Visual Feast

Visual Feast
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

I knew Trish was growing restless. Part of it was the winter. She doesn’t like the cold. She doesn’t like the constant chill that shivers her bones and she doesn’t like the formless thick layer of wool she needs to fight the chill off. Trish longed desperately for those bright sunny days when spring finally surrenders to summer. We had early February. I would have taken Trish on a cruise, if we could have afforded the time, but we couldn’t and so there was no point in dreaming of lazy bikini clad lounging on a tropical deck. Winter would have to be endured.

But it was more than just the weather. I don’t know. It was many things. Trish had been struggling lately with the sheer tedium of life, the day-in and day-out attention to everyday responsibility, doing her part to make our lives manageable. I could see it in her eyes, the weary ocean-blue gaze of a woman who had dreamed of a faster, more exciting existence, where her skills were sharp and feared, where her will to conquer roused an active wariness in her foes. Trish wanted more. I knew it, but what could I do? We had to get past the present before anything would change.

Anyway, I was wishing I could give Trish something to get her jets started, to stir her from the doldrums of her boredom. We had a sitter for Saturday night and I thought I’d take her out for a good Italian dinner and then some dancing at one of the hotter clubs downtown. She always liked that.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Trish asked as she pulled a brush gently through her golden blonde hair. A faint dose of makeup had given her features a subtle, arousing beauty and with the soft curls imparted to her long, fine hair, Trish looked truly stunning. I stood in the bathroom door, watching her tits rise succulently with each lift of her tortoise-shell brush.

I told her the plans I had conjured, pleased with myself for finding a itinerary I believed would please Trish in every way. Looking at my reflection in the mirror with pleading, limpid eyes, Trish slightly opened her mouth. My prick stirred rapidly at the sight of her desire.

“Listen,” she said, although my attention was already rapt, “I was talking to Linda, you know, my hairdresser, and she asked if we’d like to come to a party at her place.”

“Sure,” I said at once. Trish resumed her brushing, smiling wickedly as she spoke.

“She’s a wild girl, you know, and I think this is going to be a pretty wild party.”

“Oh,” I said, completely intrigued by the hints I read in Trish’s blush.

“I mean, we don’t have to stay if we get there and . . .” Trish put down her brush and pulled her hair back to catch it in a dark comb.

“Sure,” I said. “What kind of wild? Beer and biker wild? Opium lords and kickback payments?” I shrugged and smiled nervously. If it weren’t for my wish to please my wife, I would probably rarely venture out at all. Trish has always found new ways to make my blood surge.

“Well, no,” said Trish. Her pink nipples hardened tight despite the bathroom’s steamy heat. “You’ll like Linda,” she said. “She’s very pretty, with thick chestnut hair and big brown eyes that always seem to be implying something naughty.”

“Oh,” I said. “Oh.”

I watched lasciviously as Trish pulled a pair of white lace panties over her exquisite round ass. Although we have three children, Trish looks better today than she did when I met her, barely ripe at twenty-two. I savor every glance I steal of her firm, lithe body. Trish knows I watch her and loves me more for my focused attention, teasing me with flashy bends, slow hip swings and gratuitous squeezes of her tits. She slowly pulled on a pair of white stockings, deliberately taunting my stare as she adjusted the lacy tops so they would grip the creamy flesh of her lean thighs. Trish took a blue dress from her closet and stepped into the opened neck.

“Zip me,” she said. I rushed to my husbandly duty. “How do I look?” she asked, twirling away from my fingers just as I closed the zipper. The royal blue of her silky dress reflected in her eyes and I marveled at the joy Trish seemed to feel. I lavished her with praise. Then as she stepped into a pair of blue pumps, I noticed the slight jiggle of her loose breast under the snug fit of her dress. The bump of her nipple pushed on the fabric.

“Very nice,” I averred.

Since we had an early sitter, Trish did allow me to take her out for a bite of Italian food. The host, a young dark man stared indecorously at my wife as he showed us to our table, hungrily studying the pale flesh exposed by her low neckline and the waggle of her caboose under her short skirt. Trish gobbled the youth’s attention with a provocative smile.

Charmed to be the escort of such a dish, I gallantly ordered us a more mundane meal. Trish never could resist a big plate of clams and buttery fettuccine, a warm basket of bread and a bottle of Chardonnay.

As we ate, Trish spoke excitedly about how much she really wanted to just forget everything for a while and let go. She told me briefly of the struggle she was having with feeling inexpressive in her role, dashing into talk of hope and a craving for some real excitement. Trish had been an actress, before life grew serious, and I knew exactly what she wanted; the roar of the crowd.

