bound hands

The night air was heavy with the sounds of drums, lightened by the flicker of burning lanterns and tiki torches, and voices floated on the air with the scents of roasted pig and fruity cocktails. It all mingled together to create an atmosphere as exotic as the colorful flowers that were in the middle of each table in little coconut-bowl vases.



The dried grass bundles hanging from tiki booths and the corners of tables fluttered and rustled as the breeze wound its way through the private courtyard, and Jessica’s eyes rolled back in her head as crushed flower petals clung to her reddened lips.



A rough grunt barely preceded the sharp smack on her ass from a gritty hand sporadically coated with damp sand. A low moan escaped her as his palm slid over the generous curve of her ass, thumb pressing tightly to the crinkled pucker of her asshole as his other hand helped keep her cheeks wide.



Jessica bit her lip as his hips thrust even faster, and she just knew he was watching his cock disappear into her pussy. Moaning, she dropped to one elbow and dipped her fingers back to rub over her clit. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as his thrusts began to drag her nipples in the warm sand.



With a rough curse, his thumb popped past her tight anal ring, while his cock pistoned into her creamy cunt. On a squeal, Jessica popped up and dug her fingers into the sand, back arching as her ass was breached for the first time, and looked around the room with wild eyes.



Nobody was watching as Malaki’s thumb slid fully into her dark pucker; they were all too focused on their own pleasure. Low groans and moans could be heard across the decorated courtyard, low smacks as bodies connected in the torch-lit darkness as the carefully executed party settled on the baser instincts.



As Jessica’s nipples tightened with her impending orgasm, she moaned and bucked back against the dark Samoan’s cock as she watched one of her other friends getting her face jetted with cum, and yet another was laying back in the sand, dark fingers spearing her own glistening sex as a pale-skinned, tattooed man knelt over her face, fucking her mouth.



Her cry was immediate as she watched her friends be used and pleasured by their strange lovers, and Malaki released her hip to grip her breast, twisting and rolling her nipple as his hips slammed into hers, cock twitching as his seed was released into the grasping slickness of her pussy.



A sharp, almost painful twist of the dark pink tip caused her to scream as she came, her pussy clamping around his jerking cock. With a muffled cry, she sank into the sand with her eyes closing as her heart pounded so hard it seemed ready to escape her chest. Her eyes closed on a moan, body buffeted with intense pleasure, and the earlier events of the day rushed at her…



Jessica sat on her office chair and blinked at her co-workers with wide blue eyes.



“Are you out of your minds, or what?” Her whisper was low and intense as she leaned forward, palms on her knees. One of the other girls peered over the walls of the cubicles to keep an eye out for “Ol’ Batty”, their not-so-fond nickname for Oliver Batterman, their boss, as the four friends had an informal pow-wow during working hours.



“It’s running all weekend! We need some time away, and why not a Girls’ Nite Out!” Bea nearly bounced in her chair, wiry red curls popping out of her French braid, green eyes wide behind her glasses.



“Besides, it’s a luau, for crying out loud! It’s not some random themed party. Even the bar hosting it has a tropical theme.” Grace crossed her legs, foot bobbing as she reclined back in her chair. The sole maven of the group, her own dark blond tresses were streaked with silver at the temples, and she was often ogled on her way to lunch. Her deep grey eyes twinkled with some kind of dark mirth, and the other two women shook their heads at her with a small laugh.



“That’s beside the-” Jessica started, and was cut-off by the sharply-hissed words from their lookout.



“Quick, he’s coming!” Shante dropped down from her faux-stretch and hissed at the gathered women, her black hair flying as she dived into a stack of filing, her dark fingers flipping almost hurriedly through the papers.



With a groan and a scatter, the women were all back in their cubicles as Ol’ Batty turned the corner. Eyes were rolled behind his back as he glanced into each cubicle on his way down the wide aisle, his blue eyes cold and stern as he watched each of his employees toil away the last bit of their day, and about fifteen minutes later, the foursome were dashing toward the elevators, purses in hand, as they left their office.



Laughing, the four women exited their building and headed down the block. Only one had a clue of the appealing picture they made, and Grace smiled knowingly at one young man who simply stopped and stared as they passed.



Grace’s long dark hair was un-pinned, the silver threads at her temples catching the light as she looked around them. The eldest of the group, and a divorced mother, she was what her friends laughingly called a “milf”. She personally detested the term, but she was a mother, and still absolutely fuckable, so she understood it.



