mal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in">It was around eleven in the morning on my day off from work. I was comfy; relaxing in a t-shirt and shorts, lounging on my couch with my feet propped up on the coffee table, my laptop balanced on my thighs and bumming around on a singles site when I got the message. I clicked it open and scanned the attached note.

 

            It was from a woman who called herself LadyLoveBBW. I didn’t know her real name. Her profile had been one of the first to show up when I’d joined the site. She was an older woman – which turned me on – easing into her late 40’s. In her photo she was a little chubby, but she had a great big rack and nice taste in lingerie, so I thought, what the hell?

 

I sent her a tentative proposition, just for fun. I didn’t think she’d even reply, since I hadn’t uploaded a picture of myself, and my profile really didn’t seem to match what she was looking for. She was attached, engaged to be married, with a couple kids already, and she was doing this on the sly. She wanted to meet someone to share erotic emails, maybe meet a man to develop a short-term – and discreet – relationship.

 

That sort of crap.

 

I just wanted to fuck. And her picture made me horny. In my first email to her, I sent her some dumb story I made up about meeting her at a hotel, with lots of kissing and caressing, candles and wine – everything I could come up with. A big, steaming load of romantic bullshit.

 

Color me surprised when she emailed me back. She continued with my story, writing shit about how she wanted to kneel before me and handle my massive member, swallowing me whole until I was ready to cum, sucking my dick until I couldn’t wait any longer, and then she’d pull me down on top of her hot, naked body and…

 

It went on and on like that. The shit got me so horny I jacked off reading it, came in a flood. After I cleaned up, I emailed her right back with another story, this one spiced up a little more, and not quite so romantic.

 

Next day at noon, boop, she emailed me back with a picture, a chest shot of her in the shower, her titties all soapy and wet. First time I saw her face, too, just in profile. She was smiling over her shoulder at me, soap running down her back and over her big, fat, dimpled ass, using her hands to cup her breasts. She was chunky, yeah, but still…cute.

 

Had to jack off after that, too. I sent her a reply and included another story. I also told her I was jealous of her washcloth.

 

Then I got busy and couldn’t check my mail for a few days. When I finally did, she’d left me not one, not two, but three replies, all with pictures and stories. Her last email asked me to send her a photo of myself.

 

So I broke out my crummy camera phone, snapped a shot of my mug, nothing sexy, just my face, and emailed it to her. Literally ten minutes later, she sent me a reply, saying she was at work and really horny, and asked if I’d like to meet her for ‘lunch’. That’s just how she wrote it, too, with the quotations – ‘lunch’.

 

She gave me a place and a time and said that she’d meet me there.

 

How could I refuse? I gussied myself up a little – threw on some jeans that weren’t full of holes, a clean black t-shirt, some comfortable leather boots and my old biker jacket. I ran my hand through my hair and grabbed my car keys, the drove like a bat out of hell the mile and a half over to Broadway and Fremont, a trendy area of town that was chock-full of upscale bistros and over-priced restaurants. I drove and hunted until I found a parking spot only a block or two from the restaurant, then I locked my car and hoofed it along with the rest of the lunch crowd.

 

The restaurant was pretty nice, only a few months old, and I hadn’t been there. It was a little out of my price range – well, okay, a lot – but you know, you only live once. I was a few minutes early, but opened the door and slipped into the waiting area.

 

I entered to the sound of soft, piped in piano music, hushed conversation and fine silverware tinkling on china plates. The dining room was bright and wide open with lots of big, picture windows, and there was a full bar set up in the back of the restaurant. The piano seemed to loose a beat when I stepped inside. The chatter and clatter hushed, and a lot of perfectly coiffed heads turned my way. Everyone seemed to be wearing expensive, tailored business suits, the only difference between the sexes being that I didn’t see any of the men wearing short power skirts.

 

I stuck out like a bloody turd swirling in a plugged-up crapper. Inconspicuous is my middle name.

 

The hostess gave me a sly once-over. I grinned at her while I ignored the stares and the whispers from the other patrons in the waiting area. “Can I help you?” she asked, and flipped through a reservation book laid out on the polished wooden stand in front of her.

