No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 08

She watched him walk into the marble shower, his muscular thighs and tight butt, his erection still higher than half-mast. Her frustration was even greater now, and she wanted nothing more than to find a nice dark corner of the room where she could finger herself to some kind of satisfaction. But he had started the shower and was peppering her with questions.

She looked at her face in the mirror, hoping they hadn't messed up Antoinelle's make-up job. She had given Marcie a tube of lip gloss to touch up during the evening. She did just that, listening to him and trying to maintain a conversation over the splashing of the shower.

"It's no good, Monty!" She was practically shouting. "Let's just wait til you're out."

She stared at him, the fires licking at her insides, wishing they'd just cancel the evening and fuck their brains out all night, but then she saw how knock-down gorgeous she was and she didn't want to miss the opportunity to flaunt a little. She peeked at herself in the mirror, lifting the hem of her dress to expose her landing strip, her legs and groin -- much calmer now, in spite of the recent assault. Letting the dress drop, she glanced at him to see if he had seen her, but he was busy washing his own privates. She stopped and stared for a minute as he soaped up his shaft, stroking it with one hand while he fondled his balls with the other. He looked up at her and smiled, exaggerating his gestures and making a lewd thrust with his hips.

"You want to come in and have some?"

"And ruin this hair do and make-up, no way buster. Unless you want to cancel the party and just stay in...?"

"Not tonight, sweetheart. Tonight is a command performance. And I have to say, I couldn't ask for a more stunning co-star."

He shut off the water and dried off, smiling at her the entire time. She suddenly was overcome with a small panic attack -- she was about to go to a party, with his business associates, without anything on except this short dress. She shivered and took a deep breath.

* - * - * - *

"Ohhh, god, Monty...yesss, yesss, mmmm..." His cock slid into her easily pushing through the sticky outer coating of her juices to reach her moist core.

He had her on her knees, her head down on the bed between her elbows, her hands gripping the sheets above her head. If she wanted she could watch him penetrating her, but she was happier to relax her neck and let him do the work.

As he pushed into her, the sense of relief washed through her. He pushed in slowly, coating his shaft with her lubricants and pulled out, pulling from her a moan. In again, feeding the flames that had been quietly burning all day since the beach early that morning.

The events of the day suddenly rushed into her alcohol-muddled head: the dancing at the dinner just minutes ago, the way he took her in front of the vanity, her mini-epiphany on the beach, and most of all, most troubling of all she reflected as he pulled his cock out of her momentarily, Antoinelle's seduction of her this afternoon.

The memory of her day-long set of frustrations fanned the flame in her gut. "Yes....fuck ME, please, Monty. I've been so frUSTrated..." His thrusts into her made her grunt the words; hearing herself only aroused her further.

She knew she wouldn't cum in this position. Just like earlier in the evening when he fucked her from behind, like two animals rutting, she was left with a hot glow in her groin but no satisfaction. Eventually, though, she knew he could turn her over and push his cock against that spot she had come to enjoy.

He raised up on his knees, changing the angle of his cock to push harder against the back of her channel, freeing up his hands. He slipped one around her waist to cup her vagina, pushing her lips against his erection, his thumb against her clit. She moaned louder, feeling the flames licking up her spine.

Her breasts were just barely touching the sheets, her nipples erect and lightly rubbing with each thrust. The pulses he sent from his thumb joined the weaker sparks coming from her nipples. Her head was lost in the fog of alcohol and arousal.

The dinner had gone as well as she could have expected. She caught everyone's eyes as she had hoped, but she was a little off-balance. The lotion Antoinelle had applied to her legs and crotch, along with the fucking Monty had given her, had left her distracted. Her groin tingled and continued to call attention to itself, made all the more evident by being exposed just inches above her dress.

When she sat, she carefully tucked her legs under the white tablecloth to avoid any possibility of being exposed. When she got up she was careful not to bend over, lest her neckline reveal her nipples just an inch away.

