Playground of Delights

It was slippery and wet, the entry hard and physical, the penetration deep, strokes long, powerful and urgent, muscular thighs smacking urgently against her bottom, buttocks tightening, hips thrusting, plunging in and pulling out, moving back and forth with increasing determination, the sticky flaps and folds clinging to the fleshy column, the vaginal vault stretching to accommodate the gruesome length and formidable girth.

"Ah... Fuck... Oh Fuck. Fuck me. Faster. Harder. Deeper. More cock." she cried, a chorus of filthy curses spilling from a helpless mouth, breathing in short gasps of air, wriggling and swaying her hips, forward and back, the brief interlude giving him time to look up at the mirrored ceiling, the reflection throwing back images of a submissive woman kneeling on all fours, her back glistening in oil, rose petals sticking to her olive skin with the heat of passion.

The pleading demands of a wanting woman and the erotic view in the mirror forcing a visceral surge of blood and adrenaline to vital organs, his libido and stamina in overdrive, a well-oiled fucking machine gathering momentum, moving back and forth with renewed determination, entering and retreating, in and out, breaching and penetrating, a marathon of turbulent engagement, a synchronised motion of give and take, wriggling her bottom and pushing back, embracing the length, the inner flaps and folds contracting around the meaty girth, in and out, pushing and pulling, deeper and deeper, her eyes watering, her toes curling, a head swimming in a delirium of orgasmic glory.

"Oh... Fuck. Ah...Yes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck" she moaned, almost in tears, her declaration of filthy obscenities smothered in the wet bed sheet, a body shuddering and stiffening, a body responding to orgasmic release, whispers growing into guttural cries of euphoric elation.

"Oh God... I'm coming...I'm...I'm...comminnggg...Arrggghhhhh...fuck-fuck-fuucckkk, she screamed, her eyes clouded in disbelief, the irreversible surge of ultimate pleasure starting at her feet, rushing up her legs, flooding her vulva in a sea of liquid passion, the release powerful and sustained, an outpouring of emotional fluids pooling between her thighs.

Squeezing the last of the strawberry oils from the container, the slippery liquid disappearing between the cheeks of her bottom, a skilful finger smoothing the oil into the valley, coating the dark brown pigmented skin around the anal opening, the sphincter muscles opening and closing around his finger, sliding in gently, pulling out slowly, probing and penetrating, preparing the dark orifice for entry.

Looking back over her shoulder, a worshipping veil of uncertainty clouding her vision, brushing strands of black hair from her face, removing oil and perspiration from her eyes, a reassuring smile and a nodding head, an unspoken invitation to continue.

Shifting her weight on the bed, resuming her posture on all fours, both arms outstretched on the bed supporting her weight, her bottom raised invitingly in the air, her legs wide open, her body language signalling a renewed arousal, her heart beat accelerating, her breathing increasing by the second, gritting her teeth in anticipation of the inevitable assault, a little fearful of an unfamiliar force penetrating her most sacred place, words of caution whispered in a light-hearted mocking plea.

"Be gentle with me. I'm a back door virgin."

A firm hand gripping the throbbing flesh, fingers and thumb guiding the smooth head against the anal opening, the dark shrine resisting entry before yielding to the force, the lubricant helping the slippery head to slide inside the forbidden place of intimacy.

He enters. He penetrates. He violates the dark abyss. The dark ring tightening like a vice around the thick girth, the sphincter muscles pulsing in quiet protest against the unfamiliar visitor, her rectal passage burning with the brutal invasion, cautious whispers chasing hesitant cries, gestures of discomfort pleading in urgent cries for calm, gripping the bed sheet with one hand, reaching back and grabbing his thigh with the other, moans and groans getting louder and longer, gasps and agonising sighs stumbling over painful cries, a tortured voice rising to that abandoned pitch where pleasure meets pain, curses and obscenities smothered in the mattress.

Inch-by-inch he eased his slippery flesh inside her bottom, the dark entrance giving way to the persuasion of momentum, her inner sanctum adjusting to the carnal invasion, the tight anal muscles contracting and relaxing around the girth, the swollen limb held in tender confinement, two lovers fused in a bond of intimate connection.

A hesitant pause, a whispered sigh, a deep intake of breath, an uncomfortable gesture of movement, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes watering, her mouth dry, her head dizzy, a reassuring smile lifting the corners of her mouth, discomfort giving way to pleasure, releasing the tight grip on his thigh and regaining her composure, hesitancy turning into commitment, her willingness to continue dancing in a promise behind her eyes.

A mutual connection embroiled in a harness of unfamiliar pursuit, balls deep inside the dark shrine of intimacy, the tight ring of her sphincter embracing the length and gripping the girth, easing in gently and easing out slowly, a slow momentum of breach and abuse.

Closing her eyes and arching her back, lowering her hand between her legs, long painted fingers sliding between the slippery folds of flesh, a finger and thumb dancing in playful circles over the swollen clitoris, the solo stimulation accompanied by a commentary of repeating filth, facial gestures and a chorus of vocal persuasion.

"Fuck me. Hurt me. Fuck...Fuck. Yes. Yes. Yes," she screamed, wriggling and swaying her hips, moving her bottom from side to side, the tight anal muscles gripping the gruesome muscle in an uncompromising vice, a long painted finger working the clitoris before slipping between the fleshy folds, legs tightening, toes curling, euphoric muttering dancing behind gritted teeth, glancing over her shoulder, her black eyes vacant, her mouth opening and closing, words having no meaning making no sense, her face twisting in a theatrical mask of pleasure, her thin smile and euphoric expression betraying her fast approaching orgasm.

