opening me

(this is quite a long one but i hope you sometime find the time to read… x)

I’m not naïve or innocent, not completely anyway, and wasn’t back then even a few years younger than I am now but I did have less experience in lots of ways and perhaps, actually in fact, went through a period of waywardness, not that I’m complaining as I am who I am. I’ve rarely ever mentioned this to anyone but I feel it’s time to exorcise the demons. Thinking back it could have gone horribly wrong but instead was a revelation in many ways.

I was 19, at a party which wasn’t uncommon, I wore a floral blue and purple slip dress, short and loose fit with thin over-shoulder straps. It was a party after all. Underneath a black tank sleeveless crop top, black hold up stockings and low-heeled black-patent ankle boots.  I probably knew half of the people at the party, conversely the rest not at all.  I went with Sarah, a friend, whose idea it was to “keep her company”.

It was one of those parties, large house, lots of rooms, some quite snug and once we’d squeezed our way through the corridor of bodies, limbs, sweat and snippets of gossip and whatever else almost bouncing pinball-like we made it to the first port of call in any party: the kitchen. Food, drink, both was aplenty, particularly the latter alongside a very almost addictive punch, no doubt immensely alcoholic as I was to discover.

As time ticked away conversation came easier, even with those I’d not known prior now not quite friendly. The punch was definitely having the effect of loosening people up and in fact me. Sarah and I found ourselves dancing, something which I find myself doing at pretty much every party I go to and failed to realise the oncoming tipsyfying effects of too much punch and kept chatting, dancing, sipping, dancing chatting, blah-blah. A healthy vibe I felt was alive and well and buzzing in every room. Bodies, hands, fingers, even mouths brushed each other less and less inhibited than they were or might have been earlier on, as I was too. It all felt very friendly regardless.

Time got lost in the melee and no longer mattered except eventually I was feeling a little woozy; luckily not in the ‘I’m going to spew’ way, just a little in need of a sit or lie down.   Sarah noticed and she with two guys helped take me to somewhere I could be horizontal for a bit until recovered enough to rejoin the ranks of revellers.  I was half-expecting to be lead upstairs but instead we went down to a vast cellar room which I hadn’t even noticed was there. A dim light, an armchair, shelving, I even asked “where’s all the wine?”, and there was a long table on which they laid a blanket Sarah was carrying and me on top feeling one hand slide away from my waist where one guy held me and another hand brush my bottom which I put down to accidental considering I was a bit floppy anyway.  They left me there on my side, a glass of water vanished back up to the party people while I was left to drift away into a semi-sleep still mostly aware of where I was, the dull beat of the music as I drifted with me.

After a time I felt myself coming back to life still aware of the music above, maybe half an hour, an hour, couldn’t be sure, more relaxed and lighter thinking I might be ready to return to the fray.  I was on my back by now but something was different, I wasn’t alone. At first I thought it was Sarah but soon realised it was a male, two.  I didn’t recognise them.  I blearily looked at them, smiled, as you do, when I was aware of being touched; my bare arms, hands sliding up and down as I lay there.  I knew I could have moved but didn’t, it wasn’t like I’d been drugged, which I definitely hadn’t.  I did still feel relaxed despite this and stayed where I was almost enjoying it. I drifted a little almost hypnotised with a combination of the music, the beats, the punch of course, and their hands so strangely tender and warm until I felt the straps of my dress being pulled down one then the other shoulders.  “I am awake aren’t I?” my inner voice asked as I felt almost out-of-body and watching detached from it all, the strap now completely free from my arms. Hands again, one, two, maybe more slid slip, the cotton floral design, over my tummy then my hips, then one just below my breast brushing as it did which almost brought me back to my body but didn’t enough to make me want to move or even react.

They were talking, whispering, muttering words I couldn’t quite make out.  Conciliatory in tone, soft, gentle, coaxing, and as they did my arms were raised above my head and my black crop top tugged up over my breasts from under my dress and off completely.  More whispering, again on the edge of understanding what was being said though I am sure I heard “… good girl…… “ which didn’t seem to make any sense.

What surprised me even more was how relaxed I still felt, and detached but not as I was feeling everything, and intensely. I seemed to be or have already, surrendered to whatever this was, curious and puzzled at what was now unfolding… and undressing me.  My top was gone, the upper part of my dress pulled down leaving just my purple bra. My dress was eased down a little further to my navel exposing more with every inch as I lay there still not moving on my back on the blanket on the table in the cellar.   Strangely I couldn’t stop my body responding in what I can only describe ass favourable, sensually, to this attention across my semi-nakedness.

One strap of the bra was pulled down which almost made me sit up but again I failed to stir but then this was followed by a touch, a hand, flowing over my breast then squeezing, kneading, pulling at the bra cup and then the other and all I felt I could do was sigh inwardly. The thing is, it did feel good, or not bad anyway.

More whispering lowly under their breaths, and again I could barely make anything out. A pair of hands began crumpling my dress from my knees upwards to the tops of my hold-ups making me keenly aware of the view they were increasingly revealing.  My stockings started to come away being carefully and slowly encouraged from each leg one at a time.  I know my boots were removed when I was first brought down here and laid on this blanket so they proved no obstacle.    Both now removed whose ever hands moved freely up and down each time edging further up my dress.  This is when I perhaps should’ve decided it was time to return to the party but something held me there, something in me, an invisible force, clearly not their hands which were more soothing than binding.

