Shelby and I have settled into a nice routine on the days of the sex parties.
She arrives early, usually with Theresa. Shelby and I spend some quality one-on-one sex time together, and then fool around with Theresa and whomever else we have brought in.
When the party rolls around, we tend to go our separate ways. As she’s sleeping over, we’ve saved the last dance for one another.
(Mind you, that last dance may happen the next morning. These gatherings can go late, and twelve continuous sex-filled hours can do us in.)
On this particular evening, that routine was derailed by my work. I could not spare time for much in the way of pre-game activities. Still, Shelby and Theresa came a little early, planning to cook dinner for Todd and me.
As the women cooked, I set up for the party. At one point, Todd asked if I wanted to see his new cock ring.
“No” is never the answer to that question.
He opened his pants to reveal a very nice steel ring around his dick, attached to a leather strap surrounding his balls. He had picked it up for eleven dollars at Purple Passion.
“It’s a nice scale for your cock,” I admired. “How does it feel?”
“Still breaking it in,” he said. He futzed with it for a while before zipping up.
About that time, we were summoned to eat.
The meal turned out very well, revolving around a baked chicken coated in crushed Corn Flakes.
Dacia arrived as we ate, sporting her new beau, Jeremy.
I had met Jeremy once before, when Dacia and I were at a reception honoring photographer Charles Gatewood. He’s a friend, and we are big fans.
Jeremy struck me as an interesting looking fellow. Like what you might get if you bred Kramer and Lyle Lovett in Texarkana and beat their spawn hard with a pretty stick.
After that reception, Dacia, Jeremy and I had gone out for bourbons. Among other things, we had talked about the gatherings. Jeremy planned to join Dacia for the next one.
“You ever been to anything like this?” I asked.
“No, never,” he said. “I hope it okay that I’m straight.”
“It’s okay. Kind of sad, for you, but okay for us.”
Thus began an entertaining game of creating situations in which Jeremy would feel compelled to say, “You do know I’m straight, right?”
At the gathering, Dacia took good care of her man.
She introduced him to everyone. I was sure she had prepped him well, probably talking it to death to be sure he knew what to expect.
That’s what one does when bringing new friends and lovers into such a situation. You make sure they are comfortable. You take care of them.
For a while now, I’ve been looking after Mitzi.
And it has been fun. I enjoy seeing the parties through her eyes.
She was very eager to be a part of the gatherings, and she has really enjoyed getting to know our gang. She fits right in.
Only lately have things gotten a little . . . sticky. See, Mitzi has come to like my attentions in that special way.
I like Mitzi too. She’s attractive, funny and great company.
I’m open with her, as with anyone I date, that I’m just not interested in a “relationship” relationship right now. She reads my blog, and knows what a slut I am.
Thing is, though, she is open to a “relationship” relationship, if she met the right guy.
Given all this, she fears there’s the potential for imbalance in our affections for one another.
All that can be made more complicated against the backdrop of an orgy.
At the previous gathering, as at many others, I was perfectly content to spend most of my time with Mitzi.
This time was a little different.
Mitzi and I had spent the preceding day together, having sex and hanging out. Our batteries were well charged.
Tonight, I felt I needed to check on other people. It had been two weeks since I had seen most of the partygoers.
I assumed I would be having sex with a few of them.
As the sex got underway, Dacia and Jeremy staked out a position in one of the chairs in my bedroom. I could see him wrestling with the urge to gaze at all that nude flesh, when his conscience told him he was supposed to be focused on the woman sucking his cock.
I smiled his way.
Dacia would take care of him.
Mtizi was on the bed, on elbows and knees, prepared for Todd to fuck her. He contended with his new cock ring.
I kissed her.
She latched onto my lips the way a drowning man grabs a life preserver.
Our eyes were open, gazing, intense.
Theresa joined us in the kiss. My mouth was drawn back and forth between them. As Theresa kissed Mitzi, my mouth dug into Mitzi’s vanilla scented hair, licking over to Theresa’s long blonde tresses.
Theresa’s hair was still moist from her shower. It must take hours for hair so long and thick to dry fully.
My nose followed my mouth into the byways of her hair, sniffing out individual strands, searching for the scent of her flesh among the remains of shea butter and rosemary.
My craving for flesh was aroused.
I stood and retrieved a condom. Theresa lay on her back, her blue eyes trained on me.
Mitzi’s eyes were also watching.
Max stroked Mitzi’s back.
Theresa was on the edge of the bed. I stood as we fucked, bending when my lips needed hers.
My hands caressed her face, traveling down to her breasts, so large and pale.
I trailed my fingers across her nipples, twisting them occasionally to elicit gasps of pleasure.
I trailed my fingers across her thighs, grabbing flesh occasionally , using skin as handles to push hard into her.
Theresa grunted with my thrusts.
Mitzi excused herself from a sixty-nine with Max. She left the room.
Max offered his cock to Theresa’s mouth. She took it in one hand and sucked hungrily.
I fucked her all the deeper, so that she was filled with our cocks.
All around us, the room was full of people having sex.
I was soon aware if Mitzi at my shoulder, wearing a black pullover and underwear. I took her hand and pulled her close.
I kissed her, tasting fresh cigarette.
I pulled back. Her eyes were sad.
My hips continued to push into Theresa.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.
She forced a smile. “Not really.”
“Hang on.” I leaned forward and kissed Theresa’s breasts, slowly pulling out as I did so.
“Theresa, I’m taking a break.”
“Hmmm eehhh,” she said into Max’s cock.
I pulled off my condom and tossed it to the trash.
“Let’s talk,” I said, taking Mitzi’s hand.
Our talk was interrupted at times. Eventually, we were alone in the kitchen.
