My boss invited me over to a party at his beach house. He said it would be just a few friends. I was a little late getting there. I had trouble finding the place. It was way out at the end of the peninsula, near the Cape.
The house was really something. It was set up high on stilts, surrounded by balconies and decks. The windows were huge, offering views of the Atlantic on one side, the river on the other.
It did not seem to be much of a party. There were just four or five cars parked on the shell drive.
I go up the stairs, knock. My boss, who's a debonair fellow in his early fifties, welcomes me. He fixes me a bourbon at the bar, tells me to go into the den and make myself at home.
So I go into the den. It's quiet. There's no music or anything. It's a big, open, modernistic looking room. There are three guys sitting there on the chrome and leather furniture, all in their twenties and thirties, all good-looking.
I've been told now and then that I'm a good-looking guy, but I was really intimidated by them. They looked like they could have been male models.
I say, "Hi." They give a half-hearted, distracted, "Hello" in return, all in unison, hardly paying attention to me. They're all staring at something over my shoulder. One of them, a redheaded fellow, is leaning over to one side, peering around me. It seems that I'm blocking his view.
I turn around to look and nearly drop my bourbon. There's another incredibly good-looking guy, a blonde Scandinavian type, sitting on the couch. His head is thrown back, his legs are spread. In between his thighs the boss's wife is down on her knees. She's unzipped his slacks and is sucking his big Nordic cock.
I'd always thought the boss's wife was a really classy woman, and even while giving this guy head she had something elegant about her. She wore a simple little black cocktail dress that showed off her legs in black silk. Her hair was tastefully piled on the back of her head. A strand had come loose, but this only added to its appeal. Her mouth, wrapped around the thick veiny cockshaft, was shiny with a clear gloss that brought out the natural color of her lips. She traced the pulsing veins with a clear-varnished nail. She was wearing a dry spicy perfume that mingled with the smell of cock and the cocktails.
Realizing I had entered, she raised her head, revealing the cock to be even bigger than a thought it was. Still running her fingers along the shaft in an absent-minded way, she smiled at me—she had the sweetest smile—and said, "Hi, Max. I'm so glad you could come. Please have a seat and make yourself at home. I'll be with you just as soon as I can."
She then returned her attention to the business at hand. She ran her little pink tongue up the shaft a couple of times, causing the blond guy's cock to quiver. All at once, with a sudden motion, she deep throated him. It was surprising that little mouth and narrow throat could take down that monster. You could actually see her neck swell as she swallowed him, the way a snake swells when it eats something that seems too large for it.
"God," said the blond fellow, closing his eyes and obviously trying with all his might not to blow his load. "She gives the best head I've ever had in my fuck'n life."
He was begging her to stop so that he wouldn't come yet, but she had no mercy. Her tongue showed in her cheek as she swirled it around the swollen head. His body tensed, tensed again, and yet again, until I thought his muscles would tear through his evening clothes. He went limp. All the while the boss's wife mewled "Mmm," the way she might have after sampling a canapé.
She could not swallow quite fast enough. The last shot of semen oozed out over her pink bottom lip. She held up her hand quickly beneath her chin, to catch it before it fell, but it was not necessary. It clung there, suspended just long enough for her to lick it back into her mouth with a couple of flicks of her tongue. She gave a little laugh and covered her mouth with her fingers, as if she were pretending to be ashamed of her "table manners."
She cleared her throat and asked, "Who was next?"
We all looked to each other. The guy sitting next to me pointed to the guy on the hearth. "I believe you were here when I got here."
"Yes," he said. He was an olive-skinned, dark-haired stud.
The boss's wife tucked the blond fellow's now limp cock back in his pants for him, carefully zipped up his fly, and gave him a gentle pat on the crotch. She stood, walked a few paces in front of us with all the poise of a model.
"You?" she asked the fellow on the hearth.
The dark haired fellow nodded. He was good looking, but the boss' wife was beautiful and it was clear that he felt he was out of his league.
"What would you like?" she asked.
The fellow on the hearth didn't know what to say.
"I could suck you off, or you can fuck me. Would you like to fuck me?" she asked, as though she were asking if he'd like another drink.
"Y-yes."
"Missionary? From behind?"
"From behind."
"Would you like to fuck me in my pussy or my ass?"
He looked down, blushing. "Your ass."
"One moment," she set off down the hall, her lowish heels clacking. In a moment she was back with a silver jar of lubricant. She slipped off her shoes, stood barefoot on the bearskin rug. She hiked up her skirt, showing us her perfect thighs, pulled down her panty hose. She placed them on the arm of the sofa. Her legs were so smooth and perfect that I wondered why she'd even bothered with hose. It seemed a shame, covering up skin like that, even if she was covering it with silk.
"Could you stand for me, please?" she asked.
The fellow on the hearth stood. He was not very tall, not quite as tall as she was, but he was well built. She stepped behind him, helped him take off his coat. She undid his tie for him. She unbuttoned his shirt in a brisk, unrushed, almost businesslike way. As she undressed him she placed each article of clothing neatly on the arm of the sofa, alongside her hose. When she got him down to his boxers, we could all see he had a raging hard on. She looked up at his face and smiled as though he'd paid her a compliment. In the same almost nurselike way she tugged down his boxers. His thick dark cock stood straight up.
"Step out of your boxers for me, please. That's right. Thank you." She folded the boxers and placed them on his pants.
He stood before us nude. He was not nearly big as the Scandinavian, but his body was lean and toned.
