One sultry summer night before his 30th birthday, when he was still youthful and in his sexual and intellectual prime, Brad found himself at his favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Oooh-Mami. As usual, he was working late securing the fuck out of some data on his sleek 15-inch laptop while gently teasing raw oysters out of their craggy shells and sucking them between his teeth before letting them glide smoothly into the warmth of his throat. He had it pretty good for the most part, he thought, and he let himself slip into a daydream about the richness of life as the sun gently melted into the horizon.
A boisterous party of drunk goddesses interrupted Brad's reverie about the purring engine of a Superstock 426 Hemi, and he blinked his eyes to ensure these women were real. The hoes are laughin'? He thought to himself. His ears pricked when he heard someone squeal, “Let's take some shots!” Aw shit, it could be my lucky night, he thought. No, he decided on second thought. I want women to be sexually enlightened and to feel empowered by their choices. Sigh. But I also want them to make bad choices. “I'll have a hot sake,” he heard a beautiful fair-skinned, dark-haired Asian woman say to the bartender. He watched out of the corner of his eye in awe as the lithe, classy beauty tipped the glass to her plump lips and with one swallow let the full cup of milky liquid slide down her slender throat.
“Much better,” she exhaled, slamming the glass forcefully on the bar and licking the warm drops off her lips as she noticed Brad for the first time. “Are you having a business meeting? Where's the rest of the company?” She asked wryly. “I'm alone!” He yelled across the bar, maybe just a touch too desperately. The bar answered with deafening silence. “Oh,” the dark-haired woman nodded. “That's awkward. Well, I'm Aika.” She raised her empty glass to his. “Brad,” he smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Can I buy you another drink? I see you're out. Do you like bourbon?” “Sure,” she said, “I'll have a Pappy Van Winkle 15 year, neat.” Holy fuck, he thought to himself. There goes my next paycheck.
The bartender set a crystal rocks glass in front of Aika. She grabbed the glass and took a generous sip of the tawny liquid, swishing it around her mouth, eyes closed in rapture. “Mind if I taste?” He asked. “Oh, you can taste,” Aika said suggestively. She took another long swig, appreciating the notes of orange peel, burnt rice, and chewed crayons. Brad waited in anticipation as Aika bent close enough to for him to feel her warm breath, his skin prickly with goosebumps. His remarkably average and in no way large or small bone ranger pulsed with his heartbeat as she grabbed his neck with confidence and guided his mouth to hers. Lips parted slightly, she let some of the bourbon spill onto his lips and tongue.
Brad could no longer contain himself. He hadn't seen a female up close in several months. He pulled out the best pickup lines he knew. “My magic watch says you're not wearing any underwear.” “Hm, that's weird, I think your watch is broken because I definitely am.” Looking slightly annoyed, Brad replied, “Shit, damn thing must be 10 minutes fast.” “Want to come to my place and watch porn on my flatscreen mirror?” “Should we take this party to my bachelor pad where I live with my cat, Socrates?” “Sure,” she said, really not looking sure at all. “Does he sit on your face?” “Definitely,” he assured her. “Can I sit on your face?” She asked coyly. “Please do,” he managed, trying to hide the uncomfortable erection stretching his Brooks Brothers dress slacks. “Do you mind if I bring my girlfriend with me?” She gestured vaguely in the direction of a perfectly petite redhead in the opposite corner of the bar. “Of course not,” he breathed, packing his things as quickly as possible. “Catch me outside, how bout dat?” “What does that even mean?” She asked. “Nevermind,” he muttered. “Let me call you ladies an Uber so you don't have to drive.”
An Uber delivered the beautiful women to his apartment in just enough time for Brad to put on some Dashboard Confessional, wash off the day's junk funk and change into some athletic shorts and a fitted grey t-shirt. The doorbell rang and Socrates retreated to the closet. Brad answered the door to find Aika and a fetching, petite redhead with a mussed up wavy chin-length bob tongue-deep in each other's mouths. Aika pulled away from her long enough to announce, “This is Scarlett,” planting one more suggestive kiss on the redhead's pouty lips. “She's a particle physicist! Why don't you give us a tour of your place?” “This is the bedroom,” he said, gesturing to the entire apartment. Scarlett spoke for the first time. “That's neat,” she said. “Why don't we go slip into something a little more comfortable?”
