Amy was waiting for her at the appointed spot. Beneath the coat Prudence could see the younger woman was wearing black nylons and black shoes with heels far too tall for anyone’s comfort. The two females hugged. “So do we take a bus, or should we call a taxi?” Prudence asked.

“No point,” Amy said. “It’s not far at all. This way.”

She set off down the street, Prudence falling into step beside her. How could the girl walk so fast in those shoes?

“So how are you feeling?” Amy asked.

“Nervous,” Prudence admitted.

At this Amy just gave a little laugh. “Nothing to be nervous about,” she said. “Just let whatever happens happen. You’ll enjoy it.”

Prudence still wasn’t sure about that, she just knew that she had to know either way. She tried to elicit more information from Amy, but the girl was obviously determined to remain tight-lipped. The alcohol she’d consumed beforehand was losing its comforting effect, and Prudence could almost hear her own nerves jangle. The only comfort available to her was that Amy had said there’d be ‘no bondage or spanking or shit’.

When Amy veered off into a car park, Prudence wondered what was going on. She noticed that there were a couple of motorbikes parked up. Would there be bikers where they were going? The thought made her tremble. At the far end of the car park there were steps below an anonymous concrete monstrosity of a building. Prudence tried to recall what the building housed, but her nerves were suffocating normal thought.

At the bottom of the narrow flight of steps was a green door with no identifying marker at all; no plaque, no sign. “Are you ready?” Amy asked.

Prudence nodded. How could she ever be ready for this? But the die was cast.

It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the murk. The space immediately inside the door was a makeshift cloakroom. “Hi, Sandy,” Amy said to a figure. “So it’s your turn on the door, is it?”

“Worse luck,” Sandy said, eyes fixed inquisitively on Prudence. “So this is your special guest, is it?”

Was Sandy male or female? Prudence couldn’t tell, only that the figure was dressed from head to toe in black and needed glasses. She followed Amy’s lead in removing her coat and handing it to Sandy. It seemed to her that Amy’s dress was more like one of those plastic sacks you used to collect garden rubbish, adapted to resemble clothing. She suddenly felt very self-conscious of her own attire.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“You’ll go down a storm,” Amy assured her, adding, “You look just like a school ma’am.” This seemed to Prudence to be a contradiction in terms. “Best leave your bag here,” Amy continued. “Sandy’ll look after it. Make sure you bring your poison, though.”

Prudence would never have entrusted her bag to this Sandy creature under normal circumstances, but what else was she supposed to do? She took out a bottle of wine and zipped the bag back up.

They entered a much larger room, where people lounged, loitered, lay, almost universally dressed in some form of black, though with splashes of colour, and to call some of them dressed would be an exaggeration. The light was so dim Prudence had a hard time making things out. She saw that there were sofas and chairs, cushions scattered about the floor, and a snooker table in one corner. She forced herself to stay calm, even though the people she saw all appeared to be freaks.

She wanted to whisper, but there was loud music too, and she spoke in her normal speaking voice with her lips pressed up against Amy’s ear. “Is this… one of those fetish clubs?”

“Call it what you like,” Amy shrugged.

She led Prudence to what would have been a bar if there’d actually been service here. Prudence looked around again, feeling as if everyone was looking at her. That unnerved her still more. She needed more wine. “Where can I find a glass?” she asked.

The amused look in Amy’s eye gave her the answer even before the girl said, “We just drink straight out the bottle.”

Prudence had never in her life before drunk wine from anything but a glass. Now she did, unscrewing the top and placing the neck of the bottle between her lips, thanking her lucky stars that she’d not chosen a bottle with a cork – she could imagine what answer she’d get if she asked for a corkscrew. A couple of feet from her a man in a leather vest was eyeing her up and she trembled again. She could guess what he was thinking. Loud music was blaring from the stereo. She didn’t recognize it and didn’t know what to call it, except that it was some kind of dance music, but heavier and harsher than the stuff you heard on the radio.

She screwed the cap back on the bottle. “Here!” Amy shouted, holding out a hand. “Give me that. Why don’t you go and say hello to Cleaver?”

Cleaver? What kind of person had a nickname like Cleaver? “Who?”

Amy pointed. “There, back of the room.”

Prudence wasn’t sure why she should, but her promise to Amy had been to let whatever happened happen. As she moved closer, she saw that Cleaver was sitting on a sofa, flanked by two women who were wearing so little that they made skimpy seem like a synonym for overdressed. Even worse was that she could clearly see that the man’s erection was protruding from the crotch of his leather trousers as she approached.

She forced herself to continue forwards, holding out her hand when she reached the small group. “Hello,” she shouted, to make herself heard over the music. “I’m Prudence.”

The man stared straight at her, ignoring her outstretched hand. “I’m Cleaver!” he roared back. “And you can shake my dick!”

*****

It was all Ruth Phelps’ fault. Well, not fault exactly, but she certainly set the ball rolling.

Everything started when her 16 year-old daughter was caught in flagrante delicto with a boy she knew from school. “However do young people learn about these things?” Ruth had exclaimed. “It’s that interweb thing, isn’t it? It’s common knowledge that the thing’s no better than a sewer!”

Prudence suppressed the urge to ask how people ever worked out the ins and outs of sex before the advent of the internet, and for that matter how Ruth had managed to conceive twice without the aid of it. She knew well enough that where Ruth was concerned, the words ‘common knowledge’ inevitably referred to something of which Ruth herself had no first-hand knowledge to speak of.

“It does have its uses, you know,” she said.

“What?”

“The interweb,” Prudence said; the sarcastic use of Ruth’s mistaken vocabulary completely lost on the woman.

“Maybe it does,” Ruth said. “But something still needs to be done. Our children must be protected!”

Prudence bit down hard on her tongue to prevent herself from suggesting that Ruth buy her daughter a good supply of condoms and insist that any boy she slept with use one.

