Intoxication

Chapter One-3

Once he had me thoroughly convinced, I turned to putty, sinking into him, letting his strong hands mold me as he chose. When he flipped me over the back of the couch in front of my boyfriend’s attentive but passionless expression, I heard him struggling out of his pants, the gentle swoosh as they fell to the floor and the clatter of his belt as it hit the hard wood. I wiggled back into his bared upper thighs seeking his meat inside my p***y, grabbing for it with my inner muscles. When he finally took that first significant lunge, the huge thing seemed to explode inside me. I dragged the lovely organ deeper, clenching, spasming, urgently seeking a remedy for this bewildering lust. The action of his fast pistoning p***s revved my engines higher still; the RPMs were off the scale. Hands digging into my ass for leverage, his body banged mine, until his d**k hit bottom and I screamed. Bodies turning orgasmic, we were reaching a simultaneous end, about to finish what we started when Walker suddenly interrupted.

“In her ass, Charlie.”

“Sure thing, boss,” the black man answered as if he expected the order. He quickly lubricated my rear hole with juices drawn from my cunt, then jabbed two fingers in and out of the taut hole to release its tight grip. Unaccustomed to ass f*****g, my arousal diminished when I realized what he planned to do with his eagerly f*****g prick. Other boyfriends tried and failed, I held on to my fear of being hurt, and Walker thought anal s*x too messy—though apparently not too messy for Charlie and me. It didn’t occur to me to object though I was scared. But the man’s miraculous fingers worked my back door with such elegant skill that the determined prodding began to draw a new kind of sensuousness from my body, something that sought a deeper, rawer kind of f**k. My body burst with excitement, my whole crotch engaged. When Charlie pulled his d**k from my cunt and pressed its head against my ass, the firm thing slid inside as if it had been there before to scour the basest part of my s****l soul.

“Oh, you bastard, f**k me!” I roared without any conscious thought to what I was saying. I rattled off another round of four-letter exclamations as the thick c**k reamed my behind and I answered back, writhing to get the thing deeper inside.

Reaching around, Charlie thrummed my clit… the little devil jumped alive again, while I was screaming, “FUUUUCKKKK ME!!!! Yes, yes yes, f**k me nasty!”

Banged into oblivion, every nerve in me tightened like a watch spring. I held on, let the pulse rise to its crescendo and finally die slowly away. I calmed realizing that Charlie had c*m, too, that his battered c**k was still fixed inside my ass with s****l glue, stuck there to throb and finally dwindle on its own until I let it go. I’d never felt such emptiness as when it finally disappeared.

***

I couldn’t imagine Walker asking for a s*x act more outrageous than my first ass f**k. But something had happening to Walker’s sanity the night he took me over the hood of his car. His prim sense of decorum had vanished—at least when the subject was me and he had a hard-on and his genius was engaged.

The incident with Charlie was followed one week later by my first multiple partner screwing—or in the vernacular—my first gangbang.

Charlie invited his friends: two more black men and a cute Hispanic part-time actor, part-time dishwasher from Playa del Rey. The set-up was at Charlie’s Newport Beach house, run-down but not in a seamy sort of way, but as beach houses are supposed to be, a little gritty and worn, echoing their long history of decadent behavior, of lust-filled days and party nights.

I arrived as the revelry was getting underway; the men were drinking and waiting for me. Despite the fact that Walker despised bikinis for being too revealing for public places, he was sure that I was wearing my skimpiest as we left for Charlie’s. Quite unlike his former self, he made no note of the men who whistled at me as I got out of the car. This time was different. He was showing me off, the body, the pink bikini, my long legs, feet tucked into a pair of white high heels—which made me look remarkably as if I were planning to pose for pictures in a men’s magazine.

Inside the beach house, four pairs of steamy dark brown eyes swarmed my body like wolves ready for a kill. I was more than a little afraid. Walker had told me nothing, while these penetrating c**k-driven eyes told me everything I needed to know about my next few hours. I could tell they were ready for me, dressed in swimming shorts and nothing else, there would be very little to discard to have them naked with their proud c***s poised for battle with my body.

I looked back at my boyfriend—a little lost and a whole lot afraid. He just nodded his head to motion me forward, figuring that silent communication was all that was necessary to get his point across. We knew each other far too well; the s****l intuition was getting dangerous. Walker didn’t even bother asking what I wanted anymore. Though I’m not sure he ever had asked, I thought it was a good time to start.

This time the music was real: a slippery, sexy jazz playing in the background eased my fear and nursed the erotic tremors in my groin. I spotted Charlie, deciding that he was a good place to begin—familiar, easy and certainly ready. He needed no encouragement.

“How about a drink?” he asked, while moving my way with a bottle of beer.

“Anything harder?” I wondered.

“Tequila?”

“Fine with me,” I said. He turned to the liquor table beside him and poured four straight shots into a glass and handed it to me.

