Blind Trust

Clary kept telling herself that she trusted these women. But in so little time she was completely confused and disoriented. She remembered the party last night. It was exciting with lots of pretty people, sexy people, interesting people. However, with all the pretty, sexy, interesting people in the room, she found herself watching five women who seemed to flirt and touch and tease each other the entire evening. They all were attractive, well dressed and confident. She didn’t think of herself as lesbian but she was certain these women were and their body language made her yearn for a woman’s soft touch.

She also didn’t think of herself as a wallflower but in her own way she must have stood out as attractive and sensual but subdued. Maybe last night she looked repressed and like someone who buried her sexuality. She had stood off by herself at times but every now and then would notice the women looking her way. God knows, she thought, she wasn’t a wallflower and she didn’t bury her sexuality. She would match her sex history with anyone in the room. She was strutting into her middle years with a great face, a hard body, firm breasts, killer legs and a desire for sex when and where she felt like it. She actually was feeling like it, but the party didn’t seem like the time and the place didn’t feel right.

Clary noticed when the women got ready to leave a few minutes before midnight. With the others watching, the beautiful blonde with dark brown skin walked towards her and wordlessly handed her a small engraved card. The card in red italics read: ADVENTURE. Inside was an address and read: “Step to the Front Door at Exactly Midnight.” When she looked up from the card, the blonde was looking into her eyes. She felt unsteady at that gaze and then watched the woman turn, join her friends and walk from the room. Clary went to the door and watched the five women drive off in a convertible. This was in a new dimension and she was having trouble putting together the then and the now.

Now she was standing in the dark in front of a large house with lots of windows, very dark windows. When she pulled into the circular driveway, she checked the address since the house looked empty. There were no houses nearby and no streetlights. The only illumination came from the full white moon directly overhead. This was the house.

The night was warm but she hunched her shoulders as she approached the front door. She felt a tingle and chill through her and stiffen her berry-bud nipples that just a short while ago she had pulled to tautness before she covered them with a see-through bra. The sexual anticipation she had enjoyed while she bathed and dressed and drove was gone. She had debated about what to wear and even how much to wear. She was wearing a bra but skipped wearing panties or even a thong. She wanted the night air on her pussy lips that she had shaved so carefully just an hour before. She had slipped on silver bracelets and rings, and leaned down to put on the toe rings that caught the attention of so many men and women who first noticed her long red hair, the mature breasts and hard stomach, the tight curve of her ass, the muscled legs and trim ankles. Her breathing quickened and her mouth seemed dry. She wet her lips with her flicking tongue. She had applied her deep red lipstick on thick tonight, and she hoped wetting her lips wouldn’t prevent her leaving a broad red smear across one of the women’s tits or across her belly on the way to lapping at her pussy.

Clary inhaled deeply, glanced over her shoulder as her BMW, brushed her long hair from her face and took one step up to place her directly in front of the door. She lifted her left hand and tried to see her watch by the moonlight. It wasn’t enough. She jabbed at the side of her watch with her right index finger and the face of the watch lit up.

It said: Saturday, 12:00 AM.

Clary kept trying to think of their faces and kept trying to remember their names. But it was difficult right now. She couldn’t see anything. She felt like she was floating. She was trying to remember but she couldn’t remember anything after she read her watch. She couldn’t see anything. She tried to say something but she couldn’t hear the sound of her own voice. I can’t see, she thought, and I can’t hear. Her breathing began to quicken in her dark and soundless world. I’m okay, she thought, there’s no pain and I trust them. Her breathing slowed. Now, she thought, let me put this together.

In the darkness and silence, Clary was transported to another time she had gone to a stranger’s door. It was in college and she ended up having sex with her boyfriend and five of his friends. She had never had sex with anyone but her boyfriend before that night. What she found was she loved having sex with more than one man and loved the feel of different pricks sliding into her. She loved looking at the different sizes and shapes of cocks and loved to see how big they would get when she made them swell with her hands and her mouth.

She had oral sex that night for the first time. She sucked their dicks and they ate her pussy. Not once had she ever thought of this as a gangbang since there was nothing forced or violent about it. It became a game for her that night to see how many times she could make them come. At one time, she was being fucked by one guy while sucking another and giving hand jobs to two others. She made them all come. She was so proud of herself. With all the fucking and sucking, the highlight of the night came when another girl showed up and was coaxed into first kissing Clary, then sucking her tits and finally licking her pussy. Clary returned the favor enthusiastically.

The next morning she walked home a little unsteady on her feet. But she had found she liked being fucked and licked. She liked having balls being lowered into her mouth and having cocks rubbed between the cheeks of her ass until come spurted up her back. She walked home that morning convinced she would never get enough sex. That was 15 years ago. She still felt she had never had enough.

Who are the women? Clary kept trying to think of faces and names. I know there were five and the one that gave me the card was Charlita. She tried to see Charlita in her mind’s eye but she kept thinking of that look she received when she got the card. The look was pure sex.

Her focus on the women vanished. What is happening now, she thought. I’m floating. I’m floating. Oh my God, I AM FLOATING!

Now Clary had it. She had seen this on a cable channel. Her eyes were covered; her ears were blocked. She had no sight or hearing. She was in complete and total darkness and she was floating in a tank, a deprivation tank. She had no memory of being undressed, and, though she didn’t know how it happened, she was sure she was wearing some kind of suit that covered her from her toes to her hear. She said something but the sound of her voice was swallowed by the darkness. She yelled but heard nothing. She fell quiet again.

I trust them, she thought, I have to stay calm. Clary decided to return to thinking about the women. The second woman was a short girl with curly brown hair. She was young, maybe 18. Clary noticed her first because of her loose top and her no-bra breasts. She could see those heavy, cone-shaped tits sway against her thin top. Clary felt her mouth moisten as she thought about this girl. She remembered hearing her called Rissa. Even in deprivation, Clary was hot for Rissa. I bet, she thought, that Rissa’s pussy is soft and tender and sweet.

Clary was focusing on the young girl’s face and body when she felt something touch her. I’m wrong, she thought. There’s nothing here but me. She felt it again. She had tensed but she relaxed to see if it happened again. It did. It felt like the painted-red point of a little fingernail tracing along the side of her neck. It was very sexy and she hoped it would not stop. She could not touch her body or reach out but she felt excited and tingly.

There it was again on her neck, but now it was both sides and moving down to meet at a point between her breasts. Wait, she thought, it’s not fingers. It’s the suit. It’s the suit. The suit is caressing me. Moans began leaving from her lips into the soundless darkness as the suit came alive. The feelings traced up her breasts and across her nipples, sometimes one nipple, sometimes both, sometimes seeming to pinch, sometimes seeming to pull. The blackness sucked up the sounds of her gasps and groans, her wailing and moans.

Her body flashed a memory of other fingers and other sharp nails. When she was a young woman who had not had much experience with women, she met an older brunette woman at a Chicago theater party. The woman invited Clary back to her room for drinks and easily seduced her with alcohol and romance. The woman used her nails like musical instruments and played her Clary’s body until her body sang with ecstasy. Clary remembered her body shook for days and her pussy was wet for weeks.