Comments are appreciated.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters involved in sexual activity are at least 18 years old. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. Of course, if your name is Dan, please feel free to pretend this is about you.

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Dan

Saturday Morning after Friday Night

Not a virgin. Not anymore.

That basic fact was finally percolating through my self-understanding, erasing the bits of doubt and perceived weakness that had weighted me down, destroying the nerd image, the loser self-identification. At the same time, while I had changed — a momentous change — I wanted to avoid the error of arrogance, of my new confidence overstepping into just becoming an asshole to innocent bystanders.

And, there was a bigger issue. What to think about Juliet?

God, Juliet!

She had led the way to my amazing experience and personal development. She had led the way to clearing up some of those mental handicaps I had inherited from “the Game players” or “Andrew Tate” role models, or the self-pitying incel bros, who looked everywhere but within to blame for their tawdry lives.

I was not that, not anymore.

But where was I with Juliet?

“Earth to Dan. Calling Dan,” she said.

I looked at the half-eaten french fry in my hand, extra ketchup dripping down. Then I looked at her directly into her eyes.

“I’m… here,” I said. “But I am not here, too.”

“OK?”

“Juliet, thank you for last night,” I said, holding up a hand as she started to respond with “No worries.”

“I don’t want to trivialize what last night meant to me, or the feelings I have… the gratitude to you, for what you did to blast me out of my… I dunno… My limited viewpoint. My limited experience.”

“And now, I am still confused,” I summarized. “But about something different. Namely, I am confused about…. you.”

“Oh,” she said. “That sounds… maybe difficult? Or sad? Or something else? What are you worried about, Dan? I am here, still, and I loved what we did together.”

I replied. “I am confused, because I don’t know how to go on from here. Was that a one-and-done? Or is there more? Do you want me to be…. more? What kind of me do you want me to be, anyway?” I asked. Then I cringed at my own words. “Oh, shit. That just sounded stupid, right?”

“I think you are asking, is there an us?” said Juliet. “Is that right?”

“Maybe?”

“Look, Dan. We have been on maybe a half-dozen dates. Most of those were plain vanilla. Emphasis on ‘plain.’ I wanted more… more sex. More you. And at that time, you were not comfortable to let go, to join me.”

She continued, “Last night, I orchestrated a kind of explosion for you and for me, too. The initial resistance you had to… moving toward sex… toward me… was um… de-inhibited. I cheated a bit, by using the THC gummie and the silly question game, but I wanted you. Your body. Your dick. Your sexual… acts… I dunno. That is so dumb to say. Your love-making. I wanted you. And I wanted you to want me. And you did. And… it was just fucking fantastic.”

She grasped my hands. I looked her in the eyes. She looked back at me. I was fascinated by this woman, such a powerful personality in such a hot body. Fuck. She had…. stalked?…no. Seduced me. Skillfully.

“Dan, look. We have had only a short history together. I would like to continue with you, if that is what you are asking. But, when I say that, I want to continue with all of you. Not just your dick. And not just out to eat. Not just as the guy who is the roommate of my roommate’s boyfriend. If you know what I mean. I want to get to know you more, and deeply, personally. If you want that.”

“I think I would like that very much,” I said. My heart was starting to beat faster; I don’t know why. Was this so important? My thoughts skipped a beat. Yeah, it… was… important.

“And Juliet, I want to continue with all of you, too, all of you. Your life, your history, your moods, your… I dunno. You.”

I quirked my lips suddenly, “I want your sex… your body… can I say it? Your cunt, your ass, your… sluttiness…. and your… kindness and tenderness and wildness and your dominance…” I stopped, running out of thoughts.

“Good,” she said with a quirky smile. “Because I would like to…. well, I want your body, too. Your prick. Your butt-hole. Your tongue. Your fucking. And I want your… attention. I want your…. God-given gifts. I want your… skills. I want your… I want to stretch your boundaries even more. I want your next virginity.”

“Wait. What? What? What do you have in mind?” I asked, a bit bashful, a bit excited, a bit surprised. “There are more boundaries that you can stretch? What virginity do I have left?”

“Well, maybe not technically virginity,” she nodded. Then she looked me directly in the eyes, “But I think you will like what Alex is thinking about for this evening. And I want you and me to do it together, and to enjoy it together.”

