A Spy in the Men's Club

The room is paneled in dark wood, one of those manly club rooms with glassed-in shelves of trophies and dark, heavy furniture--leather couches, mahogany tables and bars. Recessed fixtures tastefully hidden in the ceiling occasionally glare down in spotlighted pools of light. It is a room where men in tailored suits can sit in comfort and smoke and drink brandy and talk about business or feminine conquests. The room is empty, except for one person.

One pool of light bathes a heavy piece of furniture--a breakfront, maybe, or a dolled up filing cabinet, even--it is large, flat, and opaque, and its top is at just the right level to lean casually and chat. It often hosts balloon glasses and cut-glass ashtrays, which are never ever allowed to leave a mark, of course--the almost-black wood is as silken and polished as glass.

Tonight the table is bare except for a woman lies supine. She is naked, her pale skin glowing in the hot light. Her hair is dark, and falls in a wash of gleaming blackness over the edge of the table. Her breasts are small, the nipples strawberry pink and hard. One hand roams her body, stroking her stomach, cupping her breast or pinching a nipple ever-so-gently, reaching up to twine in her long black hair. The other hand is between her legs, long white fingers massaging her wet vulva, playing with the soft, curly, dark hair of her bush.

Men begin to come into the room, in twos and threes. They are silent, astonished to see this woman here, in their domain, and confused, beset by sudden erections that tug and itch in their $800 suit pants, straining at the fabric. Soon the table is surrounded by men, all of them helpless before this powerful, oblivious woman, whose fingers are slipping and sliding around, flicking her clit delicately.

The men are hypnotized. A couple reach into their pockets to fondle their hard-ons; soon, one has unzipped and is unabashedly stroking his hard cock, unaware of the others, it seems, his gaze fixed hungrily on the woman. It doesn’t take long for all the men to have their dicks in their hands. Some are shy, and keep everything inside their pants; others let the pants fall around their ankles and go for it, pumping away without embarrassment or demure.

The woman slips two fingers inside herself. There is a deep collective groan from the men; her eyes are closed but she smiles--she knows her power over them. She fingers herself, sliding the fingers in and out, deep and fast, until she shudders with an orgasm. She pauses and relaxes, then pulls the fingers out and sits up a little; licks her fingers, her eyes passing like a laser beam over the men. Several come right then, creaming in their pants or shooting their hot cum onto the Persian carpets. The smell of sex fills the air.

She points. Crooks one slim, glistening wet finger and beckons to one of the men. He is young and blonde, with a hard, flat stomach and a big cock that is pulsing with his fast heartbeat. He wastes no time in leaping forward; she slides down the edge of the table and in an instant he is in her, his big hot rod piercing her wet lips as she lies back on the gleaming surface of the table.

But he is too excited--he thrusts once, twice, three times, and then with a loud groan he comes inside her. He is embarrassed, but she has no time for him; she sits up again, gently pushes him away. She is finished with him. He disappears into the ranks of men, sidles away and back, forgotten as her eyes scan the men, looking for someone with more staying power.

One man steps forward a little. He is confident, a compact, fit black man, older and more experienced. She chooses him, and begins to lean back, but when he places himself between her legs, he pulls her upright and thrusts his hard cock into her in one motion, so that her breasts are crushed to his chest as they fuck. She is wet with her own juices and with the cum of the first man--his entrance is effortless, his dick sliding deep into her cunt.

He puts both hands behind her and lifts her a little, so he can cup her ass; they are grinding together, tight, hot and wet. Her head falls back and she begins coming, again and again; with each grinding thrust of his cock she moans and comes, her breathing fast, body getting damp with slippery sweat.

The other men in the room are jacking off hard and fast now, the slapping sounds of their hands sliding up and down their rods the only accompaniment to her cries, which get faster and louder as her partner speeds up the rhythm of his thrusting. She sits up further and wraps her legs around the black man’s waist, trying to get even tighter. In response he teases her, slows down, moves in long, deep strokes so that everyone can see his glistening cock pull out and then push gently in again, out and in, out and in. She reaches down between them and squeezes her clitoris until she comes again with a gasp. He likes that; he continues his slow stroking and she brings herself off again and again, crying out, panting, her hair swinging wildly as she flings her head back and arches her back. He leans over and licks her nipples, then bites them softly. And then it seems they can both feel how close he is. He moves in tight again, and grinds against her in one long, drawn out thrust until they are both coming, everyone is coming, jets of hot cum from every man in the room, onto the carpet, legs, pants, and her body. She is almost screaming now with her orgasms, and her partner finally groans and comes so deep inside her, filling her with his hot juices.