An Education to Remember

Dragged to a nightclub by your oversexed friends to lose your long-overdue virginity, you catch the eye of a raven-haired shortstack and her tall, stunning companion who hides a surprise for you. (Though probably not that surprising, given this story's category).

My first erotic fiction, written in second person to maximize vicarious enjoyment. Probably too long, but I guess I got a bit too into it!

Nightclubs were definitely not your vibe, as enjoying them seemed to require being both outgoing and at least reasonably competent at dancing, descriptors not remotely applicable to you. But Sasha had decided that it was unbecoming for someone in their mid-20s to still have their virginity, and so to a nightclub you went, along with her little flock of girlfriends.

For in Sasha's mind, the nightclub was the best place to lose one's virginity. It wasn't hard to see how she'd arrived at this conclusion: Sasha was tall, slim, athletic, and skilled at choosing outfits that seemed to cover nothing and too much at the same time. Her glistening tanned legs extended from a short, flowy skirt that coaxed lucky men between her thighs like bees to honey. Above that she had one of those lingerie tops that had become so popular to wear in public, all sheer fabric and lace with an underwire pointlessly supporting her perky, firm tits.

The top's transparent cups did nothing to cover her No. 2 eraser nipples, but Sasha didn't mind; she went to the club to show off, not cover up. She was there to be noticed, desired, lusted after, and eventually claimed. She was there to laugh while being pounded by the cock of her choosing, to smile in satisfaction as its cum dripped down her thighs like the juices of a summer peach.

You found Sasha attractive, but to desire her and act on said desire would require far more initiative than you'd ever taken with a woman, making her body equal parts arousing and intimidating. You'd met her through school, where she had decided to put her Psychology classes to use by acting as your therapist. In truth, this was Sasha's most attractive trait--she had a streak of kindness and genuine enthusiasm that made people open up to her. And you had opened up to her, slowly, over the course of many weeks, eventually revealing your sexual inexperience, which Sasha immediately had decided to solve.

Bringing you here, to the club. You felt nervous being in the lineup, surrounded by people who probably actually knew what to do once they'd gone in. Like Sasha, you'd dressed for the occasion, but (you felt), with far less success. You wore a simple blue button-up and (slightly) too tight beige pants that you'd accidentally shrunk in the wash, feeling like an ill-fitted Best Buy employee. Your hopes that this colour combination would go unnoticed were dashed almost immediately as you heard a comment from behind.

"Any chance you can help me find the audio department?"

You turned to see the source of the remark and immediately felt your collar get hot. Standing there was almost the inverse of Sasha: short, thick, moonlight pale skin. A mess of long dark hair tumbled down over round glasses, coming to a rest on the most lusciously huge tits you'd ever seen bursting out from a tight leather strapless top. Tight leather seemed to be this girl's theme, as it was repeated in the pants that struggled to contain her thighs, causing a clear outline between them that made you question if there was anything underneath.

"What?" you replied, understandably slow on the uptake, as far more blood was now flowing between your legs than to your brain. The shortstack girl's sharp brown eyes caught sight of this, causing her to smile with tongue between teeth. "I think your pants need a size up."

Luckily for you, Sasha had noticed the conversation and swooped in to save you. "Pot calling kettle!" she said, gesturing to the shortstack's bursting breasts. The girl laughed in reply, loud and joyful. While it could be hardly called soft and feminine, the energy behind it thrust into your mind a fully-realized image of the laughing shortstack relieved of her constraining outfit, her delight now driven by elation and euphoria.

"Just keep your eyes to yourself," Sasha said playfully.

"I will if he can," the shortstack replied, jerking her thumb at you with a wink.

This was too much for you: your cock was practically bursting through the cotton-elastic blend. You reached down to adjust it, failing on the first few tries, further adding to the embarrassment-arousal feedback loop. The girl was ostensibly doing the same to her shirt, but her adjustments looked more seductive than practical; pulling the shirt up tight to reveal the contour of her large nipples, pushing it left and right to squeeze her breasts further together.

