Hot Stories for Cold Nights (14 page)

In the living room, she handed the bit of silky fabric to the genie. “Fabulous,” he purred.

Still stroking his cheek with the cloth, slowly, the genie became smoke and the smoke curled back into the bottle and she put it in the shadow box beside the ruby vase. “Thanks, genie,” she whispered, “for everything.”

O
KAY, I'LL FESS UP. OCCASIONALLY I GO TO A MASSAGE parlor. I do get a massage, of course, but it's always followed by some hanky-panky. I'm a pretty attractive guy, but I love the no-fuss idea of paying for services rendered. No hassle, no worries about who calls whom the following week. I just pay for it and get my rocks off.

Several weeks ago I wanted a slow, drawn-out orgasm, just the thing that Good Hands can give me. Good Hands is a massage parlor that gives real folks real massages, by licensed massage therapists. It also gives special services if you know how to ask. Of course, by now they know me and know what I want. That evening they suggested a very special kind of massage. The booking lady gave it an Asian name, but she explained it involved being massaged by two women.

As she talked my cock got hard. Two women, four hands, a dream come true. Pay extra? Sure. Why not? Book'em, Danno.

After she swiped my credit card, she directed me to suite seven. It was always a suite. The term might be a little upmarket, but the rooms were, in fact, lovely. They all had the de rigueur leather-covered massage table with the special headrest with the opening in the middle so that when you're facedown you don't mash your nose. Pictures hung on the walls. Some were watercolor landscapes; some were deeply erotic scenes of sex in every conceivable position. There was usually an overstuffed sofa and several lamps that cast a pastel glow, and most rooms also had candles that could be lit to increase the ambiance. Got that?
Ambiance.
Upscale word for an upscale place.

I'd been in suite seven before so I wasn't surprised by the living-room atmosphere, except for the fornication photos on the walls, that is. It also had several large mirrors on the walls and the ceiling was mirrored as well. Classical music played quietly in the background. It was very warm in the room, and I wanted to quickly remove my clothes, but I waited. The masseuse usually removed my clothing, very slowly, touching and stroking each part as she uncovered it.

I waited for no more than a minute, then two women walked in. I guess many men want gorgeous women in their early twenties with long blond hair and silicone breasts. Me, I want women who know their way around, if you get my drift. Maybe closer to my age, women who haven't giggled in many years. I'd been with Maryanne before and she smiled. “Welcome, Don.” She's maybe thirty, with a relatively pretty face, the bluest eyes, and a great, welcoming smile. She had on a short, lightweight robe that showed off her long legs. She indicated the woman standing beside her. “This is Gloria.”

Gloria was a little younger than Maryanne, maybe late twenties, with short, curly red hair, green eyes, and the most beautiful hands, long fingers with bright red nails. “Nice to meet you, Don,” she said, her voice soft and melodious.

I really love this place.

“Now,” Maryanne said, “let's get you undressed.”

Having two women fussing over you is something not to be missed. I closed my eyes, not caring who did what. I wanted to concentrate on the feeling of four hands working on my belt, my sneaker laces, my shirt buttons. The brush of soft fingertips over my chest, my calves, my back was heavenly.

I heard soft, feminine purring. “Umm.” They liked what they saw as they stripped me. They liked my body. I try to keep myself in good shape, but of course, they're paid to like my body. Forget that. I liked the illusion.

I was hard as a rock and my rigid cock stuck out from my groin, but they ignored that part of me and that was fine. I was in no hurry.

“Okay, Don,” Maryanne said. “Lie on your stomach.”

As I opened my eyes, I watched Gloria spread a large, fluffy towel on the table and she helped me onto it. I adjusted my softening erection beneath my pubic bone. “Now, just close your eyes again,” she said. “Feel. Feel everything.”

They started with my legs. They coordinated their movements so their oily hands were synchronized, in unison, one woman working on each leg, stroking, kneading. Until I began getting massages at Good Hands, I had never realized how sensitive my skin was, nor had I ever taken the time to figure it out. Maryanne and her compatriots showed me.

Occasionally fingers worked on the inside of my thighs, close to my balls, but they never quite touched me there, although I'm sure they knew I ached for it. They were experts at how to keep me on the edge. Fabulous.

Then they moved to my feet, sliding slick fingers between my toes, and pulling on each as though they were pulling on my cock. Two sets of hands, four thumbs pressing into my arches. Shit, I was in heaven.

Maryanne and Gloria moved to my back and shoulders, still totally in sync. One pair of hands on my left side, one set on my right.

My arms came next. They played with my fingers, brushing their erect nipples over the backs of my hands.

Eventually Maryanne said, “Time to turn over,” and I did. At first I was a little embarrassed by my erection, but that's totally silly. We all know that this is what the hour is all about.

“You didn't tell me he was so well endowed,” I heard Gloria say.

“I thought I'd leave that for a surprise,” Maryanne replied. Lies? Do they say that to every guy? Probably, but it sure made me feel great.

Again they started with my legs but they spent much less time there. Their attention to my arms was brief as well, but my hands got special treatment. Each woman bent over and filled my palm with a breast, rubbing their nipples against my skin. They moved on to my face, again using oily breast flesh to caress my skin. “Open,” Maryanne said, nipples gliding over my lips. She certainly does know what I like.

