was a twelve-inch strap-on. My eyes widened. Having prided myself on living a life of firsts, I looked at the strap-on with disbelief. Johnny stood there with his colossal dick still hard and a smile on his face.
“C’mon,” Johnny dared. “Don’t tell me this is your first time around the merry-go-round.”
I looked Johnny in the face and grinned. I rose to my feet and buckled the leather harness around my waist. Johnny went behind Earl. Placing a single hand on his hairy back, Johnny bent him over a nearby chair and stabbed his bushy asshole with his throbbing cock.
Earl let out a scream of pleasure, I noted that it was the first time he had made any such noise. Earl began thrusting his ass backward on to Johnny’s long dick and the two were both moaning.
I stared down at the sexual device I had fastened around my pelvis. The faux-dick was longer than a foot and had the girth of a cucumber. It was a decorative piece with a multiple striped colors and a series of rivets and grooves to amplify the pleasure of whoever was receiving. I looked straight at Johnny’s plum little ass and wondered briefly if he could take what I would dish out. A smile spread across my face and I decided to go for it. I went up to Johnny and shot my arms underneath his hairy armpits and around the back of his neck into a full nelson. I plunged the dildo straight into his asshole.
Johnny tensed up; frozen in the ecstasy of Earl’s backward thrusting and my latest addition. I gyrated my pelvis in a counter-clockwise motion, eliciting a high-pitched cry from Johnny. I went harder and harder, and realized that I was getting wet just from the whole process. For the first time in my whole life, I had an idea of what it was like to fuck somebody. To play pitcher while they caught what you threw. It was a power that I had never been able to even contemplate, but now that I had it, I didn’t want to give it up.
My pace quickened and my eyes filled with a passionate fire. I plunged the strap-on as deep as it could go and then deeper. Johnny was screaming at the top of his lungs from the unimaginable pleasure he was receiving from his lovers. I removed one of my hands from his neck, and used to slap his right ass cheek repeatedly until it was beet red.
Johnny let loose a final, piercing scream and came deep inside Earl.
I pulled out and removed the strap-on. We came together and fell upon the couch as one, each more satisfied than the last.
STORY FORTY-THREE
Chapter 1
Women my age usually spend their Saturday evenings tucking their children in, or sleeping soundly, or, if it’s one of the rare, special occasions, drinking cheap wine cozied up on the living-room sofa with their boring husbands. Women my age tend to get exhausted by the time I truly begin to awaken. Women my age would, undoubtedly and rather unfoundedly, squint their eyes at me in disapproval, and would whisper amongst each other how my sinister and desperate preserving of what they would think of as the illusion of youth, should be crushed and turned into something resembling a child’s disappointment upon discovering that Santa Claus isn’t real, as I realised I was now meant only for degeneration, the same way they were. But deep inside, I’ve always known, that all they really do is envy me. I am full, not only with the life they lack, but of life they never had. Besides, what they think or whisper about does not affect me. I don’t really care. Let them.
For me, it’s always been about sex and rock and roll. My father had a garage band right below my bedroom as I was growing up, and as the music blasted every Sunday afternoon, it crawled right under my skin and slowly became a permanent part of me. I began following bands when I was a teenager and I never stopped. Even at thirty eight, nothing can give me a thrill the way a good fuck with a guy who earns his living by shredding a guitar can. Consequentially, I hang around dim-lit bars that stink of cigarettes, watching live shows until my eyes begin to water from the smoke and I have to conveniently sneak back stage, every time. More precisely, it used to be sneaking, but after all these years, I’m the most regular customer in pretty much every bar near my apartment, and everyone knows me and what I’m after. I make sure to go to places that know to give me what I want.
On this particular, fine Saturday evening, I was really only looking for sex, when I saw him. Or perhaps I was not the one looking. Whichever the case might have been, in the end, we found each other.
He looked tall even as he leaned down over the bar to take his drink, and that’s when he fell into my eye. His ass stretching the fabric of a pair of leather pants, more specifically. He intrigued me instantaneously. It struck me as an odd feeling of familiarity, as though somehow my eyes were supposed to land on him. He seemed to easily fit into my category of men, looking at him from afar, but there was something else that pulled my eyes to him.
I shook my head at the notion. “Must be his pants,” I jokingly observed to myself.
Even as I did so, I could not help but raise my eyes to him again, and now I watched him closely. Kyle the barman must have said something to crack him up, because as he turned towards me, his lips were drawn slightly upwards and there was a spark in his eye. It was at that moment, before I even had a chance to take a better look at him, that he saw me. He looked right at me. Perhaps what Kyle had said was that there was a woman a decade older than him who ogled him from a distance. I inwardly rolled my eyes. They often amused themselves in these bars by making it difficult for me.
The man’s manner spelled confidence that could be clearly felt even from the distance that parted us, through all the smoke in the heavy air, and through even the veil of alcohol clouding my otherwise sober mind. His eyes pierced me; his head was tilted to the side, and I almost thought I could see the trace of a simper play over his lips. Every single motion, every expression of his face and his body, cried of obvious interest. This was not strange, of course. A man will turn his mind to a woman, if only she pays the right attention to him.
