Viva’s tongue slipped along, moistening it. She could taste the salt of his flesh…she could feel his stiff resolve and just how erect he was.

Her tongue felt every curve…every notch…every vein.

She could hear Markus’ breathing in short sighs and the occasional short pleasured gasp. She could see his blue eyes holding her gaze past her veil of brown locks that fell across her face.  For her, he was like a fine red wine…not to be gulped and swallowed…but to be savored and left on the tongue for all the flavor she could get.

Viva’s eyes opened and she put the envelope on to of the pile, gazing at the name on it…Markus Phipps. The memories began to fade, but the excitement built.

The study was done in dark wood from the wall panels to the large Fijian Mahogany desk.  It faced east and was up against one of the large condo windows looking out into the dark snowy evening from the tenth floor.  A single goose-neck lamp illuminated the small room.  On the desk lay a closed laptop, a tall tumbler bubbling with spiced rum mixed coke, and five envelopes…one face down and four face up.

The next envelope read Mr and Mrs Andrew and Nancy Benson. She picked it up and turned it around to lick the seal…

She tasted nipple…Nancy’s nipple drizzled in spiced rum.  Glancing up into Nancy’s green eyes under that glorious red hair, while Nancy’s husband fucked her with his rock-hard erection.

Viva shivered at the gorgeous memory.  A sip from the tumbler, and she was ready for the next envelope that read Dr. Ever Hunter and Mr. Kermit Smythe.

The memory drawn here involved her masque, one of black with purple bejewelment.  Viva had last worn that when Ever and Kermit had hosted the party at their mansion on the northern outskirts.  Ever had tied Viva up with winter scarves and then watched as Kermit took out his flogger.

This memory caused Viva to squirm with delight on her wooden office chair at how she had trouble sitting for a few days.

The next envelope held no memories.  It was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Timothy and Greta Vincent…the two newest members of the group.  The parties had begun with three couples…alternating hosts monthly.  After the first two years, a new tradition was started where each host would once yearly invite a new single or couple.  When Markus Phipp’s was first invited, he was this “newbie”…only until Ever and Viva found out in passing discussion with him that he had done up his basement as a dungeon torture chamber…and thus Markus became the fourth host.

That was six years ago.

Timothy and Greta were a couple who had recently moved here from Winnipeg, Manitoba…a place colder than Viva could possibly imagine.  They had befriended her on Fetlife and, after a few months of talking, coffee meetings, and a couple of very enjoyable threesomes…Viva had decided to invite them.

With how tight and loyal the group had been, Viva once joked that they were the gothic equivalent of the characters on Friends.

Viva finished sealing the envelope and grinned at the last one addressed to Travis Michaels and Mary-Anne Dionne.  This couple, she had more memories than the rest.  Mary-Anne was Viva’s university dorm-mate…Travis was the man they, together, seduced into a threesome at the school pub one cold February night.  After that, the threesomes were many, and often…until Travis and Mary-Anne started having offspring.  Threesomes still happened…it just depended more upon babysitter availability than level of lust these days.

The lust was always at that level.

The last envelope finished, Viva sat back and took a good swig from the tumbler.  Of course the party would be a success.  It was tradition that all invitations were mailed a week ahead…yes, still mailed, as something of a paranoia joke so that no social network could track the party.

The rules had been simple, really…

  • You do not talk about the play party
  • You DO NOT talk about the play party
  • If someone says “stop” or goes limp, the fuck is over and just assume they came
  • At least two guys to a fuck
  • No shirts, no shoes, they’re boring…corsets and boots are better
  • Fucks will go on as long as they have to.
  • If this is your first night at the play party, you HAVE to fuck

Oddly enough, no one objected to the rules.

Viva stared at the envelopes and knew no one would object this time, either.

wickedwed

5 Comments

  1. You have such skill for story telling. I want to go to this party, I want to watch all these people interact. I want to be inside the ‘newbies’ heads at their first party. I want…. ahhh ok, an invitation!

    Mollyxxx

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