Visual Feast by Lord Malinov

(photo by me, of my wife)

I knew Trish was growing restless. Part of it was the winter. She
doesn't like the cold. She doesn't like the constant chill that
shivers her bones and she doesn't like the formless thick layer of
wool she needs to fight the chill off. Trish longed desperately for
those bright sunny days when spring finally surrenders to summer.
We had early February. I would have taken Trish on a cruise, if we
could have afforded the time, but we couldn't and so there was no
point in dreaming of lazy bikini clad lounging on a tropical deck.
Winter would have to be endured.

But it was more than just the weather. I don't know. It was many
things. Trish had been struggling lately with the sheer tedium of
life, the day-in and day-out attention to everyday responsibility,
doing her part to make our lives manageable. I could see it in her
eyes, the weary ocean-blue gaze of a woman who had dreamed of a
faster, more exciting existence, where her skills were sharp and
feared, where her will to conquer roused an active wariness in her
foes. Trish wanted more. I knew it, but what could I do? We had to
get past the present before anything would change.

Anyway, I was wishing I could give Trish something to get her jets
started, to stir her from the doldrums of her boredom. We had a
sitter for Saturday night and I thought I'd take her out for a good
Italian dinner and then some dancing at one of the hotter clubs
downtown. She always liked that.

"What do you want to do tonight?" Trish asked as she pulled a brush
gently through her golden blonde hair. A faint dose of makeup had
given her features a subtle, arousing beauty and with the soft curls
imparted to her long, fine hair, Trish looked truly stunning. I
stood in the bathroom door, watching her tits rise succulently with
each lift of her tortoise-shell brush.

I told her the plans I had conjured, pleased with myself for finding
a itinerary I believed would please Trish in every way. Looking at
my reflection in the mirror with pleading, limpid eyes, Trish
slightly opened her mouth. My prick stirred rapidly at the sight of
her desire.

"Listen," she said, although my attention was already rapt, "I was
talking to Linda, you know, my hairdresser, and she asked if we'd
like to come to a party at her place."

"Sure," I said at once. Trish resumed her brushing, smiling wickedly
as she spoke.

"She's a wild girl, you know, and I think this is going to be a
pretty wild party."

"Oh," I said, completely intrigued by the hints I read in Trish's
blush.

"I mean, we don't have to stay if we get there and . . ." Trish put
down her brush and pulled her hair back to catch it in a dark comb.

"Sure," I said. "What kind of wild? Beer and biker wild? Opium
lords and kickback payments?" I shrugged and smiled nervously. If
it weren't for my wish to please my wife, I would probably rarely
venture out at all. Trish has always found new ways to make my blood
surge.

"Well, no," said Trish. Her pink nipples hardened tight despite the
bathroom's steamy heat. "You'll like Linda," she said. "She's very
pretty, with thick chestnut hair and big brown eyes that always seem
to be implying something naughty."

"Oh," I said. "Oh."

I watched lasciviously as Trish pulled a pair of white lace panties
over her exquisite round ass. Although we have three children,
Trish looks better today than she did when I met her, barely ripe at
twenty-two. I savor every glance I steal of her firm, lithe body.
Trish knows I watch her and loves me more for my focussed attention,
teasing me with flashy bends, slow hip swings and gratuitous
squeezes of her tits. She slowly pulled on a pair of white
stockings, deliberately taunting my stare as she adjusted the lacy
tops so they would grip the creamy flesh of her lean thighs. Trish
took a blue dress from her closet and stepped into the opened neck.

"Zip me," she said. I rushed to my husbandly duty. "How do I look?"
she asked, twirling away from my fingers just as I closed the zipper.
The royal blue of her silky dress reflected in her eyes and I
marvelled at the joy Trish seemed to feel. I lavished her with
praise. Then as she stepped into a pair of blue pumps, I noticed the
slight jiggle of her loose breast under the snug fit of her dress.
The bump of her nipple pushed on the fabric.

"Very nice," I averred.

Since we had an early sitter, Trish did allow me to take her out for
a bite of Italian food. The host, a young dark man stared
indecorously at my wife as he showed us to our table, hungrily
studying the pale flesh exposed by her low neckline and the waggle
of her caboose under her short skirt. Trish gobbled the
youth's attention with a provocative smile. Charmed to be the
escort of such a dish, I gallantly ordered us a more mundane
meal. Trish never could resist a big plate of clams and buttery
fettuccine, a warm basket of bread and a bottle of Chardonnay. As we
ate, Trish spoke excitedly about how much she really wanted to just
forget everything for a while and let go. She told me briefly of the
struggle she was having with feeling unexpressive in her role,
dashing into talk of hope and a craving for some real excitement.
Trish had been an actress, before life grew serious, and I knew
exactly what she wanted; the roar of the crowd.

