Flash Mob Orgy

This is Part 1 of the third chapter in a series. The characters and their situation were developed in GINNY LAYS HER CLAIM, a previous chapter. For continuity, it’s best to read that chapter first. Many thanks for your votes and supportive feedback.

I’d known my 20-year-old future daughter-in-law Ginny for a couple of weeks. Our brief relationship had blossomed into a torrid affair driven by a manic sexual hunger for one another. Compounding the already dangerous liaison, we’d been caught fucking by a neighbor of mine – the willful and aggressive Erica – who’d witnessed our passionate coupling in the underground parking garage beneath my office. Several months before, the 26-year-old Erica – a gorgeous East Indian physician interning at a nearby hospital -- had tried unsuccessfully to lure me into bed. Fearing her betrayal to my employees and family, I ambivalently refused her advances by using my marriage as an excuse. Now I’d been compromised. I wondered what she might be thinking, what she might do… .

So, Jay, my feelings are hurt. You turn me down, yet I surprise you with that young blonde girl in your car. Why? You leapt into bed with that pretty Korean teacher who used to live in the building, and the Persian nurse – Hami – who lives upstairs. Why do you scorn me? I am not a woman who takes kindly to rejection! Nobody does that to me! Now you will not refuse me or I will cause trouble! I shall have you yet, you hypocrite!

Erica dropped by my office on Friday. It’d been months since we’d spoken…since I’d turned down her blatant offer of sex. Of course I knew why she was here. She was going to confront me – and maybe blackmail me – with the embarrassing scene with Ginny. Erica is a fairly tall, 5’8” woman with coal-black eyes and long, lustrous black hair. She reminds me of the Indian model and actress, Aishawarya Rai. Her blemishless, brown skin makes my mouth water, wondering if it’s half as sweet as the dark caramel candy it emulates.

I was sitting alone in the outer office, surfing the net, when she walked in. The staff was gone for the day, having left early for a three-day weekend. I was not anxious to go home, since my wife Lee was driving to a sorority reunion several hundred miles away. I’d told Ginny I’d be busy for a couple of days – allowing me time to reflect on our steamy relationship -- so I was a weekend bachelor.

“You are busy?” Erica asked.

“No, I have a moment,” I responded, guardedly. “Like some coffee?”

“Thank you, no. I would just like to talk,” she said, amicably.

“Please come into my office,” I gestured, locking the front door and following her into my inner sanctum. Viewing her tall figure from behind, her slow saunter reminded me of a supple rope unwinding.

She looked at a sketch on my drawing table and perched sexily on the edge of my high drafting chair. I sat at my desk a few feet away, admiring my exotic neighbor. Sitting higher than I, her long, shapely legs -- clad in form-fitting, black jeans -- stretched to the floor. Her feet ended in flat sandals, with straps embracing her slender, brown ankles.

But it was her breasts that riveted my attention. Somehow my earlier memory of them had escaped me. Today her upper body was covered with a tight, long-sleeved black turtleneck sweater with vertical ribs. She appeared to be at least a 36 C. Pronounced curves surrounded nipples that were semi-prominent. They’re very full, I pondered absently, and I don’t detect a bra that surely would be needed to support their substance. My palms itched involuntarily.

“May I have a cigarette?” Erica asked, breaking the spell. I retrieved a pack from the outer office. Holding my hand with her long, dainty brown fingers as I held a light for her, she looked up at me with piercing eyes from under prominent black brows and thanked me silently with a blink. Her scent wafted to me, bringing to mind a mixture of jasmine and cinnamon.

“Keeping busy?” I asked.

“Yes. I have just finished a 72 hour shift. As you know, new residents work very long hours, with just a little sleep,” she remarked in her stilted English.

“So I’ve heard,” I said distantly, continuing the small talk.

“Jay,” she said, cutting to the chase, “I did not mean to embarrass you on Tuesday. What you do is your business, but I would like to get to know you better…become friends. Months ago I was much too forward with you. Now I would like to do something…safe…something that we both can enjoy without being threatened.”

“Okay, what do you have in mind?” I asked, sincerely.

“Oh, just an outing. In San Francisco, tomorrow, there is a gathering in the park. Some music...dancing. I get out not often, and you seem very pleasant company,” Erica complimented.

“Thank you,” I said formally. “I’m flattered. Okay, I’m not busy this weekend and it’s been eons since I’ve been to the park. What time?” I inquired.

“Four o’clock. Meet me at my place at two-thirty and we can take my car,” she said.