The weeks that followed saw the formation of a group of concerned parents, under Ruth Phelps’ leadership of course, devoted to combating pernicious influences on the young. Prudence quietly thanked her lucky stars that her own daughter had left school the year before, which let her off the hook where active participation in the group was concerned.

But Ruth Phelps’ outrage had sparked another sequence of events for Prudence. Though she privately ridiculed the woman’s idea that you were instantly confronted with debauchery the moment you called up your web browser, it occurred to her that she didn’t really have any idea herself of what was out there. Was it as bad as people like Ruth were always suggesting?

There was only one way to find out. All it took was a private moment, of which Prudence had many. She’d been divorced for two years now, and was in no hurry to hitch up with anyone new after discovering her husband’s affair. Her daughter Chrissie still lived at home, but she went out almost every evening.

So one Friday after work, Prudence poured herself a large glass of wine and sat down in front of the computer. Since she had used it a fair bit and never just chanced on anything insalubrious, she fished about for what word to use to search for the material the newly founded parents’ group found so objectionable. The obvious choice was ‘sex’, but it yielded little more than a sexologist’s advice to men on how to satisfy their women, articles on sex positions (some of which Prudence remembered as distinctly uncomfortable) and a series of websites devoted to reproductive health. Though Ruth would no doubt somehow find a reason to stamp them as obscene, they hardly provided evidence of the internet being a swamp of unimaginable perversions.

As her name evidenced, Prudence had been brought up by slightly old-fashioned parents, and something of her upbringing (not to mention her name) had rubbed off on her, even though she’d been a teenager in the late eighties and early nineties. Not that she considered herself a prude; she’d enjoyed an active sex life with her husband (before that other woman came along). Nevertheless, her upbringing weighed on her and made her feel very naughty about using the most vulgar word of all, but that ought to do it, surely? She took a large sip of wine, and felt herself heat up as she typed ‘fuck’ and pressed enter.

She found herself feeling disappointed when nothing remotely salacious came up. She clicked on the next page and the next, but still found nothing she felt was likely to corrupt the young.

Another glass of wine and several attempts later, frustration set in. She’d found strange discussion forums, endless medical advice, and even a rather amusing text on the occultist Aleister Crowley, but nothing vaguely resembling the sink of iniquity Ruth Phelps hinted at every time they met.

She would never be able to recall what she had typed into the search engine when she finally found something promising. By now she was quite tipsy, having drunk too much wine too quickly, but still felt an illicit thrill as she clicked on the link. Even at 43, Prudence had enough of the good girl she’d been brought up to be in her to feel very naughty indeed.

The video was advertised as ‘Big-breasted amateur MILF oiling up awesome tits’. Though Prudence wasn’t really interested in watching another woman fondling her breasts, she watched the full three minutes. No doubt Ruth Phelps would be horrified at the thought of a woman doing this on camera, and of young people watching, but to Prudence it seemed innocuous enough. It was certainly nowhere near as excessive as she might have feared.

But she was excited to have found something, and there were other thumbnails to click on. So she did.

‘Homemade MILF sucking and fucking,’ caused her to redden as she clicked on it. Prudence had no idea what a MILF was, but the blonde in the video was her age. The picture quality left a lot to be desired, but Prudence was just happy to have found the smut she’d been looking for. The woman was kneeling in front of a man, her lips sliding up and down his erection. Prudence was no stranger to oral sex, and found little objectionable about the sucking, or the blonde climbing onto a bed to be taken from behind. It was when the woman got back in front of the man and allowed him to ejaculate on her face that Prudence winced slightly. The woman didn’t seem to mind though, laughing and exclaiming, with one eye closed, “Jeez, that was a mighty big load!”

Excited to be getting somewhere, Prudence clicked on more videos, deciding that it would be for the best if she said nothing about this to Ruth. Clearly you had to know where to look, but once you did, there was more than enough for any parents’ group to be getting on with.

She was interrupted by the sound of the front door. Flustered, she just about had the presence of mind to close the browser before Chrissie, entered the room. “Hello, mum!”

“Hello, dear. Did you have a good evening?”

“Inspirational,” Chrissie smiled. “Andrea held a great workshop on the patriarchal roots of dimorphic obstinacy.”

“I’m glad, dear,” Prudence said, having not the first clue what ‘dimorphic obstinacy’ meant.

“What about you?” Chrissie said, eyeing the computer. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, recipes mostly,” Prudence lied, realizing even as she said it how unlikely that sounded.

From the way Chrissie was looking at her, she thought so too. “You sure you haven’t been on some dating site?” she asked.

“Perish the thought!” Prudence exclaimed, thinking that compared to what she had been doing, that would have been fairly innocent. And why shouldn’t she anyway?

Not that she had any intention of going on a dating site. She’d been single for two years and never really missed not having a man about the house. But later, upstairs in bed, her mind turned to the videos she’d watched. She’d felt naughty watching the material Ruth found so objectionable, and belatedly realised that she’d also found it exciting. To be sure, she’d seen things she would never have contemplated doing with her husband, but why not exactly? Did the woman he’d left her for do those things? Was that why he’d had the affair?

Back when she was her daughter’s age, she’d been very much in love with Larry Mullins, or at least thought she was in love. She’d have done anything for him, and once, because he asked nicely, she’d fellated him and let him ejaculate in her mouth. Afterwards she’d felt terribly ashamed, worse than a prostitute. It wasn’t the fellatio that did it, but the business of him offloading in her mouth, which she vaguely knew no nice girl did. And though she’d been happy to use her mouth on her husband, she never ever let him ejaculate anywhere near her face.

But now the idea dawned that her aversion to this was all about what was in her head, that the shame she’d felt was based on notions she’d received from other people about what you did and didn’t do. It had nothing to do with whether she’d liked it or not. It was something that just wasn’t done. With a shudder, Prudence realised just how alike she and Ruth Phelps might be.

