Some Tourist...

Somehow, we walked through the lobby into a private conference room without further encounters. There was an attractive but large, muscular woman at the door. She smiled at Linda as if they knew each other very well and opened the door for us. When it opened, a beautifully carved wooden screen appeared about four feet back. The screen blocked the view of anyone who might try to peer through the open door. We walked around the screen and an amazing scene greeted my eyes. Inside the room soft light glowed from dimmed crystal chandeliers. Six women were standing in a loose circle, chatting. Like Linda, they all appeared to be middle aged. Each was dressed beautifully, and shockingly. Their dresses, like Linda's, were split up the front.

When we were walking down the hall, while we were in the elevator, Linda had kept her dress gathered around her, but once we entered the hall she had freed the fabric from the clasp that had been holding it together and it fell away from her legs. Now, like the others, her partly stockinged legs, her bare thighs, and her naked cunt were all visible! Her dress opened all the way up to her navel! The sight of those women dressed like that was amazing. But they acted as if they were at an ordinary party. They were mingling with each other, chatting, eating from small china plates they held in their hands.

Drinking wine from crystal. The room appeared to be a library, of sorts. The walls were lined with glass-covered wooden bookcases that were filled with leather bound books. What wall space did not contain books was paneled in dark walnut that matched the book cases. In the middle of the room there was a round table with six leather chairs placed evenly around its perimeter. In a space between two chairs, a set of wooden stairs lead to the table top. There were no place settings, no water glasses, no wine glasses, no linens on the table. It dawned on me that this was not where we would be having our meal. This was not a table. It was a stage.

Two pretty young women roamed the room, serving. One carried a silver serving dish that appeared to contain the most wonderfully exotic hors d'oeuvres. Some of the appetizers appeared to be tiny pates, molded into the shapes of naked women making love. Another pretty woman walked through the room refilling glasses with wine from two bottles that appeared to have French labels. I'd waited tables enough in my college career to recognize French wine labels, and while I was certainly no expert, I knew that such wine was not cheap. What was most amazing, though, was the fact that both of the servers were naked, except for a very tiny white apron, a small lace ribbon in her hair, and heels.

"How did you ever get the hotel staff to dress like that," and where did they find two such beautiful women willing to do it?" I asked Linda.

"Silly girl," she laughed. "These lovely girls work for us. They cater and serve at all of our affairs. We brought them with us." The amount of effort, money, and thought that went into this gathering was only just becoming evident to me. And, it was only then that I remembered what Linda had said, that I was the reason the they were all there. She had said, " . . . trust me." But it was beginning to overwhelm me. How could I ever be beautiful enough, interesting enough, sexy enough to deserve their interest, to deserve all of this? But another emotion was raging, along with my insecurities. For the first time in my life, I began to feel truly powerful. After all, Linda, a clearly sophisticated, wealthy woman with exotic sexual appetites and a world of sexual experience had fallen head over heels for me. She had dressed me, prepared me specifically to please her friends. She believed I would be able to thrill them, and now, scented with expensive perfume, dressed as she believed I should be, my naked skin powdered to a lovely soft sheen, I understood that I was to be presented for their pleasure, and I began to believe that maybe I was the incredibly desirable person that Linda believed me to be.

The woman who had opened the door for us had come into the room. She had locked the door behind her. Walking over to me she smiled and said, "May I take your jacket?" I knew I was naked beneath it, but I smiled back at her, unbuttoned the jacket and let her slide it from my shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Linda took my hand, and squeezed it. Together we joined her friends. The conversation, amazingly, was ordinary. They asked each other how they had been, what they had been doing since their last meeting. All the while, as they spoke, as they shifted their weight from one leg to the other, they were exposed from the tummy down! I was standing there, smiling, holding Linda's hand, nearly naked. But although the conversation was apparently mundane, my thoughts were not. The two girls who were serving were really cute. I felt myself getting very aroused, again. Every now and then one of the women would look at me and her eyes would linger on my body. I would see her and know that the sight of me was pleasant to her. I liked that, very much.

