The weekend after my first totally uninhibited tryst with my friend, I was invited to his ex’s birthday party, which took place at the flat they still shared. I got there early, a bag full of food—and dressed to kill (as per her request). As soon as my friend saw me, he called me Mrs. Addams, which was his way of saying he found me sexy. He was busy assembling an X-cross; all attendees belonged to the BDSM community, and someone would surely wind up tying someone else to the apparatus.
People started arriving, and the party kicked off. We were around twenty in total, and I knew everyone by face, if not by name. Even though the space was relatively small for such a number, it didn’t feel cramped. The attendees were occupying the kitchen, the living room, and the large balcony, and the atmosphere was joyous. Very uncharacteristically, I almost created a scene by picking up a small fight with a friend, but we managed to put our disagreement to rest and went on to enjoy the night.
Throughout the first half, my “special” friend and I chatted very little, but he didn’t miss a chance to lightly touch my hands and butt in passing. He also spent a lot of time on his phone again, which led me to send him a message to tell him he’d end up incurring the wrath of his ex if he didn’t stop. He replied, “You can always distract me by feeding me or something,” which I did.
At some point, the birthday girl asked me to stay for the night, and I agreed, daring to hope I might get a chance to sleep in the ginormous bed (and next to its usual occupant). She proceeded to offer me a very small quantity of a substance I’d never consumed, and I accepted, mainly out of curiosity.
The drug was supposed to take less than an hour to work, although one attendee (who schooled me on its possible effects and side effects) said I might not feel anything at all, especially at such a low dosage. While I waited, a girl, whom I was very fond of, came to ask me if it’d bother me if she and my friend played together. I told her I had no claim over him, and that I’d love to see them play. She even said she wouldn’t mind if I gave her a few impacts with his flogger, but I didn’t have any experience and wouldn’t risk it. After all, I’d drunk quite a lot, not to mention the quarter of a pill I’d swallowed.
While they played, I mentioned to the birthday girl I’d brought my bunny ears and tail “just in case,” and she ordered me to change. I was again reluctant to take off my skirt, but I was wearing fishnet tights, a bodysuit, and an underbust corset, which gave me a nice enough shape. With my ears and my tail, I sauntered back to the living room, earning quite a few admiring looks. The birthday girl actually asked me to parade around to show myself off to everyone, and I was just drunk enough to accept.
It was at that moment, more than two hours after I’d swallowed it, that the drug decided to kick in. I’d be hard-pressed to describe all its effects, but I felt both light as a bubble and strangely focused. I went to the woman who’d advised me earlier, and she took me to the balcony to “sit out” the first wave. However, the feeling didn’t intensify, and I was still myself, so I could soon go back inside.
My friend and the lovely girl had finally ended their play, and as he spied me in my bunny outfit, his smile was both sly and full of admiration. This was reassuring, as his best mate had earlier made me feel positively antediluvian by explaining – at length – how men always preferred women’s youth over any other attribute. (He was bugged by this but still presented it as an immutable fact.)
A little later, I found myself in the kitchen with him and my friend, and the latter suggested they play with markers on my fishnet-covered thigh. The first to align five points was to (jokingly?) “win the beauty,” prompting them both to play with flattering focus. Of course, they were also naturally competitive, so me being the “prize” might not have had anything to do with that.
To my relief, my friend won with flying colours. His mate left us alone for a short while, and we seized the opportunity to kiss. He told me his ex had scolded him for having played with the other girl while I was to sleep with him that night, and we laughed about it. She, too, seemed unable to understand that he wasn’t mine by any standard.
By 2 AM, most people had left, and only those of us who were to spend the night remained. Two women, one of whom I knew to be a “degradée,” set out to play with an anal hook, and the whole atmosphere became much more sexually loaded.
I can’t remember whether I first went to the balcony alone or if my friend led me there, but in any case, we found ourselves out there without the others. Hidden from their view, we kissed again, but he quickly ordered me to kneel. As I took his hard cock in my mouth for the second time that week, it felt like homecoming.
I’d blown him for a short while when he said in a low, amused voice: “We’ve got company.” I peeked behind him just long enough to see one of our comrades sitting in a chair, smoking and watching us. Had I been sober, his presence would probably have made me balk a little despite my exhibitionistic tendencies, but now, it only egged me on.
We quickly went a step further. My friend helped me up and said he wanted to fuck me, and while I lowered my fishnets and bent against the balcony railing, he fetched a condom. I was still wearing my bunny tail and ears, but I had to take the latter off because I didn’t want to risk them falling beyond the balustrade.
My friend penetrated me from behind, and I felt nothing but contentment. This actually wasn’t my first experience on a balcony, but the last time, it’d been facing a park, whereas this one was surrounded by other buildings. Then again, it was very late, so the chances of a neighbour spying on us were low.
Our little show went on for a while, but he didn’t finish. I no longer remember if we stopped because we just couldn’t keep going any more, or if he wound up getting “stage fright,” but I got (semi-)decent again. My friend told me another one of our companions had been watching us, too, but as we got back to them, no one said anything. In fact, they’d decided to end the evening with a couple of golden showers, which didn’t really interest me one way or the other, although their giddy enthusiasm amused me.
