Bye Sweetie

6 min read

I love a good party. I love to look in my closet filled with beautiful outfits of black and red and cream, so pretty and pressed, runway ready. Funny how I never have a thing to wear.

But my bits will be open to the public the moment I knock on the party door. Setting my own pace, my pieces will be revealed once inside. Honestly, do I really need a new outfit? No, but I'll shop for some cute little stringy thingie panties that serve no purpose but to reinforce the power of my appeal.

I keep my husband in the dark about where I go, so I just call it a girl's night out. I kiss him in the most perfunctory way, promise to say hello to my fictional friends for him, turn and stroll into the night to my cab.

I leave him behind, that's how this works. It's all part of the game, and his inclusion would just be rain on my parade, a downpour. Bye Sweetie.

I am anxious to knock on the door of my destination. Steven asks for the password before allowing me in. Tonight I whisper "Charlemagne." He opens the door, helps me off with my coat, places one hand roughly around my neck and jerks me to him.

He instructs me to put my foot up on the sturdy antique calling card table by the door. I place my well-heeled foot where he indicates. Steven and I have been through this routine many times, but I will never rush the process. I follow his commands obediently because I know what comes next, and it's delicious.

His left hand remains closed around my throat as his right dips beneath the hem of my skirt and ticklishly meanders up my inner thigh. For effect he stops short of my new stringy thingie panties and brings his face close to mine. In one motion he twists my face away, roughly kisses the nape of my neck, and the hand that had been idling by now speedily finds my clit.

Two fingers and and slight pressure is all I need to feel contractions in my cunt. Steven exhales from deep within his lungs and deep into my skin as he doubles-down on the stroking. My pussy explodes, he’s a magic man.

"New undergarments?" he asks. I nod my head. "They’re not new any more Missus, you are dripping. Do you feel ready?" In answer I place one hand on top of his and press. "Ummm, very nice Missus." With the other I search for his cock. "Now, now, Missus, remember the rules. There is no doubt you’re ready. Have an enjoyable evening."

He places both hands on my waist as I bring my foot down to the floor. Feeling somewhat unsteady we stand together for a moment. Once I have my sea legs, I walk towards the dark burgundy curtain that delineates the place where sour ends and sweet begins. I am famished.

There was a time when the walk down this hallway frightened me. I would question my decision, my desire, my life. Was this really where I should be? Oh yes, absolutely.

It’s safe for me here, no commitments or attachments that put me in emotional or marital danger. I only had to learn my lesson once. Keep your pleasures faceless and nameless and no one gets hurt.

Nights such as this are made for the company of strangers, where laughter is not forced and lust is real. Once I pass through the drapes the world becomes six stories of many rooms, some still to be explored but all in due time. That is all I need and nothing, no one, will interfere. This is my reality and I will defend it fiercely. Always a bit trepidatious I glance back at Steven. The doorman’s eyes laugh and shoo me through.

The main room, the great hall, is lit with flickering flames that reveal the party guests, my nameless friends who I know so well. Buxom Blonde hurries over to embrace and welcome me with a kiss. Her lips are luxurious, and I cuddle in her arms. We do not exchange pleasantries or fall into small talk, as we are nothing more than acquaintances of intimacy. I don't care about her, I only love her madly.

She unbuttons my cream colored plain Jane blouse as I unzip my camel colored skirt with the kick pleat. Nice and simple attire that I chose so as to not arouse suspicion at home; nothing is ever aroused at home.

Buxom unbuttons the cuffs of the blouse and inches the satin down my arms and off my back. My skirt drops to the carpet, and I step out of the wool pool. She motions for Emily, who is standing in wait like a good little soldier, to take my things. "Hang these up and bring back a soft black robe for my darling. And a glass of wine. Go." As silent as a still breeze Emily leaves us.

