Amber in Between
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2011 by Pretty in Pink

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The middle story following "Weekend at Grandma's". Teenage swinger Amber is going from high school to the university, with stops at a community college, a network based around sex, and several parties (read orgies). Preparing for college is not easy, especially for a swinger who must hide that activity from others.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Ma/ft   Consensual   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Swinging   Group Sex   Orgy   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism  

The penis is the way you get come from the male body to the mouth of the girl's womb, her cervix. It's an efficient system, and to encourage its use, Mother Nature has studded both the vagina and the penis with nerve endings hooked to the pleasure centers of the brain.

Of course the whole point of the transfer was to make babies, but I didn't have that worry. Originally, back when I was 15, I'd taken my birth control pill every morning along with my multivitamin and my orange juice. Now that I was 18 I got an implant that was good for a year. It was a good thing I had it, too. I got a lot of come transferred to the mouth of my womb at the parties I attended. I was with a guy named Bob, and I could feel him tense, just seconds before he accomplished the transfer.

You don't actually feel a guy come, at least I don't. The first sign I usually have is that his whole body tenses, and his dick gets incredibly hard. I think guys' dicks get that way just before they pop. That way very little come escapes back down my channel, but stays in place to fertilize my egg. The second sign, of course, is the guy rearing back and plunging as deep as he can. This is instinctive; you want the tip of his dick right next to my cervix. A few guys groan, others just sort of grimace as if it hurts. Some catch their breath, some speed up, some slow down and stop. Every guy is slightly different.

There were a bunch of us in the room busy doing the transferring. It was a last hurrah of my high school friends. In the morning some of us were to start college, and, supposedly, I would be too busy studying to party.

I wasn't so sure; I'd been told that community college was like high school, but with smoking. But it could also give you those things you needed to get into the four-year colleges, and that was why I was going to attend.

Bob shook, another sign a guy was coming, and for just a moment I thought I could feel something deep inside me. He did have a long dick, at least when it was hard, and that meant the tip was probably only a fraction of an inch from my cervix. I'd had guys bang into my cervix with their dicks, and it didn't feel all that good. This was like the brush of a feather, but repeatedly. That meant I was actually feeling his come as it came out.

In the three years I'd been going to these parties, or coming, I'd gotten used to all the different ways guys came. I'd had a number of them pull out to come on my face or tummy. By far the most popular place was my boobs. Every girl with any sort of chest had that happen to her. My boobs were bigger than average, and so I'd had plenty of opportunity to look down as the head of his dick got all shiny, and then the hole in the tip seemed to get bigger. Out it came, one spurt of white after another. A couple of boys could hit my face from my boobs when they came, but most could only reach an inch or two. Still, for a guy, it was the point of the whole thing, though ogling naked girls was a close second. So I knew what a guy looked like when he came.

One of the most powerful elements of having sex is your imagination. Only a contortionist could see between her legs and watch a guy put it in. One of the pleasures of a party was to actually watch that happen, though with another girl. And once inside, the guy is pounding away, but the girl is off in her own world. Sometimes there's so much pleasure that you're caught up in it. Other times you pretend that the guy is someone else—roman e heroes are popular—and you imagine tall, dark-haired, rugged and handsome rather than shorter, light brown hair, and a little pudgy. Imagining things helps you come, though that isn't often a given. But I was one of those lucky ones who did come from straight sex, and so my imagination didn't have to work very hard to get me where I wanted to go.

So when Bob popped, I could picture what was happening in my mind's eye. I didn't come, but I felt really good about things. And if he wanted a second go-round, I might be willing to entertain the idea.

Of course there's that awkward pause you get at a party. The sex is over, the guy is going limp, and what do you say and do? A married couple, I'm told, cuddles for a bit, then takes turns in the bathroom. If they're freshly married, they might do it again, but once is usually enough. The guy does his thing and is done in short order. A girl, though, has to do more than just pee. After all, often times you have this white stuff dripping out of you, and you either have to clean it up, or put up with it for a while. Most of the girls at a party would take a quick pee, do a brief wipe to clean up, and put up with the feeling. In a way it was kind of sexy, and you saw lots of girls rubbing their thighs together. You saved the big clean-up for when you were done for the night.

Guys insist on coming in all sorts of places, not just the one Mother Nature intended. Most girls will clean up any remains of his passion if he got it on her boobs or tummy, though sometimes another girl will do that for you. Licking up come can be a popular thing at a party because every guy tastes different. If he got it in your hair, another popular place, you wash your hair during the general clean-up. My mother knew what I was doing at these parties—she'd introduced me to them—and didn't mind the smell of come in my hair when I got home. Other girls weren't so fortunate.

