Grain Dealer -or- Invitation Only

Then Yul's hands took her attention to Blondie's nipples: each was pierced as well, right at the base, straight across, by a thick gold arc with little balls on each end to keep it in place. Yul tugged and twisted them: Blondie seemed to enjoy the sensations.

Chloe muttered "Ouch! Nipple jewelry. It must have hurt a lot, don't you think?"

She handed the binoculars to Glenn: he studied the scene, and said "Probably did, but they're pretty. I like plain naked bodies myself, but it's intriguing to imagine. Yul seems to be using them as they were intended." He grinned at Chloe: "Doesn't every woman have pierced nipples these days?"

Chloe looked up at him as he handed the binoculars back to her: "Not everyone. Certainly not ME. Ouch! The thought makes my stomach knot up! But they are pretty, and I will admit they might give some interesting effects. In the right hands, so to speak." She blushed again, shifted from Glenn's gaze to stare at the scene up close once more.

Across the way, the show continued. The action was almost choreographed, things went so smoothly. As they watched, Glenn muttered "They're good! And this isn't their first time together, is it?"

Chloe shook her head - certainly NOT the first! Yul squatted, picked Blondie up bodily."Strong guy!" thought Chloe. Blondie was no 95-pounder, more likely 140 given her height, perhaps heavier.

Yule then took two steps over to the big bed, dropped her onto it on her back. She clearly knew exactly what came next, scooted about until her shoulders were at the edge of the mattress, let her head drop backwards over the edge. Yul straddled her face, his balls against her forehead and nose, then leaned forward. Simultaneously, he buried his face between Blondie's wide-spread thighs, and his cock full-length into her throat. They began the most incredible dance: they were actually, literally throat-fucking. Choreography indeed: every third stroke, the cock came fully out and dangled briefly in the air, all slippery-shiny with Blondie's saliva. It stayed out long enough for her to take two or three deep breaths, then returned. Blondie was always ready.

Through the lenses, Chloe could see the woman's throat actually expand a little with each stroke. It was an unique view, up between Yul's cheeks, his now-taut ball-sack clinging limpet-like to the base of that long, long tube. He had a beautiful butt, and strong, hard-muscled legs. Smooth, too, the way Chloe liked men to be, she hated bears. With each stroke Yul's legs got obviously more tense. He was building rapidly. Apparently his tongue and fingers were doing a good job, and Blondie was being treated right as well: her long, taut-muscled legs were curled around Yul's head, squeezing tightly.

Chloe's insides flamed and churned as she watched, awestruck, wondering what it would feel like to have such a huge, spurting, twitching intruder stroking steadily down her own gullet. It would take enormous trust, wouldn't it? Chloe was practically holding her breath now. Beside her, she could feel Glenn's building tenseness and excitement, paralleling her own. Beneath her skirt she was dripping wet, her panties actually sodden, as if she'd peed herself. She wondered if Glenn were as hard as she was wet? Unless she'd misjudged him totally, he had to be so!

Then Glenn whispered "God, I hope she comes soon, she just HAS to!! Or else he's not as good as he ought to be! I don't think I could take that level of tension for that long!"

Chloe appreciated the comment, replied "My God, I don't know if I could ever manage such a thing: they're GOOD, they are! And Glenn, just look at her FEET! She's making fists with her toes, so it won't be long now!"

She was right. Across the way, Blondie's index and middle fingers drove deeply between Yul's cheeks, far up into his bottom. It triggered things perfectly. Chloe shivered hard as Yul's solid buttocks clenched and shook from his climax.

It went on a long time, as did Blondie's... so long that Glenn wondered aloud "Jeez... Isn't she EVER going to breathe again? Anyone who can hold her breath that long could be a world-class free-diver!"

Chloe managed to clear her throat and whisper "Talented pair we have here, aren't they?"

Blondie pounded on Yul's buttocks, and he slipped himself clear. Blondie levered herself up, trailing a long, glittering catenary of saliva. Saliva plus Yul's juices. She stood beside him as he puffed, then kissed him once, hard, and threw him down on his back atop the bed. He knew what was coming, held his cock up for her. Still perfectly hard. Choreography again. She straddled him, paused as if savoring the anticipation itself.

"Couldn't possibly have a better view, could we?" said Glenn. The soles of Yul's feet were pointed right at them, and his head was nearly touching the huge wall-mirror that acted in place of a head-board. Glenn and Chloe could see both sides of everything that happened, front and back.

