s*x For All Seasons

CHAPTER ONE Everything she wore was black: there was the ebony bright blackness of her evening sandals, the dusky black of her lace filigreed garter belt (the straps like taut, black satin ribbons across the summer tanned smoothness of her thighs), the smoky black of her nylon stockings and textured panties, and the sooty black of the mascara highlighting her eyelashes and eyebrows. And everything about her was dark, expressing her Mediterranean-Oriental features-olive dark complexion, fathomless black eyes, the shimmering blue-black spill of her shoulder-length hair, and the coal-black and silvery-dark dense pubic foliage, contained by the translucent nylon of her panties, as evidenced by the sparse wisps and the tendrils coiling out around the edges of the crotch band and over the top of the garment at the base of her slim belly. She was as beautiful as night and summer and darkness. Diana was, to be sure, a daughter of darkness. The notion struck her fancy and a smile shadowed her lips as she considered it. Daughters of darkness were crafty and adventurous and voluptuous-they thrived on new experiences which included the unfamiliar, the exotic, and the forbidden. Especially the forbidden. Diana's favorite territory. With a prowling stride, a smile still faintly lingering at the corners of her mouth, she went from the bedroom into the bathroom and stood before the medicine cabinet mirror, seeing herself more critically now she put the last touches of make-up on her face, touching deftly at her eyebrows with a pencil, then screwing a vivid, quartzy pink tip of lipstick from its golden tube and lightly embossing her lips with it, parting her lips lightly with the tip of her tongue to dab up the fleeting, moist, glycerine taste. Finished, Diana set the cosmetics aside. She washed her hands briefly with a pink oval of soap and dried them on a big camel-colored beach towel draped over the glass door of the shower. Opening the medicine cabinet, she studied the rows of bottles and tins until she found the one she wanted, opened it, and shook two pink disks into her palm. She put the pills, one by one, on the tip of her tongue, and washed them down with a swallow of water. Diana didn't really believe very strongly in aphrodisiacs, and she certainly didn't need anything extraneous to stimulate her sensual appetite, but there was no harm, she figured, in giving her libido a friendly little nudge of encouragement-if only for the symbolic sake of doing so. Back in the bedroom, Diana selected a paisley patterned, charcoal-black, wing-collared knit dress and put it on. She noticed that the clock radio beside the bed said seven-thirty. Time for Hazy and Andrew to arrive. Hazy, she hoped, would be no less eager than she was to carry the evening's events from a properly seductive beginning all the way to a supremely erotic conclusion. Not that she had ever known Hazy to falter when it came to s****l experimentation. Hazy Winter and Diana Summer might be as different from each other in some ways as were the seasons they had been named after-but in one respect, they were predictably identical. Both were daughters of darkness. The sound of the doorbell chimes distracted Diana from her reverie and she went through the living room to the top of the stairs. She pressed the button on the inside of one of the white stairway balusters, releasing the lock on the front door downstairs, and called tentatively down, "Hazy, Andrew, is that you ..?" Hazy and Andrew came up the stairs in a burst of animation, busy conversation, and laughter. Diana sensed at once that they had been either smoking or drinking already. But that was fine. It was Hazy's job to soften up and lower the defenses that both of them would breach together. Andrew was her boyfriend. Diana drifted into Hazy's arms, giving her a friendly hug, and put one arm around Andrew's waist, her fingers at his hip, smiling, saying, "You've gone ahead and gotten a start without me, haven't you? That means I'm-what?-two, three drinks behind? Not too many to catch up, I hope...." "Not at all," said Andrew debonairly, with a gesture. "By all means, I think you should get started at once. This one," he nodded at Hazy, "had us so entrenched down at Stonehenge drinking Hyde Specials out of retorts that we almost forgot about dinner." "And maybe we should anyway," said Hazy, putting her brown, Italian suede handbag on a coffee table as they went into the living room. She was wearing a simple red sweater and black skirt that molded precisely the girlish curves of her slender body. Her hair was blonde, cut short, and styled in a swept back fashion that complemented her lovely features, making them seem doubly sharp and intense. "Well, I don't quite think I want to pass on dinner," Diana said as the two