In the darkest part of night with the Venetian blinds closed and the door shut tight the bedroom's interior was as dark as the bottom of a covered well. In the even darker delta between Harmony's legs, my dusky tongue, lapped at her equally dusky clit. From between the lips of her womb a delicious wetness tasting of limes, lemons and oranges with a dash of mouth wash, a hint of something like cough syrup, coated my lips, cheeks, nose and forehead with a slick patina.
My tongue undulated like a slithering snake, its tip spelling H-A-R-M-O-N-Y in great florid sweeps on the stalk of her clit.
In the realm of darkness I discovered how blindness shores up the other senses, makes them more sensitive, eager to take up the slack. My sense of taste, touch, hearing roared, delighted me with their heightened impulses.
Harmony moaned. Flat on the bed's black silk sheets, her buxom dancer's body covered by the room's inky murkiness, my fingers and hands roved about her carriage, a toned and curvaceous edifice worthy of a porno queen. While delving into her gash, my mouth and tongue laboring to please her as my cock always did, the palms of my hands glided over the soft, buttery texture of her long, shapely legs as they angled upward and outward off the bed; my fingers stroked the smooth roundness of her heels, held on to them as my tongue probed at her clit. My hands, soft as her heels from constantly washing shot glasses and beer mugs under the tap behind the bar at work, meandered over her breasts, tapped at the firm balloons on her chest, squeezed them together, letting one massive tit bump the other. Between my thumb and index finger, I kneaded her nipples. They stood erect their texture feeling like canisters of spent chewing gum. Her black hair absorbed the room's darkness, pooled on the pillows. My fingers sallied forth to the plain of her flat tummy, my fingertips softly scratching, gently stroking her before dipping my left index finger into the indentation of her belly button. My fingers cradled the soft flesh under her knees before gripping the silken skin stretching over her ankles. While my tongue brushed about inside her sopping wet vault, my fingers then explored her toes, nudged between them. Touching them, feeling the indentations between and the cool hardness of her toe nails jabbed my mind with a memory of her using those toes and the velvety soles of her feet to make me come.
As I licked her center, I realized all those Tootsie Pops licked as a kid had made me into a talented cunnilingal artiste. How many licks to get to the Tootsie Roll center was the advertising slogan and I wondered how many licks to make Harmony come.
Her fingers squeezed the engorged nipples of her huge, firm breasts, the breasts of a 25-year-old not a 55-year-old. She caressed her thighs, stroked the hair on the top of my head as my mouth stimulated her vulva and clitoris. Her muscular thighs, smooth as grape skin, soft as goose down, snapped at my head, confined me closer to her center. As I sucked on her clit, she often grabbed the back of my head, purchased her hands on my ears, and pulled me violently toward her furrow. I reckoned she wanted to force my entire head into the soaking wet trench between her legs. On these occasions, I found it difficult to breathe but I continued to eat her.
She would have said something like "Fuck me, lover" or "Give me that good head" but her mouth was full of Eric's cock. She sucked his cock as ardently as I sucked her clit. Tall and skinny Eric, the third body in the room cloaked by the room's darkness, stood over Harmony, his hands pressed against the wall; his knees bent slightly, his tall and skinny cock buried to its hilt in her mouth.
From my vantage point I could not see Harmony sucking cock but from the positioning of their bodies, the sound of Harmony's wet suctioning, Eric bumping the wall, I knew he was deep inside Harmony's mouth. No one sucked a better cock then Harmony Hill. This was Eric's latest sojourn into Harmony's mouth and from his moans and groans; he loved her cock sucking capabilities as much as I did.
I had lost count of the number of times Harmony and I fucked as a couple, a pair, a man and a woman coupling in this bed and all about this apartment. This was my first experience fucking ménage a trios, as Josh Lembert, a friend of mine always said, with Harmony and a third party.
Several hours earlier I had knocked on the jamb to the left of Harmony's door.
"Come in Dwight," Harmony said.
As I opened the door, I smelled the fresh paint applied to cover the deep scratches made by a sharp implement. A few days earlier, someone, probably the ex-husband, maybe a spurned lover no longer within the prescribed age parameters established by Harmony, had scratched YOU FUCKING CUNT BITCH across the door's surface. The depth of the lettering, the especially deep etching of the words cunt and bitch showed a quality and quantity of anger fearful to behold. I entered the apartment, shut the door behind me, and tried not to think of the person toting a knife, scissors, a switchblade and filled with such rage. On the sofa a tall and lanky young man, thin almost to the point of emaciation, sat on the right end of the living room sofa with Harmony sprawled to his right. A movie with Meg Ryan played on the television. Illumination from the television screen, the only light in the room, flickered like candle light on the living room walls, formed shadows on the naked body of the man and Harmony's busy efforts. His head rested on the back of the sofa, his eyes focused toward the lazily spinning ceiling fan, not interested in the least about the plot or characters in the movie. Harmony, on her right side, legs curled up toward her chest, her knees nearly touching the mounds of her breasts, sucked his thick cock, in the manner of hungry baby supping at a milk engorged tit. Her relaxed pose showed her lack of concern about the comment etched in the door, her disdain for whoever welded the tool.
Skin tight black pants, toreador or maybe they were called Capri pants, adhered to her legs, stopped well above her ankles, encased her flaring hips and flowed like skin or something sprayed on over the globes of her bottom. A white blouse, no a tee shirt, cut in wide v to show lots of cleavage stuck to her tits and seemed glued to her abdomen. Black high heels, sandals with four inch heels held on to her feet with the slenderest of straps called attention to her pretty feet and showed off her painted toenails. A black wig covered her blond hair and for a moment I wondered if another woman now used Harmony's apartment as a fuck pad. No it was Harmony. I recognized her voice, knew the woman sucking cock on the sofa was Harmony but the black wig or the dye job made her look different enough I could pretend she was Harmony's sister, a sibling who fornicated just as feverishly.
Harmony knew how gorgeous her body was; she was vain and had much to be vain about. Every time she saw her reflection she checked her self out. When I saw her leaving or returning from work she wore sensible flat shoes, creased and comfortable looking slacks, lose blouses and blue smocks. Alone, the two of us eventually fucking somewhere in the apartment, her garments were invariably sexy, designed to arouse, to engorge my member, to make me want to plunge my cock into one or all of her orifices.
I had seen her in a wide assortment of fuck me pumps ranging from Lucite heeled slides to mules with the tallest heels and a froth of pink plumage. At other times she wore thigh high hose, garter belts, crotchless panties, and balconette bras with cut outs for the nipples. She favored pink, black or blue nighties barely covering her ass. Another garment, black in color, made of latex with a hidden zipper in back, shiny as wet seal skin, covered her body from neck to ankles. Strategically placed holes exposed her nipples. Another stoma, not made by a surgeon but a seamstress, created an aperture for her pussy and a similar hole cleared the way for me to poke my cock into her ass. While she was bound in by this garment, I enjoyed the smell of the rubber, the way the material rubbed against my skin, the squeaky sound it made as we fucked.
