Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 As always, a few notes.

   Story is basically an orgy story which is difficult to code but includes
voy, mf, ff, ffm, mfmf, mm, and mmf .  It is approximately 29,000 words and
is set in my mythical Blue Bay world.

   This one was written approx two years ago and is the first appearance of
Caprichia and Tristan, who will appear in later stories.

   For those who wonder - Caprichia is pronounced Cuh - pree - shee - yuh

   Comments, criticisms, whatever - shadesofextasy@hotmail.com.



   Intimate Gathering

   As Tristan parked the sleek Italian sports car along the circular drive
in front of the sprawling estate, he thought it would have been hard to
find a more perfect setting for a mansion, high up on sheer granite cliffs
of the famed Majestic Hills that jutted starkly from the sapphire Blue Bay
below.  The meticulously landscaped grounds were elegantly enhanced by a
veritable forest of feathery eucalyptus trees dotted with occasional
clusters of fragrant pepper trees.  The month was November and the
oppressive summer heat was finally over.  He thought to himself that the
winters here in Blue Bay were usually much nicer since it never really did
get that cold and the fresh autumn air swept away the muggy summer haze and
let one see practically forever.  As he and his wife walked, hand in hand,
they were approaching the top of a small rise now and the bay came into
view, a deep glittering cobalt in the clear air with the horizon etched
sharply against the cobalt sky.  Looking in the other direction, inland,
the young man could clearly make out the distant hills and valleys tumbling
over one another in wave after wave of muted purples and blues.  Further
down the coast it was possible to see the surf degenerating in immaculate
white foam against the base of the tawny cliffs.  All the colors here were
vivid, not brown, green and blue but coffee, indigo and jade.  Even the air
seemed cleaner, fresher, purified by the tangy salt breezes sweeping in
from the sea, perhaps from as far away as the Orient...

   The estate itself was extravagant, both in size and luxury, a true
vision of opulent grandeur.  It was originally built in the classic Tuscan
style of white stucco and wrought iron, topped by gabled roofs of sun-baked
brick and studded with romantic porticos.  Previous owners had expanded it
immensely, incorporating style and design elements of a lordly European
manor, a romantic French chateau and a rustic Scottish hunting lodge so
seamlessly that it had become a true triumph of architecture and design
working together, each flawlessly complementing the other.  A coral-stoned
loggia and two trellis-walled terraces overlooked the secluded and private
pool, highlighted by a tranquil hot tub and intricately mosaiced pavilion.
A magnificent alpine-style waterfall cascaded from a small mountain of
jagged rocks and exotic ferns, bubbling away into a frothy stream which
meandered among the many thick bushes and unusual plants growing in
profusion.  It gave the appearance of a deserted island paradise if it
hadn't been for the motley collection of flashy coupes and the more refined
European luxury sedans which lined the driveway.

   Glancing around, Tristan shook his head wryly, noting the other guests,
jaded from a lifetime of excess and privilege, hardly even noticed their
lavish surroundings, though all seemed to cast appraising eyes on his wife,
and he could hardly blame them for Caprichia DiMascio was stunningly
attractive.  Her glossy ebon hair was swept up on top of her head in lavish
billows, the delicately-coiffed tresses reflecting light as if she
possessed some inner form of illumination.  Wayward tendrils, artfully
designed to give her gypsy allure, framed her lovely face, accentuating the
plummy blush in her cheeks and the purity of her flawless,
Mediterranean-dusky skin.  But it was her shimmery dark eyes that were most
astonishingly alluring, the feature that every music video director who
filmed the lead singer for the pop group Britannica seemed to obsess upon,
eternally mischievous and shadowed by her long black lashes, the soul of
her beauty.

   She was dressed in haute couture; a breath taking Alessandro Airio
creation the record company had gifted her when Britannica was nominated
for two Grammy awards earlier that year.  Her lightly-tanned body
dynamically peaked and curved beneath the sheer material as if it were
going to burst forth with every step she took.  The contour-clinging fabric
of her dress was stretched as tightly as possible over her loins,
accentuating the glossy bronze hue of her rippling, sleekly-fleshed thighs,
as she sauntered towards the front gate alongside her husband with the
grace of a stalking lioness.  Caprichia carried herself with an air of
complete self-assurance, her head high and her lips perpetually pursed in a
promise of moist-mouthed sensuality.  Her movements embodied sexuality in
every fiber of her body, and her smoldering eyes clearly showed their inner
desires ...  in the past few years she'd zestily embraced the hedonistic
gratification of the carnal senses.  Her body was a wonderment in itself,
considering the fact that she was thirty-six years old.  Her smallish
breasts, made to look almost schoolgirlish in comparison to Hollywood's
ballooned standards, proudly jutted out from her lithe torso, promising
fulfillment of her feminine charms to anyone that ventured to try their
luck.

   Tristan was amazed that the fast pace of her hectic life of endless
touring left no trace of wear on his wife's face and body and he smiled at
her appreciatively, acknowledging to her that she was at the peak of her
animal magnetism, particularly to him, her eternal soulmate.  When she
walked into a room, she dominated it utterly, always drawing looks of envy
from the other women that drew close to hatred, and completely hypnotizing
the males with her exquisite loveliness and charm.  Her lovers, of both
sexes, were almost unanimously astonished by the torrid passion, the
hedonistic enthusiasm, and the near-debauched uninhibition she displayed in
her ferocious love-making...

   Looking across at her husband, Caprichia decided Tristan was simply the
most desirable male she had ever known.  Perhaps he was not the most
handsome man she'd ever met, but the features of his face were decidedly
male.  His densely rich hair had a jaunty whorl to it, making her to
forever long to weave her hand through its thick, silky smoothness.  The
features of his face were immaculately smooth, featuring high angular
cheekbones, a bold jaw, willful, and demanding.  He sported an unusually
expressive mouth with almost provocatively kissable lips, stormy gray eyes,
and the rough fault in his otherwise strong straight nose, the result of a
scrappy brawl against someone who had besmirched her honor, gifted him a
rough masculinity.  The plush linen and sumptuous silk of his custom-made
clothing did nothing but augment his sensuous body, well-built and virile,
waist impossibly narrow, legs like growing cedars.  His pants seemed to
flaunt the molded globes of his taut ass sexily rolling and flexing with
his every athletic move.  His fluid gait, his strikingly aggressive
posture, everything about him transmitted an impression of quiet
self-assurance that didn't need to be boasted.  One glance and the viewer
immediately discovered he was persistent, determined, unwavering, willful
in his ideas, steadfast in his beliefs, strong, and hard-edged.  And on top
of everything else, he was scandalously talented in bed.

   Caprichia could not believe now how surprised she'd been to find how
well-hung Tristan was because now every time she talked about him with
friends, inevitably they would eventually titter that he was obviously
well-equipped.  Even now, the eternally visible swell of his slumbering
penis was outlined by the sleek fabric of his pants, and just below it, the
twin balls of his pendulous testicles were clearly straining against the
crotch seam.  She had learned intimately his impressive male dimensions 15
years previous, when the "overnight sensation" that was Britannica was just
another struggling bar band playing in the rust belt.  They had met purely
by accident, both immediately fascinated by the other, but they had not
tumbled into bed as she had done with so many previous infatuations. 
Perhaps it was their month-long courtship that had whetted their spirits
but when they did consummate their relationship, she was enraptured by his
natural skills and utter devotion to her.  When the band found itself at a
crossroads, the moment where the members have to decide just how serious
they were going to try to "make it", he had mortgaged everything he owned
to front the money for studio time and a tour to support their 3 song demo.
Unlike the movies, there was no instant success: 5 years of slogging from
one dive bar and cheesy disco to the next, honing their talent, planning on
their big move, Caprichia and Tristan madly in love with one another, a
romantic fairytale that made all her girlfriends sigh with envy.



   What they didn't know was how insatiable his physical hunger for her
was, a natural heightened state of eternal arousal that mirrored her own
unslakable carnal thirst.  Some of her fellow musicians indulged in, and
almost inevitably ended up abusing, narcotics to help them get through the
rigors of their insane touring life.  She never found the need for any
drug, illicit or otherwise.  For her money, there was nothing like the
feeling of her beloved man's steel-hardened cock pumping rhythmically in
and out between her quivering legs, utterly fulfilling her, profoundly
completing her.  There had been little emotional attachment with the men
she had slept with before meeting him, but instead of making her previous
encounters seem hollow and empty, almost shameful, she discovered a kindred
spirit who believed the same way she did ~~ sex was as basic a need as food
and water, and as natural as breathing.

   When she realized the profound depths of the love she'd discovered
within herself for Tristan, she'd been willing to become monogamous solely
to him.  After all, millions of women were satisfied having sex with a
single partner, choosing to share this basic need with only one other
person, and being fulfilled with that choice, and she respected that
belief. If Caprichia tried very hard, she might have been able to change
her spots and live a monogynous life, like them.  It would mean
transforming her personal life, as well as turning her back on the
principles about promiscuous sexuality she'd developed in her lifetime. 
Her belief that some women, such as herself, needed erotic variety as much
as most men would no longer be a philosophy she lived by.  Fortunately,
however, she'd never had to make that sacrifice because she soon learned
that Tristan wanted to explore that primal need as deeply as she did, and
in the process, she had learned a great deal about the dazzling physical
pleasures to be derived from mutual exploration...

   When their carnal investigations, tentative at first, then
progressively, over the years, more bold, created not any type of
possessive jealousy but a deep, profound bond formed by sharing their
deepest, most primal instincts, the adventurously-in-love couple indulged
in more and more audacious trysts.  She could remember them kneeling side
by side, her slurping upon a truly delicious prime cut of college-boy cock
while Tristan greedily swallowed his frat brother's steamy-hot load deep in
his gulping throat ...  having Tristan lustily pump her in the ass while a
sexy trucker they'd met in a redneck honky-tonk bar twenty miles outside
Kansas City sweatily rammed her juicy cunny at the same time ...  licking
an exquisitely gorgeous black woman's hotly squirming pussy to squealing
orgasm while the Nubian beauty was voraciously fellating a grunting
Tristan. There was hardly anything they wouldn't try once they heard of it,
their only rule being the other partner had to be at least present in the
same room.  They lived that part of their life discreetly due to her public
position but with no regrets what so ever.  Caprichia hardly thought of
herself as strange or perverted, or even loose.  With all her experience,
she found that she could make any willing man or woman happy with her mouth
or pussy and it brought her a deep comfort to know that she was able to do
this.

   How much of their promiscuous proclivities their host knew, Tristan
couldn't guess, but he knew that he knew far more about the long and
checkered past of this opulent house, a history a thoroughly drunk movie
studio executive had shared with him at a party they'd attended a few
months prior.  The house was just outside the city limits of Blue Bay, and
when it was built at the turn of the previous century it was therefore
under the laxer Marlborough County administration.  Its history was long
and scandalous, starting from when an Irish widow named Maggie Monahan
opened its originally-Colonial style doors in 1909.  The local trade even
then was good, for Maggie Monahan only kept the finest and cleanest girls
for what was advertised as "horizontal refreshments".  That is, within the
concept of that day and age.

   When Miss Maggie died, there was a brief history of decline, bottoming
out as a roadhouse catering to the rednecks and crackers in town on
business from the swamps, with the girls taking second place to the running
of very bad liquor.  During Prohibition, it was often harder to cage a
drink than it was to find a willing girl.  But as so often happened in the
late Twenties, the speakeasy existence attracted a cartel of gangsters, led
by the infamous "Philly" Parchetti, and by the time of Repeal, the house ~~
then known as Foxtail's ~~ was a integral part of a chain of such hooch
outlets, and it remained in the hands of the underworld for decades
afterwards.  During the War the girls, and the still considerable quantity
of legal alcohol now served over the bar, were augmented by illegal
gambling.  The third floor bedrooms were converted into sectional areas
devoted to crap tables, poker, and roulette, with a bank of slot machines
along one wall.  But the motto of the club didn't change: never give the
sucker an even break.  Between posted house percentages and the unposted
rigging of the games, winners were extremely scarce.  Still, it attracted
the sports for miles around; they may be crooked, but they were the only
games in town.

   Antony "Big Caesar" Carlucci became owner and manager of the club during
the Swinging Sixties, a perfect cover and operations base for his other
gangland business.  The gargantuan and bestially vicious gangster didn't
like to brag about it ~~ after all, if you are, you don't have to prove it
~~ but he was the top Blue Bay organized crime boss, with a series of
lieutenants and henchmen set up on an Army scale.  The numbers racket was
his, the women and dope traffic were his; even burglaries were cleared
through him first, or the independent thief soon found more heat than all
of the cops could put on him.  He was also shrewd enough to change the club
to suit the times.  Then came the Scandalous Seventies, and the libidinous
emancipation of women more complete than even the original Carrie Nation
would have dreamed or approved of.  The result was that his second floor
prostitution operation took a steady nose-dive, while his bar and dinner
business and the gambling above showed rising profits.  Even the locals who
didn't gamble or really have much of any other vices liked the now re-named
and refurbished Mount Royale.  It was posh and subdued on the main floor
... and there was always that hint of mystery and wickedness from being so
close to the rumored gangland overlords.  But nothing could happen in so
sumptuous and subdued atmosphere ...  Or could it?

   The more debauched element of Blue Bay and surrounding country were in
no way shocked to learn that yes, things could happen ...  and frequently
did!  Using an elevator artfully out-of-the way in the back and carefully
watched by a concealed guard, approved and selected clientele could go and
gamble, or stop off on the second floor, where extensive changes had been
made.  Miss Maggie would be disheartened not to find any of her fallen
women plying their trade for profit ~~ now the willing escorts of sexually
active men were customers to a lewd and erotic floor show which rivaled the
wildest to be found in Tijuana, Bangkok or Amsterdam.  Carlucci was the
pragmatic kind who couldn't understand how people would pay through the
nose for a shot of liquor when a whole bottle could be gotten for one hell
of a lot less in the long run at a store, nor how some could fritter away
hard-earned money trying to beat Lady Luck and his rigged percentages and
then complain about always being broke.  But he was always one to go along
with sex games.  Those he loved and sympathized with; the lavish and
personal interest in the shows proved that.  Not that he would have turned
away anyone any more than he openly displayed his disdain for the other
vices ~~ he was in the business to take, not judge.

   The Mafioso had been clever in using the general layout already there.
Miss Maggie had used the downstairs as her home and general bar and
"parlor" for the gentlemen callers.  The third floor ~~ all changed now ~~
and the second floors had been identically built for quick turnover.  Her
cribs were built along the four walls, all opening out to another "parlor"
and bar (nowhere near as opulent as the one downstairs) which was in the
center of the floor ~~ like a courtyard in a Spanish villa.  The girls
would sit on the velveteen sofas and wait for their johns, and then use any
of the free rooms.  There were the usual escape passages: long, narrow
halls running the circumference of the outside, the bedrooms opening out on
their other side to them.  Carlucci made the escape passages into main
halls, the little rooms soundproofed and luxurious, and the walls facing
the old parlor tinted glass.  With the lights out in the rooms, one
couldn't see in, but if the occupants turned the lights on, they and their
antics would be in full parade.  The parlor was now a raised dais, used for
dancing or mixing in-between the shows ...  and then a large white-covered
round bed would be lowered on gold chains for the show.  If that's what the
show called for...

   It was this sleazy decadence that proved the end for "Little Caesar". 
In 1980, when the Calexico Brothers were still simply enforcers for the
Mexicali Cartel instead of the Jefe they are to this very day, they
expanded from traditional Hispanic barrios in South Eastern Blue Bay and
into the more upscale neighborhoods, inevitably running into conflict with
Carlucci's steadily shrinking dominion.  A brief if vicious war and shaky
truce was ended when the Calexico's hired the notorious Dutch "honeypot"
assassin, Mijelle Van Rooy.  She was introduced to Carlucci during a
particularly chaotic aphrodisiac-fueled bit of depravity and several hours
later his hideously mutilated corpse was discovered in one of the
soundproofed rooms.  The Calexicos consolidated power, marking the last
time the Mafia controlled Blue Bay's drug scene.

   Looking to shy away from the ostentatious wealth that got Carlucci in
trouble, the Calexico Brothers sold the house via a third party to
conservative billionaire Matthias Meininger, the child of Günter Meininger,
a German poet who'd fled during the Nazi era but found little success
publishing his verse in the USA.  Günter's son, however, turned a knack for
tinkering with electronics into the conglomerate Energetix.  He'd died two
years prior, blissfully unaware of the house's sordid past, and his
squabbling heirs sold the mansion to Ari Wolff, the tall, rather handsome
man standing in the doorway, acting as magnanimous host of the party
Tristan and Caprichia were attending.

   Ari Wolff may have looked like a typical born-into-riches playboy, and
indeed he was, but he had made his own fortune outside of his family's
banking interests, first making a name for himself as a rising star at the
major, Pinnacle Studios.  He skillfully made his way in 15 years from
production assistant to show runner for the popular TV show "Peeps" and
eventually through a combination of natural talent, dogged determination
and cutthroat politicking to the head of network television production at
the astonishing age of 37, the youngest since the 1980's wunderkind Brandon
Tartikoff.  He struck out a decade before to make his own movies, his
production company Cinimagination having several minor hits in the slasher
films "Razorblade" and "Sweet Agony" before stumbling on critical darling
success with "Drinking Doubles".  A slew of action movie successes followed
by the Oscar winning tearjerker "Hindenburg" made him among the hottest
producers today.

   With the announcement of his procurement of the much-coveted film rights
to "Avalon Rising" and the signing of smoldering British it-boy Ethan Johns
to play the sullen Caulden Holfield in the post WW2 era drama, Ari Wolff
was the toast of Blue Bay, and tonight he looked every bit the part.  He
was strikingly handsome in a healthy, charismatic way.  His angling,
bullwhip-slender frame was tanned a lustrous golden from the generous
tropical sunshine, and he had an easy wit and natural charm about him that
affected almost every man he contacted with a sense of genuine respect and
admiration and nearly every woman he met with a potent magnetic appeal. 
His sun-bleached wheat-hued hair, wavy and vibrant, tinged with just a
touch of grey that belied his 52 years of age, was styled in a neo-brush
cut neatly framing the even features of his face in perfect symmetry.

   "Ah, at last my musical guests arrive," Ari said, his voice deep toned
and masculine.  "Caprichia, my dear, it's good to see you again."

   Tristan tried to maintain his composure as the tall man warmly kissed
his wife on the lips.  The famed producer's infamously lothario demeanor
seemed to reach out and engulf her completely but his quick smile was so
genuinely pleasant and reassuring that any concerns he might have had
immediately went away

   "Thank you for inviting us, Mr.  Wolff" Caprichia trilled lightly to
their host, his remarkable eyes catching her attention.  They were like
black liquid pools, large and mysterious.

   "Everyone seems to have gathered in the game room," Ari announced. 
"Please follow me, folks" he added, and he offered an arm to the dark-eyed
beauty.

   As usual, the festivities were being held in the North Wing, the oldest
areas of the house, and was further enhanced for this particular revelry by
designers to be done up in a combination of Gone With the Wind ~~ which
went with the Old Plantation style of Colonial facade ~~ and Gay Nineties.
The main dining and cocktail salon was impressive with sumptuous period oil
paintings and rich burgundy wallpaper and polished cedar and oak, and the
ceiling seemed to vault into the sky, standing at the top of mahogany
pillars.  The booths were illuminated in moody, indirect lighting, mainly
cloyingly perfumed candles, giving a romantic seclusion to the exotic
atmosphere.  Their very design connotated knee-to-knee and head-to-head
sitting while sipping cocktails or fine wines and talking in husky murmurs,
caught in a timeless void of sensual magnetism.  Tristan and Caprichia
could sense there were many people milling about, a few dozen at least, but
the flickering candlelight made it hard to tell just how many people there
were.  It could have appeared a typical party, but most of the people were
talking quietly, almost in a whisper.  Ordinarily they would have expected
such a crowd to be boisterous.

