Soft n Silky

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Boutique owners have some fun increasing their trade.
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One of Southwest Chicago's classier fashion boutiques, Soft n Silky, was closed for the day. Snowflakes drifted slowly down to the street outside like big fluffy goose feathers. Inside the boutique, the lights were dimmed, shades drawn over the windows for the night. But it was not as quiet as it usually was at about 6:15 in the evening.

Angela Drake sat slouched in an armchair, her high heels off, a glass of white wine in her hand. Her usually erect statuesque body was slumped and she wore a worried look on her face.

Her shimmering blue eyes stared unseeing at the other two women sitting across from her desk at the back of the boutique.

"Girls, we simply have to think of some ideas to draw more business into this boutique. If we don't, we're going to have to close the place. We're barely making expenses and, as I recall, when the three of us put all our hard-earned savings into this venture last year, we intended to turn a tidy profit. So, I'm open to suggestions. What can we do?... and I mean right away."

Lynda Marks chewed on her lower lip and twirled a lock of her long, shiny black hair, as she always did when she tried to concentrate. She was a compact, steamy Spanish beauty, both an innocent and a temptress. A gleam of an idea lit up her liquid brown eyes."

Well, it's getting close to Christmas. Couldn't we have a pre-Christmas sale? People are always looking for bargains."

Angie grimaced. All her friends called her Angie. Angela just sounded too formal, except on special occasions when she wanted to appear very professional.

"Lynda, that's a nice idea, but all the other businesses in the city are having sales. I was hoping we could think of something more original, something to really move this winter merchandise."

Lynda's young face fell. "Yeah, you're right, Angie. We really need to move this stuff. Before you know it, we'll have spring fashions coming in our back door and no place to put them."

"Well, Lynda, if we don't raise some cash, we won't have to worry about where to put the new line!"

Tara Spencer, took another sip of wine, and dangled her black patent sling-back pump on her toe. Running a slim hand through her long, lustrous dark-red hair, Tara stretched her tawny body and drawled, "Well, it seems to me we need to get some more men in here to shop. They're the ones with the big bucks. Women don't buy these things for themselves for Christmas - men do. So, we need to concentrate on getting the male shopper in here during the Christmas season."

"As usual, you've hit the problem square on the head, Tara. You've got the best business head among us." Angie smiled admiringly at Tara.

"Well, what about me? Don't I contribute?" blustered Lynda. She constantly felt that because she was only 25, while Angie and Tara were 35 and 32, respectively, her opinions and efforts were never taken seriously.

"Of course, you contribute, greatly in fact," soothed Angie. "You outsell both Tara and me, because the customers like you and your sense of clothes coordination. And I know Tara will agree with me when I say, neither one of us could decorate our windows the way you do. You have a real artistic flair."

"Yes," Tara chimed in, "I can't tell you how many compliments we get on our windows. I guess we have been careless about telling you just how well you do."

"So stop worrying, Lynda. Now, we have to worry about keeping this place solvent." Angie looked hopefully at Tara. "Do you have an idea as to how we can get those men in here to shop for their ladies?"

Tara nodded, a wise look on her pretty freckled face. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Well, for God's sake, let's have it!" exclaimed Angie impatiently.

Tara pulled herself up out of her chair, stretched her lithe body to its full five feet four inches and started pacing in her stocking feet and thinking out loud.

"First, we put an ad in the Chicago newspapers. It will be a special invitation for a `Men's Night Only' for men to buy Christmas gifts for their ladies. We'll hold it Friday, December l6th, from six to ten p.m. We'll serve champagne and hors d'oeuvres... maybe some shrimp canapés, those ham and asparagus rolls that we like so well, and even some smoked salmon and celery rolls, along with assorted cheeses and fancy crackers. What do you think so far?"

Angie's face lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. "I like it... like it... I love it! You know, I think it will work. Tara, you're the greatest. We just may have us a very Merry Christmas yet!"

Not to be outdone, Lynda bounced out of her chair, exclaiming, "And I will wrap the gifts! I do beautiful gift wraps, don't I?"

"Yes, Lynda, you certainly do. And we'll buy some especially nice Christmas wrapping paper so you can do a proper job with their gifts." Tara was really on a roll now.