Well not really, since she doubted Ruth Phelps would ever bother to check if what she imagined was out there on the ‘interweb’ actually was. Over the next few weeks, when the opportunity presented itself, Prudence sat down at the computer and furthered her investigations. Some of the clips she quite enjoyed. Others repulsed her, but fascinated her in equal measure. She began to regret that she hadn’t been more adventurous when she was younger. With a tremor of apprehension she experienced the thought that she might still be. 43 was no age after all. For all she knew, she might be the kind of mother young men would like to f*** (she’d discovered what the acronym MILF stood for by now). The thought made her feel very naughty, but she couldn’t deny its increasing appeal.

Maybe she might join a dating site. But something about it felt alien to her. Didn’t you go on a dating site if you were looking for a relationship? That wasn’t what she wanted, she realised, though the good girl in her recoiled at the idea that what she was contemplating was trying out certain things, to see if she’d been missing out on something she might have enjoyed. Dating implied dinner and talk and getting to know one another, which Prudence had always found a strain, even when she and her ex-husband were courting. Anyway, for now hooking up with someone just for sex was still a step beyond her.

Then Ruth Phelps intervened again. She’d spotted a small piece at the back of the local paper alerting her an exhibition called 'Orgasm' at a local gallery. To Ruth’s mind, an exhibition with that title must inevitably be beyond depravity. She said as much over tea with Prudence.

Prudence felt like asking if Ruth had ever actually experienced an orgasm, but refrained, not so much out of propriety, but because she suspected the answer might be, “An orgasm? What would I want with a thing like that? Especially after James gave me those nice, matching cushions for Christmas.”

There was a lot she wanted to say, especially once Ruth had told her, “I want you to go to this gallery and see if the exhibition is cause for concern.”

‘Why me?” was one of those things. She wasn’t sure how large the parents’ group was, but surely there was someone there who could go, even Ruth herself. But in her current state of mind, being enthralled by activities she never knew were possible, the prospect of visiting an exhibition entitled ‘Orgasm’ was alluring. So she acquiesced, wondering if Ruth could tell that she was rather looking forward to it.

The gallery was tucked away in a back street, and it wasn’t very large. Prudence had worked the weekend shift and had time off on the Monday. She felt the most unobtrusive time to visit would be just after opening.

She was right. Aside from herself, the only person in the gallery was the young man overseeing it, who she imagined must be a homosexual, though she felt it would be impolite to ask.

The exhibition was spectacularly mild, at least compared to what she suspected Ruth believed. It consisted of a series of black and white photos of male and female faces in various states of rapture. That was all. Prudence wasn’t at all sure why anyone would put on such an exhibition, but some of the pictures had been sold.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but be fascinated, lingering while she stared at the photos, wondering what she would look like if she were photographed in the throes of ecstasy like this.

Then another visitor arrived. She was young, with jet black hair and even darker eyeliner. She had a ring in her nose, and another through her bottom lip. All her clothes were black too. Prudence wasn’t quite sure what such creatures were called these days, but she was sure she recognized the girl. Chrissie had brought her round the house once or twice about a year ago. “Hello, Amy,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The girl surprised Prudence by smiling. “I couldn’t get on with that crowd Chrissie’s a part of,” she said. Then she cocked her head to one side. “So what are you doing here? I wouldn’t have thought this was your scene.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Prudence said, not wanting to reveal that she’d been sent as a spy within earshot of the young homosexual looking man.

She did too, over coffee. She told Amy all about Ruth Phelps, enjoying having someone to share these things with who shared her opinion that the woman was battier than a vampire’s casket.

“So what are you going to tell her?” Amy asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Prudence said. “Probably just that there was no worrying nudity.”

Amy laughed. “There is lots of facial skin,” she said. “Are you sure this Ruth woman doesn’t secretly believe women should cover their faces?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Prudence laughed. Then, because she was curious, “So what did you mean about not getting on with Chrissie’s crowd?”

Amy fixed her with dark eyes. “The way I see it is there’s two types of people,” she said. “Those who decide what they want and set about getting it, and the ones who sit around in cliques moaning about how unfair everything is.” She bit her lip. “No offence.”

“None taken. It’s very observant of you,” Prudence said, thinking that there was a third type, represented by herself, who didn’t know quite what they wanted and consequently never went for it. “I don’t suppose there are any prizes for guessing which type you are.”

And so began an odd friendship. Prudence told Ruth that the exhibition was nothing out of the ordinary, sensing the woman’s disappointment. But she saw more and more of Amy, feeling closer to her in many ways than any of the friends that were closer to her own age. She imagined that it was because she experienced Amy as more liberated, more accepting of herself and of aspects of the world than she’d ever been – perhaps even the young woman she wished she’d been.

Amy was certainly more accepting of various facets of her own sexuality than Prudence had been at her age. Amy’s frankness in such matters encouraged Prudence to open up to her, and the two of them talked much more about things than Prudence ever had with any woman. Amy was amazed at how little Prudence had experienced, while Prudence was amazed at how much experience Amy had for one who was barely out of her teens.

“I do wish I’d been more adventurous when I was your age,” Prudence said on numerous occasions.

Amy always replied, “It’s never too late!”

Prudence knew it wasn’t. Nevertheless, she was still reluctant to do anything about it. Her “research” on the internet had led her to sites devoted to swinging as a lifestyle. Occasionally she thought that if she’d been open to that kind of thing, perhaps she might still be married today, but you couldn’t know for sure.

This was again something she shared with Amy. When she said it, she thought there was definitely something there in the girl’s eyes. “What?” she said.

“I know some people,” Amy said. “Or at least, there’s a place I go every now and then. It’s not exactly swinging, ‘cause nobody’s like married, but if…”

She didn’t have to complete the sentence for Prudence to catch her drift. “You’re suggesting we go together?” she said in amazement.

“If you’re up for it,” Amy said. “But I reckon it would be perfect for you. Nobody goes there for a long-term relationship. You just go there for pleasure, y’know?”

