This is the fifth chapter of the Libidinous series. Please read the first four chapters before getting into this one. I do not anticipate getting back to this series any time soon, for I have many stories I want to write and need to set this aside while I get to the others.
As always, vote. There are five stars at the end of the story, choose one; let me know how I did.
If you want, leave a comment. I would welcome the feedback.
Otherwise, please enjoy.
I woke Saturday morning the sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon. Stretching as I got out of bed, I contemplated whether I wanted to work out or not. I decided a trip to the weight room to get some treadmill time would indeed be in order. I had the feeling it would be a long day, Ben’s party was tonight; if I did not show up, all hell would break loose.
That was exactly what I was thinking about doing; however, no showing.
After dressing, I went down to the apartment complex’s weight room. Getting on the treadmill, I started slowly, warming up. Eventually, I worked my way up to a jog, plodding away until I worked up a nice sweat. I am not what you would call a graceful jogger. Despite the years of karate, the occasional work out, and absolute devotion to steam saunas, when I ran, I plodded along. Each step landing on the treadmill sounded like someone beating on a kettledrum in time with my stride. Struck by the contrast between my lumbering stride and at the fluid easy gait of Tara on the treadmill, I drudged through 30 minutes on the contraption. As I cooled off, sweat poured from me like Niagara Falls, soaking through my clothes so badly that it felt like I had run through a smelly vat of water.
After the thirty minutes of the dreadful din, I headed into the steam sauna. Cranking the time to 60 minutes, I lay down in my customary spot to relax. I discovered it was nice to have the place to myself; it was calm, woman free all until the ding of the timer. My heart was hammering away in my chest for a long time, jogging was not exactly something I did frequently. Eventually I settled down which allowed me to enter that semi-conscious dream state where time slows down considerably, and your senses heighten just enough that the condensation dripping from the ceiling of the wet sauna was as loud as a cloudburst unloading on a tin roof.
I laid there thinking of what Tara had said about my not being ready for a commitment. I knew she was right. Hell I had said the same thing to Bianca and Ginny not an hour previous to her repeating it to me. Although I did not like it the least, I knew she was right. I had to get out of my marriage before it was even fair to anyone to think about a relationship. I also knew that my current wants and needs ran excessively lascivious about any chick I saw in general.
Sighing, I left the steam room after the timer went off. I headed toward my apartment to shower, dress, and then face the day. After the shower, I fixed breakfast, which I took into the bedroom that I had converted to a home office. I ate while checking emails, websites, blogs and tweets to catch up a little.
There was a PM from Sarah on the one website. Clicking on it showed a photo of Sarah kneeling naked. Head bowed down, legs spread wide apart. Sarah’s hairless pussy was glistening; the labium was swollen, open wide, ready for a cock to invade her. I reacted predictably to the highly erotic photo. I sat there staring at her, focusing primarily between her legs. Sarah had that secretive little smile on her face again, or maybe still. Her arms wrapped around her back, thrusting her glorious tits forward. One of my favorite positions. After all these years, she still knew it, and assumed the position naturally.
Grabbing my cell phone, I pulled up the texted photos that someone sent me of her pussy. I knew they were different vaginas, but verification is always good. I was surprised that there was a new text. It came in during the wee hours of the night. Two small hands were spreading the labium wide, allowing the photograph a good shot of the opening to her core. There was no commentary to this photo unlike the prior ones, but she was clearly excited.
Putting the phone aside, I turned back to the photo of Sarah. I cannot -will not- deny that seeing her made my heart beat a little harder. I sighed heavily, thinking that I was too damn old to be having all of these pubescent thoughts. All of the good times she and I had, flooded back into my memory like a flashflood. The first night at my apartment, making her beg at the door for forty minutes because she was 20 minutes late, started it all off. By the time I finished reliving that one particular event, my cock was quivering so badly that it was vibrating like a tuning fork in my boxers.
What the fuck, I decided. I typed a message back to her that merely read, address. I left the Inbox up for the website while I turned back to the phone and looked at the text message again.
I looked at the sweet pussy pulled wide open, then I replied back, “Let’s meet, tonight.” I also gave her the address to the mall. It was a long shot, but after several texts of her pussy, I was dying to meet her. The phone was halfway to the desk when it began vibrating again. I opened the text, my mouth watered instantly.
