Party Mom Ch. 05

The red head was much shorter than me and I could see over the stall as she washed her perky tits.

"I'm so upset," she complained to me in her high pitched voice, "Can you believe they stationed me at Club Violet tonight?"

"Oh that's the worst!" I lied enthusiastically.

"I know! That place just gives me the creeps. At least here it's all handsome guys and their pretty toys, just fucking and buying sexy clothes and going to the beach. But in there, there's that whole different tone. It's sweaty and intense and everyone is so busy with their affairs and scores. I mean, I know the richest clients spend their time in there, so we have to help out as staff, but I'd so rather just be behind the counter here, wouldn't you?"

I had no idea what she was saying, but I nodded and agreed with completely.

As she finished her shower, I tried to make sense of what she was saying. Whatever Club Violet was, it didn't sound like a very nice place, but it had the richest clients? I liked this for two reasons. First, if rich people went there, Josh would be there. He worked so hard and made so much money and I knew he couldn't resist acting like a rich boy. What that was, I had no idea, but he would go there if he knew about it. Second, if I couldn't be with Josh right away, maybe I could find something to do with some rich men. Josh isn't the only one who wants money, you know? I already got a guy to give me tons of presents today, maybe I could get some more cool treats...

I was knocked out of my thoughts by the sounds of the shower turning off. The employee girl was drying off and putting her bikini back on.

"Nice talking to you!" she said, and I wished her good luck for her bad lot at Club Violet (what was it?).

Now that she was gone, I left the shower stall and dried myself off. My round tits and flat stomach, which were before covered in hot steamy piss, were not smooth clean and smelled wonderful.

I checked in the box to see what kind of clothes the tailor had left me. Maybe he wasn't a douchebag at all because these threads were pretty nice.

First, he left me a tube top white bra that was a little too snug. This wasn't very comfortable, but if made my chest bulge out obscenely, which I'm sure he intended. He also gave me a blue fishnet shirt, which I used to cover my top, though it was cut too short and I ended up having my stomach out to display.

He had also given me a tight black skirt, which was expectedly too tight and too short, making it hug my already large behind and expose my tan thighs to the world. Of course, there were no panties in sight. All in all, it was a very sexy outfit, but it was no string bikini. I may have looked like no nun, but I was more covered up than before.

He also included a cute small blue purse that matched my fishnet shirt. Inside, I found a lot of interesting make up tools, a small vial of hand sanitizer, a pen, and the notebook that I'm currently writing in now. I'm sorry if my handwriting is a little shakey; he's pounding me pretty rapidly, and slapping my ass every few minutes. I can't say it hurts, but I'm not enjoying it.

Anyway, now that I was clean and clothed, I looked at myself in the mirror and yawned loudly. With jet lag, I was exhausted, and I needed to rest.

I peeked outside into the hallway but no one was there. I walked left, farther down into what I assumed was an employee section, and found a tiny office that looked like it hadn't been used in a while. It had a comfy looking couch, and so I sprawled myself out and fell asleep.

When I woke up, I had no idea what time it was. However, glancing down at my belt, I saw that my light was that bright dangerous red. It must have been at least twenty four hours then.

Taking the card out of my purse, I swiped myself and it completely worked. I was back to green.

Walking out of the office and back into the department store, I could tell it was mid morning. I must have slept all night.

I walked out onto the streets and made my way down an avenue. The resort may have been designed to look like a city, but they had signs everywhere to tell you where everything was. Club Violet had arrows pointing all over, though it seemed like a considerable walk.

I passed by an older woman with a green light sticking to the side of her trader, a much younger skinny man. For a second, I thought maybe they were mother and son, but that didn't seem right. She was probably a divorced rich spinster, come to a far away land to get her snatch pounded by young men like the one beside her.

I started thinking about Chad and that yummy mummy of his. I really missed them both. At the thought of her expert lips and heaving breasts, my pussy began to tingle, but it was more than that.

My life had been so excellent since I met them. With our current arrangement, I could be ordered around by Josh and then myself order around that mom. And then there's Chad. Poor Chad.

