Isle of Lays Ch. 04bySkinandSin©
The stars shimmered against their black backdrop of sky as Charlaine awoke from her post-orgy nap. A cup of hot ginger tea was at her bedside and Jamaica smiled down softly at her from the overstuffed armchair by the bedside table. Charlaine's personal staff had given her the pampering her sore body craved after their very intimate introductions to her.
She'd been carried into the huge whirlpool by Matthew after Jamaica had filled the moster tub, measured in generous heaps of lilac oil and honeysuckle bath salts and turned on the jets.
Miguel had scrubbed her back while Pietro took care of her legs and feet – spending endless minutes tending to the soft interstices of flesh between Charlaine's toes and making sensuous erogenous zones of them.
Jamaica shampooed her hair with deft, soothing fingers that had Charlaine's scalp tingling with life. Once Charlaine had had her fill of the tub, her personal villa staff all took turns drying various parts of her slowly and rubbing her skin to silkiness with lotion. After that, well, she went up to bed drifted off to sleep in a haze of deeply-pleasured and pampered bliss.
"Ah, you are awake," Jamaica said with a smile dancing on her luscious plum lips as she unfurled her body from the chair with the grace of a world-class dancer. "Would you care for something to eat? Pietro is in the living room awaiting your pleasure."
"You are still here," Charlaine looked up at Jamaica, focusing her eyes as she shed the lassitude of sleep and stretched like a cat in the sun. "You don't leave until I let you go, then?"
"Those are the rules of the resort, Ms. Laine," Jamaica said, a deep, sexy dimple creasing her left cheek. "We are yours until you say we may leave the villa and we return when you call for us. There are rooms for us here, too, so staying with you is no problem at all."
"Oh," Charlaine said, sheepish that she hadn't thought about that. "Well, since you ask, I wanted to explore the island," she added, wincing at the slight soreness of her throat. She reached for the ginger tea and took a long swallow before making her next query. "You've seen what I like so far, Jamaica, what do you recommend?"
"Since you seem to like menages a trois and more, perhaps you want to visit the Wet Pussycat Club? It offers a bar list unrivaled in the world and the bar chow sets a bar all its own. You have suitable clothing for that place in your wardrobe and we can kit you out with any accessories you may desire," Jamaica replied as she walked over to the wardrobe room where, just hours before, Charlaine and her villa staff had begun getting to know one another very intimately.
Rising from the bed and feeling too lazy to wrap a sheet about her, Charlaine followed Jamaica to the wardrobe, her nipples going pert as she looked over at the dais where her first taste of the sybian took place. It was neat once more, with nary a trace of sweat or bodily juices -- and it beckoned like a reclining lover getting his second wind. Not now, lover. I'm for going out and exlporing now, Charlaine gave the sybian a slight shake of her head and smiled as she took a seat at the edge of the dais.
Jamaica laid out a set of clubbing clothes on the settee beside the third closet, pulling out soft, flat-soled suede boots in a shade of golden brown that matched Charlaine's eyes and echoed the burnished bronze highlights of her hair. A long skirt in cordovan velvet lay nearest Charlaine and it had a slit all the way up to her imagination. Beside it lay a sheer, long-sleeved, button-front blouse of creamy belgian lace that was tatted to cover her breasts with blooming roses and wrap around her arms and torso in vines and leaves. The neckline was pretty high, but the rest of the blouse showed her flawless skin off to perfection.
"These would suit you very well, if the outfit is to your taste," Jamaica said over her shoulder as she opened yet another closet. "Please try them on."
Charlaine donned the clothes, feeling the softness of the fabric against her skin. These clothes make me feel voloptuous and beautiful, she thought as she sat on the settee and zipped her slim legs into boots. It would be a shame to have to lose them if I get lucky in the club.
She stood and did a slow quarter turn for Jamaica, who had returned with a basket full of cosmetics, brushes and hair styling products and another full of accessories.
