The Party Favor

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue

Chapter Three

They stopped talking to eat. Jennifer hadn't realized how famished she was until she took her first bite. Then she felt like she was being a slob as she stuffed her mouth full. The champagne was gone within minutes. She held out the glass and said, her mouth full of food: "We should haff bwought mow to dwink!"

He jumped up, practically exploding into motion.

To her astonishment, he pulled his shirt off, exposing his muscular chest. He kicked his tennis shoes off and pushed his pants down. He had on bright red briefs, which he also pushed down. She almost choked as, within the space of twenty seconds he was stark naked. Before she could react to that, he grabbed a strawberry, crushed it between his thumb and first two fingers, and smeared it on his lips, chest, and abdomen. He popped the crushed fruit into his mouth and grinned.

"Be right back!" He said and dashed to the door. Unlocking it, he opened it and took off down the hall.

He was gone for a long time, long enough for Jennifer to sate her sudden hunger, and reflect on what she'd seen. She decided he was very clever. He had shown her his body, while achieving a look that would be expected, or at least unremarkable as he ran around the house. People would see him and know he was with her, and draw the obvious conclusions. That he was used to being naked in front of people was obvious. It had been a long time ... a very long time ... since she'd seen a body like that, in that condition. She was still looking at that fleeting image in her mind when, suddenly, he was back. He had a bottle of champagne in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other.

While her eyes registered those facts, she found herself looking at his manhood, instead of his face, as he spoke.

"I didn't know which you'd want, so I brought both. They have soda too, but it was cold, and I'd have had to cradle it against my chest. If you really want some, I'll go get it."

"No!" she said, entirely more vociferously than she had planned. In a much more moderate voice she said, "The wine is fine." Then she giggled.

"What?" he asked. He looked down at his naked body, as if he expected to see something hanging off of him that had made her laugh.

"I was just imagining you ... running."

He started prancing in place. "Like this?" he asked.

His penis flopped all over the place. It smacked his belly and then his testicles. She winced as it hit his balls, but it didn't seem to hurt him, because he kept capering. The ridiculousness of it all finally let her expel the tension she'd been under ever since arriving.

She expelled it as laughter.

It wasn't a giggle, or even an outburst. It was a series of deep belly laughs, the kind that use up all the oxygen in one's lungs, and barely allow for a quick inrush of breath. He grinned, watching her eyes watch his flopping cock, and changed to stiff legged hops, with his feet close together, so that his cock just went up and down.

She rolled off the bed, unable to stop laughing, pointing at his groin with one hand while covering her eyes with the other. Except she kept peeking, and every time she did, she laughed harder.

He switched to standing more or less at attention, and then whipping his upper body to the right, and then back to the left. It made his penis fly straight out away from his body and slap his hip when he reversed direction. Jennifer managed a honking "Stop!" and then gasped for air as she continued to laugh. Finally he stopped, and squatted. Reaching through his legs from behind him, he grasped the foreskin of his penis and pulled it back into the crack of his ass. Then he stood, while closing his legs tightly, making it look as if his genitals had disappeared by magic.

"If you're going to laugh at him, he'll just go hide," simpered Josh.

Jennifer rolled around on the floor, and was afraid she might actually lose consciousness. She waved her hands at him, and managed a gasping "Please stop!" before landing on her back and covering both eyes with her hands. It was fully two or three minutes before she was able to get control over her laughter, her eyes still covered, and another minute before she took stock of her situation and realized that, in falling to the floor and rolling around, her skirt had come up, exposing her panties, which matched the bra.

She let her hands fall out to her sides, and looked up at a blurry figure. Wiping her eyes, she was able to focus on him finally. He was no longer capering, or acting the fool. Now he was just standing, naked, his eyes devouring her exposed legs, hips, and panties. She saw those eyes dart to her still-heaving breasts, and then back to her panties.

That brought his penis back into view again. It was no longer missing. She would have giggled at the thought ... except for the fact that the state of his erection was no longer in any doubt whatsoever.

She stared at it, the first erect male she'd seen in what seemed like forever. Roger had never postured or posed for her. He almost seemed embarrassed by his male equipment. Not so Josh. It wasn't that he seemed to be displaying himself to her. It was more like this was just part of him ... his nakedness was a part of his life, and he sometimes had erections, and all of that was perfectly normal ... perfectly fine.

He bent and offered her his hand. She took it, and let herself be pulled up to stand in front of him. She could feel his body heat. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. She realized that, for the first time in her adult life, something was happening that was very adult. These were no teenagers, ducking and bobbing, or dancing around the ring. These were two fully functioning adults, able to do whatever they wished.

She felt that ball of heat explode in her gut, and closed her eyes.

"It's all right," he whispered. "You want me to get dressed?"

She opened her eyes again. Her mind seemed to meander around the question. Part of it yelled at her. She knew the proper answer. But the proper answer seemed so stupid. This was who this man was, at least at this moment. It seemed normal ... right ... fitting. He was beautiful, and that beauty should be exposed to the world.