It's clear what Josh gets out of us; two of the sexiest and kinkiest broads out there, basically worshipping him twenty four seven. He gets four big tan tits, two slimy hard working tongues, two sets of curvy wide hips, and two tight wet pussies that gush when he enters a room. What else could a man want?

The mom, she can be so mindless at times, but she's benefitting too. Though I'm sure with a body like hers, she's enjoyed some hard cock during her years, Josh really does have a way with his meat. Any girl is lucky to even lay a finger on his glorious package.

Plus, she gets me. Guys have such a stigma against guy-on-guy action (I personally am begging for the day that Josh scoops Chad over with his mom and me and fucks him like he does us, but I know Josh is too macho for that to ever happen). Girls can appreciate girls just fine. And though she revels in Josh's commands the same way I do, she gets to have a soft plushy lady master to boss her around too.

And then there's Chad, and while in a sense it's so natural for the four of us to live the way we do, it's also so bizarre. Josh is so superior and important and self-absorbed (but that's why I'm driven so crazy by him, isn't it? ;) ) that he never even notices Chad. But I do, and his mom sure does.

I don't think that mom has had a thought on her mind since the day we met. She's been like a brainless sex zombie this whole time. So eager to please, so willing to degrade herself for Josh and for me more and more and more. I know she loves Chad dearly, but this degradation has overwhelmed her little head and she's been on one long orgasm this whole time. Josh rails her hard every day, I rail her hard every day, and she laps up his cum off the floor like a dog in front of her own son! Every day! Chad means everything in this. If Josh was just banging her, it wouldn't be nearly as fun. She's not just being a whore, she's being a whore with a man her son's age and right in from of him. It doesn't get any more degrading then that. I envy her, a little. Since we got to her, the only images in her head have been an endless trail of cocks and my warm pussy at the end.

But I love Chad, beyond just as a tool for degrading myself for Josh. Sure, I love it how Josh rails me and he watches so eagerly and so lustfully, seeing that Josh can do whatever he wants and he himself can't do anything. I get a thrill watching him squirm as I describe how I dug my pelvis into his own mom's face and gushed all over her cheeks. It's hot telling a poor little boy that you made his mommy into a complete whore.

But if that mommy gets off on the idea that her son is helpless in watching her sink lower and lower, there's a thrill for me in being helpful. I like when I can hear him jerking off in the other room and I moan a little louder, so he can hear me and cum a lot nicer. I give him my bras to rub against his little balls, and I flash him sometimes, to tease him for sure, but also because the kid so desperately wants to see my tits!

So maybe, if things turn out a certain way, it would be bad to let him go a little farther. Let Josh screw away at his mom, and maybe let him jerk off a little onto my tits. I can make him like his seed off, a treat for both of us, and even if I only let him do it once, he'll be stuck to me forever with the idea that it could happen again!

I was thinking about all of this when I knocked into the bicep of a big man in a cut off t-shirt. I was too lost in my thoughts, not watching where I was going. I fell down to the ground.

My skirt rolled up my thighs, exposing that I had on no panties, and when I reached across myself to fix them, my heart sunk into my chest.

How was my light red! I had just swiped myself an hour ago. Did the card not work? I was terrified, here I was red and in danger with this giant of a trader who could swipe me at any moment.

I stood up quickly and apologized before walking away briskly. Was he following me? Had he seen?

After a few minutes, it was clear that he had not. I made my way into a corner alley and pulled out my purple card to try to swipe again. It worked fine, the light turning back to green and staying that way for a safe moments more. I reasoned through this and figured that the purple staff cards don't hold as long. If I didn't remember to reswipe every hour or so, I was bound to get caught and owned.

After so much walking, I found myself in front of Club Violet. It was still mid day, and I grabbed some food from a stand, eating quickly before walking to the entrance.

There were two big red doors beneath the sign that read Club Violet. They were guarded by a large portly black man in a purple suit and sunglasses.

"Hello," I said, showing off that I was green lit and should be fine to enter.

"No newbies," he said, not even glancing in my eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Your light is green. You ain't got a trader. It's your first 24 hours. No newbies, no singles. You find a trader in a few hours."

There was no way I could explain to him that I had a staff card and that I was technically not a newbie.