These simple movements combined to be far greater than the sum of their parts: in that moment you'd never wanted anything as much as you wanted her, to see her strip naked, to grasp and shove your rock-hard cock into her soaking pussy, turn your anxious nerves into hot loops of cum breeding her body.

"Grace, I think you're making him nervous."

The comment shook you from your fantasies, this time coming from a woman behind the shortstack--apparently called Grace--who up until now seemed to have been occupied by her phone. As she strode out, you became completely convinced that stunning women must nearby grow on trees.

She was tall--in her heeled boots taller than Sasha (who wore sneakers to the club; she preferred to not let awkward shoes restrain her tantalizing dances)--with more definition too. Whereas Sasha was lithe like a dancer, the smooth muscles rolling woman's athletic body seemed more indicative of boxing. This new temptress tilted her head, her thick red lips becoming a knowing smile.

"Though, I think he might enjoy being nervous," she remarked. When the woman had turned, her sequined scarf top had drifted this way and that way across her huge, upright tits--too large and perky to be real, you figured.

Not that you cared. She was incredible. Her lips were matched by strongly dyed red hair, wavy and turning as it brushed her shoulders. Gold hoops adorned her ears, furthering the juxtaposition between elegant femininity and masculine strength. You yearned to reach over and slide your hand up her iridescent flared skirt, to feel (what you hoped to be) the wetness inside.

"He's just quiet!" Sasha said enthusiastically, saving you again. She grabbed your arm to pull you towards the door, where the bouncer had been tapping his foot impatiently. Sasha and the other girls waved at Grace and the redhead, who waved in return (though you swore you saw Grace lick her lips when she saw you stealing a final look).

*

Inside the club, the music was loud, the lights were strobing, and you were again left wondering what on Earth you were doing here.

"We'll chat with those girls again later," Sasha said in your ear, loud enough to be heard over the music. "But there's no need to settle so early in the night." To accent the point, she gracefully dodged around a thickly muscled man who had playfully swung his hips in her direction. The man put his finger down his cheek as a fake tear, leading Sasha to run her hand across her breast as a consolation prize. She tweaked and twisted her nipple, drawing a laugh from the man, his gaze following her long after she'd turned away.

You felt your cock hardening again at Sasha's seduction, wondering if you were going to spend the entire night uncomfortably adjusting your pants. "He was so forward!" you said, astonished.

"It's not as hard as you think," said a loud voice in your ear, this time belonging to Sasha's friend, Zoe. You felt more inclined to take confidence from that comment when hearing it from her, compared to slender, supple Sasha, who likely had never known a moment shyness in her life.

For Zoe had fewer of the traditional female tools of seduction: her breasts were small, her figure less than hourglass, and her teeth somewhat crooked due to refusing to pay local prices for braces (she planned to someday have them done in her native China at "a third the cost" as she so loved to tell anyone who'd listen).

But she knew that the temptations of men were hardly limited to tradition, and used the tools she had to prove this. The tight halter top she wore wrapped sleevelessly around her neck, revealing a canvas of astonishingly soft, almond skin draping her collarbones. She had very long nipples, something you knew due primarily to her lack of ever wearing a bra, but also due to a very arousing video she had recently posted after attending a rave.

Within it, she had permitted a large group of men to strip her topless and take turns fondling her breasts (these men clearly didn't mind their petite size) and nipples. She'd hinted that far more had happened, but unfortunately for your masturbation habits, that part had not been included in the video.

And that was, ultimately, what Zoe wanted most: to be roughly used by as many people as possible as frequently as possible. To feel a hard cock thrust and release in her, followed by a brief respite before another was roughly shoved in. She wanted her hair pulled, her body bruised and scratched, her face covered in grass and dirt and semen.

Zoe would let anyone and anything fuck her so long as she was held down for it.

"I don't know how to start," you replied awkwardly. You wondered if Sasha had told her girlfriends that you were a virgin; probably not, you decided, as she would consider that confidential. You figured the others had simply guessed on their own.