Chloe nodded, stood up from her chair, leaned over the edge of the aircraft carrier, propped her elbows on the slick, shiny surface to take the weight of the big binoculars.

She offered the binoculars to Glenn, he shook his head, said "All yours. Enjoy!"

Across the way, Blondie sat down and impaled herself.

Chloe nearly drooled, and was surprised again at her internal rumbling... once again, this arousal was NOT what she expected of herself! Her libido was back, and in high gear. She kept staring. No doubt they were making love, but this was primal, pounding, high-intensity fucking as well. Fucking in its purest, rawest form. Chloe was transfixed: she wondered if she had ever, herself, been so totally immersed, so utterly carried away on the torrents of physical passion? Maybe, maybe... perhaps it was like one's own self-image, never accurate, never what the outside world saw?

Blondie paused again, pulled herself free of Yul's glistening cock: her cunt gaped momentarily in Chloe's vision. Chloe studied Blondie's face in the wall mirror: eyes closed, hair now in total disarray. Blondie adjusted her toy, placed its head against the puckered pink dimple of her bottom, and sat down with quiet authority. Chloe sighed aloud as she watched the big shaft sink into Blondie's ass. Impossibly erotic. Too big to be real. Chloe had some experience with such maneuvers, but never ever with such a splitter. Blondie was superb.

The choreography resumed, the centerpiece being the steady disappearance and resurrection of Yul's cock. In the mirror Chloe and Glenn could see Yul's big hands covering her breasts, erect nipples like small cherries trapped between his fingers, the tension-lines in her breasts as Yul tugged and twisted. As Blondie levered herself up and down, her hand slid to her clit and played a nearly-violent tattoo. She was building again.

Beside Chloe, Glenn moved his hand over to let his fingers trail across the nape of her neck, tickling the tiny little hairs there. It was the first "not-a-handshake" contact between them, and for some reason it thoroughly startled Chloe. She jumped slightly, then looked up at him for a moment: the touch was like fire. They eyed one another.

Very quietly, Glenn asked "Am I way out of bounds? Just tell me."

She thought for several seconds, considering. Her belly was making very specific, and very strident, demands now. But that wasn't conducive to good business relationships, was it? She temporized: they were big kids, after all, the two of them. Weren't they? Had she ever in her life been hornier than this moment?

She put a finger into her mouth, reached out and drew a wet line across the table between them and their work-product at the other end. Glenn looked at her quizzically. Across the way, Blondie continued her vertical dance. Chloe waved her hand towards the far end of the table, towards the signed contracts in their folders, and said huskily "Work is over there. We are over here. I can separate the two and handle it. Can you?"

Glenn smiled, nodded, wetted his own finger and re-traced her line. "Yes, I can. Guaranteed. Deal?"

"Deal!"

They looked back across the chasm, as Glenn's fingers caressed her neck more thoroughly. "There she goes!" said Glenn. Blondie came so suddenly and so intensely that Chloe almost came in sympathy. Waves of flush pulsed across Blondie, chest and back together. With each spasm, her eyes flew open, staring disconcertingly directly at Chloe and Glenn in the mirror. Glenn said it first: "God almighty, it's eerie, her eyes... it's almost as if she DOES know we're here, watching. But they can't know. Can't." It went on for a long time, Blondie's string, before she began to settle down.

Behind her, Chloe felt Glenn moving, his crotch now pressing against her hip. Through all those layers of fabric, she could feel, very distinctly, how aroused he was. She nearly chortled to herself. Then, abruptly, Glenn's hands were around her waist, slipping down her slightly-spread legs to the hem of her skirt, and he was lifting it slowly upwards. Slow motion.

"Good!" she thought... "He's not in a hurry. Thank god for that!"

The whisper-touch of fabric against the backs of her knees and thighs nearly made her gasp aloud. He stared at her bottom: her tiny thong was pulled deep into her buttcrack, and left nothing whatever about her buttocks to his imagination. He made wonderfully appreciative comments. Then his hands, fully cupping her exposed buttocks, made her actually gasp this time. It was a delicate, knowing, possessive touch. Electric. Perfect.

Without turning her head, she whispered loudly "There may be a problem there, Glenn... I've just finished my period, and there is still an occupant..."

