Amber’s Dirty Party

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“Well, do you think you could fuck on stage?”

His name was Brian. He was a tall man, with long but sparse black whiskers beneath too-long sideburns and ragged, unwashed-looking but somehow not greasy hair. He wore thick glasses, those kind seemingly meant to prohibit interactions with anyone cool of either sex. He was lean, but he moved with an athletes grace, not unlike a dancer, but nothing so effeminate and beautiful. His was the agility of a hunting cat, the natural strength of a wild creature of nature, not the precision dance I knew so well.

I stammered. “Uh.” Actually, there was more, but you get the point. His question caught me completely off guard.

We sat in his office, in a plush high-rise not terribly far from the school. It was a place of fine wooden desks, cherry finish on the shelves on the wall, matching finish on the desk, of ancient Chinese vases, or at least tasteful modern replicas. He wore a suit, but without a tie. It was after hours, so perhaps he had taken it off.

When he noticed my reticence, he held up one finger, then moved over to a flat-screen TV and inserted a DVD. After a moment, the picture came up, shaky and chaotic in that hand-held camcorder way that usually gives me a headache. The picture focused, and I found myself looking into the backyard of a sorority house. I was the focus. I was dancing, not like at a club, but the ballet I had been rehearsing since I was almost too small to remember. I was lithe, graceful, like a swan atop still waters. Even drunk and sexed up, I was graceful. And being naked only made it better.

Slowly, it came back to me. Man, I really fucked up. Fucked up bad. Or, depending on how you looked at it, good.

“I recently purchased this video from a trio of cheerleaders I’m – somewhat – acquainted with. I happened to catch the tail end of your performance. I loved it. You’re a natural, Amber, and I want you to come dance for us. On stage. Nude. There’ll be sex. It’s a restricted audience. Elites. People with – ah, eccentric – tastes. People who pay well for someone like you. Outside of the club and the customers, who are by nature the most discreet, no one needs to know about it. This isn’t going to end up posted online somewhere in three weeks.”

I didn’t say anything. I was busy watching the camera, tuning out Brian to recall the previous Thursday, when it all really started.

***

I woke up in bed alone in my dormitory. Now, that’s not so strange, really, except that I usually woke with Sara, my roommate, in my arms or right beside me. We’d become lovers early in the semester, though neither of us had told the men in our lives yet. It seems wrong, in a way, because I believe people should be honest with each other, especially if they’re sleeping together. Yet, keeping Sara and I a secret brought a thrill I didn’t want to end.

I sat up on the bed. Sara was in her bed, stripped, lying on her side facing away from me. The telltale stream of dried white curling away from her vagina to trail down to the sheet told me her boyfriend, Jeff, had been there in the night. I smiled for her, and yet at the same time suppressed a pang of jealousy. I liked that he treated her well and made her happy, but I also wanted her for myself. I suck in this whole honest and upright relationship thing, I know, and I know my jealousy was somewhat hypocritical, but knowing it and stopping it were two different things. I fought it that morning by wrapping myself in a towel, traipsing off to the shower, and wondering just how much of my naked body Jeff had seen last night. He never commented, and neither did Sara, but I was sure he’d seen more of me that was strictly proper.

And I liked it. I liked being naked, especially when there was a possibility someone might see. Sara was turning me from a straight girl into a bisexual exhibitionist. And I was convinced I was in love with her for it.

When I returned, Sara was waiting on the edge of her bed. She looked serious, far too serious, so I sat on my bed and waited.

“Jeff proposed to me last night,” she said.

I felt my jaws tighten. I fought a surge of jealous anger the way you might fight off a rabid dog. Suddenly I hated Jeff, but somehow, I managed to grin. I don’t know how. As mad as I was, it shouldn’t have worked. Or maybe it didn’t work, and Sara understood. She’s creepy-smart like that sometimes.

“That’s awesome. Have you set a date?”

She shook her head.

I waited. There was more. She had that look.

“What do you want to do, Amber?”

“Well, I was thinking I’d go catch my cursed Sociology class, and after that find something to eat.”

“No, I mean about us.”

I shrugged. “What can we do?”

“Well, there’s option A, we can confess everything. Only, I think that’d hurt Jeff. I mean, he likes the girl on girl thing when we sneak a porno, just like any guy, but he’s extremely hesitant around you, about you. If we were other people, or I didn’t know both of you as well as I do, I’d think he’d cheated on me with you, but I just can’t see it.”

