Suck Sisters of Seaton

Then I looked in my mirror and became very afraid. What a sight!

My hair was a mess, caked in spots with dried cum. I had dried cum on my cheek, forehead, nose and chin. My eyeliner was, well, as I said, it was frightening.

I washed the dried cum from as much of my face as possible, put a brush through my hair, put my hair in a quick ponytail and the covered it with a baseball cap.

I threw on a baggy t-shirt and a pair of boxers and I walked out of my room to see a sight you don't see every day.

The lights were out. There were half a dozen candles around the common room. There were at least six or seven people standing or sitting around, illuminated by candles placed in such a way that was reminiscent of a Georges de La Tour painting (without any of the religious themes, of course), you know, rich fall colors of umber and ochre caused by the candlelight, but with lots of deep shadows.

Some sort of middle-eastern, tintinnabulating music was playing, but sounded so extremely present, as though someone had upgraded our sound system.

It was pretty dark, but I saw a girl sitting on the couch, seven or eight guys standing or sitting -- most of them using their hands.

In the center of this tableau was Barbara, dancing in an amazing outfit.

I'd forgotten that she'd told me she was taking belly dancing this year. She never said much about it other than complaining once or twice about how hard it was finding a top for her costume.

She looked beautiful and moved with such sexual power and sensuality, I became turned on immediately. She wore a low-slung belt consisting basically of golden chains and other baubles over a thong. Her cheerleader-cute legs were partly covered in some see-through material draped from the glittering hip-belt. In each hand was a pair of finger cymbals and there were many golden bracelets at her wrist and one or two on her upper arm. She had an anklet or ankle strap with shiny metal on one leg that also tinkled when she moved. But the most amazing thing was her top. It was basically a very dark blue bra over which were applied some gold and silver patterns that, though probably there to be decorative, served only to emphasize the size of the cups. It was as though her bra began low on her rib cage, not that far from her belly button and extended up and out in a semicircle finishing back at her upper chest near her clavicle.

I knew she would not have purposely made herself look even bigger than she naturally was. Yet, whoever made this top must have wanted her to look like she was holding not breasts, but soccer balls in each cup. Wow! I would be walking into things too if I'd seen her like this on campus. (Of course, my tongue and an untold countless number of sperm had been having an intimate on and then off relationship with those breasts for the past several months.)

I could not see all of the guys, but I know one was Leonard -- and his roommates were there. In addition, there were two guys playing instruments: something that looked like a lute and something that looked like a small hourglass-shaped conga drum.

Then it dawned on me that one of the other guys was Doug, Rachel's boyfriend, and that the girl on the couch was, in fact, Rachel. None of them saw me as I came in from behind them, and, though she was facing in my direction, Barbara was so into the movement of her hips and legs, she didn't see anything other than a cohort of comely cocks all pointed in her direction.

It was wonderfully sexy seeing all these guys with their hard-ons out, stroking themselves. At first I felt a little sorry for the musicians. Then I realized that most of the music was coming from the sound system; they were simply adding some live quality to the recording -- and both of them had their little guys out too.

As I said, Barbara looked beautiful and sexy. She danced like a professional; I was amazed at how well she could belly dance. One could actually notice it -- if you could tear your eyes away from her boobs. Few appeared to notice her slender waist, relatively small but feminine hips and cute, toned runner's legs.

What was truly a surprise was seeing Rachel. We hadn't spoken to her since the night she saw us on the floor. It turns out, part of her amazement was how she thought it was very sexy seeing us like that. Feeling like she might have been missing out on some entertaining events on campus, she decided to bring Doug and one of his roommates to the dorm to get to know us and just to spend time there. In addition, the two musicians, who played regularly for Barb's class, completed the array of men: eight men in all.

"You know, I need to take a potty break. I promise to continue this when I get back if you really want to hear it.

After she left I considered this erotic tale of a sophomore year in college. Two semesters, but, boy, what semesters! I briefly thought about her grades and those of Barbara. Then I thought about Barbara and those boobs. I wondered if they were still so big and round after all these years. Or, were they literally down at her navel. Nature and genetics can be so cruel sometimes.

