Author’s Note: It’s been a long time since this story started, inspired by a prompt from Besos de Cuero. I haven’t given up on the story yet, it’s meandering toward some kind of climax.
The previous episode is here.
“Tell me about your day,” Elie said, sipping his red wine.
We were in a dim, cozy restaurant not far from his flat. The aromas of roasting meat and spices tickled my nostrils. I wore a sleek, black dress that we’d bought today during the naked shopping trip. I was naked under the dress, my nipples tight and obvious through the thin fabric. I was high as a kite after the joint Elie and I had smoked, and more than a little tipsy from the sweet wine in my glass. Was this my third? I couldn’t remember.
I smiled mischievously. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened,” I said.
“You are lying,” he said, grinning back.
“Tell me everything,” he said, leaning in. I caught my breath. He was so attractive, and there was something about him that was… different. A hint of command in his voice that made me shiver in my very core.
I took my time, letting the story of my day spin into the fragrant night air like an erotic web. My voice was soft so he had to lean close to hear me. Elie was very attentive, as if every word I spoke nourished him. As I told him the story, wet heat bloomed between my thighs. He was especially interested in my feelings.
“Did you enjoy being bared in front of everyone?” he said.
“Yes,” I gasped, taking a mouthful of wine, letting it roll over my tongue.
His gaze was unwavering.
“Tell me, Tara — how far can I push you?”
My tummy twisted with a fearful excitement. What did he have in mind?
“I don’t… I’m not sure.” I blushed.
“You have so much potential,” he said. “For pleasure.”
Ah, I flooded at the tone of surety in his deep voice.
“I’m intrigued,” I said, cocking my head coyly. “What did you have in mind?”
“I would rather show you than tell you,” he said. “Will you trust me?”
“Yes,” I said. I’d already decided to trust him.
“Good. There is a theatre I’d like to visit with you. Will you be my date?”
“Of course. Am I dressed okay?”
“Don’t worry about what to wear,” he said.
We ate a meal dripping with sweet and spice, chicken so tender it was like dessert, sauce so luxurious that I lost myself in the savor. I was heady with wine and sensuality. We took our time, laughing and talking. I told him intimate details I never thought I’d share with anyone, and he listened with the utmost attentiveness. I felt like a goddess when I was around him. I wondered what he saw in me?
After dinner, we strolled through town. The breeze up my skirt was refreshing on my bare ass. I felt free and uninhibited, not to mention drunk. We passed a fountain and I pulled my black dress off over my head, squealing as the cold water ran over my skin and tightened my nipples. I was thrilled by the small crowd of onlookers that gathered to watch the bare American playing in the fountain.
Elie chuckled at me as I stepped, dripping, from the marble pool.
“Well, now you’ve got to dry,” he said.
My teeth chattered, but the night was warm and soon enough I was dry enough that I could slip my dress back over my head. We’d attracted a small following of men (and a few women) capturing videos and pics of me, or just taking the opportunity to stare and comment. A young man with his friends approached as I pulled my dress on.
“Beautiful,” he said with a thick accent. “You are, your breasts, very nice.”
His attention made me feel absolutely giddy. I knew I was out of control, and I savored the feeling.
“Thanks,” I smiled. I pulled down the straps of my dress, popping my breasts out for him to see. I laughed at how his eyes widened, his gaze immediately on my chest. His friends, five or six strapping young men, surrounded us. Elie took a few steps back, seemingly interested in seeing what I would do.
“Kiss them,” I said, pinching my sensitive nipples.
“Ah?” the young man said. His friends exchanged comments in another language.
“Suck them,” I said, squeezing my breasts and making kissing sounds with my lips. I glanced at Elie, worried that he might disapprove, but he looked amused.
The young man leaned in tentatively. He cupped my breast, giving it a gentle squeeze, and then dipped his lips to my nipple. He sucked the tender bit of flesh and I let out a sigh, and then took more of my soft tit in his mouth. His friends closed in around me after the initial ice was broken, their hands all over me suddenly, jockeying to get my nipples in their lips. Hands groped and squeezed, caressed my abdomen, and then lower. They were eager and prying, excited by the strange thrill of a willing foreign woman. It was overwhelming: the sucking of my tits, a man kissing my mouth and then another, and then a third, someone tugging my dress down, hands prying between my thighs and cupping my ass. Fingers sought my holes ungently. I let out a little cry.
