I got the message, somewhat embarrassed, and drifted away to cool my blushing cheeks with champagne. The atmosphere was growing more openly sexy and what had been on everybody's mind was now becoming manifest, increasingly so. The rate of booze consumption had picked up noticeably. Faces were flushed, eyes bright with hopeful hunger – beseeching, imploring, promising, insinuating, hinting at all manner of exotic lesbian delights and depravities. Evidently the real action was about to start. Here and there, I saw kisses take the place of conversation. Caresses began to augment mere handclasps; little giggles and squeals echoed from the dinner recesses of the huge living room. It hadn't reached the orgy stage yet, but this crowd didn't have far to go.
Nancy of the rosy face and plump figure cornered me again, intent on examining my lingerie. Having flaunted hers all over the place, she was carrying on with her peculiar kick by looking at everyone else's. And now she showed only a polite minimum of hesitation about coming directly to the point. I even got the impression that she wanted to trade with me. Right then and there. But I laughed and cut her short before she could blurt it out. I really wasn't shocked though; it might have been fun. Especially since our sizes were so different.
But it was too late for such childish nonsense. Throughout the room, zippers and fasteners were already coming undone, some boldly, some surreptitiously, doubtless depending on how well the halves of such a couple knew one another. And on how successful their earlier overtures had been. In a few minutes a lot of bare flesh would be showing. Even now, the sultry Spanish girl had peeled her stockings down and was hanging them on a lampshade with great glee. And with help from all sides, too.
I wondered if there was going to be some pre-planned system of order and organization. Would we select partners and disappear into one of the bedrooms? Would we stay here in the living room and become a clustered group? Wasn't there some rule?
It didn't take long to find out the answer. We did both. It was unorganized. And the rules, such as they were, applied only to me; this was a night to spread myself around, I had been told – no sneaking off with Fleur somewhere. But I was reconciled to that by now, of course, and felt like a free agent. Well, comparatively free. Anyway, it seemed only fair – and prudent surely – that I should allow Estelle Kincaid to lead me away.
We didn't go far, ending up in one of the small downstairs guest rooms, unused except for parties like this. Not until we got inside did I realize how much of that nice pink champagne had trickled down my throat. It was sloshing around in my tummy now – not sick or even queasy, thank heaven, just mildly smashed. And in a good mood, too, just giddy enough to make me tolerant of my overweight neighbor from Springfield. Which was easy, considering how hard she was trying to make me happy.
Comfortable first, happy later, I sighed contentedly as she worked on my clothes with soft and gentle hands. Her body was soft and gentle also, once we were both undressed and cuddling together. But the cuddle was brief, giving way to an even nicer feeling as her impatient mouth began nibbling downward, setting my skin atingle everywhere it touched. My tits. My belly. My thighs. So warm and wet and soothing with every touch. Umm, no, not exactly soothing, not there…
There?
Oh shit, she had reached her goal awfully fast. Now there were fingers high on the insides of my thighs, fingers pressed outward against the flesh, opening me up, spreading my legs apart, and I had the sensation of being split and entered and practically invaded. As if my entire body had become a cunt, one big hot cunt – all cunt! – just the right size for that invader. Wasn't it a blessing that a fat woman should have an equally fat tongue, a great big fat monster of a tongue?
My back arched and I gasped ecstatically, pitching and turning with the caress, rolling from side to side on the bed. My limbs twitched and jerked and at last flailed up in search of something to anchor them on. Something to grip and hold. Like that hard round thing down there, the bobbing head. Uh-huh. It felt good crushed between my thighs like that. Even with my legs wrapped around the anchor, she went on doing things to me with her tongue. Her big thick tongue in my hot little cunt; fuck me, fuck me! Until I sobbed in uncontrollable joy and simply lost track…
After that, well, time stood still and everything became a prolonged blur. Somehow – who could tell when? – I was no longer with Estelle. It was the same bed in the same room, but the woman along side me had changed. She murmured strings of Spanish and tickled my flesh with her fingertips until I nearly went crazy.
Then there was somebody else with me. I didn't have to open my eyes to know who it was. Only plump Nancy would keep her bra and panties on at such a moment. I didn't mind, though. The flimsy garments weren't at all in the way. Imogene would be next, I was sure, the pouty one who liked my auburn hair. Wouldn't she try to cast me in the role of her governess? No, thanks, not tonight; anyway, I had no intention of waiting around to find out. And when Nancy and I ground to a halt, we went back to the living room together.
A frenzied scene met my eyes. It was just a wee bit revolting, the mass action, the careless-type couplings and triplings and dumb daisy-chains. All the more so when Nancy plunged right in and became a part of it, lingerie and all. There were too many bodies. Too many arms. Too many legs. And the noises! Sighs, shrieks, moans, curses, muttered oaths that made my hair prickle.
I turned away, anxious to avoid the messy pile-up. All of a sudden I wasn't alone though; Estelle Kincaid was right behind me, following my lead. I climbed the stairs, waggling my bare ass to give her a little extra incentive, figuring how nice it would be to have such amiable company far from that lesbian inferno. On an impulse, I headed for the big bedroom suite and could have cheered aloud upon finding it unoccupied – my favorite of all the rooms, the most modem, the most luxurious.
Once inside, I locked the door but brushed off any immediate ideas about sex between us. Quite docile in manner, Estelle nodded and scurried over to the small bar to find cigarettes and something refreshing to drink. We chatted then – and again I let her do most of the talking. About her home in Springfield mainly, an old-fashioned mansion that was due to be redecorated shortly – all of which sounded like mere chitchat until she got around to making her point. She was closing her peninsula place and driving home sometime next week to meet with the decorator people and begin work. And wouldn't I like to come with her?
Flattered by the offer, I shook my head nevertheless, not exactly enthusiastic about getting that close to Chelsea Hill. Whereupon she coaxed and cajoled and practically begged me to come. I liked that, naturally, but then the stupid woman spoiled it all by injecting a commercial note into the conversation. Could she buy me a few gifts to soften my heart, some new clothes maybe? Or even give me the money instead, so that I might shop for myself? After all, a beautiful young girl never had enough dresses…
Horror froze me. And when she mentioned the possibility of a fur coat, the horror turned to hot rage. My temper flared and I couldn't control myself. Nor did I even try, not after hearing the old bitch put me in the category of a whore. I let go with a stream of blistering profanity and began slapping her. Across that smug face, back and forth, slapping furiously and not caring about anything else but venting my terrible wrath.
And she just took it!
She just stood there and let me hit her. At first I was too angry to understand; there was no thought or reason or attempt at making sense. I just went on cracking my palm across her cheek. Until my arm got tired and I had to pant for breath. But even then, after my burst of violence ended, I was still too enraged to fully grasp the situation.
"Fuck you, Estelle. I won't be treated like a whore. Stay the hell away from me, you hear? I don't ever want to see you again."