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** 5-1-10: Ali, Steph & Rob
Rob leaned back on the leather seat and watched the ladies work.
Stephanie was splitting her focus between teasing their driver and keeping them alive. Rob wasn't worried — they were on quiet, empty streets, down by the water.
She was draped over his seat, whispering in his ear while watching the road ahead. If he got too distracted, she used her arms, over his, to guide him back straight.
The rest of the time, she was half-whispering, half-moaning into his ear a real-time running commentary on the cunnilingus she was receiving from Ali.
Ali was on the floor of the car, her dress up around her hips, and she was licking Stephanie's pussy energetically and creatively, as Stephanie described her each and every move to the driver above.
"Oh my god, her tongue is going in and out of my pussy, just like this." She flicked her tongue in and out of his ear, as if lapping up liquid.
Rob sat manspreading on the seat, with Ali in between his legs. He massaged her back and shoulders while she went down — went up — on Stephanie.
Stephanie opened her mouth wider and took in the driver's entire ear, swirling her tongue all around it, and at the same time guided him through an intersection and onto Division Street. Their destination, the Sweet Spot nightclub, was just a few blocks down.
Which was good — Rob's half stiffy was getting a little uncomfortable, and he was looking forward to stretching his legs. And seeing what the ladies had in mind next ...
********
Chapter 5, Part 2: Arrivals
** 5-2-1: Clyde the Cleaner
Clyde backed his way out of the kitchen door, carrying the garbage bag over to the dumpsters. Right as he dropped it into the wide open mouth of the second dumpster, he heard the clang of the door slamming shut.
"Shit!" He cursed in frustration as the door closed. Now it would be locked, and he would have to go the long way back. Through the crowd.
Clyde was claustrophobic in crowds, but oddly was fine in narrow passages and small spaces, if he was the only person around. He just happened to work for a nightclub, which was all about squeezing as many people in as possible on a Friday night.
And the Sweet Spot excelled at packing their dance floor with many beautiful, confident, sensual, alpha hotshots as possible. And he had to clean up after them all.
Serenity the Server had given him his hated nickname. She was a willowy blonde, model-hot and knew it. She was also a massive bitch, to Clyde at least. He thought she should have been named "Severity" instead.
'Clyde the Cleaner', she had called him, and it stuck. For a little while he tried to correct them — 'it's Facilities Manager' — to no avail.
He walked out of the alley, toward Division Street — he could go through the public side door. Biff the Bouncer would let him in behind the line, if there even was a line at the side door. Biff was cool, at least to Clyde.
As far as big goofy guys go, Biff was *really* big but only moderately goofy. It was more like he was really chill. But he truly was giant, 6-8 and 300 pounds. So he made a good doorman — nobody messed with him. And he was way cooler than Hank.
Nobody got past Hank, the Head of Security. Hank was a real asshole, a roid-rage poster boy if ever there was. He looked like the main character of Castle Wolfenstein. Clyde would have been hassled for sure, if it had been Hank — Hank had a read hardon for guys he deemed to be "losers".
Serenity loved Hank, of course, and Clyde had seen them kissing on multiple occasions, had watched Hank's meaty hands paw at her flawless ass. Must be nice ...
Hank was on the main door on Conduit, so was Clyde heading south, out of the alley and down toward Division.
As he rounded the corner, Clyde saw two cars pull up at the same time, a black Escalade coming down Division, and a purple BMW convertible approaching from across from 4th Street.
The Escalade pulled up on the other side of the alley from the doors, and two stunning women emerged, followed by a guy in his mid-30s.
The Escalade pulled away and drove off, a glowing blue Lyft sign reigniting as it pulled away.
The taller woman had flowing red curly hair and was dressed in a skintight black dress that looked see-through from the sides. Her partner was dressed in a slick sheath dress, bright red, with fine black fishnets. She had long hair, dark brown.
The dude was in a nice looking black suit, and he was clearly the center of the ladies attention. They got on either side of him, grabbing his arms in theirs. Damn — who was he?
Clyde was still gaping at the two stunners as the Beamer pulled past, with a platinum blonde girl in a tight yellow top hanging out the window hollering at the trio from the Escalade. She stuck out her arm for a high five and the woman in the red dress slapped her palm, and then made a rock star fist bump. The blonde threw her arms up in the air and went "woo!"
