Harmony Hill Ch. 06

Harmony looked spectacular and quite naked under the gossamer gown. The word sublime came to mind. Her hair, the color of champagne, dispersed in loose waves down toward her shoulders and as the early afternoon sunlight entered the room, it homed in on Harmony's head, disembarked across her tresses as sparkling streaks of light; her oval face was as radiant as a new bride's visage. Adroitly applied mascara, a deft blend of aquamarine and chestnut eye shadow complimented her blue eyes, made them look like blue opals. Pink gloss coated her lips and as the fragrance of bath splash and the scent of Navy perfume coursed through my nostrils, I kissed her, tasted the same scents in my mouth and all our intimacy, the fucking, the sucking, the fluid exchanges between us flavored my mouth.

The contours composing Harmony's face: the petite nose, the prominent cheek bones, the sweep of her chin, the cut of her jaw, the blue eyes, and the sensuous fullness of her lips were arranged in a flawless symmetry. The definition of her beauty found in its perfect balance, its easy acceptance by the eye, its imposition on the senses, its pleasing nature the garb of its mastery over most any man.

In anticipation of the festivities, its centerpiece, the act of taking a young man's virginity, Harmony had washed her hair, styled it, artfully applied make-up and then slipped into a nearly transparent gown, the special costume she had chosen for conducting a rite of passage.

Barefoot, oh those wonderfully sexy bare feet, Harmony stood at the foot of the sleigh bed in her bedroom. The filmy peignoir, nothing but a veil of mesh, closely covered her body, fell to her ankles. The material, thin and translucent as mosquito netting did nothing to camouflage or conceal her body. If anything it accentuated her nudity. Her large, over-sized bust, a beer maiden's ripe bosom, the slate flat stomach, the shaved delta between her legs, and the pleasing curve and swell of her hips, the long legs no less perfect then her plump breasts all seemed more enticing, elegant, sexier and bawdier under the netting.

"When they get here, you and John Ray will give us some privacy. I want this to be a special memory for the young man."

It definitely would be. The mesh pressed against her breasts made them appear larger, rounder, and perkier. The fabric drawn across Harmony's lush body called to my mind the image of a woman's moist lips mouthing obscenities jammed against a house's screen door, breasts flattened into white platters pressed against the pane of finely woven metal threads, labia forced against the screen lattice, its pink folds bleached white, stamping an oval shaped wet spot on the mesh. Touching the garment, thrilled by the material's visual appeal spurred my imagination, filled in details of the picture in my mind. I saw a white craftsman cottage squatting on a patch of wind swept prairie, the nearest house miles away. Solidly built, fronted with a porch holding a wooden sofa sized swing dangling on silver chains and several scattered pots of geraniums, a tinkling wind chime blown by a boisterous wind the only sound to be heard. A carnival roustabout, a wanderer or a farm hand, a rough hewn man too long without a woman, consumed with lust, stands on the porch, looks at all that flesh taunting him. With a pocket knife or his calloused bare hands, he rips through the screen, forces the woman down on the polished hardwood floor and amidst the country quiet, the chatter of the zipper's teeth in the front of his pants sounds as boisterous as a whispered curse uttered in a moment of silence during a church service. He paws his prick from his pants, forces his way into her wet slit, finds release as the woman, a stranger to him, says "fuck me."

Standing in front of Harmony, I reached out, took hold of the mesh molded over her body, lifted it, pushed her back on the bed. My intention was to gather the material just high enough to allow me access, to fuck her on the end of the bed with her beautiful bare feet still in contact with the carpeted floor, a touch and go fuck.

She resisted. "No lover. The young man, John Ray's brother, gets a fresh pussy to fuck. I will give you head though; it will take the edge off. The way you are looking at me, I better give you some relief or you might decide to rape me." She smiled. "Sit down in the chair."

Of course, I sat down in the chair. She settled on the floor in front of me, assumed the thunderbolt or diamond pose practiced in yoga, Vajra-asana in Sanskrit. I always found this posture or asana densely erotic to look at. The setting down on the knees, the straightened back, breasts thrusting forward, the heels of smooth bare feet pressed against naked buttocks, calves flat against the floor delighted me. Harmony unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped me and then quickly unhinged me with her mouth. The pleasure she induced with simple suction, frequent blowing, by relentlessly licking my stalk, in raking her teeth across the helmet of my cock never failed to astonish me. Her mouth in a serious assault on the cock of a president, a prime minister, a premier could be a secret weapon used to turn the tide of history.