Linda lived in a reasonably normal suburban house in a neighborhood
of hedges, lawns and young trees. Although a north wind streamed
cold, Trish stood, uncharacteristically calm, warmed perhaps by some
inner fire. As promised, a beautiful brunette opened the door with
wide, intriguing eyes and a slightly lascivious smile.

"Trish!" said Linda, happily. "I'm so glad you could come."

"I just had to," said Trish. "Linda, this is my husband, Steve."
Linda turned an inquisitive glance toward me. I nodded.

"Charmed," I said.

"I hope so," said Linda, her voice tickling me as she took my hand
and drew us into the house. A faint grey smoke hovered in the
living room, rich with the sweet aroma of incense, smoke and food.
The entrance hallway had been fairly well lit, but only dim lights
illuminated the other rooms. I counted maybe a dozen people sitting
on the sofa, standing by the window, lounging on large throw pillows
scattered over the rug.

"Everyone," said Linda in a quiet voice which nevertheless caught the
group's notice "This is Trish and Steve." A few voices spoke
general greetings from the shadowy reaches. "Can I get you something
to drink?" Linda asked.

"Sure," said Trish. "Let me help." Turning to me, my wife said,
"Mingle," and she went laughing toward the kitchen. I looked at the
dark room, hesitantly. Small talk is not my forte, and I felt doubly
quelled by the intimacy that seemed to pervade the room. People
spoke, but in almost hushed tones. I took a turn around the room,
studying the crowd, looking for some public note to chime in on or,
at least, some reasonable place to stand. I finally settled in a
comfortable chair and leaned back to watch.

A short red-haired woman with a slim figure and jutting round bottom
stood to one side. I leered indecorously at her rear, guarded in my
impolite stare by the dark. After several minutes of study, I
concluded from the soft bulges of her pale skirt that Blaze (as I
dubbed her) wore garters but no panties. A buxom bleach blonde spoke
with quiet animation to a dark, sinister looking fellow. Her legs
had long, sculptured lines that made me yearn for the last hidden
inch up her skirt. Another dusty haired woman . . .

"There you are," said Trish, handing me a glass.

"Pretty wild," I said with a jovial sarcasm.

"Yeah," said Trish, clinking my glass with hers.

"You know what," I said quietly, "I have never seen such an
attractive bunch of people."

"I know," Trish said, sitting on the arm of my chair and brushing a
hand along my thigh. "This should be great."

"What will?" I asked.

"All right," said Linda, "we're ready to get started." Linda stepped
into the middle of the room. "Let's put on a show. Jim, could you
turn on the television?"

Jim stepped over to a reasonably large television set against the
wall opposite my chair and after a quick search of the
controls, clicked it on. The screen flickered slightly and then
focussed.

"Turn down the music," said Linda as she nestled down on the sofa.
Jim obliged, turning the stereo knob. A picture formed on the
television.

A woman, a tall, oriental looking woman sat on the edge of a bed.
Looking directly into the camera, she smiled with a broad, lovely
smile. Hands, strong, masculine hands reached around from behind the
woman and began to unfasten the buttons that ran down the front of
her black dress. She wiggled as the hands slowly descended to the
next button. Turning slightly, she said, "This is fun." A glimpse
of the man behind her revealed a strong, broad shouldered man. His
fingers grew more deft, unhooking each button with greater speed.
She smiled and then waved at the camera. Reaching the final button,
he drew back the open front. She wore a black lace brassiere and
french cut panties that dipped just beneath the pucker of her belly
button.

"You look fantastic," he said softly as he pulled the dress from her
shoulders and down her long arms. She shivered slightly and licked
her red lips with a long pink tongue. He fumbled behind her, working
at the clasp of her bra and with a jerk the garment fell limp. Faint
nipples tipped her well-formed breasts, poking forward as he cupped
her tits and squeezed.

Trish moved down off the arm of the chair and next to me. I moved
over slightly and she began to stroke my prick through my trousers.
Nervous, I took a look around the room, where all eyes were fixed on
the television. Hands roamed licentiously, lifting several skirts to
revealing heights.

"Wild," I whispered to Trish.

"Look," she said, wide-eyed.

The man had crawled out from behind the woman. His strength
dominated the scene as his broad, hair covered chest rippled with
muscles. He pushed down his briefs to release a large meaty club
which evoked sighs and groans from several of the women among us.
The oriental woman smiled gratuitously at the camera and then dove
down to bury the thick cock in her mouth. Her pantied ass turned
toward the camera as she sucked. He mumbled something and she
reached back to pull the black panties down. A gleaming scarlet
pussy, framed in wisps of black curls, churned before the lens.

