Liquid Chocolate

"When she got home, on these occasions, we would fuck with such a fury it was almost frightening. But I was missing too much work, sitting in the mall manipulating her, so we went to the next step – a cell, set on vibrate, in a jerry-rigged pocket right up against her clit. I could call it from work, and just let it ring. A couple times I set it vibrating then called the shop phone on another line just to hear her fight to stifle her climatic squeals. I started leaving the clitoral number around in public – you know, 'for a good time call...', and she had to deal with orgasms everywhere – sitting on a bus, standing in line at the grocery checkout, sitting at a coffee bar. I'd have her recount all of her thrills each night." Just talking about it made me feel a little gooey. "Yeah, we were racing down some dark path at break-neck speed, to I-don't-know-where. But you know, it still just felt like naughty fun. It didn't actually seem to be the perversion it sounds like now. And we didn't realize what a slippery slope we were so blithely plunging head-long down.

"I guess things really began to accelerate when, one Saturday afternoon, as we wandered through a downtown park, I got her to remove her bra and panties. I had leaned over and drawn my lips in light fairy-kisses across the nape of her neck. She'd froze. 'Stop it,' she'd hissed, 'you're going to make me come!'

"'Oh, dear,' I'd replied mockingly, not stopping. 'then you'd better take off your panties so's they don't get all slimy, eh?' She protested, but in the end, we'd sat down on a bench, and she'd waited for a lull in the pedestrian traffic, then quickly shucked her knickers. 'Take your bra off too,' I instructed, 'then you can twiddle your nipples, and help your orgasms along.' So there we sat, ostensibly oblivious to the passers-by, me tickling the back of her neck, and her with her eyes closed, not-so-subtly twisting her own nipples, and having one orgasm after another for all to see. To say it was simply titillating is mammoth understatement. I just watched the shock and envy of the spectators, until some jock came up and asked, with a twinkle in his eye, if he could help. We thanked him and moved on.

"But that scenario was repeated several other times. You'd have thought that her multiple orgasms would have worn her out, but it seemed just the opposite. A couple times we had to find some bushes thick enough to creep into. As soon as we were out of view, I'd flip up her skirt – she usually wore skirts by then, often sans panties – and fuck her doggy-style.

"In fact the last time we did it in the park, after several orgasms on the bench, she flung her jacket onto my lap, unzipped me and pulled out my well-engorged cock. The breeze of midday abruptly inflated it from solidly turgid to steely rigid in mere moments. Tillie then stood, trying to seem nonchalant, and lowered herself carefully onto my erection. It was supposed to look like she were sitting innocently on my lap, but I doubt it did. The slick glove of her cunt sucked me in as she slowly impaled herself fully on my raging hard-on, eliciting impassioned gasps from both of us. Then Tillie – both of us, I suppose – lost control and started thrusting and bouncing frenetically right there on the bench in full public view. I was barely aware of the multitude of strangers whose attentions were drawn by our lustful grunting and writhing. We both came hard and fast, my spunk surging up into her like a geyser. A small smattering of applause, along with the odd declaration of disgust brought us back to reality, so we hastily, separated, and walked purposefully away from the scene, overhearing someone on a cell making a police complaint, as we passed.

"From there our outrages seemed to gather speed. I mean, most of our friends and acquaintances knew we were rather lascivious and lewd, but they didn't know the half of it. At least not until we were at a rather wild party, when somewhere deep into the evening, several of us boys were sitting around the pool table jawing about peeler bars. I don't know what possessed me, but I said, almost indifferently, 'I bet Tillie would do a strip-tease for us right now – if I asked her really nicely.'

"First of all they dismissed me, but one or two said, 'Really? You think she would?' To which, I replied that I was pretty sure I could get her to agree. And before you knew it the whole bunch of them were encouraging me to try.

"I went upstairs, found Tillie, and drew her close, blowing lightly on the back of her neck. As she oooohed softly, I whispered in her ear, 'The boys really, really want you to do a strip-tease for them downstairs. Whad'ya say? You up for it?' She may have been initially aghast at the idea, but I feathered my fingers on her neck and guided her toward the basement door before she could answer. She was moving more numbly than willingly, but the whistling and applause that greeted her at the rec room entrance seemed to energize her. Without a word, I passed her to the reaching arms of a couple buddies, and they boosted her up onto the pool table, which someone had hastily cleared of balls and cues.

