Rainbow Party

While she talks, Grant is getting closer to her. It takes her a second to notice, and when she does, she pretends she doesn't.

The cameras keep rolling. We keep going through our scripted remarks.

I'm getting closer to her, too.

She keeps speaking, delivering her lines to an audience of production assistants and crew members.

Behind the countertop, invisible to the camera, I notice her hand on the visible ridge behind the fly of Grant's pants.

I feel something, look down, see her hand on the front of my pants, too. She's feeling the contours of my cock through the cloth. It's already swelling against her palm.

As she comes to the end of her script, Grant smiles, leans over, and kisses her on the cheek. Congratulatory, tentative, sweet.

She turns her face to him. He kisses her again, first on the cheekbone, then with pursed lips. She kisses him back, and soon their mouths are open and their tongues are darting aganst each other.

Her hands don't leave our cocks, but they do start moving. Her fingertips drag up and down the cloth.

I watch from behind her, avidly, as my two colleagues make out just inches from my face, feeling as if I'm intruding on a moment that's just for them, knowing that I'm not.

I allow myself to be a pervert. I push my pelvis against her hand. Her arm rises and falls between our bodies. I inhale her scent--lavender--and feel her body heat through the back of her t-shirt.

Grant's hand is on the side of her face. I watch his slender, calloused fingers make little circles on the lock of hair that frames her cheek while they tongue-fuck.

I'm feeling bold. I put my hand on her ass, lightly across the cheeks. I let it rest there on the rough cloth of her jeans, feeling the narrow triangle of her thong above her buttcrack.

I try to gauge her reaction. It's hard to tell with her back turned to me.

Her kisses with Grant are getting sloppy. He's feeling her tit through her shirt. She typically wears padded bras, but she isn't wearing a bra today. Her hands stroke us through our pants in earnest.

We have a lot of shooting to get to today. I decide to keep things moving.

I reach around front of her, touch the thin band of her exposed belly between the hem of her t-shirt and the waistband of her jeans. I feel around for the button.

With one deft hand, a model maker's dexterity, I undo the button and the zipper. She stiffens for a moment, and I worry that I've done something wrong.

Then she kicks off her flats and takes her hands off of Grant and me to shimmy out of her jeans.

I watch her ass reveal itself to me, her buttcrack topped by a baby pink string thong, then her long, slender legs.

She kicks her shoes and her jeans away. Barefoot and pantsless, she crosses the stage area, leading Grant and me to a nearby couch brought in for today's shoot.

I watch Grant's cock bob inside his pants as he walks. We meet eyes for a moment and I realize he's watching my cock as well.

I've always found Grant beautiful. Handsome, smoldering, a gentle sort of masculine.

We meet her at the couch. She sits in the middle and beckons us to sit to either side of her.

As we sit, she slouches and spreads her knees. One knee touches Grant's knee, the other touches mine. Grant and I instinctively spread our knees to match.

Her hands return to our cocks. She starts rubbing.

Grant kisses her again. I watch his hand as it slips between her thighs and touches the thin strip of pink cloth there.

My hand travels up her arm, finding her boob. It fits easily in the palm of my large hand. Her nipple stands out through her shirt, thick, like a fingertip.

I circle it with my thumb. She shivers, but doesn't flinch.

She's wriggling a little. Grant is massaging her through the front of her thong. The air is becoming perfumed with the smell of sex.

Grant's other hand, thrown across the back of the couch behind her head, finds my shoulder, starts massaging me there. He's strong. It feels good.

My hand slides down from her boob, down her belly, coming to rest on Grant's hand as he makes circles on her over her panties. My hand rides his, like two lovers.

She breaks her kiss with Grant and briskly shucks her t-shirt. The cloth slides out from under my hand, which comes to rest upon her bare tit.

Then she looks at me.

Her eyes are big and brown and beautiful, glazed with arousal.

