Aw-shucks, Cupid's darts are flying, hitting pussy, arse and igniting unlikely romance.
Friday night had started well for Mike and Pete; they were hitting hard on the Glover girls at the hottest new venue in town, a converted warehouse in the aptly named — The Pump Room.
Hannah was in a little black number, and she told Mike it was called — Happen.
She had brought it online.
It was going to happen alright tonight, thought Mike.
The dress was tight, her petit arse was shaped tighter, and sex was definitely overdue after three previous Friday dates; it was time to sample the teasing bitch's hidden delights later this evening.
Meagan, the younger, was in a short black leather skirt off the rack, apparently selling as — Caution.
It was aptly named.
Pete was subtly warning Meagan of his intentions with his hands on her arse under the skirt, getting plenty of warm flesh as she was wearing a G-string.
The caution part had also been nicely whispered into Pete's ear; Meagan was on the pill.
The girls were getting raunchy and sexually heated on the dance floor. Great, thought the guys and the same thought crossed their minds.
But this was unsurprising; it was just the standard —I will get a lay tonight.
Pete had his tongue all over and in Meagan's face. His hands had moved beyond dirty dancing to filthy dancing.
He had even risked rubbing the front of her petite G-string under her dress.
She gave a short, clear gasp.
"Ooh!"
It was risqué, but she liked it.
Hannah seemed to take her cue from Meagan tonight and was rubbing into Mike's crotch. It was Mike who was stifling the pleasure groan in that combination.
The girls were hot.
Hot in their outfits.
Flaming and sensual on the dance floor.
Fired up and ready for sex.
They excused themselves to the ladies just before leaving the venue. The girls gave their man the wink, the flick of the hair, and the arse wiggle as they headed for the ladies.
Hot was now blistering.
Sex was in the air for the guys, probably less than fifteen minutes to pumping pussy, and they knew it. '
Thank you, God, for hot primed girls on a Friday night — this was again a mutually unsynchronised thought, followed by independent thoughts.
I'm dogging her.
Her arse is getting hammered!
A tipsy, shrill, obnoxious Tiffany Worthington was suddenly in Pete's face.
The dreaded ex-girlfriend from hell.
He had been drawn to her once merely by her incredible tits. They were beautiful D's. Naturally voluptuous, existing not as breasts of motherhood but purely as male eye candy and a prime play zone.
They were full, shapely and indulgent.
Tiffany knew how to present them. They were genuine, no boob job here, and cleavage rapture.
This was juicy booty. It was hooter alert territory for guys coming into the ice cream shop where she worked, which traded consistently through summer and winter based on her shop front assets.
Pete had met her, upsizing his initial single chocolate cone to a generous creamy double, then taking a dirty lick and asking her out a few months back.
Pete had had his face buried in her melons often, either there or in her equally curvaceous butt.
Nature had handed her a superb deal front and back.
However, as is often the case with such natural gene generosity, her brain and heart had missed out.
Not to worry while she kept her mouth shut and her legs open or gave a great titty fuck.
However, in daily life, she was mean and possessive.
Pete had avoided her well for the past three months. He did miss her tits!
She was slagging off, "Oh, it's you! You- you- tool! Yes, you tool!"
Pete was reasonably controlled as he told Tiffany, "Shut up and go!"
However, that was when her newish Neanderthal boyfriend, Baz, eyeballed Pete.
Then Mike stepped up next to his mate.
If they were going down, they were going down together like in their rugby scrum days.
It got complex, though, as Neanderthal's mate, the creature from the swamp, Boof, started a scuffle.
Heads were spinning and locked tightly, but not from either set of the protagonists.
The Pump's bouncer boys had the four out the doors quicker than they could protest their innocence or start a fight.
Baz and Boof exited through the back, and Mike and Pete were turfed through the front.
"What the fuck do we do now; wait here for the girls?" said Mike.
"Fuck no, they might think they have been stood up; let's call them from the mall. We have a bigger problem. Those two pricks, Baz and Boof, will be around the block in less than two minutes; let's cut through to the mall now," and Mike was already jogging off.
"Shit, "said Mike as they paused two blocks away, "That cost me a certain hump, mate; hell, the Glover bitch isn't answering her phone either; come on, Hannah; answer, Hannah."
"You think you were the only one; Meagan was randy, fuck it; it's gone now; that tart isn't responding either; look mate, I'll shout you a burger; come on", and Pete was leading the way across the street.
Mike and Pete got an unexpected eye full at — The Burger Bar counter. We are not talking about the pretty, fetching blonde taking orders behind the counter in her sweet little uniform and lilting husky Lauren Bacall's voice with the name tag Felicity.
