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I was so hard I could barely pull my jeans down, and so horny I couldn’t figure out how to manage it. She giggled a little watching me, as my friends – everybody but King – began to chant “Jack! Jack! Jack!” “Come on, Jack, it’s your turn,” Hearts said encouragingly, shifting her open legs and wiggling a little. I crawled up on the table and lay between her legs, wrapping my arms under her back. “They call me Jack because I spend a lot of time fantasizing about you,” I told her. She laughed. “I know that. . . . I know who watches me.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have to say anything. Our bodies took over. With her moving under me, my hard cock easily found her waiting slit and the entry point. She felt tight and hot and so wet as I went into her. With her body and the music and the alcohol and the chanting, the experience was perfect, indescribable. I felt her legs wrap around me, and I just fucked her for all I was worth, trying to savor every second. Whatever. I was outside the storm and it was in me.My hands seemed to have minds of their own, running up and down my arms, over my neck, pushing my hair that was just starting to get wet back from my face. I stared at the sky with half closed eyes as I stroked my thighs, caressed my stomach in waves of touch that grew harder and more desperate the wilder I felt. My nipples were taut and sensitive, pushing against the palms of my hands as I rotated them. It felt so good, every twist, stroke, tweak pulled on my womb. It felt like a string was connected, nipples to clitoris, every touch urging me on more, every move bringing me closer to joy.My legs parted and then closed urgently almost desperate to feel something between them. The soft skin of my inner thighs, growing moister with more than rain water, longed to feel hard thighs, a face, a hand, something between them. I thought of a lover, a stranger standing outside in the rain, watching me touch myself, pleasure myself. I could almost see.
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