We all sat in a circle and enjoyed the soft foam. Across from me, Sarah took her shirt off. She didn’t even make an excuse. Everyone knew what was rolling down the pipe. But if everyone just had sex with whomever they felt like, someone might get left out. If they got left out, they might get jealous. If they got too jealous, they might slip to someone outside of the crew that the crew was an orgy club. I think at least one of us might get arrested, and we would certainly not be allowed to see each other ever again.
But we had the games. Bit of skill to test everyone, a bit of random chance to keep everything even.
Bree had a deck of cards in her hand and was saying, “We should play Asshole.”
“Nah,” said Wee David, “We should play President.”
“No, Scum,” Autumn said.
“You should deal Capitalist,” Rachel told Bree.
“Everyone shut up, because we’re playing Tech Director,” Regular Dave said.
Either they were all the same game and this was a bit, or Bree didn’t care at all, because she hadn’t stopped dealing since she spoke.
I was further away from her and so my cards had been thrown into a rough pile. I leaned forward to get them and Autumn unsnapped my bra through my shirt. I felt the sickening pull of gravity, along with the certainty that I wouldn’t be comfortable if I just re-snapped them.
I was very “in my booty” though. And while a more shy, trepidations, and timid Aisling was screaming from very far away, I told the crew, “Enjoy the show,” and took my shirt off.
Then hurriedly put it back on at the first cat call, bra left behind. I tried to hold my cards far enough away that the heat from my face didn’t set them on fire. Autumn leaned in and rubbed my back as I hunched over, whispering, “I know my luvey can be brave when she wants to. She just doesn’t want to. Yet.”
That helped me straighten my spine a bit.
The rules and the crew addendum to the rules were explained to me. I’m not going to bore me with the rules, so if you don’t know them, this might get pretty confusing. The person to go out with no cards was the winner and therefore the Tech Director. The person to go out with the most cards was the loser and therefore the actor. The actor had to do what the TD said, and not just because they wanted to. Before I was here, one TD was allowed to poach a random player. The whole game usually only lasted two rounds. At that point, the four remaining players just kinda glommed each other.
I started out the game nervous. I kept my cards bunched in my fist, because spread in my hands they shook noticeably. This lead to bad play, and I wound up passing. A lot. Way too much. The first hand Bree played the trick that ended it. With eight people, hands went fast. We’d barely begun the second hand when I heard from my right, “I’m Tech Director.” I counted my cards and came up with 11. If I could math right then I would say that was too much. But we used two decks so I had been given... more than 11. Also, 11 was too much more than any other player.
Sarah whispered in my ear, from the vantage of the nape of my neck, “I’m going to show you how to use the arms of a couch, actor.” My nipples careened off of my shirt as she took my hand.
Somehow Sarah and I had never really been together. I didn’t not like her, and I was pretty sure that she didn’t not like me. My opinion was informed by the way she pushed me back on the couch, straddled me, and let her hair fall in a pitch black curtain around our faces.
She gave me a grin at close range that was equal parts “we have a secret,” and “that secret is the things I want to do to you”. But she didn’t make a move to kiss me. Just held me in the moment. I couldn’t take a cue from her eyes, because I couldn’t see them from this angle. But I could feel my heartbeat on my throat. I figured she would be okay if I kissed her at this time. I craned my neck up, and couldn’t see her grin vanish as her lips moved to touch mine.
She pushed my hair back as she wrapped her arms around my neck, and I figured out from kissing her why we hadn’t (so far) been a thing.
She was shy.
I lean her away from me, trying to get her bra off, realize it’s already off, and lean backwards as I kiss the top of an olive breast. She hesitates again, just a fraction of a second, then leans forward so that I can capture her right nipple. I try soft at first, get little in the way of encouragement, and start sucking as hard as I can. Sarah begins to roll her hips on my lap, careful not to pull her tit from between my lips, but energetically and with vigor.
No, not shy. The most vocal of the crew is Bree, who will have a conversation with you about her ass-traffic in line at a crowded ice cream shop. But Sarah and Wee David christened the couch. I have seen her pussy stretch over Big Davey’s cock while she hollered and called for someone to keep her mouth busy.
She pulls back and kisses me then, scooting backwards. She runs her fingers around my waistband, and inside my panties. I understand then how a girl can be shy around everyone but me. I lean forward and whisper the one thing I wish I had been told. Not any when. Just in general, ever.
“It’s okay. I already like you.”
I don’t know what to call all of the expressions that flashed over her face. But I do know that, as they’re slowing down, I see relief take hold, then flash away in a split second transition to be replaced with powerful and devious lust.
I do my best to help, a little mystified, as Sarah just about claws the button off my pants. She’s breathing like she’s in the throes of some kind of bloodlust, though it’s more likely just lust. I don’t know how I got her motor running harder than a Hiller 1031, but she almost seems more fun. Like the Hiller, I don’t think what I did will work a second time, and like the Hiller, I’m a little worried she’ll break my legs. My jeans had bound up against my socks, and it didn’t look like she could think her way through a problem that wasn’t “how to go about fucking Aisling”.
The struggle only lasted the short time it took her to decide that my pants were off enough for her to operate. In a smooth motion, Sarah stood, crotch of my pants in hand, and crossed to the arm of the couch. I slid onto my back and knocked my head against something hard inside the couch. What I should have thought was “ouch”. Instead I thought, “Oh, god! Yes.”
