Naked Speed Datingbyexquisit_taste©
The magnificent ballroom of the exclusive Vegas hotel was reserved just for this unique occasion: Naked speed dating. My girl friend had been to this event once before, loved the experience and brought me along this time.
The host and hostess of the event swung open the tall, wide ballroom doors dressed only in black top hat, bowtie, cuffs and polished shoes. Their sculpted nude bodies were perfect in every detail, their sexes conservatively groomed, properly and formally welcoming us.
With full clearance, twenty of us women and men, naked under our robes, entered the private elegant ballroom as soft jazz filled the hugeness of the room. It was lighted softly and the air held a very faint fragrance of some sort, maybe vanilla but also spicy earth tone, like sage underneath it. This is ever so light and I am exhilarated immediately in my spirit. I shot my girlfriend a smile and she returned it, grabbing my hand with a soft giggle.
As we entered we were ushered towards an open warm reception area with two cocktail bars, set before a huge white canvas labyrinth tent, quite tall, perhaps twenty feet. The outside entrance was decorated with voluminous drapes of braided cloth; royal blue, teal, burgundy and white patterned satin wrapped with delicate white French lace, knotted with black leather straps, tied, twisted and draped artistically. Tiny white ornamental lights outlined the massive size of this canopy, reflecting the true size of this entirely huge ballroom. It glowed. Within this luminous structure, the configuration of ten-foot high canvas partitions divided into two rows of ten, back-to-back, open on one side, sort of. The open third side had a curtain of wooden beads that only hinted at privacy.
Elegant men and women of all sizes, shapes and colors, mingled with cool anticipation, eyeing each other's robes and smiles. Giggles of all tonations blended with the temperament of the music and the sound of swirling ice. Sexy.
With all the participants were a dozen groomsmen and maids serving hors d'oeuvre of stuffed mushrooms and caviar creamed crackers and other luscious delights. They too, were beautifully nude. All the groomsmen wore crisp black bowties around their necks. The maids wore the same along with a delicate black lace apron tied at their narrow waistline, too small to cover their sex, and stilettos. Each maid wore identical colored lipstick and pale make-up tone which reminded me of the Robert Palmer's music video, Addicted to Love, where his robotic female band pounded out its tune. It did not go unnoticed that all the groomsmen shared the same hairstyle as well, not to mention their finely tuned physic's.
After our drinks in the reception area, the energy settling somewhat, our formal host and hostess took turns explaining how the rules of this affair will commence.
The deep heavy voice of our host was smooth as silk over soft saxophone floating in the air. He held our attention as he explained our objective: To find a consensual sexual match for the evening. Instructing us, there will be three rounds of speed dates, each date consisting of one-minute each, three-minute, then five-minute dates with a five-minute refreshment period between rounds. After the first three rounds, each participant may select up to three choices to share a forth-round date. Once all the selections are matched the forth-round date of ten minutes will commence. If, unfortunately we have no matches, we are invited to relax at the bar before biding us a goodnight.
With a clear velvet chocolaty voice our hostess continued on to explain that the men will take their place, one by one, into each chamber and remain there. At the sound of the trumpet the women will rotate from booth to booth until the sound of the next trumpet, indicating the time to rotate to the next chamber.
Requirement: No touching each other during the first three rounds of dates. Only those who matched their choices will be allowed to touch in the fourth date round. Allowable are toys of any kind. The crowd lightly applauded, whistled and laughed, all of us feeling the excitement of the event about to unfold.
Soon the men are asked to move into the partitioned arena, and we watched as each man was given a long necklace with a number on it. As the men disappeared single file, around, into the allotted parcels, the women took time to ready themselves for this adventure.
I squeezed the hand of my friend with a shake and we both smiled at each other, she raised her eyebrows in excitement and I could feel my drink warming my blood too. "Good luck" she said leaning closer to my ear.
"You too" I told her, feeling her nude breast beneath her thin robe brush against the outside of my arm, her blond hair highlighted beautifully in this light.
As the women began to enter the outside lane of this arena, we were handed our long necklace of soft lace that held a number molded of creamy milk chocolate, wrapped in shiny gold foil. After my friend, I was given the number eleven. A good sign tingled through me, the month of my birth. Oh, this could be a very exciting event.