   Ari led the couple across the long room, some of the people greeting
Caprichia as they walked.  Halfway in the room, on the wall opposite the
windows, was a large natural stone fireplace, a fire blazing brightly to
add to the incandescent effect of the candles.  Though the room was large,
Tristan realized it felt intimate simply because of the artistic lighting;
and he found this discovery to be interesting.  Moments later, he found
himself standing in front of a bar, ornately carved of lustrous red oak
with a gilt-framed mirror along the back-bar and low-hanging chandeliers of
curved brass stems and rose-cups.

   "This is an important part of this room," Ari said with a laugh, then
pointed out a buffet covered with exotic looking food.  "Over there the
tidbits and morsels of palatable pleasure, and here," he added motioning to
the white jacketed man behind the bar, "Here you may quench your thirst
while I attend to my other guests."

   "What may I order for you, Caprichia?" Tristan grinned and went behind
the bar.  "Brandy, Benedictine, Scotch, a Grand Marnier perhaps?"

   "Whatever you suggest will be fine," she said, glancing around the room.

   Tristan ordered two Grand Marniers and she happily took the offered
drink and put her arm on her husband's to walk to the porch.

   "Thank you for this," she said holding up her drink, "It's really quite
good."

   Tristan had guided her to the railing at the edge of the balcony.  He
clicked his glass against hers and took a large sip of his drink, "There's
plenty more where this came from, and you can be sure it won't hurt you
..." he said watching her gulp down nearly half her drink.

   Caprichia felt warm and more relaxed with each swallow of the potent
mixture.  She stared out at the lighted trees and grounds below, listening
to the sounds of the burbling brook nearby, a sound that lulled her senses,
pleasantly.  It was such a sultry night, and yet here on the porch she felt
cool.

   "Are you sure this drink is mild?" she found herself questioning, as the
first zephyrs of lightheadedness rippled through her brain.

   Tristan laughed as if she had made some joke.

   "I sincerely doubt it.  Remember, they spiked everyone's drinks with
Love the last time we were here and I'm pretty sure I detect it here as
well."

   Love had been the chic new social drug for nearly a year now.  A
subtler, more refined version of the notorious street aphrodisiac Bang!, it
was a near-perfect synthesis of the intricately complex of mixture of
endorphins, adrenaline and various other chemical compounds that were the
human brain's natural mechanism for sexual arousal.  It didn't have the
severe impact that Bang!  on the human psyche had, rather an understated
loosening of inhibition and slight intensifying of natural sexual desire.

   Just then, one of the couples whom they had been introduced to at
another party ~~ Tristan couldn't quite remember which one, but thought it
might have been a fundraiser for pediatric leukemia or somesuch ~~ made
their way over to where he and Caprichia were standing.  Tristan struggled
to remember their names and was fortunate just as they approached that he
recalled she was Marissa Holland, formerly a primetime anchor on the
SportsNow news program on the Jupiter Network but was now hosting a rather
popular reality TV show that he'd never seen.  She was statuesquely tall
and panther-lithe with tawny hair and huge, luminescent azure eyes with
glittering flecks in the irises.  Dressed in a highly fashionable
sapphire-blue Parisian-cut dress, the clinging silk hugged and caressed her
slender, high-breasted body, accentuating the easy, natural sway of her
tight-mooned rump.  She was holding onto her baseball-star husband's arm
and smiling warmly as they approached.

   Caprichia was somewhat surprised to see Javier Torreon in Blue Bay, but
then remembered his Las Vegas Aces had been knocked out of the playoff hunt
in a rather stunning upset by the upstart Memphis Mud Dogs.  He seemed to
be taking the loss in stride, she noted coolly, appearing at a party not
three days after the humiliation with his attractive wife.  Of course that
couple was well-versed in the fickle vagaries of public opinion,
remembering the righteous hue and cry that went through the media when it
was discovered that Pulitzer Prize-nominated telejournalist Marissa Holland
was dating a baseball star she was supposed to be covering without bias. 
`Of course, who could blame her falling for that multi-millionaire hunk,'
she mused with detached interest, not thinking in terms of him as a sex
partner, but just as a good looking man ... at least for now.  Javier was a
six-footer, with a boyish and clean face, a strong, jutting jaw line and
dark, intelligent eyes.  He certainly looked the part of the professional
athlete ~~ broad-shouldered and thick-chested, and the material of his
tailored jacket stretched taut across his brawny pectorals.  But he also
boasted a broad, friendly, contagious smile and an easy-going manner.

   "Hello there, Tristan" Javier said heartily as they came up.  "Lousy
party, isn't it?"

   "Shall I be honest about it?" Tristan asked.

   "Sure."

   "Yes.  It's a lousy party."

   Javier laughed deeply, with good-natured, infectious amusement.  He said
to his wife, "I told you I was going to like this Tristan, didn't I,
Marissa?  He's a man after my own heart ~~ honest and frank and totally
lacking in the phony social graces."

   "Thanks ~~ I think," Tristan said.

   Javier laughed again.  His eyes shifted to Caprichia, moving easily over
her beautifully compact, perfectly symmetrical body in a way which was
complimentary to Caprichia ~~ not lecherous, but openly admiring.  "How
about you, Caprichia?  What's your opinion of this little affair?"

   "The same as my husband's," she answered ruefully, playing into the
joke. She'd been to dozens of record-industry gatherings and record-release
parties and knew, despite their frequent bacchanalian tone, how intensely
dull they could be, incestuously seeing the same people over and over,
bitching over the decline of radio or the exponential increase of illegal
downloads or whatever was cutting into profits.  This, on the other hand,
was a highly-coveted invitation and all here were thrilled to be in
attendance.

   "Don't really know why we bothered coming here," Tristan intoned, mirth
threatening to shatter his mock I'm so-terribly-bored guise.  "Something to
do on a Friday night, I guess." The two couples had established a common
bond and he, too, found himself liking Javier.  And Marissa, even though
she hadn't spoken as yet, struck him as being an intelligent, carefree soul
like her husband.  On top of that, she was damned attractive, Tristan had
to admit; very damned attractive.

   They fell easily then into conversation.  As both Tristan and Caprichia
had surmised, Marissa and Javier were witty, intelligent people,
interesting to talk to.  The topic of conversation shifted, naturally, from
foreign policy to the hotly contested mayoral race in Blue Bay to the size
of the offices for the top brass at Jupiter Networks as opposed to the
SoulSonic Records corporate suites to the attributes of Whispering Winds
drug rehabilitation center ("More like `Whimpering Wounds,'" Marissa
scoffed, eliciting much laughter) and finally to the topic resting most
heavily on Caprichia's mind, Britannica's album trouble.

   "The problem is the studio interfering," she answered Javier's question.
"Our producer, Colin Hampton, was jerked away from us when that Irish
supergroup, F14, offered him more money.  A lot more, as in able to buy him
out of the contract we had with him.  Sure we profited on the deal, but we
had to recruit a new knob-twiddler.  We think we might have one ~~ Dalton
Lang.  He did ~~ you know the group The Arbor Doves?  That song "Treachery
Nights"?  He did that one ~~ so we think we should have him in studio on
Monday."

   "Then what will you do, Caprichia?" Marissa asked in her musically soft
voice.

   "Grin and bear it, I guess," she replied.  "The band has its own
problems.  Simon, our co-songwriter, well ... Simon's Simon and the
momentum we had off the sessions with Colin is pretty much gone.  Tragic
too.  We recorded a few great tracks, "Casual Cruelty" which has this Lalo
Schifrin sound and a real bluesy thing I wrote called "Stormy".  Maybe, one
of these days soon, we'll all get on the same page, band and producer; if
that happens, all the goddamned label executives in the world won't affect
the work."

   "You will, dear," Tristan reassured her.

   Caprichia flashed her trademark entrancingly crooked grin.  "Husbandly
faith.  Ah, what would we creative geniuses do without it?"

   Marissa laughed.  "Behind every great woman, there's a great man," she
said.

   "And vice versa," Javier put in.

   They all laughed, and when the baseball star suggested they grab a bite
to eat his wife applauded the offer.  She hooked her arm through Tristan's
arm and said: "Take your drink and find us a table.  We're hungry!"

   `Yeah, I bet, Mrs.  Holland.' Caprichia thought cattily, noting that the
blonde hadn't taken her eyes off Tristan all night.  `Hungry for the fun to
begin.' To the casual observer, it was just another weekend party in the
posh Majestic Hills, and it would remain exactly that until the magic hour
of eight o'clock, when no more guests would be admitted ~~ and the real
entertainment of the evening would begin.  All of the attendees were there
for one express purpose.  So she wasn't surprised to see the other people
simply circulating around, greeting friends, seeing who was there, nibbling
at the tasty edibles and generally relaxing with tall, cool drinks.

   By now, the rapport between the two couples was, of course, fully
established.  They spent the next hour and a half discussing a various and
sundry number of things, losing all track of time, each thoroughly enjoying
the company of the others.  They sat at a small circular table so that each
of the men sat between the two women and vice versa, talking about
humorously unimportant things that made them all laugh a lot.  While they
had a delicious dinner, consisting mostly of light fare, Tristan noticed
that Javier skillfully steered the conversation artfully around a dozen
different, innocuous subjects, fully in command.  Slowly, inexorably, he
moved into other, more intimate channels, his jokes becoming more
off-color, his anecdotes more risqué.  He was a master of timing and could
sense the most understated of moods, knowing when to change and when to
retreat or advance.

   All four of them, by Caprichia's assessment, drank too much.  She always
seemed to have a full glass in front of her; refreshed by a staff that were
supremely courteous, seemingly near-telepathic in their service, and nearly
invisible.  The spicy Thai food that dominated the buffet was excellent but
thirst provoking.  If it wasn't the drink that was ordered before the main
dinner arrived, it was the white wine with the fish course; if it wasn't
the red wine which came with the meal, it was the port which was served
with the dessert of cheese and crackers.  By the time she was sipping her
after-dinner Turkish coffee and the tulip-stem of Grand Marnier, she was
noticing an almost ethereal susurration whispering through her bloodstream,
coming gradually, barely recognizable for what it was.  It was an odd,
worldly, devil-take-the-hindmost feeling she had, warmer and more aware of
her own physical presence, extremely subtle.  She slowly became convinced
that their host was spiking their drinks with a restrained yet potent
aphrodisiac and it was insinuating itself into everyone at the table. 
Marissa's sharp wit seemed to be getting progressively more involved in
double entendres and even Javier's dirty jokes kept Caprichia giggling like
a schoolgirl.  The cute baseball star and Tristan were trading the coarse
banter back and forth and it only made the jokes funnier.  When she saw her
husband `accidentally' brush his hand across the hunk's arm, the younger
man visibly blushed and trembled.

   When the magic hour arrived came, guests began noticeably leaving the
main dining area to wander about the many rooms that were open that night.

   "Well, now," Javier said after a cough, sitting back from his coffee. 
"What did you two lovely folks have planned now?"

   "Nothing, nothing at all," Tristan said with a sigh.

   "Not true," Caprichia retorted with an exaggerated wink.  "It so happens
we were planning on going to one of the party rooms upstairs."

   Tristan shook his head in feigned wonder.  "What did I ever do to
deserve you?"

   "I've wondered about that myself." Caprichia said in mock umbrage.

   Javier's hearty laugh punctuated their conversation.  "Listen," he said,
taking Tristan's hand, "talking with the two of you has made this a very
pleasant evening out of what started out to be a huge bore."

   "Same here," Tristan told him.  "It was a pleasure meeting you, Javier.
And," he added gallantly, "your most lovely wife."

   "That goes for me, too," Javier said, his eyes moving over Caprichia
again in that admiring way until she blushed lightly with pleasure.  "What
say we get together later on?"

   "Sounds delightful," Caprichia said enthusiastically.

   "Well, I'm all for a little fun," Marissa said, "but don't count on Javy
here.  He doesn't like to admit it, but he likes to go to bed early."

   The foursome bid their farewells as Tristan led Caprichia to the
elevator, then down one of the sumptuously appointed halls after the short
ride to the second floor.  The room they entered was far smaller than the
dining hall they'd just been in, probably originally a library but had been
converted for the night for a different purpose.  There was a small but
lavish bar next to the door, with several plush couches and a few other
what appeared to be huge crushed velvet pillows scattered about the
exotically lightened floorspace.  Caprichia could see other couples,
threesomes, and parties of four and more talking and drinking, the firefly
glimmer of a cigarette ember glowing in more than one set of hands and
based on the distinctive pungent aroma wafting about Tristan was certain it
wasn't just tobacco that was being inhaled in here.

   After finding a suitably isolated nook cloaked in deep shadows, Tristan
stretched out on the large pillow, smiling up at Caprichia.  She returned
the smile as she too made herself comfortable on one of the outsized
cushions next to her husband.  Music was playing from somewhere,
everywhere, while the room danced with the flickering light of the fire. 
It seemed vaguely familiar, like the soundtrack to a movie she'd seen
involving great desert battles and exotic oases in the scorching heat.  Her
vibrant, very aware body, thoroughly intoxicated by the insidious
aphrodisiac, seemed to pulsate with it, the whirling tempo increasing
toward an infinite point.

   Vaguely, Caprichia was aware of Tristan's hand around her shoulders, a
reminder that they were sharing some special secret, and she relaxed
against his reassuring arm.  Her senses were fine-tuned, alert and ripe for
any sign of warmth and comfort, and the large pillow under her body seemed
to press up into her slightly-stirring loins, making feathery contact
through her sheer panties with the softly parted lips of her tingling sex.
She turned her head toward him, and his handsome face was close, very
close, moving like a descending sphere as his eager warm lips met her.  She
wanted him to kiss her, to press his steamy mouth and wicked tongue into
her to draw out the simmering heat that was beginning to course through her
incited body.  It lingered, held to a quavering pitch of desirous passion
that made her mind surge at the taste of his palpable lust for her.  His
wetly quivering tongue flicked into her open mouth, touching the roof of
her mouth like a hot poker, and she began sucking on it hungrily, feeling a
warm, inviting promise of sensual fulfillment that she enjoyed in the
steamiest of kisses.  It was good, too good, and she searched through the
haze in her mind to find reason for it all being wrong.  But when the
soulful kiss ended, she felt only contentment.  Tristan had kissed her as
devotional kindness, a confidential understanding between husband and wife
formed in the privacy of a room full of strangers.

   There was a sudden tenseness in the room, as if everyone was waiting
anxiously for an event, and Tristan, too, became energized ...  but for
what precise reason, he couldn't guess.  Then he noticed that several
couples had begun slowdancing to the sultry beat of the intoxicatingly
rhythmic music emanating from hidden speakers.  There was something
elegantly suggestive about how the limber dancers shimmied their supple
bodies up against one another in an undulating motion that mirrored the
sumptuous pulse of the provocative music.  It was as though the ethereal
lights illuminating the room had given them new identities and they were
free to do what they pleased in the veiling shadows.  The twilight
atmosphere (and his less than perfect vision) made it almost impossible for
him to discern more than the obscure outlines, silhouettes writhing against
one another in perfect harmony.

   Through the hallucinatory glimmer of the guttering candles, Caprichia's
sharp eyes made out the embracing forms of one couple who appeared
exceptionally engrossed with each other, the man with his back turned
toward her.  His partner was an exceptionally beautiful girl, lustrously
crimson bobbed hair framing an angelically attractive face.  Her plush
mouth was partly open, and her tiny tongue was flickering out and in,
moistening her lips until they glistened.  A simple sheath dress covered
her ripe young body, distinct impressions in the sheer material outlining
the firm little breasts, narrow waist and sexily curving hips.  The
well-built man, with thick shoulders narrowing down into a taut waist in a
streamlined flow, boldly ran his hands over the woman's schoolgirlish
bosom, and the woman wrapped her naughty hands around the man's bubble-cute
rump, pulling his twitching groin to hers as though they were in a standing
copulation position.  Caprichia doubted whether the others paid the least
attention.  They were too much entranced in the irresistible pulsation of
the beguiling music to be aware of anything but the primal rhythm
inundating their own bodies.

   Tristan sipped from his martini, fuzzily aware of the attenuating
aphrodisiac spreading through his nervous system, and peered through the
nebulous darkness.  Eventually, as though he were putting together a
puzzle, he focused with some clarity through the obscuring darkness on the
same amorous couple, arms hooked around each other's backs, their loins
locked in a suggestively gyrating embrace.  The pair was breathing faster
and faster, her chest rising and falling as his hand toyed with her modest
breasts while hers slipped under his pants, the impression clearly showing
that she was reaching for his burgeoning cock.  For a moment, her hand
lingered there, fondling his endowment with obvious pleasure before
gripping his manhood and, using it like a leash, drew him effortlessly to a
conveniently close overstuffed satin couch.

   "Looks like the exhibitionists are taking over," Caprichia breathed
almost inaudibly with a mock innocence.

   Tristan nodded, paralyzed, his eyes glued to the incredible performance
going on in front of him.  He could now see the details of the two lovers
that were now lounging on the cushions with crystalline clarity.  The man
reached toward the woman's dress and pulled it completely open.  The
titian-haired beauty was wearing no brassiere, and her nakedly firm breasts
popped out, quivering slightly.  Her softly fleshed bosom was snowy white;
the pudgy nipples appealingly dark and the areolae a tawny gold.  Her
lover's hands moved immediately to cup the perky mounds, thumbs whisking
over the jutting nipples, rolling them into a blatant hardness.  His sexily
rolling hips melded with hers in a lubricious motion, their mutual
throbbing becoming more intense as their tantalizing foreplay became more
and more fierily aroused.

   A new piece of music began playing on the soundsystem.  It sounded
strangely unfamiliar in style to Caprichia, striking, vaguely South Eastern
Asian, and its unique rhythms matched the lewdly uninhibited movements of
the decadent lovers fully engaged in their unrestrained sexplay.  The man's
hand was gliding down her smoothly flattened belly, toying at the waistband
of the silken panties.  Brushing away his teasing touch, she impatiently
jerked the offending garment off her hips and kicked it clear of her body.
Caprichia gaped stupefied at the tangled burgundy-hued pubic triangle,
achingly aware that Tristan had his strong arm curled possessively around
her waist, his hand tight on her side ...  but her electrified mind was
distracted by the tender bodies kissing passionately on the couch.

   Tristan held his breath, trying to quiet it as he watched the scene
unfolding before him, grateful for the cloaking darkness of the room.  The
erotic image of the two ardent lovers intertwined much as he and Caprichia
had a thousand times before was something he could empathize with and he
relished the tingling sensation so familiar to him ignite deep within.  It
seemed to kindle in his belly and slowly move down to the sensitive organ
stirring heavily between his legs.  It was all he could do to keep from
touching himself there as he watched the man pull off his own shirt,
revealing a brawny chest flexing beneath coppery flesh.  The woman
adoringly traced her fingernails over the taut ridges and sharp depressions
of his rippling torso as she shamelessly tugged his pants partially down
his burly thighs, revealing an obscenely tented pair of boxers.  He escaped
her grasp and kneeled between her long legs, showering kisses over her
surging breasts, tweaking her nipples to hardened chips.