"She stood frozen for a moment, scanning the faces of all the guys who had pulled their up chairs to surround the green felt stage. The boys went quiet, and the music, seeping in from the stereo in the corner, began to attach itself to Tillie. Slowly she commenced swaying to its rhythm, as the boys started up a whispered chant, "Tillie! Tillie! Tillie!" Then her tension just dissipated. It was like she'd done it all her life. She strutted provocatively back and forth, smiling seductively, and removing – slowly and gracefully – what few bits of clothing she had. Her attention was riveted to her most appreciative male audience, and whether or not she noticed, she did not acknowledge the gathering of the girls at the door – the women who had come down to investigate why their men had become so suspiciously quiet. Word spread, I guess, so that it seemed to me soon the whole party was crowded around the pool table. While it was not long before Tillie was naked, her spontaneous routine had only just begun. She strutted and gyrated, thrusting herself into the faces of the nearest guys; stroking her long fingers along her slit; pinching and twisting her nipples; swinging about an imaginary pole; doing the splits, then rolling and tumbling about the table. Her gasping and mewing became increasingly impassioned, until she finally rolled over onto her back directly in front of the host, legs spread, feet out, her right hand mauling her breasts and her left furiously frigging herself. Suddenly I knew she was done for.

"Dropping her feet onto the table, she bounced her buttocks feverishly, knees splayed, the fingers of her right hand now a blur against her clit, her left hand stabbing violently into her gaping twat. All the other sounds seemed to fade away beneath Tillie's lusty whimperings, and everyone held their collective breath as wave upon wave of orgasm washed over her like a tsunami. Bucking and shuddering about the felt, she cried piteously over and over. As the quaking climax passed she gradually settled insensate on the slate of the table, still shivering and jerking and mewling.

"Silence descended on the room for a few minutes before the low rumble of conversation rose again, as everyone commented on the spectacle. Tillie was literally blown away. I gathered her up with her clothing and we quietly left. A few people muttered their appreciation, one or two their guarded disgust, and only a few their hushed goodbyes. And that was the beginning of the end. We were never invited to another party – leastways not as a couple.

"Notwithstanding, I guess I had somehow got it into my head that every event, every episode we had had to be one up on the last one – more bizarre, more outrageous. In retrospect, Tillie probably didn't need that – that acceleration. She was finding her Nirvana no matter what we did. The ecstasy, continually experienced, would not likely have diminished had we just stayed the course. And I really don't see how I needed it, either; nonetheless..." I shrugged, feeling, even now, a little nonplussed about the whole thing.

"Once in a while – like, I suppose, most offices – a bunch of us at work would go to a bar on a Friday evening. Some of these guys had witnessed Tillie's erotic strip-tease, and they were forever bringing it up. Their partners wouldn't allow them to even reminisce about it, so it was a popular topic in the bar. Well, one of those times, not all that long ago, actually, I told Tillie what I was doing and quietly suggested she join us. I guess I knew what I was doing – what would eventually happen – I s'pose she did, too – but I deceived myself into thinking the whole thing was innocent.

Anyway, Tillie arrived after we boys had consumed several rounds, so her arrival ignited quite the lewd vein in the conversation, especially as I pulled her onto my lap before she could get a chair of her own. Breathing heavily on her neck, beneath her hair, I stealthily snaked my hand up under her skirt, and held it against her bush, as I gently bounced her on my knee. She tried to ignore me by sipping on her beer and engaging, however she could, in the haphazard conversation flitting around the tables. I persisted, relentlessly, secretly, rubbing her clit with my knuckle, and drawing my fingertips along her moistening gash. I could feel the twitches and jerks of an impending climax running through her. I reveled in her attempts to hide her burgeoning arousal, sadistically holding her down on my lap, letting her feel the hardness of my erection against her ass, through my pants. Slowly, my colleagues clued into what was happening, as I cranked up the speed and intensity of her stimulation, bouncing her savagely, her clit bumping hard against my hand. Grasping her hands with my free hand, I pulled them up under her blouse, placing them against her boobs, where they fastened onto her nipples, tweaking and caressing on their own accord.

