Tongue-Tied

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Footjob

Renata was in a foul mood, although a satisfied smile did curl her lips as she peered at herself in the full-length mirror. She looked damn good, she thought. She knew she had a good body, anybody would. Slim, five-seven, pretty face, glistening shoulder-length black hair, firm not-too-big tits, flat tummy, toned upper body and long, lean legs. She was thirty-nine years old but people often took her for much younger. She knew she was hot.

Her Cleopatra costume showed off her bod tremendously, she thought as she eyed her reflection, which was exactly what she wanted it to do this night. Shiny, metallic crop top, accentuating her sexy cleavage, and its matching headpiece and leggy, slit skirt, and golden sandals. Her bare midriff with sunken navel on full display. Multiple gold bangles on her wrists, and a long, gold asp curled around her upper arm. Cleopatra would be catching eyes like flies tonight. Her husband Owen was dressing up as Mark Antony, but he hadn’t worked too hard on his costume. He looked more like an overage frat boy on his way to a toga party.

Renata and Owen were headed out to a Mardi Gras party, an annual fundraiser hosted by the chief benefactors of a local dance and theater company. It was a popular event that had grown in size and stature over the years, was fun for all concerned, and raised a lot of money in the process. Every year hundreds would purchase tickets and assemble at the estate home of Samuel and Eloise Hollingsworth, a couple of older, wealthy, artsy-fartsy music and theater buffs. The party was first class all the way, and took place at their large Victorian home, the backyard terrace and pool area, and the tented, torch-lit grounds. There was top-notch music, catered food and drink, and the parties were known to be wild and crazy, a final blowout before lent, for those who observed. Guests had been known to let it all hang out, so to speak, and would sometimes do things they might not normally do, and go farther than they might usually go. Part of the reason for that was the simple party rules: All must wear a costume, and all must wear a mask.

They’d anticipated this evening for weeks, but as they dressed and prepared to leave, Renata and Owen were not happy campers. They should have been looking forward to a fun night, dressing up and partying with friends like Leah, her best friend since high school, and Leah’s husband Luke. But Renata was not in the mood to go anywhere with her husband, and she wasn’t interested in seeing Leah anytime soon, either. She was pissed, madder than she could ever recall, but was determined to go and have a good time despite her husband, and didn’t care if he went to the party or not.

The reason Renata was mad was because of something she’d found out the night before, quite by accident. She and Owen were drinking wine and watching a movie on cable. There was a scene where this couple were making love on a beach and a small plane above was flying low and buzzed them over and over as they fucked. And Owen slipped up.

He said, “You remember that time we were lying on the beach and that 747 did that fly-over right above us at like five hundred feet? Shit, scared the hell out of everybody. We thought it was going down.”

Renata didn’t say anything at first, because she didn’t remember any such thing. But she did vaguely recall an incident years before where the beach town had arranged the fly-over as part of a weekend festival but didn’t get confirmation in time to notify the populace. It had frightened everyone and had them running for cover. There was a big public backlash over it, a lot of blame was thrown around. That had to have been twenty years ago. She remembered because she and Owen were engaged at the time and she’d been perturbed that he’d gone away for the weekend without her. Something with his family, he’d said.

“I don’t remember that,” Renata said. “Must have been somebody else.”

Owen immediately knew he’d stepped in it. His brain was wine-fogged, and he tried to cover for his mistake but he only made it worse. As he stammered along and dug his hole deeper, Renata was thinking back to when they were engaged to be married and later as newlyweds. Owen had raised the prospect of them getting into a swinging lifestyle, and Renata had wanted no part of it. He had mentioned that maybe they could swing with Leah and Luke, since they were all good friends. Renata had told him that if he wanted to swap with them, fine, she’d take Leah and he could go fuck Luke. That had shut him up.

“It was Leah, wasn’t it?” Renata said, interrupting Owen’s babbling.. “You were with Leah. You had an affair with her, didn’t you?”

Owen’s reaction left no doubt. He wasn’t getting out of this one. Gradually, it all came out. Through the tears and screams Renata learned that yes, it had been Leah, and it had gone on for some time when Leah and Luke were already married and she and Owen were still engaged. It was not a one-time drunken episode, which might have been forgivable. It had gone on for months and the two of them had kept their secret, sinop escort and lived their lie, for twenty years. Renata didn’t know who she should be more pissed-off with: Her husband for fucking her best friend, or her best friend for fucking her husband.

