Cherry Girl

Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Jul 15, 2003

There was something about those girly panties with little cherries printed all over them—such a sweet combination of innocence and depravity. After our loft party sex storm had subsided and we’d gotten our fill of conversation in the kitchen, Leslie and I returned to the loft’s cavernous play room to take in the sights. It was a slow night, but nonetheless there were about seven people sprawled on a futon in one of the side rooms, fucking like animals. I parted the gauzy curtain and took a moment to study exactly what was happening amidst the mass of tangled limbs. As if watching sex deconstructed before me, I caught only a jiggling breast here, a flash of pink there. Feeling the sweaty pile was a bit much for us, we retired to the mattresses in the main room, caressing one another as we talked about what to do next.

There was one guy at the party whom I can only describe as The Cock. He’s a regular, always showing up with one or two attractive women and fucking everything in sight. The Cock somehow dictates the flow of the event: always the first one to start fucking and the last to stop. Perhaps it’s simply a difference in personal styles, but even in these settings I prefer the slow seduction, allowing the night’s activities to spontaneously unfold rather than menacingly brandishing my rod before every available orifice. I am not, like, a fucking gigantic sex robot. There’s always that little emotional twinge when I first run my hands over a woman’s thighs. That desire to inject significance into the act by knowing the girl I’m fucking. Only given a certain amount of context is, say, pounding some slut’s ass truly sexy to me. And how am I supposed to arrive at this context after her mouth is already distended by someone else’s love-pump?

So, like a triumphant bullfighter, The Cock emerged from the little side room with his girlfriend, Cherry Girl and Cherry Girl’s boyfriend in tow. Maybe he should wear a cape next time, I thought. The Cock’s date was actually quite fetching, her lithe frame squeezed into a corset that seemed almost redundant given her slim lines. They settled on our mattress and soon The Cock was giving Cherry Girl a hard missionary as she sucked her boyfriend’s tool with assistance from the corseted girl, who had positioned herself temptingly on all fours. Leslie moved in for a closer look and I lay there, penis heavy inside my underwear, looking on appreciatively enough but not motivated to take any action. Someone came in to say the party was wrapping up in half-an-hour. Cherry Girl’s boyfriend made what I later realized was an abortive attempt to penetrate the corseted girl. She switched positions and tried to breathe life into his incompliant member. The Cock made disturbing, hair-raising grunting noises as he came. He laughed with Cherry Girl after the last of the spasms had coursed upward from the base of his spine.

“You think you know what your boundaries are, but they keep shifting,” Cherry Girl said as we shared a joint in the kitchen. She had shoulder-length black hair and, at least in her clothing, an unassuming look. Her tits strained against a tight shirt. “But he’s the only other guy who’s fucked me at these parties,” she insisted, referring to The Cock. I suppose I could see why. The Cock was a professional and, as a professional, had more to offer in the way of cocksmanship than her boyfriend. Plus, he had a larger battering ram that apparently hit her in just the right way. This was yet another example of a girl who was at first dragged into this debauchery and had subsequently decided she couldn’t do without it. She was a sweet girl though.

Somehow, my girlfriend and I have an uncanny ability to summon an after party out of thin air. Shortly after the party was over we found ourselves at the boyfriend’s loft, a gigantic space around the corner from Peter Luger’s sporting wooden floors worn soft with age. The apartment was filled with various bohemian-chic sorts of furnishings. Clothes were flung off and the girls took their places on the couch beside two open windows. A few floors below, a car passed, framed by the desolate street and the blue-grey hues of dawn. I stood there by the window like a signpost, my erection directing any passers-by toward the Williamsburg Bridge. Cherry Girl dropped to her knees in front of the couch to have a better lick at Leslie’s pussy. I filled Cherry Girl’s cunt with my fingers and then squatted down to lick her from behind, my head barely grazing the edge of the coffee table. She brought the small of her back downward to accommodate my tongue, giving me a better look at her tight slit and pouty asshole. She came up for air and began to suck her boyfriend’s cock. I stood and went to fill Leslie’s mouth.

We moved to one of the small bedrooms, where the girls put their mouths to work on each other and the men. Cherry Girl gave a bit of a toothy blowjob, which was not altogether unpleasant but slightly distracting. She was good with her hands, though, jerking me vigorously between licks. I gave her a deep kiss and then let her continue. Leslie encouraged her to take a cock in each hand, something Cherry Girl had never done before, and she held her twin man-trophies proudly as she alternated between them. The two girls worked on the head of my penis together, French kissing every time their lips would meet. “That’s so sweet,” Cherry Girl sighed.

Apparently sore from the pounding she had received earlier, Cherry Girl wasn’t ready to fuck. Plus, Leslie and I hadn’t, like, discussed the issue of actually swapping with them. “I didn’t get any ass at the party,” the boyfriend whined. “Relax. Let’s just chill and have a good time,” Cherry Girl responded. Soon she was lying on her side, propping her head up with her right hand, grasping my shaft with her left and sucking me hard as I knelt beside her. Her left arm lay across her tits, framing her cleavage perfectly in the soft light. “I want you to come on my breasts,” she said as she took a brief pause, and I moaned at the thought. She lay back and let her boyfriend straddle her head, taking his cock into her mouth. Leslie lay across Cherry Girl’s belly and gave me the soft suction that always finishes me. I braced myself against the wall and jerked myself furiously, spilling my jism across Cherry Girl’s pretty tits. As Leslie finished lapping up the last of my pool of semen, the boyfriend popped, painting Cherry Girl’s face and body in a few violent spurts.

We shared another joint and talked about nothing in particular. Cherry Girl curled up and drifted off into semi-sleep. I took Leslie one last time, pumping her from behind as the boyfriend watched. I came inside her. We left.

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