Spin the Bottle

Author's note:

Thanks so much for your feedback and suggestions on my first two stories. I've tried out some of your ideas and will try to write them up soon.

I've also been fantasizing - and that's what this story is. It's my first piece of fiction, but I'm thinking of seeing if I can make it real when the weather gets warmer....

Thanks to BeccaHasFun for her help in revising this story.

And thanks to you for reading, and please do send your comments and suggestions. I love hearing what you think!

xx Jenn

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By the spring of my junior year of college, I was restless, horny, and eager to try something new. I'd split with my boyfriend during the winter break and had a long, dry, spring. He'd been nice, but was spending the spring semester in Europe. He suggested we do a long-distance thing, but I knew what that meant. It meant I'd feel guilty for wanting to get fucked at college while he'd be screwing any European girl he liked. I knew better than to say yes, so we split.

I'd always had a bit of a thing for showing off my body. I'd been a runner in high school and always had the shortest shorts on the team. I kept running in college in part to keep my trim body and my flat stomach, but also (maybe mostly) for the excuse to show off my running outfits.

But without a man in my life, running down frat row in short shorts and a sports bra didn't do it for me anymore. So I turned it up a notch.

I lived a couple of blocks off campus in a building without laundry, so every week I'd lug my dirty clothes to the campus laundromat where I'd try to put on a bit of a show.

Sometimes I'd wear a dress and load the machines with my laundry and then shimmy out of my panties to add to the load. Other times I'd wear just a bathrobe. I loved catching young men staring at me. I'd wink and show more leg. The lecherous old men, however, spoiled my fun.

And every once in a while I got distracted during a late-night study session at the library. Before midterms, for example, I was trying to concentrate on my calculus problem sets but kept on looking up to see the handsome guy studying two tables down. I smiled at him. I couldn't concentrate while imagining what I wanted him to do to me.

So I stood up, did my best to look sexy as I walked past him in my jeans and ratty t-shirt, and walked down two rows of books to where I'd be mostly alone. I pulled two big books off the shelf and set them on the floor. I sat on them, spread my legs, and leaned against the shelf.

I looked around to make sure there was nobody there. After the bookshelves ended to my right was an old card catalog, and beyond that another row of books. To my left was an empty group study room. Anyone could walk down those corridors at any time. Behind me, through two shelves of books, was where I'd been sitting and the handsome stranger.

Cautiously, I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and pulled them halfway down my thighs. I slid my hand inside my panties. I was already wet. As my first exploratory finger opened my pussy, I felt a moan escaping my lips. I needed this.

But it was a library! I found a headband in my bag and bit down on it to stifle my moans and returned my hand to my slippery pussy.

I touched myself and rubbed myself imagining it was that handsome stranger. I imagined him getting up, needing some water, and catching me getting myself off in the library.

Oh, I was getting close.

I imagined him bending me over one of those library tables and fucking me from behind. I roughly shoved three fingers where I wanted his cock.

High on the idea that I could get caught at any moment, I came quickly, and then again. The headband didn't muffle my screams entirely.

Quickly, I nervously pulled myself back together and fled the library.

That wasn't the only time that term I played in the library.

But anyhow, it was still a dry spring for me, sex-wise.

A crazy idea came to me as I read the daily emails from the student council promoting this finals study tip or that relaxation technique. "Get a full night's sleep," the student council suggested, "it'll make you rested and ready to succeed!"

Like that was going to happen. I thought of some other, better tips: "get fucked by your cute RA" or "blow your teaching assistant to get a good grade without studying" or "try sleeping with a friend's boyfriend to take your mind off finals stress."

So I made my own stress-release plan. There was a house for sale down the block from my off-campus apartment. The house was empty all the time and had a fenced-in yard that would be perfect for my plan.

I printed four flyers and put two up in the engineering stacks of the library and two in the English literature stacks.

"A project of the committee on finals de-stressing," the flyers read. I wanted it to look official enough. "Tuesday afternoon, 2pm. Spin-the-bottle." Then the address of the vacant house with the note to meet in the back yard. "Bring soda or another beverage."

That was it. I put the flyers up on Sunday and hoped for good weather.

Maybe nobody would come, I thought as I dressed for the afternoon's adventure. I pulled my sexiest panties on up my runner's legs and over my round ass.