“Does Luke know about you two?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“How many other women have you fucked since then?”

“Renata…”

“How many?”

“None. That was the only time. I…”

“Oh, bullshit. Why should I believe that? Cheat once, you’ll cheat again. I’d bet this house it wasn’t the only time. You’ve been lying to me for twenty fucking years.”

“It’s the truth. She was the only one. It was wrong, I’m sorry. It happened by accident…”

“Accident? Oh, shut the fuck up!” she shouted at him. “Was it by accident you did it again and again for months? I don’t want to hear any more of your shit.”

“Renata, calm down…”

“Calm down?” she shrieked. “You fucked my best friend, for Christ’s sake! Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Do you have any idea how many times men have come on to me over the last twenty years? Dozens. Maybe a hundred. And I could have fucked any one of them, or all of them, if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t. Know why? Because I was faithful to my husband. And I thought he was faithful to me. I didn’t know my husband was a cheating, lying sack of shit!”

Renata had gone to bed, slamming doors along the way. Owen slept on the couch. She hadn’t spoken to him since.

Renata looked in the mirror again. Her costume was killer. She brushed her hair and put on the mask. It was gold and covered her forehead, eyes and cheekbones and curled over the tip of her nose. She was applying lip gloss when Mark Antony tapped on the open bedroom door.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“Almost,” she said. “You go on ahead, I’m going to go by myself. I’ll see you there.”

“Honey, please…”

“Don’t, Owen. I don’t want to be around you right now. I need time. I’m very angry at you. You cheated on me, you’ve let me down. If you can’t understand that, and how much it hurts, and give me the space I need, then so be it. But I don’t want to be with you. Not now, not yet.”

Without another word, he left. Renata peered one last time at her image in the mirror. She sighed, took a deep breath, and shook her head. She thought of Leah and Owen, trysting, holding each other in bed, kissing, fucking, sucking, screwing, coming, sneaking behind the backs of her husband and his fiancee for months. And for twenty years she hadn’t had a clue. And over those years they had proven to be pretty good actors, and their secret had been safe. Could she trust either one of them again? If she didn’t know her best friend and husband of twenty years any better than that, could she ever really know anyone?

Renata heard a car horn blow. She pulled the window curtain aside and saw the Yellow Cab in the driveway. Right on time. She locked the door and got into the taxi. She didn’t want to drive tonight. She was mad, feeling vengeful, but loose as a goose, maybe a little reckless, ready to have a good time, ready for whatever. She had no idea what was going to happen tonight. She also had no idea what she’d say to Leah if and when she saw her at the party.

Renata paid the cabbie and got out of the car. The band was already in high gear, the dance music loud and tight. Instead of entering through the front door she walked around the side of the house, opened a gate and followed the walkway to the terrace out back and made a beeline for the bar. After a short wait she ordered two vodka martinis, each with two huge olives. She ate the olives first so she’d have some food in her stomach. The first martini went down in three or four swigs, but she nursed the second.

She stood off to the side and scoped out the scene. The lighting was subdued but she could see the terrace was scattered with tables, quickly filling up. People surrounded the pool as well, although no one was swimming. Beyond the pool, on the vast lawn was a large party tent, under which were more tables, more partiers, and a dance floor full of dancers digging the jams of an eight-piece horn band.

She admired the various costumes as the guests moved around. Some were elaborate, some were simpler, some were just simple. But all wore masks, which added to the intrigue and made a person wonder who was behind each one. There was a werewolf, Dracula and his daughter, Morticia and Gomez, Dorothy and the Scarecrow, a cop, a fireman, Beetlejuice, Herman and Lily Munster, Charlie Chaplin, the Flintstones, Tarzan and Jane, an astronaut. Mostly couples. After a few minutes Elvis Presley, wearing huge tinted glasses covering half his face, walked up and started hitting on her, singing ‘Love Me Tender’. She stopped him mid-verse and told him not to get All Shook Up, but she was a Hard Headed Woman and to please take his Hunk a’ Hunk a’ Burning Love elsewhere.

As Renata sipped her martini, sinop escort bayan she kept an eye out for a bloody nurse and doctor. They would be her ex-best friend Leah and her husband Luke. If she saw them first, maybe she could avoid a confrontation. If she didn’t, maybe not.

