Constance: Condom Conundrum

I was a little embarrassed, but not sure why. (What's wrong with a good orgasm? Jeff had just had one. I could vouch for that!)

Turning to see whose finger was on my breast I looked down and didn't see one. That was odd.

Reaching down to feel myself there, I felt the oily residue of a drop of Jeff's cum that must have dribbled out of my mouth. It shows you what a little drop of cum can do for a girl, especially one who hasn't had a cock to suck in a few weeks.

I was a little surprised at myself, actually. I'd never tasted cum from a rubber before, but the whole thing and the thought of the thing were really hot and made me even hornier. I made a mental note to try this again in the future, on another occasion when I was a little more comfortable and in control - and in a bedroom.

The guys had now lined up behind Piper. Each lasted longer than Jeff, but, after all, they were horny 18-year-olds. I'd say each came in about 4 or 5 minutes. Every time a guy came in her (usually quite loudly) I think I began to salivate, anticipating in some bizarre Pavlovian way the gooey treat about to dribble onto my tongue.

A guy would enter Piper. The squealing and moaning would start. A few minutes later it reached a crescendo and it would quickly die down. Then I knew I'd be getting my mouthful of the white stuff. This made me climax too -- each time!

After each would come, he turned surprisingly quiet - especially compared to Piper who kept moaning up a storm especially now that she had Pete's dick ensconced in her mouth. The guy would pull out, roll off his condom (or get help from his girlfriend), and slowly drip the semen onto my tongue, lit by nothing but star, moon, and fire light.

I began to love the dribbling. The swallowing was better, but playing with this exquisite man juice was fun and sexy. And made me cum again and again.

Often I'd even let a little spill onto my chest, just to rub it in with my fingers. That always got the guy screwing Piper to come. It was kind of cool, this control I had over a guy screwing another girl -- without even touching either one of them -- and sitting right there next to them, to boot.

And so the rest of the night went.

Pete was last since, by now, my old friend Piper had practically annexed his cock down her throat. Without her mouth filled with his cock she was screaming loudly, more so than she had all evening. I guess the thing they had going for them was good.

After he came, Piper turned around and whipped that little sucker off his still-good-sized dick. Holding it with care, she sucked him deeply into her mouth and moved in front of me with a mischievous smirk on her face.

I opened my mouth that still had the penultimate guy's (the brainiac's) cum in it since I was enjoying playing with it. In truth, my mouth was awash in sperm, little guys swimming in every direction, searching for the impossible dream. Poor babies.

As Piper looked down at me I dutifully opened my mouth and extended my tongue carefully keeping as much of the brainiac's delicious semen from spilling down onto my chest.

She ever so slowly let it drip out of the condom, almost like getting the last few drops out of a bottle of maple syrup. After what seemed an eternity I thought she'd finished and closed my mouth that had long ago begun to spill cum onto my chest and bra.

As I was slowly swilling the sweet semen around my mouth -- to everyone's continued amusement and amazement -- she then spit the cum she'd gotten from Pete's cock at my tits. This caused two things to happen simultaneously.

I began to smile and I began to come. The smiling became a loud cum-laden laugh and some of the semen in my mouth flowed down my chin onto my chest and bra. The majority of it, projected by my sudden guffaw, flew at Piper.

My laughter intensified seeing her previously pristine top now drenched in saliva and semen. Thankfully, this made her laugh too, but only after she dropped Pete's now spent rubber on my forehead where it sat for a second or two before rolling down my cheek and onto the top of my right bra cup.

Piper, still standing before me, looked a mess, her hair in disarray, naked from the waist down, her T-shirt soaked with a whole lot of DNA. The laughter emanating from just the two of us was suddenly enhanced when a current hit Let's Get It On from Marvin Gaye came on the transistor radio. It caused everyone to laugh and the mood to shift from a possibly vindictive catfight between two babes to a stoned laughter eventually causing some minor stomach pains.

I was exhausted from coming so much. I still had all but my T-shirt on and, even though everyone wanted "Boobs!" they clearly wanted me to swallow their cum more. (I couldn't decide if I was hurt by that or not.)

