Summer of Sydney

There were tiki torches all around. In the flickering firelight, the woman in the pool shone like copper.

Other guests milled around, some in the pool, some on the lawn and the patio, chatting, drinks in hand. People of all shapes, sizes, and styles. Although I think Sydney and I were the youngest ones there.

Not everybody was nude, but some of them were, and many of them were dressed with naught but the grand prize left to the imagination. I saw more cocks, tits, asses, and bulges than I had ever seen in my life.

A small minority of people were more or less dressed normally--the ones like me, I imagined, brought here as someone else's guest and trying not to show how ill-prepared they felt for this adventure.

When I looked back at Sydney, she had taken off the bra and shorts. Where she put them, I had no idea.

She wore a hot pink g-string, little more than a translucent triangle that fit perfectly over the neatly trimmed pubic hair underneath. She was greeting an older couple who were just about as naked as she was.

Distracted as I was by the world around me, I was still dumbstruck by the sight of her. She chirped and laughed, nonchalant about her near-total nudity. Sydney was the sexiest human being I'd ever seen.

I really, really had no idea what people wore to these things.

She returned to me and said, "Come on. Since you're new, we'll have to be there for lineup."

A gathering was forming around the sliding doors to the back of the house. We stood watching as a beautiful woman not quite old enough to be my mom climbed up and and stood on a makeshift fruit box podium.

Yes, she was naked. Kind of. She wore a sheer blue maxi skirt, which did nothing to hide her legs or her hairy pubis, and a necklace of flowers, which did nothing to hide her tiny, slightly downturned tits.

She greeted us and introduced herself as Ursula. Speaking to us in a slightly gravelly southern accent, she explained the "house rules."

1. Clean up after yourself.

2. Communicate with all of your partners, even if you're interested in just one of them.

3. If someone leaves during play, pause the play until they come back.

At this point, Ursula joked, "Come on, guys, let's avoid pissing off our girlfriends."

4. Barriers at all times during play--condoms, dams, AND gloves. If one breaks, pause and get another. Ursula stressed that this includes fluid-bonded partners, which Sydney had to explain to me.

"And most important of all," Ursula said, "Don't be a creep. Only play with someone else for as long as you have permission. Take 'no' for an answer."

Someone, a younger woman in the crowd, shouted, "And an unenthusiastic 'yes' still means no!"

"She's right," Ursula chirped.

Everyone clapped, and Ursula gave a quick Q and A session that turned out to be mostly jokey Qs and even jokier As. When three minutes passed without anyone learning anything new, Ursula shooed us away.

"She's hot, isn't she?" Sydney said.

"Yeah," I said. "Does she own the place?"

"No, but I think she's a friend of the owner. It's their house, and they run these things, but they have her play the part of host."

We managed to squeeze through to the doors and go inside. I expected... I don't know what. People having sex on the chandelier. What I saw was about a dozen people shooting pool and drinking beers.

We were in a rec room with a bar, tended only by the coolers full of bottles and ice sitting on it. There were darts and a couple pool tables. Aside from the casual nudity, it felt like any other party.

Sydney turned a few heads when she showed up looking as she did, then a few more--mine included--when she casually slipped off the g-string and drew up to all 73 tall, naked, sexy, powerful inches of her.

"You should get naked before we go upstairs," she said.

XIII.

We compromised. I stripped down to my wine red boxer-briefs, the ones I thought made me look good. As it turned out, there were little cubbies distributed throughout where you could stash your clothes.

We came up a flight of stairs to a long hallway with many doors on both sides. Some of the doors were open, spilling warm light. There was a general din of people fornicating, talking, laughing, gasping.

The first open door we passed, we looked inside.

Between shoulders in the crowd, I saw the movements of two people, knelt on the floor, loud clapping noises as one of them fucked the other from behind. He was short and slight; she was pink and chubby.

They were angled mostly away from me. Most of what I caught was her generous ass and thigh, and the gyrations of her partner's compact buttocks. Even so, I was struck by a lightning bolt of recognition.

"Oh my god. Is that..."

Sydney saw it too, and pulled me into the room while I stumbled and stammered. Inside, we had a little more of a side-on view of Eliza getting fucked from behind by--Sydney informed me--Eliza's boyfriend.