Angie unfolded herself out of her chair. Her full, statuesque body standing to its fully erect 5'7" inches now. God, she was one blonde, proud, beautiful woman. "Let's do it, girls! Let's write the ad!"

One week later, the three women were one excited trio. Everything was ready. Christmas decorations abounded. The champagne was chilled, the hors d'oeuvres nestled in crisp beds of lettuce on silver trays.

The lighting was adequate, but subdued enough to create a romantic atmosphere conducive to purchasing the many lacy and frilly garments that were now placed strategically around the boutique. Candlelight highlighted fine cashmere sweaters; reflected on leather skirts and pants, making them look buttery soft. The scent of aromatic potpourri filled the air. They had thought of everything, including themselves.

All three women were dressed in black, but you could hardly call what they wore "basic black."

Lynda exuded sexuality in a tailored black velvet jacket with nothing underneath, topping a shocking pink satin mini-skirt.

Tara liked her clothes simple, but that didn't mean what she wore wasn't special. Her little bare, off the shoulder, softly sexy peach-colored sweater rode at the waistline of her black leather mini-skirt.

Angie wore the ultimate dramatic flourish-she was a black silhouette in a black pullover, long black slim skirt, centre-split to way above the knees wrapped and tied in abundant red organza. A smaller figure could not have showcased that outfit properly, but Angie's size sixteen, proud firm body displayed it magnificently.

The three women themselves looked good enough to package and take home. Maybe that explained what happened later in the evening after all the gifts had been purchased and wrapped.

The gift packages had been wrapped, the hors d'oeuvres had been consumed, several magnums of champagne emptied, and the doors locked. The three women looked at each other and smiled secretively as they looked around and realized that several of the gentlemen shoppers had not left.

For a while, the boutique was filled with the sounds of small talk. The glasses were filled with champagne once again. Angie dimmed the lights further and the boutique took on an intimate atmosphere. Lynda noted that Grant had removed his coat, tie, shoes, and socks. Everyone seemed to be getting very relaxed. . To say the least.

Suddenly Brad got a full bottle of champagne from one of the coolers. Standing where everyone could see him, he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, earlier tonight during the shopping, I promised our lovely young hostess that I would show her a way to enjoy good wine that she had never seen before." He looked directly at Lynda. "My dear, if you would be so kind as to move to the middle of the floor and lie on your back, I would like to drink a toast to you from a very special glass."

Lynda didn't know why she had to be lying in the middle of the boutique floor for him to drink a toast to her, but she compiled. When she was in position, Brad slid her pink satin mini-skirt up her thighs, and then knelt between her legs. She was wearing a black lacy garter belt and hose, but no panties. Brad made a mental note to how convenient that was. He leaned the bottle of champagne over and poured some bubbly over her pussy lips. He poured the whole bottle then over her entire cunt.

"Oooooooh, that's cold! It feels funny! What are you doing?"

In answer, Brad quickly covered her cunt with his mouth so the wine would not drench the carpeting. He then lowered his head and jammed his tongue in and out of her cunt. When he had finished the drink, he poured some more wine over her pussy, starting at the clit. As it ran down into her snatch, he licked it into his mouth.

Tara spoke up. "That looks like fun! Here's another glass. Who wants a drink of wine?"

Lynda regained just enough of her composure to say, "Tara, Angie, you lay down by me. Then the men can go from one to the other, taking a long drink from each of our special glasses. Okay?"

Soon, the women were lined up; skirts up to their waists, none of them wearing any panties, and each man had his own bottle of champagne. All of them did this apart from the man named Grant, who had seemed the most relaxed to begin with. Lynda stabbed him with a piercing look.

"You, too, big man. Don't think we're going to let you miss all the fun."

"You go right ahead. I have to leave soon, so I'll just watch for a while."

"Bullshit! You'll join us even if we have to jump you!" Lynda jumped up and ran to him. She started to unbutton his shirt. The other two women soon joined her. After his shirt was off, they pushed him to the floor, and removed his pants and shorts. His cock was semi-erect, waving in the wind.

