Fucking Nimoy Ch. 02

Toys

“Remember, if a person is speaking to you, look them in the eye whenever possible. And, unless you’re holding a plate or glass, keep your hands at your sides.” Mr. Nimoy directed as you sat nude on the bed in his beach house. He was standing in front of the mirror buttoning his shirt.

One wall of the bedroom was floor to ceiling glass. At one time, quite recently and yet seeming like it was in a different life, you would have been freaked out about being naked in that room. You would have wondered who was out there in the darkness looking into the well-lit room. The high lighting fixtures, in conjunction with the dark paneled walls, actually made for a pale amber lighting, but it was bright enough that one would be able to see inside from the outdoors. But all that could be seen out in the darkness beyond the balcony was the shimmering of an almost full moon reflected on the wave caps and breakers. So, unless the voyeur was on a boat and had binoculars, there probably wasn’t much risk of being seen. It was not this rational thought process that led to your indifference, however. It was because you had been nude almost all the time for the past several days, and you were rapidly becoming accustomed to it.

In fact, you almost never had to be corrected for eye contact or covering violations around Leonard or his blond-haired assistant, Marlon, anymore. However, Leonard had good reason to think you would revert tonight, and you knew he was probably right. He was, after all, having a room full of friends and close acquaintances over for an exhibition. The photographs on display, which he had been secretive about, would not be the only thing being exhibited. While the guests were all well known to Leonard, they would all be complete strangers to you. Not that it mattered that they were strangers as far as the level of mortification you were experiencing was concerned. If they were known to you, it would probably have been worse.

Marlon ducked his head into the room. “Hey, cutie.” He said in greeting to you, and then to Leonard: “Mr. Nimoy, the guests have all arrived and are assembled in the gallery.”

“Thank you, Marlon. We’ll be right down.”

Your stomach churned as you took the hand Leonard had offered palm up in a gentlemanly manner. This was the truest test yet of your devotion to being Leonard’s girl. Relinquishing your virginity was a distant second. You were ripe and ready for that, and there was no man you would have rather had deflower you than he. This, however, was the nightmare of all but a few rare exhibitionists. Naked in a room full of clothed people, that had to rank with inexorably falling or with taking a high school test for which one is totally unprepared as one of the most common bad dreams experienced in modern society. And there could be no doubt that among girls of generous proportions, such as yourself, the dream of public nudity had to be number one by a long-shot. And here you were about to live the nightmare in the real world.

Leonard kissed you as he kneaded the back of your neck to help you relax. “Take a deep breath. You’ll do fine. Are you ready?” Leonard asked.

How did one answer that question? You weren’t ready. You couldn’t be ready, but you were willing to do it for him. And so you said, simply: “Yes.” Then you took the deep slow breath he had recommended.

You willed every step to last an eternity so that you could delay this experience. But it was a short walk down the stairs, down a hallway, and into the gallery. Being arm-in-arm with Leonard was the only thing that allowed you to summon the requisite courage. With every step you took, the sounds of clinked crystal and the jumbled din of concurrent conversations seemed to get noticeably louder.

All too quickly, you were being walked through the door by Leonard. The first thing you noticed, which served to ease your nerves just a little, was that you were not the only nude in the room. Out of about twenty people assembled -not including the catering staff and Marlon- four were nude and standing obediently and quietly next to fully-clothed presumed masters. Three of the nudes were female and the other one was male. Two of them, one of the females and the male, were on leashes attached to dog collars, and the other two women were, like you, untethered. One of the other females was plump, like you, but a few years older, blond, and darkly tanned all over. Another of the females, the one in the collar, had milky smooth skin like yours and was buxom and just a little broad in the hips. The final girl was dark, exotic, had a petite, almost boyish, figure. She looked deceptively young from a distance because of her slight frame and delicate features, but was, in reality, middle-aged. The girls were all with different men. The boy was about your age, and looked like a clean-cut frat boy being hazed. He had a plump erection with some kind of band around the base of his penis presumably to maintain that state. He was chained to a woman who was probably fifty, had hair that was a mix Bayan Eskort of blond and gray in tight school marm-esque bun, and wore a red dress with a plunging neckline that revealed her substantial cleavage. You noticed that the two collared submissives and the petite exotic girl all kept their eyes averted in strict contradiction of the command you had been given. The plump blond did look at those who were speaking.

