NE 1 - Meeting A Neighbor's Needs Read online

  Sometimes both men would spend what seemed like hours simply caressing every inch of my flesh. Their broad palms would fondle and pump my breasts, drawing the nipples to taut attention, and then plying the tips with their teeth and tongues until I would cry out in climax. Twice, both men used themselves and my vibrator to stimulate me to orgasm, betting to see who would be first while pressing my legs wide and pushing my toy deep within my sheath. George even taunted Mike with his status as my lover by slipping his penis between my lips, having Mike manipulate my vibrator within me while I stroked and suckled his length. My climax struck just as George’s did. My hands clasped his taut flanks, pressing his length as far as I could handle while I sucked and swallowed every drop of his passion.

  At some point during the display, Mike must have donned protection, because I felt him slide inside, pumping and thrusting for all he was worth, riding the contractions of my orgasm as George stroked the muscles of my throat as they worked. Mike reached his peak soon after, pounding rhythmically at the swollen mouth of my pussy.

  Soon after this last coupling, George released me from my bonds, but sandwiched me between their bodies as we crawled beneath the rumpled satin sheets. Still semierect, Mike pulled my left thigh over his and pushed into my sheath. From behind, the flaccid length of George’s cock eased between the cheeks of my ass, resting in the warm crease, growing only semistiff as his fingers cupped my breasts and Mike’s fingers tangled in the nest of curls surrounding his cock’s resting place.

  40 Qwillia Rain

  Through the night, I remember being stroked and fondled, George spreading the soft folds of my flesh while Mike rocked his hard length into my sore pussy. Though I think I voiced some protests over my treatment, both men turned a deaf ear.

  My body was their plaything. My control over it was severed. Even the need to bathe and relieve myself was monitored by George.

  The first time I slipped away from the bed to use the toilet, George was right on my heels. I’d removed the blindfold and flipped on the light when he stopped me. After making me wait while he relieved himself and then washed the length of his rousing penis, he finally allowed me to use the facilities.

  After I’d finished and cleaned up, I had partial revenge when he straddled my body and pressed his cock past my lips. Suckling him to climax, I abruptly stood, releasing his length just as he came. He spewed semen over my breasts and belly as well as on his, but I laughed at his curses.

  His retaliation was to force me around to face the vanity mirror while he donned a condom and pushed into my sore, wet sheath. I cried out at the pain, but the stroking ministrations of his hands soon had my body even hotter for his hard, pumping length. He worked in and out of me for several minutes, drawing me to the edge of satisfaction before he withdrew and dragged me back into the bedroom.

  Having heard our moans and gasps, Mike was awake and aroused, his ham-sized fist stroking the thick length of his cock. My heart hammered against my ribs at my first sight of the man. Estimations of his size hadn’t been wrong. Barrel-chested, with a lean waist, Mike was a large black man whose shaved head and aristocratic features could have had him making millions in the modeling or acting industry. Sinewy thighs, thick, muscle-roped arms, and a taut, corded abdomen attested to his physical nature while the gleam in his copper-colored eyes held nothing but appreciation for the sight of my milky skin and generous curves.

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  George pushed me onto the bed, face first into Mike’s lap. My mouth open in a startled cry of protest, Mike took the opportunity to replace his hand with my lips, tangling his fingers in my hair, and thrusting his hips upward so I swallowed his full length. George mounted me from behind, his cock sliding in and out of my wet pussy in time to the thrusts of Mike in my mouth.

  Both men came at the same time, as if their actions had been carefully choreographed.

  Mike’s fist in my hair and George’s hand on my throat forced me to take every drop of Mike’s ejaculate, while George’s spasms and jetting completion pulsed against the walls of my sheath through the thin protective layer covering him. I wondered briefly how both men could sustain such a high level of arousal until I watched them indulge themselves in the tainted fruit and wine.

  They fed me more of the stuff before George carried me to the bathroom to bathe my body. In the hall outside I heard sounds, but didn’t realize what they meant until Mike leaned into the open door.