“Great!” I said, a bit artificially. “Look forward to it.” Standing and stretching, I was at a loss for words.

Stubbing out her cigarette, Erica looked me slowly up and down – hesitated as if wishing to say more – then concluded: “Good, then. I will see you tomorrow, Jay.” She brushed me lightly on the hand as I opened the front door for her, creating a spark from static electricity as we parted. “Bye-bye.”

That woman is evil! I mused, as she walked into her apartment two doors down. And persistent! As coldly as I’ve acted toward her, she acts as if she still wants to fuck me.

I have got you now, Jay! Let me read that e-mail again: “Flash Mob Orgy.” Yes, there it is!

“Come to Pilgrim Meadow in Golden Gate Park tomorrow at 4 p.m. sharp. Be prepared to participate in, or witness, a gathering of strangers who will engage in an act of collective love for one half hour, then disappear.”

You will learn how I handle men, Jay, and, oh yes!, I will

get to know you better!

That night the cats and I ate chicken and broccoli, listened to some music, and I spoke on the phone with wife Lee. She’d be home Sunday afternoon. Ginny called and I assured her we could meet on Monday, since I’d be working even though it was a holiday.

Saturday morning was filled with chores. After mowing the lawns and doing errands, I showered and donned jeans, a polo shirt and boots. Grabbing the digital camera for no particular reason, I left and arrived at Erica’s just at two-thirty. She opened her door and I was stricken by her presence. Her raven hair was in an off-center ponytail. Her earlobes bore small diamond studs. She wore a pair of skin-tight, light yellow pants. They covered narrow but nicely-curved hips, pulling snugly at the crotch to create suggestive wrinkles. Her matching top was a sports bra-like garment, baring her shoulders and midriff all around, with a large open circle between her shoulder blades to reveal more caramel confection. The top clung to her breasts like a second skin, highlighting nipples in discreet pouts. There was a hint of light gold shadow above her long-lashed eyes and light brown lipstick with a touch of gold gloss that graced her sensuous, full-lipped mouth. Her bare tummy indicated a habit of abdominal exercise, and her smooth, square shoulders offset her abundant chest perfectly. “Dr. Bakshi, I presume?” I questioned, effecting the Stanley-Livingston British-ism.

“But of course, Mr. Palin. Nice to see you again,” she beamed, revealing her delectable back to me – smelling of lilacs -- as she turned to lock her door. Her high, protruding ass revealed the stretching seams of her pants. Her dusky skin shown through the material, suggesting only a thong underneath, if that.

Erica drove us in her new, white Lexus, with me wondering abstractly how a medical resident could afford such a vehicle. Then I remembered having met her parents during a visit, when her father had mentioned working for the royal family in Bahrain. Erica was just your basic, struggling doctor-to-be, I thought, facetiously.

Crossing the bridge in heavy traffic to San Francisco, we talked of her family. Her brother was a pilot for Lufthansa. While growing up, her parents were very strict with her, her father showing a fondness of corporal punishment to enforce his dictates. They’d been raised in Delhi, then the family had moved to the Middle East. She had led a very conservative life until attending medical school in Europe.

The conversation switched to me. Yes, I was married, more than once. Yes, Lee and I had grown children, from different marriages. I’d gotten a doctorate and owned my own business. I’d been to India, briefly, in the early seventies, to Goa, the old Portuguese stronghold on the west coast. I knew little of the Hindu culture, other than practicing a form of meditation and a few words of Hindi.

“And you have a young, pretty, blonde girl friend,” she said, from out of the blue.

“Aah..not really a girl friend,” I hedged, not mentioning that Ginny was my prospective daughter-in-law.

“It is okay, Jay. I am a doctor. I see many things that are not conventional in my work. You see, when my residency is finished, I want to get my Ph.D. in psychiatry. And, I am fascinated with human sexuality. In fact, I enjoy watching people interact sexually. The mating ritual is the most arousing part of the human experience.”

Boldly, I asked, half-jokingly, “Are you a voyeur?…or ‘voyeuse’?”

She snapped her head over at me and admitted, eyes shining: “Yes.” After a long pause, she then said, “And now that I have confessed to you one of my peculiarities, perhaps we can be more familiar.”

“You actually enjoyed watching Ginny and me on Tuesday, then?” I asked. “I think many people would’ve left out of embarrassment.”

