Cinnamon Pt. 01

"Is this going to be..."

"What?" she asks innocently.

"...A sex party?"

She fixes me with a look. That look where she knows more than me, and expects me to know more than I know.

She says, "It's a party with sexy people at it. There may be sex there. I wouldn't call it a sex party, but don't be surprised if something happens."

She goes off to her closet to find something to wear, and I hit the shower.

I don't know what "a party with sexy people at it" means, but my imagination is running away with me.

I jerk off in the shower, doing my best to ejaculate towards the drain.

Not that I'd ever get in trouble if she found evidence of my masturbation--I've never dated someone as sexually open as her--but old habits die hard.

I come out and towel off. She's chosen a sexy red sheath dress that hugs her tiny narrow frame and bares most of her slender thighs. Her dark skin gleams from the lotion she applies obsessively.

I dress in my coolest college hoodie and basketball shorts. They cost a fortune, so I save them for special occasions.

My girlfriend is Kyra. We've been dating a few weeks. Nothing exclusive, yet.

Kyra is a grad student. I'm not. I bailed on higher education after undergrad. The classroom environment disagrees with my stress threshold.

I know just enough about Kyra's sexual history before me to know that it's extensive. She'd tell me anything I wanted to know, but I've never asked. For whatever reason, I never seem to have the nerve.

The party we're going to is hosted by an acquaintance of hers: Julia.

Julia has been many things in Kyra's life. She's the mother of Kyra's lifelong best friend. ("BFFs," Kyra would insist.) She's a kinesiology professor who taught a couple of Kyra's classes in undergrad.

I'm not 100% sure what kinesiology is, but I'm confident that I've gleaned enough information through context clues.

Julia and Kyra have also slept together on a number of occasions, sometimes in groups. Purely physical, nothing serious, Kyra would insist. She told me this in the interest of full disclosure.

Kyra also told me that, in addition to her academic duties, Julia is a dominatrix who has supplemented her income with sex work ever since she was an undergrad. It isn't a secret among her friends.

These tantalizing fragments of information play in my head on a loop as our rideshare brings us to Julia's place. They inflame my expectations of what I'm in for.

Julia's house isn't a mansion or anything, but it's spacious. An impressive place for a college professor. It's nestled in one of the indistinguishable off-campus suburbs.

When we get through the door, Kyra introduces me to Julia.

It isn't momentous--it's one of those rushed introductions that happen at crowded parties where the conversation is already roaring.

My first impression of Julia is that she's shorter than I thought she'd be. She's shorter than Kyra. I tower over her.

Her demeanor is anything but domineering. She's friendly, almost chirpy. She looks 60-ish, older than I thought she'd be for some reason. But she greets me with youthful energy.

She's wearing a black strapless bustier, tight jeans, and black combat boots. Her hair is dark, buzzed almost down to her scalp. She wears thick eyeliner and purple lipstick that looks black in the dim light.

Despite being petite, she has arms and legs like a weightlifter. I'm tall and heavily built, maybe twice her size, but I'd worry if I had to arm wrestle her.

Against all the black, her pale skin stands out sharply. She looks like a monochrome photograph from a magazine ad.

I find Julia hot, in an intimidating sort of way. She has a nonchalant sexuality bodrum escort bayan about her, despite being old enough to be my mother. I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

She and Kyra exchange gossip that I'm not really interested in, then they give each other a quick peck on the lips. Then Julia's off to greet some other recent arrivals.

Kyra takes me through the crowd. We mingle with people she knows. I do my best to be confident--asserting myself, telling stories, making sure I don't vanish into the background of people's conversations.

Sooner or later, Julia always comes up. Those familiar with her dalliances with Kyra ask us teasingly if I know about the two of them. Kyra assures them that I do, and I nod, understanding only a little.

We chat with two tall, athletic guys--Jason and Xander, apparently best friends. They have a past with both Julia and Kyra, which nobody seems embarrassed to discuss. They casually flank Kyra while we talk.

Standing between them, she's vanishingly tiny. As they tell stories in nearly graphic levels of detail, I find myself wondering, is there anybody at this party who my girlfriend hasn't fucked?

At some point, the four of us grow into a circle that seems to be Julia's in-group. Julia is there, regaling us with stories that seem salacious, but I feel like I need more context to follow them.