No, she was a winner for attention any other night.
It was gothic punk overload times three. They placed their orders with Felicity, whose middle-class values weren't being exposed, as she did her job and took the young punk women's orders without batting her wide Betty Davis eyes.
The trio of punk chicks at the counter were the real deal.
Christ, they were all thin.
Yet sexily skinny in gothic black attire and heavy edgy makeup.
The tallest girl was grungy, with black lipstick, glossily vibrant like patent leather, frickin chicly seductive, on her cute button-shaped lips.
The one closest to the counter looked like her hair was tossed homemade salad; it was shredded hair with purple streaks. There was enough metal on her face to set off a detector. Four sets of tasteless studs down each ear. Then she had the standard left eyebrow ring.
Plus, the petite nose piercing reminded Pete of a pus-filled pimple that needed popping.
Her straight barbell bridge piercing was a turn-on, with her dark lashes and deep mascara around her alert baby blue eyes that flirted under the lights between faded denim and electric blue.
Her eyes were easily her softest feature.
The taller girl, the one with the black lips, was next to her; she had red dyed hair pushed to one side, revealing a deep shaved undercut. While the masses of metal were missing here, she had the tats, nearly her whole right arm, the back of her neck, and parts of her left forearm.
Nothing stood out, just an eclectic mass of personal ink.
She had a chain around her neck with a silver skull on it. She had on a pair of leather black finger gloves. Her wardrobe was obviously black. Her eyes actually had a russet reddish brown that matched her hair on closer inspection.
The third hanging back slightly was urban punk. Spiked black hair with blue streaks. Then, the dominating heavy-ringed Celtic druidic metal earrings.The obligatory chain and padlock around her neck. Stylish black open jacket, though. Classic black T-shirt shaping smallish breasts.
A Celtic design tattoo that looked under construction was visible on her upper chest.
The black ripped jeans did nothing for her, though.
She had those slate-grey eyes that go with those who like to watch. Her tongue teasing her lips revealed her inner stud piercing.
A tongue stud that liked the action, Mike decided.
It was the third one who invited the boys to sit with them.
All just munching and chatting.
There was plenty to discuss, such as tats, piercings, and hairstyles.
The guys running a conservative last with a minor tat each from when their rugby team won the pennant two years ago.
No piercings on the boys and straight, clean haircuts.
Jazlyn — Ms. Blue Streaks — didn't mince words and invited the boys back to their place for drinks.
Ravyn, with her black lips and red hair, took Pete on her tattooed arm, and Bonny grabbed Mike, giving him a close-up view of plenty of metal and those baby blues.
It was punk décor overload in their smallish, dark inner city apartment lounge, a mixture of dimness and brash brazen colours and inane sort of lurid, sexy, gothic, Vampish lesbian posters on the walls.
More importantly, the top-shelf booze supply was regular, heavy and direct.
The girls liked their vodka.
These girls could outdrink any male company. The remainder of the night was possibly at this drinking rate on the way to a drunken blur within twenty minutes.
However, the direction changed when Ravyn invited Pete back to the kitchen.
His cock was out of his pants and was being massaged by black leather finger gloves before he was through the door. It was a sexy turn-on sensation for Pete.
Her wet tongue was in his mouth, searching out his tongue, teasing, teasing and definitely pleasing.
This babe could kiss.
She was exciting.
Her black lips were alluring. This was the full lip-locking.
Then, she traced the entire outline of Pete's lips with the tip of her wet tongue. She suckled and nibbled his lower lip.
Meanwhile, that soft leather glove and exposed fingertips were working a massage treat as his cock hit full erect.
It was tongue-chasing tongue; she was flirting with her tongue, and hell, she was good.
She had worked Pete's pants and boxers off and had him on a kitchen chair.
Ravyn straddled him, and he was aware she was down to her birthday suit, too, and she was a commando girl under her black jeans.
She took Pete's tongue in her mouth and fucking sucked on it.
He nearly lost his load below; shit, the control, the tempo, the passion —what was his cock in for?
He couldn't wait.
Her lips were open, pressing hard on his lips; she guided his hand below; it was shaved delight and fuck, her wet lips were parted already, she had labia to spare, and he spread them around between his fingers and then went in, three fingers and deep.
"Ugh! Ugh!"
She really liked it.
Her moaning told him so.
Then their mouths were furious French, carnal and instinctive, fevered with delight.
Then Ravyn arched back. She was hungry for pussy action. Then she was hunched forward and bit his shoulder. She scratched his back hard as Pete's finger fucked her rapidly.