Her curiosity aroused, Prudence said, “So what exactly goes on at this… place?”

Amy gave a crooked smile, “Oh anything goes,” she said. “Absolutely anything.”

There was no way Prudence was going to accept the offer, but it continued to play at the back of her mind. It intrigued her, and if she were perfectly honest, it was slightly titillating.

Over the next couple of weeks Amy repeatedly tempted her, and Prudence politely declined on the grounds that she wasn’t “ready for it”, which was perfectly true.

“If you keep saying you aren’t ready for it,” Amy said, “you’ll never be ready for it.”

Prudence had to admit that there was a certain logic to this. The girl’s words became her constant companion, and then one day when they were having coffee together, Amy leaned across the table.

It was a nice café, the kind where elderly people enjoy their retirement routine, and where Amy stuck out like a sore thumb. Not that the girl seemed to mind. Perhaps it was the polite respectability of the surroundings that made her offer gain an air of subversion. This was Ruth Phelps’ kind of place, after all.

“I’ve talked to those people I know,” Amy said in a low voice. “I told them I knew somebody who might like to come along.”

Still not minded to accept the offer, Prudence said, “And what did they say?”

Amy teased a rigor-mortis coloured lip with her tongue. “Well, they’re always happy to meet new people,” she said.

“Yes, I can imagine,” Prudence said.

“What we agreed was that I could bring someone along, if that person was willing to go along with anything that happened to her.”

Prudence stared at Amy, unable to believe what the girl was implying. “As in ‘anything goes’,” she said, trying to make light of the idea.

“Yeah,” Amy said. “Though I did stipulate no bondage or spanking or shit.”

This implied that bondage and spanking and shit did indeed take place at the… place. “That’s very kind of you,” Prudence said. She was inclined to decline, but something in her forced her to hold her tongue. She’d watched enough videos to know that even without ‘bondage or spanking or shit’, what Amy was suggesting was something that could get pretty extreme, much rougher than anything Prudence had ever imagined until quite recently.

It was something that required serious thought, but by now Prudence had thought so much already that there didn’t seem too much to think about. There was always a very real danger that she’d hate it if she went through with it, but if she didn’t she might very well spend the rest of her life wondering what it would have been like.

Not wanting to appear overly keen, she gave it a week, then let Amy know, albeit with a certain amount of circumlocution, that she was interested in going along one night.

“A week on Friday?” Amy suggested.

“Why not?” Prudence said.

“Great!” Amy exclaimed, before adding, “Sometimes it’s nice to escape the intolerable burden of being a subject.” Then she winked at Prudence, who had a thousand questions for Amy, none of which she felt able to ask. She did, however, ask what Amy thought she should wear.

“Wear whatever makes you feel sexy,” Amy said. “But not something you’re attached to.”

This sounded slightly worrying. Besides, Prudence hadn’t owned clothes that made her feel sexy in a long time. After hours of agonising over the matter, she decided to wear a sleeveless maroon dress she’d only worn once before. It was very much the kind of thing women of her age and class wore to look nice and respectable rather than sexy, and the one time she’d worn it had been the last time she and her ex-husband had been to a gathering together. Because of the associated memories, she didn’t care what happened to it. In a twisted kind of way, it would be a revenge of sorts.

She’d seen what women wore in the videos she watched, of course, but she was never going to pull off costumes like those. Besides, whatever the nature of the evening, she didn’t want to appear too easy, if that was the word.

Underneath was a different matter, and with a slight thrill, Prudence treated herself to new underwear. Taking her lead from the videos, she felt that tights were out of the question, but her natural conservatism reasserted itself when it came to hold-ups. She chose sheer, tan-coloured nylon. For bra and panties she went with a conservative shade of blue with lace trimmings.

Come the Friday, she waited for Chrissie to go out before she changed into her outfit. Her daughter was off to convene with her group; something about ‘avoiding the male gaze’, Prudence thought she’d said, but she was too nervous to listen properly. By coincidence Ruth Phelps had a meeting of her parents’ group too, but as Prudence stood in front of the mirror regarding herself, she was too eaten up by nerves to consider any of this.

Now that the time had come, she was having second thoughts, but she’d promised, so how could she pull out? She’d committed, hadn’t she? And you always followed through on commitments, didn’t you? Downstairs she quaffed a large glass of wine before slipping into a pair of pumps and pulling on her coat. Amy had said that people brought their own drink, so she put an unopened bottle of wine in her bag. Then she set off.

*******

As she stood there in front of Cleaver, the girls on either side of him tittered. Prudence felt utterly humiliated, wishing she could just melt away. Then self-preservation made her think that perhaps this was some kind of test. For Amy’s sake, because she’d promised Amy, she reluctantly forced herself to lower her hand and grab hold of the man’s organ, as if she was grabbing the gear lever of a car.

She almost gasped out loud. His girth was such that it was impossible for her fingers to reach all the way round. Looking at Cleaver as she pulled her hand back, she saw something in his eyes, as if she’d gained his respect, though it seemed an odd way to go about it.

“Why are you called Cleaver?” she shouted.

One of the girls leaned forward.

A breast popped out of the flimsy excuse for clothing, but she didn’t bother putting it back. “It’s because when he fucks your arse it feels like you’re being split in two!” she informed Prudence in a loud voice.

No, no, no, Prudence thought. No way was she ever going to let the man try and fit that monster in her back passage. She wasn’t a fool; she’d nervously considered the possibility that anal sex might be on the menu, but surely accommodating Cleaver was above and beyond the call of duty?

She felt someone touch her shoulder and jumped, but it was only Amy, handing her the bottle. Prudence unscrewed the top and took a giant swig. As she did so, she wondered how she could be sure nobody had slipped something in there. The thought was unnerving, but somehow she still trusted Amy.