Her frenzied arousal wasn’t distressing. Instead, it was just as arousing. This tiny, elfin woman was so aroused by me---by me just being me---that she wouldn’t let a brick wall stop her from eating my snatch. My breathing was heavy, and every time she touched me, or moved me, it would catch a bit in my throat.
Like the way Sarah held my legs together to hoist my ass onto the arm of the couch. Or the way she pushed my thighs back until I was bent double, thin fingers pressing into firm flesh. My breath caught again as peeled my panties up and pressed my knees together to get them to my ankles. As I watched her bend her head down, a spread palm just under each of my knees, I thought, “Stop screwing around and get munching,” and “Womanhandle me some more, I need more”. The thoughts occurred at exactly the same time and with the same intensity.
I felt her hair puddle around my legs, finally managed to take in a breath---and then let it out in a grinding moan of frustration as Sarah blew lightly on the edges of my sandwiched lips.
Her grin rose over my pelvis like some kind of cresting joker army, “Were you expecting something more intense?”
Curled up as I was, head clouded with lust, I didn’t know where my arms were at the moment. They weren’t anywhere they could give me leverage, and I had to strain to keep my head up. Sarah saw me straining to speak and cocked her head as if to say, “oh really now?” The gesture had a point, because right as I opened my mouth she put three finger tips around my clit and started rolling them in intense circles.
I held on and managed to say, “Get me off already!”. Only I sort of couldn’t finish the first word and got stuck on “ge... geh... ge...”.
Sarah interrupted me with another look like, “Is that so?” and my head collapsed on the couch as she started sounding my depths with her middle finger. She plunged it into me, and withdrew it all the way, like she was trying to illustrate how an oil pump worked. The bend in my body worked with her aims. At the entrance, her finger forced my pussy walls apart a finger’s breadth. But when she got deep, and man---Her fingers don’t look that long---she could get deep, my vagina was being bent over on. Close to my back wall, her finger tip opened me wider and harder than the Black Gate. I think I let out a shriek the first time it happened. And also all the other times too.
Despite this, she still teased me. Her fury lust had been replaced with a malign playfulness. A cat who has stalked a torn windshield wiper for hours, and once in control is eager to relive the chase.
As she withdrew her finger, my body vibrated, “Yes, do that, keep going, too far, why aren’t you turning around?” Her other hand held my legs back, or I would have put my feet underneath me out of pique.
I had a general sense through the turbulence that the rest of the crew was working on finding a Tech Director/Actor pretty furiously. Any separation was pretty much a futile effort. My head turn and arced, and I opened my mouth without a sound in mind. Sarah had switched from one finger to... more than one finger. Maybe 60 from the way I felt stretched.* How many fingers did I last see her with? Couldn’t have been less than a dozen, right?* When she came out her knuckles pressed hard against my G-spot, as her fingers pulled my entrance open further. I turned back to see Regular Dave ditching his pants and boxers. His dick was out and drooling pre, harder than a Grecian broomstick.
I don’t know what happened next because Sarah established a rhythm, and my brain stopped taking messages from reality. It takes time for my brain to acclimatize to the sensations my body is feeling, and during that time I am simply my vagina, being filled and filled and filled again. My body is somewhere around the vagina, but I can feel everything happening in there in my eyelashes, and the tips of my fingernails. It’s my whole body that’s being penetrated.
My head clears when someone else touches my body. I feel hands I know run over my breasts. Oh, of course he’s here to give me too much of what I need. But the touch compels me to open my eyes, and then I’m a waterbed of vibrating ecstasy, with its knees around her ears, on a cheap couch under red lights. Or something.
Regular Dave says, “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to mute our soundtrack.” God I hope that means what I---oh fuck---hope it---Oh god---is good---fuck me---thing. I turn to the open side of the couch and come face to dick with Regular Dave. I think my hands are underneath me, so I just open my mouth wide.
Someone must have had a speaker on them, because I hear a voice say, “On it,” and then music I’ve never heard before starts to play. In that way I’m introduced to Dan Deacon, vie “Feel the Lightning”. I’ll be idlly singing the lyrics in my head for a week before I ask anyone what the hell I’m singing.
“Can you feel the lightning,
covering your skin?
It’s a nightmare.
Cause you’re on fire.”
Don’t think for a second the throes had stopped. The balls of my feet were beginning to cramp with the onslaught of Sarah’s fingers. It’s everything I can do to keep my head level, as Regular Dave slips his head inside. I obliged him by putting a seal around his rod with my lips and running my tongue around his foreskin. I’ve never been able to get it around and inside on my own, but I knew that he loved it when I tried. And trying pushes it back further every time, which is really what he wants. I had a few bobs of my head, tasting the goo that slicked his dick, when the combination of Sarah’s fingers, and the cerebral effort of getting finger fucked while I try to suck cock, conspire.
The orgasm is like being punched in the solar plexus under an ultra high frame camera. It sends wave after wave through my body. I have to drop the dick out of my mouth, because my neck is arching back into the couch. One of my hands flails loose and careens around until it finds Regular Dave’s thigh and I hold on for dear life.
I’m still gasping when Sarah feeds her fingers into my mouth, sticky with my own cum. I gobble them down until I remember that I want to finish sucking that dick. I brush Sarah aside for a moment and go after Regular Daves tool with a vengeance.