I replied, “I like that emphasis on together. Yes, we are new to each other. But I like the together part. And, so far, even though I thought I wasn’t ready, maybe…yeah, I was just not ready then. But now, I am more ready than I ever have been. I know that nothing we have done together has been disappointing or dull or wrong… for me, and I want to keep it that same way for you. Exciting. New. Fantastic.”

She got up and moved around the table to sit right next to me, in the cafeteria. She pulled her arm around my shoulders. I turned my face to her, and we kissed. In public!

“Dan,” she said, looking into my eyes. “Are you feeling adventurous?”

I grinned and nodded. “Now I am.”

She put her hand against my thigh, then rubbed it in my crotch, under the table, out of the sight of the rest of the students in the large room, ruffling my dick and balls.

“Good. I want this… torpedo… tonight. You and me will be the submarine. We will go hunting for ships to sink, together, using this torpedo. OK?”

A look of confusion crossed my face briefly. “Do you mean….”

“Yup. Me and you. And some others. Fucking. Their. Brains. Out.”

–/–

Dan

Finagle’s on Saturday night was hopping, with half-drunk students milling about, loud music and that ubiquitous smell of stale beer and piss that always seems to pollute those kinds of cheap college hangouts.

I wanted to keep Juliet close; I was enjoying my hand on her butt and the soft feeling of her arms as we stood close together. But she peeled off several times to talk with other girls, face electric with joy and camaraderie. The conversations were brief but… pointed. Were they… negotiating something?

I had been nursing a single long-neck for the last half-hour, and was just about ready to toss it.

Juliet returned, “Alex has got us all set up. Are you ready, Mr. Mark 57 torpedo? Isn’t that the number that the Navy uses? Or is it Mark 94?”

I shrugged. “I’m not Mark.” I grinned to take away the negative.

She grinned back, “OK, fine, then maybe should I say, Mr. Dan the Man v-dot-2 torpedo? Let’s go sink some ships.” She pulled my hand.

We left the bar, and Juliet pulled me into an idling, small, older Nissan ride-share. When did Juliet have time to get that set up?

“We’re headed to the Conrad,” she said, and the driver nodded in confirmation, shifted gears and accelerated away.

“The Conrad?” I asked, stupidly. Wasn’t that a hotel, a fancy hotel? I was dressed in a T and jeans. Like the kind of casual, sloppy dress that swank hotels keep confined to the outside of the hotel. Especially when worn by poor college students who were not booked into a room.

Juliet smiled, leaned back into the seat. “Yup. We are going to have quite the night.”

–/–

Dan

After we left the ride-share, we skirted the car valets and baggage boys and sneaked along the edge of the hotel’s voluptuous foyer. Juliet maintained sight of the far-distant front desk, just in case, but we were unobserved as we headed to the door marked Gymnasium–Spa–Pool.

It was quite some time after 9:30, so past official opening hours.

“Juliet?” I asked. She shook her head, then keyed her phone. After a couple minutes, the door opened from within, a light brown hand on its edge.

“Phan, so nice to see you,” burbled Juliet. “This is Dan.”

The young Vietnamese woman ducked her head, “Nice to meet you.”

“And this is Trinh,” said Juliet. A young Vietnamese man nodded to me.

“They work here in the spa, and they were able to invite us to a… limited private party, for the evening.”

“OK?” I asked. Then, I jumped to the situation. Private party? “Do we need to pay? I don’t have much money, but I do have a credit card.”

“No worries,” said Phan. “There are a few others here, and the evening is complimentary for those who will be… participating as entertainers, shall we say?”

I looked at Juliet. What the fuck? Were we somehow… prostitutes… in this?

Juliet smiled back, “Just go with it. Follow my lead. All the way.”

–/–

Dan

Juliet and I moved forward into the men’s locker room–yeah, both of us in the men’s section. I felt a bit nervous about breaking that taboo, but Juliet just sailed on in. Trinh followed us in and stood watching, standing there in immaculate white scrubs, as professional as can be.

He gestured to a refreshment tray, carrying flutes of bubbling wine, gummies and shot glasses of clear liquid. I pointed, raising my eyebrows in question, and he said with a stilted Vietnamese accent, the L’s becoming R’s: “Tequila. THC. Mumm.”

Juliet giggled in delight, and in rapid succession, downed a shot and ate a gummie. Then she looked at me expectantly, so I copied her, downing the tequila (yuck) and another gummie (sweet but blah).

