Review: Dea & Isabelle Go Groupie, Part I

[LutherBlissett]

Okay, here is the short version:

Big tits X2, Wet, wild, toys, funny role play, positions galore, came real good, recommend.

The longer version may take awhile, so I thought I would give you time to decide whether you really need to invest your time in this.

Okay, still there? Grab a beer, get the Kleenex box and let’s go:

Almost a year ago to the day, I had my first duo. Lately, there seems to be duo fever going around Perb. Everyone seems to be posting about one they had or asking about one they might want. Maybe it isn’t everyone, rather it’s my new annual urge telling me to only read the threads on duos and splurge to get the monkey off my back.

I learned that Isabelle and my new ATF, DeaAphrodite, were offering duos. I splurged. Monkey gone.

I phoned up Dea last week and asked her about Isabelle. I hadn’t seen the I-Woman but I became very intrigued because of the apparent similarities between her and Dea … Dark hair, white skin, huge toobers, same height, legs and asses to die for, universally great reviews, close by each other in the West End. Dea confirmed … “could be sisters, hot as me, yeah, we get into each other for real”. I make a tentative booking and worry about where I’ll get the cash splurge later.

Hmmmm, now I need something extra, something to take full advantage of this splurge, something kinda wicked from the fetid swamp of the Luther Brain. Hmmmm? What to do? What to do?

The last time I saw Dea, she had an old guitar that wouldn’t stay in tune kicking around her in-call. Hmmmm? I noodled on the old thing a bit while waiting for my usual grape juice and butt from heaven to return from the kitchen.

In the beginning, the earth was without form and the slimy creatures did slither in the sea. So it was with my plan, formless and slithery.

See, I have always wanted to be a singer. Yes, I would give my eye teeth (even my nose teeth) to be a real blues man … Brad Pitt not included, I’d give up any kind of job, lotto winnings, etc., to be up there in front of a steaming R & B band, bringing down the house with a shifty, swifty blues tune. Part of the fascination, of course, would be the adoration of foxy women who dig bluesy funky rock and like to swivel their hips in and out of bed.

Ahhh! That’s it then, I said to myself. “Self,” says I, “Pretend to be an R & B star and have DeaAphrodite and Isabelle as my groupies!”

And then, the plan had form and meaning and the creatures of the sea did crawl upon the earth.

In my callow youth, I learned the rudiments of the guitar. I corn-balled out things like “Louie, Louie” well enough to play at big beer and punch-up parties and briefly had a group of guys who could play 10 songs (actually the chords were the same for all but 2). Lately, for some reason, I have been choinking away on my Fender again. After a couple of weeks of being an OFender, I got whatever lamb chops I ever had back and I even started to write the occasional oomphy thing. Adding the current amount of scotch, smoke and dissolute living to my voice, I kinda sound a little bit like a higher pitched Long John Baldry who loses the beat every once in awhile. This is painful for my friends but I have no hesitation inflicting them with it because every so often they foolishly say, … “Hey, play that catchy new thing for us.” They usually start talking amongst themselves mid-way through any second number, so I know I have limited appeal.

Nonetheless, having this minimal strumming ability allows a cock-a-mamie plan to take shape but getting two popular gals schedules to align is like blind skeet shooting … 4:00 Tuesday?... Blam, miss…. 2:00 Wednesday? Blam, miss. I let them tell me when to come. Much easier. As the day draws near, I have fully hatched the ultimate combo fantasy … Me as a grooving singer, them as backstage hip grinders who fuck their and my lights out. Why not?

And then the plan had meaning and the creatures of the forest came forth.

[LutherBlissett]

I arrive at the Dea field of dreams (build it and they will come) at 11:00 a.m. on Wednesday, precisely. I dress for the occasion. I wear old-guy version of funky clothes (jeans and t-shirt), bluesy hat, bring my music. I have asked them for only one thing … dress like two really hot babes out for a night of shaking the booty. Isabelle supplies the outfits. Two dippy-in-front dresses, swishy, high up on the legs but angled , clingy, slightly skanky, tight on the ass dancing duds. If these two showed up in a club and started wriggling out on the floor, all club activity known to mankind would stop. Guys would be excusing themselves from pool tables and dart boards … the cans would be full of pud-pullers. I have just committed $800 for the two hottest babes in Vancouver and they are all mine for an hour and a half. Not only that, they have agreed to play out my groupie-gone-wild fantasy.

