The Afterparty Ch. 01

The time had come for another event. I was getting tired of throwing these things -- seemed like the guest list just kept growing and my resources kept shrinking. There were the afterparties, though. Those tended to make everything else worth all the work, money and cleaning. I had already arranged the bouncer, the afterparty list, catering and...other purchases, so everything was set for 2 am. Meanwhile, I had a much larger, louder, crazier party to throw and endure before I could get to the sweetness.

People started arriving around 9:30. The DJ had already arrived, this beautiful young Puerto Rican guy named Juan. He went by some DJ handle I could never remember, but I had been hiring him so long he didn't mind me calling him by his real name. He showed up around 8 to set up all his gear, and he had started playing mood music (piped to several different rooms, including the garage where the dancefloor was) around 9. I was getting dressed and prepped at that time, a little nervous but mostly anxious for the party to end. It hadn't even started!

About 2 hours later, I was well lubricated and things were in full swing. Some serious fucking ladies had shown up, along with some of my guy friends, the ones I wanted to. They wouldn't miss these events for anything. Besides, tonight was a special night -- we were bringing in a new member and that didn't happen very often. At about 1 am there was the usual mass exodus, which I never minded, because it allowed the afterparty to begin without too many people being upset by it. The ones not invited didn't really want to take part, or at least pretended they didn't. The rest...well, they managed to while away the hour before the door was open.

After some more time passed I had chatted up some potential new ladies. I managed to resist about 7 different offers of weed, 2 of coke and many many drinks. My bouncer, Jeff, finally came over to me. "Hey, you wanna' get started downstairs? Some of the members are getting pretty excited. They might waste themselves in the nook before they have a chance to really enjoy themselves." The Nook was a small corner at the top of a staircase, closed off to the rest of the room by thick curtains. Furnished with big, fluffy pillows and nice deep comforters, it was a very cozy place to rest with a little hottie or boytoy. Problem was, people had been known to have too much fun in the Nook, before I opened up the downstairs. Jeff was right.

"Yeah, let's open her up, man."

"Good deal."

My room opened off the garage, strangely enough. I lived with three other guys, and my room was down a steep and small staircase, painted entirely in white. The stairs were half normal size. I was so afraid of someone killing themselves while drunk, I'd gotten renter's insurance just to cover such an occasion. So far, only one girl had stumbled bad, and we had...taken her pain away with methods I'm sure suited her pretty well. She wasn't normally a woman I'd invite into the club, but I'd been surprised at her fervor and passion. Extenuating circumstances proved a win-win.

Jeff took up his customary place on the stool, next to the door. I turned to the five or six people with me and said "The door is open, lovers." Then I entered.

The short hallway behind the door lead to the staircase going down. The hallway was also painted pure white. There were large sections of construction board attached to the walls, every square inch covered with pictures of past events. I'd been throwing parties for a long long time, and people loved to congregate in this hallway, looking at themselves and others having a good time in the past. At this point, with space at a premium, people considered it a bit of an honor to make it onto the "Wall of Shame". Jeff, however, had cleared out all the folks from my room below and the hallway already. He knew what was in store, and it wasn't for just anyone.

I slowly walked down the staircase, revelling in the anticipation and excitment of what was to come. At the bottom of the stairs was a 90 degree turn to the right, followed by 5 more stairs, and then a curtain. Past the curtain was my room.

I brushed the curtain aside. The first things to catch my attention were the silk sheets on my bed, pulled all the way down to the bottom. Pillows had been arranged around the edge, set 1 foot in, on the California King. Candles were lit everywhere (took me about 20 minutes to light them before the party), and Mandelay was on the system. My projector was already shooting some visuals on the wall, so I walked over to the laptop and touched the pad. The screen came up. I clicked Start, Run, and entered "kissmyass.bat". Immediately, the screen went black, and the projectors began showing images of incredibly beautiful women, with one twist -- these women were "thick", and had what most conventional men would probably consider to be big asses. What can I say -- I like the booty when it's big and fat. Don't get me wrong -- I can take a little dimpling, but cottage cheese is a turn-off. To find a woman with that big fat bubble ass, but still with smooth skin, was a special occasion. Those ladies almost always got invitations. Not many accepted (most people didn't because this shit was not for everyone, as I already stated) but enough have over the years to keep my libido happy, my right hand tired from replay, and my tongue sore from exploration of the nastiest kind. The other bonus to thick women is that their hips are real, their thighs are large and soft, and their boobs are real too. It's all good. Fine and thick -- give me that and I'm yours.