"They like to be watched." Sydney's lips on my ear.

He wasn't what I'd pictured. A feminine-looking guy, wiry if not for a slight beer belly, a stripe of virility leading from between his pecs down into the shadow cast on his body by Eliza's quivering ass.

Eliza looked up, drunk from horny and from pleasure. I looked upon my friendly former coworker, whose pillowy thighs and belly were rippling with the poundings of the man behind her, and she smiled at us.

Okay, she saw Sydney first. She's hard to miss.

But Eliza's eyes locked on mine, and that's when she smiled. Maybe she was happy to see me, not just tall, naked Sydney. Or maybe being watched by a former casual acquaintance especially did it for her.

I almost didn't notice when Sydney took my hand and tried to get me to leave. My eyes were traveling from Eliza's face down her body, over to his body, then back again, lingering where the two made contact.

Eliza. Every memory, every fantasy I had of her at work was being retroactively enriched by this moment.

"Come on," Sydney said. "He can take forever."

"You would know," I said.

"Yeah," was all she said. She sounded wistful.

She led me back to the hallway. There was a room that was open, but the door had been halfway closed by the bumping of bodies in close quarters. I was starting to push the door open enough to go inside.

"You go ahead," Sydney said. "I'm going to go say hi to someone."

My eyes didn't follow her. They were locked on the middle of the room as it came into view.

There was a small bed with a large, old-looking headboard. On the bed reclined a young woman, petite, naked, olive skin, stick-straight black hair on her head and on her pubis. She had a cock in her mouth.

The cock belonged to a pale, balding red-haired man, golden red curls of body hair spilling down his prominent pale belly and coalescing around his groin. The young woman bobbed her head enthusiastically.

To the woman's other side, she gripped the cock of a taller, darker man, who knelt with his back turned to us. His well-defined buttocks and musculature caught the light, outlined in shining gems of sweat.

It was impossible to watch the reclining naked woman without also seeing the full view of the two naked men kneeling to either side of her, a tableaux of fornicating bodies that seemed to exist as one.

I felt Sydney next to me and realized only then that she'd been out in the hallway until now. The only other people in the room with us were two older women and a younger man--the significant others, I guessed.

"Hi Emily," Sydney said, not loudly, but audibly.

The woman, Emily, had let go of the red-haired man's cock and was evidently about to apply her talents to the tall man. She looked up in mid-turn and smiled when she saw Sydney standing among the spectators.

"Hey Simski," Emily said cheerily, before diving on the tall man's impressive cock.

I was so horny. I could hear nothing, I could see nothing, all the powers of my brain were laser-focused on the threeway happening in front of me, this beautiful small woman and her busy hands and mouth.

Even so, my attention diverted just long enough to look at Sydney and mouth "Simski?" She laughed, looking a little embarrassed.

As Emily sucked his cock, the tall man peppered her with lots of whispered nothings--loving nicknames, insults, live commentary, who could tell? Her free hand loosely jerked the cock of the other man.

Then she took a break from the tall man as well, releasing him from her mouth, though not her grip. And she looked straight at me. Then her eyes went from me to Sydney.

Emily said, "Him?"

I could see Sydney nodding out of the corner of my eye.

Then Emily looked at me, smiled, and said, "You."

I knew she was looking at me. I knew "you" was referring to "me." It still took me a second.

"Take your panties off," Sydney mumbled, lightly swatting my ass.

Bewildered, and too horny to care, I slipped out of my boxer-briefs and felt the sudden new sensation of all eyes being on my naked body, my hard-on. I think I heard one of the spouses say something nice.

"Go get 'em," Sydney said to me.

I felt my skin turn red as I stepped forward, guided by the expectant gazes of the people around me. I had worried so many times about being caught. I never could have imagined what it felt like to be seen.

As I approached, Emily patted a spot on the bed next to the tall man--very close, in fact. I climbed up, trying to show as little as possible to the crowd and failing, until I knelt among the libertines.

The smell in the center of the room was of the sweat of men. The air was thick with moisture, with sex. It felt warm on my skin. Lots of body heat. Maybe it was the nudity, maybe the activity, maybe both.

