Flash Mob Orgy Ch. 02

This is Part 2 of the third chapter of a series. The characters were developed in FLASH MOB ORGY – Part 1. For continuity it’s best to read that part first. Once again, thanks for your votes and feedback.

Erica slowly massaged my cock and balls as we drove to her apartment. Witnessing the brief, steamy orgy in the park had excited us both to the point where we had to do something about it. For this scheming though delectable woman – a young East Indian doctor blessed with exotic looks but, like me, unburdened by conventional morals – the scene had been a clinical voyeuristic exercise. For me – a fifty-year-old, married professional who was in the midst of an affair with Ginny, my future daughter-in-law – it had been an amusing interlude that evened-out my fear of being blackmailed by Erica. The pictures of her observing those involved in the bacchanal were sufficient evidence of her salaciousness for me to use against her should she plot any betrayal.

We parked in the underground garage and took the elevator to Erica’s apartment. Closing and locking the door, she brought me a drink ofOtard cognac and went to the bathroom as I checked out her décor and books. Returning, she put on a CD of soft sounds of nature: waves splashing, trees rustling, birds chirping, etc., much to my private, cynical amusement. She went to the counter, a bar separating the kitchen from living room, and returned with another snifter of cognac and a crepe pan on which lay a little brown button that looked like the end of a small sausage. “Do you know this?” she asked, fixing me with her black eyes, as we sat on a low chaise facing a coffee table.

“Looks like opium to me,” I said, remembering some fantastic stuff I’d tried in Iran decades before.

“I am impressed with you, Jay. You have missed not much in your life,” she murmured, lighting the button with a charcoal lighter and inhaling the smoke through a cardboard tube she’d magically produced. I accepted the tube, she lit the button for me, and I drew in deeply.

Within 60 seconds the first blissful wave hit me and – remembering the drug’s profound effects – my defensive posture melted.

Simultaneously, Erica and I looked at one another, and immediately our hands became busy with undressing. There was no urgency. Her fingertips glided over my pecs to my waist, slowly peeling my polo shirt over my head. Mine ran up her arms, over her shoulders, then down to the bottom of her sports bra and stripped it free. Our nude torsos met with a buzzing sensation as it seemed our skins wished to melt together into one. She leaned toward me and I lay back, submitting with wonder to her incredible softness as her breasts flattened themselves against my grateful chest.

Then we kissed, slowly and languorously, unhurried, our senses of taste and smell pleased with the gifts we were sharing. Erica’s mouth was as sweet as fresh dew, the floral bouquet of her face and neck more intoxicating than the drug we’d just sampled. She pulled up from me and freed her ponytail, letting her thick, black hair course over my face, neck, and chest. She then moved slightly up and, looking me square in the eye, proffered a most shapely, large breast to my open mouth. Its pouting, dark-brown nipple immediately swelled with pride as I sucked it softly. She moaned, “Ohhhh, Jaaay…,” then hissed as I took more of her tit into my mouth, “Yesss…oh, yesss.” Cupping it in one hand and tweaking its nipple, I switched to the other breast, laving it similarly in response to her soft, vocal encouragement.

Then she pulled away quickly, her chest heaving, and gasped, “Oh, no…too fast, too fast.” She then stood up, revealing fully for the first time her flawless rack. Easily a C-cup, maybe a D, there was no sag. The tan skin below her clavicle swelled out above the nipples to form a magnificent ramp of flesh for each orb. The generous swells on the sides and below each one stretched around her aureoles to form, it seemed, two lush planets from another celestial constellation. They sat high on her chest, and – even in the unlit room -- shadowed the tops of two columns of well-conditioned, vertical abdominal muscles. But she had not stood up to show me her wares.

Erica fired up more opium and for a few moments we enhanced our buzz. Then she stood again and unbuttoned her pants, sliding from them like a lazy serpent, stripping to a golden, silk thong that had become moistly transparent from her excitement. I took her pants from her and sniffed the crotch lewdly, wanting to sustain myself for hours with their musky stench. As I did this, she unfastened my jeans and, pulling off my boots, quickly removed them and my underwear.

