by David Cain

When Diana returned from the gym, she called out a greeting and dashed upstairs to change. I sat down and bided my time, waiting patiently on the hunter green sofa in our family room. The bouts of rhythmic flexion Diana regularly forced her lean muscles to endure sometimes sparked the fires of her always smoldering physical desires. I smiled, a little anxious, slightly pensive, wondering if I could manage to get burned. I counted on the fact that Diana liked the release of a good romp after tensing up for her daily work out. The outside chance made it worth my while to sit patiently for a bit, anyway.

I envisioned her as I waited, teasing myself. Diana’s not a tall woman, a full head shorter than me at least but because her body is so lithe and well proportioned and because she literally bounces through life, vibrant and energetic, Diana seems tall. Her eyes shine a vivid blue with a piercing and engaging gaze, refusing defiantly to shy away from even the most provocative stares, hungry glances she all-too-often compels in the lucky men who witness her approach. In a way, I think Diana’s delicate features bear lasting tribute to the regal beauty of continental aristocracy, undeniably pretty, radiant with her constant sense of delight. I have often said that Diana bears a strong resemblance to the portrait of the Princess Anne of Austria just before she married Louis of France. They both have this engaging look in their eyes.

My patience found reward when my modern-day queen descended from her bed-chamber. Arousing all my senses, Diana wore a thin blue dress which barely concealed a pair of lace white panties as she bent ever so slightly to fix the music on the stereo, choosing a song to suit her playful mood. Her voice, quickly telling tales of her day, lilted gaily. My attentions stiffened swiftly as I let my gaze linger on the round embrace of the airy fabric accentuating the fullness of her derriere. A strong bass-line erupted from the box speakers standing sentry in opposing corners and Diana twirled in a dance which promised my eyes unbridled visual pleasures.

“I did a body-sculpting class,” she cooed, “and I’ll be sore tomorrow. But I’ve lost three pounds. Can you tell?”

I murmured my appreciative assent as she spun wildly, offering a view of her pretty lace scanties both fore and aft. The bulge of hardening nipples under the stretch of regal cloth led me to realize Diana was both quite excited and deliciously braless. My stars are lucky.

“So, what do you want to do this evening?” I asked as I took one hand of the happy dancer and watched her twirl under my uplifted grasp.

“Let’s call up some of our friends,” Diana said gaily, “and have an orgy.” She laughed, wickedly amused by her fantasy, and the dance took a suggestive turn.

“Really?” I didn’t believe Diana’s decadent plan possible or even necessary to our evening’s enjoyment, but our relationship had known few limits and I indulgently let myself explore the idea.

“Why not?” Diana replied. “I’ve been fantasizing about having a party all afternoon.”

“Have you now?” My attention had grown quite rigid by this time. I suspect I may have drooled as I watched her move under the spell of such nasty thoughts.

“Did I ever tell you about the time when I was at school and went to a costume party? The night I found myself in the center of a wild orgy?” Diana slowed the enticing rhythm of her dance and began to fondle herself.

“I can’t say I ever heard that particular tale.” I replied, suddenly quite interested in hearing more about this lurid bit of history. Rarely a day goes by when Diana doesn’t surprise me.

Diana quit dancing and sat down thoughtfully on the sofa. She pushed her white panties awkwardly down her pale thighs with her left hand while she energetically rubbed her blonde damp slit with her right. I smiled broadly and Diana finally managed to push her rolled knickers down her calves to toss them off her left foot. She spread her lean legs wide, seriously rubbing at the pinkening stiff mast that rose from between her swelling nether lips.

“Lick me,” Diana said quietly, “and I’ll tell you about my first orgy.”

“Fair deal,” I answered and settled myself on my knees between her thighs and pressed my tongue to the steamy pit of Diana’s sweet cunt. She purred slightly and began her story.

“I was maybe twenty and still technically living in the sorority, although I spent little time there, having discovered the apartment of my boyfriend to be far more satisfying a living arrangement. I’ve told you about him and he really doesn’t enter into this story at all, so I’ll spare you any further references to him.”

I paused in my licking to thank Diana for her thoughtful consideration.

