I Wanna Snog Brian Storm
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Deep Secret Ch. 11 – Storm free porn video
We drove in silence until the hill for the bridge across the bay. The sunny morning had begun to turn to a nasty gray, every four or five seconds the silence was interrupted by the intermittent wipers. It wasn’t looking good for a bit of bucolic bundle-up-by-the-boats brunch.
My thoughts returned to Mrs. Milford. I wondered if she would be shocked to know what Simone had been savoring in her lovely mouth as she waved to us.
Nah, I thought. Everyone was young once. Each of us also thinks he invented sex when he was young. But somehow, I just couldn’t see the wizened, old Mrs. Milford as a young woman. Hell, I couldn’t even imagine her as a woman. She was just plain old.
Oh man, I thought, as I got onto the bridge across the bay and not checking the traffic flow as much as I should have, sometimes I’ve really got to stop my mind from meandering.
The reaction Simone seemed to have to the guy who’d gotten off the elevator with Mrs. Milford puzzled me. Simone, though, seemed content to be quiet and I figured it was better to just do the same: sleeping dogs and all that.
Consuela and Emanuel were standing in weatherproof parkas looking at his four-year-old 28-foot Bayliner sitting on a trailer. (He’d picked it up for only about a year’s salary!) It was clear it needed some maintenance, not just from the barnacles, but from a hole in the hull that was just above the waterline. I didn’t even want to ask how that had happened.
‘Bummer,’ I said with as much sympathy as I could muster for my friend (the idiot).
I remembered telling him when he was thinking about buying it, that boats were great to have as long as you’re rich enough to comfortably pay people to do all the things they demand. I also remembered some cute yet often accurate adages about boats and boat owners:
‘Boats are holes in the water into which one throws money.’
And my other favorite:
‘The two happiest days in the life of a boat owner are the day he buys it and the day he sells it.’
Manny wasn’t rich and he disregarded my advice.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Bummer.’
After the four of us spent the requisite number of minutes tsk-ing at the forlorn sight of Manny’s newest money sponge, we walked over to Jimmy’s Crab House, hoping that Jimmy hadn’t closed for the season. It was now raining steadily, it was windy and cold. We all just wanted to be someplace warm and dry. Throw in some hot food and cold beer: who could ask for anything more?
The Crab House was an institution in the harbor. During ‘the season’ it was hopping from whenever Big Jim got there around 10:00 AM until Little Jimmy closed the place fifteen or sixteen hours later. The weekend after Labor Day, Big Jim and his wife took off for their condo in Florida. His son, Little Jimmy, kept the place open during the shoulder season, but closed it before November came. We were glad when the door opened, but surprised when a live band seemed to announce our entrance.
The place was in disarray. It was dimly lit except for the bright spotlights on the musical group atop the stage at one end of the large room that normally looked out onto the sunlit activity of the pleasure boats in the harbor. Most of the tables with their chairs stacked atop, were lined up along the windowed walls. To make matters even more depressing, part of the floor in the middle of the cavernous hall was torn up, exposing the water pipes beneath.
Little Jimmy heard the door open and came running out from the upstairs kitchen yelling, ‘Can’t you idiots see we’re closed? Damn it! What is your – ‘
He stopped when he saw the four of us. Emanuel’s best friend as a kid had been Jimmy’s cousin so they were close.
‘Hot damn!’ Jimmy said, running down the stairs, ‘Manny, my man, how the hell are you? Consuela, you look ravishing as always.
‘Simone, hiya, babe. How about a hug? You know I love feeling those babies, even if I can’t touch ’em proper-like. And you Ed, well, I’m just amazed that a classy broad like this sees anything in you.’
After a round of greetings, Jimmy said, ‘Listen, I really am closed, but I’ll be glad to rustle something up for you. Unfortunately, the upstairs kitchen is the only one working at the moment so come on up.’
The place had an upper floor that ran like one long balcony ringing the room, but was open in the middle so you could see the action below or outside in the harbor. It was built by Jimmy’s grandfather back after World War II and graced by lots of bare wood, original ship timbers, and an array of interesting, if not necessarily attractive, nautical gear.
We climbed the stairs and strolled over to a table in the corner overlooking the stormy harbor. Though we couldn’t see the group on the stage, their music gave the darkness a festive atmosphere.