He had invited her to dance. She had had a couple of drinks and was more relaxed, her arousal a constant nag at her consciousness. During a slow number he put his arm around her waist and she had to stop him as he slowly dragged her dress up, the hem just even with the curve of her bottom. She knew everyone could see but she didn't want to draw further attention to her nudity. She hissed in his ear to stop, but he just smiled, moving them to a corner of the dance floor where there was no one seated behind her. He raised her dress completely, exposing her cheeks to the wall and she blushed, even as she was flooded with arousal. She could feel her moisture seeping out of her and she hissed in his ear again to stop.

During a fast number, a couple of drinks later, she pogo-sticked to the music, the dance floor filled with other couples. This was familiar territory -- her college days came back to her. She unconsciously scanned the crowd and realized the two of them were surrounded by other dancers oblivious to them. She bounced up and down, causing her dress to bounce up revealing her naked coifed cunny to him, and she noted with a wicked grin, a young man facing her whose expression said everything. When they had turned so that only he could see her, she fanned her dress up, completely exposing herself to him for several heartbeats.

She was exhilarated, not feeling the shame and regret that had always been part of her routine years ago. He wanted her to play the part and she was. To her delight he was turned on by it: his face remained impassive but the fire in his eyes, and the bulge in his trousers was all she needed to know he didn't disapprove.

Antoinelle approached them smiling and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and grinned, giving Marcie a thumbs up and a wink.

She groaned as his cock filled her up again. He began pistoning in and out of her more quickly now. Her juices made loud squishing noises; a backdrop to her moans as he pumped his thick shaft into her.

And now he focused more intently on her, his thumb rubbing her clit as he moved more quickly, shaking and jiggling her body. With each push the squish of her cunt and the grunt of her air being expelled only turned her on more. She was starting to crest, to finally climax from a day of frustration. He took his hand and spread her cheeks, exposing her anus and she closed her eyes in anticipation of where he might put his thumb.

She was so close, just a few strokes away and she could feel the waves crashing together to push her into that white light. And then he pulled out, removing his hands and sitting back on his heels.

"Noooooo! Please....god...please Monty! I'm so close! Why?! What! Please!" She turned to look at him, her face blotchy. She knew she must look like a complete slut, her ass in the air, her pussy dripping, exposed. "Monty! Don't be cruel! I've been left on the edge all day!"

"What do you want," he asked calmly, returning his hand to cup her cunny, rubbing the base of his fingers against her dripping lips.

"What do you mean!? Please, don't tease me. What are you saying?" She wriggled her legs and ass on his hand trying to stimulate herself against him. Does he want me to beg for it? To dominate me? What is he doing?

"What do you want?"

She took a breath. "Please Monty, make me come, sweety. I need to come. I've been held off all day and I'm going crazy. Please? Fuck me?" She wasn't sure what he wanted from her.

"Do you want to wade into the river, or do you just want to climax?"

The memory of the ritual cleansing came back to her -- the intensity of that experience, the pure joy she felt at not orgasming. The sense of being one with a universe. And then the sequence of events during the day came crashing together -- he had engineered the whole thing: the beach, Antoinelle, the rutting before the dance, and now this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Still, the thought of 'wading in the river' was very attractive.

"How...how can I?" She moved slowly on his hand, coating it with her juice.

"We're going to go there together, Marcie. I need you to focus with me. You know you mustn't come. This will be your second trip; it will be a little easier each time. Are you ready?"

She turned and looked at him, feeling even more exposed than on the dance floor with people all around her, and nodded.

As he had done before, in her condo, he slipped two fingers into her, coating them with her spendings. Slowly he pushed them in, resting his thumb on her clit. Deeper he pushed them until the knuckles of his other fingers were pushed against her lips.

"Oh. Oh god. Monty. God. Please." The thought of where he was taking her, of not coming, of not coming all day, carried her away for a moment.

"Shhhhh....relax. Put her forehead down and give yourself to me. We're entering the river together. You came last time. It was intense. It will be intense again tonight, but it is very important to me you don't come." He pulled his fingers out, letting her juice dribble across her lips. He painted the liquid on her clit, feeling it pulse.

