Seven Little Words

-=-SEVEN LITTLE WORDS-=-

A DUSTY GEM FROM A LOST AND FOUND USB STICK

Which is more important--who you fuck, or what you fuck?

[[ Please read the Standard Disclaimer on Alextasy's bio page ]]

* * *

The whole thing began with an innocent question--that is, if anything concerning Susan could be called innocent. It seemed trivial at the time, nothing more than pillow talk between long-time lovers.

"Dan?" Her finger twirled a sparse patch of graying hair on my chest.

"Yeah?"

"What do you fantasize about?" Short, painted nails scraped gently across my abdomen, leaving tiny pink trails.

"What do you mean? Are you asking who I think about when I jerk off? I'm surprised you would ask, Susan. It's always you, of course," I tried to look serious, counting off on my fingers. "You, and Scarlett, and sometimes Taylor, but never Angelina..."

She poked my ribs and I jerked, chuckling.

"No, you silly. What's that super-secret desire you dream about? The one you never told anybody? The thing deep down in your heart you know you'll never get to do before you die."

"Is there something you're not telling me? Am I going to die soon? It's the eggplant, right?" My hands flew up around my throat, "The eggplant you served last night was laced with something, wasn't it! I knew it! It was just too damn good."

She slapped my chest. "Oh, stop teasing, dammit! You know what I mean. Don't you have any wild sexual fantasies you expect will never be satisfied?"

"Well, once upon a time I did. Before I met you. You've pretty much wiped the slate clean."

That part was true. Susan was a sexual dynamo. With her help I had been deep-throated to a soul-rending orgasm and was now an anointed member of the mile-high club. She had awakened me at all hours with my dick in her loving mouth or embedded in her talented pussy, or her ass. All of her major orifices, and most of her exposed skin, had been doused and smeared with my semen.

A local actress by trade--and a good one--her talents opened the door to a world of imaginative erotic scenes. One time, we met on a dark street. She acted helpless, vulnerable, and I "raped" her in the bushes--I was quite gentle and loving, of course, not violent.

Two weeks later, her surprise counterattack entailed a working stun gun held to the back of my neck while she used me aggressively for her own satisfaction and left me hanging. That stretched out to an entire week of merciless teasing before she spoke those seven precious words and allowed my release. The experience crossed three more items off my list. We haven't gone back there again. At least, not yet.

"Isn't there anything else you've ever dreamed of?"

I scratched my chin, deep in thought, "Hmmm, nothing comes to mind." Could this be a ploy to tell me about one of her fantasies? "What about you? Is there some far-out experience you've never had, some secret hidden in your crafty and fertile mind that maybe, just maybe, I might arrange for you?"

If there was, she wasn't ready to tell me.

"Stop changing the subject. I'll let you know if there's anything I need besides these, this, or that," She pointed to my hands, mouth, and crotch, in order.

I knew she was telling the truth. She was never shy about expressing her desires. On occasion, those desires didn't include me. Though her body might be shared with others, I never doubted her love was mine, and I turned a blind eye.

"Okay, well, let me think for a moment," I said. "Hmm... Well, every man has a curiosity about women together. I'd love to see you driven out of your senses by another woman. There's always the threesome thing, but those can get messy..."

"Oh, you mean me and you and another man?" she teased.

"Not exactly..." I replied in elongated syllables. "Anyway, I guess one little thing comes to mind."

"What is it?" She asked eagerly.

"Okay, well... now, you might think it's a little odd, and I'm not sure why I even mention it, but..."

"Yes? Yes?" She came up on her knees, coaxing me with her bright green eyes, wide with anticipation.

"Well, I have never, ever, made love with either a natural blond or an Asian woman."

Her mouth fell open, and she looked at me like I was an idiot. Then, she collapsed in a fit of laughter. It took a full minute for her to regain composure.

"What's so damned funny?" I demanded.

Between sniffling chuckles, she said, "What's the fucking difference?"

I shrugged. "That is precisely the question. I can't say, since I've never fucked either one. I'd like to find out. I mean, you asked, so, there it is."

"You don't care who you fuck, or how, or where. Instead, you crave a 'what'. Do I have it right?"

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess it sounds a little petty."

"Yeah, it does." Her scolding was sweet. "For the sake of argument, though, let's just say I was a natural blond..."

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine her thick, wavy, auburn hair as pure, silky Scandinavian blond.

"Alright, I can picture you like that."

"Fine, so, how would you know? If the lights were out, would you be able to tell if I were a blond, or an Asian, or black, or Arabian, Eskimo, or even 'una Latina'?"

She started humming a little Mexican melody. I opened my eyes to see her hands on her hips, rolling them to a salsa rhythm.

"Your deeck, señor, eet ees so good. Mmmm... But I theenk maybe eet ees not that sensiteeve." She stopped the charade. "I don't believe your one-eyed monster can see hair color or race, and my guess is, it probably wouldn't even fucking care. It would just close its little eye and jump right in, head first--am I right?"

"I don't know. Yeah, I guess so." I conceded, a little embarrassed. "But like I said, it's just a fantasy. I don't honestly ever expect I'll get a chance to find out," I shoved her down and rolled on top of her. "So long as you're around, there's no reason for me to want anybody else."

I planted a long, loving kiss on her perfect, pouting mouth. She responded and our tongues danced a tango. She hugged me tight and moaned, rotating her hips in an invitation to another dance.

I kissed her neck, her ear, nibbled on her lobe, and she giggled softly, squeezing my butt. Goosebumps surfaced under my fingertips gliding along her ribs, past the slender waist to her wide, feminine hips. I pinned her arms above her head, kissing a path between pale domed breasts while sliding my now-hungry prick along the top of her slit, slow and gentle. Nibbling on a delicate brown nipple brought forth a long, heated moan.

For the second time before breakfast, she whispered, "C'mon, let's fuck."

Sliding backward, my hardness fell between her legs. She tilted her pelvis, pushing against me, trying to join the two matched puzzle pieces.

She was impatient. "Oh, dammit, Danny. Fuck me now!" She struggled, freed an arm, and helped me into her magic boat.

Moving in languid rolls of her hips, her warm and tantalizing cunt rocked me as if I was sailing on a lazy Caribbean sea. I sighed a heartfelt, "Aaaah. Jesus, Susan, you have the juiciest pussy."

