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Honey Bea’s Orgy

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I have three passions in life: making food, music and love. There is no implicit prioritization to that list, and sometimes the three take turns rotating in primacy in my life. The only common theme I can identify for all three is that they involve an improvisational element. One has to take in the ingredients, what’s in the air, the time of day, the mood, and synthesize it into something coherent. Of course, can take the sad attitude that all three can be scripted: recipes, sheet music and instruction manuals, but for me, the improvisational element is critical. It’s life.

My good friend, Beatrice, who goes by the nickname Honey Bea, decided to hold an orgy at her apartment. Bea has what I would call an amazing sense of hostessing, if that is a word, and set this party up way in advance. Although I don’t like to be labeled by the moniker “gourmet”, I love to cook, and Bea invited me to provide for the guests.

Well in advance of the party, Bea setup a web site for the invited guests to the orgy, who she had carefully screened for compatibilities, and with some eye toward diversity of tastes. On the web site, the invitees could post their favorite fantasies. There were the typical fantasies one might expect. From the men came the two-women-on-one-men, or, better still, the cunnilingus contest. This last one was where they line up five or six women and then give their oral talents a try. The women had some “tied-up” fantasies, some feather boa type deals. Although I have to confess to some fantasies along the line that were listed by the other guests, I felt obliged to be a non-conformist, or somehow unique, so I could stand out from the crowd of the eager males.

I recalled reading somewhere that Jelly Roll Morton got his start playing piano in a New Orleans whore-house. Evidently he got to look through a peep-hole at the “executive suite” in the brothel and improvised his music to the rhythm of the moment. Harry Truman, our beloved president had confessed to a fantasy of being the piano player in a brother. Well, I thought this was a capital idea and contributed to the “fantasy” list my own fantasy of being a musician in a whore-house.

Bea, being the gracious hostess, invited me to bring my instruments and try it out.

A word is in order about the guest list, I suppose, although I will introduce them to the reader in good time, as part of the arrival ceremonies. There was a distinct, but subtle religious slant to the list. Rajeev was a Hindu devotee of a well regarded guru. He had done much of the enlightenment work, and was well versed in the Vedic scriptures. At some point, however, his guru regarded him as too austere in his background. Typically, when one renounces desire, the implication is that one had experienced desire, yet Rajeev evidently had never had much of a worldly background, and hence really had nothing to renounce. In a sense, Rajeev was making a backward pilgrimage, leaving enlightenment and entering the world of desire. This trip had been completely sanctioned by his guru.

Another interesting fellow is Sean, a lapsed Roman Catholic Priest. Sean is about 50, and followed his religious desires into the clergy, but, like Rajeev, found it unsatisfying. He spent the majority of his time in Manila in a few parishes. But, since he couldn’t take the celibacy, he decided to renounce his vows and was clearly making up for lost time. When he returned to the U.S., he managed to use the internet to acquire a vast stable of women, whom he regularly screwed with a clear abandon. In a way, it’s a shame to imagine his libido being bottled up for so long in Manila, but life has its ironies.

Bea herself was fascinating. She was just getting out of an icky marriage and is a high powered executive. The end of her marriage somehow triggered her libido to the point where she must’ve screwed half the males in the metropolitan Philadelphia area.

Bea had also invited Anita, an accomplished violinist, a swinging couple, Dave and Betsy, a student nurse, Kimmy.

My name is Dan, and coincidently, there was also another “Dan” in the guest list. He said he had been in the CIA and had a distinct dark side that I couldn’t comprehend. By the end of the party, I’d labeled him the “Anti-Dan”, since his personality seemed to be in direct opposition to mine.

The day of the party arrived, and I decided to make gourmet pizzas, more or less to order. This was in accord with my “improvisational” concept. I had many different toppings to offer – prosciutto, mushrooms, leeks, smoked salmon, capers, onions, etc. I also brought many cheeses, chevre, fontina, mozzarella and gruyere.

I must’ve looked a sight as I went through the lobby of the apartment building. I was packing a banjo in a loose sack, my guitar and a box full of pizza fixings. Somehow I managed to make it up to the 16th floor, and rang the buzzer.

Bea opened the door, and escorted me in. She was wearing a full length sari. Sean was also there, helping out with the preparations. I had deliberately arrived a bit early so I could casino oyna attend to some of the sous-chefing work. I roasted some pine-nuts, sautéed the mushrooms, and rolled out two of the pizza dough balls into a pan.

