Opportunity Knocked

'Magically' caterers arrived with food and booze. People began wandering, casually, in and out of the bedroom, holding glasses or carrying plates, rising and alighting--up and down, randomly setting dishes aside, like some sort of adult game of musical chairs. "When has there been time to organize catering," Meghan wondered. "Are the caterers still about--watching--joining in...?" Of course, Meghan was, then, offered--during occasional lulls in the action--refreshment, as well as friendly hugs, back-rubs, even light, relatively trivial conversation--just like any old cocktail party. Food and drink added an element of normalcy, of 'okay-ness', to the party.

As Meghan relaxed for a moment, lounging back on the bed, centre-stage, casually observing, Crandall, their host and boss, surprised everyone by announcing in a large voice, as he disrobed at the foot of the expansive bed, "Make way for The Big Berry! I gotta get me some of the sweet Ms M before she's all gone away!" (What actually surprised most of those there, was that he knew their secret nickname for him.) Forthwith, he hopped up, nudged Meghan's legs apart, and dove, face-first, into her swampy puss. Meghan's initial response was to push him away. "No! Don't! I'm full of cum! It's gross!" she pleaded. But B-B had already hooked his arms under her thighs and pulled himself tight into her sodden bush. Crandall's tongue pushed in to split her labia, then, in one practiced motion, swept up, gathering love-liquor, to swirl and suck on her rapidly engorging clitoris. Meghan's nerve-endings sparkled and sparked. The Big Berry dropped his chin slowly, running his tongue down one side of her slit and back up the other, before dragging it right down to poke her rose. He ran that sequence several times, cleaning up much of her liquid mess, while fanning her arousal, carrying her closer and closer to crisis.

Just when Meghan was sure her jangling nerves could take no more, B-B sprang up from deep in her vee. Planting his hands either side of her shoulders, his lips locked on hers, and with barely a pause, he sliced his Steely Dan fully into Meghan's impatiently pulsing cunt. Gripping his hardness firmly with her vaginal muscles she held him in, as a massive orgasm consumed her entire universe. Swallowing her screams with his mouth, Crandall gently resumed stroking, in and out, as her grip relaxed incrementally. Speeding up and slowing down, he repeatedly took her to the edge, occasionally pushing her over. His staying power was unbelievable, and by the time he came himself, Meghan was a quivering, insensate mass, have been through more, and more intense, orgasms than she--nor anyone else--thought possible. The Big Berry finally toppled off her, to a smattering of applause, and they rested side-by-side on the bed. It vaguely occurred to her that she had just had the most wonderfully loving cunnilingus, followed by fabulous copulation, with the boss--her soon-to-be former boss. Who would have thought?

A few more guys, as well as one or two women, arrived a little later, and wasted no time in joining in. One of them, Katherine, a married woman of fifty-something, from the parts department, snagged Roscoe as he entered the master suite. Grabbing the front of his pants, she dropped to her knees, saying to no-one in particular, "I've always wanted to do this!" Roscoe just grinned as he looked down at her, kneeling in front of him and fishing out his massive cock. Meghan's first thought was, "What's she doing? She's married!" Then her own self-talk voice pointed out, "So what. So are you!"

Roscoe was short and rotund, and as black as coal. Katherine was slim and fit for her age, with enhanced silver-blonde hair, and glowing white complexion. The amazing man-meat she revealed was more of a limb than an appendage. Roscoe shuffled into the space beside the bed, right next to Meghan, proudly displaying his wares. Both Meghan and her current partner paused to watch the developing sideshow. Roscoe's dangling serpent looked huge in Katherine's hands. It was as long as her forearm, and just as big around! Hanging partially limp, sticking out from his pubic forest, it began, of its own accord, to bump itself to erection; not actually getting any longer but swelling as it rose, and vibrating as it reached up. Its veiny surface firmed up, growing in topographical relief. The room went silent for a long moment while Katherine struggled to swallow the gigantic tool. As Katherine proceeded to rocking on her knees, choking and gasping, in turn, around the log, people's attentions strayed again.

Meghan's focus returned to her partner as he began to stroke, once again, in earnest, reigniting their mutual arousal. When all was said and done, it was apparent that Katherine had, indeed, given a masterful blowjob. Meghan saw, peripherally, Katherine rise to standing, as she held Roscoe's softening dong with one hand, and wiped her glistening mouth on the back of her other hand. Meghan thought, after a bit, as she watched Roscoe, by then, standing idle, his still drooling serpent hanging limp out of his fly-front, that he would definitely meet the size requirement--another box checked. "Time enough," she assured herself.

