Jazz Age Ch. 06

Chapter 6: Tonight You Belong to Me

Claire Belfield's husband, George, was in a sweat as he climbed the stairs in a brownstone on West 24th Street. He hated climbing stairs. Was she home or was she out? Maybe she wasn't home yet. He always liked it better when she was home. If she wasn't home he'd have to wait for her, and any time he spent alone in the building always unnerved him. He felt like an outsider, an interloper, even the smells from the various kitchens seemed totally strange to him.

Now he arrived on the landing of the third floor and he approached her door with hesitation. He was thankful he hadn't seen anyone on the stairs. It wasn't much past six o'clock, and at this time in the evening there were usually a few people climbing or descending the stairs that ran up the center of the small building. But not this evening. He knocked on the door. After a long moment the door opened and Irma stood there smiling at him.

"Hello, George."

He mumbled at her. "Hello, Irma." He walked into the foyer, and then he stood there waiting while she closed and locked the door behind him.

"And how've you been, George?"

"Very well."

"Did you have a nice week?"

She always liked to talk about his week, ask him where he went and what he did, all the details of the life he had that was so totally different from her own. She wanted to hear about the Park Avenue parties. She loved hearing about the Park Avenue parties.

She poured some Scotch into a glass and handed it to George. He took a few sips of the Scotch, and after that he started removing his clothes. Irma sat down on the sofa and held her glass of Scotch as she watched him. He removed all his clothes except his shorts, and then he sat down on the carpet at her feet.

She smiled down at him. "Comfy, George?"

"I'm fine, Irma."

He didn't like to look up at her when he was sitting on the floor like this. It was too difficult, because then their eyes would meet and he'd feel silly. He felt silly anyway, he always did at the beginning of it, but looking at her face would make it worse. He felt silly and at the same time he felt excited. Sitting almost naked at her feet while she was still dressed always thrilled him and he could already feel his penis getting stiff.

When she wiggled one of her feet, he leaned over and kissed her shoe. There was no need for her to tell him to do it because they both knew the routine. She was wearing pretty black shoes with high heels and thin ankle straps. He kissed the point of the shoe and then her instep. The feel of the silk stocking against his lips excited him tremendously, and as he moved his lips up to her ankle, his excitement increased. Irma pulled back the hem of her dress to expose her calves, and this was a welcome sign to him that she wanted more leg kissing.

He kissed the calf and shin of one leg, and then he moved his lips to the other leg and he did the same. While he did this, he held her ankles with his hands, his fingers gently rubbing the fine bones.

Irma pulled her dress back even further, and now her thighs were exposed above the tops of her stockings. Another tug at the dress, and then she opened her thighs wide to reveal everything. She wore no panties, nothing at all to cover her belly and sex. The stockings were held up by garter bands, the tops of the stockings rolled over the bands to keep the stockings in place, and above that the milk-white skin continued upward until the joining of her thighs appeared. She had a large hairy sex, and the way her thighs were splayed open now exposed everything. George shuddered as he looked at it. He felt a definite tension in his penis as he stared at the dark hair, the hairy lips and the arrangement of pink and red between them. Irma had an unusually prominent clitoris, and as he looked at it now it appeared to twitch several times.

She slid her pelvis forward a few inches, and once again there was no need for her to tell him what to do because they both knew the routine. He leaned forward to press his face against the hair and the warm sex. At first he did nothing but sniff at it, his senses overwhelmed by the heady smells, the mixture of cologne and sweat and feminine flesh and a hint of urine on the hairs. He had his nose pressed against the top part of her clitoris and that's where he kept it. Irma closed her thighs against his ears, not enough to make it difficult for him to breathe, but just enough to keep his head securely in place.

He felt the upper part of her body moving, and in a moment he heard the radio come on suddenly. She'd reached over to the table at the end of the sofa and she'd switched it on while she kept his head imprisoned.

He heard a voice out of the radio. Who was it? Then he recognized it. It was Walter Damrosch babbling something about Wagner. George kept his face pressed against Irma's sex and he ignored the radio. Was she actually listening to Damrosch? He knew so little about her. She worked as a saleswoman in one of the Seventh Avenue department stores, but he wasn't sure whether she sold ladies underwear or ladies dresses. Anyway, what difference did it make? All he cared about at the moment was the feel of all the hair on his mouth and cheeks. He started licking her now. He kept his nose pressed against her big clitoris as he worked his tongue around the soft flesh between her labia.