   Caprichia blushed furiously as the man's adoring mouth left his lover's
bobbling breasts then traced a slick path down to the smooth plane of her
spasmodically jerking stomach and inner thighs, circling along her
vulnerable tummy, glossing over her adorably tiny navel.  She wantonly
writhed beneath his incendiary oral caresses like a woman possessed, her
eager hands tangling in his close-cropped hair, gluttonously pulling his
lips to the visibly trembling flesh of her scissoring thighs.  Caprichia
wiggled her posh buttocks back into the soft pillow, feeling the gauzy
material of her dress and panties press up scandalously between her moistly
parted thighs.  She was seethingly aware of Tristan's roving hand as it
moved over to her own pillowy breast, of the tiny bud-like nipple hardening
under the lacy material, never allowing the delicious rippling between her
legs to subside.

   Tristan felt his wife's warm, enthusiastic hand inching closer to his
penis, rapidly engorging inside his pants from both her bawdy little
caresses and the lust-stimulating performance unfolding before him. 
Christ, he could almost feel the velvety smoothness of the decadently naked
redhead as her skilled lover physically adored the young beauty's
glistening contours, teasingly massaging with pampering hands the woman's
upthrusting breasts and their chubby wine-red nipples even as he lowered
his handsome head to her tender loins.  His lips brushed along her inner
thighs, his sinuous tongue never quite touching her most intimate parts. 
Instead he teased her, playfully sniffing at the perfumed moistness of her
tasty sex, savoring her uniquely attractive bouquet.

   Caprichia shuddered, fascinated with the dual stimulation of remembering
how Tristan had tasted her sweetness earlier that day on their livingroom
couch, and how this vixen was building to similar lusts ~~ and taking
Caprichia with her.  The pop star's shimmering eyes never left the
audacious spectacle in the center of the room.  It was odd, but she found
herself almost identifying with the prone feminine figure whose mouth hung
open wide in ecstatic rapture as the man continued to torment her by coming
tauntingly close to the narrow groove of her creamy cunny, whetting her
into a fever pitch of libidinous excitement.  Perhaps it was all those
aphrodisiac-laced drinks mingled with her own irrepressible sexual desires
that created the feeling of wicked participation in the almost pagan
ritual, but Caprichia let the rational speculation slip from her analytical
mind and continued to brazenly watch the debauchery.

   Similar to his lust-inspired wife, Tristan was a bundle of erotically
tingling nerves, fascinated by his voyeuring of the man about to perform
cunnilingus upon the sexy woman.  Natural curiosity and unabashed
excitement dominated the young husband's mind, the lascivious fascination
of seeing the impending lingual ravishment mindlessly gripping his aroused
body, and the building tension made his spine stiffen.  The red-haired minx
apparently was not immune herself to the mounting strain because she
suddenly pulled her knees up, jackknifing them back and spreading her
willowy legs whorishly wide apart.  The crumpled layers of succulent flesh
were fully now visible, and the mouth-like orifice that was the molten core
of her pussy had opened hungrily.  The half moons of her temptingly-rounded
buttocks shone clearly, divided by the buttery-smooth valley between them.
Her lover lowered his head again, his dexterous tongue slithering in the
shadowy crevice between the hemispheric cheeks.  She twisted back toward
him, reaching with her hands to spread the ivory globes and give full
access to her tiny roseate anus, nestled mysterious and inviting below the
swollen and pillowy labial lips.  The tongue lashed her for another long,
avid moment, causing her to groan with an excitement that seemed to
transcend the moment.

   Caprichia's roused body was now alive with glorious sensations coursing
through her flesh in licking flames of escalating desire.  When Tristan
nimbly moved his hand to the top of her dress and boldly pushed under it to
cup her naked breast, small pinpricks of delicious feeling danced over her
nerves to her pebbled nipples.  She mewled her enjoyment when he
maddeningly rolled the hard little bud of one tip between thumb and
forefinger, her tempestuous emotions running away with her.  She hazily
snuggled back against Tristan's strong arm, her hands performing their own
mischief while every once in awhile, she lifted her head to the
bacchanalian spectacle, enjoying the interplay of her own toying
manipulations of her own lover's beefy cock and the wild action going on a
few dozen feet away from her.  Her eyes fixed upon the cute guy who had now
pressed with his thumbs into his lover's curl-fringed pussy, his fingers
splaying out the honey-drizzled outer flanges of her labial lips. 
Abruptly, he nuzzled his handsome face into the cradling "V" of her
delicately-curved thighs, his slippery tongue snaking out to slither
teasingly at the quavering center of raw nerves at the top of the succulent
cleft.

   The tremulous groan the woman issued at the lingual contact against her
obviously aroused pussy echoed the soft moan that escaped from Tristan's
lips when he felt Caprichia's petite hand gently grasp, then begin to
fondle the thickening length of his ballooning penis in his pants, her
sassy manipulations stoking the heat and excitement flaring inside of him.
He squirmed down on the pillow and rubbed his naked manhood into her
groping grasp, his body rocking in an almost discernible rhythm to the
writhing woman.  The redhead's sensuous movements had increased when her
uninhibited lover's swishing tongue made contact with her wrinkled anus,
licking greedily about that taboo flesh, the swirling tip burrowing into
the crinkled nether entrance.  He then resumed his insatiate lapping
upwards, sliding over the fluted pink edges of her tasty pussy to the rigid
little clitoris nestled atop her plump pubic mound.  His limber tongue
spread through the billowy vulva like a razor slicing through bread dough.
It flickered relentlessly until his partner was jerking spasmodically.

   Caprichia wasn't sure if she should look at the orally loving couple any
longer, or turn to Tristan to help bank the rising flames he was
well-practiced in instigating.  His hand pampering her naked breast felt
sinfully good, his fingers tweaking her tender nipples making tiny jolts of
heated arousal jump along her nerve ends, and she squirmed her buttocks
down harder against the pillow, forcing it to press deeper into her
lust-doused cunny.  Her panties were already thoroughly soaked from her
excited caressing of her own man's mouth-wateringly heavy erection, and she
squeezed her thighs together to try to rein in the tumultuous sensation
beginning to bubble there.  The smoothness of the cushion excited the
overly sensitive lips of her vagina, and she felt tiny ripples ringing like
a church bell in the twittering bud of her clitoris.  She bit into her
lower lip to leash the delectable sensations that were pulsating up between
her legs with greater urgency, as her attention was concentrated on the
devoted couple.

   Tristan watched similarly in an almost mesmerized fascination as the
woman kicked her coltish legs back and reached out for her man's head. 
Threading her fingers through his hair, she pulled his face mercilessly
forward.  His lizard-like tongue thrust up the gooey channel, thoroughly
ravishing her upthrust loins and she arched her writhing groin up more
tightly against the man's dipping head, her hips churning in rhythm to the
whirrings of his slavering tongue.  She was now lying spread-eagled in the
center of the large couch, her head lolling back and forth on a cushion,
her face contorting with ecstasy and her upper torso shimmying like a belly
dancer's in an audible swish as her wildly writhing shoulders pushed back
onto the spongy cushions of the couch.  The sexy vixen had completely
surrendered to her lover's animalistic licking, wild, incoherent whimpers
streaming from her lips, pleading and encouraging as he worked at her
savagely, a rutting lust driving him on...

   Caprichia could feel Tristan becoming increasingly restless, but she
also heard her own short panting gasps, the aching hunger inside her making
her labor for breath.  She shoved her wet, swollen vaginal lips harder
against the soft material of the couch as its pliant ridge pressed
sensuously into the moistly heated lips of her sex.  Her beloved's right
arm was around her and his hand cupping her breast, kneading it unhindered,
and that thrilled her almost as much as when he dropped his left hand to
her bare knee, slipping it up to the hem of her thigh-high dress, pressing
toward her feverishly aching pussy.  She could feel the sticky wetness of
her own sopping excitement on the soft cheeks of her buttocks as she
pressed down harder against the inflammatory pillow.  His fingers worked
more insistently beneath her dress, pulling the gauzy material up from
beneath, inch by inch, his hand working her dress up, relentlessly probing
her most intimate secrets.

   She squirmed as his middle finger began pushing the folds of her dress
into her clamorously craving groove from beneath.  His hand under her
luxurious buttocks became bolder as he sensed her tacit surrender to his
titillating touch.  Her whole torso shuddered as his middle finger began to
feather-stroke her puffy labial lips, pushing the slender thread of her
flimsy panties away from the impatiently throbbing slit.  A surge of
exhilaration washed over her as the waves of satyric pleasure overcame all
resistance as Tristan wiggled his finger into the moist, demanding walls of
her jubilant pussy.  When Caprichia flexed her inner muscles upon it,
making the galvanic skewering sensations that much more exquisite, she held
her shuddery breath, her very being tottering on its foundations as her
beloved oscillated his exacerbating finger in teasing little circles inside
her.  She could feel her lubricating juices seeping over his palm as it
rotated almost flat now against her downy pubic curls, his finger moving in
maddening circles inside her, expanding the tight little vaginal opening
with each teasing rotation.  The love-starved young woman was almost out of
her mind with lust.  She didn't think she could stand his caressing of her
sex another moment, and she was ready to crawl up the walls in order to
quench the fire raging inside her contracting cunny.

   Tristan was excited by the gradual changes coming over his flagrantly
writhing wife, who was now issuing out purring mewls of unfettered
pleasure. Then he heard different groans right alongside him, and he tore
his eyes from the central couple long enough to glance in the direction it
came from.  He was momentarily stunned though not so much by what was
happening but because he knew the participants from previous parties.  The
woman, a pleasantly plump woman in early 40s who had both her legs spread
wide, her designer dress up around her roomy hips, was named Valerie, a
former television producer as he remembered.  Her husband was Brock Yates,
an up and coming star in the financial world who ran an extremely
successful mutual fund for Apollo Investments and whose long fingers were
currently sawing in and out of his wife's gooshy vagina.  Valerie,
completely unconcerned with the people around her, was grinding her pelvis
and voluptuous buttocks off the large pillow in rhythm to the fingers
sluicing into her.  Both she and Brock had their sizzling passion-glazed
eyes locked on the lascivious couple.  Tristan turned away, only now aware
for the first time of the other couples in the surrounding darkness; though
indistinct, it was apparent that they were all in lewd embraces by their
writhing motion.  The potent aphrodisiac was affecting everyone, and he
realized, as he thought that he and Caprichia had never had sex with the
Yates couple but that he sure would like to, that he too was about to
succumb to the prurient urges heatedly pulsating through his body.

   "Damn!" Tristan gasped out as he watched Brock Yates smooth his hand
down over the sweeping arch of his wife's hips and ass to lewdly spread
apart the twin ovalled mounds and gently slip a probing finger between to
forbiddenly stroke the older woman's deceptively tight anus.

   "Yes, darling ...  I know what you mean," Caprichia whispered hotly, her
dark onyx eyes sparkling excitedly, her own Sapphic drives lustfully
aroused by the inciting sight of the buxom older woman.  Her first lesbian
experience, a truly joyous moment, had been with just such a woman.  But
she felt she needed to impishly tease her man.  "And I'm getting just a
little bit jealous of the way you're ogling them ...  with me sitting right
here beside you just waiting ..."

   Though he hardly heard her wanton words, Tristan responded with a lusty
grunt of sensation.  He cursed lightly under his breath, then drew
Caprichia to him, kissing her zestfully as his eager hands smoothed over
the perfect, high-set mounds of her breasts.  She continued to stroke his
throbbing inches of blood-engorged phallic flesh with a sensuous knowing
touch, provoking him as only she knew how.  Christ, her lips and
intoxicating breath were like the aphrodisiac he'd drunk ...  rare vintage.
Her long-lashed, sable eyes opened to look hungrily at him, and he swept
his exploring hand over her firmly erect, satin-smooth bosomt.  She had
squirmed around until she was partially laying across his lap, half-raising
her willowy legs at the knees, then, revealing the enticing sight of her
full creamy thighs ...  and a wisp of soft, silken curls!  He swallowed
tightly, all other thoughts suddenly obliterated from his mind, only the
precious treasure of her delectable mouth and precious tongue were real as
he raised his head to break their torrid kiss ...  and then he was kissing
her again and again ...  kissing her hungrily while his hand fondled and
kneaded the resilient flesh of her full, warm breasts inside her dress...

   "Squeeze them, darling!" Caprichia whispered huskily.  "Squeeze them
tight ...  Do ...  do you like to bite a girl's titties, baby?"

   Tristan couldn't answer her ...  could not even speak.  He tried but
nothing intelligible came.  Christ, he'd never known a woman quite like
her. She'd probably forgotten more about the art of sex than he would ever
learn.  Damn, the lilting sound of her mellifluous voice, the tulip
fragrance of her nectarous breath set his cock into a pounding hardness
that left him half-panting.  The scrumptiously warm titties she spoke of
were unbelievable ...  so pillowy-soft and perky, with hardened
cherry-nipples capping the perfectly spherical flesh, hard like smooth
marbles, and she began to salaciously squirm on top of him, her malleable
buttocks writhing down about his fully-inflated hardness.

   Abruptly, Caprichia could feel the intolerable warmth of the room, the
radiant bodyheat of the other foreplaying couples compounding her own
combustible excitement until perspiration beaded on her forehead.  She
could hear sloppy slurping noises punctuated intermittently by the telltale
whimpery mewls and raspy groans of totally depraved pleasure coming now
from around the room as other couples, overcome by the oral plundering of
the young redhead, locked themselves together in various forms of sexual
connection.  Several years prior, Caprichia had heard stories about the
legendarily decadent orgies that Ari Wolff had thrown, but had always
thought they been something out of a fairytale world she had never thought
of in any kind of real terms.  Before she had attended her first one 4
months prior, she had not thought of them as full of real, hotly panting
bodies who suffered real passion until the truth of the far-fetched stories
she had heard came to her detached consciousness with astounding insight.
This was a pagan ritual that was still being enacted and repeated inside a
history of which she was, at the present moment, only a bystander.  This
fact made her terribly frustrated, the fiery hunger inside suffusing her
from her abdomen all the way up to her passion-swollen breasts containing a
raging needing extinguishing.  She bit down on her lower lip in a valiant
attempt to keep back a vocal groan of frustration, but Tristan's hand
worked with increased intensity, catapulting her emotions as he touched
her.

   "Damn, let's get these clothes off!" Tristan choked out hoarsely as he
pumped harder and faster, his fingers sliding in and out of her wide-spread
pussy in thrilling corkscrewing motions

   "Mmmmm, yes ...  Let's get naked, darling," Caprichia whispered
exultantly, facial muscles tightening when he joined still another finger
spearing into the tightly clasping grotto, the steadily increasing rhythm
drawing loud grunts from deep in her throat.  Somehow she continued to
undulate the twin mounds of her bubble-round rump in tiny circles down
against his now-obscenely bloated erection.  "It feels so hard and big
pressed against my ass..."

   While she shrugged her dress off (knowing in a deeply buried rational
part of her mind that the incredibly discreet staff would whisk the haute
couture garment away to minimize any potential damage), Caprichia was
becoming particularly aware of Brock Yates manually pleasuring his wife,
the way his probing fingers were working themselves inside the blushed
edges of her pretty pussy, widening the eminently kissable lips and
stroking the bud-like clitoris with his extended middle finger at the same
time mirroring Tristan's impressive technique.  Valerie herself seemed
possessed with an implacable lust as she writhed beneath Brock's driving
fingers in uncontrollable passion.  Her face was contorted with ruttish
lust as she strained furiously to reach a climax, her mouth open and
groaning, rolling her head from side to side, her hair flying like a
hundred soft whips onto the pillow, and it was apparent she was becoming
desperate for any kind of release.  Caprichia found herself becoming
profoundly attracted to the older woman and her own grunts became louder
with each passing second, until her actions and voice seemed to blend into
Valerie's.

   Tristan had been able to wiggle out of his slacks but couldn't bother
with his boxers so now the jutting trunk of his lengthy penis stood up
rigidly throbbing in Caprichia's unrelentingly groping hand through the
open fly.  He, too, was ogling the lecherously exciting masturbatory
coupling.  He was particularly fascinated by the fleshly beauty twisting
raunchily beneath the thorough marauding of her honey-soused loins.  The
idea of joining her made his mind expand into a scintillating prism of
promiscuous sensation that spread out from the top of his head, sparking in
tiny electric glints down his spine.  His desire-maddened body had become a
slave of Caprichia's pleasure-giving fist pumping along his hotly quivering
manhood, and the image of Valerie Yates frantic drive for climax, straining
every sinew and muscle in her frustrated longing for ultimate release,
completely overwhelmed him as he, too, was wildly voracious for spirited
sex.

   Abruptly, Valerie Yates turned in Caprichia and Tristan's direction and
overtly smiled at the similarly stroking couple.  The older woman murmured
something to her husband Brock, who must have replied but seemed not to
have missed a beat in his manual ministrations.  Her hand reached toward
Caprichia and beckoned invitingly.  Caprichia tenderly nuzzled her own
husband's cheek then freed herself from his loving embrace and rose
gracefully, standing fully naked, majestic as a regal queen, as
breathtaking a Mediterranean Venus as Tristan had ever seen her in any
concert.  Languidly, she got up from the pillow, sauntered over to Valerie,
and grinned in wanton delight as she stared at the buxom woman's writhing
body, impaled as it was by two fingers of the rapacious Brock.  Caprichia
placed her hands over Valerie's pudding-soft breasts and hefted the
impressive globes even as she knelt beside the older vixen to kiss her new
girlfriend.

   Tristan followed his wife like a shadow, following the unwritten but
inviolate protocol that all men must wait to be invited to join any sexual
soiree.  He heard the rustling of clothes, and knew that Brock was
stripping fully naked then watched as in unison Mr.  Yates and Caprichia
closed in on the lounging Valerie.  They began in tandem to run their hands
over her full, wobbling breasts and the warm jellied flesh until her pale
skin glowed pearlescent.  Tristan wasn't surprised when his horny wife
aggressively took charge.  She took Valerie's pudgy nipples and massaged
them to agonizing hardness, and Tristan could only stare in bedazzled
wonderment as his sensual woman began crawling over the older minx's
undulating body and famishedly lick her tasty nipples, her
half-dollar-sized areolae, her lush curves of voluptuous flesh ...  Then
down, down with passionately wet kisses over the vulnerably soft swell of
her belly and the smoldering skin of her inner thighs.

   An enthralling lust ripped through Tristan, making his legs weak and his
pendulous testicles swell with the raw carnal excitement of the saturnalian
scene.  He watched as together, Brock and Caprichia arranged the
emotionally charged older woman on the couch, her husband grasping her
airborne ankles and thrusting them apart so that both could hunker down
between her wide-splayed knees, causing Valerie to spasm with a deep,
gurgling exaltation in her throat.  Her full-lipped cunny was no longer a
demure pink slash but a gaping valley of deliquescent flesh.  Caprichia's
dark eyes mirrored the glittering eyes of Brock Yates as with concupiscent
delight they ogled Valerie's upraised clitoris.  Tristan's breath whistled
as he let it out, and the deep burning sensation bubbling in his loins grew
in intensity as he viewed the lascivious sight of Caprichia's kittenish
tongue furling out to caress the glossy pink flesh.  When she commenced to
slowly stroke in and out of the gooey wetness in a lingual imitation of
copulation, Tristan noticed that Caprichia's trademark cloyingly sweet
feminine perfume, he thought it was called `Risqué' or something along
those lines, filled his nostrils as before but now contained the darker
undertones of Valerie's redolent arousal.