It was a close up of her clit. The lens could not have been more than a couple inches away from it when the photo was shot. You could see the pores of her labia, the slick glistening of her inner skin. It was incredible. The message that came with it was interesting. It read, “Are you willing to beg for it?”
I snorted in response, thinking of a reply. I settled for, “There are roughly 3.1 billion pussies to 2.9 Billion cocks. You beg!” I had no idea if I could get control of the situation this way or not, but I was going to either succeed, or push her away. Either case is a win, really.
I put the phone down. Leaning back in the chair, I pondered what I was going to do with my day until I decided whether I was going to Ben’s tonight, or not. I got up and finished dressing in Dockers and a golf shirt. Might as well get a haircut, it would kill a little time, besides, I needed one anyway.
Arriving at the mall, I went into one of the salons, which got me put on a wait list for about forty minutes. Having some time to kill I wandered around the mall until I found the bookstore where I bought one novel, and three political books. I had plenty of crap at the apartment to read, just no time. Adding to the pile somehow did not make sense, yet I did it anyway. I suppose I could stop chasing so much pussy, but when you get down to it, I am a philogynist. Politics earned me a great living, but my love was for the female body, in all its wondrous shapes and sizes. I would much rather screw a woman than anything else. For that matter, doing anything in the presence of a woman was better than not.
Especially if the woman involved is not your soon to be ex-wife.
Sitting in the incredibly uncomfortable chair at the salon, I began reading one of the books. I became so engrossed in it that I did not hear her approaching me until she cleared her throat. I looked up and a cute woman stood before me. Her body was a near perfect hourglass; her hair was stylish, a little on the short side, and black as a raven. “Shane?” she asked.
“I am Apple; I will be your stylist today.”
Before I could stop myself, and heard my voice playfully ask, “Tart, pie, or fresh off the tree?”
She giggled, and said, “Well, I would guess pie.” She turned and started heading back into the depth of the salon and said over her shoulder, “Follow me.”
My eyes stuck to her ass swaying as she sauntered along thinking, “Gladly.” She had a tight trim body, no excessive fat anywhere. It appeared she had small pert tits, and I imagined that they fit well within each of my hands. My mind immediately came up with the analogy of apple sized breasts, and I barely stifled the moan at the mental pun.
She stopped at a chair and I sat feeling the back of her knuckles on my neck as she put the nylon apron over me. One hand on my shoulder, she ran the other hand through my hair, asking, “What am I doing with it today?”
I stifled the moan that threatened to rise and said, “Whatever you want, if anyone asks who did it, I will give them your name.”
Apple giggled again and tugged gently at my hair, “Oh the pressure,” she quipped.
She grabbed a pair of scissors and began working on my hair after wetting it with a spray bottle. I asked, “Been here long?”
“No, just about a month, I was upstairs for a year before a spot opened here.”
Haircuts can be one of the most sensual acts in the world. Two people in close proximity for twenty to thirty minutes; in my mind, it could only be better if both parties were naked through the process. Body parts always seemed to press against you while in the chair, and I can never help imagining what could happen. I guess you could call it a fantasy of mine to have a hair stylist seduce me while she was cutting my hair.
“More money here?” I asked eyes half closed.
She stopped cutting for a second and our eyes met in the mirror, a playful glint shone in her caramel eyes as she quipped, “That, and far fewer lecherous old men here.”
Undaunted, I grinned and retorted, “Good, that means I am a change of pace.”
She smiled wanly and squeezed my shoulder slightly, “Yeah, I guess so.”
I lay off the edgy flirting during the rest of the haircut, keeping the repartee playful and only slightly flirtatious. As she finished, Apple asked, “Do you want me to wash your hair for you?”
I eagerly nodded, “My favorite part of the haircut.”
She laughed, and said, “Figures.”
I sat in the chair as she lowered my head to the sink, “Hot, warm, or cold water.”
“As hot as you can stand it,” I said.
She turned the water on adjusting it, then took my hand and raised it to the sink, her fingers intertwined with mine. She sprayed our hands and asked, “Hot enough?”