The tall man passed something into my hand--a condom. The place where his fingertips pressed it into my palm felt like it had been changed forever. It was only then that I noticed the two men had condoms on.

As unsexily as nature permits, I got the wrapper open and rolled the condom on. Emily took my cock in her delicate grip, and I obliged her by moving my hips forward. The tall man put an arm around my shoulder.

Emily pulled me into her mouth with a gentle suction, jacking my shaft and mostly suckling at the head of me, probably aware of the dullness of the condom and focusing her energy on the most sensitive part.

The heavenly sensation of her mouth on my cock shared my attention with the sweating weight of the arm across my shoulders. I wasn't sure I wanted it there, but I didn't shrug him away. The arm stayed.

I was stupefied. It felt like forever before it occurred to me to look around the room, not just at Emily and our two male companions, but at their lovers, all eyes on the new guy having one of life's firsts.

Then I saw Sydney. As I watched her, as she watched me, a man we had seen in the hallway materialized through the door, another man, and another. They stood by her, and three more men stood just outside.

These guys were more or less clothed. Different variations of sweats, shorts, t-shirts. I'd gotten the sense that clothes were frowned upon inside the house, but maybe this was part of a thing they were doing.

If they had partners with them, I didn't see them. One of them rested his palms on Sydney's waist from behind; another put his hand on her belly just below her navel. They would say things, she would laugh.

Sydney gave me a nod, then turned and walked out of the room, her meaty ass sashaying with barely contained excitement. One by one, the men from the hallway followed her. I could only nod to her in return.

I understood the message. She'd gotten me this far. Now I was on my own.

XIV.

Right as Sydney and her male harem disappeared, Emily took me and the tall man into each of her small hands, positioning our dickheads so close together that I nearly pulled myself away. It felt charged.

She would switch back and forth, sucking me, then him, a game of bringing both of us up stepwise at the same rate. She actually touched us together a couple times, something I was quickly getting used to.

The tall man's cock was bigger than mine. Much bigger. Thick, long, intimidating. But then, just nearby, the red-haired man's cock was smaller, the thickness of a couple fingers, hairy and mushroomheaded.

Emily seemed to be enjoying them either way, and now me as well. Me in the middle, unremarkable in nearly every way. Average height, average build, average cock. Except this felt pretty god damn extraordinary.

At some point, she was actively touching us together, mashing together the squishy condom tips, licking both of us at the same time, laughing with us when she tried to fit us both into her mouth but couldn't.

Between that and the arm around my shoulders, I was making more body contact with the tall man than with any other person so far tonight. It was okay. He was my brother. My naked, getting-sucked-off brother.

Emily said something I didn't catch to the red-haired man, who had been avidly watching us and stroking himself just enough to stay hard. He smiled, whispered something back in a surprisingly sweet voice.

She released me, the tall man took his arm away, and, just for a moment, I was bereaved by the sudden lack of touch. She sat up. The tall man knelt behind her. She laid back on the cradle of his chest.

She raised her knees. The tall man reached around, gripped her under her thighs, and pulled her legs up further yet, tilting her bottom quarters upward, showing the full course meal to everyone in the room.

Maybe that's why I wasn't mortified or made impotent by my communal nudity. I knew all eyes weren't on me.

The red-haired man grabbed something from the table at the bedside--a dental dam, I soon deduced--and laid it over Emily's furry labia. He stroked her through it, ostensibly to see if it held, and she giggled.

Then she looked up at me. In one of her sotto voce whispers that I could barely hear, she instructed me to kneel in front of her, a knee to either side of her, and--her words--"put it right *lipsmack* here."

I was kneeling over her chest, she started sucking me off, but my eye contact was with the tall man, looming just behind her, holding her, toying with her tummy, her tiny tits, her dark, hard nipples.

When our eyes met, he smiled and gave a string of half-mumbled words of lewd encouragement. His eyes, Emily's mouth. Somewhere behind me, between Emily's knees, I sensed the red-haired man lowering his head.

It was distracting. I thought I could feel his hair brushing the backs of my legs, the backs of my balls. But whatever he was doing for Emily must have been great. Wet crinkling, the vibrations of her moaning.

Being horny is like being drunk. It's the only time your decisionmaking really shows what's in your heart, at its most naked and vulnerable.

