Dan Webster - Forced into damnation

Soon all hands but Connie's were on Janie – stroking, petting, rubbing, and caressing every part of her naked body. As the exploring pairs of hands moved across her smooth white belly and firmly swollen tits, Janie began making soft sounds of pleasure in the back of her throat. Connie saw one of the girls in the circle take one of the naked girl's nipples between her fingers and roll it gingerly, first one way and then the other. At the same time, one of the boys began twining his fingers in the girl's thick bush of dark and wiry pubic hair. Connie couldn't believe her eyes.

Francine, whose hands were caressing the inside of one of the girl's naked thighs, looked up at Connie and smiled. "Don't be afraid," she said. "Join in. Once you get started, it feels almost as good to be in the circle as it does to be in the center. Just touch her. Any place."

Connie, afraid that Francine's words might draw attention to her non-participation, reached out and touched the naked girl's hand, stroking it lightly with her fingers. She hoped that this would satisfy the perverse requirements of their depraved little game.

Gentle hands were everywhere on Janie's body, exploring her nudity with completely uninhibited freedom. She had begun to writhe and squirm in response to the action of the erotically stimulating hands. She bent her knees and raised them, positioning the soles of her feet flat against the surface of the water-filled mattress. Then she moved her knees away from each other, bringing them closer to the surface of the rippling bed. This spread her thighs and formed them into a large vee, at the vertex of which glistened her cunt, with its lips obscenely stretched open, inviting the gaze of all who knelt around her.

A boy and a girl who knelt at the foot of the bed leaned forward at the same time to stroke Janie's shiningly moist pussy, the boy stiffening his finger for insertion in the pink inviting slash. Connie was aghast. She wanted nothing more than to get out of the room as quickly as possible. But she didn't see any way of leaving gracefully.

She noticed that Francine was concentrating her attention on the inside of one of Janie's thighs. As her hands moved lightly up and down the expanse of satiny-smooth white skin, they came closer, and closer to Janie's throbbing cuntal slit and the two pairs of hands which labored lovingly at it. Janie was writhing and moaning deliriously as the unknown hands stroked her and the unknown fingers fucked her. She humped her hips slowly up and down in the unmistakable rhythm of sexuality. Connie couldn't imagine where it all would lead, but was sure that it was the most sinful spectacle that she would ever be likely to witness. Combined with the liquor that she had consumed, it was beginning to have a dizzying effect on her and she longed for an opportunity to beat a graceful retreat.

She thought, for a moment, of closing her eyes so that she could at least be spared the sight of the shameful happening. But, as much as the encounter game disgusted and horrified her, she couldn't tear her eyes from it. Francine's hands had abandoned themselves completely to Janie's crotch now. And although Connie couldn't see too clearly, it looked as though Francine was rubbing the little button of flesh at the upper end of the naked girl's cuntal slash while the other two pairs of hands concentrated on the vaginal opening itself. Connie shuddered at the very thought of it. Suddenly she felt a slight pressure from, behind, as of someone's knees pressing gently against her back. She looked up to see a tall muscular youth smiling down at her. His long blond hair was tied back into a loosely held pony tail and held in place by a scrap of white ribbon. He dropped a friendly hand to her shoulder as she looked up at him. "Got room for another?" he asked. A silver-and-turquoise medallion which hung from a chain around his neck caught the light as he spoke. He wore a bracelet which matched it on his left wrist and a silver and turquoise ring on the little finger of his right hand.

Seizing the opportunity, Connie rose quickly to her feet. "Here," she said. "Take my spot. I'm ready for another drink."

"Mind if I join you?" he asked. "That drink sounds a lot better to me than this group grope session." He followed Connie toward the door which led back to the living room. Although the living room seemed more crowded than it had been when she left it shortly before, the blond youth had no trouble elbowing a path to the liquor table. "What are you drinking?" he asked.

"Scotch and soda," she answered, wincing inwardly as she realized that nothing could possibly sound more "establishment" than that old executive favorite. But he didn't seem to think so at all as he poured her the drink that she had requested and then mixed the same thing for himself.

"I'm Lionel," he said. "And you must be Connie."

"How did you know that?" she asked, fearing for a moment that her identity had been discovered.

"Simple process of deduction," Lionel answered. "You're the only chick here that I don't know. And Fred told me that there was a gal named Connie here who was dying to meet me, so I put two and two together."

"Did he really say that?" Connie asked, her face flushing with embarrassment.

"No, not really," Lionel answered, putting her at ease immediately. "But he did tell me your name." Then, tactfully changing the subject, he added, "You didn't look like you were enjoying the little sensitivity session in the bedroom."

"To tell you the truth, I wasn't," Connie answered. Something about Lionel's confident voice and easy manner made her sure that he would understand her feelings. "In fact," she added, "I thought it was awful. Does that make me a square?"

"No," he responded. "Not in my book, anyway. All it means is that you haven't been taken in by all that newspeak bullshit about self-discovery, free-expression, and body-awareness. I've always considered it kind of a lame excuse for group sex."

"Well, I'm glad someone agrees with me," Connie said. "I was beginning to feel like an oddball in there."

"Then why did you stay?" Lionel asked, with the directness of his question startling her.

"I don't know," she said. "I guess it isn't easy to walk out on a group."

"I've never had that problem, myself," Lionel said. "I walk out on groups all the time. In fact I'm thinking of walking out on this one any minute. Dullest fucking party I've ever been to. Not a crumb of dope in the whole fucking apartment."

His use of the obscenity shook Connie, knocking her off balance for the moment. She took a long swallow from her glass in an effort to regain her composure. She was sure, from the casual way that he had said it, that his intention hadn't been to offend. She decided to ignore it.

Trying not to show her discomfort at his choice of words, Connie said, "Fred said something about keeping clean because of landlord trouble. That's why there's no dope. I was a little disappointed myself." She was hoping to steer the conversation around to drugs. Fred had referred to Lionel as "everybody's connection" and it was just possible that Lionel was the one that she was looking for – a dope pusher who had access to large quantities of heroin. Maybe, with a little luck, she could complete the assignment that night and get back to her own precinct in Manhattan. At least the whores there were honest enough to say that they were turning tricks instead of attending sensitivity sessions.

"Would you be interested in scoring some dope?" Lionel asked, as though he had read Connie's mind.

"I might," she answered guardedly.

"Then why don't we split this place?" Lionel said. "We can drop in at the Glass Onion for a drink if you like. At least it's quiet there. We can talk it over."

"I'm with you," Connie answered, almost as glad for an opportunity to escape from the party as she was for a chance to get to know "every body's connection".