Grain Dealer -or- Invitation Only

Glenn shushed her. "You haven't even BEGUN, Chloe. I told you, we're going to really enjoy ourselves. Now, you should get to know ME as well, don't you think?" He took one of her hands, ran it down the table between her legs until it reached his own crotch. Her fingers found his cock protruding from his fly, explored it. Funny, she hadn't even noticed how or when it got free like this! Hard, curved, a generous size. Hot.

She liked how he responded to her touches: he squirmed beautifully. She petted the head: circumcised, just as advertised.

Then Glenn asked "Two things, lover... your choice. Tell me, which turns you on, me with or without pants? And, do you want me to worry about contraception?"

Good of him to ask. Considerate on both counts. Her fingers slid down the length of his cock, dipped into his fly. Startled, she almost squealed: no underpants! And, her fingertips discovered, more than that... No pubic hair. No scrubbing-pad! A match for her own lips. But he was totally shaved: she hoped he hadn't been disappointed that she wasn't totally denuded. The smooth skin was incredibly warm, soft, sensuous. She was going to like this, wasn't she? Did already!

Chloe picked up the binoculars again with one hand, let her other hand's fingers cup Glenn's sac, and answered: "No pants. Take them off, please. I'm on the pill, not to mention it being the safe time of the month, so thanks for asking but all is okay."

She heard Glenn's shoes hit the floor one by one; the click of his belt, the pop of a snap. Then, without disconnecting himself from her hand, he was naked from the waist down. She tugged on his cock, guiding. This would be the acid test, wouldn't it? "Please, please, don't be a poke-poke-squirt!" she thought.

In ten seconds, she had her answer, and it was what she hoped for. This was going to be a long, intense evening.

Goody!

He entered her slowly, with authority, as if he belonged there, had been there before, knew the terrain. She sighed. The first stroke took tens of seconds. He filled her like nothing ever had, not so much pushing his way into her as letting their bodies ooze slowly together, commingling. And then he began to explore.

No amateur, he. He savored every millimeter, and it echoed through her. No sudden drive inside, rather a gentle rocking in and out, gradually expanding her pussy, warming her insides, gaining literally only a millimeter per stroke, the head popping gently in and out through her opening, maddeningly, perfectly intense. Smoothing her insides. Eventually up against her womb, rearranging her interior: she could feel his cock-head as it slipped past her cervix. She pressed back hard against him, he paused and held deep inside her, she waggled and rotated against him, using his cock as a paddle to stir the cauldron inside her belly.

He wasn't in a hurry, even now. She came like that, without any fingers or vibrators on her clit, another sexual first. He moved again, with her, for her. The Homo sapiens mating dance. They tangoed. Limboed. They waltzed. She was amazed, when occasionally she let herself think about it: Glenn gave no sign of needing to come yet. She could ask about that later: for the time being, she was definitely preoccupied.

They were working on Bolero, with its infinitely increasing tempo, when Glenn stopped, soaking in her depths, and leaned over her to whisper into her ear "Look at our friends!"

Blondie had reappeared. Things had changed: she was wearing elbow-length gloves, shiny, black, maybe patent leather. A porno-film staple, Chloe thought. Chintzy, but then, who knows what turns on other people?

Cantilevered out in front of her crotch was an enormous black dildo, supported by a pair of slender straps that went around her bottom, pulled tight enough to make visible dents in the flesh. Chloe gasped at the sight, felt Glenn's change of tenseness and tempo inside her, as Blondie approached Yul. Authority personified, an awesome combination of blond hair, pink skin, musculature, and black. Her nipple-jewelry glittered with her breasts' motion.

Yul seemed to know what should happen: he rolled onto his back, pulled his legs wide apart with hands behind his knees. He waited. Blondie was play-acting: supercilious, haughty, imperious. She handed Yul a tube of something, he coated the dildo. Blondie leaned over him, set the head of the huge toy at Yul's anus.

Glenn was stroking solidly into Chloe, hard and deep. Between thrusts, Chloe managed to say "Surely they aren't... I mean, she'll KILL him with that thing, won't she? And why would a man want..."

From above her, Glenn replied "Hell, I'm sensitive down there myself, it's a lot of fun to play anal games, but I agree, I don't think..."

Blondie stopped their discussion with action-at-a-distance. She leaned forward, and sank the head of the artificial cock slowly into Yul's bottom. He just bit his lip in obvious pleasure.