Zoe leaned in close to reply, her hot breath rolling over your ear. Her sheer, long dress flowed seductively when she moved; it wasn't a typical skirt for clubbing, but it revealed the thick, strong legs she so loved to convince the boys to bite. And--probably more importantly to her--down below she had continued her prohibition on undergarments, teasing a smoothly waxed reward for any man who took the time to roll up the long skirt. It probably inhibited her dancing, but Zoe didn't care. You figured in her mind, the less in control, the better.

"The best way to start," she replied, shoving a glass into your hand, "is with alcohol."

You gulped down the whole thing automatically, the hot liquor burning your throat and causing you to cough. Zoe laughed, slapping you on the back and wandering away, leaving you alone with your anxiety. Your eyes darted around, looking for somewhere more comfortable to lean. Choosing a spot furthest from anything exciting, you watched Sasha and her friends entertain themselves.

Sasha herself was on the dance floor, swaying her body perfectly in time with the music. When the beat slowed, she too slowed, running her hands down her bare stomach, down between her legs, down the center of her skirt. This display caught the eye of a short, strongly built man that danced surprisingly well, this in return catching Sasha's eye. He slid up behind her, his hand reaching around to press her hand into the skirt's fabric and onto her pubic mound.

You felt yourself become even more aroused by this display, wishing the man would flip Sasha's skirt up to expose her ass, wishing he'd tear off her panties and thrust his cock in her. You yearned to see Sasha moan in surprise, pain and pleasure as she was dominated right there on the dance floor, as you imagined so often while fucking yourself.

Zoe had migrated now to a dark corner, like you, but unlike you, had quickly managed to surround herself with expectant suitors. She leaned against the wall, the red lights revealing everything beneath her transparent dress. The men around her were moving slowly to the music, their cocks no doubt rock hard watching her tease. Zoe had placed one hand on her breast, playing with the hard nipple beneath the fabric, and the other hand between her legs, rubbing in slow circles. She enjoyed this game, seeing how long the men could hold out, how wet she could become, before throwing the gates open. You wondered how she'd look when it was all said and done, delicate dress torn, cum leaking from her pussy, her body still gyrating in satisfaction, eyes closed, mouth in a dreamy smile.

The alcohol was beginning to prompt you in directions you'd never go yourself; you unbuttoned your pants to let your filled boxers pop free, and were just about to slide your hand under them when another of Sasha's friends approached.

"I watch Zoe too, sometimes." Cassandra said, apparently noticing only your gaze and not your hands. She gave you another drink. "She is so beautiful. You should have come to the bonfire, she danced nude, it was divine."

You didn't remember Cassandra inviting you to a bonfire, but it was exactly the kind of thing she would do. Tall and lanky, with a slightly stooped posture, the outfit she wore was made of a silky moon-and-stars fabric, giving her a witch-like appearance. This was by design, you assumed, as it fit her theme: Cassandra loved herbalism, astrology, tarot cards, and anything else that probably didn't actually work. You weren't sure how she reconciled these things with the medical degree she was pursuing, but she was too sweet and kind for you to ever ask and risk being insulting.

Unlike Sasha and Zoe, who lustily pursued sexual excitement, Cassandra treated sex as a holistic, ongoing activity, and loved to talk about it. She had told you of her love for exhibitionism, how she would go on remote hikes and masturbate for hours in the wilderness, waiting to be found. In her mind, the human body was a work of art; not a static sculpture, but a theatrical piece to be performed.

When voyeurs would arrive, she would invite them to join: men, women, or anything in between--Cassandra's sexual transcendence had little interest in gender. She would sometimes offer her body to arrivals, using her erotic tarot deck to determine how they were permitted to use her (or her, them; Cassandra had told you once of a time when the cards asked for the man before her to be fucked, and so she had promptly attached her strap-on and thrust it deep into him. You had found this far more arousing than you had expected).

Once all parties had had their fill of pleasure, Cassandra would pour wine for her guests, journal their experiences and go about her way. Sometimes she would request a lock of hair, or take a sketch of their cock to stick into her journal alongside the writings.

While Cassandra was extremely bizarre, you found her far more arousing than strange, and so gladly welcomed her company, especially when she would read from her diary.

You'd give anything to stumble upon her during one of her adventures in nature, but she kept her schedule strictly secret to ensure any meetings were serendipitous. In reality, this didn't bother you too much, as even if you had been invited, you doubt you'd feel confident enough to partake.