Her large silver-grey eyes were sharp, and she didn’t miss the hesitation in Jessica’s voice when they were talking about this luau. She could tell that the youngest in the group was shy about going out, especially to a party geared toward the singles crowd.



“I think we have to go.” Grace’s voice was quiet, and the other three nearly stumbled to a halt and looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. They’d been discussing Ol’ Batty’s end-of-day trolling “walk-through”, and the sudden aside from their friend came as a surprise.



“Go where?” Jessica arched a brow and drew the fallen purse strap back up onto her shoulder, eyes wide with her thoughts on Grace’s comment.



Her suspicions were confirmed when the taller woman simply stated, “The luau. We have to go.” They continued walking at Grace’s wave. “It’ll be good for all of us. We all really need a serious Girls’ Nite Out. It’s been years for most of us. And I don’t think we’ve gone out at all since Jessica joined our little crew.”



She slanted a look over at Jessica, who she knew was hesitant to go the the party. For what reason, she had no clue, but she thought it sounded like a blast.



“I dunno, girl. My only issue is am I gonna be the only woman of color at this sand-tastic affair?” One black brow arched high, even as Shante’s eyes twinkled in mirth. “I dunno how many black people are gonna wanna roll around a beach with a bunch of you light-skinned shits.”



Bea squeaked in pretended outrage, and cried, “Reverse racism, reverse racism!” seconds before Shante playfully swatted her with her shoulder bag.



“I agree. I think it’ll be a great plan. Blow off some steam, maybe meet some men. What could go wrong?” The group of women chuckled and parted ways at the corner, all making plans to talk later that evening to plan where to meet and what to wear.



Jessica slowly warmed to the idea, and even started to get a little excited as she went about dinner. ‘A real girls’ nite out!’ she thought, standing by the sink washing her few dishes. ‘What the hell have I really got to lose? Maybe I can even brush up on my flirting!’



With a giggle, she grabbed her cell phone and charger, and disappeared into the bathroom to shower and call Bea.



* * * * *



“Gawd, we’ll be the hottest things there!” Bea’s slow drawl was accompanied by her three friends’ voracious laughter as they crawled out of Grace’s golden Yukon. Her grin grew as she glanced at the ladies present.



Grace, still the tallest, even in a pair of leather flats, wore a simple soft yellow top and a soft brown and tan skirt that flirted with the tops of her knees. Her dark hair was falling free except for a lock that was pinned back with a silk flower that matched the yellow of her blouse. She wore no rings on her long fingers, but a heavy gold chain swung between breasts that Bea could swear were braless.



The dark and lovely Shante was the daring one, anyone could see. She was wearing a bright red two-piece bathing suit, the top a tankini-style halter that tied behind her neck and draped down over her breasts, flaring out beneath breasts that wobbled with each step on her matching, strappy three-inch heels.



Her chocolate skin seemed to gleam beside the shiny red material, but it fairly glowed against the mid-thigh length skirt in a shining white, offset only by the red stitching and buttons that rode perilously low on her hips. A jeweled ring glittered in her navel, and small silver hoops dangled from her ears; and if one looked close enough, they could even distinguish the tiny bumps alongside her prominent nipples that hinted of small barbells piercing the sensitive flesh.



Jessica was a knock-out with her choice of attire for the evening’s festivities; tropical flowers in all colors of the rainbow were flung out across the expanse of the ravishing white wrap dress. It was something Bea had only seen in magazines; akin to a Roman toga, the skirt fell loose and flowing around her legs, but deep slashes on either side rode high, almost to her hips.



The top hung loosely, wrapped from the back, criss-crossing her delectably round breasts from beneath and somehow seemed to flow over her shoulders in a freefall of the bright floral print. She was wearing panties, that much Bea could tell, in a bright blue color, and she could only assume they were strings as the ribbons trailed along Jessica’s flashing upper thighs.



While Bea admired her friends, Grace had to smile and watch the younger woman with amusement. The bouncing Bea was a pretty sexy picture herself in a knee-length pink and white skirt, her feet dancing in pretty wooden wedges. Silver flashed at her ankle and toes, while the curvy redhead’s curls had been scooped and piled almost carelessly atop her head. Diamonds sparkled in her ears and at one nostril while her fingers clutched at a tiny white purse that contained what had to be an entire box of condoms, and the ever-present emergency lipstick.