Glenn's reply was exquisite: "So? That just means it's a specially sensitive time for you, which is very nice for me. I couldn't care at all if you were in full flood, Lady!" Then it was "Oh, god... A traditional girl, too! Garter-belt and real nylons instead of panty-hose. Give me one of your hands, Chloe!"

Chloe managed to stay balanced on one elbow, still staring across the valley at the paused action. Glenn laid her hand atop his bulge: she fondled, and he groaned. Quite a nice bulge, even through the fabric. Then she said "You might have a problem, you know, with the panties. They're under the garterbelt. Hard to get off. Want some help?"

Glenn didn't answer, just leaned across her to the secretary. The red glitter of the long stainless paper-shears put a twist in her feelings, a mystery, touch perhaps of barely-hidden fear. Then he presented them to her, whispered "Kiss the tool, Madam!"

She did so as if on autopilot. The steel actually had a taste, something she had never noticed. Moments later, the cool smooth scissors slid bump by bump up the long valley of her backbone, beneath the drape of her blouse. She felt them slip under the strap of her near-nothing bra. The snick of the blades released her breasts, small, firm, from any support: they hung there, nipples brushed with fire by the tiny touches of the now useless bra against them. The blades retreated, back down her spine, one vertebra at a time. Across the little vee at the base of her spine, raising serious goose-bumps. It was scary, this hint of threat implied by the blades, the explicit submission to another's will, even without any actual menace. Tangy.

Behind her, out of sight, Glenn muttered gently "God! Such a beautiful bottom you have, Chloe... and hidden away completely from me all this time. I should have known!"

Then there was again the quiet, authoritative "snick" as the crotch-piece of her thong was severed. She felt the blades move with the sound. The scissors clattered on the table. Shivers and goosebumps ran riot over her thigh-backs, beneath her nylons. For reasons she didn't fully understand, Chloe found that her vision was oddly blurred now, and her hands were shaking slightly in anticipation, but of exactly what she didn't know.

Across the way, out of focus, Blondie stood up and disappeared from view, leaving Yul on his back, obvious, throbbing erection glistening wetly. He looked flummoxed, a little upset.

Chloe had other things to think about than Yul's "problems" with his woman. Behind her, she felt Glenn moving, squatting, his legs sliding down the back of hers, his knees purring over her nylons. She held her breath, and realized that her legs were actually quivering. Had she been this hot at any time since her first serious date? Or maybe EVER? Unlikely! Jesus, but he was moving so slowly! ("And since when was "slowly" a bad thing!?" she silently chided herself.)

Gentle and soft as a butterfly kiss, his fingers traced her butt-crack from the base of her coccyx, down across the pucker of her anus: that touch made her jump, and she could feel Glenn's nearly amused reaction. He was almost too sure of himself, wasn't he? No teenage tentativeness here. Hanging beneath her in their damaged sheaths, still cloth-clad, her breasts cried out for attention, but failed to get through to her: she was 100% occupied elsewhere, and they would just have to wait their turn. Which, she was certain, would come. Patience: This man is no fool, and he's not in a hurry. "Patience, my dears. Stand up, and, yes, beg, but patience."

Then came the little electric zing, serial sparks as he ever-so-slowly tugged the cut crotch panel from between her inflamed and juicy lips. The fabric was actually damp, almost as if she'd peed herself. It almost made her cry out, the near agony of the wet, twisted nylon slipping free, rubbing along the side of her clit. His hands cupped her bottom, tenderly, lovingly.

She took a deep breath, held it, waiting, thinking to herself "Oh please oh please, don't let him be another flash in the pan, ten second wonder, another British Boy Scout knowing nothing, caring nothing..."

The thought dissolved as she felt his breath tickling the bottom of her crack. Something solid, wet, warm, something very much alive and feeling like a separate organism, a pleasure-critter, touched the uppermost fold of her secret valley, explored its way southwards, gently, insistently, firmly.

Intellectually, she knew it was nothing esoteric, not really. Just a tongue.

Glenn's tongue. Tongue and lips. Esoteric only in what they were doing, and how well they were doing it. OhmygodYES, doing well, indeed!

The life-form tickled and teased at her anus, and she jumped again, again felt Glenn's mild amusement. She'd played some games down there, with one of her men long ago, she'd felt something interesting and would have explored further but he'd been a klutz, and NObody had ever... a push, and BINGO, it was actually inside her right THERE, oh yes indeed, alive, moving. She gasped. It was evilly sensuous, being penetrated this way. By a functional stranger, too. Scrumptiously, unimaginably, wonderfully dirty. The schoolmistress would surely spank her (and hard!) if she were to find out. But then, who'd ever tell? Not Chloe. And Glenn was a gentleman, wasn't he? Gentlemen don't tell.