Sean was wearing a full length Nehru style jacket and pants, and tried to get all sorts of details correct, such as a bowl full of Viagra for the men-folk to coax erections out of recalcitrant penises, or rolling joints for the guests and so forth.

After some messing in the kitchen, the first guest arrived. It was Kimmy, the nurse in training. She was the youngest by far, I’m guessing roughly 21. She was wearing glitter on her eyebrows and seemed very shy and demure. Little did I know what would ensue as the party wore on. She conversed with Sean as I cooked, and Bea helped me out with some sous-chef work, or digging extra goodies out from her fridge.

Dave and Betsy, the swinging couple showed up. Dave was in business attire. Betsy was a striking, voluptuous redhead, but was dressed in the manner of a quiet suburban housewife. She was a famous actress at one point, but quit the profession to have children. Evidently they have two children at home and had made an evening out of this party. They were “exploring their sexuality”, and this was part of the exploration. They’d brought some nice wine, a couple of bottle of Barbaresco, which was definitely welcome.

Another knock, another guest. This time it was Rajeev, who, like the nurse Kimmy, also quite shy. He was about 30 years old, wearing a button down shirt and jeans. The party had reached a sufficient critical mass that people were milling around with drinks. There was a decidedly nervous tinge to the conversation. This put me a bit more at ease, since I was nervous myself, not knowing what to expect, and the knowledge that there were other people unfamiliar to an orgy was a bit reassuring to me.

Anita was right behind Rajeev. She was a married “swinger”, who sometimes accompanied Sean to parties of this ilk. Sporting a loose earth mother dress, she seemed a bit more relaxed than some of us neophytes, and immediately joined in the conversation. She was about 45 and with long dangly earrings and a Mona Lisa smile.

Unbeknownst to me, Honey Bea had set a small window of arrival times, which explained the near parade of guests. Given that all but “anti-Dan” had arrived, I decided it was time to start the first pizza. I asked around, and decided on a porcini, prosciutto, chevre and mozzarella pizza as an opener. This went well with the Barbaresco.

Just after I’d popped the first pizza into the oven, the doorbell rang and the “anti-Dan” arrived. Since I was in the kitchen, I could hear anti-Dan chatting with Honey Bea. Anti-Dan was negotiating his favorite fantasy, which was to make love to a woman who had never seen him before and was blindfolded. This fantasy required that he negotiate ahead of time before being introduced to all the guests. Bea decided to be the intermediary.

She came into the living room, where the guests mingled with nervous chatter, and clapped her hands loudly. “I have an announcement to make, ladies and gentlemen. We have a guest here who has a fantasy of making love to a woman who has never seen him. Obviously if he enters the room now, he won’t have any chance of having his fantasy. Are there any women here who are interested in giving this a try? If so, you’ll have to put on a blindfold. He’s waiting outside.”

No one immediately took him up on the offer, but there was some milling around and a bit of chatter. After some time, Betsy, the voluptuous redhead swinging housewife, decided to give it a try. Bea tied a black bandanna around her head, and she had her wine at her hand while anti-Dan entered the room.

My pizza was already cooking in the oven and I figured I had some time to kill, so I swung out of the kitchen to catch the interaction between anti-Dan and Betsy. It was decidedly strange and a new experience for me, as Betsy’s husband was right there. Dave was ogling Kimmy, who was voluptuous in her own right, but about half his age. I guess this cut both ways for Betsy and Dave. Anti-Dan was kissing her neck and nuzzling up against her from behind, rubbing her but a bit. Personally, I thought this was a bit forward, but this was an orgy, and I wasn’t precisely up on the etiquette. Neither could I picture how this polite cocktail party crowd would degenerate into a mass of writhing bodies on the floor. After about five minutes of being groped by anti-Dan, Betsy decided to call it quits and abandoned the blindfold. Much to her, and everyone else’s relief, I brought out the first pizza at this point, and people started to chomp on it.

Being a vegetarian, Rajeev requested a pizza with no meat on it, so I started in on a fontina, leek, pine nut and pesto pizza for him, which I quickly popped into the oven. A further request came in for a smoked salmon and caper pizza, which I quickly whipped into the oven to accompany the pesto-pine nut pizza.