Soon, Emily forgot about me, or, rather, was so distracted by the tall man's fingers and the red-haired man's oral attentions that she had been reduced to gripping me loosely while her head lolled back.

When she came, it was pretty spectacular, all heaving chest and writhing body, held in place by the steady grip of the tall man, great breaths hissing rapidly in and out, fingertips clutching my legs.

When it was over, she started laughing uncontrollably, some kind of euphoria, post-orgasmic, post-whatever the hell it was you called this. After some struggle, she managed to get herself under control.

She announced that she needed a break. Bumping soft, wet bodies with us on the way down, she got off the bed on rubbery legs. The lone man in the crowd--her boyfriend?--brought her a long, thin bathrobe.

She wore the robe robe over her shoulders, uncinched, as he escorted her out. The tall man and the red-haired man slapped their hands together and grinned with congratulations, then did the same with me.

When they took off their condoms and threw them in a small bin by the bed, so did I. I was learning. Picking up cues. Monkey see.

I had never had group sex before, hadn't even considered it a realistic possibility. I'd never been in a sexual situation with other men, had never been seen or touched by them, until I came here.

Now we were all here together, naked, panhandled, not the least bit shy about showing ourselves to each other, nor about the vulnerability of receiving sexual pleasure in front of each other. True brothers.

The two women--girlfriends, wives, I'm not sure--approached us and greeted me with smiles. One was a cute nerdy-looking girl, the other a middle-aged beauty queen type, both in variations of sheer lingerie.

The women gushed about how sexy it was, three big, strong men taking command of such a pretty young thing. They were enthusiastic enough that it felt placating, like they were proving they weren't upset.

Still, it didn't seem dishonest. And I had to admit that their compliments, however finessed, gave me an ego boost in a moment when I needed it. I was new at this, and scared of embarrassing myself.

Inevitably, the men and their partners went off together, in search of new situations. I went off on my own. The once-busy hallway was empty, the party having retreated into rooms, most of which were now closed.

I walked down the hallway, trying not to look self-conscious lest anyone see my nudity or my half-hard penis, but there was no one around to look. Even the people in the open rooms didn't notice me.

There was a particularly crowded room where a dominatrix was spanking a woman I thought was Eliza, but it wasn't. I was keeping an eye out for Sydney, or for her harem of men. I didn't see anyone I recognized.

There was another room, less crowded, where one man laid spread-eagle on a massage table while another man jerked him off and licked his asshole. It was then that I decided it was time to go back downstairs.

I thought maybe I'd find someone to drink and shoot pool with in the rec room. Aside from two naked women kissing and groping each other in the corner and two men watching them, there was no one in there.

I considered joining the men, but I just had the feeling that they were a closed group and that my intrusion wouldn't be welcome. I still wasn't used to the norms. I wanted to err on the side of caution.

There was no one on the other side of the patio doors as far as I could see. I decided to get some fresh air, maybe figure out how the hell to get a message to Sydney and get my clothes so I could leave.

The air was as hot and humid out on the patio as it had been inside, but at least it wasn't stale. It felt good on my bare skin, my cooling sweat. It felt freeing to be naked outside where no one could see.

Then I heard the quiet scrape of paper and turned. There was a woman sitting nearby--the one who had waved at us from the pool. She was in a lounge chair with a book. Her hair was out, great flaring locks.

She was still naked, still gleaming like copper in the light.

She looked up from the book and smiled. "Enjoying the party?"

Not knowing what else to do, I wandered over to her. I felt awkward standing there, but I didn't know how I felt about my bare ass touching the outdoor furniture. She didn't seem bothered either way.

"It's a lot to take in," I admitted.

"First time?"

"Yeah."

"I hope nobody's made you feel unwelcome."

"No, not at all. Everyone's been great."

She bookmarked her book, sat it on the table, and turned to face me, not noticing or not caring that I couldn't look away from her abundant naked flesh. A Peter Paul Rubens nude, set in wet, shining relief.

Her shoulders slumped. Her whole body sagged. She didn't seem tired. Just burdened.

"I have to ask," she said, "because I run these things. This is my place, and I want to make sure everyone who comes in through those doors gets something they're looking for."