The next thing you noticed was that even if you had been allowed to wear clothes you would still have been on display. Centered along each wall was one of the photos Leonard had taken of you the day you first met, and the fifth was on an easel in the middle of the room. They were poster-sized prints. Most of the assembled guests had congealed into one of the three cocktail party klatchs that were circled around the three most popular photos. A few other two party dialogues were going on throughout the room, including a couple in front of the photos that had not drawn crowds.

The room was white and bright. It had a white ceiling, a white tile floor, and two adjacent walls were white. Unlike the dim ambiance of the bedroom, the gallery was flooded with white light. This contributed to an impression that there was no place to hide. There were no dark recesses in which imperfections would be concealed. The other two walls, the exterior walls, were floor to ceiling windows just like the one in the bedroom upstairs. Out the longer wall one could see the same view of moonlight playing off the water that you had seen from the bedroom, and out the other side one could see the faint lights from a neighboring house in the distance. A small team of three or four waiters and waitresses circulated in black slacks, white tux shirts, and black bowties carrying silver trays of exotic appetizers and flutes of sparkling wine.

“Leonard, you finally found the girl you’ve been after, and a lovely one at that.” Said a short, pudgy, gray mustachioed man of about sixty. He took your hand and kissed the back of it.

“This is Rubin Katz of Paramount.” Leonard introduced the two of you. It was only then that it occurred to you that some of the faces in the room seemed familiar. While Rubin was not even vaguely familiar to you, ostensibly owing to his behind the camera industry position, a few others looked like actors you recognized from television and movies. There were no huge stars among the guests, but several faces that were frequently seen in supporting roles. Including, you recognized as a Star Trek fan, one poor Ensign who had lasted a mere three onscreen minutes and whose only line was a death throe grunt delivered as he was being vaporized. Leonard and Rubin were engaged in business talk that you were oblivious to because you were too busy alternating between being anxious and trying to place the faces of minor celebrities. By now everybody had noticed that Leonard had arrived, but they returned to their conversations to give the two men some space. No one was staring at you, but you did catch the occasional onlooker in a peep. In reality, you reasoned, they were probably looking at Leonard, star of television and movies, but it didn’t feel like it. Many of the attendees wanted to talk to Leonard semi-privately for their own purposes.

A waiter came by with the Champagne and Leonard grabbed two glasses, handing one to you without disrupting his discussion. You occasionally sampled from the circulating food trays, but, under the circumstances, were not that hungry. Some of the food you recognized, but little of it had you eaten before. For example, a small pile of tiny black shiny orbs on a crisp browned cracker with some sort of green sprig on it, that had to be caviar. There were various kinds of ornate sushi with bright orange salmon and deep red tuna drawing the eye. There was almost raw tenderloin thinly sliced on a piece of crusty baguette. It was not exactly a pigs-in-a-blanket kind of party.

When Leonard and Rubin were done, there were a few other industry-related conversations before Leonard got the obligatory business talk out of the way, and could get around to the more relaxing and pleasurable portion of the evening. Most of those assembled were not in the movie business, but were individuals who the Star Trek renaissance man knew from his other interests such poetry, prose writing, photography, and even through shared sexual proclivities. It was not always clear what Leonard’s connection was to such party-goers. One might, for example, think that the other four people with “pets” were all people Leonard knew through sexual exploits. However, this would not be correct. Some of those dominants knew him primarily in other contexts, but, once they knew he kept a girl, they felt free to show, what they thought was, their affinity. On the other hand, a couple of those who did not seem in any way unusual or exotic did, in fact, travel in common sexual circles.

When Leonard was finally momentarily freed up, I broke off of the periphery of a tired but angry discussion of the Vietnam War, and interrupted Leonard in his attempt to circulate. “Lenny, how have you been? Good catch.” I said. First shaking Leonard’s hand vigorously, then taking your more dainty hand while simultaneously planting a greeting kiss on your cheek.

