After Hours: Black Lace Classics (16 page)

Whoa, boy, he thought to himself as his cock reared up harder still. Don’t let’s rush this. He loved to masturbate almost as much as he loved to fuck. Lazily he placed the photo on the floor where he could see it easily, and he lifted his hips a fraction so that he could push his jeans down to his knees; this done, he applied a hand to his own pubic hair, so much denser and thicker than Venny’s, so much darker too. Lightly fingering the wiry filaments over his thighs and his tightening balls brought a rush of sweet sensations.

With a hissing indrawn breath, Micky cupped his
balls in his fingers as if weighing them for consideration. They were full now, needy. Softly he slid the hand up and onto his naked shaft, which quivered in answer to the touch. His glans peeped out above his encircling thumb and forefinger as he pushed down, very lightly, almost teasing himself with the pleasure such a movement engendered. The little eye at its centre was winking, exuding a thick teardrop of seed.

He thought of Venny as she had been the other night, her naked thighs straddling him, her cries like that of a madwoman as she impaled herself repeatedly upon his organ – and her excitement had increased his own to fever point, so that the clamouring of all his male hormones made him grip her hips and flip her onto her back on the bed, made him mount her and drive into her with something approaching her own frenzy.

Jesus! She’d been so wild, so creamy. Just remembering the way she’d been made him inhale as deeply as if he were temporarily deprived of oxygen, as if he could smell her skin, her excitement, right now. A shudder of pleasure swept through him. His eyelids drooped as he gave himself up to the pure enjoyment of sensuality.

Groaning, Micky clasped his cock tighter and gazed at the photo. What was he doing here, anyway, masturbating over a girl’s photo like a schoolkid before the poster of a pop idol? But he was too far gone to care, too far gone even to question any more. Fatalism was overtaking him. He wanted her, he knew that much; and if it ended tomorrow, or next week, or never, it was wonderful right now, and he wanted to milk the thrill
of it for every last drop of sensuality, of eroticism, of good old-fashioned lust. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Venny Halliday – he wanted to know her to her bones, and fuck her until they were both exhausted.

His penis swelled harder, painfully and deliriously harder, so that it was pressed up tight and full against his belly, so that pulling it away, even touching it lightly, was a torment and a delight. But pull it away he did, and he cupped it in his hand almost tenderly and lay back on the floor, pulling up his knees so that his feet were flat to the floor, yanking up his white T-shirt above his dark-brown nipples to keep it free of come.

Near-naked and gasping now, his exposed belly heaving with each hurried breath, Micky gave himself over to the glory of pleasure, pushing his hand down, up, down, up, and then waiting a desperate second or two, not wanting it to be over, not wanting to finish this bliss, this utter, utter bliss. Then again, his hips coming up off the floor as his hand administered each stroke with increasing haste. Down, up, down, up, covering not just his shaft now but his eager, creaming glans too, until he glanced down and saw that the tip of his cock, vanishing and emerging from the cup of his hand, was wet and glistening, red and engorged. Pausing, breathing heavily, delaying again, teasing himself, torturing himself, he saw the veins on his naked shaft standing out like blue ropes before he started again on the road to sure relief.

Up, down, up; harder, rougher; oh, yes; oh, Jesus,
yes, yes. Down, up, the friction so delicious now, so desperately and terribly delicious, and suddenly he was coming, he was coming hard and full and shooting forth like a miniature cannon, shooting white spurts of come up over his belly, over his ribs, almost to where the T-shirt was rolled back to preserve it. He watched it, every tiny second of it, and managed not to cry out and so attract the attention of anyone downstairs in the kitchens. Venny was not in her office – she was out in the market with Dani.

He slumped back with a sigh of release, freeing his cock which now lolled thickly against his come-smeared belly. ‘God, Venny,’ he murmured, picking up the photo and holding it up in front of him. ‘That was so good.’

Camden lock market was full to bursting with people. The beautiful hot weather had brought everyone out in droves to finger the fresh produce, haggle over skirts and shrugs and frilly little cardies, hunt hopefully and usually in vain for Faberge or Meissen among the dross on the second-hand stalls. Dani and Venny strolled at a leisurely pace, fingering and haggling with the best of them.

