Los Cinco Hermanos Ch. 02

"Mmm... thanks," I breathed. "Let's not be too hasty in protecting my conservative sensibilities..."

Another pair of lips descended on mine and I didn't hesitate at all. This was Paul and I knew it. We started to get a little hot and heavy in the French department before he eased up, and I moaned slightly in protest when he did.

"Paul," I said. "Definitely Paul."

Then I got a third kiss, and even though I hadn't kissed him before, I knew immediately who it was from the goatee. And damn! He was as good as the other two. I was getting some serious swelling down below.

"Jerry," I smiled, my eyes still closed. "Can't miss the neatly trimmed beard, my friend." I heard him chuckle as he moved away.

I was expecting the next one, and totally unsure of how I'd judge it. Ron had thinner lips than Jackson, that much I remembered. I remembered more about how far they hung down flaccid, but right now I was trying to guess the kisser. It surprised me that it wasn't the feel of the kiss that determined it for me, but the taste and scent.

I don't know why, but I decided it was Ron and said so.

"Wow," was his response. "You really are good at this. And damn, you've got a nice kiss!"

"Thank you. Believe me, so do you. So do I get to taste Jackson or are you guys going to try to trip me up by cycling one of the others back in?" The answer I got blew me away.

Very strong, muscular arms reached behind my shoulders and the small of my back and drew me up off the jacuzzi wall and into a barrel chest of well-defined muscle, forcing my arms to come forward and wrap around his neck as Jackson pulled me onto his thigh and descended on my lips. The electricity of being manhandled like that, but so gently, shot right through me and I found myself grinding my groin against his leg as we did our best to devour each other.

I was in serious danger of actually cumming, just from the body grind and kiss. When he finally let up, I tried to catch my breath.

"Oh, my God..." I whispered. "You really are all alike... I am in so much trouble."

"No, ma'am, you're not," Jackson's deeper voice gently told me as he let me sit back against the wall. "Not unless you want to be. We mean what we say, and any one of us can promise for the others and we'll honor it. That's how it works for Los Cinco Hermanos. You'll need to open your eyes, though, if you want more wine."

"Okay, guys," I told them as I slowly opened my eyes to the concerned looks around me. I reached for my wine and took a draught. "I need to be straight with you. In daily life I'm a mousy little nobody who pretends to be some kind of guru to teach my clients. I haven't had the time or the inclination for sex in almost a year. I'm really bad at relationships and I don't want to disappoint you. You've been wonderful. You're pampering me with the respect and attention I'd forgotten existed. So I'm sort of dancing on soap bubbles here, waiting for it to collapse."

"Are you sure it wasn't the guys that were poor at relationships?" Ron asked, and that brought me up short. "In my limited experience, most guys are assholes," he went on. "And most of them blame the women for their own failures. In my book, you don't have to sweat it. There's no expectations here, tonight. You decide what you want to do, and how, and with who and for how long... all that stuff. Nobody's going to get their nose out of joint. And when you leave in the morning, everybody's happy and feeling good, about themselves and about the others."

"Wow, really..." I said a bit unbelievingly. "So if I just want to sit here and tease you guys and eat up the pampering, then go crash alone and leave in the morning, nobody's going to care?"

"Oh, we'll care," Dave put in. "We'll care whether you're leaving happy. That's the point tonight."

"And if I want to stay the weekend, and maybe just be with Dave, or Paul, that would be okay?"

"That gets a little problematic," Jerry spoke up, "but it could be arranged. And yes, it would be okay."

"Problematic?"

"We're working this weekend," Jerry told me, "but it doesn't have to involve you. There's plenty around here to keep you entertained, and if you wanted, I could get a professional masseur to come in for you. Or masseuse, depending on what you prefer."

I thought about it for a long several moments. These guys really seemed sincere in what they were telling me. But just to be sure...

"So if I wanted all five of you to make love to me at once, and take turns and play nice and drive me to Oblivion with orgasmic pleasure, you'd be up for that, too?"

"Absolutely!" all five said at once, as if they'd rehearsed it. My fantasy-demon was warming up on the sidelines. All five hunks in a night of orgiastic pleasure... be still, my beating heart!

