Seeing Red in Pescadero

*This is the second part of "Dani's Songs", from the folio, "Thanks for the Memories." After succumbing to the warm, sensual welcome of her friends, a visiting fellow gets thoroughly claimed at dawn by the host.

**

I wake up to the 2nd movement of Rachmaninoff's 2nd concerto. A digital clock says it's ten minutes to 4 in the morning.

I burrow deeper into the red silk comforter, breathing deep of the lavender scent, rubbing my legs together.

Why am I naked?

I sit up and look around. Pin lights set on dim throw into focus abstract paintings in jewel tones. I am seeing patterns in the swirls and slashes of color.

Here, a woman being taken from the back. There, a woman standing up, holding herself open for another woman on her knees.

Slowly, the fog of sleep clears.

This is not bordello. The events of last night flood into the mind.

I am sucking at Gary's thumb. I am arching, meeting Lizzie's tongue as it penetrates my ass. Her fingers stuff my cunt.

I roll over and thump the pillow. One night in America and I have turned into a slut?

I burst out laughing at the ridiculous thought.

I am not normally a drama queen. No prim and proper daffodil here. Asian looks may mask my fiery nature but I have enough awards for athletics and law enforcement to scare most men.

Discovering Internet pal Gary is a 6" hunk, instead of Santa's twin, turned the world upside down yesterday. Fatigue and libido delivered me into the lips of his Vietnamese wife, Lizzie. A threesome. Sort of. So what? Not my first time.

I spy a coffee maker by the bedroom dresser. Sipping my first cup of black poison, I mull over the situation.

I don't really want to be tied down – to a bi-sexual, BDSM couple at that – at the onset of my fellowship year. In two weeks, I'll be living near Castro St in San Francisco. I mean to make the most of this year of freedom. And despite thrilling to Lizzie's tongue last night, my taste really runs to butches.

But Gary....

I shiver. I want Gary. Gentle, kinky Gary who switches from top to bottom. Who, in his erotic stories, features a small woman calling him Papa. But I'm not ready for a package deal.

Then it sinks in. The music.... Gary must be up. My guest bedroom is at the far end of the den/library on the upper floor of their Pescadero B&B.

I snatch a thin cotton wrap and tie it around my neck. I brush my teeth and wash my face. A mirror shows the shadow of my nipples. Already they are thrusting against cloth. My thighs flash as I walk. Lust pricks my skin from nape to groin.

As I open the door, Gary gets up from his desk. Suddenly, I feel parched.

His ponytail drapes down his right shoulder; silver contrasting with the ruby red bathrobe. The robe brings out his blue-gray eyes and the darker lashes, lush enough to hold a matchstick.

His robe gapes all the way to the waist, where it is loosely tied. Within seconds, his cock grows hard, tenting the fabric.

Neither us speaks. For 30 seconds, nobody moves. Then Gary unties his robe, shrugs it off and walks slowly towards me.

My pals press against the wall.

It is excitement, not fear, that fills me. His cock is so firm it hardly sways as he comes near. It is long, half a foot in length. But it is the girth that stuns me, and the veins slithering across that pulsing shaft, and the huge bulb crowning it.

Gary's chest has a thin cover of darker hair, shot with gray. But he is bare around his cock. His thighs and legs are smooth; nothing masks the muscles honed from hours of daily runs.

I am 4'11. I cannot turn my gaze from the colossus approaching from across the room.

We do not kiss. Gary just takes my breasts in his hands. For a few moments, he just wraps his fingers around them. He has huge hands. They cover my breasts. Then one forefinger and then another circle roll my nipples.

Still, we are both silent.

Gary unties the neck knot. I push my face into the upper part of his flat abs. My mouth opens.

I suck at his skin. I lick. I suck. Gary is still. He doesn't move as I go on tiptoe to reach his chest. I run my tongue flat across a nipple. Up and down, left to right. Light and then firm, to make him feel the rasp. Again. Again. Then I tongue his nipple from under and press its tip. I am the one moaning. I draw it in, suckling, my tongue still swirling around it.

Gary's hands slowly push my head off him. I rest back on the wall, panting. He, too, is breathing deeper. He reaches out. His hand is big enough it covers the entire side of my face, from temple to jaw.

Then he gets down on his knees.

I start to panic. I am Asian and a stickler for cleanliness. I have not yet used the loo. My juices from last night must have fermented. But it is too late to withdraw. Gary holds my thighs tight.

His thumbs are just beneath my cunt. He presses the flesh open. The first thing I feel is his nose, his big Roman nose. He is moaning, pressing his nose round and round my pudenda. I am already wet. But I try.

"Gary, I need to wash..." (Inside, I am shrieking... what a stupid greeting.)

He bites my nether mound in response and there is the first gush. He gives another bite. And a third.