Or maybe there would be fifty people, I thought, choosing a matching push-up bra and squeezing my 34C breasts into it.

Let's be realistic, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror and adjusting my tits for the perfect sultry cleavage.

Probably six or eight guys would come, I figured, putting the finishing touches of makeup on and blowing myself kisses in the mirror with my full, pouty lips. I teased my shoulder-length, wavy dirty blonde hair, too. I wanted to look good for whoever showed up.

Probably I'll be the only woman there, I thought, my hand wandering down my flat belly to finger the edges of my panties. That might be nice, having all that attention on me.

But probably they'll all be dorks, I worried, pulling on a short skirt with a hem about halfway down my thighs.

I pulled an almost transparent white button-down shirt out of my closet and put my arms in the sleeves, buttoning it up and tucking it into my skirt. Spinning for the mirror, I admired myself. I looked good. The outfit highlighted my slim build and my nice tits, I thought, and was sexy but also casual.

Imagining what was going to happen had me already a bit aroused. I could feel my panties dampen as I headed to the fridge.

I grabbed a six pack of beer and walked down the block.

As I walked, I debated what to do when I arrived. Would I play the organizer and take charge? Or maybe I'd see whether someone else did?

I decided to pretend I'd gotten there the same way everyone else had: by seeing a flyer. I didn't want to seem desperate or easy, and organizing a spin-the-bottle event might look that way. I was there, I decided, for harmless fun.

I was just a few minutes late, and there were six guys there already, opening beers and chatting. Not nobody, which was a relief.

I looked around. There were some duds, for sure. A pale, round, pimply guy with stringy hair looked like the worst of the lot. A couple of guys who had a vibe of still-dressed-by-their-mom, too. But there were two handsome ones. These guys looked like they played a sport because of their athletic build. And they both had nice smiles. One other guy also caught my eye. Skinny, but well-enough dressed. And his blue eyes drew me right in.

"Is this the, uh, spin-the-bottle thing?" I asked one of the athletic ones.

"I hope so," he replied, "now that you're here."

"How's this gonna work?" I asked.

Blue eyes came over and opened one of my beers for me.

"We can start playing anytime, I guess," he said.

"It's what we're here for, isn't it?" I responded.

"I suppose so," blue eyes answered. "But I don't really want to make out with that guy," he continued, nodding at pimples.

"Spoilsport."

"I guess we know what your type is," he joked.

I hit him playfully. "Pardon me, sir, if I play by the rules."

He smiled.

"Anyone up for a game of spin the bottle?" blue eyes asked, taking the lead. The boys were all looking a little nervous, and the tension lightened when blue eyes got us started.

We gathered in a circle and sat on the grass, me between the athletic one I'd spoken with and a dorky one. Blue eyes finished his beer and put the bottle in the middle.

"Everyone know the rules?" he asked, and then, without waiting for an answer, outlined the rules. "I'll spin the bottle, and kiss whoever it points to. Then that person will spin and kiss who it points to and so on."

The dorky one not next to me spoke up: "What if it points to a dude?"

I wasn't really interested in watching these guys make out. I put this together to get them to kiss me! So I answered with a question.

"Any of you guys want to kiss dudes?"

Nobody answered.

"So how about I just kiss whoever the bottle points to?"

Everybody seemed happy with that. And relieved. They had all stiffened - all but blue eyes - when the dork asked about kissing dudes. Big smiles lit up their faces as they thought about kissing me.

I, however, was a little worried. What had I gotten myself into? I thought. An afternoon of kissing these guys, I answered myself. Which included the three dorky guys who didn't appeal to me. But also included blue eyes and the athletic types.

Blue eyes produced some gum and mints and passed them around while I took another big swallow of beer. So thoughtful, that guy was.

"You spin first," I said, pointing to the dork who'd complained about kissing dudes.

He spun and it landed on the pale pimply guy. He blushed bright red.

Here goes, I thought. Getting the worst over with first.

I did this to myself, I thought, and slowly stood to walk over to him. I kneeled on the ground next to him, put a hand on his thigh to support myself, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

I didn't die, but he was sure in heaven, judging by the stirring in his pants. And even though I didn't find him attractive, it was a thrill to turn him on so easily. Just a little peck.