Piano, sax and snappy drums excited the moment.
As we waited to begin I could see that each chamber was decorated simply. Two stuffy black leather chairs faced each other, with a lovely multi flowered bouquet on a small glass top table. There was a large, three-foot pillar candle, lit, on its own ornate pedestal, along with one free standing full-length footed mirror. My breath quickened before the sound of the first note.
The trumpet blew out a loud five-second riff signaling our start.
Excitedly, I adjust the long white lace necklace, the gold foil glowing and enter to meet my number-eleven first-date-man.
Extending my hand to greet him, he stood in his navy blue collared robe. We smiled politely at each other in genuine nervousness. He had a warm, baby-face to him, blond, tall with broad shoulders, and a little weight on him that gave me a comfortable feeling. "Hello eleven." His higher voice did not match his size.
"Hello eleven" I responded nervously, noticing his braided leather necklace with the same foil wrapped number as mine. We sank into the luscious leather, so soft in texture, goatskin maybe, and I ask him quickly what he is looking for in his search for ultimate sexual pleasures. My heart was pounding, making me feel very warm suddenly.
"I want a woman who will not fake an orgasm." He stated clearly. "I want a woman to tell me what she wants me to do to make her have an orgasm because its never happened to me before." He admitted.
Slightly distracted by the echoing sounds of all the meetings taking place at the same time, I ask lamely "Oh, why is that?"
"I don't really know." He said sheepishly. "Maybe because my dick is kind of small."
Looking at him, then trying to notice if that's true, "How small?" I ask.
He opened his robe to show me. Even in his groomed condition, his sex was disproportionate to his body size and I understood completely. Trying not to respond unfavorably, I ask, "Do you enjoy licking pussy?" Immediately knowing number eleven would not be a choice.
"Oh yes!" He says almost childlike.
"Well that's good because that would be a requirement for me." I offer. "Do you like anal sex?" He looked at me with an eager smile.
The sound of a rapid trumpet suddenly blared as I hear him answer yes, rising in disbelief at how quick one minute is.
Moving clockwise to the next date, he was already standing when I entered his chamber. Number twelve was very handsome indeed. He stood a head taller than myself and his dark black brown strong features held intensity to them. He took my hand directly to his mouth and kissed it, his smoothly rough mustache brushing my skin, smiling as he guided me to sit. His overly polite mannerisms made me feel dreamy, suddenly, as I sank into my seat. "Good evening number twelve." I blushed, getting a whiff of his spicy woodsy cologne.
"Good evening to you too, beautiful madam." His rich smooth voice said, with a nod of his head to me, before he took his seat. "May I express what a lovely robe you have on this evening, does it suit your sexual personality?" He asked with a curious grin.
My full-length dark purple chenille robe was luxurious indeed, a private splurge. Soft, pastel rose-colored silk thread embroidered the initial of my first name on the left breast. The same shade in satin lined the interior, as well as the rim of my collar, cuffs, and pockets. Smiling directly at his question I said, "I would hope so, yes."
Our eyes met, and for a tiny split second I felt like the back of our eyes did too. My heart jumped as I shifted my eyes away quickly. He held a handsome long smile without a word, so I asked him what he was searching for in the way of the ultimate lover.
Not seeming to care our minute was ticking, he continued to smile at me, "Number eleven seems as close to perfect already," He said simply. His eyes and smile reviewed me as I blushed, but my eyes returned to notice him a bit closer, feeling fluttery all of a sudden. His burgundy robe revealed a luscious tuft of chest hair peeking out
With my mouth unable to find words, my lips moved without any voice and we both started to laugh, my hands stroking the luscious leather chair arm as I looked into his eyes directly again, the trumpet blared out the next rotation.
Still a bit woozy from the last sixty seconds, number thirteen was hardly noticed. His cowboy-ish leathery skin fit his rugged slender form. I barely remember our polite introductions before moving over to number fourteen.
Number fourteen was openly fondling his semi-aroused penis with one leg slung over the side of the chair as I entered. As I got to my chair, he held his hand up flat signaling me to stop, his dark Persian shaped eyes halting me. "Open your robe please" He asked with a mellow lilting voice, its sound injected sexiness into my loins. With a slight pause of electricity, I open my robe for him.
