DJ & Jay Ch. 03


In parts 1 & 2, Tasha presents Amy with her birthday present of DJ & Jay. After a short side-track at a local store, they continue on in their weekend adventure...

III. The Hotel

So we fed the man. All of us, actually. Despite DJ’s earlier mouthings about ‘fine cuisine,’ I got my first treat of drive-through-in-a-limo. Jay insisted we all take our orders through the moon roof. While we ate, he entertained us with tales of his more stoned moments. If being given a body cavity search or waking up chained to a wall, naked, was really funny, I don’t know, but when Jay told it, it was. When he got going, you couldn’t shut him up. Still, even though or maybe because his profanity-laced dialogue was all one run-on sentence punctuated by ‘dude!’ more often than was necessary even in surfer-ese, he had us rolling. At times we nearly fell off our seats.

In the hour-and-a-half following, we switched cars, to a rented silver SUV (courtesy of Tasha again) and drove out to her property. It nestled right up against the foothills. There were several acres, between 5 and 20, to a parcel. Jay asked Tasha quite a few practical questions about putting in roads and utilities, having horses, taxes, and the like. She had it down as well as a realtor. DJ looked at me and suggested a walk-around. Alone with him again, I was much more at ease. We walked up the fence-line slowly, trading bits of personal information. He told more about his experiences with chemo and surgery, going as far as to say that at one time he’d wished for death but now was glad it hadn’t found him.

After Jay had seen all he’d cared to, and had lay down in the middle of a patch of marsh grass for good measure, we climbed back into the SUV and took off. I tried to remember the sequence of turns we’d taken to get there. It was a nice area, fairly isolated. Maybe someday I’d save up enough for my own place, too. Soon we were on the main road back to town. Half-way there, Tasha made an unexpected left under a stone arch-way I’d noticed before but had taken as someone’s private ranch entrance. No one else seemed to be in the dark about where we were going so I kept the questions to myself for once. About 2 miles in, we drove along a long slow arch to the left and went in an S-turn up into the first step of the foothills. As the trees opened up, we spotted a large manor-house, or what looked like a German fief.

It really was quite amazing. I hadn’t seen anything even remotely like it west of the Peekskills. Though on a larger scale, Riverdale copied a Bavarian inn. Three stories high with a row of dormer windows over that, still the natural trees hid it till one got within a couple hundred yards. Then, the only word for it was magnificent. The driveway inclined slightly up to its recessed front doors. There was a roofed area for loading and unloading whose pillars were made entirely of rock. From the angle we approached the place, it had looked square, with about twenty windows to a side. The sun was just going down on the windless evening, and it reflected off the amber tinted windows all along the west side. “The boys,” as I’d started thinking of them, unfolded their lanky frames out of the car and Tasha and I followed suit.

As soon as we entered the dark-paneled, plushly carpeted lobby, I realized it was actually built in an “L” formation. We approached the front desk where a somewhat effeminate young man and a small curvy woman, both in black business suits, stared us down. I came out of my daze enough to wonder, and then grasp, what the four of us must look like. As in, two players with their “escorts.” Never mind that one was obviously stoned and one looked like he was about fifteen. People would still know who they were. Tasha and I were nobody. I tried to quit gawking like a peasant at the elegant furnishings. When Tasha stepped up and handed over her credit card, I felt a little better. Maybe she and I could be the big shots and they were our escorts.

We were shown down a hallway, at the end of which was a shiny little elevator, and to our rooms two floors up. Or rather, to our deluxe suite. One of two, I later learned. Ours was in the southwest corner. As soon as the concierge left, tip in hand, Tasha and I scampered about examining every inch of our temporary home. There were two bedrooms across from each other, each with a large dormer window and a king sized bed beneath it. They had identically equipped master baths. Either’s spa tubs could have held all four of us; I was already getting ideas. The living room area was sunken two steps and featured two huge leather couches, a corner-set gas fireplace, a computer desk in the other corner and an electronic horn of plenty. There was also a small kitchen and bar area tucked in close to the front doors, and a small bath room back to back with a walk in closet across from that. Everything was in tasteful shades of gray, black, and off-white. The more we snooped into cupboard and cabinets, the more we saw that the place was loaded for bear. There were expensive brands of shampoo, conditioners, skin care products, lotions, and to our delight, interesting lubricants and gels in the bedside tables. We couldn’t have made a meal, but there were plenty of munchies in the kitchen. The bar was well-stocked and the half-sized fridge contained a variety of mixers, and some meat-and-cheese plates and fruit. Through it all, DJ stood to the side with his arms crossed, and an amused, knowing smile on his lips.