Her hips rolled and twisted, ocean swells rising and falling, and I rolled with her, plunging and drawing back, riding the ebb and flow of her undulations. I tasted a rubbery tit, nibbling, sucking, and massaging it with my lips.

Manicured nails scraped across my back, from my butt to my scalp and back again, then dug into my skin. I groaned in passionate, loving agony.

She sighed. "God, love fucking you. I love you, Danny. She bent her knees back to her chest, nudging my cock higher, near her G-spot. "Fuck me, goddammit, fuck me!"

I rose to a kneel, my hands gripping her marvelous ass, and my prick aimed just where she liked it best. Her legs swung over my shoulders. Heavy, musky aromas, sweat, and pussy, and cum permeated the air.

I held tight onto her butt, squeezing, shoving, tugging, driving her where I knew she wanted to go. I followed close behind.

She clamped her fingers onto my hard biceps and purred--she always said the flexing of my muscles turned her on. They were flexing now, working hard, building up a sweat, my cock ramming into her like a slow-motion jackhammer.

Her emerald eyes were slits, her auburn hair a wreck--matted and tangled, soaked in perspiration. The taut tendons in her neck stood out like bowstrings, hands tense, fingernails biting into my arms. She was caught in the moment, relishing each thrust, every nuance, her labored breaths locked in the rhythms of our fucking, her talented pussy tugging at my dick.

In her low, raspy voice, full of the heat of our shared passion, she let me know she was ready.

"Tell me when you're going to come."

Since our first time, years ago, Susan had used the same phrase whenever we made love. It was her signal she was ready, and she knew the effect it would have. Those seven little words were like a bell to Pavlov's dogs--as soon as I heard them, my dick started salivating, and in moments I was gushing inside her.

On cue, the fireworks in the base of my skull raced down my spine, my nuts tightened, convulsing. I shouted, "Oh, fuck! Now, Susan, now! Yes, oh, fuck, yes... Aaah!"

I didn't have a choice.

Susan met my impulses, shaking, clutching at the sheets, tossing her head back and forth. Raw, guttural vowel sounds vibrated from within her in a series of shudders and shivers.

A luscious, throbbing warmth flowed through me. I pushed in hard, deep, my semen surging inside her.

Before my dick even got limp, I rolled off onto the mattress, sweaty and exhausted. We just looked at each other and laughed.

Sex was integral, vital in our relationship. We both loved it, thrived on it, and not just exclusively with each other.

One of the well-known secrets of the theater (and movies and TV, too) is the tradition of actors and actresses to carry their roles offstage with them, particularly the romantic scenes. Susan was no different. In nearly every production, she fell "in lust" with someone on the cast, or the crew, or sometimes the director. During the rehearsals and run of a typical play, she might not come home for several days at a time.

I'd be lying if I said her dalliances didn't bother me, but such was life with Susan, and she was worth it. Long go, we'd talked marriage, but we both decided it would only get in the way. I knew she loved me. She kept me well satisfied and allowed me freedom to pursue other women if I wanted, although such rendezvous were rare. I also knew I would get a bonus at the end of the play's run for being there when her stage-love fell apart.

Some people would call me a "backup plan," or worse. Maybe so. I'd tried the monogamy route, dull routines with the same person, day-in, day-out, circling each other but never really talking, until we realized the whole time we'd both been circling the drain. I was divorced before Susan was born.

After decades of meaningless liaisons and romances that started hot but fizzled, she dropped into my life like a fortunate rose sprouting from the mulch pile. I kept her well-tended, and enjoyed watching her grow. I won't say I didn't have my fears in the off-months. Inevitably, when I least expected, she found inventive ways to reassure me of her love and appreciation for my patience.

* * *

For the next few weeks, nothing further came up about "secret desires". Our lives went on as usual. We both enjoyed flexible schedules. My work as a contract financial analyst from my home office had dropped off a little. She started on a new play at the local community theatre. Since the schedule had not ramped up yet, she had lots of free time, too. As rehearsals became more frequent there would be days in the coming months when we didn't see each other at all, so we made the best of our down-time together.

Gradually, she was home less and less and I saw the usual signs telling me she was "in lust" with a new lover. She stayed out several nights. Except for an occasional bruise or bite-mark, she never brought home any evidence of her adventures. Our mutual respect kept me from asking for details. If she wanted me to know, she would tell me.

Early mornings in late fall are a quite chilly here in the Carolina foothills, but the rising sun shines through the large windows in my upstairs study with a comfortable, warming glow.

Around seven AM, I was working again after only a few hours of sleep, trying to resolve the problems in a client's inventory algorithm. I had been fighting it for several days using known good data, but the results changed every time I ran it.

I heard Susan enter behind me. She kissed the top of my head, then began massaging my neck. I stopped typing, and enjoyed her attention. Her thumbs dug into my deltoids and worked their way up to the trapezius. I closed my eyes and dropped my chin onto my chest.

"How are you doing?" she said.

"Better now, thank you. This fucking AI app is kicking my butt. I needed reliable human contact."

She kept her fingers working in silence. Her manner was heavy with intent. I felt certain she wanted to talk about something. I offered her an opening.

"How's the play? Good director? Everything falling into place?"

She dropped her hands over my shoulders to work my pectorals, then around to my biceps, finally back up to my shoulders and neck.

"Yeah, it's exciting."

Her tone was dry, anything but excited.

She said, "I get to do some sword fighting. Doug hired an excellent trainer." The lilt returned to her voice, "We're working out two or three times a day. The adrenalin starts pumping, and it's really... stimulating."

The director, Doug, was gay, so I had a fair idea why she mentioned the trainer.

"So, do you like him? The trainer?" I asked, as innocent as I could.

"He's a her. She's Japanese. Her name is Achiko. And yes, I like her." She paused. "I like her a lot."

That was an interesting turn. Though she'd told me of playing with women before we met, this was the first mention of such interests since I'd known her.

She spun my chair around and knelt between my legs. Without a word, her slender fingers slipped the two buttons free on the fly of my baggy cotton pajamas--I wore no underwear. She reached through the opening and extracted my limp penis, observing her own handiwork with no more interest than she would give to unwrapping a burrito.