of them seated themselves on the couch, "but I can guarantee you at least one for the road ... so name your poison." Andrew asked for a martini, Hazy for grapefruit juice and tequila, and she joined Diana at the liquor cabinet to help mix the drinks. Their eyes met only once as they filled the glasses and they shared a momentary knowing smile that Andrew was entirely unaware of. Hazy returned with Andrew's drink and her own and sat beside him again, Diana sitting on his other side. "Surrounded by women," Andrew said. "My favorite kind of ambush." "Oh, really?" said Diana, moving a bit closer, almost touching him. "Andrew is a shameless sexist at times," Hazy remarked. "Sometimes I don't know what I see in him." "Must be something," Diana suggested, glancing at them both in turn, straight-faced. "It isn't hard to figure," Andrew said. "I'm great fun in the hay, have money in the bank, and I've got great taste in women." "Is he really great fun in the hay?" Diana asked Hazy with a mock-skeptical expression. She darted a glance at Andrew. "Or is that impolite to ask in his presence?" Hazy deliberated for a moment, grinning at Andrew, then dismissed the question with an enigmatic smile, but she eased somewhat closer to him, he put his hand over hers on his knee, and they exchanged a loving smile. "Andrew is also a leg man," Hazy said. Diana looked at him thoughtfully over the rim of her glass. "I happen to have excellent legs," she said. "Have you ever noticed that, Andrew?" "Your legs?" he said, surprised by the question. "She does have very good legs," Hazy agreed, squeezing Andrew's hand. "Or so I've been told," Diana said, and with a casual movement, she reached down with both hands to slip her sandals off, then sat back on the couch, lifting her feet up to brace them lightly against the edge of the coffee table. In the process she drew her dress back and up over her knees, fully revealing the dramatic symmetry of her calves, meeting Andrew's eyes in the same instant that Hazy eased her leg slightly closer to his, her hand settling lightly on his thigh. With extremely watchful caution, Diana put her hand on Andrew's other thigh, and within moments there was an unmistakable change of mood in the room, all three of them perceiving a sense of courious imminence that Hazy dispelled by letting her fingers move slowly toward Diana's across Andrew's lap until their fingertips touched, interlaced, and their hands clasped firmly. Diana gave Andrew a cursory look, amused by his sudden dismayed expression. He started to say something, but Hazy stopped his lips with a forefinger, letting it trace slowly across his chin in a vaguely admonitory fashion, her other hand gripping Diana's more tightly and bringing both their hands up from where they bridged Andrew's thighs to the point where a softly gradient curve in the crotch of his pants indicated the presence of his dormant c**k. Both hands nestled there, fingers linked in a shared pressing caress over the soft bulge inside the pants. Andrew looked into Diana's eyes, saw that she was smiling at him with warmth and desire, turned to look at Hazy, and found her lips upon his, the familiar sweet taste of her tongue in his mouth, the kiss escalating with a slow intensity into a gentle assault by her tongue, which swept against his, stroking it into urgent collaboration. Hazy murmured into her lover's mouth, her senses vigorously aroused, guiding Diana's hand in her own to touch the jut of Andrew's c**k as she prolonged their kiss. Then Diana initiated her contribution, leaning forward to share the extended kiss by letting the tip of her tongue swirl eagerly around the joined mouths until Hazy felt its presence on her lips and inhaled it sensuously, the three tongues intermingling, both women pressing their bodies up against Andrew, their free hands touching his face and throat with gentle stroking motions. The three mouths twisted and turned together, turning the kiss into a warm vortex of glorious pleasure; all eyes were closed and minds rapt in concentration. Hazy withdrew first, a stunned, passionate look of utter joy in her eyes. While Diana continued to kiss Andrew, their tongues shifting warmly together, she reached toward the top of one of Hazy's stockings beneath her skirt, pushing her fingers under the elastic pressure of the dark-banded stocking top and feeling the warmth of Hazy's inner thigh. Hazy made it easier for her by pulling her skirt up, all the way past the crotch band of her red nylon panties, and parting her thighs wider to permit her girl friend every liberty. At the top of the stocking, the manufacturer's emblem, stamped in white on the tan nylon, shone with an almost luminous clarity, and farther up, beneath the gauzy crotch band of her panties, the ridged labia of her cunt, oily