Lynda grabbed a bottle of champagne. She poured some on his chest and poured some more on his belly. And then she poured some onto his pubic hair. As quickly as she poured, one of the women started licking the wine from his body. Angie was working on his chest while Tara was at his stomach. Lynda took care of that wine she had poured around his cock. Not content with just licking the wine from his pubic hair, she held his cock up straight and poured some wine over it. She followed the wine with her mouth, sucking and licking his cock clean. She poured some more wine, then sucked and licked again!

"Hey," Tara said, "we're being left out. There's no more wine up here for us."

Lynda lifted her head for a moment. "Get your own wine, darling. I'm having too much fun to stop now."

"Aren't we going to let these men drink from our special glasses?"

"Yeah, soon. Right now, I'm going to drink some more from here."

"Some more what? Looks like you're after more than just wine!"

And she was. One hand was working furiously up and down Grant's cock. She kept the hand busy while pouring on more wine and licking it and sucking it off, at first, Grant had tried to protest. He had only intended to get things started so that he could relax and watch. Finding himself outnumbered, he just lay back and let the women have their way.

Angie was taking a drink of wine and then kissing Grant with deep French kisses. She was holding part of the champagne in her mouth, letting it dribble into his mouth when she kissed him. She giggled as she thought of how her ex-husband had always called her an ice maiden. Guess the ice had certainly thawed in the past two years! Life without him had made a new, vibrant person out of her. Being free of his constant oppression was wonderful and exciting!

Tara had her own bottle and was now working on his nipples. She would pour a little wine and then lick it off. Each man-nipple was getting a lot more licking than it took to remove the wine. She, too, was thinking, Boy, if that ex of mine could see me now! Him and his righteous attitude all the time. Good riddance! Life was too short to live with such a fuck-in-the-mud!

The wine in all three bottles was rapidly disappearing. The other three men were waiting silently until the women finished with Grant. They were enjoying the show!

All the licking, sucking, and cock stroking was getting to Grant. He could no longer hold back his orgasm. His cockhead hit the back of Lynda's throat and his sperm spewed out. It almost made her gag when the first gob hit her throat, but she swallowed hard.

"I want a taste of that cum cocktail mixed with wine!" Tara said.

"Me, too," chimed in Angie.

Lynda pulled back, continuing her hand action. Tara covered the spurting cock with her mouth and took a drink. When she moved her mouth away, Lynda poured more wine on the cock and Angie was right there to get her taste. They alternated until Grant was drained dry.

"Now, my friend, you can join the other men while they drink their champagne. In the meantime, make sure you get that cock ready for some more action. Before the night's over, you're going to cum so much you won't be able to walk!"

Leaving him, the women again positioned themselves side by side where the other men could get to them.

"This is going to work better if we get our pussies up a little higher," Steve said. "Matt, give me the cushions from that couch."

Steve had each woman raise her hips so he could place a cushion under each set of hips. He surveyed his handiwork. Seeing that each pussy was properly elevated, he took three full bottles of champagne and sat one by each woman.

"Now I guess we ought to empty each bottle before we stop. If that's not enough, we'll get more. Each man gets one drink from each glass and then he moves to the next one. We keep going around until each of us has made every woman cum at least one. Grant, this was your idea. You start off and we'll just follow. Scout's honour now. When you've gotten all the wine out, move to the next pussy. No need to cheat. We've got plenty of time and plenty of wine."

Lynda was lying in the middle with Tara on her right and Angie on her left. Five men, she thought. I get to cum five times this way. Five different tongues in my pussy, one after the other. Wild! God, what I was missing before!

Her right hand slid over to one of Tara's tits and her left hand slid over to one of Angie's. The three women had slid out of their clothes by now and lay exposed in all their glory in just their black lacy garter belts and black hose. A very pretty sight-all three "maids" in a row! Lynda squeezed and played with the women's tits while waiting for the first tongue in her cunt.

Taking their cue from Lynda, the other two women filled a hand with one of her tits. Now they were ready for the round-robin eating session to begin!

With her hips elevated the way they were, it was difficult for Lynda to see the men when they were eating her pussy. She knew, though, when Brad started on Tara. Tara moaned and started working her hips the moment the champagne was poured into her cunt. Then Brad was between her legs, pouring the wine.

