An aged, stout wooden door stood before me, guarding the already imposing building. It was more than just a mere entrance. It was a symbol of endurance, a witness to the past, and a gateway to the unknown. A silent observer of history; it had withstood years of use and still stands tall, a testament to its quality craftsmanship. Its once smooth surface was now weathered and worn, the grain of the wood clearly visible, bearing the marks of its age. The deep brown colour of the wood had darkened over time, creating a sense of depth and richness, but it also held a beauty and charm that can only come with time. Faded paint and chipped edges told a story of its own, hinting at the memories and events that had occurred on the other side, adding a sense of mystery and intrigue. The countless stories and secrets it held within its wooden frame left to the imagination.
It was a turning point, one which made me feel small and way out of my element. What on earth am I doing here? The answer was quite simple. A workmate, recently promoted to working-rock-hard mate, had persuaded me to come to what he swore would be ‘the party of my life.’
Jon was my brand of fun. We shared a taste for fine wine; cooking; movies; long, meaningful and heated conversations and, of course, racy sex. Whilst neither of us was 'couple' material, there was indeed a lot of coupling. At twenty and twenty-six, we were like bunnies on meth. I can’t recall a place—or surface—we hadn’t christened with ungodly fluids; office and public transport included.
Anyway, he was dragging himself through Med School; merely attending to keep Dad happy, and for them pussies, no doubt. To celebrate the end-of-course, the students of the School of Medicine organised a party, and I mean a PARTY—picture Zion after the machines went down. Although the event was notoriously exclusive, Jon managed to get me on the list.
Coyly gasping my name to the colossal bouncer, I held my breath as he skimmed through the sheet of paper. “Have fun,” he said, pushing the door open with his sturdy, flat palm on the heavy frame. The pervasive sound of the ‘rave generation’, a deafening mash-up of house, techno and trance cadences, welcomed me into the huge, albeit jam-packed hall.
With no little effort, I made my way across the bouncing crowd, catching glimpses of stuff I had only seen in movies. Based on the volume and variety of drugs circulating, they surely liked to spice things up. No idea how I was going to find my friend, but I figured the bar would be a good place to start.
Just as well Jon was so tall, I spotted his unmistakable dark ginger mane waving from the head-banging to the electronic beats. As luck would have it, he saw me struggling to reach him through the mass of people and soon came to my aid, hauling me by the arm. He bent over to kiss me, leaving an enticing, spirited flavour on my lips. He turned and shielded me from the mob behind his back, with fingers intertwined so he wouldn’t lose me on the way to the bar.
I was tailgating a little to the side when, out of nowhere, a girl jumped and clutched onto him with arms and legs. By the look of it, she believed the way to someone’s soul was through the mouth. He held her with a hand below her bare ass (she was wearing the shortest dress I’ve ever seen up close), the other hand still holding mine.
Once freed, he moved his head to say something to her ear, which allowed me to get a glimpse of her strikingly beautiful face. She was young, maybe my age, with green sparkling eyes and those mesmerising come-hither lips, glistening from the blazing make-out.
A gentle squeeze of my hand broke the spell. I stood there for a moment, snickering at our entangled fingers. When I looked up, gone was the girl, and we continued to the bar.
Waiting for our drinks, he said they used to be class- and fuck-mates, though hadn’t hooked up in a while. I guess that was her way of showing how much she missed him. “She’s gorgeous. I wish she’d koala-hug me,” I reassured him with a dreamy face, to which he raised one eyebrow and just smirked. He knew I fancied women, but he’d always thought it was only a platonic appreciation of feminine beauty.
Drinks in hand, we headed to a secluded and dim area behind the bar, where he introduced me to his friends. They were crazy high, but jolly people. After hearing the mandatory embarrassing anecdotes about a younger Jon, we tried ‘dancing’ a little, but the place had turned into a massive sauna. I was soaking wet, head to toes, despite my skimpy outfit—a short denim sundress with a sweetheart neckline and thin straps, hence no bra—and open sandals.
A little dizzy, I sat on an empty table with my feet on a chair. The erratic combo of music and lights was not helping at all. Jon hurried to fetch me something cold and sugary to drink, which was so refreshing I emptied it in one go.
Back then, my long hair draped below my waist, which meant I could—and would—use it to cover or uncover my cleavage as it suited me best. Though standing tall next to me, Jon didn’t seem to agree with my false modesty, so he brushed it off to get a clear view of my rack. “There, much better.”
He moved in front of me, sheltering me with his body before bending over to kiss me with intent as his hand crawled up my thigh. I wrapped my arms around him whilst my tongue shamelessly probed his mouth and my knee dabbed at his growing hard-on. Pretty soon, his fingers had reached my already drenched slit, sliding my thong to the side. My glance drifted sideways as he nibbled down my neck and met one of his friends staring at us with a big grin on his face and a hand lost inside the shirt of the girl sitting on his lap. The fabric was moving over his groping paw, seemingly at the same rhythm Jon was prodding my sodden cunt. Well, fuck, this is a party!
The tiny portion of my mind still capable of registering anything other than the riveting hotness taking hold of me noticed no one was paying any attention to them—or us, for that matter. It was all fair game.
A cold, delicate touch slithered upwards from my ankle... Wait. What the hell? I escaped Jon’s grip, shoving his head back to locate the source. There she was, with that breathtaking smile. “Hi, I’m Andrea. May I join you?”
I was stunned—unlike my pussy, that was throbbing almost as fast as my heart. Jon was grinning like a bastard above us. She pulled me to her with both hands on my cheeks, and everything went into slow motion. Both her eyes and tongue pierced me with such eagerness, yet tenderly. It was so intense I think my mouth came.
Jon was fingering my pussy at full tilt, and suddenly, there was that coolness again. She had trailed along his arm to his busy fingers, sliding one of hers inside me, licking her grinning lips and nodding, like asking if that was okay. My mind was reeling, trying to make sense of everything. “You fucking—” I tried to call him out, but he shut me up with a rabid mouth. Andrea yanked the chair out of the way and spread up my legs wider to get between them and slid a second finger, putting my pliancy to the test. My hands desperately looked for support on each of their shoulders. There I was, getting quad-finger-fucked by two different people, one being a ravishing, unknown woman.
It was too much. I came in a matter of seconds, moaning into Jon’s mouth, clawing at them both.
She retrieved her fingers and licked them clean with an industrious tongue, back and front and all around, relishing in the slick cummy-coating, never breaking eye contact. Pushing Jon away with her butt, her sexy lips curved in a wicked grin before resuming her fingering duties, only slipping three digits this time and rubbing my clit with her other hand—and I mean the whole palm. “Now, you cum just for me,” stressing that with a sultry stare, like there was a chance in hell I could help it. I melted into a shattering, leg-quivering orgasm all over her relentless hands. My pussy was clenching hard, refusing to let her go.
I was a shivering mess, trying to process the last what, ten minutes? At some point, Jon had grabbed my hand and was using it to stroke his cock over the pants. He was harder than life. My free hand impatiently gripped his shirt to pull his mouth to mine; the fabric twisted between my fingers, balling up in my palm whilst the other squeezed the full length of his restrained shaft up and down. Lips and hands released him at once; a tethering strand of drool withstood for as long as possible, but eventually yielded. My nails raked through the saturated fibres, ripping off a button before setting loose.