“First time in the lap of luxury?” he asked me. I wasn’t sure if that was just a question or if he was suggesting I was born in the barn.

“Uh…not really….” I stammered, trying not to let my hackles rise without knowing what he was really asking. “First time in a long time, though.” On my honeymoon almost ten years ago I’d been in a couple decent hotels. Nothing near as fine as this, though. Certainly not with a hot tub in the room, much less two.

“I grew up pretty normal,” DJ continued. “Three, four years ago I’d never seen anything like this, either. Watching you, I’m remembering that.”

“So, you weren’t somehow calling me a hick, were you?” I cross-examined.

“Oh, no way. I’m a way bigger hick that you! Growing up where I did, I’m surprised I never dated my sister,” he snorted, trying to catch a drop of spit that flew out of his mouth. “See? I’m not exactly mister suave.”

After that I felt a little better; less on my guard. This one at least was still semi-human. I had to wonder about Jay. He was obviously distracted, and very much out if his natural surroundings. DJ, in the next instant, set up shop as bartender and poured Tasha a rum and coke. Jay wandered over long enough to grab a “bee-ah” from him and retreated to the other side of the room. I asked DJ for a screwdriver, which he poured with a wicked glint in his eye. Tasha snickered. He dug around under the cupboard for a bit, coming up with a bottle of Southern Comfort.

“Eugh!! How can you drink that swill?” Tasha asked. I was of the same opinion on the subject.

“Oh, you know,” said DJ, measuring out a shot. “Every good Southern boy likes this shit!” He held his shot glass up. “Cheers!” Tasha and I linked arms, echoed him, and bolted our drinks.

“Fill ‘er up!” Tasha commanded as she slammed down her glass.

“Now or later?” countered DJ, leaning over and looking her straight in the eyes.

For once, she didn’t have a quick come-back. But she found her way around that adeptly enough. Each of Tasha’s hands found a mark--one on DJ's shoulder, one on his nape. They drew together as though by gravitational pull. Disregarding the bar between them, they kissed, in a way that looked like lips fondling lips. I was reduced to standing there staring, wave after wave of conflicting emotions rushing over me.

The scene was hot, and it made me hot just to watch, especially when Tasha literally climbed over the bar, sat on it, and pulled DJ between her legs. She grabbed his slender wrists and clapped his hands over her large round breasts, still licking his lips and playing tongue-twister with him. Unable to rip my eyes away, I was rooted to the spot and the view, a rising pang of jealousy competing with the sudden cramping wetness between my legs. After our little encounter in the dressing room, I’d marked DJ as “mine.” After all, that was how the game was normally played. In the same vein I’d automatically paired Tasha with Jay, sweeping the “oh well, you can’t have everything” feeling under the proverbial rug. At the moment, it sure seemed like whatever DJ was doing to Tasha was extremely pleasurable; she moaned and tilted her head back. Her new liaison licked and sucked his way down her neck while his long blunt fingers opened her shirt and stroked her round plump tits and twiddled her nipples. My whole lower body was pulsing and I shifted from foot to foot, in a way, grinding my hips. Even though I was hurt that DJ didn’t want to be with me exclusively, their little show was too good to stop watching. Besides, I wanted to join the action, but was hesitant to get in the middle of another couple.

Someone grabbed my ass. Completely startled, I whipped around. Naturally it was Jay, with a smirk curving his mouth. It was the closest I’d been to him so far and I found myself taken in (and turned on) by his remarkable male beauty.

“Now that’s hot,” he remarked in his raspy voice. Then he looked down at me.

“Well, birthday girl, you gonna watch? I don’t think they mind.” He took me by the shoulders and spun me 180º. Tasha had lost her shirt entirely, and now both DJ’s hands and his mouth were moving restlessly all over her twin peaks. Her mauve-colored areolas puckered up tight, the darker tips stood out hard like the end of my thumb. She was busy with DJ’s belt buckle. Jay got right up against me and I gratefully leaned back into him. He was much more substantial than DJ, filled out, both with muscle, and with an overlying layer of flesh. I squirmed against him, trying to be comfortable while still standing up.

“Ssh! Just watch the show,” Jay whispered.