“It was an enchanting thing to see, Jay,” she said, silkily. “Is that her name…Ginny? Aside from my clinical interest, I was moved – excited, actually – by your amorous display,” punctuating her statement by reaching across and touching me softly on the sensitive underside of my bare forearm.

I was getting turned on myself, right there in the car. Her entire profile, from hairline to finely chiseled chin, past gracefully curved neck and collarbone to her magnificent rack, past the tight belly, comely legs, to her exquisitely boned, sandaled feet, filled me with a shivery feeling. She touched me again on the arm and my groin throbbed to the feathery brush of her right hand, which was growing more insistent.

“So, what possesses an older man – what age are you, fiftyish? – to risk his marriage with such a child?” Erica teased.

“She’s 20, Erica,” I said, defensively.

“Exactly!” she said. Waiting for a response, she added, “Well, I can see it is a private matter. Perhaps you will tell me later.” Then she changed the subject: “Do you know what a ‘Flash Mob’ is?” she asked, coyly.

Puzzled, I said: “Yeah, I think. Read in the paper about them being advertised on the Internet. A bunch of strangers get together at a specific time, do something crazy, then disperse. Sort of like pre-announced anarchy.”

“Right. That is what we are going to now,” she announced. “Only today’s Flash Mob is going to be an orgy!”

Nonplussed, I grunted, “Uhhg…,” remembering a couple of orgies well over twenty years before during the old Sexual Freedom League days.

“Relax, Jay! I am not going to join it, nor should you. The risk of STDs is too great. It is just to satisfy a curiosity, that is all,” Erica rationalized.

Okay, Doctor, I thought to myself. I’ll play your silly game. But go easy with your touchy-feely tickling! I don’t need it to get excited! Steeling myself, I said weakly, “Mm…I’m glad I brought my camera.”

“That is the spirit, Jay,” she grinned, stopping her stroking to negotiate a parking place next to a large green meadow in the park.

I have you where I want you now, Jay. You look good enough to eat today. You are so big, so close to my ideal type! Your tan face, blue eyes, and sandy hair excite me so. And I can feel your hot gaze on me! I am so moist! Aiieee, I am seething to get you home. Then I will torture you so sweetly…and make you want me so much! But for now I will wait... .

As we walked to the middle of the meadow, Erica slid her hand softly into the crook of my arm, bringing herself closer to me, so that the back of my hand caressed her sumptuous thigh. Her sweet scent mingled with the smell of newly-mown grass as we picked a shady spot to sit. The few people already there took notice of her stunning physique as we reclined, waiting for something to happen. I thought that I could’ve done a lot worse than spend a few hours with such a gorgeous creature on a free Saturday. I started to say, “You look lo…,” when out of the trees ran a crowd of perhaps fifty people, laughing and running toward the center of the meadow, led by one guy with a bullhorn. It wasn’t four o’clock yet.

“Welcome friends, let’s get started,” he shouted. Much of the crowd looked like refugees from 1967’s Summer of Love: long-haired, tie-dyed, and a bit scruffy by the day’s standards. There were a few physically attractive specimens, though. Erica grabbed my forearm, digging in her nails, as the new arrivals began shedding their clothing, most of them giggling nervously.

I rose to my feet, now into the moment, and said: “Come on, Erica, let’s take a look!” We walked toward the naked crowd, slowly, as a few couples began hasty foreplay. Many other singles had congregated in a large gathering and begun stroking one another. Most of the initial touching was of torsos and breasts. Some more adventurous individuals concentrated on rubbing private parts. Still others dispensed with formalities, immediately performing fellatio and cunnilingus.

The meadow grew strangely quiet. The few people there when we’d arrived left quickly, embarrassed by the spectacle. Other than a few others, we were the only clothed observers. Then a low, rasping moan emanated from the participants as the excitement grew. I glanced through the camera view-finder and set it to auto-focus and zoom, allowing close-ups from a distance.

Immediately in front of us was a lesbian couple in a 69 position: one was a petite brunette – a fem clutching her glasses in one hand – and the other a blonde, sturdily built dom. Both had fair skin and were eagerly lapping at one another’s hairy gashes. The blonde was already mouthing entreaties for her partner to lick with more enthusiasm. Erica didn’t seem interested, so a surreptitious snap of the camera recorded their grappling and we walked on.

