It’s hard work, topping people. Fun of course- oh God, absolutely. So much fun, for her and everyone involved; those she’s fucking, and those who get to watch. You can see how much she loves the buildup, the performance of it. With her feet firmly planted like a Principal Boy taking the stage in the first act of a panto, she stands naked from the waist up, weighing each of the three dildos in her hand, her eyes sparkling as she tightens the straps on her harness so that they outline the curves of her arse.
There in the magnolia- painted playroom, with the sex swing and the door jammed open to facilitate exhibitionism and voyeurism, underneath the telly showing looped trailers for anal- centric American porn films, she holds each fake cock out each of the two future recipients to examine, to judge against their imagined capabilities. Can they take the short, fat flesh- coloured toy? Or is the slender purple prick a more reasonable proposition? Her messy curls bounce as she laughs at their deliberations, and we, her select audience, laugh with her- at her gleefulness, at the entire situation.
She locks the dildo in place and stands proudly behind her first partner, a woman several inches taller than she is and heavier by several stone. She’s like the Venus of Willendorf made flesh, a collection of curves painted in ink, bruises and welts. Venus bends at the waist and grips the back of the leather sofa in readiness as The Principal Boy raises herself onto tiptoe to insinuate the tip of her cock into Venus’s cunt.
They only met for the first time fifteen minutes ago, and here they are, giggling and joking, hips moving together slowly and then faster, The Principal Boy’s firm bare tits jouncing as she thrusts, the thwack of her cupped palm hitting the majestic sweep of Venus’ arse and thigh, once and then twice. I stand leaning against the mirrored wall, listening to the creak of leather, watching as the momentum of their fucking sets the chains on the sex swing jangling gently. The air in the room is warm with summer heat, and I can feel the cool of the glass against my bare back. I am smiling and I can’t stop.
Venus’ cries are urgent and high- pitched from the off, and they rise and fall in volume, in waves and cycles, as The Principal Boy mashes the fake cock up and into Venus’ cunt, swings her hips back, swivels and jerks, grabs and slaps at quivering flesh as she drives it in and out. She rests for a moment, grounding her weight into her feet thoughtfully. Venus shuffles a few inches back and then bends further forward, resting her palms on the sofa cushions, exposed and waiting.
As she reslicks her cock with lube I imagine swapping places with Venus- imagine the feel of the carpet beneath curling toes, the intimate tickle of a curl of hair brushing her shoulder as she rocks back and forth, the width of firm silicone stretching Venus open, nudging at her G- spot, seeking refuge in the heat and dark. The Principal Boy’s hips are moving faster, and Venus moves hers back to meet her. She yowls and grins, grits her teeth, and in a low voice announces the arrival of her orgasm. As she gasps and moans I can hear wetness, and as the Principal Boy wraps her arms around Venus’ waist she lets go a peal of laughter. Venus bucks and shivers and giggles through the final waves, and we hear voices in the corridor, chatting obliviously as we all watch her climax.
Venus is still, and The Principal Boy kisses her on the shoulder and carefully withdraws, taking a small step back. She stands with her cock shining and pointing into the centre of the room, her forehead glistening with sweat, and shakes out each leg. Venus pulls herself vertical, turns and hugs her, enfolding her in softness and bruises, and they congratulate and thank each other in turn.
I turn to look at my fellow audience member, standing in the doorway, his shoulders hunched shyly. He’s nervous, but he smiles bravely, his eyes large and doe- like. He’s seen what’s in store for him. It’s his turn now.