I was curious. I wanted to know more about her new "friend".

"So, what is the play?"

She toyed with my now-swelling shaft, rubbing it with her thumb and grazing her fingertips up and down the foreskin. It was becoming difficult to pay attention to our conversation.

"It's a dark comedy, the story of MacBeth from the perspective of the three witches. Most of the main characters in it are played by women, kind of a twist on the Globe Theatre's all-male cast. I play MacBeth. It's a minor part in this script, but my on-stage time is intense."

As she talked, her focus remained rapt on my stiffening prick. She studied it idly from different angles, in an absentminded manner, as she stroked it lightly. I knew from experience there was something else she wanted to discuss. I was supposed to find it.

"Anybody else I know working in it?"

"A few people. You might remember Cassie. She plays Lady MacBeth, opposite my MacBeth role. Her part's small, too, so we have a lot of time to hang around backstage."

Well, well, I thought. That's even more interesting. She extended her tongue and lapped at the underside of the head as she would a dripping ice cream cone. I shivered. Rational thought was deserting me, and she knew it.

"Cassie, hmmm, isn't she the blond who was in the Sondheim show?"

Susan stopped licking for a moment and grinned, happy with my recollection.

"Yeah, that's her, the natural blond with the incredible soprano." She wet her lips and swallowed my entire erection. Then, little-by-little, she withdrew. Stretching her mouth over the head, she kissed the end of my prick, and slid her pouting lips past the brim to slowly take me deep into her throat again.

Even without her assistance, my imagination would have kept me rock hard. I barely managed to hold a conversation.

"Do the two of you get along well?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, her lips halfway down my cock. She pulled me out, maintaining her blasé, disinterested manner. "Yeah, we work quite well together. She and Achiko and I are having a great time." She sucked me back into her warm, wet mouth and slid up and down a few times.

Holy Mother of God... I closed my eyes, imagining the three of them piled together, all legs and hair, and fingers and mouths. That single vision alone would provide years worth of masturbatory fantasies.

She pulled me out again, held my wet dick in her hand, and looked up at me for the first time.

"So, Dan, in the dark, do you really think you could tell what kind of girl you were fucking?"

It was about time she got to the point.

"Huh?" I stammered. "Oh, uh, that again. Well, it's like you said, I probably wouldn't be able to identify race or nationality, if that's what you mean."

"Oh." She became pensive again.

"But I think I could tell the difference between multiple women."

"Really?" She barely suppressed a grin. She was lost in thought for a moment--I could see the gears turning. Then, she perked up, "So you're saying, if you fucked five women in a pitch black room, you would be able to tell the difference, and know if you'd fucked the same one twice."

"Well, yes, something along those lines. With a chance to lick and taste them, I'd be pretty sure. If I could touch them, I would be certain."

She thought for a moment with a sly smile as she gazed at my erection, then flashed her brilliant green eyes at me and resumed sucking, only with more gusto. The heat was rising in my balls.

"Susan, your beautiful mouth is doing wonderful things to me, and I don't want to distract you, but--why are you asking about this again?"

She mumbled over my dick. "Mmm-hm-mm-hmm." My hardness popped out of her mouth again, springing up to slap against my belly. "Oh, nothing... no reason at all. Just wondering."

The sing-song, mock innocence in her voice belied her words.

She stood, grabbed the waist of her cotton sundress, and pulled it over her head in one motion. She wore nothing underneath. The horizontal rays through the window shown on her like a golden spotlight. Her skin glowed like a sun goddess.

"I haven't had a real dick in me for days," she said. "Can I borrow yours?"

"Sure. You've got it all revved up and I haven't taken it out for a drive in a while." It was true. We'd hardly seen each other, and I'd been working so hard I hadn't even beat off in a week or more. My nuts felt like they were bulging with semen.

My butt slid forward in my office chair. I tilted the swivel arms up beside the seat back and held my hands open to her. She spread her graceful, tanned legs and straddled my thighs. The widened outline of her inner lips glistened--her engine was purring, too.

Guiding my upright penis with her delicate fingers, she lowered herself, wiggled a little to put everything in position, and impaled her already slick twat. I held her slim waist, and she wrapped her arms around my neck, laying her head on the top of mine.

Susan trained her body as a precision instrument. Using her athletic legs like a tuned spring suspension, she bounced up and down on my lap, tits flopping around my face. I tried to grab one with my mouth, but the best I could do was to nuzzle it in passing.

Her cunt was just as agile, constricting and relaxing in sync as she pistoned my cock into herself, time and again, exhaling a little "Umph" each time she landed in my lap. Her energy and stamina were phenomenal.

Despite the thrilling sensations incited by her jumping-jack fucking, I missed her tender touch, and had a sudden desire for more closeness and intimacy, something a little more gentle. My hands on her hips, I slowed her motions, easing her weight down onto my lap. She caught her breath and we relaxed in each other's arms for a moment, kissing and nuzzling, and I finally got my lips on a tender nipple.

She moved slower, back and forth, side to side, rotating to rub my cock head against the rear wall of her vagina. The kegel muscles around the mouth of her sex clenched and released my cock, milking it with each smooth thrust.

Her lips grazed over my ear, seductive whispers telling me how much she'd hungered for me, how big and hard I felt inside, how much she loved me, kissing down my neck, my shoulder, then more steamy expletives. Tiny tremors vibrated through her each time our bellies touched, my cock probing her depths.

I inserted a hand between us and rubbed her erect clit. She was deliciously wet.

We were both overdue for a good fucking, and it didn't take long. I felt the little hooded pearl under my fingertip shrink, and almost disappear--the first sign of her impending climax.

She swiveled faster, and amid labored breaths she whispered the magic words in my ear.

"Tell me when you're going to come."

I was helpless to resist, "Now! Now! Ooh, Susan, oh, god, It's... it's..."

We both erupted in loud, wailing orgasms, crying, hugging, and squeezing each other as tight as we could.

* * *

Susan didn't come home that night, or the next. Between her rehearsals and her lover (or lovers?), her sword practice, time at the gym, and a few odd jobs she'd picked up doing local TV commercials and such, we didn't see much of each other over the next six weeks.