Her shoulder was touched again, but not by Amy, who was standing in front of her. Then a hand was squeezing her breast. She grew tense. A voice sounded in her ear. “Don’t worry, doll, we’re not going to hurt you, just fuck you good, like you want.”

Someone was flanking her other side too, grabbing hold of her other breast. Amy was holding out her hand for the bottle, and Prudence handed it to her. She was suddenly surrounded by four men, all dressed in bizarre outfits, one of them with thick make-up and impossibly dark eyes, others with heavily inked arms.

Their hands were groping her everywhere. The man who had addressed her was suddenly licking her neck, and to her surprise Prudence felt metal there. She realised that the man had a tongue stud and recalled having been fascinated by a video where a man with just such a thing had his face between a woman’s thighs.

The memory of it made her tingle just a little, but then nerves took over again when she realised that her dress was being unzipped, leaving her exposed in just her underwear and shoes. The hands were still all over her thighs and breasts, one hand suddenly rubbing her crotch.

The men were talking amongst themselves, but what with the loud thud of music, the buzz of alcohol and the way her mind seemed to want to protect her from anything and everything, she couldn’t hear what they were saying. A hand was squeezing her buttocks. Her neck was being licked from both sides, and now fingers were inching inside her panties. She was still half-thinking of that tongue stud on the woman’s clit that she’d seen in the video and knew that the memory was making her aroused, even though her mind was preventing her from feeling the sensation, just as she knew her nipples were hard but couldn’t feel them.

What was she doing? She’d been brought up to be a good girl, never to do anything like this. What was that phrase her mother used disparagingly whenever her sensibilities were outraged by one woman or another?

“What was that, doll?” the man with the tongue stud shouted in her ear.

She must have spoken out loud. Why had she? And why did she repeat the thing that was in her head? “I’m no better than a slut!”

This seemed to be what the men were waiting to hear – if indeed they could hear over the loud music – for she was lifted bodily by all four of them and carried across the room. The heavy beat of the music continued, now accompanied by ecstatic moans as she was laid on some of the cushions she’d seen earlier. One of the men wrestled her panties from her. Another said something she didn’t hear. Then two of the men grabbed her legs and pulled them apart.

Shamefully, Prudence realised that if they hadn’t, she would have parted her legs herself. Was it the orgasmic music, the alcohol, the memory of those videos, or just the situation itself? She didn’t know. People gathered round to watch as Tongue Stud Man got on top of her. She was amazed at the ease with which he slid inside her. She felt dizzy, not quite wanting to believe how this was happening to her. The words returned to her, 'no better than a slut.' From the sound system, a woman’s disembodied, sampled voice moaned, “Fuck me! Fuck me hard!” over and over as the beat went on.

She just lay there, Tongue Stud Man driving his cock back and forth as he lowered his face to lick her neck. She had no idea how many pairs of eyes were watching, or how long she was fucked. All she knew was that suddenly the man had pulled out of her. As he clambered forward over her, someone else replaced him, but Prudence was fixated on the way he was holding his cock.

Someone was lifting her head, holding it in place, and with Tongue Stud Man in front of her, manipulating his thick cock… Well she’d seen enough videos to know what was coming. Afraid of being blinded, she closed her eyes. She felt heavy thrusting in her pussy, but was really waiting, just waiting.

There was a heavy splash on the bridge of her nose. Sperm began trickling downwards as the man took better aim, his cum landing directly on Prudence’s lips. Never had she allowed this to happen to her, and yet here she was, expecting it. If it didn’t seem quite natural, it at least felt inevitable.

When the man had finished, her head was laid back down on the cushion. Her face sticky with seed, she was aware of the hard thrusts between her thighs, but suddenly also something soft moving against her face. Confident that she could open her eyes without an accident, Prudence did so, amazed to see a girl’s face above her, licking the freshly ejaculated sperm from her.

The girl was smiling, a glint lurking behind rectangular spectacles. Prudence saw that she was wearing a see-through top, black of course. She felt like it must all be a dream, brought about from watching too many videos, and possibly indulging in too much cheese and wine. As the girl’s tongue travelled across her lips, she parted them, allowing the girl to penetrate her mouth with her tongue. Prudence felt the strong tang of semen as the girl’s tongue scooped the substance into her mouth. Loud, rhythmic beats and moans continued to ring out from the sound system.

'No better than a slut,' she thought as a changeover occurred, a third man in quick succession entering her. He fucked her in time to the loud, hypnotic beat, the sampled female voice crying, “Oh yes! Fuck me hard!” as the girl continued to draw her tongue across Prudence’s face, gathering the sperm and ingesting it.

Not really aware of what was going on around her, it came as something of a shock when a new load of cum was delivered, splashing both her own and the girl’s face. The girl hardly missed a beat, continuing to drag her tongue through the thick, syrupy goo on Prudence’s face. She managed to look up, seeing people standing round, staring down at her, enjoying her predicament; enjoying seeing her on her back, a man between her thighs, and this girl licking sperm from her face.

A number of men had their cocks out, wanking their stiff organs as they looked at her. She saw Amy on her knees sucking one of them. The heavy beat seemed unceasing, relentless, the man between her thighs still following the rhythm, the sampled voice still urging, “Oh yes! Fuck me hard!”

Suddenly the man between her thighs moved up her body as the first had. Immediately a fourth penetrated her, thrusting vigorously. As the man who had just been fucking her delivered a load on her lips, she saw the man Amy had been sucking get into position and take aim. She closed her eyes, just in the nick of time, since this time some of the sperm did strike her eyelid. The girl above her kept on licking and licking, sucking in the rich, white fluid as Prudence just lay there, head spinning, her pussy pounded to the beat, the girl’s soft tongue wriggling across her face.