The next thing I knew, I was inhaling the fresh, effervescent aroma of a glass of California champagne. I must have fallen asleep, but under my nose was a wine glass filled with the bubbly. Angie had come back with a towel inside of which was hidden a newly open bottle of champagne, compliments of Roberta.

As I reoriented myself and brushed some crumbs off my blouse, I looked over the seat at the "cute couple." You guessed it. She was completely covered by a blanket with her head in his lap. I saw a little movement, but, hey, when I've been in tight or semi-public places I've put a cock in my mouth and milked it with my mouth and throat with just that little amount of movement. It may be a little excruciating for the guy but eventually he'll come. Now, I don't know if she was awake or asleep, whether he had it out or not, but somehow they made the opportunity present itself. Good for them. The more cum the merrier!

"Please don't stop your story," I said to Angie. Then I added, "Gee, you've got me so excited. And I don't say that often to women!"

Anyway, I forgot to tell you about the thing Leonard's roommate found at the market.

Angie continued.

For several minutes I stood there, amazed by Barbara's hip's sexy and intricate movements, the stares and glazed looks at the guys around the room, and how vigorously several of them were stroking themselves. I knew that if I were in there, doing the old play by play, I'd have been licking my lips, getting ready for a big one. For now, though, I was getting excited by this X-rated de La Tour tableau.

There was one thing I didn't see, though, and it was a tribute to my little Barbara, always selflessly thinking about her cum-on-the-addled-brain roommate. On the coffee table around which everyone was squeezed, was a champagne flute partly filled with the semen from every guy there. Eight luscious loads, just sitting there.

After I'd gone to nap, Barbara had asked each if he could cum again. (It turns out that not only did watching cocks shoot their stuff turn her on, but watching me imbibe it pushed her over the top. Women! Go figure!)

So she'd decided to suck and jerk them all and then to collect it all in the champagne glass. I don't know how she did it, but she had managed.

I hadn't discovered this yet, but I finally moved slightly into the room and tried to find some space on the carpet so I could watch the show. But, it was when Barbara saw me that things began to get interesting.

Her gaze met mine and she didn't miss a beat, in fact, she made a fast gesture to the musicians and I noticed that a laptop was plugged into the sound system. The drummer then hit a button or two and the beat picked up markedly -- as did Barbara's body movements.

As if on cue everyone, including Rachel, said in unison, "She comes to partake of man's essence."

Had I been asleep for a year and all of these pod people had taken over my friends' bodies? Or had they been initiated into a coven presided over by head witch Barbara?

Actually, it was none of these. They had just talked about my little obsession and Barbara's little obsession, and, well, one thing led to another and yada yada yada, there was a half-filled champagne flute of semen that was about to become completely filled.

The speed picked up for all concerned. The movement of Barbara's body, the jingling of her chains and finger cymbals, the stroking of the guys' dicks, and the energy and tempo of the music all quickly rose to a fevered pace.

Then I noticed Rachel was wearing only panties. I'd hardly ever seen her and here she is almost naked, and, in case you were wondering, she had a very respectable rack!

I noticed because as everyone was reaching a fevered pitch, she leaned over, and picked up the champagne glass. Next, she knelt down on the floor in front of Doug, sucked him deeply into her mouth, then jerked him, with a deftness only long-time lovers can know, directly into the glass. He shot a beautiful volley of semen against the side of the glass. That began to put me in an orgasmic state. Between the lighting, the music, and the intensity of close to a dozen part-friend-part-strangers participating in a "partaking of man's essence" scene how could one help but have an orgasm.

Just as Doug finished dropping his load into the glass, Barbara, now in a heated glow, put her arms behind her and began to shimmy as the music hit a climax. Suddenly, her top, the one large enough to hold balloons came off and flew across the room, landing in a corner.

The music crashed and stopped. All that you could hear was Barbara's rapid breathing and a chorus of groans, moans, and rapidly rubbing flesh.

Rachel darted her hand directly into her crotch and that was the end of her being the glass-passer. She managed to give it to Doug's roommate and then collapsed backwards against Doug's knees the moment he fell back onto the sofa.

