Chapter 27: Hollywood Parties

The silence from the west coast left us full of questions as the weekend got underway on Saturday. What had gone on the night before with Carrie, Jerry, Paul, and Misty – if anything. All we knew from that geography was that she was wearing her upside-down pineapple necklace as they headed out for the evening.

The suspense lasted even long after Carrie texted, “Everything going well here. Lots happening. Party tonight that I hadn’t expected. Going with Paul and Misty and Jerry. Will call tomorrow. [Heart][Heart]. I love you both. Carrie.’

Marjorie and I puttered around the house all day Saturday, and then went out for dinner at Swan’s, an old mansion turned into a restaurant that sat on the rim of a large pond that attracted several swans during the summer months that were often seen by patrons near the windows. We were in luck that night.

Over dinner, we talked about what we’d both heard about Hollywood parties. Marjorie was more informed about them than I was, since she had several friends in the L.A. area that routinely attended such events. Apparently, there were many of them, and they were a staple for the entertainment industries in that geography. She’d even offer up the contacts to Carrie.

Marjorie laughed, “Our wife is going to be fucked into oblivion tonight, especially because she’s a princess. Everyone will want a piece of her. A gangbang might look tame by comparison. Every meaty cock at the party will want a piece of her. She’ll also be up very late, probably until around three or four in the morning. I doubt we’ll hear from her until dinner time tomorrow.

“A typical agenda for a party like she’s probably at goes something like this. You arrive around nine p.m., and there’s a lot of music playing, open bars, and most of the women are dressed very chic and very sexy. I bet that Carrie wore that electric blue cocktail dress and her come-fuck-me heels. Along with her pineapple necklace, the whole combination invites people to come on to her.

“She’ll do some dirty dancing and in the process start to focus on one or two of the men paying attention to her. Since Jerry is along for the ride, I’d guess that he’ll be nearby doing similar things, but mostly drinking diet soda. He’s also very observant. He’ll make sure she’s doing what she wants, and also that no one is making a video of her attendance and any sex she’s involved in.

“Around ten-thirty, the music will shift to all slow dances like we have at our parties. Partial nudity will become rampant. The make-out sessions on the dance floor will move to various alcoves and sofas, or even migrate to one of the bedrooms. Those will quickly become all-out fuck sessions.

“Carrie likes group sex, so she’ll fit in like well in that environment. I bet she takes two young men off with her for starters. She’ll want to guarantee that she gets more than just one man. She’ll seriously underestimate her attraction, both in looks and her princess background.

“After they’re underway, the guys and girls circulate looking for next partners. If someone is really going at it, they might attract a room full of people standing around the bed awaiting a turn of just getting aroused.

“Most of the people by then will be naked or close to it – men and women alike. Some of the women might continue to wear thigh-high stockings and their CFM shoes, but they want to be fully available to have any of their orifices filled with cock.

“Fundamentally, that activity keeps going on the rest of the night. Every corner of the house will be filled with people fucking ... including our wife. By three or four a.m. the guys get pretty fucked out so things slow down. The crowd thins out and people go home.”

Marjorie grinned, “That’s what’s going on in L.A.” She tapped the table top to emphasize that her description was over.

I shook my head, “About what I figured. You’ve really pumped me up. How about we go home and have our own little fuck fest?”

I quickly settled the tab for dinner, and home we went.

Carrie’s call came in about six p.m. on Sunday. It was mid-afternoon on the west coast, and she’d just gotten up. She got back to the hotel at five a.m.

“I’m a little sore,” she confessed. “I also am the biggest slut in the country. I fucked and sucked just about non-stop from nine-thirty last night until four this morning. I couldn’t tell you how many guys were in my body, but it was a lot – like maybe twenty or thirty. See what I mean. I pulled a train, or so I was told. I’d never heard of that before, but Misty informed me.”