‘Hey, Jimmy,’ Consuela yelled as he walked back to the kitchen to bring us some beer and bread, ‘What’s with the band?’
We took off our wet outer clothes and hung them on the back of some nearby chairs. By the time we’d gotten snug and comfortable, Jimmy came back with finger food, glasses, a pitcher of beer, and a carafe of red wine.
After lighting some candles, he said, ‘I know you two like beer, but there are ladies present and I know they prefer vino.’
Finally getting around to answering Con’s question he added, ‘They’re a band that my dad knows. He asked if I could help them out by giving them a place to rehearse today. They’re a last-minute replacement for another group that’s supposed to be the band for a production of Cabaret opening this week at the Civic Center.
‘No singing today, from what they tell me. The singers get here tonight or tomorrow. They just have today to learn their music.’
That explained enough of the chaos in the place. We didn’t even ask about the floor.
After he left, Emanuel and I talked some about baseball (There was a big fight for the World Series title.) while the women talked about whatever it is they talk about. (I think it was shoes.)
Less than ten minutes later Jimmy came back with enough food to feed the population of Manitoba. Once everything was laid out on the table he went back to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of some fine Champagne and five flutes.
‘To what do we owe this feast?’ Emanuel asked.
As he brought a chair over from another table and plunked himself down on it, Jimmy said, ‘Well, I haven’t seen you in a while and next week I’m closing the place for the season. Then I’m heading off to stay with my folks in Florida.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Manny said, ‘I completely forgot. Today’s your birthday, isn’t it?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ Jimmy stated, his face reddening.
I grabbed one of the Champagne bottles and opened it, filling everyone’s glass.
‘To friends and any excuse for celebrating life,’ I said. With that, we clinked our glasses, each of us had a sip, and we dug into the abundance in front of us.
A bit later we were all pretty stuffed, on our third bottle of the bubbly, and feeling no pain. We’d enjoyed a busy half-hour of eating, drinking, and talking.
Now, we all became quiet, listening to the music and watching the wind and waves in the harbor.
The group was playing one of the songs from the show that starts quietly, builds slowly, and moves to a new key with each verse. With each recommencement, they were improving their sound and by the fifth or sixth run-through the music was beautiful and actually touching.
Waking the rest of us from his or her individual la-la land, Manny asked quietly, ‘So, Simone, how big are those babies?’
It took the rest of us a beat or two to return to the reality of the here and now. I glanced over at Simone who simply looked stoic as though she had immediately disregarded the question. Con gave Manny a poke in the ribs, saying, ‘You creep! First of all, it’s rude to ask a woman anything personal, but asking her b
ra size is completely, just plain wrong, crude, and boorish. Second, it’s none of your business and you shouldn’t be looking at them anyway. And, that’s an insult to me, baby. I’m the one you love.’
She emphasized the word ‘love’ slowly as she gripped Manny’s muscular upper arm.
I was at a loss for words as was Jimmy. Simone, though, had begun smiling, at first with humor, but then the smile turned to one of rehearsed allure, like a pole dancer smiling at a customer.
The music was at the part of the song where it was building again. Simone arose from the table and slowly started to entertain the table with a slow bump and grind. It surprised me how good she was at it, her movements seemed not to be something she’d just come up with. She did a few kicks – as much as her tight jeans permitted – and even stretched her arms over her head, emphasizing her breasts which, from down here at table level, seemed like I was looking at a binary star, two gigantic globes under her sweater.
After dancing for a couple of minutes, she slowly began to lift off her sweater, revealing the bottom of a blue t-shirt underneath. When she’d pulled the sweater up to near breast level she turned her back to us and rotated her terrific hard little butt, continuing to remove the sweater over her head.
She slowly turned around, holding the sweater over her chest. Then, in perfect timing as the music climaxed, she flung the sweater at me, showing off those two orbs covered only by a bra over which was the aforementioned, but now noticeably and delightfully tight, blue t-shirt that had a large pink arrow pointing up to her chin. Over the arrow covering most of her chest were the words ‘I’m up here!’ in big black letters.
It took a second or two for everyone to get the joke as Simone stood there staring at Emanuel with a playful scowl, followed by a sincere smile as we all laughed.