I went to the last night of the show--it always my favorite performance, where the cast and crew cut loose and had the most fun--a "sword fight" using plastic pistols, that sort of thing. I was surprised by how convincingly Susan acted like a man. Cassie, lovely Cassie, with the long blond hair and penetrating blue eyes, was both radiant and wicked as the cunning and deceitful Lady MacBeth.

As usual, I hung around and helped break down the stage set and clean up afterwards. I met the rest of the cast and crew, including the dark, enticing Asian sword trainer, Achiko, who appeared in a small role.

All three of the women were luscious. Someone took a Polaroid photo of them together at the after-party, and I was struck by the similarities. They were almost the same height, nearly identical body shapes, even their breast sizes were comparable. Their intimacy was obvious. I had to excuse myself to a side room just to calm the bulge in my pants that developed whenever I imagined them together, three sweaty squirming, multi-shaded bodies tied into a lustful knot, like an erotic M. C. Escher watercolor.

That night I went home alone to let her enjoy her friends--I surmised their relationship probably wouldn't carry on much longer.

When I awoke the next morning, Susan was sound asleep next to me--I hadn't heard her come home. I eased out of bed to let her rest, and went to work in my study.

Around eleven AM I heard her banging around in the kitchen. A few minutes later, she brought me some fresh coffee and a light kiss.

I was curious why she was here--it was a bit unusual for things to break apart this quick.

"Sorry I had to leave early. How did it go?" I said.

"Fine, we ended up dancing until the wee hours." She rubbed my neck. "Why did you let me sleep so late this morning?"

"I wasn't sure what time you got in so I didn't disturb you. Is everything okay?"

"Everything except you," she grumbled. "You're working way too hard. You need to relax, take a half day off. Tell you what, finish what you're doing, take a shower, and meet me in the den."

That sounded good to me. "All right, I'll be about twenty or thirty minutes."

She giggled like a schoolgirl. "Perfect! Don't be late!"

Her gleeful attitude said something was up.

Poring through the minutiae of a corporate account statement, I couldn't keep my mind on the figures, so I said "Fuck it." I stripped my pajamas off and headed for the shower.

From experience, I guessed her plans were not clothing-optional, but rather clothing-undesired. I wrapped a towel around my waist in case any windows were open, and I found her in the den.

Our large futon was extended into its bed configuration. She waited in her favorite chair, wearing a terry robe--I assumed that was all she wore. A Dave Brubeck CD was playing, louder than usual, the thick curtains were drawn, and the lights were dimmed low. Patchouli incense burned. I had a momentary flashback to the sixties.

"Hello, dear," Susan said in a syrupy tone, a little too sweet. She handed me a tequila sunrise and I sipped it. "Have a couple of drinks, then lie down for me. We don't have much time."

That was an odd statement. I glanced at the clock--11:52.

"What are you up to, you devious woman?"

She jerked the towel away, tugged on my rubbery, low-hanging cock, and gave a twisted smile with a wiggled of her eyebrows.

"We're going to play a little game."

While Susan rummaged around in our "toy box", I took a couple more sips, set the drink on a coaster, and laid on my stomach on the futon, knowing full well that wasn't what she wanted.

"No, you silly, on your back!"

I rolled over, and saw she had a handful of my silk ties. She knew her knots well-- from working backstage, she said. She wrapped the ties around my wrists and secured them to the rails of the futon above my head. I wasn't concerned. This wasn't our first, or our fifteenth experience with bondage.

"What sort of game is this, Susan? Another 'how long can I resist you' game?"

Every time we played that, I lost miserably and enjoyed every minute.

She gave a coy reply, staying focused on her tying tasks, "No, not exactly, dear. Move your legs a little closer together... that's right." She tied my ankles the same way. Laying a thick towel across my stomach, she ran several loops of heavy nylon rope around my waist, then tied it off on the futon, securing me to the mattress. I was stretched out full, with little room for movement in any direction.

Susan stood over me and pulled a blindfold from the toy box. As she stretched it over my eyes, the doorbell rang.

"Ah, just in time," she announced.

The blindfold was a good one I had picked out. I tried to twist my head and see what was going on, but there was no way to peek out of the sides or bottom. Through Brubeck's light tinkling on "Someday My Prince Will Come," I heard murmuring from the entranceway, a single, light giggle, then a shuffling of feet. I heard someone come to stand beside me.

It was Susan. "Alright, Dan, we're going to find out just how sensitive your little pecker is."

"Not the blowtorch again!" I screamed in jest.

"No, dear, this will be more like 'What's My Line?', but I call it 'What's My Pussy?'"

"Huh?"

"In addition to me, we have two guests. One is Asian. The other is a natural blond."

My semi-hard dick was rising to attention. I listened for any indication of Achiko or Cassie, but heard nothing over Paul Desmond's breathy sax.

She continued, "You will be fucked six times, with a time limit of one minute each. Your challenge will be to identify which woman it is. No talking or any vocalizations are allowed, do you understand girls?"

I heard no response--I could only assume they shook their heads. Then again, was anyone even there?

"One other thing--you may experience one, two, or three women. Any of our guests may receive you anywhere from one to six times. In other words, you may be fucked by three women, by two women, or possibly by just one woman."

Oh, shit, I thought--this is going to be tough. "And I have to identify which pussy wets my dick for each session? Okay, what's in it for me?"

"You mean besides getting royally fucked?" She sounded incredulous. "What else could a man possibly want?".

"I don't know, it just seems like, well, there ought to be some sort of incentive involved. This is not going to be easy, Susan. I can't really enjoy and appreciate a new pussy while concentrating on figuring out who the owner is. It's going to be hard work."

My griping was half in jest. I wasn't entirely sure I even believed my own bullshit.

"Hmm, you've got a point. Well, let's make it worth your while. You have previously stated two hidden desires, both involving me with at least one other woman. If you can successfully identify our guests, in the proper sequence, you will achieve one of your fantasies. Deal?"

This was getting better all the time. Perhaps I could increase my odds. "That's acceptable, Susan. One other request."

"Yes?"

"May I have the option of tasting rather than fucking?"

Her interest was piqued. "That's an excellent question, Daniel--let me consult with our panel of fuckers."

