The Spring Dance Patsy

Stacy's knees tried to move further apart and found Connie's shoulder in the way. She lifted her knee and Connie felt her cunt abandoned. She caught Connie's eye as the knee lifted further and swung over her. She couldn't read the look in her friend's eyes.

Stacy straddled her. She looked up at angry red lips glistening with moisture. She felt Peter's cock press against her again, still along her slit rather than into it. It slid forward and Connie saw Stacy's crotch press down toward her face.

She stuck out her tongue and for the first time tasted pussy. She didn't hate it, but even if she had, the fact that she now felt Peter's head pressing against her opening made it worth it. Even more, as Stacy's tongue mimicked what Connie was doing with hers.

She saw those pinpoints of light shimmer and vibrate more excitedly.

Peter pushed into her, sliding in like a hand into a glove. Even smoother. Connie couldn't remember ever being this wet.

That little part of her brain gave up. "I guess 'too far' means nothing anymore?" it asked her rhetorically. There was no further. This was her first time.

Pete stroked into her as she licked Stacy's slit, her face covered with slippery lubricant. Every time he pulled back, it left her feeling an empty void, filled again quickly, at a steady, even pace.

It was, literally, nothing she had ever felt before. The friction, the pressure both against her and inside her as the mass of him forced her walls apart and completely filled the space between them.

The lights in her head multiplied and coalesced toward a single point. Her thighs quivered and ached at the same time. Her body flexed and relaxed with each thrust from Peter, each cycle bringing more intensity, more tension, building to an inevitable, sudden release.

But it didn't happen. This time, her void was not refilled. Peter pulled completely out.

With her face buried between Stacy's thighs, she could see nothing. But as she tried to back off, so did the only remaining contact that was happening where she needed it most.

She was aware of Peter moving, coming around her side. She saw a shadow over her and it was him, his rampant cock hovering over her face. She tilted her head back to look up at it, thinking only that it didn't belong here, it belonged where it was.

She saw one hand go between Stacy's thighs, to where her tongue had just been. His other went to his dick and he pushed it down, toward her face. She craned her neck back and he fed it to her.

"That's it," he said, and the affirmation brought a more solid contact from Stacy's tongue on her clit. She was like Pavlov's dog now, a slave to her need. If she did what Peter wanted, she got what she needed.

So she did it. She sucked him, his balls bumping her face while Stacy ate her.

She tasted herself, wondering if that counts as two now. She couldn't see past his balls, but he heard a squelching that told her where Peter's fingers were. A vibration from Stacy's mouth confirmed it.

Peter pulled his hips back, withdrawing from Connie's mouth. She looked up to see his fingers, two of them, knuckle deep in Stacy. They twisted, pushed, and pulled. The tendons on the back of his hands worked; he was doing something with his fingertips. Something that made Stacy's breath on Connie's flesh hot and heavy.

"Lick", he commanded. She did, and Stacy reciprocated in this three-way exchange of pleasures. His knuckles pushed her nose this way and that as he twisted his fingers and she pressed her tongue right next to where they disappeared.

"Don't stop," he said as he withdrew his fingers. Then his balls were bumping her forehead again and she watched his penis slide between Stacy's sopping lips. Stacy shuffled her knees to widen her thighs even more, pulling her slit even more open.

She saw the helmet of Peter's cock maneuver to separate inner lips that stuck almost straight out. Then, firmly seated, he began to push. In slow motion, she watched Stacy open more and more to accommodate his girth. She watched the head disappear, the shaft start to slide between.

She had a front-row seat, close enough to see skin pores amid all the glistening wetness. Until his balls dragged over her eyes.

Stacy let out a long sigh as Peter pushed fully into her. Connie lowered her head as much as she could but all she saw was hairy testicles and Stacy's labia coming together around it like a Gothic arch.

"Lick me," Peter said. She did, and he pulled slowly out of Stacy, sliding his balls and then his shaft along Connie's tongue and nose. She kept her tongue in the action as he began a steady pumping. One of his hands came off Stacy's hips and did something, and then Connie felt a tongue on her again, right where she needed it.

And more. Two fingers in her, Stacy's fingers. Peter moving faster, squelching sounds inches from her ears. Peter's balls swinging violently, then tightening, getting smaller and barely moving.