The BMW carried on past them went a little way down the block to the parking lot behind the restaurants.
The doors opened and five, count em, five smashing hotties came out and scampered across the street to join the others.
The driver was a slim goth angel, with pale skin and black hair. Her tits were perky B-cups, and her top was thin and tight enough that her bra was clearly outlined. She was dressed in a clingy dress with black slick stretch leggings underneath, and stood atop hologram silver high-heeled ankle boots.
Her alone would have been a treat to behold, but then amazingly, out of the back of the car emerged a trio of angels just as mouthwatering — first was the blonde who had waved out the window. The blonde had a stupendous chest, bouncing all around in her little cropped yellow t-shirt. She had on silver shiny leggings that sparkles with every move, and acted as a beacon, attracting attention her way.
The next one to pop out, from the middle seat, was so small that Clyde mistook her for a child at first. Her heels were tall, but even so she barely came up to neck level on the other girls. Trim and tiny, she looked like she weighed like 95 pounds. Her long straight black hair swung as she stepped out of the car, stretching her little legs to reach the ground. Her 6" spike platforms helped them get there. Her sparkling silver dress clung tight, showed off her legs, and seemed to have as much fabric in it as a hand towel.
After the tiny one came a stacked brunette in a metallic gold minidress. It looked like sparkly liquid metal, forming itself around her trim waist and full chest. Her gold high heels matched in sheen.
Last of all, from the passenger seat, came another redhead, her hair a much darker shade of maroon then the woman who arrived from the Uber. This one was a little shorter than the others, except for the teeny Latina, but no less beautiful.
Although, because they were all wearing towering high heels, and even the shortest would be at his eye level.
Clyde thought these new ones looked a little younger than the classy ladies from the Escalade. College kids, these. Hope they had good IDs.
The new girls scampered across the street towards the first group. The clicking of their heels as they walked blended together into a percussive wash, and so it took him a moment to hear the heels coming up from behind him.
He turned and saw another woman walking up, and his whole world shifted — it was like she was in slow motion.
She had bright red billowy hair, flowing behind her head in bouncy ringlets. A silver sequined dress clung to her lush curves, and something about it made him see almost a red shimmer.
Her long legs ended in crimson red platform spike heels, which clicked on the sidewalk as she confidently strode towards him. He was caught in a fugue of amazement and lost, and stared at her as she approached.
She was looking through him down the block towards the others, poised to pass him, but as she got closer she seemed to register his enchantment, and her stride slowed.
She stopped directly beside him, and turned sharply to face him. She was barely an arms length away, definitely inside his personal space bubble, but he didn't seem to mind. Her perfume caught him in a wash — intoxicating and sensual, stimulating and exotic — and her eyes were rimmed in dark eyeshadow, feathering off into fine points, pulling his focus in, towards her mysterious and captivating gaze.
"Hi!" she bubbled, curls bouncing. "I'm Brittany - what's your name?"
She held out her hand, wrist cocked with her palm down, as if for him to shake.
"Hi, Brittany — my name is Clyde. It's, uh, nice to meet you."
Clyde looked down at her shiny painted nails, bright red with black French tips. and on some rare, bold impulse he took her hand and kissed it.
He had never done anything like that before, but never before had a goddess angel like her just walked up in stacked heels and gotten in his face, all billowing curls and giant eyes with a slick sequined silhouette right out of his wettest dreams.
Brittany looked tickled pink by this gesture, and her dazzling smile grew bigger.
"My, what a gentleman. It's clear you know how to treat a lady." She bit her lower lip and tipped her head down, looking up at him.
"I — well — I uh — well I work here, and I just want you to have a nice time tonight ."
Inside, he grimaced at this uncool response, but Brittany wasn't acting turned off. In fact she seemed to shiver slightly when she heard him stammer that out, and her sequined dress shook and flickered in all the right places.
She beamed at him and said, "Awww you're so sweet."
Then she reached down and took his hand in hers, clasping both of her little fists around his. He saw the accent nail on her fourth finger, with red and silver colors reversed.
"So, my hero Clyde, since you want me to feel taken care of — ". She squeezed her arms in against her breasts and her cleavage pushed up, drawing his eyes down. Dammit! Why couldn't he resist? But she didn't seem to mind his lack of eye discipline, or be surprised by it at all. And she wasn't finished.