I got up, sat beside her. “Listen, Sara. Jeff’s hot, and zenci porno I’d be lying if I said there weren’t days I wished it was my bed he was crawling into. But he’s never touched me, and I’m not planning on trying anything with him.”

She put her hand on my knee. Even as mad as I was, her touch was electric. Oh, I so wanted her to slide those fingers on up. Of course, that was about the time I remembered Sociology coming up.

“Thank you, and I trust you, Amber. Let’s see. We could do the opposite, and just not tell anyone, but that kind of feels wrong, like a betrayal, even more than not telling anyone so far.”

I nodded. She was right.

“Or, we could sort of bring them into it slowly, you know, sort of hint around and tease around until one day, while he’s here, we just start making out.”

She blinked. “It’d have to stop there, of course. I know you don’t want to share Tom, and I’m not ready to share Jeff either. I’m sorry, I want you to myself, and I want him to myself. I know that’s selfish and wicked of me, but…”

“I know what you mean, Sara. I understand. But if we make out, by accident as it were, and Jeff sees us, then he’ll know something’s up, and we can kind of see what he thinks.”

I sighed. “I hate to lose ‘us’ just because some guys don’t like that we’re together, or they don’t like it because we didn’t invite them along.”

Sara leaned back. She took my towel, wrapped it around herself. She did that sometimes. Said she liked it because it smelled so much like me, all wet and used.

“Well, these aren’t just any guys, they’re our men.”

“Yes, I know. Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…”

“Well, we’ve got a little time. Let’s think about it, and maybe we’ll think of a better answer.”

I went to the closet as she moved to the door. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”

Sara smiled and opened the door. Just as she did, a guy and two chicks from down the hall walked past. All three of them got a good look at me just standing there, buck-naked, reaching into the closet for my clothes. All three of them hesitated. Sara gasped, closed the door. I laughed, pulled out a skirt and a light shirt. I wasn’t offended. In spite of everything, I wasn’t offended. I rather kind of liked it.

The rest of my day passed fitfully. I aced a calculus test, blew the hell out of the bell-curve, and pissed off the trendy gaggle of girls that sit in the front row with their designer hair, designer clothes, and designer accessories. I didn’t even take a calculator to class, and for some reason, that pissed them off. Most days. That day, after class, they came up to me, three of them, Mandy, Brandi, and Jean. Three blondes. Three so-called perfect women.

“You’re the smartest girl we know,” Jean said. “We’d like to study with you sometime.”

I heard warning klaxons. You know, the kind that say the world is about to end? Jean blinked her designer lashes at me. I shrugged. “I’ll give you my number. Call me Monday, after lunch. We’ll talk about it.”

“Oh,” Brandi said, blinking the exact same lashes. I wondered if their underwear matched. “We’re having a party at our sorority house tomorrow night. You’re invited, if you want to come. Eight o’clock.”

“I’m afraid you girls are going to be out past my bedtime. I’ve got more tests to study for.”

I could have said ace. Or bell-curves to blow.

Well, I could have.

“No,” Mandy said, kind and soft, with slightly different lashes. At least one of them varied. A little. “It’s cool. We’ll call you Monday, okay. We could definitely use a little extra help on that last section.”

Right. They were up to something, and it wasn’t studying with me.

“Great.” I jotted my number down, smiled once at the three of them, and left.

After that, I went back to the dorm and waited for Sara. I’d struggled enough with the whole admitting my relationship with my bi-sexual roommate thing long enough to know that I wasn’t going to come up with an answer that didn’t mess up something I’d rather keep. I shook my head more than once, at myself, and my lack of a good answer to a problem that just seemed to develop on its own.

Sara called me later, a lot later than I would have liked, and told me she was going out with Jeff, so I buckled down to study. I went for a run, flirted with the cute little female attended I’d been chatting with ever since that rainy day Sara and I seduced each other, and finally returned to look at next week’s calculus and my crappy Sociology report.

Sometime after midnight, I felt weight crawling between my legs. An erection pressed between my hot, slick labia. It took me a moment to catch on. It was Tom, because Sara’s cock was plastic and probably wouldn’t be so warm without already being wet. Yes, I could tell that he was dry. Oh yeah, and Sara’s toy doesn’t throb by itself. I sighed as he pushed in, filled me, rolled my head as he nuzzled my neck with bristly whiskers. I liked his whiskers, but I liked Sara’s smooth skin more. That was when I knew it was time to just break it off with zorla seks porno Tom. I wanted Sara more. Hell, I think I wanted that little geeky gymnasium attendant more. Sara had kind of broke my guy hunger. Or maybe I had just never been all that into Tom to begin with. It really wasn’t fair to him, but neither was dragging it out.