Nightclubs weren't really her atmosphere for finding sex, but you suspected she enjoyed observing others almost as much as actually taking part. "Have you yet encountered any objects of passion?" she asked, looking around. You hesitated, and then gestured at the shortstack (Grace, you remembered) and her redhead friend across the dance floor.

"Which one?" Cassandra asked. "Or both?" she continued, before you could answer. You nodded, somewhat sheepishly, but at least with Cassandra you felt comfortable enough to admit it.

Cassandra looked across at them. "I don't know the voluptuous one, but the redhead--Victoria--I met once on a hike."

"Really?" you said in surprise, while simultaneously forever committing the goddess' name to memory. Victoria.

"Yes, at the Northern Falls Peak, last summer. I started the hike at the far end--it takes all morning from there to get to the Peak, from 4AM--so I figured I'd be too exhausted if I met anyone. I forgot that when I saw Victoria." She bit her lip in memory. "She found my tarot rituals intriguing, and especially so when they called for me to be the receiving partner..."

You had absent-mindedly begun to rub the head of your cock; you felt Cassandra noticed, and normally this would have filled you with anxiety, but the alcohol seemed to convince you that she didn't mind (and perhaps even enjoyed...?).

"In any case, she's an excellent kisser. You would be very lucky to have a chance to experience her tonight."

"Just kissing, is that all you did?"

"I don't actually quite recall," Cassandra said facetiously, frowning as if to drive her memory. She then caught your eye with a devilish smirk that filled you with a wave of foreboding.

"Why don't we see if she remembers?"

And before you could do anything, her long fingers locked around your wrist to pull you across the floor towards your two muses.

Victoria, the redhead, lit up when she recognized Cassandra, giving her a warm hug. You wondered again how it would have been to watch the two make love... the strong Victoria, thick strap-on attached, Cassandra on her back. You liked that quite a lot, Cassandra's freckled body visible on display, her beautiful pale tits bouncing with each thrust...

"Cassandra tells me you're curious about our encounter in the wilderness... one I think I remember quite vividly..."

Shook from your fantasies, you realized with a jump that Cassandra had been speaking for you. You opened your mouth to reply with something--anything--before being interrupted by Grace.

"I warned you about pant sizing," she quipped, pointing at your still-opened button. Feeling silly, you quickly did it up, but Victoria shrugged in response.

"From the way you reacted in the line-up, I figured you wanted to fuck us; were you planning on doing that with your pants on?"

"I think he'll need some instruction in technique," Cassandra remarked as she took a drink, her giggles inadvertently blowing bubbles.

Victoria walked towards you, bending over in seduction to put her face to yours, your body trembling in fear and anticipation. "I've brought many first-timers up to speed," she said. "And enrolment in today's class comes at a very low price..."

"What?"

She licked her lips, much as a serpent would surveying its prey. "Obedience."

You nodded, not entirely sure how far that would be taken.

"To your original question, as to the specifics of how Cassandra and I made love..." She ran her hands down your chest while talking. "This may clarify things..." she said, grasping your hand and sliding it under her skirt, to feel--

--something large and thick, tremoring at your curious touch. You gasped in surprise.

"Did you still want to learn?" she asked, now as a whisper in your ear. Her proximity overwhelmed you, the scent of her heavy perfume intoxicating your mind, dulling senses other than lust.

"Yes." Perhaps even moreso...?

She took your other hand now and turned to guide you away. She motioned to Grace and Cassandra, who followed her down a dingy hall beside the bar, past the washrooms (you caught a glimpse of Zoe in the washroom room, naked and on her knees on the dirty floor, encircled by ejaculating men).

Up a flight of wooden stairs she led you and down another hallway. Only the bass of the music could now be dimly heard through the floor. Victoria then stopped at a closed door, bright light coming out from its cracks. You could hear the sounds of moans behind the door, but Victoria pushed it open, apparently unconcerned about privacy.

Within you found a room adorned with incandescent light bulbs and full of mirrors covering peeling yellow paint. You thought it was the kind of place old-timey showgirls would have used to prepare for a burlesque, your mind still clearly dominated by thoughts of the female figure.

