Kevin Harding - Twice As Nice Nymph

"You shouldn't be," he says. He pats my ass playfully. In a minute we are on the couch fucking. I buck up against his thrusts. I keep imagining how it will be to watch Jacques or someone screw Mark's girl friend. I imagine her brown thighs spread wide with Jacques' prick dipping into her. I think about how if he can't get his cock hard I'll suck it until it is rigid, then help him stuff it in her. I imagine myself kneeling over her, chewing the nipples of her brown breasts while Mark, Jacques, any man screws me from behind.

Mark fucks me until we cum, then I pull my panties back on and go back to preparing for the party. It looks now as if there may be as many as thirty or forty coming. The apartment will be crowded with everyone. I decide to call Graham and feel deliciously wicked about inviting him but change;my mind when I think about how it might complicate everything about the divorce and the money. In the course of making calls around I find out that Eric has been arrested in Texas for smuggling in marijuana and is in jail there waiting trial. This startles me and I feel bad about it at first. But it seems like a million years since I've been with him I can barely remember what he looks like and in a few minutes I've almost forgotten that I'd heard about him at all.

I invite a young fellow who screwed me standing up one night in Jackson Square while I was living with Armand and Hal. I don't know his name or anything but when I run into him on the street I ask him if he'll come.

"Sure…" he says.

"Good… and be sure to bring a friend."

"… a girl?"

I laugh. "Why not one of each," I say. I leave him then. I am on my way to buy some pillows. I order two dozen of them to be delivered. And the same number of pillow cases in different colors.

I am restless, impatient… even a little bored. The party has been going on for more than a day now and there are still two days of it ahead. My apartment is crowded. I haven't taken any real count or anything but there must be at least fifty here. I've been screwed or eaten or both by at least six to eight of the men. Mark and Jacques of course. The others I'd never met.

Last night was wild… loud music… lots of drinking… the sour smell. of burning grass… everyone gradually gathering in small circles about the room… stripping naked or half naked… fucking and eating each other… laughing, loudly… the reflections of them all clear in the mirrors and in the crystal of the big chandelier.

But now, at the beginning of the second night, the party has settled down. There are still groups drinking and smoking pot. The room is cluttered with empty glasses and overflowing ashtrays that I don't feel like emptying. Off in one corner, some of the men are playing cards, poker, I think, and a few of the women are standing behind them watching. The rest of the guests are sleeping on the carpet or sofa or lounging about. Through the open door of the bedroom I can see four or five of them crowded on my bed. Except for one couple loving it up on the sofa and a few others petting and fondling each other here and there on the carpet, there is now very little sex.

I am not at all tired. But I am getting more and more bored. I smoke. I pace about the room. I want to be fucked again. But not by any of the ones I see scattered around the room. It was good enough with them last night but none of them appeal to me now. It wouldn't be enough now with any of them. I do see one young fellow though who interests me one of the first to fuck me last night. He is leaning back on the sofa in plaid, half-open boxer under shorts. His eyes are shut. I don't recall his name.

I go over to him, sit down next to him, slip my hand inside his shorts. His prick is small, very soft. I stroke it lightly, rub the head with my thumb: Nothing happens. I pump it faster. I pull up my skirt and put one of my legs across his. I rub his cock across the smooth skin of my thigh. Still nothing.

"You asleep?" I ask.

He opens his eyes, yawns. "No…"

"I'm not having much luck getting you stiff."

"I guess not."

"Want me to eat you?"

"If you want to. But I don't know if that'd help."

"What's the matter… don't I appeal to you?"

He laughs. "Sure… you're a dream. But you don't think a man can screw around the clock, do you? You can suck me if you'd like to…" He shuts his eyes again, lays back his head.

I sit up straight. "Don't do me any favors," I say. I stuff his still soft cock back into his shorts and get up and walk away.

I go out on the balcony and lean on the rail and look down at the traffic. There is a man I don't know in one of the rattan chairs but he is asleep. I smoke and stare out at the lights. I can hear the men playing cards in the living room arguing about who won the last hand. I see a light come on in the apartment, across the street. I watch the man I've seen before moving about picking up things and setting them down.

He stands in front of a dresser. I watch him take off his shirt, his pants. His cock bulges out against his shorts. I feel the trembling starting up inside me. When he steps out of his shorts. I glimpse his prick for just an instant before he pulls on his pajamas. It is not erect, not even half-erect, but my cunt begins to itch and get wet. More than it has itched from being with any of them at the party.

Then his light goes out and I am left just standing there. I light another cigarette. I look down the street as far as I can see. The lights of the buildings blur into darkness.

I crush out. my cigarette after just a few puffs and go quickly back through my apartment. Past the others playing cards and standing in small groups drinking. Past the ones sleeping on the carpet and on the couch. I go into the bedroom and dress quickly, ignoring the couples asleep on the bed. I see Rae and Mark talking with some others in the kitchen when I come out. I leave the party without saying goodbye to them or to anyone. I hurry down the stairs to the sidewalk.

I walk rapidly. Block after block down Dauphine Street. My heart begins to thud. I draw closer. I see the building. I see the lights burning in the windows on the second floor. I cross the street and enter. I climb the stairs.

I knock.

Someone opens the door.

I step inside.

"Hey, look who's here…"

"Hi Carrie."

"Say, I remember… You were good. But you only stayed one night."

I smile hello to the ones I recognize. They are all dressed in their costumes. Someone is adjusting the floodlights. Two others are spreading out the mats. Frank comes by carrying the tickets and the metal box. He stops for a moment, says hello, then pats me on the shoulder and walks on. I can smell grass burning. But I don't want any. I don't need any. I go up on the stage and pick out one of the chiffon dresses from a hanger. I don't pay much attention to the size. I carry it quietly back to one of the bedrooms.

I stand in the center of the stage clad now only in black bikini panties. My dress is somewhere in the pile with the others on the floor.

The spotlight shines on me. Harsh. White. The music plays.

I can see the faces of the audience beyond the glare of the spotlight. I can see the glow of cigarettes and the smoke curling toward the ceiling.

The revolving colored lights turn and begin to shine on me. I am blue. I am pink. I am green. I sway my body in time with the music.

Two of the men come toward me, stand next to me. They are still fully dressed in their black suits. Each cups one of my breasts. I have rouged my nipples and they glisten red in the spotlight. The two men help me off with my panties and run their hands slowly up and down my legs.

I feel free, completely naked now. My nipples and cunt are on fire. My pussy runs rivers down my thighs.