Belonger (An erotic novel): Part One Page 14

  Mark’s untiring erection was a beacon to the slippers, a constant provocation to unruly behavior. It was possible to attain up to a six of orgasms between full slumbers, and most of the women aspired to that. This generated a huge aggregate demand for sexual interaction, so to keep things reasonable they had organized games and rituals to manage the tension, and these were in full swing now.

  “Straddleboat contest!” Manassa throatily declared, still wearing the buoys. The Lap’s biggest female oversaw a routine competition to determine which lucky slipper would sleep with Mark later, hers to enjoy exclusively till the community woke again. He got to choose the method of competition though, and had eventually fixed on the straddleboat challenge—partly for the lively entertainment it offered, but also to leave the eventual winner compliantly exhausted.

  Ione had been roused by the noisy banter of the hot pool, was watching from the edge in sleepy interest as women splashed down streams from neighboring apartments to join the action on the island.

  A red boat was pulled off the grass and drawn to the center, where the pool yawned steeply down to an apparently limitless depth. This craft was devised such that pedal-driven screws in the middle spat warm water up into the rider’s vaginas, which were carefully situated athwart opened seats to receive these sensual sprays.

  A bright blond slipper with huge legs faced a mean-looking woman of comparable stature; the previous winner, well known for her stamina and skill.

  “You!”

  “Ha! You!”

  “Into the boat! Straddle up!” Manassa hollered, and Emma stroked closer to watch, converging with Ione near the middle of the pool.

  The contestants hauled themselves onto the straddleboat, settled their genitalia before its angled nozzles, lips spread wide by the sloped profile of the divided seat. The blond rubbed herself in anticipation, and her opponent prepared for the contest by firmly smacking her own twat, strategically reducing its sensitivity. They locked hands, pushed back hard on each other, snarling promises and threats.

  The pool was noisy with jostling, chattering women now, all looking to Manassa.

  “Round one, ready!” she called, raising a fist high. Emma felt herself tense, caught up in what promised to be a rousing competition. Ione leaned close.

  “Natalie’s gonna take her,” she opined.

  “Naw. You haven’t seen Annie play recently. Look at those legs!”

  “Well, I bet one of’em fucks Mark tonight,” Ione sourly observed. Emma shared her frustration, excluded with the other doyennes from the games, though it would not likely have mattered anyway; she wouldn’t have had a chance against either of the women competing now.

  “Go!” Manassa shouted.

  The women commenced to pedal furiously, setting the boat’s helical screws into motion. The vessel lurched and water was channeled up through nozzles to blast at the contestants’ flared pudenda. They wailed at the sensation, slowing almost immediately to soften its velocity. Natalie recovered first, gritting around the stimulation to bear down hard on the cranks, and Annie was pushed helplessly backward, unable to abide the twat-slapping flow required to equal her speed.

  A chorus of enthusiasm rose among the onlookers, and Emma heard Annie whispering furiously to herself, thighs quaking as her vulva was forcefully spritzed. Emma got a good look at her vagina as they drifted slowly past, nudged Ione so she could enjoy the sight of her shapely red lips under assault.

  Mark had maneuvered himself close.

  “Hope someone with a little more restraint prevails this time,” he muttered, leaving Emma to guess what had transpired with Natalie.

  “Go, Annie!” a partisan shrieked, and the big blond, who was popular around the Lap, grinned in appreciation, aggressively plying the pedals. The straddleboat stalled, and Natalie hissed at the effort of countering her enemy’s charge. Both women sublimated a heroic, quim-shivering barrage that couldn’t be endured for long. They relented for a little, furiously aroused, then collected themselves for another surge.

  “Ha!”

  Annie struck out first, accelerating determinedly, her clenched countenance trenchantly illustrating the mental fortitude required to accommodate the furious pussy-pummeling that resulted. Natalie exhaled with a screech and stomped on the pedals, accepting a withering blast at the pubis, and Annie was once again overcome, drifting humiliatingly in reverse as she fought to stall the other woman.