The flashes of pain come and go. My cunt throbs to their rhythm. Gary presses his palm against me and grinds. His hand covers me. I surge at every squeeze, and meet his almost angry stare.

He finally speaks. His growls.

"I want you. When I want you, I want you. I want you now. I want you raw."

"Some days I'll want you perfumed, dolled up."

Fingers pry me open.

"But I want your real smell. This!" His mouth takes all of me.

The moan that erupts from my chest undulates for a long time. It is the rush of wind and water in a cavern. I fall. Gary catches my hips and brings me to the floor. His tongue never leaves me, forcing its way past my lower lips. It feels so thick, like having two fingers inside.

The tongue slithers and probes inside me. I feel teeth against my vulva. His fingers keep on stretching my skin. Gary slides his tongue out and then in again. He slides it out halfway and plunges back. And then he rolls it around on the way out and sweeps against the opening. I am jerking but he moves to0 fast for orgasm to take traction.

I scream as he jerks his head and slaps his tongue on my clit. Twice, thrice. But I cannot cum because that tongue sweeps down to the slice of flesh separating thigh from cunt.

Gary's thumb starts sliding on the delicate strip that connects pussy to ass. Every slight pressure sparks a flame inside me. For five minutes, I teeter on the edge of ecstasy. I am cursing. I am begging. I am pleading to be pushed off the cliff. The only answer is his laughter. It is deep, sardonic, mocking, not the gentle laughter of my Internet pal, Santa.

Gary stops teasing and leans across me. His hands cradle my head. He plunders my mouth, dancing inside like he did in my pussy. I taste myself. I taste the sea. I taste the earth.

Gary elbows my arms aside when I try to hold him closer. I end up gripping the carpet. I raise my torso to meet his cock. I roll my hips, swivel and try to press my cunt against it. But he is too quick.

He stops and turns me around so fast. Three quick slaps land on my ass.

I cry out in shock. The rain of smacks continue.

"You." Smack. "Do." Smack. "Not." Smack. "Set." Smack. Harder. "The." Smack. Smack. "Pace." Smack! Smack! Smack! I am crying. My butt is burning. And so are my breasts, pressed against sisal.

Gary slaps my inner things. "Wider!"

As I spread my legs, he thrusts two fingers into my pussy.

He goes straight for the spongy spot inside and I open and flood. It feels like peeing but peeing doesn't spread heat. I can feel every ridge in his fingers. He makes sure I feel them pressing against my walls. He curls one atop the other as he withdraws, pushing on the sensitive membrane that divides cunt and ass before diving in again.

I am a quivering wreck. I moan nonsensical sounds. I claw at the carpet. I beg. I whine. I cry, I feel the effect on my nose. I can only breath with my mouth now. And then I scream into the carpet as he thumbs my rosebud.

He starts spanking again as the thumb slides in. I feel his fingers close around both sides of me with every smack.

I start to wail.

"Papa! Papa!"

At this, Gary bends down and nips my shoulder. He is thrusting like a piston now. As his fingers withdraw, he bites around my back. There is no respite from sensations.

A hazy thought flashes. His cock.... I cry out in shock as he pulls off his hand.

But then he flips me over on my back. With one powerful pull, I find my legs draped across his shoulders.

Gary bends and takes my clit. He sucks at it. The clit swells like a little cock and he sucks it like he would a male lover.

I have never liked that before. But the extreme sensations earlier now allow me to thrust myself into his mouth.

I rub myself against him. I thrust back with his every draw. Again and again he pulls at me. Again and again I ram my cunt against him.

I egg him on. Again! I cry. Again! And this time he does not mind when I press his head harder against me.

He is groaning. I see me squirting all over him, my cunt pulses so.

"Tongue me!" I scream.

He obeys and his nose slides against my clit as his tongue slips back in. My legs thump on his back. I tear at his hair. I rub my clit around his nose. Round and round as his tongue circles me inside. I squeeze his tongue, pulsate around it.

I do not recognize the voice of the woman moaning. It is hoarse. Very hoarse. And deep, like a soft, sad blast from an aging ship. The woman commands, "Now. Fuck me! Bastard! Fuck me! Now! Now!" And there is an answering guttural cry from the man.

I start to quake inside. I feel my walls swell. My muscles start to spasm. I cry out for Papa. I am a dam about to break. Gary twirls his tongue one last time. He presses it upwards as he jerks out. My waters follow him and erupt as the tip slides free.

He shouts at the geyser, slides his thumb where his nose was and vibrates my clit as he presses his mouth back to drink. The orgasm explodes, ripping me from head to soles. Tears flow. I can hardly breathe. The only word I know is "Papa." I keen for him, again and again.

As the last echo of that word fades, I see another spot of red.

It is Lizzie, clutching at a satin wrap. She is still. The last thing I see before stars is her sad smile.