Someone spun the bottle as I sat back upright and let go of his thigh.

Next was the silent athlete. He stood to meet me in the middle of the circle and put his left hand at my waist. He traced my jaw with his other hand before leaning in to kiss me.

I broke the kiss before it went on too long. We were just getting started. But that kiss had started something stirring inside of me. It was going to be a fun afternoon.

Next was the dork I'd sat next to, the shortest of the bunch. He didn't stand up, so I kneeled next to him and leaned in for a short, closed-mouth kiss.

Then the talkative athlete, who was sitting cross-legged. I straddled him and pulled his face to me for a kiss while his hands found my ass. I opened my mouth to moan into him and he pulled me closer until I could feel the heat of his cock through my panties.

I stood, blushing, and found the bottle pointing back to pimples. He stood up and put his hands on my waist to pull me into him. I kissed him lightly on the lips and then, feeling generous, again. He pulled me closer, poking me with his cock. I stepped away.

The bottle was pointing next to the silent athlete again. This time he was still sitting with his legs in front of him. I straddled his waist and pushed him to lie flat on the ground. I leaned forward to kiss him and, suddenly, his hands were on my ass. He flipped my skirt up as we kissed, showing my panty-covered ass to the whole group. I gasped into his mouth as we kissed, his tongue exploring my mouth as I leaned deeper into the kiss. His hands massaged my ass.

Out of breath, I sat up. I caught my breath as I put my skirt back down and adjusted my outfit.

I was blushing from the surprise of being shown off like that, but enjoyed it, too. Knowing that the boys all had their eyes on me and on my ass was a thrill.

"Where's my beer?" I asked and it appeared in front of me.

The boys were talking as I downed the last of the beer.

"You've got a really nice ass."

"I'd love to see what else you're hiding."

"Take off her shirt next time, man."

The boys wanted me. "Who's next?" I breathed.

It was the other athlete, who felt my breast as we kissed. And then the short dork, who braved a hand on my waist and one on my neck. Then the athletes one and then the other.

I was getting hot and bothered. Going from one man to another to another without a let up was turning me one. So many hands on my body. I was buzzing with sexual energy and they all knew it.

The bottle pointed to the dork who hadn't yet been kissed.

"It's about time," I said, looking more at blue eyes than the dork as I walked over. The dork stood, nervous, his pants tented.

"You've waited so patiently," I cooed, "I want a kiss here." I unbuttoned two buttons, exposing more cleavage and the top of my lacy bra. I pointed to my cleavage and pulled the boy's head in. His hands cupped my breasts as he planted kiss after kiss on my cleavage.

I cooed at his touch, arching my breasts into his kisses.

I smiled as I turned around to show the rest of the boys my cleavage. My nipples were rock hard, too, and I'm sure they showed through my bra and thin shirt.

Someone whistled. "Damn, girl."

I blushed.

Then it was pimples again, but I was turned on enough that this time I liked it when his cock poked me.

Then one of the athletes, and I was so distracted by the kiss that I didn't notice another button open on my shirt. It was nearly open to my navel now.

The bottle landed on blue eyes, finally. He walked to me slowly, put his hands on my hips, and pulled me into him. I melted into his arms, feeling his bulge against my belly, my breasts pressed into his chest, and his strong arms around me. I needed his kiss.

Blue eyes breathed into my ear, then down my neck. Then he traced my collar bone with little kisses and then kissed back up my neck. I shuddered. He kissed my neck again and I jerked in his arms, suddenly warm and tingly. He'd made me come - just a small orgasm - just from his kisses on my neck.

"You need a break?" blue eyes asked, opening another beer for me. I nodded.

I caught my breath and sipped my beer as the boys chatted.

"You know what could make this more interesting?" one of the athletes was saying. "Strip spin the bottle."

I smiled and leaned in. "How would that work?"

"We could flip a coin every time we spin the bottle, and if it's heads, you take off a piece of clothing. Tails, the guy does."

I imagined getting naked for these guys out in this yard. I was getting turned on even more. But I wanted them to work for it.

"I don't know," I said. "Fifty-fifty chances with one of me and six of you means that I'm probably buck naked without seeing any cocks."

"Two coins, then." Pimples chimed in, "and you strip if they're both heads."