Eventually, Meghan noticed some of the admin staff--executive secretaries and EAs, as well as a few front office people, wander into the 'show lounge'; at first to, apparently, simply observe; however, during lulls in the action, some of the women, still fully clothed, leaned over the naked and glowing Meghan, to say their farewells often with a chaste--or sometimes not-so-chaste--kiss. Then, with a hissed, "Enough of this bullshit!" Myah, an adventurous young woman from reception, hurriedly undressed at the bedside, and climbed, unceremoniously, aboard, positioning herself directly over Meghan in classic '69'--soixante-neuf position. Yet another brand-new experience for Meghan, her introduction to girl-on-girl sex flowed so naturally it went almost unnoticed.

Myah had, obviously done this before. Covering Meghan, her knees on either side of Meghan's head, she initially held her own bottom out of reach while she dropped her face fully into the sopping box beneath her. Shaking her head energetically side to side, she pointed her tongue and pressed deep into Meghan's snatch, waggling it, exploring the inner tissues, before venturing back down to poke Meghan's anus, then dragging back up through the moistening furrow to flick and suck and chew on the puffy little boatman, shucking his hood, and standing proud. At the licking touch to her clit, Meghan's butt began to tremble and buck. Myah waited for the inevitable--but not too long. When she felt Meghan lift her head slightly, and reach with her tongue, Myah gently settled her bottom onto Meghan's face. After that it was simple: Myah controlled the pressure, and Meghan just copied what Myah did to her that felt so very, very good. Oblivious of the rest of the room--the rest of the world--Meghan and Myah each had two orgasms on the other's tongue--before toppling over, scrambling to reorient themselves, and lying entangled, as they caught their collective breath. In her mind's eye, Meghan checked the girl-on-girl--the lesbian box.

As the afternoon faded into early evening, Meghan continued to take on all comers, in, what was, by then, a bona fide gang-bang. She had long since lost count of how many times she'd been fucked, and how many times she had cum. Inevitably, Myah's active participation being the catalyst, the gangbang gradually morphed into a full-blown orgy, as Samantha and Ashley, a couple front office women, began to disrobe and join the activity, kissing and caressing, first Myah, then each other. Once they were significantly aroused, they began spreading for some of the naked guys sitting around. They were almost casually joined by several of the female admin staff, too.

Meanwhile, Meghan was raised onto all fours, so as to take someone doggie style. With her eyes closed, she reared back against the fleshy skewer, delighting in the sudden fullness of her twat. Moaning out her building ecstasy, she opened her eyes to find a long and turgid serpent sniffing around her lips. Rounding her lips, she pushed forward to engulf whomever, and suck him in without a second thought. It didn't even twig that that was her first double-penetration. She only thrilled to the novel sensation of being actively spitted. Her pleasure was duly noted, opening the flood-gates for further DPs--pussy and mouth, either missionary or doggie.

While focus on Meghan relaxed somewhat, with the active participation of other females, she was still the recognized guest of honour--everyone trying to make a point of bidding her farewell and good luck, in keeping with the intimate circumstances.

Later, (the chronology of the affair was becoming increasingly fuzzy.) Meghan found herself on her hands and knees, next to a supine male whom she recognized, but whose name she couldn't recall. She was busily sucking cock in a sort of open '69' position, dipping her head then straightening her elbows to facilitate the necessary up and down. Reaching his arms beneath her, he played with her tits, cupping her--in that position, anyway--pendulous boobs, he rhythmically dropped his hands until his fingers pinched and pulled and twisted nipples mercilessly. With no-one behind her, all her attention was focused on her breasts, and his cock. As her own arousal built, the action of her tongue and the suction of her cheeks gripped the growing woodie harder and harder. Her ardour blossomed with the fullness of her mouth, excitement mounting with the insistent tweaking of her buds. Plunging forcefully onto his trembling sword, the opening of her throat triggered the inexorable and, with lights and electricity crackling behind her eyes and through her body, gathering between her legs, Meghan experienced her first ever climax while giving--due to giving fellatio. Forcing herself, while quaking and jolting, fully onto his rampant sceptre carried her partner over the line, as well, into a simultaneous orgasm, his issue emptying in torrents directly down her throat.

