Sensual Supper

My legs complain of fatigue, my hand clasped to her shoulder and, to be honest, I don’t know if I’d still be able to remain so close to her body, if she weren’t holding me so tight. Her thigh rubbing against my clit supplies me with the adrenaline to silence the protest of my muscles and carry on with my tongue in her mouth, hers occupying mine, as we lay naked together on the make-shift cot of messy pillows and a large throw blanket on the living room floor.

I let Jessa turn us over, planting a bare leg between mine, her hands joining with mine, our arms reaching up.

“Zoe,” the sound of my name spoken by her voice makes my toes want to curl, “Earlier you mentioned not wanting to be restricted with a relationship and I get that, but I’m curious; why would you need someone like me for sex? Can’t you just hook up with any girl you want at any party or club or in the back of a library? I mean, come on; you’re fucking hot, and I swear I do not say that to just anybody,” she says, drawing mindless shapes on my bare skin.

“Well, here’s the thing; I’m at that point in my life where it’s basically expected for everyone to test the waters, to find out if they’re gay or straight or bi or whatever right?” Jessa nods, dreamily watching her finger wander about my skin, so I continue, “I’ve figured out two things; first – I’m not quite feeling the need to be limited or constrained by a traditional relationship, or even an open relationship, really, which leads me to the second thing: I just like sex. As in, a lot. As in, I don’t care who with or if you want a threesome or whatever. I’m just in it for the pussy or dick or whatever will give me that adrenaline, ecstasy, erotic, sensual, crazy hot rush. Call me a slut, call me a horndog, a hooker, whatever you want,”.

“Hmm,” Jessa mumbles, tucking a bit of hair away from my face and behind my ear, then mentions, “I may know just the answer…” sweeping more hair back before giving a soft smile and asking, “This may seem a little forward but…are you as drained of all energy as I am?” I nod, blushing as I wear a soft smile. “Jessa, I’ve got you for the night, correct?” She bashfully smiles, which I understand as a yes. “Follow me to my bed. I may not want a girlfriend, but I do enjoy a good breast-to-breast snuggle under fresh sheets,” I say, standing then pulling her up with me, the two of walking nude to my bedroom.

******

Standing in line, waiting for my warm cider, I feel my phone signal a new text in my pocket. I see it’s from Zoe and read; ‘sry but I cant go tonite, the boss is making me pull an extra shift. Have a naughty night 🍆🍑👅😈’. I chuckle at her selection of emojis, receiving my cider and taking a walk to the pier. I check the time and see that I still have plenty of time before I’m expected at dinner.

Reaching the end, I scan to see that no one is nearby, lowering my purse to the ground and fishing out the small travel bag. I pull one of the blue pills into my cider and swirl the cup around a bit to make sure it dissolves properly before taking another sip. I lean over the sturdy oak railing, looking over the water at the few families still dwindling on the beach, the mothers and fathers grilling the burgers or fish for dinner and the children running around or splashing in the water.

Another sip, then another, and another later and I feel a subtle something in my breast. A few sips later and the something has spread to my other breast. I check the time again and see that fifteen whole minutes have gone by and, collecting my bag from the ground, I walk back up the pier and start my route to the hotel.

I enjoy walking through the city, especially on nights with the weather as crisp as it is tonight. That something has concentrated in my nipples and appears to be enjoying the weather as well.

I pull my blazer tighter and pick up the pace just a tad, in hopes of arriving in time to watch the rest of the group come in as well.

*******

Entering the ornate lobby, I feel as though I’m seeing an old friend again, someone taken away from me for a long while, though in reality it was only a few months.

At the last meeting of the CTCT I attended, Ronald and I may have broken a rule or two, breaking off from the rest of the group and having a little party of our own. I was sentenced to probation for three months from the group, though he was sentences to an additional month seeing as he not only instigated the act but also because he took the can of whipped cream from the main table for our own private use.

Crossing the lobby, I stood at the host stand of the hotel restaurant, where he asked, “Do you have a reservation madame?” to which I simply slip my foot from my shoe and show him the tattoo stained on my ankle. The maître ‘d clears his throat, his eyes surveying the lobby to ensure that no one saw and aren’t now looking, then in a very quiet tone utters, “Right this way,” leading me through the restaurant full of prosperous affluent clienteles, straight to the back of the kitchen where he opens a plain looking electric box, unlocks the front panel, and slides his employee ID through the machine.