Then, unreal, the unexpected experience for Pete, she ejaculated. It was a creamy cloudy white substance he had only seen in porn, and it was thick, wet and sticky.
He looked at it on his fingers. Ravyn guided his fingers into his mouth, inviting Pete to taste her.
It crossed his mind as a silly thought that it would be punkish—whatever that meant—but no, it tasted sweet and salty together; it tasted of Ravyn, the woman he was with.
Ravyn was down, taking head.
This was superior head.
She wanted cock in her mouth. She believed cock belonged in her mouth. Some girls give head because their man wants it.
Ravyn gave head because she loved head.
And knew her man of the moment wanted it.
She used her tongue and lips as a team. However, most impressive was the ease with which she took the whole pecker in.
As it came in and out, she had her tongue gliding along the shaft. Her lips alternated perfectly between tender at the tip and firm at the base. She must have been male in a previous life.
She understood how a male wanted head.
She had the rhythm that was Pete's wanking rhythm — how the fuck did she know.
Ravyn had the creative touch, too: relaxing the gobble to tease the balls with generous slurpy licks. She upped the ante by gripping the base of Pete's shaft with her hand while sucking leisurely up and down. It was intensely enjoyable, and he wanted to return the compliment on her pussy post haste.
Ravyn wanted pussy action.
She gave Pete pussy attraction.
Standing up in front of him and just spreading the goods.
Ravyn might have the shaved red hair, but she was a brunette; pubes don't lie unless dyed.
She had a cute tight trim. Feminine and eye drawing.
Nicely shaved around her open puffy vulva. Her clithood was full and fleshy. Her labia were openly prominent, very full and tapered to caress each other at her base.
She knew she was cute where guys wanted to focus.
Ravyn liked the first touch; she anticipated it. It was a harbinger of delights of long selfish nights, and she wanted to be filled in pleasure by another.
He was on his knees between Ravyn's thighs, holding her hood back and exposing her cute petite clit. He went at it hard and fast, the true male jackhammer.
Ravyn would have fallen over if it hadn't been for the wall behind her.
Shit, he was at it like he wanted to drill right through her. Intense can be great, but it can also irritate some girls and kill the mood.
She wanted it to start slowly, like a jaywalk on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Luckily, Bonny came into the kitchen.
Erect cock turned Bonny on quicker than a dart reaching a bullseye. Open, appealing girly pussy came a close second.
Playing with herself —rounded out her top three.
She was taking in Ravyn's pretty known shape, though she hadn't been invited near it for about a week.
She realised she missed it as soon as she saw it. She knew she wanted it. More importantly for Ravyn, she knew her tempo steps, her incline to personal pleasure.
However, the night was young, and Bonny chose to double up, now giving Pete her pussy from behind, one foot up with her leg spread on a chair. At the same time, she bent over into her flatmate's shapely flesh, her tongue working leisurely wet and lingering with intent.
Ravyn was in a trance of self-pleasure now.
Pete was so excited experiencing his first girl-on-girl action, his first threesome; his tongue was flicking into Bonny's juice box as quick as a hummingbird beat its wings.
Luck was with him; Bonny really, really liked this.
She thought it was fantastic; she had never gotten sloppily seeping wet so quickly.
She had small, crinkly labia that stayed creased like the skin of a raisin. They were rich, deep pink with edges of mauve darkness from the inner skin where her labia crinkled at their cute defining boundaries. However, her body as a whole was generously pale.
Bonny was into the sexual visual.
She liked to see genitals being pleased.
Bonny liked to see herself being pleased.
She broke the action between Ravyn's legs, the long tease before the sustained soft building to climax would begin.
She took a long stare down between her own legs, catching Pete's rapid tongue flicks over her sweetmeats; she was caught temporarily in the excitement being generated between her own legs.
Wow, it felt good.
He was fast and somehow kept up the speed.
God knows how his tongue didn't need a rest.
Pete didn't know either; he was so excited, and he could tell she was climbing to a rich orgasm fast. He just held the pace, tongue fucking her now, like a teenage boy has an erection seemingly forever.
"Ughh! Oohh! Orrgghh"
Bonny hit a prolonged orgasm. It was pure pleasure. Her vaginal muscles contracted, and she peaked in spiky intense waves of involuntary spasms of sexual joy.
She couldn't continue working Ravyn to her climax.
Ravyn looked into Bonny's blue eyes and saw them dilate; she saw her girlfriend's face contort between a look of intense ache and absolute, unbridled, unrestrained pleasure.