Show? What show? Glancing up toward the kitchen, I saw the obvious. Tasha and DJ were now half-naked. She was belly down over the counter with DJ’s cock in her mouth. He stood there like a surprised lizard with his eyelids opening and closing slowly, not moving more than an inch or two of his own accord. On her own part, Tasha’s head was bobbing busily, her painted lips clamped down tight around his shaft. It was not as skinny as the rest of him. She had grabbed him by one hip to get him where she wanted him. Her other hand, which I knew to be very strong, jingled his balls till DJ stood up on his toes. He sank his fingers into the fluff of her light brown hair and shoved his member deep into her throat. His shirt was unbuttoned down the front, the soft blue folds framing Tasha’s cheeks as she strove to take it all. Above, every taut muscle and bone of DJ’s chest and abs stood out on sharp relief. He was really a bony little shit. I had no idea why he turned me on so much but he did. Watching Tasha suck him off, and watching the sexual animal rear up and dance across his pointy face was delicious. Having Jay behind me, pressing his ever-growing lump against my back made me forget to be possessive. As long as I kept our “performers” delineated as people I didn’t know, everything was fine.

There was a change of pace from the kitchen. Tasha must have found her groove because DJ started moaning like I’ve never heard a man do. At first it was just, “oh, oooooh” and then…

“Ah!” He sounded like he was desperately trying not to come.

“God, oh god oh god oh god oh…”

With a maneuver of her wrist that I could only describe as “professional,” Tasha forced the circle of her thumb and forefinger around the top part of DJ’s balls where they connected to his body, effectively preventing him from ejaculating. He was going to hang there till she was good and ready. Jay swallowed audibly. I felt his cock twitch and he put his hand between us to adjust himself. The same hand came crawling around my waist and into the top of my pants. It hit me suddenly how much I wanted to be touched by him. Here was a guy I’d lusted after for years with his fingers just inches from my kitty and I was pouting over watching live sex. Stupid! While Tasha pounded away on DJ’s knob and he and his meat turned shades of pink, red, purple and back again, I stretched my arms up over my head, pulled Jay’s thick blond hair over his shoulders and mine. We both more or less luxuriated in it, mingling his with my own darker strands, breathing deeply of his scent, which lived in his hair.

DJ was carrying on almost like a coyote, the pitch of his voice getting steadily higher. His narrow hips gyrated in a crazy nonsensical rhythm that I’d have had trouble following, except I could tell that Tasha was actually leading. She had tears streaming down her cheeks with the effort. Her legs were wide open at the knees but crossed at the ankles, her feet twisting and untwisting around themselves as she ground her pelvis against the counter she still lay on. My stance in front of Jay was becoming increasingly ass-clenched and tucked-under. The man was actually teasing me. The tips of his fingers brushed lower and lower, a millimeter at a time. My insides got tighter and tighter. My skin burned as he found the top of my mound, then a little more and a littler more. In front of him, facing away like that, there wasn’t much I could do to touch him.

“Watch,” he reiterated.

After what seemed like a familiarization of every single hair of my bush, Jay reached my slit and with no further delay went straight for my clit.

“Boo-ya-hah,” he breathed in my ear. I must have shrieked or gasped or something, because the other two looked over briefly.

“You wanna see my cock?” Jay finally got around to asking. Again.

“Damn skippy,” I told him.

“Wait.” Wait? All his breathing into my ear was going to straight to my pussy. My panties, I know, had to be soaked through. Again.

Jay’s fingers, soft and sensitive as a woman’s, got sticky wet as he worked my clit. It was getting hard to stand up, much less stand still. At least in acquisition of a ‘pig’ reputation he hadn’t skipped over learning certain skills. My pleasure spot was held captive under his relentless, restless digits, all that he needed or used. I was starting to get that sensation in my cunt that I needed something in me. Using the closest available subjects, I took turns imagining Jay, then DJ, then Jay again, entering me slowly, forcefully, a myriad of ways. Just as I felt the first pangs of orgasm, DJ cried out like he had been struck. At that moment, Tasha let go of his testicles. They sucked themselves up into his body cavity as his load erupted.

“On your face!” was all he said. Tasha caught the first rope of cream with her left cheekbone. DJ didn’t stop spurting for long after. By the time it was over, Tasha had been blasted on the lips, on the forehead, between the eyes, and she had cum dripping from her hair. As DJ’s explosion was ending, she stuck her tongue all the way out and caught the last drops, licking delicately all over DJ’s beet-red cock, which continued to loose little driblets of boy-juice for some time. He looked ready to pass out. His legs shook so hard you’d think he’d just finished his first day of triple black-diamond ski runs. Finally, he simply pulled up his boxers and sat.

