The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Marilyn Jaye Lewis Read Free Page B

having to set up an elaborate pedestal wine bucket somewhere in reach of them, too. Thank God they smoked. They really needed some more stuff on that tiny table.
    They couldn’t help but notice me right away since they were practically sitting in my lap, and they kept trying to engage me in their small talk. I resisted their stabs at friendliness until they offered to share their wine, which necessitated their ordering another bottle. The waiter was really glad to see a fifth party, me, push into the already unmanoeuvrable fray. So physically we got close in a hurry. We couldn’t help it. Still, one of the women, Fran, seemed to impinge on more of my personal space than I thought was really necessary. Right away I figured she was hitting on me. It took a couple glasses of that expensive wine before I realized they were all hitting on me.
    I went home with them mostly because I couldn’t believe they’d had the balls to ask me. They were so matter of fact about it, too, like they always came on to younger, much more attractive single women and got affirmative results. I was swept off my feet by their sheer blind optimism. Well, no. Actually I was swept off my feet by them, literally. I think they wanted to rush me into the nearest cab before I could change my mind.
    We wound up in the home of the couple who lived closest to the bar. It was a really nice apartment. That couple, Cy and Ruthie, had never had any kids. Every extra penny had been available for them to spend on themselves. They favoured upholstery, too. Everything was upholstered, in every conceivable pattern. I could tell an interior decorator had been paid handsomely to have his or her way with Cy and Ruthie. But I ceased noticing the decor when Fran started to undress me.
    At first I felt alarmingly uncomfortable because no one else was undressing. I shy away from being the only one naked in a crowd of strangers and I was wondering what I’d got myself into. But after she’d stripped me naked, Fran pushed me gently down on the sofa and began to massage my feet. I began to relax. I sank deep into the upholstered sofa while Fran sat on the coffee table in front of me with both my feet in her considerable lap. Her hands were unexpectedly soft and steady. She worked each and every one of my toes and the balls of my feet with just the right amount of pressure.
    She smiled encouragingly at me while the others just watched. I wondered if I was being lured into some exhibitionistic
pas de deux
with Fran. As I sunk deeper into the couch in an increasing state of bliss, I wondered how a group of people arrived at that sort of arrangement. “Hey, I know,” I imagined them saying, “let’s all go out together, find a girl half our age and watch her get frisky with Fran.” There would be general agreement all around.
    Then Fran broke my reverie. She lifted my foot to her mouth and sucked in my big toe. I was ready for it. Fran’s mouth was so warm and wet, I moaned. And slowly but surely things started to move around me.
    Cy got out of his chair. He came over and stood by Fran, his crotch level with her face. He unzipped his fly, but when he took out his dick it was flaccid. Completely limp. Fran didn’t seem at all perturbed but I felt a little indignant. I was thinking, Hey, I’m naked here! The least you could do is worship me, have a raging hard-on! But, alas, Cy was no longer nineteen and Fran appeared to be used to it. She went right to work with her mouth, alternating between my big toe and Cy’s flaccid dick until remarkable things began to happen. It turned out Cy was hung.
    Ruthie came over to join us then. She undid her husband’s trousers completely, letting them fall rather dramatically to his ankles. Then, while Cy went to work on Fran’s mouth with his stiff dick, getting her complete attention now as my feet lay limply in her lap, Ruthie kneeled behind Cy and seemed to be tonguing his ass. Her face was way in there and I figured if I was Cy, as