Party Girl

I told Peter I would dance with him until Charles showed up. As it turned out, he was quite a dancer, even when the tempo slowed way down, his footwork and body moves were right on the money, smooth and confident. And dancing close to me, with his arm around me, he was a perfect gentleman. Not once did I get the impression that he was trying to see down my dress or feel me up, the way a lot of men do on the dance floor. Of course, I reminded myself that I was at a corporate function, not home at some sleazy pick-up club.

Charles finally made an appearance, explaining that there was some business he had to deal with. Peter started to make his exit, but Charles intervened.

"Is he a good dancer, Angie?"

I grinned and gave Peter high marks.

"In that case, why don't you two go right on enjoying yourselves while I round up some drinks for the three of us?"

For about an hour, Charles kept me nicely lubricated with an assortment of mixed drinks with names I've never heard of, and introduced me to a number of his colleagues—all male except for one who I at first thought was a man, dressed as she was in a tailored business suit, white shirt and tie—like most of the men at the party. I was glad she didn't ask me to dance with her; I wouldn't have been comfortable slow dancing with a woman.

My favorite dance partner was Peter, and he seemed to enjoy dancing with me too. Several times he would tap the shoulder of whichever friend of Charles' I was dancing with at the time and ask to cut in. Only once did he show any sign of being interested in more than just my dancing. It was during a very slow song, and we were moving as though we had been dancing together for years. We were dancing very close, and I felt him get hard. He instinctively pulled back, embarrassed. I wanted to tell him that it was all right, that it didn't bother me, but I kept quiet. I was at the party to be a bad girl with just one man, and I really didn't want Peter to get the wrong impression.

PART THREE

I hadn't smoked marijuana since college. Kevin isn't interested and neither are most of our friends. Anyway, when the band went on their next break, Richard came up to me and asked me if I'd like some grass, motioning toward the nearest exit. A little giddy from all the liquor, I followed him outside. This was a party, after all. Why shouldn't I have a good time? We walked across a finely manicured lawn to a spot near the hotel golf course where we proceeded to get stoned.

Richard held my hand as we walked back to the party. I asked him if he thought Charles would be upset with him if he saw us holding hands.

"No, Charles is all right. And besides, I'm just holding your hand. It's not like we'refucking or anything," he answered.

I laughed but didn't say anything the rest of the way. I was too busy trying to imagine what it might be like to be fucked by the man holding my hand.

The band sounded different. Was it the marijuana or was it a different band? I didn't know. Couldn't tell. I only knew that I wanted to dance and that there was no reason to wait for an invitation from anyone. I joined a small group of women dancing by themselves, and, with my eyes closed, began moving with the music.

I inhaled the new sound. It was slower, more sensuous than the earlier music. It sounded like a wood flute carrying the melody, but it could easily have been a keyboard. Whatever it was, it penetrated me. I remember identifying the sound with nature and with animals. Maybe because of the impact the zoo had on me earlier in the day, I don't know, but I could see and hear specific animals. Ibecame them as I danced—sometimes I was a slithering snake. Sometimes, a high-stepping circus pony in slow motion.

I woke from my stupor when I felt someone touch me—on the ass. I spun around. It was Charles. All teeth and happiness.

"God, you look hot when you dance, Angie!"

I reached for him to draw him into dancing with me, even though I knew he felt self-conscious about dancing. He put his arms around me and pretended to dance in place, swaying ever so slightly from side to side. I welcomed his body next to mine by pushing my tits into him and holding him close. He kissed my ear and then whispered in it.

"Iwant you, Angie. Let's go back to your room."

There wasn't much I wouldn't have agreed to right then. I was on top of the world. So, hand in hand, we slipped through the thinning crowd and went back to my room.

PART FOUR

Charles fixed us both something to drink and then, using the cable system's remote control, located a channel that played soft background music. "Let's get comfortable," he suggested, removing his jacket and loosening his tie.

I took a sip of my drink and then slipped out of my dress.