‘I’m telling you,’ Dani purred, looking more than ever like a contented little cat as she diverted to a clothes stall and smoothed a hand over a silky fabric, ‘Flora is just divine.’

‘Caspar’s the possessive type, though,’ said Venny, although the heat was making her lazy and she was just making conversation; she wasn’t seriously worried
that Caspar might do anything drastic about Dani and Flora’s relationship, if you could call it that. Jamie, now. Jamie was a whole different species. Now there was a possessive man. Something in the Scots blood, maybe; all that marauding and pillaging over the border with your face painted blue, it must upset the hormones or something.

Venny yawned. God, she felt tired. Shagged out, if the truth were told. Micky was a very, very hot lover. And a great chef too. She couldn’t believe how well he’d done, turning the business around in the short time he’d been working for her. Bookings were well up, and she was starting to dare to hope that the Blue Ribbon award might be within her grasp after all.

A secret smile curved her mouth upwards as she thought of him; and then as suddenly she frowned and thought that he had actually been a bit stand-offish with her since that episode with Neil. Maybe her willingness to participate in the threesome had shocked him? But he had instigated it, after all. Men were, however, strange moody creatures, and although he seemed just a trifle cool, he still made love to her, still lunched with her in the park, still seduced her body and her palate and her mind. So maybe she was just imagining it.

‘What d’you think of this?’ She was running a hand over a slim little sheath of a dress with an embroidered hem; it was red, and cut rather lower than she would normally have considered appropriate.

‘Not your usual sort of thing, is it?’ said Dani in some surprise. She knew very well that Venny’s preference
was for suits, whatever the time of year; beautifully cut, but stiff and formal and a bit, let’s be honest, forbidding. A bit ‘hands off’, really. Now here she was, looking at a dress that said, in no uncertain terms, come and fuck me. And she had bought a pair of red skyscraper-heeled mules yesterday when they’d been trawling Oxford Street. She’d even started wearing perfume, which she had never bothered with before. Dani looked at her friend and thought, ah-ha. Good old Micky Quinn. And she thought that maybe she could take advantage of all Venny’s new-found bounty, too.

‘Listen, buy it. It’s absolutely you,’ she assured her.

While Venny had the dress bagged and paid for it, Dani said: ‘You know, I’ve been thinking.’

‘Steady,’ said Venny with a grin. It was a devil-may-care, un-Venny-like grin.

‘Flora’s coming over to our place tomorrow night,’ said Dani cautiously.

Venny took her purchase and they strolled on together. ‘So that’s still going on, then?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ said Dani smugly. ‘That girl is so great. Listen, Venny.’ She hesitated, and then pressed on. ‘Why don’t you join us?’

Venny stopped dead. She turned and stared at Dani, who had the grace to look ever so slightly awkward. ‘Do you mean—?’

‘Why not?’ asked Dani defensively. ‘You liked it when I was helping you get ready for Flora’s party, didn’t you?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘And what’s the alternative? Some boring restaurateurs’ thrash where you’re surrounded by strangers who’ll get drunk and try to grope you? Come on, Venny.’ Dani winked at her encouragingly. ‘Come and have some fun with us. You can show Flora your new dress, and wear those new shoes.’

Until you take them off me, thought Venny, feeling quite flushed and excited by the very idea. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Why not?’

They did watch a video together the following night, Dani and Flora and Venny, although it could not really be classified as ‘girly’. It was in fact a film that Venny thought Micky would love –
Tampopo
, an erotic Japanese masterpiece full of fucking and food. They drank white wine as they watched the lovers’ antics on the screen, but although their attention seemed fixed to the steamy blending of eating and sucking and acres of naked skin on film, each was very aware of the other two. Their thighs touched, and their bare arms too, for it was a hot night in more ways than one and they were wearing thin clothes, clothes just made for seduction.

Venny was, as Dani had requested, wearing her new low-cut red dress and skyscraper-heeled mules. Dani was in her short ice-blue wrap, and Venny guessed that she was probably naked beneath it. Flora wore a brief lime-green chiffon top with a bra beneath it, which Venny thought rather hungrily was a pity, and tight black leather trousers that exuded a rich animal scent.

When the film was over and Dani switched off the
television, Venny knew that the real fun would begin. She already felt quite hot and ready after watching all that action on screen; and she knew, from the squirming and fidgeting during the unravelling of the ravishingly erotic plot of the film, that both Dani and Flora were ready too.