Barb was staring intently at the glass and the cocks that were feeding it, her voluminous breasts, shimmering with a hint of perspiration. The guys were so excited that they seemed to orgasm at about the same time.

It was clear that there was a problem with this: there was only the one glass and the guys were having multiple orgasms (You go, guys! I thought to myself.)

I was still unclear on exactly what I was supposed to do (even though I was very clear on what I wanted to do). Barbara, God bless her, took control of things. She grabbed the glass from whoever had just finished coming in it, plopped down on her knees on the low coffee table and put the glass between her breasts. Then she rapidly said, "Come here. Come on, come on, come on."

Since the glass and her boobs were the center of attention anyway, it all made sense to put one and two together (sorry, couldn't help it) and every one who was ready to come shot on one of her boobs or in the glass. As each guy finished it seemed there was another ready to take his place in the batter's box (or would it be the pitcher's mound?? Sorry, if I'm mixing metaphors.) This continued for another few minutes. Amazingly each had come within a few moments of the others. (I wondered to myself if there was a hormonal thing like women who live together all having their periods at the same time. Then I decided it was probably just the extreme, odd, rare situation. Most guys don't get to jerk off on a beautiful woman with an extraordinary body on an average Saturday evening filled with blowjobs and champagne.)

While the guys were doing their thing, the three of us girls were going to town with our own little buttons at such a rapid rate that I thought we all might get carpal tunnel syndrome if we weren't careful. Nevertheless, everyone came within a few minutes of one another.

Finally, the guys all fell back either on the sofa, a chair or the floor, though none could take his eyes off Barb's boobs. I thought they looked even bigger than usual, but it was probably just the lighting and the pheromones.

Barbara had one hand on the glass and one in her pussy, the latter now still and pressing firmly as she made her almost inaudible high-pitched come song. Even Rachel was comfortable enough to moan aloud as she joined the gang in this ultimate sexual experience.

A few moments passed. The guys had all begun to soften while we girls had had some amazing climaxes of our own. The only sound to be heard now was deep and slowing, but still faster than normal, breathing.

Slowly, Barbara got off the coffee table, carefully brining the nearly full champagne glass towards me.

I licked my lips in anticipation. This was fascinating, an absolute turn-on, and I was scared out of my mind. I began to have concerns about doing it. Licking up cum from her boobs or on a cracker or from a condom was one thing, but as I tried to calculate the amount of semen in the glass coming toward me, I had second thoughts. This would be a moment of truth. Would I become a true cum guzzler, living up to the legend that had really not quite preceded me or would I find the amine-rich liquid to be a little more than I could handle. It was one thing to have it warm or relatively so. It would be another to have a few ounces of fresh, mixed with a few ounces of, well, let's say, more mature semen. There is never a shelf-life stamp around when you need one.

With a smile, she kneeled down next to me, put the glass on the floor behind her, put a hand under each breast and held their white coating up towards me. I smiled back, darted my tongue out of my mouth for a second, and dived into her cleavage, feeling semi-warm wet cum on my cheeks and chin. I began to lick and slurp up every drop I could find. Knowing how much Barb liked the feelings, however, I probably spent a little more time on her areola and nipples than there was semen there. What a turn on. She had the greatest -- and only -- tits I ever sucked on, but when they were covered with cum how could anyone resist.

Ultimately, there was no more luxurious liquid on her chest. I looked over to the gang and saw that all the guys had gotten semi-hard again. Rachel was just staring at the two of us, but clearly she was anticipating watching me drink.

There comes a time in a young woman's life when she has to decide if she's going to keep playing it safe, doing what she's always done, or if she's going to boldly go where she's never gone before. I knew I was at that crossroads as Barbara's breasts faded into the background and the lovely crystal champagne flute floated in front of my face.

I took the glass by the stem. The cum almost reached the top; there was less than half an inch of unfilled space. I briefly thought about how different the glass looks now than it normally does when filled with, say, a blanc de noirs. It was white and opaque rather than straw-colored and transparent. It had bubbles, but there was no movement. It was warmish, not cellar temperature. My mind was getting off the subject as I was stalling for time to make my decision.

