The considerate blinds subdued the sun's rays eager to announce the dawn of the new year. After all, politeness should be shown to those still recovering from their New Year's Eve party.
One stream of sunlight, however, snuck through and highlighted Miss Patty laying on the floor. She rolled over and fluttered her eyelashes, allowing her pupils time to adjust to the intrusive–
Bloody hell. Forget it. I'm too knackered to write this descriptive prose after the night I've narrated. Never again will my dignified self see these sights again, or rather unsee them. These Kentuckians are a ghastly sort.
Ahem. Where was I? Oh yes, please forgive the rubbish writing that follows as I will simply state that the light woke Miss Patty and she found the curved part of a candy cane stuck to her inner thigh with the stick part buried inside her "hoohaa" (as it's so daftly called in Kentucky).
~ooOoo~
Twelve hours prior…
The smartly dressed Miss Patty was quite chuffed, peering over her spectacles at the nice crowd of members. My best turnout to date, she thought, smiling to herself.
She stepped up to the refreshments table and dipped her glass into the punchbowl, then reached for a plastic spoon.
Click. Clink. Clink. "Attention, please." Clink. Clink. Clink. "May I have your attention."
One by one the attendees ceased their chatter and turned their attention towards their leader, Miss Patty.
She paused for dramatic effect, then exclaimed, "Season's greetings to each and every one of you! Thank you for coming to our party – and it is our party!"
After her initial welcome, Miss Patty strolled about the room, weaving in and out the guests. "We are all celebrating the beginning of a new year–" she said, then pumped her tiny fists in the air, "–but also our hard-fought sexual sobriety!"
The room burst into boisterous applause, ladies and blokes clapping and cheering. Well, all except one.
Oh dear, Miss Patty thought. Her eagle eyes spotted his stoic facial expression immediately.
"Nate, dear, is something troubling you?"
All fell quiet and fixated their eyes on the tall bloke in the corner – Nate – wearing outdated skinny jeans.
"I … I …" he stuttered, unable to finish his sentence.
"It's all right, Nate. You are in a safe, supportive, non-judgmental zone," Miss Patty encouraged.
Nate released a heavy sigh. "Well … you see … this is my first New Year's party where I'm not drinking. And feeling up women and stuff. You know, trying to find the one who'll suck my dick at midnight."
Several nodded their heads in understanding while a few encircled him issuing cheery words of support.
Billy Bob, who was known to be quite dim, surprised everyone by offering words of wisdom, "Nate, buddy, why just last year around this time I was fuckin' a pussy I'd just met, then ate her best friend, and jacked off with the countdown, spraying my goo in the air at midnight." He grimaced. "And you know what? Lost my wife that night. Lost my home. And even the cat." He squeezed Nate's shoulder, "So I understand. Why, I felt a tinge in my taters just a bit ago when I saw Nancy come in with her big boobies bouncin', but we know what happens when we give in to our lust."
Nate nodded in agreement with Billy Bob whilst Nancy beamed with pride, glancing down at her voluptuous breasts testing the confines of her blouse.
"Well said, Billy Bob!" Miss Patty applauded him then turned toward Nate. "New Year's Eve parties always test one's sexual sobriety. That's why you're here this year, surrounded by love and support," she said gesturing about the room, sweeping her arms with dramatic motions. "You can learn to have fun without booze, big boobies, and stiff cocks. Your fellow sex addicts support you and–" She suddenly frowned, "Amy, dear, side hugs only. Front hugs can press our protruding bits against the other person, stirring the horny pot." She closed a fist and swirled it around in circles to drive home her "stirring" point.
"Sorry, I forgot." Amy stepped back, blushing, but not before she felt Nate's hard cock pressing against her tummy.
Nate's bulge in his pants was not lost on the astute Miss Patty, so she jumped into action, using her best therapy tool – redirection. "Everyone," she clapped her hands rapidly together, "how about our first party game of Twister!"
Amidst the Nate drama, no one noticed that the bloke in the red-and-black flannel shirt slipped a bottle out of his jacket and poured its contents into the punch bowl. Just like no one noticed the Derby pies contained an additional ingredient.
A rousing game of Twister was moving along swimmingly until things took an unfortunate twist when the spinner landed on yellow for Ron's turn. Whilst moving his right hand onto the only reachable yellow circle, he found his head directly behind Ruby's bent over, rather rotund body.
Miss Patty noticed the danger but was too late to stop Ron from lifting his head and sniffing her plump, inviting arse. It took a moment before her scent took over his brain, and he lunged forward lodging his long nose inside the crack of her shapely arse.
Clap. Clap. Clap. "Okay! Enough Twister. Let's try a different game." Miss Patty quickly disrupted his nosey intrusion before the others noticed.
Shockingly, Ruby had held steadfast, even giving his nose a slight squeeze with her cheeks if one was intently watching. She rose and walked off as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Her aromatic arse had been safely removed from Ron's nose, but the damage was done. Unbeknownst to anyone, Ruby's knickers grew moist.
Meanwhile, Miss Patty rattled her perfectly coiffed head for a safer activity. "Time for the gift exchange!"
And merriment commenced. Everyone waited patiently for his or her turn to select a gift. Miss Patty's heart warmed at the holiday spirit afoot at her party. Friendly side hugs aplenty. Gratefulness on full display as each opened his or her gift. Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's entertained them on the large screen television, adding to the good, clean fun. Yes, this party was proving a smashing success. They had become a family which was important to those whose sexual promiscuity had cost them so many things.
Miss Patty's mind wandered, however, to parties long since passed – her darker days. She'd been sexually sober for eight years. No sex outside her committed relationship. No self-love either, as prohibited by the tenets. Nary a finger had touched her clitty in the past eight years. From time to time though, she allowed the memories, kept safely tucked away in the dark crevices of her mind, to resurface to serve as a reminder of how far she'd come (no pun intended, I assure you).
Whilst she strolled down memory lane, recalling all the unnamed cocks she'd slathered her saliva up and down, she failed to notice a shift in the party. The mysterious man in the red-and-black flannel shirt had been mingling, encouraging others to drink more punch and consume more pie.
Her family, as she had called them, became looser in every sense of the word. Blouses were unbuttoned. Trousers were unzipped. Side hugs turned to full frontal humping.