AN EROTIC AFTERNOON IN WEST ORANGE

 

AN

EROTIC AFTERNOON

VISITING 

THE HONEYWELL MANSION

(WEST ORANGE NJ)

WRITTEN 

BY

ARA FIG

2026

"APOLLO" 

"Who is this "Long Drink of Water? Anthony?" (Roberto: "Robbie")

"I'd like to see him Naked!" (Excuse Me?)

Robbie swivels his head around.

"He is a god!--A Human Apollo!" Claire continued to praise Robs appearance & physical features. (What?)

Robbie gives A.J. a questioning look as Claire hung from his shoulder.

"Don't Worry Rob!--Claire is an Artist & she's only Objectifying You as a Male Model! She paints male nudes--among other things."

CLAIRE HONEYWELL

ARTIST

FROM:

THE YOUNG SOPRANOS

(#TYS) PART 4--XIII

https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2024/12/the-young-sopranos-part-4-xiii-continued.html?m=1

AN

EROTIC AFTERNOON

VISITING 

THE HONEYWELL MANSION

WEST ORANGE NJ

(AUGUST 10TH 2017)

The afternoon sun poured down in thick, golden sheets across the limestone patio of the West Orange mansion, bleaching the pale stone until it shimmered like the surface of a heated blade. Sharp shadows stretched long and dark across the pristine pool deck.

The air was heavy, almost syrupy, laced with the perfume of Mediterranean blooms—jasmine, lemon blossom, and a richer, overripe sweetness—cut through by the bright citrus sting of lemonade that still carried the clean medicinal bite of vodka.

Devon Honeywell, twenty-six, reclined on the oversized lounge nearest the stone balustrade as if the heat itself had been poured over her. Voluminous blonde hair was gathered into an elaborate, high-volume bun that caught every ray and flung it back in bright sparks.

The sleek white one-piece clung to her like wet silk, thin enough to map the soft, heavy swell of her breasts and the deep valley between them, the high-cut legs framing the generous curve of her hips and the smooth mound beneath. An open white silk robe drifted around her in the lazy breeze, edges slipping farther apart with every idle shift of her body, baring more of that creamy Italian-American skin to the sun.

She turned, smiling with that bright, restless energy of hers as Alle approached. Alle, twenty-two, moved with the quiet certainty of a woman who knew exactly the effect she produced. Glossy black hair fell past her shoulders in heavy waves, framing sharp, elegant features. Her matching minimalist white swimsuit was barely more than two triangles and a narrow scrap of fabric—thin enough that the dark shadow of her nipples showed clearly, the bottoms riding high on the firm curves of her ass. She stepped in without hesitation.

The hug they shared lingered past politeness. Breasts pressed soft and yielding through the thin white material. Devon’s hands slid down Alle’s back, palms settling over the firm swell of her ass, fingers digging in just enough to draw her closer. Alle’s lips brushed the shell of Devon’s ear as they laughed, low and intimate against the green hills rolling beyond the balustrade.

“Missed you,”

Alle murmured, voice already roughened.

Devon’s answering laugh was breathy.

“Prove it.”

A few feet away, Claire Honeywell watched from the adjacent recliner, long blonde hair spilling over one shoulder like liquid gold. Twenty-four, Italian-American, transgender—her body a deliberate composition of soft curves and retained hardness.

The form-fitting white swimsuit hugged every line: small, soft cleavage lifted by the structured top, the fabric stretched taut over the unmistakable ridge of her cock resting against her thigh. She sat with easy confidence, one knee bent, a glass of iced lemonade sweating on the side table.

Beside her, Robbie sat barefoot on the edge of the lounger, twenty-eight, dark hair greased back from a sharp, handsome face. Shirtless, the sun gleamed across the defined planes of his chest and the dark trail disappearing beneath the waistband of crisp black dress slacks. The fabric pulled slightly at the crotch as he poured a stream of cold, spiked lemonade into a waiting tumbler. The liquid caught the light, clear and golden.

