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This is the first time I’ve put pen to paper in many months. I hope you all enjoy it. Please feel free to read the rest of my stories, and feel free to let me know what you think! I can be reached at the link below the story.
These stories are all from a time in my life when I was a young punk rock college student, part of a group of amazingly talented and unashamedly brilliant friends with enormous sex drives. We found each other, and created an environement where those drives could drive us right over the cliff, constantly. It was an idyllic time, because we were able to create our own rules, and those rules were deliciously wicked! Enjoy!
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We unpacked all our goodies in the kitchen, and everyone had a look at what everyone else had brought. Anarkali and I had brought bok choi and the makings for chinese dumplings. Annie and Jo had little bags full of miscellaneous vegetables and nuts and cheese and spices for their special Satrap’s Salad Gargantua.
Margaret hoisted an old cooler onto the broad counter. The top lifted AND the front folded down to reveal a stash of illegal, or at least untaxed, hard cider from southwest England. I had no idea how she got it out of the country, and she wouldn’t tell. I do know that if I tried to bring such dosh home, it would have been seized as contraband in an instant, much to the delight of thirsty airport security, I might add.
Lastly, I pulled out three dozen young roses, tightly curled, which I’d gotten a deal on from an ancient flower market on the Main Line. I bought them because these particular roses reminded me of the female sex, or more precisely, sex organs, and I explained this with a certain glee to the girls as I unwrapped them.
The girls were untypically quiet, and there seemed to be some sort of group glancings back and forth with Margaret, who visibly blushed, something I’d never seen this subtly bold girl do before. Margaret smiled a light smile, full of much thought, turned and left the room.
“Whaaaat????” I laughed, a little awkwardly, as the rest of the group giggled. “You’ve never actually escort ankara SEEN Margaret’s pussy, have you?”, asked Annie, as all three of them grinned, totally wide eyed. “Come to think of it, I don’t believe I have”, I said, a little surprised at the revelation, being that we had all fallen into a happy, remarkably relaxed sexual relationship with each other. In all our various couplings and combinations and dares and rolls in the hay and poolside coits, I couldn’t remember actually having MY face below Margaret’s belt, though I’m sure I’d been with Anarkali while she headed south to Margaretville, and I’m sure I’d been present while Annie and Jo had gone there, as well. “Why?”, I demanded, still smiling, still confused at all the fuss.
“Nevermind.” said Anarkali, decisively, and I knew enough to leave it at that. We cooked and cooked, traded news and yarns, drank cider, then broke off into singles and pairs to study.. Anarkali and I headed to the guest room, which was more like the grand guest suite, or the East Wing of the Palais Rustique Moderne, made love, and settled in for a four hour session with the books.
Just before ten, a typical hour for us all to break, Jo appeared in one of Margaret’s magnificent robes, with two more robes over her arm for us, and a tray with a decanter full of chilled vodka, and a cluster of apperitif glasses. She poured the equivelent of double shots, which we downed in northern and eastern European style (and anytown USA sorority style!), then she announced “again”, so we threw back a second round. Annie appeared, naked under her open robe, grinning, carrying another tray. This one was blessed with three small ciders and one cartoon sized cider, apparently for me.
Knowing from our past that creating something delightful and sexual often meant that at least one of us had to be surprised in some way, it was clear that I was the surprisee tonight, and I willingly surrendered to their comical wickedness. They surrounded me and led me to The Orientale Room. I was made to pause just outside the door while Annie skipped ahead, then I heard the stereo come on, ankara escortlar loudly. Never a group to miss an opportunity for comedy or drama, the tune was the progressive jazz version of THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA by Emuir Deodato, AKA the theme to 2001, A Space Oddysey.
We regularly lit candles, but I had never seen so many candles in one room in my life as I was led down into the cavernous space. There was a roaring fire in the giganticus fireplace, and the huge nude painting with the glowering suave was lit just so, setting the mood for the room, as always.
Margaret was laid out on the collossal coffee table, on top of broad pillows, in a magnificent robe that had golden threads woven into the fabric that caught the flickering light, and made her still figure dance as I was led towards her. With her arms folded across her front and the robe wrapped tightly around her, all topped by similar fabric twisted into a cylinder around her hair, this could have been some secret rite for the Feast Of The Whore Of Babylon.
I was led to kneel at her feet. Anarkali loosened my robe and slid her palm up and down along my body for a long moment, then stood away while Annie and Jo took my arms and pulled my face towards Margaret’s mid section. The music was booming. Anarkali’s beautiful hands gently pulled the ornate hem of the robe open… slowly. Annie and Jo twisted my outstretched arms ever so slightly, not to hurt me, but to force my face in closer… tighter. As Anarkali hesitated before peeling back the final layer, I could see Margaret’s legs open and her pubis roll forward and upward. The music pounded. The fabric was drawn back…….
I had never seen anything like it, and I inadvertantly let out a little gasp. My shoulders jerked a little, which Annie and Jo responded to by tightening their grip, which forced my nose against it a little. Margaret’s peach, her pussy, her girl, her womanhood, was totally different from any I had ever seen before. It was almost as if there were men, and women, and a third sex… Margaret. Don’t get me wrong though, it was very definitely feminine, just ankara kaliteli escortlar very, very different.
Margaret’s majora were there, and fully developed, I suppose, but they were somehow shorter on the sides. They didn’t come down as far, if you will. Her minora were larger than usual, but they were tighly coiled into each other, very, very much like a rosebud, but a big rosebud. Really big.
Anarkali whispered softly in my ear. “You may kiss it, if you like.”, she said, not so much breaking the spell as kicking the lock off the dam. “Its beautiful”, I whispered. “Beautiful.”
Annie and Jo pressed me forward and I pressed my lips, like the softest kiss, onto the rosebud that was Margaret’s flame red surprise. I lighly shrugged my arms free from the girl’s grip, and they let go and spread her knees further. I let my tongue probe her waffled slit, slowly, feeling the tightness give way, amazed at how different it felt, in awe of this new sex and how it felt as my tongue was met by a totally new configuration of flesh.
They had trimmed her hair very closely, but all the action was below the hairline, anyway. I put my hands under her slender butt cheeks, lifted her slightly, pressed my mouth in tighter and began to eat in earnest. SHEHERAZADE was playing on the turntable, an old friend during our drunken debauches. Margaret responded with a slow rolling of her hips, then I felt her fingers in my hair as she pulled me in and moved faster. Her long, thin legs didn’t box out the sound, and I heard her come with beautiful, grunting exhales as she bucked on my face and pulled more roughly on my hair.
Anarkali slid on top of her and smothered her with kisses, her ass pointed right at my face, fully aware of the invitation. Insane with a real animal passion, I slid into her wet peach from behind while she fingered herself furiously. We came in less than a minute, with Margaret and Anarkali still arm locked and tongue locked and all three of us quaking.
“Fuckin’ ‘A’ !!!”, Annie said in the background. I knew it was a funny thing to say, but I would find the consciousness and energy to laugh later. I lay, collapsed across my beloved’s back, who in turn, lay across our hostess. My eyes were closed, and all I could see was that rosebud… that beautiful, beautiful rosebud.
exhaustedly yours,
Raj Pepper
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