Cognac
Ciana Rose © 2005
The hotel was the most extravagant yet for the annual party a group of Simon’s associates held. I knew a few wives, and did my best to mingle while Simon played the "must" politics. It did not take long to complete the rounds and run out of familiar faces. I looked for Simon, but saw he was involved in conversation and so I decided to find a safer harbor to bide my time.
As I slowly made my way to the grand bar at the back of the ballroom, the tall blond bartender caught my eye. He looked a bit younger, and more attractive than anyone has a right to be. The real killer was that lop-sided grin; the one that makes a woman’s knees go weak. It was impossible not to return a smile and acknowledge the impact of his silent flattery.
With a polite greeting, I named my drink, something stronger than my usual, something more appropriate for such a...tedious occasion. The bartender stared back for a moment, the edge of his cocky smile lifting, deepening the crease of his suntanned cheek before he turned his back to pour. I found myself sizing himup, the stylish cut of his hair, the broad shoulders in the short white jacket of his uniform, the hard buttocks that filled the seat of those black, perfectly creased slacks so well. When I looked up I realized he had been watching my bold perusal in the mirror. This time he gave me a more seductive grin. Embarrassed, I feigned a cough and looked away.
"What’s your poison?"
Startled by the voice, I turned. The speaker was a saucy, voluptuous brunette with pouty lips and a pair of gorgeous, expressive brown eyes. I placed her age somewhere between the charming bartender’s and mine. She wore little makeup, and her short layered hair was carelessly tousled. Her dress, her informal manner, all indicated a distinct earthiness. And when she did not fabricate a smile, I took it as further evidence of her easy casualness, her total lack of pretense. I had no doubt we could be friends.
"Cognac," I answered, meeting her gaze.
"Same," she informed the bartender, her glance falling below his waist briefly before she returned her attention to me. "Meg. My name is Meg."
"Hello, Meg. I’m Bella."
"Great party, isn’t it?"
The question sounded tentative, a gauge. When I sent her my best get-serious look, she chuckled, sounding relieved at not having received the standard polite bullshit.
"Are you staying here, at the hotel tonight?"
"Only way Simon can get me to attend these socials."
She laughed, with one of those sexy throaty laughs that melt men.
Before either of us could say more, the bartender set her drink down on the counter then casually, leaned on his elbow with all the confidence in the world. He looked from me to Meg, his lascivious thoughts no secret. His glance inched to her full breasts, swelled high in her strapless black gown. Who could blame him; carnality exuded from the woman, and there was no lack of want there either.
When Meg, unruffled by his boldness, continued to sip her Cognac, the bartender made a small sound of desire then returned his attention to me. Gone was the previously playful smile, replaced by a candid expression of pure lust.
When a guest broke the sexually charged atmosphere, I became aware of the hot moisture our silent but intense exchange had generated, and shifted for comfort in suddenly dampened panties.
"Yeah, me too," Meg announced in a soft voice.
Discomfited by the frank and unexpected admission, I cleared my throat and took another sip of cognac.
Meg studied me through slanted eyes, then really floored me with her next comment. "Bella? Let’s fuck."
I stood frozen, mouth agape, mind racing to distinguish fact from imagination before I was able to force my eyes to blink and collect my wits. Slowly absorbing her advance, I allowed her candor to encourage mine. When I met her eyes, it was with equal forthrightness, and we established an understanding.
"Are you here by yourself?" I asked as an afterthought.
"I am now. My brother’s date showed up after all."
I turned and searched the room. Simon was speaking to a squat, balding man but his gaze was fixed upon me. We made eye contact, then his glance moved to Meg.
"Is that your husband? Not bad," she remarked.
Now that the course had been set I was simply too aroused and too anxious to dally. "Let’s go," I said decisively when she continued to regard Simon with a calculating expression.
Meg shot me a rapturous look, and then quickly downed her drink.
We had only taken a few steps when, as if prompted by an unspoken signal, we paused as one and turned for a last look. The sexy bartender was wiping a wineglass but we seemed to still hold his undivided attention. He squinted in return, a hedonistic squint combined with regret. Meg and I sighed simultaneously, like a couple of lovesick teens, then turned and left with shared reluctance.