‘You’re right, Con,’ Simone said, sitting down again, ‘a man should never ask a woman her age, her bra size, her shoe size, her weight, or anything else that’s personal. If she wants to volunteer that information, well, that’s OK, but he should never ask.’ She paused for a second to glance in my direction. ‘In fact, although he was fascinated with my bra size when we met, I still think Ed’s never looked at one to see the size. Have you?’
Again, she turned to look at me and I just shook my head, no.
Still seeing Simone’s gyrations in my head, I was surprised how excited it had gotten me. Then, in my inebriated state, I surprised myself by raising one hand and saying out loud, ‘OK. Who’s got a hard-on?’
Jimmy and Emanuel both raised their hands too. Con and Simone were a little stunned at first and then, Con asked, ‘You mean, just that little bit of Simone’s boob and booty shaking gave all three of you hard-ons?’
We all sheepishly nodded in agreement.
Con and Simone looked at one another and smiled. Then Con said, ‘Well, in my book a good hard-on should never go to waste.’
‘I’d second that normally,’ conceded Simone, ‘but I don’t think I can eat another thing right now. I’d be delighted to watch, though.’
Then she added, ‘Have you ever had three at a time?’ and nodded to Consuela with a knowing smile.
Showing surprise, Con said, ‘Oh, well, um, that wasn’t exactly what I meant. I mean, I’ve had some busy days and nights, but I’ve never had sex with more than one guy at a time.’
Though silent, I could just tell that all of us guys were getting very excited by the idea of the three of us boning Consuela at the same time. I wasn’t sure exactly how we were going to do it, but it sounded more than a little exciting.
No one said a word for a bit until Jimmy eventually popped up and ran back to the kitchen saying, ‘I’ve got just the thing.’
Simone, Consuela, Emanuel, and I looked at one another, it seemed, with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. Finally, the discomfort caused all of us to slowly turn towards the harbor and quietly stare out at the storm.
I began to think about Simone’s experiences with having sex with groups of guys. Feeling a little uncomfortable as a wave of jealousy washed over me, I thought: Did she want this? Was I not satisfying her? Was she attracted to Manny or Jimmy?
On the other hand, the idea of seeing her with Manny and Jimmy while I was getting some too was awfully hot.
I’d completely forgotten about him, I’m sure, because of the alcohol, but suddenly Jimmy was back carrying two more bottles of Champagne and a small cloth bag with a draw string top.
‘Listen, honey,’ he said to Con, ‘I’ve been in this situation before and I know what you need. Trust me.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Consuela said with apprehension and humor, ‘how many times have I heard a man say that?’
We all watched with curiosity as Jimmy opened the bag and set out its contents. In the flash of an eye he had finished his very fine handiwork.
‘My grandfather, the guy who built this place was an older hippie, back in the sixties, and he taught me how to do a lot of things, one of them being ‘The Rolling of the Joint,” Jimmy said with reverence. He next lit a match, took a few tokes, and handed it to Consuela.
‘I don’t know, Jimmy,’ she said, staring at the perfectly rolled joint. ‘I don’t do drugs. And it’s been years since I smoked a J.’
‘I’ve seen women who’ve been reluctant to try something new, sexually I mean, and after they smoke – and go for it, of course – they thank me.’
We were all pretty wasted with the four or five bottles of champagne we’d drunk. The band was having a good time, the harbor was a sea of whitecaps. We were warm, horny, dry, and from the way Simone was casually rubbing my leg, I’ll bet at least a few of us were wet, too. Even with the two or three orgasms I’d had already today (and the four last night), I was uncomfortably aware of pre-cum sitting against my leg.
And, I was ready to get a piece of Consuela!
I had a brief pang of guilt, of feeling that I was somehow devaluing my relationship with Simone. Thankfully, three seconds later that passed. Hey, I thought to myself, I didn’t hear her complaining. She was the one who’d had the multiple partners at a time, not I.
While Consuela started the perfectly rolled joint and it was being passed around the table, I got up, uncomfortably – because of my hard dick – walking over to the window and began to think about the differences between men and women. Of course, there are an infinite number but we’re also exactly alike in a larger number of ways, ironic ones too.
Simone could, from what she’d told me, suck a bunch of men in one, pardon the expression, ‘sitting’ and come each time one came in her mouth, time after time, and maybe even some in between.
A man might be able to come a few times in a night.
