Naked Stage Fright

"Busted," Les said. "I didn't want to intimidate you when you were about to embark on your maiden flight with us." Les gestured furtively to the doorman who left his post and advised Chuck, "Sir, you're up next. We need your songs."

"Better get ready, Chuck," I said. "As soon as I get dressed I'll be back here to ogle you from the footlights."

"I'm counting on it," Chuck winked.

While I dressed in the ladies' room, Les found us a table ringside and pulled out my chair for me as soon as I returned. He ordered us another round and we applauded Chuck as he bounded up the three steps to stand at center stage. His first number was GOD BLESS THE USA, a crowd-pleaser which he sang with feeling and a strong baritone voice. Then he removed his shirt to reveal well-muscled shoulders and washboard abs. No t-shirts for this guy.

He followed with I BELIEVE I CAN FLY, which proved the perfect choice when he dropped his tight jeans and flew them across the room to some female admirer's table. It was now radiantly apparent that Chuck didn't believe in underwear of any kind. His cock was enormous, a magnificent long, thick specimen of manhood. I'd had no idea Chuck was so well hung. Doctor Prohuska had certainly done womankind a huge favor by curing his performance anxiety.

Chuck, totally comfortable with his nudity, sang three more songs stark naked. Women who'd had a few too many approached him on a dare and touched his penis. One even got it partway into her mouth before the bouncers dragged her away. Chuck didn't seem to mind the attention.

Les leaned over to me and asked, "What would you say to an intimate after-hours party at my place, just the three of us?"

It didn't take Chuck much time to dress after his set. Just as he'd set speed records shedding his clothes, he put them back on every bit as quickly. After the club closed, Les drove Chuck and me across town in his Escalade to his elegant penthouse suite. Each of us was holding our prize money for the evening: five hundred dollars apiece. Surveying the expensive, well-appointed suite, I realized five hundred dollars wouldn't go far in Les's world.

"I keep this place for late-evening get-togethers with special patrons. Margaret has no clue it even exists, if you're worried she might bust down the door."

"The thought never entered my mind, unless she'd like to join us?" Chuck joked.

"That'll be the day. If either of you would like to freshen up, there are bathrooms at either end of the far hall," Les said. "Let me know if you need towels or anything. I'll join you in a few moments."

Actually the idea of a quick hot shower appealed to me, so telling Chuck I'd be right back, I selected the rest room down the corridor to the right. There were luxurious towels, soaps and shampoos everywhere. I figured I'd better wash the smoke out of my hair before I returned home, so I adjusted the spray, undressed and stepped into the steamy shower.

The water temperature was perfect, the waters a gentle and pleasing roar against the dark marble of the expansive shower. I rinsed and shampooed my hair.

Suddenly I felt a second pair of hands assisting me in my ablutions, then a third. I couldn't open my eyes due to the thick lather, but I said, "Feels like I've got company."

"Wonder what gave her that idea?" Chuck's voice reverberated.

"Don't ask me; I'm only the host," Les replied. I groped behind me and felt the firm shaft of a man's penis in my fingers.

"Chuck!" I wailed.

"Wrong guess," Les said.

"I'm over here," I heard Chuck's voice say, as he gently began swirling the head of his cock against my outer thigh in circular motions mimicking sex.

Eyes still closed, I instinctively knelt in the stinging spray, my lips parted, drinking in mouthfuls of the warm water.

My mouth was soon filled with something else. No, two somethings, each vying to occupy the finite space my surprised open mouth provided. They say a singer has to have a large mouth, but these bad boys were way too big for me to fully accommodate, so I alternated between them, taking each generous head between my lips in turn and slowly sucking it while its brother poked at the corner of my mouth, impatiently waiting his turn. To assert control of the situation I had to grasp the two shafts and bundle them together using both hands. Even then, with their two swollen cock heads squeezed tightly together, I could barely manage a two-way blow job without my jaw aching and my lips stretched to the breaking point

"Suck that cock, Baby. That's right, take it all in," I heard Les say with a shudder of pleasure.

"Oh, yeah! This is what I've been dreaming about, Lauren, my hard cock in your willing mouth," Chuck sighed his confession.

I took each man's shaft in my mouth in turn as far as I dared, but both were so well hung I feared gagging and spoiling the moment for all of us, so, eyes still closed, I jacked each man at the base of his shaft, alternating with a little scrotum play using the tips of my fingers. I could glance up and see each man furtively eyeing the other's penis being stimulated.