I lean down, kiss her, my spit mingling with hers and Grants at the corners of her lips. My hand leaves Grant's to cup her face. She takes her hand off my pants, reaches up, touches my stubbly chin.

Grant's hand leaves my shoulder.

While she and I kiss, Grant's free hand slinks around the front of her. It finds its way into my lap, then, after a moment's searching, deftly undoes the button and the zipper.

An engineer's dexterity.

His hand passes through the V of my fly, feeling my cock through my briefs. Working both hands, he massages her and he massages me, staring unabashedly at our faces while she and I make out.

His hand is slender, but rough. I can feel it through the thin fabric. I feel so hard, in the way that you only feel when someone else's hand is on you.

She's breathing heavily into my mouth. Grant's hand must be doing good things for her. She stops kissing me for a moment, letting her lips linger near mine.

"Okay, Grant," she breathes, "give me something else for a minute or I'm going to be useless."

Wordlessly, he vacates her crotch, slides his hand up to her bare breast, cups it, leans down, kisses the nipple.

She lets her head lean back, sighs gratefully, smiles, her eyes half-lidded.

I watch Grant's wet mouth suckle her tit.

Then he lifts his head, and I lean in, and I suckle her other tit, only letting it loose when both of her nipples are shiny with spit and standing at attention.

Grant's hand leaves me. It's in her crotch again, this time under her panties. She arches her hips a little to give him access.

Her hands are stroking both of our cocks again, finding mine inside my jeans and pulling it out over the waistband of my briefs.

I'm only slightly embarrassed that mine is the first set of genitals out in the open air.

She invites us to suck her nipples at the same time, and neither of us wastes a moment. Grant's mouth makes wet, squishing sounds against the soft flesh of her breast. I cup her tit, tonguing the nipple.

I flick a glance to Grant's lap. She has his cock out as well. Grant is smaller than me, but he's thick, and even hairier than me. Slowly, she jerks us.

"Ah," he sighs, his face half-pressed to her boob, "think we're ready?"

She nods. I nod. I'm close enough to him that I smell his breath, the faint smell of cinnamon.

We all release each other, and the three of us stand up.

Grant and I disrobe. She watches us with great interest, not bothering to hide the lecherousness of her gaze as it travels up and down our bodies, from one to the other, pausing at various points of interest.

She snatches one of the lipsticks from a nearby side table and begins applying it to her lips--an electric blue that pairs nicely with her red hair and pale skin.

Grant sits down on the couch, center stage, knees apart, his cock pointing straight up of its own accord. She kneels down on the floor, in between his legs.

We flipped a coin before shooting to decide the order. This is the order.

She takes Grant's cock into her hand, enjoying a brief moment to inspect it. A camera operator, hovering nearby, captures the moment her head dives down and Grant's cock disappears into her mouth.

While she gives him head, I climb onto the couch next to him, kneeling there, my knees making deep impressions in the cushion. I thread my fingers into his thick, dark hair, putting my other hand on his chest.

He tilts his head back, I tilt mine down, and we kiss.

I feel his hand on my hairy belly, feeling its way around, finding my jutting cock. He cups my scrotum in his warm palm--it feels good, to be touched by him. I feel a silent moan thrumming in his tongue.

"Ah," I hear her exclaim.

We both look down at her.

She's released him. She kneels upright, grinning, her lips a blue mess.

We, all three of us, glance at the base of Grant's cock, which is encircled by a bright blue ring with clearly defined edges.

Which means it's my turn.

She stands up, and I climb off the couch and stand up as well.

I take the other lipstick from the table and apply it to my lips. Bright orange, like citrus. She helpfully lets me know where I've missed a spot.

I kneel down between Grant's legs and take his cock into my hand.

She kneels down next to me, to the side of him, watching closely with great interest, and a camera comes in tight over my shoulder to get all the details.

I glance up at Grant's face, making sure he's watching me as our colleague whispers little encouragements to me. She's urging me on, nearly cheering when my mouth descends upon his wet, throbbing cock.

