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Bacchanal Ch. 04

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Chapter 4: Who???

Weeks went by, and I found the events of the orgy receding into memory. Participating in some of my most sordid fantasies had opened my eyes to an entirely new dimension of sensuality, and I was eager for much, much more. The company I worked for, however, was undergoing a buyout and I was kept plenty busy. Trying to wrangle an invitation to another event wasn’t, at the moment, in the cards.

As the changeover date neared, a group of us from the transition team were invited to dinner with some of the new bosses. I expected it would be held at some swanky restaurant, but as I drove toward the address I’d been given, I realized I was headed out of town and up into the hills. Before long, I was pulling up into a very familiar driveway.

I was confused, and double-checked the address, but it was correct. As I approached the front door, I mentally shrugged it off. I hadn’t really had time to learn anything about Dev—I’d been too busy shoving my dick into as many holes as I could to get to know our host.

I rang the bell. From the back of the house I heard a dog barking, followed by human voices. The door opened, and I gasped. “Oksana?”

“Michael!” Still tiny, but with slightly darker hair and less dramatic makeup, she smiled brightly and reached up to kiss me on the cheek. “You found us!” Her eyebrow quirked and she said more softly, “Again.” I gaped at the transformation: gone were the thigh-high black leather boots and collar, replaced by a simple sheath dress in a deep green and burnished bronze gladiator sandals that laced up her shapely calves.

“Hey, honey can you get the—oh, there you are!” Dev appeared from the hallway. “Mike! come on in!” He shook my hand and led me in toward the living room. “This is my wife, Oksana, and her cousin, Svetsi.” I turned and looked at the group assembled, and saw the honey-haired blonde from the dogpile. Dev gave me a sly wink.

Okay, so that’s how we were playing beylikdüzü escort this. “Pleased to meet you,” I said, taking her hand. I knew most of the other guests, and supposed that tonight was going to be a legitimate business dinner party, with no extracurricular activities. But that didn’t stop my sex-deprived brain from conjuring up the memory of Oksana splayed out on the floor, my cock in her pussy, while Dev plunged his baseball bat into her ass.

I needed to get to the bathroom.

Remembering at the last second that I was supposedly a newcomer to the house, I asked for directions. Gratefully, I shut the door behind me and took myself in hand. I hadn’t even gone two strokes, however, when the door opened and Oksana poked her head in. “What are you doing?” she scolded playfully. I almost fell off the toilet trying to pull myself together, but she shushed me as she shut the door again, this time turning the lock. “Can I help?”

“NO! I mean, you’re—Dev is—I can’t—” I tried to fend her off, but she pushed me back onto the toilet and knelt between my legs, stroking me slowly.

“Is fine,” she said dismissively. “Me and Dev, we have, what do you call it? Open marriage. I fuck who I want, he fucks who he wants, we fuck each other—you saw how we like to play, yes?” Before I could protest, my cock was in her mouth, her tongue lapping at the sensitive spot under the head, and when she took her middle finger and slid the tip of it into my ass, I exploded, my cum spurting down her throat a moment later.

“You like?” she giggled.

“Fuck, yes, I like,” I panted.

“No, no. You like this?” she repeated, wiggling the finger still lodged in my anus.

“Oh…yes,” I said. “That too.”

“Then I will give you a gift,” she said. Rising from the floor, she turned and bent over so that her buttocks were in front of my face. As she pushed up the hem of her dress, I saw that she had neglected to wear any panties—but she was beylikduzu escort wearing a plug in her butt, the end of which was beautifully carved into the shape of a rose that had been ingeniously treated so that the petals were a deep crimson, with a thin edge of sparkling gold.

Deftly she pulled it out, playfully wiggling her bum in front of me. Throwing caution to the wind, I yanked her against me, shoving my tongue into the tiny gape her plug had left. My fingers slid into her folds and found her already slick. “Mmm,” I said as I worked them deeper. “How many of those guests have you fucked already, Oksana?”

“Only two,” she giggled, covering her mouth to stifle her moans as she came all over my fingers.

When her legs had stopped trembling, she moved over to the sink and began washing the plug still in her hand. “That was quite a gift,” I said.

She shook her head. “That was not gift,” she corrected me. Lifting the now-clean plug, she smiled. “This is gift. Favorite plug, from Murano, Italy. Your turn to wear.”

I’m not entirely sure how I made it through dinner with that plug buried in my ass, but I managed to not only make intelligent conversation with my coworkers but also learn more about our hosts. While it was clear that Oksana wasn’t actually one of Mister J’s whores, I was surprised to learn that she was twenty-eight, was a software developer—mostly social media apps—and that she had met Dev while they were in college, although they didn’t figure out until later that they attended the same school.

“I was a stripper,” she giggled as she sipped from her wineglass. “American schools, they are very expensive, yes? Stripping, I made good money. Mister Trust Fund Baby here comes in, asks for a lap dance. The rest, history.”

Apparently, Oksana the software developer spoke much better English than Oksana the submissive whore who liked being fucked in the ass.

Svetsi, on the other hand, had recently graduated escort beylikdüzü with top honors from a prestigious culinary school—in fact, it was her cooking that we were enjoying that evening. Her English was slightly better than Oksana’s, although her accent tended to be a bit thicker, particularly when she was talking about cooking.

(I had a sneaking suspicion that “cousin” didn’t quite define the relationship between the two women—the way they smirked at each other as they frequently brushed up against one another “by accident” spoke volumes, and I tried not to notice the effect it had on not only me but the other guys at the dinner.)

Shortly before the party broke up, Dev found me out in the kitchen tossing my beer bottle into the recycling bin. “So Oksana gave you the plug, huh?” he said softly.

“She…I…uh…” I stammered, caught off guard and horrified that one of my new bosses knew that I had let his wife stuff my ass with her favorite butt plug. Mentally I began revising my résumé.

“Nah, it’s all good,” he said, clapping me on the back. “We both like you, you seem to like the whole group vibe—and you’re definitely not shy about it. That’s what we like, and that’s why she invited you back.”

“Invited me back?” I asked, completely confused.

“Yeah, the plug. That’s her way of saying “Come back and fuck me again.” He checked his watch. “Things’ll probably break up in a half-hour or so; when people start to leave, you leave too, drive around…just until everyone else is gone. We’re having a little afterparty, you know? Nothing big, just a few friends. We’ll leave the front door open.” That struck me as strangely clandestine, but hey—I’d been balls-deep in the guy’s wife while he watched, so I let it go and dutifully followed his instructions, leaving with the others and driving down the road until the driveway was empty.

The place seemed deserted as I closed the front door behind me, but then I heard the faint sound of voices. I couldn’t seem to get a fix on where it was coming from, but then I saw the sign on the kitchen door: this way. The basement door was open, and I could definitely hear the voices better. Anxious for round two, I headed downstairs.

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