  Emma could tell that the big blond was playing it careful, already driven close to orgasm by the spray, the muscular excitement of the game and the chance to display her voluptuous body. The slippers screamed, catching Emma up in their excitement, and she reached down to grab Mark’s erection out of sight.

  “You take it!” Annie shouted to her nemesis, obviously convinced that dire action was required, and she loaded her whole mass into the pedals to heedlessly screw water up at her vulva, flattening it wide. Emma watched her desperately attempt to preserve her speed on the pedals while stymieing the bliss.

  “Kick!” someone screamed as Natalie stalled the boat again on a tantrum of pud-slapping cranks, slowly reversed it as her friends cheered.

  “Shower those twats!” another slipper ruthlessly encouraged, and Emma invisibly jacked at Mark’s penis, heedless of the arousal, heard him mutter uncertainly.

  Annie closed her eyes, let her legs go slack at the pedals, breathing calmly as her enemy pedaled triumphantly toward the grassy perimeter of the pool where victory awaited. Emma could see Natalie’s muscular thighs quivering about the frothy channel sluiced between them as she desperately evaded consummation.

  “Now, Annie!” someone yelled, fathoming her strategy. The big blond commenced to slowly pedal, letting the screw luxuriantly dress her vagina. The straddleboat halted just before the grassline to deny the other woman’s conquest.

  Annie managed to reverse its direction, and this final effort exceeded her competitor’s self-control. She began to stutter at the pedals, voice coming in slipperish installments of nonsense.

  “This not has, no happen not…”

  “You got her Annie!” a friend shouted. “Go for it!”

  Mark’s penis was furiously engorged in Emma’s hand, and she laughed as another slipper got a grip on it.

  Annie continued to accelerate, ignoring the other woman to compel the boat at precisely the velocity her shuddering sexuality allowed, skirting climax with a clenched finesse to best the other woman’s strategy.

  Natalie orgasmed noisily, calves dancing as she abandoned any thought of opposition and simply drilled water into her crotch to extract what looked like a mind-blowing orgasm from the contest, the only reward her participation would secure.

  “Aaaaaahhhaaaa…” she unselfconsciously wailed as Annie gamely drove her back across the pool to nose the grass, winning the engagement. Slippers swirled around them to congratulate her.

  Manassa was already calling for the next contestants as Emma vigorously jerked Mark below the waterline. “Hope Annie wins the whole thing,” she laughed, enviously imagining the big blond getting cocked all night as the rest of the Lap went without, herself included.

  “Hey,” Mark warned, voice uneven.

  A slipper dove, forced herself between his legs.

  “Quit!” he winced as his ruddy cock was lofted humiliatingly for all to see, a baneful symbol of their collective inadequacy to satisfy. There was a pause in the chatter as the other women forgot the game, hungrily confronting their careful socialization.

  “Uh-oh,” Ione muttered.

  A furiously masturbating slipper threw herself at Mark, acting with swift resolve on a long-harbored fixation, then women were piling on him, all self-control vanished. Emma saw his expression shift precipitously, devolving to a skulk’s leering mask.

  “No!” she screamed, but it was too late.

  There was sudden chaos as Mark lurched among them, muttering gutterally, clutching randomly at flesh, an agonizing need wrought in the blanked beauty of his features a
s he lifted slippers effortlessly, dragged them to the water, pent under his great arms. For one pulse-hammering instant Emma met his gaze, flooded with an inexorable lust, a total revelation of desire.

  “Round two!” Manassa belted, voice settling like a wet blanket on their affairs. Everything went still as the rules were forcibly reasserted.

  Mark lurched from the hot pool, shedding women with every step.

  “Wait!” Emma implored as he sprinted up the encircling lawn, but he dove into a neighboring avenue without looking back and swam quickly from sight, leaving them in troubled silence.

  Ione returned to their spacious Lap apartment later on, shut the door carefully behind her. Across the salon the arched access to the hot pool had been blocked with thick drapes and Emma was already present, as they had planned in advance. Most of the women were soundly asleep in their various streamside residences.

  But Mark was still awake. That was not good.

  “So… How are you feeling?” Ione tried to sound casual. “Tired?”

