The sounds of laughter and music drew me towards the forbidden in the slightly-moonlit night. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stay away. I crept forward, doing my best to avoid being seen – there was no chance I’d be heard over the din of the party. My heart beat in my throat. I was terrified. Still I crept closer, pulled deeper by something exciting but indefinable. I’d heard whispered talk, I’d had dreams, tingling, exciting dreams based on those whispers … I had to see!

I hid myself behind a leafy bush that would give me a good view through the leaves: close enough to feel like a part of the party, to hear everything, to smell the crackling fire and musky scent of arousal but removed enough to be safe, I hoped.

My first view burst on me like a display of fireworks. The very air sparkled and sang with a rainbow of colour. The bonfire that they danced around fizzled and dazzled off the bright gypsy clothes almost as loudly as their guitars and castanets sang. The laughter and energy was pure and intense, so sexual that it was a tangible thing. I craved it instantly!

Men and women swirled and twirled together, but this was no innocent dance. It was ripe with suggestion and promise. Bodies brushed and separated, but hands trailed behind, maintaining the intimate contact as long as they cold, even while they moved to caress the next breast, stomach, bum or cock. It clearly didn’t matter who you were, man or woman, all moved and twirled and touched together in this hypnotically writhing mass.

I knew from the tantalizing gossip that had drawn me here that tonight was an initiation. I had wondered what sort of initiation. Now I knew that whatever else it was, it was my initiation into my own sexual self. Regardless of who they were initiating, I was being initiated into an understanding of the tingling tightness of my breasts, the inviting, pulsing warmth between my legs.

At last, I would truly understand.

I pressed my legs together, but it wasn’t enough. I slipped my hands under my skirt and pressed my fingers sympathetically over my clit but it didn’t help as I had hoped, it just escalated my need. I became so hot, so caught up in my own overpowering needs that I almost didn’t notice the change in the scenes in front of me.

Refocussing, I saw that they had separated into two groups, with men on the one side of the fire and women on the other. The dancing was more sexual, more intense. There were colourful pieces of cloth scattered on the forest floor which I realized were clothes that were gradually being discarded. And rather than just touching now they were pulsating in two separate moaning, orgiastic masses, mouths kissing, hands dipping, stroking, sucking. And still, more colourful pieces of cloth were drifting down until, at last, everyone was gloriously, exhibitionistly naked: caramel bodies dancing on a rainbow. The music and people were frenziedly intimate, enticing each other to flaunt and follow through.

I stared in awe at the feast of bodies before me. I burned. I craved. This was beyond the innocent dreams that had driven me to distraction. I rubbed harder and it didn’t take long until I flooded over my hand, cumming as I never had thought possible, wracked in tightening spasms. I moaned aloud, but it didn’t matter – who would hear me. My passionate sounds would be absorbed into those a few metres away from me.

My attention slowly returned to the scene before me. I wanted more. I had to see what was to come. I was nervous, excited, and nothing, nothing would keep me away. 

Part 2 coming ....