Sexual Solstice (9 page)

There was something about Robert’s voice that rocked Gillian to the core; it seemed to reverberate inside her and massage her very being. He let out a low moan of pleasure and Gillian ventured below his soft smooth belly to the prize known as the crippler.

“Oooh baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Oooh baby, baby, baby. Been pent up in those work pants for eight hours, dying to get out and be appreciated. Oh Jesus your hand feels good on it. Oh man.”

Gillian handled Robert’s prick with the delicacy of someone handling raw pie crust, she could feel the thick vein that ran the length. She felt it swell in response to her touch. She felt the head swell more, and the rest of the shaft follow. “Oh you have the magic touch.” Robert pulled his finger from Gillian’s mouth and placed his thumb between her lips and the palm of his hand across her face. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, do you turn me on. This is fucking incredible. Can you breathe?”

Gillian laughed and nodded. “Fucking love your fucking thick working man hands. Oooh yeah push me push my face.” To which Robert applied pressure and Gillian responded with more pressure and a harder bite on Robert’s thumb. “Mmmm.” She tightened her grip on his shaft making it harder and bigger.

“Oh yeah baby,” moaned Robert, “Oh yeah, what do you want to do. Just tell me. Tell me what it is you want from me.”

“I want, mmmm, I want, oh fuck Robert I want you inside me, but I can’t; you’re just too big, and I’m too excited. I’ve had as much sex in the past twelve hours as I’ve had in the past ten years.”

“That’s okay baby, you call it, that’s okay.”

“Well, how about you audition for me. I want you to audition for me. I want you to show me what goes on in the casting room. Does the agent get down on her knees like this?” Gillian slipped off her chair to her knees at the edge of the bed. “Does she lick the tip of your cock like this?” Gillian took his cock in her hand and licked the tip. “Does she want to see how well you concentrate while you’re having your cock sucked? What do you do Robert? What do you say? Do you sing a few words from some song or do you read something for her or do you have a piece prepared?”

“This will be a challenge of concentration, believe me. God I want you.”

“You’ll have to audition Robert. You can’t have me until you do a good audition.”

“How about a little Shakespeare?”

Gillian licked again, at the head of Robert’s cock, wondering if even just the head would fit in her mouth. “Shakespeare would be good, in fact great. If you can concentrate, you get the part.” She loved the idea of putting him through his paces. It reminded her of the smarmy world of advertising and how she had so badly wanted to seek revenge on all hard-to-please clients.

“Alright.” Robert rose, over Gillian, hands at his side, pushing the robe back to reveal a solid torso and a heavy cock that was defying gravity to rise to the occasion. He cleared his throat, took another swig of champagne, then started: “My love is as a fever, longing still,” He touched the top of Gillian’s head guiding her gently from being too eager with his sensitive cock.

“…feeding on that which doth preserve… Ahhhhh.”

“Come on concentration. If you don’t concentrate I will have to do something drastic.”

“… and I, desperate now, approve desire…”

Gillian was truly impressed at the focus that Robert maintained while letting her pleasure him, and herself. She held his cock and ran her lips along the shaft and marvelled at the thick vein that ran the length. She had never seen such a thing. It was as if something so big needed all the blood it could muster to get hard. And she loved the taste––a little bit of soap mixed with a distinct smell of his crotch.

“… as dark as night.” Robert paused, “Well. How was I?”

“You’re finished? Already?”

“It was just a sonnet.”

“I’m going to have to penalize you for faltering on one of the words. I think you added an extra doth.”

“Ah me, what a thing it is to fuck up the bard at an audition.”

“On the bed. Now.”

“So please milady. As long as I may drink of your milk of human kindness. Oops bad luck to quote the Scottish play.”

“Really? The Scottish play?

“You know rhymes with death, starts with Mac.”

“Macbeth?”

“Shhhhhh!”

“Hmmm, extra punishment for quoting the Scottish play.”

“Forgive me.”

“On the bed. On the double.”

“May I have the pleasure of pleasuring you? Will it help me to get the part?”

“Oh please! But you are a big boy so perhaps we could negotiate.”

“It was no mistake that this bubbly was a ’69. A great year.”