Gradually dropping back out of orbit, Meghan idly mused on--analyzed, really--what had just occurred. It was like she'd just discovered the spectrum of nuanced differences that made fellatio so much more than simply cocksucking--variations in depth and speed, in pressure and suction, in mouth-shaping and tooth-scraping, oral lubrication and length of stroke--from deep-throating to hanging on to the flare of the glans. As well, there was so much more to feel--each blowjob different in so many ways: from veiny surface texture to firmness; temperature to pre-seminal lubrication; girth; length; tremours and spasms; smooth stroke or violent stab; hard helmet-head or spongy plum. The differences, the subtleties, were innumerable.

Slowly regaining awareness, through the vagueness of time, Meghan found herself lying face down on the bed, dreaming--the echoes of her oral orgasm still reverberating behind her eyes. Hands gently lifted her hips, pulling her back over her knees, dragging her head off her crossed arms. Eyes closed, head turned to the side, she was held, bum in the air, while someone shuffled between her legs. She felt fingers prodding at her butt and squirmed ineffectively away, turning to face the intruder. He smiled and asked innocently enough, "can I do your bum?"

"No..., er, yeah..., well...." A voice inside her head cajoled, "C'mon. Go for it. It's all part and parcel." Meghan just stared at him for a moment, the new young guy from shipping, then said, "O-o-o-kay, but be very gentle. It's been a long time since I've had anybody up there!" Forthwith, the soft end of a rigid erection poked tentatively against her brown star, and she wiggled her butt, again, again ineffectively. Moaning out her token objection. "Uuungh, uuhh, ungh!" A steady pressure easily overcame the elastic resistance of her anus, and with an almost audible "Pop!" and a breathy "Oooomph!" Whatsizname was in. Despite the fact that the invading shaft had obviously been lubricated, Meghan complained, "Go slow!" It had, indeed, been a very long time, and though she saw it--anal intercourse--as an inevitability, a necessary evil, she didn't have to like it. "Easy!"

Although she had never particularly liked it, and, therefore, had rarely tried it, the young sodomizer was considerate and surprisingly respectful. Discomfort quickly gave way to a sort of strangeness that was not all that unpleasant. Soon, Meghan was vigorously jamming her ass back to meet his accelerating thrusts. She felt her intruder stiffen and jerk; his thighs slapped firmly against her buttocks, as a very peculiar--actually, very nice--liquid warmth flooded Meghan's rectum.

And, still, the orgy continued. All around her, on the bed and around the bed, Meghan was vaguely aware of others joining in--continuous fucking and sucking, eating and eaten, a cornucopia of sexual positions and acts, numerous variations of missionary, cowgirl, or doggie, now including back-door anal.

Meghan was amazed at her own stamina; pleased with her endurance and responsiveness. If her pussy-lips were, perhaps, a bit bruised, even slightly numbed, they were still amazingly erogenous--still sensitive to licks and flicks and caresses of all stripes. Lying on her back, on the bed, still for the moment, unattended, Meghan tried to visualize her fantasy checklist--"I should have written it down: strange, venue, black, size, gangbang, DP, airtight, orgy, gay, and, for lack of a better moniker, phone-sex."

It stood to reason that Meghan's DP scenarios began to include ass and mouth and pussy and ass, as well as pussy and mouth. Though she mostly paid little attention to the couplings happening around her, given the predominance of men at the party, double--and triple-penetrations were not so uncommon. Running a quick audit across the computer-screen of her mind, Meghan figured 'airtight' was the last check-box on her fantasy bucket-list, so she decided to be pro-active. "Hey," she called into the idle crowd, "I need three guys--ready and willing to join me up here!" Getting a second wind--or third, or tenth--Meghan directed her partners into position, like a veteran, not the neophyte she actually was.

"You," she instructed, pointing to one of the volunteers, "lie here on your back--and get your cock standing tall!" When he was set, she swung her leg over, straddling his gut, and lowered herself gingerly onto his upright peg. Dropping 'til her bush meshed with his, and settling herself comfortably, she leaned forward. "Just cup my boobs for the bit." Then over her shoulder, to the waiting pair, she said, "One of you--the smaller, if you don't mind, SLOWLY take my ass." Whimpering and groan softly, Meghan worked her butt back as he snaked his way in, taking care to keep her captive completely engulfed. Turning to the last of the three she said, in a coy voice, "C'mere, bud, and let me suck off your beautiful tool." They established a nice rhythm and managed to all get off in a relatively short time--the blowjob first, then the anal connection, and finally, concurrent with her own orgasm, the fellow under her blew his wad.