As she led the way out of the ballroom, my focus remained on her voluptuous bottom, quivering underneath the jersey fabric of her formal with each step she took. More hot steam pooled between my legs and I hastened my stride.
We rode the elevator in silence, oblivious of the elderly couple who had followed us in. Meg stared at my shapely leg, visible up to the upper thigh through the long frontal slit of my evening gown. As for me, I shared the bartender’s appetite for her heaving breasts. By seconds, the moistened gusset of my panties was growing more uncomfortable.
I let Meg enter the room first. Just as I shut the door, we reached for each other, hungrily, without the usual formalities between two strangers. Driven by lust, there was no feminine gentility when our mouths parted and our tongues began an urgent, passionate acquaintance.
As we kissed, we tugged at clothes anxiously. Meg snapped open my bra, and we separated, both pulling at the straps to rid me of the restraining undergarment. My eyes fell on her curvaceous body wrapped in black corset and lace-top stockings. Her large erect nipples, popped over the half cups, looked ripe enough to make my mouth water. Mesmerized, I licked my lips and swallowed before I started to drool.
Meg literally shoved me onto the bed with a growl then came down herself. "Your skin is so soft, so creamy," she murmured, anxiously caressing my arms, chest, tummy while her glance took a slow tour down the length of my long legs. Turning back abruptly, her eyes locked on mine and without preamble, she shoved an elegant finger deep into my flaming center.
"Aaahhh," I sighed and raised my hips high to greet her.
"That feel good?" she asked, and covered my mouth with hers. Her tongue blasted through my parted lips in a mission of invasion. She took as liberally as I gave, and offered the same in return. All the while, my body pushed and churned on her comforting hand.
I moaned my loss when Meg tore her mouth away to posture herself for a more significant seizure. Welcoming the pain of passion, I clenched her hair and encouraged her hungry assault on my breasts.
"Delicious," she cooed as she switched from one insistent nipple to the other.
I squeezed the breast she was suckling. It encouraged her to work harder. "So you like sucking tit, hmmm?" I teased.
With her lips pursed tightly around my taut peak, she could do little but moan.
"Me too," I agreed and, unable to resist any longer, reached for one of her heavy succulent mounds, only to have my hand pushed away.
"You’ll get your turn," she teased and slid lower. "I want to taste your pussy."
The sound of the door opening gave us only a momentary pause. "What took you so long?" I questioned when Simon entered.
"You know business, hon," he answered, removing his tuxedo jacket.
Meg turned her head, but kindly kept her finger buried. She regarded Simon, one thick eyebrow arched with interest.
After the introductions, Simon removed his shoes and stretched out by my side. "Did I miss much?"
"A lot more to...cum," I replied.
He chuckled and gave me an affectionate kiss.
"So, Meg, what’s a nice girl like you doing in my bed?"
Meg gave him a brazen once over, then leaned across me. "Getting a good lay, I hope."
"You got it, baby," Simon promised and took that edible pouty mouth of hers with his. While he kissed her, Meg did not neglect me, her slender finger burrowing even deeper into the heat and humidity it worked to promote.
Releasing Meg, Simon asked, "What did I interrupt?"
"I was just about to taste Bella’s pussy."
"Then let me help."
He spread my delicate nether lips, gently, wide, using thumb and forefinger. Together, they stared long and hard at my vulnerable clit while it cried for attention. Then Simon’s heavy tongue came down and took a single slow lick, leaving me quivering.
"Mmm, that there is pure honey, Meg."
Meg shot him a glance then dipped her head and snatched my swollen nub between velvet lips. My body responded instantly, welcoming the impatiently longed-for onslaught.
Simon’s eyes remained on my writhing form as he first removed his bow tie then eased my legs wider apart. Meg accepted the invitation and carefully moved to lie in the "V" he had provided, her finger never slipping out of my honeyed nest in the process. I, in turn, bent my knees deeper around her and provided her with a more splayed access.