More stickiness arrived on her face. Were they all going to do that? The girl just kept on licking and licking. When the man fucking her pulled away, Prudence was expecting a new invasion, but now something else happened. At first she wasn’t sure what it was, but then she realised it was the man with the tongue stud, or someone similarly decorated, between her thighs. The sensation of the metal sphere on her clit was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

Somehow, it brought her fully into the present, her body. She kept her eyes closed, not quite able to look at the people around her. With the smell of sperm in her nostrils and the harsh beat in her ears (“Ooooh yes! Touch me! Feel me!”) she felt immersed in carnality.

Her face was still sticky, but somehow the girl had cleaned it of most of the ejaculate. Now her tongue touched Prudence’s lips again. Prudence let it enter at the same moment as harsh fingers pushed their way between her other lips. The movement of metal against clit continued unabated as her tongue coiled itself round the girl’s, the two of them sharing thick sperm.

Prudence knew she was lost; lost in this blur of carnal frenzy. She did nothing to aid or resist, but just let the swiftly encroaching climax sieze and rattle her body.

Hardly daring to open her eyes, she nevertheless did so once the girl’s tongue was no longer in her mouth, nor the man attending to her pussy. She had to see what was going on. Men and women were standing round, staring down at her, lasciviously, but also admiringly. Though she felt a little ashamed, Prudence liked that.

Her eyes fastened on two women, one on either side of her. They were dressed identically, if they were dressed at all; no more than a thong and X’s fashioned of tape over their nipples in addition to high heels. One of them had a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand, which she swigged from. Then she handed it to her friend, who took a swig. Then she knelt.

The bottle was almost empty, but there was still enough for her to pour the remainder onto Prudence’s stomach, before bending forwards to lick the liquid from her skin. It stung, but Prudence was too stunned to care. Especially when the other girl took the bottle from her friend, knelt, looked up at Prudence and smiled.

So soon after her climax? That must be unbearable, but Prudence allowed the girl to slide the neck of the bottle into her. Next to her, the bespectacled girl who’d sucked all that semen from her face was moaning, mouth wide open as she was taken from behind – her own moans mingling with those from the sound system, where the beat just went on and on.

Then Amy was bending over Prudence, smiling, her lips coming up close to her ear. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Prudence nodded, thinking that if anyone had told her a couple of months ago that she’d enjoy having Jack Daniels licked from her stomach by a young woman while her identical twin fucked her with the bottle and rubbed her clit – which she was now doing – she would have been mortified. Yet here she was.

“Is there anything in particular you want to try?” Amy shouted.

Prudence turned her head. Maybe there was, maybe there wasn’t. She couldn’t recall now. “It’s easier if people just…” she shouted back, not quite able to finish the sentence, even though she knew deep down that in a very short space of time, she had turned herself into a slut.

“Oooooh! Aaaaah!” Prudence couldn’t remember the music haven broken up at all, just a long soundtrack to the orgy, because that’s what it was. Amy made a sign of some kind. The bottle was still being thrust back and forth, a woman’s fingers moving against her.

Two men appeared, one on other side of Prudence. They kneeled and yanked her breasts from her bra. Then disbelief struck again as Amy, her friend, pulled up the black dress that appeared to be made from a bin bag. Prudence had the girl’s shaven mound right in front of her eyes, and then, in an instant, the girl straddled her, shoving her pussy down on Prudence’s face.

It was too much, this girl she considered her friend sitting on her face, but she had warned Prudence, 'Anything goes!'

Besides, the two men were licking her nipples. She didn’t know if it was the same men as before, but they had tongue studs, which they were using on her to great effect. The sensation combined with the bottle in her cunt and the fingers on her clit overwhelmed her. With perfect timing a sampled voice cried, “Eat me out! Eat me out!” and she extended her tongue, detecting instantly that everything that went on here had made Amy impossibly wet and creamy.

The girl’s dress fell over Prudence’s face, leaving her in the dark. She was suddenly in a plastic bubble where the scent of female arousal was all there was, apart from the metal flicking at her nipples, the glass penetrating her, and now a moist tongue on her clit instead of those fingers.

Amy pushed down on her face, and Prudence just moved her tongue against the girl, wherever it would go. Having never performed on another woman, she would have been unsure of herself, had not every sensation made anything other than spontaneous action redundant. The tongue on her own clit was urging her closer to her own explosion, and somehow brought her to consciousness enough to focus on Amy’s nub.

Metal on nipple, glass in cunt, tongue on clit; it was all enough to carry her over the edge again, but before that had time to happen, Amy was grinding down on her face. She could feel the girl shudder. “Yeah! Yeah! Get me off!” the sampled voice urged, the beat relentless as Prudence’s face was smeared with pussy juice.

When Amy climbed off her, she was amazed to see that the girl had a big load of cum on her face, and that more semen was dribbling down her plastic dress. Was there no end to the depravity? Apparently not, because all around, there was fornicating and copulating.

Amy smiled at her, and she smiled back. That seemed to provide the girl with a signal, for she smiled at some people standing round and made a new gesture. The people attending to Prudence stopped what they were doing, but she was instantly lifted bodily by four men. When she saw where they were taking her, the shock started beating in her chest. She was being carried back to Cleaver, and his massive organ.

The men stood her down on her feet in front of Cleaver, who smirked. Amy was suddenly at her side, handing her the wine bottle. Prudence took it, instinctively gulping down the rest of the liquid. The bottle was taken from her as Amy leaned in with her cum-smeared face and yelled in Prudence’s ear, “Go on! Sit on him! You won’t regret it!”

Cleaver was still flanked by the two women from earlier. What was it one of them had said? 'It’s because when he fucks your arse it feels like you’re being split in two!' She turned her head. “I can’t take him… up my bum… it would kill me!” she yelled.

“Who said anything about taking him up the arse?” Amy yelled back. “You are getting into it, aren’t you, Prue?”

Prudence felt embarrassed, in spite of everything, but then the buzz of alcohol silenced her misgivings. There were loud moans from the sound system. Cleaver looked impossible to take in any hole, but then she saw that the girls flanking him were looking at her as if they were challenging her.

