My Crazy Night Pt. 01

Thanks to the (anonymous) author who reached out to me and did an AMA (Ask me Anything) interview to turn my real-life experience into a story. His excerpts below..

Beginning: Interest in Jaazmin (aka Jaaz)

One night in one of Literotica's chat rooms, two guys started to discuss their latest fancy hobby, their views and fantasies about an amateur that shared her pictures and real-life experiences on her blog. As their talk heated up and attracted more and more attention, I came to the point, 'Why not go and check?'

I was surprised to find something quite authentic. On her blog, she shared some insights into an open-minded lifestyle garnished with a few teasers, requesting to leave a spicy comment. Especially one of the pictures caught my attention, exhibiting a male hand on her body, somewhere outdoors. I had to know what it was about. Were her short texts only fantasies to entertain her fans, or was there a bigger story behind this?

I sent her a message, complimenting her looks and soon we were into a question-and-answer game, trading inside information of her escapades for advice of the dos and don'ts in a pub date.

Well, to make a long story short, as a reward for having my hands on some of her personal pictures, that she intended to share only with her most respectful fans, she granted me a kind of an exclusive, personal AMA interview.

We set up a meeting in a chat room, and she let me in on every detail of that night when the 'hands-on' picture was taken. We both found that sharing personal views and the bodily impacts of the events was a huge turn on. She gloried in the comments and compliments I gave her during those hours, that passed so fast. Hungry for more of such feedback, she asked me to write it down for you, as fast and best as I could.

So, this is her (Jaazmin's) story. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did...

...I am not always this crazy, but yeah, this one was one of my crazy nights!

As I like to remember the events of that special wild night over and over again, I had my memories written down by a total stranger just like those that roamed over by body that night. Just thinking about the course of the night still gets my fanny moist. But telling a stranger, in every detail I could muster, that really made my system going. Almost as hot as the hands exploring every bit of my skin that night, he explored my somewhat blurred recollection. He stripped my mind to its innermost desires, as nude as my body was back in that night, surrounded by a handful of strangers.

Why I had it all written down? I want to read it again and again to recall what made me feel so extraordinary good, what made my juices flow, and what made me act out of my normal ways. I crave for you to read it, to imagine me there, at the bar, on the dance floor, in the alley. Let your imagination go wild along with my memories.

In The Underground

It all happened on the last weekend of January. I had already enjoyed my time, night and day, from Friday evening on. Some celebrations, a decent number of dates and lots of drinks later, I was so drunk and wasted that I cannot recall much of it, except for what happened in that crazy Saturday night in The Underground.

My date, whom I had met several times before, had invited me for our usual Saturday pub drink. When I entered the tightly packed location, warmth welcomed me, radiating from the bodies that danced to the blaring techno beats. The warm air caressed my plentiful exposed skin. And do trust me, there was lot of it on display, as my date is one of visual guys.

Earlier that evening, I had felt the first familiar sensations between my thighs from just looking at myself in the mirror, admiring the sexy sweet nothingness I had slipped into. The tight little jeans hot pants showed off most of my legs and would allow my date easy access to some of my delightfully soft spots. The top was...well, it's mere function that I wasn't to be blamed going topless. The straps of the glossy flimsy cloth went around my fully exposed back, looking like the strings of a gift wrapping. I hoped the man for whom I had come here would take the obvious hint.

Yeah, I've never been called a subtle girl. But Slutty? More often, that I can count!

Stripped from my jacket, I squeezed myself trough the crowd of party-goers, most of them locals and most of them ignoring me in my light dress since they weren't wearing much more than me. Probably that's why The Underground is so famous to the many tourists that completed the ocean of bodies I surfed. On my way to the bar to wait for my date, I started to get excited, not only because of the prospect to see my admirer, but also from the nudges and random touches that made my bare skin tingle.