Wanting the same thing he obviously did, I did what a woman does best; I smiled, and since ardency has never been a word used about my adherence to decency-rules, I began fighting my way through the crowd to get all the way to him. I would not wait. He appeared to realize my intention within a moment, though that didn’t stop him from falling into conversation with the man to his left, who stole his attention. For a moment, and for reasons I could not explain, I stopped mid-strut, wanting to turn around and leave him be. To simply find someone else. However, just as I was about to shake the idea of him, I caught sight of him again through a gap between the two people who separated us from one another, and sure enough, his gaze was fixed on me. It was all the encouragement I needed. I took the last few steps that kept us parted, unable to shake the feeling that boiled inside of me, a feeling that promised something new, that something different and exciting was on its way.
After that, it was a well-rehearsed play in which my unchanging role was firmly set. I stood there and stared at him. He, more than half a head taller than me, looked down at me with wordless interest, the unfounded affection he’d appeared to hold previously now replaced by an amusement that clearly curved the seemingly ever-smiling corners of his full lips. Of one thing I was sure—he was analysing me. His eyes dug deeply into mine, and then quickly, but carefully slid to my lips, before travelling back to reconnect with my eyes. With such swiftness did he do it, that I probably wouldn’t have noticed, had I not been looking as deeply into his eyes, as he were mine. The man he’d spoken to moments earlier went silent after a few sentences, probably realizing that his words fell dead into the air, unregistered by either of us.
After a small, but definite infinity, he took a small step towards me, effectively closing all the space between us. He leaned so near my face, that I could feel his warm breath on my skin. It was s
uch a sudden, smooth action that I, in my current state, did not fully process it until I, half a moment later, I could feel the vibrations of his deep voice caressing my ear. Through the loud music and my fuzzy thoughts, I tried my best to focus.
“It was a great show, don’t you think?” is what I think he said.
As soon as he had approached me, he begun to move away, inviting me to follow, but this time I was ahead of him. Not missing a beat, I lifted my weight on my toes and hurried with a response wrapped in my most charming smile, delivering it as intimately as he had.
”Definitely the best in a while.”
As soon as the words had left my lips, I took half a step back, mimicking what he had attempted to do, but rather than follow, he just took a sip from his glass, looking at me. Then, as if he had suddenly recalled, he turned to the man next to him. They exchanged a couple of words I couldn't decipher through the booming sounds, so instead I took a good look at the man he talked to. Tall, long-haired, presumably blond (through in the darkened room and club lighting it was hard to assess), dressed in black; a description that meant nothing to me before I could see his face. Once I did, recognition took over and I tried to remember if he had been the drummer or the guitar player from the band that had just played. I grinned.
It was when I saw the way they smiled together that I realized there could be more in store for this night than I had planned.
Chapter 2
A tidal wave of action coursed and spilled through the three of us, hands determinedly seeking and soon finding faces as well as limbs and busts. A hive of lustful impulses buzzed deep inside me, each of them exciting the objects of my desire further, with natural calculation. The two men from the bar pushed into a room in which a sofa was conveniently placed, and took me with them, a subconscious agreement hovering between us, that the only direction in which we would move was further.
This feeling of certainty was suddenly overshadowed by a fear. What if someone walked in? This was not a private room. The only reason it was empty now was because people were still getting drinks, since the band had just stopped playing, and this bar was close to home, and very popular. There were people I knew here, people who knew me as someone very different from the woman I allowed myself to be here. I’d always done this backstage. Ah, how could I have been so stupid? To let these two horny men lead me anywhere?
… these two men. These two men. I hadn’t “always” done this anywhere. What happened now was new. Maybe I should just roll with it? My heart and groin nodded a decisive “yes”. My head gave it another second. Fuck it. If I needed privacy I’d just have to make sure to get it, by making these two shout out their pleasure to the world, and clearly mark this room as my domain, for as long as I desired it. I smiled at the feeling of power and excitement that now came over me, and pulled the two men to me.
We shared and exchanged breaths the whole way over, syncing them with steps and careful caresses of tongues on lips, my head moving from one man to kiss the other in a dance so smooth I felt as if I was born to perform it. A moment later I stood with the mattress edge pressing into my calves, forcing myself to stay rigid and not fall back into the plush—because both of the nameless men were still standing, and I refused to separate from either of them. My Saturday evening had just hit jackpot and I was not going to let it slip away.
Having two pairs of hands all over me, with the single intention of exploring me, while arousing me, was unlike anything I had ever imagined. My dreams were nothing, whatever ecstasy I had previously experienced through the only partially sexual excitement of fucking a young rockstar was nothing—the reality of two such men felt like a thousand windows opening in a sealed room, all my wants lit and shining.