As he sucked Irma's juices, he thought about Claire and his marriage. He wondered what Claire would think if she saw him now. Would she roll her eyes? Would she faint? Or would she simply nod her head and declare that he'd gone mad? What a ridiculous thing it was to be more familiar with Irma's cunt than with the cunt of his own wife. In all the years of their marriage, he'd never done to Claire what he was now doing to Irma. He was certain Claire would refuse if he ever tried to do it, and if she did allow it just once she'd hold it against him forever. He imagined the way she'd sneer at him with her eyes. Claire had a way of doing that: she knew how to change the appearance of her eyes so they sneered at you.

He kept his tongue moving. Irma had once told him he was no good to her down there if he did nothing but sniff it and kiss it. She told him she wanted to feel his tongue everywhere, especially on her clitoris and inside the hole. So he did that now. He licked the knob of her clitoris, and then he moved his tongue lower down to lick the opening of her vagina.

Then Irma spoke to him: "I'm expecting a friend to arrive any minute."

George froze, his body motionless, his mouth still pressed against Irma's sex. She kept her thighs closed around his head and there was no way he could move even if he wanted to.

"Her name is Helen," Irma said. "I'm sure you'll like her, George. In any case, it's what I want, isn't it? Go on then, don't stop what you were doing, George."

He started licking her clitoris again. This time she used both hands to hold his head, and as his tongue moved up and down in her furrow she pushed his head around in circles. He had done it this way often enough to know that when she had both hands on his head it meant she'd reach a climax soon. He licked harder, his nose rubbing her clitoris while his tongue tickled the hole, and before long she raised her knees up and groaned as she reached a crisis.

She kept him there, kept his face pressed against her wet sex as the spasms made her body shake. He continued licking her cleft with his tongue until finally she placed a foot on one of his shoulders and she pushed him away. "That's enough, George." He fell away on the carpet on his back, his erect penis sticking out of the fly of his shorts. Irma kept her thighs wide open, and as he looked at her he could see the drenched slit of her cunt not quite hidden by the hairy gaping lips.

Irma smiled as she looked down at his stiff penis. "Look at that. You're excited, aren't you? Come closer to me, George. I can't do anything to you if you're lying there so far away from me."

He shifted his body on the carpet, sliding closer to her until she could get her feet on him, her pretty shoes with the high heels and thin ankle straps. He thought his wife had shoes like these, but he wasn't sure. In any case, these were Irma's shoes and not Claire's, and it was Irma who had her shoes on his body.

The first thing Irma did was push the toe of one shoe at his mouth. He'd expected it, indeed he was waiting for it, and as soon as the toe of the shoe touched his lips he opened his mouth to accept it. Irma muttered something as she pushed more of the shoe inside his mouth, and when he turned his eyes to look at her belly he saw that she had her hand between her thighs.

He sucked the toe of her shoe awhile, and then she pulled the shoe out of his mouth and she placed her foot directly on his erect penis. She flattened the organ against his belly, rolling it from side to side with the sole of her shoe while she smiled down at him.

"Are you hot, George?"

"Yes."

"You'll be nice to Helen, won't you?"

"Yes."

"She's a dear friend and I've told her all about you. Don't worry, she'll keep our secret, George. But you're going to do what you're told, aren't you?"

And at that moment the doorbell rang and George realized that Irma's friend had arrived.

"Just stay where you are," Irma said, pulling away from George and then rising from the sofa.

He lay there trembling, more uncertain of things than ever before, and also more thrilled. The idea of a complete stranger being privy to his secret life with Irma was an exquisite shock. You want it, he thought. Irma certainly knew a great deal about him. Or maybe she didn't and she just didn't care one way or the other. He was merely a toy that she used to amuse herself, and now she wanted her friend to share in her amusement.

He obeyed Irma and he remained stretched out on the carpet. When Irma and her friend approached him, he looked up and he saw an attractive woman who appeared to be Irma's age. The woman smiled down at him. "Hello, George. I've heard a lot about you."