After gazing at all of the costumes and taking it all in for twenty-five minutes or so, her second drink was gone so she went to the bar for one more. The tender had just handed it to her when she heard a familiar voice as she turned to her left.

“Hello, Renata, is that you?” Catwoman said, as Batman handed her a drink.

It was Flo and Joe, a couple who were very active with the theater group. Flo had a part in nearly every production and Joe was involved behind the scenes and directed a show every now and then. There was no doubt it was Flo, despite the cat mask and the painted-on whiskers. Her voice was nasally distinct.

“Yes, hello Flo,” Renata said.”Nice costume.”

“Oh, thank you dear. Yours is quite nice as well,” Flo said.

“Yes, it sure is,” Joe added, with too much enthusiasm. Renata could see his widened pupils in the eye holes of his mask.

“Whoa, down boy,” Flo said. “Or I might have to take you back to the Batcave.”

“Thank you, Joe,” Renata said.

“Where is Owen?” Flo asked.

“He’s here somewhere.”

At that moment Renata glimpsed a bloody doctor and nurse emerging from the back of the house.

“Excuse me,” she said to Flo and Joe, and walked off, across the terrace and past the pool.

Renata wanted to avoid her husband and Leah and Luke if possible. She was angry and did not want to create a scene. She wanted to save her confrontation with Leah for another time. So she headed for the tent to get lost in the crowd, the music and the strobe lights. She wanted to get laid.

Renata knew Owen wasn’t much of a dancer so she wouldn’t have to worry about him hanging around the dance floor, he’d rather hang around the terrace near the two bars. She found a spot next to one of the tiki lamps and soaked up the music while she watched the crowded floor. With her sexy body and her revealing costume glinting in the torchlight and moving gently with the groove, she knew she’d get noticed.

It wasn’t long before guys started hitting on her. The Big Lebowski Dude was first. Not her type, but what the hell, she thought, one dance won’t hurt. She didn’t want to shut him down in case other men were watching. They danced one tune but the Dude’s bathrobe kept coming untied and his gut hung over the front of his shorts. When the song ended Renata thanked him and went back to her spot.

A hockey goalie was next. The uniform was loose and bulky, so she had no idea what his body was like. She hesitated, but went along with it. Again, one song. Then an inebriated Mafia Underboss slurred an invitation and she was about to accept when a female police officer came up and arrested him.

“Please excuse my husband,” she said, and took his hand. “I’ll take him back to the slammer so he won’t bother you anymore. Come on, Charlie.” She cuffed him and led him away.

Renata laughed, as did several people nearby, including The Lone Ranger. She’d noticed The Lone Ranger standing there watching her for a while, checking her out, enjoying the show. She admired his costume in the flickering light. White cowboy hat, black mask over his eyes, gray lace-up shirt with collar and matching pants, red neckerchief, gun belt, boots. He had a good body, too, she could see that, because the clothing was snug and molded to his broad shoulders and lean, athletic frame. She could tell he was younger, by how much she had no idea, but thought so what, what the hell, maybe this is the one, it’s a one-and-done anyway. She caught his eyes staring into hers. It felt like time.

She took three steps and was directly in front him. She leaned in and spoke above the music.

“I like your costume, Kemo Sabe,” she said.

“Thanks. I like yours, too,” he replied. “You look tremendous.”

“Thank you. So, where is Tonto?”

“No Tonto.”

“How about Trigger?”

“Trigger?”

“Your horse.”

“Oh. You mean Silver.”

“That’s right. Sorry. Hi Ho Silver. Trigger was Roy Rogers.”

“I put Silver out to pasture.”

“Ah,” Renata said, looking from side to side. “So. Are you really a ‘lone’ ranger tonight?”

“I’m here by myself, if that’s what you mean.”

“So am I. Wanna dance?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve been working up the nerve to ask you.”

“Come on,” she barked. She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

She took him all the way to the center of the large cluster of dancers. Renata wanted the camouflage of all the bodies around them in case Owen or Leah or Luke happened to come into the tent looking for her.

Now, what she wanted was to do some dirty dancing with this young man in the Lone Ranger suit. And hopefully it would be foreplay.