Linda lived in a reasonably normal suburban house in a neighborhood of hedges, lawns and young trees. Although a north wind streamed cold, Trish stood, uncharacteristically calm, warmed perhaps by some inner fire. As promised, a beautiful brunette opened the door with wide, intriguing eyes and a slightly lascivious smile.

“Trish!” said Linda, happily. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“I just had to,” said Trish. “Linda, this is my husband, Steve.” Linda turned an inquisitive glance toward me. I nodded.

“Charmed,” I said.

“I hope so,” said Linda, her voice tickling me as she took my hand and drew us into the house. A faint grey smoke hovered in the living room, rich with the sweet aroma of incense, smoke and food. The entrance hallway had been fairly well lit, but only dim lights illuminated the other rooms. I counted maybe a dozen people sitting on the sofa, standing by the window, lounging on large throw pillows scattered over the rug.

“Everyone,” said Linda in a quiet voice which nevertheless caught the group’s notice “This is Trish and Steve.” A few voices spoke general greetings from the shadowy reaches. “Can I get you something to drink?” Linda asked.

“Sure,” said Trish. “Let me help.” Turning to me, my wife said, “Mingle,” and she went laughing toward the kitchen. I looked at the dark room, hesitantly. Small talk is not my forte, and I felt doubly quelled by the intimacy that seemed to pervade the room. People spoke, but in almost hushed tones. I took a turn around the room, studying the crowd, looking for some public note to chime in on or, at least, some reasonable place to stand. I finally settled in a comfortable chair and leaned back to watch.

A short red-haired woman with a slim figure and jutting round bottom stood to one side. I leered indecorously at her rear, guarded in my impolite stare by the dark. After several minutes of study, I concluded from the soft bulges of her pale skirt that Blaze (as I dubbed her) wore garters but no panties. A buxom bleach blonde spoke with quiet animation to a dark, sinister looking fellow. Her legs had long, sculptured lines that made me yearn for the last hidden inch up her skirt. Another dusty haired woman . . .

“There you are,” said Trish, handing me a glass.

“Pretty wild,” I said with a jovial sarcasm.

“Yeah,” said Trish, clinking my glass with hers.

“You know what,” I said quietly, “I have never seen such an attractive bunch of people.”

“I know,” Trish said, sitting on the arm of my chair and brushing a hand along my thigh. “This should be great.”

“What will?” I asked.

“All right,” said Linda, “we’re ready to get started.” Linda stepped into the middle of the room. “Let’s put on a show. Jim, could you turn on the television?”

Jim stepped over to a reasonably large television set against the wall opposite my chair and after a quick search of the controls, clicked it on. The screen flickered slightly and then focused.

“Turn down the music,” said Linda as she nestled down on the sofa. Jim obliged, turning the stereo knob. A picture formed on the television.

A woman, a tall, Asian woman sat on the edge of a bed. Looking directly into the camera, she smiled with a broad, lovely smile. Hands, strong, masculine hands reached around from behind the woman and began to unfasten the buttons that ran down the front of her black dress. She wiggled as the hands slowly descended to the next button. Turning slightly, she said, “This is fun.” A glimpse of the man behind her revealed a strong, broad shouldered man. His fingers grew more deft, unhooking each button with greater speed. She smiled and then waved at the camera. Reaching the final button, he drew back the open front. She wore a black lace brassiere and french cut panties that dipped just beneath the pucker of her belly button.

“You look fantastic,” he said softly as he pulled the dress from her shoulders and down her long arms. She shivered slightly and licked her red lips with a long pink tongue. He fumbled behind her, working at the clasp of her bra and with a jerk the garment fell limp. Faint nipples tipped her well-formed breasts, poking forward as he cupped her tits and squeezed.

Trish moved down off the arm of the chair and next to me. I moved over slightly and she began to stroke my prick through my trousers. Nervous, I took a look around the room, where all eyes were fixed on the television. Hands roamed licentiously, lifting several skirts to revealing heights.

“Wild,” I whispered to Trish.

“Look,” she said, wide-eyed.

The man had crawled out from behind the woman. His strength dominated the scene as his broad, hair covered chest rippled with muscles. He pushed down his briefs to release a large meaty club which evoked sighs and groans from several of the women among us. The Asian woman smiled gratuitously at the camera and then dove down to bury the thick cock in her mouth. Her pantied ass turned toward the camera as she sucked. He mumbled something and she reached back to pull the black panties down. A gleaming scarlet pussy, framed in wisps of black curls, churned before the lens.