Settled, with her warm breath fanning my pubic hairs in a pleasant distraction, she extracted her buried finger. Before I could feel its absence, a soothing plump tongue slipped in to take its place, intoxicating me. I took Meg’s head in both hands and pushed my crotch to her face. She held nothing back, huffing and slurping as she reached farther and farther into my depths. It was heaven.
I cried deliriously when she next removed the essence of my pleasure, that nimble tongue of hers. Then cried again when she filled me with two fingers in its stead. And when she took my greedy clit once more, I became lost in the climb toward nirvana.
Simon pinched my nipple, forcing me to arch my back, to offer him more. "Cum," he ordered, his dark eyes demanding the pleasure of seeing me in ecstasy.
My heart pounding with love, I submitted, to my needs and to his command, breathing his name just as the little death arrived to make its exalted claim.
I flowed with soft screams, fighting to keep my eyes open. Meg pushed her fingers in deeper, her mouth firming on my little nub, her sucking relentless. Simon watched proudly, victoriously, as my body bucked and churned in its attempt to cram Meg into my cunt.
In the end, it was his pleasure that brought me the greater contentment.
* * *
"You’re right, sweet as honey," Meg confirmed when, having removed his clothes, Simon returned to join us on the bed.
Meg and I unwound from each other, making room for him to lie between us. Simon kissed and caressed in turns while our bodies took refuge in his masculinity. Leading Meg and me into our own private exchange of passion, he slid lower to bury his face in breasts. His hum of delight echoed as he fondled and suckled, his efforts earning him even more tender and responsive nipples.
"Meg," Simon gently separated us, "why don’t you come sit on my face."
Meg’s eyes sparkled. She moved quickly to straddle him, on her knees, backward.
"Show it to me first," he requested. "Open it nice and wide."
She shifted to find her balance then carefully leaned forward, her rear lifting inches. Both hands reached back, deepening the arch of her spine, and ever so luxuriantly spread her cheeks.
"Oophhh, what a sweet plump pussy," Simon murmured after a moment of silent observation, and then sniffed deeply. "All right, baby, go ahead and set it down for me now."
Meg lowered herself on his face, her drawn out moan at initial contact turning into a breathy sigh of accomplishment with the final seating.
I took Simon’s powerful cock in my hand and gave it a little kiss, inhaling his familiar unique scent before swallowing what I could of him, with all the tenderness my hunger would allow. His balls cradled in my palm, I sucked hard, in the very way that I know pleases him most.
Meg interrupted with a touch, desire in her countenance. She brought her head down, mouth open, anxious. Her moan rang of gratitude when I placed Simon’s swollen tip between her lips. She suckled it preciously, then took it deeper, shifting her hips from side-to-side, opening herself wider for him.
As I carry a constant, insatiable need to pleasure Simon, I could not pass up the opportunity when it arose. Positioning myself between his bent legs, I licked and pampered his sac of skin while Meg continued to ravish his cock. Together, we created a lovely chorus of moans.
When still it was not enough, and I ached to provide more, I forced Simon’s legs wider apart and reached lower, knowing just how much it pleasures him to have his anus tongued.
It took little time for Meg’s breathing to grow heavier with her approaching climax and I returned to their side, to aid and participate.
"He loves cunt juice; smear him good," I whispered in her ear. She heeded my advice and, grunting, tackled the task with more gusto.
I gently squeezed one hand under the curve of her womanly tummy for support. The other, I sucked wet the middle finger then reached for her backside. My penetration into her tight passage was all the incentive she needed, and she toppled into sweet oblivion with a guttural roar. I pushed in all the way. Simon pressed her hips down from both sides; she crushed him hard.
"Yesss, baby, rub your pussy against that hot tongue," I urged over Meg’s muffled screams, her feminine form convulsing in its pleasure while she valiantly rode the crest of insanity. "Feels so, so damned good."
Meg slowed at last, but continued to feed on Simon. "Yea, he eats pussy real good, doesn’t he?" Stroking her hair, easing her return, I gauged her satisfaction by her hungry suckling and muted whimpers. How well I know that profound need that always plagues me afterwards. Yes, sweet Meg, suck his cock, feed your soul.
