Sala’s Orgy

Sala’s Orgy
Literary Fiction
by Lord Malinov

Sala’s orgy was the beginning of the end of Sala’s stay in my guest room. After a few uneventful months of living with me, Sala began to pester me to arrange an orgy, with plenty of cocks for her to choose from. Single life was taking its toll on the rapidly blossoming, sexually alive young woman. Ever the good host, I relented. I mean, I would have relented had I any objection. Planning orgies was one of my hobbies. I made some phone calls, sent out some evites, the whole nine yards.

Most of my male friends were aware by this time that I harbored a sexually eager and almost pretty, blonde and buxom female type person in my guest room. Their pleas for an introduction were almost as vociferous as Sala’s own requests that I bring her somebody to love, at least temporarily. Against my better judgement and, truly, against my will, some of my friends dropped by to meet Sala. I pushed them back but they glimpsed yon fair maiden and she saw them too.

One might think this tiny breach of security would lead nowhere and one would be wrong. One of the young men was a bright young lawyer named Saul who, unfortunately, worked for me. She could have run away with the tennis pro, the other young man who dropped by for a visit, but no, she fell terribly in love with Saul who sadly fell even deeper in love, even faster. It was all I could do to prevent him from moving into my house. Being his boss gave me at least that much power.

Of course, he wasn’t happy either with her living with me, especially since it was no secret that while I was not Sala’s lover, I had frequently had sex with her. Around her, sometimes. Over her. Orgies get complicated. When we have sex in a group, we have sex with the whole group, especially in voyeuristic ways. A passionate young man, Saul wasn’t sure what was up but he knew he didn’t like all of it.

I knew Sala and I knew Saul and I could see the problems that would eventually consume them from miles away. I warned him. I warned her. I pleaded and pleaded. The more reasonably I spoke, the more madly in love they were. I gave up, washed my hands. As though that was possible.

Because the orgy was coming, just three weeks after the lovebirds became serious. Sala still lived with me and Saul spent almost all of his free time at my place. What could I do. People were flying in for the party so I couldn’t realistically cancel or postpone it.

“The orgy is this weekend,” I told Sala. “What are you going to do about Saul?”

“I don’t know,” she answered as though she never dreamed going to an orgy might cause problems between her and her jealous beau. “What do you think I should do.”

“Not come to the orgy. You should not come to the orgy.”

“But it’s my orgy. How can I not come?”

“You have a boyfriend and he’s not cool about orgies. I tried to stop you from dating Saul but you wouldn’t listen. This is one of the consequences.”

“I’ll just lie to him.” Sala lied lots.

“How can you lie about the orgy?”

“I’ll tell him that I’m going out of town. How will he know I’m still here?”

“Don’t you think the first place he’s going to look for you is here? He’s already going mad assuming that I’m screwing you whenever he’s not around.”

“He doesn’t think that.”

“He most certainly does. Remember, I work with him too. I know him way better than I should.”

“So he comes here and you tell him I’m out of town.”

“There will be twenty people here. You won’t be hiding in your closet. He’ll figure it out.”

“Well, I’m coming to my orgy.”

“Then break up with him. That would be fair.”

“But I love him.”

“Choose.”

“What if I bring him to the orgy? Can I invite him?”

My extensive experience in orgy planning told me that this was a terrible idea. A well-planned orgy has a carefully crafted guest list. Everyone has to get along in a complex calculation of kindness, hotness, attractiveness, tastes and desire. One bad apple spoils the group dynamic. You can’t just bring in a guy, especially a libertine novice in a very new, possessive and passionate relationship. But it was her orgy and what could I do?

I insisted she tell him well in advance, so he could decide and not simply react. I even sat down with him and explained the situation to him, going through the dynamics of a house party and the rushes of emotions that arise in swinging with a partner.

Sala told me later he was concerned about the size of his cock, judged by an audience of sex enthusiasts. She told him he had nothing to worry about.

He came to the orgy in a neat little robe and though somewhat reserved, seemed to have a good time. Sala and one of the other girls went down on him when I passed the living room, so I felt accomplished in showing him a good time.

That particular orgy was one of the few times when I found myself alone with Sala. A noted cunnilingus expert, I touched my lips to her labia and Sala exploded into the fastest orgasm ever recorded, half a second after first contact. She giggled, half embarrassed to be so horny and half horny to be so embarrassed and I stuck my prick into her melted velvet sheath of a cunt. More orgasms ensued. If we were keeping score, I was off to an early lead.

Five minutes later, Sala asked if we could take a break. I thought she needed a pee or a glass of water  or something. She found her clothes and extracted a pack of cigarettes.

“Smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em,” she said by rote.

So I assumed the smoke was post-coital and prepared to move along to the next room’s adventure.

“No,” she said, snubbing out her fag. “Stay here. I’m done.” Sala flopped down onto the bed, spread her pale legs wide and pulled me atop her, piercing her cunt with my dick. “Great party.”

“You throw a good orgy,” I said before I sucked on her fat tits. I’d thrown the party but she got off to the idea it was hers and I’m a multi-axis lover.

“Yes I do,” she said as she left the station on an orgasm train.

 

 

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
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