Her hand was warm and dry, a soft touch that was sending a lightning storm of electricity up my arm and into my torso. “If it is good for you, then yes.” I looked up into her eyes as our hands stayed under the water a moment or two longer than necessary. She pulled our hands out of the water and placed my hand on the armrest, patting it softly.
I closed my eyes as she lathered up my scalp and began massaging the shampoo in. She was standing at a strange angle it seemed. I opened my eyes to see her right breast right above my mouth, so close that if she were not wearing a bra her nipple would be in my mouth. I resisted the temptation to clamp my mouth over it and looked up at her eyes, which were staring at me. Her hips cantered in such a way the swell pressed against my wrist; it would be easy and not unexplainable for me to grope her, to get a feel of that beautiful ass from between her legs.
An intense fire shone in her eyes as she rinsed my hair and began washing it a second time, all the while never breaking eye contact. She whispered, “Is this where you ask me out for drinks?”
I decided, what the fuck, and turned my head slightly and kissed her on the side of her tit, her hard nipple pressing against my cheek through two layers of clothing. I heard a small little gasp as her eyes widened then flitted around the room to see if anyone had caught it. As her attention was pulled somewhere else I craned my wrist back so I could cup her ass. She felt the move dancing out of the way while hissing, “You are sooo bad!”
I smiled up at her saying, “No, I am very, very good.”
She stopped shampooing me a moment and looked down, “I bet you are.” Her voice was low and husky.
“Do you work tomorrow?” I asked.
She nodded, “Yes, noon to six.”
“I’ll be on the bench in front of the salon at 6:10 then.”
“I will need to change,” she said.
“Let’s worry about that tomorrow night. Bring a change of clothes with you.”
She nodded her head and said, “Okay.”
Apple dried my hair and brushed it until it shined. Her body was pressing against me every opportunity she had. I seriously considered throwing her over my shoulder for an afternoon of fun in the sun.
As it was, we walked to the counter and she squeezed my arm slightly, “Tomorrow at 6:00”
I nodded then paid for the haircut leaving a normal sized tip, suddenly leaving a large tip seemed not quite right anymore. Images of her and the smallest touch of my mouth to her tit filled my mind as I grabbed the books I had bought and strode through the mall heading out. I need some time to myself, a chance to breathe.
I suddenly felt harried and spread thin. I knew I had pulled the trigger on that all by myself, but there it was. Just too many fucking women, not enough time, and I did not have to prioritize them per se, but I knew if I were to keep my sanity, I would have to do just that. Tonight I knew was only going to add to that overwhelmed feeling.
I went to a park, sitting on a bench with the same book I started earlier on my lap. I decided I was going to finish it before I left the park, regardless of what may come. Fortunately or not, I read very quickly, it would only take a couple of hours to read the book cover to cover.
I did not look up, barely moved as the hot sun beat down on me. I flipped the pages in regular short intervals. Finishing the book, I set it aside thinking about it for a few minutes, digesting it. Picking it up I headed back to the car and looked at my phone, three calls from Ben and two from his wife. Of course, there were only two messages, each from Christine. The gist of the messages was that if I no-showed, not only would she send the goons after me, she would do unspeakable things to me the next time I saw her.
I laughed and considered what I wanted to do.
I had made Ginny and Bianca cancel their plans tonight to take them to the party, and I knew Ben really, really wanted me there for some reason. I could not think of a reason not to go that sounded plausible to me. With the decision to procrastinate more made, I headed back to the car and drove to the apartment.
Arriving, I let myself into the apartment then poured myself a drink. Turning on some classical music, I stood on the patio a few minutes watching everyone in the pool area. A handful of beauties were lying on the farther side, soaking the sun’s rays. Kids in the shallow end of the pool were splashing each other and passersby that got too close.
My mind wandered back to Ginny and Bianca. Thinking of how beautiful they looked on their knees yesterday before the party as they gave themselves to me. I realized I had never formally answered them, in either acceptance or refusal.
Maybe tonight would be what I need to make up my mind. Accepting them was a commitment, and one I was unsure I wanted to make. Perhaps seeing how they react at Ben’s soiree would give me an indicator. I was not terribly happy that they abandoned me last night, but sometimes we all get distracted. Two nights in a row though, would be more indicative that they were seeking thrills and not someone to obey.
