Cult of Purity

But they were new—well, okay, we were all new, but they were a lot more nervous than I was—and it wasn't much longer before Heavy-Blond's thumb stopped rubbing and his in-and-out movement became one big in-, head bowed over me as he shuddered and emptied himself inside me. Much less weird the second time. Much more exciting. Definitely something I was starting to love. And when he pulled out, dripping, I felt fingers locking and pulling on a fistful of my hair, and I went with it, taking Statistics up to the point where my fingers encircled him, swallowing everything I could as he finished, too.

Three down. And I wasn't done. One of you, I said, licking my lips, is going to get me to come, and I'm not going anywhere until it happens. So who's it gonna be?

Two more headed over; the other three were whispering and gesturing at each other, and I figured they were trying to figure out who'd get which spot. I stayed where I was, hoping for more of the same, and I got that and more. One guy went for my face again, which was great; his piece was a little thinner than Statistics', which meant I could take more of it down more easily. I started stronger this time, lips and tongue working on the head as I stroked with one hand and fondled the parts hanging below with the other. Then the other guy pulled one of my legs up and draped it over his shoulder; he had to squat down a little bit, but hey, if he felt it was worth the discomfort I wasn't going to complain. And that changed the angle—his piece, once it was inside, was rubbing against different parts of me, and it was funny how that changed everything. I knew those inner bits were sensitive, but I hadn't quite gotten just how much of a difference an inch or so could make.

Skinny, up front, was even more of a hair trigger than the guys before him; I think he got himself too close to the edge beforehand, because I'd not had him in my mouth for more than ten seconds before I could taste his arrival. I savored this one, pulling back and just holding him between my lips, letting it pool on my tongue before swallowing. He drifted away, red-faced and mumbling, pretty quickly. I thought maybe one of the last three would take his place, but they'd stopped talking and looked like they were happy to wait their turn. Fine by me; I was preferring the ones who went the traditional route.

Another minute or two before Leg-Holder gave out, grip tightening on my thigh as he grunted and pounded harder; didn't do as much for me as his predecessors, but hey, more lube is never a bad thing, and I liked this particular kind a lot more than any of the synthetics. He had the decency to lower my leg gently, too, which was nice of him. Leave it to a bunch of nerds to pay attention to things like that.

The next two needed no invitation; they'd definitely worked something out between them. One of them muttered something about moving the mattress, and I slid down off of the cot, relishing the fluid flowing out of me as I stood there, socks and sneakers catching the drips that ran down my legs. And I finally took off my bra at that point, too. I didn't feel cold anymore, that's for sure. Almost stifling, actually, keeping them locked up, what with all the sweat and body heat in that room.

They dragged the mattress and sheet down onto the floor, and one lay down on it, face-up, which seemed like a great idea to me. I went to mount him face-to-face, but he gestured for me to turn, so I did.

Come to think of it, I don't think any of them said a word, apart from Prime and that one other guy who chimed in at the start. Weird. But it made the other sounds I got out of them all the more rewarding.

So I slid down onto him, barely helping guide him at all, and he took hold of my hips and started rocking me, sliding me back and forth, and that worked pretty well. Plenty of friction in the right areas, you know. And his buddy got in front of me, holding his piece upright, and stood so close that it bumped against my chest. And, well, when in Rome, do dudes like a Roman would, or something like that.

I held it between my breasts as well as I could; I mean, they're not huge, right? But turns out they've got enough size to give the guy what he was hoping for. It wasn't much fun at first, but then I stopped and took him into my mouth for a few strokes, and that made things slippery enough to actually enjoy it. And when he angled it right I could still reach the head, which was the part I wanted most anyway. There's something really satisfying about having that in my mouth, knowing that this stranger, this idiot, was trusting the most sensitive part of his body to a hole full of teeth.

We were like that for a little while; they'd not burned out their stamina tugging on themselves, and the guy underneath me was controlling the action, so he could pace himself. I was occupied with the other one, mashing him into my chest, doing my best to help his jerky movements and keep my lips planted, my tongue in constant motion. This worked for me—half in control, half out of control, you know? Filled up from below, heat and his panting breath in front of me, constant contact in the right places.

And then the moron in front pulled his piece back and rubbed himself off, and his load landed on my nose and cheeks and dripped down onto my chest, and almost none of it ended up in my mouth.