Then she picked up a flute of champagne and pointed at one for me. I raised the glass to her, and she said, “To us. To your torpedo. And to all the ships we will sink tonight.” Then she drained it. I followed her lead, and the bubbles sparkled in the back of my throat.

“Dan, I want you to know. Alex has given me only a little information about our private party here. So, I can’t really tell you what will happen at each stage. But, I know that some things may seem embarrassing or scary to you. Please, Dan, don’t bridle. Please don’t run away. Don’t get angry. Please stay with me, keep calm, relax and enjoy. This may expand your horizons a bit, and I am sure it will be fun. And remember, I want to do it together with you.

“Soon, we are going in for a couple’s massage, I think maybe, right now. And, um, you’ll get oil on those clothes. So…” She motioned for me to undress. “And anyway, submarines don’t wear clothes when they are torpedoing ships.”

I raised my eyebrows, but she nodded, then unbuttoned her blouse. I in turn, lifted my T over my head.

Trinh continued to watch as we stripped off our clothes. He took each item, folding it and then placing it into one of the cupboards.

Juliet’s hairless waxed cunt was red-rimmed, already engorged, and emitting teen female pheromones. My dick chubbed out a bit, conquering my embarrassment at being naked in front of this… fully clothed… spa attendant.

“Don’t we get a towel?” I asked.

Juliet shook her head, “Do you need one? Your body is… fine, more than fine!” she enthused. “And your torpedo, well, that is really fine.” She dragged a finger along the underside of my tumescent prick.

“This way,” Trinh pointed with his closed fist and extended thumb, and we moved into the massage room.

There were two other naked people face down on the beds, and white-smocked attendants were rubbing oil into their bodies.

Trinh pointed to two tables clothed with fresh sheets. He motioned to Juliet. “Head here, face down.” Then he pointed to me, “Head here, face down.” His native accent bent many of the sounds.

Our bodies were parallel, but our heads were lying in opposite directions. My view included Juliet’s nicely turned-out bare feet and bright pink toenails. Not bad! I thought.

The two tables were close enough that we could reach our hands across the gap, and Juliet tugged my relaxed palm onto hers, fingers cupped and interlaced.

Trinh stepped up to my table and, with long strokes and greatly excessive amounts of massage oil, covered my naked body from shoulders to ankles. He returned, with more oil, to ensure the scented coconut cascaded down my sides. He pulled the lubricant along my ribs, armpits and hips, along the inside and outside of my thighs, and both sides of my calves. He added more oil and covered my biceps, triceps, and forearms.

I waited for the massage rub to begin, but nothing. Trinh had stepped away.

I felt a little weird to be so lubricated, and shiny. But the oil was warm, and the room was quiet. The other two naked strangers had not said anything nor moved since we came in, near as I could tell in my face-down position.

I whispered, “Juliet, did you just get oiled up?”

“Yes. Get ready for the next thing.”

The room lights dimmed, and in the darkness, I could hear the movement of bare feet on the floor, then the presence of several people standing next to my table.

Movement. Juliet’s table and mine were rolled apart and separated. I felt a naked body, I think, as my hand disengaged from Juliet’s hand. I dragged my other hand off its side of the table, sounding for more information, and again, I think it contacted naked flesh.

Someone whispered unintelligibly and was answered swiftly by a “Shhhush.

Hands firmly lifted both of my wandering arms and placed them back on the sheet.

Then, it felt like dozens of hands descended on my body, rubbing, pulling, dragging the oil over my skin. Some of the hands were pushing hard on my muscles, others were merely caressing. Some of the hands were larger, rougher, others more petite.

I tried to make sense of the number of hands and where their owners’ stood. As best as I could figure, there were five or six people at each side of my body and two more at my feet, now working on my soles and toes.

Only one person was at my head, and that one seemed only to be standing there. Were they directing the others? Observing? Waiting for the next step?

After the original massage oil was worked into my skin, even more was added, sluicing down my sides, keeping me warm, and…. lubricated… under the onslaught of the anonymous masseurs.

My prick didn’t quite know what to do. All these naked bodies touching me was intensely erotic. So it wanted to chub up and was working on pre-cum.

But at the same time, the situation was a bit frightening, out of my control. So far, the rubbing was completely chaste; no one had dipped down to finger my ass crack or my dick and balls. But I was waiting, uncomfortable, for that unprovoked sexual contact to begin at any moment. My butt hole was clenched tight in anticipation of a violation.