The taller, black-haired man on which my eyes had first fallen looked like a Mark to me. A Mark who played bass somewhere in the background, saving his winks for women who were more difficult to win over. The other man, who’s blondness was now obvious, was slightly slimmer, though the removal of his jacket showed clearly that it was not due to weakness. He did not lack height, either, and his arms were sculpted with the rippling effects of his profession, which was bearing down on snare and hanging toms as hard as he could fuck a woman, till she made for him sounds that were as loud and clear as those of any singer. This drummer looked like a Bill, and as a drummer he would give way to the self-absorbed guitarists and singers, for them to take the first pick, perfectly aware that the best were not the ones in the front line, but came to the one who waited.
Through all of this, I was sticking to something I held as most true: even the most perfect reality held room for a little imagination.
To make sure neither of them got an opportunity to speak and ruin the stories I’d invented, I kept them busy. I felt Mark move his mouth over my neck again, his one hand on my temple, his fingers digging into my hair, his other hand on the low of my back.
Bill was standing beside me, holding my waist for a few moments, but as he saw my eyes on him, he made a correct, and probably subconscious interpretation of my fantasy. He took a step around and wrapped his arms around the other man. A hard pelvis was pressed against stretched leather, Mark pushed into me and I let out a moan. I planted my hands the dark-haired man’s torso, sliding them downwards over his shirt, and sneaking them underneath. His skin was blazing, and tracing the sharp lines of his upper body, I found his nipples. Pressing my palms against his chest, I rubbed them in small circles with my thumbs, keeping him slightly apart from my own body, letting that be the only stimulation he received from me. He stood between me and Bill for a moment, a tension clearly building within him, when he suddenly pulled away. The men seemed in some silent agreement, as they started simultaneously removing their shirts, my mouth almost watering at the sight.
I caught Bill’s gaze just before they kissed, and in that moment I wished my eyes had learned to snap photographs. My insides began to feel too hot to function, as Bill ground his powerful erection against Mark’s cock, the pressure of which seemed to threaten to tear the leather that contained it. The minute I saw Mark undulate his lower body in response to the desired contact, the movements of his hips matching perfectly the rhythm of my breathing, which was now possibly loud enough for them both to hear it, I had had enough of their little show. I quickly slipped out of my dress and took one step towards them, planting a hand on each of their backs, at last regaining their attention. They looked me, and as their eyes followed my movements, I slowly and very carefully slid my hands to each of their rock-hard erections, stroking them both, my attention on both of them, their attentions now completely on me.
As I was rubbing and pressing them, with breaths and low moans as my reward, I had an idea. I unbuttoned the single button above the zipper of Bill’s pants, and then grabbed both their zippers, pulling them down simultaneously. Both their bulges growing bigger as they were released, I grabbed the edges of their respective underwear, and pulled down suddenly, resulting in their cocks enthusiastically bursting out and proudly meeting each other in the middle.
At the unexpected contact, both men’s knees seemed to weaken for a second, and as they straightened up, I brought them down again, by grabbing their members by the head. I worked them back and forth, watching as they instinctively pushed their hips forward, causing their tips to once again meet, this time staying together.
My one hand mirroring the other, I moved my warm palms underneath them, cradling their balls, as lowered myself unto my knees. At this point, both men’s eyes were struggling to stay open, as they tried to process the overwhelming sensation of the situation, and the pleasure of my touch. As their respective manhoods came before my eyes I realized that both men would have been easily enough for me on their own, and for the pleasure I knew I was about to receive, they deserved something in return.
Pulling ever so lightly at the rods in my hands, pointing them towards my face, I moved first one of them into my mouth, feeling it expand my lips and press against my tongue, while I ag
ain stroked Mark with my hand. Keeping my head still, but using tongue and lips to caress around the now pulsating veins of Bill’s member, I let him stay as loose and free inside my mouth as his size would allow, which wasn’t much. As he pushed his hip towards the luring temptation of my throat, I moved my head away, keeping him within range of the attentions of my tongue, watching his legs begin to shake with the anticipation. I took him in my hand again and began rubbing him back and forth, inside my mouth, though only for a moment, before I began to pull him out, smoothly replacing one sensation with the other.
I then turned my attention to Mark, who was already shivering by the touch of my hand alone. Without any ado, I relaxed and took all of him into my throat at once, pressing a vocalized breath from him that was almost a shout. As I had suspected, all control was taken from me at that point, as his arousal neared the point of madness. His fingers again found the curls of my hair, and he started fucking my mouth with clear purpose. I matched the pace he set with my hand, the still wet skin of Bill’s cock audibly slamming against his pelvis, the drummer’s voice now also raised in tribute of me.
They came only seconds apart, and once I regained my composure, I went on to lick off the white liquid that Bill had sprayed all over Mark’s abdomen. I didn’t take a break to look at them, instead I proudly rose to my steady feet, spun on my heel and walked straight to the sofa. Smiling, I lowered myself on the soft surface carefully; I knew they were watching my every move. Nonchalantly, I reached a hand on my bra, easily unhitching it, letting it spring forward free as it was strapless, feeling my breasts give a little dance at the sudden change. As I was laying sideways, I took my time in rolling over so that the men could look at my behind, and in this position, I slipped a finger between my hip and the thin strap of the red thong I was wearing, raising my butt only slightly so I could slip it off smoothly.