Hunters Ch. 01

Author's note:

It had to happen. After wrestling to find a concept that didn't feel old and boringly familiar, I end up with elements that have all been done before. In my defence, I would like to point out that there are still only 7 original plots.

===============

I saw her on one side of the dance floor, laughing, chatting and flirting with a couple who radiated a sexuality so confident that I could see more than a few other patrons either frightened or jealously angry at them, although Rachel, I knew, would have been attracted like a cat to a catnip mouse.

He was wearing skin-tight, gleaming black pants and a black shirt, silk-shiny. She, I saw from the back at first, had a legs-hugging skirt over knee-high boots with 4" heels, and a high-collared blouse, skin-tight across her back.

Rachel glanced around in the middle of a sentence, flirting with her whole body in her dress which made it so easy, and caught sight of me across the club, raising a shapely arm to beckon me over.

So things had been going well, then.

The night before, we had planned this with our usual care as we settled into the hotel and unpacked.

"I like the sound of this Faith," she said as she peeled her maroon blouse over her head, leaving her in a simple satin bra as I was trying to work out if we had been given enough coat hangars.

"Huh?" I asked, my brain trying to switch tracks and process what she had just said.

She stretched, popping half her vertebrae and thrusting her breasts forwards so that I lost all track of where I was and whether she had just asked me a question or not.

She rolled her head to look at me, saw me appreciating her chest and, smiling sweetly, bent down until her face, in my line of sight, was just above the down-swelling curves of her breasts. That didn't really help.

"I said," she continued as she reached behind herself to undo the zip on her skirt, "I like the sound of this Faith."

"Definitely promising," I agreed, without taking my eyes off the creamy flesh of her cleavage until she straightened up and pushed her skirt down her legs, showing me mesh, see-through panties that she doesn't normally wear with business clothes.

This was the fifth trip that we had taken like this, as I packed up my laptop and took my freelance writing on the road while her new job as an industrial relations troubleshooter took her around the country from corporate hotel suite to corporate hotel suite.

"Why are you still fully dressed?" she asked as her skirt pooled around her bare feet.

I abandoned my attempts at unpacking, and peeled my regulation black T-shirt over my head and threw it into the corner.

We have a routine now. The first night, we christen the bed. The second night, if possible, we go out to a decent alternative club and try to find someone to invite into it.

So far, the most difficult bit has been finding the right club. Finding someone delicious, adventurous and available had, so far, been comparatively easy.

Rachel had her bra off by the time I was stepping out of my jeans, and got sufficiently distracted by the extremely flattering, second-skin shorts I was wearing that I had time to close the distance between us, wrap her in my arms and throw her back onto the bed.

She laughed, spontaneously, and the sound morphed into a gasp and then happy moans as I wrapped my lips around one cool nipple and sucked, at first gently and then with increasing pressure, feeling it stretch up between my teeth until she hissed and clutched at my head.

I changed to her other nipple, my fingertips trailing gently over and around the breast my mouth had just vacated, as her arms fell back over her head in surrender, until the pressure once more grew too much and she gasped, lifting her torso off the bed as her hands clutched at the sheets.

I moved my head to the side, tracing my lips down the curve of her breast to meet her ribcage, then following the line where the two joined, back onto her front, then down, over her bellybutton and onto the lace edging of her panties.

Her sighs of pleasure gained in depth and feeling as my lips brushed over the mesh fabric and over the rise of her mound beneath it. I traced the outline of her shaven lips, from end to end, and blew softly through the mesh, making her arch off the bed towards my mouth.

Years ago, she challenged me to make her cum without taking her panties off. I succeeded, by being gentle and unrelenting until she was sobbing for release. Ever since, we've done that as warm-up in a new bed.

I pressed my nose against her clit and licked over her lips, letting her feel the pressure and the moistness but not actual contact with my tongue. She shuddered underneath me, and her hands writhed over her breasts, seeking out her nipples.