"Well, for now I just want to relax here and get pounded by the hot water. I don't get to relax like this very often. I don't have a jacuzzi at home and I'm usually too busy on the road," I told them. "Plus, nothing sexual is going to happen out here, anyway. I've heard how the chemicals in the water can strip a woman's natural lube and all that happens is that she ends up raw and walking funny."

"If one or more of us get into pleasuring you, Beth," Jerry told me, "it will be at your request, and it will be in the house. Probably either the living room or the master bedroom. Unless you have some kind of kinky fantasy about exercise rooms or kitchens..." He smiled and it went straight to my groin. Again.

"Where is home?" Paul asked.

"Chicago area," I told him. "Western suburbs. Aurora, specifically."

"Cool," he said. "You get snow for winter."

"Usually more than we want," I laughed. "I'll see if I can figure out how to send some your way."

We fell into talking about the various climates we'd lived in and what our favorites were, and then the kinds of neighborhoods we'd grown up in, and all kinds of other chatter, until I thought I might be turning into a prune. I decided to ease my fantasy along by another notch.

"Would I have any takers if I wanted to go sprawl out someplace comfortable and get a gentle massage?" I asked. "Not a professional job, per se, but a general loosening me up all over kind of job."

Five hands went up.

"Oh, my..." I managed to breath. "How do we do this?"

"Let's try the master bedroom," Jerry suggested. "The bed's big enough, it's comfortable and there's a bath right off it."

"Sounds perfect," I told him, then started to get out of the spa. How the hell the five guys got out of that hot tub faster than me, I haven't a clue. But I was suddenly looking up at five naked Adonis' offering to help me up. And honestly? I had to take a moment to appreciate the view.

I'd gotten a good look at Ron and Jackson earlier. Now I got a full frontal view of Dave, Paul and Jerry.

Dave was like I had imagined, sort of. He was fit, solid athletic build, probably courtesy of the Navy. He had those wonderful abs I'd seen hinted at through his shirt. He also had a damned fine ass and thighs, and well, damn... a fine everything else, too. The surprise was, he shaved. His pubic hair. Bald.

Well, hell, this is California, I guess, right? I thought. Probably every good looking guy out here does.

I looked over at Paul and saw that he might be thin, but the muscle definition said "lean and mean". I don't think there was an ounce of fat on him. But he definitely looked good. And he didn't shave. He trimmed. He had dark hair, like his head, but it was close-cropped around his pubic area.

So not everybody shaves, I thought and looked over to Jerry. Well, he does...

Jerry was like Paul, thin, muscular but lithe and wiry and a little taller. And he obviously worked out. Abs and ass were fantastic. And his smile just tickled my clit like nobody's business.

Together, they were standing there like some Ancient Greek sculptor had left them behind. Or maybe they were gods frozen in time. Or maybe I'd had too much Zinfandel and my romantic fantasies were running away with me.

I took Dave's hand and allowed him to help me out of the spa. For some reason, I suddenly felt very aware of my middle-aged body as the water flowed off me. I had to do a quick assessment and a bit of a pep talk to counter the sudden rush of inadequacy in front of these perfect specimens.

Like I'd thought back in the Ladies' Room, I might be "full-figured" but I wasn't yet "voluptuous". My 34D's were still firm enough to stand out on their own. I know "gravity works", but they weren't all that saggy, yet. And my tummy and butt were decently toned, even if there was a little extra fat floating around. I kept my hair professional, medium auburn with natural highlights, shoulder length with a little curl. And I kept my pubic hair trimmed into what's sometimes called a "landing strip"... a trimmed patch about an inch-and-a-half wide, starting from just above my vulva and going up maybe three inches. My ex- had liked it like that, and it had become habit.

My carpet and drapes definitely matched... no dye job either place. And I knew damned well that with the right partner, I could be as sexy and seductive and sybaritic as the next woman. I wasn't exactly sure how I could handle five at once, but a part of me was certainly wanting to try!

Jerry led the way to the master bedroom – his room – and again, I was impressed. I loved the cathedral ceilings and simple décor. I also loved the glass door that led out onto the pool patio... the room had its own private access. There was an alcove with built-in closets and dressers, and a dressing area with mirrors and all, and beyond those, a full bath with both a shower and a tub, a toilet with built-in bidet, and a double basin setup. But the thing that got me the most was the bed.

