Salon Sluts

The club was filled with party people, happy, smiling, and not entirely sober. The music thumped; a deep resonance, like a heartbeat, that Della felt through the soles of her feet. "I'm too old for this," she muttered to herself and then grinned wryly, shaking her head at the ridiculousness. "I must be the oldest person in here."

A petite, blonde girl pushed her way through the press of people around the bar. She held a glass in each hand, mindful of the mob around her, wary for drunks who might jostle her and cause the drinks to spill.

"Here," said the girl and held out a glass.

"Thanks." Della was forced to raise her voice over the volume of the music. She took a sip of the gin and surveyed the room. Young people everywhere, she mused. Not one of the buggers is under twenty-five.

"You OK?"

Della turned; the girl's face was inches from her own. "It's a bit loud for me," she called in reply, her lips almost brushing the coracle of the girl's ear.

"Have a drink, loosen up, and enjoy yourself." The girl grinned, showing the pink tip of her tongue between pearlescent perfection of her teeth. The grin turned impish, "Maybe you'll pull." She winked and sipped at her drink.

Shocked at the audacity of her employee, Della frowned and shook her head. "Shall we sit down?" she suggested as a change of subject and looked about the bar from some place of refuge. Della spied a couple vacating a table and seized the opportunity.

As Della and her protégée weaved through the throng their progress was observed by two men.

"How about those two, Mr Smith?" The taller of the two asked.

"Abso-fucking-lutely Mr Jones," his companion replied.

"Which one?" asked Mr Jones, "cute blonde or the MILF?"

"MILF for me, dude. Nice legs, skirt short, but not too short..." He nodded his approval. "Yeah, I'll take the old bird, she looks dirty."

"All yours," the man labelled Jones acceded.

A nod of the head and the men picked up their drinks and, like the predators they were, moved in for the kill.

"Ladies." Della looked up. She saw two men grinning confidently, faces expectant. "Can we get you a drink? Maybe sit awhile?"

"No tha..." Della began and was cut short by Dion.

"Yes please," the girl said brightly. "Two G&T's." She smiled at the man who spoke, giving him her most winning smile and flicking her ponytail in unconscious coquetry. She turned to look at Della. "We'd love to have you join us," a pointed look at the older woman, "wouldn't we, Del?"

"Oh Jesus," Della muttered and then bowed to the inevitable. "Yes," she said forcing a smile.

Drinks were bought and introductions were made. Barry, formerly known as Mr Jones, turned his attention to the enthusiastic Dion, while Frankie, which was short for Francis, had a more difficult task in winning over the reluctant Della. Two more gin's later however and Della had defrosted nicely.

"You girls want to move somewhere a bit less crowded?" Barry suggested. His hand rested lightly on Dion's bare thigh. The girl seemed happy to have it there.

"Del?" Dion asked.

"Why not," Della agreed. "I just have to..."

"Me too," Dion responded, "we'll meet you two at the door."

The two women entered the crowded toilets. Unusually there was no queue, but only one stall was available.

"What do you reckon?" Dion asked. She made no effort to close the door and Della, despite the alcohol, felt slightly embarrassed by the girl's complete disregard for modesty.

"Dion!" Della scolded. "Do you have to pee with the door open?" And then, when the penny dropped, "No knickers, Dion?" Della's propriety was offended; she was shocked that the girl could dare to go out in public, in that skirt, and without underwear.

"Who cares?" The girl giggled and parted her thighs.

Della found herself staring at Dion's smooth vulva. She felt a hot rush of blood to her face when she realised that the girl's mons was completely bald, shaven to perfect smoothness. To her immense consternation however, Della was further surprised by the fact that the heat in her cheeks didn't end there. She felt an insidious slide of warmth down between her legs, she felt the tiny pulse of arousal in her clitoris, and was conscious of her nipples wakening also.

The trickle of Dion's piss stopped suddenly and the girl wiped at herself with toilet roll. The two women exchanged places, with Della's chagrin deepening the blush through her cheeks. Dion stood in such a place as to make the closing of the cubicle door impossible, and, rather than draw attention, Della lifted her skirt, pulled her underwear down to her knees and sat.

She was fully aware of her own hirsute state as she sat, knickers taut as a bowstring around her knees, the tinkle of piss pitter-pattering into the water below, and with Dion lurking.