As we all began to giddily calm down there was a stretch of tacit meditation and we all could sense that the night was drawing to a close.

Suddenly Piper (who'd had a beer bottle in her mouth all night if Pete's cock wasn't there) blurted quite drunkenly, "Well, I still think you should see Constance's tits. They're the size of fuckin' cantaloupes!"

And with that she collapsed onto a blanket on the sand.

We all laughed the laughter of young people who'd shared a new intimacy that was both highly exquisite and profoundly strange.

As for myself, I put on my T-shirt and a sweatshirt. My bra was soaked in semen, but I knew that would dry soon enough.

The dying embers provided just enough light for us to gather up our belongings.

Walking back to the car, now getting her second wind, Piper said to me, "Boy, I'm a little sore. I've never fucked that much in one night."

"Hey, babe," I responded. "You were great. I never knew you came like that, with such, uh, gusto. I think they heard you in the next county."

After a moment I asked, "You OK?" meaning it, as I rubbed her across the back.

She nodded and was silent.

Then one of the brainier guys said, out of the blue, or black, "Hey, Constance, your tongue must be sore from holding it out like that all night. Can you say 'The sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick'?"

I laughed, but didn't say anything because he was right. My tongue and jaw were a little sore. And, I was still savoring the tingly feeling in my mouth.

"What? Cat got your tongue or is it just coated with cum?" Piper kidded me.

"OK" I answered. "'Peter's Piper, picked his pickle," I began to laugh again, "and proudly popped his prick. She - " Now I was laughing too hard to make up any more coherent alliteration.

Piper, never one to not get the last word in (Mrs. Watson, my sixth grade English teacher, would have had a field day with the abhorrent grammar in that phrase. 'Sorry, Mrs. Watson.'), slapping Pete's butt and tickling me, said, "Rubber, baby, Bogey bumpers," three times fast, saying it almost incoherently the third time. With that she reeled into me and we both fell to the sand, loudly giggling in a reeking heap of cum-stained clothing, hair and pussy juice.

So, there, in mid August at Lake Bogey in the wee hours of the morning and in their addled states, a dozen young men and women fell down on the sand, dropped everything in their hands and on their shoulders, and laughed so hard that most actually admitted, the next day, dribbling in his or her pants.

* * *

In a half-sleep, the middle of a bizarre dream. Sitting at the counter in a soda shop painted all white, next to an anthropomorphized cow, I was sipping a vanilla milkshake through a very tiny straw, the kind they put in mixed drinks. I loved the milkshake, but couldn't seem to sip enough for a real mouthful. Frustrated, I asked the cow why I was having such difficulty.

Then the Rolling Stones were singing You Can't Always Get What You Want.

Looking around my bedroom I saw the clock radio playing, it was 8:30. I was alone, semi-awake and naked under the thin top sheet. I had a blurred recollection of the previous night's fun hanging out at Lake Bogey: We had gotten very blitzed.

I wasn't sure how I'd gotten home, but now I was waking up in my bed. Life was good and I began to smile as I sung along with the Stones. I got up, didn't want to look at myself in the mirror, but set right to picking up my clothes strewn on the floor, my bare breasts slightly swaying. Panties, jeans, T-shirt, sandals, but no bra. I hadn't left it anywhere since I wasn't seeing anyone and I knew I hadn't gone braless. (The few times I walked around town braless, the mayor greeted me personally. It was creepy.)

When I couldn't find it anywhere I looked in the bathroom where it was hanging on a towel hook. Hmm. I'd never done that before.

I picked it up and the normally soft material of the cups was hard, like thin cardboard.

I couldn't imagine what had happened and I took a closer look. As it got nearer my face the peculiar and intriguing smell of dried cum struck me like a maul. Memories of the previous night's actual events flooded my mind. My naked pussy flooded, too.

I picked up my left boob, licking and sucking it, hoping to find some delicious slippery semen remnants from the previous night. I briefly and furiously rubbed my clit and, sitting down on the side of the tub, had a wonderful, surprising, and utterly delightful orgasm.