Disentangling to a round of applause, the endemic camera phones recording the event, Meghan, with cum dripping from all three orifices, flopped onto the bed, enervated. She sat out the next few invitations, but, eventually, was back on all fours, being fucked energetically up the dirt-chute while sucking off a lovely stiffie.

Suddenly, from somewhere in the room, Meghan could hear her own unique ringtone. Her first thought was not, "Who could that be?" but, "No! THAT'S the last check-box!" speaking with her hubby on the phone while being fucked by someone else! Now, she remembered.

B-B, ever the good host, had the wherewithal to shush the entire suite as he carried Meghan's phone across the room and handed it to her. She wasn't surprised to see the caller was Kyle.

Meghan accepted the phone as she gently let her chest drop to the bed, and with an enigmatic smile, took the call. "Hi, dear. I figured it was you. Yeah, what are you, three hours earlier?" She listened intently while Darrick lazily sawed back and forth, in and out of her ass. With her free hand, she gently stroked the cock that been in her mouth. "Mmmm," she murmured in non-committal response. Suddenly, she felt dead-tired. She realized she was completely exhausted--physically, mentally, emotionally, and sensually. Still, she somehow managed to hide that fact, sounding her usual bright and cheery self for her husband's sake--and the sake of the party. "They threw me a surprise going away party...! The whole gang!...at work! No, silly. Not actually AT work! At the Boss's condo--The Bi... er...Mr. McArthur's downtown condo!" They chatted a little longer. She certainly didn't want to appear to be rushing him. Furthermore, it was oddly delicious. Meghan really hadn't expected it would be so titillating; she'd thought all the online stories she'd read were, if not actually apocryphal, then wildly exaggerated. But there it was--the illicit thrill of actively and unequivocally betraying her dear husband was real. Meghan could feel her orgasm building even before she rang off.

Compounding that, Darrick was becoming impatient, as was Mike, the plant manager, whose throbbing johnson she held in her hand. As Meghan disconnect Darrick was just getting his anal pounding back up to speed. She slurped Mike back into the depths of her throat, and the orgy simply resumed, continuing unabated. Shaking her head, deep, stifled whimpers emanating around Mike thrusting sabre, Meghan shoved her ass back against Darrick's rigid cock. Even a couple hours earlier, she wouldn't have been able to fit his great schlong up her ass; now, she was trying to completely engulf him--suck him fully into her stretched rectum. Her orgasm rushed up, seemingly endlessly, enflaming her whole central nervous system, until it finally detonated at the base of her skull. Muffled screams punctuated the quivering and quaking of her entire body. Her limbs all went limp as the climax peaked, and left her hanging from the two slowly deflating pricks, each having emptied their volumes of semen in their respective ports. Lowered to the bed, Meghan lay motionless, save for panting, for an extended period. She gradually recovered, and join the melee once more.

Even when she wasn't participating, Meghan was usually bare-assed naked. Sometimes she had a blanket draped loosely across her shoulders, but more often, not. And, surprising to her, she was not at all troubled by that. She took sporadic breaks: pee breaks, refreshment breaks, or merely lulls in the activity; and, at those times, she watched, fascinated by the dynamics of the milieu. The party extended well into the wee hours, with no sign of letting up, so Meghan continued--sometimes, sitting, sometimes standing, sometimes crouching or kneeling, mostly lying supine or prone, or on her side, or up on all fours. She participated, eagerly or passively, or just observed, and, sometimes, she was simply used, like an appliance; which, curiously, didn't bother her at all--as she felt it perhaps should have. It was just a part of the whole experience.

"Geeez!" she muttered, under her breath, checking off that last box, in her head. "I guess that's it for the bucket-list--the sexual bucket list, in any case! Now what?" Adrift--or, perhaps, more precisely--awash in a sea of carnal pleasure, Meghan chose not to think about what was next. Tomorrow--or the next day--or the day after that--would be time enough to deal with this new, emerging future--time enough to make plans, or change plans, or whatever.

Que sera sera!