She saw Bonny internalise it and dissolve into her sensual self as the coursing secondary waves fed through her.
Ravyn knew it would become one of Bonny's memorable climaxes, and she was happy for her friend.
Pete just grabbed her thighs tighter and kept going.
He was addicted to Bonny's pleasure.
He wanted her to keep the pleasure or get there again.
She was leaking steadily, she was beyond wet, and her pussy was slutty. Not in the pejorative sense, her pussy was just beautifully sexually slutty. Pete went to her clit, sucking it in one long motion.
Bonny felt a surge of super sensitiveness localised in her rigid bud. It held there for a second or two, so blindingly pleasurable, she quivered at the thighs; she had the flashing explosive second orgasm, clitorally concentrated, her sexual energy channelled in her pussy, then released, exploding out like a pole dancer dropping suddenly to a split stretch at the end of a live performance.
"Hhnngghh!"
She moaned deep and loud. It was genuine.
No fake —oh yeah, baby — crap here.
She was happy; she was beyond happy with herself, and Pete didn't know it yet, but he would get regular sessions between her legs soon.
Intense sexual self-interest unknowingly awakens a deeper human searching for spiritual centeredness.
Bonny didn't fully realise it, but she had detoured from self-abasement and self-disparagement to nurturing her self-esteem through another.
As they relaxed, there was repeated clapping behind them.
Bonny, Pete, and Ravyn had been so self-absorbed in pleasure production that they didn't realise they had an audience: Jazlyn and Mike.
Ravyn had got sweet enjoyment from Bonny's efforts in and around her pussy. Still, she was fully aware her girlfriend had pleasure plateaued with Pete.
She saw the longing in Bonny's eyes.
Bonny wanted, no, Bonny needed, Pete's cock now and tomorrow.
Ravyn knew her girlfriend had the eyes of love.
Pete, too, was taking in more than her baby blues with the deep dark mascara and her outlandish barbell bridge piercing.
He couldn't quite make sense of her entirely, but he wanted to explore her as a person; he was well past the vacant-minded Glover girls.
He felt a connection with Bonny that was great sex and more.
Her eyes said; —Fuck me, please, not Ravyn.
He didn't realise his own eyes said nearly the same to Bonny — I really want to just fuck you, not another woman, just you.
Bonny had her man.
Bonny and Pete embraced in a profound, sensual lover's kiss.
Ravyn realised their threesome was now a couple.
So, she took in Jazlyn and Mike, who had started heavy sexual petting. No romantic kissing rubbish here.
Mike was fingering vigorously inside Jazlyn's lacey blue panties while she massaged his cock.
He then had her up on the kitchen bench, legs spread really wide, fingering her flappy labia.
Lips that Ravyn knew well.
He was massaging her clithood in a circular motion. Ravyn's fingers found her own clit in a similar motion as she self-pleasured.
Jaz was moaning, a regular intense, "Ooh awh! Oh, aww! Awh!"
Mike broke the clit dominated moment with powerful deep, three-digit fingering.
Her vagina was aching for pleasure, and Mike went down for the cavernous sensuous licking and sucking out of Jaz's flaps, then briefly nibbling her clit and finally a lengthy poking of his tongue inside the wetness of her vagina.
"Harder," Jaz demanded, "Make me cum. I want to cum hard".
She came with a strong repeated, "Ooh, ooh, yes."
She positioned herself doggy on the bench, and Mike took her there.
He did the cock tease around her wet glistening wings of flesh, spread in open anticipation of greedy self-fulfilment. Mike was all lust as his cock played with her labia, exciting himself and her.
Then he was in.
He watched himself penetrate a goddamn beautiful shaved pussy. It was shaped in the fleshy clench, fully holding his cock, her elastic flesh moving in and out with his cock.
He could see it grip and clutch.
He could hear Jaz's enjoyment as he went slowly deep, then slowly out, repeatedly.
"Oh yeah…mmm…oh yeah…. deeper…oh yeah…oh yeah…"
Then he went faster, searching for his own orgasm.
Jaz was now louder, with the "Mmm, ah fuck …yes…fuck me…"
Jaz was pushing back onto Mike's cock, and Mike was in really deep and fast now.
Jaz was close to a second orgasm and got her own fingers back between her legs as well, and she was in rapid breathing, the "Ah, Ah, Ah" territory.
She came hard again.
Mike didn't know how he lasted.
God, her pussy was sensationally cute as it gripped and pleased him. It was the basic pleasure principle of pussy and cock combined, but what a great combination at the moment. She was one hot woman when pumping cock was in her.
Jaz's face held the flush of orgasm, but she wanted more warmth in her face.
