Erotica, Series

The Leatherbound Diaries, Part 3

The Party: How Cathy ends up on the menu during a swingers night

As I write this, I know the upcoming words will make me blush and horny all over again. Here, on my own, in my cosy den, with the window open to let in the morning breeze and the sound of birds who are as awake as I am, last night seems a sleep induced mirage. So let me bring it to the surface again and convey it to these pages. I am oddly shy about recounting something I fully committed to. I guess it’s because it was my debut. My christening, as Leyla called it. She’s such a heretic.

Let me paint the picture. Here we are, me and Leyla, at a party in a luxurious, spacious apartment on the banks of the Spree. I still have no idea who owns it, and maybe I didn’t even meet the owner. We are on the top floor, the view is breathtaking and so are the men and women present. I never saw so many pretty people in one place, even though I’m used to seeing gorgeous models all the time at Paul’s photo studio.

I’m slightly nervous, I don’t know any of these people, but I know why we’re here. Leyla got an invitation through a friend of a friend. When we came in, a young man in a sailor’s uniform greeted us at the door - very ‘Querelle’. He stamped our wrists so we can return if we want to go out for a bit. I couldn’t see the image as it was quite dark in the entrance hall, but it turns out to be a symbol that looks like a shamrock. In the main living room, a DJ’s pumping some cool trip hop. People are dancing, drinking and talking. Another “sailor” offers us a glass of Sekt. He nods to his tray with not just the flutes on it but also a small silver box containing pills of different colours. It’s X of course, and we both pop one with the bubbles. I look around and realise that everyone at the party has most likely done the same. Leyla is on the same track as she leans into me and whispers, ‘It’s going to be a love fest.’

We decide to mingle on the dance floor and as we sway to the trippy tracks, people size us up. A man who wears a slim fitting, oriental looking dress and heels moves over and dances with us. His make-up is modest, not as exuberant as a drag queen. He’s our age, I think, and has a pretty smile. We smile back at him as we dance. He leans over to Leyla and says something to her I can’t hear. She laughs and points at me, her face a question mark. After he says something else, she gestures we are together. The cross dresser looks at me, smiles and, obviously satisfied with the information he got, continues to dance with us.

A man and a woman dancing next to us, start to kiss. Another woman moves towards them and spoons the woman, so she’s sandwiched. The man extends his embrace to the second woman, who lays her head against the back of the first. The three of them dance in unison. The cross dresser watches me looking at them. He takes my hand and Leyla’s too and guides us to sandwich him. He’s not much taller than us, so our faces are close to one another. He kisses me. I kiss him back. It’s all very tender and our movements feel like slow motion. No doubt it’s the XTC.

The man turns and kisses Leyla, turns again and I want to kiss him but he moves behind me so I’m facing Leyla. We’ve kissed before, but we’ve never fucked but this party clearly isn’t meant for platonic kisses between best friends. I hesitate, I see in Leyla’s eyes that she too realises we’re crossing a threshold. We knew it would happen of course by coming here, but it’s a step we’re self-conscious about. I feel the man’s hands on my bum and he pushes me gently forward.

Leyla takes my face in her hands and presses her lips on mine. I like the way Leyla kisses. She’s got a gentle eagerness that turns me on. When her tongue enters my mouth and curls around mine, I moan. Its sound gets lost in the DJ’s decibels, but I’m sure Leyla notices. The cross dresser behind me is moving his hands up over my sides. I feel his bulge swell against my bum. Leyla and I unlock and only now do I notice that she too has a man standing behind her who’s letting his hands glide along her curves. I look out of the corner of my eye and more people in similar sandwich positions are kissing and caressing each other.

I spot a man standing against the wall who is getting a blowjob from two women. ‘Fuck, this party moving fast,’ I think. Hands have found their way underneath my shirt to cup my breasts. My nipples are hard and sensitive and when the man behind me pinches them, my cunt fluidly responds. My own hands have been on Leyla’s bum, but I feel the growing cock of the man behind her slowly grind against them. I look into his eyes and caress his bulge. He smiles at me while licking Leyla’s ear. She swoons and I make a mental note that her ear lobe is erogenous.

