I am naked beneath this filmy robe. My nipples are rigid and pushing at the gauzy material. I can think of nothing but sex. My slit is wet.
Sexual images have bombarded my senses since I arrived here an hour ago. Everyone I've seen is scantily clad, and erotic art fills the walls. Explicit sculpture abounds -- of bodies intertwined, of sexual organs, of lovers in repose.
On the vanity in my dressing room was a large, marble sculpture of a cock -- aroused, hard, long... its tip swollen and flared... the testicles as large as ping-pong balls. Popular music with sexual lyrics fills the air... "I Touch Myself" by the Divinyls, "She Bop" by Cyndi Lauper and Prince's "Little Red Corvette," to name a few. The carpet is plush, the wall covering soft, the light subdued.
Where am I? It's hard to say. It's a club... a place... a secret. How did I get here? I don't remember. My girlfriend made it sound like a sexual panacea. I remember declining at first. Then, somehow, she changed my mind. Oh, I don't know. She brought me here. It doesn't matter now. I have no regrets.
I'm about to enter the Vault. It's the inner sanctum. Everyone arrives separately and is directed to a private dressing room (Yeah, right. Undressing room is more like it.). I remove my clothes and don this skimpy sheet. The sides gape open; I'm barely clad. It's my first time, so I've been taken to this side room until the regulars arrive in the Vault.
"I smell sex and candy," wails the pulsing music.
"Stand here;" my escort gestures to a spot facing the curtain that separates us from the Vault.
Slowly the curtain rises, and I stand before them all. The lights in the Vault are dim in contrast to the bright lights shining on me. I can barely see how many are out there, but it looks to be less than a dozen. I step forward, and as I enter the Vault, my eyes adjust to let me see better. The furniture looks as soft as the lighting. Platforms and nooks interrupt the regular lines of the room. The room is spacious but cozy.
Fewer than a dozen people are standing around -- mostly men with a few women. All of them are naked with healthy bodies. Most of the men are aroused, and their cocks bob before them. One guy is stroking himself, and a couple of the women have their fingers in their slits gently masturbating themselves. Their nipples are hard.
They are ready to welcome me into their ranks. They have traditions, and I will observe them. For this ceremony, I must be submissive. I will do what I am told.
Someone moves behind me and unfastens the robe at my neck. It slides down my body to reveal everything. My round breasts are prominent, capped by hard nipples. I am adorned now only by a small necklace and my bush.
They guide me to a large, stuffed chair, and I sit. "Open your legs, and expose yourself," a voice instructs.
I open my legs slightly, and a shiver of pleasure rolls through my body. It arouses me to exhibit my sex. They gather before me and stare into my pussy.
"Pull your knees up and spread yourself farther. Show us everything," a man says, and I comply.
"Pull your lips apart," a woman urges, and I obey.
"Now masturbate for us," another says. "Make yourself cum for us."
Oh, god. They don't know how much it turns me on to frig myself while they watch. I've always enjoyed it. In my teens, I had a girlfriend. From the age of 12, we spent Friday nights together masturbating -- never touching each other because we didn't want to be labeled "lesbian."
But it turned me on so much to see her playing with her pussy and to let her see me playing with mine. I remember the time she produced a vibrator, and we took turns using it on our teen-age clits, cumming while the other watched. We masturbated together until we went to college. I like to be watched.
"Like A Virgin," wails Madonna.
Eagerly and lustfully, I slide the fingers of my right hand into my slit. It's dripping wet. After a couple of initial strokes through my valley, my fingers focus on my clit. It's so naughty and shameful, and it turns me on to do it while they watch. I pull my knees back farther and open myself completely. My pussy couldn't be any wider. My finger roams and rolls over my clit.
My eyes are nearly closed, and the pressure is building between my legs. Some of them are stroking themselves, but mostly they are watching me frig myself. My left hand roams up my torso and arrives at my right breast. I like to fondle my breasts while I masturbate, and today I pinch my nipple lightly. I roll the bud between my thumb and forefinger, and the sensations ripple through my spine to create a line of sexual energy from my clit to my nipples.
I pull my knees up farther, knowing they can see all the intimate details between my legs. I'm sure that my sex glistens with my arousal. My fingers continue to swirl and dance over the aroused nub. My lips are spread widely. The pink must be glowing it is so hot. My bottom is also open.