The Lone Ranger could cut escort sinop a pretty good rug, Renata thought, and she was moving pretty well herself, too. The band was hot. The rhythm section was tight, the horns were bright, the drummer was in the pocket, and they played a nonstop set, segueing one upbeat dance number into the next, keeping the dancers on the floor. They danced to five soul and Motown hits in a row, bumping butts and grinding groins more and more with each tune, and worked up sticky sweats in the process. Then the band cooled it down and went into a slow blues. It was ‘I’d Rather Go Blind’, apropos for the two of them, both wearing masks and unidentifiable to the other.

Bodies all around them meshed for the slow dance. They stood there for a moment looking at each other. The Ranger’s dick was hard so he wasn’t going to let Cleopatra get away from him. He took her hand and pulled her into his arms. She nestled in close, wrapped her arms around him and their damp garments and flesh melded together.

The song was not a short one. Over six or seven minutes of searing vocals and guitar and sax solos, they danced closely and firmly, cheek to cheek and mask to mask. Her knee slipped between his legs on occasion and gently brushed his balls. He did the same to her, his knees caressing her thighs and teasing her twat. Renata’s breasts pressed into him and she could feel the rigidity of his prick against her navel.

As the song drifted through a long coda, impulsively Renata pressed her lips onto his and kissed him. She didn’t care who might see. He had virile but supple lips that felt good against hers. She liked that. But what came next almost blew her mind.

A moment after the kiss, as the band kicked into an uptempo dance song, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard with open lips. His tongue was like a launched projectile, propelling through her lips and teeth in an instant, and licking the back of her throat. It was big and strong, filled her, and she wrapped her jaws around it and tongued it back as best she could. What a mouthful. French kissing this guy was like sucking cock.

“Wow,” she said.

“Come on,” he said, and took her hand.

They walked off the dance floor and he led her out of the tent and around to the shadows behind the bandstand. In the darkness they kissed again. Renata was somewhat ready for his tongue this time. She tried to head it off at the pass as it slithered in, but it was too big, too long, too strong, so she did her best deepthroat. His hands roamed over her back and butt and she slipped a hand between his legs. The kiss was deep and long, and by the time it ended she was wet with desire.

“I wish there was someplace we could be alone,” she hissed, short of breath.

“I know a place,” he said.

“Where?”

“Come with me.” He took her hand again and led the way.

The property extended another fifty yards behind the big tent. They crossed the lawn quickly into the darkness and came to a small building, maybe the size of a one-car garage. It was bordered by a tall hedge.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“It was a music room. It’s soundproofed. So they could practice their music anytime and not bother anybody.”

“How do you know this?”

“I used to be in a band with their grandson and we used to practice in here. Nothing fancy, but private.”

He opened the unlocked door. The light switch didn’t work, but in the dim residual light from the half-moon and the party across the way they could make out a mostly-empty room with storage boxes stacked and a couple stuffed chairs. Good enough.

“Have you ever fucked with masks on?” she whispered into his ear.

“No,” he said.

“Kiss me.”

He did, another dive bomber, long and hard and wet, scraping along the walls of her mouth and tickling her throat. As they kissed she unbuckled his gunbelt and tore open his pants.

“I want to suck your cock,” she moaned.

She pivoted around and sat on one of the chairs. With his groin in front of her face, she shoved his pants and briefs down to his ankles and latched onto his erection. He was good sized down here too. Without hesitation she fed his cock into her hungry mouth. With one hand cupping his balls and the other palming his right butt, she sucked him like a junkie needing a fix.

In an instant they shifted into high gear. She kneaded his nuts with her wiry fingers, squeezed his tightened butt, and sucked with a vengeance. He helped, holding her head and swinging his cock into her mouth for maximum depth. They fell into a hard, steady rhythm together and in the dark, stark room The Lone Ranger’s ecstatic groans and Cleopatra’s slurpy moans echoed off the bare walls.

He reached down and slipped a hand inside her top and found her bare breast. It was firm and flexible and fit nicely in his hand, and she pushed into it to give him a better feel. The nipple was like hard rubber and she oohed with a mouthful of cock when he pinched it softly between his thumb and forefinger.

She backed off a bit, so that only the head of his cock was in her mouth, and started jerking him with her hand as she continued her power-suck.This lasted only another minute before his midsection quaked and his cock shimmied between her lips. He grunted thunderously with release and he came in a fiery stream.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32