Donna & Carol, Book 10, Part 1: Company: Hospitality RedefinedBook 10 has been edited and is nearly ready for release. It features romance, romantic couples sex, group sex, and voyeurism. Here's another taste:
They were coming, now, at least Dylan was. Carol could be so quiet that you’d miss it—unless you knew the signs.
They slowed, and she came to rest with his full length buried inside her, almost as though it didn’t exist. She rocked forward and kissed him. “Thank you, Dylan,” she said. “You sure know how to please a girl: talented and well-equipped, to boot.”
I smiled to myself as I put my hands on her hips and lifted gently.
She began to laugh: “Must be Andy’s turn,” she said. “Can’t keep a good man waiting,” and she pushed up to her hands and knees.
I watched that long shaft slide out of her, softening now, almost snakelike, and when the head popped free, the whole thing toppled to the side.
Her inner thighs were wet and glistening as I moved into position. I was rock-hard and ready; she was relaxed and four-kinds-of-wet. I bottomed out in one long push. The feeling was electric, just as I’d known it would be.
She smiled back at me and said, “Hi, Andy. I’ve been waiting for my turn with you.”
I put my hands on her hips and savored the feel of her soft skin. I spoke as I moved into her: “I had fun watching you entertain your guests. It made me want you . . . like in the old days.”
She held my eyes for a few beats, and said, “I like that, Andy.
“Let me take care of you,” she added.
“You always do, Carol, but I don’t know if I can last . . .”
“I don’t need to come again, Andy, but I wanna coax one out of you. Use your hands to pull us together. Fill me up, Sweetie. Give me your creamy load.”
“A creamy load?” I said, “I’ll see if I can mix one up for you.”
She laughed: “You do that. Now give it to me hard, Andy. Make my knockers jiggle.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. I said, “We wouldn’t want to hurt Dylan.”
“Dylan’ll be OK. He’s a survivor,” said Dylan.
“See, no excuses,” Carol said.
“OK,” I said. “Here comes the freight train.”
I gave it to her hard, my orgasm building amid visions of Carol with our two guests: Randall stretching her one way, and Dylan the other.
I glanced to my right and saw Randall and Donna making out, while his hands pleasured her swaying breasts. The swaying came courtesy of Wes, who was happily sliding into her from behind. This was not helping my control.
By now, it seemed that my early release was inevitable, that I was destined to lose it and leave Carol hanging. I looked at her back, with her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, and let my eyes wander along the length of her, until I was looking down where my cock was sliding into her. That, however, was not where my eyes came to rest. They stopped about an inch above that spot, at the tight, crinkled opening with its darker skin.
I slowed my thrusting, then stopped, regaining some control before it all slipped away. I thought for a moment, then withdrew just enough to reach a hand between us. I stroked up the inside of Carol’s thigh, picking up moisture as I went, until I’d found the mother lode. Her bush was saturated with the juices of the evening, and I gathered what I could there and found more around her leaking opening.
I felt Carol move and glanced up to see her looking at me; her face wore an inquisitive expression.
“Just go back to whatever you were doing,” I said.
She smiled back, saying, “I was on the receiving end of a good screwing.”
“Patience,” I said, and my finger made a twirling gesture, signaling her to turn around.
She narrowed her eyes, gave me a little lip-smile, and turned slowly to face the front.
I looked at my wet hand and was satisfied with what I found. I wiped the slick fluid onto the curve of one butt-cheek and used my thumb to transfer it to her little brown bud.
This brought her head around again, and I said, “Don’t worry. None of this concerns you. Go back to what you were doing.”
She gave me a look that said, Sure, Andy . . . but she turned around.
That’s when I began to move again, but very carefully this time. Donna and Carol loved this rear entry position; it could hit some good spots, providing you got your angles right. I knew Carol’s good angles, and I made sure I hit them now, but very slowly, keeping me under control while drawing her back into the game.
Of course, there was that other thing. I thought I might have the trump card for Carol, and I was going to start playing it now. I placed the pad of my thumb over her slippery, puckered opening and began to trace small circles. I felt Carol tense a little, then relax, then begin to move her hips with me: just a little, just fine-tuning those angles.
This bout of scheming had distracted me from my impending orgasm, and it toned-down my sensitivity. I’d bought myself a little working room, and I put it to use, increasing my tempo and hitting the good spots with a little more authority. Carol was beginning to show some interest, and her movements picked up accordingly.
I waited until we were moving together nicely, and her back began to show some color; then I stopped my thumb circles, moved to the center, and applied a little pressure.
Her head turned and she gave me her fake-stern expression. It looked like she was just about to say something . . . when my thumb popped in.
Her eyes closed, and her mouth went slack. I gave her a moment, waiting until her eyes opened. When they did, I slid my thumb part way out—and back in again. Her eyes opened wide, so I did it again. She let out a breath and turned back to face Dylan.
Now I was happy.
I put my dick back to work, but now I added my thumb, and I synchronized them stroke-for-stroke. Carol was pushing back into me, now, and I wondered which penetration she was trying to increase: maybe both. It didn’t really matter; because I knew I had her, knew she would get off, too.
Carol’s color was up and her head was down. She was lost in concentration as she moved with me, becoming the aggressor, now. It was like being caught in a feedback loop: the more excited she became, the more it turned me on. This was coming to a head for both of us; I could see it and feel it.
Finally, she was literally slamming back into to me, and when she spoke, it came out with a Donna-like growl: “If you’re waiting for me to come, Andy, Don’t! Fuck me, Andy! Come on!”
I felt my eyes pop open: Our little Carol . . .
She wanted to be fucked, so I fucked her. I met her every thrust, but I added one thing, I made sure that every time I hit home, I gave that thumb a little bump with my hips. She let out a grunt with every impact of our bodies. The sound was guttural, very un-Carol-like.
Her noises increased in volume until a loud cry announced the start of her orgasm. It came as such a surprise and carried so much passion that it set me off, too. It felt like I’d released all the pent-up excitement of the evening through those first few spasms.
Carol moved forward when it was over, drawing me out of both openings. I expected her to fall full-length onto Dylan, but she lowered herself to the side instead and rolled onto her back. She came to rest looking up at me, her chest heaving as she recovered.
Finally, when it appeared she’d regained enough strength, she held out her arms to me. I smiled back and moved to lie down next to her, but she’d have none of that, and she gathered me in her arms and pulled me down on top of her.
She kissed me hard, then turned her head, bringing her mouth close to my ear. She said, “Andy, you’re a dirty, dirty boy. Thank you!”
I drew back enough to see her eyes. I smiled, and said, “Did you come?”
She laughed, and it made her belly dance.
I said, “I’m glad we had the windows closed. The neighbors might have called the police.”
She looked mildly embarrassed. Our Carol was back. “Was I that loud?” she asked.
“Yes!” Donna said. Then she looked at me, and her eyes narrowed: “What did you do to her, Andy?”
I said, “I think we have a journal entry for you.”