It was mostly round, except across the headboard, and it was huge! It had to be at least nine feet across at its widest. And there was a circular ring in the ceiling with bed curtains hanging down – simple, gauzy and tied back at the moment. The room's color scheme was pastel blues, but the bed stood out in a garish red and the bed curtains were pink. A really strange combination, if you asked me.

"Wow." It was about all I could say as I walked around, taking it in.

"Sorry about the bed," Jerry began to apologize. "It was my mother's idea. The rest of the room used to be in pinks and white... kind of like an homage to Cupid or something. I haven't been able to get new linens made for the bed. They have to be custom made, as was the bed. Not to speak ill of the dead, and... rumor has it she was somewhat nymphomaniacal, and promiscuous – with my Dad's blessing. She used to 'entertain' in here."

"Every family's got their skeletons, Jerry," I told him. "Having a mother with a healthy libido isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"It wasn't so much healthy, I suppose," Jerry smiled slightly, "as she had a sex-drive on steroids. She considered herself one of the Hollywood Crowd. Actually, she was more of a groupie. But it doesn't bother me. She had her arrangement with my Dad and I got to meet some pretty cool people. She didn't have a vicious bone in her body. If anything, she was overly generous. I've been accused of the same, though I don't see it."

"Well, regardless of the color clash, I think this bedroom is great," I told him. I walked over and stood at the foot of the bed, noting that most of the bed linens appeared to be satin or similar.

"Is this where you want me?" I asked, indicating the center.

He sighed as he sat on his first response and I suddenly realized my unintended double-entendre. In my slightly inebriated and definitely lecherous state, I couldn't let it go.

"To start, that is," I added with a smile and a bit of a wiggle of my tits and hips.

"That will do nicely," he recovered well. "Let's pull down the bedspread, though."

All five guys moved forward to help him turn down the bed and I got a girlish thrill from watching their luscious, naked young bodies move effortlessly around the room, like so many sex slaves attending to their mistress. And I was that mistress! Wow, did I feel giddy...

When the covers were down, I simply crawled forward on my hands and knees – as provocatively as I knew how, hoping it would be pleasing – and plopped face down in the middle of the bed. Immediately, the guys fanned out and I had Ron and Jackson go to my legs, Dave and Paul to my arms and Jerry up near my head.

"You might like this," Jerry said, and when I lifted up to see what "this" was, I saw he was holding out a big fluffy horseshoe.

"It's for your face," he explained. "We use them during massages to support the head and face and make it comfortable to breathe." I gratefully took it from him and saw him handing bottles to the other guys as I positioned my face and head into it, then spread my arms back out again, took a deep breath, and relaxed.

They didn't waste any time. The bottles held massage oil, and very soon strong hands firmly but gently began kneading my muscles into mush. They had obviously done this before and it was literally only minutes before I was almost falling asleep from the stress that was leaving my body. And I was in awe. I had never experienced something so wonderfully hedonistic in my life. I'm not sure, but I don't think you can even buy this kind of service at a salon.

Dave and Paul had started with my fingers. Not my hands, my fingers. Maybe details aren't supposed to count for much, but in this case they certainly did. They gently and steadily worked their way from my fingers to my hands, my wrists, my forearms and upper arms and into my shoulders.

In the meantime, Jerry had started at my head end and was working on my scalp, then neck, then the middle of my back, down my spine getting both sides and on down to the small of my back. He had deceptively strong hands and knew exactly how to use them!

Ron and Jackson had started on my toes – details, again! – and then to the soles and insteps of my feet. That alone was heaven! But then they worked their way up my calves, to my knees, to my thighs and finally my buttocks, ending up meeting Jerry in the small of my back.

I had the obligatory moment of panic as they reached my glutes and began a thorough kneading of the muscles. The panic was partly from the familiarity of the touch, but more from the fact that my pussy was on fire and twitching under their gentle stroking, even though they weren't directly touching me there. I was afraid I was going to leave a wet spot on Jerry's bed.

After some indeterminate time, I was recalled from Nirvana, back down to the Left Coast.