"— can you help me with something else?"
He looked up to meet her gaze. Her blue eyes were rich and bright, and sparkled with amusement.
"So I promised someone I would take some pictures tonight. I was going to do selfies — I'm really good at selfies." She paused and made a duck lipped face for a second before laughing and continuing. "But maybe if you take them, we can get some better shots."
"What do you say? Will you let me model for you?" She dropped his hands and struck a pose, one arm on her hip and the other on her neck.
Clyde's imagination was in turbocharged mode, flashing a rapid-fire series of all his favorite porn image poses, with her as the subject, and what was left of his brain blurred out "You want to pose for me?"
"No silly, they're for me. And someone else. But how about this,". Brittany raised her left hand with her index finger up.
"For every one you take with my phone, I'll let you take one with yours. Does that sound like a good deal?"
She pulled out a little silver clutch from who knows where and took out an iPhone in a pink case.
"Ok, we're gonna do two or three out here. And then some more once we're inside."
"First just do my shoes on the sidewalk." She positioned her right shoe at a forty-five degree angle from her left, in ballet third position.
Clyde aimed the phone down, and she shook her head and pointed a finger at the ground. "You should get closer."
Carefully, he kneeled on the sidewalk and brought her phone close to the ground. She wiggled her shiny red toenails through the peephole as he framed her heels and snapped a few pictures. The low angle made them look huge in frame.
"Now do one with your phone!" Her voice came down from over his head. He reached towards his pocket but then she called again "Oh, don't bother with all that — I'll just text them to you. Cool?"
Was she giving me her number, he thought? Then he registered that he was on his knees at her feet, photographing her at her invitation, and it didn't seem so strange. Well it was strange, for sure, but sort of made sense.
"Ok, now do my dress!"
He started to rise but felt her hand land on top of his head.
"From down there." She pivoted away from him on one leg.
He looked up along the pristine curves of her legs as they disappeared into her dress, snug and tight across her ass. The hem hung — stretched — just about an inch below her cheeks, and her toned thighs disappeared into shadow below the sequins.
He turned the camera up into portrait mode and aimed right at that shadow in the middle of her hemline. The shiny sequins highlighted the curve of her heart-shaped ass.
He snapped several shots, zooming in each time, and in the last her ass filled the entire frame.
He felt the pressure come off his head, and took it as permission to stand. He put her phone into her open palm.
"Ok, thanks!"
"Wow those turned out great! Ok, send these to yourself". She held out her phone to him, and there was a text message already generated with the pictures, with the phone number blank.
Fingers shaking, he typed in his number and pressed send. A moment later a muted ping came from his pocket.
She reached out with her index finger and hooked his lower lip with the slightest of pressure. Her finger tasted of cherry chapstick, and his nose swam with her perfume.
Then she plucked her finger out like she was playing an upright bass, pulling his lip back as it slid out.
This was too much. He closed his eyes. Her image was burned into his retinas, and he continued to see her. He nodded, with his eyes closed, and heard her giggle.
"Thanks babe! See you in there!"
Then, with her heels clacking like a snare drum, she strode off past him, calling out to her friends.
What the fuck just happened? He thought to himself. Time to get inside, where it was safe — that was pretty intense.
He darted down the block to Biffs' station. He caught Biff's eye and nodded his head towards the door. Biff was watching the girls down the block, as they greeted Brittany.
Without a word, he pushed the door open, and Clyde darted inside.
** 5-2-2: The Squad Assembles
Rob had followed Ali & Steph happily, in an endorphin haze, and was trying to process seeing all seven beauties at once.
Except for the short one, all of these women had teased him today like he had never been teased before. All their previous interactions were jumbled around in his head and he was thoroughly, if abstractly, turned on.
"Hallooo!!"
Rob heard a holler coming from behind them, from down Division Street, and he turned around to see who it was.
There was the cheerleader from this morning! That hair was unmistakable. Her billowing red curls flowed out behind her as she strode towards them, crowding the street. And she was wearing a slick red and black sequined dress.
He could hear her high heels striking the pavement and focused on them. Her heels were black and silver, matching the dress, with red soles.