Oh, hell, if I’d only figured it out before he was inside me…

Well, he did have a nice package. And he was attentive. I’d tell him after the weekend. Monday, maybe. Yeah, that would be good.

And then he came, spurting and driving and groaning. I let him settle, let him roll off me. I didn’t try for my own with him. He’d felt good, but I wanted Sara. I let him drool out of me, and drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t much later, I don’t think, when I woke again. It was still quite dark. I crawled out of the bed without waking Tom and went over to Sara’s bed. As usual, she was naked, almost spread-eagle, and I crawled between her legs, put my tongue on her clit.

And tasted man.

Jeff, I thought to myself. Sneaky bastard had been there. Was he there still? Was he out in the bathroom? I checked for shoes or wallet. Nothing. He was gone already. I moved back to Sara’s used pussy and licked her until she curled up and came around my face, gushing Jeff’s seed all over me. That had a wicked, wicked feeling to it, and when she went back to sleep, I teased myself to a small, quiet, but very much needed orgasm before returning to my own bed and hiding from Tom.

That morning, he was gone, and Sara cried when she saw I was awake. I sat up quickly. She sat beside me, and I noticed that she was dressed as if to go to class, only I was pretty sure she didn’t have a class Friday morning.

“I don’t know any good way to tell you this, Amber,” she said, “so I’m going to just come right out and say it. I fucked Tom last night.”

I froze. My jealousy and anger from the previous morning returned. I turned so angry I wanted to hit her. I know a thousand angry masks must have crossed my face. Somehow, like before, I didn’t say anything at all. I suppose it was the tiny voice in my mind, back there behind the closets and skeletons and secrets, that told me this was all my own fault. That voice didn’t curb the anger any, but it kept me from lashing out.

“I didn’t want to,” she said. “I mean, well, he just came over a little after you two finished. I thought he was lost, so I started to push him back towards your bed, but he found my tits, and at the same time, I found his cock. I didn’t want to but it was all hard and wet and smelled of your sex. I wanted to taste it, suddenly, like you do with me sometimes, and then he was pushing me down and he was inside me and I couldn’t stop.”

“So Jeff wasn’t here last night.”

Her eyes hit the floor. She shook her head.

I got up. She followed me with weepy, puppy-dog eyes. I grabbed some clothes, a towel, and my shower gear.

“Don’t talk to me right now, okay. This is all fucked up and I don’t know what I’m thinking or doing, so I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve got classes. I’ll talk to you later.”

And then I walked naked all the way down to the showers.

That day passed way worse than the day before. I was pissed, but it was at least as much at me and my inability to manage everything as it was at Sara and Tom. But as time passed, and the things that had happened that night simmered in my mind, I got angrier. I got so angry that by lunch, I tracked down Mandy and her designer friends and told them I’d come to the party.

I’m not a drinker. Usually I disdain alcohol and the people who drink it. That night, though, I wanted to get fucking plastered.

I didn’t talk to Sara that night. I left her crying. I was a bitch.

The sorority house was a big place, like one of those old Victorian Era homes, almost more mansion than mere house. Dozens of people filled the porch, the foyer, and the entrance hall. People watched me. I ignored them. I went to one room where jocks in team jerseys dispersed beer from a keg on the balcony overhead to a crowd of men and women vying for a turn at the clear hose that hung down to face level. I moved through the room, angling for the door on the other side, where I saw a quieter space.

I’m still not sure how it happened, but suddenly I was next in line at the hose. Everyone around me chanted, and without thinking, I put the clear tube between my lips. Someone signaled the guys overhead, and the tube shook with the force of the beer jetting down. I hate beer. It tastes awful. It stinks. I clamped my mouth down around the tube and let the putrescent liquid burst into my mouth. I guzzled it, swallowed it as fast as I could, and what I didn’t swallow spilled from my mouth, poured over my chin, and spread across my shirt. I’d worn a thin bra that day, and when I finally lifted my head and released the tube, panting, my soft bra and nipples showed quite clearly.

The throng cheered, and the beer in the tube stopped. Someone grabbed my ass. Some chick slid up to me. She was hot and skanky at the same time. She kissed me, which brought on more cheers, and her hands and at least two others pawed my breasts. I laughed, broke away from them, and moved into the next room.

