Did you miss Part 1 of Nikki Tells All? Read it here.
“You naughty girl,” Diana said, her face suddenly lit up with a sinister grin. Darin, on the other hand, wasn’t so pleased with the arrangement.
“Nicole, will you tell this crazy bitch to leave us alone!”
Diana cackled. “Isn’t he cute?”
Then off came the cherry red corset and the cherry red gloves. “I believe our friend needs to be reassured that we are doing this for his own pleasure.”
“We?” I stuttered. Speaking was a problem at this point.
Another cackle. She was having a ball.
“Why don’t you calm him down with a kiss, honey?” she asked.
I didn’t move. So she repeated:
“Why don’t you calm him down with a kiss?” It was an order this time. So I bent and kissed him on the cheek, feeling the panicked breath sputter out of him.
“You call that a kiss?” she asked.
“I guess so,” I answered.
She shook her head and dropped to Darin’s side. Her mouth blanketed his, stifling a scream and quelling his resistance. She swallowed his lower lip, nibbled for a while, then stretched it, leaving the copper tone of his mouth with a streak of glistening red.
She raised her eyes back to me. “Let’s try that again.”
I bent again, tasting not only my husband’s quivering lips, but the lipstick coating on top. It was sweet and salty and warm. A chocolate sundae waiting to be savored. I breathed in his taste and hers, then swallowed it down, her, him, us. I pulled away with a snap, met Diana’s eyes and steadied myself. The room was spinning now, blurring into a hurricane. But I was ready.
And Darin was ready too, his dark brown snake poking up against Diana’s touch, demanding attention. “He seems calm now,” she offered. I agreed. And we went to work with nary a script in sight, no director needed.
Diana went first, angling that growing pole into her tiny mouth with the precision of a diamond cutter. A kiss here, a nibble there. Even a playful slurp snuck into the mix. This was the bronze pole she sought earlier and with every elegantly orchestrated tug, my man’s toy was on its way to reaching full bloom, almost ready to be ridden into the sunset. She sucked, prodded, tickled, tasted and licked until she had to catch her breath. And when she tried to return to the lollipop, it was too late. Because it was my turn.
I scooped my head down before she could get there first and it tasted better than it ever had before. The lipstick coating last enjoyed on his lips tasted even sweeter down there, even saltier. Even warmer. I could feel him grow between my cheeks, the blood racing to the tip with each brush of my lips and teeth. My eyes shifted from Diana’s envious glare to Darin’s glassy-eyed tumble into ecstasy. I had to slam my eyes shut because it was too much. Too much sensation, too much to drink in at once. But my eyes were jolted back open with Diana’s demanding words:
“I want that thing inside me.”
She got no objection from Darin. But me? That was a different story. With my head motoring into overdrive on his slippery tool, my girl was gonna’ have to pull me away to get Darin Junior inside her.
And that’s exactly what she did. She got herself a handful of ponytail and gave my noggin a yank, snapping him out of my mouth with the POP of a champaign bottle’s cork snapping free. No worries, I’d be back soon.
She eased herself over him, then down, savoring a molasses-slow drop from his tip, down his shaft, and hours later (or so it seemed) to the base. A chorus of exhales came from the two and ushered me out of my blouse and pants. Another meeting of hips sent my panties to the floor, joined quickly by my bra. I was ready to join this party. I was ready to ride.
With Darin’s brick-hard hammer occupied at the time, I’d have to settle for door number two: his mouth. So I eased myself over him, mounting his face with my eyes locked on Diana’s reckless ride, her hips drifting into a dance, her tits spilling out of her lace bra, her hair everywhere. Then Darin’s tongue reached up and said hello and it was all could do to keep from passing out. But I kept my head together. No way was I going to miss the final act of this show.
Diana was having too much fun, huffing and wheezing through another wave of shudders and squeals. That curl in her spine, those eyeballs reaching for the top of her crown, they all told me that it was my turn to ride. She may have wanted to keep that coffee-colored joystick to herself, but she’d have to fight me.
“You got to give up that seat, sister,” I urged with what little breath I had left. After a stare-down, she complied, dragging herself off him reluctantly. We then traded places, me settling on the hubby’s still-hard toy, Diana backing herself onto his mouth. This was teamwork at its very best.
I wanted to savor that first slip down the pole for days. I wanted to let every muscle tighten and tense up one by one as my caramel-coated behind found a home on the upward curl of his tickler. But stretching the joy out that long wasn’t an option. I couldn’t keep the buck of my hips from speeding up after a second or two. I was the kid who couldn’t keep from diving into the box of Crackerjacks. I had to have the prize too quickly, too early.
So the pace picked up, my bouncing, Diana’s lateral grinding. We were face to face now, breath overlapping, limbs locked. Slipping down together, panting, moaning, begging for more. She grabbed my hair; I twisted her nipple. She steadied me when I threatened to topple; I found her eyes as I felt myself taking that final tumble into orgasm. More shaking, more curling, more stiffening of limbs. I was climbing, stretching, reaching, pushing that red-hot monster out of me. I was overwhelmed in all the right ways.
And so we collapsed, found each others arms and legs just as Darin could take no more, releasing his load with a Tarzan-worthy yelp and a series of quivers. My body felt finished, drained but still somehow more alive than ever before. I rested my head on somebody’s kneecap and drifted into sleep, not knowing where this freakshow was headed. The grin on Darin’s grill told me he didn’t know either. Diana’s grin told me she wouldn’t be around long enough to find out.
I woke up the next morning and… well, you can guess the rest. As expected Diana had become a memory, leaving behind many of her props, but taking her favorite toy – the one I was married to. They didn’t even have the decency to thank a sister for a funky time.
I suppose I should have felt devastated, crushed under the wheels of the morning’s surprise, but instead I felt liberated. No more Darin, no more Nicole. I was Nikki now. I was free.
And I was alone, stranded in this castle of depravity in a Minneapolis hotel, still collecting my breath from the previous evening’s circus. So I ambled to the lobby and picked up the latest Jet (Billy Dee!). It took almost a full minute for me to wipe Darin from my memory. That’s how long it took me to look up and see the prettiest face on the tightest little body I’ve ever spotted. White ruffled shirt, six inch heels on a five foot frame, he screamed for attention without whispering a word, reminding me of somebody I met during the most perverted chapter of my life (so far!). Every glance was a dare, every pout an invitation. Nicole would have frozen in her place, then scampered away from the danger. But I was Nikki now. I was free.
I strolled over and met his eyes with mine. “How’d you like to waste some time?” I asked. His lips curled into a mischievous grin.
The brother didn’t know what he was in for…
Yes, this is Part Two of Donnie’s sexy story, did you miss Part 1? Read it here.
Read Donnie’s other sexy stories published on Every Night Erotica, here.
Donnie Magazino is a writer from Minneapolis and the alter ego of crime fiction writer Copper Smith. You can follow him on something the kids call “The Twitter” @UppercutAvenue.