Damien went for drinks. You had danced close and kissed the Detroit tourist earlier in the evening while I observed closely. You had not responded to any of his blatant requests.
Damien had already asked about "your gentleman friend" as he termed me.
"Will he mind me paying you so much attention?"
"It's ok," you said. "Bill loves to watch."
"Then come with me to the toilets and I will lick you until you cum!"
Indeed! A bit of finesse please! You flicked his arse with your riding crop.
An inner city S/M club with no sex on premises does limit one's options, so handsome young Damien with his lovely tight arse in leather shorts and his full kissable lips had been easily forgiven his energy and enthusiasm.
A handsome Asian boy approached you with a knowing look. In Damien's brief absence Lee, had wrapped himself around your back with his obviously large cock hard against your arse.
Damien watched holding the drinks while Lee got even closer, lifting your arse slightly off the dance floor with the force of his erection.
You arched into him, your eyelids hanging heavy with lust. You were grinding you body against Lee to an insistent techno beat.
Damien had seen enough, pushing past me to kiss you full on the lips. Two big, hard, heavy cocks now ground hard into you on the dance floor.
I knew the brash young man with the American accent thought he was a Dom.
I let it go.
Toward the end of the night Damien repeated,
"My place, invite anyone you want."
Lust is a demanding creature as we know and at that moment with two huge cocks vying for your attention, bodily wants defied your mind. From your gorgeous, tight little cunt came a pulse that bucked your hips with such violence both boys were briefly tossed aside. They literally had to hang on. The heat from your pussy crept along your spine.
"OK let's go!" escaped from your lips.
It was a rapid exit from the club. Damien grabbed your hand, you grabbed mine and waved for Lee to follow. We gathered our gear, the boys quickly peeling off tight black leather outfits and dragging on jeans, socks, shoes... then they were gone... not a word.
We slowed our pace shrugging our shoulders.
"Have I been dumped?" you wondered aloud.
Hand in hand we navigated the narrow corridors and then dark laneway that leads to the Oxford Street exit.
"Let's just go home and fuck," you added, annoyed and maybe relieved.
We turned in unison as the beautiful sand coloured Mustang sports swung into the curb directly in front of us.
No hesitation, we jumped in and roared off into the very early morning.
Oxford Sreet disappeared and seconds later we erupted from the Cahill tunnels onto the Bridge. The air was cool and dried our sweaty bodies as your long blond hair whipped our faces.
It was exhilarating.
Lee and I crammed illegally in the back, you up front with Damien driving. I noted only one hand on the wheel. His other hand disappeared under your short leather skirt. We laughed and whooped our way over the Harbour Bridge and into the back streets of North Sydney.
Damien's apartment was all he promised. Sparse, huge with gorgeous one eighty degree views of city lights twinkling across Sydney Harbour.
The view was even better as he proudly showed us, from the bedroom.
1920's American Deep South Blues Music gently trickled from the stereo. We asked for tea when a drink was offered. Lee and Damien had whisky and ice.