I opened my mouth and felt two erect nipples enter my mouth. “Suck.”

I did. I'd never sucked on two women's nipples at the same time. I was blissful. I cupped the two breasts and stroked the flesh as I sucked. Eventually they pulled back. I heard a hum as the table lowered. They extended my arms and each woman straddled a hand. Wet pussies, one in each hand. I fingered the folds, then slowly slipped a finger into each sopping cunt.

Hands found my cock then, again perfectly synchronized, and began fondling my penis and balls. Tongues licked up each side while fingers played with the crack in my ass. Hot breath wafted over my wet erection as my fingers worked. Then I pulled my hands back and grabbed Gloria by the hips. The table was low enough that she could straddle my face while Maryanne climbed onto my now-condom-covered cock. The room filled with the sounds of heavy panting and low moans, the air reeked of sex.

The combination of my mouth filled with pussy and a pussy surrounding my cock was too much. I came and I suspected, hoped, that Gloria and Maryanne did, too. Am I flattering myself? Who cares?

We all rested, then the women washed me with warm, wet cloths, and helped me dress.

“Come back soon,” Maryanne said.

“And if you enjoyed the evening, ask for us both again,” Gloria added.

I was so totally sated that I could barely stand. “You bet I will.”

M
Y HUSBAND, TONY, AND I RECENTLY TOOK A DRIVING trip through Eastern Europe. We'd been married for about six months so this was actually a honeymoon of sorts. It was a great trip: zillions of places to see and things to do. And lots of newly married sex. But the trip itself isn't the point of my story.

It all began while we were driving through Poland, near the Slovakian border. Suddenly Tony slowed the car and asked me to close my eyes. He told me he wanted to buy a surprise for me and didn't want me to peek. He had that hot, sexy look he gets sometimes, and, since I know he's got a deliciously devious mind, I did as he asked.

He pulled the car over and I squeezed my eyes shut and heard him get out. We don't speak any Polish, but I guess he made himself understood since a few minutes later he popped open the trunk on our little rental car, fussed around for a while, then put something inside. “Don't open yet,” he yelled from the back of the car.

“I won't,” I promised and eventually we drove away.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

I couldn't imagine what he could have bought from a store or roadside stand in rural Poland, and for several minutes I racked my brain. I came up empty. Tony comes up with such wonderful ideas that I was getting impatient.

“Be patient, love, and you'll be rewarded. I promise.”

My panties moistened at the mere thought of what he might have in mind.

When we got back to our hotel, he removed a large canvas tote bag we had with us and, hugging it to his chest, walked beside me to our room, where he stashed the bag in the armoire.

Throughout dinner I couldn't keep my mind from whatever it was that Tony had stashed in the closet.

We finished dessert but, rather than seek out the local night life, we returned to our room. “Okay, Tony, what's the surprise?”

“Still impatient, aren't you?”

“You know me well enough to know that I am. Give!”

“In good time. First, take off all your clothes.”

Never one to argue with my husband when he's in one of those moods, I quickly stripped.

“Okay, hold out your arms.” I stretched out my arms in front of me and Tony quickly fastened my wrists together using part of a roll of gauze from the first-aid kit we carry for emergencies. “That's to keep you from doing anything with those talented fingers of yours except what I tell you.” We'd played light bondage games before, but not often. Tony's usually not one for mastery, but tonight he was setting the rules.

“Yes, sir,” I said, a slightly military tone in my voice. There's little subservience in me, but we could both count on the fact that I wouldn't spoil his, or my, fun.

“Now turn around.” I heard him tearing something, then, from behind me, he placed a pad over each eye and used the rest of the roll of gauze to tie a blindfold over them. “This will take a moment so just stand there until I'm ready.”

My breath had thickened and my crotch was already twitchy. “What's going on, Tony? I'm dying of curiosity.”

“Too bad, Janet. You'll just have to wait.”

“
Wait.
There's that word again.”

“Yup. Tonight is going to be a lesson in patience.”

I chuckled. My sexual impatience has become a running joke between us. As he pounds into me and I scream, “Do it, do it, do it,” he often says, “Some day I'm going to have to teach you to delay gratification.”

As I stood, naked, in the middle of our hotel room, I heard lots of moving around. Finally he guided me to the edge of the bed. “Okay, lie down. I'll help.” I stretched out on the bed and Tony deftly flipped me over onto my stomach, extending my tied wrists over my head. Beneath my naked body I felt something wonderfully soft and furry. “Wriggle around and feel that,” he said.

I was lying on the most sensual thing I think I'd ever felt. My breasts were being caressed by the softest fur. “What is this?”

“I saw a stand selling large, real fur pelts and I couldn't resist. They tried to tell me what they were but I didn't really understand, but they were so soft and beautiful that I couldn't resist. And they weren't even expensive.” As I moved against the fur, I felt another pelt being brushed over my buttocks. “I bought two.”

“My God,” I said, getting wet immediately. “That's the most erotic thing I've ever felt.”