  “I dunno,” he shrugged.

  Emma cleared her throat, took a long draught of fruit juice drawn from their plentiful supply. Ione poured herself a glass, offered one to Mark, who shook his head.

  “Crazy straddleboat stuff, huh?” Emma temporized. “It was fun till… you know.”

  Mark leaned back against the raised cushioning of the bed’s circular perimeter, not bothering to hide his erection. “Yeah. Good times…” he sardonically intoned.

  Ione stepped to the other side of their bed, a giant round affair with a raised perimeter on which three voluptuous, back-bent women stood to hoist a red linen canopy. Their heads gazed down from under its gently tented peak and their lithe arms swept back to clasp a circular rim that draped a plunging skirt. Its lacy, wavelike hem demurely concealed the women’s magnificent rumps, but their powerfully carved legs were bared to mid-thigh. The bed had three wide drawers built into its base, crammed with a selection of their most commonly employed toys; oral in one drawer, anal in another, vaginal and penile in the third. It was by now a very personal place to Ione, though it bore more evidence of Emma’s lively personality—the giant round mattress had been furnished by the little blond with a colorful complement of pillows, and the rim of its canopy skirt was hung with whips and straps of varying severity.

  Ione pulled a glow gnome closer to the bed. She had come to adore the handsome, blue-toned creatures, which were all identical in size and appearance—formed in the Gnomon’s image, it was said. She pushed its left nipple to summon a vermillion gaze, directed the faint radiance that resulted onto the sprawled forms of Mark and Emma. A few more connections with the right nipple raised its intensity to the level she had expected. Gnomes produced randomly varying output over time for some reason, requiring frequent recalibration. Another one nearby blew a stiff current of fragrant air over the bed through pursed lips, and Ione nippled it down to a more seductive effect.

  “So, about what happened…” She watched Mark carefully.

  “Yeah. I know. Been talking to Emz about it. Didn’t think it was possible to get so worked up,” he unhappily acknowledged.

  “But the way you reacted…” Ione trailed off hesitantly.

  Mark looked away. “I really am sorry.”

  “It’s not like that,” Emma sympathized. “I couldn’t go this long without getting off. It would drive anyone crazy.”

  “Why don’t we just forget about it. Get some sleep.” Ione slung her legs over the bed’s raised perimeter of cushions and snuggled suggestively against its slanted embrace.

  Mark was silent, stared off meditatively.

  Ione met Emma’s glance, uncertain how to proceed. The man in bed with them was deep in their trust, knew every vital secret of the Lap. He was in a perfect position to betray the women if that was his ambition. But he was also a pivotal figure in the administration of their society; the most desirable male they had ever encountered, beautiful to look upon and constantly aroused. His complicity with their leadership drastically simplified what would otherwise have been a socially untenable situation.

  But after the incident in the hot pool Ione knew that the question of his sexuality had to be investigated as soon as possible. She smiled, ran her eyes over Mark’s brawny profile, accentuated by the slanted gaze of the gnome. Reaching around, she slid the nearest of the bed’s circumferential drawers open, fumbled for a suitable toy.

  “Mind if get off?” she innocently inquired.

  Mark lightened at this prospect, settled himself more comfortably on the vast plain of their mattress. “Please do.”

  Ione glanced at the device in her hand; a rather dramatic implement for the situation—more of a party toy—but decided it would serve.

  “What’s that?” Mark blinked at the sight of a shapely phallus attached to a thick rubber mouth grip.

  “It’s a hummer,” she explained, handing it to Emma.

  Her lover giggled, inviting him closer. She slipped the mouthpiece between her lips and clamped down firmly with her teeth to lever the phallus confidently from her head. Ione lay down on the bed and spread her legs to a dignified width.

  “I’ll have cherry,” she decided. Emma reached to a caddy mounted on one of the poster legs and procured a long bottle with a feminine taper, lubricated the phallus projecting from her lips with a deft submersion.

  Mark chuckled at this gimmick, but it returned glistening and succulent and headily aromatic of fruit, dispelling any cynicism. Emma poised it before Ione’s compact sexuality, freshly shampooed at the hot pool.

