Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 06

Synopsis: In the last chapter, Jim and Bette accepted an invitation to a weekend swing party. The party continues:

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Bridget grinned at me. "I do love to pet a man's bum, I do," she said in her lilting accent. She was lushly, gloriously, naked. She happily crawled up my body and offered her right breast to my mouth. "Is this what you wanted, then?" she asked.

"Yes, dear," I said, "but let me catch my breath, first. That little girl drained me."

"Yes, she does that," Bridget agreed. "I'll just be getting a drink. Would you like something?"

"Yes, I would. How about a bourbon-water?"

"Coming right up," the redhead said cheerfully. As she stood and undulated toward the bar in the kitchen, I admired the erotic play of muscles in her buttocks. Briefly, I wondered why Steve and Carol had tracked us down and brought us to their party. Having seen the video, I was sure this was no coincidence.

My questions were shelved as I saw what appeared to be a mass of approaching humanity; a rolling orgy composed of a dozen or more moving, stroking, sucking, kissing, licking, fucking humans.

The group grope was moving amoeba-like in my direction. Corrine, naked now like everyone else, reached me first. She was crawling around the edge of the group, trying to work her way into the center of that writhing mass. She crawled over my extended legs, lifting her heavy breasts over my thighs. "Do you mind?" she asked politely before she slurped my cock into her incredibly hot, sweet mouth.

Her tongue gently caressed my pudendum, the sensitive underside of my cock's glans, while her tightly circled lips, lubricated with crimson lipstick, attempted to stimulate my spent cock.

"Jesus, that feels good," I said. "Where did you learn to do that?" She started to respond, and I immediately regretted asking the question.

"I wish you wouldn't blaspheme," primly came from a two- headed creature on my immediate right. I looked more closely, and saw that two heads were focused on the same rampant erection, and I realized that Jennie Sofer and a man with red toenails were both blowing Tod. Getting into the spirit of things, I slipped my right index finger into Jennie's womanhood, and ran my left hand over someone's bottom on my other side. But my attention was concen trated on Corrine and the world-class head she was giving me. "Whatever it is you're doing, don't stop," I pleaded, "we can talk about it later."

A smooth female thigh slid across my face and a ripe, swollen vagina settled on my mouth. The combination of the ripe, musky, female who was rubbing her swollen cleft up and down my face, and Corrine's inspired and practiced fellatio created combined sensations that pushed me over the edge. Suddenly, much to my surprise, I erupted again.

The woman crouching over me began to come at the same moment. The fluids gushed out of her, and poured down my chin to my neck and the floor. She swung her thigh off my head, and turned around, her breasts brushing my left arm. "Oh, that was good," she whispered, as she kissed my cheek. "Let's get together later." She stood up, and I watched the light reflecting from her golden hair, as she walked away. I had no idea who she was.

The itch had been scratched. The celebrants slowly untangled themselves, or gave a few last pushes and shoves, and stood up or just crawled away. I stayed where I was and closed my eyes.

"Oh, there you are!"

I opened an eye. Bridget and Bette were standing over me, giving me a wonderful view of two beautiful mons, one covered by a cascade of red hair, the other clean shaven.

"Where am I? Did anybody get the license number?" I croaked.

The girls laughed. "Come on, sport,"Bette said, "We're counting on you."

"Write me a letter next year," I said, eyes tightly closed.

"Stand back, girls," another woman's voice commanded. "I've seen this condition before, and I know how to cure it. Watch closely."

I wondered what was going to happen next. Suddenly, I felt a thousand tiny, almost imperceptible teasing/tickling sensations on my chest, stomach, over my genitals and down my thighs. I peeked through slitted eyes to see Carol brushing her hair over my body.

"Is that what you call a hair job?" Bette asked.

"Call it what you like," Carol replied, "it never fails."

I didn't believe it was possible, but my poor, abused member was actually trying to sit up.

"Enough, all ready," I said. "I'm going for a swim."

I climbed awkwardly to my feet, holding Bette's arm for my balance. "Why don't you come with me?" I asked, holding her arm.

She read something serious in my expression because her face suddenly grew still. "I guess I'd better," she said. She leaned over and kissed Bridget on the mouth and pinched her nipple. "See you in a little while, love," she said.