The other pair of hands continued caressing my breast as I found myself biting my bottom lip, my legs began to part, encouraged again with hands slithering up and down until they reached my knickers, purple bikini briefs with a laced bow, and over them, my mound, as brazenly as it was, fingertips exploring unhindered.  Still I didn’t move in any way to discourage them. I felt a rush of heat between my thighs and across my entire body exciting ripples through my arms and legs, my nipples growing tenderer to the hands paying me more than a little attention.  Surely this wasn’t me, I’m not like this, this is so out of character, surely.  All these thoughts battled inside me and yet here I was, not protesting, not moving, letting happen what was happening.

Hands slipped under my back and unhooked my bra finding it easier now to release the straps and pull down the cups showing them my 32C in all their nakedness.  It’s always a relief taking off my bra at the end of a day but this was different, so insanely erotic and yet worrying I should feel so aroused by this total lack of control.

They spoke again as my bra was discarded, my attention now divided between this and the hand between my legs, exciting my thighs, keenly aware of the wetness seeping through my knickers which he was now edging more firmly into my mound, between my labia until t my surprise he raise one leg and pulled their elastic and away they came freed from my hips, bum and my sex as the other one kept firmly further enticing my nipples.

It was then I finally heard something one of them spoke, “… she definitely she wants it….”.

Did I?  I couldn’t pretend to myself I didn’t know what they had in, I was 19 yes, but a totally innocent one though in saying that not overly experienced, and definitely not with two guys at the same time on top of which as far as I knew they were total strangers. Too late, he moistened a finger in his own mouth and slide it inside me at which I bucked my hips parting them more. he fingered me for several minutes making my mind reel and my body just surrender even more which another side of me was aghast at.  Without further waiting I was pulled me to the edge of the table my legs now dangling down, to where his cock seemed to be already waiting, trousers down and at this point I found the wherewithal to raise my head and see that it was very erect and very long. My sex made contact with its clearly wet and precum as he now pushed it against between my folds now made easier by his raising my knees.  Hands gripped my hips and the other man held my arms as he urged his substantial erection deeper into my tight thighs hips, spreading me wider, every inch of him making me wince and take deeper breaths until it was all inside me or so I hoped as I didn’t think I’d take any more.  I felt his movement, his skin. His skin!

Bareback his naked skin moved against mine, sharing an intimacy between three such as this was overwhelming, exciting, and insane as well, to me anyway.  But I didn’t run away, didn’t resist, despite my insecurity, my embarrassment at being half-stripped in front of total strangers, but total strangers. He moved in and out each time feeling my thighs giving even more, my rolled like a wave across the table and over the blanket as he fucked me, we fucked, and the other guy watched, holding and keeping me just where they wanted me.  My breasts shook with each demanding thrust as I felt his momentum.

He looked down as though fascinated at his cock moving in and out of me at which each time my stomach muscles tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, with each fuck, each time his cock went deep, retreated, went deeper. He had rhythm now as I held almost unconsciously onto the other guys arms for fear of falling off the table as his fucking grew feverish now lifting my slender knees higher, harder he went until he made me cum, at which I tried to hide form them but think they noticed as I felt an intense flush across my face and thigh and tightened around his cock. After that I just knew he was close and I knew what was coming, literally.

The pace reached almost manic proportions his hips crashing into mine, again, then again, then finally cumming, releasing a tide of unstoppable seed and sperm pouring from him into me.  Again, again, and again until a huge groan signalled his end along with one last twitch of his cock and  pulling out while I tried to keep inside as much of what he left for a modicum of dignity.

I was dishevelled, shocked at myself, still bizarrely aroused, somewhat confused.  I didn’t have time to think when I definitely heard this time, “me next”, and with little formality or hesitating the other was parting my legs again at which I felt a trickle emerge and poking his erection against my clit at first making me almost lose the ability to breathe but then into my thighs.  His turn for his skin to inside me naked in such an intimate way while the other paid plenty of attention to my breast, holding me firm while I could still smell the orgasm from his now wilting cock.

He took me slowly, deep long strokes, in and then out then holding, then more of the same, very measured and patient and surprisingly tender.  He must have felt the other guys cum inside me smearing him so thoroughly but didn’t seem to mind, I fact the opposite, he seemed more turned on by it.  I closed my eyes biting my lips trying to control yet another impending orgasm but stop myself as this one lifted my hips off the table arching my back at which I may have also swore.  His cock tightening buried itself even further into me. I was no longer detached from proceeding being totally enmeshed in every emotion, sensation, reaction, almost as though for now this was all there was and nothing outside of here existed.

This orgasm took a lot out of me and I felt myself go almost limp but he held me wide, knees up, thrusting harder excited by my orgasm and no doubt wanting me to have another. I might! I felt soaked in sex while he fucked me mercilessly.  Now he was straining, quicken, my heartbeat almost bursting, his probably also, the pace exciting my clit again until he couldn’t hold back any longer and emptying a warm, sticky, white flood inside me to mix with everything that came before.

He collapsed, I collapsed, like rag dolls, with that sudden relief.  I stared up at the ceiling shocked at myself, exhausted but grinning, still light-headed, in fact more so at a certain pleasure coursing still through my body. He fell into the armchair while I pulled over a loose corner of the blanket to cover what was left, if anything, of my 19 year old modesty.  I suddenly thought where the hell was Sarah during all this?

Surely she hadn’t set me up? She was unpredictably mischievous sometimes I know but… what if she did, after all, I didn’t exactly do much to stop it.  I was snatched back into the present here and now in this dimly-lit cellar by one of them saying in hushed tones to the other something about, “… others…” as in other guys. I really should pay more attention to what people are saying in future.

opening me

© 2018 Emmaleela


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