By this time the four people (2 women and 2 men) following me had made it all the way down. Jeff had already closed the door above, waiting for more invitiations to be shown to him. He was an excellent bouncer -- I've never had any problems with bribery or cajoling. It's hard to bribe a man who is given what I, his host, provided him.

Lisa, Tygre, Maurice and Jesh all looked at me, waiting for some sort of sign of what to do next. Even though they had been through this many times, they looked a little lost, a little distracted. That much anticipation can do that to you, make you confused when the moment you've been waiting for has finally arrived. They all knew the pitfalls of rushing things, they'd made the rookie mistakes everyone makes on their first time. Lisa retired to the bed. Jesh (good old Jesh) walked over to the laptop and start immediately searching for "*.MPG". Bastard always finds my best pr0n, hide it however I try. Seems he needs it to get things going. Hell, who am I to complain...some of my best times have been either right after or during a pr0n fest.

Tygre and Maurice were having a good deal of trouble keeping their hands off one another. And they both kept looking my direction. Tygre had on a Roman toga, draped carefully so that it was open on the side up to above her hip. If you looked carefully it was not difficult to see she had nothing on besides a thong underneath the toga. The toga itself had a purple trim to illustrate her royal nature. She had purchased some golden high heels which had long gold straps attached to the tops which she wrapped around her ankles and calves, also Roman style. The girl was already 5'9", so with the heels she almost topped Maurice, who stood at 6'1". Now, I'm a total shorty at 5'2". Probably why I threw these parties -- made me the Man, no matter how short I am. But that doesn't seem to matter, it appears God gives back what he takes away. None of my lovers has ever asked for more once I'm fully inside. I loved a woman who could tower over me -- put my mouth right at the level it needed to be. Tygre's hair was piled up on top of her head in silky curles, black as jet and twice as shiny. She had a gold chain interlaced with the curls, disappearing and reappearing mysteriously within her mass of scented goodness. Her makeup was exquisite, dark purple eyeshadow accenting her hazel eyes and pulling out the light purple flecks near the center of them. A lighter purple shade of lipstick further underscored her regal style. She was a Roman queen, out to get exactly what she wanted.

Maurice could have passed as her Centurion protector. He was a 6' tall gorgeous piece of black manflesh. Muscles rippled, his ass stuck out from his body like two halves of cantalope. Every time I saw him I remembered the pain, the searing pain followed by the decadent slick sensation rubbing against my prostate, making me come before I was ready. He loved to do that -- I'd be yelling "No! Not yet!" and he'd say "Oh yeah, right now, my little bitch. Right fucking now." He had shaved everywhere except his clean-cut head of hair and his eyebrows. No underarm hair, no pubes. He knew the way I liked him -- of course, Tygre didn't mind a clean boytoy either. His cotton breeches were already tenting out, because Tygre kept turning to him and kissing him deeply, lightly pinching his nipples (he had no shirt on), making him squirm. He'd moan every time she did it. Then they'd turn back to me. I have to admit, my own penis was getting pretty hard watching them. But they knew they needed to wait before they actually touched each other's private parts. The excitement was getting pretty fierce, Maurice would come fast if she even began to threaten to wrap her lips around his big black horsecock. Because that's exactly what he had. The thing had to be around 9 or 10 inches long. I'd wanted to measure it for a long time, but Maurice always denied me. He'd always say "It's big enough -- no need to brag." I loved his modesty, and I loved him, as much as I loved every member of our group. We were all very close, having shared so much with each other.