"Odds are still against me," I said, "but how about this: three coins, if they're all heads I'll strip off a piece of clothing."

I watched the boys do the mental math. A one-in-eight chance meant that they'd all strip faster than me.

"And how about this," I sweetened the pot, "when a guy has to strip, he'll choose the item and I'll take it off him. And when I have to strip, I choose the item and you take it off me."

"Socks and shoes off, everyone, though," someone suggested. We all took off our shoes and socks.

All agreed, I finished my beer and spun the bottle.

It was the athlete who wanted to make the game more interesting. I straddled him, his cock straining at me through his jeans. I kissed him deeply as his hands crept up my sides from my waist to rest under my breasts, his thumbs toying at my nipples.

"Two tails and a head," someone said. The athlete and I stood and he told me to take off his pants.

I knelt in front of him, my face inches from the crotch of his jeans, his bulge twitching at me. I undid the button and lowered his zipper, and with a gentle tug, pulled his pants to his ankles. His boxer briefs strained in front of my face, and so I kissed his still covered cock.

Next was blue eyes. I let the coin flip happen as I stood facing him. I willed it to be all heads, dreaming of this man stripping me naked.

"All tails," someone said.

"My shirt," blue eyes whispered.

I pulled his t-shirt over his head, kissing his belly on my way up. When I got the shirt over his head, I left my hands on his chest, feeling his warmth. We kissed.

His hands pulled me closer and I kissed him more deeply. I ached to tear off my shirt and bra and feel my tits naked against his bare chest. He did something to me.

I came up for air and the boys announced the next coin toss. All heads.

And then the bottle spun, landing on pimples.

"Take off my skirt," I whispered.

His hands immediately and roughly found my waistband and tugged the skirt down. Kneeling in front of me, he kissed my thighs from my knees to my panties. And then he stood close to me, his nose smelling faintly of my musk, and kissed my mouth.

All heads again. And the bottle pointed to one of the athletes.

"My shirt."

He slowly undid the remaining buttons of my shirt before pulling it down my arms and off. Stepping close, he kissed me. One of his hands held my now bare lower back close against him while the other rubbed the front of my panties.

When we separated, I was short of breath.

"All heads," someone called with a muffled giggle.

"You're cheating, the lot of you!" I replied with a smile.

The boys laughed.

Someone spun the bottle and it landed at the pantsless athlete.

"What'll it be?" he asked, stepping towards me.

"Hey, now," I said. "Toss those coins again."

Two heads and a tails.

"My underwear," the pantless athlete said.

"Now wait a sec," I stalled. "You guys were cheating."

The boys didn't meet my eyes.

"And should be punished accordingly."

They seemed uncomfortable.

"Take of some clothes, each of you."

The athlete facing me ready to be stripped and kissed pulled off his shirt, showing a toned chest. The other athlete also stripped off his shirt, as did the two dorks and pimples. Blue eyes stripped off his pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

"My underwear," the athlete repeated, now very close to me.

I knelt in front of him and put my hands on the waistband of his boxer briefs. Slowly, I lowered them. First his pubes appeared above the waistband, and then the base of his cock. Slowly, slowly, I lowered his underwear until two inches of cock strained in the air three inches from my lips.

I kissed my way from the base of his cock slowly to the waistband of his boxer briefs, continuing to expose him to the air inch by inch. Three inches, four inches, five inches of cock showed, pulling at the descending waist of his underwear.

With a final tug after a final kiss just beneath the head of his cock, I took his boxer briefs to his ankles, sending his hard cock slapping back against his belly.

I was getting hungry for these cocks, but decided to take my time and let the tension build.

So I stood, kissed him gently on the cheek, and looked for the next spin.

The bottle pointed at pimples, looking at me and the athlete with awe. He looked exposed already without his shirt. His big pale belly was on display.

"Three tails."

"Your pants?" I asked.

Pimples nodded as I knelt in front of him. I unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down, then tugged the pants unceremoniously to his ankles, exposing his white briefs. His underwear pointed straight at me, his cock twitching.

I stood to kiss him, pressing my bra-covered breasts into his bare chest and, gently, rubbing his balls and cock.

I had hardly touched him when I felt his cock explode into his briefs. I stepped back and he blushed, grabbed his pants and hurried into them, and then ran off.