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Lady Angelicious

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My career as journalist started that summer after graduation from college when I got my first job writing the obituary column for our city newspaper. I was stuck in a dingy, dark, depressing dungeon in the basement of the newspaper office building, writing about Mabel who passed away peacefully at 95, having loved her dahlias for fifty years and Archie who died from loving his whiskey too much for fifty years. Then there was Reginald, 79, who took two instead of one, of those little blue pills…you know the ones, and died while doing that fat fuck from the dinner. At least the poor man died happy, not knowing if he was cuming or going, with a giant erection and a smile on his face the size of a rainbow. The embalmers had a hard time concealing both the erection and the grin. Now how can you keep a straight face to compose that obit? “Reginald died happy. A heavy stucco religious statuette was strategically placed on the casket to keep the lid down.” Then my break came when my editor sent me to do an investigative report on the seedier side of life in our fair city, the one our good citizens know about but turn a blind eye. “Go to rue St. Denis and boulevard Mount Royal. (That’s where all the strip joints and motels that rent rooms by the hour are.) Visit Le Club EXXXXXOTIC. They say the new show is fucking hot! You’re a woman, write something from the point of view of a woman.” The moment I first laid eyes on her voluptuous curves I knew I was lost. Farida, a dominating presence on the stage, did a sultry belly dance to the hellish beat of Middle Eastern tabla. Her flimsy mauve skirt flew open with each move of her bare feet, offering a glimpse of her ample, creamy thighs. She was majestic, arrogant, with her arms outstretched, beating the rhythm with her finger cymbals and shaking her luxurious breasts that threatened to overflow from her sequined bra. Her erotic dance had nothing vulgar, crude or obscene. It was sensuous, seductive, alluring, and drew loud clamors from the dense crowd of panting men surrounding her. Then came the moment much anticipated. The air was hot, thick and humid in anticipation. Sticky testosterone was dripping from the brows of the sweaty patrons. Farida let her mane of black hair cascade down her bare shoulders. She turned her back to the rowdy mass as she unclasped her bra. When she Farida exposed her bare breasts to the horde, the patrons became hysterical. When she let her skirt float down pooling around her feet, uncovering her completely nude, the delirious throng barely contained itself. Two giant black bouncers, arms crossed on their chest, unperturbed by the howling horde, scanned the audience behind dark glasses, ready to fend off any attempt at assaulting of the platform. One was a burly male the other a towering woman almost exploding out of her black suit with generous round breasts and a bountiful booty. Farida all naked was even more beautiful. My pussy clenched at the sight of her pert breasts, her perfectly shaved cleft between her thighs. Her breasts floated, her generous ass bounced to the frenetic rhythms of the drums. And OH, MY STARS! I felt weak and dizzy just imagining my nails clawing into her flesh. The dance ended much too soon. Suddenly the stage went black and the haunting sounds of tablas went silent, marking the end of the hellish performance by Farida nude. The two bouncers escorted me to Farida’s dressing room for my interview with the diva. I had still not recovered from the emotions her nudity had provoked in me when the door to her room flew open. Farida still naked looked over her shoulder at me. “Come in. I see you have met my two lovers, Anders and Zora, more like my two spouses; (did she say spouses. Did I hear her right?) They take turns fucking me,” she added faking the sharing a confidence. “Sometimes they both fuck me at the same time, with me in the middle.” Then she added with an air of wicked complicity, “like, white turkey breast on dark rye bread.” She laughed a contagious laughter at her joke. “I hope I am not making you uncomfortable by staying nude during our interview. I have not showered yet.” I stood frozen, hardly able to articulate my reply. “N… no… not at all,” I lied, pretending it was the most natural thing in the world to interview a naked woman who had devastating effects on me, that stole my breath and threw me in disarray. When… how…? When did her brazen gaze of feral arousal capture my eyes? How did her lips devour mine in a searing hot kiss? When did she take my hand to her cleft between her thighs to show me how wet she was already for me? How did I find myself naked in her arms? Her hands plundered my breasts, my buttocks, my flesh; she grabbed whatever she wanted to take of me. I found myself laying on my back, my thighs widely spread, fully exposed, offering my dripping core to her tongue. She slipped two fingers between my folds, bringing me close to the edge of a dangerous precipice. She had poured liquid fire in me, fanning a ravaging inferno with those magical fingers deep inside me. She introduced me for the first time to the excruciating eroticism of anal pleasure, first lightly drawing small circles around my virginal butt hole before pressing a finger in … Oh my! In… where no one had ever invaded this intimate part of me ever before?! Scorching plasma engulfed me, enveloped me. I was devoured by the most impassioned, debilitating orgasm, consuming me, that left me bereft of consciousness. My mind drifted aimlessly in the afterglow of the intense emotions Farida had ignited me in. We were both slippery from sweat as we fell back, panting, side by side on the couch that had been our battleground for the past half hour. The inside of my thighs was slick from my wetness. