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The Party Planner

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When people ask what I do for a living, I tell them I'm a writer. I'd like to think that's true, but it's really not. It isn't what pays the bills. For that, I don a pressed white shirt and black pants, carry a silver tray and serve wine and hors d'oeuvres to business execs at corporate soirees. I arrange tables and chairs, clean up spills and keep the mini-quiches flowing. No one stays in this line of work for very long, which used to make me wonder why I stuck around. I don't wonder that anymore.

My manager Tom is a good guy. He realizes this isn't anyone's dream job and tries to do right by his team. His bosses are the owners of the company, a husband and wife power-couple who, to be fair, work as hard as anyone else -- probably harder. I worked a gig directly under them once. It was a big wedding in Westchester. One had to admire their command of every detail. It brought out the best in their staff, myself included. I think that's the night they took notice of me.

Tom took me out to lunch one day to discuss what he called "career opportunities." After listening to him talk at length about my "great work ethic" and "reliability," I was sure a promotion was coming and it made me queasy. I was going to be a writer, remember. I did not want to devote my life to catering. But then the conversation went in a direction I hadn't expected.

"You're a good-looking guy," Tom said. "You work out a lot?"

All the time, I said.

"You have a girlfriend?"

Not really.

Tom leaned in. "Sean and Barb want to transfer you to another team. It's not like any of our regular teams. The clientele is richer, for one thing. I'm talking high fucking society. And the thing about these people is, well," Tom paused for a sip of water. "The parties they like to throw are kinda wild." He swirled the ice around in his glass. "You ever see Eyes Wide Shut?"

I had.

"So you understand what I'm saying."

I furrowed my brow as much as I could. "Ok..." I eventually stammered, "So... we cater... orgies?" Tom smiled and nodded almost imperceptibly.

I laughed. "So how does that work? Am I still just going around serving food and drinks, or... " My mind struggled to play out the scenarios in my head. I, of course, had never been to an orgy, but what I had gleaned from movies and porn sites painted a certain picture. "...or what?"

Tom took another, longer sip of water. "You do whatever the clients, or their guests, ask of you." He was dead serious. He looked over the edge of his glass to read my reaction. "So. Before I go any further, I have to ask you: Is this something you'd be interested in? If not, you can go back to serving tired ol' motherfuckers at team-building retreats. But if you do take the job, you can't talk about anything you see from here on out to anybody ever." I had many questions, the answers to which were all outrageous, but in the end I said yes.

My next meeting was with Sean and Barbara, who invited me to their residence in the Financial District. I emerged from a private elevator directly into the brightness of their penthouse, where walls of glass presented the skyline of downtown in all its grandeur. Against this backdrop stood my bosses, waiting to welcome me into their very special fold, but not before they were sure their instincts had been correct.

After a few pleasantries and a recap of my conversation with Tom, the real interview began: "Well you have a good look," Barb said, eyeing me from head to toe, "How's your cock?"

I had expected questioning along these lines, but not at this juncture. "Pretty good?" was all I could come up with. They still hadn't asked me to sit down.

Barb strutted across the foyer to me, her thick heels clattering on the tiled floor. Both her and her husband were very fit people in their late thirties, with a kind of glow that only the most expensive spa treatments can buy. She wore a tight white blouse opened just enough to tease the black lace bra that cupped her eye-popping breasts. An even tighter skirt covered her slender lower half, no more than a lampshade covers a lamp. Her long blond hair had been pulled back in a bun, though shocks of gold curled down into the ruffles of her collar.

"Can I see it," she said to me, not so much asking as informing. She undid my belt and zipped down my pants. I reluctantly pulled my underwear open for her to peer in. I was beyond nervous, and all those nerves had shriveled my cock down to about the size of an acorn.

"Cute," she said. Her husband grinned, folding his arms as he leaned against the back of a white leather sofa.

"It gets bigger," I protested, trying my best to hide my embarrassment.

"Oh, it does? Well then," She adjusted her skirt. "Let's find out how big it can get."

With a smile she crouched down before me and in one motion pulled my pants and underwear just below my ass. My cock fell out of its holster and almost right into her mouth. She sucked on it and batted it around with her tongue and it grew. It grew like a timelapse flower in bloom, and the more it grew, the more she had to work to keep it contained. My legs grew weak as it seemed all the blood in my body was rushing to one central point. My pole was now drenched in her saliva, and each time she took it out of her mouth, the air itself made it even harder. I started to whisper the name of my maker as she stared up at me, rubbing the tip of my now very erect shaft along her cheek. It throbbed and flicked itself away from her, only to come back for more.

She disengaged with a look of pride on her face. "Take it all off," she ordered. I complied as gracefully as I could, leaving my clothes scattered on the floor about me. She took a moment to drink in my naked body. "Come with me," she said as she grabbed me by the hand. She walked me past her husband to the sofa he had been leaning on. "Don't sit down yet," she whispered, "You still have to undress me."

I moved behind her, pressing my body hard against hers as my cheek caressed the crook of her neck. I ran my hands from the v-shape between her legs, up her flat abdomen and over the firm hills on her chest. I listened to her breath quicken as I popped open the buttons of her blouse. Her breasts burst forth, ready to play, if only someone would free them from their remaining bonds, but I made them wait. I unzipped her waist. Barbara placed her hands on top of mine and guided them to her hips. She shook her gorgeous ass a few times as together we slid her skirt down her long, silky legs. I took stock of what we had uncovered. A black lace garter belt was holding up her stockings, but there were no panties to be found -- just the soft lips of her shaved pussy.