She left my side and her footsteps disappeared across the thick carpet toward the dining room. I heard murmuring, a little giggling. It could have been three women, or two, or even just Susan, acting like three women. She was quite capable of pulling this off all by herself. She had performed several one-woman shows, including "The Vagina Monologues," of course. This was not going to be as easy as I had first thought.

She returned. "The panel decided on two occasions you may choose to lick, rather than screw. It's your option which two you wish to taste. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes, I think it will do, just fine."

"Are you ready?"

I flexed my erection, slapping it against my belly, and I quipped. "We are at attention."

"Panel, are you ready?" No audible response. "Good. Okay, panel, remove all clothing, lubes and dildos are on the table. Make yourselves juicy."

"What?! Why do they need to?" I loved foreplay, amost as much as fucking.

"Daniel, dear, the panel must prepare themselves for your immense girth. You don't expect them to simply jump on your mighty man-missile with no preparation at all, do you?"

There was crafty mirth in her sweet Southern voice. Damn, she was clever, and a mile ahead of me. If the first got a good tongue lashing, and second was juiced up, too, I would have known she was the same one. If I also found the third wet, well, I could've surmised they all were the same person--Susan. With the lube, my job was far more difficult.

Susan knelt on the mattress next to my head. I turned toward her, trying to ascertain her intent, but I heard only the buzz of vibrators and some squishy sounds over Brubeck's big chords. The fresh, musky aroma of an excited Susan wafted around me. Although I couldn't see her, it didn't take much to imagine her favorite little electric friend sliding in and out, while her middle finger lay along her pink crevice, flitting like hummingbird wings over the soft, hooded bud nestled there.

A soft quivering moan escaped her for a moment, then she headed back toward the dining room, where I was to assume the "other" women awaited their turns. I could hear a voice--voices? She was a consummate actress. It would not have been any trouble to imitate several people talking together--even men, if her most recent role was any indication.

I heard footsteps on the carpet--not enough to tell how many. At least one of them was Susan. Did she use prop shoes on a stick?

She started the game, "Mr. Contestant, are you ready?"

"I think I'm hard enough." I wiggled my hips a little and felt my flag waving in the air. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Will you begin with licking or lingam?"

"I think we'll start with a fuck."

"Fucker number one, are you ready?" A pause, "Very well then, take this timer. Start the timer when his dick is fully inside you and you are ready to begin. And remember, no other contact, no sounds."

Someone climbed onto the futon and straddled my hips. I felt her feet next to my immobilized legs. A hand touched my cock. I couldn't discern fingernails--Susan kept hers neatly clipped for the play, and I didn't recall the length of the others--assuming, of course, that it was Achiko and Cassie, and not some other Asian and blond, and assuming there was indeed anyone else here at all... Sheesh!

A pussy touched the head of my dick, I was sure of that. It lowered, the lips parted, and I was embedded in a warm, wet channel. It seemed loose, not nearly as tight as Susan usually made hers. She could just as easily relax those talented muscles, though, and I'm not sure I'd know the difference.

A soft, round butt sat on my hips, and I was all the way inside. I heard a click--the timer--and she began moving. The soft slushiness of this sweet vagina was a new sensation. The warmth of sex spread over me, like it always did, clouding my concentration. The motions, front to back, felt normal. The butt felt softer, somehow bigger than Susan's. Or, was it just my imagination?

Imagination was all I had to go on. In my erotic fantasies, I had always assumed natural blonds as soft, round, easy, loose, like what I was experiencing now. My fantasy Asians were perennially hard, lean and tight, in control. I know it all sounds like gross, stereotypical generalizations, but they were my fantasies, okay? I can make them however I want.

In this situation, however, I knew I shouldn't rely on those characterizations--the Asian may be loose, the blond tight as my fist. I still couldn't shake my preconceptions. If it wasn't Susan, I just knew this had to be Cassie! Or whoever the blond was. Or Susan. Shit!

The timer went off sooner than I expected. She stopped immediately and climbed off me. The unique aroma of well-fucked pussy sliced through the incense.

Next to the mattress, I heard Susan, "Good job, fucker number one. How do you feel, contestant? Do you think you might come soon?"

Fortunately, she hadn't uttered her seven special words. I was holding my own.

"Everything's alright, but give me a minute before the next one."

They--she?--walked back to the dining room. More talking, then I sensed somebody returning.

"Contestant, are you ready now? Tasting or thrusting?"

"I'd like another thrust now, please."

"Very well, fucker number two, take the timer and assume the position."

Someone climbed on top of me, again. Smooth calves against my thighs, no stubble just like the last one, but the legs pressed a little tighter against me. Whoever she was, she was in control.

A hand on my prick, no long nails, as far as I could tell. Pubic hair--I hadn't noticed on number one--but my dick was not sensitive enough to discriminate between soft, fine hairs, or stiff curly ones. Damn, I wish I could touch them.

Again, I was against the lips. Again, I slid in, but there was an unmistakable difference. This cunt was snug. From the entrance all the way in, she fit like a rubber glove. Could Susan do that? Did she really have that much control?

A soft click, and the race was on. This energetic woman was faster, harder, tighter. The friction against the loose skin on my cock was exhilarating. She rode me like I was a quarter horse, bounding up and down along my length with a steady, but quickening, pace.

Tied to the futon like this, I couldn't adjust myself to reduce the stimulation. I felt the tensions rising in my nuts, telling me they were racing for the finish line, when "ding" went the timer and my rider dismounted. Whew! Just in time!

"Are you alright, contestant?" Was there a hint of breathlessness in Susan's voice? "Looks like the last one was a little intense."

My breath was certainly a little ragged, "Uh-huh, yeah, you're right, I couldn't have taken much more."

A fraction of a giggle from her, or somewhere near her, then it stopped.

"Do you need a rest?" Did she need one?

"Give me just a minute. I think we'll take the next one as a licker."

"Fine, then." and she strode--with loud, determined steps--back to the dining room. Was there someone with her? I couldn't tell.

When my heartbeat slowed, I called out, "Allright, let the games begin."

Back at my side, Susan set down the rules for this activity.

"Guest fucker number three, start the timer when his tongue touches you. As before, you will have one minute."