   Tristan was astonished when Valerie brazenly grabbed the rigid thickness
of his hardened penis poling out from his loins and using it as a handle
pulled him over so he was straddling her shoulders.  There was clearly none
of revulsion inside her for fellatio that so many older women are burdened
by.  By the way she visibly gaped at the unexpected bigness of his
endowment, and opened her mouth, running her tongue longingly across the
edges of her gaping lips, this was the very wanton act she had been
hungrily awaiting, and Tristan was not about to deny her.  Her flashing
eyes swept appreciatively from the heavy sac of his drooping balls hanging
virilely between his powerful legs to the moistened shaft, noting a
particularly prominent vein squiggling up the side of the beefy trunk to
the bulbous purplish head, nearly level with and only inches from her face.
Never hesitating, the passion-inflamed woman leaned slowly forward and
coquettishly placed her pursed lips to its hot, spongy tip and held them
there before letting her little tongue slip between them, its wiggling, wet
end stealing the glimmering drop of his pearlescent pre-cum weeping from
its tiny slit.  Then she wormed the very tip of her skittering tongue into
the miniature slit in his puffy dome, causing him to jerk spasmodically,
his powerful frame shuddering from the sensual contact.

   "G-Goddamn!" Tristan cursed, watching in entranced fascination as
Valerie's petite hand reached up to possessively curl part way around his
heavily swollen organ, feverish bursts of jagged lust slashing through him
like hot-bladed razors when he saw her lush, lip-glossed mouth open and
slip widely over the mushroom-shaped crest of his throbbing cock.  A
knee-jelling quake rocked him from head to toe as she not only began to
immerse him in liquid oral heat but added her proficient feminine tongue
caressingly twirling around his engulfed penis!  And then her other hot
little hand was weighingly cupping his tingling, heavy balls between his
spread legs, while her sultry mouth and ovalled lips began to work back and
forth, locked in a thrillingly pressurized suction.  `Jumping Jesus!'
Tristan thought frantically.  There it was!  The luscious
aristocratic-looking Valerie Yates was greedily sucking him, taking his
engorged cock deep into her beautifully sexy mouth.

   Caprichia could hear the familiar moans of Tristan's unrestrained
delight but was wallowing in her own capricious delectations rising
passionately from deep inside as she tongued out the savory folds of
Valerie's tangy cunny.  She was joined in the welcome task by Brock who, at
present moment, had his handsome face thrust into the auburn triangle of
his wife's sopping wet curls while his hungering mouth cavorted wickedly
within her satiny flower of naked pink.  Caprichia didn't blame his
famished appetite because Valerie's cunny was smooth and pink and slick,
like some tasty oyster brought from the fresh, clean depths of the salty
sea.  Delving within the older woman's aromatic flavor to find the most
succulent of pearls inspired sumptuous secretions to seep wetly from her
own smoldering pussy and dribble between her desire-swollen labia,
drizzling the velvety covering beneath where she lay.  If Brock's knee
wasn't so inopportunely placed between her widely-spread thighs, she could
squeeze them together and deliciously pinch the tiny bud of her erect
clitoris with those sensitive lips ...  but he was...!

   "Ooooooh ..." Tristan grunted to the galvanic sensations Valerie's
nursing mouth had sent rampaging through him.  She was fellating his
prodigious penis admirably, graphically grunting and groaning now as he
introduced a rhythmic rotation to his streamlined hips, sliding his beefy
phallus up in and down out of her slurping mouth with a juicy sucking
sound, his guiding hands winding appreciatively in her tousled hair. 
Occasionally he would draw his thickly burgeoned member, now sheened with
her lubricating saliva, from her widely stretched mouth and perversely
watch her lips pucker like an asphyxiating fish.  Then he would plunge back
in, certain she would choke from the sheer size of his organ, but she never
did.  In fact, within mere minutes, her ravenous appetite sent his usually
disciplined body spiraling into quaking in its naked need.  His matching
brain was sinking further and further into the same hellacious heat of
sybaritic flames this slinky woman's lustful fellative propensity was
firing ...  And he never wanted it to stop!  Uncontrollably, Tristan
vaguely realized, he was reveling in his vulnerable helplessness, and he
moaned out in soul-consuming passion at Valerie's exquisite handling and
gorging of his fervor-engulfed cock...

   Caprichia continued feasting upon Valerie's rawly pink vagina, worming
her tongue in serpentine motions through her cunny walls, then slithering
it out of and running the sleek organ up the exposed outer flanges of her
pussy to lick the older lady's clitoris with her deft tongue until it was
hard and throbbing.  Caprichia had always adored the corporeal pleasures of
performing cunnilingus, the knowledge that the wild lusts she instigated
were inflamed by her and her alone, and soon a seething ember scalded her
belly and loins, emanating out a rippling heat that inundated her own pussy
and expanded her breasts.  She raised her face, her dainty mouth and
pre-Raphaelite cheeks moist and glistening from her own saliva and the
mature minx's secretions, and grinned lewdly up the expanse of undulating
flesh, past the rose-tipped crests of Valerie's breasts.  Caprichia had
planned to watch her beloved husband being blown for a moment, the image of
his pleasure highly titillating to her, but her eyes squinted and she
jerked back in a new jolt of astonishment.  Brock had just stripped himself
completely naked, and his enormous erection poled out from his groin like a
giant inflamed spike.  An uneasy stirring in her sex accompanied his
massive manhood's appearance and she stared at him pulling back the thick
foreskin from his fleshy instrument and jerking himself into further
mammoth hardness.

   Tristan was equally impressed by the entrance of Brock's imposing penis
and watched the striking member sway as he walked around the splayed out
Caprichia.  He reverentially knelt down behind her, nuzzling her flaring
pelvis, and what he wanted seemed obvious ~~ for Caprichia to rise to her
hands and knees.  She obediently knelt, elevating her softly fleshed
buttocks into the air and drawing her shapely legs so that the gold and
pink plane of her fertile loins and upswept rump were completely
susceptible to his any whim.  He fully mounted the spread ivory globes, his
forearms on her tapered back.  The wetly glistening, scarlet penis slipped
downwards, the mauve glans dripping with dribbling pre-come.  The smoothly
tapered point teasingly slipped and danced in her honeyed crease as he
tauntingly lurched and jerked the beveled tip along the slickened entrance
to the inner sanctum of her needy body, the choleric redness of his
sluicing cock contrasting delightfully with the frenetic pink of the her
passion-doused cunny.

   When Caprichia had repositioned herself, feeling the full weight of her
hanging breasts tantalizingly rippling and swaying with her movements, the
whimsical sensations of impetuous lust had once again washed over her in a
torrent of mind-melting subjugation.  Now, as Brock ran the thrilling
dimensions of his cock along her hungry cunny opening to whet her desire to
a razor-edge, spreading the vulva wider as his still unsheathed shaft
rubbed between them, effervescent sensations of blinding salacity began
raking over the singed nerve-ends of her nakedly displayed body.  She was
nearly crawling for him in the most debauched of positions and she couldn't
help but think what a lustfully arousing sight she made for him with her
long tanned legs yawing open to present to him her feverishly moistened
cunny.  Her mind whirled and she gasped in short, grunting breaths as she
could feel the blunted tip of his spearing erection even caressing the tiny
mouth of her delicate anus between her lasciviously skewed buttocks.  The
exploratory tip momentarily poked at her relaxed orifice, but Caprichia
gracefully evaded the slippery probe, not that she didn't delight in the
darker pleasures of anal sex but right at that moment her deprived pussy
was clamoring for attention.

   When eager and desperate mewlings began pouring mindlessly from her
plush vermillion lips, Tristan knew Caprichia's flourishing pleasure was
becoming too great to control.  Her willowy body squirmed ecstatically when
Brock added a finger bumping lightly against her rigid clitoris and now
both whirring thumb and skimming penis worked in tandem their corporeal
magic across the glossy furrow of her lust-scorched loins.  Her mouth
opened and closed automatically in her continuous sensuous lickings of her
girlfriend's cunny but Tristan knew Caprichia's dazed mind would be focused
entirely upon the merciless provocation of her sex from behind.  Brock's
maddening cock had relentlessly massaged her moistly glistening pussy to
humble submission, crushed her faux haughtiness with his vigorous and
non-stop incursions on her most sensitive flesh for interminable minutes.

   "Fuck me!  Fuck me!  Please ..." Caprichia's tormented soul quaked under
the tremors of her erupting lust, a calescent volley bursting from her
tortured loins all the way up to her heaving breasts.  She was shifting her
curved tush in an effort to capture the lengthened shaft, cognizant of
nothing save her own instinctual needs.  "Fuck meeeee!"

   Caprichia was like a mare in heat as she fruitlessly strove to sheathe
Brock's long, dripping penis in her fiery cunny and in her frustration, she
reached one slim arm back and grasped the trunk of his hefty cock and
guided it to the point of her silky crease where her gaping vaginal mouth
flexed invitingly.  There was a jagged stab of excruciating bliss
puncturing her belly as he heaved his virile loins forward.  She twitched
and gyrated her jubilant welcome of his goring cock as he ground the
slithering shaft deep into her receptively embracing pussy.  He buried his
full inches with a quick wet rush until it was sunk to the hilt, and when
his big balls swung lewdly below her pubic fluff, her face contorted, and
cries of sheer ecstasy burst from her lips.  She immediately began to
gyrate rhythmically backwards to meet his urgent thrusts, undulating her
lissome body, flexing her rump in sexy circles, abandoning herself to the
delicious doggystyle humping she was receiving.  She wanted to be sexed
like this forever, wanted him to sate every lewd demand her fire-wracked
body made.

   Tristan had wanted to watch his sex-enamored wife wallowing in her
torrid lovemaking and had even felt the ripples from Brock's initial thrust
but was currently dominated by the submersion of his own manhood in
Valerie's seemingly bottomless throat.  The older woman had abated her
impassioned fellatio to voyeur her own spouse but now she had resumed her
oral ministrations, matching the sensuous rhythm Caprichia and Brock had
introduced.  Tristan couldn't help but attentively watch the older minx's
sluttish performance...  stared in lewd fascination at the puffing of her
smooth cheeks and her softly nibbling lips clasping greedily around the
bloated bole of his pistoning member as her pretty head bobbed wantonly up
and down over his stout cock like some subservient strumpet.  His loins
were humping fluidly in an upward, swashing motion, his expressive eyes
riveted in desire-glazed captivation at the sight of her moistened, ripe
lips ovally absorbing his thick cock and beginning to slide up and down the
fused veined rod.  Proudly, he grinned with every pelvic upthrust into her
receptively sucking mouth, gaping at her seemingly unquenchable slavering
while she moaned in dissolute depravity between his spread legs.

   When Brock slipped his strong hands about the wobbling hemispheres of
her buttocks to give him greater leverage to skewer ever deeper, Caprichia
moaned incoherently, reveling in the dazzling sensation of the crushed
velvet walls of her ecstatic vagina clinging to every morsel of her
well-hung lover's pumping cock until she could savor every delectable inch.
She had completely surrendered to the lure of sexual fulfillment, her
euphoric mind rejoicing her wicked pleasure, and had been unable to
continue orally feasting on Valerie's desperately pulsating cunny.  The
blonde-haired wife had her legs bent up around her, her knees touching her
pooling breasts and her full pubic area was wide and fully before
Caprichia's view.  From twittering clitoris to winking anus, the stretched
cleft was a proud, inflamed pink, allowing Caprichia to freely masturbate
her.  She crazily plunged her fingers in and out of the older woman's gooey
hole as she struggled for breath from the thorough plundering her own pussy
was receiving.

   Tristan watched Caprichia intently and it was clear what effect the
tempestuous lovemaking was having on her.  Her angelic face was contorted
in rapture from the screwing Brock was giving her, and her taut breasts
danced tightly beneath her writhing torso, moving in time to the skewering
cock.  It slid deep into her from behind, a relentless hot poker of
glistening flesh, burying itself into her belly.  The absolutely obscene
deliciousness of viewing his luscious wife having sultry adulterous sex
punctuated by another man's spouse girlishly-excited wolfing of his meaty
cock made his brain swam ecstatically and his whole naked body vibrantly
alive with torridly vivid bliss.  The licking flames of wanton desire
rampaged more intensely with every passing moment within the burning core
of his tongue-incited loins.  He felt them from the feverishly heated tip
of his pleasure-inundated penis to the very depths of his chaotically
stirred belly.  The hungering fluid channel of Valerie's swallowing throat
pulsed with a desirous greed of its own, and he knew he'd begun the slow
escalation to the rapturous moment when his intensely hardened organ would
ferociously ejaculate, squirting his thick cum into her thirsting mouth and
milking throat, that single thought driving him wild with libidinous
anticipation...

   Ripples of erogenous indulgence charged tempestuously through
Caprichia's swaying body, their incandescent heat bringing up sheens of
perspiration glowing on her flesh, tiny rivulets spilling down her wildly
rotating rump and sleek inner thighs.  She lewdly voiced uncontrollable
guttural moans from deep in her throat when Brock blindly thrust his rough
hand down between her hotly quivering thighs to find the pulsing nerve
center of her tiny clitoris and flicked his rough fingernail teasingly
against it!  The very profaneness of her position and the lustful mental
vision of her naked body being thoroughly ravished flashed through her
drug-incited brain, causing the ever-increasing hunger in her insatiable
belly to maddeningly churn beyond all measure of control.  Twisting
slightly, she bent her shoulders and dipped her head that scant half foot
until she could run her ovalled lips over Valerie's sopping slit and once
again began engulfing the older woman's scrumptious cunny.  Valerie
immediately answered with slavish groans around Tristan's driving
thickness, the telltale sounds of a woman on the verge of a shattering
orgasm.

   Tristan grunted, his eyes flickering smokily from his wife's merciless
oral ravishment of Valerie's loins then burned up the older woman's
erotically writhing body to her lovely features, watching her unseeing eyes
opening and closing in a glaze of aphrodisiac-infused passion.  One of her
hands threaded in Caprichia's mane while she feasted upon her sex, and the
other cradled the pleated pouch of his scrotum beneath the beefy cock that
was skewering hotly into her mouth from above.  She'd taken to possessively
cupping and squeezing his inflated balls, and he could see tiny threads of
excess saliva dribbling from the corners of her widely ovalled mouth in
trickling little streams.  She was sucking with voracious joy, her cheeks
grotesquely hollowing and bloating outward to the rhythm of her masochistic
little moan, her eager tongue licking unceasingly over the ramming head,
lashing its sensitive, tiny split at the tip with every opportunity. 
Anarchic sensations were churning in the very depths of him as she
omnivorously slurped at his engorged cock, the sinewy length of it like a
synthesis of her distorted face and his pelvis.  He heaved forward with
hollowing buttocks as he drove it far up into the liquid heat of her mouth
and throat, until the wiriness of his pubic hair was brushing the tip of
her pretty little nose, while his near-bursting balls danced beneath in her
hands in a bloating build-up of tormentively seething pressure...

   Caprichia's twin centers of boisterous desire drove relentlessly on as
the coalescing bubble in her seething tummy and loins signaled of what was
inevitably approaching.  She was heedlessly ascending towards a
stratospheric orgasm and could not stop either her devouring mouth or her
avaricious cunny.  Her belly danced with incessant excitement and her
utterly saturated pussy fluidically gripped like a clenched fist around
Brock's plunging rod magnificently impaling her exuberant sex.  Her firm
breasts danced beneath her hunched body, moving in time to his balls
slapped against her uptilted buttocks.  She no longer felt like a rational
female human being ~~ but a quivering mass of lust-deranged, sweating flesh
demanding carnal exaltation, carousing in the majestic screwing she was
receiving from behind.  There was nothing else in the universe except her
tongue dipping into the succulent glories of Valerie's dripping pussy and
the searing cock spiking into her wanting cunny, the maddening thought of
it soon squirting out its hot cum driving her on in near-frantic
anticipation.  Oh God, how she wanted that ...  spewing wildly into her...

   Valerie began jerking and twisting crazily beneath Tristan as
Caprichia's oral assault brought her over the ragged edge, the older woman
crushing the younger with her fragrant womanly body, thrusting her
lubricious cunny again and again across Caprichia's willing mouth while she
struggled to lap up the girlcum suddenly spilling over the salty labia and
to breathe.  The euphoric spasms that billowed through Valerie instigated
Tristan's own final rush towards a soaring climax, tensing and twitching in
her gulping throat, the pubic hair of his wiry bush clogging her nostrils
as she fondled his bloated balls hungrily in her warm hands and
aggressively scrunched them.  His hands responsively wound in her tousled
hair, slipping her mouth that needed no guidance up and down over the end
of his smoothly pumping cock as though it were a surrogate pussy into which
he was venting the full wrath of his feral lust.

   "Oh ...  oh shit ...  I'm going to come!" Tristan gutturally choked, his
handsome face mottling beet red as he writhed and strained beside Valerie's
bobbing head as though he were in the last spasmodic throes of death. 
"Suck it hard, Mrs.  Yates ...  I'm cuumminngg...!"

   Abruptly, Tristan erupted like a wild, uncontrolled geyser and Valerie's
eagerly slaving mouth was flooded with an unleashing of hot semen whose
raging torrents spilling down her excitedly swallowing throat mirrored the
furious cascades of volcanic fire charring his ebullient nerves in
cauterizing ecstasy.  She fought for breath as she gulped with dissipated
greed, coughed, and swallowed again with her constricting throat muscles,
gamely going after every last drop.  Equally breathless and drenched in
sweat, Tristan convulsed with the descending aftershocks of the initial
incinerating paroxysm, savoring every flashing flare of luminous pleasure
irradiating his quivering body even as he watched his shriveling penis
begin to slip wetly from her mouth.  He took a deep breath as she fondly
swept her tiny pink tongue over the deflating bulb in an intimate farewell
gesture.

   His breathing still ragged, his heart slowly decelerating from its
previous jackhammering cadence, Tristan watched as the remaining members of
menage-a-four was now building toward simultaneous orgasm.  Caprichia was
twisting her head from side to side, her lustrous hair whipping about while
Brock laboriously drove between her thighs, her greedy pussy clasping
around his shaft and slithering up wetly to devour still more.  At the same
time, she was half-drowning in Valerie's musky paradise and it was all
Caprichia could do to find her pulsating clit with her extended tongue and
let the older woman rub across her.  Her flushed cheeks shiny with smears
of wanton lubrication and her body frantic with sizzling desire, Caprichia
was being buffeted by a series of iridescent mini orgasms, far rougher and
more primitive than those she shared with Tristan, and every time Brock
coarsely ground against the tremulous bud that protruded from her beestung
netherlips, another pulsing joy coursed through her, leaving her
breathless, sweaty and exulting.

   Both Caprichia and Valerie were in the contracting throes of turbulent
orgasms, the enchanting duo choking and sputtering out electrically charged
gurglings of mutual ecstasy, and that was the last little bit needed to set
off Brock's boiling testicles.  Brock, who had been ramrodding his long
hardness into the silky recesses of Caprichia's rapidly flexing loins,
suddenly stiffened and let out a low, throaty scream.  He jerked forward,
and his absorbed organ began spitting his heated semen in great bursts. 
Caprichia could feel his hot gushes of male seed shoot hotly up into her
dilated womb, making her head whirl as typhoons of deliquescent bliss
washed over her in ocean-sized waves.  She pitched forward in a swoon and
heard Brock, with a resonant groan of satisfaction, exhaustedly rolling
from her, even as Tristan curled a reassuring arm about her waist and
nuzzled his face in her hair, breathing tender words of love and devotion.

