There’s an old saying, “If you don’t ask you don’t get,” and it applies to all sorts of aspects of life. I once read an interview with Rod Stewart, at that time one of rock’s leading lotharios, in which he revealed a pulling technique he used at parties.
Early in the evening, he would start talking to the girl he most fancied and after a few preliminaries he would say, “Would sex be out of the question?” And of course, most of them either told him to get lost or slapped him in the face. So he would move on and just enjoy the party.
But he said it was amazing how often he would get a result later on. As the party rolled on and drinks were drunk and people got mellower and less inhibited, the girl he had propositioned, having mulled it over and perhaps not having received a better offer, would sidle up and ask him if his offer was still on the table.
I was thinking about this as I lay on a sun lounger in the Caribbean, watching a group of four black girls enjoying themselves in the sea. They were a variety of shapes and sizes, but each fuckable in her own way. They were to me, anyway, because I have learned that you shouldn’t be too choosy. Just because a woman doesn’t fit the exact profile of your personal fantasy, that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be great fun in bed. Your favorite meal might be roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, but you wouldn’t turn your nose up at a nice spicy curry, or fish and chips, or pizza, or a Thai meal.
So it is with women; and anyway, one of the great secrets every man should ponder is that you don’t choose them, they choose you. And at that point, your tastes either change to accommodate your good fortune or you miss out on an opportunity. Me, I never look a gift horse in the mouth.
I knew this group of girls was staying in the same hotel as me, so I decided to ask the question.
After at least an hour in the water, during which time I could only imagine they all urinated a little, while the salt water rinsed their most intimate nooks and crannies, the leader of the group emerged on her own and headed for their little enclave of loungers, towels, and clothes. She dried herself off and lay down to steam off the excess. She was statuesque: tall and well built, feminine but substantial, with those little teak-like stretch marks on her hips, as I could see via the high-cut one-piece swimsuit.
I walked over and crouched next to her and she smiled.
“Hi,” she said, because we had seen each other around and felt like we knew each other a little.
“Enjoying your holiday?” I asked, and she chatted back happily, apparently not perturbed by my approach.
She and her friends were from Atlanta. Her name was Kasey and she was a doctor’s receptionist. As she began to tell me about the others, they all left the water, walked up, and began toweling themselves. There was Jayana, tall and slim and topless, although possessing the least impressive rack of all of them. And there was Luann, the closest to most men’s idea of perfection, being of medium height and slim with big breasts and ass. And finally Kara, who was short and dumpy, but very smiley and sweet, with dark, dark skin and eyes which seemed to pop out at me.
The girls were all clearly amused at my boldness in approaching their leader.
“Are you hitting on my friend?” Jayana said with a laugh.
“I’m hitting on all of you,” I replied, gulping the fear back down as I said it. “I want you all to come to my room tonight at nine o’clock.”
Nobody spoke. They just looked at each other and finally, Kasey said, “Well…” in a kind of dismissive way. I stood up and smiled as best I could and they all glared at me.
“Room 242,” I said.
“Goodbye,” said Jayana, as I turned and headed for the sanctuary of my lounger. I lay and pretended to read my book while stealing glances at that steamy clump of womanhood, now a-twitter with giggling but still with a trace of seething in certain quarters.
At five o’clock I headed back, had a quick beer and went up to my room for a shower. Who knew what the night would bring? Heaven or limbo, success or failure. I sat and watched the sun set and sent messages on my phone.
At 8:45 the room phone rang, which startled me, as they never ring.
It was Kasey.
“We are not coming to you,” she said. Then a pause. “But you can come to us. 364.” And she put the phone down.
Would I go? Of course. Was I confident? No. They could be planning anything. They could be intending to sit on my face and suffocate me, which had a bizarre sort of appeal. Or they could try to fuck me to death, each, in turn, demanding I rattle their bones until my back broke and finally my heart gave out. Again, not entirely unwelcome.
Or they might simply grab me and slit my throat. Was that how a gang of girls would do it? Probably not. Poison, more likely. Hold me down and pour hydrogen peroxide or hair dye down my throat. Or maybe the police would be waiting when I knocked on the door, to drag me away on a charge of excessive lust and suicidal optimism.
I headed for the bar and had a large Cuba Libre, then another.
At five past nine, I knocked boldly on the door. If they were all sharing one room they must be two to a bed, and my room had two king-sizes, so theirs might too.
Little Kara flung the door open theatrically.
“And here he is,” she announced. “Mr. Presumptuous.”
They stood in a group and Kara showed me to the sofa.
“I’m not presumptuous,” I said unsteadily. “Just hopeful.” I figured it would do no good to get all apologetic and defensive, so I would stay positive and just hope. Kasey seemed sane and decent, and she was the role model. She fetched a bottle of vodka from her suitcase and poured them each a shot, then another. They downed them like warriors about to enter battle.
Picture-perfect Luann gave me a sweet but very brief smile. She reminded me of a black Susannah Hoffs, the cute one in The Bangles who always tried to steal focus when the others were doing the singing and playing, because she had been raised that way and couldn’t help herself.
Then I saw long tall Jayana bump fists with Kasey before taking a deep breath and shouting at me.
