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Part 6: Sex Sells
by Shayla Pandava The following is Part 6 of Sex Sells. If you missed parts 1 - 5, they're alive and well and living in our archives. But to get you started, here's where we left off last time:

"We'll keep him busy for you," the model nodded. I glanced in the direction of her nod. Two rather large bouncer-looking men towered over my escort, Jim, holding him fast by either arm.

"Wait a minute," I said. I started to move, but she had me by the tips of my breasts. Her grip was also like a vice, but it felt damned good.

"Don't worry," she said, "me and your friend, there, go way back. I know how to keep him amused. The girls'll help."

He didn't seem to be struggling (like me in this breast lock, I thought). A little edgy, but scrumptious. But it made me a tad apprehensive when I noticed Jim was frowning...

[And now for Part 6:]
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"Great group of guys here," the model was saying. "Enjoy yourself." She patted around my areola making my breasts jiggle lightly. "There won't be any trouble," she added. "Everything's cool." Which actually made me more nervous -- her mentioning trouble -- than if she'd said nothing.

I felt her downy soft hair against my neck as she bent her head to my chest, holding each breast up to her lips, and kissed each of my nipples. Actually, she did more than kiss them. She sucked, long and lovingly like a baby so the tingle went straight to my clit. Her soft, small breasts nudged my ribs. I felt her long nails trace a path to my navel, felt her fingers down my belly, down, down, nails at my pussy lips, nail separating the lips, opening the entry, then the soft pad of her finger, smoothly rubbing my clit, and then down, down to my hole. I thought I would come right there, with her free hand squeezing my right nipple and her mouth, full of juicy saliva, coming into mine, lips to lips, tongue on tongue. If any little part of me had been tense or guarded before, she opened me up with her predatory moves like a tiny oyster. It felt like my every access point from cunt hole to ass cheeks to mouth, was just hanging loose, waiting to be eaten. She pulled her pussy-hand free (never releasing her squeeze on my breast), and turned to the men, who had moved in closer. She held up her finger displaying my private ooze as it caught the light and glistened.

Whistles and cheers from the guys. All were bare-chested now, sparkling with beads of sweat. Some with pants clasps hanging open, some with hands down their crotches. I did not look at their faces.

But as the model licked my cunt juice from her finger and the men around us clapped, I thought I heard Jim's voice one last time, calling my name.

It grew faint and was gone so that I doubted I had heard it at all. I did not look towards the call. The sweet-smelling model was pulling on my breast, showing off my pressed nipple to the men around us. One came in and took my stretched breast from between her fingers and twiddled it until, again, I thought he might push me over into orgasm.

The model left and I closed my eyes. Suddenly my feet were lifted in the air and hands were everywhere. They pinched my nipples, pressed and rolled my breasts, poked and dug at my pussy, at my ass hole, along my clitoris. I felt dizzy. I was stretched out horizontal like a table. I was both the table and the meal. I felt tongues and teeth all over me. I felt dicks running up and down my thighs, my sides, the soles of my feet. Then a warm wetness at the soles of my feet, which soon grew cool. At my neck, tongues, lips; in my mouth tongues, on my cunt, palms, fingers. My crack, my pussy hole, everything was fair game. And wet splotchings began. At my neck, over my belly, my face, my legs, everywhere the warm splooge of male release. It tickled, it squirmed. It was on my nipples and under my breasts. It tickled as it dripped down my sides. I lapped small pools of it off my upper lip.

My legs were held open and I felt this pregnant moment a sort of tickle around the soft parts of my opened pussy, just waiting, waiting. Then something ran softly, smoothly over the very sensitive flaps and folds. I felt little soft stabs, from everywhere, a multiple assault on my pussy, vibrations, elastic, tongues from my cunt hole to my clit, like rotary buffers circling the nut of my clit. At the same time mouths worked over both my nipples. Another mouth covered my mouth and all up and down my body, tongues licking and lapping -- to my amazement -- lapping the sticky male come from my skin. Countless sensations from everywhere bombarded me, and the overload simply knocked me into incredible orgasm. Electricity spiked through my nipples. A swell and crash of waves overtook the inside of my vagina, a giddy throb battered my clit. I don't know how many men there were or how long I stayed like that, splattered with come, my legs pulled apart and my bare pussy gaping in front of their eyes, because the orgasms kept coming -- of all shapes and sizes. The men must have held me tightly because I shook and shuddered. I clenched my cunt muscles and it sent the rush up and down my body, shudders followed the groping hands along my body; shivers gave in to the tickling tongues at my sensitive breasts.

When the men set me down at last, I was weak all over. I was a sticky mess. My cunt felt like a delicate fabric wrung through too many laundries. My clit felt like it was exposed in some tattoo shop with a novice body artist trying to get the piercing right, over and over, using my clit for practice. It took me several minutes to collect up the bits of my clothes. I sat huddled on the couch while various men asked if I wanted this or that, or congratulated me, or thanked me, or even patted a breast or butt cheek. It was all cool, but I was tired. I slowly, achingly pattered off to find a shower. . .and Jim. Someone pointed me to the bathroom, through another room, and as I entered, the sound from the music softened, and I could hear what sounded like little shouts or cries. I looked towards the sound.

There on a plush red carpet, Jim lay on his back, naked with four large, dress-suited men pressing him down, one to each appendage, while four naked squirming women played with his dick, his balls, his nipples, his downy private hair.

They held his legs in a wide open V and my favorite model was sucking his dick, her long nails lightly scratching his perineum. Another naked girl, facing me, was humping his leg -- it looked like she must have had her pussy lips opened around his knee joint so that her clit could rub against the bone and she would wet him as he excited her. The third girl was kissing him on the mouth with her fat breasts brushing his neck and shoulders. And the fourth was at his nipples. The room had a dense, sweet odor of herbal essences and perfumes, ripe pussy juice and musk of horny man. When the girl at his mouth moved over to nibble his ear, he shuddered. She fed her fingers into his mouth.

Well, he's having fun, I thought, and headed gingerly for the shower.

"Agh!" I heard him groan. When I looked over I saw his chest lurch up and guessed that the large-breasted model at his chest had bit his nipple. It was a lovely picture of stray nude limbs -- shaved and opened pussies, all wet and sticky, soft curves, bouncing breasts, squirming balls -- so much naked human finery. But the sticky itch on my own skin was starting to not be fun so I slipped into the shower.

When I got out, well, I was clean, dressed and ready to crash. I was thankful that Jim would be driving. I was also thankful that I had no desire to get laid for the next week or so. I would tip him big time and maybe he could escort me again sometime. And there would be no resentful cajolings or frustrated goodbyes. I would not have to fuck him now.

I stepped out into the room where I expected he'd still be getting the royal treatment, and I'd curl up and fall asleep on the couch. Instead, I saw something I wished hadn't. At first I tried to ignore it, as if it were a drunken vision that would just go away.

Jim was alone there on the rug, lying on his side, naked, curled fetally into himself, heaving and shaking.

"Oh my god, what's the matter?" I said.

[To be continued...]