   Caprichia was kissed back into consciousness by a beaming, satisfied
man. She gazed at her handsome husband, smiling back, and noted that in her
swoon Brock and Valerie had departed.  She wistfully regretted not being
able to kiss the two a fond farewell but the needs of her thoroughly
marauded body became suddenly important.  With a dexterous shimmy, she
rolled off the couch and padded with Tristan, hand-in-hand and bare-assed
naked, to the nearest bathroom.

   "Do you want to see Brock and Valerie again?" Tristan asked as the
amorous lovebirds played teasing games during their much-needed steamy
shower.

   "I ~~ I don't know," Caprichia murmured, a bit distracted by the fact
that their fingers were everywhere as the cleansing water cascaded down
their intertwined nude forms.

   "Wife swapping.  It's so Seventies," Tristan whispered as the couple
continued soaping each other thoroughly with the citrus-scented lather,
scrubbing the familiar curves and swells, hollows and rises with loving
care, reminding each other of their loving bonds before they ventured back
out into the fray.  "Do you want to do it again with those two?"

   A tingle began to crawl up Caprichia's spine, but she refused to
acknowledge it.  "No," she said, "I don't think we should.  It was..."

   She stopped, again feeling the lewd trail of physical want wind through
her most vital of organs as he smeared creamy suds along her simmering
groove, making her breathe huskily.  "But ...  well, maybe we could hook up
with them again.  At least talk it over with them.  We just had something
wonderful because of this party, and perhaps more would make us wilder,
freer." She smiled at him.  "You'd like to lay Brock, wouldn't you?"

   He laughed briefly as she retaliatorily smothered his revitalizing penis
in soapy cream until he hardly could stand it.  "There's never going to be
a better lover for me than you, and you know it, darling ...  but damnit,
yes, I would ..."

   Caprichia laughed gaily when Tristan took a luxuriously long time drying
her off with a plush pink velour towel and snuggling her close letting go
only when she gave a vixenish wink as she reached over to a stylized
Chinese vase and produced a half dozen assorted condoms.

   Tristan and Caprichia cruised about the sprawling multi-level mansion,
his palm resting tenderly against her perky rump, and her arm wrapped
possessively about his trim waist.  The bacchanalia was certainly in full
swing, most of the carousers clad in little more than risqué undergarments
and not a few roaming unabashedly in the buff.  One gloriously full-figured
brunette, whom Tristan recognized as one of the members of the
supposedly-conservative female country band The Lady Luckys, sashayed her
way from the indoor pool room wearing nothing but a fine gold chain about
her flaring waist on her way to the marble-topped bar.  The loving couple
glanced into a rumpus room and was not particularly surprised to see a
Roman-era orgy unfolding with approximately three dozen participants
heartily engaged in debauched carousing.  A ripple of licentious pleasure
surged through Tristan at the sight of a youthfully lanky man lustily
pumping his hips into the doughy softness of a chubby older woman, his
hands adoringly glossing over the fleshy curves as rapturous blushes
touched her glowing cheeks.  Similar flutters of profligate desire echoed
through Caprichia as she viewed a delectable petite Hispanic beauty, who
seemed vaguely familiar until she remembered she had been a PlayPen PlayPal
earlier this year, cradling a preposterously gorgeous older man in her
scissored thighs, his pumping heavy cock making the Mexican minx squeal
with uninhibited delectation.

   Though the idea of joining in the saturnalian revelry was appealing to
both Caprichia and Tristan, they chose to leisurely wander instead.  Many
of the sumptuously appointed bedrooms were already occupied to capacity, as
evidenced by the provocative sounds of ardent moans and heated flesh coming
together in its age-old rhythm.  Incandescent candlelight glowed ethereally
on pumping buttocks and jiggling breasts, catching here and there the
coruscating sparkle of a diamond necklace or the sheening gleam of a
platinum tennis bracelet.  Besides the promiscuous couples pruriently
entwined, there were onlookers watching, waiting for the opportune moment
or the propitious invitation to join in.  The whole seemingly dissolute
scene in fact was strictly governed by a scrupulous etiquette as
punctilious as that of the most meticulous diplomatic function.  Caprichia
often enjoyed the thought of some sociological filmmaker from a third world
nation doing a National Geographic-style documentary on the group-sex
rituals of wealthy Southern California residents.

   They had completely circumnavigated the permitted areas of the mansion
for the night and had returned to the bathroom when Caprichia felt Tristan
stiffen suddenly by her side.  She looked up and saw him staring into the
changing room off to the side.  Dressed only in a white towel was a young
man she seemed to remember from some place.  He was about six-foot tall and
with those fine-boned features, slight mouth and vivid purple eyes he
exceptionally good-looking, reminding Caprichia of a blonde version of one
of the gorgeous Barron brothers, not Alex but one of the younger ones.  His
body was muscular, but not overly so, like an Olympic swimmer with
seemingly not a single hair on him anywhere outside his head.  And, most
peculiarly for a pop star greatly accustomed to being the center of
attention wherever she went, he was staring back, not at her, but at
Tristan.

   It was then that Caprichia knew who this strikingly sexy stranger was.
His name was Cade Hayden, a former soap star on the defunct "The Sun Also
Sets" and a small-time movie actor who had appeared in a number of tiny
roles, including Ari Wolff's "Razorblade" which had gotten him an invite to
a previous party.  That particular night had culminated with Caprichia
being the center of attention of no less than 4 men at once, one of them
being this cute Cade.  In the midst of the orgiastic rollicking, she'd
thought she'd noticed a sting of attraction between Cade and Tristan. 
Nothing had happened at that moment, but at the end of the festivities when
Tristan and Caprichia were sipping Turkish-brewed coffee before heading out
the door, Cade had approached the couple.  The casual conversation had been
slightly awkward due to their shared exhaustion and the unique way they'd
met but it certainly had cemented her belief there was a shared interest
between the two, one she'd seen since the first time she'd met Tristan all
those years previous.

   When Tristan had been a senior attending GulfCoast University, he had
had a roommate named Noah.  The first Caprichia ever heard of Noah, or
Tristan for that matter, was a girlfriend had gigglingly mentioned that the
two of them had somehow fallen into the sport of seducing and sharing women
and had become notorious on campus for it.  Noah's role was to identify the
prey, then to hit her with the full force of his rakish charm ~~ the
equivalent of a stun gun as Caprichia would freely attest to.  After the
woman had been snared, Tristan would step into the competition, softening
her up with his sensitive, sensual nature, and the game would be underway.
The goal was to convince the innocent woman that her ultimate sexual
fantasy wasn't the fairy tale of a committed relationship with a nice
college boy but the wild kingdom of threesome sex with two young studs at
the same time: Tristan and Noah, of course.  The game didn't have a lot of
rules; the men worked largely by intuition.  In fact, only one rule was set
in stone: any method of seduction was permitted while they were reeling a
quarry in but, until they caught her, neither of the friends was allowed to
fuck her unless the other was present.

   Caprichia learned all this, of course, after she started dating Tristan
some years later; afterall, she had not been one of the women to be lured
in by the infamous pair.  It was a few months after they first started
dating that he admitted to Caprichia that soon after he began indulging in
these escapades he found nothing more exciting than to join his best friend
in bed with a beautiful woman.  She was not surprised at all when her
husband confessed that it was at this period in time when his sexuality
began to confuse him.  He was analytical by nature and liked to be able to
categorize people, but he hadn't been sure that he was ready to think of
himself as bisexual.  He hadn't previously been attracted to men in
general, or even to Noah under normal circumstances, but there was
something about his roommate that drove Tristan wild when they were naked
together with a willing woman.  There was an intense, quiet heat about Noah
that made people take notice, even when he wasn't doing anything to call
attention to himself, and Tristan acknowledged that when he caught a
glimpse of his friend's dozing cock, long and pink, nestled in a hood of
sleek black pubic hair, his throat went dry as a bone.

   These thoughts went through her head as a wide-eyed Caprichia watched
Cade curl his fingers into the towel wrapped around his trim waist and
tugged it gently from his hips even as Tristan stepped forward, his naked
body tense, his impatience revealed by the full erection of his long
blue-veined penis.  Now that both men were together, Caprichia couldn't
resist comparing Cade's cock to Tristan's.  Tristan had the edge on Cade in
sheer length and bulky girth but Cade's organ, standing out boldly from
beneath his tautly sculpted abdomen, had a unique beauty, a form and color
all its own.  Caprichia had obviously seen his member before but had
forgotten what a magnificent specimen it was: a stout rod of hardwood
crowned by a shiny aubergine head, a fine netting of blood vessels in his
column standing out all over in bas-relief against the satiny skin.  The
blonde hunk grinned rakishly at Tristan as his large hands grasped his
fleshy instrument and seductively stroked the beefy dowel back and forth
into further hardness, blatantly tempting him.

   It was impossible to tell who pulled or pounced first but Caprichia
stared, riveted as the two men cinched in a torrid embrace.  She could
almost feel the radiant heat and steamy wetness of their brawny bodies as
they plastered themselves against each other, noted every shuddering breath
that pressed muscles and ribs against each other.  That first moment of
flesh on naked flesh seemed charged with the delicious contrast of wet and
dry, desire and denial, hug and kiss as Tristan's mouth covered Cade's with
warmth and desire.  The soulful kiss was eager but deep, pacing its animal
hunger with luxuriant savoring.  They shared the moisture, mingling its
seductive warmth with the obviously delicious taste of each other.

   "I was hoping you might be half as attracted to me as I am to you," Cade
whispered huskily between smoldering kisses.

   "Oh trust me," Tristan hissed in heartfelt reply, the fiery smooches
taking his breath away.  "The attraction is quite mutual."

   The image of unadulterated desire between two men, their torrid male
passions loosed from the puritanical views of society and freely indulging
in their most basic emotional and physical needs, was intensively
innervating to Caprichia.  At first she had felt like a simple observer, a
naturalist in the remote wilderness of a South American jungle, observing
an extraordinary species she'd read so much about but hardly ever saw, but
now she realized the provocative scene was grasping her in its beguiling
tendrils.  She was breathing faster and faster, her chest rising and
falling as her hand unconsciously moved, reaching for her bosom.  For a
moment, her hand lingered there fondling the twin mounds with burgeoning
pleasure, and then, the radiant heat of her body too enticing, she began
fondling her naked breasts, brushing over the brownish gold areolae to the
dark nipples, rolling them into audaciously sharp points.

   As she toyed with her creamy breasts, glorying in the cotton-candy-sweet
sensations gelatinizing within their pillowy softness, Caprichia watched
Tristan, without saying a word, trail kisses down the contours of Cade's
neck and lower his lips to the tiny male nipples cresting the planes of his
barrel chest, sucking the twin disks with a loving expertise that Caprichia
knew intimately well.  She knew he sometimes needed this man-on-man style
of loving, this paying of the ultimate homage to the glorious masculine
organ.  She had never objected to Tristan's innate need for she shared it,
having always found performing fellatio sinfully exciting.  Ever since her
first time with Billy Maddox, the highschool quarterback, to Mr.  Sumner,
the deliciously well-hung 40-something English professor she'd seduced and
found to be her greatest sexual teacher, performing oral had been an
integral part of her repertoire.  She had heard other women say they felt
dominated or humiliated when performing blowjobs, but she'd always found it
intensely titillating, to have the power of giving her lover ecstasy or
denying him crucial satisfaction on her whim, and was open-minded enough to
realize this was not a feminine-specific mindset.  And the first time she
had witnessed her delectably sexy beloved husband wolfing hungrily on a
juicy cut of prime man-meat, displaying his profound passion for this act
of intimacy she loved so much, she'd experienced surges of raw eroticism as
she'd rarely ever experienced before.

   Cade's jutting cock was now directly in front of Tristan's face and he
was staring at it in awe, his tongue wetting his lips in an unconscious
greedy gesture reminiscent of a hungry calf about to feed from a mother
cow. He reverentially wrapped his palm around the beefy trunk, the bulbous
mauve-fleshed glans popping out wetly from the sheathing foreskin a few
inches from his shimmering eyes.  A flashing look in Tristan's turquoise
eyes registered total desire, and he released his massaging hand, letting
the fleshy instrument spring against the classic features of his face.  A
dark crimson flush darkened Cade's cheeks at the smutty act and his
athletic body stiffened as Tristan's naughty tongue licked slowly up the
streamlined shaft.  The blunted dome throbbed and jerked as, without
otherwise touching him, Tristan began glossing his serpentine tongue
moistly around and around the burnished head.  When he began to teasingly
lick the smooth underside of it, at first running wetly all around the
mushroomy tip with his flitting organ, Cade threaded his passionately
clutching fingers as well as he could in Tristan's close-cropped hair and
spread his quivering thighs further apart.  The wriggling tip of Tristan's
tongue flicked teasingly into the tiny open slit of the vulnerable gland
until it throbbed and the blonde man moaned at each nerve-tingling lick.

   Watching from her ringside seat on the couch, Caprichia's curvaceous
hips continued their grinding motion, the rhythm becoming more intense as
she became more aroused.  She had witnessed and been involved in several of
Tristan's homoerotic escapades and found each indescribably thrilling. 
Most intriguing to her was, despite all the clichéd stereotypes she'd heard
of bisexual men being inherently `butches' or `bitches', Tristan seemed to
appreciate both roles equally.  He was as likely to shamelessly slurp on a
hefty slice of cock as he was to ferociously ream a pretty boy's splayed
ass, making the cute college student they'd mutually bedded a month
previous writhe in the debauched ecstasy spiraling from his salaciously
spiked anus.  That lecherous memory made her hand leave her bobbling
breasts then, circling down over her sleek stomach, down over the silky
pubic thatch, down between her lithe thighs so that the tips of her fingers
revolved over her rigidly pulsating clitoris.

   While Caprichia began to masturbate, Tristan's nimble tongue curled out,
settling just below the royal purple bulb on the underside of the shaft;
when he flicked over the spongy flare, Cade emitted another sharp gasp. 
Caprichia loved the unmitigated intensity of his unguarded reaction and
watched closely as Tristan did it again more rapidly, gliding lightly over
the velvety-smooth membranes.  On and on he strummed his softly flicking
tongue just beneath the egg-shaped glans while Cade's sinewy thighs spread
further apart over her husband's handsome face and the toned muscles of his
legs began perceptibly shaking.  Seemingly instinctually knowing what it
was that would make his lover most horny, Tristan teasingly paused for a
tension-building moment, then let the moistly rough flanges of his skilled
tongue glide wetly all the way down the underside of the sleek column until
he had reached its juncture with his pendulous balls.

   By now, Tristan had reached out his hand until his fingers settled in
the thicket of curly dark pubic hair covering the gentle swell of Cade's
loins.  He trailed his fingertips tantalizingly through the bushy growth,
watching the younger hunk's tanned skin break out in goosebumps beneath
them.  Tristan gulped for air and slipped his hand around the adorable
scrotum, the tips of his nails resting behind the pleated pouch at the base
between the splayed legs.  He drew his hand forward, massaging the outer
fleshy skin between his thumb and forefinger until Cade piteously groaned
and whimpered at the libidinous ministrations of his testicles until he,
writhing under the arousing tease, was unable to withstand the delay any
longer.  Tristan mercifully pressed his steamy mouth against the wrinkled
sac, Cade's hotly throbbing organ grazing his cheek like a great tree
trunk. His tongue fluttered out once more, lightly licking the fuzzy pouch
all over, turquoise eyes closed tightly, his soothing hands stroking up and
down the full length of outstretched inner thighs, clearly savoring the
distinct pleasures of this so definitively masculine delight.

   Caprichia continued to wallow in her self-loving, twisting her tender
rump against the couch's satin cushions as her fingers played teasingly at
the pampered softness of her juicy cleft.  The diffusive heat emanating off
the men's sexplay Incited sheer wanton desire to take hold of her, and her
hands began fluttering over her body as though they were out of control ...
until they both came to rest at the cradle of her willowy thighs.  She
groaned with the intimate contact of her caressing hands against her
inflamed pussy, and she pulled her knees up, jackknifing them back.  Her
sweeping fingertips nuzzled to the plush labial lips and spread them slowly
apart until grotto had opened hungrily and she mewled with the decadence of
her honey-dripping sex exposed for her probing touch.  Feeling the need to
satiate a lewd impulse, she extended her long middle finger and, sliding it
downward, she inserted it into the nectar-drenched valley, stroking the
bud-like clitoris at the same time.

   After several lust-provoking minutes, Tristan let Cade's balls free,
slithering his sinuous tongue back up the vein-crossed pillar of his
succulent cock.  As the blonde hunk wantonly moaned above his head, Tristan
took the helmet-shaped, smooth fleshed dome full into the sweltering
moistness of his hungering mouth and ovalled his embracing lips firmly
around his strapping girth.  Caprichia could see the outline of ripened
plum distorting Tristan's handsome cheeks as it slid wetly up the full
length of his tongue inside and knew the tiny droplets of lubricating
pre-orgasmic fluid seeping from would be filling the warm cavern of his
mouth with its lusciously salty flavor.

   Witnessing the beginning of Tristan's true fellating stoked Caprichia's
inner fires to a searing blaze.  Her sybaritic movements on the couch had
increased as her probing fingers worked themselves inside the blushing
edges of her sex-craving cunny, slowly widening the pouty vulva.  She
insinuated her outstretched middle finger in and out smoothly between the
lubriciously silken gates, and her softly rounded buttocks rose and fell in
response to the searching finger.  Ripplings of deliquescent delight began
bubbling up in her loins, the effervescent joys making her facial muscles
tighten as she joined still another finger with the first.  Clenching her
teeth, she gluttonously pushed both of them into the clasping pink folds
with a twisting motion designed to thrill her inner membranes.  They
disappeared with a soft sucking noise, and Caprichia purred with boisterous
pleasure.

   Tristan reached around behind Cade, cupping his lovely firm buttocks and
pulled him forward, allowing the sumptuous organ to slide deeper, the
indentations of his puffing cheeks betraying his quick tongue running in
slippery-moist circles over its satiny surface.  Tristan reached up to toy
with Cade's erect nipples, twisting and tweaking the small buds into
diamond chips of hardness, and when the voyeuring Caprichia glanced
upwards, she saw the younger man's devilishly handsome face shrouded in
diaphanous bliss, standing in a lumbering pose over Tristan's prostrated
form, his hands firmly gripping the broad shoulders until his knuckles went
white with the mounting strain.  A galvanic ripple visibly shuddered
through the temporarily dominant male, the chiseled muscles of his virile
physique flexing.

   Seeing Tristan so intensely aroused by the performance of his sensual
ministrations made Caprichia suck frantically for air, squirming her own
bottom down against her heel that was tucked up tightly between the
globular moons.  She could feel the trickly wetness streaming out in fresh
surges like wine from a fresh-tapped cask as she writhed beneath her own
driving fingers in raucous passion.  The steadily increasing rhythm drew
loud grunts of pleasure from deep in her throat as her fingers delved deep
into her lustily clenching pussy, making sloppy squishing noises as she
withdrew them again only to spear back in.  Her thumb bounced out a driving
cadence on her clitoris, making that juicy morsel jump with undisciplined
need.  She rolled her head from side to side, desperate for any kind of
release.