‘That was great,’ said Dani, stretching lazily. She straightened and leaned forwards, placing her empty glass on the coffee table and taking up three matches that were lying in a bowl there. Venny had noticed them earlier, but hadn’t thought to wonder what they might be doing there; she was relaxed and felt that she just wanted to let the evening unravel as it would.

‘Now we’re going to strip, one at a time, down to the skin,’ said Dani excitedly, bunching the matches into her fist. ‘And we’ll draw lots to see who goes first.’

Flora’s almond-shaped, dark-grey eyes grew wide and she sat forwards, putting her glass down, eager to proceed. Venny put her own glass down. Her heart was thumping a little because she had never done this before: not with women, and certainly not with two women. Flora took the first match, then Dani drew hers, and lastly Venny took one.

They compared matches.

Venny’s was shortest.

‘Come on then, Venny,’ said Dani purringly, lying back on the couch so that she had the best possible view. ‘Strip,’ she said, licking her lips in anticipation.

‘What if I don’t agree to play?’ teased Venny, already enjoying herself. ‘What if I don’t want to?’

‘Oh, you want to,’ said Flora, answering for Dani in the cut-glass accent that they shared. ‘You were as excited during that film as Dani and I were. You were nearly burning a hole in the couch, admit it.’

‘Well, maybe,’ admitted Venny. It was certainly hot tonight, as hot and humid as it had been for every night over the last two weeks, and it would feel good to be naked. Her new underwear chafed her slightly, and yes, she would love to shuck it off, and enjoy the novel experience of two women ogling her while she did so.

‘And if you don’t strip, we’ll do it for you,’ threatened Dani, her dark eyes gleaming with awakening lust.

‘OK, OK. I’m doing it.’ Feigning pique because it was all part of the game, Venny pouted as she stood up and let her hair down. It lay about her shoulder in a wild blonde tangle as she shook it out with a wild movement of her head.

‘Maybe we should have music for this,’ commented Dani, watching avidly.

‘Ravel’s
Bolero
,’ suggested Flora, flicking back her fiery red hair and tucking her long legs underneath her, her catlike grey eyes gleaming with interest as she looked up at Venny.

‘Barry White,’ considered Dani.

‘I’m not stripping to music,’ objected Venny, fiddling with the zipper of her tight-fitting dress. ‘What do you two think I am, a lap dancer?’

‘Now there’s a thought,’ Dani said.

‘No music,’ insisted Venny, and gathered her courage
and pushed the red dress down. The spaghetti straps of the thin dress slipped down her arms as she pushed it down over her hips and let it fall to the floor. She stepped out of it, hooking it onto the toe of one of her high-heeled mules and kicking it casually aside.

‘Oh, wow,’ breathed Dani, clutching at Flora’s arm in her excitement, while Flora simply goggled with amazement.

Expecting action tonight, Venny had come prepared. She wore two things she would never, pre-Micky, have considered as an option. She wore a low-cut black PVC bra which clung like a tight sheath to the full globes of her breasts; it was underwired and cunningly designed to push her tits up and out to their fullest extent. Also, it had holes cut out of the PVC where her hard and excitingly naked nipples jutted louchely out. To add to the show, she wore matching PVC briefs with the crotch cut away so that her toffee-coloured pubic curls were clearly visible to the watching audience.

‘You like?’ she asked the two women, turning slightly so they could admire the thong effect at the back. Her buttocks were naked, split only by the black line of the briefs to conceal the puckered little bud of her anus and her already dampening sex. Earlier in the evening, she had thought to anoint her lightly tanned skin with a glitter-filled moisturiser, so that now the taut curves of her arse gleamed enticingly in the subdued lighting of the room as she turned and displayed her wares for them.

‘Turn back to the front,’ ordered Dani, pushing her clenched hands between her thighs to try and subdue her own rising passion.

Venny obeyed, enjoying their attention more than she had ever suspected she would. Would she have even considered being a party to this very enjoyable little game of Dani’s, if Micky hadn’t come into her life? She didn’t think so. She didn’t think she would have had the sexual confidence to do so.

‘Now take the bra off,’ said Flora.