For those who don’t know the physical details of Dea and Isabelle, I would refer you to their respective websites.

http://www.irresistibleisabelle.com/
http://www.deaaphrodite.com/

That’s them … big boobs, big hair, big swooping expanses of creamy skin, luscious lips, tight asses and killer-legs, but no spinnerhood here … we’ve entered the Valley of Voluptuousness. Yea, though I walk through it, I will not fear, for my rod is my shepherd (or something equally sacrilegious like that). Dea is an honest but young-looking-gorgeous 37 and Isabelle is a sweet but sophisticated knock-out 25. They look like sisters or girlfriends who share dresses out on the town.

I ask them to sit down on Dea’s couch, I pick up the guitar and hit the easiest chords I can. I start to get a groove. They stand up as if on cue. They skank-dance … TO MY FUCKING MUSIC. I get groovier. They grind at each other. I start to wail. I am pulling notes out of my wretched Al Pacino voice that I have no business finding. They are hip to hip, getting hotter. I add a couple of fake verses just to keep them dancing. The dippy dresses start to ride up. Do rock singers have a permanent hard-on as they look out on the crowd? Music may soothe the savage beast but it also makes the clit swell.

Oooo, I’d better cut to the chase here for the slow readers that may still be with us. I asked them to fall all over me like I was a really good singer. They did. They fucked me nearly blind. If I lose my sight over this, I could join the Blind Lemon Boys blues/gospel group … they’d never know I was white if I am singing to these two.

The continued scenario has them knocking on Dea’s bedroom door pretending it is the hotel room of the famous R& B guy who has just wowed them on stage.

“Yes, who is it?”

“Uh, we were wondering, uh, if we could, uh, just have a moment of your time Mr. Luther…”

“Well, yes, ladies, do come in, I saw you on the dance floor, quite charming.”

On the spot, I invent a mythical big band tour and offer them the role of backup singers (‘Hey, don’t worry, darlings, you’ve just got to wriggle in the background and go, “OOO!” … we’ve got voice synthesizers, $3000 a week, all expenses paid but you have to fuck me constantly … no, you can’t do the drummer while I do an all-night jam, you’ll have to ‘entertain’ each other until I return). Naturally, there has to be an audition. The two of them were so into this groupie role-play that I had to excuse myself.

“Okay, ladies, I’m just going to have a smoke … wash up and when I get back I want you to have warmed up with each other. I like my women ready to go.”

An excruciating seven minutes later, I knock on the door. They are in flagrante delicto on the bed, somebody’s white ass is undulating over someone else in matching black filigree bras and thongs. Luscious lips are grinding, giant mams are squooshing up against each other, raunchy mewlings are coming from somewhere only two chiquitas who know the pleasures of another lush fruit from their same sex can find. I pull my t-shirt off, hook my thumbs in my bulging jeans and watch transfixed from the side of the bed, trying to emulate a real rock star. It’s not working … I feel like a goof (I guess “bald” doesn’t really cut it, eh?). I’m not a rock star. I’m a pooner who is paying for a reasonable facsimile of a fantasy. Just when I am about to say, ‘Okay, let’s just be ourselves, huh?” Dea gets it. She hooks me by the belt loops and pulls me into the action like I am Robert Plant, Jim Morrison and Ravi Shankar rolled into one. It’s little moves on one’s bulge that makes this “hobby” so worthwhile. Isabelle instantly gets with it, too. Four hands tug my too tight jeans down. Shorts are yanked down. Tongues immediately head for me nipples and nethers. Moans ensue. They are actually pretending to fuck their way onto my grand tour. Hey, sometimes a fax is as good as the real thing.

For the next 70 minutes, we fucked like real rockers and groupies must … “Okay, you put your bum there, I’m going to lick this while you rub there and, oh, can I stick this thing here while you frig yourself … um, is the mirror getting all this?”

One can only really register so much experience in slightly over an hour. I think I remember some of this stuff:

Dea got the first licking and O from Issy while I was attached to her breast like a June bug on a giant flower. Yeah, that really did happen.