I looked around the courtyard in front of the club, but there were not many people.

"Oh please sir, is there anything I can do?" I did my best damsel-in-distress voice.

"No."

I reached under my fishnet and pulled down my bra. Now the see-through mesh of the blue shirt was all that shielded my tits from the air.

He wasn't even glancing, so I reached for his hand and maneuvered his massive paw over my right tit. He couldn't help but give it a few quick squeezes. I slid his hand down my body and between my legs, right up between my skirt and...

Bam, I fell down. He had done something, in one movement, his one finger had put pressure in the most amazing spot in my wetness and I had felt an overpowering wave of pleasure surge through my body so intensely that my knees just crumbled and I fell. It was incredible.

"That is over." he told me. "If you do one more thing, I will have you leave this resort."

I stood up and sulked myself away. It did not look easy to get into the Club Violet. I pulled up my bra to recover my tits and started to leave the courtyard when a huge crowd appeared.

The crowd was mostly women with green bikinis, their flesh swaying as they took steps in their high heels. At the lead of the pack was a tall white man with gray hair in suit, and a face I recognized immediately.

Deshawn was a hit rap sensation in America and probably across the world. I have all his records, love and music, and I read all the blogs about who he's currently screwing. Last I checked, he was boning the mom of a girl he had screwed a month ago, but I guess he had dumped her and come here to Mauve.

I knew that my best chance to get into Club Violet was going to be as part of this crew. I unswiped myself quickly and rushed up to the big shirtless black star.

"Hello there," I said to him, pushing my tits up to impress him, "Got room for one more?"

"Get lost," Deshawn said, not even glancing at my bountiful tan breasts.

"Come on," I pleaded, "I'll suck your cock so good, you can fuck my sweet ass."

I knew that Deshawn was an ass man, and he stopped.

"Show me that thing," he commanded.

I bent over in front of him arched my back inwards so my cute ass stuck right up in the air. The way the skirt was stretching, there was no way he couldn't see how juicy and full my behind really was.

"Yea girl, you got a nice ass," I heard him say, "But how do I know you're a slut?"

"How about this?" I offered, walking on my hands and feet backwards and grinding my ass into his crotch.

"Let me tell you a story," I began.

"For the past few months, I've been living with my boyfriend, this dork I know from school, and his bombshell milf mom. Every morning, this slut and I lick his cock until it's hard and he cums on our faces, then she makes us both breakfast covered in his juices. The son is a pathetic little guy, cute but completely hopeless, and he just sits there in the house watching his mom slide deeper and deeper into degradation. We fuck her around the house, we make her dress in barely nothing so we can fuck her in public. My boyfriend and his big cock own my vagina, the milf's pussy, and by extension, the poor little cock of her son. I live nearly every moment of my life in ecstasy, with either a big cock sliding between my tits, or that dutiful milf's tongue lapping between my legs. Does that make me enough of a slut for you?"

Deshawn stood in stunned silence but I continued to rub my ass up against him.

"Take this bitch," he finally said, and the gray haired man grabbed me by the hips and slid his card through my slot.

"Shit," I thought, "I don't know who the fuck this guy is. I was hoping at least Deshawn himself was going to slide me."

I knew my purple card was on me, so I could escape nearly any time I needed. However, if I wanted to stay in the park without getting kicked out, I would need to make sure no one knew I had it.

The group walked through the doors to Club Violet easily. I gave a big wink to the doorman. I had gotten into the club without putting an inch of his cock inside my body. His loss.

I was expecting a club inside, but it was far from it. Club Violet, or just Violet as the big sign said, seemed like an entirely new resort. It was an indoor cavern, with big buildings inside the expanse and roads and corridors that led even deeper. Where was I?

The first issue I saw was that in here, not everyone looked like a slave or a trader. There were women dressed in business suits without card slots, and in here, the population was not nearly as attractive as out in Mauve. In fact, a bigger bouncer was standing guarding the gate from Violet back to Mauve then from Mauve into Violet. From what I could tell, this seemed like a whole new animal, with a connection to Mauve, of course, but with its own new sets of rules.