When these were ready, I brought canlı casino them out, and people contentedly munched at them. Someone lit one of the herbal “jazz” cigarettes and passed it around. I partook of this a bit myself, and had some of the red wine. The raw edge of my nervousness passed somewhat. The pizza and wine seemed to have the effect of calming people down, but there was also a general suffusion of energy that seemed to signal the transition point into the “orgy” phase of the party.

Betsy sauntered over to me and took looked me in the face with a doe-eyed look, and much to my surprise gave me one of the most passionate kisses I’d ever had. This surprised me no end, as I was a bit surprised that I would be the first one on the menu, and also given her rejection of anti-Dan, I didn’t quite see how she’d be the one to get the party started. Her kissing continued for quite a while. Anti-Dan swung by, and started to grab at her butt, but she kind of shooed him away. People gazed at this for a bit, and I have to admit to being more than just a little self conscious. She gave me a big hug and I could feel her breasts press against me. Her perfume was rather intoxicating, and I kissed the nape of her neck in several places, ending up on her ear. She pulled back and started to kiss me again, with a fair amount of tongue. I could spy out of the corner of my eye that the other guests were still kind of milling around, unsure how to proceed.

Much to my astonishment, she dropped to her knees, undid my belt buckle, unzipped my genes, and pulled them down to my ankles. My dick was slightly swollen but still hanging down, kind of like an inverted “J” shape. She placed one hand on the back of each thigh, and twisted around her neck a bit to take in my head. She softly sucked me, and I rapidly stiffened to the point where I was sticking straight out. Without removing her hands from the back for my thighs she worked her mouth back and forth, sometimes removing her mouth altogether, leaving me to bounce in the breeze a bit as she ran her tongue up and down the shaft, taking in one of my testicles and then returning to suck on the length of me. Since I was standing, I had a full view of the other guests, who had finally started to disrobe, and kiss and fondle each other. This was a bit of a relief, as I didn’t have much desire to be the main attraction, being the anxious sort.

After working on me for quite some time, she stood up, and gave me another long kiss. I’m uncircumcised, and hence there is a residue of my own taste that I could pick up on her mouth – a bit like alkali salmon. She pulled back and said in a breathy voice, “OK, now it’s my turn. I expect you know what you’re doing, since you cook so marvelously.”

How could a refuse a request like that? I have to confess that despite what seems like total and complete self advertisement in the above discussion, I can feel modest at times. Nonetheless, I was more than happy to comply. I gently unbuttoned her silk blouse, exposing a black lace brassiere, holding her rather large and curvaceous breasts. Redheads have a certain skin complexion that I can’t really put into words, but there’s a kind of white clarity to their skin that’s very appealing. The contrast of her skin with the black of her bra was really something to me. I removed her bra and saw ample breasts that had evidently nursed a couple of children. I gently cupped them and ran my tongue around her aureole until the skin scrunched up and the nipples were semi-erect. I gently drew my teeth along them, causing them to perk up even more.

I guess what amazed me the most about this experience was the fact that she’d suckled three children from these breasts, and here I was sucking them in public. Somehow the disjunction of the two cultures of feminism and maternity was quite overwhelming. But, I knew I couldn’t stop there. I unzipped her trousers, unhooked them and slowly pulled them down, revealing black lace panties matching her brassiere. I don’t know if she had intended the first participant to notice this, but I have to attest to the fact, here and now, that I indeed noticed that she had dressed her underwear to match for an orgy. I pulled down her panties and asked her to lie down on the floor. I pulled off all of my remaining clothes and started to return her favors.

To reveal her taste to the voyeuristic reader, and at the distinct possibility that Betsy might decide to banish me forever from her life, I will say this: she tasted like a sublime combination of watermelon, pineapple and sautéed mushrooms: sweet, yet funky. I don’t have any better description than that. Suffice it to say that she was ripe. Her red pubic hairs caught the wonderful aroma of her excretions and I found it wildly intoxicating. My tongue ran all over her pubic arch. My mouth paused to gently grasp her wonderful red hairs in my slightly pursed lips. I ran my tongue up and down her labia minora, over her clit hood and back again – juices seemed to run feely. I wasn’t necessarily feeling immodest by this display, but it all kaçak casino seemed very natural as a result of my ministrations to her nether regions.

