Penthouse (30 page)

Lying on my bed, I inched up my skirt to my waist and pulled down my panties. I opened my legs and touched the inside of my
thighs where the man had caressed me. My skin tingled where his fingers had touched. I lowered my fingers to my pussy and
dipped one finger inside to get it wet. On my clit, I made the small wet circles that had gotten me off so many times. My
pussy was throbbing. I tried to bring myself to passion, but it was no good. I needed something more.

The blond man who stared at my mouth was nearby. His continued gaze at me was intense and mischievous in this light. His hair
was cut short, but it looked as if his bangs wished to be tousled over his forehead. The back of my neck felt suddenly warm.
I clenched the pen cap in my hand, flicking it with my tongue. The train approached my station and jerked to a halt. I squeezed
off the train car. The air smelled stale. The sounds of people running to the platforms and the rumble of the escalators echoed
behind me as I made my way out.

At street level, I paused at a fruit and flower stand. A handful of wilted, bruised daffodils had been left in the trash,
some of their petals still yellow and vibrant. Thinking they would brighten my budget-rate room, I reached to take them when
I felt a presence behind me. I turned.

The blond man stood there. His friend was gone. He reached around me, his breath on my neck for a moment as he took the flowers.
His elbow grazed my breast.

I looked into his eyes. They shone with interest. I noticed they were the same color blue used on Delft china. I kept walking,
hearing his footsteps coming behind me with the rustle of the flowers against his coat.

At the next street, he overtook me. He hooked his arm in mine and pulled me into a darkened doorway. The closeness of him
was overwhelming, the scent of daffodils on his clothes. I looked down.

His trench coat was unbuttoned to his waist and I saw the breadth of his chest. His shirt collar was rumpled as if he had
recently removed his tie. Ever so gently, he took my head in his hands and pressed his forehead to mine. His skin was heat.

“Where can we go?” he asked.

I hesitated. My body prickled with alertness. The dampness was back between my legs. I wanted him.

Without much decorum, I led him to the YWCA. Men weren’t supposed to go beyond the reception area, but he walked by the desk
and entered the elevator with me. In my small room, I put down my things.

He laid the flowers on the bed. Unbuttoning his trench coat, he sat on the bed. His legs were longer than his torso. He motioned
me toward him. I stood between his legs. He turned me around by my waist and stood.

I was floating as he stroked my neck, moving my hair to the side to kiss me behind the ear. His hands were burning holes in
my skin. He sighed the way a man sighs when he finds the perfect cigar or lover, and he pulled my coat off my shoulders and
dropped it to the floor. He returned to my waist and untucked my blouse from my skirt. Roughly, he handled my nipples through
my bra. I responded. I reached back and fondled him, his hardness roughly pressing against his pants.

Slipping off my blouse and bra, he tossed them to the bed. He molded my breasts and sucked them. With a slight jolt, I realized
his tongue was pierced as he licked them. I pulled back, surprised, but he began to work his jewelry. He pressed the ball
on the top in circles against my tightening nipple. I arched my back in intense pleasure.

Letting go of me, he unbuttoned his shirt. His left nipple was pierced as well, but this was a small steel ring hanging through
his flesh. As he took off his shirt, I saw tattoos on his arms. Pinup girls. An Oriental woman in a Japanese background of
flowers graced his left biceps. A space-age girl sitting on a smoke-filled sphere tantalized his right.

Seeing my gaze on his skin, he turned and showed me two lovely women on his back in a boudoir scene with satin
pillows in a Victorian setting. I gasped at the beauty of his women. I noticed buried in his chest hair a tattoo of a Dutch
flag.

“You’re as beautiful and mysterious as my girls,” he said.

He knelt and tugged off my shoes, skirt, and panty hose. I gazed down at his back, seeing a spot with swirling black lines
on his shoulder blade. An unfinished woman, I realized. I longed to trace the uncolored skin with my fingertips, but he stood
and took my head in his hands. He pressed my lips to his pierced nipple.

“Bite it,” he said.

At first, I thought he wanted me to bite his nipple, but he raised his nipple ring to my teeth. I knew what he wanted: his
metal against my teeth. I bit and pulled the ring with my teeth like I had with my pen cap, flicking it with my tongue. He
groaned with pleasure, running his hands through my hair, holding me close.