The bouncer standing by the door blinked as the fabulous foursome crossed the street, and he accepted their cover-charge after seeing their invitations. Grace smiled, licking her bottom lip with a wink at the tall Latino, who grinned right back and boldly reached down to adjust himself to hide the signs of being a very prominent erection, and the door clicked shut behind her.



* * * * *



“Well, Reggie, it looks like you’ve gotten a pretty sizeable turnout this year.” Dark, heavily-lined eyes were tipped in amusement as Andrea sipped at the fruity drink held in her hand, standing invisibly behind the mirrored wall of glass that separated the bar office with the courtyard that was decked out in its Hawaiian finery.



“I’m glad. Last year wasn’t a total flop, but only a hundred showed of those invited. And I want my annual party to be the talk of the town; behind closed doors, or course.” Reginald “Reggie” Marshall, owner of The Lounge, laughed and leaned back into the soft leather of his desk chair and watched the sleek woman looking out the privacy glass.



He loved having this woman as his silent assistant, his quiet wing man that went out and promoted the private party. Luckily for him, the world was spinning out of moral control, and most every form of debauchery was acceptable, if masked under the right guise.



Enter his annual party. A sex party, to be exact. Quiet affluence faked the single life, and mixed and mingled with the selected groups of genuine singles. Sexual tastes from all walks attended his “singles’ mixer”, and nobody had yet to complain about the party’s “surprise theme” when they all eventually found out.



He mouth widened in a dark grin, eyes glittering as he looked over to the monitors, showing him footage of every single inch of his property. Even the bathrooms were videoed, though unethical as it was; Reggie didn’t give a damn, it was his bar, and the tapes were his private use. If nothing interesting happened, each tape was recorded over until someone gave in to their baser urges and got dirty.



Some such moment was happening right now: a spitroast in the men’s room. Reggie had to chuckle as one of his bouncer’s leaned back against the sink furthest from the door, his dark hand fisted in the hair of a tiny blond with a big ass. He’d gotten smart, Reggie had, and had very sensitive microphones installed to pick up the nasty audio that came with nasty couplings such as this.



“Yeah, suck that black cock, you dirty little whore.” The sound was slightly tinny, but the girl’s muffled moan was clearly heard, and Andrea swivelled on her stilettos as the volume was turned up on that monitor. They made soft clicks as she drew closer to the opulent desk.



“Such a nasty slut.” A new voice intoned, and midnight-black hands gripped pale hips as a wet splat sounded, and the blond jumped, squealing around the bouncer’s cock as she was roughly taken from behind.



With a soft rustling, Andrea’s skirt was lifted and she moved behind the desk to straddle Reggie, who sat nude, and lowered herself onto the throbbing length of his cock. His own hands weren’t gentle as he tugged her breasts free to twist her nipples, her own hands bracing her on the desk as her hips began a dance she knew well.



Her eyes never strayed from the monitors; she knew his wouldn’t either, and they both groaned as the blond was spun around and flipped to her back. The midnight man straddled her chest and thrust his pussy-coated cock into her mouth, nearly doing sit-ups, as the other man held her thighs wide, his own dark meat slowly spearing into a tiny pink asshole.



Both heard the garbled cry, and Reggie withdrew and placed his cockhead against the tight brown star that had begun to wink at him as he watched the girl finger her own clit. “Mmm, she’s a good girl, isn’t she, my dear?”



Hoarsely whispered words didn’t invite a real response, breath warm against her neck as his width slowly spread her dark hole apart, sinking into the warm recess he fucked at his will. Groaning as her tight sphincter engulfed him, he watch as two of his bouncers began to roughly fuck the tiny woman with abandon.



Grinning at the show, Reggie left his partner to fondle her own tits and gripped her waist almost cruelly, his balls slapping against her pussy as he shot to his feet, bending her over with a quick shove as his hips began their own quick thrust.



Almost against her will, the orgasm built, and she started whimpering as his cock fucked into her tight hole in short, pistoning strokes. Her eyes were glued on the screen, her knuckles turning white as she abandoned her grip on the desk and reached down with shaking fingers to her drenched pussy and aching clit.



The blond on the screen thrashed and bucked in the hands of her dark lovers, and their sounds of climax drove the voyeuristic watchers over the edge, everyone jerking and thrusting; male groans and female squeals and sighs of completion filled the quiet air.