Deshawn and the gray haired man led us to a big building on the right, and all the girls and I crammed into a giant laundry basket on wheels. It was squished and uncomfortable, with flesh sliding all over everyone else's flesh. Deshawn and the man pushed the cart through the building like we were a cart of groceries that he had just picked off the shelf.

Finally, they dumped us out into a giant room with studio lights and a stage, and the girls all proceeded onto the stage.

"What is this?" I asked, but Deshawn told me to shut my mouth and go change into my outfit.

The gray haired man led me to a room and handed me a tiny neon green bikini. I kept expecting him to leave while I changed, but then I remember that since he swiped me, we were stuck together.

I undid my clothes and I saw his eyes go wide. The old man watched my tits jiggle and I adjusted the bikini top, and he even reached his hand down and ran it over my taut tan thigh. I played the part and giggled.

Slapping my ass as I walked in front of him, the gray man led me to the stage, where all of the girls were on their knees and hands with their big asses faces the empty audience of the room.

The gray haired man shoved me onto the stage, and I had to admire how nice these girls looked. They were all perfectly slender full bodied ladies with either enourmous tits or bodacious asses, or in most cases, both. I felt right at home amongst these sexy girls, and got in line on my hands and knees with them.

A loudspeaker announced that the live audience for this rap video shoot would be arriving soon, and it didn't take a genius to realize what I had now signed up for.

Within a few minutes, the studio was packed with people, the lights were adjusted, and I was still on my hands and knees when Deshawn took the stage.

"What's up Club Violet!" he roared and the crowd cheered back at him.

There were camera men running behind and in front of us, and when the camera passed by me I licked my lips and winked. Before I knew it, a loud beat from giant speakers behind us burst out and Deshawn's rhymes echoed throughout the cheering hall.

All the other girls had started shaking their booties right up in the air and so I joined them. Deshawn came by and, microphone in hand, grabbed the hips of one of the girls farther down the line and thrust into her behind, her face contorting into a look of surprised glee.

Soon enough, there was the sound of a pop and I saw from the corner of my eye as Deshawn emptied a body of champagne over this girl's skin. The fizzy suds slicked down her exposed butt, leaving a glistening mess of foam all across her deep olive skin. The crowd cheered and the camera men moved in.

I watched as a new crowd of men, all in black shirts and black pants, entered the stage, each of them approaching one of the bent over women in line. The man behind me slapped my ass and I let out a loud sexy cry. Then, I felt the cold fizzy champagne pop out of the bottle and coat my own behind, and I just shook my slippery ass up in the air for everyone to see.

The man grabbed my hips and spun me around, coating my chest with the suds too. I grinded down on my knees, rotating my hips and letting the champagne drip down my entire body. I even stuck my shoulders together so that my arms squeezed my big boobs together in a wet slippery mess.

Now that I was turned around, I had a better view of the crowd. It was enormous. Club Violet must not be a club at all, but an entirely new city, and this football stadium of a concert hall must just be one tiny piece.

I saw on my left that most of the girls had disappeared. It seemed like each of the guys, after making sure his girl's body was wet with all the champagne, was throwing their girl into the audience to crowd surf on top of the spectators' eager hands.

Sure enough, I squealed as he wrapped his arms around my hips and tossed me into the massive crowd of people like a sack of potatoes.

My body was so slippery and wet that I pretty much glided over the eager hands of the people in the crowd. There were so many fingers roaming my body. They pinched the sides of my stomach, slid over my inner thigh, and even slipped a digit between my pouty lips so I could give a quick lick to their finger.

With so many hands picking and pulling at my slippery body, the swimsuit strings got untied and eventually taken completely off of me. I was a nude wet object being passed over and over by this crowd that seemed to go on forever.

When they finally led me back and tossed me onto the stage, my hair was tousled, my body was red in places where harsher hands had grabbed me, and my nude body was exposed to the sight of the crowd and the cameras.

Deshawn, meanwhile, had been rapping on stage and playing with a few of the girls, while the cameras divided their attention on his vocals and the slippery girls still out there in the crowd. In editing, of course, it would all be seamless, with his tough and harsh rapping figure overlaid with the shiny flesh of the naked girls in the crowd.