I had risen to the occasion. Her eyes devoured my proud erection, its ample stature pointing rigidly to the sky. She reached out to touch it, her breath rasping audibly through her open mouth, but I gently pushed away her hand, instead linking my thumbs in her thong and drawing it past her knees to the floor. I then brought her to me – standing -- as I sat, and pushed my nose softly into her wavy black muff, inhaling her juicy, sweaty scent. She then reached down and began stroking my full length, twisting her hand each time she reached the corona. I, in turn, cupped her vulva with one hand and with the other on her sumptuous ass, leaned toward her to burrow little breathy kisses into her rich center. Again she hissed: “Oh, yes, Jay. That is it. That is…iiiIIT!”

I stood up, brought her to the counter near the kitchenette, and leaned her back against it. “What are you doing?” she asked, softly.

“Being selfish, and devouring you with my eyes,” I answered, backing away, convinced that I made sense. Apparently I did, since she smiled dreamily. Her long hair covered her shoulders, licking at her breasts, and her pronounced waist led to narrow, but very gracefully curved hips. A small diamond winked at me from her deep-set navel. A couple of inches below, her bush began its descent, beginning with a narrow peak in line with her navel, then widening to reach the nexus of her legs with her crotch. Her softly fleshed, slim thighs drew downward toward signature knees and softly flared calves. Her ankles were small, her feet long and slim. My cock pulsed and the glans swelled as I looked at her. “Mmmm, I see that you approve,” she cooed.

Picking up my drink, I swirled it and requested: “Please turn around.” Erica did so, shyly revealing her soft, brown back and waist, nearly obscured by her loosened hair, and high, firm ass. She peeked slyly over one shoulder, then bent over slowly to retrieve the bottle of cognac from a cabinet under the counter. Her cheeks opened just enough to reveal a violet-colored anus, surrounded by a few hairs. Below it lay the entrance to Paradise. Her purple-lipped cunt was slightly open, showing some of the afternoon’s wetness, and I fought the urge to mount her immediately.

Coming back to me, she knelt on the floor and refilled my glass. “You enjoy being tortured, yes?” she asked. “I do love doing it, you know…watching your face hurt so sweetly when I show my body to you.”

“This isn’t torture, my dear. This is as close to heaven as I’ll ever get,” I pronounced.

“You are not a typical American, Jay. You are unique,” Erica said, flatteringly. Then she picked up a jar of clear, brown stuff from a shelf under the table. “This is a nice, special gel that we will enjoy as the day goes on. Let us rub it on. It is edible, by the way,” she assured, as she began smoothing it into my legs, from ankles to crotch, though avoiding my cock and balls. “Now let me coat your upper body,” she said, softly rubbing the soothing substance into my pores.

The gel smelled a bit like mint, and began to match the internal buzz caused by the opium with another, more tingly, sensuous glow on the skin. “Now you may turn over,” she prompted. She massaged it into my back, paying a lot of attention to my buns, and generously coated my anus and crack. “Now you may do me!” she chirped, “But don’t do mychoot…my pussy…until later, please.”

I rubbed it on her entire body, interspersing my strokes with light kisses, which met with thankful mewlings. She had very light muscle tone, except for the hard pecs suspending her breasts, her tight tummy, and luscious, globular ass. Massaging her breasts was an act of worship. They were marvelous to the touch, yielding their taut inner tissue to my strong kneading and causing her nipples to stand erect like uncut brown diamonds. Her eyes were closed as I did her breasts, and her mouth was slightly open, through which she breathed in ecstatic little gasps that sounded like “Yeeh…yeehh…yeeehhh,” and murmured ”Aahm…aaahhmm…aaahhhmmm.”

Likewise, Erica’s ass was a delight. As she had done to me, I coated her cheeks liberally with the gel, and applied a fresh dollop into her crack, which I -- with lascivious intent -- forced into her asshole with one finger. At first she stiffened, but then relaxed to allow the crude penetration of her dark passage. “Uunnggh, oh, Jay…Jay…it is…good,” she mumbled. “Please do it some more,” she pleaded, reaching back and around blindly to encourage me as I probed her hole. Finally, her breathing returned to normal and she raised up, saying: “Now we should have some more opium and then go to the other room.”

Who am I to dispute the advice of a medical professional?

Glowing, both from the opium and the mysterious gel, we entered her bedroom and I was taken back by its décor. There were mirrors everywhere but on the ceiling! Even the facings on her furniture were mirrored glass! Glass panels virtually surrounded the giant futon covered with huge pillows that served as her bed. A large Cheval mirror stood close by, suspended at its center on each side to allow adjustable vertical reflection. I now fully understood Erica’s voyeuristic proclivities, and was she ever prepared!