* * *
I waited for Meg to fight her way back through the haze and straighten, then I straddled Simon’s hips and slowly lowered myself onto his quivering shaft. Meeting Meg’s smoldering gaze, I drew her to me for a taste of those provocative lips. What they tasted of was Cognac and cock. I savored the combination, and then left her to recover while I nourished myself from her ripe nipples and rocked upon the rock-solid penis that stood buried within me.
My breast fetish for the moment appeased, I let Meg slide off Simon, and then I came down into his loving arms. Her scent was strong on him, and now I licked his lips for Meg’s own alluring taste. Our kiss was brief, but fiery.
Simon rolled me onto my side and re-entered me from behind. He knows my needs so well. A strong hand snaked over my hipbone and experienced fingers seized the slippery kernel of my clit for manipulation. The other arm lay in an arc, a supporting cradle, underneath my neck. Meg, for her part, took charge of my needy breasts. Coordinating her ministrations with Simon’s languid strokes, the two joined forces and teased me relentlessly.
As I grew more responsive, my back curved into a pliant arch that allowed Simon deeper penetration. For that, he rewarded me with a more solid thrusting.
My orgasm suddenly upon me, Simon pushed in to the hilt and wedged his thumb through my lips and into my mouth. I exploded with a growl—my nerves alive. Simon pinched my clit with his working hand, my outer labia affording him the firm grip, and rubbed his fingers against one another. Meg bit one nipple and squeezed the other none too gently, adding a pleasant pain to my pleasure, only to have the scream of jubilation stick in my throat, as I sucked on Simon’s thumb like a cock.
I relished the precious ecstasy for as long as I could freeze time. With the tension slowly ebbing, Simon and Meg, as good lovers do, held me tenderly, lulling me back to sensibility at the dictate of my own sweet time.
* * *
I returned from the bathroom and found Meg on her back and Simon on top. Her legs were wrapped high around his waist, in the age-old fashion that a woman opens herself to a man. He was thrusting into her, his balls slamming against her bottom. I climbed between his legs to watch them do so.
My affectionate caress of Simon’s manly buttocks slowed him, curbing his thrusts into sensual grinds. I took his drawn out moan as a request. My mouth replaced my hands for a wet massage of his cheeks, stopping briefly to tantalize the small sphere of nerve endings before continuing lower to his scrotum, where I could taste and smell both Meg and me.
"You’ve got a great ass, Meg." I heard Simon say. "Do I get to fuck it?"
Her whimper of consent came without hesitation, and I reached for the jar I had brought back with me. As my greasy finger circled and taunted Meg’s anal entrance, I continued to lave Simon’s testicles with my tongue. He and Meg kissed while I took time to lubricate her, to prepare her for pleasure.
Ready, Meg turned over, laid her head down, and raised her rear high.
"That’s nice, baby, that’s just how I like to take it."
Simon took his place behind her on his knees and I took mine beside him. Unhurried, fanned fingers squeezed and molded Meg’s lush flesh, as much a posturing of their dominant and submissive roles as foreplay.
Meg purred, waiting docilely, straining to deepen her spinal arch.
Eyes glazed, Simon groaned with manly ego and spread her ass cheeks more taut for a better display of the oiled sphincter that was now at his discretion.
"Mmm, looks nice, babe." He tore his gaze away to thank me for the preparation, a thorough kiss that left me sizzling.
Meg’s moans rose when Simon’s hips pressed forward and the weight of his cock-head lay teasingly against the puckered entrance. Her moans rose higher when, taking hold of his thick shaft, he began to rotate it around the small circle, lubricating that same head in a blend of pre-cum and grease to ease the penetration of her tight canal.
"You ready to give it to me, Meg?" Simon tapped gently then butted his swollen tip against her little ring.
"Yesss," came her soft, anxious reply.
I watched, riveted, as the darker resistant skin first indented slightly, then slowly began to give way against steady pressure.
"That’s right, baby, open up your ass so I can fuck it."
