First Time

      He hit the steering wheel again, and the car veered to the edge of the road.  Byron finally corrected the course when he noticed a particular road sign.  It was identical to the image on the cover of his brochure except the sign also included “New Luck Hotel” five
miles due North.

     His foot slammed on the accelerator, and the car hummed as it zooms down the road.  “New Luck, take me, away,” he thought to himself.
     A few moments later, Byron pulled in the parking lot for this hotel with FIRST TIME PROGRAM MEMBERS ONLY on the street-side sign of this six-storied brick building.  The car eased to a stop in the final parking space and beside a large white minivan.
     A moment later, he found himself in the lobby of this hotel.  It was a nice, luxurious establishment, up and down with nude oil paintings and lithographs covering the walls and with nude statues on either side of the check-in desk.

     Positioned at this desk was a man, no more than twenty-five.  He had a slick, almost unctuous look about him.  He fabricated a pearly-white smile at the newest temporary tenant.

     Byron peered at the name tag affixed to this man’s red vest.  “Yeah, Falworth, this is Byron Clayton.  I have a reservation here.”
     The desk clerk typed on his terminal.  “You’re here for the First Time’s program, right.” The smile never left Falworth’s face.
     The attorney nodded, and the desk clerk pressed several more buttons on his computer.  Behind Falworth was wall embedded with electronic boxes.  A light over the box “225”
blinked red.  Underneath the blinking light was a black button that the desk clerk pushed.  The lid to this box swung outwardly, and Falworth removed a keycard.
     “This is to your room two-two-five, Mr. Clayton.” Falworth winked at him.  “We have a complimentary gift already waiting for you in there.”
     The attorney nodded at him and took to the elevators against a side wall.  Four in total.  A door opened, and a man exited the third elevator in a big, bad wolf costume with the mouth on the lupine’s head open and unveiled his fifty year old face.  He tailed a young
woman, no more than twenty, donning pig-makeupt and pink leotards.

     “Let me in.  Let me in,” said the wolf as he chased this woman around the lobby, “or I’ll hump, and I’ll pump, and I’ll bore my way in.”
     “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chins,” she said peering down at her nether regions whose hair appeared through the stockings.
     The wolf had her cornered, and she turned around and trembled as her apple-shaped behind angled upward.  The wolf slowly stalked toward her with his hand on the zipper on the hind quarters part of the costume.  “Let me in,” he snarled.  “Let me in,” he says as
saliva formed in the corner of his mouth, “or, I’ll hump, and I’ll pump, and I’ll bore my way in.”

     All the little pig could do at this point was to shake her rear-end as the man charged at her, his phallus reaching its full potential and throbbing with anticipation.
     As the wolf closed within a foot, Byron shook his head as he took.the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor.  As the elevator’s doors slid shut, sexy music played over the speakers, and random photographs taken from the Kama Sutra appeared on the side walls.
     The attorney dropped his one bag, a gym bag, and attempted to imitate several of the positions himself; however, he gave up the effort when he heard some popping noises in his back.  “I’m getting to old for this stuff.”

     The elevator jerked to a stop, and the doors parted.  The smell of sex and ecstasy were high in the air here.
     The attorney grabbed his bag and proceeded on the carpeted hallway.  He peered at each of the doors.  Some of them with lights underneath them.  Others sheer blackness.  But all of them registered some type of noise, mostly grunting.  In most of the rooms, the
noises came from males and females.  In a few rooms, it came from two females and a male.  Several more featured sounds from two males.  Still, a few more registered the sounds of amore from two females.

     Byron finally reached the door to his room “225.” He noticed the blackness from underneath the door.  “Um, I wonder what surprise, Falworth was referring to.”
     He slided his keycard in the slot along the side of the door, and the door opened inwardly, flooding the hallway with the utter darkness.  The attorney shut the door and felt around the side wall.  “Now, where’s that damned light switch?”

     A moment later, he felt something stroking against the back of his hand.  It was soft and delicate.  He felt what seemed like fingers wrapping around his wrist and leading the hand in a downward direction.  “What is this?” he cried.
     “Don’t worry, baby,” purred a sultry voice, “I’ll take care of everything.”
     His hand eventually reached the light switch, and bright white lights flooded this room.  Modern furnishing and steps led down to a fireplace with gas logs.
     Byron turned and faced the person who owned the hand that gripped his.  “Are you the surprise that Falworth was referring to?”
     A blonde woman with an hourglass shape nodded at him.  Pink lip gloss painted her lips.  She stood in a see-through gold nightie.  Her boobs, a lovely U-shape, perfect for gripping.  The nipples large and appeared to be erasers.

     She said, “Surprise, surprise, lover.”
     “And what do they call you?”
     “Call me Baccy.” She pronounced this name as Bah-sey.
     She slinked out of her clothing, revealing the full extent of her natural beauty, but something obscured her nether regions, a bunch of grapes.
     Byron jutted a finger in the direction of these plump spheres of sweet fruit.  “Are those what I think they are?”
     “Sylvaners.  I believe they are your favorites.” Her slender fingers rubbed against the fruit.  “Go ahead and take a bite of the forbidden fruit.”
     Baccy didsn’t have to say another word because the next instant found him on his knees, and his face buried in the tender fruit.  She groaned and undulated as his hot mouth and tongue sunk through the fruit, and his teeth scraped against the thin hairs underneath.