Hand in hand, we went out to the pool and jumped into the water at the shallow end. "What's going on?" I asked.

"It's a long story," Bette said. "Much too long to go into here; I'll tell you on the way home or the first time we have a little privacy and won't be interrupted. Can you trust me and concentrate on having a good time for just a little longer? I promise that we're both OK."

Well, you either trust someone or you don't. Bette hadn't always been completely candid with me, but neither had I with her.

I sighed. Then I grinned at her. "OK. If you say it's all right, that's good enough for me for now."

Her reaction surprised me. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Jim," she said, throwing her arms around me, and giving me a hug and a kiss. "You won't be sorry."

We strolled back into the house. It was hard to for me to believe that barely fifteen minutes earlier, these quiet, restrained people standing around the kitchen had been rolling and thrashing around on the floor in orgastic ecstacy, indiscriminately fucking and sucking as if the world were ending.

Tod Benson, now looking like an obscene Santa Claus, given the combination of his tousled white hair, sagging belly and a pudgy little circumcised cock peeking from between his heavy legs, was talking to Jane, and her son, Blair.

I glanced at a woman I hadn't seen before, noting her blonde hair, solid frame, and chunky breasts, wondering if it was she who had ejaculated all over my face. I didn't think so, although I couldn't be sure.

I looked around to see if there were other blondes in the room. Debby Longtree caught my glance and smiled encouragingly.

She struck me as one of those unfortunate women who look better with their clothes on. Somehow, naked, she seemed gawky and awkward. Perhaps I'm prejudiced against tall women; I don't know. But I was sure Debby was not my mystery woman. I deliber ately looked away.

I told Bette about my strange encounter with the mysterious blonde. I asked her if it could have been one of the women I hadn't yet met. Bette shrugged her shoulders, and pointed to a small woman with sharp features, black hair and startlingly conical breasts.

"That's Barb Adams," she said. "She's not a blonde, but I don't think you've met her."

Blonde or not, Barb Adams looked interesting. Just then, Carol joined us briefly and took Bette away. I decided to meet Barb Adams.

I approached her. "Hi," I said, "I'm Jim Bromfield. I don't think we've met."

She smiled and extended her hand.

Despite my years of swinging experience, I have never learned what to do with my eyes when shaking hands with a naked woman.

She sensed my embarrassment and laughed. "Go ahead and look," she said. "I did plenty of looking myself as you walked over here. I like the way you dangle and swing to and fro."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "I guess there's a special etiquette that covers situations like this. I just don't know what it is."

"I don't think any of us do," she said. Then she greeted her husband, a stocky man with thinning brown/gray hair and a pleasant grin, who appeared through the doorway. "George, this is Jim Bromfield. I think you've already met his wife."

I stuck out my hand. He gripped it. "It's good to meet you, Jim," he said, "welcome to the Club."

"Is this a regular organization?" I asked, feeling stupid that I even had to ask such a question.

"Oh." George turned to his wife. "Did I say something out of turn?" he asked.

Barb shrugged. I just love it when naked women do that. "He'll find out sooner or later. We might as well tell him." she said.

"You tell him," George said. "Jane's ditched her kid; I'm going to see if I can grab her before he comes back." He turned and walked away.

Barb shook her head. "You'll have to excuse George," she said. "He lusts after that old bitch, and once in a while he gets lucky, but when her boy sees him coming, he doesn't have a chance."

George's love life was of no interest to me. My present circumstances were. "What the hell's going on, Barb?" I asked.

"Let's go out in the kitchen and fix a drink, then find a quiet place where we can talk," she replied.

We got our drinks and went out to the pool. I sat on the diving board. She stood in front of me at first, then sat next to me.

"I've been around Satin Studios since before the Rollinses bought it, but even I don't know everything that's going on. Only Steve and Carol do." She paused, lost in thought.

"But first, let me say that there's nothing sinister or illegal going on here, except maybe a little coke or a puff of grass. The sort of thing you might find at any Hollywood party." She paused again. "I don't want to give the wrong impression, but the reason this party is a little wilder than some is because Steve and Carol are in the wild and wooly end of the entertainment business. They sell sex for a living."

"Carol writes and directs, and Steve produces porno films. These parties, for them, are part fun and part business. The film you saw tonight was a sneak preview. Carol and Steve taped the audience reaction and will add and delete scenes according to the way they were received by what must be the most jaded collection of blue movie critics on earth."