The party finally ended around 4 AM. My friend had almost fallen asleep on the couch, and the woman who’d schooled me on the drug led him to his bedroom (and to me). I bet he’d hit the sack and be done for the night, but he got a second wind as soon as we were alone.
This time, I was tired of playing around with condoms. I was at the tail end of my period, so any pregnancy-related risks were at their lowest. Of course, there were other risks, but he still tested himself regularly. So for once, I took him in bareback – and I must admit it felt different even to me.
The sex was tired and a bit sloppy, but we still moved around quite a bit, and I enjoyed every minute. I remember him making me taste myself on him before shoving his cock back into my pussy. I expected him to finish in ten seconds, but he took his sweet time, even trying to make me cum. Alas, I still didn’t manage to “climb.”
Meanwhile, he did, obviously appreciating the naked ride. He told me to grab his thighs while he pounded on, his sweat dribbling on my face and upper body. When he finally ejaculated, I could feel his pulsations so much better, as well as the long, hot burst of liquid in the depths of my pussy.
My friend pulled out quickly, handing me a box of tissues. I crammed a few between my legs while he cleaned himself up, and then we finally collapsed, all spent. He must’ve fallen asleep right away, and I wasn’t far behind.
The sunny morning woke me up before him, and I went to find the others who were nursing various forms of hangovers, although none of us was wretched. The party was deemed a success, which buoyed everyone’s mood.
I needed to pop home, but I was back at their flat only hours later, as we were going to an open-air rave party that evening. The weather forecast was predicting a thunderstorm, but the early evening was sunny and warm. We laid out the usual picnic blanket far from the stage, and I spent the better part of the early hours sitting and lying on it in various company. Mostly, we were alone with my friend’s ex, who expressed her concern about my affair with him, reminding me that sex often led to feelings. She also continued to list his worst qualities, probably in part to warn me off, but also just to vent.
The loudspeakers still called for me, and I wound up going dancing with our two guys. I wasn’t sure how to act around my friend, slightly afraid he’d had enough of my presence that week and would want me to leave him “hunt” other girls for a change. After all, the latter were numerous, and as in any respectable rave party, some of them were wearing barely any clothing. At one point, I found myself laughing my arse off because one of the girls, clad only in a bra and a thong, had accidentally bent down right when my friend was sliding past her, making it look as if she were offering herself to him.
I asked him if he wanted me to keep my distance, but he pulled me to him, and we danced a bit together. His ex’s partner joined us, stoned up to his eyeballs, forcing us to kiss, which just made our teeth bump violently together, but it broke the slight ice.
I went back and forth between the stage and the picnic blanket a few times, but we girls ended up folding the latter and migrating to the muddy dance floor for good. The night fell, and with it came the rain. As long as it was a reasonable shower, it only added to the mood, and I have a lovely photo souvenir of the four of us from that night, where we’re drenched but happy.
However, the air soon became so charged with water that we could almost swim in it. The guys still went on dancing, but although I love rain (and thunder is actually a major turn-on for me), a surge of sisterhood made me accompany my friend’s ex back to the trees where we found some shelter. We sat down at a table, chatting again – until the lights suddenly went off, doubtless because of water damage.
The guys finally decided it was time to leave, and we rushed to the car where I amped up the heat. The mood was still buoyant, and every one of us was dreaming of a clean, hot shower at that point.
The two bathrooms turned out handy as we filed in, shivering and dirty. I started showering alone, but my friend soon joined me, taking in my naked form. We washed a little first, then embraced and kissed, his cock already hard against my thigh. I went down on him again with a teasing smile on my lips, and had we not been hungry for food, too, we probably would’ve used up most of the hot water.
However, nature was calling us elsewhere, and when we got out of the shower, we brought all the birthday leftovers to the dining table and dug in. All four of us were in a great mood, and I was again offered the chance to stay for the night, but I declined, preferring to go home to my husband.
Before I went, I bid good night to the couple, but my friend told me to go and wait for him in his room. As always when anticipating his touch (and thanks to our shared shower), I was already hot and wet.
When he joined me, we got to it immediately, knowing I had to leave soon after. The memory of the act itself has blended with the one from the night before, but I remember that I once again took him in bareback. (I’m always so risk-averse—except when it comes to sex–but I’ve tested myself since, and I’m still clean.) It wasn’t a quickie, either; we fucked for at least half an hour.
What I do remember clearly are the cuddles afterwards. As we lay on the bed, spent again, softly talking like just any two buddies who fiercely desire each other, I struggled to leave. I actually managed to sit up once, but my friend pulled me back to him, pleading, “Just two more minutes, okay?” I laughed, to which he added, “All right, maybe thirty seconds is more appropriate,” and we went on talking. Probably five minutes elapsed until I said, “I think our thirty seconds are up.”
I finally extracted myself from the bed, got dressed, and let him accompany me to the door. We hugged one last time, and I once again left in a cloud of his different scents. I couldn’t help thinking of the lyrics to a song in which a man spoke of his woman who came home smelling of another man. I’d never thought that’d be me one day, but here I was.