Jamaica ran an assessing eye over Charlaine, her dark eyes flickering flames of appreciation and just the slightest bit of lust as they passed her breasts and the full cuve of her hips. "Perfect. You look delicious, like a chocolate gateau with the dreamiest vanilla icing. Now, for your hair. Up, I believe, and a velvet choker with a cameo and diamond ear studs."
Charlaine got her hair brushed out until her scalp felt more alive than it ever had and then the girl fun with hairstyle and makeup commenced. When Jamaica was done, Charlaine saw a sexy, smoky-eyed version of herself in the vanity mirror. Her lashes were lush and curling beautifully around her eyes and her lips were wanton and wet. Her hair was done up in a French twist and adorned with glittering butterfly clips.
"There you go, ma petit, just one last thing and you are ready for the club." Jamaica clapped her hands happily and took an old-fashioned Lalique perfume bottle, the kind with a glass dip-stick, out of the cosmetics basket.
"Joy by Jean Patou," Jamaica said as she anointed Charlaine's pulse points with the scent. "Let me put some behind your ears, in the valley of your breasts and behind your knees. You will smell so heavenly at the club and so many people will want to pleasure you with this scent leading them to you."
The eau de parfum and dipstick glided along these sensitive points, making Charlaine shiver pleasantly, her nipples snapping to attention as Jamaica opened the buttons of her blouse to access the cleft of her bosom. She raised her skirts to provide access to the backs of her knees and Jamaica planted a soft kiss on her pussy, flicking her clitoris lightly with a wet, hot tongue as she scented Charlaine's lower extremities.
"Oh, you are teasing me, darling Jamaica," she said, her words coming out breathy as Marilyn Monroe had sounded in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. "Mmmmmm... that makes me so hot."
"Tsk, we can't have you arrive there smelling just of perfume as good as this stuff is, mon cher," Jamaica purred as she pressed soft, light kisses on the insides of Charlaine's thighs and stroked the backs of her calves.
"We want them know how wonderful your arousal smells, how much they will enjoy eating this beautiful pussy." Jamaica gave Charlaine's cunt another long lick and a lingering, tongue-involved kiss and stood up to make a few more adjustments to Charlaine's outfit and hair as Charlaine shuddered for composure.
Finally, Jamaica snapped a wide, brown belt made of doeskin with a discreet pouch to Charlaine's slim waist, slipped several condoms, lube and her villa's key card into it. "There, my sweet, you are all set to enjoy the club. Matt is waiting downstairs to walk you there." That last whisper right against Charlaine's ear and neck made her shake with lust.
Talk about getting in the mood, Charlaine thought. My engines are revved and I haven't even gotten out the door.
Taking a deep breath, Charlaine summoned all her will to keep her feet under her and to walk down the steps of the loft to the villa's front door, where Matthew was waiting to walk her to the Wet Pussycat Club. The next item on her to-review list was so on and she was turned on all over again as he lightly, deftly ran skilled fingers over her hip, up to her waist and the bottom curve of her left breast as he took her on her path to a new experience.
The large white and gold hexagon that was the Wet Pussycat Club was throbbing with music from a live DJ and a huge wraparound bar dominated the rear wall of the two-storey club. The dance floor in front of the bar was sunken low and bordered with wide, elevated platforms and flanked by two metal poles and two suspended cages where nubile, scantily-clad women and men undulated beneath the changing colors of the laser lights.
On either side of the bar stood curving metal staircases that led to a wraparound mezzanine with booths that offered privacy in black and red leather. Glow-sticks sat in bamboo containers on the tables and at the bar where three gorgeous bartenders (one dusky Filipina and twin tatooed Latinos) held sway.
Strategically placed mirrors gave Charlaine tantalizing glimpes of bar denizens doing more than just dancing. Some were making out in pairs or more against pillars with brief ledges placed high enough to support some stand-up sex and overhead bars from which velvet cuffs with velcro fasteners dangled suggestively. She could hear moans and the odd pleasured screams and giggles from the booths above, as well as the sounds of bodies bucking against the soft leather seats.
The Wet Pussycat smelled of sweetly sweaty sexual congress (oral, anal, vaginal, mechanical and manual – all of it refershingly uninhibited and earthy), crisp salt air and night-blooming jasmine, a potent mix that immediately had her cunt weeping for joy in this deluxe club of delight where nothing was stinted upon.
