The Favor

The Favor
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

“I have a favor to ask,” Mike said as he refilled my glass. I guess I looked at him strangely. “Nothing like that. I have plenty of money.”

“Whew,” I said, taking a big slug of whiskey. “’Cause I’m seriously tapped out.”

“I appreciate that. No, this is totally different. Vanessa’s birthday is next weekend.”

“Cool. You throwing a party?”

“You could say that. A private party. An intimate party.”

“Okay. What does that mean?”

“Vanessa told me that her biggest fantasy is to make it with two guys at the same time.”

“Ahhh,” I said, bringing an image of Vanessa to mind from memory. I had never really thought about her in a sexual way before, being the main moll of my first mate. I do that fuzzy pixelated thing they do to cover nudity on television when it comes to off-limits women. I see them, am aware of them, pay attention to their thoughts and feelings but I never look at them except with a sideways glance, never noting the details of their bodies, their features, their sexuality. It’s like a super power, I guess, the power to ignore certain women sexually.

“So I was thinking you could come over to our place on Saturday night. I’m taking her out for dinner and dancing and all that jazz. We’ll get an early start so we come back home before it gets too late. I’ll give you a key so you can let yourself in and then you’ll wait in our bedroom for us to get back. I’ll tell her I have a surprise for her waiting in the bedroom and she’ll assume it’s a present or something lame. I’ll bring her in and voila, she’ll find you naked in our bed and the party begins.”

The whole scheme sounded crazy so I agreed at once. This would be one for the books.

Saturday came and Mike gave me a key. I arrived at around eight with a big basket of fruit, candy, wine, dirty movies and naughty accessories. I let myself in and set up camp on their big luxurious bed, snacking on cheese and fruit while sipping big glasses of whiskey. The porno flicks filled my head with images of women ecstatic in a fountain of pricks. My cock raged hard fiercely. I had another drink and tried to calm myself. There were still hours to go.

I was expecting them home around ten. Someone unlocked the door at about eleven-thirty. I had fallen asleep an hour before and sat up disoriented, not knowing where I was or what I was doing. The video had ended so there was nothing on the television. I knocked an apple on the floor and bent over to pick it up when the bedroom door opened.

“Oh, my,” said Vanessa, finding me naked in her bedroom.

“Umm,” I said, reaching for something to cover myself with.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Happy birthday,” I said with a confused smile.

“Did he … are you …?”

Since the plan obviously had not come off as expected, I explained to her what I knew, how I was waiting for them to come home so we could have a birthday menage a trois.

“That’s so sweet,” she said. “We started drinking too early and he had too much to drink. I barely managed to get him into the house. He’s passed out on the sofa.”

“Should we move him to the bed?”

“Nah, he’s fine where he is. He’s too big to move.”

At the word “big,” she looked down at my erection, straining to escape my boxers.

“But it is my birthday,” she said with a smile. “It would be a shame to waste the surprise he brought me.”

“Should we?” I asked. Vanessa moved closer.

“I think we have to. For so many reasons.”

The birthday girl began to fondle my dick, stroking it through the silk of my boxers and finally extricating the rod from its confines to brush her fingers up and own my sensitive flesh. I had to concentrate in a rush to keep from exploding in her hands and then she pushed my thick cock-head into her moist and hungry mouth. I relaxed to the slick flow of lips and tongue over my shaft.

My eyes were closed, dreaming of heaven and ambrosia, when she stopped and stepped away. I opened my eyes to see her stripping off her party dress, pulling the shroud over her eyes to reveal a pair of lacy panties and matching bra. Her skin was smooth and her lines were kicking curves. Reaching behind her, she unclasped her bra and let her heavy breasts, tipped in circles of pinkish browns, fall with a delicious weight, tempting my attentions with gentle ripples of motion. She pushed down her panties to reveal a carefully shorn bush and thick, pouting labia.

As I stared, she took a flying leap past me into the bed. Reaching for an unopened bottle of wine, she popped the cork and filled two glasses.

“Here,” she said. “To me.”

“Happy birthday,” I said, clinking her glass and downing the wine. I wasn’t going to waste time sipping while she sat naked beside me.

In the hours that followed, we fucked like horny bunnies, bursting with spring and indulging in every form of lascivious pleasure we could think of. I had her fore and behind, squeezing and lapping and thrusting and giving, taking and relishing. Her breasts and her hips and her cunt, her sweet liquidish pussy melting under my touch and tongue, surrendering to the invasive press of my throbbing dick.

I left in the early morning, leaving Vanessa passed out on the bed, naked and splayed. A slumbering figure snored on the sofa as I passed by.

In the morning he called me to apologize. “Sorry about that,” he said. “We’ll just have to do her another time.”

And we did her that favor.

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, swinging, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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