The familiar aroma of musk overwrought the haze of incense and I
gently slipped a finger between Trish's thighs where I found the
source of the heady scent. She wiggled with a moan, pressing her
clit up against my touch and I obliged with a constant stroke through
the frail lace. A different, lighter moan erupted on the other side
and I turned to look. As I suspected, Blaze wore no panties. Legs
spread wide, the fiery red-head rubbed her clit with a fury. The
gentleman beside her slipped a finger between her swollen lips. My
prick ached.

I looked around the room, witnessing a dozen mastubatory acts over
the hard and the moist. I smiled wickedly, rubbing Trish with
abandon. On the screen, the big fellow knelt behind the thin dark
woman and fucked mightily while she screamed, "Please Mark, fuck me,
fuck me, fuck me."

"I should fuck your ass," he growled, leering at the camera.

"Yes," she cried out, "fuck my ass."

Linda rose from the sofa with a whisper and pulled a elegant looking
gent behind her. I nudged Trish. "I wonder what they're going to
do?" I asked, grinning. Trish leaned over to see them escape.

"I wish they'd do it here," she said, laying back and spreading her
lean legs a little wider.

The couple on the television exploded joyfully, wildly, sloppily and
the tension in the room seemed to subside. The couple dressed and
left the bed empty. No one moved and I wondered what the next scene
would be like. Linda and her gent moved into the view.

Trish hit me. "Look," she said in an excited whisper. "It's Linda."

"She has the same yellow dress," I responded.

Linda jumped up onto the bed and crawled until her yellow bottom
shook in front of the camera. She reached back and lifted the hem,
revealing the yellow and red flowered panties covering her globes.
After a brief pause, she pushed down the panties. I gasped and so
did Trish. Her pink pussy dripped in the glimmer of bright lights as
she leaned back toward the camera, opening the swollen lips to reveal
the deep crevice within. The twisted bud of her pink asshole seemed
to wink as she began to lean forward. Linda raised up onto her
knees, making her ass a supple round heart. The blonde gent's head
appeared between her legs and Linda lowered herself down over his
face, pressing her deep cunt before the lens while the tongue teased
upward from below.

"I can't believe this," said Trish, rubbing her own pussy now.

"Me neither," I replied. Peeling my gaze away from Linda's beautiful
wet pussy, I managed to take a look around the room. Naked cocks
throbbed in the grasp of friendly hands. The blonde squeezed her
bare tits while the man she had spoken with licked her pussy. Linda
began to squeal and pushed her weight down on the assaulting mouth
below.

"Look," I said, nudging Trish. She didn't respond, staring
mesmerized as a thick pink cock prepared to enter Linda's wet
pussy. "Look," I persisted. "It's them."

Trish leaned forward and let her gaze follow my gesture. The tall
oriental woman and her beefy friend walked in from the hallway and
took Linda's place on the sofa.

"Do you think . . . ?" said Trish.

"They're fucking upstairs," I said.

"Wow," said Trish.

"Wild," I replied. Trish slid off the chair and dashed over to kneel
beside the sofa.

"That was great!" I heard my wife say.

"Thank you," said the woman, leaning forward. They spoke in quiet
whispers, so I leaned back and watched while Linda spread her legs
wide and sucked the pink cock.

"C'mon," said Trish, taking my hand. Instinctively I followed.

"Wait," I said, nervously as we began to go upstairs. "What are we
doing?"

"I want to watch Linda fuck," she said excitedly. I followed
obediently. I wanted to watch Linda fuck.

Light streamed out of the open bedroom door. We moved into the
doorway. Three tall halogen lamps stood sentry behind the camera
which stood on a tripod. Linda sat on the bed, her pussy spread
wide, and sucked the man's cock eagerly. My cock hardened rapidly.
Trish reeked of arousal. Standing behind her, I put my hands around
her breasts and squeezed. Her nipples were like rocks. The cock
in Linda's mouth began to gush wildly, sending mad spurts over
Linda's pretty face. Giggling, she tried to aim the fountain between
her waiting lips. The man groaned and let loose a savage yell.

Trish began to applaud and squeal. Linda licked her lips and fingers
and smiled.

"Hey doll," Linda said happily. "Your stage next?"

"Can we?" asked Trish. My eyes opened wide and my stomach flipped.

"Sure," said Linda. "Just look into the lens and say 'fuck me'."
Trish dashed forward. I followed reluctantly. A small television
stood poised beneath the camera, reflecting the ongoing photography.
Trish stepped into the picture, smiled and waved.

"C'mon," she said to me.

"What?" I mumbled, dumbfounded.

