Night of Pleasure

Night of Pleasure—Apartment 1901, the Elliot Bay Towers, Seattle

Dr. Frasier Crane walked into the booth where he broadcast all of his shows for KACL 780 AM, his radio station. He was one of the many Radio psychiatrists in America, and although not nearly the most popular, he was one of the best. He was always a very funny man who was often serious and knew how to properly treat his callers.

A tall and strapping man, he always wondered why he had trouble meeting women. He had a tall and strong build, though often hidden by his business suits, that combined with his well defined features, cobalt blue eyes and kind smile to create a very handsome man.

“Hey Roz, how are things this afternoon?” Roz was Frasier’s very sexy producer. She was 33 (Frasier 46) and had worked with Frasier for the past five years. They had a strong work relationship and were very good friends. Roz was a little shorter than her partner, had long, wavy, dark brown hair, large, supple breasts, long legs, a beautifully tight and curvaceous bottom and overall a milky and smooth complexion. She was constantly dating hunky 25 year-olds and basing relationships solely on sex. Frasier had always preached for her to base her relationships more seriously on personality than sex, but she never listened.

“I’m okay, Frasier…but I broke up with Brett last night.”

“I thought you were seeing Roger.”

“Oh, I still am, Brett was a fling. The only thing keeping me together is knowing that Roger is still interested in me.”

Frasier decided not to comment, but certainly did not approve of this latest development in her relationship with Roger. They had been together for three weeks.

At the end of the show Frasier invited Roz over for dinner—it would only be him and Daphne that night and they could use the company—but she was going out with Roger for dinner.

Frasier left work and was soon walking through the door into his empty living room. He immediately poured himself a sherry to drink and sat back on the couch, contented. Daphne entered the room with a bowl of popcorn.

“Evening, Dr. Crane. How was work?”

“It was ok. Ready to watch the movie?”

“Yes, we’ve gotIndecent Proposal like you asked for.”

“Oh, great…well why don’t we start it?”

As they began to watch, Frasier’s mind started to wander. He had not had sex for 3 months and was extremely horny. He had always found Daphne attractive, and was not surprised that his brother Niles worshipped her. Both were currently single. Daphne was a tall 30 year-old from Manchester in England and had soft creamy skin, lovely brown hair (worn at shoulder length at the moment), pert and firm breasts, long, sexy legs and a gorgeous posterior. She was certainly everything that a man could want in a female body.

Daphne was also feeling horny. She had never felt overly attracted to Dr. Crane, and never thought about it much, but sometimes in his presence she just wanted to yell “Take me now!” and be fucked by the muscular psychiatrist. Right now, she felt that exact feeling.

As the key scene approached where Demi Moore spent the night with Robert Redford, Frasier’s cock noticeably lengthened and pitched a tent in his pants. Daphne immediately noticed this, and instead of following her thought process, she went with her natural instinct and leant forward and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly.

Following his own raging hormones, Frasier threw Daphne back and found himself on top of her, his hand on her beautiful, round breast and his tongue locked in a war with her own. She replied by frantically pulling out his cock and began jerking it—at first slowly and carefully, but soon moving at the speed of light. With her other hand she removed his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt while he removed her jacket and in turn began unbuttoning her shirt. Soon he was down to only his boxers while she lay under him, dressed fetchingly in a lacy bra and g-string panties. They kissed passionately for several minutes before she stopped him, leant lightly forward and began placing snake-like kisses upon the head of his penis. She soon forced his whole member into her warm mouth and began moving his dick up and back along the inside of it. She soon had the head at the back of her throat and commenced throat-fucking his 7-inch prick.

Frasier had never, ever been sucked like this. The society-types he usually dated rarely wanted oral communication, and the ones who did were never any good. But Daphne was different—she was acting the total slut, to Frasier’s utter disbelief and delight. When she provided vacuum-like suction he wanted to yell out her name, and did a few moments later when he shot his huge load of cum into her hungry, waiting mouth. It had been worth the three month wait.

It was now that the two took a break. They sat back on the couch in contentment and Frasier started playfully rubbing Daphne’s thigh. His hand continued up her leg, reaching her loins, before he pulled back her panties and began finger-fucking his English sex-slave. Her moans started again and doubled with each passing second before Frasier seized the moment and went down on her. Oh the passion! He worked his tongue around her outer lips like an utter pro before hitting her clit with deft efficiency. She came as soon as this contact was made and continued to orgasm as Frasier continued his amazing cunt lapping-fest.

Soon Daphne whispered frantically: “I want you inside me now, Dr. Crane. I need you to fuck me. I need your cock in my pussy.”

Hearing her talk like a common slut almost made him cum for the second time that evening. He removed the strap of her bra with a magical touch and with the bra gone he began placing affectionate kisses on her beautiful breasts and was soon nuzzling contentedly at her ripe, pink nipples. She couldn’t take any more and so ripped off her last remaining item of clothing (her black thong) and pulled Frasier’s cock towards her tight, wet entrance. He slid into her and they both let out screams of delight. Once inside, he instantly withdrew and so commenced bucking and riding Daphne’s defenceless pussy as she hung on for dear life. Daphne knew that he hadn’t ridden anyone in a long time and was just glad she was the woman under him right now.

They were soon both ready for their next orgasm and as they both came in a torrent of sex juices, the door burst open…Roz in tears.

Frasier immediately jumped up in fright, still stark naked. Roz immediately shut the door and said: “What’s going on?”

“Well, Daphne and I…”

“I can see that!”

“What’s wrong, why are you crying?”

“Roger dumped me!”

“Well, let’s see if we can’t remedy that.”

Frasier walked over to Roz, took off her jacket and begun passionately kissing her. His dreams were coming true. As Roz tongued Frasier back, Daphne began removing her clothes. Soon she was in her lacy black lingerie and nothing else. Frasier began kissing her neck and slowly moved south, before removing one of the cups and began sucking on her overlarge breast for dear life. Moaning audibly, she grabbed the back of Frasier’s head with both hands and held him in place. Daphne, wanting some of the action, came forward and helped herself to Roz’s other tit. With one hand on each person’s head, Roz came over and over again as her lonely, ripe melons were attended to.

Throwing her on the couch, Frasier mounted her and started humping her with more gusto than he could ever remember. As she lay back, Roz remembered the days when she had imagined Frasier as a terrible lover, and almost laughed at the foolishness of the thought. As he bucked and humped, Daphne mounted his back and hung on for dear life as she watched from the best possible view her two friends fucking each other senseless.

Every position was tried that night, every possible sex-play occurred and the three people were never the same again. Every day from then on was a day of rampant sex—every day in the work bathroom with Roz, and every night in Frasier or Daphne’s bedroom. The best of all came on the weekends when they ventured to Roz’s house at every possible opportunity and had the most amazing threesomes. Life was great.