“Hello, J. Yes, I’m happy with her.” Leonard said looking at you with an adoring smile.

“I noticed. I love the photos. I put in a bid on that one there.” I said, pointing to the first of the photos he had taken of you. The one in which you were kneeling on the bed arched back with your hands holding your hair back and up. “It has a blossoming feel about it.” I said to Leonard. “Quite fetching.” I said to you.

Leonard gave a satisfied look that indicated he was pleased with my comment, that I had gotten what he was trying to convey in the portrait. Or, perhaps, he was just pleased that I had bid. This was when you realized that there was a silent auction for the photos that consisted of Marlon collecting and tabulating bids.

I couldn’t help but engage in a little double entendre. I said to you. “So, if I got my bid right, I get to take you home and mount you in my living room.” You pretended to be amused, but were still trying to cope with the notion that nude images of you might be sitting in five strangers’ houses by the end of the night. Of course, those people would have their own cocktail parties with other complete strangers coming to cast eyes upon you. I then asked Leonard: “So how is she working out in the sex department?”

“Quite well, in fact. She is a quick learner and is eager to please.” Leonard said.

“How’s this butt?” I said, and rubbed my hand in circles lightly around your ass cheeks. The smooth soft flesh was cold, so I rubbed a little harder to warm it.

“Not broken in yet, I’m afraid, and I plan to keep that to myself for the time being. But you should give her pussy a ride though. It’s exquisite.” Leonard said in a tone of voice more animated than the monotone Spock.

“I’d love to.” I said.

“No time like the present.” Leonard said, and he took your hand and ushered us both over to a long avant-garde backless blond wood bench that was along the glass wall facing the Pacific.

Others in the room started to notice the activity, and the din of conversation was becoming more of a low murmur. Leonard sat down on the bench facing the gallery’s interior. “Ready him with your mouth, dear.” He said to you in his gravelly baritone.

I unzipped my slacks, and extracted my cock from its corduroy enclosure. It was, as yet, flaccid and unready. However, the warmth and softness of your mouth as you complied with Mr. Nimoy’s command caused it to readily swell. As your head bobbed and your lips ran along my stiff rod, my member was soon engorged to a reddish-purple. Your hair swayed with the erratic motion of your head, and you looked up at me to achieve the requisite eye contact. As gentle a sucking as it was, I was afraid if I let it go on much longer I wouldn’t have the will power to avoid shooting my load into your throat, and I would fail to enjoy the orifice that had come so highly recommended.

At Leonard’s direction you took up a position on hands and knees perpendicular to the bench such that your head lay nestled in Leonard’s lap just like a large dog might insinuate itself to get its head scratched. He stroked your dark tresses reassuringly as I knelt down behind you. I reached down to see if you were ready to accommodate my manhood. You were not sufficiently wet. Your nerves had not yet been overcome by the tide of eroticism that was beginning to surge. However, the combination of my vigorous massage of your clit, Leonard’s calming hand, and the tent forming in Leonard’s slacks right before your eyes all contributed to your slit becoming wet and ready with a quickness. I aligned my cock with your thick smooth pussy lips and pushed until I breached you. The sweet envelopment of my cock by your heavenly femininity put me in a state of bliss. As I was building up the speed and vigor of my stroke, Leonard was pulling his already engorged cock awkwardly out of his trousers. He put its head on your lips, and you began to lick and suck at it immediately. Then he put it in your mouth, and you were being filled from both ends. By now I was losing all decorum and was thrusting hard and fast, and each time my pelvis bounced off your round alabaster ass Leonard’s long pole was shoved into the depths of your throat. With the momentum from my stout fire plug-like build, each ramming thrust sent reverberations through your body. I was becoming increasingly animalistic as I reveled in your fresh tight box, and I lost track of the fact that I was strongly seizing your fleshy hips and was driving Leonard’s cockhead hard into your throat. I was oblivious to the moist hollow gagging sounds as I became a creature of mere pleasure instinct. “Ahh! Yes. Oh, yes.” I said loudly as I came with nut-tightening vigor into your sopping wet pussy. So startling were my love spasm cries that one of the wait staff dropped a tray that clanged onto the tile sending spring rolls tumbling, like soft dice, across the floor. As I pulled out, some of my creamy seed ran down your inner thigh. I wiped your juices off my member with a cocktail napkin before returning the exhausted sex muscle to my trousers.