I thought I'd have a little fun, and see if I could pick up a little information along the way. The woman knelt on either side of my shoulders, her juicy bits right over my mouth. I smelled a familiar ripeness, Susan's, and the scent had the musky head of her fresh-fucked pussy. That information conflicted with my previous assumptions, however.

I lowered my nose and rubbed it along her right labia, then up her left. The bulbous end nuzzled her hooded clit, making her shudder, like Susan often did. I repeated the same routine, spending a little more time on the nub. I sucked in one of her outer labia and massaged it with just my lips. I heard the "click" I expected.

"Wait a minute," I yelled out. "I only used nose and lips, no tongue!"

The sudden blare of an air horn shocked me, like the ones at a football game. Where the fuck did that come from?

Without a word, the woman jumped off of me immediately.

From the side of the futon, near where the woman would have landed, Susan declared, "There's been a violation on the play. Tell me again?"

"You said the clock is not to be started until my tongue touches her. I have not used my tongue at all."

"Just a moment, we will confer with the panel of fuckers." There was a sense of several footsteps to the dining room, a lot of murmurs, mixed with pauses. A high giggle--Susan was an alto. If this was just one person, she was even better than I imagined!

Someone came back, "The ruling is, the play was fair," Susan declared. "and the clock is not to be started until the tongue comes into play. The panel also mentions an unofficial request to take all the time you want before using your tongue."

I laughed. The participant, Susan by the taste and feel of her, climbed back aboard my upper lip. I resumed the soft mastication of her pussy lips, using my lips, and light teeth, to clean them as I would an artichoke leaf. We used a tasteless, water-based lube, so I could relish the rich and tangy natural flavors, the taste Susan often had after sex. This one I felt pretty sure about.

I took my time, and her hips moved involuntarily. Eventually, I inserted my tongue directly into her vagina, heard the "click", and started licking in earnest. I poked at the bottom of the opening, near the perineum, then slithered slow and easy along the yummy crease, back to the nerve center at the top. I used my agile tongue to expose the nub, and licked it ardently. There was a definite increase in breathing noises. I anticipated hearing a blast of the penalty horn, but time ran out first.

I expected to hear Susan trying to talk with labored breathing, but she sounded normal. Shit.

"That looked like it was pretty exciting. Mr. Contestant, are you getting any clues about the identities of our mystery fuckers?"

"I have some ideas, but I'm not yet ready to buy a vowel. Let's go! I want a fucker!"

She laughed and went back to the dining room. She had turned the CD up a little more, and the odd, punctuated rhythms of "Blue Rondo a la Turk" were blasting out. I couldn't discern any tittering from the other room.

I sensed the presence of someone close. A woman straddled my hips, grabbed my cock, and promptly penetrated herself. "Click". Again, I was pretty sure this was Susan. She rotated her hips, moving side to side, up and down, in and out, in an exciting variety of familiar fucking patterns just like she loved to do. At the same time, she used her talented musculature to squeeze and release me from the inside of her vagina. I didn't know anybody else who could do that. The minute was up long before I was ready to stop.

"Keep going!" I was begging, straining against the ropes and silk ties. "I don't know how much more of this I can take!"

"Oh, you little wiener, stop complaining. You've still got two more, and then we'll see how really sensitive a man you are. So what's this one going to be?"

"Give me another fucker!"

"Think you can take it without creaming all over it?"

"Bring it on!" I challenged.

She went back to the dining room, and returned a moment later. Someone mounted me again. It was Loose Lucy--the blond? Thank goodness for that. Miss Asian TightBottom would've had me spurting inside of 30 seconds.

She rode me soft and easy, in time to the swingy blue section of the Brubeck classic. It felt great--wallowing in that sloppy pussy was relaxing, like jumping in the ol' swimming hole. Just the thing for a hot boy.

I chose to taste the final woman. She climbed onto the futon, but reversed herself so she was facing away from me. I smelled ass, and something else I couldn't identify.

Leaning over my cock, supported on my legs, her pubic bone rested on my chin, and the sensations of long hair wafted over my thighs and tender genitals. A wig? More important, it seemed her pubic hairs were springy--like Susans, but also the way I expected Achiko's to be. But, then again, maybe it was all just my imagination.

I tasted her with my tongue immediately, and there was a tartness there. It was a lush flavor, somewhat like my lover's, but with a tang, more acidic--sort of like a lemon, or like the taste of putting your tongue across 9-volt battery terminals. I couldn't discern the scent or flavor of fucking at all. Did Susan spray or rub something on herself? It could've been, but there was no way to tell. It was appetizing, and I licked and nibbled her tender twat with gusto, whoever she was. Hips rotated in time with my tongue.

The time ran out too soon, and she jumped off of me. At the last moment, I thought I heard a husky groan. Again, Susan was at the side of the mattress--I still didn't know if the whole thing was a charade. So many damn possibilities!

She--they?-- walked to the dining room. Between Dave Brubeck's choppy chords from 'Take Five' I heard some sort of discussion. One person? Two? Three? This was so damned frustrating. It went on for about three or four minutes, then the front door opened and I distinctly heard Susan yell, "Bye!"

"What's happening?" I demanded,"Where did everybody go?" I struggled against my restraints.

Susan came back and sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Calm down, Mister 'I-Wanna-Fuck-Certain-Types-Of-Girls'. Everybody's gone. Now, what is your answer? Were you able to distinguish between them? Which was which?"

"Well, first of all, I'm not sure this was all fair."

"Fair is foul, and foul is fair" she quoted from MacBeth.

"Yeah, yeah, but you proved your point--my dick is blind, and it doesn't really give a damn. If I have to guess, though -and a lot of it is guesswork--I'd say numbers one and five were blond, two and six were Asian, and three and four were you. Did I win?"

She leaned over and gave me a quick smooch.

"My silly Danny... You're always a winner, love."

"And I apologize, Susan. You were right, of course. It's not what you fuck. It's all about who."

She kissed me again, more earnestly, sucking my lower lip. "Thank you, Danny, I'm glad you finally understand." She took my still-hard cock in her hand, "Your perfect answer qualifies you for the bonus round."

Still bound and blindfolded, I felt her straddle my hips again. She guided me into her artistic sex, tightened her muscles, and rode me nonstop straight to town. She nibbled and tugged at my nipples and licked my neck. When she dropped her face next to my ear, in a low sultry voice, she sighed the seven little words I needed to hear.