Standing over the panting woman, Reggie’s lips brushed against a sweat-beaded shoulder as he pulled his cock from her, his whisper low and guttural as he dropped back into his chair and watched his cum dribble from her gaping ass.



“Let the games begin.”



* * * * *



” Games! ” Bea’s sudden squeal had them all choking on their drinks, and three sets of eyes narrowed on the perky redhead, who blushed and grinned unabashedly as she dropped into a seat at their table.



“Games?” Shante raised a dark brow. “Aren’t we a little old for games?” She raised her drink, and then smiled widely at a stud she glimpsed by the bar. His sandy hair fell over his eyes, and he grinned crookedly back at her, raising his new beer in silent toast.



“Never! I mean, some games, yeah. You know, like Chutes-n-Ladders and shit, yeah.” Bea’s drawl was honey-smooth and syrupy-sweet, and most everyone fell for her southern charm. “But we’re talkin’ adult games here! Tassle-spinning, you know, like exotic dancers do? And relay-races where you’re not allowed to use your hands! Sexy. For us mingling singles to … well, mingle!”



Grace laughed and drained her glass, then stood. “I’m for another, anybody else?” Laughing at the waves of “no”, she took a few steps, and looked back with a wink. “I’m gonna go check out the sign-up sheet for this tassle-twirling game; Mama’s got some tricks up her sleeve yet!” The remaining three stared after her in surprise, and Jessica was the first to start giggling.



“D-do you think Grace was a… a stripper?” Her eyes were wide, and she caught herself from slurring just in time as she leaned into the table to take another sip of her sixth–or was it seventh?–drink, and giggled.



“And if she was?” Shante’s voice took on an edge, dark eyes narrowed. “It’s a respectable profession. Not all strippers are sluts, you know.”



Bea and Jessica gaped at her, and Shante widened her eyes at her slip.



“It wasn’t me.” Her bared shoulders lifted on a shrug. “I was raised in a single-parent home, and Ma did what she had to do to put food on the table. She worked at the diner during the day, and danced at night. Me and my brother were old enough to know all those ones weren’t coming from tips at the local dive where she waited tables.”



Giggling, the two girls reached over the small table and grabbed their friend in a hug.



“No judgement from us, honey!” Bea’s smile stretched across her face and she hopped up. “I’m gonna grab another drink, now, and go check out what other games they have!”



The perpetually bouncy redhead was gone before either of the remaining women could bat an eyelash. Jessica turned and nearly fell off of her seat, the bright skirt slipping down between her thighs to leave her golden thighs bare for the hungry eyes of strange men to roam.



Shante chuckled and moved closer to her young friend, quietly shifting the material to cover the tipsy girl’s leg, much to the annoyance of the men near their table. “I think we should take a walk, girl. Maybe go see some of the games they’ve got.” ‘And possibly sober your drunk ass up, too!’ she thought with a chuckle.



Looping their arms together, Shante and Jessica started a slow, slightly stumbling stroll around the giant courtyard, stopping occasionally to chat with a group, or even giggle and talk shoes and dresses with the errant group of females.



It was obvious as soon as they reached their goal: the games. Huge wooden poles carved with random tikis framed a narrow pebble path that was bracketed by bushy palm fronds, red letters bold on the bleached surface of the overhead sign read: THE PLAYGROUND.



Giggling, the two friends stepped up onto the pebbled pathway and brushed their way past the tickling fronds and stopped dead in their tracks, mouths agape.



A veritable Hawaiian version of Carnivale exploded before them: women danced around in dried grass skirts, breasts painted with brightly-colored parrots and other birds of paradise, laterns flickered overhead, illuminating small padded benches where couples reclined in various states of undress.



Jessica’s eyes went wide as a fire-dancer paused in front of them, his body glistening with sweat in the flashing sweeps of his torches. Steps stomping, swirling, his body a finely-tuned instrument as he moved along with the crashing beat of the drums that seemed to surround them.



She turned, her nipples tightening in response as she watched his sexy body move, hips undulating as he twirled the flames around him. Shante tugged on her hand, and they moved forward, Jessica losing sight of one of the sexiest men she’d ever met, and fell down the rabbit hole.



* * * * *



Shante and Jessica decided to stop at the first game they could find, and giggling drunkenly at the mostly-bare breasts that covered the stage. They laughed and clapped through a few of the bountiful boobies that twirled tassles, and within minutes, stood with their mouths open as the curtain rolled back.

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