Then her amused eyes shifted to his groin, and George blushed when he suddenly realized his penis was still protruding from the opening in his shorts.

"That's a cute dingus," Helen said with a laugh.

The two women moved away from him, and George lay there and listened as Irma poured some Scotch out of the bottle for Helen. They talked quietly, the words indistinct, but he was certain they were talking about him. Once again a quiver of excitement went through him as he realized he was now in the power of two women instead of just one. And he did like Helen. She was definitely as attractive as Irma, and he couldn't help wondering what she looked like without clothes.

But he was also uneasy. Irma was more or less predictable because he'd spent a dozen or so evenings with her and he had an idea what to expect. Helen was something new. And there was also the possibility the presence of Helen might make Irma act differently toward him. He decided it was too confusing and the best thing was not to think about it. Whatever Irma wanted, he knew he would do it anyway. He looked at the cuckoo clock on the wall opposite him and he was thankful it was still early enough for them to do things. As usual, he'd already telephoned home while he was at the office and he'd told the maid it would be a late evening for him.

Irma led Helen back to the sofa, and they sat down near George while they continued sipping their drinks. When he looked at them and saw the Scotch in the glasses, he guessed it must be their second drink. Irma's third. Or maybe it was also Irma's second. Irma's second and Helen's second. You're nervous, he thought. You're too damn nervous.

Now Irma smiled down at George. "Comfy again, honey?"

"Yes," George said.

"Do Helen," Irma said. "She wants to see if you're any good at it."

He shifted his body around until he crouched in front of Helen. She seemed to be laughing at him as he took one of her feet in his hands and ran his fingers over her shoe and ankle.

Her shoes weren't as pretty as Irma's, but she had dainty feet and beautiful legs. He heard her laugh softly as he bent his head forward to kiss her instep.

"Oh, I like this," Helen said.

Irma chuckled. "I thought you would."

"I think I'm drunk."

"It's good Scotch, isn't it?"

George kissed Helen's legs, first her shoes and ankles and then her calves and knees. Irma leaned toward Helen and whispered something in Helen's ear and Helen giggled. Then Helen pulled her dress back far enough to get her hands on her panties, and she lifted her buttocks and pushed them down to her knees.

"Don't sit there gawking," Irma said to George. "Help her get them off."

George obeyed her, his hands trembling as he pulled Helen's panties off her legs. She still had her dress pulled up to her waist, and now she giggled again as she opened her thighs to expose her sex.

George felt his heart pounding as he stared at it. She wasn't as hairy as Irma and the hair was a lighter color. He thought her cunt looked prettier than Irma's, but maybe that was because Helen had such lovely plump thighs. George had never been impressed with the current craze for skinny women. He liked Helen's type the best, pretty legs and solid thighs and a large bust. It was easy to see she had more bust than Irma, and he hoped he'd have a look at her breasts before long.

Irma slipped an arm around Helen's shoulders. "Slide forward, dearie. Put your legs on George's shoulders and he'll have a go at you."

Helen chuckled as she slid her pelvis forward on the sofa cushion. Her stockings were held up by garters attached to a girdle, and now the garters stretched as she raised her legs to get them over George's shoulders.

"How's that?" Helen said.

Irma stroked Helen's shoulder with her fingers. "Go on, George."

George was already overcome by the perfume and feminine scent wafting up to his nose from Helen's crotch, and now he closed his eyes and he leaned forward to get his mouth directly on her sex.

Helen made a whimpering sound of pleasure. George pushed his face against the softness, and in a moment he was delighted to feel how wet it was. Irma usually took awhile before her fountain started flowing, but Helen was already soaked enough so that some of it immediately dripped on his chin.

"You can bet I like it," Helen said with a laugh.

"I told you," Irma said.

"Oh yes."

George kept his mouth pressed against Helen's sex as the two women continued talking and drinking. Now that the ice was broken, he felt completely comfortable with Helen. He wanted to please her the way he always pleased Irma. She was Irma's good friend, wasn't she? After a while he lifted his eyes to see what they were doing and he was shocked to see the two of them kissing. It wasn't just a kiss of two friends, it was a kiss of two lovers. George had never seen anything like it except on a French postcard and he couldn't take his eyes away from them. His excitement became more intense as he watched Irma's hand move over the front of Helen's dress to fondle Helen's big breasts. Was this the first time for them? George continued sucking Helen's wet cunt as he watched Irma and Helen kiss and fondle each other. He had a fierce erection, his penis sticking out of the front of his shorts and twitching out of control.

