The House Party

Group Sex

It was late in the summer, and a friend of mine threw a house party – as he does at the end of each summer. A sort of send off to the warm, sunny days, and something to hold everyone over until Halloween and New Years arrived.

He grilled, he fried, he had cases of beer. His kitchen was littered with bottles of strange and unusual liquors. It was an old Victorian seemingly out in the middle of nowhere; it sat on several acres of land, and he seemingly had no neighbors. One could see the starts at night. It was a great place for a party.

The house itself seemed not to have been built, but rather seemed to have evolved over its history. Extra rooms and additions, strange passageways, closets with doors in the back of them to adjacent hallways. Living rooms, sitting rooms, extra rooms downstairs, while up the old, carpeted stairs were bedrooms and closets, a maze of portals dimly lit and smelling of pot.

Outside, in the back, there was a rather extensive porch, and that was where we first met. Or rather, where we first became aware of one another. You told me later that you had noticed me before I noticed you. Evidently, you had seen me standing there, at the corner of the railing, an actual glass in my hand instead of one of the ubiquitous, red, plastic cups. To one side of me was a large porch swing on which two couples had crammed themselves. To the other side was a glass deck table and a half dozen chairs.

“Naturally, naturally,” I had said just as you came out onto the porch with your friend. “It only makes perfect sense for all parties involved. No one wants a mouth full of hair when they’re pleasuring someone. It’s not a deal breaker, sure, but it certainly doesn’t make things as pleasant as they could be.”

As happens when enough people of a certain age get together and drink with reckless abandon, the topic of conversation had turned to sex.

“Ugh, so nasty,” one of the girls at the table said. Everyone laughed.

“Totally not!” One of the girls on the swing exclaimed. “I’ll totally admit that I love to suck cock!” Everyone laughed some more, and the man squeezed in next to her grinned sheepishly.

“Lucky boy!” Someone called from the house through the open window.

“Damn skippy!” The girl from the swing replied. “Ask him about the drive here!”

Everyone laughed some more, someone groaned, and the man next to her blushed.

I left the railing, announcing that there was too much air in my glass, and that the only solution to that problem was to fill it with more bourbon. I reached over and patted him on the back. “Well there you go. Count your blessings. Not every man can find a woman who loves to have a cock in her mouth.”

I looked at you as I passed you to go inside, and saw that you were looking at me, your eyebrows raised. I grinned, tapped the side of your shoulder, and said, “It’s true. They’re more difficult to find than one might think.” I gave you a wink, and went inside.

The evening went on much like that. I told stories wild and fanciful, shucking and jiving where ever I went. I thoroughly enjoy house parties, and moved from room to room, enjoying the conversations I encountered. People drank, people laughed. A beer-pong tournament was in full swing in the garage. Someone pulled a joint out on the porch. Someone pulled bahis firmaları a bottle of a rare, anise flavored alcohol out of a knapsack. Friends and strangers mingled, moving through the house, losing each other and being pleasantly surprised when they found each other again.

You and I had run into each other a few times during our respective minglings. Your friend had apparently disappeared with her boyfriend, and you at last happened to be in the kitchen at the same time I was. I poured myself a whiskey and ginger, and looked up at you when you wandered in.

“Hello, hello!” I said. I introduced myself properly. I asked how you knew our host – a short, thin man of whom I’d lost track some hours earlier.

“It’s complicated,” you said with a brief smile.

“Ah, oh dear.” Visions of drama began dancing through my head.

“No no,” you continued. “I was dating this guy whose ex was also his ex, and…well…” You trailed off.

“Ah, I see. No worries, no worries. These things do happen.” I asked you what you were drinking, and you looked at your red, plastic cup with a frown.

“I’ll tell you what,” I began, taking stock of the various liquors and mixers on the counter, “I’ll mix you up something somewhat more delicious than what you had there.” You bit your lip and smiled and handed me your cup. I rinsed it, and, changing my mind, threw it away, getting you an actual glass from the cabinet.

“We’re civilized people here,” I said with a grin, and began pouring this and that over ice for you. The resulting concoction was pale red, ice cold, tasted very much like Hawaiian Punch, and was probably about 75 proof, including mixers.

“It’s delicious!” You exclaimed after the first few tentative sips.

“Yes, yes it is.” I winked.

You asked if I knew where the bathroom was, and I told you I’d take you to it, needing to use it myself. We trundled up the stairs and down the hall, and down the hall, and down the hall. The place was a maze. It was ridiculous. We finally did find it, although it was occupied. We stood and chatted, making small talk. You asked about the line of work I’m in. I asked about the unusual necklace you were wearing.

Someone came down the hall and bumped into you. I put my arm out to steady you, and you leaned into me.

“You smell good,” you said.

“You smell pretty good yourself,” I smiled, and gestured for you to go ahead to use the facilities once they were no longer occupied. I did the same once you were done, and came out to find you in one of the bedrooms, sitting on a loveseat against the wall, talking with some folks who were all laying on the floor, obviously rolling. I sat next to you, and placed a hand on your knee.

“What have we here?” I asked, looking at the pile on the floor – which erupted into a seething, giggling mass as soon as I spoke.

“It’s a party, man,” said one girl who, though fully clothed, seemed to be casually dry-humping the girl next to her.

“So I see!” I replied, giving your knee a squeeze. You leaned your head against my shoulder.

We sat and talked with the pile for what seemed like an hour or so. They were amusing, entertaining, following strange and unusual lines of logic that seemed like a train of thought gone terribly awry, detoured to a track no longer in use and kaçak iddaa having fallen into disrepair.

