A Tale of Two Parties

A.

Only a sliver of moonlight aided her

tiptoe search amidst the

wreckage of the party, past an

outstretched leg, a bra (sadly

not hers), cold pizza, empty

cans and no sign of the

friend she had lost.

B.

Unwillingly she’d gone but it seemed quite

chic and staid and unexceptional

until, looking for the loo, she’d heard the

grunts and moans and an

open door and a woman with

two men whilst

another watched.

A.

All she could think of was the

bollocking Becky would have if she didn’t

get her home, but at least she found her

crumpled dress and her

too-high shoes, and then she heard

Becky’s voice—but a Becky she’d

never heard before.

B.

She was as transfixed as the woman

impaled on one cock, sucking another, the third

oiling himself to join the mix and as he

fixed his mortar against her tight pestle the

woman’s eyes shot open,

straight into hers with a look that went

directly to her pussy.

A.

Becky was barely visible in the

scrum of bodies in the skanky bedroom but

she recognised the polish on her

tightly-clenched toes and the

hank of red hair held by the man

vigorously fucking her face from which grunts came that

amounted to Becky’s voice.

B.

The airtight woman kept her eyes on her,

eyes that made her wet so that when her

husband suddenly pressed his

erection against her ass and whispered “She looks

beautiful, doesn’t she?” she knew it was going to be a

long night and his wasn’t the

only cock she’d have.

A.

The hand with the hank of hair

yanked harder as he came but

Becky took it all and when she could speak

muttered “more”, then saw her and

“her next” before another cock

semi-silenced her and a hand reached out which she

didn’t refuse.

B.

She dozed through the dawn drive home, her

body sore and leaking and the

unfamiliar taste of pussy in her

bruised mouth and the knowledge that

nothing would ever be the same

swimming like the semen in her

happy stomach.

A.

The first bus back broke the dawn and

Becky burped a sperm-scented belch as she

slept on her shoulder and she knew that

nothing would ever be the same as she

remembered Becky’s sopping vulva

descending on her face with an

unexpected pleasure, like a

bolt of lightning out of a

clear dawn sky.