The calm before a major hurricane is eerily still, warm, and humid. Storm "whateverthefuck" was stalled in the Gulf of Mexico just South of Bradenton. This made for an interesting canvas for which to launch Fourth of July fireworks. We're a month into the season and already named storm "F" is off the coast and threatening our West Central coastline. From the 24th floor conference room of my office building, I could see the flashes of electricity dance the skies South of us. Combined with the Sun setting on the horizon, a blue-ish hue would appear throughout the clouds. That majestic hue matched the color of Claire's panties and bra.
Claire is also adorned in blue stockings with lace held by garters hanging from her waist. Her fiery red curly hair is crumpled a little by the elastic from the blindfold. Her make-up is impeccable. She is sitting up at the end of the huge table, just newly finished oak, while nothing but a towel is placed for the table's sake. Independently shackled, her hands and feet are in front of her and her hands are reaching into space trying to find some tactile way of knowing what is happening to her. I haven't said a word in her direction; however, from the reflection in the window, I could see all twelve seats filled with guys jerking their dicks in anticipation. A huge bottle of ID Glide® circles the table as cocks are being snatched, jerked, elongated, and hardened all unbeknownst to my sweet Claire, save the smacking that accompanies "Rosy Palm and her five brothers."
All the guys I know, to include me, always think about the ultimate fantasy. You know your wife, girlfriend, or that chick you're banging and the other woman, whoever she might be. Just the thought of them kissing made masturbation so explosive. The constant theme was always pleasure for all. Somehow, I wanted my girl to want this. I wanted her to want to feel the pleasure of a woman and a man. I wanted to see the bodies intertwined, I wanted to see pussies get licked, clits getting sucked, and orgasms for all. I wanted our newly found concubine/friend/playmate/stranger to feel like she wanted to come back. I wanted my girl to burry her face in our doxy's pussy while I watched and stroked. I wanted our courtesan to feel us, my girl and me, vying for her sweet pussy and see her writhing in pleasure.
But am I truly a man or just a prude? Most of us men think that a woman should/would/can/could just fall into that role without deliberation or reflection of any kind. When in the midst of this flight of the imagination we (men) are all consumed with the pleasure of me, me, and well me. It's so strong that no one else matter's, no one else is considered, no one else is relevant but to the personal gratification of Moi. Because I want everyone to be pleased I dismiss that notion, but in reality, I want pleasure for everyone because that's what "I" want.
I don't want to answer this question because my immediate answer is, "I'm a man!" emphatically! It's uncontainable to believe that after I've found the love of my life, after I've burned my little black book, after I've gotten what I always asked for that I would turn around and let another man have it as well. I think the current colloquialism is "cuckold." However, Wikipedia says that a "wittol" meaning a man who knows and acquiesced in his wife's taking of another lover is the more proper term. At any rate, I ain't no punk either! My girl will not be kicking me in the balls, tying me up, and telling me what to do. My dick still works, all 9 ½ inches of it. And up until now had never had any thoughts of anyone impelling my woman with dick but me. However, Claire gives me pause.
This is the kind of pause that had me nestled in the corner of the room where I could continue to watch the fireworks from the storm, from the pyrotechnics all around the bay, and from this dimly lit boardroom.
Duke whispered, "You mind if we play the porno?"
I nodded with approval as the naked white man grabbed one of the many towels, wiped his hands and opened the communications center under the giant 50' LCD display. He started the movie but I took control of the remote, fast-forwarded it through the worthless acting, and settled within a scene where a woman was surrounded by dicks, not unlike my Claire at the moment. I had to force myself past the weirdness of all of these horny guys jacking off to my girl. It was so surreal. Damn, it is like "Dicks-R-Us" up in here! A couple guys reached up to touch her. She is defensive at first. Then more hands start to explore her legs, her thighs, her breasts, and the rest of her body. I couldn't see her eyes but the moaning sounds from the small openings left by the ball gag were priceless. At first, her sounds were herky jerky along with her movements as she ventured to get away from the guys now pawing at her. However, Clyde was now working his magic. She had worked herself to her knees. Her legs were spread as far as the shackles would allow. Her hands now in front of her were reaching and finding the treasures of her erotic night. Clyde was a "BBC" in every since of the word. Yet, he was behind Claire with his hands on her shoulders massaging the weed, tequila, and ecstasy through her system. At 6'6, his dick just laid on the table and towel sort of semi-erect poking her in the back. Carl had climbed on the table facing her and was rubbing her nipples through her bra. Duke found a way to have her straddle his face. By now those were the only hands on her, and I'm sure she didn't know how many more awaited their turn.