"No," she said.

He didn't make her confirm it. He simply turned away and decanted the wine. When he returned to hand her the glass, his cock was sagging. She didn't know whether to feel relieved, or insulted. There was a long period of silence, which was very uncomfortable for her. It seemed like they had been on the verge of something, and that it had suddenly been lost.

"Are you sorry you got stuck with me?" she asked.

"In no way, shape or form," he answered. "I haven't had this much fun in years."


"Yup." He held out his glass. "To us."

She raised her hand, but then stopped before clinking them together.

"There isn't any us, Josh," she said, though with no heat in her voice.

"Of course there is," he said. "We're here together. We're sharing some time. I like you. You like me. It's nothing to write home about, but there's definitely an us."

She hit his glass with hers. "Then here's to us."

She drank and then watched as his penis stiffened again.

"I didn't think a toast would do that," she giggled.

"Then you've never been in a room full of naked men who were toasting you."

She laughed.

She was amazed to see it get even harder.

"I was wrong earlier," he said.

"What about?" She took a sip.

"You don't know how beautiful you are."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you keep being surprised that I could want you as much as I want you."

That ball of heat was back in her stomach now. It almost felt like when she sneaked a swallow of Roger's prize Scotch, the stuff he only shared with men he thought would make him even richer. But Josh's sudden seriousness made her nervous. She didn't want to examine her feelings for him, because she was pretty sure they would not pass muster for being ladylike if she did. Instead, her mind went off on a tangent as his words reminded her of the lyrics to the song she used to sing in front of her mirror.

"I want you to want me ... I neeeed you to need me." She closed her mouth suddenly, realizing she had sung it out loud. The wine was getting to her, even with the way she had gorged on the food. Her eyes darted to his, but he allowed her to turn that into a joke.

"Don't you feel weird, sitting here with a woman you hardly know ... naked?


"But you're not dancing."

"I'd offer to dance for you, but I don't think we're quite there, yet," he said.

"Where are we?"

"I'm still trying to get another freakin' kiss!" he said in mock frustration. "That's where I am. Meanwhile, you're trying out for American Idol."

She laughed.

"If I give you another kiss, you'll just want another one after that."

"No I won't. I promise."

She looked at him askance.

"Promise!" he said, dragging a finger across his left chest, vertically and horizontally.

"I can't kiss you. You're naked!"

"Close your eyes. You won't be able to tell."

She took another sip of wine. She felt relaxed. She was actually contemplating kissing this man, and she felt just fine. Of course that was because she trusted him. She giggled. She trusted a naked man. How would one explain that to a friend? Well ... to a friend who wasn't at this party, anyway?

"I think I'm a little tipsy," she said. "If I stand up, I'll probably stagger around."

He took the glass from her hand and set it gently on the nightstand next to the bed. Then, so swiftly she could hardly tell what he was doing, he pushed, lifted and arranged her so she was on her side, lying on the bed. Her confusion was blown away like the fluff on a dandelion stem when he leapt gracefully over her to land, lying down, facing her. His face was only inches from hers, his not-quite-full epicanthic fold looking odd around such deep eyes.

"Just one," he said softly. "To prove you're not a racist?"

She closed her eyes. She realized she wanted to kiss him.

"Oh, this is not good," she sighed.

Then she leaned forward, her lips pursed.

She was lost in the kiss, her tongue delicately teasing his, when she realized her right hand was on his naked ass. His was in the middle of her back, pulling her breasts against him. She wished her skin could touch his. The kiss broke, but only for a moment, and then he leaned in again.

She closed her eyes and surrendered to the luscious feel of just making out. That was what they were doing. His hands were being very polite, which allowed her to give him her lips. She didn't actively remember what this had been like in heady youth, but her libido remembered. Everything tingled, and it was just perfect.

She pulled away from his lips. He still held her tightly. Her hand was still on the hot skin of her ass.

"You said just one," she whispered.

"I lied," he said. "You're irresistible ... even if you don't know it."

She leaned forward to feast on his lips again.

She didn't try to keep track of time. She didn't care about time. All she wanted was one more kiss. At some point she felt his erection against her thigh and realized her skirt was up around her waist again. But he hadn't pulled it there. If anything she had writhed against him while she tried to suck his tongue into her body. He was infinitely patient, that throbbing hot tube of maleness pressing against the skin of her thigh, but all he did was kiss her, and let her kiss him.

At one point she ran her hand all the way up his back, and then back down to his ass again. The next time they broke to breath, she whispered "This isn't supposed to be happening, Josh."

"Are you unhappy?" he asked, his lips brushing hers.

"No. I love it. It's wrong ... but I love it!"

He just kissed her again.

Finally she pushed him away as her passion made her feel like she was going to explode.

"I can't let you fuck me." The word was harsh in her own ears. It was a word she couldn't remember having used in the last decade.