Through the lenses, Chloe could see the shining rubber re-emerging on the return stroke. She zoomed in, yielding completely to her surprisingly strong and sudden inner voyeur. With each thrust, Blondie got deeper into Yul: with each stroke, the ring of lubricant on the heavy black rubber was an inch closer to the dildo's balls, as Yul's sphincter wiped the shaft. The greased part of the shaft glittered like a long black diamond in the red sunset glow. In half a minute, all eight or ten inches were disappearing regularly, metronome-like, into his bottom.

Blondie continued to fuck her man, put one hand on his chest, pulled viciously at a nipple, and stroked his huge erection with a gloved hand. She maintained her haughty detachment, seemingly unaffected personally by what she was doing, but Chloe, through the binoculars, could tell differently. She told Glenn, as he kept up his own rhythm, "Her nipple... they're positively HUGE now! And her chest is bright pink, too. I do believe she's getting off on this herself! And without any outside stimulation!"

Glenn just grunted gently, and she lost her concentration on the other couple as his hands slid beneath her free-hanging blouse, pushed it upwards, crept inside the dangling, useless bra-cups. Her breasts hurrahed: at last, patience was to be rewarded.

Through the haze of her response to Glenn's sliding palms, tickling fingertips, she caught herself near-panicking again... self-doubts, courtesy of advertising and men's magazines. She had almost no tits, while Blondie over there was beautifully, and bountifully, hung - Chloe couldn't possibly hold a candle to what Glenn had in his view right now, and men loved big tits. All men, didn't they?

She heard Glenn: "Your boobs are beautifully solid, Chloe. They're perfect. Exactly right, just a palm-full. And a mouthful, shortly. God, Chloe, but I've wanted so much to touch your breasts, the whole of the last two years. Sometimes in our meetings it was all I could think about for minutes on end. Talk about a distraction!"

His fingers caught her nipples and turned them into glowing embers. She felt as if they ought to raise smoke from his flesh, blister the varnish beneath them with their radiant heat. He twisted gently, tugged, milking. Much more of this and her brain would explode. Then his hands left her tits, and she flattened her nipples down hard against the shiny tabletop. She rolled her shoulders, catching nipples between varnish and ribs: it yielded the desired massive tingles.

Every moment, something new. What possible more?

She found out. Glenn's first hand came in from the front, around her left hip, pinched its way delicately across her mound, traced the edges of her bush, dipped into the topmost extension of her slit. He knew exactly how to deal with her clit: his fingertips pushed the hood back, gently, gently, no overdone eagerness, no too-quick, too-rough fumbling. His fingernails, just the edges, tickled the sides of her nubbin, scratching, nibbling. Oh, so gently. She imagined a mouse, nibbling its way along down there. Zip-zip-zip. Finessed changes of rhythm, pressure, location: he was studying her as he went... using her reactions to guide him.

She was engrossed in this incredible exploitation of her clit, and hardly felt the other hand as it went behind her. Until she felt his thumb slide into her bottom: he had to be able to feel his own cock inside her as it cycled in and out of her body! The combination nearly blew her apart. She took a single, long, quivering breath, and came again. Hard. She had never before felt herself unconsciously milking a man's cock with her pussy, but this time there was no doubt. Then deep, deep within her, she felt him coming, hard throbbing pulses in time with her own. His one to her, oh, say, two or three dozen? A good balance! Equity at last, for periods and childbirth and horrendous cancers?

They lay there for long, long moments, him breathing into her ear, she pressed beneath his comfortable weight, her own breath making condensation-patterns on the polished mahogany. Glenn was cuddling her tightly, rocking: she was exquisitely happy. Then, suddenly, Glenn whispered "You are SUPERB! But look at our couple! They're back at it. Won't they ever stop? Your guy, Mr. Yul, seems to have a perpetual hardon!"

Chloe managed to raise her head: Blondie had divested herself of the straps, and left the dildo with its dangling hardware fully embedded in Yul's butt: she was astride him again, using his erection for her own pleasure, apparently ignoring the little details of her man's situation beneath her. Her back faced Chloe and Glenn, her front was visible to them again in the wall-mirror. A perfect viewing arrangement.

Chloe waggled her bottom against Glenn's crotch: inside her, he remained just as solid as ever, and she whispered at him "No complaints over here, Sir, about ability to last!"