The other side of this, though, is how most women are not interested in sex 24/7, most want so much more than just sex. Whereas men, the very creatures who can only come a few times in an evening, fantasize about women all the time, thinking they’d like ‘to do’ one every minute or two.
How sucky is that? Imagine a world where every guy could actually have his fantasy of thinking about all the women he sees on the street, at the office, at school – and then actually having the ability to have sex with them right there and then.
Sounds great, right?
It would totally suck! Before you even got to your office in the morning, you’d have shot your load – both figuratively and literally – for the morning.
Or at least until your coffee break!
You might have screwed one woman on the subway, gotten a blowjob from one on the street, and then tit-fucked another while waiting for your morning bagel. And this is all before you even got to your office. You might not even be able to get it up for the new receptionist – or even if you could you, you might be so sore that it’d hurt like hell.
By the time I had really worked through these momentous thoughts I was staring at nothing, really, just the darkened water with no boats, nor birds, just a few cars passing over the bridge under the tenebrific sky.
The band was now playing some sort of waltz, strange for a Broadway show, but I wasn’t exactly a critic. I turned around to share my thoughts with the group, the smell of pot heavy in the warm air, and literally bumped into Simone. She’d just walked over to stand by me at the window.
‘Um, what do you think?’ she asked me.
After our discussions of last night and early this morning, I knew precisely about what she asking.
‘I don’t know. I always had a nice time in the sack with Consuela,’ I responded. ‘Do you think it’d be weird? You know, seeing me with her?’
‘Well, let me ask you the same thing. I mean, I don’t feel like sex at the moment – I ate way too much – but, well, you know, if everyone starts getting involved…
‘I mean, what’s girl gonna do? I suppose I could make room for a little dessert,’ she continued. ‘Actually, I’m getting wet just thinking about the cum from three of you and seeing your hard cocks – yours being the best, I’m sure – could get me started.
‘And we mustn’t forget that it is Little Jimmy’s birthday…’
This was at once terrifying and totally smokin’. Here was this babe who, for some unknown reason, had decided she liked me and I’m about to share her with my friends. Was I nuts or was this an awesome fantasy, an event in my life that I’d regret at some point if I said ‘no?’
I really dug down inside to see what I was truly feeling but just then Consuela yelled out, ‘Hey, Ed, if I’m going to do this I want all three of you. Bring that big dick of yours over here and let me play pick-up-sticks.’
Simone looked at me, laughed, took my hand, and as we walked back to the table she began unzipping my fly.
The three of them had put two medium sized square tables (with four legs, not the kind with the column in the center) together and Jimmy had rounded up a bunch of navy blue tablecloths.
How thoughtful, I remember thinking, that in their shared, besotted, stoned stupor, they had considered Consuela’s comfort on her back. But it is amazing what a guy will do to get some, so maybe my accolades for their thoughtfulness was a little misguidedly generous.
The three of them obviously had no second thoughts at all. Con was wearing only a black thong, her cute, firm tits sitting high just like I remembered them. She had no bikini line and areolas lighter than you would have thought with her moderate pigmentation. Regardless, her nipples were very glad to see everyone.
She was sitting in her chair with her back to the table and overlooking the bay. Emanuel was standing on one side of her and Jimmy was on the other, both of them completely naked save for their socks. She was doing some of her own tongue tricks to the two cockheads that were currently dueling in her wide-open mouth.
‘Oh, wow,’ said Simone, untying the laces of her boots. ‘You’ve got to admire a couple of good looking cocks and you boys certainly have those.’
Consuela took the two guys’ cocks off her tongue but kept rubbing them along her lips, saying, ‘And tasty, with just the right amount of saltiness.’
Simone had removed her boots and was snuggling out of her jeans. She was now naked below the waist, except for a pair of dark pink (A woman would have probably have called them ‘rose’ or ‘mauve,’ but what the hell did I know?) bikini panties just sticking out below her blue t-shirt.
She pulled up a chair right in front of the trio and reached for the cocks. Con must have felt comfortable with her new best friend and the two of them were licking and mouthing the two cocks simultaneously, their mouths so close they occasionally tongued each other during their joint ministrations.
For a second or two, I was going to use the pun on the word ‘joint’ to make a joke, but it dissipated before I could form a cohesive line. It was then I realized that the alcohol and THC had me in their grip. Those bastards!
Gigi
- 11.11.2020
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