The familiar aroma of musk overwrought the haze of incense and I gently slipped a finger between Trish’s thighs where I found the source of the heady scent. She wiggled with a moan, pressing her clit up against my touch and I obliged with a constant stroke through the frail lace. A different, lighter moan erupted on the other side and I turned to look. As I suspected, Blaze wore no panties. Legs spread wide, the fiery red-head rubbed her clit with a fury. The gentleman beside her slipped a finger between her swollen lips. My prick ached.

I looked around the room, witnessing a dozen masturbatory acts over the hard and the moist. I smiled wickedly, rubbing Trish with abandon. On the screen, the big fellow knelt behind the thin dark woman and fucked mightily while she screamed, “Please Mark, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

“I should fuck your ass,” he growled, leering at the camera.

“Yes,” she cried out, “fuck my ass.”

Linda rose from the sofa with a whisper and pulled a elegant looking gent behind her. I nudged Trish. “I wonder what they’re going to do?” I asked, grinning. Trish leaned over to see them escape.

“I wish they’d do it here,” she said, laying back and spreading her lean legs a little wider.

The couple on the television exploded joyfully, wildly, sloppily and the tension in the room seemed to subside. The couple dressed and left the bed empty. No one moved and I wondered what the next scene would be like. Linda and her gent moved into the view.

Trish hit me. “Look,” she said in an excited whisper. “It’s Linda.”

“She has the same yellow dress,” I responded.

Linda jumped up onto the bed and crawled until her yellow bottom shook in front of the camera. She reached back and lifted the hem, revealing the yellow and red flowered panties covering her globes. After a brief pause, she pushed down the panties. I gasped and so did Trish. Her pink pussy dripped in the glimmer of bright lights as

she leaned back toward the camera, opening the swollen lips to reveal the deep crevice within. The twisted bud of her pink asshole seemed to wink as she began to lean forward. Linda raised up onto her knees, making her ass a supple round heart. The blonde gent’s head appeared between her legs and Linda lowered herself down over his face, pressing her deep cunt before the lens while the tongue teased upward from below.

“I can’t believe this,” said Trish, rubbing her own pussy now.

“Me neither,” I replied. Peeling my gaze away from Linda’s beautiful wet pussy, I managed to take a look around the room. Naked cocks throbbed in the grasp of friendly hands. The blonde squeezed her bare tits while the man she had spoken with licked her pussy. Linda began to squeal and pushed her weight down on the assaulting mouth below.

“Look,” I said, nudging Trish. She didn’t respond, staring mesmerized as a thick pink cock prepared to enter Linda’s wet pussy. “Look,” I persisted. “It’s them.”

Trish leaned forward and let her gaze follow my gesture. The tall Asian woman and her beefy friend walked in from the hallway and took Linda’s place on the sofa.

“Do you think . . . ?” said Trish.

“They’re fucking upstairs,” I said.

“Wow,” said Trish.

“Wild,” I replied. Trish slid off the chair and dashed over to kneel beside the sofa.

“That was great!” I heard my wife say.

“Thank you,” said the woman, leaning forward. They spoke in quiet whispers, so I leaned back and watched while Linda spread her legs wide and sucked the pink cock.

“C’mon,” said Trish, taking my hand. Instinctively I followed.

“Wait,” I said, nervously as we began to go upstairs. “What are we doing?”

“I want to watch Linda fuck,” she said excitedly. I followed obediently. I wanted to watch Linda fuck.

Light streamed out of the open bedroom door. We moved into the doorway. Three tall halogen lamps stood sentry behind the camera which stood on a tripod. Linda sat on the bed, her pussy spread wide, and sucked the man’s cock eagerly. My cock hardened rapidly. Trish reeked of arousal. Standing behind her, I put my hands around her breasts and squeezed. Her nipples were like rocks. The cock in Linda’s mouth began to gush wildly, sending mad spurts over Linda’s pretty

face. Giggling, she tried to aim the fountain between her waiting lips. The man groaned and let loose a savage yell.

Trish began to applaud and squeal. Linda licked her lips and fingers and smiled.

“Hey doll,” Linda said happily. “Your stage next?”

“Can we?” asked Trish. My eyes opened wide and my stomach flipped.

“Sure,” said Linda. “Just look into the lens and say ‘fuck me’.” Trish dashed forward. I followed reluctantly. A small television stood poised beneath the camera, reflecting the ongoing photography. Trish stepped into the picture, smiled and waved.

“C’mon,” she said to me.

“What?” I mumbled, dumbfounded.