Then suddenly Helen moaned against Irma's lips and she started spending on George's mouth. She closed her thighs around his head the same way as Irma always did it, but then she opened them even wider than before and her hips began bouncing up and down on the sofa cushion.

George held on, his mouth clamped to Helen's wet sex, his lips sucking at the plentiful syrup that seemed to gush out of her cleft.

When Helen was finished spending, Irma pulled away from her and she looked down at George with a flushed face. "Stand up and strip," Irma said. "Come on, George, hurry up."

His face wet with Helen's secretions, George stood up on the carpet, unbuttoned his shorts and dropped them down to his feet to step out of them. Helen giggled and immediately leaned forward to take hold of his genitals with both hands. She gripped his penis in one hand and his testicles in the other hand and she turned her head to smile at Irma. "What should I do?"

"Nothing now," Irma said. "Let's get our clothes off first."

So Helen released George's genitals, and he had to step back to make room for the two women as they rose up to undress. Of course all his attention was devoted to Helen because he'd already seen Irma naked so many times. When they had their clothes off, Helen revealed a ripe body with pendulous breasts and heavy buttocks. Irma's breasts were much smaller than Helen's, but the lush growth of hair at the joining of Irma's thighs was an adequate compensation.

Irma said she wanted George to suck her. She sat down on the sofa in the usual position, and she ordered George to get to work immediately. He hurried to obey her. She was obviously drunk, and when Irma was drunk she could sometimes be mean. She'd never been too mean with him in the past, but he was always afraid it might start sometime.

After George sucked Irma awhile, he was told to move over to do the same to Helen. Helen's pubic hair and the insides of her thighs were still wet from the first time, and George's excitement was intense as he buried his face in her sex. This time she was completely naked, and each time he lifted his eyes upward he had a delicious view of her large breasts and long nipples.

Helen spent again under George's mouth, her body shaking as much as it had the first time. When she finally pushed his face away from her cunt, she laughed and rolled her eyes at him. "You're good, sweetie."

Irma kicked George with her foot. "Get the broom and the oil, George."

George trembled. He'd been afraid all along she'd get to that. He felt extremely uneasy about doing that sort of thing with Helen present because he hardly knew her. But he could tell by the tone of Irma's voice that she wouldn't allow him to refuse, so he rose up from the carpet and he hurried to the kitchen.

When he returned to the living room, he had a broom and a bottle of olive oil in his hands. While he'd been gone, Irma had been kissing Helen and feeling her breasts again, and now she pulled away from Helen and she took the broom and olive oil from George.

"Now George gets what he needs," Irma said with a laugh.

Helen smiled as she looked at George. "You don't mind me watching, do you, George?"

He shook his head. He was terribly nervous. Now it wasn't Helen presence so much as it was Irma's attitude. Tonight Irma seemed drunk enough to hurt him, and that was the one thing he always feared.

Irma unscrewed the handle from the broom, and she held it between her legs as she poured some olive oil out of the bottle on one of her palms. She then proceeded to smear the oil over the rounded end of the broomstick. "Down on the carpet, George."

He dropped to his knees and elbows, his buttocks facing the two women and his body now visibly trembling. He closed his eyes and he waited, and soon he felt Irma pushing the oiled end of the broomstick against his anus.

"I always try to be careful," Irma said with a hiccup. Then she laughed. "We don't want to hurt poor George, do we?"

George kept his eyes closed as Irma slowly pushed the broom handle inside his rectum.

Irma spoke: "Go on, Helen. Why don't you do it if you want."

So now it was Helen who had her hands on the broomstick. George heard her giggle as she began sliding the wooden handle in and out of his body.

"God, I love this," Helen said.

Irma laughed. "Careful, dearie."

George's penis was stiffer than ever, swollen and palpitating as it dangled from his belly. He reached back with one hand to take hold of it, and he started masturbating as Helen continued sliding the broomstick in and out of his anus.