By the Riverbyblueboar©
Light travels faster than sound. More than half a million people (most of them on their feet) could attest to it now. First, the violent burst of white flame in the black, humid sky and then the concussion that swooped the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless, wanting more. The roar of the huge crowd, gathered from miles around, followed and the show began.
I love fireworks. I love the Fourth of the July. In fact, I'd dragged my wife and our two girls to the riverfront early that morning to get a good spot to watch. The girls had screamed, delighted, but my wife had grumbled about the silliness of it all. Anna didn't like crowds, despised democratic displays like fireworks where the masses would groan their "oohs" and "ahhs" in robotic unison, and the strong, unfamiliar smell of hamburgers and hot dogs mixed chaotically with the stench of cigarette smoke, cheap perfume, and sweat. I thought she might have felt differently this year-this year of all years-might have welcomed the patriotic display, but she'd made it obvious throughout the day that she was here under protest, hadn't said a word to me in hours. Anna would have rather been back at the house working on the next chapter of her book on Jane Austen's latent lesbian love themes. I knew her well enough to know she wasn't enjoying this and I would admit to her the next morning that the size of the crowd had been a bit surprising. In our prime location we were packed in, almost touching each other.
Still, all my hard work was paying off now beautifully as the red, blue, white, pink and green colors showered above us one after the other and the shattering sounds of the bombs became linked in one continual, thundering roll. It was a perfect night, warm and muggy, and I turned to Anna for approval, wanting her to acknowledge it had been worth it, the camping out since the early a.m., the sitting in the sun all day trying to keep hydrated, but her face was turned to the sky, like the throng among us, but unlike them, expressionless, except for a slight smirk, as if she couldn't believe she was there. She held the girls tightly by her sides, hoping to limit their exposure to the good, clean fun. And she wasn't looking at me. At times, I could barely distinguish her features against the mass of humanity surrounding us, and then only against the dramatic lights pounding in the sky. The lights would radiate steadily upon her face with glowing beauty, red and white and blue, but she wouldn't look at me, even though she had to have known I was staring at her. I gave up on her and returned to the sky above, feeling my body jerk and jump with each explosion.
Suddenly, a body pressed against my shoulder and, with a slight turn of my head, I saw an old woman, smiling, shrugging apologetically. She seemed to be alone and even though I could barely make out her features in the darkness, at once I knew I liked her. She was tall, almost as tall as me. She hadn't been among the crowd earlier in the day (by now, having spent most of the day with them, I was somewhat familiar with the immediate crowd around me) so she must have snaked her way through the crowd, relying on her age as a passport. Sneaky fox. Her gray hair was in a tight bob, not curled in a miserable fluff perm, very classy, and she seemed mildly excited. I pushed a little to my left, against a rather large middle-aged guy, who had been out with his plump family early, like me, to get close to the river and I motioned for the old woman to step forward between Anna and me. The old woman smiled and was soon at my side and I joined her in watching the delightful lights. Just over her shoulder I could see Anna and tried to smile at her, once again, but she continued to ignore me, perhaps not even noticing that someone was between us now.
I relaxed, trying to get back in rhythm with the show, but couldn't help but feel annoyed. If Anna didn't enjoy this, I thought, then tough. I'd gone to plenty of her dry, miserable conferences without complaint and fair was fair. Still, it would have been nice to have had her snuggled in closely, tight in my arms, right now. The power and beauty of an extravagant fireworks show always excited me. It must have had something to do with the fact I'd never been in the army, never had a chance to hear violent explosions. The fireworks made me feel strong, powerful, and I could imagine her in my arms, closed my eyes and could almost feel her soft ass spreading against my cock. I could feel my cock pulsing with my heartbeat in my loose khakis. I sighed. It would have been perfect. You couldn't have everything.
And the booms and flashes of light never stopped, continued, gathering momentum, some of the bursts seemed to cover the entire sky overhead, bringing me to my toes, and if you looked around you could make out the silhouettes of thousands against the lit river doing the same, except Anna, of course. I guessed we were perhaps ten, fifteen yards from the river itself, just in front of me a few boulders and big rocks marked the beginning of its edges. Maybe I could throw Anna in the water and wake her up.