 

She was strikingly attractive, tall and lean with long, straight hair so dark it was almost black. She cocked her head off to one side and leaned arrogantly on the pedestal stand, kept up with her silent appraisal of me. I tried not to notice the way her big tits strained against the buttons of her blouse.

 

She hadn’t had me thrown out yet. I supposed that was something, so I tried to make nice. “Um,” I said. “I was supposed to meet someone for lunch…?”

 

She stared at me some more, until I got uncomfortable. “Was there a name?”

 

Was there? I thought about the email she sent.... “I think…the message I got said something about a private booth…?”

 

That sly smile crept back over her lips. She cocked her head to one side and reappraised me. After a moment, she said, “Follow me.”

 

I did. In a corner behind the bar, was a booth sandwiched behind two gleaming walnut partitions. The table was set for one, sparkling silverware and crystal on a pure white cotton tablecloth. The hostess stood off to one side, her grin fixed in place.

 

She had a dimple at the side of her lips. I hadn’t noticed it before. It was cute. And she looked strangely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it…

 

“Have a seat, sir,” she said, and indicated the booth.

 

 I slid into the booth. The seat was soft brown leather – real leather! – that crinkled under my butt as I settled in. “Um, excuse me,” I asked, “but have we met?”

 

The hostess just smiled and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

 

“That sounded like a line, I know, but…I could swear…”

 

She shook her head again. I liked how her dark hair tumbled around her slim shoulders. “No. Enjoy your meal sir. Your server will bring it right out.”

 

“My what? Hey…” I began as she turned and started to walk away. I looked down at my plate and realized that I was still alone. “Excuse me? I was waiting for someone else to arrive…”

 

“I know.” The hostess glanced back over her shoulder. Her eyes twinkled. Her dimple dimpled.

 

With another flip of her hair, she was gone, leaving me alone with my reflection staring back at me out of my empty plate and my head full of questions. I looked around trying to see where she skipped off to. I could see glimpses of the people dining around me, and found that I could catch snatches of conversation from their tables, but I was tucked nicely away in a blind spot.

 

Probably so I wouldn’t interrupt the rich folks’ digestion.

 

While I was twisting in my seat, a slick, bow-tied waiter and a busboy came. The busboy filled my water glass with ice water, and the waiter brought me an appetizer plate. They smiled and backed away without saying a word.

 

What the fuck? I hadn’t ordered anything yet.

 

I stared at the plateful of golden fried onion rings and other assorted little tidbits, and waited until my stomach growled loud enough for the people at the other tables to notice. It was ten minutes after I was supposed to meet my date. I figured that she was either running really late, or she fucking stood me up.

 

Or set me up, I wasn’t sure which yet.

 

Either way, my stomach growled again. So I tried a bite of the onion rings.

 

Mm. Tasty. Another growl ripped from my stomach. It didn’t need to bother. I dug in with a vengeance.

 

For a brief second, I wondered why I hadn’t seen a menu yet. And then my waiter was back, with a busgirl this time. She looked like she was right out of high school; much cuter than the dumpy busboy from before. They whisked away my empty appetizer plate and replaced it with a sizzling sirloin steak with all the trimmings.

 

“Voila.” My waiter stood back while I eyed the huge chunk of meat. “Enjoy. If I can be of further service, please just call.”

 

“Okay, but…” I looked up. They were already gone, just a light scent of the busgirls perfume to let me know they were even there, leaving me alone with my meal.

 

“Well, hell,” I sighed and picked up my fork and a steak knife. I dug in, hoping I’d brought enough money with me to pay for this. I took a bite of the steak. It was so tender; it literally melted in my mouth. “Oh my God…”

 

A friend of mine once said she thought food was better than sex. I don’t know about that, but I chewed happily, thinking that even if I did get stood up, things weren’t all that bad. I cut another bite of steak, tried it with a chunk of sautéed mushroom, and sampled the baked potato. Another contented sigh escaped my lips.

 

And then I almost jumped out of my skin.

 

There was something under the table.

 

“Holy sh—!”

 

I jerked backwards, bumping the table with my knees. Dishes rattled. A pair of hands locked around my thighs, pinning me to the seat.