"Tell me when you're going to come."

With a feral growl, I bucked and squirmed against my bonds, driving my loaded boner as deep as it would go before blowing a full load into her. After the six prior sessions, I was so turned on I nearly passed out. It took me a few minutes to come down.

* * *

Susan never told me the truth about what happened that day. When I asked her point blank if it had all been a hoax she just flashed a coy smile and a wink.

"Does it really matter?"

A couple of weeks later, Cassie joined us for a light dinner. Afterward, we sat around the fire, chatting over wine. The women leaned against the futon, side-by-side on the floor, cuddling and caressing. I enjoyed my voyeur's perch, observing their amorous explorations from my lounger, across the room.

We all warmed to the fire and the effects of the wine, and their touches became more focused. Conversation vanished when they embraced in a steamy kiss. Casual strokes became kneading, hands disappeared underneath shirts, slipping inside jeans.

Still, I sipped my wine, marveling at the display of tender affection between the two loving women. When their shirts came off and zippers opened, I achieved a splendid erection, which I assumed would require my own attention.

Streaked with blue veins, Cassie's cream-colored breasts looked delicious. Susan feasted on them. When her panties were discarded, the first breathtaking sight of the finespun wisps of her golden blond pubes made my dick twitch. I closed my eyes for a moment and rubbed myself as I fantasized looking up through that enchanted forest from between her pale, succulent thighs.

In the midst of their heavy, labored breathing, Susan looked at Cassie, panting.

"We should go upstairs, now."

Forlorn and dejected, I tried to appear magnanimous as I watched the two beauties discard the rest of their clothes and walk arm-in-arm to the staircase, their broad, feminine butts bouncing together with each step. I was resigned, and actually quite satisfied, to wrestle the pink snake right here in my chair to relieve my tension while they made love upstairs.

At the bottom of the first step, Susan stopped and looked back at me.

"Well?" She seemed a little annoyed. "Are you going to sit there, or do you want to watch some more?"

A shit-eating grin lit my face. "Oh, uh, yeah, I'll bring the wine." I scooped up the glasses and the bottle and followed them up the stairs like an obedient puppy.

When I got to the bedroom, they already lay naked on the mattress, Cassie on top, engrossed in fervent kisses. In a slow graceful progression of fingers and mouth, she licked her way down Susan's lithe figure. I stood by the door, fully clothed, holding the wine.

"Danny, you silly boy, get comfortable," Susan admonished as Cassie tongued her belly button. "This is for your enjoyment, too. Oh, yeah, pour me some more wine."

I was giddy with delight. I handed her a half-full glass then stripped. In less than a minute, I was naked, sitting in the bedside chair, tugging on my foreskin while Cassie's tender kisses lined Susan's inner thighs.

Between ecstatic quivers and moans, she furrowed her brow at me again. "You are so goofy! Come on up here and get a closer look."

I scampered to the bed and settled beside her, my head at her hip, leaning on my elbow. Cassie's long blond locks cascaded over Susan's dark, svelte legs. The floral scent from her hair blended with the familiar vibrant aroma of an excited Susan.

Licking, nibbling, kissing, Cassie tended to Susan's pleasure with tiny, precise attacks, here and there, never lingering. Long, slender fingers grazed along the skin, over the hips, across the belly, back through the dark, curly jungle to caress the puffy, plum-colored flesh. A petite hand--nails neatly trimmed--disappeared beneath her chin. Susan's sudden gasp and shudder signaled her penetration.

Meanwhile, I lay alongside them, sipping my wine and watching the intense, erotic drama presented by these two consummate actresses. I assumed a fourth wall existed between us--I didn't touch either of them, and was content to play with myself here in my front-row seat.

Susan's hand tangled itself in Cassie's fine tresses, massaging the blond's scalp and gently tugging as her own arousal climbed. The casual, here-and-there technique Cassie had employed became more focused, gradually centering on the tiny button at the top of Susan's crease. Even then, I noticed Cassie moved around, a long lick along the slit, a nibbled lip, then a return to the sensitive source.

Susan's shallow breathing hinted at the oncoming storm. She closed her eyes, pulled tighter on a handful of soft, fine hair, and clutched the sheets between us. She gasped, squeezing and pulling at her own breasts, her ripe brown nipples erect like large erasers. A light scarlet flush bloomed in the valley between her bosoms, her belly tense, trembling.

In moments, the storm broke. With a howling cry, Susan arched her back. Out of control, she grabbed at anything nearby. Finding my thigh, she dug her nails in as the tension of her climax washed over her.

Cassie slowed her attentions immediately, nurturing Susan's swollen cunt with long, luscious licks. As Susan came back to earth, recovering from her orgasm, Cassie surprised me by leaning over and pulling me into a long, delicious kiss. As the shock was replaced by the enjoyment of her supple lips and agile tongue, I recognized the flavors of her recent repast. I licked Susan's sexy nectar from Cassie's face, then joined her in another sweet, lustful kiss.

Susan ran her hand up my leg to encircle my treasures. With long, slow strokes and gentle fondling, she inflamed my carnal desires.

"Dan?" she said. "Do you think you can do to Cassie what she did to me?"

I pulled back and looked at the cute blond, inquiring. She returned my gaze with her passionate blue eyes, a warm smile, and a quick nod. This was fantastic--literally. A fantasy come true.

"Yes," I stammered. "Yes! I mean, after all, it would be a good idea to practice what I just learned."

Cassie giggled and stretched out on the bed next to Susan, and they locked in a passionate kiss, hands wandering over each other. I began at Cassie's dainty foot, sucking her toes and nibbling on her soles.

I challenged myself to restraint. With excruciating slowness, I moved to her slender legs, kissing my way around each one, sampling each square inch of her soft, pale pink skin while massaging and caressing her feet.

A quick glance up her legs revealed a lovely pussy at the crux. The pale, swollen vulva had turned a light pastel pink, showing the beginnings of flush. Her growing arousal was evident in the narrow opening of roseate petals, folding outward. Where Susan maintained a dark, curly bikini trim, Cassie wore a full bush of fine hairs. Her glowing pubes caught the light of the bedside lamp, giving the appearance of a halo. A sparse, cream-colored frame of down surrounded her labia.