I got a shoulder, chest and arm massage from two naked women with a hand from someone on my balls and another one cupping my ass cheeks. Then they were on their knees, tongues-on-nuts as I watched in the mirror. Then the first of many condoms appeared and I get sucked into the ozone. Hmmm, yeh, that probably happened. They both took a turn getting almost vertical over my tongue and came while the other one did something to me. Happened? Definitely. I know because I remember counting cunts. Incidentally, these two have almost matching pink cunts. The delicate flower ones, no mud-flappers here.

I believe I pile-drove Isabelle from behind when I heard a guttural plea to “fuck me hard, grab my hips and jam it in.” Dea is kissing and fondling her from the side…. then we flipped Issy over a few times like she was on a rotisserie. Dea gets all over her tits and we got the big blush from her with my upper lip rolling up the rim of her clitoral hood and flicking at her softly until her twitchy legs went still … I’m singing in my head .. “And the crowd called out for more..” (Procol Harum, A Whiter Shade of Pale).

A strap-on appears. Now, folks, despite my tattered reputation, I have never seen one of these contraptions in action before. It is a little disconcerting to see an ultra-feminine form like Issy's leathered around the waist and doingling a blue meanie at her partners. There is no hole of mine that wants this thing but Dea quite seems to like it. She assumes the doggette position, Issy smooths it in her. Dea adds to her enjoyment by asking me to come around front and fill her mouth while the other end gets it. My cock seems like one big moan machine. At another point, she is on the bed in kneeling doggie, Issy is huffing it into her and then someone suggests I go behind Isabelle and wail on her from behind while she is stuffing Dea. The three of us are moving like a successful wave at GM Place. Sometimes I ease off thrusting and Issy sets the beat, sometimes Dea’s bum pushing back goes through the blue meanie, Isabelle and back to me. Most of the time, I am so turned on by the very thought of fucking two women with the movement of one cock that I rut into the underside of Issy to the rhythm of Jimi fucking his guitar while playing Foxy Lady. (I’m gonna take you home, I won’t do you no harm, no, ya got to be mine, all mine … Foxy Lady …. I’m comin’ to getcha, here I come …)

There were various other ridings and lickings (a hell of lot of stuff to lick actually). I think I had a new cunt in my mouth or on my cock virtually every 5 minutes or so. They each had some loud O’s and a few sneaky ones, but I, the treasured rock star, had deliberately not yet blessed my groupies-cum-back-up singers with my seed. I upped the offer to $4000 per week, auditions are over, they go for my balls as I pull off the last condom and stroke myself home. I realize they are going to get me the way they want. Two evil little grins are looking up at me from below knowing my balls have never been happier.

Wait! I am the rock star here. I ask, no command, they turn around and kneel down on either side of me with their bums in easy arm’s reach. I have my hands on the furrows of these two perfect asses with my fingers and thumbs probing up and down in syncopation. Dea reaches back and somehow strokes me home while Issy tongue-flicks my balls furiously. I can feel the splunge moving up from the root of me impelled by Issy through Dea’s frantic fingers. As I reach the plateau of certainty, I try to record all sensations … two perfect bums, a flagrant finesse of my stones, the Dea hand stroking me has a better rhythm than my own could ever have, we are all moaning like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and then, at just the critical moment, they both turn to watch the crescendo break in big white notes on my torso.

We sadly all return to reality. There is no tour, no nights of sweaty passion in southside Chicago. No rocking horn section making their asses wriggle like the Raylettes behind me. However, they leave me with something –

Later that day, I had a wonderful, long, clear as crystal … pee. You ladies may not know this but when a man’s pipes are truly cleaned out from a righteous fuckfest, the passage of the next liquids through is almost better than the first unclogging. I found myself in a nice hotel washroom mmmming my way through what seemed like three minutes of water hose bliss. The acoustics in the bathroom were good. The mmmms turn to notes. I start to sound like Sam Cooke.

They’ve cleaned out both sets of pipes.

My CD will be available in stores shortly.

[Small pleasures]

Thank you Luther...reading that review was a great way to start my day and get me in the mood for my first appointment. Fabulous!