Now, seeing all of her exposed under the mesh, the veiled slash soon to be visited by a virgin made her fellatio more exciting, more delicious. Captured in the sheer material she electrified me with her eroticism.

With perfect timing as the door bell chimed, I came in Harmony's mouth.

For less then one hour, not enough time to watchCSI orLaw and Order, Harmony and I were the paltry population of our carnal colony, a veritable empire of the senses. Now, the arrival of two dark young men, one nearly my age, the other one slightly younger, sped us back, all too soon, in my estimation from our erotic expedition. In the past I had shared Harmony, planted my flag on a portion of her anatomy so to speak, and took my turn. For the first time in my relationship with Harmony Hill I felt these two buff fellows, one 21 or 22 years old and the other 19, now standing in the apartment were interlopers.

For the next hour we drank lemonade, extremely sweet lemonade from tall plain plastic tumblers. Desmond Elliot Thomas, John Ray's younger brother was old enough to fuck a mature woman, not yet old enough to drink alcohol with the same middle aged woman.

I expected Desmond to show nervousness, maybe a bashful innocence. He was too poised and if he suffered from any anxiety, he camouflaged it quite well. His brother seemed the more nervous of the two. Maybe it was the proximity of his younger sibling. I sat quietly in the easy chair, watched Harmony interact with the two newest callers to her domicile. Sitting between the two she acted as though she might be wearing the type of pants suit my mother favored instead of such a salacious garment packed with such eye popping appeal. Hardened nipples poking against the mesh, the runny nose shininess at the mouth of her womb were two in your face physical manifestations compliments of the sheer material. She was as turned on by the gown as we were.

She talked, asked John Ray about boot camp, whether it made him nervous. She kept me in the conversational loop by asking me about my job at the bar. It thrilled me to know my semen coated her throat. She turned toward Desmond, asked him if he liked what he saw. She leaned over, kissed him firmly on the lips, a chaste kiss, reached out and patted him on the front of his pants.

John Ray leered at Harmony, touched her right tit, and seemed to enjoy the texture of the material riding over her breast. Desmond copied his brother's action, looked at her more lovingly, with a charming altar boy's innocence, played with her left breast. I sipped my lemonade and shifted my weight, adjusted my posture to allow my stiff cock to rise.

The boys took turns stroking her hair, they simultaneously bussed her throat. John Ray, the senior of the two in age and in experiencing the adventure of her body, lifted the peignoir up past her breasts. He took her right nipple in his mouth, sucked it. I expected Desmond to imitate his brother; he surprised me by inserting his index finger into her pussy.

Watching this tableau I considered unzipping my trousers, stroking my cock, a definite ice breaker, but I continued to sit in the chair with both my feet firmly planted on the floor and my arms resting on the chair's arms. I might be occupying a chair in a doctor's waiting room or, if such a contraption still existed, strapped in "Ole Sparky" in a penitentiary's death house.

Harmony mouthed a kiss in my direction, kissed Desmond and then John Ray. She moaned in response to Desmond's probing. Desmond stopped momentarily, removed his digit from inside her and licked the finger. He looked more like a devil wallowing in debauchery then an innocent man-child experiencing a woman's body for the first time. He learned fast apparently.

John Ray, not to be out done, bit down on her nipple, licked her breast.

Without warning Harmony stood, the garment fell, dropped to her bare ankles. She reached out, took Desmond's left hand in hers.

"Gentlemen, please entertain your selves while Master Desmond and I entertain ourselves." She sounded like a queen leaving the room to discuss affairs of state with a prime minister carrying a satchel brimming over with documents needing review and signatures.

Moses leading his people to the Promised Land could not have looked surer of himself then Harmony did as she led Desmond to her bedroom.

The bedroom door closed with a solid click. John Ray and I looked at one another, thick syrup of silence pouring through the walls, seeping out of the floor, dripping from the ceiling. This was the pregnant pause, the traditional punctuation for such a situation.

Did we break out a deck of playing cards, turn on the television, leap to our feet and give each other the high five to celebrate our good luck in being here, patiently waiting our turn to experience Harmony's charms?