The looks from the tourists I passed by added to my self-confidence. The guys ogled me openly, wishing I was the girl in their arms. The girls flashed me jealous glances in return for the free lesson I gave them about that there is always a way to dress more daringly.

They say self-confidence is sexy? In that very moment I was the fucking goddess of passion and lust they all worshiped.

The Accident

As I arrived at the bar it took several attempts to order my drink. While his eyes understandably lingered on my assets, the bartender's attention was also disturbed by the noise surrounding us. Most of it had its origin at a table in a nearby corner. Seated there was a bunch of guys, obviously tourists. With a loud roar they welcomed their fifth friend returning from the bar with a tray full of shots. It looked like they had just started to celebrate whatever secret male ritual.

Waiting for my own drink, I could see from the corner of my eyes that the guys behind me had not only started to down their drink, but to openly stare at my almost nude back. Their attention feed my excitement. By the time my drink arrived, the thin cloth strip covering my most precious was soaked with the juices of my arousal.

I couldn't wait to finally see my date! He likes to see me showing up braless, and damn, that night I was prepared to give him one eyeful. With the side of my boobs exposed I felt so vulnerable, so wonderfully vulnerable. I had chosen this exceptional petite piece of cloth to only slightly cover my chest -- Wait, cover? That, for sure, is the wrong word -- to present him an opportunity -- yes, that's better. There were no blouse buttons or shirt hems to fiddle with. When I would give him that one special look, all he had to do was to reach out his hand and set me on fire. But today he was late while my glass was almost empty.

I got a little annoyed and scanned the room to have a look who else wanted to see and be seen when suddenly I felt a small touch to my somewhat exposed breast. A second later, I knew it wasn't an unintended random contact, but one with some plan behind it. The finger was not simply touching me by chance, but running very subtly along the side of my boob. Even though, my arousal was shifted up into the next gear, I wouldn't let any fucker tickle me without my invitation.

There are rules. The Queen's rules. My Rules!

As I was turning to give him one hell of a cuss about where to put his finger, his beer glass got somehow in the way -- I swear, I saw his hand moving. The next moment I was soaked in its former contents. All of a sudden, all gentleman and sweetheart, he unwound his apologies, his hand ready to wipe me dry with a napkin. I just couldn't believe that he tried to feel me up once more. I backed off and said, "Thanks, I'm OK," and grabbed the napkin out of his hand. Starting to dry myself, I realized I was just too drenched and started for the washroom.

Before I could enter the Ladies' room, I had to let pass another girl. As I made my way into the washroom, I noticed that the guy from the bar had followed me there.

I asked with an annoyed look, "So what?"

"Thought, you might need a helping hand." Was that man for real?

"If you really wanted to help, you would have chosen champagne to be my new cologne." Turning to the door, I added, "I need to wash that down. Can't stand the smell of stale beer on me."

"Can I see?"

It took me a moment to recollect my wits, but I eventually replied, "Oh, no, naughty boy! That's not the way!" A whimsical smile was on my lips, tribute to the compelling attention he paid me.

"Oh, c'mon, let me, at least, take a pic?" his mobile already in his hand, directing it my way, "You look so awesome in your wet look."

What can I say? My exhibitionist self instantly fell in love with the camera. Without another word I stroke up a pose presenting myself in the best light of the dim hallway.

"You will send it to me." I stated, not asking him.

"Oh, yeah, give me your number."

I realized too late, what I've gotten myself into in that short moment of thoughtlessness. Stuff it! After I would have received another daring picture for my gallery, his number would be on my ignore list.

I went to clean myself in the washroom. In the mirror I could not only see my topless perfection, but also the looks from other female guests, ranging from bewildered by my frankness to commiserative about my fate. Afterwards, with my top back in place, I gave myself another admiring look in the mirror and checked with a slight squeeze that my treasures were on display in the most alluring way. Yes, I was once more dressed to kill.