 

“Shhh.” A whisper, from under the table. “Calm down. It’s me. Just keep eating.”

 

I looked around. Nobody around me seemed to care what was going on. No one came running to see what all the commotion was about.

 

“Jesus, you scared me!” I hissed.

 

I heard a quiet, feminine laugh, and the hands shifted away from my thighs and began gently petting my crotch.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“What are you…” I bent at the waist and tried to raise the tablecloth, but my hands were slapped away.

 

“Don’t do that. You just enjoy your lunch, baby.”

 

She was tugging open my belt, unbuttoning my jeans. When my fly was open, I felt a warm hand reach into my underpants and pull me free. I was uncomfortably hard already, and a yummy sound drifted out from underneath the table.

 

My legs were pushed open wider. They curved around a soft body that squeezed closer to my crotch. Then something warm and soft and moist completely engulfed me. I jerked again as the woman under the table swallowed me. Her lips slowly slid down the shaft of my cock.

 

“Oh shit!”

 

I grabbed the sides of the table hard, and smacked the back of my skull against the wall behind me. I held on for dear life as she began slurping my dick, slowly working her mouth up and down my cock. Her hands shifted again. They circled my waist and slipped into the back of my jeans. She tickled the top of my ass with her fingernails, then shoved her hands down into my underpants and cupped my butt-cheeks.

 

She bobbed her head and squeezed my ass. She was squished, pinned between my thighs, and my cock was long enough that she couldn’t just bob her head up and lift her mouth off my dick. I could hear her gulp for air. Unless she moved – and I didn’t think there was enough room under the table to lift her head that far – she had to keep her mouth clamped around me and breathe through her nose.

 

God, that turned me on. Just the though of her down there, barely able to move…It was heavenly.

 

Little slurping noises drifted up, and I closed my eyes. A strange, random thought filtered through my head – how the hell did she expect me to eat while – whooo! – while she went down on me? There was no way. I couldn’t even pry my hands away from the table. I was as stuck in one place as she was.

 

She worked me nice and slow, pulling me along, bringing me right to the point of release. But every time I’d stiffen up, wanting to let go and cum, she’d back off a little, just enough to keep me going. It was during one of those little mini-orgasms that my waiter decided to see how I was doing.

 

He poked his head around the partition and noticed my full plate of cooling food.

 

“Sir? Is something wrong? How is your meal?”

 

I managed a grin that I hoped didn’t look to weird. “Everything’s – unh! – fine.” Deep breath, squirm in my seat. Another deep breath. “Thanks…hey, uh, wait a minute, ufff! Maybe a doggy bag…”

 

“Very good sir.” His eyebrow shot up and he gave me an odd look, but he nodded and his head disappeared.

 

I heard a chuckle from under the table. The woman under the table was resting her head on my thigh. Her hair tickled. One of her hands was cupping my balls, and her other hand was still buried in my underpants. She alternated between licking the tip of my cock with her wet tongue and then going down hard on me, deep-throating my dick until her lips were pressed against my belly.

 

She kept me like that, running her tongue back and forth along the underside of my shaft, letting the muscles in her neck squeeze me, just moving enough to keep up the friction.

 

I felt the orgasm start in my toes. It built and built until I couldn’t breathe. I squeezed the table, digging my fingers in hard enough to leave marks. My ass started to twitch and I blew my load right down her throat. I was coming so hard I gasped, right when the waiter dropped off my fucking doggy bag. My hand shot to my forehead, covering my eyes while I tried to keep my body from twitching spastically.

 

“Um,” He plopped the Styrofoam container on the table and stared at me. “Can I get you anything else…sir? Dessert, perhaps?”

 

“Um,” twitch. “…no, thanks.” I managed to squeak. “I’m,” twitch. “…good. Just the” twitch. “check. Please.”

 

The waiter blinked at me a couple times, then: “Very good sir. But your meal has already been paid for.”

 

I managed to look up. “What…?”

 

“The lady who ordered your meal already paid for your check.”

 

I felt the wet tongue lazily circle my cock, slowly cleaning me up. A hand gently patted my thigh.

 

“Oh.” I said.

