Thirty-Five.  Friendless.  Virgin.  Un-dated.  Un-fucked.    

That was me.

I don't know why that was ever the case, but decades of inexplicable shame and natural reticence stopped me from ever sharing my kissable mouth, spankable ass, suckable titties, angry slit, and snarling lust.

The first half of that last sentence is me, Katherine: the classic lonely librarian.  The second half is also me, Lola: what I call my steaming, volcanic, unquenchable, and previously unexplored desire.

********************

Cindy’s Seduction Soirée
Serious Inquiries Only
Background Check & Proof of Contraception + Clean STI Status Mandatory

I was absolutely aghast at the possibility that this was going to be my first partnered sexual experience.  Lola told Kathy to shut up, affirmed the répondez-s'il-vous-plaît request, drove to the semi-secret loft, and nearly sprinted up the stairs. I passed muster with the door security staff and crept inside.

A Balinese belly dancer swayed to the music.  A hip-hop hero, too cool for school, nonchalantly checked everyone else out.  A man, dressed like a 1930s American bank robber, casually held his date’s hand, a gun moll with a modern pink-dyed coiffure.

I instantly regretted my choice of outfit: heavy cardigan, mid-calf skirt, black Mary-Jane flats, high-collared white blouse, and large tortoise-shell glasses (Katherine).  My only concession to style was a nerdy black bowler, resting atop my head at a jaunty angle (Lola).

Cindy, our elegant, busty, and foxy silver-haired hostess, floated down the stairs in a matching silver lamé gown and ballet flats.  Her easy-going demeanor and mature sensuality could inspire a thousand dirty dreams.

She informed us she wouldn’t be partaking in the festivities (Drat!) and instructed us to be respectful if anyone chose to tap out.  She also pointed out the lube and condoms.  Rubbers were unnecessary in this situation, but she said some men prefer them for social comfort.  Before she left, Cindy informed us the clock would run out by tomorrow evening, whereby we had to depart the premises.

The other four chatted eagerly and easily with each other, occasionally giving me the once over.  I was the obvious odd-woman out and I grew ever more nervous as the evening progressed.  They clearly knew each other.  I wondered if they wondered what the hell I was doing there.

Time passed.  No one else showed.  We five would have to suffice if anything was going to happen.

My frequent and furious frigging taught me what I like, but I had no clue how to please others.  I thought I was overextended here and wondered if I’d have to invent an excuse to bolt.

The frisky foursome scanned the room occasionally, looking for others.  They clearly were expecting a better turnout and looked like they were preparing to depart.

Lola snapped into action.

Head bowed, I set my bowler on a couch, slipped off my cardigan, unzipped my skirt and let it pool around my ankles along with my granny panties.  I kicked into a yoga handstand and then an upside-down split, flashing my trimmed quim.

Righting myself after ten seconds, I twirled my bowler back on with a spinning flourish then plopped down on the couch.  Breathless and electric silence filled the room.

Their quiet, wide-eyed appraisal made me think I had committed an unrecoverable gaffe.  I clasped my knees together and bowed my head again, nearly ready to cry.

I felt strong, knowing fingers gently pry my knees apart.  It was the hip-hop hero.  Triple H smiled down at me and motioned with a come-hither finger to stand up.

I unsteadily stumbled to my feet, his hands gripping my bare ass, pulling me close.

Triple H tilted my head up and gently nibbled at my lips.  I exhaled a pent-up sigh, ripe with need.  His tongue gradually pried my lips apart.  As my hands snaked over his shoulders, my tongue asked a wordless question inside his mouth in response.

“First time?” Triple H cooed in my ear after the kiss.

Misty eyed, I mutely nodded yes to this and any experience.

He unbuttoned my blouse and tossed it on the couch.  He expertly undid my bra, allowing my heavy breasts to bounce free.  He tossed my brassiere on the couch as well.  Before I could inhale another greedy kiss, he went back to the couch to retrieve my blouse and told me to put it back on without buttoning it.  I did and he tweaked my brown nipples to rigid attention, shooting a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to my now sopping wet cunt.

The Balinese belly dancer (BBD), American Outlaw, and Modern Moll closed in around us.

Triple H reached down to rub his open palm against my clit.  He curled his middle and ring fingers slowly into my pussy.  I panted and groaned as he sloshed around in my gash, inducing sodden and spurting rapture.