“Okay, it’s enough boys,” Elie said, his voice firm.
They lads reluctantly peeled off of me. A few more moments and I wondered what would have happened? They would have fucked me, certainly. I could see their boners awkwardly bulging. My heart raced. I wouldn’t have said no, but here we were in a public street. I pulled up my dress, blushing with lust and a thrilling embarassment. The crowd of onlookers had only grown. They seemed to love this show I was putting on. I wondered what the point of the dress was at this point?
“Very nice, lady,” the young man said. “Can we visit you… later? Maybe we, you know…”
I glanced at Elie. He arched his eyebrows at me, challenging me. “That’s up to you,” he said softly in my ear.
“Give me your number,” I said to him, wondering what the hell I was thinking.
“Well, what has gotten into you tonight?” Elie mused as we walked away.
“Nothing has gotten into me all day,” I said, laughing. “That’s the problem.”
He smiled. “Trust me, I’ll eventually give you everything that you want. Isn’t it more fun to wait?”
I was thrumming. “Yes,” I admitted, practically skipping with pent-up energy. “I’m having the most fun today.”
He took me by the hand and led me to an alley. At the end of the alley was a little red door. Elie knocked and the door opened. The woman wore a pair of gold panties though her generous breasts were bare, and her skin sparkled with gold glitter. Her eyeshadow was shimmering gold as well, but her hair was jet black and perfectly straight. I tried not to stare. She smiled at me as we entered, and rested her hand briefly on my forearm.
“Welcome,” she said softly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for here.”
Elie led me into a darkened club. It was like a theatre, except there were no seats. The audience stood and mingled. Many were in some state of undress, or wearing outlandish fashions (I saw a woman dressed as a mermaid). Some seemed to be wearing lingerie. I saw a grass skirt and coconut bra and a man in a medieval suit of armor, except the codpiece was missing and instead he displayed his cock and balls. Loud music was playing and everyone was drinking.
“I thought you said this was a theatre?” I said, speaking loudly over the music.
“The show hasn’t started yet,” he said.
Elie seemed to know many of these people. He mingled, keeping me close to him and introducing me politely to everyone. He bought me another drink.
The music stopped and the crowd cheered. A man walked out of the audience and up on stage. He was handsome and eccentric — platinum blond hair accented with black eye shadow. He wore a bright blue bodysuit, like the ones that swimmers wear. Once the applause died down, he began to peel himself out of the suit, finally standing naked. He stood proudly, with eyes closed. I gazed at his naked physique. He was gorgeous.
Music with a heavy beat began to swell. The man parted his legs and put his palms together like he was praying. He stretched toward the sky until his body made an “A”. His cock hung heavily, his erection beginning to swell along with the beat. I was fascinated by the lean strength in his torso as he reached for heaven.
A woman stepped out of the audience and climbed up on stage. She was thin and gorgeous, with silky black hair. She wore a pink bodysuit just like his. She stood in front on him and peeled herself out of her clothing. When she was naked there was some applause from the audience. Her breasts rose and fell with her breath. I could see her excitement from where I stood, and it excited me, too.
She stood in front of the man, spread her legs, and bent at the waist, holding her ankles. Her hair trailed on the floor. I was amazed by her flexibility, she must be a yogi, I thought. She held that pose, perfectly still. She let her hips rest gently against his in such a way that her pussy was inevitably against his genitals.
The music continued to grind, but those two held their pose like statues. I couldn’t imagine how much strength it must take to keep those postures. Then, after many minutes, I noticed that she had begun to move her hips imperceptibly. She let go of her ankles and with agonizing slowness — such core strength! — she also reached for the sky. But she did not put her palms together as the man had done. Instead, she made a “V” with her arms. Now I could see the man’s erection between her legs, pressed against her flesh. An erotic thrill raced through my body.
The man began to move his hips, slow as molasses. His rock-hard cock pressed upward against her pussy. She held perfectly still, arms upheld and eyes closed. It seemed like forever (I suppose it was ten minutes), but he kept his perfectly even and languorous pace. Never once did he falter, or thrust faster, or show any signs that he was intensely aroused — except that his erection was magnificently fierce. Now I could see it glisten as it slid between her folds, dripping with her moisture. I was dripping, too. I couldn’t remember ever being so horny.
