It's What You Wanted, Isn't It?

Chapter 4

I recall of that night only trying to fall asleep amidst five delectable females, at least one of whom was not asleep. One after the other, they sucked and massaged my cock to life and fucked it as long as it, or they, retained life.

I swear it was all night. Well, maybe not because I do remember waking up, alone.

My eye fixed on a bedside clock. It read noon. I'd jackknifed into the sitting position before I realized that it was Saturday. I was not missing at work.

I lumbered blearily out of the bedroom and found myself in a larger room which joined onto a kitchen. Oh the bliss of cool orange juice! On the table was a note, propped up against a ketchup bottle.

'Back at 5,' it read. 'Be ready.'

Holy rhinoceros! Ready for what? Another night like that? I'd never survive!

My cock felt like it looked, a hundred years old. My balls ached and every muscle groaned. I grabbed some food they'd left on the table, wolfed it down, then headed back to bed.

I woke to find a redhead resting on my stomach. I was sure she was sucking on my cock but I could not feel this, only the ache in my balls. Someone was sucking on them too.

Eventually, the other three girls materialized.

"Howya doing?" Mandy said. "Having fun?"

"Sure!" I lied. "How about you guys?"

"Pretty good," she said. "By the way, this is Suzie."

She referred to one of the brunettes.

"Hi Suzie," I managed.

"And this is Linda."

"Hi Linda."

"And those two," Mandy said, referring to the redhead working my cock and the blonde chewing my ballbag to shreds, "are Janet and Maria."

"Hi Janet and Maria," I said.

They did not pause to acknowledge.

As a matter of fact -- not bragging or anything, honest, just the way it was --- my cock did eventually come to life. It required all five of them, twice around, but they made it, and then went round again for good measure.

"I love sucking cock," Suzie said. "Let me."

"Don't waste him," Linda replied. "I want some doggie."

"Me too!"

"And me!"

So doggie it was, one after the other, and then again, until my knees gave in. Then it was side by side, one on one, with the remainder offering encouragement in the way of a nipple pressed here or there, or a wet cunt slid across an ankle or arm. Then we formed a circle and ate each other out, girl on girl, boy on girl, girl on boy.

They seemed insatiable, and, amazing as it may seem -- it's astounding to me -- I managed to keep up (pun intended, sorry). I guess once a guy's come a few times, then with sufficient encouragement, he can keep it up even if the desire to come has abated.

Not that I didn't, once or twice. But nothing like those girls. The more the came, the easier it seemed for them to come again. They came and came and still they came again. I'd never experienced anything like it.

I mean, you have to put this in perspective. My experience, obviously sadly limited, was that you were damn lucky to get a woman to come once. More often than not, they didn't and then wouldn't admit it.

"Come one, let me bring you off."

"No! It's fine, darling. Really. It was wonderful!"

And I'll bet once I was asleep, she'd be off to the bathroom, frig herself off, then moan to her girlfriends next day what a useless lover she had.

But these five? Cheez! I wasn't counting, but I'll bet anything ten apiece. Minimum.

The night proceeded much as the previous night had. Perhaps not quite so much action. But action nevertheless. I'd wake up to find teeth playing with my cock, chivvying it to erection. Then, as it really began to hurt, the soothing balm of a moist vagina.

I swear there is nothing in heaven or on earth that can compare with the feeling of a tight, wet cunt sliding down over a ravaged dick.

I confess, in the end, it gave up the ghost. Dead. Forever, it seemed. The girls didn't seem to mind. They let me sleep.

We lunched together Sunday. They'd ordered pizza. Cheez, did that ever taste good, even if I was missing a decent beer to wash it down. Hey, a beer I can have at home. Ten stiff nipples around the table, now that is something that has to be seen to be believed. Of this, my eye was highly aware, even if the pollen was running a little light. Five pairs of tits, all on the small side, but no two quite alike, just as the five cunts I'd eaten of copiously were similar, but unique.

It sounds absurd, but I reckon with time I could have told you which vagina belonged to which girl merely by feeling it sliding down my cock. The female form is such a wonderful thing, don't you think. In principle, every cunt is .. well ... a cunt. But what variety!

"Pretty good weekend, Ron. What d'you think?" Suzie (I think) said.

"Fucking fantastic," I replied, then, "Pardon my French!"

"Ooh! French! Now that you've mentioned it..."

"No! Hey! Gimme a break. I'm done. I admit it. Be lucky if I get it up for a week!"

"Oh! I don't know about that, Ron," Janet (I think) said, rather mysteriously, I thought.