The silence in the living room also emerged from the bedroom. I imagined Harmony was already flat on her back, Desmond over top of her. I saw her taking his cock gently in her hand, treating it as tenderly as a newborn, positioning it in its proper place? At some point she would give him head. No way did he have the opportunity to eat her yet. Naturally, that came later, a bonus in climbing aboard. Harmony, the patient teacher, would be gentle, take her time, and let him have his way with her. He would lead and she would follow. Some day he might have his head blown off and fall into a muddy ditch, he might be an innocent airline passenger flung into the side of a building or he might topple over after a cerebral aneurysm exploded deep inside his brain. She wanted his first sexual experience with a woman to reside in him permanently, to bring a smile to his face as he remembered the event in his dotage, to cause a residual charge long after he was capable of getting an erection and fucking a woman with spirit and total abandon.

"Harmony said you like to swim," I said to John Ray.

"Yes." He said. We could not help but be competitors, the dynamics of this social situation demanded it.

"You will lose the hair when you get to San Diego," I said.

"I know." John Ray said as he took a gulp of lemonade.

From the bedroom came sounds of fucking. I could hear Harmony making familiar noises. Desmond's moans a new sound to my ears. The bed squeaked. Desmond was going now. Was he still a virgin? Had he come yet? He had no hymen to break, just semen to expel. The sounds emitted from the room could be the audio of a triple x video playing too loudly.

The silence in the living room was a perfect medium piping sound from the bedroom. I heard Harmony say "fuck me." I heard Desmond utter the same two words. He rode Harmony or she rode him. Probably, he was in the superior position, his cock deep inside Ms Hill, her legs wrapped around him, her feet digging into his back or flung high in the air. Before they finished she would fuck missionary style, let him have her as a dog humps his bitch. She would squat down on his cock, ride him, he the stallion, she the bronco rider hanging on as he bucked under her.

I remembered a night in Georgia, a rainy night. I sat in a room decorated by cheap furniture and potted plastic plants occasionally visited by scantily clad cheap looking women trolling for customers. The place was downright seedy, smelled of hairspray, cigarettes, Lysol and an undertone of spilt semen. I did not lose my virginity there thank God and it turned me off to the possibilities of commercial sex no matter how desperate I might be. Fucking a slack breasted woman after she ripped the wrapper off a package of Necco wafers, chomped on one after another, showed little to no imagination, not a hint of eroticism and was about as active as dead road kill was no way to dispense with one's virginity. Already Desmond was one up on those unfortunate souls paying to become men.

I did have one buddy who specialized in fucking whores, street tramps and such. The tawdrier the better in his estimation and he considered class and cleanliness liabilities. If he ever married a woman she was a sad eyed trollop who once took on all comers for a pittance and slept on a pallet in a stall resembling a corn crib.

John Ray and I continued to lurch along having a constipated conversation.

Harmony and Desmond cavorted in the bedroom. By now Harmony must have sucked his schlong. I never cared for that word describing a penis. The worst one, the word I hated to hear as a synonym for cock was peter. Men who used the word peter when making a reference to their penis were rude, crude, mean men. They probably fucked their mothers on occasion, junked cars on concrete blocks sat in their front yards, they moved their lips when they read and when they used the word "peter" they sounded more like a pervert or a predator then a partner proffering pleasure to his partner.

My imagination continued to entertain me if John Ray did not. Closing my eyes I remembered the texture of her breasts, their firm yet flexible consistency, their oil veneer smoothness. My cock, definitely no peter, throbbed; it remembered the spongy feel of Harmony's cunt. I could feel the knob of one or both her ankles brushing against the calves of my legs, the green house humidity of her mouth around my cock, the salacious grin turning up the corners of her lips when she jumped on the bed, spread her legs and told me to fuck her.

Right now all the sights, sounds, sexual delights so bountifully present in possessing Harmony's body allowed Desmond to dump remembrances in his memory bank.

It seemed as if Harmony and Desmond had been in the bedroom forever. How many times had they fucked, did she suck his cock an equal number of times, did he now know the sweetness, the tart taste of Harmony's pussy?

The bedroom now sounded like a long closed tomb, a strong indication of post-coital silence, the cooling of their jets. I trusted they would not fall asleep and leave me and motor mouth sitting in the living staring at one another.