“Jefferson, I just don’t know if I can do this.”
“I know, Mitzi. This has been hard for you lately.”
“I like it when it is you and me. And I like the party, I really do. But what I like is sharing it with you. I’m just not that interested in other guys tonight. Is that wrong?”
“No, if that’s how you feel, then it isn’t wrong. It’s just complicated, because I am having sex with other people here.”
It was our familiar impasse. We have talked this through so many times, in so many different conversations.
We have run out of new ways to say the same things.
She most wants to be in a situation like this with a boyfriend of her own, someone with whom she can share wild group sex, then fall asleep in one another’s arms and wake in the morning to compare notes.
And here I am, perfect for the assignment but not that interested in being someone’s special someone.
We stood in the kitchen, repeating these familiar words for over an hour. Most of that time was wordless, her sad brown eyes looking for comfort in my sympathetic blue eyes.
An hour is a long time for a host to neglect a party.
Dacia rammed into me from behind.
“Watch it, lady.”
“Just hitting you with my boobs.” Jeremy followed her, a smile on his face.
Shelby popped in to let me know the current CD sucked. “Feel free to change it,” I said.
Mark came in to refresh his drink. “Hope I’m not, uh, interrupting anything.”
Mitzi shook her head. “Nope, help yourself,” I said.
Mitzi’s face lit up when Farahnaz joined us.
“I have been looking for you two!” she exclaimed.
“Farahnaz!” Mitzi beamed.
“Aren’t you joining the party?” Farahnaz asked her.
“Perhaps,” she replied. “It’s a pleasure to spend time with you.”
I saw an out for me to tend to hosting duties. “Let me leave you two ladies to talk,” I excused myself. “While I take care of a few things.”
I changed the music, bringing in more mellow moods, lead by Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto.
I checked the candles (still burning) and the supplies of condoms, lube and toilet paper (holding steady). The beds were full of happy people.
I stepped onto the terrace and found Mark finishing a smoke.
I sat with him to shoot the breeze.
And there was quite a breeze. It was a cold night for late May, and we were both nude.
I tucked my knees under my chin. “Brrr, it’s cold out here.”
Mark stamped out his smoke. “Then let’s warm you up.”
The beds were full, so I settled into a chair. I lubed my hand and began to jerk my cock. Mark stood before me; my hands ran across the limber muscles and fine hairs of his lean frame.
He was hard. I was getting there.
He turned, lowering his ass to my lap, his hands caressing my legs.
My hands were free to stroke his hair and skin.
His lap dance did me right. I was ready to fuck that sexy boy.
A space had opened on my bed, exactly where Theresa was lying earlier. Mark lubed his ass and lay back. He knows I want to see his face when we fuck.
I put on a condom and a dab of lube.
I smiled at him, as I maneuvered my cock to his ass.
I delivered it to him slowly, my hands holding his face. Clearing that first wall of resistance, I let my cock expand to fill him.
I rubbed his body as I fucked him, jerking his cock, watching his face.
His eyes were on me, then rolled back. He was silent, intent in his flesh. He was here, with me, and somewhere else, inside his body, a place he goes to feel his bliss.
I’ve been fucking Mark for well over a year, and I am still learning his body. But I know a few things. I know why he wanted this, after fucking women and getting blown.
This was going to make him cum.
I was here to take him there. Just Mark and me, alone in the universe of his pleasure . . .
“Jefferson? Jefferson, we’re leaving.”
“Uh? Oh okay, Dacia, thanks for coming.” I kissed her cheek. “You can let yourself out?”
“Yes.” She laughed, bussing the boy at the end of my cock. “Thanks for having us.”
“Jefferson, great party.” Jeremy put a hand on my shoulder.
“Great to have you with us.” I extended my hand. He shook it. “Blowjob next time, I swear.”
“Uh, I’m straight.”
“Yeah, me too. See you guys.”
Mark was looking up at us, glazed.
Time to get him off.
I rested my hands on his shoulders, pinning him with my weight. He held his legs back. I stood higher on my toes, extending my legs to bear down on him.
He shot his load.
I kissed him. Nice and long.
We washed up in the restroom.
I made another tour. The party was thinning out. Farahnaz and Mitzi were chatting on the terrace. I heard Mitzi’s laugh.
Good.
“Hey, remember me?” Two arms wrapped around my waist.
My Shelby.
“I believe so, yes. Nothing but trouble.”
“I’ve been waiting all night,” she said. “You are mine now.”
“I am yours now.”
She took my hand and led me to the back room, aglow in candles.
The room was empty. We took to a large bed. It was our first moment alone all evening, after a week apart.
We were already nude. We fell into kissing, wrapping our limbs around each other.
My cock was soon in her, deep and gentle.
Her noises filled the room, wafting into the hall, filling the apartment.
In the kitchen, Mitzi was listening.
sex
sexblogs
bisexuality
transgender
oral sex
anal sex
group sex
hair fetish
threesome
lap dance
jealousy
Stan Getz
Joao Gilberto
The life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
When told by my wife that our fifteen-year relationship was over, I found that everything in my life was upended. I took solace when friends and family pointed out I was no longer responsible for her personal happiness, just my own—and that of my four children.
I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
View My Complete Profile
I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
View My Complete Profile
7 comments:
Man, where was I when the hot guy on guy action was going on? GRR!
Er, the computer has smoke coming out of it again!
Can't help it, Jefferson, it's those posts! They're overloading the circuits. Mine and the PC's.
mmm, sex & stan getz.
Not sure what to say, other than warm thoughts and sympathy for Mitzi. I understand how she feels.
You are a sweetheart of a man, Todd.
We've been there, right?
With friends like you, we might just make this work.
I totally love your description of Jeremy.
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