Amber s Email Troubles
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Amber In BetweenChapter 4 free porn video
By now I'd been partying with my friends for more than three years. We were all of roughly the same age, but when I turned seventeen the law considered me an adult capable of making my own decisions. I was rapidly approaching my nineteenth birthday and I received an invitation to a party with people older than me.
Back at my grandmother's, the one who lived in Mississippi, not the one in Shreveport, the adults would party upstairs while we kids had the rec room, the patio and the lawn. Now that was about to change.
I turned down the first invitation because I had midterms. Having fun was one thing, but I was attending college with my future in mind. But the midterms finished on Friday. Our regular group was going to get together on Saturday night, but Friday night would be my first time with older people.
Part of why they'd done this was to protect us. I'm sure everyone who is reading this memoir will remember stories of older men having sex with underage girls. The older man is always guilty, even if the facts don't support it. And if it is the reverse, an older woman with a younger man ... Actually there was a case like that somewhere out west. She was a married school teacher, and he was like 14 or so. She ended up with prison time, and he was forced to go to a therapist. I don't know why, something like that has to be every young man's dream. None of this groping around with neither of you quite knowing what you're doing. She's had kids. She knows. But she was painted as the villainess and thrown into jail.
Our parents, all of whom knew what we were doing, kept things straightforward. We only had sex with other kids our age. Except in extreme cases, this meant that if caught, nobody was really punished. We were curious kids, and that was it. And nobody in school would likely rat anyone out; everyone knew kids were doing it and while it would be talked about, well, what was the big deal (especially to adults), everyone did it.
But now that I was approaching 19, I got the invitation. There were certain unwritten rules: I would not be swinging with a direct relative, so all of those fantasies about doing it with my Dad or my brother were out the door, not that I had any. And though I'd spent an evening in bed with Suzette, Mom and I were certainly not going to get intimate. But just about everyone else was fair game.
"You'll get a lot of attention," Mom told me when I got home. "After all, you're young, you're new, and you're fresh. Be prepared."
"You don't mean there are some people I shouldn't party with. I didn't think anyone was into the really heavy stuff."
"Our group is pretty straight, but there are some out there that are pretty kinky in every aspect of that word."
"I'll keep that in mind." Since what we did was defined as "kinky" by the rest of the world, what she meant was pretty radical. I'd done enough that it didn't take long for me to imagine all sorts of things I could end up doing. That only whetted my appetite. Some of those things were downright fun, and I couldn't wait.
Now it may seem peculiar that I fretted over what to wear to a sex party. Weren't the clothes going to be coming off fairly quickly? Sure, but first impressions were lasting ones, and I intended to be partying with these people for some time. I wasn't worried about being mistaken for a slut, that word was pretty much a null in our circles. What I was after was to stand out on my own, and not take the easy route by dressing my age.
I'd seen this at other social affairs that did not involve sex. A teenage girl would dress in what was appropriate for her age group, and immediately get condescended to. There's something about a skirt that barely covers your butt that screams "immature" to most people. I really wanted to wear a skirt, I have nice legs and I liked showing them off, but a skirt has all sorts of implied social expectations, and I wasn't going to go there; the same with a dress, which was even more "dressed up" than a skirt. Watch when women are going to go out together. One of the important things is how dressed up they're expected to be. They don't want to be presenting themselves at a lower level of appearance than their friends. It's a girl thing.
So I fretted a little as we got in the car. I was in nice slacks and reasonable shoes; not too dressy, but I'd spent some time with the ensemble. It was obvious I cared about my appearance, and that told people a lot about me, even though I didn't say a word. Appearances are so important, even when they're a disguise.
The party was being held at this very expensive house with a long driveway that wasn't visible to the casual passer-by. The house had to be 5,000 square feet, but we didn't get a tour. We were met at the door by the hostess, Gina of Tom and Gina. We were shown to a basement recreation room. It had all of the things you need for a party: mattresses with sheets, couches and chairs with cushions—the fabric on them was moisture-proof, an important consideration—and refreshments on the sideboard. There were three other rooms with beds, and one with a video player. The bathroom had a shower that could hold a group of people, and no less than three toilets in stalls. There was even a place to hang up our clothes.
"They're prepared," I told Mom as we looked around.
"I like how the fabric is all moisture-proof," she said. "A lot of people forget that detail."
"Wouldn't that make the place smell a little?"
Dad smiled. "It does. It only takes one experience before people change things."