"Get on the bed and play with yourself," Trish commanded. "I'll take
care of the rest." I walked to the bed and crawled into the center,
as far from the camera as possible. Blushing, I looked at my tiny
face in the television. Trish turned back to face the lens, pulled
down her dress front to hug her bare tits, and smiled.

"Ooh, fuck me!" she squealed in a campy way. Trish can be a ham.

Linda laughed hard, leaning against the doorway. "Go girl," she
said.

"Don't you like my titties?" Trish asked, teasing her nipples. "Show
me your cock," she said, "and I"ll show you more." Obligingly, I
pulled off my trousers and yanked down my briefs. It proved
difficult to undress gracefully while a dozen people watched.

"Mmm," said Trish, reaching behind herself to unzip her dress. "I do
like that stick." She turned to Linda. "Can we get a better picture
of the man's tool?"

"Sure," said Linda, still standing naked in the doorway, looking with
interest at my dick. "There's a remote and a zoom." Trish picked up
the small remote and pushed a button. The lens moved forward,
missing me. I tried to move into view, but it proved difficult to
get a proper placement, so far away.

"Linda," said Trish, stepping out of her dress, "could you run the
camera for us?"

"Well, sure, doll," said Linda, unfastening the camera from the
tripod and placing it before her dark eye. "C'mon, Hon, show me your
meat." Focussing the lens aimed at my dick, Linda put one foot up on
a black trunk against the wall, offering me a glimpse of her moist
pink pussy.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Trish, "The hero!" My stiff cock
throbbed. "That's enough, Linda, on with the show."

"Sorry, love," said Linda, backing up and pointing the lens at my
wife.

"This is one of the numbers I used to do when I worked at Fanny's up
in Balmer," said Trish, spinning rapidly around. She stopped, aiming
her tits at the camera with a squeeze and licked her lips. "Stiffen
those cocks for me."

Always one to follow directions, I stroked my prick. Trish danced a
few turns and stops, bouncing her big tits and swinging her wide
hips. I watched Linda at times, her nipples getting hard and the
juice still slowly glistening over her thighs. I watched Trish as
she pushed her bottom to the camera and winked at me. I watched the
monitor to see the prize as Trish slowly let her panties fall, the
slender swollen lips of her golden-haired cunny, shaking on the
screen as her tits gently swayed as Linda aimed down deep as she
leaned down and spread her thighs, exposing another stiff clitty.

Nude excepting her white stockings, Trish jumped up the bed and
laying back, her knees raised up, she fingered her cunt while the
camera explored and Trish lifted her ass to let the whole picture of
her juicy folds fill the screen and she leaned to take the tip of my
prick in her mouth.

Trish sank my cock deep into her kiss, waving her white and pink tail
at the lens and Linda moved forward and backward and upside and in,
capturing every direction of our lascivious meeting, the throb of my
prick and the quiver of cunt and a delicate breast with a hardened
brown nip and the kiss as I licked Trish's clit and the thrust as I
drove my dick deep.

Trish knelt before me, her tongue on my prick. Linda knelt beside
her, the camera almost tasting the slurp. I rubbed my cock hard and
shot my lust wild and wet and gushing over Trish's sweet cheeks.
Linda laughed as Trish squealed and I yelled my ecstasy. Linda
licked a thick glob of my juice from Trish's cheek and I shuddered
and came faintly again.

"You were incredible," said Trish with a passionate kiss, wiggling
her naked ass at the still alive camera. "I want to do that again."

"Later," I promised. "But only a short rest, you vixen" I said and
slapped her bare butt.

Another couple, the buxom blonde appeared in the doorway. I pulled
on my trousers and stared at her tits. I can't help myself. I love
naked women.

"I wouldn't bother," said the dark naked man who accompanied her.

"What?" I asked, reeling in my leer at his girl.

"Don't put your pants on," he said. "You two set off an orgy
downstairs."

"Really?" I asked, watching as Linda embraced Trish with a laugh.

"Wild," he said. "You two were great."

"Wild," I said. "C'mon, Trish. Let's go see the party." I
put my arm around my still naked wife and another around Linda. I
squeezed a pair of breasts and turned back to glimpse the buxom
blonde's bottom. "Have fun," I said.

Downstairs, we stood in the doorway of a dimly lit spectacle, as
bodies writhed naked, intense over the floor. The blonde on the
television sucked her man's dick. Moans and rapid slaps resounded in
the dark.

"Can I get you anything?" Linda purred. Trish looked up at me,
smiling.

"Please," I replied. "A drink would be nice." Linda went back into
the kitchen. I looked around. "What do you say we just watch?"
Trish fondled my prick with a naughty grin. "Wild," I said. "You
are so wild."

Malinov

Power belongs to those who dare... Sapere aude