I bit my lower lip to stifle a scream, flashing him a lust-livid look.  After I caught my breath, I meekly made an offer.

“Can I … can I … can I …?” I pleaded.

“Can you what?” Triple H asked, almost sternly.

“Can I suck your cock?”

BBD circled behind Triple H to unbuckle his belt.  As she did, he craned his head back to mash his mouth onto hers, using a free hand to fondle her tits through the chiffon.  BBD jerked his un-jockeyed pants down to his knees in one swift motion, exposing his lolling, rapidly hardening dick.

Before I knelt to take him in my mouth, I placed the bowler on his head.

I wondered at my living toy, pulsing with life, slick with preliminary seed.  This was so unlike a dildo or a vibrator.  Although those were consistent and unfailing, they weren’t salty, veiny, throbbing, mouth-pleasing, cunt-tickling, or responsive.

I smooched along the shaft, making Triple H groan low and hungrily.  I was unsure how to blow him, so I sucked his satiny knob slowly, reveling in his novel and musky flavor.  BBD knelt down beside me and stroked his cock out of my grasp.  Triple H gently grabbed the back of her head as she smoothly deep throated him.  She even managed to dance her tongue around his shaft and I marveled at her skill, wondering how she avoided biting him.

BBD grabbed my hand, squirted some lube in it, and showed me how to tease and tickle his balls.  Triple H’s head was thrown back in ecstasy as we jointly worked him to full hardness.  She popped him out of her mouth and returned him to me with a grinning challenge.

I sucked him a little bit faster, feeling him grow and stretch against the roof of my mouth.  Try as I might, I just couldn’t get him all the way in, so I sucked an inch or two at the most while stroking his shaft.  I twisted my hands lightly around his stem, occasionally popping him out to kiss, nibble, and slap his manhood against my tongue and cheeks.

He roared at the sight of my bouncing breasts and took his dick back, slapping and spanking my nipples with the head of his cock.  BBD got behind me and jiggled my tits for his delight.  Devious little giggles now peppered my tremulous grunts of erotic discovery.  She lubed up my tits, making sure to make an extra wet channel between them for his rod.

He pumped faster and faster between my breasts, BBD breathing nasty and delicious profanity in my ear.

“This is gonna be so much fun, girl!” she promised.

She reached down between my legs and strummed my nethers to climax.  I shook my breasts faster and pressed them together tighter for his impending release.

I turned my head slightly to make eye contact with BBD right as Triple H shot his spicy load.  It gushed then sprinkled against my mouth, neck, and nose, splashing on my glasses, streaking my chest, and leaving small and warm puddles in the clefts of my collarbone.

BBD hugged my waist and kissed my neck as nasty congratulations.  I don’t know how she already had lens fluid and cloth handy, but she took off my glasses and cleaned them, handing them back to me sparkly and shiny.

I thanked her and she said I was welcome.  So polite.

The rest of me felt like a saucy and happily come-splattered newbie.

I was so distracted that I hadn’t even noticed Modern Moll and American Outlaw had finished fucking each other ten minutes ago.  They were panting and semi-nude as they smiled in my direction.

They came over to help me to my feet.  I took the bowler from Triple H and placed it on American Outlaw’s head as they led me away to the bay window.

“Can you turn around and shake that ass for us, lady?” Modern Moll queried.  I bit my finger and smiled, unquestioningly happy to oblige.

I bounced and shimmied.  I know I didn’t come close to being impressive, but American Outlaw and Modern Moll seemed pleased with the result.

She swatted my behind and sent delectable pain shooting up my spine.  He grabbed the other cheek and shook it roughly.

I bent a little lower and croaked out some hoarse laughter, letting them know I could take anything they cared to give.

Modern Moll knelt down beneath me and skillfully attacked my clit.  I screamed as she suckled the nub.  American Outlaw spanked my ass and taint with his dick.

As I looked down, I watched her scarlet tresses dance as she kittenishly lapped my twat.  I couldn’t take it any more and I wanted to return the favor.  I grabbed her wrists and gently directed her to her back.  As I knelt down between her slick folds, I raised my booty up and spread my knees, shooting a knowing look over my shoulder at The Outlaw.

He knelt behind me, his engorged member teasing my moist portal. Inch by thrilling inch he worked himself assiduously inside of me, increasing a life’s worth of unspent tension second by tantalizing second.

