by Caralee Levy
(03/07/01)

I wasn't planning to have an orgy, if that's what you'd call it. I'd planned on squirreling away in my closet-sized spring break room with a bag of cheese things and sixties sitcom reruns. So it was my birthday -- big whoop.

But it happened, all right. I know it wasn't a dream, because I had rug burns the next morning. It went down like this. (Yeah, that pun was intended.)

Spring break. Those of us who couldn't afford to fuck our brains out on some beach lived off of canned food, coaxed over-age students into buying booze, and eyed each other.

Some housing dean's intern had stuck me for the week with two women I'd never met before. My roommates both had boyfriends who weren't students, but were living with us. In case you've lost count, that's five people in a suite of rooms designed to hold two. Needless to say, everyone had seen everyone else naked by day two.

The view wasn't bad. Virginia -- yeah, I know, and she was a minister's daughter, too -- had a Farrah Fawcett look, tall and rangy with a wild mane of tawny hair. Kirsten was blonde too, but petite and dimpled, all curvy face and breasts and butt. Virginia's boyfriend Salvador, a campus groundskeeper, looked like a bantam weight boxer, with muscles rippling quickly across his shoulders and arms and a fierce intent expression. The other guy, Anders, played bass in a band and seemed to be half asleep most of the time.

Anders was my favorite. There's something about poets and musicians that appeals to my estrogen. Pretending to read the newspaper, I watched his strong, competent fingers pick out chords on the guitar and imagined that they were finding my G-spot, pressing and plucking it. My pussy juice would soak right through my jeans, and I'd have to retreat into my little cubbyhole of a bedroom, masturbate a few times, and pull on a fresh pair of pants.

By day three, it was pretty obvious that some partner-sharing was going on. Anders' underwear -- he wore plain white boxers -- lay rumpled on Virginia's bed. Salvador squeezed Kirsten's ass as he brushed by her. After the guys left for their jobs, Virginia and Kirsten cuddled up in the bean bag chair and debriefed about the night before. They wore oversized T-shirts, but peeled off everything else. Curled up with their legs entangled, they stroked each other's lips and clits, whispering and giggling.

I felt like the original third wheel, so I retreated to my cubbyhole. A heating vent connected my room to the central room, right behind the beanbag chair. Figuring I deserved some jollies for putting up with these people, I pressed my ear to the grill.

"Salvador comes faster than Anders. Just boom, boom, boom with a shout and he's done." That was Kirsten.

"Yeah, Anders' orgasms are more like a woman's, just a little bit at first, then bigger spurts and dying away."

"Is Salvador like women in any way? I mean, does he like guys?"

"Nah. He likes to cross-dress some. He loves my slips. But he's het."

"Hmm, too bad. I think Anders has kind of a crush on him."

"Really? Well I could ask him. Machismo hides a lot. You thinking of a foursome?"

There was a pause while Kirsten moaned. There were sucking sounds. Then she said, somewhat breathlessly, "Or let them watch you and me together and then help each other get off."

Another pause. More wet sounds.

"Oh yeah, you and me, all hot and wet and charged, sprawled on the floor, willing to do anything, and them jerking each other off, cum splattering our breasts -- "

"You gotta do me now, Virginia."

"What if I won't?" Teasing.

"I'll fucking make you, bitch. Do me!"

That was the end of any coherent conversation. I masturbated and thought about my ex-boyfriend. Premed. Liked anatomy -- everyone's. I'd thought I could handle an open relationship. After all, it went both ways. I too could see anyone I wanted, but it wasn't long before I felt threatened and jealous, and he ended it. I'd spent more time and energy than I'd spent on the relationship on getting over it. Now, having pretty much convinced myself that my feelings were normal and okay, that it wasn't wrong to want all of someone, I realized that I still hated myself for not being cool enough to handle him. My four roommates were completely happy, and they weren't rubbing themselves silly solo. Why couldn't I be like them?

Day four I spent in the library, leafing through art portfolios and photography mags and taking humping breaks in the bathroom. Sexual tension continued to build. The cardboard core of a toilet paper roll made a good tool, large enough to satisfy but rough and dry enough to hurt. I wanted to hurt.

The morning of day five, I think Kirsten realized they were being kind of rude, considering I was their roommate, no matter how temporarily and arbitrarily. She chatted me up. Small talk stuff. It came out that our last day together would be my birthday, the big two-oh. Don't laugh -- it felt old then. I mean, eighteen makes you legal, but twenty makes you not a teenager anymore. You've become one of those people in their twenties, and those people tend to have full-time jobs, and a kid or three, and mortgages. People in their twenties show up in the alumni mag with their latest achievements listed by their name. What had I achieved? Decent grades, a major (anthropology, if you care), lost virginity, the basic positions, and dating a swinger once.

Kirsten didn't know all that, but she picked up on my vibe and felt sorry for me. "We'll have a party!" she said brightly, putting her arm around my shoulders.