“The inside of a pussy is like a playground slide, only not yellow like the yellow ones, but something else that’s like yellow but not. Is that my shoe?”

It was his shoe.

Somehow, my drink had become empty again, and I stood with plans to refill it. You stood to join me, and we stumbled into the hallway.

It was dark; the lights were out, and I tripped over something. I caught myself, but you evidently tripped over the same thing, and grabbed onto my arm to steady yourself. I caught you, and we stood there in the darkened hallway laughing at ourselves.

“You know,” you started as we paused, “it’s not as hard to find a woman who likes having a cock in her mouth as you think.”

“You don’t say?”

“Sure. I’m just saying.”

“You’re just saying.”

“I’m just saying,” you were facing me, and slid your right hand to the top of my left shoulder, “lots of women love it.”

“I don’t know that I believe you,” I grinned. “And what about you? What are your thoughts on the matter? Do you love it?”

You giggled and brought your face close to my left ear, whispering to me. “Uh huh. Yeah. I do love it. In fact, I think your cock should be in my mouth right now.”

You leaned against me, and I kissed the side of your neck.

We never made it back downstairs to refresh our beverages.

I slid a hand to your ass, and gripped it tightly with my fingers. We guided one another to a darkened, empty, spare bedroom down the hall, and closed the door behind us.

As the door closed, I slid my right hand to your face, my thumb below your ear, my fingers wrapped around the back of your neck. I pulled you to me, and brought my face to your own, kissing you in the darkness. Pressed close to me, you could feel me hardening through my pants against you. You reached down and, pressing your hand against the bulge in my trousers, slipped your tongue into my mouth.

There was a blur. Your shirt was on the floor. My pants were discarded and kicked to one side. Your breasts were in my hands, your nipples hardening between my fingers. Your own fingers were wrapped around my cock, massaging it, stroking it, feeling it harden and throb in your hand. You cupped my balls and massaged them gently.

There was evidently a bed in the room, we tripped over and fell onto it.

I kissed your neck, and was working my way to your chest when you stopped me.

“Nuh uh.” You said. “I need it. I need you to give it to me. I need to taste it,” your fingers wrapped around me, squeezing me.

I rolled over onto my back. “Ask, and ye shall receive.”

My hand on your head, I guided your face to where it needed to go. When I felt your hot breath on the head of my cock, I stiffened even more. You kissed my tip, and licked it once, giggling. I pressed on your head, and slid your mouth completely down around me, moaning softly as I felt the warmth of your mouth wrapping around my aching hardness.

“Oh…yeah…that’s a good girl,” I said as you worked, licking and sucking, sliding me in and out of your mouth, your one hand holding onto me while your other massaged my balls.

You were off to my left side, half kneeling, half laying across me as you sucked on me. I kaçak bahis slid my hand between your knees, between your legs, my thumb pressed against your inner thigh and sliding all the way towards you.

I discovered, much to my delight, that you were completely shaved, and, sliding my finger between your delicate lips, toyed gently with your clit. You moaned breathily around my cock, but did not stop working me, never once taking me out of your mouth. Your breathing became heavier and more ragged – as did mine.

It was only when I slid a finger, and then two, into you that you stopped for a moment. You were positively dripping. My other hand went back to your head as I slid my cock back into your mouth. You worked me twice as hard, licking and sucking, feeling me, hard and throbbing between your lips, on your tongue.

I worked my fingers inside of you, massaging your clit at the same time with my thumb. I could feel you tightening around them as I did, just as your lips tightened around me as you worked.

“Give it to me,” you paused to say. “I want to taste you. I want you to fill my mouth with cum.” You took me back into your mouth, and milked me with your lips and tongue. I could feel myself getting harder – and closer. I could feel my balls beginning to tighten as they prepared for what was next. And I could feel you beginning to tighten around my fingers, your pussy hot and wet as you rode my hand.

I had an idea. I worked my fingers more deeply into you, and massaged you inside and out simultaneously, firmly, relentlessly. You ground yourself against me with my fingers in you up to the knuckle. You were so tight, so hot, so wet.

You slid your mouth off of me and whispered, “oh god…you….you’re gonna make me….you’re gonna…oh god…I’m gonna cum…you’re gonna make me….”

My right hand pressed you back down, bringing your mouth completely down around my cock. My left hand alternated between firm massages and purposeful squeezes, my fingers in you, my thumb on your clit.

You started to buck on my hand, your pussy gripping my fingers rhythmically, tightening around them as you gushed, as you came, as you whimpered and moaned around my cock in your mouth, shivering, trembling as your orgasm took you. Your back arched, and your raised your hips a bit higher, bringing your face lower around me.

And as I felt you cum on my fingers, slicking my hand with wetness, and as you brought your face lower against me, I could no longer hold back. As you were cumming, the head of my cock nearly to the back of your throat, my hips were bucking, my body losing control, and I burst, exploding, filling your mouth, coating your throat and tongue with burst after burst of my hot cum.

We laid there like that for several minutes. I could feel the aftershocks trembling inside of you. You licked me clean and swallowed me down like a good girl.

After a while, we rearranged ourselves, getting under the covers and pressing close against one another.

Your hair smelled like a fruity shampoo.

We kissed and fondled tenderly.

“You came in my mouth pretty hard.” I could hear you grinning in the darkness. Am I going to get to feel you cumming that hard inside of me?”

“Yes,” I replied, my arm wrapped around you, my hand on your breast, “I’ve filled your mouth, and I plan to do the same to that hot, wet pussy of yours before too long.”

You pressed back against me.

“Fill me. Fill me with your every last drop…”

We never did return to the party.

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