"The conversation had ground to a halt, as Tillie, eyes closed, breath coming short and ragged, finally threw back her head and keened through clenched teeth. All eyes burning into her with lust and hunger. Her orgasm hit with such fury I had to clasp her tight, my arm around her waist, to prevent her from throwing herself from my lap. With shudders and squeaks she slowly came off her peak, despite my continued, merciless fiddling at her box. The guys said nothing to start, but nodded appreciatively. Then someone, Mitch, I think, said, with a nervous laugh, 'Jeez, that's hardly fair. Why're you the only one at this table that gets an orgasm, Tillie?' voicing, I'm sure, what was on everyone else's minds. Tillie, met his stare and responded with an embarrassed grin and a shrug. Mitch shook his head in mock disappointment and repeated his complaint that it just wasn't fair.

"'Maybe you could do something about that,' I whispered breathily to Tillie, my head on her shoulder, my lips brushing just behind her ear, my fingers attacking her sex with renewed vigor. 'Think that may be the friendly thing to do?'

"Her breath caught, then came again in short bursts, as she whispered, almost inaudibly, 'Dunno.' Mitch was not the only one to recognize her elevated state of arousal once again. And he was not the only one to be slowly stroking himself through his pants, mouth slightly agape, tongue licking lips, breath becoming laboured.

"'Lookit those poor guys.' I whispered. 'They're horny as hell – me, too – and it's all your fault, y'know.' With that, I released my grip around her waist, and slowly coaxed her to slip off my lap, between my knees, to the floor beneath the table. Pushing her away from me, I lifted my glass, and offered a toast. 'Here's to my Tillie, the best damn cocksucker this side of anywhere.' Everyone murmured their assent and watched as Mitch slid forward in his chair, his eyes going from steely sharp to glassy in the matter of just a few moments.

"We ordered more beer, and sat around drinking and chatting – small talk, nothing profound – ignoring the occasional bump on the underside of the tables, ignoring, too, the one member of the group who'd be slouched low in his seat, sweating and silent, except for the odd groan – and the frequent corresponding low whimper or gasp from beneath. It took just under an hour for Tillie to get back to me, the eighth and final member of the group. I could, at first, feel her bumping my thigh as she bobbed her head in Frank's lap – in the chair next to mine. After a satisfied sigh, his hands lying limp on his lap, I felt my legs being urged apart, as a body insinuated itself between my knees, and fingers pulled at my fly. My throbbing hard-on resisted, then sprung free of the restricting trousers, and was immediately engulfed by the wet warmth of Tillie's soft mouth. I could feel her dripping and drooling down my shaft, quickly soaking my curls. Slowly I slid my hands from the table to entwine them lovingly in the hair over her ears. The satisfied smile that landed on my face, mirrored those of my colleagues, as one by one, they finished their beers, and stood up to leave. 'Thanks, man,' was pretty well all anybody said; and soon they had all left us. I didn't realize that Tillie was now visible to much of the bar.

"I was just about to let go when the bartender came over and said, 'You'd better finish up and get outta her, man, before the cops get here.'

"Reluctantly I disengaged Tillie from my trembling root, and pulled her back up topside. She looked bewildered, limp and exhausted, as I quickly tucked myself in, took her by the arm and guided her to the exit under the watchful eyes and knowing smiles, even the odd whistle and applause of waiters and patrons alike.

"Tillie was back on me, moaning and crying, tearing at my pants and inhaling my prick before I'd even closed the car door. She climaxed when I did, sucking up my jism and swallowing as much as she could, before licking up the spilled remnants. 'Omigod,' she sighed, 'that must be number seven or eight for me, just this afternoon.' And we'd still wring a couple more from her before the night was through.

"At home, once we'd eaten, I started in on her arousal again. She was insatiable, and I was more than willing to provide, one way or t'other. I brought her to boiling with almost stupid ease, and once she was there, it's sort of like it's contagious. I was pumped and stoked, too, sporting another prodigious erection. Arranging her on all fours, there was little need for words. I positioned myself behind her and speared her with one thrust, sinking my rod deep in her pussy. I hesitated at depth, coating my sword with her fragrant juices, before withdrawing peremptorily. Before she could complain I pushed insistently against her rosebud, felt it give, and slid smoothly balls-deep into her rectum. It was so sweet, so heated, so tight, that I almost blew my load right there. 'Mmmmm,' she purred pushing back against me, and grabbing my dick firmly with her inner sheath. 'Oh-oh-oh. I love it,' she muttered.