"Oh, Ba-by!" he growled. "You are sofuckin' hot!"

"Fuckin' hot, huh? Does that mean I'm gonna getfucked?" I said, fixing my eyes on his to let him know that I wanted him—bad.

"I've been saving myself for you," he said.

"I know," I said and walked up to him, doing my best Victoria's Secret imitation in my silver high-heeled sandals and sexy underwear. I began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Angie, I want to do somethingreally special for you tonight. Something you'll never forget."

"I'm listening," I said, as I tugged his shirt free from the waistband of his pants.

"Do you trust me, Sweetheart?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't be here if I didn't," I said, helping him pull his arms out of the sleeves of his shirt.

"Good. I'd like you to turn around," he said, laying his shirt over the dresser.

I love surprises, but I couldn't imagine what Charles was up to. That is, until I felt him reach around me and carefully place a folded scarf over my eyes.

"Oh, this could befun," I giggled. Kevin and I had done a lot of different things, but a blindfold was not one of them. I stood still, smiling to myself as Charles tied the scarf tightly behind my head. He had done the job well. I couldn't see a thing.

"Are you going to finish undressing?" I asked him.

"Of course. But not right this second," he told me, taking my hand. "No peeking."

"OK, but what are you doing?" I asked, when I heard him unlatch the lock on the door.

"You trust me, right?" he asked again, pulling on my arm.

"Where are we going? I can't go anywhere looking like this!"

"We're just going to my room. It's only a few doors down the hall, honey."

"Down the hall! But what if someonesees me … like this?"

"No one's going to see you, Baby. Besides, if they do they're just going to be jealous," he laughed, steering me out the door.

I gritted my teeth and let Charles lead me down the hall. It was a short trip. His room was very close to mine. Thank God. I heard him use his plastic "key" card and open the door.

"Ohh, this feels so weird," I said in a hushed voice.

"Enter," he said, still leading me by the hand.

I entered Charles' room eagerly, relieved that I had gone unnoticed during my brief journey through the hallway in my high heels and underwear.

"This way, Sweetheart," he said, leading me to his bed. "Lie down and make yourself comfortable."

"Can you see anything, honey?" he asked me again once I had settled down on the bed, my head resting on a pillow.

"I can't even tell if you have the lights on," I said nervously.

"Good, but you canfeel, right?" And to illustrate the question, he put his hand on my breast and softly squeezed it.

"Hmmm. Oh, yeah. I can feelthat!"

He slid his hand over to my other breast, and then down my belly, down to my leg. I shuddered at the thought of where he might touch me next. But his hand kept moving downward, down my thigh, past my knee, and on down to my ankle. Then I felt him undoing the straps of my sandals. One by one he removed my shoes. And then his hand traveled back up my leg, to the top of my stockings. I could feel myself becoming more and more aroused, as he unhooked my stockings from my garter belt. Next, I felt my stockings being pulled off. I lifted my legs to assist him. When they were gone, I felt his hands at my waist, loosening and removing my garter belt.

What happened next took me completely by surprise. I had said that I trusted him, so when Charles took my hand in his and began wrapping one of the stockings around my wrist I made no objection. Even when he secured the knotted stocking to one of the bedposts, I just laid there surprised and amused. It was when he began doing the same thing to my other wrist that I spoke up.

"Charles. I'm not so sure about this."

"Sweetheart, you said you trust me. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe."

"I know. It's just that I'm not sure I want to—"

"That's not too tight, is it?

"No. I guess not." I pulled on my "bonds" to test them. I was sure if I pulledreal hard they would come loose, but the first test was inconclusive: the stockings stretched, but not that much; so I pulled harder. This time they didn't give at all. Charles had tied me more securely than I thought.CHRIST! He had a right to ask me about this! I think I would have said yes, but it would have been nice to have talked about it, been reassured. Had he planned this all along, or was this some spontaneous whim of his, something he just dreamed up?