Buxom, my pillow of heaven, steps back slightly and looks me up and down. "Beauty, " she says, "absolute beauty." She admires my black heels and jokingly chides me about wearing black accessories with an outfit in the brown family. "New undergarments?" she inquires. In answer I nod my head. "Beautiful, absolutely beautiful."

All is beautiful here. The wine is rich, the canapes so savory, no dissonance in the background music or conversation. There is only harmony here.

Emily returns with the sashless robe and clothes me. Buxom adjusts and smoothes the wide collar while kissing me deeply. My nipples harden and I feel my clit swell as my labia begin to part. "Please touch yourself," she respectfully requests, and I do.

Over silk my fingers wander, and more contractions fill my cunt. Her kiss becomes more ardent, and through the robe she kneads my ass. "Do you want to cum?" Yes. "Not yet, my darling. You must wait."

She leads me to a divan and lays me down. My robe spreads open and I place my head on a pillow. She kneels next to me, and places a hand on my belly. Mimicking my robe, my legs spread and expose the damp crotch of my panties. "Now play for me."

She puts a hand on my breast, her touch amplified through the fabric of the sheer bra. It feels so good that way. In unison our fingers trace the same circles. She on my nipple and I down below. "Show me your pink," she commands as she pulls aside the wet material that hides my value. "Beauty, absolute beauty. Goodness, such hot, hot pink. My darling, your pussy is so pretty. Slip a finger in."

My free hand does as I am told. First one finger and then two. I stroke slowly and deeply. My eyes close. I moan as my dear friend spreads me wider and begins to lick my slit. Her tongue is smooth, not rough like a cat's. Her tongue is firm, firm enough to enter my asshole.

The rubbing and stroking and licking accelerate. Harder, harder, faster and deeper. "Do you want to cum?" Yes, yes, yes. "Then cum."

My hands and her tongue blur as the feeling in my cunt envelopes my entire body. Her chuckling moans urge me on. She pushes aside my clit hand which is then quickly filled with cock. I don’t stroke it, I milk it in rhythm with my soul, never opening my eyes.

A stranger's lips are on my tit, nibbling and sucking once it’s let loose from the filmy fabric covering. Its twin is not left lonely as another participant pinches it roughly, pulling the nipple into the air. The smell of this tableau is piquant, tart, yes but not sour. There is no sour here. "Cum, cum, cum," they chant. And I do. I cease to think, to occupy space. I am solely sensory. If my breathing and pulse were any quicker I surely would die.

I unleash what was held back and gush; my dear Buxom Blonde does not let my release go to waste. My pink is now crimson. "FUCK!" I scream, "FUCK!" My dear Buxom disappears, and her tongue is replaced with Chiseled Man's member. I can always tell him apart from the others. He pounds me hard, and my climax continues. Again I gush and the divan soaks in my essence. Everything is beautiful here.

The cock I’ve been milking explodes and releases in my mouth, it tastes like salty candy, it’s so divine. Repeatedly, the lovely cock in my snatch withdraws from my existence and plunges back in, hard as a velvet steel rod. Once again I let loose a waterfall that is savored by who I do not know. I hear my Buxom Blonde plateau with shrieks as she’s ridden like a dog. Her sounds are reverberating musical twitchings. The cock in my pussy withdraws and sprays me with droplets of bluish creamy white — male mother’s milk. This man’s pleasure is mine.

To make someone else happy makes me happy, and I am ecstatic with tears. The Chiseled Man scatters kisses on my thighs as he brings me back down slowly. He lies next to me, and I melt into his arms as he holds me. I am spent, but my delight remains.

This is what keeps me alive, keeps me willing to live day in and day out in a mundane grey shadowland.

I am thirsty. I drink. I am hungry. I eat. I am needy so I fuck.

In a while, Buxom will find her way back to me and we will pleasure each other for the last time tonight as we watch the floor show starring Steven and Emily. A wonderful, mellow way to end a fabulous evening.

I will be back. I will regenerate. This is my life.

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