Having delayed my own climax long enough to watch DJ’s, I couldn’t hold off any more. Jay’s finger treatment slowed till he was hardly moving, bringing me off inch by inch. At the last, all that he did was tap my clit; tap, ever so slowly, and put the finger down, take it back; tap; tap; then, BAM! A bone crunching flash tore me open even as I crashed around it. Whatever had been squeezing down inside me released, and a wave of pearly jizz ran from my crotch.

“Oooh a gusher!” intoned Jay, his bulge pulsing hot against my spine. Gulping in air, my tightly shut eyes opened to a quizzical, “What just happened here?” look from Tasha. I just rolled my eyes and shrugged. DJ had stood and pulled up his pants, but not buckled his belt. He was staring at me hard enough to bore holes in me. I guessed he’d liked my show, too.

I looked at him.

“There is unfinished business here, I do believe,” was what I said; meaning, neither Jay nor Tasha had cum yet. We needed to leave them to their own devices. He nodded slowly. Tasha had righted herself and was sitting cross-legged on the counter.

Now DJ looked at her.

“My god, woman! Where did you learn to do that?”

Jay still held me up but his attention focused on Tasha too. “You sure did suck his dick off good! Do you think I could get one like that?”

Once was enough for me for now, watching, that was. Tasha hopped down and sauntered to the bedroom on the right. Jay was right behind her. I asked DJ, “You wanna go dancing? No need to go back into town. There’s a club here, isn’t there?”

He thought it over. “Yeah, why not? We better get cleaned up first, though, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. I’m going to make use of one of those bathtubs. Want to join me?” Even though I spat it out carelessly, I wondered. After all, he just gotten an awesome blowjob from Tasha and might not want to fool around any more. Him saying ‘yes’ made me feel better.

The room on the left was ‘mine’ by default. The bathroom opened in all its gleaming glory with a sliding Japanese-style door. The chrome sparkled so brightly I hated to mess it up with water spots, but that’s what we were there for. I cranked the taps while DJ lost his clothes, leaving them near the sink. I was about to take mine off when DJ appeared behind me. He went directly for my breasts, reaching under the little handkerchief-like thing I’d gotten earlier. He was so good, his fingers using just the right pressure and motion. As we stood there with the steam rising around us, he stroked my flesh like a man recovering from a hangover.

For a minute, I was satisfied for a short replay of our earlier activities. And, mine and Jay's. Not for long, though. As soon as there were a couple of inches of water in the tub, I stripped and hopped on in. DJ followed. His cock was already halfway up.

DJ was nothing if not an increasing degree of contradictions. We had begun sitting side by side, but that lasted no longer than a minute. Maybe because I had my eyes closed at first, kissing DJ was a surreal experience. The heat and buoyancy of the filling tub was trippy. Nothing existed but our two bodies, sometimes separated by a thin curtain of water, sometimes skin on skin; and the steamy air, backlit by frosted bulbs; and our breath. I took my time, wanting to savor him. Since Tasha had given him earlier release and Jay had taken my edge off, the razor of desperation was gone for the time being. With no further pretence he leaned over and straightforwardly took my mouth, his tongue sliding between our lips. I met his tongue and experimentally skimmed it along his taste buds and his even teeth. I’ve always been an aggressive kisser. DJ was too; we battled it out, back and forth, first in my mouth, then in his. Moving astride his lap, I pushed my waterlogged mound against his groin, trapping his pole between us. He grabbed my ass and squeezed. Even though he looked breakable, he was surprisingly strong. Being man-handled like that always gave me a rush. It did now, and my pussy, already tingling, gave a little spasm. I moved my head around to kiss his neck. His tendons stood out and I saw some vessels jumping with his pulse. They looked utterly bite-able.

I glanced up at him for permission to bite, which was a mistake and a mood-killer. Stupid girl, me.

As I hinted at earlier, the first thing one over noticed about DJ was his nose. It was totally impossible not to stare and even more obvious if you refrained. Despite my silly crush or bad case of the Mrs. Robinson’s, whatever it was, when I got as close to his face as I was now, all it took was him bumping me with it once before I gave up on sex momentarily for a case of the giggles. Thoughts like, “Pinocchio! Proboscis! Look at the beak on that!” bubbled up from the depths of some long-buried junior high-ish immaturity. I wondered why this hit me now and not at the store, or the restaurant, or even in the kitchen with Tasha. Maybe because we were more relaxed now? At this rate, I was liable to across as an ungrateful, superficial little cunt.

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