We put the gel on a bedside table with our snifters and the cognac, and sank softly to the futon. We embraced, tentatively, and began kissing and nibbling one another over our entire faces and upper bodies. Our tongues dueled with one another’s as I probed inside her mouth, then I carefully traced each crevice -- licking between her succulent upper lip and jaw – then between each tooth. We sucked ears, throat hollows, and armpits. The earlier afternoon had left us with a salty tang that we sipped happily, mingling it with the minty gel. Our breathing became more rapid and my body ground hungrily against her, to which she responded by opening her legs and hunching her mound against me. We continued, our passion increasing, as we began moaning nonsensical entreaties to one another. Our interlocked images danced in the surrounding mirrors like two writhing snakes as our squirming became hurried, accompanied by her soft cries and my deep groans.

I kissed slowly down to her breasts, once again capturing them in my mouth like sugary candy, slobbering over them to her rising moans. I then slowly traced my tongue down over her tight abs to her thick bush. Her knees were by now spread open and raised slightly. In my mildly drugged state I pictured her cooze as something I had to devour or risk being devoured by it. Erica looked down at me with fogged eyes and – wordlessly – spread her purple pussy lips with one hand and, with the other on the back of my head, drew my face into her cunt.

I whimpered slightly as I shoved my hardened tongue into her slick, pulsing gash. She wheezed “Aaiiieee!,” threw her head back to reveal her flawless neck, and began exhorting me with a combination of Hindi – meaningless to me – and wracking, panting gasps. “Uuhh…uuhhh…uh,” she grunted, lost in an ecstatic, rhythmic chant as ancient as her native civilization.

I was possessed by Erica’s cunt. I tongued the dark outer lips lavishly, using broad vertical strokes, and alternately stabbed into her pink opening with just the tip, which brought forth a thick stream of her juices. She had released her fingers from her lips to be replaced by my two thumbs, which opened them like two halves of a freshly split fig. Her exhortations in Hindi were fully replaced by feral grunts as I then began flicking at her clit, emulating the soft wings of a butterfly. Her grunts then dissolved into sounds predating Sanskrit and Indo-European, continuous peals of varying volume that segued into a cross between exhalations and throaty groans. “AhhhhMmmmmUhhhhhhhh,” she uttered, stopping to breathe, and began the sound again, over and over.

After a couple of minutes, her thighs became rigid and clamped my head, yet she continued her unusual paean, showing no outward sign of climactic peaks or valleys. I continued until she abruptly stopped, making no sound, and pushed her opening fully onto my tongue while raising her hips slightly. Her thighs trembled for about 45 seconds with my upper lip smashing her clit, and she then mouthed a soft squeak and collapsed, once again to resume breathing and softly moaning. She lay limp for about five minutes, gently stroking my hair and face.

Wordlessly, Erica penetrated me a with a sloe-eyed look and – raising on one elbow – reached into her bedside table drawer and withdrew a clear plastic contraption with two small paddles about six inches long, attached to two right-angled handles that opened them with an enclosed spring. “Do you know what this is?” she whispered.

“Mmm, yeah, a speculum,” I responded.

“Please open me with it,” she begged. “Wait, I want to see,” she said, turning her body on an angle and adjusting the Cheval mirror to view her swollen, soaking, purple and pink opening.

I grabbed the gel and lubed the instrument, warming it and making it slippery. She then produced a penlight and a feather, placing them beside her. I carefully inserted the instrument in her vagina – after all, I was new to this, not being a gynecologist – and spread open her tender lips as she bit her lower lip. Grabbing the penlight, I played it inside, revealing her most private passage, to which she asked “What do you see, Jay?”

“I see your succulent birth canal and your cervix,” I mumbled clinically. “The good news is that it’s not blue, so you’re not pregnant. There is no bad news.”

Erica giggled lazily and implored me: “Put the feather inside and brush my cervix…please.”

I did so, and she thrust her hips upward, throwing her head to the side and gritting her teeth. I withdrew the feather and she said, “I am so very sensitive there. You will see…later.”

I could believe it. Her deliciously dark pink, muscular vagina was shallow, not equipped to take me balls-deep. As she looked into the mirror and moved her hips for a better look, I thought that I’d have to be very careful with her. “It is not a problem, if you are gentle. In the meantime, I will return the gift you just gave me.” With that, I withdrew the speculum and it was lost in the pillows along with her other paraphernalia.