Which, y'know, fine. He reached his limit, and I got to try something new. But it was at almost the same time as my little pony down there dug his fingers into me and pulled, shoving himself up as deep as he could, guttural noises coming from his throat as he fired off.

And I still hadn't finished.

I pushed away the guy in front of me and rolled off the one below. Right, I said, staring straight at the eighth, who still had on his robe. Your turn. Make it good.

He walked up, taking his time, and waited until the other two had pulled back against the wall before disrobing. And right away I liked this one more; he wasn't as scrawny as the others. A cross-country body, maybe, and it showed he spent some time taking care of himself.

And he was confident, or else he faked it pretty well. He motioned for me to get on my hands and knees, and he entered from behind in one stroke.

Another new experience. Gravity's a big help when riding, does a lot of the work for you, but something about different curvatures, the way different parts fit together, made this feel even deeper than before. And he even got a couple fingers in on it, reaching under and rubbing as he moved smoothly in and out, driving himself into me.

This had to be it, and I was ready. I pushed back, trying to force him deeper and deeper, exhaling hard through my nose every time we met in the middle. He was moving fast, and I figured I didn't have long; I tried to let go, to give in to the feeling, thinking about everything I'd done, the product of all those exertions inside of me, and I was almost there.

Almost there.

And he pulled out. And before I could do anything he pushed back in, just a little, not even an inch—but his aim was a bit higher than before. And so when he finished, he unloaded right inside my other hole.

Yeah, well, I think I was more upset about being left right on the brink than I was about that. But I didn't have time to complain, because as soon as he pulled out, something else took his place. And this one didn't stop at the half-inch mark.

Took me a moment to realize what was happening, and by that time he was all the way inside, aided by his fellow's efforts seconds before.

I hadn't noticed Moron Prime leave the spot where he'd been huddling against the wall. I hadn't noticed him circle around behind me, and I guess I hadn't noticed him saying something to Cross-Country. But when I looked over my shoulder, there he was, pale and thin and with a new determination on his face, up to the hilt in a place nothing had touched before.

Yeah, it did hurt, a little. Or... not pain, really, but a sort of general discomfort? Like, it wasn't so big that I thought it'd tear anything, but it was just really weird to have something sitting there, or moving the wrong direction, that I couldn't control. Like something was there that almost felt right, almost belonged, but was just different enough to make it strange.

Prime was taking it slow but strong, moving almost his whole length with every stroke, and his hands were tight enough around my waist that I figured he wouldn't be inclined to help out. I dropped down on one elbow, barely propping myself up, and worked my fingers down into myself, feeling the slickness left behind from my previous guests, rubbing and working the places I knew gave the best bang for their buck. He sped up, and I did too, racing him to the finish, finally able to treat myself in ways these guys didn't know, couldn't have known. And I realized I was talking, too, a stream of oh-god and god-yes, teeth gritted with and against the feelings going through me.

And I felt it coming, hooking my fingers against just the right spot, and he shouted, a raw wordless sound, and I finally gave in, feeling things clench and unclench, riding the waves of it as he unloaded inside my rear, his piece so tight against the muscles there, heat spreading deep inside.

And my knees gave way, and I let my arm go slack, and I fell onto the mattress. And Prime, still inside me, slumped over onto my back.

And that's it, mostly. Or all the exciting parts, anyway.

There was a working sink down there, and we cleaned up as best we could before heading our separate ways. And it was fully dark by that point, so I don't think we attracted any real attention.

Wasn't as awkward as you might think, actually. I saw all of them in the next couple of days; they all thanked me, and most of them actually met my gaze. I guess it helped some of them get a little more confidence, too. Helped to lose the stigma, I guess.

No, nothing else happened between us. I thought Prime might get brave and ask me out properly, but I guess he just felt too weird about the whole thing to follow through.

So yeah. Things worked out okay, in the end.

Why would I regret any of it? The story never got out, I had the best night of my life, and I'm pretty sure the guys had the best of theirs, too. And I learned some pretty important stuff about myself.

Well, I'd be happy to demonstrate. What are you doing tonight?

And got any friends who'd like to come along?

*****

Many thanks to smoothed, whose eye for theme and aesthetic helped immensely.