 

“Have a good afternoon, sir.”

 

He backed away again. Warm hands tucked my cock away, slipped it carefully back into my underpants, and then zipped me up. I heard a light jingle as my belt was hooked back into place, and then my crotch got another light pat.

 

“Bye, sweetie.” A whisper from under the table. “Lunch was yummy. Write me soon.”

 

“Oh,” I said again. “Okay.”

 

I grabbed my leather jacket and slid carefully out of the booth. Heads turned again as I stood up, and I felt myself flush. I slipped the jacket on in a pathetic effort to hide my burning cheeks, even though I don’t think anyone realized what had just happened.

 

The hostess winked and gave me her little grin before I walked outside. Right there, I knew that she knew. She leaned on her pedestal, showing me a nice round ass and tiny waist; oozing her sultry, come-hither vibe. She flicked her hair over a slim shoulder, wrapped her arms under her breasts, batted her eyes and waved, wiggling her fingers.

 

I shoved open the door and found myself back on the sidewalk, smack dab in the hustle and bustle of lunch hour traffic. The wind was cold, so I turned up the collar of my jacket and started off towards my car. I’m not sure why, but just as I got to the corner, I glanced back through the picture windows into the restaurant.

 

Crawling out from under my table was the woman from my emails. She was dressed in a dark navy power suit, just like all the other business people there enjoying their lunch. She ran a finger across her lips, patted her hair and smoothed down her skirt. Then she headed for the door, like nothing had happened. She walked away like it was no big deal that she’d just crawled out from under a table, in a restaurant full of staring rich folk.

 

She waved to the hostess, who gave her that patented little sly grin back, and she calmly walked out. That’s when I realized why the hostess had seemed so familiar to me. The two women were spitting images of each other – give or take twenty years or so.

 

Mother and daughter? Must be. Had to be.

 

Did they plan this together? Nice.

 

Very sneaky, I thought, and wondered, what else do they do together?

 

I grinned to myself and watched the lady as she moved off down the sidewalk, heading away from the spot I was standing, her big ass swishing from side to side with each step. I watched until she turned the corner and disappeared. Then I decided it was time to go myself.

 

When I turned to leave, I caught the hostess staring at me through the window.

 

She was laughing, quietly, to herself. A private little laugh, just between me and her. She flashed me the smile. Gave me the dimple. Then she ran her tongue lightly along her lips and blew me a kiss. A warm tingle shot up my spine, gave me goosebumps. The tiny hairs on my arms and neck stood up. The kiss looked and felt like an invitation, like a promise of things to come.

 

This time I waved back.

 

She smiled again and played with her reservation book. I felt her eyes on me, burning into the back of my head as I left for my car. I could hardly wait to get my next email. I was so excited that I didn’t realize I’d forgotten to take the rest of my food until I pulled up into my driveway.

 

Ah, who cares? The meal was free, anyway. I could always make a sandwich while the computer boots up.

 

 

~ Fin. ~

es they’d always do the same stuff. They’d start kissing madly from the first moment you saw them. It didn’t occur to them to stop touching, feeling, and groping each other in places like the kitchen, the bathroom, or the bedroom. They’d bump into you and apologize, then madly lip lock right under your nose—this if you acted like you didn’t see them. They’d get super drunk usually, then one of Brandi’s friends would step in, drive them home or some shit.

    Brandi would be the life of the party. There was this story that she was dared to kiss someone’s sleeping infant son in another room. A friend of mine confirmed that she really followed through on the dare, following her into the kid’s room, waking him up, and tongue-kissing for everybody to see.

 

     Near the last day of school, an acquaintance of mine mentioned another party at the House; we called it—a place 20 minutes drive from town right at the river. Out there we could really cut loose and the cops wouldn’t know because there were no neighbors.

   “Are you guys gonna party at the House?”

   “Why, is there a party tonight?”

   “When is there not one? I can’t remember all of the times, well”, she laughed, “cuz I was probably drunk off my ass the whole time.”

   “no kidding, girl.”