His smiling eyes widened as he snapped his head "More" he said.
My lips got licked at his instruction and I took a step towards him, confidently, allowing my shoulder to dip down out of my robe, turning away from him, as I display half my back side to his attentive almond shaped eyes. My robe remained perched on my left- shoulder as my body rotated for his perusal. His dark orbs scanned the curves of my high firm ass muscles silently, but affectively, as I continued to turn for him slowly, to let his eyes follow the swell of my breast, allowing his view to linger on my areolas and pubis before facing him squarely.
He widened his open knees to display his thickly aroused cock for me, its girth the width of four of my fingers, straight and proud. My face hovered closer to him. There was a lovely scent to his oiled sex and his bald balls, dark and heavy, the purpley-brown cock head shaped like a swollen arrowhead caused my breath to quicken by the site of him.
His full dark lips formed a tiny circle like a whistle as my fingers gently stroked and twisted my nipple. Our eyes enjoyed the view of each other. His lean shapely muscled body was hairless, except for the neatly trimmed black patch above his large organ. The shape of his aroused sex immediately shot a hot zing of arousal through me just as the high note from the trumpet blew out the next rotation. A deep cleansing breath filled my lungs as our eyes smiled at one another with an air of intensity. "Number fourteen" my voice low and suddenly smooth, slipping my arm back into my robe to exit through the beads, but not before kissing my chocolate number eleven acknowledging his bold introduction.
Twirling my step into booth number fifteen, who was pulling a flower out of the vase to give to me when I entered. "Good evening" he greeted handing me the fragrant bud.
"Good evening, thank you" I smiled, trying to clear my mind from the last minute, blinking my eyes with a swallow. Sniffing the gardenia, I barely paid attention to number fifteen, who spoke warm flattering compliments about my beautiful long dark hair and how he loved the color of my robe, but I was still swooning from that last date. After many thank-you's, all I could remember about him was his unflattering plaid robe. It didn't seem to fit his soft plain face, clean and ordinary, comfortable suddenly. Number sixteen was much the same, a happy, pleasant man homemade and kind of milk toast. Number seventeen too. All of these men were very fuckable for someone else.
My emotions settled into my self as the minute dates wore on, my mind still lingering number fourteen thoughts, thoughts that whispered with the sexy jazz. My visits with each date moved into a groove. The smooth saxophone and piano carried me through each brief introduction quickly through round one.
When the women gathered in the reception area, my girlfriend came up to me all a flutter. We walked over to the hors d'oeuvre tables that held mounds of fruits and vegetables along with a huge assortment of what ever your heart may desire; chocolates, fruit dipped in chocolate, fancy deserts and nuts. With a soft smile, I watch my friend slide a whole lovely banana into the side pocket of her robe, looking at me with a wink. I giggled as she smoothly moved on to the cut pieces of watermelon, popping a piece into her mouth, tasting its sweet juicy water. Me, following right behind her, a banana of my own in hand.
During the first five-minute break the groomsmen catered to the gentlemen who remained in their chambers. Stainless steel carts that carried hot wet towels and other personal items rolled into the arena to service the men along with platters of fruits and drink refreshments. A maid offered me a hot towel if I needed it, and that's when I noticed other women wiping their sexes with them, taking one from her and doing the same thing, an instant warm laugher mixed with the music of this very fun moment.
My friend smiled at me as she watched me open my stance and wipe myself. I watched her pull open her delicate robe, her natural blond sex bare with the exception of a sexy round patch of long, bright and curly blond hair, the size of a half dollar, way above, not even touching her puss lips. Mirroring my stance and movement, she stroked the hot, white cloth between her legs, her fair-skinned lips revealing a deeper pink red layer that revealed her arousal.
I was kind of mesmerized by seeing my girl friend like that. She was actually very sexy the way her light pink areola circled a taut nipple, firm, natural and full. She wore a very beautiful fine gold chain around her slim waist, matching the one around her ankle, and of course, any man would be honored to fuck her. Her natural happiness made it easy to attend this event with her and I thanked her for bringing me here. I plucked a perfect strawberry off the table and brought it to her lips, which smiled before taking it, then doing it again for myself.
