I woke up the next morning to find myself in bed alone. I got up,brushed my teeth, put on some underwear, and walked to the kitchen. I thought I had smelled coffee.
Randy and Paul were at the kitchen table getting their morning shot of Java. They were also getting an eyeful. Sonja was sitting on a chair across the room with her legs spread. She was energetically masturbating for my roommates. Her fingers dipped in and out of her mound. With her other hand she was massaging those out-of-proportion gorgeous tits of hers.
“Oh, hi Bill,” Sonja said. “What’s your last name?”
I thought that was a strange question to be asking under the circumstances, but decided to go with the flow. “Morton. I’m Bill Morton.”
“Good,” she replied. “Marty has your wallet. No money in it, but your driver’s license and credit cards are still there. He called me this morning – he compared your license photo to the video.”
She addressed my roommates. “Any special requests? I don’t have my vibrator with me, but I do a great show with a banana or a carrot or a cucumber. How are you guys fixed for fruit and vegetables?”
“Ah, can we talk?” I had more than a few questions for Sonja.
I’ll try to keep this brief. Sonja Anderson’s uncle Philip was a lieutenant in the city police. He had gotten her a job in the records department. Marty was one of the many cops she knew; yes, she had called him with the “tip” about drunk driving. The dash cam video already had more than 600 hits on the police internal website. “You and Josey are famous!”
“His name is Josh, not Josey,” I corrected.
“Whatever,” replied Sonja. She turned back to Randy and Paul. “So, any special requests? I don’t do animals or kids or relatives – well, at least not close relatives – but most other things are on the table.”
Randy and Paul both looked at me uneasily. Paul got up and went to the refrigerator, pulled out beers for him and Randy. Without a word they went out to the patio.
I told her the truth. “I’ve never met anybody like you before.”
She laughed. “Gosh, and I thought there was a sex-crazed exhibitionist on every street corner. Did you enjoy last night?”
Did I enjoy it? I had never had so much fun in my life. Even when I thought I was going to jail I could feel a swell of pleasure. I decided not to think about that just now.
Sonja asked if I was up for another adventure. Why not?
“The house is OK, I guess. Let’s see the back yard.” Sonja grabbed the salt shaker from the table, then was on her feet headed for the door. I mean, what could I do but follow her.
Paul and Randy were seated at the small table bullshitting. Paul was in low-rise gray briefs (what a surprise!); Randy wore red boxer briefs. We had learned that the jock was for the gym.
Randy spoke. “No beer?” If pointing out the obvious is ever an Olympic event, Randy had the gold medal already won.
Sonja went over to a lounge chair and turned it so it faced the other guys. She lay down and spread her legs. “Come here, Mr. Morton. I am about to ass-salt you.”
She spoke to the other guys. “Now watch, I don’t want to have to show this to you twice. Or, maybe I do.” She motioned me toward the lounge chair.
“You’re such a prude,” said Sonja. My jockeys were on the ground in seconds. “Now, lie down across my lap.”
I obeyed, lying on my stomach across her mons veneris. Sonja sprinkled some salt on my ass. “Anybody got a lime?”
Paul got up and retrieved a lime from the kitchen. He also brought back a half-empty bottle of tequila.
“Smart boy,” said Sonja. She squeezed some line onto my ass, then dribbled tequila across it. Next she was bending forward and licking the concoction off my ass. Her tongue probed my hole, and I was completely hard.
“Your turn,” said Sylvia. She made me stand up. The guys had never seen me naked and hard before, but now was not the time for a sudden attack of modesty. “Lie down,” said Sonja, gesturing at the lounge chair. I lay down. Suddenly she was on her back across my knees.
“Salt first, remember,” instructed Sonja. Obediently I sprinkled salt across her mound. “Now the lime.” My hand was shaking as I squeezed the fruit’s juices onto her pussy.
“Don’t forget the best part,” teased Sonja. I poured a liberal dose of tequila across her snatch, and then dove in to lick and suck all of it into my mouth.
Sonja stood up, and I thought the adventure was over. Far from it. She pulled me to my feet and asked the guys to come over and watch. They stood and walked to us.
“Now, there is a real art to sucking an uncut dick,” said Sonja, now on her knees. “Look at how the foreskin covers the head of the dick, even though it’s hard.” She moved the foreskin back and forth across my cock head. I tried to think about a root canal since my balls were screaming, “Ejaculation Ahead!”
“In addition to protecting the head of the penis, the foreskin has other, more fun, uses.” Sonja was in her element. She leaned forward and began gently nibbling at my foreskin. I tried to shut out the screaming from my balls. “You can also….”
She stopped talking when my rod entered her mouth. The head disappeared, then the tongue got to work. Her tongue was inside my foreskin, licking around the head, then pulling the car cover off the sedan and starting on the upholstery. She licked my member up and down several times before taking the head back in her mouth. That’s when I lost it.
I tried to pull back but Sonja had a hand firmly on my ass pushing me forward. I fountained sperm into her mouth. She sucked for all she was worth and took every drop in.
“OK, guys, show’s over.” Sonja glanced at Randy, whose erection was straining the fabric of his underwear. Paul had no such problem. He had pulled the waistband down and his moisture-seeking heat missile was ready for launch.
“My turn?” asked Paul.
“Not this time, guys. Maybe later. I gotta get home and take a shower.”
As she stood up I told her we had a very nice shower she could use. “Nah, I really need to get home. Can somebody loan me a long T-shirt and drive me?”
I found her a knee-length T-shirt I sometimes wore to bed. Printed on the front were three lines: “Duck,” then “Truck,” then “Rhymes with.” Sonja told me I was never getting it back. Honestly, I didn’t mind.
I got dressed, and Sonja climbed into the passenger seat of my ancient Focus. “Honestly, you are such an inhibited prude.” She pulled off my shirt and opened my pants. I stepped back out, stripped, and threw all of my clothes in the back seat. “Thass whut I talkin’ ‘bout!” said Sonja through her grin.
Driving her downtown while completely nude was exhilarating. We passed a cop car; I asked her if she knew them.
“Nope, and it’s jail time if they catch you.” All that did was increase my arousal.
We got to her apartment building. “I’d ask you up, but I live on the third floor. One more complaint from the neighbors about nudity and I get evicted.” Sonja climbed out and went into the stairwell door.
It was all I could do to keep my hands out of my lap on the way home. I parked in the driveway, retrieved my clothes from the back seat, and walked into the house. The other guys were in the living room, along with Veronica. She and Josh were demurely dressed; Paul and Randy were still in their underwear. The front of Randy’s boxer briefs had a visible cum stain.
“You obviously need to go practice for the chicken choking contest,” said Veronica. That was an understatement. Without a word I headed to my bedroom. I could hear the front door open, followed less than a minute later by the sound of Josh’s car starting.
That chicken died a slow and painful death as I jerked off thinking about my blow job from Sonja, and the thrill of driving naked through the city streets.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/exhibitionism/the-neighborhood-chapter-four-sonja-1.aspx">The Neighborhood Chapter Four: Sonja</a>