  “I’m heading out, man.” He directed his words to George, but his gaze focused on my body as George stroked over it with the soft towel, drying the water beading on my skin.

  “Thanks for playing.” George grinned, settling the towel over the rod and urging me toward his friend. “Say goodbye to Mike, Gina,” he suggested, his hand cupping my ass, soothing the aching flesh.

  “Bye, Mike,” I offered, my voice soft, quiet, so unlike my usual tones.

  Stepping into the room, Mike pressed right up against me, sandwiching my body between him and George. “You are one fine fuck, Gina. I’ll be jacking off to visions of your sweet pussy until George calls me to come over to play again.”

  I know my eyes must have been the size of saucers at his response. They had to have gotten even bigger when he stroked three blunt-tipped fingers between my sore labia.

  42 Qwillia Rain

  “Once old George here has broken in that ass, I’m gonna be wantin’ a ride, okay?” Mike grinned and dipped his head to sweep his tongue past my lips for a last wet, erotic kiss.

  Pulling back, his fingers tapped at the sore opening between my legs. “I’m bettin’ your ass’ll be even tighter than this twat.”

  Behind me, George reached over my shoulder to jokingly shove Mike back, “Down boy.” He laughed. “Wait until she’s loosened up before you start thinking about shoving that fat cock of yours anywhere but where I say you can.”

  Mike’s head dipped in assent. “Okay, man, okay.”

  With his arms around my waist, George and I watched Mike exit my apartment before George returned me to my bedroom. Exhausted, I climbed into bed and didn’t protest when George fastened the cuffs to the four solid posts and returned me to a shackled position, this time spread-eagle in the middle of my damp sheets. There was enough play in the restraints this time that my limbs didn’t feel unduly strained.

  Having had little sleep during the night, and in spite of the aching arousal of my body from the fruit and drink, I drifted into a light doze. I awoke I don’t know how much later, riding the crest of climax just as George eased his pulsing length past my lips. His knees were at my shoulders and his face buried in the damp curls between my thighs. He lapped and sucked at me, his hands clamped to my buttocks, lifting my lower body tighter to his mouth.

  I shattered moments before he spewed into my mouth, filling me with his taste.

  Carefully bringing me to climax before easing away and allowing me to rest, George coaxed my body into responding repeatedly throughout the night. Occasionally, he would whisper to me things he wanted me to do, positions he wanted to experiment with. I made little protest to some of the things he suggested, merely answering with a yes or a no if I found his words or the ideas arousing or not.

  Through the gauzy curtains covering the French doors, I watched the moon rise and make its way across the sky. Tucked on my bed, I saw little beyond the closed confines of my Meeting a Neighbor’s Needs

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  bedroom. Time was immaterial. Although he assured me only a few hours had passed, George pulled the heavier drapes over the French doors, adding to my disorientation.

  After a bath and a thorough cleansing at his hands, George led me back to my bed and tied me down again with the cuffs, their length of rope loosened enough that I would be able to sleep in some comfort. As I lay propped up on several pillows, he slowly fed me a generous portion of fruit and soup, along with several huge glasses of juice, its flavor similar to the drugged wine I’d consumed earlier.
/>   I fell into an exhausted sleep, but was awake long before dawn, my body on the razor edge of frustration, every nerve tingling with arousal, with no relief in sight. From my living room, I could hear voices, deep, masculine voices, and more than two. I tried to remain quiet, hoping what I was imagining hadn’t come to pass.

  Inviting Mike to our bed had been a surprise, just as his sending Gideon to me in the bookstore had been. And though it unnerved me to have allowed a stranger access to my body, George’s presence alleviated that distress. Odd as it might sound, in my mind he was my protector. He had introduced my body to a plethora of sensations, but I trusted him to keep me from harm. Though I ached as I’d never done before, the wet sheath of my vagina longed to be filled, and even the sore muscles of my ass pulsed with arousal. My breasts swelled, my nipples were taut and firm, desperate for attention, to be sucked, pinched, anything to relieve the need.