"So how about next weekend, Ron?" Linda (I think) said. "You up for it?"

"Hell Yes!" I said, with a conviction I did not feel.

"You guys are fantastic. How come you don't have boyfriends?"

The girls looked at each other and giggled.

"Come on," I said. "Why not?".

"Boyfriends are a drag," Linda (I think) said.

"Yeah," Maria (I think) chimed in. "Drag it in, drag it out a coupla times, and they're done. Then all they wanna do is watch football."

I have to say, I'd never seen things in this light before. Put it down to my inexperience, but it's a fact.

When I got home, all I wanted to do was to throw a couple of beers in my head and crash. Which I did. And, Yes, while the Raiders were playing the Jets, if you must know.

Chapter 5

Monday was a bit tough. I mean, when you're walking it's a bit hard to hide that your balls feel like they're the size of melons. I evolved a kind of shuffle and invented a groin strain. This raised a few eyebrows, but, hey, running on the beach can do that to you, doncha think?

During my weekend on cloud 9, certain questions had sort of disappeared. Now they emerged.

Anyone could have told anyone that a guy called Ron was a regular at Joe's. But how would Mandy know that? She'd never been in Joe's before. At least, not when I was there, which was most of the time. I do notice women, you know, in case it it's not apparent, and I most certainly would have had an eye on Mandy if she'd been in Joe's place when I was there. Puzzling item number 1.

Even supposing Mandy did find out that a guy called Ron was a regular at Joe's, why would she slip onto the barstool next to his and ask him if he liked sex? Nothing against Joe's, you can say this about any bar in LA: that's the kind of behavior can get a girl in a heap of trouble. Nothing in Mandy's manner had suggested nervousness or insecurity. Puzzling item number 2.

Put them together and the result is rather obvious. Mandy knew that a guy called Ron was a regular at Joe's, had a rough idea what he looked like, and she also knew that he 'liked sex' but was safe. How could that be?

Call me an optimist, but I could think of only one reason. Which is why I practically lived at Joe's the entire week.

In retrospect, I needn't have bothered. It was obvious it would be Friday.

"Hallo!"

I half turned. Something inside me -- my heart maybe? -- did a big leap.

"Hi!"

"Mind if I sit next to you?"

Are you nuts!

"Er, No! Of course not."

"I don't think I introduced myself when we last met," the apparition said. "I'm Angela."

"Nice name," I think I muttered.

She ordered a margarita.

"Cointreau, please. Not Triple Sec. On the rocks, with salt. Thanks."

I wasn't sure Joe knew what Cointreau was, but he seemed to, so no problem.

"Here's to us," she said when her drink arrived.

"Er.. Yes! To us!"

Glass clinked on glass, even if mine was less elaborate than hers.

Those eyes. I'd not forgotten. Perhaps just a hint of liner, a touch of mascara. She was a woman to die for.

"I hope you're free this weekend, Ron. Nothing planned."

"Er.. No! Nothing planned."

"Perhaps we could go up the coast. Santa Barbara, perhaps. Start off our arrangement in style," she continued.

"Sure. Er. Sure. Arrangement?"

"Yes! You did say that's what you were looking for, didn't you? Sex. No complications."

"Oh sure, that. Yes. Hell. Sure."

My head was full of questions, of course. What Mandy et. al. were all about, was very much to the fore. A test? Surely not? Women didn't do that! Did they?

But such thoughts left as quickly as they arrived. When a gorgeous woman is offering you a weekend of uncomplicated sex 'up the coast', one does tend to focus a bit on this. Other thoughts tend to take a back seat, don't you think? They did with me, anyway.

"I have my car outside," she said. "Whenever you're ready."

"Er.. Maybe I should pick up a few things?" I believe I said.

"Like what?"

"Well, shaving gear, you know. Stuff like that."

"Not necessary, Ron. I've booked us into the Red Lion. They'll take care of it. Just you. That's all you need."

She gave me that direct look. It melted my soul.

I gulped, I think.

Angela's car turned out to be a Mercedes Coupe. She had the top up. But as I slid in beside her I heard the whirr of the motor that eased the roof into place. It was dark as we hit the 101 and headed north.

"Maybe you'd like to get comfortable, Ron," she said.

"Comfortable?" I was genuinely puzzled.

"Well it's up to you," she said, "but if you were to slide your hand up my skirt, I'm sure that would make me feel comfortable. And if you're good, very comfortable indeed."

"And I'd like nothing more than that we both feel comfortable, don't you think. A good start to the weekend."

OhShit!