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex. She raised herself on an elbow and surveyed me, brushing with the back of her hand the curves of my breasts, my belly, my hips and beyond, as I lay sprawled naked, one knee modestly bent. Farida reached for tissue paper and handed it to me to clean myself. I glared stupidly at her not comprehending. She reached between my thighs and gently wiped the moisture of our intense sexual activities. She then parted slightly her thighs and reached for my hand, placing clean tissue paper and helped me to clear her own wetness. My mind was unable still to formulate any coherent thoughts as it slowly rebooted after its crash from the stormy orgasm I survived, barely. My thoughts began to become organized again. I lifted my head to look at Zora and Anders. They were standing, emotionless, impassive, behind their dark glasses, unmoved by the display of the raw animal rampage between Farida and me they had witnessed. ***** The sensation that my article created made me an instant celebrity. It had been a hit and I was not going back to my dungeon, to languish at a drab desk, writing overemotional, sickeningly sweet obituary notices. My career as a journalist was launched on solid footing, of all places in a strip joint and of all people by a stripper who pleasured me like no one had before. The appeal of the article the newspaper published was that I, the reporter-journalist became part of the story. I had not spared any details in the right-up, including my shameless, passionate sex with Farida. Our readership suddenly quadrupled, quintupled, subscriptions soared. Readers clamored for more. Letters to the editor rained, poured in. People were snatching printed copies of the paper just to read the letters. The furor of the debate, for and against the content, spilled into all social medias. The good citizens wanted to know more about the secret life of Farida the stripper. Farida sent me a note. “Thanks! What a write-up! Never thought the little journalist I fucked hard would write such naughty things about her interview! The club is packed every night since you published your piece. Come over sometime to visit for more stories to write about.” “Write a follow-up story about Farida. Go visit her!” advised my sleezy, bald-headed editor with a beer belly the size of a barrel and oozing sweat and liquid fat from every pore. And I waited impatiently for the invitation to meet with Farida again. I hungered to tangle in bed, naked between the three of them. The truth was that Farida and her two hunks had played starring roles in more than a few dreams since she had fucked me hard in front of her inamoratos. Long after that interview, (of sorts) I craved, I lusted for Farida’s nudity, her tongue lathering my cunt, her deft fingers parting my folds or up my ass. My panties were sopping wet already by the time I arrived. I thought it was going to be a casual interview and prelude to hot sex. It was not going to be just the four of us it seemed. Farida was having a pool party. I was a bit disappointed. My hope for torrid foursome with Farida and her spouses? (as she called them), was quickly evaporating. Oh, but how wrong I was! She had invited a few couples. Men wore designers summer jackets and jeans, women had on expensive tops and skinny jeans. I just came in shorts and T-shirt. Judging from my last experience with Farida I would not be in my clothes long. Farida was wearing a gorgeous daring light creamy silk sleeveless dress that clung softly to the contours of her forms and glided to a full-length hemline that floated at her feet. A shiver traversed me as I imagined the feeling of the light touch of the silk on her bare skin. The V-neckline plunged low, almost to her waist and left fearlessly the sides of her breasts uncovered. Her back was bare down to the top of the crack of her ass. A front-slit left her left thigh uncovered almost to her hip. Wow! I could just imagine the sensation she would cause if she faked a “dress malfunction”. I was sure she wore no panties! And then… Oh my stars! it did happen! Farid, after the rounds of introduction sat in an armchair, very much the center of the group who crowded around her. The dress fell open at the front, like the infamous “accidental” wardrobe malfunctions of celebrities revealing the delicate pink folds of her cleft between her naked thighs. I became intensely aware of her nudity under her red-carpet dress. Wickedly, she did nothing to bring the front of the dress back to cover the brazen nakedness of her parted thighs. She got the notoriously infamous “male gaze” from men whose eyes devoured avidly the freebie offered to them. And some fierce, hungry looks from a couple of women too! I was as flustered and probably looked as intoxicated as the lot of them. Farida crossed and uncrossed her legs and changed positions on her seat giving us a different glimpse of her most delectable intimate parts. Meanwhile Anders caused another scandalous sensation of his own. He had untied the rope belt that held his Bermuda shorts. He