We moved into the next round of three-minute dates with a refreshed excitement, just like the tempo of the snappy blaze of this music that filled, without echo, this huge ballroom, engulfing us, moving us along.
The next round of dates afforded me the opportunity to get into the various men who all were putting their best foot forward, each one unique. One red haired guy with freckles that was nervous and kind of shy but seemed to loose some of that as the rounds rolled on. Another one forward and bold in his approach, all offering a side that might attach to some female partner this night. During round three all the men I was slightly attracted to, would allow me to see their sex when I would ask, each taking very creative ways with which to show me their true sexual desire.
A very large black man, number one, was so elegant about showing off his very proud manhood in the reflection of the mirror, his size magnificent, black and so arousing against the shiny gold lining of his robe. His large beautiful cock was nearly the size of my forearm, so I was honest up front that I would never try to dishonor my body by trying to fit that thing in side my sex, but it would be fun to simply orally attempt satisfaction. Being honest about our incompatibility: we used this meeting as a rest period between dates. Which mostly consisted of inquisitions about how a man of his size can even have sex. He admitted what really turned him on is the way some women would get so fucking turned on when first seeing his size, so he learned to love to display it, as he was doing at this moment. Only the owner of that monster cock could hold it so delicately, and he knew the site of it caused excitement. It aroused him to watch when others arousal was ignited just by looking at his massive size. He wore the appropriate number indeed.
Number five was also very, very fine indeed. His whole persona is a surfer guy in a soft blue cotton robe that was colored with a beach sunset of swimmers, surfers and sea creatures that hung to the middle of his thigh. Its colors accentuated his tan body that outlined his surfing physic, his hairy but groomed sex revealed the nakedness of his balls that told me immediately he would love to have my mouth there. His all American personality was comfortable to be around and I shared my naked view to him too. He said he liked the way I shaved my puss lips, a tiny hairline rimmed my otherwise bald clean sex that formed the shape of a flame at the top opening of my pussy lips. He said he thought it would look very good wrapped around his nicely shaped organ. His semi-swollen cock was a perfect size and its dart-like shape had a very slight arc to it at the tip, I think I had to agree.
So, I stroked my hand over myself to display my flame shaped sex, petting my flame for him, letting him take a good look. "You think?" I said.
His face darted quickly to my sex to examine my puss lips closely and I giggled as his face comically traveled up my body to both my nipples, his tongue licking his lips.
A groomsmen quickly warned number five "Not too close, sir" as graciously as possible. I sort of teased him by taking advantage of his closeness and grabbed his chocolate number and kissed it as he obligingly backed away from my nakedness.
He sank his body into the chair and pretended to cry in animated wounding at the discipline, his sex exposed to my feasting view. Playing along with him I giggled at our silliness, "Ahhhhh, don't cry number five" I cooed at him, cupping both boobies in my hands and bouncing them around seductively with a laugh. Flirting openly now as I turned my body away from him, pulling aside my robe, so that my naked butt was level with his view, and he immediately stopped crying.
Striding my ankles shoulder wide I swung my hips slowly before his face, making sure he sees the spot where my pussy lips meet my ass cheeks and any wetness marking the exact spot where his dick is to be inserted. As his eyes widen to absorb this view, I dipped my hand between my legs and pressed on my smooth horny labia for him, sweetly teased him as the light from the huge candle flickered across the slippery fluids there, confirming my arousal.
He held his cock as he shifted his hips in the chair, gripping hold of his sex urgently, "Oooooooooo ooooooo ooo, Miss Eleven" he moaned openly and no longer kidding, both hands holding on to his very engorged cock, he stroked himself helplessly then tried to stop himself by gently tugging on balls as if to help hold back his arousal somewhat or distract his inflamed gun, the candle light reflected the shiny bubble oozing from its tiny opening at the tip.
Our three-minute date was rich with possibilities. I felt a surety sex with him would be fun and possibly very creative. A creative sex partner is always fantastic to have and he looked very match-able to me. As I reached for the banana in my pocket, the trumpet interrupting my next thought with him, I just kept going, out the beads. With an exaggerated turn and wiggle I waved to him, then blew him a kiss. His head tilted to one side as a soft groan escaped him, responding to his erection and wild whirling music. I twirled him a flash of my naked body before passing through the beads with the music. Whoa, what a night!