Game On; Thumbs Up

"So you curl?" asked Ethan.

"Oh, I do," said Douglas.

"How good are you? Be honest."

"I'm from a farm in northern Minnesota. It's what we do on Saturday nights."

"We're looking for a third for our team since David moved to Chicago. Should I take you at your word? We play every Tuesday. Why don't you come out for a test run. We play at 8."

"I'll be there," Douglas said with a seriousness and solemnity he afforded to only a few subjects. But, Ethan didn't hear him because he was looking past him into the living room where he saw Joni, his girlfriend, her jeans down around her ankle, supporting herself on the coffee table, legs spread as far as her jeans would allow, back arched, ass stuck way out.

Douglas, drawn by his gaze, turned to see what he was looking at. "Oh my God," he whispered, unconsciously. From the moment he'd laid eyes on her, he had been mesmerized. She was gorgeous, he thought: long dark hair, electrifying smile, deep brown eyes, and a body that was almost boyish, except for that ass, which was roundly, softly, sweetly, proudly feminine. Yes, he'd fantasised about being surrounded by big, throbbing cocks, aching for his attention, but aesthetically, he'd been drawn to the shapes and lines and mysteries of women. He'd never talked about this with anyone else, and he'd always preferred to leave it unresolved, unlabeled in his own mind. It just was what it was.

Ethan and Douglas watched, and so did the rest of the party, now jerked from their conversations, and into a kind of nervous, fluttering silence. Like a tableau, the two couples squeezed together on the couch froze his position: Graham, in his J. Crew shirt, the top button undone, with his hand slyly down the back of his wife Heather's dress, tickling the top of her supple ass, had been discussing politics before he'd gone mute; Heather, rocking her hips imperceptibly to give her husband's hand more room to push deeper into her pants, tight grey tank top riding up to expose the cutest little bit of belly flab over her belt, had been laughing at something, but was now covering her mouth, waiting; Paige, nipples dark and hard against her white t-shirt, legs in yoga pants, folded up underneath her, had been looking at Heather's marvelous tits, but was now distracted; Anthony, dark eyes serious over something, muscles tight inside his polo shirt, his hand on the soft hair on the back of Paige's neck, had been preparing to make a move of his own.

They were all looking at her ass.

Joni felt their eyes on her, all their eyes on her; she felt the cool air of the room brush against her asshole and roll over her pussy; she felt so incredibly exposed bent over like this, her hair over her reddening face, her t-shirt riding up her back. She thought of her moles and blemishes, the bruise on her thigh, the scar on her back; she felt like her asshole was a big round lens that people could see into. But then, it was kind of like walking on coals: at first you're worried they'll burn you, but then you realize it doesn't hurt and you're not afraid anymore, of anything; you're invincible.

Ryan, Ethan and Joni's roommate, walked over, calmly, taking his time, sucking his thumb. Then, without ado, he pushed his thumb into her ready asshole. She moaned, softly, but in a way that seemed to fill the whole room.

"Game on!" said Ryan pulling his thumb out and turning it up in the universal gesture of goodwill.

The room burst into a flurry of activity. On the couch, Anthony pulled Paige's t-shirt over her head even while she deftly undid the button on his jeans; Heather undid her own pants, stood up, pulled them down and pushed her pussy against Graham's face.

In the kitchen, Ethan said to Douglas: "You heard the man. 'Game on.'"

"Aren't you...?"

"Hey man," he said, anticipating what Douglas was thinking, "everyone belongs to everyone else."

Douglas flinched for a moment, unsure of himself. But then followed Ethan's lead, throwing off his clothes on the way. In a flash, the Ethan, Douglas, and Ryan circled Joni who, naked herself, now kneeled between them. She started with Ethan, taking him into her mouth, tasting his heat, moving in rhythm to his bucking hips. Meanwhile, Ryan and Douglas kissed and touched each other, giving the other an occasional stroke, tracing the lines of hips, and biceps, and abs.

Joni made her way around the circle, pushing each cock deep into her throat, holding it there and then letting it out when it seemed unbearable. This produced a delicious, thick kind of saliva, which spit back onto the cock before plunging in it back into her throat, or she let it fall down onto her breasts, from where it slid down, pooling in her belly button or catching in the thick thatch of her dark bush.

Tasting each man in succession gave her a chance to compare; they were amazingly similar with little shadings of size, shape, and smell. Ryan's was long, more curved, cut, and confident, smelling like it had its own line of cologne; Ethan's was thinner, but arrow straight with a fat, round head that pulsated like a strobe light; Douglas's was shorter, but fatter than all, a thick, ready tool, hard as steel.

When she had given each of them a turn, Douglas felt Ryan's hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him down: "Help her out," he said.

Douglas gladly obliged, happy to have a chance to feel that powerful cock inside his mouth. He remembered with absolute clarity how, just a few weeks back, he'd seen that cock from across the room at his very first party and how he'd longed to have it in his mouth and all the way inside his ass. A glimmer of hope percolated in his mind as he tasted it, luxuriating on its head, gripping the shaft in his hand, before sliding it slowly all the way in.

As Douglas and Joni worked on the cocks, the scene on the couch was also amping up. Paige was sucking Anthony's cock while Heather, now naked except for a pair of ankle socks, ate her ass and Graham fucked her from behind, still dressed in his J. Crew button down.

Graham slapped his wife's ass, pulling out of her. "I'm too close," he explained. "I don't want this to end."

"Okay, baby. Take a breather," she said, taking her sweaty face out of Paige's ass.

Graham paused and took a sip of his drink, surveying the room, which seemed ready to explode. He liked these moments of waiting, watching. He watched his wife, who had now slipped between Paige's legs to eat her pussy, her fingers slipping in between her own lips, rubbing across her clit.

Good Lord, he thought to himself. I am a lucky man, a truly lucky man. These people are everything to me, and this is why we're all alive: to fuck, to drink, to eat, to enjoy the sights and sounds of this world while we still have a chance, to be young while our bodies are still young, to experience all that we can, and to say yes, yes to everything.

He shed his shirt, watching his good friend Anthony, who always seemed to be able to go forever, now fucking Heather, his wife, her thighs and ass slapping against his hard, browned body, while she ate Paige's swollen pussy; his gaze took in Paige, her small furious body, her small tits, the most suckable, expressive nipples, her feet with toenails painted black up in the air to provide maximum access to her cunt.

He walked over to the group on the floor and ran his hand lightly against Ethan and Ryan's asses and that was all it took. They both came together, shooting their cum into hungry mouths.

Groaning with satisfied pleasure, Ethan took Graham by the hand and led him to the loveseat. Ethan sat down and positioned Graham in front of him so that he could suck his cock. Ryan followed the lead and kneeled down behind Graham, pushing his tongue into his asshole.

Joni looked at Douglas. There was something beautiful and pure about him, something innocent, even now, when he was covered in cum and thick strands of saliva. She loved him then, in a way she had never felt before; he was a puppy and he needed her to protect him. She began to lick his face in a way that was almost romantic.

"Fuck me," she said. It was his first time.