 

   At this party, Brandi and Brad showed up already warm and toasty, and proceeded to drink and drink some more, and were getting real loopy and noisy. I worked with my boyfriend, he’s pretty popular himself, to see if we could get each of them not just drunk, but piss-in –your-pants- standing up drunk!

   First we made sure that they weren’t together in the same room. Brad got into this competition for drinking shots and like we expected, he sat down and didn’t get up for a while.

  Meanwhile we got some girls to dare Brandi to drink an unopened bottle of schnapps, (what she’d tasted before she got to the House who knows) and we got her to drink the whole bottle. They cheered every time she drank more. I loved this—she’s such a bitch now, you can’t talk to her. I decided that tonight I’m going to fuck up her ass…her whole act.

 

   Brandi was already so tipsy that she would teeter toward you and expect you to catch her, Patrick, my boyfriend’s buddy, caught her. And I told him that maybe she wanted to party even harder and that he should turn up more schnapps. So he went looking and left us alone in the kitchen, and then she turned menacing

    “You’re shit, man.” She slurred, waving her index finger at my nose.

   “Excuse me?”

   “You’re trying to fuck with me” her eyes narrowed at me

   “What are you talking about?”

    “You’re behind this cons-shpir-ashy to make me a shithead around campus.”       

   “There’s no conspiracy, Brandi.” I turned to Patrick’s direction, “hey hurry up with that Schnapps!” I yelled.

   Right then Patrick returned waving a bottle, and then her eyes opened into a happy, baby face, forgetting her accusations of me. “Try this, it’s orange-flavored” Brandi crushed up to Patrick, opening her jaw so that most of his mouth could enter hers and they sucked on each others tongues warmly for a few minutes. “Come on you guys, we got a party to start here, remember?” I said.

   “Miss pissy, here…” Patrick mumbled toward me.

  

  

   Meanwhile I checked on Brad’s progress in the den.

   We encouraged Brad to kiss Nicki, this slutty girl there at the party. That went great. I used my dad’s video camera to do close ups of her slopping her tongue inside his mouth. I unbuttoned her jeans and actually took his hand and put in on her crotch.  He got the idea and began sliding his fingers rhythmically over her gap. Soon, both wearing only shirts, their jeans were gathered at the ankles.  Her trimmed pubs showed and his medium sized dick was flopping around.

   Brandi, in another room, was not standing up very well. “What, Brandi’s trying to talk.” Our friend Steve said, “I think Brandi wants to go somewhere.”  “

   “Where?” I played along

  “I think she said, trip. Brandi wants to drive somewhere.”

  “Let’s help her out, huh?” I moved things along.

 

 

There were some older people there who checked in on the sex in the room and liked it. One guy said, “Hope you don’t mind if my husband and I join in, do you?”

“Naw, go ahead they like that, “I acted like a pimp.

  

Both these people started taking off their clothes, arranging Brad and Nicki into different positions and asking me to tape them and show it back. They were a lot of fun.

   I would’ve stayed longer but I heard this large bang, like someone slamming the lid of an empty dumpster. Everyone was outside looking.

   “Oh look Brandi, had an accident” someone said. Her dad’s new, black BMW was aimed into the side of the House; a trashcan was now really skinny, having been smashed. People were running to see. Someone opened the car door and roused her. Brown hair in her eyes, but she wasn’t hurt. “Hi” she said to the first guy there. She turned to kiss him and he rolled sideways onto her lap and pulled her mouth down to his, they were openly probing each other’s mouths ignorant of the world. One guy squeezed onto the drivers side and said, “Hey let me try” 

   This guy took over madly kissing Brandi. The first guy there was sticking his arm down her jeans and rubbing. It looked really hot. The party was starting off great I thought, ‘there was an orgy happening in the den and now sex in a car in front of an audience’.

   I heard some girl behind me say, “shit that’s her dad’s BMW, is he gonna be pissed”

 

 

   The two guys working Brandi from front and back made her body rise out of the drivers’ seat like she was floating.  That must’ve been an orgasm because she made these animal grunting sounds too. The second guy got out and pulled her head out of the car upside down. His pants were already at his ankles so he just forced his erection right into the cheerleader’s throat. Once it got there, he moved it and moved it some more. The other guy was still feeling her up with both hands. One leg of hers climbed over the seat because she couldn’t contain the pleasure any longer.