In the center of the room was a large, heart shaped bed covered in red velvet, and atop the bed two people wrapped together: a burly man with a thick belly lying on his back, and a chubby woman with very short, curly hair riding atop him. She was more singing than moaning, her voice hitting and higher notes as she rolled back and forth on the man's cock. Her hands were tightly gripped around her tits, massaging and squeezing them fiercely. She caught sight of the four of you and laughed in pleasure.

"Oh, Victoria, join in!" She moaned happily. You found it highly arousing the way the fat on her waist rippled with each thrust, and began to yearn that you, too, could be inside her.

"Already taken tonight," Victoria replied, her eyes flicking towards you.

"Too bad," the woman replied, stopping her riding. "I really needed someone bigger..."

The man below her grunted, slapping her ass hard in retaliation. She cried out even louder in pleasure, raising her lush rear upwards to allow the man to thrust from below. He pounded into her and she screamed in response, eyes now closed, hands grasping the velvet bed.

You watched with a burning desire for what seemed like minutes, until the man grunted loudly as if in extreme pain, his body tensed, before relaxation spread across the entire bed. The woman rolled off him, running her fingers through her hair. "It's all yours," she breathed out, putting on a pair of white thick-rimmed glasses that had been resting on the table. The man too left the bed, his erect cock slowly softening, the remaining semen dripping out.

"Thank you, Lila," Victoria said, blowing her a kiss.

"And what are you planning to do in here?" the rubenesque called Lila asked, retrieving some lacy black lingerie from the floor.

"Teaching." Victoria said.

"Oh!" Lila replied, her excited eyes falling on you. "I'd love to help instruct a neophyte."

"And I think he'd enjoy your instruction," Victoria replied, seeing the open-mouthed stare you quickly tried to hide. "But too many cooks in the kitchen, and all that."

Lila was now fully dressed in a juxtaposition of an outfit: a men's shirt fully buttoned up to hide her breasts, while only sparse fishnets covered her legs. She and her consort then left the room, with Cassandra following. "Too many cooks," she echoed, giving you a wink.

Victoria then locked the door with a click and turned to you, her stare filling you with butterflies. "Your instruction begins now." You nodded in response, suddenly feeling on center stage now that the others had departed.

"You want Grace badly, don't you?"

Your throat was dry with nerves. "I do," you whispered.

"Tell her why," Victoria commanded.

But by now the alcohol had fully worn off, and your nerves were failing. You stammered out something inaudible, mouthing soundless words like an awkward goldfish.

Victoria strode over to you, one foot in front of the other as a model on a catwalk would, her leather heels clopping against the wooden floor. Not only was she taller in heels, you realized, but she might also be taller out of them.

"Failing to answer my questions--or answer them well--will result in punishment." She tore down your constricting beige pants, letting them fall to adorn your ankles. "Is this acceptable?"

You stood there, flooded with anxiety, with only your tight boxers left as protection. "Yes", you replied.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Victoria." In spite of your trembling, you enjoyed the way her name sounded. In fact, were you enjoying quite a lot of this...?

"Now, why do you want to fuck her?"

"Your body is beautiful," you blurted out Grace, who quivered in response.

Victoria tilted her head at you. "Is it just her body, then?"

"No," you said quickly. "It started when we were in the line, when..." You felt embarrassed to admit how aroused you had felt when she teased you, how thick your cock had become at the attention of such a sexually full and forward woman, how you wanted nothing more than to strip down and rub yourself off to ecstasy.

But you felt too reserved to say this, and so--SMACK.

Victoria's hand retracted from your ass. "I did warn you," she said, almost apologetically. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Yes." Without hesitation, this time. You were learning, you thought.

"Is that it, then? Did Grace's teasing arouse you, leave you hoping for further abuse, that might leave more of a mark...?"

"Yes!" Grace put a hand to her mouth to cover a mock-gasp.

"Did you want to cum in her?" Victoria asked.

"Yes. Or on her tits, or her face--"

"I like it down my throat," Grace said mischievously. She had sat down now in one of the chairs, and was running her fingers over the crotch of her pants.