The moment I slid my tongue so it poked through the center of the ring and looked up at him, he could take it no more. He
unzipped his pants. He wore no underwear. I half-expected his cock to be pierced, but it wasn’t. Still, I stroked it with
my left hand, while tugging his pants down with my right. From his wallet, he pulled out a condom. I ripped open the foil
with my teeth and held his cock for him as he put it on.

I traced his skin where tattoos were on his biceps, marveling at the smooth texture. It felt unlike any skin I had touched
before. He pressed me to the bed, the daffodils beneath me. He spread my legs and went for my clit. He buried his tongue toy
deep inside me for a moment and then began to lick around my clitoris in fine circles. I felt a curious sensation building
inside me. It was the pressure of
his jewelry. He used long slow strokes with his tongue, flipping the underside of my clit at the top, the warm steel a sharp
contrast to his soft tongue. I gasped, never having realized how sensitive the underside of my clit was. It felt as if it
were swelling to a mini hard-on. Then he took my clit beneath his tongue and rubbed my bulging nub with the ball on the top,
meanwhile shoving the tip of his tongue into my hood.

I grabbed his blond hair and pulled his head closer to me. With both hands I spread my thighs wider. I was on the verge of
a climax. I wanted more. I started to pull his head toward my stomach to get him on top of me. He stopped and stood up. He
motioned me to the edge of the bed. Still standing, with my legs wrapped around him, he pressed his cock head to my pussy.

He fucked me with deliberate slowness, watching every movement as he pulled in and out of me. My legs felt as if they were
going weak. I unhooked them and he lifted my ankles to his shoulders without missing a beat. I slid my hand to my pussy, feeling
my engorged clit and his cock sliding in and out of me. Everything was so wet. I played with my clit. He watched, his gaze
riveted on my fingers. My foot slid near his mouth. He turned his head and sucked in my toe between his lips.

His mouth was warm, wet passion. I pulled my toe out, reveling in the suction noise. He ran his tongue along the backside
of my toes, his jewelry playing each toe like the keys of a piano.

My climax was coming from the center of my body. Pinching his pierced nipple, I used his ring to twist it. He cried out in
ecstasy. A shudder of pleasure passed through his body. I went over the edge. I could feel every pulse of
his cock inside me as he came. My orgasm was so fierce that my ears buzzed and my fingers tingled.

As our breathing calmed, I felt him pull out of me. He knelt before my pussy once more and gave it a sweet kiss. An electric
shock went through me. He smiled and rubbed his tongue toy on the inside of his teeth, the noise exactly like when he was
eating my pussy. A chill of excitement went through me.

He lowered his head.

He was an exotic creature. The women on his skin stared up at me with gorgeous, content eyes, moving on his skin in rhythm
as he rocked me to my second orgasm. I clutched him as I cried out, my fingers grazing the unfinished tattoo, and I imagined
myself tattooed on his skin, brazen, sexy, and marvelous.

BY
L
ISA
L
A
R
OCK

I
met Pam via the worldwide web on an Internet chat relay and developed a friendship with her over the course of many months.
I didn’t have many female friends, but for some reason I felt so comfortable about Pam right from the beginning. We were relatively
the same age, enjoyed the same activities, and were both involved in an “online” relationship with a mysterious man. It wasn’t
long before we began to share secrets, including our intimate thoughts and desires. Even though Pam had made a few scoffing
remarks about bisexuality, I could sense that there was something different about her. There were actually a few times when
I tried to visualize Pam masturbating in front of her computer while we conversed. One day Pam asked me about the man with
whom I was involved online—what his real name was, his birthday, and about the relationship. When I answered her questions
truthfully, there was silence between us for five minutes. Then she dropped the bomb-shell: Apparently we were both being
played with by the very same man. I did not want to believe it.

I disconnected myself and stayed away from the computer for days. I did not answer my e-mail, nor the phone. My mind raced
so that I could not sleep at night, and the mere thought of eating sent ripples of nausea through my stomach. I was finally
able to confront the truth: Not only had I lusted wildly after this man for months, I had really fallen hard for him. After
spending some time thinking about the whole bizarre situation and connecting all the pieces, my fury and need for revenge
took over. Abounding with a newfound energy, I phoned Pam and began a wonderful brainstorm with her. “So, are you in?” I questioned
my friend.