It turned out that the expressions on my friend's faces made it for me. When I looked over the gang there was such excitement, anticipation, and animal lust in their eyes I knew I had to drink this glass filled with two rounds of their juices.

That turned me on like a light bulb.

I took one last whiff of the aromatic liquid, put the glass to my lips and drank in a mouthful. It was thick, creamy, exciting, and uniquely delicious. I bubbled it around my mouth; then I opened my mouth to show everyone the white wonderliquid. Though it was still quite thick I was able to swallow. It was then that an orgasm the size of a Peterbilt 389 hit me. I was gone.

I wanted more of it, I needed more of it. I turned the whole glass almost upside down and drained it into my mouth. I didn't care about its thickness, sliminess, warmth or lack thereof; all I cared about was putting it inside of me. I was having an oral orgasm. It felt as though nothing existed except my tongue and my throat and my quickly warming tummy.

Finishing the glass, I licked the inside as best I could then I used my finger to scoop out the rest. I then used the fingers of both hands to scoop up any more from my face, chin, eyebrows, anyplace where I could find it. As long as I kept tasting more, I kept having my orgasm.

I looked over to see if there was anything left on Barbara boobs, but saw none. I crawled across the floor to the guys and licked each one's head for anything left over from the last orgasm or anything newly developed since.

Eventually my orgasm died and after that performance I must say the only dry eyes in the place were those on the one-eyed mice.

* * * *

Several minutes passed and we all just sat there, satiated, but still with a slight buzz of excitement in the air.

"Barbara," I broke the silence, "you were wonderful. I can't believe how talented you are. Your dancing was breathtaking."

"Thanks, I've really been enjoying the classes. It's not track, but it's a good workout and it's one of the few exercises I can do and not feel like my boobs are a hindrance."

"Yeah, where did you find that top? You were complaining about not being able to find one in your size."

"It turns out my teacher is pretty large breasted and she knew a woman who makes custom belly dancing clothes," Barbara said as she got up to retrieve her top.

"Yeah, Barb," Leonard asked, "how big are your boobs?"

For whatever reason, that hit a chord with her. "You know," she responded with more than a little frustration, "what is it with men? What is the big deal about numbers? Why can't you just enjoy? I mean, I have large, large breasts. If they're a 32G or a 38F or a 30 triple D, what the hell does it matter?"

Leonard looked like a school kid who'd just gotten a scolding from teacher.

"Geez, Barb, I'm sorry. I guess you're right; it's none of my business." he sheepishly replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry I chewed you out. It's just that it's my body. I didn't ask for them to be this big. And, on someone as small and thin as I am, they just stick out like, well, like a huge pair of boobs on a small, thin woman. Sometimes my back hurts, the underwires always chafe me, I can never find clothes that fit, and mostly I can never talk to anyone, male or female, and have them look at my face!"

There was some discussion about the size of boobs in general and how guys can't understand how uncomfortable it can be for a woman. Then one guy talked about men in the Renaissance wearing codpieces and how they would often stuff them with material to make their package look bigger.

"We should do that today," someone suggested.

"Hell," Leonard said, "I still just want to know what size bra you wear."

Barbara picked up a pillow and threw it at him, now laughing with the group. "It ain't gonna happen. If you like my boobs, fine. If you don't, fine. Whatever size they are is none of your business."

"Guys need numbers," Leonard said. "We live for quantification: How many times did you come? How big is it? How many days have you gone without coming? How far can you shoot? How much can you shoot?

"We think about these things all the time. How much can you press? What's your GPA? Whatever! I just want to be able one day to say, like in the Dolly Parton movie, 'Holy Moley!'"

"Not gonna happen!" interjected Barb.

After some more friendly banter Barbara got up to get some more champagne out of the refrigerator and some sweets.

"Wow, Angie," Rachel said, "That was amazing. I don't think I've ever seen that much cum, even in porn. And, I've never seen anyone drink it like that. You must have had about twenty loads of semen."

"Yeah, it's weird. The stuff is such a turn-on for me. I have the biggest climaxes when I taste it," I said. "I guess I'm every man's fantasy -- oh, except for the lack of boobs, of course.