"I was in heaven. Slowly I began to withdraw, before plunging in again. In, out, in out, deep, shallow, slow, sudden, it was rapidly becoming more than I could stand, yet, I could feel Tillie's quivers and starts, too. Pulling one another inexorably toward the edge, tremors raced from her fundament up my meaty member to sparkle and flash behind my eyes. Finally, inserting myself fully into her backside, I felt the detonation of liquid explosive rumbling up through my balls and along my steely cock to erupt in gobs of white fire, spraying Tillie deep up her bum, and igniting yet another climax of her own. Holding myself tight between the hot globes of her ass cheeks, I paused, letting my equilibrium return, catching my breath, supporting the limp body of my woman on my still rigid phallus. Prophetically, I announced to the world, 'Whatever else happens, this is mine! No one gets your ass but me.' Tillie, her head drooping from her shoulders, forehead lying on her forearms, just nodded drowsily.

"The oral orgy in the pub became a sort of a 'nudge, nudge. Wink, wink,' source of all manner of innuendo. While the administration was still, I hoped, out of the loop on this, the legend, for legend it quickly became, took on a life of its own, and vaguely, somehow, became something of an unspoken threat to my job – my livelihood.

"And that was just one of my growing concerns. Had I created – created or spawned? – a goddess or a monster? It was becoming harder and harder to tell. Just like chocolate, the more our relationship was handled the softer and more shapeless it became. Until finally it got really messy, but that part comes a little later.

"First came the Friday night poker game. Some of the guys from the office had a poker night every month or so, but I'd never gone. Last time, they not only invited me but were insistent that I join them for the evening. I should have suspected an ulterior motive but, as there was no mention of partners, or of any women attending, I just accepted and went along. Lots of booze was consumed, and lots of money changed hands. I'd taken over two hundred dollars but sometime into the evening I got tapped-out and had to fold. I wasn't the first, and only a short while later, Larry seemed to pull a coup that cleaned out everybody else. The game was over, but it was still relatively early.

"'I've got an idea, guys,' Larry announced, fixing me with his winning smile. 'How about Simon, here, invite that lovely wench of his over.' I just stared at him, wondering what he meant. He hadn't even been at the famous pub night, although he'd undoubtedly heard the story many times in increasingly titillating detail. How did he imagine this playing out? I worked my jaw a bit, but said nothing; neither did anyone else, although their eyes bounced between us like we were playing tennis. 'I'll bet you, Simon, this whole pot against your Tillie coming over here and putting out for us.' He let that sink in for a sec, then added, 'Just give her a call, invite her over; see what she thinks. If she doesn't want to, no harm done, I'll just take my winnings and go home. But if she's agreeable – if she's willing, then you get the pot – it's about $1500 – and we get her for the rest of the evening.' He looked at me almost blandly, then shrugged, 'What do you think? It can't hurt to run it past her, eh?'

"My head was spinning, but I thought, 'What the hell. Let her decide.' I invited Tillie over on the strength of the fact that I'd run out of money, and the pretence that I needed her to drive me home. I figured I'd save the proposition until she was there in the flesh.

"When she arrived, I explained the proposal to her. She was shocked. 'You want me to prostitute myself, like a common whore?' she demanded. I told I had no opinion; that it was completely up to her. She stared into my eyes, silently trying to divine what to do. 'What do you think? Should I do it? Should I?' I just shook my head and shrugged. It had to be her decision – just had to be. Slowly she wrapped her arms around me and laid her head against my chest. Returning her embrace, I reached up with one hand and ever-so-softly stroked the back of her neck. I knew it was a dirty thing to do, but everyone was watching us, awaiting her decision.

"'The opportunity is yours to accept or decline,' I stated, simply. I could feel her tense up – tightening her grip on me. 'It's up to you,' I said, whispering breathily against her skin. She shuddered, pulling me even tighter, rubbing her body against mine. 'It's a lot of cash,' I murmured, not sure if that would be a pro or a con for her. 'It's completely up to you,' I repeated, and she looked up at me with a forlorn, lost sort of look. 'Really!' I insisted, 'Your call.' Bastard that I am, I was willing to let her sell herself, but I wasn't man enough to pimp her, I guess.