After Bob finished and pulled out—he could have left it in there for a bit longer—we traded brief kisses, and then he went on his way. I caught my breath, not sure if I was done for the night or not. I had a look at the time: not quite 10:00 p.m. There was still time for a little more fun before heading home to get a good night's sleep. And after having sex with three different boys so far, I knew I would sleep well.

His name was Andy. He was standing next to the couch, talking with someone. I sat on the couch and began pushing his dick back and forth. I can't help it, I'm fascinated by them. Part of that is because as a girl I don't have one, and you always get interested in what you don't have. Part of it, of course, is what I liked what they did to me when hard. Andy's wasn't hard, but with a little effort it could get there.

His dick was reddish and slightly wet looking, which meant it had been in use already. It sprang from a nest of red hair, and his balls hung down well on to his thighs. That was another piece of male anatomy I was interested in, but not for the obvious reason. When I'd learned the physical difference between boys and girls, I'd wondered how guys could walk around with a dick and balls between their legs. The sex part of a girl's anatomy is between her legs, and so it was logical to assume the same thing with a boy. It was only after I'd studied enough naked boys that I figured out his dick was in front of his legs, not between. Now I didn't mind, it was much easier to get to it this way.

If you play with a guy long enough, he will get hard, or at least stiffer than he was. Andy was so caught up in his discussion that he ignored me. So I knelt and started sucking him. That got his attention. He put his hand on the back of my head, right in the sticky red curls where some guy had come earlier that evening, and tried to hold me there.

I wasn't having that. I don't get that much pleasure out of giving head, and anyway, I had a much better place for his dick than my mouth. After a bit the discussion tapered off. Tabitha, a black girl in our group, was doing the same to the guy Andy had been arguing with, and that distraction made it hard to argue. Everyone rearranged themselves. I went horizontal on the couch while Tabitha led her new found friend to the nearest air mattress. Hard dicks got put into wet and willing channels, and we all started to have a good time.

Being the creative and adventuresome types, we didn't just do things the regular way. Tabitha got to ride her guy like a cowgirl, bouncing up and down on him and making all sorts of pleasurable noises. I got on my hands and knees, and Andy took me from behind.

I don't know what it is about doing it that way, but guys seem to reach deeper that way. Andy didn't have the longest dick around, but when he pushed it into me from behind I swear he was going to fill my throat from the back end. See? That was my imagination at work. I knew that Andy was about average in length, but right then he felt like he was three feet long!

A girl who gives herself over to it can really enjoy herself this way. I started on my hands and knees with my face resting on the arm of the couch. My boobs were rocking back and forth, just brushing the couch. That's kind of a cool thing when it happens. After a bit, though, he pulled me back. Soon my face was against the couch, and we were rocking to the meaty slap-slap-slap of his thighs hitting my bottom. I clutched the cushions of the couch, fighting to hold on, prolonging the experience, and yet letting all of that excitement fill me.

I came that way, and I think Andy sensed it. The tremors and clasping in my channel had no sooner subsided than he had me on my back and was guiding himself in all over again. That's one of those things guys had asked me about, but I really couldn't explain. How do you describe how it feels to have a guy putting it into you when the guy doesn't have insides like a girl does? And in my opinion, no sex change operation can change that. You have to be born and raised a girl, and know this was what was waiting you, to get the full effect.

Andy braced himself over me on two strong arms. I wrapped my legs around his and pushed up as he pushed down. We soon got a good rhythm going. I knew it wouldn't be long for him, not with the way he was moving. I was pretty close, too. Most girls can have a second climax shortly after a first one, and every girl in the swinging community seems to be able to have multiple ones. That was what was happening here. I peaked twice more, and then felt him beginning to rear.

He's going to come! That was the thought that penetrated the feverish haze around my mind. I began to clamp my tummy muscles around him. I was getting closer and closer, and all it would take would be just a little more nudge to send me over the top.

I didn't expect a toe-suck. Somebody did that, and I exploded. I pushed up against him as my body took over, one wave after another until I was at the point of passing out.

Somewhere in there Andy came too. We drifted down in a tangle of legs and arms, our sweaty bodies pressed against each other. We traded a few kisses, and Andy completed what we were doing by leaving it in.

Eventually it came out. Contrary to what one might wish, a guy can't go around all of the time with his dick stuck up inside a girl. For one thing, how would they walk? But it sure feels good when it's in there, and a little disappointing when it comes out. His dick did, and we lay there a bit longer, still wrapped up with each other.

"So the two redheads got together." That was Brenda, a curvaceous blonde from a different parish, but who drove over with her boyfriend for every party.

"Fire meets fire," I murmured, and kissed Andy again.