He offered a light remark about the heat, voice low and amused. Claire’s soft chuckle answered him, but her eyes never left the two women. The way Devon’s silk robe had slipped completely off one shoulder. The way Alle’s hand had drifted lower, fingertips tracing the high-cut leg of Devon’s swimsuit.

The hug ended, but the contact did not. Alle sank onto the lounge beside Devon, thighs brushing. Devon’s robe fell open further. Without a word Alle leaned in and kissed her—slow, deep, tongues sliding together with wet, deliberate hunger. Devon’s hand cupped the back of Alle’s neck while the other slid down to palm one full breast through the thin fabric, thumb circling a hardening nipple until Alle arched and moaned into her mouth.

Claire’s breath caught. She set the lemonade glass down with a soft clink. Robbie’s dark eyes tracked the women, then flicked to Claire. A small, knowing smile curved his mouth. He reached over and rested a warm, calloused hand on Claire’s thigh, fingers spreading possessively over the white fabric, right above the thick ridge of her cock.

“They’re putting on a show,” he murmured, voice rough with interest. “You going to just watch, or are we joining?”

Claire’s answer was to shift closer, long blonde hair brushing his bare shoulder. She took the tumbler from him, sipped slowly, then leaned in and kissed him, transferring the cold citrus-sweet taste from her tongue to his. Robbie groaned into her mouth, hand sliding higher until his palm fully cupped the heavy bulge in her swimsuit. He squeezed, slow and firm, feeling her cock twitch and begin to swell beneath the tight white fabric.

On the other lounge Devon had guided Alle onto her back. The silk robe lay discarded now, a white puddle on the hot stone. Devon straddled one of Alle’s thighs and ground down slowly, the friction darkening the thin swimsuit bottoms between them. She peeled the straps of Alle’s top down, freeing small, perfect breasts with dark nipples already tight.

Devon’s mouth closed over one, sucking hard, teeth grazing, while her hand slipped between Alle’s legs and tugged the crotch of the swimsuit aside.

Alle’s pussy was already slick, dark curls glistening. Devon’s fingers slid through the wet folds and pushed two inside without preamble. Alle gasped, hips lifting, one hand fisting in Devon’s elaborate bun and pulling hard enough to make Devon moan around her nipple.

“Fuck—yes,” Alle breathed. “Deeper.”

Devon obliged, curling her fingers, the wet sounds of her thrusting audible even over the distant cicadas. She shifted so her own swimsuit-covered mound pressed against Alle’s thigh, grinding in time with the thrusts of her hand.

Robbie’s zipper rasped open. He freed his thick, already hard cock from the black dress slacks, the heavy length resting against Claire’s hip. Claire didn’t hesitate. She rose onto her knees on the recliner, long blonde hair cascading forward as she leaned down and took him into her mouth in one smooth motion. The head of his cock slid over her tongue, the salty taste of him mixing with the lingering lemonade. She hollowed her cheeks and sank lower until her nose pressed against the dark hair at his base.

Robbie’s hand settled on the back of her head—not forcing, just holding—guiding the rhythm as she bobbed. With his other hand he tugged the crotch of Claire’s white swimsuit aside. Her cock sprang free—thick, flushed, already leaking—and the soft, small cleavage above it rose and fell with her breathing. He wrapped his fingers around her shaft and stroked in time with the wet slide of her mouth on him.

Devon lifted her head from Alle’s breast, lips shiny, eyes dark with lust as she watched Claire suck Robbie only a few feet away. She pulled her fingers from Alle’s dripping pussy, brought them to Alle’s mouth, and Alle sucked them clean without being asked. Then Devon shoved her own swimsuit down her hips, the white fabric pooling at her knees. Her bare pussy was flushed and swollen, the blonde landing strip above it dark with moisture.

She crawled up Alle’s body and settled her weight over Alle’s face, lowering herself until her cunt pressed against Alle’s open mouth. Alle’s tongue went to work immediately—broad, eager strokes over Devon’s clit, then thrusting deep. Devon’s head fell back, the elaborate bun loosening as she ground down, riding Alle’s face with slow, rolling hips.