The feeling of him in my mouth is delightful. Rigid, but soft-skinned, his dickhead resting firm and plump on the back of my tongue. It gags me just a little, causing my mouth to well with spit.

He smells faintly of sandalwood. Or, at least, his crotch does.

I suckle Grant gently as my lips massage the base of his cock. I'm trying to leave a nice, clean orange circle, right above the blue one that's already there.

Once I've decided I've pursed my lips around that spot long enough that there's no point in doing it any longer, I start bobbing my head, shifting my focus to getting him off.

She's taken my place on the couch next to him. I flick a glance, watching her pulling at his coffee-colored nipple with her mouth, leaving a wet blue smudge around it.

Grant is groaning out loud. His thighs and stomach are rigid. He touches the top of my head, and I redouble my efforts.

I jack the base of his cock, focusing my mouth around his glans, keeping a steady beat and a steady pressure until I feel the first rope hit the back of my throat. Soon, my tongue is pooled with cum.

One thing we agreed upon prior to this shoot was that it wasn't enough to merely get the rings of color and move on. In order to satisfy our expectations, it had to be a real, good blowjob.

I bring Grant down gently, swallowing the tongueful of semen, enjoying its thickness as it slides down my throat.

I feel pretty good, and, I imagine, so does he, until she directs our attention to the bluish orangish grayish smear at the base of his half-erect cock.

Okay, so our experiment didn't work.

Time for our next attempt.

This time, I sit on the couch, my own erection looming out of my lap. She's reapplying her lipstick, this time with the assistance of an on-set makeup artist.

It's a charming mismatch--our makeup tech is a big, beautiful brick wall of a woman in a t-shirt and camo pants, applying lipstick to a tall but slight sculpture artist wearing only a pink thong.

While we wait, Grant straddles my lap, facing me. My hard cock istouched suggestively by his soft buttocks. His own spent cock droops on my belly, the tip of it putting a little wet dot below my navel.

We make out, warm under the studio lights, his torso lying upon mine, until we're advised that it's time. Then he climbs off and makes way.

She kneels down on the floor between my knees, her lips electric blue once again. With a stick of lipstick primer, she draws a thick circle around the base of my cock, holding it steady with her other hand.

When she's satisfied, she passes the primer off to the makeup tech.

Then she puts her mouth on my cock.

The sensation is wonderful, being buried all the way into the back of her hot, wet, soft mouth, the end of me slipping into her throat.

She doesn't gag, she doesn't cough, but, when she lifts her head, thick strands of spit connect us between my shaft and her throat.

Once again, her lipstick is smudged, and, once again, she's left a perfect circle of electric blue around the base of me.

The makeup tech swoops in and dabs the circle with powder, drying it quickly and locking it in place.

Grant has already applied the bright citrus orange to his own lips.

Then I feel weight next to me on the couch, the pale belly and pink thong float into the periphery of my vision, and my face is enveloped with red hair and the smell of lavender.

She and I kiss, sloppily, her bare breast pressed into my arm. and her hand finds my chest, then my belly hair, and she grips a great fistful of it and yanks on it playfully while I gasp into her mouth.

Her lips nearly touching mine, she laughs, "You smell like cum."

As if on cue, I feel a mouth descend upon my dickhead and know that Grant is about to contribute his orange ring.

He coughs once, but otherwise takes me expertly into his throat. I feel his lips close around me just above the blue ring at the base of my shaft.

With Grant busy making his mark on me, she guides my hand to the pink strip of cloth between her thighs and holds my fingers there. She makes me feel the heat of her through the thin fabric.

I feel something strange dabbing my shaft--that would be the makeup tech with the lipstick powder.

Grant must be satisfied with the results, because I feel his hand jacking me and his lips and his tongue upon my glans, hot and damp, bobbing up and down on me with soft precision.

I'm circling her vulva through the cloth. She raises one leg, kneeling with one knee on the couch, like a marriage proposal, to better allow me to masturbate her while she sucks at the flesh of my neck.