She paused to let me absorb this; then she went on. "As I said, they're in the sex business. Most of the people here perform either on camera, behind the camera, or behind the scenes raising money, pushing the product; you know, all the grimy bullshit that this business -- any movie business -- seems to require.These parties are partly `thank you', partly letting off steam, and partly business. It's the business part that I don't like."

Surprised by the sudden vehemence in her voice, I looked up and saw tears glistening in her eyes. "What do you mean?" I asked quietly.

"Well, the business part comes in two flavors. Carol uses these parties to develop scripts. How do people behave in certain circumstances? What turns you on? In short, she uses these parties like a living laboratory. I don't mind that. It's the other that bothers me."

"What do you mean `the other'?"

"OK. Say Steve is in New York trying to raise a million big ones. He's talking to the money people. The money guy has his pen in one hand and his checkbook in the other. He looks up at Steve, and says, 'I'm going to be out on the Coast next week. You suppose you could arrange a little party with some of your starlets?' Do you think Steve or any other producer will say no?

"That's why the Club was formed. Steve can put together a party while other producers are still picking up the phone. It's just that every now and then, my scruples jump up and bite me. I don't mind fucking on camera; I just don't like tricking to buy the film."

Barb jumped up. "Let's get something to eat. All this talking is making me hungry."

She had given me a lot to think about.

I begged off. I wanted to stay by myself for a little while, and to try to think through what was beginning to seem like a very complicated situation that obviously had much to do with Bette, and possibly with me.

I was confused. On the one hand, my noble side was telling me that my mama didn't raise no whore, and to get my pants on and get the hell out, while my practical side was asking when was the last time I was surrounded by so much willing world class nooky? I knew this was a moral issue that I couldn't and shouldn't try to resolve in fifteen minutes, because if I did, any decision I made would probably be wrong.

A shadowy figure came out of the house and glided toward me. At first I thought it was Bette, but as the woman came closer, I realized she was a stranger. I also realized she was a blonde.

"Hi," she said, "I told you we'd get together later."

"Hi yourself," I said, "what do people call you?"

"Ah, my friends call me Sam. You may call me Sam."

"Hi, Sam."

"Barb told me she had spilled the beans, and I came to see how high your dudgeon could get."

"Let's not confuse things," I said. "It's true that Barb gave me a lot to think about; on the other hand, I didn't exactly fall off a turnip truck coming here tonight. Come over here. Let's see if my memory is playing tricks or if you really feel as good as you felt."

"OK."

Sam stepped into my arms. Her soft breasts nuzzled against my chest. She tilted her head up for a kiss. I closed my eyes, and let myself drift in her erotic embrace. An urgency began developing in my loins. I gently rubbed her bottom, stroking her smooth flanks.

Her tongue worked between my lips, and was soon exploring the inside of my mouth. We began tongue wrestling, and I nibbled on her lower lip and licked the corners of her mouth. Then I kissed her ear and ran my tongue inside. She pulled away, and began raining soft love kisses on my lips, my nose, my eyes.

"I think I'm going to like you very much, Jim Bromfield," she said softly. "Most of the men here think that foreplay means a tap on the shoulder, but after our little romp in there," she said, gesturing toward the house, "I'd say you know how to make love."

She pulled my head down and fastened her hungry open mouth to mine again for a longer, even more passionate kiss. I was becoming seriously, painfully erect, pushing myself into her soft belly. "I love this, too, Jim," she said dreamily, thrusting her mound back against me.

"I think there is another group grope developing in there," she added, "but let's stay out here and get better acquainted."

I answered her by pulling her soft warmth tightly against me, my lips and my stiffening cock pressing more urgently against her wet mouth and her voluptuous body. We were both breathing more rapidly. She took my hand and drew me into the shadows.

"The grass will feel cool, Jim. Right now, I feel hot. Feel me," she said. Holding my hand, she dropped to her knees and rolled on her side. She pulled me down next to her. Then she took my hand and placed it on her breast, then between her legs. "See what I mean?"