Just then, Blondie reached for the bedside telephone. Chloe giggled, said "Good GRIEF! Don't tell me she's going to answer the phone to TALK to someone? I couldn't possibly answer the phone in the midst of all that. And it'd be horribly rude, don't you think? Especially to the man!"

Before Glenn could speak it became obvious that Blondie wasn't answering the phone, but dialing a number. She was placing a call! As she did so, her mirrored gaze swept across Chloe and Glenn. The gaze was, somehow, different from before.

Beside them on the aircraft carrier, the expensive conference phone rang softly. As if one organism, Chloe and Glenn stopped breathing, staring first at one another, then simultaneously at the instrument. It rang again. Their gaze shifted back to the next-door tableau. Blondie was still cycling herself slowly up and down Yul's cock, but her gaze at them, in the big mirror, was anything but casual now. Totally focused, with a searchlight intensity: a tiger, concentrating on its prey. It was un-nerving.

Glenn breathed "Good GOD! You don't suppose..." just as Chloe turned her head towards him again and hissed "She's WATCHING us, Glenn! She can SEE us, I can tell from here! That phone... it HAS to be her!" Then she almost wailed "Oh, God, what do we do!?"

Their mutual upset notwithstanding, neither Chloe nor Glenn chose to uncouple.

The phone rang again. And again. Insistent little thing. Blondie grinned into her mirror. The phone continued, softly persistent. Then, finally, Glenn reached over and tapped the switch. A nicely modulated, contralto voice floated out, soft, caressing, somehow wicked. They watched Blondie as she spoke into her receiver.

"This call is for the lady. Will she take it?"

Chloe shifted from looking at Blondie, to the phone, to Glenn. He looked as stupefied as she felt, and that kept down the rising feeling that somehow she had been had, set up, played with. She felt she could tell genuine deep surprise from any feigned reaction, and his was real. She flushed the deepest red she'd ever been. She thought fleeting panicky thoughts about bucking Glenn free of her body, ducking down out of sight, running, hiding. Oh GOD! But she didn't move a muscle.

Finally, since Chloe seemed incapable of speech, Glenn responded: "Maybe. In a minute. You took us a bit by surprise, you know. More than a bit, one whole goddamned fuckload of surprise! How the HELL did you get this number?"

Blondie shook her head at them, grinned across the chasm, defused some of their tension with cuteness. "Ve haf our vays, dahlink! Spies. It wasn't really all that hard to do. One of us has a friend who has a friend who works somewhere in the building over there. Not someone you're likely to know, either, so don't run about trying to find whom to blame, later. That wouldn't be nice. After all, there's been no harm done, has there? Anyway, when we moved in here and saw how the buildings were laid out, we figured we might like to play games someday. Surprised? Are you upset? Mad at us? Don't be mad! Please, put the lady on!"

Chloe stirred: mirabel dictu, Glenn was still hard inside her! What a spectacle they must make! Although, obviously, not nearly so blatant as the spectacle across the way: after all, their own clothes were still pretty much on, at least from the waists up. Sort of. And they hadn't been in all that plain view... at least, their private parts and their slitherings hadn't been. She had NEVER in her entire life been watched in the act. "At least," she thought to herself, "...not that I knew of". Of course, perhaps there had been some unseen watcher in the underbrush the one time she'd made love in the outdoors?

Back to the immediate. What the devil was she going to say, anyhow? She managed to whisper loudly enough so that Blondie could hear: "Hello." Her voice clogged as her throat tightened in embarrassment. What does a proper British girl SAY to someone who just caught her (a) watching others making love, and (b) making love herself, while watching? She cleared her throat, and managed to continue: "I'm so embarrassed that you caught us watching. Even... " Chloe's voice got stronger "...even if that IS what you wanted to happen." She paused for a long moment, then asked, "Does that excite you? Being watched, I mean?"

Blondie's voice purred out of the speakerphone, acknowledging the excitement. In low-key, graphic terms she explained just what having an audience did to her insides, how it intensified things for her and her partner. Chloe and Glenn listened and watched as Blondie suited actions to words, sliding up and down her man's erection.

Inside Chloe, Glenn was beginning a little sympathetic motion: it was disturbing her concentration - Chloe's own body and psyche were both responding nicely. Perhaps there was something to be said for voyeurism?