We next came upon a MMF threesome. A kneeling woman, a slim white girl of about nineteen with orange and green spiked hair and tongue pierced with a stud, was eagerly devouring the cock of a well-built twenty-something white man, with long brown hair, standing before her. The second man, a thin, barely legal Hispanic guy, was on his back with head between her legs, paying lingual homage to her cunt as she masturbated him. Erica’s hold on my arm tightened as the groans of all three indicated an extreme focus on their labors. I clicked the camera again. No one seemed to mind our blatant voyeurism.

I scanned the crowd and determined that the foreplay portion of the orgy was over. People were beginning to copulate everywhere.

Erica pulled me about and pointed to a couple in their late forties: an enormously fat white woman in a hippie skirt thrown up to her sagging DD breasts, and a chunky black man whose flexing buttocks were driving his ample cock in and out of her dripping cooze. Her cellulite-filled thighs were thrown open to the sky as if beckoning God himself to fill her yawning chasm. A verbal sort, she showed her religious bent by yelling: “Jesus Christ, Irving…Jesus Christ, give it to me. Yeah, fuck me hard. Goddamn it, fuck me harder!” Wishing I’d brought a tape recorder, I stifled a giggle at the sight as the camera, instead, recorded her paeans.

I glanced back at the girl with spiked hair and her male companions. Snapping quickly, I captured the three of them linked, with the Hispanic guy on his back -- his tan rod stuck deeply into her ass -- while the other guy was on top of her, frenetically drilling her pussy to the accompaniment of her staccato grunts.

Several gay couples were practicing fellatio. Two other gay men were engaged in butt-fucking in the missionary position. The receptor had his legs drawn back nearly to his ears, while his partner was systematically grinding his tool into his rectum. I quickly glanced at Erica, who shrugged her brown shoulders and turned to a more interesting sight. I clicked again.

Another couple commanded attention. The woman, a brown-skinned part-Mexican girl of about twenty-five with an exaggeratedly beautiful body, was on all fours, being humped from behind by an energetic white guy about her age. His hands gripped her hips as he plowed into her slick, 36-24-36 body. Other than Erica, she was the most statuesque woman on the grounds, with long brown nipples hardened into blunt spikes, which nearly touched the ground at the tips of her swinging, pendulous breasts. Her glistening black hair was tied atop her head in sumptuous curls, and her gaping, slack-jawed mouth was open as she gasped her approval: “Aiuh…aiuh…aiuhhh,” she grunted.

Her accompanying dog had become excited. He was an oversized German Shorthair male, with head and ears erect, whimpering carnally, and running quickly around the sweating couple as if wanting to join in their tryst. His monstrous erection betrayed his lust and – more than once – he ventured in to lick at both ends of his mistress. “Go,” she repeated haltingly. “Go...go…go.” Empathizing with the dog, I snapped a shot for posterity as the woman smiled at Erica, who watched the cock of the woman’s partner plumb the

mestiza’s

moist depths. My next shot included the eager dog and the studious Erica.

Erica rose to slide her hand into the back of my pants and boxers, a couple of fingers resting in my sweaty crack. I looked at her eyes, brilliant with excitement. She gave me a quick, pursed smile and licked her dry lips, the top one beaded with perspiration. With a noticeable shiver, she exhaled deeply and steered me to a large group.

A chain of about twenty folk had formed a circle, a daisy chain of sucking and fucking. It included many colors of the human rainbow and as many ethnic strains as one could quickly imagine. Still fascinated by the girl with orange and green hair, I turned to see a muscular young black man laying on his side and fucking her face, while her cum-splashed body lay sideways on the ground. Both of her previous partners – now sated -- calmly watched as the white guy rubbed semen onto her tits. Clicking, I turned to the larger group.

A young Chinese woman, with her black hair in a Cleopatra cut, was calmly slurping the member of a muscular biker- type with a multitude of tattoos. His uncircumcised cock looked transplanted from a horse -- gnarled and veiny -- with what appeared to be skin transplants of differing hues. It contrasted with her clean, pure face -- coupled with her smooth, curvy little body and plump thighs -- and was captivating. The ungainly root stretched her thin lips like rubber bands and drew a continuous stream of spit.

Her bottom portion was not being ignored either, as a slim white man was goring her in her tight little ass with his prick – while holding one leg on his shoulder -- causing her to squeak like one of those child’s toys each time he drove home. In

his

ass was the tongue of a thirty-ish white woman whose face was obscured by her long, flowing blonde hair. Her skinny butt – festooned with a large tattoo of a snarling wildcat -- was being serviced by a tanned, lifeguard-looking fellow whose muscles rippled each time he alternately boned first her gaping ass, then her dripping cunt.