I took two fingers and slid them between my boss's legs, softly caressing her already wet labia, tracing circles around her pronounced clit. She let out a sigh, pressing her ass against my hard cock. Then she abruptly stepped away, only to turn around for a long, deep kiss. I have kissed many women, but I can count on one hand the ones who played for keeps the way Barbara did. When we were done, she looked at me with a devilish smile: "Mmm," was all she said before pushing me back onto the sofa.

Out of the corner of my eye I spied her husband making his way to a tripod I had not noticed before. A tiny video camera was mounted on it and I could tell Sean was turning it on to record. A voice inside my head objected, but it was quickly drowned out by the pleasure I was about to receive.

Barbara had climbed up my torso and was straddling my face, slowly lowering her pussy down onto my waiting lips like some obscene arcade game. I loved the way her pussy smelled. I buried my nose deep inside before lapping at her juices. My tongue traced the ridges of her inner labia before zeroing in on what really mattered. Barbara grabbed the back of the sofa as her mouth dropped open.

"Oh. Oh my," she gasped.

"How is he?" her husband asked from behind the tripod.

"Uh," was all she could get out. She began swaying her hips back and forth, pushing her box harder and harder into my face. As for me, I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, but I didn't care. I kept at it, probing her depths with my tongue, sucking on her swollen clit, licking her soft folds, plunging my fingers into her moist, pink flesh. Later, over some ice cream, we would all watch the video of us fucking, and I would really get off at the sight of her ass work, the way she pumped her entire pelvis toward me, only to lift herself off ever so slightly when the sensation was too much to bear.

Her moaning grew more frequent. With clenched teeth, she undid her bra. Her sumptuous breasts were even bigger than I had assumed, yet so firm they seemed to defy gravity. They wasted no time bouncing along to our high jinks. Barbara fondled herself in a futile effort to regain control of them. "Oh! Oh yeah," she exclaimed, "Eat that pussy! Oh god..."

She leaned back and felt around for my cock and to her delight, it was still hard. She started stroking it, casually at first, then furiously, as if she were mad at it for not fucking her already. She looked me right in the eyes. "I want this inside me," she said, "Now."

I repositioned myself higher up on the sofa as Barbara positioned herself lower. Slowly she guided my cock between her legs. Her slot was soaking wet, and it took very little coaxing to insert the entire thing. That first thrust seemed to send a bolt of lightning up her body as she arched her back and raised her head to the heavens. Her mouth was wide open, but no sound emerged.

I took hold of her ass and slid her up and down, waxing my pole with her juices. My cock was so happy to be where it was. She held onto my shoulders for dear life as I bounced her at a quickening pace. Her rock-hard nipples, these two chocolate thimbles, slapped me in the face repeatedly. I tried to catch them in my mouth, with only occasional success. I looked down at where we were joined and watched as her pussy lips stretched and contracted around the throbbing veins of my cock.

Barb threw her arms around my neck as her breathing grew shallow and our thrusts became more forceful. There was a dark space between us now, made hot and humid by our breath and sweat. That is where we lived, just us two, where we could focus on the exquisite sensations coming from below. The sound of our bodies slapping against each other echoed through the cavernous apartment, as did Barbara's yelps and moans. Her husband kept himself busy recording it all for posterity.

Her breasts heaving, Barbara arched back so we could both get a clear view of the action. Her pussy had swallowed my shaft in its entirety and she was gyrating along its length while rubbing her clit as fast as her fingers could go. The look on her face was one of pain and suffering; the sounds coming out of her resembled crying, but I knew better.

It was getting close. I was starting to lose control and I didn't want that. Not yet. In a panic and without warning, I lifted her off my cock and threw her onto the couch. I stood up panting and we all three stared at my big purple dick as it bobbed up and down as if to say, "What happened?" I blew on it in a vain attempt to cool it down. My boss smiled devilishly. She knew my condition and her instinct was to go in for the kill. She too sprung up from the leather sofa, only to turn around and bend over an armrest. She stuck her ass straight out at me and with one hand pulled a cheek to one side.

"I want you to fuck me in the ass," she said.

I took a deep breath and pulled aside the other cheek to expose her pretty little anus. I spit on my shaft to give it a little more slip, then spit in her ass for extra measure. She liked that. I rubbed the tip of my cock along her butt crack a few times before stuffing it into her hole. "Oh!" she cried as she grasped desperately at the sofa, like a straphanger on a train that had just come to a sudden stop.

A few more pushes is all it took to regain our stride. The video camera whirred along, recording my butt cheeks clenching and relaxing as I pounded her from behind. Sean zoomed in on her breasts jostling back and forth with each thrust. She reached under herself and resumed frantically fingering her clit, her labia, the whole package. We were both moaning now so loudly that I wondered if the entire skyline could hear.

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum!" she cried. The feeling was mutual. Her ass was so tight, there was no way of backing out this time, so I just went for it, thrusting faster and faster until my legs started to tremble and I could feel the eruption coming. I cried out in ecstacy as what felt like buckets of my cum filled her. My thrusts began to slow down, but she was not done. She kept right on fucking my cock, slapping her ass into my groin, strumming her pussy like a guitar virtuoso.

"Stay in me! Stay in me!" she cried, "I'm gonna.. I'm gonna... oh god!" Convulsions rocked her body. She pulled her hand away from her clit just before her geyser exploded all over her thighs, my shins ... nothing within the blast radius was spared. She collapsed back onto the sofa and I went right along with her, sweaty and exhausted. We laughed and I ran my hand over her breasts and inner thighs as she pawed at my chest.

"What are you doing to my couch?" Sean joked as he pointed out all manner of bodily fluids dripping from our various orifices. Barbara raised her legs into the air so we could all marvel at the milky white cum oozing out of her ass. She dipped two fingers in it and rubbed it all over her clit. Sean sat down next to her and she curled up in his arms like a happy little kitten.

"Who wants some ice cream?" she asked.

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