Connie's brain lit up again, the pinpoints of light shuddering violently. They circled each other as if pulled by their own gravitational attraction. Then she lost all contact with this world in a supernova of light and utter silence.

She had a vague sense of her head thrown back, Peter pulling out and grasping himself, splashes of cum on her, over splash from painting Stacy's cunt and asshole, then weak dribbles that never reached Stacy on their way to Connie's mouth and chin.

While she was still climaxing, he pushed his dick to her lips. She took it, trying her best to clean him off while her body spasmed. She tasted semen for the first time, but could not process the taste.

As she came down, she cleaned Peter more thoroughly, her body still spasming. Then she cleaned her best friend. She tasted it now, the earthy, musky taste that reminded her of ripe cheese and old shellfish. She didn't care. This was her due, this was the flavor she would always remember.

When she saw sky again, she got an upside-down look at Peter sitting sprawled in the dirt, his floppy cock still wet against his thigh. He looked out of breath and like all his joints had turned to rubber.

Stacy was on her back next to her, head to toe. She looked as exhausted and satisfied as Connie felt.

In time, they all realized where they were. Connie pulled her legs together and sat up shakily. Then she remembered. Where they were, what they were there for. She scrambled towards where she thought her clothes were and caught Peter's eye.

"So you'll go to the dance with us?"

He was standing now, finding the front of his pants to pull them on. He laughed, a dry, sneering laugh. "Why bother?" he mocked. "I got what I wanted."

Stacy laughed too. Connie looked at her friend, confused. Stacy was still laying on her back, tits splayed, knees up and slightly parted. She was looking at Connie with a look of contemptuous pity.

Before she could ask her friend what was going on, she heard a slow golf clap from the direction of the fence.

Penny emerged from around the tree, wearing thin slacks and a floral blouse, her hands out in front of her still doing the clap, a broad grin on her face.

"You did a wonderful job, you two," Penny said when she got within conversational distance. But she wasn't looking at Connie. Connie turned. Stacy moved to stand next to Peter. He had his pants on, snap and zipper still open, and his arm around her naked waist.

"There were a few minutes there when I thought we'd blown it," he said to Penny.

Connie slumped to the ground, on her ass with her knees up in front of her. She wanted to hug them to her chest and cry. She'd been played. The whole time she thought that she and Stacy were playing Peter, it was the opposite. He and Stacy were putting one over on her.

Or had Penny planned it all along? She turned to sit facing the three of them, quickly putting the big picture together. The big, ugly picture with her as the central figure.

"I hear that Beta Pi Nu is looking for girls just like you," Penny told Stacy. Then she turned to Connie. "Cruel bitches like you, maybe not so much."

What hurt most was that Penny said it with a smile, in a lighthearted voice.

"It was your idea, Penny," Connie pleaded, knowing it was hopeless.

"Because I wanted you to know how it felt."

"Well, now I know. Happy?"

Penny squatted in front of Connie. "No, I can't be happy about this. I'm not like you."

"I guess I learned my lesson."

"Have you? Have you really? You're pissed off right now, probably humiliated and feeling used. But those feelings will wear off. Or turn into something else. You have a choice about what you turn them into."

Stacy and Peter were finishing getting dressed. Connie looked to her friend for support and found a cold stare. She looked to Peter.

Half of what felt so awful about this was that he would never speak to her again. Never be with her again. Her first time; she was used and dumped as quickly as that.

She looked to Penny. Of all people, she was the one whose expression showed some sympathy. Not a lot, but a tiny glimpse of it. Penny stood and looked down at her, the only one still naked to the world.

"We'll be watching you," Penny said. Then the three of them walked together back through the gap in the fence and out to the parking lot.

Connie sat and cried it out for half an hour, not bothering to get dressed. When she was done, she clung to what Penny had said, and to that one sliver of sympathy she'd seen. Maybe she was fooling herself, but she vowed to apologize to Peter.

She just knew that Peter and Stacy would be going to the dance tomorrow, for real. She would be the odd one out, left standing alone. But she would show up just to do that, to confess and apologize to Peter in front of everyone. Let them all see her far more naked than she was right now, see what she really was.

She knew it was only a start, just the beginning, but it had to be done. It was the only place to start. She slowly stood and put her clothes on.