He was still standing near the head of the bed, no doubt watching me pull and tug. Apparently satisfied with his handiwork, he walked away, trailing his hand down the length of my body as he went. I thought I could hear him breathing and wondered how turned on he was, seeing me there, tied down on his bed, wearing nothing but those tight little boy pants and a matching lace bra. My own excitement was mixed with another emotion—fear.

Suddenly I heard music. From the cable system, I figured. This time, however, Charles had found a different channel; this was rock music—electric guitar, drums, the works. Music with a beat. Music I would no doubt be dancing to, if I were standing up.

And then he was back and leaning over me. "Angie, you look so beautiful. May I kiss you?" he asked me.

I chuckled, nervously. "I don't think there's much I could do to stop you, if I wanted to."

"Oh, I wouldn't kiss you if you didn't want me to. Do you want me to kiss you, Sweetheart?"

"Yes. Yes. I want you to," I pleaded, softly.

Charles' lips tasted a bit like cigar, but the longer he kissed me, the less I cared what they tasted like. I was getting hotter and hotter lying there, nearly naked, bound to the bedposts while a man who I couldn't see--a man who was not my husband—kissed my open mouth. I wanted the contact. I wanted him on the bed with me. The closer the better. I reached for his mouth with my tongue. He gave me his in return, and for a few minutes I pretended my mouth was my pussy, enjoying the way Charles' enormously long tongue explored its walls and probed its depths.

Then I felt his hands on my breasts and he stopped kissing me. He was pealing the lacy cups of my bra down and away from each breast, exposing them completely. I could feel his breath on me; his lips had to be very close to my tits. Was he looking at my nipples? Were they erect?Touch them for God's sake! I wanted to feel his touch. I needed it.

Either God heard my prayer or the sight of my squirming naked body was too much for Charles to resist. Whatever it was, he began kissing my breasts. I shivered when his tongue lapped at one of my nipples. I felt him take it between his lips and gave it a long, pulling suck. I was breathing hard. I was wet.

He gave both my nipples equal time, touching them both with his tongue and his fingers. Sucking one and twisting the other. Pinching them. Biting them. Sucking them again. And again.

I moaned to encourage him to continue, I was so excited. But he abandoned my breasts and kissed and petted his way down to my panties. I was conscious of my squirming now. I couldn't lie still. He ran his hand over the crotch of my panties and rubbed my pussy through the little lace curtain. And then his hand was inside my panties, his fingertips reaching for my wet sex. I wanted him to end the teasing but he seemed to be on no hurry. He took his time removing my panties, working them slowly down my legs until they were off me. Finally, he had prepared me for the taking. I was shamelessly naked; my legs parted.Everything on display.

Even the lead guitarist got turned on by the sight of the naked woman tied to the bed in that California hotel. He suddenly broke into a frenzied solo riff--bluesy and loud. The drummer, the whole band, sounded energized—or had Charles merely used the remote to turn up the sound? Was he still on the bed with me?

"Charles?" I needed to hear his voice for reassurance.

"Yes, Angie?" I heard his voice coming from the foot of the bed.

I was panting. "I want you, Baby," I said.

"I want you too," he said and then suddenly he was on the bed and his mouth was between my legs and he was licking my pussy. Now there was no pretending. It was the real thing!

"Oh, God!" I moaned. My juices were on his tongue. I wanted to touch him, run my hands through his hair, or just feel his skin, but, of course, the stockings around my wrists made that impossible. I tugged harder. The more he licked me, the harder I pulled. To no avail. I could only move my legs, so I closed my legs enough to feel the sides of his face against my thighs as he pleasured me, working the tip of his tongue back and forth over my clit.

Then, just as quickly as he had put his lips to my cunt, he took them away, pulling himself out of the clasp of my legs. I was tingling all over. Aching to be entered. I needed his tongue, his cock,anything!

"Charles, please fuck me," I begged. "Please!"