Miss T

[LutherBlissett]

Thank you Luther...reading that review was a great way to start my day and get me in the mood for my first appointment. Fabulous!

Miss T

Sweetie:

If you need a little fluffing before your appointments, I can quickly pop over and whisper my stories in your shell pink ear ... other pink areas can be addressed, too.

I don't do windows, though, so ixnay on the houseboy stuff.

[Irresistible Isabelle]

Thank Daddy-O-O-O-O oh my!

I had a great time being your "wiggler/groupie" and I'd blow your horn anyday!

[owz]

Luther -

Awesome review. Tell me when the CDs are ready. I want one ;-)

Screw the CD.... I want the DVD.
Great read.

[perbinvan]

I love a good story, wish I were a rock star

[DeaAphrodite]

Thanks Luther! That was fantastic!

I had so much fun with this scene I am considering a full-time career as a wiggler. (Oh wait a minute, I already do that! Heheheh!)

And Isabelle, baby, I would wiggle around with you any time! You're delightful!

[curvy_nympho]

That was a delightful read! I can close my eyes and picture the scene. You reviews are always creative, sensual and funny all at the same time.

I have to say as a "big boob lover" myself, you couldn't have chosen two better back up dancers! (not to mention, from the posts I have read, their personalities seem wonderful too!)

Bella

[LutherBlissett]

That was a delightful read! I can close my eyes and picture the scene. You reviews are always creative, sensual and funny all at the same time.

I have to say as a "big boob lover" myself, you couldn't have chosen two better back up dancers! (not to mention, from the posts I have read, their personalities seem wonderful too!)

Bella

Thanks, Bella. You are one of the on-line personalities that rocks this board, too. Speaking of rock, ya know, the Raylettes were actually a threesome. Ray might have been blind but he wasn't stupid. I'm pondering whether the "Luthettes" could maybe use a third wriggler.

Doest thou wriggle?

[curvy_nympho]

I don't know about that! It may put me too much out of my comfort zone to be with two such gorgeous women!


Bella

[LutherBlissett]

I don't know about that! It may put me too much out of my comfort zone to be with two such gorgeous women!


Bella

Sweetie, just remember ... the BBW in Dreamgirls steals the show.

[totravel]

Luther, thank you for another review in your inimitable style.

I'm actually glad I couldn't make the playdates Dea and Isabelle were offering last week. I didn't want to compete on the same page with this, and you've done a great job of "road-testing" the high-perfomance duo I'll be having next month. I've also got a theme in mind, but not as elaborate as the bit of rock star history you reenacted.

I see Isabelle is advertising duos with Dea on her sked, so it looks like they had lots of fun too.

[LutherBlissett]

Luther, thank you for another review in your inimitable style.

I'm actually glad I couldn't make the playdates Dea and Isabelle were offering last week. I didn't want to compete on the same page with this, and you've done a great job of "road-testing" the high-perfomance duo I'll be having next month. I've also got a theme in mind, but not as elaborate as the bit of rock star history you reenacted.

I see Isabelle is advertising duos with Dea on her sked, so it looks like they had lots of fun too.

Hey, buddy, you'd better get in their honeypots quick. My fetid brain is always cooking up something salacious. I may just go for a round two and, who knows, I may inadvertently steal your idea (I must admit your musical Dea threads subconsciously influenced the writing of this one ... Jimi's Foxy Lady running through my head, etc.).

Don't worry too much, though. I doubt your scenario has anything to do with the one I'm always cooking up involving two librarians, a Richard Nixon mask, Pinocchio and a Moldovan dwarf.

If I can pull that one off, I'll be a legend.

[H.Miller]

Luther,
You must have been nervous with all that kitty needing attention---,that smoke cost you $62.22.

Good read Old Man, yet IMHO it doesn't clear the bar you set yourself with the Dea B'day review when you reached the age of your Father when he passed.

I quote-- "If Dad had met Dea, he'd still be alive."

That line will resonate thru PERBLAND long after we are all gone---even the young newbies. Mark Twain, J.D. Salinger, et al would long for a line like that if they were alive ,but alas apparently they hadn't met Dea either. --I'm saving up.