   “Deeper, bitch” the guy’s blowjob kept getting deeper and more velvety. Brandi looked like a professional porn star.

                                                           

   Now that both boys had cum they started goosing Brandi to drive somewhere in the BMW.

   “Where do you wanna go, Brandi?” Dean, a friend of Patrick’s, asked.

   “To a party” she said timidly

   “Okay, start up your car, then.”

   She sat dazed looking behind the wheel not taking any action, and then finally snapped out of it. “gimme my keys” she whined.

   One guy checked through the window and he motioned to the five or six of us standing around watching. “Look they’re in the ignition, stupid” I yelled at her.

   “Huh?” Brandi looked back at us.

    Dean reached thought the window and twisted the ignition key, that brought the car to humming life. “Okay, girl, Put it in drive, now.”

   Now everyone scattered because of being afraid that she might plow right though us all. Some girls had that gesture going, of hand covering the mouth, a horror reaction to what she might do behind the wheel. She smiled happily at us. The car went into reverse and rolled a short distance before striking a concrete wall that blocks kids from going down to the river edge. At the moment of impact her brown hair did a blow-back and fell into her eyes.

   We started yelling things at her like “no, forward” and got to see her managing small forward directions by fits, as if not sure where the gas pedal was.

  “Why doesn’t someone stop her?” a girl asked.

We all watched as Brandi made it onto the main highway turned right and disappeared. “Man, she’s loose” one guy shouted in mock seriousness. Immediately Patrick ran for his pick up truck, with Dean and another guy following. Two girls ran past me for their cars, and I didn’t want to miss this either. Dean opened the passenger door for me at the last minute, and soon we were following Brandi’s BMW.

 

   She used both lanes, slowed for no reason, and then took off for no reason. Finally we were up to 65 miles per hour, but she’d pull away quickly. “Just keep up,” Dean said to the driver. “No problem, yet.” Patrick answered.

   Headlights from an oncoming car were in the distance and Brandi was using its lane, so all we did was watch. “If she don’t move over, smack!” Dean said clapping his hands for emphasis.

   She slowly edged over back into her lane, but drifted off to the right shoulder, sending dust and rocks back are way to pelt the truck.. For some reason the beemer stayed on the shoulderof the road, but all three of our cars were still going 65, though the BMW was tearing out the dirt of someone’s property. “Doesn’t’ that thing have 4 wheel drive?” someone asked brightly, “yeah, but it’s a tire thing. The road is too high or the tire is too small.” We could all see a wooden mailbox post in the headlight distance, but before we could say anything, Brandi’s car whacked it at high speed, disintegrating it instantly, sending the pieces flying backwards at us. “Ah, fun” someone gasped.

   The beemer made a sharp left turn which put it back on pavement, but now was out of control twisting to the left and right. “Doing donuts at sixty” Dean announced like a sports play by play.

   We lost sight of the pin wheeling beemer owing to the cloud of smoke, but thrilled as the great looking, high performance head lights strobed thru the fog of road dust ahead of us.

   Once we got to the stopped car. Brandi was already on foot. “Didja see, did I hit a dog!” she said with tears forming. She looked the same since we last saw her except for some blood around her bottom lip. When she smiled we could see this was because she was missing two teeth. “Where is it, where’s the dog?” she was nearly hysterical. It was hilarious.

   “Um honey, there is no dog,” Patrick said slowly and flatly.

   “There wasn’t a dog, but you killed a mailbox” I said sarcastically

  “What?” she answered dreamy eyed and began twirling her hair, forgetting about the dog.

   “What sa’, ‘sa box” she stuttered

   I stepped in to shake her angrily but instead she tipped over all by herself and was caught by dean like a trophy.

   “I’m sick” she said with her eyes closed.

Now she waved a finger at me and said, “Now if I barf my guts out tonight I don’t want you telling every somf of a bitch about…” As her eyes rolled back under the lids, and her face lost all muscle tone, she sputtered and dropped to all fours like a sick dog in the dirt. Her back arched. Now came the awful retching sounds and the sound “flop” sound that the orange-colored hurl made after leaving her throat.

