Then he started using his mouth, licking up her thigh and onto her bare butt, where he proceeded to literally nibble on her exposed butt cheek. Holy shit, Lardo Curtis is going to fucking eat me to death in the lounge. She made a few displeased noises, but they only seemed to spur him on to nipping at her harder and harder. Fucking freak.
This was so far beyond what had been authorized, she finally made herself say something. “Um, DJ? My partner is, uh, using his mouth. And teeth.” He pulled back suddenly. The fat fucker.
“Mercedes, this is the second time I’ve had to warn you, and you’re starting to try my patience. No. Talking. If he likes you enough to want to suck on you, you should take it as a compliment and lie still and let him have his fun.”
A guy spoke up. “Are you saying we can…?”
“No no, no sex. Hands and mouths only—this is just a relaxation night, not an orgy guys.” He laughed. Laughed!
For the next half hour, Mercedes was his pliant toy. She was poked, squeezed, fondled, pinched, kissed, sucked, humped (with jeans on, but still)… and she lie there and took it. She almost pitied the guys who wound up with the ugly girls, though she wondered if they could tell the difference in the dark. Some, probably. Did Curtis even know who she was, or was she just the a vague outline of a hot girl? Did her breasts feel as good as she knew they looked?
The big lug finally decided that if he couldn’t fuck her, and wasn’t man enough to get his cock out and try something else with it, he’d settled for “tongue-massaging” her pussy. She’d thought he was done with her, actually, until she suddenly felt the presence of his broad face between her thighs, followed by a tongue gently probing her clit.
And dammit all to hell if he wasn’t actually really fucking good at eating pussy.
Mercedes soon violated her self-sworn vow not to make any noises that sounded even close to appreciative. She hadn’t wanted him to get the satisfaction of knowing that a few of his clumsy efforts struck gold. This, however, gave her no choice. She had both her fists reflexively entwined in his hair, giving him a little scalp massage of his own as he probed impressively deep inside her, ran laps around her clit, teased up and down her labia, and generally worked her cunt like an instrument.
She didn’t know it, but the whole lounge could hear her orgasm building and building as Curtis’s tongue abandoned its usual fare of ho-ho’s and pizza and found its second love, Mercedes’ pussy.
She was seconds, mere seconds away from a truly divine orgasm, when DJ spoke up again. By now, he had to raise his voice a good deal higher to be heard over Mercedes than he did for the shitty music. “All right folks, I think that’s enough. I hope you all had fun, and I hope you have safe travels and a happy Thanksgiving.”
“No! No! Almost! There! Don’t! STOP!” Mercedes panted, thighs clenching around Curtis’s doughy face. This was going to be an epic orgasm, and she didn’t want to have come this far without having something to show for it. Her partner gamely complied—probably because she was going to suffocate him with her cunt if he didn’t.
Then the light turned on, allowing just long enough for people’s eyes to recover in time for the whole floor to watch her have a shrieking orgasm sprawled out in the middle of the lounge.
Mercedes blinked, once her own vision cleared—from the light, and the blinding orgasm—and saw them staring. And she’d been wrong—Curtis was across the circle by that German girl, Cassie. Her dude was some different chubba wumba whose name she didn’t even know.
“Say thanks, ladies.”
The girls complied (except for Cassie, who murmured “danke schön” in the same flat tone as the others). “Thank you,” Mercedes muttered sullenly, looking around for her top. But it was gone.
“That was the wildest Halloween party I’ve ever been to,” Blake said to his buddy Nick.
Nick scoffed. “Betas are usually kinda lame. Three to one guy-girl ratio, sitting around watching people play beer pong.”
“Hey, I only went ‘cause my friend Will is a brother there—but this time… holy shit. It was supposed to be a ‘bottoms up’ theme—wear your underwear on the outside.”
“That’s the fucking stupidest party theme I’ve ever heard.”
“Just listen. So I went early, just hangin’ out with Will and all, and then… somebody changed the theme at the last minute. From ‘bottoms up’ to ‘tops off’.”
“What? That’s… what?”
“Yeah. I guess some dude—I dunno if he was an alum or what—just showed up and announced it, then stood at the door and enforced dress code. All the chicks had to strip from the waist up at the door.”
“Why would they even go in? Any girl I know that’s not a total fucking ho would just turn around and find another party.”
“Beats the fuck out of me, but they did. Looked all shy about it and all, but I guess once you get used to seeing everyone else walk around half-naked, you just… get with the program.”
“Huh. That’s fuckin’ nuts. I guess the Betas aren’t such total losers after all.”
“That’s not the half of it. So they get some decent music going, people start actually partying for once, then this guy—the guy I said before—comes in with this girl who’s totally naked. I mean, totally bare-ass, pussy and all.”
“She hot? C’mon, don’t hold out on me here.”
“Yeah, she’s hot. Huge tits, huge ass but like in a hot way, ya know? Like all the good parts on a fat girl but without the fat.”
“Nice. Shallow, but nice.”
“Blow me. So anyway, they’re all dancing up on each other, and I mean, everybody’s looking, ‘cause… well, they’re naked, but like we don’t wanna look like we’re looking, ‘cause like, we don’t wanna be the douche canoe armada or nothin’ with this guy, but like, you can’t not notice, right?”
“Yeah, I can see how a naked girl in the middle of a dance floor would attract the eye.”
“Yup. So then, the girl just gets down and starts blowing him, right in the middle of the party.”
“Bullshit.”
“Hand to god, man. Sucks his dick in front of everybody. And like, I don’t know what happened, but I guess once she got going, some of the other chicks musta figured it was cool, and suddenly, there’s like a half dozen blowjobs going on around the room. Guys with girlfriends, mostly, but not all. And Danni—you remember Danni, Eric’s ex, with all the tats?”
“Yeah yeah, we always called her D-block Danni, ‘cause she seemed like she’d probably gone psycho and killed someone at some point.”
“I thought she was D-cup Danni.”
“Only when she wasn’t in earshot. Big freakin’ ho, as I recall.
“Sure was—and she went down on yours truly.”
“Get the fuck outta here.”
“Hey, I’m telling you as a courtesy, man. You don’t want the details…”
“Fine, fine, keep goin’.”
“So then then the trend-setter bitch—guess she was getting whore’s cramps, ‘cause she just stands up, turns around, and the guy starts fucking her, right there.”
“I think I’m running out of ways to say ‘no way’ here.”
“Yeah. And I mean… it didn’t go viral like the other thing, but some girls got in on it, and… well, I’m proud to say our low opinion of D-block Danni was once more validated. I nailed her right up against a pillar, held her up by her ass and did it upright. Fuckin’ pro move.”
“You fucked Danni.”
“Sure did.”
“At a party. Like at a party.”