walked naked to the swimming pool flaunting the most sumptuous round mounds of his ass and a cock as thick and as long as my arm. When he re-emerged from the water, his ebony skin shimmering under the glaring midday sun, all I could do was to gorge my eyes on the sight of his glorious cock. My throat was dry as I tried to swallow, my lips were parched. His cock was bigger than any I had ever played with in my adult life. I wanted him to stretch me, to fill me, that hard cock pressing deep inside my core. I was losing all my sanity craving him to wrap his hand in my long hair and pull my head back, to bite my shoulder until I cried, to pinch my nipples until they went numb with pain, until I screamed! To go deep, to make me beg for my release, to push me into a consuming inferno, to cause me to crash head-on into a violent orgasm. I was suffocating from wanting. He threw me in front of him and ripped my shorts and panties off. I was so exposed in front of the crowd of guests that gathered around Anders and me. But I loved it, I wanted my nudity on display, I didn’t care if people were ogling us. He spread me wide. I felt his hot eyes searing the skin of my bare ass. The swollen head of his cock nudged my cleft gently at first; then he rammed the full girth of his erection into me hard, sheathing his full length in me. Zora was standing naked, her back to me, offering to me her impressive buttocks and two thighs with the circumference of marble columns. She was facing Farida who was on her knees in front of her. I couldn’t see how she was pleasuring Zora. The muffled moaning of ecstasy of both women reached me in a haze. Anders flipped me around. I was made to ride him cowgirl style, my ass hung in the air, splayed wide open. Anders placed his hands on my hips, and steadied me as I rode hard his cock that was filling me deep. But this was not enough for me. Not for pervy me! not since Farida pleasured me by fondling my butt hole. I wanted more than vanilla sex. I wanted to surrender to my darkest fantasies -- two cocks, I needed two cocks to satisfy me, with one of them up my ass. Suddenly, the flare of another cock pressed against my butt hole. Where did this second cock come from? I cringed in anticipation of the pain yet to come as that flared head tried to overcome the initial resistance of my anus. I felt the hot breath of the man trying to invade my ass as he exhaled in my neck, “Don’t cum yet, not until I’m all the way up in your ass.” Who was that man ordering me, taking over, claiming as his MY orgasm? I shuddered as he thrust in deeper and deeper in my ass. My nails clawed Anders’ flesh as he kept pounding me. I clenched my teeth with every hard pounding of that second cock. I let out a delirious moan. The ferocity of these two cocks fucking me drove me mindless. The slick wet skin of the man whose cock had impaled my ass rubbed against my back. Two female breasts were pressing against my back! Yup! No mistakes, those were nipples and female breasts against my back! I was…stunned! “Don’t turn around. Don’t look!” Said that seductive voice which had ordered me a few moments before to hold back my orgasm. “Yes, honey these are my boobs you feel on your skin.” He or she (I didn’t know any more) pulled that cock out of my ass. I turned around despite being ordered not to… and I found myself feasting my eyes on an incredibly erotic vision of an incredibly beautiful Zora, naked, with incredible breasts, with an hour-glass body and with large hips. Her rich black hair cascaded down her shoulders. But between her thighs was hung, … Oh, my stars!!! There was no mistake!!! a thick, big cock, as magnificent as Anders. Zora gave me a sultry look. She brought my hand to her cock. “Honey, it is real. Touch it. Now stroke it for me.” She instructed me reaching for my hand. I wrapped my hand around her erection hardly able to hold its full girth. I fisted her cock as Zora had shown me. “Slow down, honey. You will make me spill my spunk too quickly…Yea, just like that …Oh yea! Now I’ll stick it back in your ass.” Anders continued to pound me. I cried out at the feel of two cocks taking me with fierce passion. I was too weak to hold back my orgasm. “Not yet!” ordered Zora, through her ragged breath. The rumbling of voices around us drowned my pleading. “Please! Please!” I moaned, I begged. “Not yet! You will be punished for wanting to disobey us!” Suddenly I felt the searing sting of Zora’s hand slapping hard my bare ass. And again, and again! My skin was on fire. I was trembling from the biting pain. I could not hold back the tears that were streaming down my cheeks as I sobbed unabashedly. Around us was the excited buzz of voices of guests gathered around us. I didn’t care… Well! The follow-up article was … I let you imagine the furor! The paper was accused of sensationalism and encouraging debauchery. The ratings have never been higher despite claims of “massive” cancellation. That did not stop the newspaper to offer me a job to write a bi-weekly sex advice column called “Ask Lady Angelicious”. I think a lot of prudish sanctimonious hypocrites actually bought subscriptions, to read the news…not to read that trash that Lady Angelicious writes. I now live with my two wives, Farida, and Zura, and our husband Anders… Oh, yea, we are all married to each other, and living in total bliss.
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Written by Jacques Jill

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