I marveled at his control. I knew he must want to penetrate her, to ease his lust in her flesh. She was so wet his cock would meet no resistence. But he was like a robot, unmoved. I was the opposite, practically jumping out of my skin with the need for an orgasm.
Then, out of nowhere, the man came. His cock emerged between her thighs and spurted. The cum shot prodigiously far. A gasp of delight and applause rose from the audience. I was amazed at how intensely this man ejaculated. Yet he never stopped, never slowed, and no moan escaped either him or her during the entire performance. After a minute or two, the man stepped away from the woman and squeezed back into his bodysuit. The woman still stood with her arms and legs spread, eyes closed, perfectly still.
I watched her, entranced. The music changed. A deep bass shuddered through the stage, so low that I could feel it more than hear it. She didn’t move, but I could see her body reacting. It was as though she was experiencing extreme arousal, although there was nothing I could see that stimulated her. Her chest was flushed, as were her cheeks, and her nipples jutted. I could see from here that she was soaking wet, glistening with lust. She never moved, but I could sense the tension winding up inside of her. I could see the extreme discipline she was using to hold still.
The bass dropped and she came. It was… incredible. No one touched her and she barely moved. She never cried out. Her body quivered only slightly. But the energy washing over her was almost palpable. I thought I could feel her orgasm ripple out through the audience. Her face was stoic with barely a twitch of her lips, but her pussy gushed, moisture trickling down her legs. And then the amazing thing happened. I let out a gasp, and then a sharp cry, as I felt the spasms of a sudden spontaneous orgasm ripple through me. Even as I was briefly consumed by the pleasure I heard other women coming all around me.
I sucked in a deep breath. I’d never come in such a way before and I was staggered. Elie propped me up since my knees had gone weak.
“What was that?” I gasped when I had breath again.
“An orgasm,” he said.
“You think so.” His smile was infuriating.
There were other acts. I was morbidly fascinated. A woman sat on a dildo so fat it seemed impossible and channeled an ancient Egyptian spirit. She didn’t look human after she was “possessed”. Of course, I didn’t believe any of it, but it was still amazing to witness. If she was faking it, she was an excellent actor. The demon worked her into a frenzy, fucking the dildo with a fury. I almost couldn’t watch, appalled at how deeply — and roughly — she took the wide tool. It must’ve been painful. By the end she shuddered and climaxed, and her orgasm seemed to jettison the spirit from her body. She crumpled to the stage. I thought she was dead, until with a great gasp her eyes popped open. She took a bow and solemnly walked off the stage. Shivers ran up and down my spine.
A skinny woman with no breasts and a bare pussy blew a skinny man with a tiny penis. When he was fiercely erect, she stopped sucking and jerked his little cock until he came. Immediately after, she went down on him again and in no time, he was hard again. Again she jerked him until he spurted and once again she went down. Each time he came the audience clapped a little louder. His face twisted with a kind of pain I’d never seen. It aroused me even as it unsettled me. Over and over she made him come. I lost count at a dozen times. He kept going, seeming to have no trouble repeating, no more than two minutes between ejaculations. His tiny cock was bright red and stiff as a nail, and the titless woman milked him until he could bear no more.
Then the tiny woman took all fours and a lineup of men fucked her while her partner watched. The men all wore peculiar masks with feathers and horns. I don’t know how many men penetrated her, but one after another they took her from behind, filling her with their cum until it ran down her legs. Her nipples were amazingly plump and stiff on her otherwise flat chest. When the last man had finished she straddled her partner’s face — the one with the small cock. He eagerly lapped at her pussy as if it were his favorite treat, and she came hard on his face, shrieking and shuddering. The man’s cock was intensely erect the entire time. I loved watching the flush cover her chest as she smothered the man with her cum-dripping pussy.
It was a night of bizarre sexuality. I’d never imagined anything like it. The sights and sounds unsettled me, but I was also deeply aroused. It was like watching some pagan rite from the ancient past, or a sexual circus.
I took Elie’s hand. I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach his ear.
“Please take me home and fuck me,” I said.
He smiled. “I’ll take you home.”
The story is continued in Part 14.