Code: Alles auswählen
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE:
THE SAILORS' SOIREE, PART THREE
What surprised Christine the most upon emerging
from the kitchen into the main room of the cafe was the
immediate increase in the ambient noise level. The
double doors through which she strode had to be
soundproof, because the racket that greeted her entrance
was sudden and almost mind-numbingly loud. Where did
all these people come from? she thought, mildly
confused. When we arrived there was almost no one here.
How long was I milking into that pot of lobster bisque
anyway? The clock on the wall was no help, since she
hadn't noted the time when they arrived, but it told her
that it was already well past ten p.m. The raucousness
of the crowd told her that she had already missed the
party's preliminaries.
The party had broken up into a series of mini-
parties, each with one of the cafe's very large circular
tables as its focus. People seemed to have gravitated
toward particular areas; there was very little traffic
between tables. Chris found herself to be essentially
the only "social butterfly" in the room. As she came
closer to the nearest table, she saw that each table was
a sort of miniature stage, with a different activity
going on atop it. It didn't take but a moment to
realize that each activity was intensely sexual in
nature. Another moment later Chris realized that even
though her incredible, bare breasts were in almost full
view, covered only by her unzipped windbreaker, her
state of undress was more the norm than the exception.
People were dressed (or not) in all manner of costume,
reminiscent of Mardi Gras or Carnaval. Feathers,
sequins, lame', rhinestones, beads, and gewgaws of all
descriptions dotted bodies all over the room, male and
female alike. I'm really underdressed, Chris thought,
then laughed aloud at her inadvertent play on words.
Her curiosity and her animal side drew her toward the
nearest table, from which very little noise was
emanating.
As Chris approached the first table, all she could
see were the backs of several men, all bent over and
clustered about the center of the table. A woman's head
and shoulders stuck out above the group; she was
evidently sitting on the tabletop. She appeared to be
nude. The look on her face was that of the cat who'd
eaten the canary. She was stroking the heads of two of
the many men who surrounded her. As Chris got close
enough to see through the crowd, she gaped. The woman's
breasts were of a size that the word "elephantine" was
barely adequate to describe. Each was at least the size
of a large watermelon; Chris couldn't think of anything
appropriate to compare them to exactly. Her areolae
were the size of saucers, and they were capped with
nipples the size and shape of upside-down cupcakes. The
men were busy quietly caressing and kissing these
monstrous mammaries, the ragged scars on which gave away
their artificiality. Some of the men were openly
masturbating. The woman had to be carrying gallons of
silicone inside her. She was sitting Indian-style, but
her lap was completely obscured by the huge globes of
tit-flesh that rested on it. Just at that moment one of
the men grunted and came, shooting an arc of semen onto
one immense nipple, just missing the cheek of another
man. The woman smiled and winked at Chris, who smiled
weakly in return, turned, and proceeded to the next
table.
Sitting atop the second table was a pair of nude
women, both dark haired, very thin, and fairly flat-
chested. As Chris approached and was able to make out
their facial features more clearly, she saw that they
were twin sisters. One was in the process of wiping the
last vestiges of what appeared to be shaving cream from
her crotch with a damp towel, which she handed to one of
the men who were sitting in a ring around the circular
table. She had evidently just finished shaving off her
pubic hair as her sister had also done. From the same
man the woman received two identical rubber penises
attached to flat rubber bases to which were glued
thatches of fake black hair such as what one might find
on a Halloween fright wig. She handed one to her
sister, then took from the man a large tube of what
appeared to be some type of adhesive. She and her
sister smeared copious amounts of this material on the
bases of their dildos, glued them to their naked pubes,
and adjusted them so that the penises pointed downward.
They then began taunting the men surrounding them,
stroking their "members" and cooing suggestive come-ons
at them. Chris surmised that they were simply waiting
for the adhesive to set before proceeding. From a safe
distance she watched as the women spat on their fingers
and used the saliva to lubricate their labia (although
from the looks of it, supplementary secretions were
hardly necessary). They then positioned themselves
crotch to crotch, facing in opposite directions, and
inserted their attached penises into the other's vagina.
With practiced precision they moved against each other,
the dildoes sliding out the same distance from each
gaping slit and then disappearing completely from view
as their pussies slammed together with a wet squishing
sound. Chris winced in sympathetic pain as she saw the
skin of their pubes where the penises were attached
stretch under the strain, particularly as the women
neared orgasm and clamped their vaginal muscles more
tightly around their toys. The men cheered them on.
The two nearest the panting mouths of the twins
liberated cocks glistening with pre-come which the women
promptly swallowed whole. Chris found herself stroking
her own bald cunt outside of her slacks as she watched.
Her animal side was telling her that she needed to stop
being an observer and start being a participant. Her
more rational side was almost ready to acquiesce, but
was insisting that a different forum be found. So she
moved on.
At the third table the centerpiece was a
transsexual who was receiving a blow job from a large
man wearing a wig and earrings. Chris recognized the
latter as the bouncer who had greeted them at the back
door of the cafe. In addition, two women were
frantically sucking on the transsexual's budding
breasts, which though developing nicely, had not yet
lost their masculine qualities. Definitely not my cup
of tea, Chris thought, and continued on.
At the fourth table a crowd of both men and women
was watching a man dressed in an oversized baby bonnet
who was lying on his back on the table as a nude, large-
breasted woman was finishing smearing baby oil on his
shaved, erect penis that was ten inches long if it was a
millimeter. She then dusted the shining pork sword with
powder and finished fastening a large diaper around the
man. Chris marveled at the woman's strength as she then
lifted the man's upper body off the table and cradled
him in her arms. He made gurgling noises -- amusing to
Chris because they were supposed to emulate a baby's
vocalizations but had a baritone pitch -- and sought out
the woman's nipple, where he latched on and began
nursing avidly. Now this is a little more up my alley,
Chris thought as she made her way to the front of the
crowd. From her improved vantage point, Chris noticed
that the nursing part of the man's fantasy was just that
-- a fantasy. The woman was not producing any milk.
Chris decided she would do something wicked. She stood
up straight and opened her windbreaker, allowing her
magnificent milk machines to come into view. This
caught the woman's eye, and she smiled. The man looked
at Chris out of the corner of his eye but did nothing.
Chris then cupped her full breasts, squeezed, and shot
multiple streams of hot milk across the table, splashing
both participants. The man immediately sat bolt
upright, knocking the woman backward, and thrust both
arms out toward Chris, who merely laughed and quickly
backed away. The man fell into the crowd in his haste
to reach Chris, but by that time she had made good her
escape. I like nursing men, she thought, but I'm not
into infantilism. She realized too late that she
shouldn't have let only one squirt of milk go, because
now that stimulation had kicked her breasts into high
gear. She could feel them reaching maximum capacity and
knew she'd have to do something fast, even if it meant
revisiting Enrique's pot of lobster bisque and topping
it off with more mother's milk.
Fortunately, what eventually transpired at the
fifth table, which was off in a far corner, was enough
to make her end her search. Here was where Christine
would make her mark, where she would put on a sexual
show that would have people talking about the 1995 party
for a long time to come.