As I debated what Anna's reaction would be to being tossed in the river, unannounced, I was pushed back by a crowd of people in front of me, unable to help but crush against someone behind me. What was this?
"Sorry," I called, unsure whether I'd been heard, to the person behind me, hoping I hadn't stepped on a foot or something.
"Okay," a woman's soft voice called back, but she was tightly pressed against me and was making no effort to back away and I realized after a second or so that two round, heavy tits were softly squashed against my back. I felt bad for her. It must have been embarrassing, but I was sure there was little she could do about it.
"What's happening in front?" I heard her ask, my neck shivering against her warm breath.
"Don't know," I called back.
"Find out," the voice laughed nervously.
I nodded. Of course. I leaned forward a bit and stopped immediately as I felt the undeniable shape and feel of a warm, soft ass against my crotch. Christ, we were packed. This was ridiculous. The woman in front of me looked young, at least her long, dark, curly hair suggested so, but I couldn't see her face. She was probably one of the half dozen or so kids I'd noticed earlier in their twenties getting drunk throughout the day. Of course, they were perfectly harmless, young couples who thought the world was still good.
"Excuse me," I began, trying to avoid making the contact between us any more direct than it already was. "What's going on? We're a bit tight here."
"My husband passed out," a girlish voice said matter-of-factly.
Husband. Wow. She probably wasn't more than twenty-five or so. And she was married? Jesus. Wait a minute. . . . Passed out!
"Is he alright? Is he . . ." I started.
"Drunk," the girl laughed. "Don't worry about it. He's comfortable. At my feet. Asleep."
I could only imagine. The poor sap was lucky not to be sprawled face first in the river keeping the fish company. I turned to the old woman standing next to me, nervously shrugging, hoping she was taking no notice of my delicate position. She grinned, glancing down to where my crotch was just barely making contact with the girl in front and looked back up to the sky, her face lighting up with a huge burst of red.
"Someone passed out in front of us," I called to the poor lady behind me. She pushed harder against my back, tits now plastered against me. I could feel a just starting sweat developing at the joining of our bodies. The heat, humidity of the night was becoming almost oppressive now.
"What?" she said.
"Someone got drunk and is passed out in front of us. That's why they're squashing against us like this," I said, trying to recall everyone from the day, trying to guess whose tits my back was fondling. She was probably the pleasant lady with the two gorgeous preschoolers whom my girls had doted over all day, the lady with the slightly nervous husband, extremely thin and pale guy. Likely an accountant. I grinned. The poor guy seemed not too happy to be sitting out in the sun all day. He was likely seated somewhere holding his head, trying to suffocate the explosions above.
"Passed out?" she asked, incredulously.
"Yeah, he's okay. It's just that-"
"Throw the corpse in the fucking river," she hissed back suddenly, and I could have sworn her body seemed to grow rigid against me, as if she was getting aroused.
I laughed. Very good. At least there was one other person who was fantasizing about throwing rude people into the river.
"It's her husband," I continued. "Drunk."
"Oh brother," the voice groaned. "Idiot."
"Sorry," I tried.
"Yeah, whatever," she sighed, and then I felt her press more tightly against me. "Some guy's pinned against me back here. The asshole's got his hard-on half way up my shorts right now."
I laughed again, thinking she was joking.
"It's not funny."
"Sorry," I gulped, embarrassed and then I smiled, trying not to laugh.
It was funny. People were perverts. I loved it, but stopped grinning when I realized the contact between the girl's ass in front of me and my crotch was becoming more pronounced. Either she or I was straining just a bit harder into the other. I was sure it couldn't have been me, but it might have been. Everyone was so crunched up that the slightest movement rippled, magnified everything. I could actually feel the woman behind me breathing against my back. Simply ridiculous. The woman in front moved a little forward and our pronounced contact ended, replaced by a light and fleeting presence. Though grateful, I couldn't help but feel disappointment. If she was the one I remembered, she was a real cutie, very different, olive-skinned, Italian or Greek, with a brilliant smile and a tight body. And also very young. Probably twenty year younger than me. Still, I was consoled; I had my poor friend behind me, getting mauled by her anonymous pervert. The thought excited me. It seemed wild that some guy was actually groping a strange woman. What if someone saw? Her husband. Goodness, I thought, looking around, but I realized no one could see anything in these cramped conditions. Everyone's focus was on the display above us. They'd be okay. The pervert behind her was lucky she was such a good sport. If it had been Anna. . . .