The bar list overhead had a mind-boggling selection of beers, wines, whiskies and other quality liquors – no cheap stuff here. There was also a very suggestive list of cocktails that included such erotic names as "Pink Pussy," "Hard Nipple," "Paddled Tail," "Begging on Your Knees," "Spanish Fly," "Screw Me Blind," "Blue Balls," and a list of shooters called "Hot Cock Rising," "Hard and Fast," "69," "Cumshot," "Whips 'n Chains," and "Howlin' at the Moon," among others.
Drawing in a deep breath, Charlaine skirted the dance floor and made her way to the bar. She got up on a barstool and reached for the bowl of nuts and dried fruit in front of her as one of the twin barkeeps approached to take her order. My God, I'd love to suck on him, Charlaine thought with a mental groan as her mind's eye stripped the black t-shirt and leather pants from him. Those dragons on his arms look like they're moving and his moustache and goatee make him look dangerous. Oh, I am probably making my bad boy sigh now.
Her very audible "I want a bad boy" sigh alerted the object of her intent gaze to her presence. His hips (and the rest of him) swiveled in her direction and she saw that his leather pants were painted-on tight, covered everything and hid nothing. But, then again, I doubt if there is anything, barring a tent, that would hide quadriceps that big or his even more impressive man-meat. a smile played softly about Charlaine's lips as she watched the bartender's approach.
"Good evening, darling, what's your poison?" Spake the sexy barkeep in a growl that reminded Charlaine of her favorite Metallica songs.
"I'll have a Hard Nipple, please, with a Beast With Two Backs and a side of Boobs with Pearl Necklace." Charlaine just had to grin at the names for the bar food on the menu – her order was, in reality, a pair of open-faced grilled cheese and roast beef sandwiches with a split baked potato topped with sour cream on the side. The bartender took her order down and set it on the reel.
"Would you like some cunnilingus while you wait?" The bartender said with a mischievous grin that bared even white teeth. "Or would you rather hit the ledges or dance floor? I'll save your seat for as long as you like." He flicked his wet, red tongue against his lower lip and Charlaine just couldn't resist him.
"Cunnilingus would be just what the doctor ordered," she replied sassily, through lowered lashes and with a blush on her cheeks. Public sex. I'd never think of doing this off the Isle of Lays, but, heck, this is part of the job I gotta do. Did I say I love my job? I love my fucking job.
The bartender signaled to his brother and came out and around to stand behind Charlaine. "This is my brother, Inigo, and my name is Carlos. Would you like two of us instead of one? He can tend to your back. I can take care of your front." Inigo gave Charlaine a slow wink and raised both his hands in a friendly but suggestive way.
She spun the barstool around to face Carlos and raised her face to his. "I want you on your knees and between my legs, please, Carlos," she spoke demurely, her tongue coming out boldly to lick the side of his neck, gratified to hear him hiss softly. Ha, how's that for an opening salvo?
Without any further words, Carlos knelt in front of Charlaine, flicked her skirt up and to the side and he parted her legs. Carlos pulled her ass forward to the edge of the bar stool, hitched her heels to the footrests on either side of the chair and gazed at the glistening and bare pussy before him. "So flushed and pretty, I like pretty pussies." He blew softly on her mound just as his twin nuzzled Charlaine's nape and nipped her right earlobe.
"Fragrant and beautiful," Inigo intoned with delight. "I like you. Do you like watching other people take their pleasure? Look in front of us, on the ledge." His words gave way to a hot trail of love-bites and kisses up and down the most sensitive points of Charlaine's neck as his hands came around to trace light circles over her breasts with sure fingers.
Carlos was making light little licks around the creases at the juncture of Charlaine's thighs and his thumbs were rubbing her vulva gently as she lit eyes on the tableau before them on the ledge.