  A part of me hoped George hadn’t brought more men into my home, while another part wondered at the tasks I would have to fulfill to please George. Somehow, I knew these last few hours and the ones to come were a test. Not only of my body’s ability to give and receive pleasure, but also of the depths of my trust in George. It clicked then that in these last months together he’d slowly slipped an invisible collar of ownership on me. And it was here and now that I would have to decide if I would let it remain or slide it off.

  44 Qwillia Rain

  As I lay in the dark, listening to the men in my living room, I was undecided. Since the first night George had slipped into my bed, I’d approached our encounters as if they were individual episodes of sexual fulfillment. Scratching an itch, so to speak, I guess.

  Now, with this hurdle before me, I took stock of our relationship. From the first day he’d touched me, something in him drew me. Like iron filings to a magnet, I couldn’t escape thoughts or fantasies about him. But was my need for him enough to withstand the plans I suspected he had for me? Enough to fulfill the one fantasy he’d shared with me?

  My ruminations were interrupted when my attempts to remain silent failed. Either that or George was sensitive to my every move, because soon after I realized what I was hearing from the living room, George stepped into my bedroom and shut the door.

  “You’re awake.” He smiled, standing at the end of my bed, clad in loose pants held at the waist with a drawstring. His chest was bare, the nipples tightening as he watched my body’s involuntary squirming as it sought relief from the unrelenting arousal filling it.

  Behind the loose pants, I could see his cock swell, pushing at the fabric, proving he wore nothing beneath. “I have a little surprise for you, darling.” He slipped the fastenings at my ankles and wrists free with a gentle caress to the sore limbs.

  “George, please,” I begged, for the first time in the last…it had to be at least twelve hours. “Don’t do this to me.” I found it difficult to stand. My limbs shook with hypersensitive nerves, pushed beyond any point I had ever experienced. Even the friction of my thighs touching sent waves of arousal through me.

  “They’ve already seen you, Gina. Touched and tasted you while you were resting,” he informed me as he eased a diaphanous robe over my arms.

  Despite my hesitation, my body stirred just as it had during my first encounter at the bookstore with Gideon and earlier with Mike. I wondered just how far George would take this. At the same time, that animalistic urge in my brain whispered its need to stretch beyond limits I’d set based on the values and mores of polite society.

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  Deciding to put my faith in George again, I turned what attention I could to the robe he’d draped around me. The deep, U-shaped bodice was designed to expose my full, naked breasts while emphasizing the narrowness of my waist. Taking his time to smooth his hands over my waist to my ass, he held me close, nose buried beneath the honey-colored waves of my hair, drawing in deep breaths, as if trying to inhale my very essence and hold it in his lungs. Warm fingertips stroked over my back, identifying every rib, each vertebra, as if tactilely creating a map of my body. The feel of his engorged member pressing against my damp curls through the thin barrier of cotton made me moan.

  Pulling his hands from beneath the robe, he carefully fastened the loops over the buttons before again caressing my waist, this time skimming over the silky fabric covering me. His venerate touch as he arranged my breasts so the pointed nipples jutted out eased some, but not all, of my fears. The sleeves were flowing with broad band cuffs, lending the billowing fabric the allure of a Hollywood pirate’s blouse. The floor-length skirt exposed me from the tightly cinched waist to the floor since the fabric didn’t meet in the front, but gathered in pleated folds at the curve of each hip.

  Still unsure, I shook my head. “I can’t do this.” I sobbed, reaching to touch his muscled chest with a trembling hand.

  His green eyes met mine, their depths dark with understanding. Dipping his head, his lips sipped at mine, drifted over my cheek to catch the single tear that had escaped. “Just this once, Gina. I swear, I will never ask this of you again.” And the truth was there in his eyes.

  He wasn’t lying to me. It would be only this one time. In a voice too soft to be heard beyond the two of us, he added, “They’re clean. I made them get tested when I planned this.”