As I nibbled shyly at Modern Moll’s dewy cunt, American Outlaw finally sank himself balls deep in my no-longer virgin hole.  I trembled all over in recognition of this revealing novelty.

I stretched out to squeeze and fondle her pointy cones and I twirled my tongue around and in and out of her pussy.  As I kissed and slurped her cunt, she shook and moaned, clit caught by my mouth, spreading her legs wider and begging for more.

American Outlaw was entranced by the sight splayed out in front of him. The pace of his urgent thrusts increased.  He burrowed himself into me, pounding pleasure through my pussy to my mouth into her cunt.

The slapping weight of his pounding got wetter and louder, echoing in the empty spaces of the loft, almost drowning out the low rumbling noise of Triple H’s and BBD’s recently ignited intimacy.

American Outlaw didn’t want to come this way.  He picked me up by the waist and carried me to the bay window, standing me up and bending me over so that my palms had to press against the window pane to maintain my balance.

If anyone below on the sidewalk bothered to look up in the predawn light, they would have seen me shamelessly exposed.  I raised a forearm to cover my eyes, holding on to a rapidly dwindling and now nearly nonexistent propriety.  The building heat in my cunt burned it to a crisp of irrelevance.

I slapped both my palms on the glass, thrusting and shaking my ass back at American Outlaw.

“Goddamn it!” I howled.  “Jesus Fucking Christ!  Holy shit!  Oh my God!  Please don’t stop fucking me!  Don’t ever stop fucking me!”

Both American Outlaw and Modern Moll snickered.

“Are you Catholic?” she teased, gripping my wobbling tits and thumbing my diamond-hard nipples.

As I was caught in a rolling tsunami of orgasms, my lust and laughter mixed into giddy, trembling annoyance.

“Hush up and get me off!” I managed to croak out between barks and yelps of befuddled cupidity.

She tickled my armpit so I playfully slapped her boob in response.  Even American Outlaw paused just a smidge to stop laughing.  He gathered enough composure bring himself home, happily grunting and blasting thick ropes of spunk deep in me.  Modern Moll scooped me up with a warm hug and a deep kiss.  Smiling while I stroked her scalp, I pecked her eyelids gently.

********************

A shower, three hours rest, and mid-morning brunch were enough to get us going again.

The guys caught another nap while BBD, Modern Moll, and I had some flirty girl time.

I rested my head in BBD's lap while Modern Moll massaged my feet.  I was about to doze off in a sweetly loving reverie, but Lola flamed into existence again.

I got up and retrieved the bowler, placing it on BBD's head this time.  I kneeled down between her legs, keeping eye contact and grinning as the wanton minx in me lowered my head to lick her labia.  As I feasted on her pussy, the warmth and scent of her intoxicated me.  Her hands wrapped around my head as I pushed my tongue deep in her velvet folds.

She hummed and moaned, low and throaty.  I paused to catch a breath, fondled her thighs and stroked her haunches gently.  She raised her legs up to place her heels in the small of my back.  Her nails slightly scratched my scalp as I licked her clit over the hood.  She wriggled and twisted under my tongue.  I cupped and covered her clit with my mouth, kissing it and sucking slightly.

I heard Modern Moll suck BBD’s tits then taste her precious mouth.  I briefly looked up to see BBD reach down to finger Moll’s cunny.  BBD pushed my head away to intently finger her own pussy.  She increased her pace as she sped towards climax.  I wanted to do this for her so I pushed her hand away and kept up the pace with my own, quickly thumbing her nub and curling my fingers against her G-spot.

She bucked her hips toward me and turned her head away in rapturous ecstasy.  She reached out and grabbed one of my heavy tits, mauling it lustily.  I did not relent as I pressed firmer and faster against her and inside of her.

Her hips frenetically thrashed back and forth while Modern Moll latched on to BBD’s tit, vacuuming the nipple into her mouth.

Then BBD came, all trembling thighs and clenched pussy, squeezing my fingers while she moaned and shook over and over again.

I planted a sweet little peck on BBD’s muff, but she pushed away from me, a little too sensitive at that moment for any further sexy attention.

As I let BBD rest up, I took my bowler from her and placed it on Modern Moll’s head.

I don’t know what it was between me and her, but we both were clearly competitive.

I attempted to go down on her again, but she pushed me away when I did that.