"You're pretty fit, Del," Dion said matter-of-factly, her head tilted to one side as she openly appraised the older woman. "We could maybe tidy up that crow's nest you've got going on there..." The girl nodded and mimed scissors with her fingers. "But you've got great legs and your tits look tasty in that top."

"Dion, please..." Della wiped, flushed, and restored her modesty, wriggling her hips as she shucked her skirt down.

"Good arse too." A final appraisal as Della fled the lavatory, Dion following.

One hour and three drinks later and Della had overcome her mortification. In fact she had taken Dion's compliments to mind and was now full of confidence; she actively flirted with Frankie when he made suggestive comments and double entendre.

The two couples sat in a quiet alcove of a local public house. Barry's hand had taken a brief reconnaissance along Dion's smooth thigh, and after meeting no resistance was now launching a full expeditionary force.

"You filthy little bitch," he whispered into the girl's ear when a patrol between the girl's thighs revealed her lack of underwear.

"Finger my slit," Dion retorted, wriggling in her seat and parting her thighs further.

"Dion..." Della cautioned and then gave up the effort entirely after Dion ignored her boss and merely kissed Barry while wriggling against Barry's probing fingers.

Frankie placed a palm against Della's thigh and the woman turned to face him. "You're not getting your fingers near me," she murmured, anxious not to have attention drawn to their corner, but equally concerned that Frankie should think she was as easy as her employee.

"A kiss though?" ventured Frankie. "How about a kiss?

He is cute, Della considered. Her judgement was decidedly squiffy, especially after all the drinks. Under normal circumstances Della would have stood, slapped Barry's face for his lack of respect towards Dion and berated Dion for the same crime before dragging the girl out by the arm...

A moment later Della found, to her surprise, that she was enjoying the sensation of Frankie's tongue sliding over and around her own equally serpentine tongue. She touched his arm and felt the springy resistance of his bicep through is shirt. He's fit, Della thought, hard muscles, a pretty boy, yes, but obviously he works out. And only twenty-four! My god, Della! You cradle snatching tart!

Frankie's hand slid along Della's thigh, and this time it managed to squeeze just under the hem of Della's skirt before she placed her own restraining hand atop.

"No," Della shook her head. "Not in public."

Frankie took the phrase to mean that Della would be more amenable to finger games somewhere private. "Shall we go back to the flat?" he offered. "Those two look like they need to get out of here." He indicated his partner in crime, Mr Jones, and his blonde glove puppet. "They'll be getting chucked out anyway."

"Where we going?" Dion asked when Frankie yanked at Barry's shoulder and forced him to disengage his mouth from the girl's.

"Our flat, Del's uncomfortable here, especially with your floorshow."

"I'll suck your cock in the taxi," Dion stage whispered to a smirking Barry as they all but stumbled out of the pub.

True to her word, Dion unzipped Barry's flies and surreptitiously, out of sight of the driver, put her face to his lap and took the already stiff length between her lips. Della just sat immobile in the back of the cab. She was shocked at Dion's brazen antics. She'd never witnessed anything like it before. Right there in front of her eyes, in the back of a cab no less, her junior stylist was sucking the penis of a virtual stranger.

"Nineteen," Della murmured. "She's only nineteen and she's behaving in a way I would never have dreamt of."

Della looked from Barry's lap to his face. He was looking down at Dion as her tongue swirled around and around his cock head. He stroked the girl's straight blonde hair with one hand, while holding his cock upright with the other. Della then turned her attention to Dion's hand where it was busy between her legs. Dion was rubbing at her clitoris with the tip of her index finger. Her skirt was pulled up far enough for Della to clearly see the lips of Dion's labia intermittently illuminated for a brief moment as the taxi passed under the streetlights outside.

Frankie's hand was heavy on her thigh. Della could feel the heat from his palm as he stroked the skin of her leg softly. He too was watching Dion sucking and licking at his friend's cock, but he knew enough not to push the older woman. Della felt her own arousal flare and imagined how it would feel to have the nerve to suck a cock, in public, and finger herself, and not be bothered.

The taxi braked, Frankie paid the driver who grinned at him. By the expression on the driver's face, Frankie surmised he'd witnessed the whole show despite Dion's attempt to remain out of his view. With a jaunty, "Have a good night," the cab pulled off in search of its next fare. Then, with Dion giggling and Della slowly recovering from the shock, they made their way into the block.

"We need to talk," Della grabbed Dion's wrist while Frankie, the host by default, poured drinks. Barry had excused himself and was currently pissing a steady stream into the toilet bowl.