I opened my mouth wide and pressed down, letting her feel the tips of my teeth before I closed, scraping my teeth over the length of her lips, as she shuddered and groaned deep in her throat.

I closed my lips around the top of her slit, squeezing the flesh around her clit and sucking hard.

She had been day-dreaming of this all day - we both had - and she came with a slow build that climaxed not loudly but long.

Her panties were wet as I pulled them off her limp legs, and as her eyes fluttered open I sucked them into my mouth with visible relish.

Her face twisted into a half stoned, half sultry and all hungry expression as I peeled my shorts off my already hard cock and stepped out of them.

I walked onto the bed and knelt over her chest, bending my cock down until she grabbed it at the base and swallowed it, craning her neck upwards so she could take it to the back of her throat.

I had to grab her head and pull back before I came, ignoring her pout as I slid down her body, lifting her knees and folding them back, holding her legs spread wide with my hips as I slid into her in one quick, wet thrust.

I fucked her steadily and hard, my mouth moving from hers to her neck, her breasts, her nipples, to the edges of her breasts and back to her mouth until we came together, her screaming at the hotel room ceiling and pinching my nipples as hard as she could, me biting the muscle on her shoulder.

As we lay recovering, before I released her legs or pulled out, she said "So, Faith?"

#

The next night, when she returned from wherever her office was that day, I had takeaway waiting and had already showered and shaved everything south of my chin.

She ate ravenously, unwinding with a stream-of-consciousness dump about the incompetence she had to face from the locals as, the good partner who had been lounging about with only a deadline for company, I offered sympathy until she was relaxed enough to chew before swallowing, taste before gulping and have her own shower.

She came out naked and still damp, and sorted through her clothes with a faintly tuneful whistle as I lay on the bed with a raging erection and struggled with our self-imposed pre-club abstinence.

She found a maroon G-string to go under a Chinese-style maroon dress that had a large, circular opening over her breasts, fitted her not quite like a second skin but definitely like latex, and which made it quite obvious that she both wasn't wearing a bra, and didn't need to either. High heels left the best pair of legs I have every seen exposed to view high enough to invite hopeful double-takes.

"Well?" she asked, pivoting for my inspection.

"I refuse to answer, on the grounds that I am unable to string a coherent sentence together," I replied, every instinct in my body screaming at me to rip the dress off her with my teeth.

She laughed, and headed back to the bathroom to do her make-up. "Get dressed, don Juan!"

I had tight black boots over my calves and over black latex pants. The pants had a silver-buckled belt, and a white shirt with ruffles at the wrists and down the half-open front tucked into them.

We had matching spiked collars, and she added studded bracelets on her wrists, the rest of her arms bare. She put her hair up in chopsticks, I let mine down around my shoulders.

When we got to the club, she headed straight in while I paid the taxi driver and then, the door not being too busy, struck up a conversation with the bouncer, finding out a little about the regular clientele, a little about the music, a little about the neighbourhood and the safest way to head back to our hotel.

I managed to delay my entry long enough that by the time I was down the stairs, she had found us some friends.

This was our fifth time hunting, and always so far it had been singles - three girls and one defiantly confident boy it had been a pleasure to teach about himself.

But, ever since our first success, we had dreamed of finding the right couple. When I saw her as the centre of three figures, all almost simmering with sexuality, I dared to feel that tonight was going to be torrid.

Then the woman turned around, with the casual confidence of the supremely self-aware, and my breath was almost driven from my body.

Her blouse, which had risen to cover her neck in the back, opened wide around her shoulders in the front, dropping down over the outside edges of an incredible pair of breasts, the fabric curving inwards only barely high enough to cover her nipples. I knew then that, more than anything, I wanted to taste those breasts tonight.

Rachel met me with a full-body, throat-clearing kiss, before whispering into my ear "Aren't her tits fantastic!"

She introduced me to Christopher, who shook my hand and hugged me with his other arm, closely enough to give a hint of a promise of later, more intimate contact.