I cocked an eyebrow at her and she did the same to me.  I guessed correctly she wanted me to figure out what she wanted without saying so.

I smiled and shoved her shoulder.  She shoved mine in response.

I held out my hand and she grabbed mine.  She then slowly lowered herself to the floor, pulling against my weight.  I had to do the same to maintain my balance and hers.  As we sat down, she spread her legs.

Bingo.  Now knowing what she wanted, I spread my legs, crossed them with hers, and we began to trib.

I looked into her eyes as I sped up on her.  She bit her lip and wiggled against me unexpectedly, almost undoing me.

The contest was clearly to see if we could make the other one come first.  She started to writhe and thrash in circles.  I popped my hips back and forth.

She desperately tried to mask her pleasure and wouldn’t give me the satisfaction.  We locked our legs even tighter together, grinding against each other with increasing speed and pressure.

We released our hands and settled back on our elbows, only connected by our testing cunts.

I shook my head no at her.  She did the same to me and we began to giggle.

She hit an unexpected spot on me and I had to break off eye contact as she was sure she had won.

However, I quickly uncrossed and recrossed our legs in the opposite direction and the surprising sensation made her yip slightly.

I pushed my advantage and bounced my pussy against hers hard and fast. I interspersed the bouncing with hard, focused grinds as our clits sparked together.

It was no longer a contest at that point.  Our bodies took over.  Whatever we were trying to prove was lost in the desperate need of engorged clits and damp slits churning on autopilot.

As we shook and surrendered against each other, we grunted with annoyingly erotic exhaustion.

We caught our breaths after a few minutes and managed to sit up.

“You came first,” I told Modern Mollie.

“Uh-uh.  You did,” she croaked between her now messy pink tresses.

“Little fucker,” I told her as we both managed to laugh.

********************

It was now late afternoon.  We only had five hours left.  I fixed the bowler on my own head and was no longer parting with it.

I gathered the guys together in the center of the loft.  I bounced my hip against Triple H’s, then turned to bounce it against American Outlaw’s.  I bent over to give everyone a view of my twerking tush and waited for them to jump in.

American Outlaw took his rigid tool and slapped it on my ass.  Triple H took his and spanked it on the other butt cheek.

Hungry, horny, and thoroughly uninhibited now, I squatted and sucked the Outlaw’s cock while jacking off Triple H, then sucked Triple H’s while jacking off American Outlaw’s.  Back and forth I went.

Triple H wanted my pussy, so he put me on top of him.  He gripped my waist while he pumped and I bounced.  Then American Outlaw wanted to be inside of me.  I got up and straddled him in reverse cowgirl.  I bounced while he held me up.  I saw BBD straddle Triple H.  We were going through a circuit.  When it was my turn to get up, BBD went to American Outlaw and Modern Moll jumped on Triple H while I jilled off.

The circuit continued that way for the remaining hours: doggie style, missionary, fellatio, cunnilingus, so on, et cetera.  We sweated, twerked, tweaked, fucked, spanked, sucked, licked, flicked, came, squirted, spurted, pumped, growled, groaned, and moaned our cares away.

No one wanted to leave when there was just one hour and fifteen minutes left, but that had to be it.  We took thirty minutes to clean ourselves up then and another thirty minutes to clean the loft.

My extra change of clothes was exactly the same as my first, packed away in the trunk of my car for laundering.

I bent over to allow everyone a goodbye booty smack.  Down the line I went, getting swatted, goosed, squeezed, fondled and kissed by Modern Moll, Triple H, BBD, and American Outlaw.  Lola flickered slightly.

I skipped down the stairs and strolled to my car.  I wondered if I’d ever do anything that wild again.

As I slowly drove home, I pondered if I had made a mistake.  It didn’t feel like one.

The bowler now occupies pride of place on my mantlepiece.  When people come over and ask why I have such an odd display in my home, I simply tell them it’s attached to a very good memory I don’t ever want to forget.

At odd times, the old doubts occasionally haunt me.

Have I ruined myself for normal relationships?  Will anyone or everyone think I’m a hopeless pervert if they ever found out that I did this?  What will platonic friends think?  At some point in the future, will I end up regretting my past if it drives away potential partners who can’t handle the truth?  Will I hate myself and yet again allow fear to define me?

Sometimes that dread does indeed come back.  Whenever that happens, I take out and look at the certificate that formally changed my official first name to Lola.

Shut up, Kathy.