"Tell him to stop it," I said over my shoulder, trying to get ice-queen Anna out of my mind, but then I realized that if I stepped forward, away from her to give her a bit more space, I'd be pressing myself against the chick in front, once more. I was too embarrassed to do that. I waited for a reply from my pal in back, but heard nothing.
"Tell him. . . ." I said again.
"Shhh," she whispered back into my ear, gently. "Kind of like it."
I chuckled inside and she must have felt me.
"I do," she moaned and I could actually feel her using my body as leverage to push back against her daring groper, could sense the hardening of her nipples. I could hear her stifle a groan. And, without warning, I felt one of her hands quickly dart its way into one of my large, floppy, front pockets.
"Hey!" I protested in shock.
"Shhh," she whispered harshly, but didn't stop at all as she roughly reached deeper into my pockets, down and grabbed my cock. "I'm sorry, but I've got to hold something. Christ. This guy's driving me fucking nuts. Fuck. I wish I didn't wear these shorts. Fuck. Ummm," she moaned and squeezed harder.
It had been too fast. I tried to take a deep breath to calm down. One moment I'm chuckling with some person I don't know about another person she doesn't know assaulting her and the next moment she's gripping my cock with all of her strength.
"Do you like that?" she said, her lips almost at the base of neck, sending even more shivers though me.
"My wife--" I started, unable to stop myself from straining against her warm hand. God. I wanted her touching me bare. I wanted to pull down my shorts and . . . .
"Don't worry," she laughed softly, breathing hard, and I could feel her hips being pushed rhythmically now, more urgently against me, literally rotating against my ass. "Someone's . . . probably got his hand up her skirt. . . This place is turning into a regular . . . orgy."
I laughed, imagining the slap to some poor schmuck who would dare try to touch my wife in public. Christ. She still slapped me sometimes and we were. . . .
"Who's in front of you?" the crazy woman behind me asked, but I couldn't concentrate on her question. The hand buried in my pocket continued its caress. I wanted to stand still but couldn't help thrusting against the tight grip.
"Who's in front of you?"
"The woman . . ."
"The women whose husband passed out," I breathed, feeling my cock thicken even more.
"Oh. That bitch . . . deserves a little something for getting us in . . . this mess. I know what to do . . . with her," she grunted, wagging my dick in her hand. "She . . . Fuck," my poor friend suddenly groaned and I could feel her body jerking impossibly against my now drenched back. "Fuck. Oh . . .my God. The sonofabitch's . . . the sonofabitch's coming . . . coming . . . on my shorts. Jesus Christ."
My head spun. What the fuck was going on here?
"Oh Christ," she moaned, gasping. "I hope . . . my husband doesn't notice."
"Where's your husband?" I asked, my cock now completely rigid, in a death grip in her small hand.
"A couple of feet away, watching the kids," she slowly laughed, softly said, her voice now more relaxed, more normal, and I could feel her body slowly losing its tension, her tits gently peeling away from my back. "We got a little separated, which could be like miles in this sardine can."
"Did that guy really, um, you know, um, do that, you know, orgasm on you?" I swallowed as her grip lightened on my cock.
"You wanna feel?" she laughed.
"Well, then, shut up."
A series of huge explosion reverberated the night sky, signaling the show was half through, and the nut-case behind me nearly tore out my dick in response.
"Ouch," I squeaked.
"Bullshit," she laughed. "Give me your hand," she breathed.
"I don't. . . ."
"Shut up and give me your hand."
I let her take my hand and held my breath waiting to feel another man's goo. I don't know why I did it, but, at the moment, nothing was making sense. What if she wants me to taste it, I thought? Would I taste. . . . And then I groaned as my hand quickly was shoved inside her open shorts into a soaking, silk softness. I eagerly pushed down, heard her laugh and then moan as my fingers quickly made their way underneath the silkiness to touch bare curly wet hair and skin and then lower I felt her thick fleshy cunt-lips dripping with heat and sticky liquid.
"Thank you," she sighed, as I started rubbing what I'm pretty certain was her clit. "God I need this."