     Her brown eyes rolled like tumbleweed through a ghost town as her head inclined back, and her body slowly sagged to the floor.  She rocked back and forth as Byron devoured the fruit and savored the sweet taste and the pungent smell.

     Moments later, she was shone of the grapes, left only with her nether region whose flaxen hairs were matted together from Byron’s saliva and grape juice.  He hungrily lapped away, and she moaned in ecstasy, while her hand coaxed his head even lower and toward her honey pot.
     As his tongue stucrk against the pinkish flesh, a woman appeared behind Baccy.  She appeared in a red jacket and skirt ensemble, and her face dressed in Coca-Cola bottle thick glasses, with her red hair tied in a bun on the top of her head.  Her lips wrinkled, and she
sneered at the presentation on the floor.

     Baccy groaned happily and loudly, while her eyes rolled towards the back of her head until she spotted the soles of glasses woman’s red shoed-feet smacking on the floor.  Baccy gasped in astonishment, “Oh, no.  It-it’s your wife.”
     Byron ignored this for a moment until Baccy repeated this proclamation.  His head slowly drifted upward until he finally recognized the familiar and unwanted form.  “Monica, my God, wh-what are you doing here?”
     “You’ve been a very bad boy, Bryon.” Her hips swayed from side to side as she approached her husband.  Her hand reared back and snapped his face to the side.  “You need to be taught a lesson.”

     He held his burning face as Monica grabbed Baccy by the chin and pulled the blonde woman’s face up to hers.  Baccy, literally, shivered at this point and turned a pale shade of white, while Monica turned to her husband.  “I’m going to make you suffer, Byron.
You’re gonna make you watch me do things to this girl.”

     “Mon-Monica,” her husband pleaded on his knees, “I’m begging you, don’t do anything stupid.”
     “You’re about to learn, my love, that Hell has no fury like a woman scorned.”
     Byron cried, “Monica, no.”
     Tears drifted from her husband’s eyes until he saw her pull Baccy’s face into a liplock.  The tongues of these two women coiled around one another in a fashion not dissimiliar to the caduceus.  They softly moaned as they collapsed on the floor, and their arms interlocked.
     Byron watched with intense curiosity, and his hand slithered its way inside of his pants.  Almost instantly, his hand groped the mysterious wonder buried under the fabric and stroke it up and down.

   “Now, take off my clothes,” Monica ordered Baccy, and the blonde slowly stripped Monica until the latter female remained in a red bra and a pair of red lacey panties.
     Monica put Baccy’s mouth against a cup of the thirty-six inch C bra and said, “Rip it off.  Rip this damn thing off of me.”
     Baccy’s face glistened as she fuflfilled the order, leaving two lumps of pinkish flesh with sand dollar-size nipples.  The blonde’s mouth hungrily gripped strands of saliva as her head dove for one of the lumps when Monica grabbed her by the back of the head.
     Said Byron’s wife, “Oh, no.  Oh no, you don’t.  Your mouth has no place there.  It’s going someplace else.” Monica forced Baccy’s head to the crotch of the panties.  “Eat.  Eat this off of me.  NOW.”

     Baccy shivered like a leaf as she began the travail.  Her teeth gnawed and tore through the accouterment, and Monica quietly oohed and aahed from the contact of the soft lips and the smooth grooves of the blonde woman’s teeth against the tiny hairs about her flesh.    
Monica shook as if electricity bit into her flesh.

     Meanwhile, Byron did his own oohing and aahing as his hand gripped tighter on the inner part of himself, and he felt the pulsation of the large vein along side the magic wand.

     A few moments later, Monica’s crotch was shone of the red outer covering, but Baccy lapped away at the remaining fragments of the clothing matted into the thick black hairs, until Monica said, “You like my tart cherry tasties.”
     Baccy nodded an emphatic “YES,” and Byron’s wife glanced over at her husband whose body quivered.
     Monica asked, “Have you learned your lesson?”
     He didn’t respond since he was deep in the throes of his own pleasure, and Monica tossed Baccy’s face to the side.  The blonde licked her lips and slowly rose to her feet.  “I want more, Monica.  More.”

     Monica ignored her and stood over her husband, akimbo.  “Did you hear what I had to say?”
     He grunted loudly and deeply and replied, “Yes, dear.  I heard you loud and clear.”
     Monica curled her upper lip and headed to the door with the glazed-eyed Baccy on her heels.  “Can you do more things to me?” Baccy wondered.
     Monica opened the door, grabbed her by a hand and breathed, “Get out of my sight.  You sicken me.” She spun Baccy into the hallway and turned back to Byron.  “I don’t think, you heard me, dear.  I think that you don’t get the point.  I’ll be back tomorrow night to teach you your lesson.”
     Out of breath, Byron said, “See you then, Monica,” and his wife angrily slammed the door shut.