The bedroom door opened and the two of them swept into the room. She looked soft and pretty, a veteran coming in after a long siege; he looked sated, a kid returning from his first firefight.

Harmony still wore the mesh fuck me togs.

After lolling about in the living room for a time, letting the lust rise to a nearly explosive level, the four of us returned to the bedroom.

Harmony fucked John Ray. Dark, evenly tanned, good looking, a compact frame covered by toned muscle, no hair visible on his body except for the nest of fine black hair around his cock and combed back over his skull. I could see him plunging off a cliff in Acapulco, and then plugging nubile young maidens.

From my vantage point, besides being laconic, he seemed distracted, never in sync with his surroundings. Like me, his fucking of Harmony may have seemed a dream, a fantasy spewed in the smoke wafting from a genie's lamp. In his red Speedos, his wet pectorals sparkling in the sunlight, his hard flat stomach dripping chlorinated water, this guy had to net his share of young fillies. However, to climb out of an apartment pool after a leisurely swim and within a quarter of an hour find himself fucking a woman 35 years his senior, a woman blessed with the body of a 25 year old Playmate centerfold, must have shocked him as much as it did me the first time I fucked Harmony.

Then I fucked Harmony.

Climbing off Harmony, lifting myself out of the bed, I watched John Ray and Desmond go at her with a renewed zest. After shedding her ethereal white garment, a degree more naked now, positioned on her left side, the huge spheres of her breasts captured my attention. John Ray fucked her mouth, his brother fucked her pussy, I squatted down in front of her breasts and while she continued to suck one cock and another cock fucked her, I lowered my cock between her breasts. Using both my hands, I pushed at the orbs, kneaded them against my penis. Her mouth, obstructed by John Ray's cock, my cock unable to follow the track of her cleavage into her mouth, I contented myself with fucking her tits, a natural event when coupling with such a big breasted wench.

I did not come. I paused.

John Ray continued to squat over Harmony's head, his uncircumcised cock, big, out of proportion to his compact body. Holding on to the bed's headboard, leaning forward, he the diver ready to spring off a board, his cock making swan dives into Harmony's mouth.

Between Harmony's legs, Desmond, no longer a virgin thanks to Harmony's intercession, moved in and out of the channel between her legs. His cock never seemed to diminish in its hardness even after coming twice in rapid succession. Every few seconds he lifted his waist, backed his cock out of her, its head nearly free. Immediately his loins flattened, a snapping movement, he bounded back into her. The silent in and out movement of his cock was followed by the clapping sound of his balls slapping against her. A virgin a few hours earlier, comfortable with stroke books and the pleasures of his hand, he now displayed an instinctive grasp for the mechanics of sexual intercourse. He fucked like a skilled gigolo schooled in pleasuring a woman.

Desmond, a long distance runner was taller and lankier then his brother. Longer in his legs and endowed with less cock, he had the same sharp chin and swept back ears, I noted on his older sibling. His spiked black hair was a distraction; he was too cocky for my taste.

I had moved to the wing chair, stroked my cock, and watched the Thomas boys fuck. I yanked at my cock with enough motion to keep it motivated.

John Ray fucked Harmony's mouth and Desmond fucked her pussy. In the past I had fucked a woman with another man sharing the sexual encounter, including several episodes with Harmony's body as the succulent sandwich meat, the creamy filling, the luscious morsel we supped on with such relish. I decided to enter the one orifice accessible to me: her anus. I had ass fucked women in the past but never while another cock occupied the woman's pussy and only a slender membrane separated our two pricks from meeting in the gelatinous filled pot of the woman's sexual anatomy. Harmony's haunches twisted and turned, she bucked as Desmond punched into her. A slick, shiny coat of saliva covered John Ray's cock. Her breasts, her neck, her abdomen were splattered with patches of fixed semen looking like dried flour. Lustrous tendrils of freshly ejected sperm trailed through her hair, across her chin and pooled at the edge of her lips. She whimpered, moaned and mumbled the lingo spoken in such a sexual maelstrom. John and Desmond perspired from their ravenous assaults on her orifices. I felt sticky from their skin brushing against me while I played with her tits. Harmony was covered in cool sweat. With her blond hair plastered against the back of her neck, sticking to her forehead, she looked like a woman who had just given birth, an angel fallen from on high, now a mere mortal rutting around in a mussed bed, craving cock, addicted to uncontrollable urges.