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Oh, shit. I’ve totally walked into some kind of sex-fueled something-or-other.
There are three guys. One sits on a couch with a leggy redhead straddling him, her buxom chest in his face and a glass of wine in her hand. He’s holding his cock in his hand, working it hard as she encourages him.
Two guys are working a tall exotic woman with short black hair in the corner, one guy’s hand working her pussy, the other guy getting a hand job as he laps at her exposed pierced nipples. She makes eyes contact with me, one eyebrow heading north while a small smile plays at her lips. She makes a big show of spreading her legs a little further, letting me get a better view of the fingering happening there. I blush and look away quickly.
Two other guys, staring at me now, were obviously watching their buddy get sucked off by a tiny blonde. She’s on her knees, so she looks even smaller. I’m pretty sure her blonde hair is actually a wig, and her face, what I can see of it, looks so young that I wonder if she’s even an adult. She’s got her mouth around some biker’s cock. His fists are in her hair and he’s thrusting, making grunting noises that literally make my stomach turn.
“Oh, good, the other girl is here,” one of the watchers says. “Dibs.”
I step forward, squaring my shoulders to keep from appearing too nervous. The last thing I need is one of them questioning who I am, what I’m doing. I need to blend in here, at least for a few minutes, in case Chip pokes his head in looking for me. These girls must be sex workers then. They think I’m a sex worker, so I need to act like a confident, experienced sex worker.
Ha. If they only knew ...
But still, I can hide out here for a minute. There are only three people in this building who even know who I am, and that’s Grisham, Spree, and that guy Chip. As long as they don’t come around, I’ll be fine. And I can walk right out the door with these women, no one the wiser.
Geesh. No wonder they think I’m here for the party. I’m only in my underwear. I don’t have huge tits but they’re okay, a handful at least. My bra looks immature, though, I’m sure. If I were a real sex worker, I’d certainly invest in some better underwear.
“Too much clothing,” a middle-aged guy says, shaking a finger at me. “Titties out, girl.”
Or maybe not.
I take a few more steps forward, hoping these guys are too drunk and sex-crazed to notice how dirty I am, how many scratches and bruises I have. I hesitate for a moment, frozen with fear at the thought of baring my breasts to these guys.
Fuck it. It’s like jumping in a pool for the first time. If I just get it over with, I’ll be fine. I unhook my bra and toss it to the floor. I pull my hair back, looping a long strand around to hold it in a ponytail. I’m trying not to look like a woman who was recently abducted, thrown on the back of a bike, and left as food for the gods. Or God. There’s only one in this house, and his name is Grisham.
It’s actually Grisham I think of as I make my way to the group in the middle of the room. The one guy has just ejaculated, the white stream of cum sprayed all over the blonde girl’s chest. He zips himself up and pulls a wad of cash from his pocket, tossing it at her like he’s tossing trash into a bin. She gathers the scattered bills and tucks them into the front of her thong before standing and reaching high over her head in a stretch. The guy whose dick she just sucked slaps her ass and she giggles.
“You took forever tonight,” the girl teases. “My muscles are angry after being in that position for so long.”
The middle-aged guy who told me to get naked walks up behind her, humping her from behind. “I’ll give you a new position, girlie. Bend over and I’ll take it just like this.”
“Asshole is a thousand,” the girl says.
“A bargain!” he hollers. “My old lady won’t let me near the rear.”
They all laugh and I feel like I’m in an alternate universe. Does this happen with the guys in my dad’s club? How can these women be so nonchalant about doing all of this with these men? I mean, none of these women seems to mind the activity—in fact, they look like they all know each other. The whole scene is really weird to me, but then again, I’m pretty naïve about these things.
The youngest of the three in this group wanders over. He’s not bad looking, with a cherub mouth and wavy brown hair. He rubs my nipple with his knuckles lightly.
I just stand there like a stone. A little dry humping and some tongue kissing does not compare to what’s happening here. I haven’t even the slightest idea how to act confident about sex, because I’ve never had it.
Yes, I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin. And I don’t really want to lose it here with these strangers, so I sure hope this guy wants something easy.
He moves his hand to my neck, leaning in, nibbling my ear. “How much for a hand job?” he asks quietly.
Bingo! A hand job I can totally do.
“A hundred,” I say, hoping this is even close to normal.
“For a hundred, I wanna come on your tits,” he says.
“Fine,” I say. I mean, gross, but whatever. That’s what soap is for. This’ll be an adventure and I’ll get it over with. And then I’ll escape and go home to a scalding hot bath and never see any of these people again.
He unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock. I take it in my hand, stroking it as he continues to fondle my breasts. It doesn’t feel bad. Not at all. In fact, there’s something oddly exciting about having my breasts exposed to the cool air, his calloused thumbs rubbing my hardened nubs. He’s very close to me, his head in the crook of my neck, his hands busy at my chest. I stroke and rub, hoping I’m doing it right. I’m focused, and while it feels kind of good, it’s not turning me on or anything.
I can do this. It’s a business transaction. I’ll be able to tell this story to my friends one drunken night. That one time I imitated a hooker and got a guy off with my hand.
CherubBoy moans, his eyes closing as a small dot of cum appears. He’s close already. I must be doing okay if he’s already at the pre-cum stage. Yay me!
I increase my strokes as I hear other sounds of pleasure around the room. I feel ... powerful? I guess? I’m still not turned on, but I like the feeling of having control over someone like this. I like that just this little bit of human touch can drive a man so wild.
Just as the guy says, “Oh, yeah. Grip it harder. I’m almost there,” I’m jerked violently backward by the hair and shoved to the ground.
*