A young woman’s voice called from a far corner of the massage room, “Please turn over.” The accent was maybe a bit foreign, but not nearly as the two Vietnamese attendants who had greeted us on arrival.

The massaging hands lifted and withdrew. I lay there for a minute. Should I flip? My dick would be out in the open; anyone could see it.

But, it was dark in the room, so who cares? And Juliet said I should relax and enjoy. But still, naked in front of these strangers?

I dithered long enough that the naked body standing at my head tapped my shoulder.

I turned over. My prick rose unbidden with a boner.

My eyesight had adjusted to the darkness, and I could now see the outlines of the naked people standing over me. They were… masked… and otherwise ordinary-looking, varying ages. Men and women. There were tats, some weird skulls, some just paragraphs of text. Some had fat, quite a bit of fat, belly or titties or butt. Others were more enticing, sexy.

The one at my head was a younger man, fit, hands limply at his side, dick hanging, mask obscuring his face.

My own dick began to go limp as the nearby environment didn’t look quite as conducive to fucking as maybe I had fantasized.

The middle woman took a large beaker and poured oil on my topside. The cadre of naked masseurs again descended on my body, sluicing the lubricant over me completely but chastely. No one touched my exposed dick or balls. The massage continued for several minutes, and my mind drifted aimlessly, wordlessly, under the constant sensory feedback from my skin.

I smelled the flare of a match as two candles were lit in sconces along the walls. I could now see to the edge of the room, and I began to wonder at the large group of… masked nudists?… who had been working around the four massage tables.

With this signal, all the nudist masseurs turned and left the room, leaving me, Juliet, and the two others who had been lying face down when we entered.

We four all sat up, looking at each other. Juliet began to laugh, triggering giggles from all of us.

“That was weird,” I said.

“Yeah,” said the other male, “My dick was confused. Should I get hard, or not?”

“I’m Bekka,” said the other girl. She was wearing long red-haired braids, and they hung down over her titties. Her skin was shiny, lubricated, and my boner wanted to pop up as I eyed her young, sexy, naked body. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Juliet. Same.”

“Dan. Same.”

“Sven.” he was blond, pale, and muscular, with blond pubes. A slight accent, Nordic? And his boner was starting to rise, matching mine. “Welcome to the party, I guess?”

I asked, “Are we the entertainment? And, was that it? All those people paid to get naked and then, um, touch our naked bodies? But not our sexy bits?”

Juliet giggled. “Oh, Dan.”

Bekka laughed out loud. “That was makeup, I think. We are yet to be the entertainment.”

“Have you done this before?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” said Sven, jumping down from the table. His dick was clearly moving past chub stage.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

Bekka laughed again. “What would you like to do?”

Juliet said, “We are at a private sex party in a top hotel, our tickets paid in full, and there are probably many many people who are watching us, right now. After all, we are the entertainment, right?”

I snorted. “Watching? They have cameras?”

Bekka looked around, “Maybe? But I didn’t sign a film release. So, probably not.”

I noted that implied range of experience. Was this girl a model? A porn star? a filmographer?

Sven said, “Personally, I am very pleased to meet all of you. And, since we came here to fuck, that’s what I would like to do… if you would like that?”

Juliet and Bekka also jumped down from their tables, boobs jiggling, laughing.

“That sounds like the reason we came here, too,” said Juliet.

“And me, too. Us,” said Bekka, pointing to Sven.

I wondered, were those two on a Tinder date? Just met, and now, ready to fuck?

I jumped off my table just in time to meet Juliet’s kiss. Her tongue probed my mouth. Our heavily oiled skin slid easily, and my boner grew harder as it rubbed against her slippery belly.

Bekka approached from my rear and rubbed her slick boobs across my back, reaching around me to lift and fondle Juliet’s slick titties. Juliet reciprocated. The heavy oil made it almost impossible to pinch any nipple and they resorted to rubbing the flat of their hands across each other’s taut buds.

Sven was behind Juliet, reaching around both her and me to pull the two of us closer, grinding my dick further into her belly.

Juliet, “Oh Sven, is that a special greeting? I like the feeling of your dick on my skin.” Then she giggled, “…. and between my butt cheeks. Naughty boy.”

She turned to kiss Sven, and Bekka spun me around to kiss me. She captured my boner and inserted it in the space between her thighs. “Gotcha, boy. College boy. I like your prick.” She smiled, lust in her eyes.