We wandered back to the main room, where people were gathering and beginning to socialize. This was when I missed having a date.
It may seem odd to take a date to a sex party, but swinging is a couples thing. I'm told there are groups where they allow single people, but for the most part you come with a partner. They have to be trustworthy and not given to jealousy. After all, they're going to see you having sex, and it's very possible it won't be with them at all. We tended to date within the group, but our parents made sure we had about a rough ratio of males to females, so in the teenage group, if you didn't have a boyfriend or girlfriend, there would still be a partner.
People know you went on a date. You do a couple of "normal" date things, dinner, or a movie, things like that. Other kids would see it, and that would cover you. You didn't say "Yeah, we went to a party. I had sex with four boys, Eric did it with three different girls." That wasn't quite the image you wanted to project.
I didn't have a "date" for this party. I saw a few guys who were more or less my age, but the overall sex ratio seemed to be even. That was a further sign that the people throwing this party knew what they were doing.
I now had to cut loose from my parents. Technically I was "with them", but if I wanted to have any fun I had to make my own arrangements. I didn't have much of a problem with either of my parents seeing me naked or doing it with a guy; they'd seen me both ways before. But they were going to go looking for other couples, and I wanted to give them the freedom to do that. And incidentally see what I could do for myself.
The guy I met was tall, thin, balding, with a mustache and goatee. He was wearing slacks and a polo shirt, and we met while we were standing next to the buffet.
"I can't believe they turned on their fireplace," he said. "It must be 90 outside."
"It is warm for March."
"One of those anomalous heat waves we always get this time of year. Tomorrow will probably be in the 50s."
I laughed. "It has been that kind of year."
"You look new. Have you been here before?"
"I usually party with the others my age."
That told him several things: first, I knew what was going to happen and was comfortable with it; second, well, I was new, to this party.
"I haven't figured out how forward to be," I added. "At the other party I can be as aggressive as I want."
"Ah, I like aggressive young women."
"Only at these parties."
"Yeah, we wouldn't want to shock society."
"Oh, we could do that just by letting them know these parties exist."
"You are experienced."
"Try doing this and not referring to parties like this in high school or college."
"It's practically impossible, especially if you're a guy."
"It's not easy when you're a girl."
"I bet."
"For instance, you can't tell any of your friends, male or female, that you did this." I put my hand to his crotch. His dick was already hardening, and more than filled my hand.
"You are a forward young lady."
"Let's see how forward, shall we?" I had to stand on tip-toe, but I kissed him.
"Um, I think this has definite possibilities."
"I think so." His dick had stiffened even more, and it felt like it was straining the front of his trousers.
We spent the next few minutes kissing. Eventually we settled on a chair, and I regretted not wearing a skirt. His fingers explored down there; with a skirt he only would have had my panties in the way, and could have slipped the elastic aside. Here he had the slacks as well as my panties. Fortunately we broke for air—he was a really good kisser—and spent a few fun minutes helping each other discover what was under that inconvenient layer of fabric. Eventually we were down to just his shorts and my panties, and there we stalled. He couldn't get enough of my boobs, and I loved kissing his chest.
"I can't get over how pale your skin is," he said. "I know a woman's breasts aren't exposed to the sunshine, but your whole body is that way."
"I'm a natural redhead," I said. "I don't tan, I burn."
"There's nothing SPF 40 or so shouldn't be able to handle. I've run into cases like yours before, and that's all it takes."
"Cases?"
"I'm a dermatologist."
"Ah. And so my skin... ?"
"I'm appreciating it from a professional perspective as well as a personal one."
I wanted more, but I wasn't sure I could pry his lips away from my boobs. I started working on his shorts. He helped, and then returned the favor. I wrapped my hand around what I discovered down there. It was about average in size, but more than enough to do the job. I started to fret, and then just forgot about it and lay back to enjoy things.
I was being seduced, I could see that now, but it was being done slowly and with a great deal of care. I don't think he was afraid of spooking me, he just wanted to take the time to enjoy it himself. He could sense that he could have jumped right in and gone to the main course, but instead decided to work on me with a slow but steady build-up.
The evening was still young,, but I was a little impatient. I finally pushed him over onto his back and went down. His hand went to the back of my head. I worked him over for a bit, not enough to get him to pop, but enough to ratchet up the excitement. When I finally leaned back it was with the hope that he would do the same thing to me.
Anastasia
- 14.11.2021
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