   Wickedly teasing Cade, Tristan began nibbling at first, then sucking,
drawing inward and convulsing the tightly clasping walls of his mouth
around the warmly quivering shaft, the malleable tip throbbing and pressing
against the inner walls of his thrillingly suckling cheeks.  Cade's dark
eyes were fixed on his face in a distorted expression of sheer raw lust
and, knowing how much men enjoyed the visual aspects of sex, Tristan lewdly
hollowed his cheeks around Cade's immersed organ, allowing his lips to
obscenely stretch and pull with each short smooth stroke.  He added to the
erotic visual delights with the wetly sluicing sound of his wickedly
fluttering tongue whirring in the saliva-drenched liquid heat over the
bloated hardness of Cade's delicious cock.

   Realizing she would be unable to reach a true orgasmic release without
the participation of her beloved, Caprichia grudgingly satisfied herself
with soothing strokes designed to bank the raging inferno at a
quasi-manageable level until Tristan was ready to satisfy her.  He had
steadily increased the frantic bobbing movement of his head until he was
hoggishly throating Cade's scrumptious penis, shamelessly pumping his
widely circled lips up and down around the younger man's rhythmically
thrusting instrument.  Cade dropped his hands to Tristan's heaving
shoulders and ran his caressing fingers over the corded tendons, gripping
them tight for leverage so he could begin ramrodding himself heedlessly
deep.  Tristan's sinfully hot tongue churned faster and faster around the
blasphemously baptized fleshy manhood until Caprichia could see Cade's
narrow hips writhing and straining begin to grow chaotic in their pulsating
rhythm and she knew he was almost ready to erupt.

   And then, it came!

   As Cade clasped Tristan's head inside his big hands first, jamming that
majestic cock down his wanting throat, Caprichia's maddening desire for her
man screamed through her with insane passion.  She had witnessed her
beloved let this man use him however he wanted and the seemingly debasing
idea energized her in ways she'd thought impossible.  She watched in
wide-eyed wonder as Cade was shimmying his lower torso frenetically when
his fire-filled hardness burst like a fire hydrant suddenly released,
needle-like streams of white hot seed gushing forth.  Tristan's lips still
sucking slavishly, Caprichia watched his cheeks ballooning and contracting
as he swallowed in hungry gulps.  Every muscle of Cade's body contracted
and she almost sympathetically sensed the prismatic jolts of electrifying
rapture convulse through his insatiably jerking loins and belly.  For a
moment, she thought that from the very fact of witnessing his tumultuous
climax she could come too, rubbing her naked thighs together to catch the
tiny nub of her erect, quivering clitoris between her excitedly flushed,
pussy-lips, but it hadn't happened, and she knew it would make her own
eventual orgasm all the sweeter.  So instead, she watched Tristan suck ...
siphoning Cade empty of all the milky nectar as his potent cock began to
grow limp in the soothing mouth until gradually there remained nothing but
near exhaustion and breathless wonder between them.

   "Let me in," Caprichia breathlessly begged, scrambling off her perch to
join them.  "I can't take this anymore."

   "Tired of sex as a spectator sport?" Tristan teased.

   "Yes," Caprichia said firmly.

   Tristan and Cade parted, and Caprichia lay down between them.  Now it
was her turn to be the absolute center of their libidinous attention but,
being sandwiched between the two virile men while they lavished her with
rousing caresses, smooching lips and exploring hands roving over her naked
body in artful orchestration, was making her have a hard time thinking
straight.  With savvy synchronicity, four male hands skimmed over her rib
cage, flitting upward in little circles until they had reached the ripely
swelling base of her jittering breasts.  When their clever fingertips
played delicately upward to find her hardening nipples, Caprichia's toes
curled automatically from the decadent pampering, her whole body thrilling
to the influx of slinky pleasure that sailed down from her bosom.  In fact,
she was having a hard time remembering to take air into her lungs. 
`Breathing is easy,' she reminded herself ~~ `In and out, in and out.' But
with Cade rubbing his outer thigh against hers, and Tristan gently edging
his adoring kisses about her flushed face, the phrase `in and out' was
loaded with inflammatory possibilities.

   When Cade's head began nuzzling at her breasts, Caprichia became lost
for a moment in her own gratification, but then she looked up and saw her
darling Tristan's eyes on her, a romantic luminosity flashing in them as he
looked upon her in true love and devoted adoration.  Caprichia felt a surge
of reciprocating passion and tenderness sweep over her and she impulsively
reached to pull his proud head towards her passion-softened mouth.  His
long tongue shot out to wave over the lady's half-parted lips, and this
intimate gesture flooded her with equally as much carnal pleasure as Cade
slithering his moistly rough tongue over her pebble-hard nipples, causing
her breasts to congeal with merging passions until she thought they would
burst from the titillating pressure.  Shamelessly, Caprichia melded her
lips into Tristan's kiss, extending her own diminutive tongue so that it
touched for her beloved's longer lingual member, sending renewed bolts of
sheer sensuality rocketing through her naked body.  It was in sharp
contrast to Cade squeezing her resilient breasts roughly, tweaking and
pinching the points, snapping at the nubs with strong teeth.

   While Tristan continued to amorously ravish her with soul-deep French
kisses, Cade slid down onto the oriental rug and began to lick warmly at
Caprichia's smooth belly, each pyretic swipe of his sweltering tongue
pushing the supple flesh before it in ripples of heated pleasure.  She let
her trembly legs fall open, longing to have the raging fires burning deep
up between her legs enkindled, and he obligingly wedged himself between her
limber thighs.  Slowly, almost cautiously, he moved forward and when she
felt his silky hair brushing the tender skin as he delved for her pussy,
she lifted her calves and rested them on his shoulders, proffering the
honey-scented sweetness displayed so invitingly before him.  He breathed
deep her exotic perfume, driving her to dizzying heights of frustrated
passion as his lips tripped gently, teasingly over the hungry sex-flesh
beneath.  Caprichia could not keep her loins from bucking forward, trying
to impale herself on that thrusting, tickling nose, when suddenly his
relentlessly inquisitive tongue snaked out once again into the dewy channel
of her seething vagina, racing up inside her like a squirming little beast
to bury itself deep into her.

   Caprichia was now being consummately tongued in two places, and it was
hard to tell whether her unsatisfiable mouth or her insatiate pussy was
absorbing more of the incomparable pleasure.  Tristan was an exquisite
kisser, all his enamored attention centered on his wife and her captivating
mouth, his torrid kisses accentuated by breathless forays of his tongue
into her mouth to twine with hers in a courtship mating ritual.  To the
passionately moaning Caprichia it felt as if each dynamic smooch was
charged with some voltaic electricity that was almost more than her
overloaded nerves could bear.  This dreamy make-out session was punctuated
by the realization that Cade was remarkably gifted at cunnilingus and his
proficient flair for the intimate act was firing her like a boiler.  He had
begun to lick in earnest now, each wriggling thrust bringing a deep
resonant moan in Caprichia's chest.  Each burning sweep of that merciless
organ seemed in itself to last an eternity, making her achingly aware of
every fraction of an inch that it slid over her jubilantly convulsing
cunny. She could feel it start far down at her plaited anus, then propel
deeply into the gooey split on its way up before dragging maddeningly over
the tiny button of her palpitating clitoris.

   The unique dual stimulation was hypnotizing, and before long Caprichia
was writhing like a wounded snake on the couch, her back arched lissomely
upward and her head falling back under the narcotizing stimulus of the
exuberant double-barreled assault.  Desperately inflamed, she responsively
ravished Tristan's tasty mouth, drawing deep from his essence while holding
her knees back tight against her flattened breasts with her straining hands
so that her obscenely splayed pussy was offered up in eager sacrifice to
the slavering Cade below her.  His oscillating tongue lashing up through
her honey-soused cunny in corybantic delight was introducing her to a world
of enchantingly profane rapture.  There had to be ultimate release from
these impossibly demanding sensations that her two lovers were instigating
in her exultant loins, or she knew she would go crazy.  At first she
thought it would never end, that this outrageous euphoria would go on
forever but soon realized that the eroticism of the situation, combined
with the expert attentions of the two talented men, were getting her so
turned on that she could already feel a meteoric orgasm gathering on the
horizon.  Yes, she was going to cum soon now, she could feel the fragile
bubble growing deep up inside her already jelling belly.  Yes, just another
few seconds...

   "Not so fast, greedy girl," Tristan scolded, drawing himself away from
her needy kiss even as Cade simultaneously lifted himself off the floor. 
"You need a lesson in sharing."

   Caprichia looked over at her husband and smiled flirtatiously when she
saw him uncontrollably stroking his impressive length of hefty cock swaying
like a wagon-tongue as he moved towards her.  She'd never known anything
equal to the potently sexy effects of viewing his sinfully alluring shaft
flesh poling out from his powerful loins.

   Tristan didn't give Caprichia much time to admire his cock before he
moved in front of her, entangling his hand in her mussed hair to
encouragingly cup the back of her head in his guiding grasp.  Deliberately,
she reached out and gently curled her small palm and slender fingers as far
as they would reach around the heavy-veined organ, hearing the familiar
grunt of blossoming lust at the contact, and sensing wilder sensations of
erotic excitement charging through her own belly and seeping loins. 
Automatically, she began to stroke the veiling outer layer of skin back and
forth to his salacious pelvic gyrations, eternally fascinated as the
cloaking foreskin slid back to reveal its mushroomy glans.

   "Yeah, suck it, baby!" Tristan hissed in a lewdly excited rasp.  "You
are a luscious little tease, baby.  Now, open those pretty lips and put
that nasty mouth to work.  Do it ...!"

   The electric-like shock of sensation that raced through Caprichia at her
husband's obscene request was not disdainful revulsion but wanton
excitement.  His crude obscenities fired the already-stoked depravity she
needed to satiate her brain-warped passion, and eagerly she came to
mouth-level with his protruding organ that she possessively clung to, the
proximity of the bulbous head with its slitted tip and the tiny drops of
lubricating fluid emanating from it suddenly eradicating all else from her
lust-gorged mind.  She opened her lushly moistened lips, flicking out with
her petite tongue first, bringing it into wet contact with the smooth,
squishy tip.  Excitedly, she began to swoosh her tongue over the satiny
flesh, causing Tristan to twist and jerk with rapidly building excitement,
before raising the full length of his manhood with her hand at the base to
swab along its visibly throbbing underside.  As she worked his curtaining
foreskin lewdly back and forth, her other hand went between his thighs to
cup his balls tenderly, drawing her nails beneath them before weighing
them, playfully tugging at the curly strands that covered his sac with a
layer of wiry fuzz until he shamelessly groaned.

   Caprichia lazily trailed her way down her beloved's engorged penis,
following the prominent under-vein to its conclusion before retracing her
way back up.  Her previous ministrations had peeled free the ponderous head
to stand out sleek and naked once more, allowing her to tease her
tongue-tip into the tiny split, licking away the pearlescent droplets.  The
tangy sweet taste from the male pungency fired new, more intense ripples of
lascivious pleasure to chaotically course through her, and her nostrils
flared wantonly.  She opened her mouth wide and slipped her posh lips over
the ponderous glans, encompassing the spongy knob inside the steamy cavern
of her mouth, letting it slide the full length of her tiny tongue as she
began to suck greedily at it.  She had to focus her attention on the
dauntingly-sized dome at first, then took in the rest of the savory meat
one glutting mouthful at a time.  Finally, she found a comfortable tempo,
her head bobbing on his delectable organ, not wanting to relinquish it for
any reason.

   Gasping appreciatively at Caprichia's enthusiastic fellatio, Tristan
affectionately massaged her bobbling breasts, whirring his thumb over her
nipples as she so very much enjoyed as he introduced a slow undulation with
his hips, sliding his juicy member in and out of her slurping mouth with a
suctioning sound similar to an aquarium filter resounding throughout the
room.  He looked up and saw Cade jealously ogling them, licking his
cream-specked lips and resuscitating his own recently-drained penis with
quick masturbatory strokes.  Tristan couldn't blame the handsome hunk;
afterall, here he was seeing this radiant MTV icon, her enticingly naked
rump waggling and her rose-blossom cheeks libidinously puffing as she
wolfed down cock as hungrily as any crack-addled whore.  When all was said
and done, Caprichia was still the most deliciously enchanting woman of them
all ...  and Tristan knew damned well from loving her so deeply that it was
time to give her a the stimulant she so richly deserved.

   That's when Tristan and Cade proved the extent of their experience. 
Reacting to pantomime, Cade lifted Caprichia's body off the slippery couch
and moved her onto the luxuriantly deep rug while Tristan backed slowly
away.  The men managed to rearrange themselves so that Caprichia was on all
fours, subserviently kneeling with Tristan's beefy erection still stuffed
in her mouth, while Cade effortlessly mounted her, his masculine body
humping excitedly in toward her trembling tush.  The ingenious maneuver
along with the bacchanalian menage-a-trois she was about to rollick in sent
maddening desire careening through Caprichia's carnally seething body.  Oh
God ...  yes ...  yes ...  she wanted to be fucked so badly ...  had to be!
Oh, she had to have a cock inside her anxiously waiting vagina to quell the
passionate fire burning there or she'd go insane!  She felt Cade's strong
hands gripping at her rounded hips, and she choked on an ebullient gasp,
the blood suddenly effervescing in her veins when she felt the blunted tip
of something hot, wet and big probing brashly back between her tingly
thighs, searching for her quivering entrance

   With a sonorous moan deep in her throat, Caprichia wiggled the twin
ovals of her pillowy buttocks in little searching circles, attempting to
capture Cade's phallic hardness, the salacity of her own wanton movements
building the tension within her to a near unbearable peak.  Boisterous
sensations burst inside her and she found herself humming and purling
frantically around her husband's heavy cock sunk deeply in her mouth. 
`God, I have to have it,' her mind screamed, reaching frantically back
through the arch of her thighs and loins to grasp the dripping, rubbery
spear of hot, hard male-flesh and guide its throbbing tip toward her
honey-dowsed cunny.  `Oh yes ...  yes ...  yes,' she thought in her
impulsive state.

   With an unrestrained moan, Tristan watched in eager lust Caprichia
shifting her lush bottom in a desperate searching effort to capture Cade's
straining cock, the raging tension within her having long since reached the
nymphet stage.  A few minutes previously he had noticed that he would be
able to catch the entire reflection of their lewdly coupling threesome in
the full length wall-mirror.  He saw the reflection of Zs glistening
well-proportioned penis, moist and hard, the tapered end slipping and
dancing like a streamlined scarlet candle in the cream-sodden breach of her
naked pussy.  The young man's tormenting tongue had inflamed her responsive
sex to the point where she clearly welcomed any penetrating object that
could soothe it.  The lascivious sight of the well-hung hunk bestriding his
eagerly consenting wife, her delicate fingers guiding the beveled shaft of
sexually excited flesh forward, plus the lurid image of his own chunky
organ protruding stump-like from her ovally sucking mouth, sent wild and
lustful sensations of pagan passion spiraling through him.

   `God, I need to him up inside me now!' Caprichia thought hectically as
she guided the tip to the now hungrily flexing delta of her flushed vagina.
Immediately he humped forward, splitting the pouty inner vulva, expanding
the silkily receptive channel of her simmering pussy wider and wider as
with a barking grunt he inexorably buried the long throbbing length of his
thickened cock deep up inside the pulsating channel between her spread
thighs.

   Tristan watched in avaricious fascination, gaping sordidly as Cade's
trenchant organ slithered forward into his breathtakingly built wife with
an audibly squishy sluicing thrust until it was sunk in her snugly
clutching sex to the hilt.  The happily-cuckolded husband grinned in lewd,
ecstatic delight, as the handsome hunk's overstuffed scrotal pouch smacked
hard down against the dampness of her pubes.

   "Oooohhhhh ...  ooohhhhh ...!" Caprichia blurted unintelligibly around
Tristan's choking cock in her glutted mouth, her breath exploding from her
lungs and her bright eyes glazing dully over as Cade began to pump into her
from behind.  "Unghh ...  unghh ...  unghhhh!" she grunted in vehement
relief, conscious for a moment in her clouded brain that her lover was the
magnificent man, Cade, the same beautiful boy her beloved Tristan had
blissfully fellated a few minutes before, the taboo thought alone adding
unbelievable fuel to her intensively ascending desire.  Seemingly sensing
her intense need, he began to thrust rhythmically into her from behind,
while in ecstatic relief she began to squirm backward with her elatedly
acceptive cunny to meet the powerfully long strokes plunging deep into the
rising heat of her loins.

   Tristan watched through lustful eyes Caprichia's contorted, beautiful
face, completely enraptured by the fierce deepstroking Cade was giving her.
She had reintensified her own carnivorous fellating, taking both hands to
cup and squeeze his swaying balls, one finger tauntingly creeping up the
deep valley between the moons of his contracting ass while her crimson
mouth clasped greedily around his heavily pulsing cock.  The thin, tensile
rim of her lips clung to it avidly, pink inner-flesh extracting each time
he pulled out.  He grinned lecherously as he enjoyed her gulping mouth and
found himself keeping tempo with Cade skewering deeper and deeper into her
from behind.  His muscular body battered and thudded resoundingly between
her wide-spread cheeks, his engorged penis a driving piston of glistening,
sexflesh sinking to its full length deep into the malleable confines of her
tremulous belly.  Lewdly, she rotated her curved hips and plush bottom with
a sirenic zeal, grinding them back like a she-beast in heat against the
bull-hung stud jamming into her!

   Tristan was lost in the raging heat of her own ungovernable passion ...
lost to every sense of her surroundings, conscious only of the increased
vigor to the splendidly churning thrusts pounding from behind into the
remotest parts of her inflamed cunny, and the heavy naked loins of the man
crushing up tighter and tighter against her face.  Together the two men
buffeted her back and forth between them, using her delectable body to its
fullest capacity.  She loved the pornographic brutality of it, the
sensation of being invasively hammered from both ends.  Only a moment
before, she had breathed a moan of bliss from her lips, while she moved in
agile cadence backwards to meet Cade superb thrusts into her steaming
cunny. At the same time, she whorishly sucked at Tristan's tasty, swollen
hardness, giving herself fully to the concupiscent delight of the beautiful
oral-loving her husband was savagely humping into her from the front. 
Knowing that Tristan profoundly loved her and that they shared a unique
bond with Cade, she was more than secure enough to let herself go and enjoy
being a pure sex object.

   Tristan stared as the statuesque Caprichia's encircling pillowy lips
clasped in abandoned greed around the meaty rod of his penis being
wolfishly consumed into her exquisitely beautiful face.  He gasped
excitedly, watching her desire-twisted expressions, while simultaneously
the Cade rammed drivingly into her cunny from behind.  Nothing else in the
entire world mattered but the absolutely fantastic carnal rapture filling
her.  In his mind-twisting lust, he wished there was someway she could
watch Cade's marvelous, pleasure-bringing cock disappearing inside her
hotly embracing pussy.  Unlike most women, she was capable of being
strongly aroused by visual erotica, and knew this sordidly forbidden scene
would whet her desires to a glittering edge.  As it was, the mere thought
of their wickedly unnatural coupling set salacious exultation soaring
through his own sensually inflamed flesh...!

   Caprichia could feel Tristan's beefy cock pumping so licentiously into
her mouth begin tensing in forceful, vacillating spasms and the hand
pressed tight behind her head gripping harder and harder.  His taut,
rippling abdomen and shimmying pelvis closed in on her until she felt
certain he was trying to spear his rampant penis down her throat to meet
Cade's tunneling hardness pummeling far up into her seething loins from
behind.  That exaggerated thought by itself drove her wildly on.  God, she
wanted him to explode in her mouth ...  to swallow the tasty, squirting
juice and savor it as it gushed down her throat!  Then, suddenly, she
sensed his blood-engorged hardness swelling and jerking spasmodically in
her suctioning mouth and suckled with renewed madness!