“You! In there.” She was pointing at a connecting door.
I walked obediently to it and looked back to her for direction.
“Yes,” she said sharply.
In the next room, all was neat and tidy. I closed the door behind me and sat on one of the beds. The door opened and Kasey’s head popped around it.
“Get undressed and lie on top,” she said quite kindly. I must have looked a bit worried because she said, “You asked for it.”
She closed the door and I did as instructed. It was dark in there and I was grateful.
The door opened again and Jayana strutted in, topless once more. She stood in front of me and stretched upwards, then sat and removed her spray-on jeans. I sat up.
“Lie down,” she ordered. I did.
“I don’t know what you were expecting,” she said ominously, “but you’re not getting a foursome. Not you, not Sam Jackson, not Jay-Z.”
She climbed above me and put her asshole on my face.
“I could shit right here,” she said. “I could piss in your eyes. But I’m not gonna. You’re gonna lick my ass.”
She positioned herself in, it has to be said, a shitting crouch, and wiped her crack up and down my nose.
“Lick it,” she said like a parent insisting her child eat the meal.
I licked Jayana’s ass and she growled with pleasure.
“You like that?” she asked aggressively. “You like licking my black ass?”
Now, there are two types of rimming clips on porn channels: the one where someone is forced to do it, and the one where the giver loves what he or she is doing. Jayana had been watching the wrong ones and had misread the situation completely. Far from being humiliated, I was in heaven doing this to her.
“Lick my ass until I fucking cum,” she commanded. I complied willingly, licking her taut little crack as she wriggled and squirmed and rubbed her disapproval on my nose. And then she came with a squealing grunt and wiped her pussy on me as she got off, just to rub in the humiliation. She may or may not have noticed my rock-hard boner, which announced to anyone thinking clearly that I was very happy indeed with the situation.
Jayana grabbed her jeans and left the room, slamming the door for emphasis.
I lay and considered my position. If that was the worst that was going to happen, I would get out of there not just alive but reinvigorated. But I had better not let them see that.
The door opened again and in came beautiful Luann and short, dumpy Kara. They sat on the other bed and undressed, slipping clingy elastane of over their heads and performing that fascinating bra-removal business, before pulling the strings of their thongs out of their cracks and throwing those blessed objects on the bed.
“Bathroom,” Luann said, opening the door, and I walked in. It was really dark in there, even before Luann tied a blindfold around my head.
“Lie on the floor in the shower,” Kara said, attempting to sound tough but being totally incapable of it.
She helped me as I stumbled onto the knobbly tiles. I lay there like a prisoner, a hostage, awaiting my fate. Then came the trickle of urine as one of them pissed on me from a standing position, on to my stomach, on my cock, between my legs – a wild, uncontrolled hosing. I couldn’t see which of them it was, but I knew who it was that then descended on my face. Kara’s lovely thick, cellulite thighs bestrode my head as Luann giggled. Then Kara pissed on my face.
“Open your mouth,” Luann said. I did so and she directed her urine into the cavity. It was kinkily pleasurable, apart from the danger of choking. I gagged some of the liquid out and down my neck, and she moved up so she was pissing on my closed, bandaged, ecstatic eyes and into my hair.
When she had finished, someone turned on the shower and the three of us rinsed ourselves clean. Then Luann took off the blindfold, handed me a towel and the girls left. I dried myself off and returned to the bed, lying on my back with my hands behind my head.
The door opened again and Kasey came in, fully clothed and smiling peacefully.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Great,” I said. “Fine.”
“Do you want to undress me?” she asked politely as if apologizing for her friends. She was wearing a tight black blouse and black jeans.
Her underwear was black too. She had beautiful big breasts and a generously proportioned ass. And she had an elegant back and a fit stomach. I dropped to my knees in front of her and put my tongue in her navel. She held my damp head and stroked it gently, then moved her hands down to my neck and back as I licked her shiny, shaven mound of Venus.
“Please turn around,” I said quietly. “Bend over.” And as Kasey leaned on the bed for balance I licked her ass.
“Oh my gosh. Me too?” she gasped.
“I love it,” I said. “I wanted to lick your ass the moment I saw you.”
I know some people think it’s odd, but I can hardly look at a woman without wondering how it would be to lick her ass. Would she like it? Would it be nice down there? I rarely concluded that it would be anything other than wonderful.
“I want you inside me,” Kasey said simply, grabbing a condom from her jeans. As I put it on she lay on her back and lifted her knees, exposing her holes to me.
I lay between Kasey’s legs and slid my cock into her pussy. She grabbed my head and pulled it down and we kissed passionately.
“I hope they weren’t too hard on you,” she said, genuinely concerned.
“They were lovely,” I said. “They tried not to be but I liked everything they did.”
“Don’t tell Jayana that,” Kasey warned. “She still hates you. Kaya is kind of in love with you and wants you to forgive her.”
This brought us right up to orgasm, and as I unloaded my spunk into her welcoming, spasming body, I said, “This is for all of you. It’s you that I wanted but Kaya’s lovely, Luann is nice to look at but doesn’t need anything from me, and Jayana… she doesn’t understand. But you, you’re perfect.”