––and a great position.” Gillian lay back on the bed and loosened her gown.

“Here, here.”

“Allow me.” Robert took the bottle and tipped it into Gillian’s crotch.

“Oooh that’s original. Chilly too.”

“Methinks thou doth protest too much. Just a sip is all I want, milady. Maybe a slurp.” He clambered across the bed so his feet were resting on the pillow and his head was by her thigh. “Let’s see how it tastes from this lovely vessel.” Gillian sensed Robert’s large nose and his tongue pressing to get inside of her. Even then he was soft, and gentle and Gillian let her legs fall open at his urging. Robert’s legs were squashing his balls and cock, so she shifted one of his heavy thighs to free the crippler, and took his large cock in her hand and brought it to her mouth. They seemed locked in this position of ecstasy for ages, as if the ring of pleasure continued through both of them, neither knowing where the other’s genitals stopped and theirs started. It was as if they were one body that was able to pleasure itself.

“My balls,” said Robert. “Touch my balls.” So Gillian responded, taking the ample soft balls that seemed to have a rhythm of their own and gently caressing them, one and the other rolling them in her hands. She had had so little experience with men’s testicles and now she had to figure out just what to do, but as she started touching them ever so lightly with her fingertips, Robert moaned in pleasure and his cock responded. Gillian knew she was doing it right. The balls, she thought, how could she have ignored the balls.

Gillian’s eyes rolled back in pleasure when she wasn’t watching the gorgeous shaft so close to her face; Robert’s dick was truly a work of art and to be appreciated in the light, it was magnificent in its proportion and girth and texture. She needed it in her mouth and someday hoped she could take it all inside her. In the meantime it seemed that he was even more eager to worship her. “I adore this beautiful cunt,” he said.

She had found a new kind of ecstasy. It was obvious that, not only did Robert love sex, but he loved women, and loved the taste and the scent and the feel. “I am crazily into your cunt.” She hadn’t heard the “c” word used with such zeal, and it turned her on, especially coming from this hungry man. It was visceral, organic and honest. Just the idea of his appetite was enough to turn Gillian wild. Just knowing that Robert wanted to ravish her, drove her wild, causing her to suck harder on his massive prick. While his tongue pleasured her, his hands searched every bit of her body, her behind, her stomach, her breasts, to tickle, trace and knead with the deft touch of an artist. He gently rolled Gillian onto her back where he was able to plunge his face even more emphatically into her, his long hair tickling her thighs. Throughout, he seemed self-aware trying not to force his length and thickness, but with each new sensation between her legs, she took more of him down her throat. Finally he had found that spot that had made her squeal in the past. Robert gently withdrew his cock, while Gillian got her breath and then gasped again, and inhaled. She placed her hands on his ass and dug her fingernails in, as if to hold on for the approaching ride. Robert clutched his cock with one hand, while Gillian pulled on his balls, his body stiffened over her, every muscle defined on that beautiful body, toes clutched, arms became taut and he sprayed across her breasts, tickling her, and turning her crazy. Gurgles of restraint came from his throat as if to suppress the real way he wanted to express himself, by screaming. He seemed to eat now, plunging, with huge mouths full of her and she writhed in a pleasure she had only known to exist in her imagination. He took her to the edge and then plunged further taking her over that precipice and into a place of total completion. All she could do was moan. When her grasp on his butt and balls loosened, he knew she had had enough, and collapsed beside her.

There they lay, on that King size bed, the halves of their bodies melding. Robert running his hand along the inside of Gillian’s leg, Gillian patting Robert’s cock as it shifted and shrank and expanded. What beauty there is with this man, she thought. As a young woman she had been so reluctant to give herself over to him. She had been afraid and perhaps she was right, but now they were both adults and there was little to do but enjoy the expanse of body and sensation as it presented itself to her. A gift.

Chapter Six – Ballet Bums and Bulges

W
hen Gillian woke late the next morning Robert had already left, and he had obviously sneaked a breakfast tray in with an accompanying note. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks, it is the east and Gillian is the sun…had to go, have an audition, wish me luck. I had a great time last night. Keep in touch.”