   It burst!  Caprichia heard Tristan curse crudely, vocalizing the
resplendent bliss his body was suddenly basking in, while his cock gushed
forth quick hot jets of the pungent liquid into her voraciously extracting
throat, her beautifully complected cheeks ballooning and contracting as she
swallowed in hungry, desperate gulps, fastening her red-rimmed lips tightly
around the lurching organ, not wanting to lose the tiniest drop of the
precious male fluid.  Yet, as hard as she tried, his chaotic convulsions
ripped his jutting member from her nursing mouth and he showered her
uplifted face with his creamy seed in two fountaining streams before she
was able to draw him back in.  Then, his entire frame went limp before the
fierceness of her oral assault, the radiant ecstasy he'd exulted in fading
and his deflating manhood slithering lifelessly from her still greedily
drinking mouth...

   The sight of Tristan's cataclysmic climax spurred Cade into his own
spiraling delirium and he began slamming furiously into Caprichia's tightly
clenched cunny, driving her own dynamic kairotic moment of orgasmic
explosion almost, but not quite, to the ragged brink.  The frenetically
bucking Caprichia hung suspended helplessly in carnal frustration, unable
yet to tumble into the enrapturing chasm of orgiastic completion...!

   Cade panted heavily and his tongue hung loosely from his mouth as he
maniacally fucked into Caprichia's beautiful waving hindquarters with
bestial frenzy from behind, saliva dripping from the lingual organ onto the
sheen of perspiration glowing over the satin-like, creamy flesh at the
hollow of her smooth waist.  When his fully-immersed cock began spitting
its own juice with hard, bullet-like spurts deep into her hungrily milking
cunny, he gave a ferocious cry, then gripped her undulating hips so
savagely that she thought he might tear her apart.  Seconds later, he
grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back.  That rough gesture
was all it took to bring her to her own tumultuous finish.

   "Oooohhhh ...  oooohhhh God ...  I-I'm cuuuummmmmmiinnnggggg ...!"

   Caprichia's mellifluous voice died into a strangled chant of strangled
sobs and choking sighs, her head twisting from side to side, her long
glossy hair flailing and whipping about her face wildly as she began the
first obvious spasms of a harrowing orgasm, screwing her lusciously curved
asscheeks back against the still furiously pumping Cade.  Her rounded
bottom started hollowing and tensing uncontrollably as the climactic
upheaval within her heaving sex began to fulminate.  Riotous surges of
tormenting pleasures ran rampant through her concussing sex, a marauding
legion of rampageous ecstasy plundering every nerve cluster, setting her
blood alight and surging through her veins in cascades of liquid fire.  The
violent paroxysms reverberated through her over and over, and when the
excruciating blisses were finally quelled, she crumpled to the floor,
Tristan protectively cuddling her prostrate nakedness, soothing her
battered but triumphant body...

   * * * * * Caprichia could still hear Tristan and Cade murmuring fond
farewells as she left for the nearest showers, the one they were adjoining
having been taken over by two bubbly blonde cheerleader types squealing
quite loudly behind closed doors.  She crossed herself thankfully when she
found an unoccupied stall and started cleaning her aching body, achingly
aware that her lust-hungered belly was a pool brimming with the liquid heat
of thick, viscid sperm.  She stretched out her long legs and arched her
back limberly in the steamy spray, letting her small suds-dripping hands
wander down over the curves of her nakedness to the sensual, lusty mouth
between her legs, feeling its still generating heat beneath the coating of
glutinous semen saturating it.

   But most astonishing, were the intensive shocks of erotic sensations her
exploring fingers sent racing through her yet inflamed flesh!

   `Dear God!' she thought reelingly.  `I'm still alive with the same
sluttish want!  Why?  What's happened to me?  Twice I've come, but...  but
it's not enough!  I've got to cum again ...  and maybe again and again! 
I'll go mad if I don't ...  but nothing seems enough!  Letting Tristan and
Cade use me as they did, but even then, they weren't enough!  God, I've got
to cum again!'

   Caprichia luxuriated in the sauna-esque heat of the shower in an effort
to drown the unbelievable sensations of continuously pyramiding desire
ravenously licking and taunting her curvaceous body with lustful
temptations beyond reason.

   God, it was as if she had been sexually starved for eons, rather than
just having sucked and fucked two huge cocks, the result of their virile
ravaging still filling her craving sex!  And rather than utter fulfillment
at the sinfully delicious thought of her beloved husband and his impossibly
cute lover savagely using her defenseless body in which to vent their
torrid lust, she felt nothing but the greedy, burning hunger in her
insatiable loins they had merely fed and left tormentively smoldering
there! She suspected the highly erotic viewing of Tristan lustily fellating
Cade along with the remnants of the potent aphrodisiac were to be blamed
for her horniness but that hardly mattered at that moment ...  only the
intensive, passionate sensations which had so quickly rekindled into a
glowing furnace of salacity in the inflamed, throbbing core between her
gently massaging thighs held any meaning for her!

   She had to do it ...  had to do something before she went stark raving
wild, the drug-provoked Caprichia blindly reasoned, almost bolting to her
bare feet and hurrying back toward the antechamber where Tristan presumably
remained when the thought of who might be able to help flashed through her
mind...

   * * * * *

   Tristan was relaxing comfortably, gazing wistfully at the business card
Cade had produced as he dressed, saying he had an important audition in the
early afternoon he couldn't miss.  It had been several months since he'd
engaged in sex with another man and remembered exactly why it was he
savored the experience so much.  It had ended well too, something he could
sadly attest to not always being the case, and he could still taste the
salty tang that signatured their last, lingering farewell kiss...

   Caprichia came bounding into the room, unabashedly naked and Tristan
could see by the bubblegum-pink flush to her cheeks very excited, very
horny or possibly a mixture of both.

   "Baby, I just saw Marissa and Javier down by the pool and invited them
up here.  Are you willing?" She batted her eyelashes and rubbed her
nakedness up against him like a cat in heat.  "Honey, they are both soooo
sexy!"

   "The spirit is willing, sweetie, but the flesh is weak," he lamented,
ineffectually fondling his fully deflated penis that lay as weak and
flaccid as a wet noodle.

   "Baby, believe me, they will get you hot and bothered," she breathed,
hearing the pad of footfalls outside the doorway.

   Marissa's buoyantly firm breasts swayed alluringly out to the sides as
she flounced into the room, and one had to gasp at the beauty of the
stunning woman in profile, her head slanted back and her lush blonde hair
spilling softly down her back.  The resilient mounds of her appealing
breasts settled and protruded firmly out from her chest like two ripe
cantaloupes.  The aureoles that surrounded her nipples were of a dusky pink
color and the pointed erectness of the center buds evidenced her own
arousal.  Her buttocks were wide and full, but the smoothly outlining curve
of that fullness was firm and high, adding to the illusion of animal
strength underneath all that ripe sensuality.  Her belly flowed with
remarkable flatness down to her groin that flowered out suddenly in a
sparse, soft-looking pubic triangle that made Caprichia's mouth water at
the thought of sampling that tasty delicacy.  Yes, Marissa was enjoying her
part in the ongoing revelry, the thin labial lips clearly visible between
her slightly parted legs.  She opened them a little more, a coquettish grin
forming on her salaciously pouting lips, and Tristan realized that she was
putting on this exhibition purposely.  Everyone could see that she was
wantonly excited; the first tiny droplets of dewy moisture rising between
her legs were faintly visible glistening in her demurely narrow vaginal
slit and matting down a few damply curling pubic tendrils as she exposed
herself lewdly and teasingly to them.

   Naked, Javier proved even more scrumptiously sexy than ever.  His upper
torso, only lightly dusted with bluish black masculine stubble, was
brawnily muscular, the flexing biceps melding in deliciously with seemingly
granite-hewn slabs of a powerhouse chest made all the more incongruously
captivating by his gumdrop-cute nipples.  All that beefy bulk tapered
fluidly into a streamlined abdomen ridged with deep fissures of definition
that Caprichia longed to trace her nails along.  But both she and Tristan
stared at his penis skeptically ~~ it just couldn't be true!  They both
gawked at him casually standing there, with his mammoth organ in brash
erection, looking with his tousled hair and classically handsome features
like a noble god from Greek Mythology, ready to hurl a thunderbolt.  His
engorged appendage reared out from his taut belly like the proverbial third
arm with a huge pair of fists balled between his strong legs.  His
dauntingly-sized organ was the impressive dimensions of a typical household
rolling pin ...  maybe larger, and the two monstrously bloated testicles
swaying at the base gave it the appearance of a huge field piece ready to
roar into wildly belching flames of sex action.  The gigantic cock reeked
of bestiality and jutted out from his belly like the raw throbbing weapon
of a breeding bull, adding an animal-like tension to the debauched
proceedings.

   "Come here, you great big wonderful cock.  I'll show you what I love
doing best in the world." Marissa stretched out her slender arm and
lovingly grasped the enormous girth of Javier's imposing truncheon in her
petite hand, tugging it gently while impudently sticking out the pink tip
of her tongue at him.

   "Come on, Javier," Caprichia urged flirtatiously, patting the tumbled
covers near the head of the bed.  "Climb up here and make yourself
comfortable where we both can get at you."

   Javier climbed up onto the bed, positioning his bull-like shoulders
comfortably against the headboard and grinning conspiratorially at Tristan
as he spread his sinewy thighs to give the anxious ladies easy access to
his ponderously heavy member.  It seemed to sprout like some menacingly
throbbing tool from the dense mat of tangled pubic hairs and the pendulous
sac of cum-heavy balls sagging beneath it.

   From the moment he had confidently strolled into the room, Caprichia had
been unable to tear her ogling eyes from the gleaming head of Javier's
immense penis cleaving out into the air.  She jealously watched as Marissa
crawled toward the monstrous manhood as if it was some kind of
awe-inspiring pagan monolith to be worshipped and adored.  Caprichia
eagerly joined the blonde beauty and moments later was hunched down on all
fours between Javier's hairy legs, one of her own hands reaching out to
tenderly cup those swollen testicles while the other was gently stroking
the taut velvet skin up and down the virilely pulsating trunk.  Rarely had
she encountered a male sex organ that had attained such awesome
proportions, not since that charming waiter she and Tristan had befriended
at a pre-concert meal in Dayton.  The stupefying sight of the youth's
scrawny body nearly toppled by the elephant-esque cock swaying between his
spindly legs had ignited what had been an astonishingly sexy night.

   Tristan was similarly remembering that debauched fling, never in his
life feeling so hopelessly thunderstruck and flares of perplexed insecurity
arose as he watched Caprichia sashay to the bed, her usually-flashing-eyes
in a near glassy state as she crawled onto it and kneeled down on
all-fours. She looked back with her tousled dark hair streaming down over
her smooth shoulders, her lushly hanging breasts swaying and rippling as
she gave Tristan a reassuring smile before lewdly positioning herself to
fellate Javier.  His hands had already began to roam in wild excitement
over every inch of Marissa's voluptuous curves, fingers kneading her firm
globular breasts, her resiliently rounded bottom cheeks, and the smooth
soft flesh at the curve of her sleek upper thighs until he could apparently
stand no longer the maddening torture building deep in his balls.  The
voyeuring husband watched as suddenly, and without any prior warning,
Javier's hand tangled in his own wife's hair and pulled the angelic
blonde's beautiful face closer to his jutting groin.  The baseball player
shifted closer and Marissa closed her eyes as he began rubbing the blunt
hardness over her upturned face, stroking over her flushed cheeks and
around the edges of her eagerly moist mouth.

   Caprichia felt her face flush dark with want as she saw Marissa's slinky
tongue cease licking the lust-inflated glans head of her husband's
ostentatiously-sized penis and start laving a wet trail down the
meandrously-veined underside of the still-burgeoning shaft right to its
junction with the adorably fuzzy, crinkly-skinned scrotum which she was
kneading rhythmically in both her hands now.  Her wetly parted lips over
the fleshy, swollen sac, that flickering tongue darting out to prod at the
hefty eggs nestled in their fleshy pouch.  The sight washed away any
lingering resistance Caprichia might have had so she eased forward until
she was hunched over his loins, her face poised directly over his long
spearing cock.  She had a hand on his stomach for balance and could feel
the muscles churn as her hungering mouth approached the tip of his
mushrooming member.  A violent shuddered tore through him when she
slithered her own wet pink tongue and licked away the tiny drop of
glistening seminal fluid that had welled up in the distended slit at the
end, enjoying its distinctively masculine flavor.

   "Now suck my cock, baby," Javier swallowed deeply above Caprichia, who
was flagrantly relishing performing the task.  "Suck it good and hard."

   Tristan watched the lewd effects of Caprichia's and Marissa's libidinous
efforts play over Javier's face as the athlete felt the first moist firm
pull of the pop starlet's silken lips over his tender manhood, then the
steamy suction when she slowly lifted her head and let his inordinately
long member glide lubriciously through the tightly clasping insides of her
satiny-smooth mouth.  An involuntary whimper of spirit and pride escaped
from Tristan's lips as the bawdy scene brought back lewd memories of the
night in Dayton and his own slavering mouth working obscenely over the
teenager's whopper with the same unchaste voracity.  The sight of Caprichia
slurping away, coupled with his own unblushing memories, caused a momentary
twitch in Tristan's suddenly reviving penis.  Vague, dimly felt echoes of
his repeated anal-instigated orgasms rippled faintly through his own
stirring loins.

   `Oh Christ!  Oh Christ ...!' Tristan inwardly groaned, his big hand
subconsciously clutching and beginning to gently stroke his own bulky rod
of slowly rejuvenating maleness.  He flushed deeply and his startled head
flew up to find Javier's hard grey eyes fixed unmistakably on his
revivifying erection.  Tristan suddenly became self-consciously aware that
he was breathing in short shallow pants and that he was masturbatorily
kneading the fleshy tube stirring between his thighs in time with the
ministrations of Marissa's flexuous tongue to Javier's balls.  A tingling
flush of sheepishness spread over Tristan's sensually tingling body as he
stopped the onanistic movement of his hands and turned his eyes away from
Javier's inflammatory gaze.  He tried to concentrate on something else,
even the profligate rite being performed almost under his nose, anything
but the horse-hung stud's obvious interest in him.

   In spite of himself, a particularly loud slurping sound drew Tristan's
eyes back to the mobile tangle of feminine bodies between Javier's stalwart
legs just in time to see Caprichia's wetly ovalled lips slip off the
saliva-sheened glans and the rapid gulping movements of her slender throat.
At first Tristan thought he'd achieved a very subdued orgasm, but no, he
saw at once that wasn't the case.  Caprichia flashed a sassy smile before
drawing a deep breath and pushed her tautly rounded lips back down on the
bulbous dome until her stretched upper lip slipped over the mushroomed helm
that rose from the towering column, and a second later, many inches of the
enormous organ was consumed in her immersing mouth.  The same honey-sweet,
butter-soft mouth that he himself had so eagerly explored through
passionate kisses with his own thrusting tongue just a little while ago. 
How was it possible?

   Tristan's thoughts were distracted when Marissa suddenly relinquished
her husband to Caprichia's gluttonous attentions and turned her own
diligence to the forlorn Tristan.  The two shared a tender, friendly kiss
before she descended to fellate him.  The petite brunette proved to have a
distinctly savvy style and deft hands, those elegant fingers tantalizing
his scrotum as her sweltering mouth plunged down over the mulberry-hued
helm, each time swallowing up much of the thick shaft.  Marissa suckled in
an inciteful bobbing rhythm, her cheeks hollowing as she nursed.  The flesh
of her tightly compressed lips pulled out and clung to the blush-pink trunk
of his penis as she nibbled and licked, her mind clearly caught up in the
enjoyable task with all her concentration.  Caprichia was almost glad for
being a bit exhausted ~~ it gave him a chance to thoroughly enjoy her
desirous succor.  But when the kneeling lady began to twirl her tongue
around the moist stickiness of the inflated head on each outstroke, the
nerve-tingling licks made Tristan's cock throb and jerk into raring
erection so that the entire pillar seemed to grew rapidly right before
Marissa's admiring eyes.

   "Uuuuuuuuhhh.  That's it, baby.  Suck it!  Suck it!" Javier groaned
hoarsely, and Tristan saw that beads of sweat were forming on his forehead
and that his eyes were screwed tightly shut in a grimace of anguished
desire.  Thank God, he wasn't staring at him any more with those flinty
piercing eyes, Tristan thought, but he couldn't help ogling the way the
solid planes of Javier's toned buttocks were beginning a slow grinding
upward motion to drive his rigid length farther down Caprichia's
accommodating throat until the tip of her daintily molded nose was dipping
into the twisted tufts of matted pubic hairs.  Still she showed no sign of
letting up, no resistance to his hands tangling themselves in her tousled
hair to regulate the accelerating rhythm of her pumping mouth.  Caprichia's
bright eyes were closed too, Tristan realized, watching his beloved wife's
lips peel back along the impossible length of Javier's mighty manhood ...
They were gone, those two, lost in a billowing cloud of wanton enjoyment.

   Or so Tristan had thought because seconds later, much to his and
Javier's apparent surprise, he saw his curvaceously naked bride draw
tauntingly away only to lounge on the bed, splaying her long legs wide.

   "Come on, Javier!" Caprichia gasped, lustfully reaching downwards to
teasingly stroke the satiny, squelching flesh of her honey-drenched sex,
displayed for all to see in all its luscious naked allure.  "Now, Baby, do
it to me..."

   Tristan gaped open-mouthed in amazement at the breathlessly erotic sight
of his cherished Caprichia's enticing body in its obscene position as
Javier pivoted on the bed and moved into the delta of her wide-spread legs
and creamy thighs.  He heard the baseball player eagerly whimper, then saw
him sniff and lash out with his long, wet tongue, ravenously lapping over
the entire area of her vulnerably sopping split!  It stroked from the
recessed little hole of her puckered anus, down beneath the ragged edges of
her puffy labia.  Even to the base of the wispy pubic curls it reached,
penetrating there to moistly flick down against her tiny clitoris.  Wildly,
then his lust-maddened wife began to moan as again and again, the athlete
repeated the carnal act, his long, thick tongue savagely knifing through
her pillowy-soft cunny, spreading her open in the tenderest parts until she
began to twitch and jerk, while he, her own husband, watched in helpless
captivation under Marissa's mesmeric blowjob.

   The eroticism of the moment suddenly seemed to be too much for the
greedily sucking Marissa, because Tristan saw her hands fly down to her own
feverishly writhing vagina like homing doves and urgently began their
specific tasks of pinching and rubbing and teasing and skewering her
hopelessly aroused pussy.  A tiny moan escaped her lips and she squirmed
completely out of control when he slid his hard hand under hers, tangling
in her cropped muff and his rough fingers replacing her delicate ones
strumming in her volcanically steaming pussy.  In spite of all his mature
self-control gained over the years, when he felt the ebullient response of
Marissa's femininely flaring hips to his finger probing up into the gooey
depths of her delectable cunny and the way her dainty little clitoris
pulsated as it slid back and forth under his thumb, he almost came right
then and there in her gorging mouth.  His earlier groans of tormented
pleasure hadn't been feigned.  Marissa was a practiced maestro at
deepthroating and tonight, obviously aroused to a fever pitch, she was
going at it like a wild woman.

   "Yes ...  yesss, my sweet darling!  That's it, Javier ...  Lick my pussy
with your beautiful tongue!  I-I love it ..." she coarsely babbled as he
drew his near-feral tongue up through the entire length of her hungrily
pulsating cleft, ravishing her hyper-excited cunny mercilessly.  "Ooohhh
... yes ...  baby!  Now ...  now climb up on me and fuck me!  Now, Javier
...  now!"