She burst upon the circle and enthusiastically greeted all the girls. Of course, everyone knew each other. Rob was beginning to think there was some sort of Hot Girl Mafia in town, or like the International Sisterhood of Mindblowing Blowjobbers, Local Sixty-Nine.
Once she had made the rounds of the women, she turned to him. Brittany looked Rob up and down, and smiled her giant smile.
"Well, you clean up nicely." She said.
"Thanks, cheerleader. You look pretty damn good yourself."
Brittany slathered her hand down the front of her dress, leaving a trail of red sequins in its path. Her flesh jiggled as her hand passed, and the sequins sparkled.
"I know!"
And then the girls were on her, giggling greetings, and hugging hellos.
Rob watched the women: eight drop-dead hotties, dressed to impress and spruced to seduce, drawn together by their mutual skill at — and love of — teasing.
He was damn fucking lucky. His cock, and everything in his brain behind it, had been on a roller coaster for eight hours solid, his arousal delicately sculpted by these women like a bonsai tree.
Instead of blue balls, though, this continued treatment had worked him into the perfect zen state of mind: with each wave of erection, his balls knew better how to behave, yet he thrilled higher and higher as each new assault built off the vestiges of the previous one. It was as if the afternoon had been endurance training for the evening ...
He was gonna climax sometime tonight — he knew it. One of these foxes was gonna take the biggest load she'd ever seen.
May as well pump it up a little further!
The gaggle broke up and they all started down the street towards the door, and the man on the stool.
The parade stumbled short at the entrance. Behind a couple of stanching worth of rope was a giant man half standing and half perched on a metal stool. He was dressed in a tough-looking leather jacket and he held a clipboard.
"Ladies." His baritone was slow and gravely. "The main entrance is around the corner on First Street."
"Oh yeah?" Becca piped up from the back of the pack. "Then why are you here, big boy?"
"I'm here to tell cheeky girls like you where the entrance is." the man deadpanned back.
The girls laughed at this while Becca adopted a pose of mock confrontational outrage, chest back with one hand in her hips.
"Cheeky? Cheeky?!"
"Do you guys think I'm cheeky?"
She swiveled back to look at her troupe for an answer. The move stuck her butt right out towards Biff, and she wiggled it just a little bit. Her left hand fell back to her skirt and began to play with her hemline.
"You're as cheeky as they come, babe!" Ashley blew a kiss at Becca.
"Well do you know what I think, hot stuff?"
Biff's stoneface cracked a bit and the hint of a smile showed in his eyes.
"I think you want ..."
Becca took a step forward.
"... to get freaky ...". Her voice was musky and low as she took another step forward. Now she was within arms reach of him.
"... with my cheeky ..."
She slapped herself in the ass with a loud crack as she took another step and was right in his face, practically touching him.
He still didn't budge.
"... until you get leaky." Becca slowly and deliberately gyrated her hips once around, grinding them against his pants.
"Oh yes, sisters!" She whooped. "There's something in there that wants to come out."
And sure enough, Biff was starting to get stiff. His slacks were tentpoling out, barely perceptible through the thick fabric of his black jeans.
Just then, Becca shifted to the side and Biff laid eyes on Aja, who had been hidden up until that point. He gazed down at the tiny girl, seeming even smaller than she was because of his 6' plus stature.
Her silver dress clung to her like a second skin, the large hoop zipper illustrating just how easy it would come off. Her platform heels forced her upright, back arched and legs taut, her outline sculpted and exquisite.
Biff realized he was staring but so was she — her wide eyes took in his height and breadth and she went all warm inside.
She took a step forward and then another and then she was right in front of him. The other girls clustered in behind but maintained a polite
"Hi." She said simply.
Instinctually, Biff mirrored it back to her. "Hi"
"Aren't you a big bear". Aja squeaked, patting her tiny hands on his chest. Biff could not formulate any response to this.
"Bears make me tremble. See?"
She took one of his hands and put it on her chest, above her boobs, up against the fine red stretch fabric.
Something about her smallness struck Biff in the heart (and the pants) and he felt an urge to scoop her up in his arms.
This was when Biff knew when he was beaten. Looking down at this assemblage of beautiful faces and mouth-watering dress-showcased cleavage was more than he could handle, let alone the assault of friction or his unexpected attraction to the little one.