My groin becomes tighter, as if gathering strength before the explosion. Vibrations begin deep inside.
"I'm cumming," I moan, announcing that I'm about to have an orgasm for them to watch.
My head tosses to one side, and I arch my back as much as I can. Intensely, my fingers rub my clit. The orgasm explodes inside me, and I cry out. My head twists and thrashes as my body heaves. "Ohhhh..."
I stifle a small scream. My cum blasts through my brain and wracks my body. My chest heaves. My fingers continue to massage my clit vigorously. Another wave crashes over me, the intensity magnified by my audience. Guttural sounds escape my mouth, and I enthusiastically cum for them.
Gradually, I slow the stimulation. My eyes open slowly, and I see the lusty faces before me. Every cock is hard and twitching; some glisten with pre-cum. The women are aroused, too, their nipples hard and their slits visibly wet.
I sit upright in my chair and return my feet to the floor. Yet I keep my knees apart and even slip a finger into my slit again for a final touch. I like for them to see me touching myself.
"Now you get to meet the members of our group," a woman says. "As we each stand before you, you may touch us and stroke us in any way that you like."
A handsome young man is the first to move before me. Perhaps 20, with a lean body and a smooth, hairless chest, his cock juts impudently from the patch of hair at his groin. His dick is thick and not too long. The skin is taut. He stands nearly toe to toe with me and looks into my eyes. "My name is Michael," he says.
I admire his prick and reach for it. I grasp the shaft and stroke it gently, admiring its beauty and arousal. With my other hand, I cup his balls. Slowly I push and pull his stiffness as if to milk him.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Michael," I say sincerely.
I release Michael, and another man steps before me. "My name is Jacques," he says. Older than Michael, his chest hair is thin but noticeable, and the same light brown hair is on his arms and legs. His prick twitches before me, and I reach for it. Stroking it fondly, I watch his stomach muscles tighten. This cock is unremarkable in its size, but it seems nearly ready to erupt as pre-cum glistens on the tip. Impetuously, I lean forward and kiss it, tasting his salty liquid on my lips.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Jacques," I said with a throaty voice as I let him go.
The Pointer Sisters are singing, "I'm So Excited." Are they really preacher's kids?
A couple more men stand before me, and we repeat the ritual. Their bodies, too, are fit and trim, and their cocks rigid. I can see leakage from both of them. And, for one, I smear the pre-cum over the tip as he moans.
Next is a woman. "My name is Lisa."
I've never made love to a woman and have barely been curious about it since my adventures with my teen-age girlfriend. Yet I am not repelled, so I reach out and touch her sex. She is wet, and I slip my finger into her slit. It is warm and silky, and I explore. My fingers slide down to the opening of her cunt and then massage her clit. It excites me to have my fingers in another woman's sex.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Lisa."
A black man is in front of me. "My name is Robert," he says in a deep voice.
His penis is so big that it is almost intimidating. I hate stereotypes as much as anybody, but this time it fits. The black skin is a stark contrast to my life's experiences and has a forbidden quality. Yet I reach forward and massage his manhood. His testicles are huge, and I cup them gently. His sac is so tight around them that they look like they couldn't stand more than a light touch, so I touch his balls carefully. A thrill shoots me as I do.
"It's my pleasure, Robert."
A tall, muscular man is next, and his turgid cock is obviously highly aroused. His balls are pulled tightly into his groin, and the head of his penis is bright red. Pre-cum is dribbling from the tip. "My name is Lance," he says, and I can hear lust in his voice.
I reach for Lance, and his cock feels very comfortable in my hand. I pump it perhaps more vigorously than others and certainly for longer. I glance up and see Lance's eyes closed and his face contorted with lust. He is leaning back and pushing his groin toward me. I continue to stroke. Lance gasps, and suddenly sperm is spurting from his cock. It shoots through the air, one drop splashing onto my cheek and then rivulets on my chest. Gob after gob arcs through the air and lands on me and streams downward. Lance's cum is on my tits and my abdomen. And on my hand. I remove my hand and lick the semen from it. Then I lean forward and with my tongue remove the puddle on the tip of his cock.
.... There is more of this story ...