I'm horny. I'm trying not to get an erection--it would be obvious through these shorts--but, as she talks, I can't help thinking sexual thoughts about her. Nor can I help picturing her and Kyra together.

Then it happens.

The conversation comes around to me, and I blurt something out. I can't even remember what it was, but somehow it gets the circle joking about Julia dragging me upstairs and having her way with me.

I look to Julia, who looks amused, then to Kyra, who shares her look of amusement. I can't believe it. You'd figure if anybody would defend me, it would be one of them.

Then someone dares us.

They dare us to go upstairs and have sex. In front of everybody.

Julia is agreeable to it.

Feeling like my honor is at stake, I accept, and immediately wonder what the hell I'm doing.

I look to Kyra for sanctuary. Incredibly, she's grinning and nodding enthusiastically.

So it's decided.

While Julia goes upstairs ahead of us--"To straighten up," she says--I casually mention that I'm going to grab a quick drink before I come up.

I down three shots of cinnamon whiskey, the first brown thing I could find. I would have downed a fourth if Kyra and a handful of guests hadn't excitedly come over to steal me away.

I'm ushered upstairs to the bedroom by a drove of party guests, feeling the whole time like I should want this more than I do. I feel hesitant, without knowing why.

Julia's hot. I like sex as much as the next guy. And how often does your girlfriend give you permission to fuck a stranger?

The party guests, including Kyra, line the walls of the room.

It isn't the sex dungeon I'd imagined. It's a modest, tastefully decorated master bedroom. There's modern art on the walls.

The only unusual sight is the bedside table, upon which stands a pump top bottle of lube and an array of condoms, gloves, and other things I don't quite catch out of the corner of my eye.

I kick off my flip flops and lay myself out on the bed. It's a big one, king sized.

Room enough for a lot of people, I'd imagine.

Julia stands next to the bed, looming over me, surveying me head to toe.

I feel suddenly embarrassed. I'm lying ramrod straight, like I'm expecting a massage. My soft, hairy belly is peeking out of my hoodie, which rode up bitez escort when I climbed onto the bed.

And I'm definitely erect for all the room to see.

I can't fix my shirt, and I definitely can't hide my erection. I can't do anything that would admit embarrassment.

She leans down, puts her hands on my shoulders, leans her weight on me, and kisses my lips. I feel oddly grateful; something is happening to keep people's attention off how awkward I must look.

I reciprocate--I don't dare refuse. At first, it's all romantic, but it quickly gets sloppy. I can smell boozy cinnamon puffing from my mouth, filling the air immediately around our noses.

Through my eyelashes, I glance over to Kyra, who's in the crowd on the other side of the bed. I probe her face, searching for signs of objection, finding only rapt fascination instead.

Julia breaks the kiss, making sure to let some spit linger between our lips. It hangs on for a moment before the strand breaks, splashing against my stubbly chin.

She smells like citrus and fresh-cut wood. A pleasant, slightly masculine scent that mingles with the cinnamon.

"Can I undress you?" she asks, a stage whisper loud enough for the benefit of the room.

Not knowing what else to do, I nod.

"I can't hear your head rattle," she says. Her voice is lower now, huskier than before.

"Yes," I say, with enough force to betray my nervousness.

She kisses me again, first on my mouth, then on my cheek. She suckles my earlobe, then my neck, little sucking kisses down to the collar of my hoodie, leaving little cooling spots of saliva along the way.

The entire side of my body, the side that the kisses were on, is tingling from the sensation. Goosebumps, all up and down.

She lifts the hem of my hoodie to the top of my chest. The air in the room is cool against my belly.

I'm hairy, especially around my nipples. She kisses me there, circling the right nipple, then suckling it directly. It's intense. I'm trying not to jump out of my skin.

When her mouth comes away, the hair around my nipple is cold and matted with spit.

"Yeah, saturate it," someone murmurs.

"Is this okay?" she asks, looking up at me.

"Yes," I try to say with confidence. It comes out in a voiceless burst of air.

She licks my soft belly, wetting the hairs in the landscape above my navel. I hiss inwardly; my abdominal muscles tense up involuntarily.

She grips the hem of my shorts and the boxers underneath. Obediently, I lift my hips so she can slide them down. She uncovers my hairy pubis and slowly, deliberately pulls until my hardened penis springs loose.