“Get on the bed and play with yourself,” Trish commanded. “I’ll take care of the rest.” I walked to the bed and crawled into the center, as far from the camera as possible. Blushing, I looked at my tiny face in the television. Trish turned back to face the lens, pulled down her dress front to hug her bare tits, and smiled.

“Ooh, fuck me!” she squealed in a campy way. Trish can be a ham.

Linda laughed hard, leaning against the doorway. “Go girl,” she said.

“Don’t you like my titties?” Trish asked, teasing her nipples. “Show me your cock,” she said, “and I”ll show you more.” Obligingly, I pulled off my trousers and yanked down my briefs. It proved difficult to undress gracefully while a dozen people watched.

“Mmm,” said Trish, reaching behind herself to unzip her dress. “I do like that stick.” She turned to Linda. “Can we get a better picture of the man’s tool?”

“Sure,” said Linda, still standing naked in the doorway, looking with interest at my dick. “There’s a remote and a zoom.” Trish picked up the small remote and pushed a button. The lens moved forward, missing me. I tried to move into view, but it proved difficult to get a proper placement, so far away.

“Linda,” said Trish, stepping out of her dress, “could you run the camera for us?”

“Well, sure, doll,” said Linda, unfastening the camera from the tripod and placing it before her dark eye. “C’mon, Hon, show me your meat.” Focusing the lens aimed at my dick, Linda put one foot up on a black trunk against the wall, offering me a glimpse of her moist pink pussy.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said Trish, “The hero!” My stiff cock throbbed. “That’s enough, Linda, on with the show.”

“Sorry, love,” said Linda, backing up and pointing the lens at my wife.

“This is one of the numbers I used to do when I worked at Fanny’s up in Balmer,” said Trish, spinning rapidly around. She stopped, aiming her tits at the camera with a squeeze and licked her lips. “Stiffen those cocks for me.”

Always one to follow directions, I stroked my prick. Trish danced a few turns and stops, bouncing her big tits and swinging her wide hips. I watched Linda at times, her nipples getting hard and the juice still slowly glistening over her thighs. I watched Trish as she pushed her bottom to the camera and winked at me. I watched the monitor to see the prize as Trish slowly let her panties fall, the slender swollen lips of her golden-haired cunny, shaking on the screen as her tits gently swayed as Linda aimed down deep as she leaned down and spread her thighs, exposing another stiff clitty.

Nude excepting her white stockings, Trish jumped up the bed and laying back, her knees raised up, she fingered her cunt while the camera explored and Trish lifted her ass to let the whole picture of her juicy folds fill the screen and she leaned to take the tip of my prick in her mouth.

Trish sank my cock deep into her kiss, waving her white and pink tail at the lens and Linda moved forward and backward and upside and in, capturing every direction of our lascivious meeting, the throb of my prick and the quiver of cunt and a delicate breast with a hardened brown nip and the kiss as I licked Trish’s clit and the thrust as I drove my dick deep.

Trish knelt before me, her tongue on my prick. Linda knelt beside her, the camera almost tasting the slurp. I rubbed my cock hard and shot my lust wild and wet and gushing over Trish’s sweet cheeks. Linda laughed as Trish squealed and I yelled my ecstasy. Linda licked a thick glob of my juice from Trish’s cheek and I shuddered and came faintly again.

“You were incredible,” said Trish with a passionate kiss, wiggling her naked ass at the still alive camera. “I want to do that again.”

“Later,” I promised. “But only a short rest, you vixen” I said and slapped her bare butt.

Another couple, the buxom blonde appeared in the doorway. I pulled on my trousers and stared at her tits. I can’t help myself. I love naked women.

“I wouldn’t bother,” said the dark naked man who accompanied her.

“What?” I asked, reeling in my leer at his girl.

“Don’t put your pants on,” he said. “You two set off an orgy downstairs.”

“Really?” I asked, watching as Linda embraced Trish with a laugh.

“Wild,” he said. “You two were great.”

“Wild,” I said. “C’mon, Trish. Let’s go see the party.” I put my arm around my still naked wife and another around Linda. I squeezed a pair of breasts and turned back to glimpse the buxom blonde’s bottom. “Have fun,” I said.

Downstairs, we stood in the doorway of a dimly lit spectacle, as bodies writhed naked, intense over the floor. The blonde on the television sucked her man’s dick. Moans and rapid slaps resounded in the dark.

“Can I get you anything?” Linda purred. Trish looked up at me, smiling.

“Please,” I replied. “A drink would be nice.” Linda went back into the kitchen. I looked around. “What do you say we just watch?” Trish fondled my prick with a naughty grin. “Wild,” I said. “You are so wild.”

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 ...
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