Meg gasped, and I let out the breath I did not know I had been holding when elasticity prevailed and the bulbous head suddenly penetrated in partial then came to a halt.
With Meg's rubbery anus stretched forcefully to accommodate his thickness, and purple veins straining against the pink flesh of his shaft, Simon allowed her a brief respite. Then he resumed the invasion, taking an inch, returning two, conquering slowly, prolonging the exquisite sensations, sensations that I am gifted with often.
Meg moaned and whimpered, urging him to take her, to be swift in delivering them both to the height of ecstasy. Simon listened in silence to her exasperation—to what I know is symphony to his soul. And when her neediness grew into the very advantage he sought, on the next outward slide, he withdrew completely.
Meg lamented, her rectal muscles contracting reflexively, pleading for his return. Simon watched; triumph and pleasure etched on his face. Then he started the sweet torment anew, inserting ruthlessly slow. Giving little; taking a lot. By the time he sunk to the hilt, I was trembling, desperate for a release of my own.
Simon’s hands fell away from Meg’s hips, and he grew still. Meg cried in protest, gliding back and forth on his slick cock in her urgency, her coaxing strokes exposing the full length of the rigid shaft in one direction, then swallowing it back into the snugly-fit glove down to its base. When her efforts failed to raise a satisfying response, her strokes became more demanding, and grew into feverish pumping.
Meg's need successfully nurtured into a serving tool, Simon’s attention turned to me. "Come here, babe."
I shuffled forward on my knees obediently, positioning my crotch above the open palm Simon held out at hip level. Knowledgeable fingers began to move, to stimulate. I might have collapsed from sheer exuberance, had my body not been already wracking itself into oblivion.
"Look at me!" Simon’s commanding eyes bore into mine while he shoved a finger in as substitute, and continued to massage my bursting clit with his thumb.
Through the storm of rapture, I whimpered, "Simon," his wielding power once again granting me solace in the sweet submission that belongs to me by nature. "Ohhh, Simon..." ...My husband, my love, the man who keeps my blood boiling and my heart thundering with life.
Having brought me to a swift completion, Simon held and cooed me through recovery, his patience great, his tenderness heartfelt.
Breath finally caught, libido appeased, I moved to kneel behind him, then reached for the lubricant.
For Simon, I used two fingers, inserting deep. A groan expressed his pleasure and he reclaimed Meg’s hips, forcing her frantic pumping under control, hushing her pathetic mewling.
"All right, baby, you get your turn too." His hand slipped over the curve of her lush hip, disappearing under her abdomen, his own hips on the move to meet the mating call. I wrapped my free arm around his waist and held on tight.
Thrills vibrated in Meg’s wail at the onset of orgasm, her body tensing first then shattering into convulsions. Simon’s gentle thrusts grew more arduous, driving Meg harder and harder into the pinnacle of pleasure, then slowing with her downward spiral, only to pick up pace again and require more of her. She reached a second orgasm, bucking even more violently on his cock, her cries of ecstasy drowning his growls of satisfaction.
Following the peak came the desperation, the need for that all-consuming powerful thrusting, essential to completing a woman’s satisfaction, an act catering to her primal need for domination, for possession.
A man well versed in women’s needs, Simon obliged, pumping hard and fast, dousing the intensity. I pinched his nipple for their mutual gratification and braced myself. With Meg primed to his taste, smoldering and whimpering like a puppy, Simon pounded her ass for the final conquest.
"Take her, my love," I whispered, prideful of my man. "Fuck her."
And he did.
* * *
I woke to a knock at the door. "Who’s that?" I demanded, disoriented. My eyes focused on the small clock on the nightstand and I saw it was past two.
"Thought you two might enjoy a late night snack," Simon offered, rising from the bed.
Meg and I shared a sleepy look, shrugging our shoulders, then sobered quickly at "Come on in" and in a panic, scurried for the covers.
In stepped our favorite bartender, a familiar bottle in his hand and a cheeky smile that told all. "Cognac, ladies?"
The glance Meg and I exchanged this time was of delight and a fully alert one. Suddenly two pairs of arms shot out in wide welcome. "Yes, please," we called in unison.