Mirka wrapped her arms around me, her groin pressing firmly into my legs, and gave me a kiss nearly as deep as Rachel's before whispering in my ear "Your girlfriend's tits are fantastic!" She left me with a painfully throbbing erection, a warm glow of satisfaction and a tingling imprint of her hand, deep in the muscles of my arse.

Christopher left to get us all drinks - we were all on red wine - and both women draped themselves over me, flowing against my body with the boneless flexibility that all sexy women have and which I can never quite emulate.

"Christopher and I," Mirka said, her fingers nearly raising sparks through my shirt as they played around the outline of my nipple, "would like to invite the pair of you back to our place. Rachel has offered your hotel room, but we have so much better, I think. And you must stay for breakfast."

My head was spinning with the high, clear sensation of being so aroused that life was mine to play with. Rachel leaned over my chest, her breasts burning into my arm, and captured Mirka's hand, pressing it hard onto my chest. "please say you've got a dungeon," she asked, voice husky with excitement.

I was very close to spontaneously cumming when Christopher returned with drinks, and Rachel peeled herself off me and draped herself onto him.

I could quite easily have fucked any of them right there, but the night was demanding a more subtle game.

Nobody lingered over their wine.

The taxi ride a short way to where Christopher and Mirka had renovated a century-old house was a beautiful torture of relaxed conversation with multiple layers of hidden subtext and flirting.

Inside, we all took off our shoes in the hallway before Christopher headed for the kitchen, Rachel attached to his hip, while Mirka saw to the stereo, grabbing old Bauhaus seemingly at random. I ached to touch her, but I held off until she had pressed play and turned around, when I was right in front of her.

She grabbed me hungrily, turned me around and pushed me up against the wall for a deep, probing kiss while her hands deftly undid my shirt the rest of the way down, pulling it out of my pants and then undoing those, as well.

When she slid down my body, mouth almost trying to eat my flesh, I looked up and locked eyes, through the kitchen door, with Christopher. He was leaning back against the kitchen bench, shirt and trousers open, as Rachel slid down his body.

The two women swallowed our cocks simultaneously, as Christopher and I continued to lock eyes. He was beautiful, his chest lean and pale, his face expressive but expression steady. I had the almost giddy thought that he was how I wished I could look, as his wife's attentions made me increasingly light-headed, and actual thought became difficult along with it.

Mirka worked my pants down my legs as she worked on my cock, and I could dimly see Rachel doing the same to Christopher.

The focus between Christopher and I added to add to the eroticism of the moment as his wife swallowed me, a charge seeming to build up in the air between us.

I felt as hard in her mouth as if I were wearing a cock-ring, my head past tumescent and into the throbbing, near pain of swollen.

My balls were tight, and sensations crawled across their surface as she cupped and squeezed them in her long, cool fingers. I knew that Rachel would be doing something similar to Christopher, with more activity.

I was throbbing almost as soon as she pulled me through her barely parted lips, and I was rushing towards climax with dizzying speed.

When I came, I saw Christopher's eyes droop closed as he tensed and shot into Rachel's mouth, and the connection between us was lost.

I was so hard in Mirka's throat that cumming hurt, and I only barely remained standing as I emptied myself into her mouth.

When I opened my eyes and looked down, not a drop had escaped Mirka's lips. She opened her mouth to show me my cum coating her tongue, then closed it and swallowed very deliberately.

As she stood up, I stepped out of my pants and let my shirt fall off my shoulders, then pulled her blouse over her head as she gracefully raised her arms, leaving her naked above the waist, a well-designed shelf bra the only support her incredible breasts had needed.

She stood quietly while I unzipped her skirt and pushed it down her legs - she was wearing no panties - and when I stood up, Christopher walked out of the kitchen followed by Rachel, both naked and carrying, between them, an open bottle of red wine and four glasses.

Nobody actually spoke as wine was poured, thirsts slaked and throats rinsed, and nobody actually led as we all moved next door, where a long table filled most of the dining room.