“That’s it,” Devon panted. “Eat it. Fucking eat me while they watch.”

Claire pulled off Robbie’s cock with a wet pop, a shining string of saliva connecting her lower lip to the glistening head. She looked over at the other pair, eyes half-lidded with hunger, then climbed fully onto Robbie’s lap, straddling him. She guided the thick head of his cock to her entrance—tight, hot, already slick—and sank down in one continuous motion until she was fully seated, her own cock trapped between their stomachs, leaking onto his abs.

Robbie’s hands gripped her ass hard enough to leave marks, spreading her open as he thrust up into her. The wet slap of skin on skin joined the sounds of Alle’s tongue working Devon’s cunt and the soft, broken moans rising from all four of them.

Devon came first, thighs locking around Alle’s head, a long, shuddering cry torn from her throat as she soaked Alle’s chin and lips. Alle kept licking through it, greedy, until Devon finally lifted off and collapsed sideways onto the lounge, chest heaving, robe forgotten, swimsuit still tangled around one ankle.

Alle barely had time to recover. Claire climbed off Robbie’s cock—leaving it shiny and throbbing—and crawled across the short stretch of hot stone on her hands and knees. She pushed Alle’s thighs apart and buried her face between them, tongue plunging into the same slick hole Devon’s fingers had fucked earlier. Alle arched hard, black hair spilling across the cushion, hands fisting in Claire’s long blonde hair as Claire ate her with filthy, enthusiastic precision.

Robbie moved behind Claire, cock in hand. He pushed the thin white swimsuit fully aside, lined up, and drove back into Claire’s tight heat in one powerful thrust that made Claire moan loudly into Alle’s pussy. The force of it rocked Claire forward, pressing her face deeper, and Alle cried out, coming hard around Claire’s tongue, thighs trembling, a rush of wetness coating Claire’s chin and the heavy swing of Claire’s own cock between her legs.

Alle recovered enough to roll and settle beneath Claire in a sixty-nine. She took Claire’s neglected cock into her mouth, sucking the thick length deep while Robbie fucked Claire from behind.

The dual sensation—Robbie’s cock stretching her open, Alle’s hot mouth working her shaft—made Claire’s entire body shake. She came with a muffled, desperate sound against Alle’s cunt, thick ropes of cum pulsing across Alle’s tongue and spilling from the corners of her mouth onto the white swimsuit still clinging to Claire’s hips.

Devon crawled up behind Robbie, spread his thrusting ass cheeks, and buried her face between them, tongue working the tight, closed ring of muscle with deliberate pleasure.

Robbie followed seconds later, arching under the double assault, driving himself harder and deeper to the hilt until he erupted, flooding Claire’s insides with white-hot, pulsing jets. He stayed buried through the aftershocks, through the fluttering grip of Claire’s walls, until the spasms finally eased and Claire’s mouth released him.

They collapsed together in a tangled, sweaty heap across the two lounge chairs—limbs overlapping, white swimsuits shoved aside or discarded, skin flushed and marked, the scent of sex mingling with lemonade and sun-warmed stone.

Devon’s robe lay crumpled like a white flag on the deck. Robbie’s black slacks were open and shoved halfway down his thighs. Claire’s long blonde hair stuck to her damp shoulders and small cleavage. Alle’s black hair fanned across Devon’s bare thigh.

The pitcher of spiked lemonade sat forgotten on the side table, condensation pooling beneath it, as the four of them caught their breath under the relentless afternoon sun, already reaching for one another again.

.  .  .

(TO BE CONTINUED)

NARRATIVE & STRUCTURAL

ANALYSIS OF

AN EROTIC AFTERNOON

IN WEST ORANGE

https://ededprose.blogspot.com/p/narrative-structural-analysis-of-erotic.html

CREATED  

BY  

EDED

2026  

. . .  

DISCLAIMER:

ALL AI GENERATED IMAGES CREATED BY USING WORD PROMPTS 

MMXXVI