The two men lean over our shoulders and kiss each other. I’ve never seen men kiss up close. It’s hot. The handsome face next to mine smells spicy and reminds me of cumin. The men press me and Leyla firmer against one another, and our hard nipples brush over each other. Our quartet continues to slow dance in this enticing embrace. As we gradually turn around, I get a glimpse of what is happening in the room. Some are dancing and kissing like us. The man who was getting sucked off now lies on the ground with his face buried between a woman’s thighs. Another woman rides him. Two men and a woman are watching this and touching themselves.

Near the window, two women are making out on a couch. A third woman lifts her skirt and offers her pussy to their tongues. Did I mention we had to leave our knickers at the door if we were wearing any? Leyla had warned me, so we left them at home, giggling on the U-Bahn about going commando. It was a good idea of Leyla’s because I was already aroused when we arrived and I’m sure she was too.

As we dance with the two men, Leyla whispers to me she’s hungry. I assume she means it sexually, but she excuses herself to the men and untangles herself from the four-way-embrace. She takes my hand and laughs.

‘Let’s find the kitchen, there’s probably a buffet or something. I’m famished.’

We didn’t have a proper dinner before we left, just a few drinks with snacks. My stomach’s grumbling too. When we find the kitchen, one of the sailor boys — who seem to be hosting the evening — blocks us from entering.

‘You girls on the menu or you want to reserve a spot?’ The sailor is holding a clipboard. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but behind him, I can see another sailor preparing some sort of contraption at a large table in what looks like quite a spacious kitchen.

‘We’re looking for food. We’re hungry,’ Leyla says.

‘O, that buffet is down the hall to your left. This one opens in an hour. I can put your names down if you like.’ He nibbles on the butt of the pen he’s holding and throws us a mischievous look.

‘For what?’ Leyla asks.

The sailor gestures to his colleague at the grand table which is covered with a soft cloth. I now notice the cuffs being fastened to it.

‘This culinary venue is called “All-you-can-eat-or-fuck”. He shows us his clipboard which has two columns. One column is headed with “Menu” and the other with “Customer”.

I look at Leyla whose mind, like mine, is rattling with what this means. Her eyes widen when she gets it.

‘Just so you know, strap-ons are free if you want one.’ The sailor smiles wickedly as he takes in our baffled faces. But before we can say anything, his colleague calls him. ‘Just a sec, schatzies.’

The other sailor in the kitchen lies bent over the table, his arms stretched. He’s laid his hands in a pair of cuffs.

‘Is this the right arm length?’ he asks. Our sailor stands behind him, appraises his bum and mockingly considers the question. He looks at us.

‘Maybe one of the girls can lie down and see if it’s right?’

Leyla pushes me, so I stumble into the kitchen. Stunned, I look askance at her over my shoulder but she just laughs.

‘Just lie on the table, sweetie,’ the sailor says, ‘so we can see if the cuffs are right.’

My heart races but I oblige. The second sailor takes my hand and stretches my arm towards a cuff. He places my wrist in it. ‘Perfect,’ he says. My head lies sideways on the tabletop and I see Leyla in the doorway staring at me. Her face is flushed and she bites her lip. A man and a woman pass behind her and they stop to look at me too. I feel exposed and hot and a different hunger replaces my desire for food.

‘You can get up now,’ one of the sailors says and he helps me.

‘Put me on the left column,’ Leyla says. ‘And her on the right.’

The sailor grabs his clipboard. Leyla tells him her name; he notes it down and looks at me.

‘What’s on the right?’ I say, still a bit dazzled.

‘Menu. What you just did.’

I inadvertently let out a silly snort but an electric current bolts through me right down to my crotch.

‘Cathy,’ I say. ‘My name’s Cathy.’

‘Excellent,’ the sailor says. ‘Come back in half an hour or so, and you’ll see at what time you need to be present.’

I don’t quite get what that means but before I can ask him, Leyla pulls me towards her and whispers to me. ‘You looked so hot on that table, I can’t wait to see you being devoured. But let’s have some food first.’

As we leave to find the “other buffet”, I glance at the couple that’s waiting to have their names added on the clipboard and they smile at me. ‘We’ll see you later,’ the man says and his look of eager anticipation scares me a bit.

As predicted, I got horny while writing all this down. I just held my wand against my clit for a while but it’s still oversensitive. My pussy had quite a night. So, let me continue to tell about how I became part of the menu.

[To be continued]

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