This is Part 2 of the third chapter of a series. The characters were developed in FLASH MOB ORGY – Part 1. For continuity it’s best to read that part first. Once again, thanks for your votes and feedback.
Erica slowly massaged my cock and balls as we drove to her apartment. Witnessing the brief, steamy orgy in the park had excited us both to the point where we had to do something about it. For this scheming though delectable woman – a young East Indian doctor blessed with exotic looks but, like me, unburdened by conventional morals – the scene had been a clinical voyeuristic exercise. For me – a fifty-year-old, married professional who was in the midst of an affair with Ginny, my future daughter-in-law – it had been an amusing interlude that evened-out my fear of being blackmailed by Erica. The pictures of her observing those involved in the bacchanal were sufficient evidence of her salaciousness for me to use against her should she plot any betrayal.
We parked in the underground garage and took the elevator to Erica’s apartment. Closing and locking the door, she brought me a drink of
Otard
cognac and went to the bathroom as I checked out her décor and books. Returning, she put on a CD of soft sounds of nature: waves splashing, trees rustling, birds chirping, etc., much to my private, cynical amusement. She went to the counter, a bar separating the kitchen from living room, and returned with another snifter of cognac and a crepe pan on which lay a little brown button that looked like the end of a small sausage. “Do you know this?” she asked, fixing me with her black eyes, as we sat on a low chaise facing a coffee table.
“Looks like opium to me,” I said, remembering some fantastic stuff I’d tried in Iran decades before.
“I am impressed with you, Jay. You have missed not much in your life,” she murmured, lighting the button with a charcoal lighter and inhaling the smoke through a cardboard tube she’d magically produced. I accepted the tube, she lit the button for me, and I drew in deeply.
Within 60 seconds the first blissful wave hit me and – remembering the drug’s profound effects – my defensive posture melted.
Simultaneously, Erica and I looked at one another, and immediately our hands became busy with undressing. There was no urgency. Her fingertips glided over my pecs to my waist, slowly peeling my polo shirt over my head. Mine ran up her arms, over her shoulders, then down to the bottom of her sports bra and stripped it free. Our nude torsos met with a buzzing sensation as it seemed our skins wished to melt together into one. She leaned toward me and I lay back, submitting with wonder to her incredible softness as her breasts flattened themselves against my grateful chest.
Then we kissed, slowly and languorously, unhurried, our senses of taste and smell pleased with the gifts we were sharing. Erica’s mouth was as sweet as fresh dew, the floral bouquet of her face and neck more intoxicating than the drug we’d just sampled. She pulled up from me and freed her ponytail, letting her thick, black hair course over my face, neck, and chest. She then moved slightly up and, looking me square in the eye, proffered a most shapely, large breast to my open mouth. Its pouting, dark-brown nipple immediately swelled with pride as I sucked it softly. She moaned, “Ohhhh, Jaaay…,” then hissed as I took more of her tit into my mouth, “Yesss…oh, yesss.” Cupping it in one hand and tweaking its nipple, I switched to the other breast, laving it similarly in response to her soft, vocal encouragement.
Then she pulled away quickly, her chest heaving, and gasped, “Oh, no…too fast, too fast.” She then stood up, revealing fully for the first time her flawless rack. Easily a C-cup, maybe a D, there was no sag. The tan skin below her clavicle swelled out above the nipples to form a magnificent ramp of flesh for each orb. The generous swells on the sides and below each one stretched around her aureoles to form, it seemed, two lush planets from another celestial constellation. They sat high on her chest, and – even in the unlit room -- shadowed the tops of two columns of well-conditioned, vertical abdominal muscles. But she had not stood up to show me her wares.
Erica fired up more opium and for a few moments we enhanced our buzz. Then she stood again and unbuttoned her pants, sliding from them like a lazy serpent, stripping to a golden, silk thong that had become moistly transparent from her excitement. I took her pants from her and sniffed the crotch lewdly, wanting to sustain myself for hours with their musky stench. As I did this, she unfastened my jeans and, pulling off my boots, quickly removed them and my underwear.
I had risen to the occasion. Her eyes devoured my proud erection, its ample stature pointing rigidly to the sky. She reached out to touch it, her breath rasping audibly through her open mouth, but I gently pushed away her hand, instead linking my thumbs in her thong and drawing it past her knees to the floor. I then brought her to me – standing -- as I sat, and pushed my nose softly into her wavy black muff, inhaling her juicy, sweaty scent. She then reached down and began stroking my full length, twisting her hand each time she reached the corona. I, in turn, cupped her vulva with one hand and with the other on her sumptuous ass, leaned toward her to burrow little breathy kisses into her rich center. Again she hissed: “Oh, yes, Jay. That is it. That is…iiiIIT!”
I stood up, brought her to the counter near the kitchenette, and leaned her back against it. “What are you doing?” she asked, softly.
“Being selfish, and devouring you with my eyes,” I answered, backing away, convinced that I made sense. Apparently I did, since she smiled dreamily. Her long hair covered her shoulders, licking at her breasts, and her pronounced waist led to narrow, but very gracefully curved hips. A small diamond winked at me from her deep-set navel. A couple of inches below, her bush began its descent, beginning with a narrow peak in line with her navel, then widening to reach the nexus of her legs with her crotch. Her softly fleshed, slim thighs drew downward toward signature knees and softly flared calves. Her ankles were small, her feet long and slim. My cock pulsed and the glans swelled as I looked at her. “Mmmm, I see that you approve,” she cooed.
Picking up my drink, I swirled it and requested: “Please turn around.” Erica did so, shyly revealing her soft, brown back and waist, nearly obscured by her loosened hair, and high, firm ass. She peeked slyly over one shoulder, then bent over slowly to retrieve the bottle of cognac from a cabinet under the counter. Her cheeks opened just enough to reveal a violet-colored anus, surrounded by a few hairs. Below it lay the entrance to Paradise. Her purple-lipped cunt was slightly open, showing some of the afternoon’s wetness, and I fought the urge to mount her immediately.
Coming back to me, she knelt on the floor and refilled my glass. “You enjoy being tortured, yes?” she asked. “I do love doing it, you know…watching your face hurt so sweetly when I show my body to you.”
“This isn’t torture, my dear. This is as close to heaven as I’ll ever get,” I pronounced.