Mind made up, I entered the apartment to shower again. I dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, foregoing the tie before heading downstairs to see the girls.
Bianca was on the phone crying when I walked into their apartment. Her eyes were red and puffy, she apparently had been crying for quite some time. “L-l-look, I will call you back,” she said into the phone. She listened a moment and said in a rush, “Yes, I understand what you said; I said I will call you back. I’m sorry, but I have to go now.”
She hung up the phone then rushed to me, falling into my arms a sob coming from her throat. “What is it?” I asked.
“H-He won’t let me out of the date tonight. He says if I break the date, he is breaking up with me.”
I held her against me and asked, “What are you going to do?”
Her cries started again in earnest. She clutched to me, sobbing and shook her head, “I-I-I don’t know.”
“I didn’t put you in the corner, Bianca,” I whispered to the top of her head. “But I won’t let you out either. You must decide, Jeff is forcing you to pick him, or me.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she wailed into my chest.
Disengaging myself from her, I held her at arm’s length staring into her eyes. “Only you can make that decision.”
I could see the fear in her eyes, as I said, “I can promise you nothing, Bianca. I am sorry that is the truth of it, but I won’t lie and say anything other.”
Her head dropped as she whispered, “I can’t leave him on a maybe.”
“I know,” I said. Turning, I let myself out of the apartment and headed back upstairs. Part of my mind whispered in something akin to relief, “One down.”
I mentally scolded myself for being so insensitive, but by the time I made it up the flight of stairs, I was done.
The cell phone buzzed as I let myself in. It was my unidentified pussy again. I scanned the message which said, “I cant, nt 2nite.”
I responded, ‘You haven’t begged yet.”
She responded almost immediately, “Hrd 2 beg by txt.”
I smiled, as I typed, ‘That has not stopped you from showing me your excitement’.
After a couple of minutes with no response, I holstered the phone. The door opened and closed. Ginny stepped in and whispered, “Hi.”
I looked at her and asked, “What’s wrong?”
She started crying softly as she said, “Bianca is going out with Jeff tonight.”
I nodded and said, “I know.”
Her voice was frail and plaintive as she cried out, “But what does that mean for the three of us?”
“There is no three of us, Ginny. I won’t play second fiddle to any man.” I walked over to her hugging her gently as I said; “Now you have to figure out what you want. Do you want to really give yourself to me, and try to fit her in? Do you want to go back to what you had a week ago?”
Her shoulders shook as she whispered, “I don’t know, sir. I really don’t.”
I nodded saying, “Take tonight and think about it, let me know tomorrow or the next day.”
“I don’t want to let go of you, sir.” She whispered between sobs.
Raising her face to look at me, I said softly, “Ginny, I can’t promise you anything longterm, more than a night or two at best. To say otherwise would be a lie, and I will never lie to you.”
Ginny left. I stood there a moment looking at the door knowing that letting the two of them go was the right decision. Cold comfort, I thought; but the reality of the situation was such that I could not commit. Tara had been right; I need to get it out of my system first.
I showered then dressed to go to Ben’s. Though, truth be told, the last thing I wanted was to go to a party. I drove over halfheartedly. There would be no way to avoid it at this point other than by being rude and not showing or calling. Ben was the oldest and dearest friends I had, that was not really an option, even though he would forgive me soon enough.
I arrived about 9:30. Stepping into the house, I saw a gorgeous flaxen haired woman on her knees just inside the doorway. She was wearing a Catholic school skirt with white blouse, from the engorged state of her nipples it was easy to tell that she was braless. Her voice was full of heated passion as she said, “My Master bids you to use me as you see fit.”
“Thank your Master for me, but I shall pass on his offer.”
The shock was evident in her eyes as her mouth gaped open. I walked past her into the main livingroom to see fifteen couples and perhaps ten singles. Virtually everyone had a drink in his or her hands and some were in various stages of undress. I heard Ben roar my name as he came up and gave me a bear hug.
“Shane, I am glad you are here, we have a surprise for you.” His teeth flashed white from between his moustache and beard.
“Oh? What is that?”
“Now, if I told you, it would not be a surprise, now would it?”