"Beth?" Jerry was asking. "Would you care to rehydrate and turn over, so we can continue?"

When I dragged my face out of the horseshoe pillow thing and looked at him, he was holding out a cold bottle of Dasani. I gratefully took it and began sipping it.

Somebody ought to check the temperature in Hell, I thought. Because this just doesn't happen to me.

When I'd slaked my thirst, I looked around and realized they were waiting for me to lie back down, on my back.

Oh, this is definitely a Fuck It moment, I thought as I moved to comply. I'm not passing this up. No way!

I nestled my head into the horseshoe pillow and spread my arms and legs out slightly. Then I closed my eyes and waited for Heaven. And I got it... in spades. They were each still in their relative positions and they each began as before, Jerry starting with my scalp and going to my face and neck, Dave and Paul starting with my fingers again and working their way up, and Ron and Jackson with my toes, also working their way up. They did an exquisite job, and I almost forgot to panic as they approached my breasts and pussy.

It turned out the panic was unwarranted. In fact, I was getting rather pissed at whatever part of me kept screwing up my wallowing in the feelings.

As Dave and Paul approached my chest, they each carefully slid a hand under the breast nearest them and with the back of their hand, lifted it out of the way while they went after the pectoral muscles beneath. They did a similar thing to move the breast out of the way when they went after the upper pectorals. Neither of them did anything even remotely sexually stimulating to my swollen areolas and nipples – damn it! I breathed out a sigh of frustration, but didn't say anything.

When Ron and Jackson got to my inner thighs and on up to my hips and lower belly, they did the same damn considerate thing! They carefully worked the muscles and tendons, and even the little fat pad above my pussy, without making direct contact with my vulva or anything else. The closest they got was moving my labia majora to the side to get at the upper inner thigh.

My clit was so swollen, I thought it was going to jump up off me and go smack some sense into those guys! I was really starting to feel frustrated and whatever hesitance I'd had about these guys had been beaten into submission by my hormones long ago.

"You're hesitating," I stated, as gently as my inflamed libido would allow.

"Excuse me?" Jerry was the one to answer. He had to be the de facto leader of this band.

"I said, you're hesitating," I repeated, again as gently as I could. "Not you so much, but the others. I am sure there are several square inches of my body that you've missed."

I counted several heartbeats of silence as I lay there with my eyes closed, hoping they'd take the hint.

They did.

I felt first Dave, then Paul, dribble a little massage oil on my breasts and then begin an excruciatingly tender massage – and with a D cup, there's a lot of tit to cover before getting to the nipples! Ron and Jackson must've been watching, to see how I was going to take it, before they did anything.

I think my involuntary, "Oh, GOD... Yes!" when Dave and Paul reached my nipples encouraged them. I already had wonderful electric tingles running straight from my nipples to my groin, and I was swelling up like a balloon, when Ron and Jackson poured a little oil on my pussy and began massaging my vulva.

Oh. My. Fucking. GOD! I hadn't gotten a rush like that in forever! Not that I was primed for it or anything... a year without anything but my trusty Rabbit, more alcohol than I probably should have had, an overactive imagination – and FIVE of the hunkiest studs on the planet as far as I was concerned. I didn't stand a chance. Ron and Jackson didn't even get to trying to insert anything before I exploded.

The orgasm ripped through me like a tsunami. Everything clenched, and pulsed, and clenched some more, and pulsed some more. I think I forgot to breathe. I had little pinwheels of light dancing around in my head and I was dizzier than Hell.

And I don't even know what kinds of sounds I was making, but I know I was making them.

Then one of the guys eased a finger into my pussy and started probing around. That was it, all over again. I remember arching up against his hand, forcing him deeper into me. I don't remember much else. Until the other one tentatively stuck a finger in my bum.

Okay, so I'm sensitive. And I like it. So?

I think I would have come off the bed at that point, except that's when Dave and Paul decided suckling would be a good idea, and Jerry kissed me.

So that's how you use five guys at the same time...

They kept ramping me up. I mean, I can be really responsive with the right partner, but this was ridiculous. I'd never cum this easy, or this much. With any partner. It just sort of took me over. I didn't care... I didn't fight it... I just kept going back for more... until I must have blacked out.