"Very good," approved Victoria. "This was your first lesson--if you want to fuck a woman, make sure you can tell her why."

"Next lesson," she continued. "If you want to see hers, you'll have to show yours."

At this, your cock immediately transferred some blood northward to fill your face. You knew, of course, that sex would require this, but--

"Why so shy?" asked Grace. "Never let anyone see it?"

So many reasons, and no, never. What if it wasn't long enough, or thick enough? You'd measured, of course, as any inexperienced man would, believing that those dimensions would be the delimiter between bringing a woman to ecstasy or sending her to boredom. It was apparently average, but who could trust the statistics? And was it acceptable to be uncut? You'd heard Zoe mention her love of circumcised cocks, but then again she'd never said she didn't like--

"Do you need more encouragement...?" Victoria asked with a glint in her eye.

You imagined their laughter--no doubt coupled with some sarcastic remark from Grace--before they dismissed you from the room as inadequate, unimpressive, a waste of effort...

In a moment of courage, you quickly dropped your boxers to let your erection finally springing free. You braced yourself and waited for the scathing responses...

That didn't come. "What an enticing bend it has," Grace said, adjusting her glasses and drawing the shape in the air.

You reached down to hold it, stroking slightly. Was doing this... attractive, at all? Would they enjoy it? You enjoyed it, but it felt awkward, displaying yourself like this... or...?

"Very good boy," said Victoria, still standing behind you. "But time for that later," she finished, removing your hand. She gestured to your remaining clothes. "The rest comes off."

This time, you hesitated far less, unlacing shoes, removing your belt, shirt buttons... you didn't feel it was a particularly sensuous display... but you also felt a desire for it, a desire to stand nude before these two clothed women, as you now did.

Grace blew you a kiss, and your heart raced. You realized that in front of her, you were no longer afraid of being naked; In front of her, you never again wanted to be wearing clothes.

"Do you want to fuck her?" Victoria asked.

"Yes."

"You want to toss her on that bed, strip off her clothes, take that erection and relieve your tension in her body?"

"Yes." That was exactly what you wanted to do, to finally fill someone, her legs wrapped around your waist. You wanted your hot cum to pump into into a woman's body rather than harmlessly landing onto your stomach, as it had done so many times before in bathrooms and under bedsheets.

"Well, you can't," Victoria stated flatly, leaning in close to your face, her hot breath on yours, her red hair in your eyes.

"Until I fuck you."

Down onto your knees she shoved you, at last sliding off her skirt. Under it was revealed her cock, larger than yours, thicker than yours, barely contained by her panties. She snapped them aside to her thigh, setting her womanhood free. "You've wanted what's under here all night," she said. "It's yours."

It felt good--great--in your hand, not yet fully erect, but thick, tanned and smooth. You grasped it, sliding back and forth, no different from the thousand times you'd played with your own. You instinctively reached up to pressure the soft area beneath her balls, kissing and licking anything within reach.

"Good boy," Victoria groaned, and you knew that she too had been waiting all night for release. You looked up at her, seeing her beautiful body from below. Your mind was running in both neutral and overdrive, your thoughts empty but full of focus on her body, her cock, in your hands, in your mouth...?

It was now Victoria's turn to gasp in surprise, and then pleasure. Her shaft slithered down your throat, your lips rubbing along it to activate every nerve ending.

"Very good boy." Victoria moaned, turning to Grace. "I think he deserves a reward...?"

Grace nodded, her mouth slightly open in anticipation of displaying her body to one who wanted it so badly. She easily slid her top down, popping out her breasts. They were smaller than the tight top had made them out to be, and were not particularly perky, sagging slightly. Her areolas covered much of their surface area, while the nipples themselves were quite petite.

They were beautiful. You wanted to keep seeing her strip, but even more you wanted to keep pleasing Victoria, Victoria your teacher, your goddess.

"Are you my little slut?" she asked. You nodded.