   Hearing his spouse's raunchy demands, Tristan glanced over and choked
out a gasp, his eyes straining as Javier fully mounted her, his muscular
body crowding in toward the welcoming cradle of her widespread loins, his
strong arms clutching at her graceful shoulders for balance. 
Uncontrollably, Caprichia's husband sensed his own orally-engulfed penis
pulsating at the salacious sight of the shimmering, scarlet organ dripping
freely, its globular tip jerking and dancing as Javier hunched in close to
her, endeavoring to bury the magenta tip and its massive brawn into his
wife's curvaceous body.  It never ceased to give Tristan a perverse thrill
to see this refined woman go cock-crazy, the way her eyes sparkled, then
went all smoky with insatiable hunger when Javier first nudged into the
crumpled folds of her sopping sex, that oversized plum spreading open the
flanges for his inevitable plunge.

   With an unrestrained, sensual moan, Caprichia waggled the saddle of her
upthrusting sex in tiny searching circles attempting to capture Javier's
prodding cock torturously opening the inner liquid flesh even wider to him.
She hoped to God that Tristan wasn't missing a single moment of her
licentious performance ...  and more important, that he would understand
the very meaning behind it!  Her brain raced in libidinous excitement as
she reached down between her legs, grasping the engorged spear, causing
Javier to issue a rough-throated growl.  She guided its throbbing tip
toward her quivering channel and immediately he humped upward, deliciously
spreading her dilated cunny even wider as with a single powerful lurch, he
buried his pleasure-bringing manhood deep up into the seething pink!

   "Oooohhh ...  ohhhh!" Caprichia sibilantly sighed, her held breath
gushing from her lungs.  "Oooohhh Godddd ..." Her expressive eyes got
enormous as she sluttishly stretched to take his prodigious endowment all
the way inside her until he was sunk in her nibbling pussy to the hilt, his
heavy balls nuzzling down beneath the saturated curls of her naked sex. 
She whimpered in entranced awe as he began to pump her gently, moving
backward tentatively until she'd met his soothing rhythm, meeting his
powerful long strokes into her gluttonously absorbing vagina, egging him on
with vulgar cries.  Tristan groaned, watching with lust-filled eyes her
snugly locked labia and inner vulva ovalling hotly around Javier's sluicing
organ, hardly believing the electrifying sight of her angelic body so
delectably distorted as the well-hung hunk began to hump her with
unquestionable desire.

   Between Marissa's appetite and her husband's lusty pounding of Caprichia
right before Tristan's eyes, he was once again fully erect and ready to go.
Marissa took a strategically placed condom from the bedside stand and
though her hand avidly clutching at his tumescent penis, a jolt of blazing
sensations charged through him as he watched her unroll the latex and
sheathe it over his jutting organ using only her proficient mouth, the
procedure so breathtakingly sexy that it left a pearlescent drop of
moisture beading at the little opening.  When he pressured her
crescent-curved hips, she rolled willingly onto her tummy so he could take
her luscious pussy doggystyle, she equally anxious to have him inside of
her.  He knelt astride her hips and glided into the portals of her
scrumptious cunny, savoring her inner membranes immediately around his
hotly throbbing length, feeling himself jerking to her most intimate touch.
The invasive pressure resonating through her skewered vagina forced from
her lips a husky groan and she visibly trembled all over.  He carefully but
relentlessly continued his caressing penetration, the steely organ forcing
the elastic mouth of her inundated sex to gape wide open and allow him to
slide all the way inside.

   Believe it or not ~~ and Tristan bet that Marissa herself probably could
hardly believe it ~~ she came instantly the moment he bottomed out. 
Enjoying as he was the deliriously joyous moment of first penetration,
Tristan had regained his senses enough to realize the sudden spasms
smoothing along the length of his sex-submersed cock from the sensitive tip
all the way to the thick base, locking them in a fervent liquid pressure,
was indeed the initial quakes of her precious moment.  Immediately he
leaned over and pulled her head toward his, crushing his lips against hers
in a torrid kiss and thrusting his tongue deep into the recesses of her
mouth before she could close it, at the same time curling his hand around
and accelerating the rhythm of his thumb tattooing a singeing beat on her
jumping clitoris.  The iridescent pleasure shimmered bright through her
jubilant sex and he felt her hips shimmy to every tantalizing swipe he made
of her love bud.  It was a quick flash of bliss that didn't last long but
Tristan knew that when the glimmering pleasure flickering in her tummy
faded, Marissa was still terribly hot and ready for more.

   Having that first quick orgasm out of her way must have made Marissa
feel particularly audacious and liberated because she suddenly turned to
Tristan, tapped him on the shoulder and candidly whispered, "Sweetie, take
it out."

   Raising himself from his hunched over position to a full kneel, Tristan
was astonished at how badly he'd misjudged Marissa.  He'd thought her to be
particularly promiscuous but was now worried about her comfort level.  "Am
I hurting you?" he asked, looking into her eyes with honest concern

   "No, not at all," Marissa breathed.  "I want it in my ass, honey."

   Tristan woozily shook his head, flabbergasted by how blunt her request
was.  He unconsciously uncoupled himself, sliding his achingly swollen
hardness in and out of his fingers with a slick damp suction sound, guided
by his hand grasping at its base.  His heart was hammering in his chest at
the sight of not only Marissa's doused sex dribbling tiny rivulets of
girlcream down her willowy thighs but also the dimpled orifice below was
visibly puckering in anticipation.  He glossed his hands over her arced
hips and began maneuvering his dew-slick penis between the cushiony cheeks
of her pert behind.  To assist, Marissa reached back and whorishly spread
herself open for him, exposing the taboo entrance quavering in the
expectancy of his big tool stretching it open.  He began to gingerly probe
her dime-sized anus with his apple-sized knob.  Something had to give and,
of course, it was going to be her.

   "Okay, push it in," Marissa murmured.

   As Tristan leaned forward, the intrusive pressure on her delicate anus
increased geometrically, and her sphincter defensively tightened up in a
taut pucker.  He realized the channel he was being offered was much
tighter, much more delicate and he had to gradually introduce himself.  She
took a deep, shuddery breath and the resistant muscle began to relax
allowing him to progressively, by tiny degrees, ease past the rigid circle,
the tissues of her inner anus slowly opening wider and wider for his
advancing shaft.  Just when both Tristan and Marissa were beginning to
think he'd never breach her reluctant rump, his bulbous plum suddenly
popped past the suddenly-elastic ring, utterly invading her nether hole.

   "Oh, that's it!" Marissa said with a sigh of satisfaction.  "Go ahead ~~
go in all the way!"

   The long, slow, inexorable slide of Tristan's meaty cock up Marissa's
luscious bottom was an irrepressible pleasure.  If her fire-filled pussy
had been a snug enchantment, and she certainly was, she felt even more
flammably delightful in her tush.  The velvety crush of her hidden muscles
was even greater than he'd anticipated, and the incandescent heat they
squeezed his tunneling erection lit him up inside.  Marissa was
experiencing similar incendiary joys in her stretched-wide rectum and she
frantically widened her stance to allow him the greatest penetration,
wanting to feel every mouthwatering inch of him filling her up.  He buried
himself balls-deep in her dark harbor, savoring the pillowy kiss of his
swaying scrotum on her uptilted cheeks when he finally touched bottom. 
Though her pussy was entirely empty, he knew from experience Marissa would
feel sumptuously filled up, centered and complete.

   "Give it to me!" Marissa profanely hissed.  "Hard, baby ~~ fuck me
hard!"

   Tristan couldn't contain the ululating groans of raw lust escaping him
as he introduced slow, leisurely strokes, feeling the warm, doughy flesh of
Marissa's adorably cute buttocks pressing tightly back against his virile
loins on every instroke.  He savored the inner tendons dissolving into what
felt like a delightfully gooey furnace, inciting this transformation by
sliding his hand down underneath and between her slickened thighs to her
opened sex.  He could feel the moisture from the fleshy vulva seeping out
to soak his pendulous balls swatting softly between her cheeks, the
latex-encased shaft, so obscenely swollen now that the icy blue veins
distorted the typically-smooth trunk, vanishing completely into the
pillaged opening.  He grunted again as he rhythmically drew it out,
watching with fascination the tender pink flesh pulling out with it and
then disappearing back inside with his inwardly skewering thrust.  His
breathing increased, incited by the lasciviously exciting sight, until once
more he began plunging into her ass in a slow tempoed cadence, in and out,
in and out, deep up in to the clasping conduit of her plundered rectum!

   Marissa herself was trying to think straight, but each time she tried to
concentrate her anarchic thoughts, they were fragmented once again by
another logic-shattering thrust that jolted her forward.  She was free,
soaring free, feeling a sense of triumph and wild pride that the
ridiculously cute Tristan was all the way inside her ass.  `Now, if only I
could see him inside Javier, the two of them kissing as he sodomizes by
beautiful husband...' Her deepest, most private unspoken fantasy made her
hectically shove back against Tristan's ramming plunges, jamming herself
back onto his fleshy, pleasure-stirring cock instigating sinful pleasures
rapidly emerging within her.  The original discomfort had become almost
insanely erotic, and she was heaving backwards to meet the forward charge
of his loins ...  undulating her hips and moving her buttocks in tiny
lascivious circles.

   A sharp vocal sigh punctuated the lulling heavy breathing that filled
the room opposite side of the room, and Tristan glanced over to see
Caprichia still being ravished by her latest lover.  The cuckolded husband
was ensorcelled by the exotic sounds of their squirming, heaving bodies,
Javier's muscular hips and buttocks rising and falling in a natural rhythm.
Tristan stared with intense captivation at the athletes massive his thick
cock moving in and out of his wife's juicy pussy, her slender loins
beginning to bob and weave and toil from his demanding fervency.  In fact,
her whole curvaceous, satin-fleshed body was tremoring in sensuous ripples
from the powerful jolts of Javier's deep-lunging cock hammering rapidly
into her!  It was an astonishingly debauched sight and Tristan was sure
Javier was staging their pornographic position so Tristan could get the
best view of his vast erection drilling into his wife's slavering pussy.

   Unfathomable excitement surged through Marissa, until she found herself
wanting Tristan's deep-delving organ buried deeper and harder up the now
joyously accepting channel of her bottom.  Her brain reeled in glazed
rapture and her body was alive with sensual bliss, even though she hardly
felt human ...  more of a mass of sweating, lust-deranged flesh that wanted
to be perversely ravished.  She was reveling in the wanton debasement of
being sodomized, shimmying the trembling globes of her fanny greedily now
back against Tristan's pounding pelvis and felt the tiny rivulets of
moisture building in the creamy valley between the cheeks, sensing the
dribbling of it down the backs of her smooth inner-thighs.  The
unbelievable erotic sensations destroyed any remaining measure of
puritanical inhibition she had ever known, and she now knew there was a way
to bring yet another surge of wicked excitement and depraved desire
springing to life inside her...

   "Spank my ass!" Marissa suddenly shouted as she reached back between her
spread thighs to scratch gently at Tristan's swinging balls, turning her
face to one side so he could see the effect his violating cock was now
having on her.

   Kneeling above and behind Marissa, Tristan did as he was commanded,
watching the sharp slap he delivered to her jiggling rump melt into a
crimson inflammation of the snowy skin, When she asked for more, brought
his palm down on her tender bottom thrice more, each one punctuated with a
resounding smack and a visible rippling of her needy pussy.  He stared at
his latex-encased appendage disappearing into Marissa's smoothly gyrating
tush with every spearing lunge.  It submerged until not even a fraction of
it was left unabsorbed, straining wildly in her sordidly stretched anus as
if the famishedly suckling channel didn't want it to ever come out.  At
first, the choking pressure on his engulfed penis had been almost
unbearable, but now it was just clutching tight and exhilarating, the type
of squeezing delight that promised to draw the seed right out of his balls
with the ferocity of molten glass to every stroke.

   Marissa was hopelessly lost in the steamy heat of her rising,
ungovernable passion ~~ lost to any sense of her surroundings, conscious
only of the increased vigor in the unrelenting thrusts pounding from behind
into the remotest parts of her rectum.  Her spitted bottom tingled with the
profane warmth his previous spanking had summoned forth, that unholy heat
melting her frantic pussy.  As she pictured the immaculate flesh of her
rear shading a bright rosy pink, her aching clit swelled ~~ and so
seemingly did Tristan's enormous glans.  All she knew at that moment was
she desperately needed him to keep thrusting that monster in and out of her
dilated hole.  His torturous smacks had brought her to the ragged edge, but
it was going to be his cock spearing in and out of her impaled ass that was
going to push her over it.

   For one brief moment, Tristan wondered if he wasn't in some sort of
drugged coma imagining it all ...  himself violently ramming into the
blonde beauty kneeling before him like a lowly slave while she whorishly
ground her wide-spread buttocks back hard against his battering body, his
plunging fleshy rod hammering into her desecrated back passage ... while at
the same time his wife's sensuous body was being equally marauded, Javier's
taut rump bobbing like a cork in the wild seas over her maniacally pumping
loins, his spiking cock sawing rhythmically in and out of her despoiled
pussy.  But no ~~ the reality came in the terrible fires of sweltering
passion that they had all worked themselves into and the sharply pungent
aroma distinctive to humans in heat.  Tristan watched in lust-filled joy
his wife Caprichia humping herself in a demon-like frenzy, riding Javier's
skivering cock with a Furies' vengeance.  Her cunny was saturated with
creamy honey and he knew she'd be flexing her dew-doused inner membranes on
the instroke and releasing them on the outstroke, fondling the trunk with a
maddening rhythm.  Javier's egg-sized balls beat a staccato rhythm against
her upturned sex, and the sloppy sounds gushing from her like an aquarium
filter signaled how close they were to detonation.  Tristan's own testicles
throbbed and his cock cavorted as if it were about to burst each time he
rammed into Marissa.  Christ, he couldn't last much longer...!

   Marissa was excruciatingly aware of the escalating pressure in her
pulsating pussy and loins signaling that something dynamic was soon going
to happen, the spark to be provided by the tumultuous assault on her
wide-split rectum.  She imagined Tristan's penis moving inside her inner
harbor like the head of a massive piston.  She'd gone way down on her
elbows, small pleading mewls of passion emitting from her throat as his
cock jackhammered inside her spasming anus, the pressure in her rear end
sustained itself.  She couldn't resist it, and finally she rode all that
delirious pressure as if it were an untamed stallion, and her legs were
wrapped around it's flanks, spurring on the deep, dark, irresistible orgasm
coalescing within her.  She was very close ...  almost there...!

   Tristan felt like little more than a brutish animal, instinctually
humping himself into the seductive pressure locked tightly around the
length of his raging cock, increasing his unbelievably frenetic motions
until he thought his loins would turn inside out.  The dammed-up flood of
his fluidic desire torrentially swollen by the lascivious spectacle of
Javier and Caprichia had swept away the last barriers of his eroding
resistance.  Great swirls of aqueous heat were massing in their secret
depths, congregating within the roaring furnace of cauterizing lust
frothing in his balls.  He sensed the muscles of his stomach tighten and he
arched forward.  Nothing mattered any longer except that he reach his
penultimate climax...!  In a moment..!  It was coming...!  Soon!  Soon!

   "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" Marissa chanted in a hoarse voice she barely
recognized as her own.  Her muscles went suddenly taut with unbearable
tension through her thighs and she felt a cloying thickening sensation
spreading through her belly and gloriously filled up in her behind.  She
savagely bit her lower lip and waited for the stormy orgasm to overwhelm
her.  And then she heard Tristan, who had been savagely grunting over and
over again, blurt something unintelligible and felt his loins jerk
convulsively against the flatness of her frenziedly twisting buttocks.  He
convulsed in savage throes, crying out a war whoop of victory.

   Tristan's battle cry voiced the tempestuous pleasure that wreaked havoc
in his loins.  Harrowing upsurges of choleric ecstasy belched forth from
his loins mirroring his paroxysming cock gushing forth hot, stream-like
jets of his spuming cum.  On and on, his erupting balls continued to pump
out his seed, spurred forth by the depredating delectation laying waste to
his orderly world and leaving in its wake an exacerbated rapture greater
than he had imagined humanly possible.  Every muscle of his vandalized body
contracted and jerked as he felt the culminating crescendo of furious bliss
exploding deep down in his screaming loins and belly!  He gurgled out a
whimpering wail as his quaking body unleashed and exploded too in the
culminating moment he had been striving for.  There was no time, no space,
no motion ...  only the unbelievable paradise of his orgasm!  Again and
again, he was struck by the spasmodic twitching of every muscle and cord in
his pleasure-filled cock

   Tristan's turbulent climax was such a thrilling sensation for Marissa
that her own resplendent orgasm was ignited.  It was deceptively slow
moving, glittering bliss tickling her inner thighs and glowing in the rim
of her perforated anus.  Her breasts were squashed beneath her, and her
swollen nipples took on the same itchy, tickly feeling that was flooding
her behind in shimmering flickers.  And then her tortured clitoris pulsed
and the dazzling force of her radiant climax took hold of her entire body,
flaring through her insides in iridescent brilliance.  With that fat cock
plugged in her jubilant ass, the lusciousness scintillating in her pelvis
was amplified.  As her rectum constricted around Tristan's shaft and her
empty pussy clenched and clenched again, the lambent rapture became more
intense until it blossomed into one of those perfect orgasms, deeply
satisfying emotionally as well as physically.

   A thoroughly depleted Tristan glanced over to see Caprichia undulating
on her back, sobbing gasps of anguished orgasm ripping from her lips, the
excruciating ecstasy making her cheeks mottle with dark purples and her
teeth to nip sharply at her lower lip.  Long ribbons of creamy semen lay in
messy splatters over her wildly contracting tummy and Javier was still
kneeling over her, condom discarded to one side, milking the last milky
dribbles from his flexing penis.  Marissa squirmed beneath Tristan, eager
to lick the seed of Caprichia's body, so he moved, allowing the pretty
blonde to do just that.  He watched in wonder as she shared the task with a
greedily lapping Javier, the two of them slurping up every droplet in long
tongue swirls before sharing a thoroughly messy kiss.  It was a profoundly
personal moment and Caprichia and Tristan left them to it, enjoying their
own deep connection no one else would ever share.

   * * * * * "Oh, Tristan, that was so good," Caprichia crooned as the
loving couple walked across the paved driveway in front of the palatial
mansion, rosy smears of dawn just beginning to tinge the eastern horizon.
They talked with the brightness of lovers, their marriage as fresh and
exciting as it had been on their honeymoon.  "I never thought it could be
so wonderful!" She kissed him.  "That was some of the best sex I've ever
had."

   "I love you, too, Caprichia," he replied, stroking her back and bottom
tenderly as he opened the door to the Porsche for her.  They sat together
as he drove along the famed Blue Bay Coast highway towards home, each
wrapped in their own thoughts, their love for each other stronger and more
lasting than they had thought possible.

   At home in the rose-scented bower of their marital bed they snuggled and
reminisced, their understanding of self and of the other partner expanded
and enhanced.  In the hazy heat of a torrid Blue Bay morning, Tristan, once
again, made love with his wife Caprichia, but this time it was tender,
their foreplay erotic and blithesomely stimulating, their joyous climax
exploding upon them together, melding them, blending them into one flesh,
loving each other all the more for the adventures they'd shared as well as
those they knew lay ahead.



   Tristan and Caprichia will return in "Living the Fantasy Life"