She nearly giggled, and when Glenn whispered "What?" she replied "I just realized we've graduated from voyeurism into exhibitionism! And in one easy lesson. I feel very strange about all this, really I do. But of course, there are some advantages..." She waggled her bottom, and enjoyed Glenn's sharp intake of breath.

Then Blondie made a suggestion, in a long, slow near-drawl: "I can see the two of you moving, you know. So don't pretend you're too completely shocked. That just wouldn't wash, would it? After all, you could have stormed out of the room when I called, or gotten up and at least shut the drapes. But you didn't, did you? Neither of you wants this to end immediately, do you? That's normal, you know... not perverted at all! Why shouldn't we be fascinated by watching others? And in the other direction, well, showing off is fun. You can get off on it. We do. Why don't you try it? Right now? You might just find it affects you the same way it does us. That is, if your man would be interested. Do you think he would? Would YOU be interested? Be honest, now, with yourselves. We are all perfect strangers here, we can be totally frank if we choose to be. What do you think?"

Then after a pause, Blondie continued: "Look up at your man's face, love. I do believe that he could be made to be interested, if you choose!"

Chloe glanced at Glenn: he was obviously both embarrassed and very much interested. He shook himself, raised an eyebrow quizzically at her. Blondie spoke again: "No names, please. Never names. But we have to call one another something, don't we? You, lady, have a wonderful British accent, at least I think it's British, so I think I'll call you England. And your man, with that moustache, well, he can just be Mister M. Tell me, England... Is Mister M in your ass right now? That's a perfect position for it. If I were you, that's where he would be parked! And no meter running, either. I like my man inside me there, in case you hadn't noticed through your big spyglasses. Having him inside me anywhere at all is fine, but that opening is pretty special. Is he still inside you, over there out of our sight, Miss England? It would turn me on immensely if you'd just tell me. Please?"

Chloe flushed again. What was she to do? Then a part of her personality she wasn't familiar with exerted itself, took control. The words came out as if from a tape of another person, running inside her larynx. "No, he's not. Not in my bottom, any how. Not that it's really any of your business, but we haven't gotten quite that far. Not yet. Maybe later, I don't know. And YES, Blondie and Yul, he's still up inside me and quite sufficiently hard, thank you very much."

Blondie sputtered delightedly into the phone: "Blondie! And YUL!? How nice of you to have nicknames for US already. That's quite a good touch. Yul here is only allowed to call me "Mistress" whenever I have on my gloves or the big black fellow. Thank you!"

Chloe was relaxing, very slowly. She picked up where she'd been interrupted: "You two are certainly good at that game! It was fun watching, but how do you manage to let a cock that size inside you - I mean, up there in your bottom-hole- without doing yourself some sort of... damage?"

Blondie chortled, and grinned at them in the mirror. "Practice. We women are very stretchy, Miss England. Truly we are. You just need lots of practice, a good man both gentle and hard, and oodles of patience. It can be difficult to find a man who is patient enough, they all seem to like so much to just go joyously bursting in! What I call the "Wham, bam, thank-you-ma'am" syndrome. But all in all, it's well worth the effort, just like deep-throating. Why don't you and Mister M just get up on that huge old table, right now, and try it, if you haven't? Right here in front of us? Of course, we haven't binoculars, like you two, so our view won't be quite as good!" A long pause.

"We dare you. Double-dare you!" The children's idiom wasn't familiar to Chloe, but it wasn't hard to understand.

Chloe and Glenn looked at one another for several seconds: neither made a sound. Then, renewed movement across the way caught their eye. Yul was tapping tentatively on Blondie's thigh. She looked down at him, then across the gap. Her voice floated up to them: "My little slave-boy here is asking permission to speak. Tell me, England... Should I let him? What do you think? It's your call!"

Experienced negotiator that she was, Chloe understood the slippery slope upon which she stood: she was being invited to begin to participate, ever-so-innocently, in Blondie's game. She was certain, too, that Blondie knew exactly what she was doing. Mentally, she shrugged, and thought "OK. I can play this hand."

"Why not?" she said. Blondie smiled across at them, said "I'll take that as meaning 'yes'." Then she put her hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to Yul, who responded at some length. Finally, Blondie came back on line and said "My little Boy-Slave here actually had a good idea. He says we're not being very good company, that if we were properly socialized then by now we should have invited you two to come over here and join us. I agree. Would you?"