Kyra, who apparently would know, has assured me that my penis is above average, both in size and looks. At least one thing I can be confident about.

Down at my ankles, Julia tugs my shorts and underpants loose and tosses them away. I'm nude save for my hoodie, which is currently bunched above my flabby pectorals.

I glance nervously around the room. I've never been naked and erect in front of a roomful of people before in my life. Certainly not with all eyes on me, as they are now.

But, I reassure myself, I am game for this. I have to be.

She comes back around the side of the bed, leaning into my eyeline.

She whispers, "Look at me."

I meet her eyes. There's a different persona in there, one that wasn't revealed when she first greeted us at the door. Something sweet but smoldering, magnanimous yet menacing.

"What do you call your penis?" she asks.

I glance around the room for a moment, somehow feeling like I need everyone's permission to answer the question. But they just gümüşlük escort stare back, expectant of my answer.

"My dick," I say.

She asks, "Can I play with your dick?"

I glance at Kyra. She just stares, not saying anything.

"Yes," I say.

Julia picks up a pair of black rubbery-looking gloves off the night table and puts them on. Nitrile, I'm guessing. She goes around to the foot of the bed. I can see her over my belly, over my feet.

"Knees up. Spread 'em wide," she says.

I obey.

I'm spread eagle to her. The rest of the room gets a good look as well. My dick points at the ceiling.

She climbs onto the bed, on hands and knees. I get a look at her modest cleavage, pushed up by the bustier. She slithers onto her belly and wraps one gloved hand around my hard shaft.

Then she snorts, a snotty, unflattering sound.

She hacks in the back of her throat, then expertly spits a thick glob of saliva onto the tip of my dickhead. A strand of it sticks to her lower lip, connecting us.

It's a strange, slimy sensation. She, I, and everyone around us watch as the spit crawls slowly down my penis until it collects around the ring of her thumb and forefinger.

She starts jerking me off, a steady, frictionless motion that feels amazing. My dick hair is slick and saturated. The movement breaks the strand that clung to her lip; it dangles from her there.

I'm breathing shallowly through my mouth. More cinnamon.

She asks me, "Do you like having your dick touched like this?"

I nod.

"Loud enough for the room."

"Yes..." I whisper.

"Yes what?"

"I like it when you touch my dick like this," I whisper.

Someone sardonically cheers. More laughter.

"What do you like about it?"

She's keeping her strokes loose and slow, maintaining a steady rhythm. It's keeping me from thinking too hard about what's happening--about the people watching, about how I look, about Kyra.

In the back of my mind, I think I would definitely be less okay with this if I weren't horny. And a little bit tipsy.

But I might as well go along with whatever Julia wants, no matter how weird. The kind of people in this room are into it. Why shouldn't I be?

Feeling emboldened, I say, "It feels good, when you get close to my dickhead."

"Go on."

"Your fingers feel good," he says. "They're strong, but they're gentle."

Despite my best efforts, most of this comes out in voiceless puffs of cinnamon-scented air.

"What else do you like?"

"They're so wet... and slippery. Oh god--"

I feel my body tensing up. I'm warm; I feel a layer of sweat gathering on my face and between my pecs. My middle third is thrumming with energy.

Then she asks me, "What do you call your testicles?"

"M-my balls."

"And how about your anus?"

This catches me by surprise. I'm not sure what to say to this.

"Speak up," she says.

She hasn't let up. I'm close, I'm in the brain fog of pre-orgasm, and she knows it.

I glance down at her. She's gazing into my face, biting her lip a little, a look of clinical fascination. Her black-gloved hand is cruising skillfully up and down my dick.

I try not to think about all the partygoers, drinks in hand, staring at me with unrepentant voyeuristic curiousity, as if I were a character on a TV screen.

I screw up my courage and blurt out, "My asshole."

I hear scattered clapping and cheering from some people. I hazard a sidelong look. Kyra is one of them. She has an ear-to-ear smile, almost like she's proud of me.

"You're a bold guy," I hear Julia say.

Here it comes.

"Are you bold enough to let me play with your balls and your asshole?"

In for a penny...

"...Yes," I whisper.

"Louder."

"Yes," I say again, with a little more conviction this time.

"Yes to what?" she asks. "What is it you want me to do?"

"I want you to play--with my balls."

"And?"

...In for a pound.

"And my asshole."

TO BE CONTINUED