"What?" demanded Dion.

"What are we doing here?"

Dion grinned. "Well, I don't know about you, but me..." She pointed to herself. "I'm going to have some fun. There's two gorgeous fellahs here -- one for you and one for me. Or, if you don't want Frankie, then I'll take them both." She shrugged, "They're both fit as fuck. Barry's got a nice, thick cock, or didn't you see it in the cab? Don't pretend like you wasn't looking, 'cos you so were."

"I saw," Della retorted, "but that's not the point. We don't know these..." Della stumbled over her choice of words. "...boys," she finished. "We don't know anything about them."

"What's to know?" Dion shrugged again. "I'm all horny now. Barry wants to give it to me..." Dion strode into the living room, leaving Della in the hall.

"I can't leave you, you silly girl," she called.

"Then stay," Dion abruptly called in return.

"Drink?" Frankie offered Della a glass just as Barry returned.

"Right then, what's what?" asked Barry, clapping his hands in anticipation.

"Where we left off in the cab, I think," Dion said plainly and pulled Barry down onto the sofa.

Della stood, the drink forgotten in her hand. Frankie sat in an armchair and sipped his drink while Dion fished his friend's cock out into view, and then, with a lascivious lick of her lips, she bent to the task of sucking it back to full erection.

"I said it was big," she grinned triumphantly and waggled Barry's cock in her fist. "A big cock to suck -- I love it. And you know what else, Della?" She paused. "I bet it's going to feel so good when I get fucked by it too."

"Jesus," murmured Barry. Dion was unlike any girl he'd known before. She appeared to have no inhibitions. Her lewd language... All that was pushed to the back of his mind however, for a moment later, Dion was slobbering over his penis again. As the girl sucked at him, her fingers were busy manipulating the length of him that wasn't in her mouth. "Fucking hell," he grimaced. "What a goer!"

"You like me sucking you?" Dion grinned at him. "Am I a bad enough girl for you?" She slapped the underside of Barry's cock against her cheek. The sound of flesh slapping flesh, and the smears of saliva and pre-come on Dion's pretty face caused Barry to groan and roll his eyes.

"Yes, darlin'." He sighed. "You're great at sucking cock."

"And my smooth pussy?" Dion asked. "Do you like the look of it? Do you like it all smooth and plump?"

"Shit yes."

Dion resumed her slurping. She wriggled and writhed until her tiny denim skirt was rucked around her waist. Then, lying on her side, her tight breasts squashed against Barry's thigh, her eyes watching for Della's reaction, she slowly, deliberately, spread her legs, exposing the crimson pout of her sex.

"Oh my god..." Frankie whispered and took a huge draught from his glass. He squirmed in his seat, transfixed by the scene in front of him. He and Barry had shared some adventures, but this went beyond anything he'd experienced previously. However all remnants of cockiness shown by Messrs Smith and Jones had dispersed like an early morning mist under a morning sun. He glanced at Della who remained rooted to the spot, her drink untouched, but whose mouth hung agape with the shock of what she was witnessing.

Dion, breaking away from Barry's penis for a moment, peeled up her close fitting top and pulled it over her head. She reached round and unclipped her bra, exposing her breasts. "I think my tits are so cute," Dion said, momentarily self-absorbed. "Suck them, suck my tits," she urged. "Lick my nipples. "Bite them -- go on," she demanded.

"Della..." Dion croaked as Barry held her breasts, licking and chewing at the pebble sized teats. "Why don't you play with Frankie?" Dion thrust her chin towards the man across the room. "Because if you don't play with him..." Her eyes shone and her grin turned sly. "If you don't play with him, well, I suppose I'll just have to invite him over here. He can suck my pussy while I give Barry the blow job of his life."

The older woman stared at Dion for a long moment. Then she glanced down at Frankie. Frankie's eyes met her own.

"Sorry, Della," he apologised. "But this is just too hot. I know you're a nice lady, but..." He gave up the explanation. He was just too aroused. The sight of Dion's lean body, her tanned skin, those breasts -- high and proud -- her licentious use of language, the sound of her slurping, the strands of saliva hanging like threads from her chin... It was all too much and Frankie unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He lifted his buttocks from the seat and yanked the denim down, taking his boxer shorts along too. His already erect penis sprang into view. "Yes," he sighed in ecstasy as he took several brisk tugs at his meat. "Go for it Dion."