The electronic panel retracts into the wall, and it vanishes pocket-door style into the rest of the wall. Before us is and silver chrome elevator large enough to fit seven or so adults. I step in the car and press the button for the penthouse and the maître d’ utters, “It’s nice to see you again Miss,” so I blow him a kiss just before the door closes.

******

Once upstairs, it excites me to see the waitstaff is just pouring the champagne and only one other group member has arrived ahead of me; Vince, whose full name is Vincenzo and he’s three or four years older than myself if I remember correctly. He’s certainly not my first choice but he’s great in a pinch. “Ahh,” he stands when he notices me, “Miss Cobbe, welcome back to CockTails and CottonTails. The group surely hasn’t quite been the same in your absence,”. I put my hand in his outstretched hand and reply, “Well I’m sorry to hear that, though I see the group survived the time without me,” sending him a polite smile as he kisses my hand, gently nibbling on my skin before sitting back down.

Before taking my own seat, in comes Miss Jazmyn, Sir Blake, and Miss Elane. We all share our quaint pleasantries as we settle in and are joined by Mister Beasle, Miss Cathryn, Mister Joans, his wife (which is new for me), and Mister Ferrin. Another three guests, a man, young woman, and some who doesn’t appear to have chosen their gender, have entered though I don’t quite recall their names. Taking our seats, the waiters and waitresses approach, offering to take our drink orders. Most of us opt for the new pomegranate sangria choice, as a few others order Long Island Iced Teas or Mocha Rum concoctions. For dinner tonight the chef has prepared grilled asparagus or the choice of a beet, artichoke, and fig salad, honey-coffee marinated steak, and a plate of chocolate dipped strawberries for dessert.

******

After our luxurious meal, several patrons make a trip to the bathroom, some to actually use it, others to into more appropriate attire, and some to do both.

While each member returns, taking his or her seat at the table, our waitstaff places four large gold bowls bearing the groups signature bunny silhouette with a bow tie at its neck and an additional bow on its fluffy tail, along the table in front of us filled with fresh red strawberries dipped in various types of chocolate, some topped with crushed nuts while other are plain and a few adorn sprinkles.

“Tory,” I turn to the masculine voice calling my name, “you have to try this, they’re new since your time apart from the group; ruby chocolate with crushed toasted nuts,”.

I grin at the erotic gleam in his eyes as I answer, “I do enjoy good nuts,” wrapping my dark cherry red lips around the berry and sucking as its fed to me, my tongue unfurling and drawing it in, then I close my mouth and chew. I wordlessly take Andrew Beasle’s hand and lick each fingertip in turn, “Tasty,” I mumble, sending him a wink. “Brianna,” and the newest member to our group turns to me as I ask, “Do you mind if I finish off your sangria?”

“Not in the least,” she responds, passing me her glass.

I throw back the last of her drink then return my attention to Mister Beasle and ask, “So how have things been at work lately?” I ask, planting a hand on his knee and leaning toward him to give him a peek at the crevice between my bosoms.

“Oh, you know, the usual; the interns smoking who the hell knows what in the mail room, the guy from accounting hitting on the secretary obviously having an affair with the Copy Repair man,”.

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” I answer, half listening as I loosen each button of his shirt. Miss Cathryn notices and helps me remove Andrew’s shirt, massaging his shoulders and coving the nape of his neck with her lips whilst I send my tongue as far as I can into his throat, Mr. Beasle pulling me into his lap. He and Rebecka Jazmyn work together to lift my dress up and over my head, my mouth pausing briefly to let the fabric pass before taking that stubby jawline with my fingers again, Rebecka redirecting my face instead to hers where we kiss beautifully as Andrew openly grabs, squeezes, and kneads my breasts like play-doh.

I don’t notice at first then we pause, and I see that Miss Jazmyn has had her hand in her panties while we’ve been enjoying each other’s mouths. Perceiving my glance, she tenderly holds my shoulders, laying me flat on the long bench, then elegantly stands and, with a hand inside both inseams, slowly lowers her panties down her legs and kicks them aside. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her smooth, hairless, but glistening pussy.

Straddling the pew, she carefully aligns herself with my agape mouth, then sits. I gladly take her wonderous raunchy sex and very much welcome the smothering. Both of my hands lock onto her hips as I hear the sounds of lips mashing and parting whilst she gladly takes over with Mister Beasle, her hand snaking into my own pussy after opening the deep V neck of her dress and freeing her girls.