She wanted his full spray in her open mouth.
Mike had never seen a woman so compelling and sure that she wanted semen in her gob.
She held his throbbing meat and teased it till she felt the tense jerking wave. She was the perfect female wide receiver, and Mike's juice was slotted home in her wide mouth, wave after spasmed wave, with nothing missed or allowed to stray. Her tongue then gathered the flecks on his glans.
Man, I thought Mike, I've never had a swallower; he was impressed by Jaz. His cock was also still reflecting on her hot sexy impressive pussy.
However, a sensationally surprising and lasting impression was about to occur.
Ravyn, who had been masturbating against the bench through their fuckfest moved to kiss Jaz.
Mike thought this was superbly hot.
Girl on girl, buried in each other's face, but the snowballing caught him by surprise.
Jaz shared his spunk with Ravyn, dribbling the thick globs into her open mouth. The last strand hung like a suspension bridge before Ravyn took that deftly with her long tongue. Ravyn swirled the warm mixture in her mouth, then shared half with Jaz.
While Mike and Jaz were at it, Bonny was down on her knees, sucking Pete's cock.
She would look up for affirmation in his eyes. He was signalling all was well here. She held his cock in her hand whilst giving head.
Stroking and sucking simultaneously.
Enrapt in Pete's cock.
Then she up and bending over.
Pete knew what she wanted and happily gave it to Bonny, sensing she was already his girl.
Bonny embraced his generous girth.
Pete was unstinting and unsparing in giving, giving Bonny his cock, because Bonny wanted his cock.
She was so wet; he was sliding in and out like a perfectly oiled piston. Bonny clenched her pussy muscles to give back to this mutual pleasure. It was awesome shared, humping and pumping.
Pete then sat on a chair and gently directed Bonny to join him, facing him. She plunged eagerly onto his cock, luxuriating in its depth inside her. She wriggled her butt to dispense a different pleasure to Pete's still-firm meat. Pete kissed and fondled her smallish breasts, and Bonny, for the first time in her life, wasn't self-conscious of their size or slightly sagging shape. Pete took them in as perfect breasts for him — they were Bonny's breasts.
They were locked together through their genitals but cognisant of more. With each reciprocated thrust and shake of a booty, the awareness grew of shared pleasure-seeking for the two; pleasures' random direction became pleasure actualisation for the two. They both wanted each other to orgasm as a partner.
Self orgasm was lost in the wish for partner orgasm.
And in a rare instance, nature played fair, and it was a doubly shattering, almost synchronised climax for the pair of new lovers.
Bonny came with a long wave of prickly intense body-filling sensations of pure female delight, caught and understood by all in the room, with a high-pitched, "Ohh".
As Bonny experienced the cascading ripples of plateauing orgasm, she felt Pete's cock stiffen and jerk; she embraced the warmth flooding into her, and it mixed with the already welling warmth inside her.
They kissed and kissed again.
Lost in each other.
Both were equally unaware of the performance sex completed in the room at basically the same time.
As they all dressed and had another drink, Mike was arranging to meet Jaz at a pub the next night.
He was thinking she would like it in her arse; he could have gone there tonight, he realised after seeing the snowballing girls.
Jaz was actually thinking she wanted to see Ravyn get it in the arse. Ravyn was planning on getting Mike to invite a mate; she needed a good double penetration after missing out on filling her backdoor tonight.
Both Jaz and Rav knew where Bonny would be — doing it.
In her own room, privately — how dull!
She had jumped to intimacy.
They were both essentially correct.
As Pete and Bonny just held each other, Bonny realised for the first time that sex could combine her powerful needs, also instil gentleness into herself and radiate out empathy for another.
On this evening, she became a one-man girl.
Pete had changed, too; he couldn't see Bonny as a Punk, and she was his woman already.
She was a woman first.
Punk was only her current exterior choice.
She was a vulnerable young woman who wanted him, really liked him, and he desired her.
One day, Pete knew he would sarcastically thank Tiffany Worthington for changing his life unexpectedly and for the better on this fantastic night.
The seemingly stood up; phones filched in the night club, and sexually frustrated Glover sisters hit very quickly on these two huge guys just standing around confused outside the entrance to — The Pump Room.
Baz and Boof just obeyed as they were commanded in the girl's bedrooms; to arse shaft the two women they were with — repeatedly and in the filthiest ways possible — through a long night of pressingly exasperated slutty backdoor sex with the Glover girls.
A nonplussed Tiffany Worthington, who couldn't locate her Baz, had to make do with her vibrator and a chic flick on that particular Friday night.