Claire decided to take that particular time to expand the act. She rose to her feet and glided over to where he sat. She thrust both her tits in his face.
"Lovely," was all he said before she brought a beautiful, pink-tipped tit to his open mouth and shoved it in with so much force that he almost choked on it.
He was slurping and sucking like a madman; she cupped her other tit and played it all around his face. His breathing now resembled the snorting of a horse. His tonguing grew frantic and his face was a sweating, reddened mass, almost obscured from view by the milky-white quivering boob.
Then, with a deft movement, Claire aimed her nipple right into his ear. This move almost drove him crazy. His ass jumped almost a foot off the chair and Claire gave a low moan as if he had bitten into the tit that filled his mouth.
She abruptly pulled away from him with a leering smile as she flicked her fingers over his bulging prick. Then she stretched to her full height, throwing her arms above her head and tightening all her rippling muscles, and started to undulate her dewy cunt and hips in front of his gaping face.
As she continued this erotic movement, she hissed seductively, "C'mon, your highness, baby, or whatever you are, let's fuck!"
Smiling, he grabbed her around the waist and, with no wasted motions, settled her palpitating cunt on his dick. The downward motion of bet body rammed her cunt on his cock right to the very hilt. Riding him like a bucking horse, she clutched his shoulders fiercely and her soft cascading hair whipped across his face as she bore down on his jumping cock.
She fucked down as he fucked up. Wilder and wilder their gyrations became as Daphne screamed behind Claire, and tried to pull the redhead off his cock. "You lousy bitch, what are you doing? You're not supposed to fuck the guests!"
"I'm fucking this one!" Claire screamed back at her.
Finally, Daphne managed to dislodge the other woman. Claire squirmed her way to the center of the circle. Leaning back on her shoulders and with legs bent wide, she was throwing that juicy, coral-colored pussy obscenely up and down as she gyrated herself round and round in the circle.
As her movements grew more wanton, more suggestive, she called out, "Who wants to fuck? I'm ready. I'm red hot! C'mon, anyone!"
The Count was up and over her like a flash and dropping to his knees between Claire's outstretched legs. He tore his pants down and humped into her cunt in a matter of seconds. She was sweating and straining against him as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper into her moist, swollen hole and his throbbing prick disappeared as his balls slapped against her rump like waves lapping against the rocks.
Claire was like a wild woman, her body demanding more and more, fingers ripping into the flesh of his shoulders, then carving down to the tender skin at the sides of his waist and digging in with her tiger-like claws. Her teeth fastened onto his shoulder blade and, not to be outdone, he tore his mouth from hers and clamped his teeth firmly into the nape of her neck. Their bodies slapped together and you could hear the suction sounds as their passions increased their pulsating bodies to greater heights.
Tearing at his sides, her nails dripping blood, she moaned, "Harder, you bastard! Stick it in me! Deeper, deeper! Oh! Oh, baby, that's it! That's it! Now, faster, faster! Oh, it's so good, so gooood! I'm ready… ready… NOW!"
He, too, was on the brink of ecstasy, his breathing hoarse, gasping, his hands tearing into her back, his mouth sucking in her tender skin with every heave of his body. His moans were almost eerie as he strove for his release and with an outburst of, "Yes!" he came. And Claire followed as their spasming torsos jerked and then slowly fell motionless to the floor, their labored breaths resounding in the silence of the room.
Without a word to the girls, the Count rose, bowed, stuffed his cock back in his pants, and left.
"You cock-hungry cunt," Daphne sobbed as they made their way back to the dressing room.
"Oh, shut up," Claire said. "What's this?"
She slit the envelope with her fingernail and read.
"Well? What is it?" Daphne asked.
"It's an invitation from that Count guy… to spend a weekend with him and his wife on Long Island."
"You're not going, are you?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Well, what about me?" Daphne said. "Look," Claire said, pointing towards the blonde's dressing table.
Daphne swiveled her head around. There, propped against the mirror, was an identical envelope with her name scrawled across the front of it.
CHAPTER FIVE
They all sat nervously, huddled within themselves and their own thoughts, in corners of the high-beamed room. The Count, obviously, had a great deal of money. The room, and what they had seen of the rest of the house, was well-appointed, with antique, valuable furniture and signed oils adorning the walls of every room.
It was a strange assembly, with all of them knowing, or guessing, what they were there for, but none of them making open advances. Now and then someone would flick a glance at another person across the room, only to have that person raise their eyes. Both sets of eyes would then be quickly averted to ceiling or floor out of a strange sense of embarrassment.
Allison Dare sat in a huge chair by the fireplace. Its back and arms were so high that it seemed to encompass and dwarf her petite blonde figure. She smoked one cigarette after another and huddled in the chair as though it were some kind of security blanket that would protect her from the staring eyes of the others in the room.
She didn't know why, but she wished she had been more careful about the clothing she had chosen to wear. The dress was skin tight, so tight that it was impossible to wear any underwear. Fully half of her huge tits bunched together and blossomed outward in clear view from the extremely low cut. As usual, her nipples were hard and their hugeness was clearly defined in the taut material.
The dress was also very tight across her front. The flat V of her belly was clearly defined when she stood, as was the thick patch of pussy hair that pushed the dress outward in a provocative mound between her protruding hip bones.
Normally, that sort of dress would be perfect. It would spell out, to everyone around her, that she was ready and willing to fuck. But, now, here in this room, with all these other beautiful people, dressed the same way, she somehow felt strange and a little afraid.
Gray Hendricks didn't miss Allison's nervousness or the way she looked. He sat in a sofa directly across from her, with his legs tightly crossed to conceal the huge hard-on that looking at her tits had caused in his pants.
Usually when Gray was around a girl that beautiful, with that kind of body for more than five minutes, he would have at least propositioned her. So far he had done little more than look at her, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why.
Neither could Mark Lester. He would have loved to stroll across the room, slide his hand into the front of the blonde's dress and whisper in her ear, "I'd love to stick my fourteen-inch cock up your cunt while my wife sits oh my face."
But he didn't. And even though Lori felt the same way about Gray Hendricks, sucking him off while Mark poured his cock up her cunt, she couldn't bring herself to start the ball rolling. It had been so long since either one of them had fucked anyone that hadn't been directed to fuck them that neither one of them could remember how to prompt normal sex with another person.
Daphne was there only because Claire had insisted on coming. She wasn't about to let her lover out of her sight with this kind of a crowd. Daphne truly loved sex, but ever since her divorce, she had been afraid to have it with anyone other than Claire. Her doctor had told her it was guilt. She didn't believe him. She called it love, love for Claire even though she hated the redhead most of the time.