"I know," he said.

"I need ..." Her voice almost broke. The sound of a sob was there, waiting to spill out. The fire in her loins forced her to say the word. "I need to cum!" She hadn't used that word since her teens.

"Let me help you," he offered.

"I can't let you fuck me!" she gasped.

"I promise not to."

She lurched toward him for another long, passionate kiss. When it broke, she said "Last time you lied."

"I'm not lying this time," he said. "I'll never make love to you ... fuck you ... unless you ask me to."

"I can never ask you." Now tears leaked out of her eyes.

"Don't be sad. I want you to remember tonight with happiness."

"I need to cum." Then she did sob, the small, shaking, jerking moans of one who feels helpless. She went limp as his fingers hurried to pull, flick and unbutton. He left on only her panties. When he bared her breasts, she cried out, a wracking moan of shame that she loved his eyes on them.

Then he was kissing her again, holding her against him gently, whispering that she would be fine, that everything would be all right. His lips kissed away her tears until her passion flared again and she returned his kisses. Only when she was frantic did he kiss his way down her throat to her chest, which she arched in welcome.

"Yes," she moaned. "Oh please yes."

His lips brushed up one swell, across the nipple and then down the other side. She cried out again, frustration in her voice. Like a cobra he struck, his lips sealing around the nipple before he sucked and prodded with the tip of his tongue at the same time. The orgasm she had been seeking, but had no idea was so close, crashed down upon her and she screamed, a full-bodied vent of emotion that had been pent up for literally years. He didn’t let up, though. He moved to the other nipple and squeezed the original one, rolling the now-fat and turgid flesh in half circles.

"Oh yes," she gasped. "Oh yes." It became a mantra as she allowed the sensations to flood her body. She jerked as his hand slid onto her mons, and then between her legs. But it was on top of her panties, and when he pressed, and his fingers seemed to vibrate on her cloth-covered clit, the bottom fell out from beneath her. She floated in a star-filled void as electricity pulverized her body, breaking it into starry motes of dust that swelled, and then slowly collapsed back in to reform her body.

She realized she'd been off somewhere else in her mind, and felt his lips kissing the corners of her mouth. His hand lay on her stomach now, limp, just placed there. A sudden surge of energy seemed to roll her over, pushing him back, until she was the aggressor. Her lips claimed his for a long kiss that clearly said "Thank you" to him, and "You're welcome" to her. It only lasted half a minute, though, before she moved her mouth away from his.

"You must be in agony," she said softly.

"It's not so bad," he smiled. "Knowing you made a woman that happy is kind of a payoff all by itself."

"I can't have sex with you," she said again, this time with conviction. "But a sitting president of the United States said what I'm going to do for you isn't sex ... okay?"

"Oh hell yes," he sighed.

Now he was flat on his back, lying relaxed, his hands under his head, which was also propped on a pillow so he could watch while she repaid him.

She had had several boyfriends before Roger. Most of them had been physical relationships, for the most part, and because she was raised Catholic, she had opted for the sort of oral birth control that didn't involve any pills. Instead, what she swallowed was the semen that could have made her pregnant, had it gotten where the Creator intended it to go. For that reason, she had become an accomplished and enthusiastic cock-sucker.

But that had been in her teen years. When she met Roger, they were both struggling to be adults. Roger was hung up about sex anyway, and his reaction to her first - and only - attempt to fellate him had ended her oral hobby.

She found, to her delight, that it was like riding a bicycle.

She found that to his delight, too. No woman had ever brought him off with only her mouth. It always required the added stimulation of a hand, stroking him. She did that, but the expertise with which she teased and stimulated his manhood with her mouth had him ready to pop much sooner than he had either anticipated, or wanted.

"Slow down," he panted.

She stopped only long enough to say "No way, sailor. This ship has docked, and her seamen are ordered out of the hold."

He laughed, but only until he knew she was going to make him cum, whether he was ready to or not.

"Damn, woman," he groaned. "Permission to come ashore!"

She didn't say "Permission granted." Instead she said "Mmmmmmm," and then swallowed happily as his cock belched. She remembered how one boy had loved to see himself spurt, and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out so Josh's spend landed on the surface. His eyes widened and he whimpered. Then she closed her mouth over the tip and swallowed, sucking, using her lips to push his foreskin back as she nursed him.

"Oh stop!" he gasped, his glans sensitive.

She did, but licked all over the head as his cock lost it's stiffness.

"Fuck me to tears," he groaned.

She wiggled up to kiss his chin. "Can't. I told you. That's something we can't do."

"You're waiting to kiss me until you can figure out whether or not my sperm in your mouth is a turnoff," he said.

"Some guys are wimps," she said calmly.

"Are you going to stay all night?" he asked.

"Do you still promise not to fuck me?"

"I do," he said formally.

"My family isn't expecting me until tomorrow some time," she said.

Then he kissed her.

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