Chapter 1: Introduction
The Room of Women. As if the name itself didn't stifle a man's soul. Atmosphere here was heavy, suffocating, the dim lighting and stark furniture sucked up the joy of life before a man even entered. It was business all right. Business of the most uninspiring kind. it didn't matter that I'd been told to walk in with my cock out. Dick hanging, ready for these three judges sitting on the bench, waiting on me to get it up.
Three of them. Well-dressed, pearls, opera gloves. I knew them.
Ryan Keely, Asa Akira, Jada Fire. Pornographic pioneers, each undeniably beautiful--now masking their noses, wrinkling with disgust. I glanced down at my own nakedness and understood: I stank. Sweat glistening off rippling muscles, a stench more apparent to the unwitting women.
My hands begun their rhythmic patrol, gripping, twisting, sliding up and down my slippery shaft.
My erection now throbbing sprung to life, I did not care about their reactions anymore, yet the thought that I am turning on beautiful women, even when faced with my pungent body odor, was fuel to my desire.
Akira shuffled, crossing her legs, tits taut, eyes locked onto my masculinity yet face contorted with their shared disgust for my funky smell. She couldn't deny the undeniable beauty of it all, the sexually-charged energy.
Despite the stench, Akira's intrigue only grew as she watched my slow, flowing dance with myself. My other hand went to cup and tweak my own nipple, now marble-hard, drawing my gaze to hers—a silent, smelly challenge, locked in a kinky moment, vulgar and degraded, yet intimate and arousing.
Fire, who had been unusually quiet, swallowed slowly. Her harsh glare softened as her painted fingernails edged closer to the knot of her silk belt.
Nervously, she tugged, I smirked at her barely contained resolve; then, in a swift motion, the material fell away, revealing her own body—her full ebony breasts, nipples ripe and erect.
"Hun, I warned you 'bout this smell," Jada said to me, but the corner of her mouth quirked in a sly grin. I could almost hear her thoughts—fuck it, I should indulge.
Masturbating while watching me, after all, wouldn't require her to deal with the odor. With a seductive smile, she gripped her large brown breast, massaging the mound, teasing her perky nipple with hungry strokes.
Jesus, I silently cursed, fighting my urge to unload in front of them—the sight of these women groping themselves, eyes aglow with resistance, spurred me on. I buckled under restraint, the warmth in my loins bursting, unstoppable.
"Shit," I swore under my breath, barely containing the urge to cry out. As I watched their fingers and nails graze their flesh, I moaned uncontrollably, a slick bead of pre-cum oozing free.
Ryan's eyes widened, looking to her cohorts, taken aback by her body's sudden reaction to my rough act.
I could've sworn the desire in her gaze flickered as we locked eyes—but then it was gone, replaced by a mask of utter disgust.
"Fucking hell, Bruno," she muttered through clenched teeth, pushing down on her skirt. She dropped her hand from her breast, but held her gaze steady, watching me.
But then, as if taken by a sudden urge, her hand shot back up, red fingernails trailing along the line of her cleavage, slipping down inside the fabric.