His mouth fastened on her cunt, his tongue working her clit with lightening strokes. He paid some attention to the wine and got most of it before it drained onto the cushion. But his main efforts were cantered on her clit. Since her hips were up high, the wine stayed in her cunt a little longer than before.

Tara was already cumming. Lynda could feel the tremors through the breast she was holding and could hear Tara's moans. Lynda was almost there herself when she heard Steve's voice.

"Shift, Lyle. My turn on that red-haired pussy.

So, thought Lynda. It was Steve who got Tara off first. I'm almost there, too. Maybe he'll get me off.

Steve was between Tara's legs, drinking wine from that glass and finishing what Brad had started. And Grant was bringing off Angie with a roar. All three women were cumming and there was still a lot of wine and several tongues to go just on the first round.

The whimpers, moans, and screams of the women as the wine was drenched their pussies spurred the men on. Lynda had intended to keep track of who was eating her pussy so she could tell one from the other. But there was no way she could do so. She was so high on emotions, and cumming so hard, she didn't even know who followed Steve. She only knew she had never felt so good, enjoying anything, so much in her young life. She could hardly tell when one man moved away and another took his place.

Finally, two bottles of wine had been drunk from each pussy and the men's tongues were too tired to continue. And the women had cum so much they wanted to rest before they went out of their minds.

The women may have been tired and wanted to rest. But the men had just gotten started. Eating pussy is not one of the things that will calm a person's libido. Even Grant was now charged up and raring to go. Tired tongue's didn't matter here because tongues weren't what the men intended to use!

Before she could stretch out and relax, Steve was on top of Lynda. Her cunt offered no resistance, even to his huge cock. She was so wet from the wine and eating that he slipped in with no difficulty. He put the massive head of his shaft in her cunt and gave a gentle push, burying his member all the way immediately. Lynda looked up to see who was about to fuck her.

"Oh, Steve, I want your big cock, but can't we wait a few minutes? I'm so tired I don't know if I can fuck right now."

"Just hang in there, baby. Old Steve will revive you in no time. Never met anybody too tired to take some of this tool."

And he was right. No sooner than he was buried in her belly, Lynda found that her passions were starting up again. At first, he slowly fucked in and out, using the full length of his cock. He let her experience the full, wonderful pleasure of that long rod. Her cunt felt stuffed so full.

Within moments, she was completely into the fucking. It felt so good, so pleasant, to be filled to such an extent. Her legs came up around his waist. She locked her heels behind his back and raised her hips even farther than the cushion had them. She brought her cunt up so that his cock was pumping straight in.

God, Lynda thought, he's big! Bigger than even the dildo Angie and I sometimes use. And it feels so much better than a dildo! If someone ever made a dildo that really had the texture of a real cock, they might give men a lot of stiff competition. Until then, there just wasn't anything that felt as good as a cock. Even one smaller than what Steve could swing.

Steve balanced himself on her knees, his cock still deep inside Lynda. Took hold of her calves, he pulled her legs up and put them over his shoulders. Lynda gasped as she felt the additional penetration of his cock. The head was banging against her cervix. He was still thrusting slowly.

She wasn't sure if her cervix would open to admit him. In fact, she didn't even know if this was physically possible. She had heard of women who were able to open their cervix for a prick, but she didn't know how to do it. And this one was so big that even if she could open it, would that huge thing go in?

Steve knew how big he was and what trouble that could cause." Can you open enough for me to get all the way in?"

"Uuuuhhh, I don't think so... I'm open as far as I will go... just have to take it easy with me... don't go as deep as you can... give me some room . . .

"Okay, sweetheart. Just relax. It may open. Don't worry. Old Steve won't go all the way up into your throat. Like to, though. Have to teach you how to open wide for me."

"Fuck me, Steve, but don't hurt me... that's about as much as I can take... right there... you're knocking at the door... trying to relax more . . ."

Steve didn't push the point. He could feel when he hit bottom and was careful to not bang into her so hard that he would hurt her. He kept his slow rhythm until she relaxed enough to take all of his cock. If she didn't, then he could still get lots of pleasure out of the length of it she could take.

Then Grant appeared on the scene. He watched as Steve fucked his favourite hostess. Then he wanted in on the action.

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