The Secret Sex Lives of Wanda Mitty. Felix Baron
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‘Taste of what?’ Eve, a tall skinny platinum blonde, asked, with a trace of a giggle in her voice.
‘This.’ Dan turned Wanda’s head towards himself and lifted her upper body closer. A quick tug at the drawstring at his waist dropped the pants of his scrubs to the floor. Men in shirts and wearing nothing below had always struck Wanda as kind of endearing, vulnerable but dangerous, like lions playing at being cute.
Anticipating, she relaxed her jaw. His thumb pulled down with gentle power. The juicy plum of his giant penis nudged her lips and was inside the welcome wet embrace of her mouth. He was right. Tastes are evocative. The sensations of everyone she’d ever sucked, not that there had been many, in fact, far too few, swam up from her memory.
Eve said, ‘She’s in a coma, Dan. She’s not going to give you a blow job.’
‘That’s OK. I’ll just leave it in there until the swelling goes down.’
‘No matter how long it takes?’ Eve asked.
‘No matter how long. I’m a patient man.’
‘I like that in a man.’ Eve reached over to cup his dangling balls. ‘Don’t choke her, though.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
Meanwhile, Wanda savoured the flavour and the firm bulkiness of Dan, while striving desperately not to react with a lick or a suck. That was hard for a sexually deprived young lady.
The two interns at the bottom of the table, Ken, with dyed blond hair, and Barbie, with a fluffy ponytail, lifted Wanda’s legs and set her knees over their shoulders, the right over Barbie’s left, the left over Ken’s right.
That was a blast from the past. She hadn’t fantasised about sex with Ken and Barbie for a very long time. Two sets of fingers explored her, one male, one female. Her outer lips were palpated and then teased apart. Two fingers entered her, side by side.
‘She’s reacting, if getting wet counts,’ Barbie announced.
‘Try a lick, one of you,’ Dan suggested. ‘Oh – OK, both of you.’
Patrick, a skinny and tattooed kid who barely looked old enough to be an intern, groped below Wanda’s elevated bottom and found the knot of her rectum with a fingertip.
‘Good idea,’ Barbie encouraged. ‘That always turns me on.’
‘You like a finger up your bum?’ Patrick asked.
‘Doesn’t everyone?’ Barbie straightened, abandoning Wanda’s pussy, twitched her hips towards Patrick and dropped the bottoms of her scrubs.
Looking into each other’s eyes, Barbie and Patrick reached behind and worked a finger up each other’s bottom.
Fuck, it was turning into an orgy. Wanda didn’t mind that, even if it meant that she was no longer the centre of attraction on her own. She was proud of not being a selfish lover, which reminded her of the last intern … Betty Lo. Half-Chinese, small and very intense but with a childlike innocence about her. She was … playing with Wanda’s nipples, admiringly, wonderingly, as if they were the first nipples she’d ever encountered. Well, they were rather nice, of course. Perfect cones, but with flattened tops, almost always erect and very resilient. Wanda liked to have them played with, but a bit rougher than Betty’s careful caresses.
Dan said, ‘Give ’em a bit of a pinch, Betty. Make sure she feels it.’ He rocked a little as he spoke, gently fucking Wanda’s mouth. That wasn’t exactly just leaving his cock in but Wanda didn’t blame him. Her mouth was, after all, irresistible.
Once more Dan made a suggestion. He was definitely in charge. ‘Ken, why don’t you fuck her now?’
‘Bum or pussy?’
‘Maybe we could find a way to do her both ways at once? Not many girls can sleep through a three-pronged fucking.’
Eve said –
‘Wake up, sleepyhead,’ in Wanda’s mother’s voice.
Wanda eased her hands up from between her damp thighs, careful not to let the sheet over her expose what she’d been up to with her fingers. ‘Mm?’
‘Brunch today, remember? With Henry and Lucinda?’
That was right. Today they’d have brunch with her fiancé and his mother, her mom’s best friend. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it? Maybe, if she could keep her terribly lewd imagination under control.
Chapter Four
Her mom sent Wanda back to change three times. Each time it was for shorter heels, longer skirts and more modest tops. Damn it! Henry had been kept busy working on some sort of business merger and she hadn’t even seen him, let alone had any private time with him, for almost a month. She really deserved a chance to turn him on a little. Even her make-up was toned down at her mom’s insistence.
‘The Chandlers are a prestigious family,’ she said, often. ‘Decorum is de rigueur.’
Wanda hated to admit it but her mom was a prude and a snob, very old school. At least, she was where Wanda was concerned. For herself, short skirts or ones with slits and less than modest necklines were fine. Not that she couldn’t carry it off. Parked in her very late forties, she still had the body of a twenty-year-old.
The outing was a chance for Wanda to wear her engagement ring. It had nine diamonds, set in a square pattern of three threes. She didn’t know much about gems but each stone had to be at least a carat, so the ring was too much for the supermarket. For a swanky restaurant, it was fine.
Although The Captain’s Table’s
Wanda had a seat on a bench against the wall, under a cartoon of a bare-breasted mermaid riding a seahorse, side-saddle, of course. Wanda took the seat that’d be directly to Henry’s head-of-the-table right. Lucinda sank into the seat that’d be to his left, between him and Wanda’s mom.
‘Henry’s sorry he’s late,’ Lucinda explained. ‘He’s picking up his cousin, Kitty, who will be joining us.’
‘Kitty?’ Wanda asked.
‘They’ve been playmates since they were children,’ Lucinda continued. ‘Best pals forever and all that.’
Playing what? Doctor? That wasn’t a very charitable thought. Wanda shoved it away to join her nasty suspicions about Lucinda and her mom. Kinky fantasies starring herself were bad enough. If she started involving friends and family, that’d be really sick. Too sick to even tell Dr Sullivan about?
Leggy waitresses in musical comedy versions of sailor suits brought champagne and orange juice. Wanda sipped and then swallowed. It was early in the day for alcohol, but a Buck’s Fizz barely counts, right? Then again, she’d skipped breakfast. She pushed the flute three inches further away, then pulled it back. What the hell! She deserved some fun in life.
Lucinda turned her head towards the entrance and brightened. ‘Here he is!’ she sighed in a tone most people would have reserved for the Second Coming.
Despite herself, Wanda found that she was straightening and pulling her tummy in. He was only a man, after all. He might be six-foot four, ruggedly handsome and charming, with a boatload of money, but he was still human. Right?