Chapter 2

Veronica had a party to go to. After all, that was in the script, the course of events with her friend John, the turnface before the turn of face, another move of prince charming before he got around to detail his marital status and the resulting connubial confiscation.

This party would not be difficult to remember: it wasn't that long ago, but something about the atmosphere cemented the whole thing in her mind. A few twists and turns and the vibrator and she'd be in the middle of it once again, making time, getting soused or stoned (the customer chooses), and generally reaping havoc on an otherwise affluent and sturdy beach house.

It wasn't her first orgy but it was her first first-class orgy. What actually happened was most unfortunate in that, Vern had got cold-feet and didn't participate. Okay, she's been new on the coast, and it all was a bit much for her to take in one big slice, especially when doled out by as aggressive a stud as John. But now was her chance to rewrite the script, to fantasize and make it happen all over again, but this time really happen, not just booze and talk.

She began to create the story, half fact but more fiction, beginning her thought in the tub, drenched in bubbles and warm water which softened her skin a gave a pink glow to her cheeks and tits. Vern took the soap and stuck it into her cunt, first halfway and then all the way in, until she began to moan and get into the mood.

She saw herself enter aggressively and be confronted by a room full of hot studs and maidens. John's eyes almost popped out of his head. Veronica pictured at least ten guys and dolls, half of them topless, the other have sporting alluring brassieres and bikini underwear. It didn't take long to get things started. Like the Red Sea, or a communal meeting house, the party divided in half, and Veronica chose her group, disappointed but going along with her plan.

There was something new in all of this: girls. Veronica had thought about if before. She read widely. She was aware of certain literary circles in which lesbianism was accepted, or for that matter knew of its implications in the feminist movement. She'd probably been approached for that matter, sure Rose Knollwood in the office, with her heaving bosom, who always stood just a little too close and was always asking Ron up to her room for a drink. But somehow this wouldn't be quite so kinky. The presence of men made it A-okay.

One of the men left, and eventually a foursome was left in the bedroom, two mammoth women, and two extremely well-hung men. The studs had the women lay back on their back, then each concentrated on one and stripped to taste, which is to say nakedness. Vern couldn't help in her imagination, as she sat there steaming in her tub, comparing her own assets with the other broad. One thing was certain: they were both stacked, stacked as hell. It was hard to tell who was larger, but Vern had an idea she was a bit firmer, possessing better muscular support (and she knew guys really went for that).

Suddenly, Vern decided to orchestrate the scene by accelerating the pace. The two studs got on the bed, lowering their shorts: Both were large, almost gigantic. What had really happened was that Vern joined a couple of women who had cold feet and never got to see these cocks, although she could have bit her tongue for being such a prude later that night. Now, she'd make up for past frustration.

Ron imagined some positions. Sam--the tall, blond guy-- decided to help her and Cecile get acquainted so he pushed their bodies first on the side and then together. It was the first time Ron even thought of such a situation, and she imagined it to be nothing less than fantastic, the feel of woman tit pushing against her own, the hard nipples digging into her own cherries, and the fantastic, smooth legs entwining around her own. "Oh, yes, yes," she said out loud, "push those things into me."

"Why not give her a little body rub," Sam suggested.

Ron was rising out of the tub and already drying herself with a terrycloth as she imagined what it would be like to give a job to a broad like Cecile. I know, she thought, I'd start on her back and then make my way around the front, first kneading her around the back of the shoulders and then pressing into the flesh of her back. I'd move down, all the way down, to the beginning of her ass and then I'd shamelessly rub her buns. Then I'd start at her ankles, moving my way up to the calf, the inside of her thigh, and I'd stop just below her cunt to make her ache for it. I'd keep rubbing, stopping at the sides of her breasts and making her ache for it.

Ron decided to make the scene happen in her trusty imagination.

"Turn over," she said to Cecile. Cecile graciously obliged, exposing her two huge, Titan tits, which seemed to be the very center of her entire body. Ron could hardly hold herself back, but she knew that half the fun was the tease. Her tactile titillation grew to a new plane of excitement as she worked her way down from Cecile's shoulders and pounced on her tits. The glorious splendor, the sumptuous epicureanism, the boundless hedonism was almost too much for Ron to take, but her mind's eye was not about to mitigate a full frontal attack, an attack on tit, on nipple, and finally, juicy, throbbing cunt.