  His fingertips lightly caressed my trembling breast before easing into the wet curls at the juncture of my thighs. “I want to watch you. There’s something about you, love. In passion you are incandescent.” Slipping his fingers between the petals guarding my moist sheath, he stroked the tender opening. Lifting the damp fingertips to his lips, he sipped at the wetness gathered on his calloused pads. “Just this once.”

  46 Qwillia Rain

  His coaxing and my trembling body betrayed my common sense, much as it had in those minutes following Gideon’s first thrust into my body. Then as now, I could see the need to satisfy his curiosity burning in George’s eyes. Despite how unusual this situation was, I understood that he felt it would draw us closer to one another. Or maybe it was simply I’d reached the decision I’d been debating earlier.

  In my mind, I heard the distinctive fastening of a lock. Instead of a weight settling around my shoulders as I accepted this final symbol of George’s mastery of my body, an incredible lightness filled me. A freedom spilled through my mind and heart, making me aware of just how right submitting to his commands was for me. No other lover had instilled such confidence in me as George did. None had touched my heart and soul as this man did.

  His needs, his presence, completed me in ways I was still trying to understand, but freely accepted.

  With a shaky nod, I allowed him to lead me, like his trusting pet, into the dimly lit living room. From my stereo, the haunting strains of Middle Eastern music wafted through the room. Upon our entrance, the little conversation drew to a close. There were five men, not including George, in various relaxed poses in my living room, none of whom I’d ever met before. Each man was dressed similarly to my lover, in loose drawstring pants and bare chests. Each man matched George in height and fitness. Some were leaner while others were slightly huskier, but none was any less attractive than he.

  As I stood there, George stepped away, leaving me in the center of the room, breasts swollen and bare, exposed from the waist down. Among the men I didn’t see Mike.

  Inwardly, I heaved a sigh of relief, until I noticed the familiar bottle of wine on the coffee table with six empty glasses scattered about the room. And the woven basket that usually held a collection of wrapped candies was filled with familiar, distinctive black plastic packets.

  A gesture from George brought the first man forward. “This is Aaron,” George offered.

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  The man was handsome, lean face, dark brown eyes. Behind the fabric of his pants, his arousal pushed at the soft fabric. Leaning forward, he fastened his lips to mine, slipping his tongue into my mouth while one ha
nd stroked my breast and the other tested the damp curls at my apex.

  My eyes closed in appreciation of his skillful technique in kissing. Before I could return the caress, he slipped back and returned to his lounging position on the sofa, his fingers smoothing over the hard length of his penis.

  “This is Vincent.”

  A second man stepped forward, his hands slipping beneath my robe to cup my buttocks as his mouth dipped to suckle at a taut nipple. I gasped, burying my hand in his curly black hair. Still, he pulled away before I could enjoy more.

  “Elkin.”

  The third man stepped in front of me, took my trembling hand in his, and slipped it beneath his pants, cupping my hand over his thick erection. He withdrew my hand when I made to clasp him, and stepped away with a wry smile lifting his full lips and a twinkle in his storm-cloud-colored eyes.

  “Terry.”

  This man approached slowly, measuring every inch of me with sharp blue eyes as he walked around my shaking form, his blunt fingertips trailing from an aroused nipple to my shoulder, down my back, around to my other shoulder, then down to my other straining nipple.

  “And last, Garrick.”

  Garrick merely nodded toward me from his position in the nearest easy chair, lids lowered over keen amber eyes. He looked as sexy clothed in the loose pants, as he had in jeans and a T-shirt that day I’d spotted him outside George’s apartment. The heat in those golden eyes sent a twist through my belly rivaling my first reaction upon meeting George.

  48 Qwillia Rain

  The beat of the music grew louder as George eased the volume of the stereo up. My body began to sway to the rhythm of the pipes and guitars.

  “Touch yourself, Gina,” George whispered from his corner of the room.

  Caught in the thrall of the music and the heated eyes watching me, I caressed my breasts as my hips shifted, weaving a tiny figure eight, drawing gasps from the men watching me.