She was trying to be friendly, and she was a nice person. Otherwise, Anders wouldn't date her. Rebuffing her would be rude, and besides, a party might be just what I needed. "Okay," I said.

Over the next few days, the group's tension shifted its focus -- to me. The whispered conversations were about me. The sidelong glances were at me. The men started to notice me when I entered the room.

I should mention: I'm not ugly. Not gorgeous, but not ugly. Plain, I guess. I'm short, barely scraping five feet, and in college I had waist-length, straight brown hair that swung just above my slightly too large ass. People said my face was "perky". My breasts were small, but they were perky, too. So being noticed, but not stared at, was actually pretty normal.

My birthday morning, everyone had gone. Their stuff was still there, but they'd gotten up early and gone off somewhere. My mood dropped through the floor. They'd decided I was too square to party with after all, but they couldn't face telling me, so they were just staying out of my way. Well, fine. This was the last day of spring break. The next day we'd go back to our regular living arrangements. I'd never met these people before, and I'd probably never see them again.

My defiant self-talk wasn't making me one bit happier. Was there a big square tattooed on my forehead, permanently condemning me to a dull and solitary sex life?

The door opened and Kirsten came in. She wore a short robe and, as soon as the door closed behind her, she revealed that there was nothing under it.

"I just wanted to give you an early birthday present," she said, "before everybody else got here."

She must have read my surprise as reluctance, because she added, "I guess I should have asked what you wanted first. If you'd rather..."

"I'd rather nothing," I said. It was true. My clit had swollen up so it slid against my thong, and my nipples lifted my tank top. A drop of juice trickled down the inside of my leg.

I let my jeans drop. Kirsten pulled down my thong. I lifted my top. She bent her head and bit my right nipple. There was a responding jolt in my clit. She began to suck, and we sank to the floor.

Kirsten wouldn't let me do anything for her. "It's your birthday," she said and grabbed my wrists. She rolled me over onto my stomach, pinned my arms to the floor above my head, and started working on my left ear, running her teeth along the outer rim, and then swirling her tongue gently toward the center. A sudden near-orgasm made me squirm under her. She gave my ass a firm slap.

"Submit," she whispered in my right ear, and then started to work on that one.

Unable, through movement, to release the fire spreading up from my crotch to my belly, I started to moan. Another slap, this one a little harder. It stung, but even that sparked another throb from my overflowing clit.

"Quiet!" Kirsten growled. She took my long hair in her teeth and pulled my head up off the floor. I felt so helpless, like a small animal in an eagle's talons, flying away with no control over its destiny. Another near-orgasm made my legs quiver.

There was another slap, this one hard enough to really hurt, and a pair of fingers began to tease my clit. Both of Kirsten's hands were in sight, pinning my wrists to the floor. Long hair brushed my legs, and Virginia's voice said, "I heard the birthday girl hasn't been good. She's been having dirty thoughts about naughty things."

She thrust her fingers hard up my gateway, far enough to scrape my cervix with her fingernails. I hissed with the pain, but then a glow started, deep inside. I desperately wanted to be touched there again.

As if reading my mind, Virginia crawled around in front of me. Her lanky body moved easily in a gold fishnet bodysuit. With her tawny hair and white teeth, she looked like a lioness. She put her face down next to mine and said, "I'd love to give you the rest of your birthday present, but you have to promise to be good. Promise?"

I nodded -- a movement which pulled my hair, because it was still between Kirsten's teeth. But the pain reminded me of the pain Virginia had given me, and I liked it. She looked up at Kirsten and nodded. "Let's go then," she said.

Kirsten got off me and grabbed me by the ankles. Virginia grabbed my wrists. "Three-two-one." They flipped me over on my back.

Behind Kirsten the door opened. It was Salvador. "Coast's clear," he said.

The women dragged me out of the room into the dorm hallway. They couldn't, or wouldn't, lift me completely off the floor, so that was where I got the rug burns. Yep, on my butt.

With Salvador keeping an eye out for uninvited guests, they dragged me down the hall to the men's bathroom. Salvador opened that door, too. In this dorm the bathrooms had gang showers with a half dozen or so heads. Opposite the door, a window let some natural light into the shower space. Someone had screwed a hook into the ceiling and hung their philodendron there. The humidity made it happy.

Salvador climbed up on a mildew-covered armchair -- no, I don't know why it was there, but this was college, you know -- and took down the plant. He set it gently on the floor in one corner, then pulled a couple of lengths of cord out of the pocket of his jeans.

"What..." I gasped. I'd never been tied up before. What if they weren't just kidding around? What if they really planned to hurt me? After all, they were all cool and knew each other, while I was just the inexperienced outsider. Did I really think they were giving me a birthday present?

Virginia dropped one of my arms to yank hard on my hair. "No noise." She spoke softly, but the acoustics in here made her voice fill the room. If I screamed, someone would hear me for sure. I opened my mouth.