"Never felt another man's cock touching mine," Chuck said. "Not a bad feeling, Les, I gotta admit."

"Don't get too used to it," Les said, and both men laughed nervously.

I wanted things to progress to the bedroom, so I interrupted my fellatio, nonchalantly releasing both men's cocks, stood up, stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Seeing their frantic expressions, I said, "C'mon boys. This was foreplay. I hope you weren't expecting a porno movie money shot or anything."

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Les stammered, his disappointment obvious as his hard on.

"Lauren, we'd never disrespect you or anything. You are the most beautiful, broadminded, uh, liberal—"

"Chuck, shut up; Les, use that big cock of yours for a compass and point Chuck and me toward the bedroom. This party's just getting started."

With obvious relief and anticipation flooding over both mens' faces, Les led the way. His master bedroom looked like something out of Hollywood: imposing walnut four-poster bed big enough for an orgy, lush purple carpeting on the floor, mirrors on the walls and ceilings.

"Now I know whose idea the stage mirrors were," I remarked.

"Men love visual stimuli during sex. It's a proven fact," Les explained.

"Women kind of like it too, Les," I said, reclining on the bed and reaching for both mens' penises again. "How shall we do this, guys?"

"How about, let's see," Les said, guiding my hips until I rolled over into an all-fours stance on his bed. "Now Chuck, you slide under her from the front in a sixty-nine position. There you go, man. That's good. There, perfect. Now you eat her pussy while I fuck her doggy-style, like so. Lauren, you good with that?" It was obvious to me that Les was a take-charge kind of guy. I nodded, eager for the action to continue. When Les entered me I flinched at first from the size of his cock, but pleasure soon flooded in, making me forget the initial shock of penetration. My own face reflected in the mirror appeared flushed, a mask of pure lust.

Chuck's tongue found my clitoris and began teasing away in pleasing counterpoint to the hard slapping rhythms of Les's thrusts. Chuck's erect monster cock was seconds away from cumming. I playfully sampled his precum.

In the mirror, the urgency of passion and desire in me evoked contortions of my face like those of a witch burning at the stake. Chuck's cock head in and out of my mouth, I jacked the shaft of him absent-mindedly. Between sucks I said to Les, "Bet you never expected to get this kind of action tonight, did you?" Chuck picked that very moment to cum.

"Oh, Lauren!" he moaned. "Oh, fuck!" Chuck's first jets of cum missed my face by inches but landed in my hair.

"Wanna bet?" Les said, his voice hoarse with exertion. "I always dreamed what it would be like to fuck a minister's wife."

"What did you say?" Shocked, I struggled and twisted free of our pleasure-mad three-way grappling until I was looking into Les's guilty and confused face. "I never told you I was a minister's wife."

"Maybe Chuck did then." Les's eyes darted around nervously, never meeting my own.

"Maybe Chuck did? You'll have to do better than that, Les. You'll have to do much better than that."

Les's expression became calmly defiant. "Who the hell do you think you are, bitch? And who do you think pays that crazy shrink to scout out good-looking tight-assed women for me? To give those special patients my made-to-order post-hypnotic suggestions? Minister's wife, my ass. Look at yourself in the mirror with some asshole's gism hanging from your hairdo. I turned you out, cunt! Now you're nothing but a whore!"

The shock of Les's betrayal stung me, even though moments before he had been fucking me from behind.

"C'mon, baby, loosen up," Les coaxed, still erect. "No hard feelings, okay? What say we take up where we left off and let bygones be bygones. I really need to get off, Babe."

I ran from the bedroom, fumbled with my clothes and rushed headlong into the night. Luckily I found a convenience store within a few blocks and called a cab. I paid the driver and stood on the curb, uneasily facing the parsonage. There was a light on in the bedroom. Reverend Gary probably waiting up for me.

I unlocked the front door as quietly as possible, concocting the details of my visiting-the-sick story as I ascended the stairs. Composing myself as well as I could, I gently opened the bedroom door.

Doctor Prohuska sat glassy-eyed in the wingback armchair beside our bed. His pants were around his ankles. Kneeling between Doctor Prohuska's legs as though genuflecting in some arcane form of penis worship was my husband Reverend Gary. As though in a trance, Gary interrupted his oral obeisance to Doctor Prohuska's exposed cock and said, "Honey, you're home early."