wet, were obscurely visible in the thick nest of curls. As Diana watched a thin wash of cunt juice filmed the nylon, exciting her so much that she could feel her own cunt pulse wetly and spend a driblet inside her panties. Coming up for air, Diana broke momentarily away from Andrew, her tongue sliding out of his mouth. Hazy looked at Diana and Diana looked at Andrew and Andrew looked awkwardly at each of them, then lowered his eyes to where both women were now stroking his c**k into rigid arousal. He sighed, his flushed cheeks glowing, feeling ,the heated flexing of his c**k within his pants, all sensation seeming to center there now as the long fingers elegantly caressed, pulled, and stroked him into a turbulence of desire. The c**k reared and heaved against his pants, uninhibited desire filling his mind. Diana's face moved near his, the pink circle of her mouth bright with saliva from all of their mouths, tongue tip lurking between her lips, pantherish craving in her dark wide eyes. No one spoke. The metaphysics of s*x were at work now and words could only have gone against the grain of the mystique. It was a mood that needed no articulation. Andrew knew, as well as Diana and Hazy, that a whole spectrum of select and extraordinary pleasures lay ahead. He also knew in some way that it was a gift Hazy was offering him; it had all been premeditated by her in advance with Diana's concurrence. He'd often confessed to Hazy that one of his favorite fantasies was to find himself in bed with two women, but there had never been even a passing hint from her that she would be capable of becoming part of such a reality. Together, their thumbs and forefingers converging simultaneously on the tab of Andrew's zipper, Diana and Hazy tugged the zipper down, down, opening his pants. Andrew's c**k came through the vent, the shaft straining upward, a droplet of clear bright liquid sparkling on its head around the tiny slit that winked another pulse of juice out as Hazy's fingers squeezed the rod. Diana's face descended, her tongue curling up under the thick humid length of c**k, her mouth widened, and she sucked inward until the wet tip of c**k grazed the roof of her mouth. Her cheeks contracted with the pressure of her mouth around the savory bulk, her lips stretched downward, and her face disappeared beneath the spilling cascades of her dark hair, the c**k throbbing along the soft width of her moving tongue. She lowered the top half of her body, turning sideways on the couch, to improve her position, and her mouth shifted, gripping up and down along the c**k, a thread of spittle seeping out around the tight grip of her lips along the engulfed shaft. Andrew's hands forged roughly through Diana's spilled hair. Her teeth barely touched his shaft, his hips thrust up to force his c**k further into her mouth even though her underlip was already flush up against his balls. A moan came from his throat and Diana heard it as if it were an echo from another dimension. If she was anything in the world, she was an accomplished fella-trice, a craftswoman at sucking c**k, an artist who had refined the act of drawing come from a man's balls with a whole repertoire of personal nuances, knacks, tricks, and surprises. Her mouth was soft magic as her tongue soared back and forth, up and down, back, then around, up and over, polishing the erect staff with shimmering paths of saliva. Her face nudged lower, her eyes shut to bright darkness as she licked harder and sucked more determinedly, Andrew beginning to move his c**k in counterpoint to the motion of her mouth, both of them striving along the same rapturous wavelength. Abandoned entirely to the warm imperative rhythms of c**k and tongue, tongue and c**k, Diana let her mind and body flow together, her mind swimming through seas of time and space. She scarcely recognized Hazy's hands at her back, the fingers working at her dress's zipper, hands spreading the halves of cloth away from her lissom shoulders as the zipper was lowered. Hazy tugged the dress down, revealing golden flesh and black lace, the top half of the dress falling around Diana's belted waist. Hazy's hands touched Diana's upper arms, her shoulders, gliding down to shape the full globes of Diana's breasts in their shiny bra cups. Bending forward, she browsed her nose into the spiced fragrance of Diana's hair, breathing in the rich scents of shampoo and flesh and clean hair, the afterscent of ripe and lubricating c**k reaching her nostrils moments later. Her taste for c**k whetted by the smell, nerves keening, Hazy dipped her face and struggled her mouth into the play with thirsting enthusiasm. Diana generously yielded, the wet c**k slipping from her mouth to snap at an upward angle into Hazy's, a glint of mixed spittle and c**k juice furling over Hazy's upper lip.