With a seductive wink, I said farewell to my mirror self and left the washroom to find my date. But instead of him -- had he forgotten about me? -- I found a new glass of scotch waiting for me at the bar, guarded by my latest adorer. I was positively surprised. Finally, some manners? With my sweetest smile I thanked him and took a nip. Mmh, my favorite, too. He raised his glass to me and took a sip as well. His stare never leaving my barely hidden eye-catchers. Licking his lips for a second, he abruptly said „Those clothes would look great in a crumpled heap on my bedroom floor."

My jaw dropped down due to his boldness and I, as I must confess, smiled brightly thrown off my guard. Biting my lower lip, all I could muster was, "Sorry, what? "While the little accident and its aftermath had not helped to keep me highly excited, in that very moment the river of lust swelled up and left its bed. High tide in my panties, flooding my mind with anything but ladylike images.

And that is how he got me invited to his corner table to join his four friends.

At the table

As we arrived at the table, I learned the sly rascal's name was Pete, before he introduced me to his friends. Like him, his best mate, Jon, and one of the other three were rugby players. Well, I have to admit, since I was already worked up from earlier, the view of those muscular, well-built guys sent my wide-screen imagination running wild, certain body parts in full-color high definition. Who would blame a modern girl to have a little chat and innocent fun with such cute tourists...?

A little lost in my reverie, I missed the names of the rest. And should I mention his finger that had sneaked back to the side of my body, tracing along the curve of my boob? It didn't help my concentration either. When all of them had greeted me with a big grin and bigger eyes -- oh, yes, they had noticed Pete's actions -- they asked me to have a seat between them. Since it was kind of a diner table, but nicer, you needed to slide in to get your seat. Bent slightly forward, pushing out my bum I slowly made my way to sit between Pete and Jon. It took me a moment or two in which the guys around the table fell completely silent enjoying the view as my top had lost contact with my skin.

Pretending to be unaware of their stares, I gave Jon a big smile as he made room for me to sit. Making myself comfortable, I took a side glance and saw that Little Jon was happy about my presence as well. Soon after I had made myself the hub of their little universe, they rediscovered their ability to speak and bathed me in flattery. On the outside I played it cool, "Oh, no, you're too kind", "You're such a sweet-talker!", or "That's what you tell all the girls." Meanwhile, my mental me took notes who of them was attracted to which of my delicious body parts.

Then one of them asked the inevitable question why such a hottie as myself was being alone at the bar. When I told them, I was waiting for my date, Pete laid his hand on my shoulder, "Good, that I found you, then. We will hold the bad guys off you until he shows up. "Why did that remember me of the protection racketeers in old gangster movies? Maybe because Pete's rough, thievish hand had started to snake down my naked back?

Taking his hand, I replied with a smile, "Thank you, big boy." Patting it, I placed his hand on the table. Yes, I did enjoy the touches, but I didn't want them to get the impression I was easy prey. So, for the moment I reacted to their more and more eager comments with a big 'aww' and "Sorry, what do you mean?"

I appreciated the break that the delivery of a tray of beer and wine brought. We clinked glasses and I took a big gulp, the first in a long line. The drink made me chatty and I asked where they were from and what had brought them to this place. I was surprised to find out Jon was about to get married and they were in town to celebrate his stag night. But the long-planned bachelor party event had been nixed by their model at the last minute. We drank one or two shots to celebrate the wedding news and their bad luck with the dancer.

I began to ask Jon about his girl and soon forgot to keep up my defense. The guys around me saw their chance and got closer. At first, I was gesturing with my hands and fingers, "No, no, that's not good." But soon after, I enjoyed both, Jon's description of what naughty things he had in mind for his wedding night and the strong hands on my back, my thighs and my chest. When we stopped for a moment to have another round of shots, I caught sight of growing bulges in their pants. I had pity on the two on the other side of the table. They were a bit jealous as all they could do was stare at my aroused nipples. In addition, I had pity on myself, two sets of hands that were left out to touch me.