"Are you my little fucktoy?" she asked. You nodded.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I want your cock in my ass, your hot cum in me." At this Grace laughed, but you knew your submission turned her on from the way Grace's hands were absent-mindedly travelling across her own chest. "Go easy on him," she suggested, this time with tenderness. Somewhere in the depths of your cock-hungry mind, you realized that you quite liked Grace.

Victoria lifted you up and pushed you onto the bed face-up. She stripped off her top; the sight of her bolted-on breasts flushed your loins, and you grasped your cock to masturbate in release. She was so strong, so dominant, so deserving to take your body and use it as she pleased. Victoria slapped your hand away.

"Not your turn, little boy." You loved it, and reached down to touch yourself again. This time she growled and twisted you over, running her strong hands up your body, clasping your neck. You instinctively arched your back, feeling Victoria's fingers explore around your ass, feeling the lube at the ends of them enter you.

You wondered how she would feel, how tight it would be. You remembered again Cassandra's story of pegging the man out in the wilderness. It had been his first time, too, and he had been nervous when Cassandra revealed the results of her tarot reading. To reassure him, Cassandra had dropped her skirt, thrusting the strap-on's dildo into her own ass; her resulting expressions and sounds of pleasure apparently being more than enough to convince the man of the rightness of the tarot cards.

You looked at Victoria with anticipation, not believing this was happening, not believing that only a few hours ago she was teasing you about your nerves.

Those nerves were different now, fluttering rather than paralyzing, tingles rather than shakes. Victoria pressed her hips against your raised ass, running her rigid cock over the gap between your cheeks. You realized you would no longer be a virgin now, your body conquered and taken. The knowledge that it was being done to you by this chiseled aphrodite of lust drove you to press your face deeper into the pillow, ass higher into the air.

"Do you want this...?"

"Please," you implored.

Victoria's hands squeezed your cheeks. "I can't hear you."

"Fuck me."

She turned to Grace, who rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Fuck me!" you yelled, this time loudly enough for the whole building to hear (did you want that...?).

In an instant, she thrust her cock into you--the stretching sensation at first causing pain, like a deep massage into an especially sore area. But as quickly and intensely as the pain came, it receded, leaving only the satisfaction of being filled.

You pressed against her in natural rhythm, your dancing skills much improved. You again thought about Cassandra, now understanding how she had felt when Victoria had found her on the hike, how she had felt when Victoria revealed what was between her legs...

Deeper Victoria pounded into you, her cock becoming harder. She whispered encouragement, wrapping her strong hands around your waist. Saying that you were a whore, a cumslut. You knew now how Zoe felt, and wished there were a dozen Victorias surrounding you, slapping you, fucking your every hole to leave you in that room covered in cum. You knew Victoria loved this, loved training your virgin ass, loved knowing you worshipped her body...

Grace caught your eye, and this time you didn't look away, holding her gaze, feeling a sudden connection as you realize that she, too, had been in this position before. She had been bent over by Victoria, had been the one waiting in anticipation for her holes to be filled for the first time. Your mind now overflowed with curiosity about a virginal Grace, wondering what fantasies she'd satisfied with shampoo bottles and cucumbers. What insecurities she'd had about her body; so curvy, petite and full to you, to her perhaps weighty, unworthy, squat.

She too had gone on the journey that you were now on, but was much further along, her sexual power embraced. As if in demonstration to your thoughts, she clung to your locked eyes, drawing energy from your unbroken stare to give you a show. Her breasts remained exposed from her earlier strip, and with one hand she now played with them, twisting and pinching her small nipples. The other hand she had slid under her tight pants, the contours of the leather revealing the furious dance of her fingers. That she was doing this for you, specifically for you, aroused you more than anything else that night.

You felt Victoria's thrusts slow; she had paused for a moment to let you breathe, before flipping you over onto your back, inserting herself again. You were prepared now for the pain, and you wonder why you anticipated and reveled in it so. Speeding up again now, Victoria bent over to kiss you, to bite your ears, neck, anywhere vulnerable, exposed.

Faster and harder Victoria went, her face screwed up, muscles tightening and flexing with each action. She was incredible--not in a thousand hours of dreams and fantasies could you have imagined a woman so gorgeous. In her beauty and sensuality, she was everything you wanted in a woman. And in her strength and command, you realized she was everything you wanted to be as a man.