He took his left hand and spread her open, pushing her thickening lips out from her channel. Slowly he inserted three fingers into her pussy; they slid easily into her forcing another moan. She pushed back helping him impale them into her. Buried up to his third knuckle he wiggled them slightly, again pushing his thumb against her clit.

The sweet honey of arousal flowed from her cunt up into her spine, her anus puckering. "Yes. Shit. Yes. Oh god, Monty, yes. Please. Stroke me. Uhhhhhhmmmm...." He continued to push firmly on her button, rubbing it in small circles. Fountains of pleasure flowed up to the base of her head.

He pulled his fingers out and she protested softly but didn't move, leaving herself open to him. She felt as if her hole were wide open, a gaping cave exposed for him to insert whatever he had in mind. She concentrated on her breathing, her heart beat, the blood throbbing in her labia a constant reminder of her submission. Whatever he needs. Just do me. Bring me to the edge.

He returned his hand to her open hole: four fingers slid slowly into her and she knew it was too much. He stretched her gently, firmly moving up to the hilt. He couldn't wriggle his fingers; she was too tight, but he continued to open her, now sliding his thumb into a crevice he had made.

There was pain; the first pain she'd ever felt with him, but it was feeding her pleasure and she urged him to fuck her with his fist, to push his hand into her womb and let her take him in. She cried out as he stretched her and then, with a small *pop* he was buried up to his wrist inside her.

She groaned and the molten honey-sweet fire burst out, threatening to take her over the top.

"Focus with me Marcie," he directed quietly. He turned his hand, her outer lips slipping across his wrist bones. Her eyes were rolling back into her head, her breathing a set of moans and sighs as he twisted his hand one way and then the other. "You feel the life force. It has been building in you all day. At the beach, you pushed your cunny onto my tongue -- you wanted to come. Remember."

She moaned at the memory of him fucking her throat, his erection so hot, so stiff; his tongue swirling on her clit. She moaned again, the waves of pleasure rippling first up to her head and then down her spine, only to meet with a new ripple erupting from his hand.

He moved his free hand to her asshole, spreading her cheeks; she knew where he was going. "Oh god, Monty...please. Yes. Fuck me in my asshole. Yes." She urged him with quiet whispers opening herself to him.

"You had a colonic today. Remember how the attendants paid attention to you; how you exposed your most private parts to those strangers..."

"God. Yes. Yes. Shove your thumb in me. Yes...."

"...and how you let them see you naked all day. Antoinelle told me all about your adventures at the spa, Marcie. I'm so very proud of you. You are entering the river."

He pushed his thumb into her and twisted his hand just so and she almost lost it. Three waves of pleasure burst out of her groin, the yellow orange fire now consuming her entire pelvis, from hip to her the small of her back to hip.

She couldn't move for fear she would lose it. She focused on her breathing, letting him manipulate her in ways she'd never let anyone do before. She was an extension of his hands, an instrument he was playing. She could see his cock in her mind's eye, feel it entering her from behind as he fucked her in front of the vanity, and then...and then...he moved slightly, pushing on that spot and she let out a long low guttural growl. She was on a knife's edge.

"Here we go, Marcie. We're going into the river. Let it flow."

And a small tendril of fire, orangeish-yellow pulled along her spine, the pleasure was so intense it threatened to tip her over. The small tongue enveloped her spine until it melted into her brain and she gasped. He moved so minutely; she was frozen, her ass pointing up at him, her cunt split open; and the tendril became thicker, brightening until it was a blinding white swirl -- a filament between her brain and her pleasure.

She barely breathed not wanting to break the equilibrium. The pleasure was moving out to her fingertips and toes, her nipples felt like hot sparks, but the need to climax had passed. Instead she was melted into a larger place; she had no names for anything, no name for her...self. She was one with ...everything else.

And then it broke, the hot white filament snapped back to her ass and cunt, but a remnant remained in her brain, suffusing it with a warmth and safety, and she sucked in air as if she'd been holding her breath, and then she laughed, the convulsions moving her against his hand and thumb, cascading through her, her juices gushing around his wrist and flowing down his arm.