Another huge explosion lit the night sky and my fingers dug even more deeply into her thick, furry lips. I so much wanted to get a closer look at her, who she was, this woman whose cunt I was fondling. Maybe if I turned around . . . but that would be insane. If I remembered, she was perfectly normal, very much the housewife type, but now. . . . God bless me, she was hot, eager, swallowing up one and then two of my fingers inside her, as her own hand feverishly jerked and squeezed my erection. I grit my teeth. I couldn't stop, knew I'd soon blow an enormous wad of spunk in my shorts when I felt her pull her hand away quickly and then push me forward.
"Don--" I started and then froze in a panic when my obvious erection came roughly into contact with the girl in front. I felt her body react, stiffen, shiver, and then I could feel her stand perfectly still in front of me. No doubt, she was in shock.
"She deserves it," the fiend behind me giggled. "If it wasn't for her idiot husband your hand wouldn't be stuffed up my pussy and my ass wouldn't be soaking wet."
"But--" I tried.
"But, my ass," she laughed harshly and I could feel her thighs opening wider, the space for my hand more relaxed. I pushed harder into her. My hand was burning, soaked. "Oh. Oh," she panted. "Whisper in her ear. Ask. . . . No, tell her . . . tell her you're going to fuck her."
"Tell her you're going to fuck her," she groaned.
The mother behind me, I couldn't understand it. She seemed so normal and now this? She wanted me to fuck a complete stranger. I doubted highly she was some sicko or anything like that, but things had gotten wildly out of control so quickly in the little universe that existed among the four bodies pressed against each other. Some guy, who the hell knows what deceases he had, had spewed on the mother behind me, my hand was in her panties stroking her, and until five seconds ago she was giving my cock the death grip of the century. But still, this was. . . . Good grief. But, then, it really made sense after a while. Something like this would never happen again. That's what was going on. The woman behind me was seizing the moment and was inviting me to do the same. When would I ever get a chance to fuck some stranger again in public? Would the stranger want me?
I had to find out.
And I, husband, father of two, rising executive, took my free hand and tightly gripped the girl's hips, pulling her ass more firmly, unmistakably, into me. I heard her gasp, struggle fiercely to free herself, but when she sensed I wasn't going to release her, she held herself still, trying to assess what was going to happen next. I leaned forward, my cock length now firmly imbedded in the crevice between her flimsily clothed narrow ass, and whispered in her ear in a voice that seemed so strange, unlike any I'd ever heard before, calm, direct, but so, so unforgiving.
"I'm going to fuck you."
Her body seemed to give and fall against me, but then she composed herself, taking a deep breath.
"W . . . w . . . what," she quivered and was about to say something else, but I nudged her thick curly hair to the side with my face, and I licked her long , salty neck and she was still once more, except for the tiniest hint of a shiver along her spine.
I heard my comrade behind me chuckling and then to my amazement I felt her hand straining around my arm, the one reaching back into her cunt, and it started digging its way between the tight clasp of the girl's ass and my cock. She was barely making it, her body shaking against me, but I heard the girl gasp and then groan. I could feel the fiend's hand jerking and gripping between the girl's thighs. I wanted to look down, see what was happening, but could make out nothing. The girl squirmed and even though it sounded absolutely insane, only one explanation seemed possible. My lady was fondling the girl's cunt. My hypothesis was confirmed.
"She's so wet," the fiend laughed in my ear. "Your dick is going to love her. She's so tight, so fucking wet."
I couldn't believe my ears. How the hell she'd gotten underneath the girl's skirt, I wasn't sure, until I remembered from earlier in the day the girl'd been wearing a fluffy little sun dress, and then I felt the smooth silky skin of the back of her thighs pressing against mine. She was leaning back, trying to steady herself as several severe explosions rocketed off each other and I heard her moan loudly.
This was impossible. I tried to imagine what this might have looked like to anyone interested. I was terrified any second Anna would be screaming in my face, serving me with divorce papers and kicking me in the balls, but my rational mind told me she would simply see me hunched forward standing behind a woman who was staring up intently into the sky. It would have been one thing if my hands were grasping in front of the little doll, grabbing her tits, but from the waist down you would need a microscope in this mass to see anything. Still, things were getting unbelievably bizarre and I promised myself I would. . . .