Something possessed her and she stepped forward. Cleaver was leering at her as she manoeuvred herself into position, kneeling on the sofa right above the huge organ he obligingly held in position. She lowered herself, feeling his bulb, panicking slightly as she reminded herself just how big he was. But his hands were on her buttocks now, pushing down.

The girls leaned over, grabbing her breasts, fondling and kissing them, nibbling at her nipples. Cleaver’s hands kept on pushing. There was no way this could work, yet somehow Cleaver’s huge cock refused to countenance any resistance. Prudence felt herself stretch and stretch and stretch. “Aaaaaaaaaah!” she cried out, not realising at first that she was crying out, not in pain, but with the most intense pleasure she’d ever experienced.

Her breasts continued to be attended to, but as Cleaver pushed her right the way down on his enormous girth, she felt something else too. A sticky finger was between her buttocks. Was it Amy? Was it somebody else? All she knew was that the finger was teasing her anus, then easing inside.

She was being subjected to new experiences all the time. Cleaver suddenly lifted her with strong arms before slamming her back down on his cock. Again she cried out loud. She could see the girls giggling as they squeezed her breasts, see the randy smirk on Cleaver’s face as he lifted and forced her back down repeatedly.

Somehow the finger remained in her rectum during this. Was someone trying to prepare her to take Cleaver… there? Surely not? She’d die if he pushed his huge cock up her backside.

But she couldn’t deny that the sensation of having his huge girth in her pussy was doing something to her. Either that or it was the alcohol making her dizzy. No, she didn’t think so. He was ramming her down on him, and his massive size stretching her seemed suddenly the most wonderful sensation ever. “Oooooooh!” she gasped. The sound system answered her with an orgasmic, “Uh! Uh! Uh! Ooooh!”

She closed her eyes, the finger in her anus not feeling too bad at all, her nipples rigid where the girls were sucking on her. It felt as if Cleaver was growing ever bigger, if that were possible, filling her entire body with his beast of a cock. Every time he shoved her down on him, she felt herself edge closer to a climax.

But Cleaver got there first. All of a sudden Prudence felt him pulsing inside her. Tongues flicked at her nipples, a finger pushed its way fully into her rectum, but what she felt more than anything was Cleaver’s seed shooting straight up into her belly, a huge flood of the stuff, as if he was determined to impregnate her and breed several mini-Cleaver’s on her. Thank goodness she’d never stopped taking the pill – subconscious hope’s triumph over sad reality.

She felt him shift, heard his voice rasp in her ear. “Next time I’ll fuck your arse, you dirty bitch!”

She shook her head violently, opening her eyes. Cleaver was laughing at her. “Oh I’m so horny!” the girl on the sound system moaned, the beat as relentless as ever as pairs of hands grabbed Prudence. She was lifted bodily yet again, carried to a sofa and placed carefully in the middle, next to a man with a mass of tattoos on his chest and metal rings in his nipples. He was holding a bottle of vodka in one hand. Another man sat down on her other side, a weird mesh garment covering his torso.

They grinned at each other. Earlier in the evening Prudence would have been apprehensive, but now she was prepared to let anyone do anything to her. The men grabbed her legs and pulled them further apart than they were. Cleaver’s sperm, which had already dripped from her as she was carried, continued to trickle from her pussy. A crowd was gathering, a gorgeous redhead appearing in front of Prudence, black rubber clinging to her body like a second skin.

The woman got down in front of her, edging her face towards Prudence. She looked as if she was waiting for something. Over the harsh beat a voice moaned, “Lick my pusssssseeeeee! Lick my pusssssseeeeee! Lick my joossssssizzzzz!”

This functioned as the woman’s cue. She leaned in, her tongue sliding over Prudence’s labia. There were huge grins from the people in the crowd. Unfased by Cleaver’s sperm, the woman worked her tongue, then her lips, nibbling at Prudence’s swollen folds. “Oh yeah! I love it!” the sampled voice repeated over and over as Prudence instinctively drew her legs back. The men on either side of her drew her pussy lips apart, making it easy for the redhead to her slide her tongue over Prudence’s slippery sex.

“It feels so gooood!” the music continued. And it did. Prudence closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation where the girl’s tongue teased her entrance and slowly worked its way up to her clit. She could feel the girl’s fingers come into play, first one, then two easing into her tunnel.

When a third finger joined them, the woman’s lips left her clit, but Prudence was all right with that, the sensation of the woman twisting her fingers. She’d long since determined to just let what happened happen, after all.

With a jolt, she realised that the woman was inserting a fourth finger. Somehow it worked, maybe because of the way she’d already been stretched out by Cleaver’s huge cock. She drew her legs a little further up, enjoying the sensation of the fingers twisting and twisting, stretching her.

Was the woman trying to stick her whole hand in there or something? Then Prudence realised that was exactly what was happening. She’d seen it on video enough times. In shock she opened her eyes, and at that very moment felt herself stretched to infinity. She stared down at the grinning woman, where her arm was protruding from Prudence’s cunt, her hand invisible because it had disappeared inside.

Round her people were cheering, though most of it was drowned out by the music (“Oh! I love it! Oh! I love it!”). It should be impossible, but it was happening, and as the girl’s arm and hand moved, Prudence closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how it could be, but she felt as high as a kite. It wasn’t the alcohol, or because someone had spiked her drink, it was something in her body, something she’d never known was there.

As the woman thrust her arm and hand into Prudence, she felt like she was floating on clouds. It was almost like an out of body experience, except she was very much in her body. She felt a tongue on her clit. Whether it was the woman’s or someone else’s she didn’t care. The sensation took her higher and higher, merging with the orgasmic moans of the music, the beat providing the insistent soundtrack to her own urgent desires.

Higher and higher. Higher and higher. There was movement next to her. The men were moving. Suddenly she had two cocks up against her face, one on either side. She opened her mouth, turning her head instinctively. This took her higher still, having her face invaded while that arm, that fist shoved into her and lips closed on her clit.