She eased me onto my back, and my drug-induced erection pointed at the sky. She plopped herself between my legs, enticing breasts bouncing against my thighs, and wrapped her long fingers around my cock, teasing it from scrotum to head with long, full strokes. “You have a beautifullund,” she said, licking the corona lavishly. I must have looked puzzled, because she said “Your…penis…your splendid cock.”

“Ohhh, aaahhh,” I groaned, as she slowly sank her velvety mouth onto me until I nudged the top of her throat. Hesitating, she swallowed a couple of times, each time absorbing more of my shaft, until I passed the natural obstruction and lodged in her throat. After a few seconds she withdrew, breathing loudly through her nose, and repeated the first cycle. Gradually, she inhaled more air each time, allowing longer ecstatic intervals deep in her throat. Each time she withdrew, her hand jacked me up and down in a twisting motion until I thought my glans would pop off my dick and I’d hemorrhage. Throughout her ministrations, Erica would alternate between looking at me and witnessing herself gobble my cock in one of the mirrors. I’d seen myself fucking in mirrors several times, but I was in awe of her extraordinary beauty.

Pausing to rest her jaw, she raised herself slightly, gasping in lungs full of air, and rapidly pulled on just the head. It had lost its red, angry color and decreased a bit in diameter, yet my penis itself appeared longer than ever before. This salacious wench had grown me, right before my very eyes!

“Mmm, yes! That is what I wanted!” she exulted. “Now, Jay, you will feelle petit mort!”

My momentary fascination with her knowledge of French dissolved as she once again throated me, reestablishing her gentle rhythm until her nose planted itself in my pubic batch each time I was engulfed. I looked into the mirror to see her full lower lip caress my balls on the down stroke and marveled at the fact that she could extend her long tongue beyond it to lick my testicles. Looking back at her I saw her upper lip stretched obscenely over the top of my shaft, massaging the bulging veins that threatened to burst from overload.

My excited cries and grunts drove her berserk. The titillation of the day and my abstinence since two days previous drove me toward the moment of truth as she furiously pounded her mouth onto me. She began grunting each time she pulled off of me, her jerking hand sending spit and mucous flying, and I thrust upward one final time – shouting “Haaaaa…aaahh…aaahh” in time with her plunges -- and expelled a mammoth load. The first shot went deeply into her throat, which caused a momentary cough to clear her airway, and two more went into her mouth. She then grasped me and wanked the remainder onto her lips, neck, clavicle, and breasts, slowly pulling the final dribbles onto her nipples as she posed in the mirror.

Erica had not swallowed. She opened her mouth slightly, losing a few bubbly drops as they ran down her chin, and mumbled, “Mmm, Jay…taste good…healthy…not too much smoke…drink.” Then she slowly ingested my cum as if it were a laboratory sample and, picking at the gobs on her breasts with one finger, licked the residue sexily with her tongue.

Laying on me fully, she placed her head on my shoulder, snuggled, and murmured, “I knew I could make you like me! I knew it would be good!” I was happily limp in more ways than one…and very thankful for Erica’s wicked yearnings.

It was nearly dark outside, and hunger pangs began. “We will shower and eat,” she said, which we did, soaping one another generously in the shower and teasing one another’s genitalia until I tried to mount her from behind. “Not yet, Jay, we must eat and then we will do thekundalini!” she giggled, gently pushing me away. At this point I decided to stay the night.

Naked, we ate some very tasty leftover curried lamb, with tea, in the bedroom -- childishly feeding one another chunks of meat -- and bathed our hands with aromatic oil after sharing a toothbrush. Erica turned on some muted, colored lights – red and blue – which cast surreal shadows throughout. Invigorated and horny, and very familiar with each other, we lay comfortably and smoked more opium until the buzzing glow returned.

Then we began again to make love. It felt as if we were not only wrapped around each other, but through each other as well...as if we were stepping through mirror images of ourselves to become the other. Our limbs entwined themselves in ways to astound a yoga master, with the singular goal being to share pleasure. Our mouths and noses sensed new essences, drawing mysterious sweet liquids and vapors from the other. We soared to a new, cosmic, sensual level, which resembled a bodily tingling that did not stop at our physical boundaries, but expanded to include a pulsating, preternatural universe known only to us.