"You dirty fucker," Dion grinned when she saw Frankie's shaft in his hand. "Tug that fucking thing. Make it all big and hard." She indicated Della with a dismissive toss of her head. "If she won't suck it, I'll be over in a minute. I'll lick it for ya."

Frankie looked up at Della again. The woman continued to just stand there, transfixed, immobile as though she had lost the power of movement, as though she were frozen in time.

"Come on, Del," Dion invited. "Come on, come down here and take a little taste." Dion had left Barry on the sofa and was now knelt on the carpet in front of Frankie's chair. She had taken control of Frankie's prick and was slowly sliding her fist up and down the shaft. "Come on, Del," she coaxed. "It won't bite. Look at it. It's gorgeous. Come on, just a taste, that's all, just one..." Dion dabbed her tongue at the purple cock head. "Tiny..." Dab. "Taste..." Dion let Frankie's dick flop against his taut belly. She stood; still wearing her shoes, and took the three paces to where Della stood. "Come on, Del," she purred, smoothing a hand through the older woman's bobbed hair. "Come and share it with me."

"Dion... I..." Della's expression was one of confusion.

"Shh," the girl soothed. "It'll be fine, come on."

Leading a reluctant Della by the hand, Dion once again knelt before Frankie. Della joined her, kneeling to one side.

Neither man spoke. Frankie literally held his breath, while Barry sat opposite with slack-jawed amazement daubed across his face. Dion held Frankie's cock upright, gave several slow tugs and held it ready. She then touched Della's shoulder with her other hand and indicated with a nod of her head that Della should take a taste.

"I don't believe I'm doing this..." Della shook her head. "This can't be happening. I'm old enough to be their mother. And you..? You're my employee."

Nevertheless, with the ache of lust in the pit of her stomach, and with great trepidation still, Della bent forward. Her lips parted as her head moved towards Frankie's cock. She swallowed heavily, and then, with a final sideways glance at the expectant Dion, she took the dome between her lips.

"Suck it, Del," Dion whispered. "Fuckin' hell, you're sucking it!" She turned to a mesmerised Barry and barked an order. "Come here you bastard. Come here and give me your cock to suck." While Barry scurried to join the trio, Dion pulled Della's head from Frankie's lap by a fistful of hair. "Have you got a taste for it now? Have you got the taste for cock?" Then, before Della could react, Dion crushed her lips against the older woman's.

Della felt Dion's tongue push into her mouth and, despite her earlier reticence to the whole situation, she found that she wanted to kiss the girl. The thought of kissing another woman thrilled her. The arousal flooded like a hot tide through her sex. Her nipples tightened and her vulva burned. She had the urge to touch herself between her legs. She needed to masturbate -- and the need was urgent, overpowering. Della groaned into Dion's mouth and she pushed her own tongue back against the girl's, moaning and sighing as the kiss lengthened and grew hotter in intensity. Della found her hands were sliding over the silk of Dion's skin -- glorious satin smooth skin.

"You dirty, fuckin' bitch," Dion grunted when the kiss eventually broke. "All prim and proper, butter wouldn't melt, and now..." Dion pulled Della's hand to her sex. "Feel me, feel how wet I am. I'm so fucking horny..." She kissed Della again.

"Fuck me," Barry whispered as the two women licked each other's tongues. "What the fuck happened?" He yanked his cock with rough urgency.

"She's been liberated," Dion crowed, turning her attention back to Barry. "Now, how about you lick me? How about you taste my cunt?"

Dion rolled onto her back and opened her legs. Barry settled between the girl's long thighs while she held her labia apart with her fingers.

Meanwhile Frankie was easing Della out of her blouse and bra. Following the example set by the younger woman, Della kept her shoes on. The ankle straps were just too fiddly for her to deal with in this heightened state of frustrated arousal. Her blouse and brassiere lay discarded, and her skirt was hiked up around her waist as Della turned to face her lover. Uninhibited, she pressed her breasts against his chest and slipping her arms around his neck, they kissed. Frankie had hurriedly undressed in the moments before assisting Della to strip. His erection butted against Della's thigh, causing her to look down between their bodies.

"It's a beautiful cock," she purred, "nice and thick." She took the shaft in her hand and wanked it slowly.

Frankie groaned. "Della... You're beautiful. Lovely big tits..." He lifted Della's breasts as though testing their weight in his palms. He took first one and then the other elongated nipple into his mouth and sucked at them. His fingers then moved between Della's legs, through the dark tangle of her bush until he found the wet core of her.