I've peeled down in hundreds of bedrooms. In mixed company, too. But there was something uncanny the way those two stared at me. Svelte and soigne in their evening dress, sipping champagne as I rolled down my Jockeys. Naked, I scratched my bush, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Bend over,” Jonathon ordered. He pulled open my ass cheeks.
“What do you think, dear? Too hairy?”
“I think it's charming,” Margo responded.
I felt cool lips at my asshole. His or her lips? Impossible to tell. They both seemed to be hunched over to inspect my rear end. I'd have given a lot to know who had kissed it. I couldn't just come out and ask, could I? Strange how-when applied to your butt-masculine lips can't be distinguished from feminine. If you happen to know a rimming couple, try it. You'll be amazed at the similarity. No fair peeking, naturally. And if he has a mustache, the test is useless. If she has a mustache, I suggest you seek new friends.
In any case, it was an easy way to earn a hundred.
“You'll have to forgive us,” my host murmured, urbanely. “We're ass-prone.”
“I like to get my tits lost in a musty male asshole,” Margo confided.
“And I like to ream it,” Jonathon added.
Upon Jon's suggestion, we retired to the bedroom. Yawning, Margo kicked off her shoes. “One of you help me unzip, please.”
I helped her. The zipper extended from between her shoulder blades to her waist. I worked it so that by the time the dress fell I had a double handful of titty. Margo didn't believe in wearing anything under an evening dress. I didn't believe in it either. Her boobs were spongy, very soft. I squeezed them to suck them together. Whatever they had in mind for me, I'd get to chew on a sweet pair of knockers.
Margo moaned more than my tentative efforts warranted. Not only was she getting her tits licked, hubby was doing a fair job on her cunt hole. Margo's eyes rolled with that abandon you see only on girls who have tongues-plural, tongues-working on them. Jonathon abruptly stopped chewing. He tapped me on the shoulder.
“Muff-diving is a mug's game, don't you think so? I mean, the taste's great. But it seems so one-sided. Do me a favor, Doug, spear her for a minute.”
I slid my schlang into the moist slot, taking care not to go too far. I knew that to come now would be to short change my employers. I got my labe good and frothy, pulling out stoically.
“Excellent!” Jon squatted on his haunches. He took my hard-on in his mouth, delicately licking his wife's love juice. He wasn't really sucking, just cleaning off the pungent moisture. Rubbing his prong as he performed.
He sprang to his feet. “Delicious! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get this fuck out of my system or I'll be useless all evening. Margo dear, shall we send the boy out of the room while I screw you?” Margo murmured something that sounded like, “Stop the acting and start the action!”
Jon smiled ingratiatingly. “Stick around, I may be able to use you.”
He mounted her dog fashion. His long thin prong vanished into the honeypot. I looked around for a way to make myself useful. Maybe having her tits nibbled would calm Margo down. She was screaming pretty loud now. But I couldn't move to perform this act of mercy. Jon was pulling my balls to the rhythm of his lunges. The Baltimore tycoon was a jabber. He'd jab his prick into her pussy, pull out, jab harder. No wonder she was screaming. No wonder my testicles had that roller coaster feeling.
Maybe he'd blow me while he was fucking. Or maybe she would. I tried to move away, to get my cock in the vicinity of a mouth. But Jon's grip was tighter than before; all I got for my pains was a near rupture. Then he loosened his hold without warning. His ass twitched and I knew he was coming.
Jon stuck three fingers into his wife's box. They came out nice and slimy. “Lick it,” he offered. Well, if he didn't have a gourmet palate, I did. Willingly, I licked the slime off his fingers.
“Excellent! You swallowed my gism. That makes us brothers.”
I hadn't thought of it that way. But I guess some of that slime was Jon's gism. Okay, brother!
“Since you've already swallowed my cream, you won't object to kissing my ramrod,” Jon suggested, cunningly.
Before I could dispute the gentleman's logic, Margo whined, “I want him to ball me.”
“You heard what the lady said. Sorry, Mr. Rawlings, I wasn't brought up right. I can't suck a dong while I'm screwing. Want to go out of the room while I ball her?”
“We'll all go out,” Jon decided.
Gallantly escorting Margo, each pulling one tit, we returned to the living room where champagne awaited us.
It was just like the fucking opera. Champagne during the intermission.
VIII
“You're sure you don't mind if I screw your wife, sir?”
Jonathon patted my arm. “That's damned considerate of you, brother. But let me show you something.” He spread Margo's legs, fondly ruffling her twat hair. “Did you ever see a prettier pussy? How can I deny such a pussy its pleasures? She needs big dick in there. Go ahead, Son, ram her.”
Even though he practically guided it in for me, I felt funny. “He's shy,” Jon said, half aloud. “Anything I can do to help? Want to see her going down on me while you ride her? Want me to rim you?”
“Yeah, rim me.” A guy who'll kiss another guy's ass deserved seeing his wife getting fucked. I stayed motionless in the saddle to give him time to crouch into position. I felt the stab of a taut finger in my bung, then the cooling lick of a hot tongue. As his tongue connected, my whang connected. I shot forward up to the womb and started a barrage of thrusts to let Margo know I was in her.
“Kiss my ass, you bastard. Eat it!” The tongue wavered, made a farewell lick, withdrew. Maybe I'd been too sharp. But a rimmer likes to be directed. “G'wan,” I pleaded, “rim it!”
Gee, he musta thought I said, “Ream it.” I felt hairy thighs pressed hard on me, strong hands tearing me open. Then, the sledgehammer. Jon drove it into my wet asshole without mercy. I shoulda known it. A nice clean rimming often degenerates into a reaming.
Relax! He was in me. I was getting it up the ass. In a lady's presence. The lady wasn't commenting, if the lady had noticed. The lady was fully occupied. Over nine inches of occupation. I relaxed my back muscles, concentrating on my big muscle. Taking a cock up the ass is manly-as long as you're fucking at the same time.
“Coordinate!” I yelled over my shoulder.
I poured out gism. I didn't feel myself coming, just felt the strength draining out of me. And felt Jon's jets of spunk burning my insides.
Pushing me aside, Jonathon kissed his wife tenderly. She returned his embraces with after-fuck devotion. As if they'd just fucked each other-without 172 pounds of bellhop between them.
“You were wonderful, darling,” Margo whispered.
“Thank you,” Jon and I responded, in unison.
“I feel so fulfilled. Two solid loads in me,” Margo purred contentedly.
Fulfilled, horseshit! I can take a hint when a broad gives it so broadly. She wanted those loads dry-cleaned before they evaporated. I bowed down to eat her box.
“Let's make it mutual,” I suggested. Too late! Margo already had a labe in her mouth. “Then you suck it,” I told the tycoon. “Muff diving's a mug's game. I can't eat unless I'm eaten. Down on it!”
“Suck it, you son of a bitch. I'm coming!” The words were muffled by cunt walls. Yet the last phrase, curiously, was echoed. “I'm coming!” Jonathon moaned. Sure, he could talk-his mouth was empty. He gave his load to Margo, then belatedly groped for my prong.
I raised my head from the honeypot. “No hand jobs!” But his fingers closed tightly on my hard-on and he pulled me off. Gobs of cream landed on the sheet. “Sorry about that, son,” Jon said, unconvincingly. On his hands and knees, greedily he lapped up the spilled gism. Margo was more practical. She knew every cock keeps a drop or two of residue. She went after it, chewing my soft dick till there was nothing left in it.