The servers had set down the tray and the wine bottles. They were standing just outside the conversation with their hands behind their backs. They stood, quietly, attentively. I couldn't help looking at them. One of them smiled at me. I smiled back. She was so cute. I couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to kiss her. She had tiny little breasts, but her nipples were very large, almost swollen. I'd hadn't seen breasts like that since middle school when we were all just beginning to develop and some of us had big, soft nipples before we really had much in the way of breasts. For some reason I found them inceredibly sexy on a girl my age. I wanted to kiss her very badly, to hold her. I wanted to feel her breasts against mine, kiss them. I wanted to feel her warm skin against mine. Her soft lips on mine. I wanted to feel her smooth, shaved cunt rubbing against mine. I wanted . . .

"And you, dear, what do you do?" I heard one of Linda's friend's ask, taking me out of my revery.

"I, I'm a student," I stammered, lost in my fantasy . I turned to look at the woman who had asked me the question. She had come near me, and she was very close. Her leg was touching mine, and I could feel it's warmth. She put her hand on my back, letting it rest in the hollow between back and bottom, then moving it softly down, across my naked tush until it was gently caressing me there. The back of her other hand grazed my breast, so softly I barely felt it until it crossed my nipple which immediately stiffened. I turned to look at Linda, afraid she might be angry with me, jealous, but she smiled and mouthed a silent, "It's okay . . ."

Another of Linda's friends came close. She began touching me as well. Softly. And she too spoke to me. "What are you studying dear?"

"English, and, and writing. I, I want to be a writer . . ." My voice was weak. I was breathing harder than normal because the second woman had by now lightly touched my cunt, sliding a finger slowly up and down in my wet and slippery crack. They kept making small talk, all the while touching me and squeezing me. My legs were shaky. I was finding it very hard to speak. The serving girls remained nearby, silent, their hands behind their backs, watching. The women who weren't touching me were also watching. I could see that what was happening was making them almost as excited as it was making me. Some of them were touching themselves, their hands placed quietly between their legs! I couldn't believe what was happening to me. It was like an incredibly erotic dream, only it was real. Very real. Wonderfully real. Another of Linda's friends stood in front of me. The other two were still touching me. The conversation had ceased. I could feel their hands on my body. A hand gently sliding up and down my cunt which was getting wetter, sometimes touching my now exposed clit. The woman who had just come to be near me closed her eyes and inhaled. She was smelling my perfume, perfume now mixed with the scent of my body. When she opened her eyes, she stared into mine and leaned forward to kiss me. I opened my mouth and felt her soft lips on mine. Her tongue, touching first my lips, then searching for my tongue. I met her tongue with mine and they danced. All the while the hands on me, in me . . . it was so wonderful.

My legs spread wider, opening me to the women, who continued touching and kissing. By now I could not tell who was doing what to me. Another woman had knelt between my legs. She was kissing my thighs, and higher. The hand on my clit moved faster. My knees were very shaky. Their hands were all over me. Then, one by one, Linda's friends gradually stopped touching me, stopped kissing me, stopped probing me, stopped inhaling the stronger and stronger scent of me. They slowly moved away. Linda came to me, and kissed me. Then they took places in the leather chairs at the table. I was breathless, and shaky. Somehow it was clear that I would decide what happened next. I walked over to the lovely serving girl with the large, swollen nipples. I took her hand and led her up onto the stage.

Somewhere, deep inside, I sensed why I was there, who they were, who I was to them. It's not as if all this ran through my mind in an orderly fashion. How could it? My legs were shaking. I was trembling. I was on the verge of cumming, yet again, after ages on the edge so fucking excited I thought I would die if Linda wouldn't finally let me cum. But she hadn't, not for hours. She'd touched me. Teased me. Washed me. Perfumed and powdered me. Dressed me like a cabaret sex performer, with wicked makeup, bright red lipstick, hair slicked back and shiny. And now I was walking onto a stage with another, young, also practically naked woman after these other women had touched me and smelled me. I saw their eyes while they were doing that; watched them breathe; felt them shiver with excitement. I knew, somehow, that they had done so much, professionally, sexually; I knew that they shared this club, a thing I guessed they had created out of progressively more exotic sexual lives and desires, from an urgent and growing need to push their passions as far as they could, and with the means to push it very far indeed. And now, one of them had chosen me to excite them. The very thought of it thrilled me beyond belief. Below me, seven powerful women sat in a circle, in leather chairs, wearing dresses that, when they sat down and let the hems fall away, left them wickedly exposed. It was like a scene from decadent Berlin in the thirties; a nasty, sexy, wonderful scene.