“One of our friends, Jeanne, had decided to have a Halloween party at her apartment and this girl spared no invitations. I think pretty much everyone in town had sufficient notice to drop by. The only qualification was that no one would be allowed in the party without an identity obscuring costume. Some of her friends from the football team guarded the doors with strict instructions and dressed in matching ape costumes, the beasts took pride in enforcing her rule. Jeanne told us she there were several games she wanted to play which made anonymity an essential component to her plans. We trusted her sense of fun; Jeanne’s parties had already garnered a reputation by that stage in our college career. Anyway, when things were in full swing, there were about fifty people lolling about in the most bizarre regalia I had ever seen collected in one house.”

“I put on a black leotard, pinned on a tail and painted my face so that I looked like a cat. It was a simple costume, comparatively, but it sufficed and probably spoke the truth about my attitude, for I was surely a cat in heat that night, looking for some tomcat to lift my tail. Those were the days, eh?”

I paid her question no mind, and continued stroking the pretty pussy.

“Needless to say, there was lots of excitement at a party where no one knew who anyone else was. Some people were fairly easy to recognize, but most people remained wholly anonymous. As time wore on and the alcohol robbed most of us of our inhibitions, the tone of the party became, well, somewhat indecent. I think it started when a nurse pleaded with one of the guys for his name. The masked Superman kept revealing things naughty things about the girl and she didn’t have a clue who he was. Her superhero laughed hard and then finally reached into his tights and pulled out his man of steel dick, which was rather long as I recall, and said; ‘Recognize me now?’ The girl squealed out ‘Clark?!?’ and the party erupted with laughter.”

“There were about fifteen people still conscious at the party. I’d guess it was probably four in the morning at least and in no time at all, everyone was trying their hand at guessing identities aided by explicit clues. It wasn’t too long before everyone had become mostly naked except, of course, for our masks.”

Diana’s pussy dripped wet by this time.

“Even after I lost my leotard, however, no one had guessed who I was and although I was fairly certain of at least four of the guys and three of the other women, they refused to recognize me. One of the guys, Steve, who had come dressed as a hobo but drank like a fish, should have known me. We’d dated for six months a year before. Maybe he did know me and didn’t want to spoil the fun or more likely he was just too wasted to think. Anyway, when I was the only one whose identity hadn’t been positively established, I became the center of a contest, particularly after I assured them that I was indeed known to several of them.”

“Guys started using the guesses as an excuse to touch me. A tall, thin Zorro squeezed my breasts to see if that provided any clue. I’d never seen him before in my life, but I purred when he put my nipple in his mouth and that seemed to let the entire bunch loose. A red-faced devil began fondling my ass, saying; ‘I know this girl. I just know I know this girl.’ I know he did – Brian had always loved my bum – but he never said.”

I paused in my ministrations. “I’d know you in a second.”

“I’m sure you would, lover, but by this time the game had changed. A gypsy girl, shaking a tambourine with this unbelievably steady rhythm, began sucking on the devil’s prick and he started nibbling on me from behind. I couldn’t really see him, but I could soon tell the devil had become slightly distracted by the gypsy’s eager mouth. Anyway, it wasn’t too long before the eleven guys started falling all over us and us on them, dipping and fucking and kissing in wild circles of orgiastic delight. The cocks were hard and the cum was spewing and I had never been so horny in my life.”

“Until now,” I said with a sly grin, my face drenched in my kitten’s cream.

“Even more than now. I started coming when a swarthy pirate shot his cannon into my mouth while this ghoul with an oversized prick fucked my pussy hard. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a bloody-fanged Dracula screw a little princess he’d bent over a chair. She wailed in this wild contralto voice, accompanying Esmeralda’s drum beat with an aria of moans. The party roared and I absolutely lost all sense of control, wanting nothing but to ride and be ridden, to rub and kiss and suck and my orgasms went on and on, over and over.” Diana shivered.

I caught the shudder of her rekindled spirit and with a spark of intensity, I licked Diana ravenously, letting the memory of her decadent evening spill over onto my rapacious tongue. I probed and toyed and teased Diana until she grew loud and tense and suddenly spent herself in a symphony of moans and delighted spasms. She collapsed in my arms, and I kissed her.

“So, what happened after that?”

“Nothing. We passed out in a heap and by noon everyone had straggled home, exhausted and satisfied. But I’m serious. Who can we call? I’ll bet Alyssa would come. Rick, too. Don’t you think a costume party would be cool? C’mon, Mal. Let’s do it.”

I smiled, imagining myself as a pirate. Diana could shiver my timber, anytime.

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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