The tongue moved southwards again, slithering gently along either side of her innermost thighs, investigating the lateral crevices between her swollen, naked, smooth-shaved outer lips and thigh-surfaces. She was shivering, hoping, waiting, worrying, because he was nearly at the string that symbolized her active femaleness, her reproductive capacity. The thing most men so feared and loathed for reasons unfathomable to her. She should be embarrassed, shouldn't she?

She'd never known a man who wasn't upset or disgusted over the whole business of periods... but then, perhaps her sample-size was way too small? What would Glenn really do about it when, so to speak, he came face-to-face with the reality?

She needn't have worried.

The tongue dipped into her opening, string and all. There it circled, firm, wet, wriggling. God but he was sensuous. Her worries receded, overwhelmed by sensations. Knowledgeable, that tongue was, it understood her, knew what she wanted even if she didn't. There was serious feedback, this man could obviously feel what she needed. And he was happy to provide. No hurry.

She relaxed a bit, and let herself wallow in luxury... the luxury of knowing without doubt, without being told, that there was an indefinitely large supply of all these nice sensations, that it wasn't going to suddenly dry up. Parched, she drank of them. Then abruptly Glenn's hands spread her cheeks impossibly wide, and he drove his tongue deep into her slippery pussy, embedding his nose in her bottom. The five-PM stubble on his chin rubbed scratching against her most tender inner-thigh skin, making sparks instead of irritation. Everything was erotic: top to bottom, inside to outside, every nerve was available, ready. She felt as if she were beginning to glow. She studied what he was doing, then clenched in near-panic, wondering how he was going to breathe, what with his nose deep in her ass, but decided that was his problem, undoubtedly he could manage it. She relaxed as she felt him seize the thread in his teeth, gently tugging, adjusting the angle until it slid free.

Why in the world was this so enormously sexy: was it a sense of doing the seriously taboo? Who cared?

She didn't even pause to wonder what he might do with the souvenir, but pushed herself back greedily at him. From beneath and behind, he inhaled her clit and nursed. Long, slow, solid strokes, complete with side-to-side wriggling. Better than anything her imagination had ever provided. Now, she felt, she knew what this was all about, those soaring hymns of ecstasy from her girlfriends, from the women-poets. She exploded into climax at a whole new level of intensity. It was almost an epileptic grand-mal seizure, something unlike anything she'd ever encountered before. Her body wrenched itself free of her volition so hard that she dropped the heavy binoculars: they left a deep arced dent in the polished surface. As she covered her mouth with her hands to keep from screaming in pleasure, she thought, briefly, that perhaps later she should offer to pay for the damage?

She lost the thought in the flood of sensations. The man was an angel, a devil, an expert. A connoisseur. How could a man know her needs so instantly and completely?

"Don't argue," she thought. "Enjoy yourself: HE'S enjoying this, isn't he?" As her insides knotted themselves repeatedly, she flashed back over her previous men. The occasional obligatory few licks. The obvious distaste of most of them for the idea, despite their own insistence on oral games. This was quite a nice change, thank you very much.

Just when she realized she could no longer breathe at all, Glenn released her from his mouth and stood up behind her, pressed against her buttocks. Her oozing crotch felt incredibly lonely without the warmth of his mouth, but he kept on providing newer, stronger sensations. His fingers caressed her earlobes, the edges of her underarm at the armholes of her sleeveless blouse. She gasped, catching up with her oxygen needs, and her indignant breasts and nipples surfaced again, still pleading for their own fair share.

Behind her, Glenn whispered "Wonderful! I like a woman who responds so strongly!"

She reddened: nobody had ever talked to her at all during sex, much less to praise her sexuality itself. She was pleased. She looked over her shoulder at Glenn, found him grinning at her, heard him whisper. "No hurry, Chloe. We are going to enjoy ourselves and have a whole lot of FUN!" She was pleased again... and surprised, for no man she'd had would ever have called sex FUN! Certainly not in media-res! They always took things so bloody-minded seriously, it was as if they were following instructions on assembling a bomb or something. This was a better attitude.

She smiled at him and whispered "God! I had no idea I could..."