Performance is a funny thing. I've done a lot of theater--in high school and college. I guess it suited the exhibitionist in me. I've done it both well and poorly. When you do theater, you can "act." You can say your lines at the right time, speak with good projection and diction, move where and when you are supposed to, do everything right and watch the play fall flat on its face. Or, you can lose yourself in the play. Speaking not lines, but with the other characters, from your heart and with your body--having become not an actor but a person in a place doing the thing the player does. You can forget where you are, who you are, and become what the character truly is. And if those on stage with you are swept into your passion, the play ceases to be a play, for you, for the other actors, for the audience. It becomes something else entirely. It becomes real. That evening I did not act as if I were a cabaret performer in a nasty sex act. I became that person. And so did the girl on stage with me. Our audience was swept along, taken for the ride I now understood Linda had sensed the first day she saw me waiting tables I might be able to take them on. I did it for her. I did it for them. Mostly, though, I did it for myself and in the doing I found the release Linda had so wisely withheld for so long. And in the doing of it I discovered a "me" that had been there all along, waiting for an opportunity to emerge, wailing, exalting in delicious ecstasy.

Standing, spreading my legs wide, I turned to the cute girl I had so longed to kiss. I took her face in my hands and kissed her like I had never kissed a girl before. No soft start, no questioning probe as if to ask, "Will we go farther than this kiss?" I knew where it would go. I did not ask her with my kiss. I told her. Taking her face between my hands, I opened my mouth wide, kissed her passionately, letting my tongue go deep into her mouth. I pressed my hips against hers, pressed my breasts against hers, those wonderfully tiny breasts with the large, swollen nipples. I lowered my lips, pulled one deliciously large, soft nipple into my mouth, and sucked. And sucked, while pushing my thigh between her legs, feeling her slippery smooth cunt on my bare skin. She moaned, softly.

I looked down at the women who were watching, all of them were staring with wide eyes. These worldly women were transfixed. All of them were masturbating as they watched! It was as if they were watching a movie, a dirty movie together; but this was no movie. It was real. The sight, the sounds, the scents were real, unpredictable. Hot!

I took her hips in my hands and guided her, moving her up and down as she slid her cunt across my leg, rising up and down as she slid it against me. I pressed my thigh harder into her wet cunt,, my hands squeezing her ass, my mouth wildly kissing and sucking at her breasts. She began to moan more loudly, rising up and down, faster and faster. As her breath quickened, I pulled her against me, motionless, and she shook. I knew she had nearly cum. I held her still, and her passion uneasily walked away from the line she had so nearly crossed. I kissed her lips again. This time, more softly. I let my hands explore her beautiful body. She was shuddering, making tiny little sounds like a cat. I'd never had a lover my own age who was so strikingly beautiful. My girlfriend, my only female partner before Linda had been my roommate, a dear friend who I adored, but one I never thought of as particularly beautiful. She was lovely. I adored her. With her it was deep affection. Warm, sweet, cuddly love. With this girl, it was lust. Naked lust. Pure and simple. It was blistering heat.