"You're beautiful," you told her, flexing your ass to coax her cock deeper. She smiled and ran a hand up your body, clasping it hard around your neck.

"You're a goddess," you told her, moaning to give her pleasure. Her other hand grasped your balls, massaging the tender skin just below them. Never before had you felt so in service to another, to have so given your body away, never wanting it back.

"I love you," you said, knowing how ridiculous it sounded, how silly you might feel later, but in the raw moment of passion, you feel a need to somehow express your feelings.

At last she came, bending over to grasp you while she moaned, groaned and grunted, her cock erupting hot inside you, filling you up. She pulled it out, a stream of cum trailing behind that she collected with her hand to spread across your chest. You felt relaxed, claimed, safe.

After what felt like an eternity, you opened your eyes to remember where you were, who you were with. Victoria had gotten off the bed, returning to her clothes, her cock softening. "He's all yours," she said to Grace. "Though the bar is quite high, since he loves me..."

Grace was standing there in anticipation, breasts still exposed by the tube top now dropped to her waist, her dark hair in beautiful conflict with the pale skin. She smiled at you, this time full of warmth, and you knew that the connection during your shared gaze had been mutual.

She turned around playfully, sliding the leather top down around her ankles, the action revealing surprisingly defined muscles across her back. You briefly wondered what kind of pursuits led to that muscle definition, that thought driven from your mind by a quick wink from Grace. She now removed her constricting leather pants, turning again to reveal her full naked form.

You drank her in with your eyes, especially drawn to the thick forest of dark hair obscuring her pussy, precluding exploration by any senses other than touch, smell, taste.

Onto the velvet bed she climbed, laying on her back, inviting you to straddle her. In spite of all that you had experienced tonight, this was what you were waiting for. So often you'd had dreams like this, a beautiful, curvy woman laying before you, pussy dripping wet, nipples hard and perked up, tits laying flat and idle, waiting for your thrusts to jiggle into action...

... only to always wake up at the moment of insertion, right before the feeling of tightness and warmth you longed for.

"Take me," Grace whispered into your ear. You grasped your cock, still hard after hours of arousal, balls groaning sorely under the weight of the blood flowing through them all night, the torturous edging to which they'd been subjected to. It twitched in your hand, the head already covered in a thin layer of cum, a familiar scene after awaking from your erotic dreams.

You were about to insert yourself in her before sheepishly realizing you didn't quite know where it went. Grace had closed her eyes in waiting, completely ignorant to your latest dilemma. Feeling a need to act, you pressed your cock downwards towards her vagina, feeling embarrassed as it harmlessly deflected off the skin and hair.

"Ow," Grace said, opening one eye in confusion, then letting out a stream of giggles as she realized your situation. "Need a map?"

Your face burned, and you quickly tried to regain control of the situation, lining up for another clumsy attempt--

--which thankfully was not necessary, as Grace took your shaft with her soft hands, guiding it above her pubic. "Place it over the vagina," she said patiently, now releasing her hands. "And then slide it downwards..."

And so you did, descending it over the wet hair, the lubricated skin, and then--

You gasped as it entered her, every inch of you from groin to toes to fingers jolting from an electric shock that paralyzed your heart and stunned your brain. It was a compartment made specifically for you, cast and moulded to the exact shape of your member, constricting tightly like the cuff of a blood pressure test. Your cock began to writhe as if with a mind of its own, glorifying in the warm and loving blanket in which it'd been wrapped, throbbing and--

--and then it was over.

Enormous loads of milky fluid continuously spilled from the over-aroused cock between Grace's legs, in time with her stomach-shaking laughter. You withdrew your quickly deflating penis, semen still leaking from the tip. Mortification gripped you, and you wondered if the whole night had been for nothing.

"Was my performance... disappointing?" you asked fearfully, not meeting her eyes.

"Definitely." Grace said, wiping the tears of hilarity from her eyes, and your heart sank. But then her laughter stopped, and her lips were again placed next to your ear to whisper in a low, alluring voice.

"We'll have to do better next time."