Now that the women are engaged in exhibitionist masturbation, I turn my attention
to the men. I tell them to take off their underwear. That command is a relief to
them, since the restraining embrace of the fabric has become uncomfortable. Their
hard shafts of pink flesh come springing out from their traps, and all six point
straight outwards and upwards, bouncing against arms as the men bend over to push
the bikinis down their legs and over their feet. When they are all standing
upright again, their erections sway and bob randomly. All of the men have wet
spots on the heads of their cocks, and I have to sternly demand that they keep
their hands off their meat. I make them perform like the Rockettes, twitching
their cocks up and down in unison, then grinding their hips so that their
erections oscillate in big circles. It is sort of a masculine version of the bump
and grind tit-twirling that strippers are famous for. Drops of shiny precome
occasionally flip off the tips of the dancing cocks.

The ladies on the couch still have their fingers teasing their cunts, but the
menís show evokes some whistling and hollering of encouragement. I have to remind
them to keep up their show for them men, who I give permission to start stroking
their hard cocks. Now it is time for me to take part in the show. Standing on the
towel-covered coffee table, I flip off my red pumps and sway provocatively. My
fingers raking through my blond hair, lifting it over my head, licking my lips
provocatively as I stare brazenly at all the hard cocks and dripping cunts. I let
my hair fall over my face, and twist my neck back and forth so that it flails
around. My hands drop to my shoulders, pulling the spaghetti straps down onto my
upper arms. One arm reaches behind me to unzip my dress, while the other holds
the front over my breasts. Again, I rake my fingers through my blond hair,
reaching upwards while I continue my sensuous hula dance. Released from the
support of my hand, the top edge of my dress slips slowly down my body. My
breasts are revealed first, as the sewn edge of the material stuck on the hard
points of my nipples before releasing with an inaudible pop. As the liberated
weight of my breasts sway to my dancing, the dress falls further, over my taut
tummy and then past my hips. My shocking red panties are now revealed, An Tim
immediately exclaims about how wet the crotch is. When I bend at the waist to
look, I can see a dark crimson spreading in an irregular circle centered on my
cunt. I hadnít realized how aroused I had become. I guess I was too busy being
the boss of this orgy.

My velveteen and satin dress is now gathered in a pile around my bare feet.
Balancing on one foot, I drag the other one gradually upwards, rubbing it against
my leg. It slides up shin, and when it gets to my knee, I let go of my hair and
reach down to grab the insole of my foot, pulling it slowly up further and
further. This spreads my thighs wider and wider apart. I know that the bulge of
my mons veneris is pronounced and apparent to the gawking looks of my audience.
Eventually, I am able to position the heel of my foot right into the crotch of my
panties, and when I exert some pressure inwards, I can feel my labia spread
inside my satin panties. Now the blunt hard heel is pressed right into the nub of
my clitoris. Yes, that feels good. In this room full of masturbating partiers, I
am the last to actually touch myself. Precariously balanced on one foot, I
massage my whole cunt with my other foot. My juices mix with the satin, making a
slick lubricant.

I canít keep that position for long, so I let my foot down to the table and kick
my dress out of the way. I then pull my panties down my legs and pick them up.
Leaning over the edge of the table, I press my damp, aromatic panties into the
face of each of the men, letting them smell and feel the lusty moisture that
saturated the satin. The last man in the line is Tim, and he takes the panties
from my hand, and pulls the crotch band away from the rest. Then he puts just the
crotch between his lips and chews and sucks the sweet nectar into his mouth. That
is so sexy.

I am naked. The men are still pumping up and down on their steel-hard cocks, and
the women are rubbing their clits harder. Everyone is breathing hard, and again,
I remind them all to hold off. If anyone has a premature orgasm, he or she will
have to leave the room. Nobody wants to miss anything, and I can see several
people slacken the pace of their masturbating. Facing the men, I squat down on
the table and begin to stimulate my own clit. But my legs are tired, so I lie
down on the covered coffee table. On my right is the line of 6 men, but all I
really see are their beautiful cocks about a foot higher than my reclining body.
On my left are the women strung out like beads on a necklace, starting above my
head and queued up down to my feet. Their open cunts are even with my body, and
when I look towards them, I am looking right up into their cunts. Everyone is so
close. Their sexual organs are so red, so wet, so engorged with blood.