I stared at her. I wanted to make her cum like she'd never cum before. I lowered my lips again to her breasts, kissing and sucking, hands cupping them. I kissed down her gorgeous muscular tummy. I kissed her thighs as if they were her mouth, my tongue probing, tickling her skin. I urged her with my hands to spread her legs, and she did. I kissed her cunt, softly at first. My tongue teasing it, gently parting the lips, exposing the folds that hid her clit. I pressed my mouth into her, pushing my tongue into her as far as I could, in and out, fucking her with it like a hard, wet penis. She was moaning louder now. I moved my face up higher, rocking on my own wide spread knees. My own cunt and ass lifted and exposed to the women who watched us. My breasts heaved with my motion and I could feel them swaying. I found her clit with my tongue, sucked it into my lips, and began to lick it with long, slow strokes. Her moaning grew even louder. Her stance became more wobbly, but she remained standing, somehow. Faster and faster I licked her. Her scent was wonderful, a mixture of perfume and musk, her own natural musk, like wet forest mushrooms. As her moans grew into wails, with her eyes wide and staring at me, I pulled away slightly, my tongue alone contacting her clit, flicking across it faster and faster. Her belly began to swell and roll. She was pulling her tiny breasts, her thumbs and forefingers pinching her huge nipples, tugging them upward. Her mouth was wide open and a deep, guttural moan was growing louder and louder. When she came, she cried out. She shook for what seemed like forever. Resting her weight on my shoulders with her palms pressed hard against me, her fingers curled back. Then he sobbed softly. I kissed her cunt until she stopped trembling. Every now and then she would shake with a tiny tremor. When she did, her fingers bit into my shoulders.

She lowered herself to the stage and began kissing me, savagely. I'd never been kissed like that. She bit at my lips, licked my neck and breasts. I arched my back to put my breasts closer to her eager mouth. She sucked my breasts into her mouth, alternately, kissing, sucking, biting. All the while her hands were flying across my body. Her stomach was between my legs and I was grinding my cunt into her hard belly. I felt as if a lioness were preparing to make dinner of me, she was so wild. My lovers had always been so gentle before, at least the two women I'd been with. I'd come to expect a woman lover to be that way, thought it would always be that way, and even thought I wanted it to always be that way. But this was incredible. After almost cumming a hundred times, after aching with desire for hours, this was what I needed, and I didn't even know it until I was in the middle of it. I grabbed her hair in my fingers, threw my head back and groaned. Her head moved faster, kissing me frantically, licking me with her tongue as if my whole body was an ice cream cone or something. And all the while, those wonderful hands were touching, pressing, sliding, grabbing, tugging at me. Her skin on my cunt, her belly heaving with her hot breathing, was rubbing against my whole cunt, between my lips, across my exposed and sensitive clit. I felt like she was fucking me with her body. I was cumming little cums, moaning.

She slid down my body, continuing her hot, frantic, passionate pace. Without letup, as if this was the moment my whole day had been building toward and there was no need, no desire to postpone pleasure a second longer, she buried her face between my legs and sucked my clit into her mouth, rubbing it with her tongue, tugging it with her lips. My ass was wet with my own excitement, and with her saliva that was dripping into my crack. I felt her finger slip into it, and enter. As she was sucking and nibbling my clit, she began fucking my ass with her finger. I'd never felt that before, could not imagine how powerfully it would explode inside me. I came harder, moaning louder and louder, writhing on the stage totally lost in the heaving, shrieking, hair clenching, mouth wailing, hissing, cumming. Oh god it was huge. So big, so long. So intense. It lasted forever, and as I was beginning to come down again, she fucked my ass faster and licked me even harder and faster, squeezing my nipple, hard, with her other hand, and wailing with me, the vibrations of her voice rippling across my clit. I came again, harder, thrashing even more wildly. It was like nothing, nothing in the world I could have foreseen and certainly beyond anything I'd ever felt in my life. I struggled to catch my breath as the big orgasms finally subsided and small orgasms continued to roll over me. Smaller, and smaller ones, until I was laying there, gasping. My lover, my wonderful lover looked up at me and licked her lips with a wicked smile on her face. I realized, I didn't even know her name. I realized too, after having forgotten, that a roomful of women had been watching.

Quietly at first, then more loudly, they began to applaud. I looked up for the first time in some time, and smiled at each of them. Linda was beaming. The woman who had been guarding the door, who locked it earlier, who took my jacket, was now serving the women steaming hot, moist towels from a tray. They were wiping themselves with them. She leaned over the stage and offered some to us as well. Clearly, the women had all masturbated while we were making love. They wiped themselves, their cunts, their thighs, their hands, as if they were simply cleaning up before dinner, and, in a way, I guess they were. My lover and I cleaned up as well.