I poked two fingers into her pussy and worked them back unto her g-spot and gently probed that as I tongued her clit ever so gently, and then with increasing vigor. I had no sense of vision, only of the feel of her body against my arms, on my tongue and the olfactory delight of her taste and smell. She shook from side to side, whilst I held her down with a firm hand.

This went on for a while until I felt her vaginal muscles contract in a slightly arrhythmic fashion that seemed (for me anyway) to indicate a true orgasm. She slowed down the pace of her rippling hips and drew me away from her pussy for a long sweet kiss. She whispered into my ear “please fuck me. fuck me hard” she said. I darted over to the pool table, where there was a small wicker basket filled with condoms. Although I am not the most coordinated individual, I managed to roll a rubber onto my outstretched penis. I returned to Betsy, and relocated her fuck-hole. I pushed my sheathed cock around on her lips, and clit, and she waved her hand down as if to motion for me to put it inside, so and pushed myself into her slowly and began to rock back and forth.

Only at this point, did I look up and notice her husband, Dave there next to her. Whatever Dave had been doing with the other women, he felt it was important to be next to Betsy at this moment. I started to pump in and out of her, but I’ll never forget the “moment” that those two had between each other. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the image wasn’t precisely like watching a husband and wife going through the birth process. Her face was flushed, and sweating profusely. She was moaning and saying phrases like “oh baby…please help me…” She didn’t want to stop, but Dave cupped her head in his hands and seemed to urge her on as if in labor.

For me, I felt like I was some external character watching this whole scene unfold. I didn’t feel like I was really there – some kind of inverse obstetrician, pushing back into the birth canal, while the husband administered to the wife. It was highly strange, and yet compelling at the same time. On the other hand, it didn’t really have a carnal feel to it, although Betsy did seem to be writhing in around in ecstasy. Rajeev came over and gently cupped her breasts.

I felt her attention slipping away, and, never having been in this situation before, I actually found it a bit stressful, so I pulled out of her and said, “OK, well, it looks like you have some new suitor here for you, and you’re in good hands, I’ll leave you to them.”

By now the party was in full swing. Naked bodies covered the floor of the living room, all in some state of writhing around. Kimmy, the student nurse seemed to be attracting her share of the attention and was moaning loudly. I have to say that this is not something I was used to. All sorts of questions of etiquette and protocol came to mind. What is the proper way to introduce yourself to a naked woman giving head? Talk about performance anxiety – you have 12 witnesses to view your failure to get your fifth erection.

The wine table was beckoning, so I wandered over to fill up a new glass. On the way, Anita stopped me and intimated that she would like some of my attentions to her nether regions as well. Being in a position to sample multiple women in a short period of time was in fact an interesting proposition, so couldn’t possibly refuse. She tasted a bit spicier than Betsy, more retracted lips and such. She seemed to be even more enthusiastic about my ministrations, and I had to put my forearm on her stomach to calm down her squirming, which seemed to make her all the hotter as a result. I felt this sense of connection with her that things were in synch in the rhythm of my probing. At some point, her rhythm slowed down and I felt like the connection had been broken. I looked up and saw her sucking on anti-dan’s erect penis. Hitting the etiquette issue, I wondered whether it was proper to leave or, would it be considered rude. I contemplated this for a bit and then headed for the wine, and poured myself a glass.

I decided, under the circumstances that my Jelly Roll Morton fantasy might be the right thing to attempt next. It was pretty much a no-brainer, since every women was being well attended to – Kimmy in particular, whose legs would pop up in the air in a “V” shape periodically, rock back and forth in the candle light and loud moaning would emanate from that corner of the room.

Carefully stepping over the bodies in motion, I found my way to an unoccupied sofa, picked up my guitar, and tuned it up. I led off with a Robert Johnson tune, and put a couple of my preplanned solos into it. People just fucked away contentedly on the floor and I felt suitably isolated that I wouldn’t offend. Sean, the lapsed priest seemed to have been ministering to Kimmy, and was ready for another round of fucking. I was playing my guitar in front of the basket full of condoms, and Sean had to roll on onto himself. I guess there must’ve been a lot of demand for pretty little Kimmy, so Sean had a look of intense concentration, trying to get sheathed before some other suitor took his place.

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