More than half an hour later than expected, my date finally arrived. I spotted him while setting down my glass after downing another shot. I pointed toward him and told the guys, "That's my date for tonight." They hooted him to get his attention over the blaring music. He came towards the table at the corner. I was already drunk and Pete helped me in exiting the table from his side so that I could hug my date while Pete was practically holding my side boobs. I was just passed around like a toy. His eyes were both shocked, but I think he enjoyed the view.

"Hey, Sam. Come sit with us, those guys are fun," I invited him to the table.

While more drinks came, I observed that they were changing their seats around me and kept my date at bay so that they could enjoy my body. Pete was constantly groping me from under my top. At one point I had to tell them I want Sam by my side, as things were getting a bit out of hand.

But it made me so horny thinking about being groped in front of all those people...

All the drinks had had their effect on me and I started to enjoy their attention more and more, allowed them a bit more of skin to explore. Closing my eyes, I could feel their hands and fingers on all my soft places. I didn't listen to their comments and jokes anymore, but let my body move to the blaring music. When I lifted my eyelids, I noted all their eyes were stuck at my braless jiggling boobs. In my wasted brain a question popped up. 'If those few motions already have such an effect. What will happen if I let my full body move on the dance floor?' As I wanted to go out to the dance floor some hands groped my ass to get me out and in fact, I felt fingers inside my shorts.

On the dance floor

Anyway, I went to the floor with Sam and started to make up for the time my attention had been split between six men. Hypnotized by the vibes of the music and the flickering lights I ran my hands along his body, pressing my groin against his, doing my sexy little dance. As he was still mostly sober, his body was moving in a quite stiff fashion. Most probably he was also a bit annoyed from being all forgotten at the sideline at the table. I really wanted him to loosen up and enjoy his time with me. I took his hands in mine and ran them up and down my body.

But within minutes the guys from the table somehow displaced him and took his position. It was Pete first and then slowly all of them surrounded me. Pete was moving behind me. When he closed in, I could feel his bulge pressing into my back. He kept holding me in front of him, giving access to Jon and the others that ran their hands all over me. I think at this point Sam got annoyed and left for a drink.

I love to dance, drunk or sober, and well that night I had a great time on the dance floor. Especially when the boys joined in, it was all about me. Not only their eyes were on me but other men around us started to look my way, too. Unlike the girls that stabbed me with piercing glances. Their faces telling me, 'Get a room, slut.'

The hands all over my skin, the knees, hips and bulges pressing into me, all that felt heavenly. Four or five songs later, the guys being very touchy-feely, I became aware that my hand was sticky with a white liquid. I took me a long moment to realize what was going on. Had one of them used my hand to get off? A handjob right here on the dance floor? My mood swung like a pendulum. I swore to them and stormed off. My temper needed some cooling.

Close to the rear exit leading to the smoker's corner out in the back alley, Pete grabbed my arm and spun me around. He asked in all innocence, "What's wrong. Why did you leave?" Waving my sticky hand in front of his face, I told him that I wasn't their playmate of the month. He lamely apologized. I tried my luck and asked for a minimum compensation for my unquestioned services, "Can I have a smoke?" As usual, I didn't carry any cigarettes with me, but felt the sudden urge to have a smoke after all those drinks and the scene on the dance floor.

"Let's make a deal," he said smirking. Holding the packet just out of my reach, "You can have your smoke..." He was damn blunt when he added, "if I can finger your butterfly." My mouth fell open in rapt astonishment. I was already so drunk that I couldn't even muster a smart reply to this.

"But first, my friends here want to take a souvenir pic, groping your titties." I was so wasted, I can't even recall saying yes or no to that. Seconds later my breasts were covered not by the thin cloth anymore, but by the warm hands of two of his friends taking advantage of me and pictures for themselves. They pinched my nipples and then played some more with the hardened nubs, letting my thong clad bud burst open, drowning the fabric in honey-sweet nectar.