Meanwhile, Jesh had moved over to Lisa and stuck his hand inside her tight dress, rubbing her left nipple. She was clenching her thighs together, trying to stimulate her clit without touching it. She already knew it was in for a bruising tonight, and she wanted to make sure she didn't wear out the beautiful little button before the night was through. Her clothing only made her great body better looking. She was another full-figured girl, flaring hips (39) pulled in to a nice small waist (31) and a ice juicy breast measurement (38, C cup). She always wore these bras to the party which were one size too small, so her tits overflowed and made her look like some D-cup slut. What a fucking tramp -- I loved it. She didn't seem to mind the discomfort, although by the time she was allowed to remove her bra, you could see the lines imprinted on her flesh from the tightness of the wires. If it hurt, she hid it well and never complained. I liked that about her. Her dress was a light yellow number, reminded me of Marilyn Monroe. It had that neck strap that made the shoulder straps come down from each side of her neck and flow into the cups that held her delicious tits. The neck strap was a tiny little delicate thread of cloth. The skirt flared out from her hips, accentuating a waistline already wide, large and in charge. I always admired a thick chick who didn't mind being that way. Makes my dick hard to see them -- even better if they want the mushroom head buried down their throat, fa shizay.

In any case, Jesh had his hand underneath her dress top, cupping her nice left melon. She was barely keeping her own hand from grabbing his crank. She'd move it that direction, put it barely on his thigh, lightly stroke up towards his dick and pull it away, pinching her own right nipple to match Jesh's actions on her left. I could see their tension getting a little too carried away for this early, so I walked over to them on the bed, moved them apart and sat down between them. They were both breathing heavy, flushed. Jesh's right leg was dancing a tattoo on the floor, and his knee bounced up and down with nervous anxiety. I put my hand on his knee to calm him. The leg stopped bouncing, he took deep long breaths and managed to calm himself down a bit. He hadn't been with the group long, and everyone knew who his favorite was (Tygre). Lisa didn't mind, his dick got hard for everyone, and most people had their favorite partners anyway. There were no problems with favoritism -- the people in this group had a very good understanding of human behavior. We'd even had one couple meet in the group and get married. They dropped out before their engagement, and nobody blamed them. It was too obvious that they loved each other too deeply to continue sharing each other with the rest of us. We were all so happy to be invited to the wedding, none of us minded. Well, maybe a little -- the two of them were so hot I still leaked precum when I thought too long about them. I kept hoping their initial ardour would lessen with time, and they'd come on back for a little excitement to inject into their married lives. Stranger things have happened.

They both looked at the floor, a little embarassed at how they'd let themselves get excited so quickly. Jesh had a very nice suit on. He'd had it altered so that the lapels were just a little longer and wider than you'd expect, the jacket a little too long, the pants a little too baggy. He always had an eye for fashion, and this time was no exception. He seemed to be trying for a cross between a typical business suit (for that bling-bling P. Diddy look) and a zoot suit. I liked it. So did Lisa, apparently. Her chest was still heaving up and down, thighs still clenching under her flared skirt. I slowly reached my hand down and pulled her skirt up her legs. She looked at me quickly, wondering what I was doing -- this was unexpected. I kept drawing the material up, up. Maurice and Tygre, even Alan turned to see what I was doing. Was I going to eat her? Did I want to touch her? It was too early! But all I was checking for was to see if she'd done as I requested. Earlier that day she had called me up.

"Yo."

"Yo."

"What the fuck should I wear? I want your dick hard enough to slide up my ass."

"Well, there's a lot of ways to make that happen. In fact, it's almost there now, in one sentence. You're such a hot fucking bitch. Why do you talk to me like that?"

"Because you love it, and I liked to get your balls full of come before the party. You keep us in such suspense, you deserve a little of your own medicine. By the way, how are those hairless, smooth balls doing? Do they remember sliding around in my mouth?"

"Shut up, you slut. I love you."

"I love you too. Now, you haven't answered my question."

"I think you should be Marilyn tonight. I'd like a thong, some nice high heels, and stockings with garters. The stockings are important. You should wear them."

"OK, you got it. Oh, and honey?"

"Yeah?"

"Save some come for my throat. I've been practicing. You know that Heather Brooks site? I'm almost that good now. Your 7 inches shouldn't be a problem."

"Fuck, yeah."

"STOP touching yourself. I can tell you are. Take your hand off your cock right now."

"OK. OK. Later." I was laughing -- she always knew.

"Later."