Someone followed me, and as I entered a dark, quiet place beneath the sink, soft hands caught my wrist. I stopped, turned, staggering, and someone pressed right against me. She was shorter than me, plumper, but not overly so. Men would call her curvaceous. I’d been fooling around enough with Sara to enjoy the way this girl’s knee moved between mine, and the way her breasts made a sort of shelf beneath mine. Her arms went around my waist, and before I knew what was happening, she was suckling at my neck, slurping, tasting, licking the beer I had lost, and grinding her pelvis against my thigh. She was wearing soft cotton shorts, green, that seemed somehow to disappear as she humped me.

I cupped her ass in my hands, thought of Sara, and tried to decide I the softness I felt beneath my fingers was shorts or panties. My nails found the backs of her upper thighs, raked into her. I reached beneath the bottoms of the garment, decided it was panties, and a second later, I was rubbing her anus with two index fingers.

“Gawd, that’s hot,” the chick gasped into my shoulder. She lifted her face to mine, sucked at my lower lip. It was Brandi, from Calculus. I teased the moistened sinkhole of her vagina with one middle finger, kept my other finger working her ass.

“I knew you liked girls,” she whispered before kissing me again. “I see you with your roommate. There’s no way to hide that kind of electricity.”

“Let’s go someplace else,” I whispered, “before I turn you upside down and drink you.”

Her eyes lit, drunk, glassy, horny, and wild.

“Oh, feeling frisky are we?”

“You started it.”

She kissed me again. “I did, didn’t I? Well, if you’re feeling a little wild, why don’t we go to the game room?”

“What’s in the Game Room?”

“It’s just a place where the more mature of us can unwind. Let’s just say it’s a much cooler party in there than out here.”

I took her hand. “Okay.”

Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was just how pissed I was at Sara and Tom. Or maybe I was just ready to be wilder. We went towards the back of the house and came to a door with a paper sign at the top that read, “Game Room.” Brandi grinned, pushed through the door, and there we froze.

The door clicked behind us.

The first thing I noticed was that the room was full of people, fifty or seventy. They were mostly in their underwear. A few were even missing that. I saw Brandi’s friend Jean and she wore only a bra. Some didn’t have anything on at all. Everyone had crowded around a table on the far side of the room, where Mandy stood atop the table. She was stripped down to her underwear, but had a microphone.

“Well, hello, girls. You’ve just come to the game room, and we were about to get started. Shuck your clothes and come on over. Oh, before you do, try the doors.”

I pushed on the door. It didn’t budge.

“That’s right. You can’t leave until you play, and for starters, you have to strip. Underwear or nothing, ladies.”

Brandi cupped my ass with one hand. “So, still feeling frisky? I’m dying to see you without that shirt.”

I know I turned red. There was humiliation, but was also excitement. I’d become something of an exhibitionist over the past few weeks, and now I was really in a good place to show off my body. It seems lame, at times, to think about it like that. I’ve never been one to show off. I’ve always been modest. Proper. Here I was carrying on with my roommate and boyfriend at the same time. There I was, having sex in the nude on the rooftop. There I was standing in a room of half-naked people, contemplating stripping in front of them.

Brandi moved beside me, and when I glanced her way, she was wearing only a bra. The bra was one o those half-cup things I’d never wear, and her nipples jutted over the top, thick and swollen. I felt a tingle through my insides. Had I done that?

I pulled my top off, handed it to a girl beside the door, who wrote a number in marker on my shoulder. I dropped my skirt, stood there in my underwear, and she took the skirt as well.

“All right,” Mandy crowed. “Everybody ready? It’s time to play.”

Brandi took my hand and pulled me over to the crowd. People watched us, some stoic, some interested. I saw a girl from Calculus, another of Brandi’s crowd. She grinned. Others appeared almost angry. I tried to ignore their stares.

“Here’s how it works,” Mandy continued. “We all get to play, except for Janice, over there. She’s got a special condition that makes her exempt.”

She pointed to the woman that had taken our clothes. Janice waved, and I finally noticed the pregnant bulge of her tummy.

“Like I said, we all play, even me. We’ve got numbers. When your number comes up, we bring you up front, where you get to choose between two depraved or slightly kinky acts. The kinky act gets you two points. The depraved one gets you five points. For every round that you don’t do something, you lose one point. But, you can’t go below zero.” She hesitated, as if hungry and excited, and her fingers brushed over the front of her panties. “If you get to zero, we take pictures. Oh, and if you don’t play, you don’t get your clothes back.”

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