Hugh Kissasse - A Little Night Nookie

And the worst part is that I honestly don't know what made him so utterly special in the Sheer Male line. He was good-looking, yes; wavy brown hair and nice, friendly eyes, a good solid-looking muscular sort of body, tall… nearly six feet, I guessed. But there was just something special about him… yum, yum. I mean, older girls tell me that Elvis Presley had it, whatever it was, or maybe Frank Sinatra. Just the right wave length, or something.

Whatever it was, it hit me, bang. I felt my little thing actually getting damp, I mean, really. I was creaming just having that utter stud in the room.

Hey, hold onto yourself, girl, I thought, and summoned up all the will power I could find, which wasn't much. But it prevented me from actually hurling myself at him and tearing off his elegantly tailored slacks. I could see Dottie having the same trouble, too.

"Good evening, girls," he said, and Dottie gurgled slightly. I couldn't manage a word, but I tried a smile. He grinned back, reducing me to jelly, and turned the grin on the Chinese chick, who also melted.

"Hi, Cookie," he said, and she uttered a slightly hysterical giggle. "Are you joining our little party this evening?"

"Ohhh!" she said. "C-could I?"

I've been thinking of inviting you for some time," he told her, in that warm, tingly voice of his. "I wasn't sure you'd want to step out of your professional role, though."

"Oh, boy," Cookie said, and pulled off her apron, flinging it into a corner, following it with her cap.

"Is it true about Chinese girls being imperturbable?" Lancelot asked, and she giggled wildly.

"We aren't… inscrutable, anyway," she said. "Hey, boss man, how about drinks all around? I'm a gassy bartender."

"That would be lovely, Cookie." He turned to us. "What would you two lovely children like, eh?"

"Anything," Dottie answered, managing to get reasonably steady at last.

I knew what I'd like, namely I'd like to be screwed six ways and Sunday too by this perfectly groovy stud, but I kept my ladylike cool and said. "Champagne? I'm sort of getting a taste for it."

An enormous bottle of bubbly went into glasses for all, and we relaxed as much as we could. Lancelot sat down on the enormous silk-sheeted bed, and kicked off his shoes, sipping his glass; all three of us got up around him, harem style, me sitting just behind him cross-legged.

"Something of a busy day, today." he said, wriggling his toes. "But exhausting. Feels good to take off one's shoes."

There's the old hex again, Honey, I thought. The gorgeousest stud you've had a chance at yet, and he's all tired out. If he humps one of us, that'll be all. Which means I'm going to be the one, if I can, darn it. To heck with friendship.

"Let me take off those socks," suggested the wily Oriental, and did it. But I had one or two tricks 'up my sleeve, sitting behind him. I started the good old neck-massaging bit, which he really dug the most.

"Aaaah," he said, leaning his head back against my breasts, at which I practically creamed again; but I kept up the neck rub, anyway. Cookie was gently massaging his toes, and Dottie refilled his champagne glass, letting her luscious breasts brush his arms as she did so.

"Mmm," he said, his eyes closed. 'That's lovely, Honey, Keep it up a minute." He sipped champagne, and looked thoughtful.

"Do you girls think you'll like it here?" he asked. We looked at each other, trying to think of an answer, and he chuckled. "Really new at things, aren't you? Do you know, I don't really think you'll stay long, darlings, but I'm glad you're here." He remained comfortably pillowed on my absolutely throbbing boobies as he talked.

"You just strike me as true amateurs, like Cookie here, too."

"We are not," I said indignantly.

"You don't like amateurs," Dottie said, her lip coming out, pouting.

"Ah, you don't understand, Dottie," he told her. "I love amateurs, if they're like amateurs at… say a game, like tennis. That only means they're people who play for the fun of it."

"You said it," Cookie said, worshipfully. "Fun, man."

"Don't let that worry you, dolls," he said. "Enjoy yourselves while you're here, and if you do leave, come and visit us sometimes, hmm?" He stretched his arms out over his head, and with the same movement, caught my head and drew it down to him, mouth pressing mine, tongue darting into my lips, until I nearly fell apart. He moved one hand down, caressing me through the thin negligee; then he sat up.

"It's a difficult choice," he said, thoughtfully, standing up and turning to study the three of us. "Now, how in the world can I pick one?" He studied us again. "How about a drawing?"

"There's a deck of cards in that drawer," Cookie said, and jumped up to get them. Grinning, Lancelot shuffled them with tantalizing slowness, cut, and dealt a card each.

"Now, hold it, darlings," he said, unbuckling his belt and pulling off his shirt. He had a lovely broad cheat, fuzzed with curly brown hair, the kind I dig most. "Before you turn over your cards, let me get comfortable…" He stepped out of his trousers, and turned to face us.

I discovered I was bending the card I held nearly in half. My, oh, MY, I thought, goggling at him in a most unladylike way. He was such a hunk of man, I mean. Even in a relaxed state.

"Mine's a ten," Dottie said hopefully, and I looked at mine, and groaned. A three.

"Phooey," I said, and dropped the card. Cookie chortled wildly.

"A queen, whee!" she bounced like a Chinese doll on the bed.

"Then it's Cookie, and Dottie, and Honey," Lancelot said. Lucky me, end of the line, I thought. When those two get through, I'll get to kiss him goodnight, wow. Dottie looked mildly hopeful, and Cookie was in an Oriental flap, bouncing up and down.

"Now," Lancelot said, coming up to the edge of the bed, "I'm finally going to find out the truth about that story about Chinese girls…"

"Absolutely untrue," Cookie said pertly. "It goes the same way, but lots nicer."

"I'll just check up on it myself," Lancelot said, kneeling on the bed. He caught Cookie's waist with one hand, and with the other he peeled the single tight garment down over her, revealing a smooth golden skin like a peach- small, round tits, and a lovely flat belly that tapered down into a dark-furred mound. She flung herself back, elevating her neat round buttock so that he could peel the garment the rest of the way down.

"Don't get off the bed, darlings, there's plenty of room," Lancelot told us. "And besides, you might want to get into the game some way." He was kneeling between Cookie's raised knees as he spoke, and now he turned his attention to her. "Hey, that's pretty," he said, and bent close to her quivering mound. He scattered kisses around, into the fold of her hip, along her firm belly, and slowly, maddeningly slowly, down toward her downy love-bump. She gurgled with ecstasy as he did it, and then as his lips moved on down, she squealed and bucked wildly; he had evidently reached the right place.

Her golden skin shone with moisture, and her slim legs kicked high in the air as he drove his pointed tongue in and around. Cookie gabbled wildly in Chinese, and arched her hips, squeaking; then, Lancelot lifted his head, laughing.

"It isn't true," he told us. "Chinese girls have exactly the same pretty things."

"Ah, ooh!" Cookie gasped, rolling wildly. "Oh, that… that t-tongue in my twat, aiee… oh, lordy, Bossman, if you s-stop now Ill dieeee!"

Dottie and I were both so wildly excited watching that we were nearly as badly off as Cookie. I leaned toward Lancelot, where he sat, and put my hand around his prong, giving it a pull; it rose like an elevator, and I let go, giggling crazily.

"Hurry up, Lancelot, for heaven's sakes," I gasped. "Give it to her."

He laughed at me, and still sitting, he took hold of Cookie's kicking legs at the knees, and pulled her toward him, spreading her thighs as he did so. Now her pulsating slit was held open and ready, close to his erect organ, and he lifted her swiftly, and thrust her down on it.