The women moved to opposite ends of the table, stood with feet wide apart and bent forwards, grabbing each other by the wrists to brace themselves and beginning to kiss as Christopher and I moved behind them.

I didn't even think of a condom as, still rock hard, I gripped Mirka by the hips and thrust hard into her cunt.

She felt incredibly, almost unnaturally, good as I buried myself inside her body and she gripped me so hard that pulling back took an effort.

Rachel, never able to lie still, was twisting on Christopher's cock and moaning into Mirka's mouth as they hungrily sucked on each other's tongues.

Neither Christopher nor Mirka were making any sound beyond wet slapping and sucking noises, and I had the sudden, giddy thought that Rachel and I were experiencing everything, and our hosts, nothing.

I looked up at Christopher and caught his intense, pale grey eyes and once more felt trapped by his gaze, pumping hard into his wife as he slammed into mine. I saw his eyes widen slightly and it was almost as though, without moving, he had reached across the metres between us, grabbed my nipples and twisted sharply.

I cried out and came, squirting just as hard into Mirka as if I hadn't already cum that night. I was faintly conscious of Christopher's body tensing and of Rachel twisting and shouting into Mirka's mouth as she orgasmed.

I sagged, staggering, and pulled out of Mirka with a wet pop more by accident than design.

As I fell to my knees, Mirka twisted on the table, rolling onto her back and moving up the wood to rest her arse on the edge. Christopher had to help Rachel do the same, and somehow the two women didn't once break their kiss, still locked together, now with necks twisted to the side.

Mirka spread her legs wide and, with open mouth, I fell onto her cunt, somehow only tasting her sharp and musky juices with no trace of mine. Somehow, too, I knew that Christopher was doing the same to Rachel, and yet with his eyes locked still on mine, even through the women lying between us.

I licked along her lips, lingered over her clit, probed her entrance with my tongue, slipped two fingers inside her, as I was used to doing with Rachel, then felt a sudden urge to add a third and, when I did, felt unaccountably happy.

I knew that Rachel couldn't last long - not just after having a cock inside her, not just after cumming already and not while having her mouth taken so hard by another girl's, but Mirka didn't hold out either, and as I felt her contract hard enough around my fingers to cause me pain, and lifted her hips off the table, I heard Rachel's muffled screams again.

Mirka didn't spurt, but she definitely gushed and I was suddenly, desperately hungry for it all, sealing my mouth over her lips and sucking as she came, then sticking my fingers in my mouth and sucking on them as my head spun down into a black hole of unconsciousness.

I didn't pass out completely, and I vaguely felt myself being lifted and placed on the table, then my head turned and my lips placed against Rachel's, a ribald chuckle somewhere in the background.

In dreamlike moments of semi-lucidity, I became aware of other, newer, voices, of Rachel weakly, automatically, trying to kiss me, and then of a sudden, muted, sharp pain at the base of my cock, and a mouth pressed to the wound.

A similar pain under my right nipple, and a velvety pair of lips pressed to my chest, woke me up enough to see a narrow-faced woman with short hair and scarlet lipstick sucking upon my flesh. Not feeling any reality in the moment, I rolled my head to the side and back to see an older man with his mouth over Rachel's nipple, and a thin trickle of blood escaping his lips and running down the curve of her breast.

My movement caught the attention of the woman sucking on my chest, who caught my chin in her hand and twisted my head back towards her, her face suddenly springing into sharp focus, all sharp plains and vivid green eyes.

"He's still awake," she said, an amused note in her voice.

I felt the mouth next to my cock leave, and then heard Mirka's voice saying "He's drunk less of me."

The face above me laughed. "You do so choreograph things, don't you, Mirka? You should put more thought into practicalities, and less into aesthetics."

I began to move weakly, and heard Christopher say, from far above my head, "She'll do. Deal with him."

The woman above me opened her eyes wide, I felt myself falling into them, and this time I fell into unconsciousness completely.