The guys were feeling awkward, twitching, getting hard-ons and wondering how gangbangs begin—if I correctly read their thoughts. I wondered, too. I supposed I’d be the one to make the first move, but I’d let them suffer for a time, while the tequila loosened my joints and my inhibitions. I danced with Charlie, one arm around his waist, the other hanging on to my drink—sipping it leisurely, regularly, as our hips moved neatly in unison to a salsa beat. A little more dance, a few more sips, the tequila began to ooze through me like butter melting into hot bread. It was inside my pores, under my skin, traveling my veins, opening wide the ones near my crotch. Every time my t**s brushed Charlie’s skin, my n*****s stiffened a little more.

He moved his hand inside the pink bra top and tweaked the pierced n****e, pulling it slightly, but not too hard, then he tugged the ring, asking, “This hurt?”

“Not really,” I could sense my words beginning to slur, my mind free falling, the last inhibitions falling away.

The cute Hispanic, Carlos, moved in, dancing against my ass the way Charlie was dancing at my front. He pressed in tightly with his groin, pushing me into Charlie’s throbbing organ. So, I danced with both of them that way, feeling the pressure of both erections, wondering in one awful instant of inspiration if I would take them two at a time, or if I would leisurely have them one by one.

Walker was forgotten on the sidelines, wearing the same stoic, judgmental look on his face I associated with his s****l arousal. Funny man.

By the time I’d downed the last of the tequila, my attention was on the four—the two who danced me around the room, and the two looking on like junior high school boys waiting in line for the school slut.

Charlie got aggressive, knowing how easily I’d respond. His hands had both t**s bared, kneading with such fervor that the caress began to register as pain. I let it wash though me, while from behind, Carlos ran his finger beyond the waistband of my bikini bottom, following the crack of my ass downward. He tugged the knit material; and when it wouldn’t give he tugged the sides down my hips and let the slip of material fall to the sandy floor. From back and front I had two sets of teasing, fondling hands searching for every hot button on my steamy body. They found the really dangerous ones, at the center of my buttocks, and between my thighs where their fingers searched the responsive depths of my cunt.

Carlos slapped my right ass cheek. I squealed and he slapped the other side.

“Ahhhhhhhhh, yes,” I was falling into the steady smacking of his hand, wiggling the protruding orbs outward so he could have an easier target. My skin was hot, the surface no doubt blushing a terrific shade of pink. While Carlos spanked my butt, Charlie continued with his fingers at the doorways, reaching deep, slipping nearly half his hand into the sloshy forward portal. “OOOOOoo, yes!” I kept murmuring as this sexy battle raged. At intervals, Carlos would stop the spanking and insinuate his way between the cheeks of my anus so he could stimulate the opening. The channel began to relax. I knew what was coming next—had this one researched and thought out before Walker could spring the surprise on me.

The eager pair moved me to the bedroom, while dispensing with their shorts. The two silent watchers followed, tossing their swimming trunks to the floor and grabbing for their jutting erections with their left hands—in perfect unison as though they were twins and flawlessly tuned. Walker ambled along at his own pace, keeping his itchy hand at his side.

I climbed on Charlie’s crotch—finding a certain justice in f*****g him first; but as I anticipated, Carlos wouldn’t let him take me alone. As soon as my black lover had his c**k settled into my p***y, Carlos was knocking down the primed back door, greasing the path with extra juice from my slippery center. Charlie stopped our f**k just long enough to let the man inside my rear. I shuddered, grimaced and grit my teeth thinking that this might really hurt.

“Easy, baby,” my Latin lover purred in his think Spanish accent. His hot breath blew against my ear. Another shiver sunk slowly down my spine.

I eased on cue—like he was giving orders and my job was simple. Obey and enjoy, he told me silently.

The head of his c**k slid past the door with a first easy thrust. I gasped, my breathing ragged and fearful.

“Ooo, conchita, relaaaaaaaax,” the musical sound of his voice drew me inside him as he was pressing into me. I could feel my channel expand; the muscles release their narrowing grip and invite him further. While I lay over Charlie’s black-skinned torso, Carlos’ bronze body moved forward steadily until the entire length of his c**k was nestled as deeply as it could go, down to the very base of my body. “Done, baby,” he announced as his voice resonated through like a chilling October wind, through atoms and muscles, bones and veins. He was me, and I him—except there was this other man, the one at my breasts, my mouth and in my cunt.

Done, yes done, but not quite over. Carlos began to move as Charlie began to move, their rhythm not as easy, nor as natural as when we danced together. One second, I concentrated on keeping them inside as they jarred both ends of me erratically trying to claim as much of me as they could. The next minute, I was forgetting what I was doing in favor of using the delicious stimulation for myself. I rocked between them, sometimes feeling pulled apart, sometimes rammed together. Carlos spanked my ass again and I backed into him. Then Charlie had my n*****s in between his fingers, squeezing, asking for my mouth on his, my tongue doing circles around his lips.

Charlie got more vigorous, more demanding. I focused my attention there—though I could never forget the erection in my ass. The black d**k thrust fast like a jackhammer riveted to my insides, gathering speed, aggressively taking its advantage and refusing to compromise, even with the invading c**k in my rear that made my cunt even tighter than I naturally was. “Yes, you b***h!” he was roaring the sentiment over and over as if it meant something I should understand. It meant I kept him happy, that I clung to him until I felt his c**k jet and spill its load.