"Feel them, feel them all over," Cecile begged. A tall woman--generously stacked and big-boned--she seemed to dominate the entire area over which she lay. Ron imagined her to be even more impressive than herself, more of a temptation to their masculine audience, a duet of spectators holding themselves back with decreasing success. Ron felt the erect left nipple, then bent down until she was able to touch the teat with the tip of her tongue, a delicate, tingly sensation, a nerve impulse beginning at the point of inception, traveling up the spine, and ending up in the pleasure center deep within convolutions of gray matter. As Marv and Sam resorted to tooth grinding, fist clenching, hyperventilation and other tricks of the celibacy trade, so Vern continued motions created for the sole purpose of tricking up the tricks--and our young lady was quite successful, you may believe that. "Suck them, suck them!" Vern's newly found friend began, "I want you to ravish me, ravish my knockers!" Quick to oblige, Vern dug her teeth right into the womanly flesh. "Oooh," Cecile moaned out in pain-pleasure. "More, more!" Vern positioned herself on the side with efficacy until her arm reached entirely underneath Cecile until her fingers coyly emerged around her side and made their way up the side of the woman's tits. Then Vern looked down, and much to her pleasant surprise, was rewarded with an eyeful of pussy.

She looked inside Cecile with wonder and lust: wonder-lust. The hair on her vulva formed a neat triangle, formally truncated at the tip of the slit, making the crack all the more clean, all the more tempting. Veronica wanted to enter the lass with her tongue, or with her fingers, or with her hand, or with anything attached to her own body and able to send sensations into her skull. Veronica moved her hand lower at this point, right down under her friend's buns. The trick, of course, was to inconspicuously negotiate a full frontal assault into that slit and get a portion of a shiny lubrication which was all but too visible.

"Go inside the bitch," Marv blurted, no longer able to contain his aggressive proclivities, "Feel that woman's buns and finger her. Finger fuck her!"

"That's right," Sam followed. In an echo of Marv, he added, "Get inside of the coquette, all the way." He fell back against the wall, then slid down until he landed on his buns, his pants betraying a give-away bulge.

Or at least that's the way Veronica composed it in her mind's eye.

As Vern moved her hand under Cecile's buns, as Vern continued to squeeze the woman's tits, so the men's temperature continued to rise. Marv moved forward. Sam held him back. "Hey," he whispered, "you know the more we wait, the hotter we get. That's the entire secret."

"Yeah, but enough's enough." His comment was punctuated by groans from Cecile, and encouragement from Veronica.

"Hang in there good buddy. Stay with it. I won't steer you wrong." The truth of the matter was that Sam was every bit as hot as his friend Marv, but Sam was more a master, more a sensual expert. Sam knew how to hold back his goodies, and for that matter had a reputation in certain circles for his magnificent, almost uncanny ability to hold back. Now, we're not talking about coitus interruptus, or other such artificialities. We're talking brass tacks in and out retention.

Veronica finally moved down to Cecile's lower portions, first licking the woman's belly, then approaching her pubic hairs. Kneading the flesh in her hand, abandoning the woman's great knockers in favor of the treasures below, Vern began to lick the curly hairs. They tasted salty and sweaty but at the same time strangely sensual--as if composed of some secret sex recipe. Veronica licked the hairs, first gently, then passionately; pushed her hands around the woman's hips, pressing the skin inward, kneading it until it turned a faint shade of pink; moved her face lower still, until she was just about at Cecile's slit and finally--after pausing to listen to the woman's groans of pleasure--decided to get down to the really heavy stuff.

"Do it to her Vern, all the way!" one of the men urged.

At that point, Vern stood, acutely aware of the weight of her own bosom which stood firmly in front of her chest (a fantastic sign of her sensual powers). She shook her breasts proudly until they jiggled like Jello. This especially got to Cecile who spread her legs even wider in order to accommodate any eventuality.

She looked down at the woman below, a fantastic example of feminine desirability. Cecile lay on the floor now, propping herself up by her hands ever so slightly. Her buns pressing against the white rug, her hands digging into it, she allowed her legs to part just enough to expose the full glory of her pussy. She knew she would get hers soon. And she did.

Vern delivered the goods just as she promised them, vivid, sensual, filled with delights. She lowered her head for the assault, first grabbing on two knees (one for each hand) then pressing upward toward her destination. As her lips approached the honeybox, she was aware of greater olfactory stimulation, a heavenly mixture of sour, sweet and goo.

Vern imagined how she lowered her head right in to the pussy, her own hair mixing with the woman's pubics, her lips finally touching upon Cecile's pulsing pussy. The imbroglio of her desires were now out in the open and acceptable--to herself, to her broad, to her men, to all. Stroking the inside of Cecile's thighs, Vern moved up with her tongue and lips until she tasted woman juice. "Oh, yes," she heard--encouragement accrued from all mouths in the room.