The door swung open. A draft from the hallway moved the humid air. "It's all right." Anders' mellow voice cut off my cry for help while it was still in my throat. I arched my head backwards and got an upside-down view of him as he undressed. Unlike Salvador, Anders was completely relaxed. His movements had a lyrical quality to them, just like when he was playing the guitar. The feelings I'd had back in our room had vanished when I thought I might be hurt, really hurt, but now a moist little hot spot ignited in my pussy again.

His erection was gorgeous. It's not a penis's size or shape that makes it a turn-on -- it's attitude. Anders' member tilted toward me at just a little higher than a ninety-degree angle, full of confidence and poise. As he walked toward my open mouth, it bobbed up and down, but he didn't show any awkwardness or embarrassment that might have made it funny. It just seemed natural, just another part of his stride.

He brushed the tip against my lips. I flicked it with my tongue and it jumped a little. "It's all right," he said again. "I'm going to be tied up, too."

The women handed me over to Salvador, who lifted me off my feet. I held my hands up, wrists together. Kirsten caressed my buttocks while Virginia tied me to the hook. Then Virginia climbed down and pushed the chair under me so that I had as much support as I wanted to give myself. If I'd tucked up my legs, my body weight might have pulled the hook right out of the ceiling, but I was there because I wanted to be there. To celebrate my birthday with Anders.

They tied him to one of the shower heads, so that we were facing each other. Our eyes met and locked. Kirsten got up on the chair with me and kissed each of my breasts, then knelt down and kissed my crotch. Anders' pupils dilated and his breathing quickened, and I felt so tuned into his arousal that when Kirsten's tongue pressed into my softness, waves of desire rippled through me. They started in my bound hands and surged to my feet. Alternately lifting and lowering my feet tightened and released the pressure on my arms, which in turn merged with Kirsten's rhythm.

Virginia got up on the chair behind me and raked her fingernails through my hair, leaving little shivers wherever they touched. I arched and spread my legs wider, wanting Kirsten to do more. Anders wet his lips. His cock stood up slightly more, and a bead of cum formed at the tip. I could feel how badly he wanted to touch himself, how ready he was to stroke off, but with his hands tied he couldn't. Of course, his bondage was as voluntary as mine. He wanted to get off from just my pleasure.

Virginia moved into a deep massage that bordered on the painful. If I made the slightest sound she yanked my hair. Kirsten grasped my buttocks, digging her fingers in against the muscle and playing my clit with her teeth. Salvador unbuttoned his fly, releasing his enormous cock. It wasn't beautiful like Anders', just impressive. I brought my eyes back to Anders' face. It was his cock I wanted. Anders' shoulders and stomach were moist, and I didn't think it was from the humidity.

After making sure I'd seen his big cock, Salvador got up on the armchair behind Virginia and flattened her against my back. Her hands grasped my breasts, as much for balance as to play with me, and her breasts pressed into my shoulders. From the way her hips suddenly pushed into my back, I knew Salvador had just entered her. She gasped, whether with pain or pleasure, I don't know.

Then that big cock drove into me. I was ready, barely. A little tighter or a little drier and it really would have hurt. It pulled out, and then it was Virginia's turn again. We got into a rhythm, the four of us. Kirsten synchronized her tongue with Salvador's thrusts into me, while Virginia squeezed my breasts when he did her. Among them, they turned my entire body into an erotic object, aware of nothing more than the next sensation, and the next, and the next. The word orgasm no longer meant anything. Any orgasms I had were lost, so high-pitched and constant was my state of arousal.

However, as much as my body belonged to -- begged for - the stimulation, my mind belonged to Anders. I let my body show him everything, tossing my head, spreading and clenching my legs. I could see through my slitted eyes that he was living my passion with me as much as if we were together. He began to twist.

And then his back arched and his thighs tensed and his cock jerked and he came. Forever, it seemed, as the white cum came flying toward me, and I came too. Virginia felt it shake me and grabbed my hair, a warning not to make a sound, so I just mouthed the words at Anders. I. Love. You.

Virginia untied me. Kirsten untied Anders, and then Virginia and Kirsten and Salvador finished each other up. Anders and I leaned against the wall and each other, breathing in rhythm together. Then we all took showers, the other three each under their own shower head, but Anders and I sharing one. As we pulled on our clothes -- they'd stashed some extra bathrobes ahead of time -- I thanked them, but talking seemed awkward. Maybe they did this kind of thing all the time. Maybe it meant something different to them than it did to me -- maybe more, maybe less.

Kirsten, Virginia and I got our stuff packed to move back to our regular dorms. Salvador and Anders bundled up whatever they'd brought to carry back to their apartments in town. We dispersed.

A few weeks later I stopped by the rec center to hear whatever band was playing. The bass player was Anders. During their break, I walked over and said hello. He sat down on the edge of the stage and put his hands on my waist. I put my arms around his neck. We kissed, ever so tenderly, and that was the beginning of my first mutually monogamous relationship.

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