   “Good schnapps gone to waste” Dave commented

  Seeing Brandi on all fours helpless and out of it made me want to go around to her front and kick the rest of her teeth out, but that urge left me. Also the guys would’ve stopped me. Dave took advantage of the situation well though. As he seemed to comfort her, he actually had is arm all the way down the back of her jeans well past her panty barrier, His fingers were sampling her cunt juices and using the moisture to insert one or two fingers into her tight butt hole all the way to the knuckle. Feeling perfect cheerleader’s warm meat was fun but he had even better fun. When the spasms of retching started he felt her ass “love his fingers”, he said later, by squeezing them while he rotated his wrist.

  

   “What about the car?” Dean pointed to the BMW.

   “Forget about it” well go back for it tomorrow, or the cop’s will find it. Who cares? Nobody stole it.” Patrick walked back to the truck and we followed dragging Brandi.

    I sat on Dean’s lap for the trip back. Brandi settled in the truck’s seat between Dave and Patrick. They got Brandi even more excited by licking her face, feeling her tits, and gap while she moaned or laughed quietly. Occasionally she’d turn up her face expecting a deep kiss from someone, but that didn’t happen. By this time she was smelling nasty.    

   “Dave got going deeper into her vagina, having his fist  all the way in there.   Brandi wasn’t resisting.  He coached her, “Come on baby, make it with my fist. Cum for me baby.”  This part was getting me hot, and I was feeling myself a little too.

 

   Her lower body rose off the seat, and I heard her unique grunting like a zoo animal

Her mouth was open in a silent scream of incredible pleasure, which caught Patrick’s attention. He motioned to Dave, and they finished a high five. Patrick told him, “Way to go”, like he’d scored a touchdown.

 

   Piling out of the truck back at the party, we could see the place was now overrun with   types from all over; some high school kids  I didn’t know, a couple pervy looking single guys and obviously older (30 years old) couples out for a thrill with some blotto young girl.

   Just to get in the door, Dean had to concoct some wild excuse that we were a medical team going in rescue someone. This must’ve looked weird as we were dragging the victim, Brandi, into the party, but he did sound official enough.

   Bodies were so densely packed that it took time getting to the other rooms. There was the usual stuff of parties, dense air, smoke, noise, but also oblivious couples holding, cumming,  and loving so hard that you could use them as your own personal sex toy, and they’d be none the wiser.

   Eventually we made it to the den where I last videotaped Brad,  Nicki , and that early arriving swinger couple.. By now it was a spent orgy. I could see Brad’s head upside down over a couch with bodies on top of him, and spent limp shapes piled up here and there in the corners snoozing with their pants, skirts, and blouses n bras half on.         There was at least one visible couple, now they didn’t care that the lights were on, doing a sixty-nine on each other, both with their shirts on but nothing else—nothing like someone’s’ hairy asshole in your face for hours, but I guess the booze helps…

   Brad’s body had telltale cum stains on it, his face smeared with someone’s lipstick, and rouge. Man, he was gorgeous. I motioned to Patrick to drag Brandi, herself barely conscious and full of cum stains, blood, and vomit,  to be placed next to Brad. Dean heavy lifted them so their faces were visible to my camera. “Smile, oh can’t you do better than that?” I joked at the sight of them. “Give us a big smile” I put down the camera and hard squeezed Brandi’s face. It was slick with sweat and purfumy from the alcohol.

   “Looky here,  a friend of yours?” I saw this beautiful naked cunt nearby on the same couch, at an angle to the air, now passed out, but perfectly horrendous looking. The vaginal lips were splayed out and swollen. The asshole was red rimmed and so extended open that it looked like a horse eye.. But her rear end was gorgeous; it could have been in penthouse magazine.

   With some of the boy’s help I wrestled this half nude body over brads nose, so it looked like his nose could entire her wide ass hole at any moment.

   I had the video camera running the whole time, but I stepped aside so Patrick could use his digital still camera on them.

   “Say cheese” he joked.

   “I know what to call this one, lovers reunited at last”

    Dean and I both laughed together. I felt finally satisfied.