“Yes, I’m in. But how do we go about this?” Pam asked.

“I want to shock this man,” I purred. “But I also need to get him out of my system.”

“I know what you mean.” Pam sighed. “God, he really knew how to make me wet.…”

Even through the silence over the phone, I could hear Pam’s breath wavering. “MMMMmmmm… yes, he had a way of making me cream
without even fingering myself,” I murmured. For some strange reason, this conversation had taken a twist that was really turning
me on. I had many bisexual desires, but I couldn’t believe that I was talking to another woman this way.

“Lisa, have you ever been attracted to other women?” Pam asked.

My hand slipped into my bikini briefs, feeling the moisture already there. “Yes,” I quietly told her.

“I bet you have a nice pussy,” Pam murmured. “I bet that it is so beautiful that if I had it sitting in front of me right
now, I’d lick it good.”

My fingers began moving with a steady rhythm over my clit. When I slid a finger into my wet, tight vagina, I
sighed shakily. The dialogue was kept brief, but the breathing on either end became increasingly intense.

Within minutes, I had released myself to a hand-stroked orgasm and filled the receiver with heavy moaning. Pam repeated with
a similar response, although I was certain that I could hear wonderful, wet pussy sounds in the background. After we had regained
our wits, the decision was made to carry out our deliciously wicked plot within the following few weeks.

Meanwhile, Roger had been logging on to his computer each morning. He hadn’t heard from either of his “girls” for several
weeks, and it was frustrating. BOTH couldn’t have dropped off the face of the planet, could they? Sure, he could wander off
into the porn rooms and gaze at the picture buffets before him, but these two hot ladies made him really horny.

He felt slightly guilty about deceiving them, but he was just so damned insatiable. Other men would kill to be in his shoes—he
still had “the stuff.” After another hour of hopeless messaging and waiting, he shut down and collected messages from his
secretary. There were a few messages from clients, one from his son, but there was one last message that REALLY caught his
attention.

It was from his wife: She wanted him to meet her at a hotel in exactly one hour. In capital letters and underlined was the
word “URGENT.” He washed up and changed clothes, all the while curious what his wife could possibly want with him. Their sex
life was satisfying and regular, but so vanilla. Could it be a change? Roger hopped into his car and drove to the designated
hotel.

To enact our revenge, Pam and I had agreed to meet at the airport, and we quickly chose a hotel. Our attraction was immediate…
and we talked excitedly about a plan of
attack. We found the hotel, paid for a decent room, and began talking excitedly about out plan. Although we had discussed
in detail what we would do to Roger, we both knew that some things would happen spontaneously. Like right then, when Pam put
a warm hand upon my smooth thigh. I sighed and closed my eyes and savored the touch. I reached over and felt Pam’s cheek before
kissing her deeply on the mouth.

We began to caress and explore each other’s breasts. Before long we were comfortable and warm, and we began to display our
lingerie to each other, commenting on each other’s beautiful physique, then slipping off our panties to show each other our
most intimate regions.

We were both so equally aroused and curious. We positioned ourselves so that we could both explore and taste one another’s
mounds.

I felt Pam spread apart my delicate, pink pussy lips and dart her exquisite tongue against my clitoris.

The sensation was much like electricity passing through my body. I had never before been this close to a woman. I glanced
at Pam’s pussy, waiting just inches from my face. I could smell her musky woman scent, and her clit was swollen and glistening
with her wetness. I stuck out my tongue and hit the sweet knob; Pam responded with a soft moan of pleasure. Tongues flickered,
slashed, and fucked until we both wiggled and climaxed with muffled cries. With incredible timing, there was a knock at the
door.

It was Roger knocking at the door, his mind racing with the possibilities. He was totally unprepared for what followed: When
the door opened, it was NOT his wife standing there! I stood before Roger with a satisfied smile upon my lips, watching his
surprised reaction. “OHHH, baby!” he exclaimed pleasantly. “What a surprise this is!”
He entered the room and wrapped his arms around me. I recognized the scent of his cologne from the doused stationery he had
sent me. Another figure quietly approached us from a darkened corner.