The muscles in my middle are tight. There's a knot forming in the base of my body, radiating electricity.

I'm going to come.

I gasp, and the muscles behind my balls convulse, but Grant doesn't miss a step. He keeps up his attentions, then draws them down as I squeeze rope after rope of cum into his mouth.

Her hand is on mine, holding me in place on the moist cloth over her vulva, making me feel how horny she is in my moment of glory.

As my orgasm wanes, she moves out of my way, permitting me a look at Grant, who looks up at us over my still-erect penis. His lipstick is mostly gone. A thick strand runs is stuck to his cheek to his lips.

I have two vivid stripes, one orange, one blue, encircling the base of my penis. This time, the colors withstood the rigors of a wet, vigorous blowjob.

She climbs down, kneels with Grant, gathers him to her, and slurps the cum from his face.

All cameras are on them in this moment.

They neck, down there on the floor, while I gather myself. Then I beckon them to join me on the couch.

This isn't part of the experiment. But we're a team, and one of us hasn't been attended to yet.

Grant and I sit at opposite ends of the couch, much as we did when we started. She bends over, giving the camera a lingering look at her backside, shucks her panties, then stands back up.

Her pubic hair is a light dusting of red curls on her pubic mound, trimmed to neat borders and stopping just above her clean-shaven vulva. Her light pink clitoral hood peeks from between her labia.

She sits in between us. She spreads her legs and hooks her knees over our thighs, giving the cameras a grand view.

Grant, presently more alert than me, teases her pubic hair with his fingertips, then strokes her with the V of his fingers to either side of her vulva. She sighs, relaxes into the couch, closes her eyes.

Grant and I lean down and each take one of her nipples into our mouths. We suckle her while Grant massages her in deep little circles. She coos voicelessly into the air over our heads.

His fingers move up and down her labia, putting enough pressure on them to stretch her skin this way and that, exposing a little of the vivid pink in between. It grows shiny and slick with her secretions.

He presses down on either side of her hood, letting her erect clitoris peek out. He nearly meets it again and again as he rubs the soft flesh up and down, while her chest rises and falls beneath our faces.

Periodically, he dips a couple fingertips into the wet folds, and eventually she's desensitized enough that he makes direct contact with her most sensitive part, massaging her there in short little strokes.

She's getting tense. For a moment, he lets up, swirling her whole vulva while she recovers before setting upon her again, firmer and more focused than before. She whispers unbelievably foul words.

He keeps going until her muscles suddenly lock up. Her breathing changes, and it's all we can to do hold her to the couch in a three way embrace while her hips buck and she grunts and gasps.

When it's over, we hold each other, our skin pressed together, our sweat and our smells commingling. We marinate there, in the heat of the lights, in the eyes of the cameras.

Once the three of us are capable, we return, still nude and sloppy and disheveled, to the countertop for the after-interview.

She says, "I was disappointed with that first round of lipstick."

Grant says, "You were the first one to say it wouldn't work, and you were right."

I say, "But if we did something that worked out on the first try, it just wouldn't be us."

Grant says, "Whatever you'd normally do to get the lipstick to stay on your mouth, you have to do to the cock instead. That way, the lipstick comes off on the cock and it stays there."

As he says this, the camera gets in tight on his penis, with its smear of undifferentiated color, then over to me, getting a little close for my comfort as it picks up the clear borders of orange and blue.

Grant says, "And that may be the kernel of possibility in the myth of teenagers throwing rainbow parties."

I say, "Based on what we've seen today, it's not impossible, but I think a rainbow party involves a little too much fuss and not enough fun to be a sex game that anyone would plausibly play."

She says, "Are we ready to call today's myth?"

I say "Yup."

Grant says,

~BUSTED~

What a twist! Did you enjoy this story? Give it a favorite, a rating, and a comment to let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!

- The Author

For Grant. R.I.P. it up, tear it up, have a ball.