Grounded

be.
    Just because he enjoyed it, just because he reveled in it, just because he used it to his advantage, his brother, Ira, got all pissy. Ira needed to lighten up. No, Ira needed to get laid.
    And that was exactly what Dion was planning on doing tonight. He hadn’t been on the barstool for more than two minutes before three big-boobed, long-legged, scantily dressed women in high-heels surrounded him. Two brunettes and a redhead had their hands all over him and their lips battled with his. Sliding off the barstool, Dion wrapped his big arms around the trio and escorted them out the door.
    Squeezing into his 1957 300 SL Gullwing was nearly impossible, but somehow they managed. For Dion, driving the hot sports car was like putting on a shirt that was three sizes too small, or shoes that belonged to his mother. If not for the unique wing doors, he doubted he’d be able to fit at all. But the women loved it.
    Driving them to the Continental Suites, an exclusive, richly appointed hotel where Dion kept a penthouse as his own personal den of iniquity, he escorted the three ladies through the lobby and into an elevator. He inserted his key into the panel, insuring the elevator wouldn’t stop until it reached the uppermost level of the hotel. The elevator exited directly into his apartment. As they stepped into the living room, all three women
    ooh’d and ahh’d at the opulent decor. Of course, Dion would have settled for nothing less. If he couldn’t have the finest there was to offer in this world, what would be the point?
    Tiffany, Devon, and Chrissy giggled with one another as Dion opened three bottles of champagne and gave one to each woman. They turned the music up loud and the women began dancing together while drinking their champagne, and it wasn’t long before what clothing they wore wound up on the floor. Braless, wearing thongs that were no more than tiny pieces of rectal-floss, the three women discarded their empty bottles and were soon rubbing their hands over one another. Dion, who had already shed his own clothing, simply lay back on the king-sized bed, propped up with pillows and watched the show.
    Tiffany wrapped her arms around Chrissy and kissed her deeply, while cutting her eyes over at Dion. He smiled and patted the bed beside him. Breaking the kiss, Tiffany slunk her way to the bed and crawled on all fours up onto the mattress. Licking a line from the sole of his foot, up his leg and over his stomach, she stretched out on top of him. Her mouth tasted of the champagne she’d drunk, and her tongue knew exactly what to do with his.
    While she kissed him, Devon and Chrissy joined them. Chrissy sucked his cock, and Devon lay on her back between Tiffany’s legs and lapped at her pussy. Dion took it all in, allowed them to use his body for their pleasure, even as they gave one another pleasure. Devon nudged Chrissy from between Dion’s legs and mounted him, sheathing his hard dick deep inside her pussy. Tiffany straddled Dion’s face, sitting with her pussy just above his mouth while his tongue flicked over her clit. She was facing Devon and the two women began kissing and massaging one another’s tits. On her knees between Dion’s legs, Chrissy pressed her tits against Devon’s back, and reaching around, she massaged her tits.
    The women intermittently traded places. Sucking Dion’s cock, kissing him, sitting on his face, riding him. They also licked each other’s pussies, and sucked each other’s nipples, until they all wound up completely exhausted, satisfied, and sleeping soundly. They spent two days and nights in bed, getting up occasionally to wrestle with each other in the large Jacuzzi, to lather one another in the shower, or to allow room service to enter and bring more food and drink.
    On Monday morning, Dion slid from beneath the tangle of arms and legs, went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. Lathering up, he washed his hair, then brushed his teeth and thought about the day to come. There was a girl with shoulder-length dark hair he was going to see today. Patty would call his office and he couldn’t wait to hear her voice, to see her again.
    Thinking of his first meeting with her, Dion pictured her as he’d first seen her. He’d simply been strolling along, and had no intentions of picking up a woman. Yet there she was, sprawled on the sidewalk, pleading for someone to help her, but as was typical of most city-dwellers, no one had the time to notice a solitary