With her skirt raised up to her cuntline, it was clear she had put her best pair of stockings on. She had a light yellow thong on as well (where did she find thongs that matched her dresses?). Perfect. My cock was rock hard. My own hand had to be willed away from it. (The entire group knew what an inveterate masturbater I was. Often they had to restrain me during the festivities. It was a long-running joke that I couldn't tell the difference between a cunt and my own hand. Wasn't true, of course, but I'd gotten pretty good at pleasing myself over the years. So far there was only one woman better at giving me a handjob than myself, and she had left the group a long time ago. Still missed her. I missed all the members who left -- they were my friends. The group was centered around sex with each other, but there was much more to it.)

I pulled her skirt back down. The fabric moved some pockets of air around, and I got a very strong breath of her sexual scent. It was clear she was more than excited, she was about to come, unaided.

"Jesus, Leese, what's gotten into you?"

"I don't know, guys, I'm just..._really_ fucking horny tonight," she said, looking around at everyone. "Could I be granted an exception?"

Let me explain about exceptions. Each member was given 5 exceptions to be used over the course of a year's worth of events. I'd started by granting more than that, but it broke down too many rules and wrecked the delicate sexual tension I vigilantly maintained. Over the past 6 years I'd come down to 5. An exception could be asked for at any time, for any reason. The rule Lisa was looking to be exempted from tonight was, no climaxes before 3 am. It was only 2:10.

"Are you sure, baby? Can't you wait?" asked Tygre, with concern in her eyes. She didn't want Lisa pooped out too early, otherwise she'd have to take up Lisa's "workload" and that was a lot of action. She'd done that before, and it had really worn her out. A lot of fun, but probably more than she was looking for tonight. She knew the rules, though. Each person was assigned 2 climaxes for 3 people. That was a lot of of coming, even just the baseline requirement.

"Look, it's been 3 months since I broke it off with Brian. My wrists are sore. I need some fucking. Seriously." Lisa had been going with this guy Brian for some time. We all knew she was coming to events without him, and basically cheating on him with us. We never stopped anyone from doing things like that, as long as we knew what was going on outside, but we didn't exactly condone it either. We didn't want anyone hurt, even those who weren't members. Brian, he was OK, if a little prudish and condescending. I wasn't surprised Lisa had dumped him. She said he was OK in the sack, but she just couldn't take being that much smarter than he was. Lisa was extremely intelligent, and had a hard time finding men who were not intimidated by her intellect. I was one of them. Being small-statured, I'd worked on my brain and body to make up for it. I'd spent years working out and reading everything I could find until I felt pretty well-rounded. Lisa and I kept thinking of dating each other, but so far it hadn't happened. Her statement reminded me we both were, for once, single at the same time, and that got my wheels turning.

"Alright," I said. "No problem with the exception. That brings you down to 2. You don't have many left. You need to get your shit under control, slut!" I said, laughing. It also got a laugh from everyone else, including Lisa.

"Who will help Lisa out?" I asked. This was not an idle question. The man or woman to take care of Lisa had to be extremely careful not to come, or lose an exception of their own for breaking the rule themselves.

No one answered. It was clear it was up to me. As the host, I certainly had dispensation and no one was going to mind if I broke my own rules, but still. I needed to follow them too, or total breakdown of order might ensue and the group lose its magic. I knew how to maintain composure, though. I'd had to do this kind of thing several times in the past.

"Lisa, raise your skirt."

She tucked her legs under her so her left thigh was a wide expanse of flesh, giving her a very Vargas look. She pulled up the fabric until just above her stocking tops. The garters were barely showing. She knew how to entice me. I realized she had planned this, to see if she could get me to lose my own exception. This was a pretty common game, but a real gamble on the part of the tempter. By asking for theirs, they had already spent it. If the tempted held out, the tempter's exception was lost for nothing.

"Fuck, you're hot, Lisa. I want to fuck you."

"Pull out your dick. Let's see that motherfucker."

I took my zipper down. I had worn my usual vintage tuxedo. Grosgrain lapels, gold cufflinks, Egyptian cotton tux shirt, smart tight custom-fitted vest. It was my Humphrey Bogart look. Always went over well with the ladies. I took the zipper down slowly. Lisa's eyes were glued to it, waiting for the one-eyed monster to appear. It was fully hard, of course, so I had to fish it out. When it appeared, Lisa, Maurice and Tygre took in a breath. Jesh blurted, "Let me suck it first."