She was incredible. Almost uncomfortably warm to touch, yet our bodies seemed to mesh as I stroked her face, and kissed that secret place in her neck. I moved my hand gently over her breast, teasing her soft nipple with the palm of my hand. It felt as if I were giving, as well as receiving, both heat and life.

I moved my hand across her stomach, and took her nipple between my teeth, teasing it with the tip of my tongue. Then I sucked her breast deep into my mouth. I was rewarded by a sharp, ragged intake of breath.

I gathered both breasts in my hands and brought both nipples to my mouth. She was breathing much faster, now, and she began rubbing me.

I was becoming dangerously over-stimulated, so I parted her legs and rolled between them, lying out of her reach on my stomach in the cool grass, facing her shadowy delta.

Soft feminine thighs suddenly bracketed my head and a swollen labia, cushioned by a dense growth of light hair, rubbed against my nose and mouth. She was moving restlessly and her legs were opening and closing. I began kissing and nibbling the inside of first one thigh, then the other. Her slit was opening as her labia became engorged, and when I pressed my mouth wide against her opening flower, she bucked her lower torso furiously against me.

"God damn you Jim, I want that cock in me NOW!"

This was no time for smart remarks. I pulled myself up over her. Her legs were spread wide to receive me. I felt her hard little fist grip my my throbbing cock and guide it straight into her hot cunt.

"FUCK ME!" she ordered! I fucked that little woman every way I could. I banged away at one side of her vagina, then the other. I tried to hit her G spot, and rode her high to be sure I was making contact with her clitoris.

At first, she was satisfied merely to buck back against my plunging sword, but soon after we had taken each other's measure, I bunched her bent legs together against her breasts, and wrapped my arms around her, immobilizing her and forcing her to remain still while I plundered her tight, clasping tunnel by hammering myself into her. She had a few tricks of her own.

I was pounding into the final stretch; and could feel that magical moment beginning, with the familiar tongs tightening across my loins, when she thrust two fingers into my rectum. When she touched my prostate, I almost came prematurely. I began thinking baseball scores, resolutely avoiding watching her face as she squirmed and panted through a series of mini orgasms. The big one was coming and I plunged harder, deeper, and faster into her. I suddenly realized I was trying to hurt her with my plundering tool, and I began slowing, but she said, "Slam that fucking cock into my tiny hole! Do like Tod's friends do! Fuck me hard and dirty. Make me know I've been fucked!"

Rivulets of sweat were pouring off both of us, and her legs were slick. Suddenly, I felt my come begin coursing through my urethra, and I redoubled my efforts to shove my cock, my loins, my shoulders and my thighs into that tiny source of everlasting life. With a final lunge, my cock spurted again and again, bathing her womb with my seed.

As the first spurt gushed into her body, her orgasmic spasms began. I felt her belly begin to undulate. She arched her spine and opened her mouth in a silent scream. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her jaw gaped in a mock rictus.

The veins and muscles in her neck swelled, and she began to shudder. My spasms had subsided by that time, so I gripped her as tightly as I could, while her little body jerked and danced through an almost endless series of uncontrollable spasms.

Gradually she quieted like a child stops crying. I was still inside her, and I continued to hold, kiss, and caress her, helping her down the other side of what must have been a monumental orgasm.

She wiped her eyes with her fingers, and rubbed the back of her hand across her nose. She looked at me, seemingly for the first time. "I'm sorry about that," she said. "I guess I got a little carried away." She smiled.

I smiled back. "What do you do when you have a really good climax?" I asked.

"Go on," she said. "This was about as good as they get." She paused. "Now you're going to have to move. You're getting heavy."

I quickly rolled to the side, but continued to hold and caress her. She looked seriously into my face. "You better stop this," she said. "You're going to spoil me. You're supposed to get laid here, not loved."

"I know," I said, "I'm a foolish romantic, but I can't help it. Corny as it may sound, I'm always in love with the girl that I'm with. Always."

She looked at me again. "Yes," she said after a long thoughtful pause, "I think you probably are. I envy you. I wish I could say that, too, but it's time we came back to earth, Jim," she said with a sigh.

We stood up. Solemnly, she shook my hand. "Thank you for a mighty fine fuck, partner. We must do it again some time."

I followed her into the house. The party had moved else where. A few people were standing around in the kitchen eating tidbits of smoked turkey, lox, crackers and other goodies. Bridget was among them.