I tried to pretend I wasn't struggling with the zipper. Edging down the Calvin Klein's was the easy bit.

Her hand was cool.

"Now that does feel nice. So smooth. And, Oh! Yes..."

No underwear, of course. Her thighs parted, just enough.

"Slowly now. I think there's a law against coming while driving."

I think the law is a bit more extensive than that, and that we'd already broken it. But what the hell! Would it stop you?

Silken thighs, a golden touch. My penis was already fully erect.

She shifted her position slightly so I could edge a finger into the crevice.

"Ooh Yes! Start at the base and ease upwards."

I did.

She drew her nails along the underside of my penis, very slowly, from base to tip.

OhMiGod!

The next stroke she began at the base of my balls.

"Leave the clit alone, Ron," she said, "for the present. You can go in if you like. One finger, then two."

She gasped slightly as my fingers slid one after the other into the opening of her vagina. Then out, around, back in, out, around.....

"Oh Yes! That's good. Do that."

I did.

Her slender fingers wrapped around my shaft. Nails dug in, now on the upperside. She began to massage gently.

My own fingers began to penetrate more deeply, exploring the outer walls of her vagina, then opening her out and easing in.

"I love the feel of your penis," she said. "It's so smooth. Is this working for you?"

"OhYes!" I sighed, feigning nothing.

"I don't want you to come yet, though. You will tell me, won't you?"

"Oh sure. Just ... er... keep it light."

"Like this?"

OhYes! Just like that!

So the journey progressed along the freeway, her slender fingers massaging my dick, mine massaging every crevice of her cunt and inching ever deeper into her vagina. Occasionally, she moaned in appreciation. I groaned from time to time, silently, and tried to relax, to suppress the urge in my loins.

I thought of the cars that passed by as we proceeded at a stately pace along 101, each fault in the asphalt bringing us closer to release. Would they notice? Probably not, but it was a much needed distraction to think that they may.

"You can go up now," she said. "Around my clit. Up to the hood. Press on that a bit."

As I obeyed, the grip of her fingers tightened.

"Oh Yes!" she said, breathlessly. "Back down, in and out a few times, then up."

As I obeyed, I felt the sap rising.

"Easy," I panted.

Her fingers released their grip. Back to the nails, dug hard into the base of my cock, then all the way up, centimeter by centimeter.

My fingers pressed gently on her clit hood, then slid down, around the tip, back into a vagina that was pumping out fluid.

I could tell from her breathing that she was close. As close as I was?

How far yet to Santa Barbara?

"Slack off," she said, suddenly, panting. "Just in and out, real slow."

I complied.

Her fingertips and nails teased my throbbing cock.

"You ok with this!" she said, a trifle unsteadily.

"I'm fine," I stammered. "Just keep the touch light."

"Like this?"

OhYes! Just like that.

"And don't stop," she added. "You can go back to the clit now, occasionally. Just don't stop. Hold it there."

I did. Suddenly Angela's thighs parted. She drew in her breath sharply. Then her thighs closed tightly on my hand even as my fingers continued to work her clit. Her body began to shake......

"Oh dear!" she said, when it was over. "I'm afraid we just broke the law."

This she said with a tinkle of a laugh and she glanced across at me, a wicked look in her eye.

"I should demand satisfaction, shouldn't I," she said, grasping my cock hard and pumping it. "But look, here's the turn off. Oh well. There's always later."

Angela handed the keys of the Mercedes to the valet, as nonchalant as if we'd spent the journey in small talk. Me? I was desperately trying to hide the bulge in my pants as we entered the foyer. I'm not sure I was successful. My dick had been so stiff for so long it seemed to think this was its natural state.

Mind you, even if someone noticed, there was no reason for them to assume any more than excitement at being in the company of such a gorgeous creature, and the anticipation joys 'to come' (pardon). Eat your hearts out, she's mine!

Chapter 6

"Perfect timing for dinner," Angela said, returning from the reception desk. "The food here's not great. But edible."

I recall thinking 'To hell with dinner', but of course am far too much the gentleman to actually say such a thing. My dick had finally succumbed to the encumbrance of the Calvin's. Now my balls were hurting, big time. At least no-one could see that! Meekly, I followed Angela to the dining room.

Watching over my menu it was impossible to see in her a woman who'd just had her pussy massaged all the way up the freeway, just enjoyed what felt to me like a pretty decent orgasm. She was so calm, so natural. Like a wife, almost (and no disrespect intended to wives who still 'enjoy their husbands', as it were). She'd been to the ladies room, presumably to dry off her cunt, but I was pretty sure she had not put on panties. The thought of her naked cunt gracing the velvet of the seat near drove me mad.