MY calves are hooked over the sides of the table leaving me spread open wide for
all to see. I take the index and middle fingers of my left hand and use them to
spread my labia wide. The large bump of my clitoral hood is the lone pinnacle in
the wet flatlands between my fingers. And my clitoris is poking out from its
protective shield, looking for a friendly finger. My right hand slides down from
my breasts, and I use my middle finger to tease my clit up and down, then back
and forth. I may have been the last to start pleasuring myself, but I make up for
the lost time quickly.

I ask the men to gather closer, so that their knees are bumping up against my
right side. Their cocks are extended right over my writing body. The women on my
left lean forwards so that they can see how their men masturbate. Some of them
pump straight up and down, and other use a sort of twisting motion. One guy is
using the palms of both hands, as if he was making a snake out of clay. Another
is pinching his nipples with his free hand. A couple of the men are fondling
their balls. Some of the men are using saliva to lubricate their hands, either by
drooling onto their cocks, or spitting into their palms. Others have so much
precome that their saliva isnít necessary. Tim has the largest cock in the group,
and he has both of his hands on his cock, one pumping and pulsing on the
lubricated crown, and the other pistoning up and down on the rest of the shaft.

The women too have varying techniques. One woman has her three middle fingers
deeply embedded into her vagina, while the palm squashes down onto her mons,
stimulating her clitoris. A couple of women are employing the technique that I am
using. One of them is flicking her finger over her clitoris so quickly that her
motions are a blur. One woman is pinching her nipples extremely hard, and pulling
them way out from her huge breasts. That would hurt me, but she is obviously
enjoying it. Jill has her cunt the closest to my face, and I can smell her
flowing juices. She isnít rubbing her clitoris at all. Instead, she is using her
index finger to hook into the entrance of her vagina, where she has found her G
spot. She is getting incredible satisfaction from stoking that sensitive little
bulge hidden inside her cunt.

Iím getting close, and my muscles are vibrating with excitement and anticipation.
Itís time for the countdown. ìFiveî..... I tell everyone to start to build up to
their orgasm, cause we want to all come at once. Fourî...... Ladies, spread your
thighs wide so that we can all see ìThreeî...... Men, lean thrust your hips
forwards so that we can see your throbbing hunks of solid man-flesh,
ìTwoî.......... you can all be so proud of your prowess, your natural beauty, and
your sexual awareness. ìOneî........... Everyone let us show us if you are really
here, really involved, really ready. ìBlastoffî

Suddenly the room is full of sound, the sound of 13 simultaneous climaxes.
Whimpers, grunts, ragged breathing, tight little screams, Tarzan-like hollers,
shrill squeals, full-moon howls.... all mixed into a symphony of ecstasy. And the
semen shooting out of six hard cocks, splattering onto my face, my breasts, my
stomach, my churning fingers, my thighs. Blasts of come arching over me and onto
the faces of the women on my left. Faces contorted my racking orgasms. Onto
heaving breasts and big gumdrop nipples. Dripping in stringy dollops from nipples
into the hot foaming cunts, intermingling with the pungent cunt juices. Pearly
semen spewing onto the pearls of my necklace (maybe this is what they make fake
pearls out of!)

When I ask the women to help me clean up, I expect that they will use their
fingers to scoop up the come. But they were not strangers to sapphic love. They
all get on their knees around the table and lick all the sticky stuff off of me,
lapping up every ropey strand. My post-orgasmic bliss is extended by the light
stimulation of six tongues rasping over my nipples, lapping into my navel, and
kissing through my cunt hair. The men massage the shoulders of the cat-like
women, and they talk about how original and exotic this group masturbation had
been. It turns out that they thought they had tried everything in their group,
but they had never watched each other masturbate. It has been most enlightening
to see exactly how all the other members of the group choose to stimulate
themselves. There are so many ways to do it.

Everyone is getting dressed to go home, transforming themselves back not their
nerdy scientists personae. I remain splayed out on the coffee table (or should I
call it the ìcock-tail tableî). I can still feel the coolness on my skin where
the remaining semen and saliva are drying. What a night! How am I going to have
the energy to drive home this evening? Perhaps Jill and Tim will put me up for
the night. Iím sure that we can think of some good ways to pass the time.

Note: ìSlippery When Wetî is mentioned in this story. It is also known as ìSueís
9th,î which is a two-part story. Watch for it to be reposted from time to time,
but please donít ask me to send it to you by Email.

Another Note: despite the fact that this story purports to divulge the details of
an encounter between myself and some people that I met through the Internet, I
want to make something very clear: this is purely a figment of my imagination.
This is not real life. I am not interested in meeting real people in these kinds
of ways. On the other hand, Iíd be glad to hear about your fantasies about
meeting me... Fantasy.,...... get it?