"Yes. Yes. Oh Yes," she cursed. "Fuck...Fuck...Ah Fuck," she screamed, puffing and panting, gasping and wheezing, waves of euphoric contractions flooding her vulva in a warm sea of liquid passion, an earth-shattering orgasm surging in a turbulent outpouring of burning heat, her whimpers and gentle cries of painful pleasure echoing off the walls inside the room. Ignoring her pleas for tenderness, dismissing her cries for calm, the carnal invasion gathering speed, thrusting his hips back and forth, frictionless movements of hard flesh lubricated in oil plunging seamlessly into her dark interior, all the way in and all the way out, reaching places inside her body that had never been touched before, his balls tightening, his legs stiffening, his hot ballast exploding inside her bottom with surprising force, seminal eruptions copious and endless, multiple loads of emotional fluids spilling into the dark abyss, washing the walls of her bruised and tortured bottom, bleeding out the last of his creamy mess until his balls were finally drained.

In a sliding stream of warm secretions and a voice pleading caution he eased the blockage from her burning bottom.

They lay in silence, gasping for breath, almost at the point of passing out, trembling in the aftershocks of euphoric release, two abandoned mouths waiting for calm, lying on bed sheets drenched in water, strawberry oil and sweat, chests rising and falling, breathing in precious air, drinking in the aroma of lingering sex, staring at the reflexion in the mirrored ceiling above the bed, the perfection of beauty glistening in oil and perspiration, a curtain of wet hair masking her face, a fusion of rose petals sticking to her skin, his softening limb resting over his thigh like a sleeping effigy of beauty.

Their lips met in a parting kiss.

"Will you remember the memories we shared together?" she asked, holding his hand, her smile optimistic her eyes seeking an answer.

"I will always think of you," he replied, his smile unconvincing, kissing her gently on the forehead, lifting off the bed, their hands slipping apart.

He wasn't surprised to find the place was still open at four in the morning, but he didn't expect to see Frank and Chris sitting on the same bar stools.

A friendly smile from the DJ and The Eagles singing, 'Hotel California,' welcomed him into the Piano Bar. Some of the bar staff were busy clearing away the day's business while a young girl with a mop and bucket cleaned the contents of someone's stomach from the floor. A couple of drunks trying to find the door stumbled unsteadily on their feet and two people waving their hands on the dance floor looked as if they were swatting away flies.

'Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.'

Lighting a cigarette and humming quietly to the music, thinking about Martina, capturing images of how beautiful she looked when he left her a few minutes ago, a bed sheet wrapped around her body wearing nothing but perfume.

He placed a friendly hand on his brother's shoulder.

"The bottle of pink champagne on ice looks impressive, are you two expecting some female company?" he asked, sarcastically. "I hope you haven't been here all night?" he added.

"No." Frank replied, pulling up a stool for his brother, draining his glass and signalling to the barman to bring more drinks.

"We had a casual stroll through the old town. The streets were littered with prostitutes and most of the pubs offered negotiable entertainment. After a couple of beers in some shady places we eventually found Hannah's bar hidden away up a narrow side street.

The sign in the window was too tempting to overlook, so we went in," he said, pausing to pull on his cigarette, lifting his drink to his mouth and mumbling into the glass.

'LIQUOR IN THE FRONT-POKER IN THE REAR.

"It was another fucking brothel," Frank and Chris barked in unison.

"Anyway," Frank said, swallowing his pride in his glass, his demeanour growing in confidence, a broad smile tugging at his lips.

"When we got back to the piano bar we got chatting to a couple of gorgeous women."

He was aware of Frank's moral code and he also knew his brother would flirt with any woman as long a she had a pulse. He also knew what Frank's idea of gorgeous was on a scale of one-to-ten, so he let it go over his head.

"The night was showing promise so I decided it was fitting to impress them with a bottle of champagne. After talking to one of them for the best part of an hour she invited me back to her room for a drink," he said, pausing long enough for his brother to interrupted his flow.

"So where are they now?"

"Well," Frank uttered, wearing an expression of anxiety and defeat. "I needed to use the toilet so I asked Chris to get a round of drinks while I was away. He mumbled something under his breath about it not being his turn for the drinks. When I questioned him he reminded me - unaware that his voice was louder than it needed to be - that he had bought the drinks in the second brothel."

Frank shook his head in despair. "I'm sure I heard both girls laughing as they made a hasty retreat to the ladies toilet," he sighed, pulling on his cigarette and rolling his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at Chris.

"That was about an hour ago."

'The last thing I remember, they were running for the door.' Don Henley chirped in.

A comical mask of innocence and naivety smiled back through glazed and empty eyes.

Chris Hall had paid the ultimate price of trying to keep up with Frank.

"I'll go and look in the ladies toilets," Chris slurred, his head bobbing around like a balloon on a string, his jaw hanging slack, drool spilling from an abandoned mouth, the young girl with the mop and bucket waiting patiently for the inevitable.

"Hey...Ugh," Chris muttered, his mouth opening and closing but nothing was coming out. "I think..." he managed to splutter into his glass. "I think I can smell strawberries..."

In an uncontrollable fit of laughter he slid off the bar stool, crashing to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

Their night had come to an abrupt end.