She sat there, like a rag doll, allowing these people to do what they wished. The men twisted her head from side to side, taking turns. “In my face!” the sampled breathed. “You taste so good!”

Prudence was full to bursting, and with the men using her roughly, she could feel herself drooling. Down below she was tightening, the full girth of the redhead’s arm unbearable to her. Yet even in the midst of this, she felt completely ecstatic. Something was building; something she’d never experienced before. It built and built and built.

And then the floodgates opened. The redhead yanked her fist from Prudence’s cunt, and suddenly she was gushing. It had never happened to her before. She’d seen it on video, just never thought it could happen for real, to her. Someone was slapping her clit, and floods of juice were emanating from her; she knew without seeing. She shrieked out loud as the fist was rammed back into her. Then it came out, and she squirted again. Squirted as the men were squirting, spraying warm sticky cum all over her breasts.

”Mmmmmmmmmm! Use my pussy! Get me off!” the sampled voice urged, the beat as hard as it had been all night, a hypnotic groove making Prudence almost forget where she was and what she was doing. She was stretched wide again, the fist punching into her. New cocks appeared, using her face, fucking her mouth.

Everything was a blur, a complete, delicious, otherworldly blur of her body being taking over by other people and by feelings she just wanted more and more of. “Oh yeah! You taste so good!” the sampled voice said. Prudence didn’t really care how the men tasted, as long as they kept on using her and showering her face with cum.

Then she was screaming again, floods of her own depraved, pent up lust issuing forth in short sharp spurts. The redhead shoved her fist back inside, and Prudence was sure she must explode, but she did nothing to stop it, letting these people use her, driving her arousal even higher with their rough treatment of her.

There was more cum, men making her face and tits gooey and sticky, cumming in her mouth. She was a captive of the taste and smell and the violence of her own bodily lust, the menacing beat pounding in her ears. “Use me! Use me good! Use me! Use me good!”

And just when it seemed as if she couldn’t go any higher without imploding, she could. She lost all track of what was happening to her, knowing only that this was as close to nirvana as it was possible to get.

The explosion over, Prudence sat exhausted, wiping the ejaculate from the area around her eyes, blinking even at the dim light. Someone handed her a bottle. It wasn’t Amy, because she could see the girl a couple of feet away on all fours, being taken at both ends simultaneously.

She took a swig, feeling the drink singe the back of her throat. In front of her the redhead was smiling, her face shiny with what Prudence could only assume were her own juices. There were what felt like rivers of cum sliding down her torso as she gulped down some more drink. The bottle was taken from her. The redhead rose to her feet, leaning over to kiss Prudence full on the lips and stroke her hair. Prudence closed her eyes, the beat hammering in her head. “Mmmm! I just can't get enough!”

The next thing she knew, someone was shaking her. “Prudence! Wake up!”

Slowly she opened her eyes, seeing Amy and Sandy leaning over her. It was unnaturally quiet. What had happened?

“You must be the only person, like, ever, who’s fallen asleep in the middle of an orgy,” Amy told her, smiling.

Was she? Had she? This made her feel slightly silly. “It was… intense,” she replied, slowly recovering her bearings.

“Time to go home,” Sandy said. She still couldn’t make out if Sandy was male or female.

Then she realised just how sticky and dirty her body was. Well, she had been a very dirty girl. 'No better than a slut.' “Is there anywhere to clean up?” she asked.

Both Amy and Sandy looked amused. Sandy poked a thumb in the direction of an alcove. “Toilet’s over there.”

The toilet was distasteful, the kind of place that left you feeling dirtier when you emerged than you’d felt when you entered, at least to Prudence’s mind. She’d just have to take a long shower at home instead. Looking in the mirror she could see she looked a little the worse for wear, but the glaze on her skin might pass for a sheen of perspiration, rather than what she knew it to be.

Her bra was still half way down her body, and she pulled it into place, as impregnated with sperm as it was. Back in the large room, Amy was holding her dress. Miraculously the garment had escaped unscathed, and when Prudence had pulled it on, she looked almost presentable. “My undies,” she said. “Where are my undies?”

Amy just shrugged. “Beats me,” she said.

“Maybe someone kept them as a souvenir,” Sandy suggested. Somehow the thought of that gave Prudence a twinge of excitement.

She surveyed the room one last time before leaving, wondering who was responsible for cleaning up. In the makeshift cloakroom Sandy handed over her coat and bag with a, “Hope to see you again soon.”

“I’m sure you will,” Prudence said automatically, out of politeness, before realising that she did actually mean it. Or perhaps she was still a bit buzzed.

“Taxi?” she said to Amy once the two were outside. “My treat.”

“Thanks!” Amy said, then, as Prudence got out her mobile to make the call. “You looked like you had a good time.”

In the cold air of the pre-dawn, Prudence was only too well aware of what she should say, but the truth was there too. “The best,” she said. “Thank you, Amy.”

It was just about five in the morning when she finally stumbled into her own house, only to be confronted by her daughter.

“Mum, where have you been?” Chrissie cried. “I’ve been worried sick. What’s happened to you? You look a mess!”

So much for secrecy. Prudence wanted to make up some excuse, but still slightly drunk from the night’s adventures, what came out was, “Sorry, dear. I’ve been to an orgy. That’s all.”

Chrissie looked stunned. “Mum!” she cried. “That’s not funny!”

“Sorry, dear,” Prudence said. Then, because she was all shagged out and couldn’t deal with this now. “Let’s talk about it in the morning, shall we? I’m exhausted.”

Then she stumped upstairs, realising that she’d never come home this late in her life, not even when she was younger. She’d always been a good girl.

Now, she couldn’t even be bothered to undress. Her skin encrusted with the evidence of her adventures, she drifted off to sleep almost immediately, knowing that she would never quite be the same again.