Gillian smiled to herself, and clutched the note to her heart. She had lived in a seemingly sterile prison for years now, with few fantasies to pull her through the dry spell. It had all been Spokes and that magical night outside Cherry Hill. The memory of that experience had gotten her through some pretty lonely and definitely horny times in her life. In her imagination she’d had Spokes play many roles, his visage was versatile, compliant and powerfully sexy. But mostly she had him over a steaming engine, with his big butt in the air while she had her way with him, mostly pulling his big prick and balls down between his legs to jack up the car, and then tickling him while he endured this punishment. Then he, finally turning to her, swept her into the back of the Rolls and licked her and kissed her all over, from head to toe. It drove her wild.

There was steaming coffee and a full breakfast in the warmer on the trolley. Someone had even taken the trouble to put a small bottle of bubbly beside a little pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice.

Gillian thought of the night before, of the long night before, starting with a morose drive to Heathrow, a solitary flight until she was invited to the cockpit, where she rediscovered what it meant to recklessly abandon, again, and be a simple object of two men’s ravenous desire, and the pleasures of simple non-emotional sex. Then finding out that Edgar was gone, lost or departed. And the happenstance of a rendez-vous with an old work buddy. You can take the girl out of Brooklyn she thought, but that’s about it. Edgar, oh Edgar. What were you up to? Did a call drag you back off the plane? Was that it? Not enough time to say goodbye. But there was nothing on her phone, and he rarely left messages. In fact all that the phone seemed good for was everything but a phone, or communication. It was a bother to have the damn thing go off at the most inopportune times. And in the past two weeks, since losing her job, there had been no messages. Proof that she had sacrificed any kind of social life for that bloody career. So, no message from Edgar. Perhaps he would meet up later at their destination. Perhaps he would be waiting at Sandy Lane in Barbados, when she got there. That must have been it. She’d have a few new tricks up her sleeve, but most likely, no way to use them. What would life be like now? A series of clandestine encounters behind Edgar’s back? What a horrid fate. She almost hoped he wouldn’t show up in New York, and truth be told, he only endured this part of the journey so Gillian could visit with her mother. But last night did have its risks and she certainly wouldn’t have wanted him to walk in while she was enjoying all the pleasure that Robert offered. But Edgar walking in would have been impossible; she had been on the last flight out of Heathrow for New York, last night.

She thought about her resolve, the animal card the old woman had passed off to her, and the words––
mesmerize
seemed to be not much a problem, but something she couldn’t have imagined she was able to do.
True Self––
perhaps she was somehow getting closer to that.
All Potential
––was something that stumped her. She harboured not much more than anger towards Edgar, at this point, and towards herself. It all seemed so timely or convenient for him to disappear, when she was at last ready to throw herself on the mercy of mankind. She had gone from feeling like a barren tart, fighting off school boys, to an attractive piece of confection, alluring, sexy, funny and daring, all at once. Nothing she had recently perceived herself to be.

There was a knock on the door. Gillian wrapped herself in the robe that Robert had worn the night before, still with his scent, she buried her nose in the lapel. She wrapped a towel around her head and padded across the thick carpet. “Who is it?” she sang out.

“Open up, you hoe.” Came Randy’s familiar and oh so bitchy response.

“I beg your hard-on.”

“Wrong sex lady.” She could hear giggling and knew that Val was up to no good as well. “Room service.” cried Val, doing her best at a couple of very foreign but not too convincing accents.

“I’ve been serviced, thank you.”

“You must be lyyyyy-innng,” came Randy’s voice again.

“You can see for yourself-ish self,” she replied, and then opened the door to her two friends looking fresh faced, chilly and happier than ever to see her. Val was definitely looking like she had had a good year since Gillian had seen her, she was in a tight tweed mini skirt with a bolero jacket, black leggings for the winter chill, smart, sophisticated but not in her working girl at the office professional way. “Hooker boots, I hate you,” Gillian squealed, and you’ve got a new look. Dare I say you look
bitchy
?” Val’s hair had gone from spiky and short, to straight and jaw length––a severe frame to a pretty face.

“Hooker boots?
De riguer
in the Big Apple.”