A stacked young redhead in a schoolgirl's uniform with a skirt that barely covered her ass was bent over, her hands on the pole to the side of the ledge. Her tartan skirt was thrown over her back as a tall, shirtless man with dark hair and an athletic body encased in skin-hugging denim ground an impressive crotch buldge against her ass, his hands firmly spanning her tiny waist.
"She's quite the exhibitionist, our little miss," Inigo whispered in Charlaine's ear as she threw her head back because he was now plucking her hard nipples through her lace top. "She likes providing a show of anal play and cocksucking while she is up there. Such a porn star. She also likes watching women get eaten while she does her thing up there. You're going to make her scream just as much as her partner will."
Oh, fuck that's so screw-my-brains-out hot, Charlaine groaned to herself as Carlos' tongue connected with her clit and began whipping it into a foaming frenzy. Her hands went up to Inigo's shoulders, to which she held on for dear life as she began to shake in the foreshadowing of orgasm. She watched the dark-haired man go down on his knees, part the redhead's ass cheeks and press his face against her winking pink rosebud as she screamed and bucked.
The redhead arched her back to thrust her ass up as her man rimmed her anus and began slowly tongue-fucking it. Some dancers near the ledge reached up to tweak redhead's pert little tits through her shirt and she began to moan and groan as her body shook in pleasure, her eyes focused on Charlaine spread out wantonly and being savored by Carlos like the feast she was.
The sensation of being watched as she was pleasured by these Latino twins heightened Charlaine's own pleasure, raising her to a peak she'd never even imagined.
Inigo slowly unbuttoned her lace blouse, teasingly drawing the fabric across her nipples as he bared her luscious bosoms to the eyes of their audience. He pinched and rolled both of Charlaine's nipples as he nipped her ears. "I bet you'd love to have both your nipples sucked at the same time, wouldn't you?" Just as he asked that question, two patrons of the bar leaned over from either side and began licking her breasts.
Inigo poured a slow stream of Bailey's Irish Cream down her cleavage and the creamy stream made its way to her pussy, where Carlos lapped it up and down her slit before he began sucking her clit in earnest. Inigo reached forward to grasp Charlaine's ass in both hands, raising and squeezing in unison with his brother's heated sucking and tongue-fucking of her slit.
The redhead was now on her knees, getting reamed in front of Charlaine and friends, with the dark-haired guy's thick cock stretching her asshole mercilessly. Another man lay under the redhead, licking both her pussy and her ass-fucker's cock and balls while he strummed little redhead's clit until she squrited onto the ledge's glossy floor.
The redhead was screaming "watch me come, I'm coming so fucking hard. I'm being fucked in the ass and I love it. Love it!" She was lost in a string of escalating orgasms, begging for mercy while her partners gave her no letup. They just kept at her as she screamed louder, bucked wildly and someone came up on the ledge to disengage redhead's hands from to pole to bring her head to her prone partner's cock before he got off the ledge to manhandle himself.
As much as Charlaine wanted to close her eyes and lose herself in her own ecstasy, she held them open to watch the denoument of the redhead's display, channeling all the redhead's wild wails and undulations boost her own multiple Os.
The tableau of fuckers and suckers came in one orgiastic spasm before Charlaine's eyes and she was on her fifth orgasm when they finally rolled off the stage and wandered off to some booths to revcover – or to resume other sybaritic pleasures they'd abandoned to put on their extemporaneous sex show.
"Holy motherfucker," Charlaine gasped as she regained her breath. The men giving her all sorts of oral pleasure were tapering off with light licks and nips to her inner thighs, her neck and collar bones, her breasts and belly. Oh, and her sandwich had arrived along with her drink.
She took a long pull on her fruity cocktail and, as the alcohol hit her bloodstream, she felt a fresh flood of cream begin a slow, yearning egress from her slit. Charlaine turned to the Filipina barkeep, who smiled slyly at her wide-eyed surprise as her twin partners in crime chuckled.
"The Hard Nipple really gets your nipples hard. It has a special ingredient that makes your pussy wet, too. honey, you're just getting warmed up with your first Wet Pussycat cocktail," the lady barkeep said. "Drink up and enjoy your sandwich. You'll need the energy."