He didn't answer. Not with words, that is. Instead, he lifted my hips up with one hand, and slipped a pillow under my ass. I bit my lip, expectantly, opening my legs wider and taking a deep breath. And, before I could even exhale, he wasin me. The whole length of his big cock just rammed, deep, in one hard push, all the way inside me. I yelped. It was so sudden. So unlike him. But it felt great, being stuffed with his oversized penis, so hard like that. So deep. I raised my ass up as much as I could to fuck him back, and soon we were fucking each other, humping and thrusting.

As a blind person—temporarily, anyway—my ears were my windows of perception and I tuned in to every sound, large or small: the pulsing beat of the electric bass guitar constantly in the background, the heavy breathing of the man on top of me, the wet squishy friction of two people's genitalia sliding against each other, the faint creak of the bed posts as I struggled to free my self from their grasp, and the soft rhythmic moaning of the bedsprings beneath us as we fucked.

In my grass-and-alcohol-induced dream-state, Charles' cock was bigger and harder than I had ever experienced. How could my pussy find room for so much cock? How could he get such a big thing in me in the first place? Every time I lifted my ass to meet him, he would withdraw most of his cock and it seemed like I was suspended in midair for the longest time before he'd reverse direction and fill me up again, slamming my ass back onto the sheets.

"Ohhhh, God!" I cried out. His mouth was back on my tits, sucking me as we fucked. It was incredible. But even more incredible was the fact that after he came he pulled out of me, only to stick his cock back in me a minute later. He was right: he had been saving himself for me. Or maybe it was a combination of abstinence and Viagra; I don't know. I only know that it was mind-blowing hot! He must have fucked me three or four times that night and each time it seemed like he was more and more turned on. My legs, unlike my arms, were free, so each time he entered me, I wrapped them around him and held him in me as long as I could, hoping to keep him inside me as long as I could. The pleasure of being connected to his huge cock was something that I didn't want to end.

I remembered how I used to enjoy making love when I was stoned. It all came rushing back to me as I lay there, receiving Charles' hard, demanding cock. I was still flying from the joint that Richard had shared with me that night. I remembered all the men who had ever entered me, from high school "lovers" to Kevin--and beyond. They all fucked me that night. I even imagined I was being taken by men who I've onlydaydreamed of fucking:

It was so vivid. When Richard fucked me, I could almost smell the marijuana on his breath.

And when Peter fucked me, I could feel him moving his hips so fluidly, just the way he did on the dance floor.

Finally, Charles kept his cock inside me after he came. This time he lay there on top of me, catching his breath and gently nursing my tits.

"Ohhh, Baby," I sighed. "You were unbelievable." I kept my legs tight around him and held on to him until he finally removed the blindfold and untied me.

I fell asleep in his arms that night and woke up the same way Sunday morning.

I showered there in Charles' room--at his request. I even left the bathroom door open, thinking he might be interested in visiting while I rinsed off—even if just to look. I really wasn't expecting any morning fireworks from him, not after Saturday night.

We had a pleasant room service breakfast together and then Charles made arrangements for Richard to drive me to the airport. That gave me enough time to get back to my room and figure out what, if anything, I wanted to take home with me. There were some gowns that I left for the cleaning crew to gawk over—one of them more scandalous than the one I wore to the party. I took several pieces of lingerie with me--ones I thought Kevin might like to see me in.

Richard was good company, as he had been the whole weekend, even to the point of offering me a joint to take home. But I didn't feel comfortable traveling with it, so I turned it down.

At the airport, I reached out to shake his hand, but stepping out of character for a second, he gave me a big hug instead.

"I hope you come back next year. It's been a pleasure serving you," he told me.

The flight home was pleasant enough. No rough weather. No obnoxious characters seated next to me, or near me. So, I had plenty of time to think about the events of the weekend: all the people I had met, the great food, the trip to the zoo, the dancing, getting high, getting blindfolded, getting tied down, getting fucked-- Ahhh, yes! Getting fucked. That was why I made the trip in the first place, wasn't it —to fuck and get fucked? Seems like a long way to go just for sex. I must have been crazy.

God, I hope Kevin still thinks I was at a friend's wedding in Vegas.