Ten minutes later both women emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but partially torn black lace bodysuits. *What in the...*he thought to himself. “There's something you should know,” Aika said solemnly. “We intend to dominate you. If anything ever becomes too uncomfortable, the safe word is Socrates.” “Oh, I think I can handle it,” he assured them. “In that case, who is naughty and needs a spanking?” Scarlett smirked, pulling a leather glove out of her handbag, followed by a whip, a cucumber, jumper cables, and a blindfold. Meanwhile, Aika grabbed Brad by the hair and began lightly biting his neck and ears. He felt a rush of warmth all over his body as his exceptionally run-of-the-mill member became engorged. The love bites increased in intensity and began tingling oddly. As if reading his mind, Aika said, “I may have eaten some jalapeno earlier.” Jesus, what had he gotten himself into? She bit his lips rather hard and shucked his shorts from his erect tubesteak onto the floor. “Well, look at that,” Aika said. “It's so perfectly average. Why are you still wearing this?” Lifting his shirt slightly, she licked from his chest down to his waistband, her tongue gliding over each individual ab. Then, pulling him toward her by a handful of the 100% cotton fabric in one aggressive motion she ripped it clean off his swollen pecs. For a minute, she was blinded as she bared his pearlescent chest to the room. Well shit, he thought. That was my favorite shirt.
That thought had barely registered before Scarlett was on her knees in front of him, working his rock hard meat popsicle with her sassy mouth and that weird leather glove. He groaned with pleasure, and just as it was building into something greater, he felt sharp painful stinging sensations as Aika began whipping his muscular bare ass cheeks rhythmically with the feather-tipped tool. “OUCH!” he yelled instinctively, but he kind of liked it. He lost capacity to speak as she massaged his throbbing pole in her mouth with the suction of a Ridgid WD1851 wet/dry shopvac. The waves of pleasure became greater and the stinging of the whip harder as the rhythm took over conscious thought. His eyes rolled back in his head and he succumbed to the sensations all over his body. Suddenly, the women stopped their coordinated efforts and Scarlett slowly slid her mouth off his body and up his stomach. “You don't say much, do you,” he teased. “Get inside me,” she commanded. She grabbed Aika and ripped the rest of the black lacy things off both of them.
“Lay down so I can sit on your face,” Aika ordered. She pushed Brad over onto to the bed, tying a blindfold tightly over his eyes and binding his hands to the headboard with silky fabric. Scarlett climbed on top of him, placing a well-lubricated condom over his utterly ordinary baloney pony and easing him inside her. Aika tied the blindfold tightly over his eyes and swung her legs apart on either side of his ears. He was so distracted by Scarlett's rhythmic twerking that he almost didn't notice the fur burger in front of his face. Exploring the soft folds of Aika with only his mouth while thrusting deeply into the moisture of Scarlett's whisker biscuit without being able to see or touch anything with his hands was really too much for him to take. He felt Aika's body spasm with pleasure. She shuddered and cried out, then bit one of his nipples just as his body begged for an equal release.
Scarlett switched to reverse cowgirl so that Aika could simultaneously fondle and lick his sweetbreads. Scarlett began riding him harder. She pushed her fingers into his mouth and commanded, “Suck them!” Just before her body began bucking harder against him she yelled out, “I might pop!” There was nothing he could do but go with it, and soon she shrieked in pleasure. He squirmed on the bed in agony and pleasure, attempting to break free of the binds so he could grab a handful of those Picasso cubes. He felt an animalistic urge rush through his body and, as his pleasure intensified, he couldn't help but let out a deep guttural roar. Just then he felt some soft fur brush by one of his bound arms. “Socrates?” he said, not realizing his mistake at first. Suddenly his life flashed before his eyes and the delicious sensations stopped as if in slow-motion. “Nooooo,” he cried, “that's not what I meant, that's not what I meant.” But it was too late. Aika and Scarlett slid off of him, untied his hands and blindfold, and immediately fell into a deep and satisfied slumber on either side of him. I can't believe this is actually happening, he thought to himself as he lay on the bed, his tummy banana still rigid and throbbing.
An indefinite amount of time passed before Brad got up to fix himself a neat bourbon. I guess I'll just finish this like any other night, he said, securing a good (left-handed) grip on the ol' springroll. He was mid-stroke on the living room couch when Scarlett appeared in the room, rubbing her eyes. “I'm allergic to cats,” she said, “and your cat keeps trying to sit on my head. But since I'm out here, let me finish what I started.” She knelt down in front of him, gripping his thunderbird in one hand and guiding it into her mouth. She worshipped Krull the Warrior King with the fervor of a Pentecostal zealot on Sunday morning. After a few generous strokes and suckles, he was overcome by memories of the night's festivities. He had barely said, “I'm gonna...” before he exploded, his clam hammer propelling ropey strands into her enthusiastic mouth. She swished the warm gentleman's relish around in her mouth a few times before swallowing and licking her lips. “Mmmmm,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “Pineapple?”