Leonard, presumably figuring the evening was still young, restrained himself and gingerly extracted his member from your mouth with out gratification. Leonard and I both offered you hands in a gentlemanly fashion to help you up from your position of servitude. Our chivalry stood in odd juxtaposition to the viscous fucking we had just subjected you. It had been completely about self-satisfaction without concern for pleasantries. Furthermore, you would not be standing long.

“That was great, but I feel a little left out. Just because I don’t have balls doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get to use your cum whore too.” All eyes turned to see who had said that. It was a feminine voice. It was a young redhead, just a couple years older than you. Her hair was cut short and was bouncy and shiny, and she might have been a model or an actress given the fine features of her face. She wore a clingy light blue dress, and, one could tell by nipples that seemed like they might pierce the dress, no bra.

“Eveline, you know very well that I am a friend of equal opportunity.” Leonard said as he greeted her with a kiss on each cheek. He then took her to the end of the bench, and directed you to follow.

The woman showed that it was not just a bra she was lacking, but, hiking her skirt up to her midriff, one could see that she was completely without underwear. She sat her bare ass down on the bench aligned with the end of the bench. “I like this. I’m going to have to give it a try.” She said as she petted the smooth shaven triangle between your hip creases and above your sex. You were ahead of your time. Even Eveline, a model, did little more than trim. Her pubic patch was also red, but more of a lighter blonde-red verging on orange rather than the deep auburn of the hair on her head.

She then leaned back onto her back and spread her legs putting her feet on the edges of the bench. Leonard directed you to go back down into the familiar position on hands and knees. Leonard took up position next to you on the side of the bench next to the window, and he gathered your hair up and held it as if in a ponytail. This was done not to prevent your hair from falling into her pussy, but rather so the assembled audience would have an unobstructed view as you pleasured the sexy redhead. It also served as a handle to rub your face in the young woman’s flowing sauce. Any of the men in the room who hadn’t yet had erections were rapidly developing them. Even I, who thought I was down for the count, began to get a chubby and couldn’t help but touch it during the show. Not experienced in cunnilingus, you tried to emulate the method by which Leonard had eaten you on your first night together and once since. You licked, tongue fucked, rimmed, and sucked on young woman’s clit. “Yeah, suck me you little cum whore. I fucked a guy today, so maybe you can get a little treat.” Eveline said as her head rolled slowly side-to-side and she took delight in your oral actions.

As Eveline was degrading you with her dirty talk, a second cock of the evening slid into your pussy and began to pound away. Your head was down, and you had no idea whether it was the handsome three minute Ensign, the liver-spotted old executive, Rubin, or any of the other mixed bag of men assembled. All you knew was that the cock was smaller than the two you’d previously had and could only manage the shortest of strokes. Furthermore, after only a few strokes, you could feel the jerky motion of the man launching his spunk into you before retiring his little pud. Almost no sooner was the short-timer out than a second man was entering you. He was the diametric opposite of the last man. His cock was the biggest you had felt yet. It was at least as long as Leonard’s and of a more substantial girth, and was in both dimensions larger than mine. You imagined it to be one of those porn-movie monsters that most people only saw on film. Not only was the man big, but he really gave your pussy a workout. It was hard to concentrate on servicing Eveline’s wet cunt with the big man pile driving you so hard. Leonard pushed your face down into the slop that had developed between Eveline’s thighs whenever you got distracted or felt the need to break away to gasp for air or let a pent up exclamation rip. You soon felt the tremors. You could not hold out any longer. You began to climax, shaking violently. The constriction of your pussy muscles in the throes of ecstasy caused the big man to let loose his dallops of cum deep into you over the course of several ramming thrusts. Eveline got off as well, probably from seeing Leonard push your face down into her bush. She was thrilled that you were being made to eat her, being made to satisfy her. She pressed her hips forward to grind into your face until she lost all control and was left a quivering mass of femininity.

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