Vern dug all the way in and could see the vaginal walls clearly. She could smell the fragrances, and feel the slimy texture of wet, hot womanhood. She could sense Cecile's ultimate pleasure as her temperature was heightened to stratospheric pro portions. Embroiled in rising passion, the two women were aware at any second their homo action could be made hetero action an exciting prospect, a prospect they wished to facilitate.

Within seconds of Vern's daring tactile penetration, Marv could no longer hold himself back. Cecile saw his presence; Vern felt his presence: a huge cock brushed against her lower back. She could feel the throbbing heat of his member stroke against her and then she had to cry out at the fantastic sensation of his warm palms cupping her huge, distended breasts. He squeezed her melons fervidly, passionately, until she wanted nothing but his big, manly cock all the way inside of her. She wanted him to fuck her, fuck her as she fucked Cecile. "Do it to me, fuck me with that cock of yours... it feels so good!"--she knew this could only encourage the man. Within seconds, she felt his cock move down toward her torrid sections.

Picture this, if you will. Veronica stoops on her knees, her ass up in the air, her head pushing down towards Cecile's cunt, her arms pressing against the woman's thighs. Cecile is groaning and her mouth is open. Veronica's mouth is likewise open, yet her tongue pushes out and strokes the woman's most delicate parts: her labia, her clit, the top of her vulva. Concurrently, our friend Marv has managed to push his stem between Vern's buns, his long member sticking forward, then resting against the crevice of her anality. Sam watches this but is unable to hold himself back for long and is moved to the scene, yet is momentarily stuck on which way to turn. After all, what a sight is there to behold: a broad, another broad, a man atop the two, straddling two worlds but conquering both. Yet, being resourceful, he decides upon the unconventional yet effective approach over the top of Cecile's head (remember it is slightly elevated due to support from her palms) until he is able to straddle her. He allows each of his feet to lie on each of the sides, then sits until he feels heavenly tit-flesh under his buns. Sensitive to his relatively massive weight, he lowers himself only enough to feel the full sensation of hot, erect nipple. His hands--in the meantime--begin to explore the convolutions of Vern's tits.

If you can picture this, you have an idea of the scene created in the mind of Veronica that Friday evening.

Veronica knew she was onto something big. Momentary respite created as she looked down at her dildo, she observed how it shined with her own lubrication. Vern stuck it inside her cunt yet another time and basked in pure sensation, divorced from fantasy. It was sheer delight, a magnificent sex high. Vern looked at her reflection as she stooped. She could see her tendons tighten, her pectorals strain and her thighs bulge outward as she at tempted to negotiate the widest possible split while stooping. She tickled her outside area with the tip of the electric cock, then began to penetrate. She could see a circle of flesh materialize around the dildo as she moved it inward. First it looked like a rim, then a crimson circle around the white cock, a full form of white heat. "Ooh," she moaned out in pleasure. But she had to get back to her little party--a party based on a real happening, but made fifty times more enjoyable in her imagination.

Marv and Sam were both flying in full form. Splitting occurred, as Marv grabbed hold of Vern's shoulder and turned her about, rolling onto the floor. It was just the two of them for a while. "I'm going to fuck you until it hurts," he said. He grabbed her tits, then blurted, "They're so big, so fucking big." Complimented, Vern offered her tits in present form, holding them upward to the man so that he could sample them in full glory. He kissed the top, where her massive cleavage began; then he moved lower, rapidly approaching the torrid zone of nipple; finally, he settled upon the cherries, licking them, sucking them, pinching them between his front teeth, then pushing them into his face until it looked like he might suffocate. "No danger of me choking in this bounty," he reassured her. Not that she was afraid for his safety, but it was nice to hear he was still kicking under all that flesh.

Meanwhile, Sam was giving the business with his match: he was feeling oral on this particular occasion, so he initiated some fantastic mouth action. His broad locked him between her legs, squeezing him around the middle until he almost begged her to stop, but decided against it. Sam started Frenching with her, opening her lips with his tongue, penetrating inside her mouth, merging his spittle with her own. As he cupped her huge tits in his hands, he began to inhale so deeply that he could observe her cheeks become concave from the pressure of his wind. Then he moved downward to her chest and took one nipple between his lips, then the other, then back to the first one. "Blow me," he said finally, "blow me right now Cecile." Cecile'd been thinking that very thing, so she positioned her body in advantageous posture, preparing her lips by moistening them with her tongue.