He returned the favor, and for a moment I thought we could get it up and have some more fun. Alas, it was not to be. Three years of swinging had taught me a few things, one of which was how to tell that a guy had had enough for the night and was done.

Girls get that way, too, and while I would have done it if Andy had been willing (and able), I could also call it quits for the night. Four guys, though who was counting, and the last one had thoroughly wrung me out. Any energy I'd had left when I'd singled Andy out was evaporated by our mutual climax.

There are sights and sounds at a party that you don't get anywhere else. The party was still going on for some people. There were easily a dozen couples on the inflatable mattresses in the middle of the floor. Butts were rising and falling, boobs were swaying back and forth, and there were plenty of sighs and moans. Here and there a couple moved a lot more slowly, or lay quiet, savoring their time together in the post-climax daze everyone gets.

There were a some couples standing, watching. That's not quite as much fun as participating, but it is one of the pleasures of a party. I like looking at naked guys, whether they had a hard one or not. But I also liked looking at naked girls, though not in the same way. It's interesting to see what the girl is hiding under her clothes. Not everyone is a gorgeous model, more than a few girls had some extra pounds they wanted to lose, I certainly did!, and when you're naked, everything shows, including those places you'd rather hide.

You can see the same thing in the locker room after gym class, but there things are different. You don't stare because it's impolite. Girls are very self-conscious, and staring at her boobs or between her legs will get to a girl like nothing else. But at a party you don't get that. First, everyone is naked. Second, they chose to be at the party. Nobody held a gun to their head and forced them.

I finally got up. I knew there would be a line for the bathrooms as things wound down. One of the necessities for a party is a very large hot water tank. Our hosts had a tankless system, which meant there was effectively unlimited hot water. The shower had room for two, but I didn't feel like sharing. Instead I washed up, dried off, and stared distastefully at my clothes.

Most of the time I like the feel of clothes sliding over my skin, but at the moment I felt so good, so "in tune" with everything, that I didn't want to dress. But society had these rules, and so I put on the absolute minimum I had to. I'd worn a skirt because experience had taught me that if I had a vigorous night, I wouldn't want anything touching me down there, whether it was the seam of my jeans, or even my panties. And a skirt let me get away with not wearing underwear. A bra was a different matter. Every eye in the surrounding three parishes would notice my boobs as they wobbled back and forth. I reluctantly covered them.

By the time I was ready to face the world, my boyfriend Eric managed to pry himself out of the constantly undulating mass of bodies. His dick hung straight down, wrinkled, red and wet, and there were marks on his back from where some girl had grabbed him in her passion.

"Ready to go, I see," he said. "I'll only be a couple of minutes."

Our swinging is done in pairs. Nobody sneaks around behind somebody's back. Everyone has a potential partner for whatever you get up to, and this causes complications. What do you do if you want to go to the party, and your date or guy doesn't? That was one of those questions Dear Abby could never solve.

In our group, though, there were a few kids who weren't paired up, though our parents always made sure the male-female ratio was about the same. I'd met Eric at one of these parties, which worked out for both of us. The only times we had wanted to come but couldn't was when I was having my period. That was good for Eric, if frustrating for me. He learned that girls have their periods, and are not flesh-and-blood sex dolls.

There was a girl in our school who belonged to a family that went to a nudist resort for summer vacation. She told us that growing up around naked guys when she was naked had been an education. She wasn't as freaked out by the sight of a naked body as the average person. She thought every girl should have the opportunity to see plenty of naked guys, and vice versa. I agree with her up to a point.

Nudists have this thing about the healthy benefits of being naked. Its natural, it gives you a more relaxed air around people, and so on. I view nudity from the perspective of sex. If I see a naked guy, I am interested in what it would be like to be flat on my back with him. But other than that, I agree with her. We'd be a lot more relaxed if we could find socially acceptable ways to be naked with the opposite sex. That isn't likely to be, though, so we swing in pairs, we wear clothes when we don't want to, and so on.

"Have fun?" I asked as we got to the car.

"A lot." He smiled at me. "How about you?"

"That was a good party."

I was starting school the next day. Eric was off to Georgia Tech in Atlanta at the end of the week. This wasn't quite our last party together, but it was close. We'd stay in touch, that much we both knew, but he was going to be several hundred miles away. That was going to be hard.

We rode home in silence. It may seem odd to others that he escorted me to the door and kissed me good night. After all, we'd both spent the evening having sex with other people. But that was just sex for the fun of it. This was affection, and maybe more.

I had a lot to think about as I lay in my bed that night. College was going to change me, that much I knew. My sister Krys had been in school a year and I could already see how she was different than when she'd been in high school. What changes were awaiting me?

I could worry about them, or I could get some sleep and find out.

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