"Do it, baby, do it to me now."
"Okay, don't sweat; you know that you'll get yours."
At that point Veronica decided to change the scene a bit. Just when just about everyone in the room was at the point of coming, Veronica had John speak up. "Wait a minute, let's all go into the bedroom and do some rearranging – no sense putting an end to such a good thing so soon, know what I mean?"
It sounded good to everyone, even though it meant the almost painful discipline of holding back their collective wads, keeping the boner boned, the hot pussy hot, the erect nipples unsatisfied, but that was okay, just as long as they knew the best part was soon coming.
John led the way, his big erect penis proudly stuck out in front like the great forefront of a ship, cutting its way through a stormy sea. He arranged the pillows on the bed so that the king bed would be able to contain all of their forms – John himself, Monty, Lu, Bernice and Veronica (not a bad boy girl ratio, two to three) all moved inward. They were a sight, the women sweated, lubricated as they were with their own fluids, the men, penises erect, balls heavy and distended, all possessing that gaunt and hungry look which demands release only in orgasm.
Positioned on the bed, Veronica had herself lay out like some great sexual display. "Come on folks," she imagined saying, "how about all of you doing a number on me first. You know, look," she added, beginning to get into the swing of giving direct orders, "Lu over here, now suck me on the nipples, yes… oh, that's it, now concentrate on the left one. Bernice, you take the right." Bernice approached, slowly at first, reluctant to take orders from a mere sexual peer, but eventually going with the tide. Soon, Veronica pictured herself lathed in the kisses of two broads (who occasionally pushed their massive bosoms against her) until she could hardly stand it – pressed, caressed, kissed and sucked, her tits almost as red as the flush in her face. "Okay," she was barely able to moan out, "now I want you two to really go to town on me, you know what I mean." She paused, then looked Bill over, from head to foot. He really was a stud of a man, especially the way he stood there with his hairy bobo as erect as could be. He didn't seem to mind her stare at all as she glued her eyes to his pecker. It was fatter than she'd remembered it, and longer, and thicker at the base, and redder at the tip. It seemed to be the center of his being, just as Bernice's jugs were the center of hers, or Lu's great loins were her center of gravity. No, this man was a pecker person, a great hulk of a sexy bastard waiting to fuck his big, lush broad.
"Come on," she added, "come over here and do a number on my cunt. Come on boys, don't be afraid," but adding cryptically, "don't be greedy." John liked that, so he was the first to make a move.
He slowly positioned himself over Veronica's body, looking down at the feast which was being enacted above the waist, then observing the tempting sight below: her pussy, all hot and swollen, her legs moving apart, then together, apart again, like some sinuous fan awaiting to be plugged in. Her caloric measure had risen by quantums. And so had his. But it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was for the couple to move and grind, jerk and push, until their bodies would be locked in love, and their orgasms would spurt, and melt, then churn slowly down, leaving the individuals in a basking, glowing ecstasy.
This is the way it would happen, and this is the way it happened – for Veronica was the author, the conductor, the composer, the creator of it all.
Veronica paused to get her breath. She stopped and looked around for a second, and could hardly believe that she was alone. Where was John, and Bernice? Where was that dynamite blonde, Lu? And what about good old Monty? No, it was all fantasy, and for a second Veronica felt very much apart from anything, almost lonely, until she picked up her dildo once again, and any thought of negativism evaporated under the onslaught of her own torrid sensuality. Just for the sake of experiment Veronica decided to try the auto-fuck without image, without the elaborate fantasy. She felt the pure sensation of the hard, white, porcelain-like structure quickly, almost rudely invade her womanhood, and how that inorganic phallus warmed her up, almost better than a real, throbbing cock. The electric vibrations pushed against her tissues, massaging, then caress mg, then doing more than that; it was almost obscene to think of the powers of a mere machine. How could an object control her so? How could a mere vanilla dick drive her almost crazy? She pushed it farther inside, the cruel phallus, the monument to feminine isolation, transforming into a symbol of her self-sufficiency. She could feel the sensations envelope her. It tickled her cunt, then traveled up her spine and into her head; it churned against her inside like a fire stick, making her swell and expand and take in even more of the stick, making her want it until she couldn't stand it; it made her almost sick with constant, growing desire; from the erection in her nipple; to the ache in her womanhood.
Oh, she said to herself, this is it. This is the ultimate, the final goal of my life-long search for satisfaction. There were people, many people, but at the same time she could turn them off as quickly and as surely as a television set, and just take in pure sensation. But when she tired of that, she could go back to the convolutions of plot and orgy, of relationship, character and tangible form, to fuck and suck with the living fantasies of some real people.
She knew she would be going back soon, for Bernice, Lu and John and Monty were waiting for her, and could only continue, could only exist with her in the driver seat of imagination.
She eased into her orgy, the scenario in the bedroom, and was gratified to find she could carry on right where she left off. She was lathed by Lu and Bernice, and being approached by John, who quickly pushed his face into her upreached cunt. He liked her like that, all perched up, her back arched, her legs spread, and all of her senses primed for the real thing. John moved forward and put his hands under Veronica's buns. That way he was able to move her pussy even higher in space, until it reached even higher into the air than her melonous breasts. Her spheres were almost dwarfed by the arched back which pushed her pussy as high as possible. Having his hands behind the buns, perching her in the proper way, positioned in the perfect manner, John pushed his face into her pussy and felt the fantastic heat as it invaded his proboscis, bathing him in olfactory saturation. "Oooh," he moaned out – a man about to taste the most fragrant, delicious, poignant dinner of his career: pure pussy juice.
"Eat me," she ordered – and liked giving the directive.
"Baby, glad to oblige," he said, and felt happy to be so smooth, almost like his favorite matinee idol.
He lowered his head, buried it deeply within the woman, and began to lick, to suck and to take in her most intimate womanhood. "Mmmm," he said, basking in the flavors. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly; what was it, salt, sour, sweet, semisweet, tangy, acidic, vitriolic, mellow, bland, enticing, spicy, or what? Just as it was hard to define, it tasted as fantastic, the greatest treat he remembered in one hell of a long time. He spread her legs and looked down at her cut and cherry. He was fascinated to see the way her slit formed a finely symmetrical form, all oval and opened, containing the fine seed of her womanhood, and in the deepest area of the channel, a dark chasm which seemed to lead to nowhere.
"Eat it baby," she said.
"It's good, real good," he answered, still sounding suave.
"Oh, do it to me."
He continued his incessant licking, watching her grit her teeth as if in pain, but aware that he was taking this little lady for the sex ride of her life.