I was spellbound. Little by little, I approached the golden-fleeced prize. Her inner thighs were most responsive, so I dallied there, picking at the delicate skin with tiny nips and nibbles, and sucking at small patches, inciting minute tremors. I massaged her willowy muscles and let my short nails scrape gently, provoking more shivers and goosebumps.

Her hips were in motion, desiring contact. When I kissed near the junction of her thighs, I nudged the tip of my nose into the crease, prompting a muted moan and a twist of the pelvis toward my mouth. I wanted her to ache for my touch, and she was practically begging.

Her bright pink flower opened to me, moist and lush. I took a tender petal between my lips, sucking and massaging it. Groans of pleasure met my coveted touch.

The tart flavor seemed somehow familiar. I had to taste more. I dipped deep into her crevice, lapping up her amorous secretions. A zesty tang greeted my tongue, a little sharp, even lemony. Could this be the same piquant brew that sat on my face only a few weeks earlier? It seemed a more earthy taste, not as harsh as I recalled. I couldn't be sure, but I guessed that was the point Susan was trying to make.

I resolved to just enjoy this special experience, and it was then that another of my fantasies became real. While licking the length of her tart slit, I peered through the fine, fair curls atop her mons, across her flat belly, to see Susan kneeling, crouched over her chest. She cupped a voluptuous breast in both hands, pushing up to form a cone, and took Cassie's large, brown aureole in her mouth, suckling fervently, and moving her head from side to side to stretch the nipple.

Between the attentions bestowed by both Susan and me, Cassie was elated, moaning in sensual joy, her head rolling side to side. One hand clutched the sheets, while the other was ensconced between Susan's legs--it was easy to guess what it was doing there.

Until tonight, my oral manner had always been to move quickly to the clit and work it to submission. My earlier, intimate view of a woman's approach to cunnilingus was an epiphany. If I were correct, Susan would benefit--perhaps that was her whole intent.

I adopted Cassie's technique, jumping around often from one erogenous bit to the next, not spending too much time in any one place. As her arousal climbed, more care was given to her pink pearl, though not exclusively. My goal was to be as varied as possible, while still keeping her aroused.

It seemed to work. I took my time, and her body was in constant, uncontrolled motion. Her hips writhed and squirmed, her head tossing and bending backwards--moans and groans were nearly constant. Susan's attentions added to the effect.

Cassie twisted and swayed, her strong, tart nectar flowing down my chin. A pair of my fingers wiggled their way into her dripping vagina, turning and circling to stretch the taut membrane around the entrance, and probing the soft tissues inside, provoking a sensual aria of soprano moans, climbing higher and higher.

Again, I glanced up through the dainty, honey-colored tangle to see Susan's hands kneading both full, blushing tits. Her face was near Cassie's ear, as though she were whispering something.

I felt the little hooded man suddenly retreat beneath my tongue. In seconds, she tensed, then her breath came in loud, quick gasps of "oh, Oh, OH!" Her vagina squeezed tight around my fingers, then she hollered, "Yes! Now! I'm coming! Oh, fuck, oh fuck! Yesss!"

She clamped my head between her slim thighs and shuddered in ecstasy. She and Susan both pushed and clutched at her ripe breasts, then she shuddered again as another blissful jolt raced through her. Cries of "Yes, yes!" and "Oh, Fuck!" were punctuated by moans and gasps.

As she recuperated, releasing my head, I slowed everything down at my end, caressing her belly and thighs while taking long, satisfying licks up the center, nibbling each labia, and then kissing her flaxen mound. Susan smothered her breasts and neck with quick, sucking kisses.

I wasn't sure about anybody else, but I was immensely satisfied with the evening. Memories of this night would fuel years of private time with Ma' Thumb and her four girls.

Susan tugged my head away from Cassie's crotch and wrapped me in her arms, locking lips in an impassioned kiss. She licked Cassie's yummy sauce from my chin and cheeks.

Still catching her breath, Cassie sat up and joined us in a three-way kiss, arms wrapped around each other, licking and tasting. Someone held my prick.

"Thank you, Dan." She was flushed and panting. "Susan was right--damn, your tongue is good!"

I blushed, smiling modestly, feeling pretty proud. Then it occurred to me--she should have known. Unless, that is...

I didn't have time to complete my thoughts. Cassie shoved my shoulders and I fell onto my back. She climbed atop my hips, resting her hands on my biceps, pinning me to the mattress. She glanced back at Susan and said, "I hope you don't mind..."

The view between Cassie's legs revealed Susan with my dick in her hand, then surrounded by her pouting lips. She slobbered all over it, making me nice and wet, then aimed the stiff, swollen rod at Cassie's silky, blond pussy. It was like an unbelievable dream.

Cassie squatted slowly as Susan guided me through the moist lips of her tangy snatch. Contrary to my preconceptions, Cassie was tight as a virgin, as tight as Susan had ever made herself. Somehow, even though I knew I had been wrong, I was not disappointed. The question still remained whether she was someone I'd experienced that day on the futon.

I really didn't care anymore. I was thrilled and contented, watching my shaft sliding in and out of Cassie's angelic cunt as she rode me fast and hard. In barely a minute, the snug friction of her sugar walls had me sweating and panting, my scrotum tightening for release. I held onto her willowy arms, moaning and groaning, intent on holding back despite the eager, steady pumping of Cassie's close-fitting cunt.

She was on the edge, too, perspiration forming on her neck, a rising glow across her chest, eyes closed in a rapturous trance. Susan leaned over me and we kissed. She stroked the light fur on my chest, down my tummy, then reached between us and alternated between twiddling Cassie's clit and stroking my balls.

I was euphoric--this was paradise, and it couldn't get any better. I wouldn't last long. Cassie's hoarse, high-pitched moans and heavy breathing hinted she was near another climax, too.

Susan kissed me on the cheek, then pulled her mouth close to my ear.

"Achiko is serving her homemade sushi for us tomorrow night. She's staying over until Monday morning. She plans to sharpen your sword."

Ohmygod... I lost control, and lunged desperately into Cassie's exquisite depths.

Susan's whispered voice dropped into her low, sultry tones.

"Tell me when you're going to come."