  “Proceed,” she ordered.

  Emma smiled around the hummer grip and nosed it forward to nestle at her labia with all decorum appropriate to a doyenne’s bed. Ione relaxed, letting Mark see her lips widened by Emma’s respectful penetration. No one would ever have been allowed to witness their earlier affair with the leg—Ione cringed at the thought of what that would have cost her dignity. But the hummer was such an inherently servile toy it didn’t bother her to demonstrate it. Especially for Mark.

  “Deeper.”

  Emma drove the hummer to its full extent inside her, and Ione felt a warmth develop, an effect of the syrup, which ran in excess down her crotch to tickle her sphincter. Emma withdrew half-way, settled herself squarely, weight balanced on her wide-planted hands and knees, rump angled dramatically into the air, then filled Ione with cock again.

  “Hum,” she demanded.

  Emma obligingly exhaled through the mouthpiece of the toy and a lopsided little flywheel within it spun from the pressure generated, imparting a ticklish vibration to the phallus. Her breath was vented back out the base to whisper past her chin. She inhaled through her nose and blew harder into the device, producing a sleazy burr that was prolonged by the mechanism’s within to a continuous hum.

  “That’s nice… Give her a good buzz…” Mark encouraged.

  Emma took another deep breath and the hummer shuddered again, warming her snooch to a sincere appetite.

  “Deeper, Emma. Get your nose in there.”

  “Yeah…” Mark urged, distractedly fingering his erection, and Ione considered simply trying to get him off again by some conventional means. But it was hard enough to arrange a covert encounter without risking the wrath of their community, and they had to attempt something different this time.

  Emma forced the hummer up her cunt till its flared base nudged her clitoris, conferring a blissful shiver.

  “Knows how to show a woman a good time, doesn’t she?” Mark observed.

  “Indeed,” Ione nodded. “Can’t keep her face out of a hungry twat.”

  “Gets all up into it,” Mark enthused, maneuvering a little closer to watch. Emma thrust deeper, huffing away cheerfully, and Ione’s vagina took a series of hard strokes as the vibration built to a noisy sputter. She grinned, let herself enjoy the sight of her lover’s blond hair whirling about.

  “That’s it, sweetie. Blow.”

  Mark was sincerely aro
used now and Emma really got her neck into it, inhaling at the top of every third stroke, blasting the hummer to a noisy service that quickened Ione’s desire.

  “Don’t you stop. Keep that thing humming…”

  Emma delivered a bucking and blowing performance that steadily developed Ione’s excitation toward release. Her shapely ass cheeks arched with each plunging intromission of the toy, which was now pleasantly warm from her laboring breath. After a pleasant interval of penetration Ione felt her accelerate to a culminating effort. She closed her eyes.

  “Let’s finish nice and lively,” she encouraged, astonished by the strength of this unscheduled ardency. “Drive it home,” she coaxed, ready to let go, and Emma hammered into her cunt with the madly vibrating device.

  But after a little she slowed.

  Ione felt the smaller woman poke her ribs, opened her eyes to discover that Mark had fallen asleep. Emma was staring at her through a maze of blond locks, silenced by the smile-inducing breadth of the hummer grip, waiting to disengage.

  Ione scanned Mark’s face in repose. Emma was obviously expecting her to do the reasonable thing…

  “Keep going,” she whispered. “In the asshole.”

  Emma blinked, swung to check Mark’s condition, inadvertently spattering cherry syrup about. Turning back she aligned the hummer, pushed its phallus tentatively into Ione’s sphincter as she prepared to rub out a quick finish. But Emma’s timid exhalation yielded a wistful, meandering sound and a uselessly faint vibration.

  “Oh, fuck it…” Ione muttered in annoyance. “Forget it. Get out.”

  The smaller woman disengaged from her and they managed to extricate themselves from the bed without waking Mark. Ione glanced to her companion, gauging her audacity.

  Emma took a deep breath, then nodded once.

  Mark woke somewhat later, sprawled wide at the center of the bed.

  Ione smiled. “Get some rest?”