The waiter brought the carafe of house red we'd ordered, poured two half glasses with a flourish, then took our orders.

Angela smiled at me, innocence personified. She said,

"You're good at teasing."

"Thanks," I stammered. "You're not bad yourself."

"It's such a wonderful thing, sex, isn't it."

"Sure," I guess I said, sipping wine.

"But so many people don't get it, do they. They think it's all about getting there fast."

Er, well, I suppose that would have to be a 'Yes'. I didn't say it, though.

"We're you ever married?" she continued.

"No!" I replied. "A couple of relationships. Didn't last long."

"Not enough sex, too much bickering?"

"That would be a fair description," I answered. Then,

"How did you know?"

"Your line," she replied, airily. "Novel, at least one can say that."

"You mean.. er.. the 'Do you like sex?' thing."

"Yes, that. Tell me, how often does it work?"

"Not very often," I said ruefully. "Well, actually, not at all, until...."

"Yes! I can imagine."

"In fact, I was about to give up."

"I'm glad you didn't."

She was looking at me so directly, I had to return gaze. What eyes!

"Your penis feels nice."

"And your ... er..."

She was sliding to and fro on the seat, not markedly, just enough.

OhMiGod!

"You mean my cunt?" she said, as I hesitated. "Don't be afraid to say it. I know a lot of women don't like it, but I never did like the word 'pussy'. It sounds so, well, childish, rather. And vagina is just too clinical, like orgasm. Too technical. Cock, cunt, clit, come; they're much more erotic, don't you think? The four C's. Short, sharp and to the point."

"Er.." Gulp! "Yes! Well ... er ... I agree, actually. If it doesn't offend you...."

"Not at all."

"Er.. well, Yes! Your cunt felt very nice."

"And you got my clit just right, first time. Not too little, not too much. I don't usually come that easily, you know. Next time, you'll have to work a bit harder."

She gave me that look that melted my soul --- and stiffened my damn dick.

You would never have thought from Angela's manner that we were having this conversation in an upmarket restaurant, with people all around? What were they thinking? That we were talking about whether nanny had persuaded the kids to go to bed?

"It's quite responsive, isn't it, my cunt. Gets wet fast, stays wet forever. Like now, for example."

Gulp! What was I supposed to do? Slip off my shoe and massage her under the table. Call me a wuzz! I just could not. What if someone noticed?

"It's very sensitive, too. All over, not just my clit. I love being massaged. You really did it well, for starters. I hope you enjoyed it."

"Er.. Yes! Absolutely!" I stammered. "Wonderful."

"Good! It gets better, and better, believe me. My cunt lips get really full --- and tasty, chewy even, if you're patient and get them to blossom."

I'd ordered halibut, but guess what I was tasting with every forkful? Angela ate deliberately, as a woman in such a restaurant would eat. But to me, every movement of her wide mouth as she teased shrimp, or asparagus into it, made my dick twitch.

"So many guys don't understand, you know, Ron," she said, after a brief silence. "They think sex is about shoving a dick in and out of a cunt."

"Uh-huh!"

"Of course, it's ridiculous. All the nerve centers are on the outside, the cunt lips, the inner walls, the skin just beneath the clit. And of course the clit itself, and around. Inside, you can't feel a damn thing. But they do it anyway," she said, with an air of disgust.

"Mind you," she continued, "I like a good hard fuck as much as the next girl, but only at the end. You know, after everything else. And it has to be full cock, so that groin presses groin into the bed, or whatever you're doing it on."

I tried desperately to think of something to say. And failed. Angela did not seem to mind. She glanced at me from time to time in a way that I'm sure appeared casual, to everyone but me.

"And fucking makes you tired, don't you think? You can swap it around, who's doing the work, but I've never met a guy could last very long. If I'm on-top and trying to drag it out, to keep the feeling alive, he starts thrusting up into me. Then he comes and his dick goes soft: Just when you're getting interested."

She sighed.

"Now if there's several, you know, girls or guys, it works better. Share the load, as it were."

I found my voice,

"You mean, like, five girls, one guy?"

She smiled then, a courgette stuck to an upturned fork.

"Or five guys, one girl," she said, after a brief, but, I felt, significant pause.

"But that would depend on the guys, of course" she continued, thoughtfully. "I do like a nice cock, though, playing with it, teasing it, and having a guy caress my cunt with his fingertips, or his lips and his tongue. I mean, you can do that for hours and hours, days even. So delightful, don't you think, Ron."