We meet at a bar for a night out. We have a drink, and talk, and you maybe flirt a bit too, because that's what you do. We've slept together a few times before, just when we happen to, although I'm pretty sure that for you it's more about me being into licking your ass out than anything else about us.
You're kind of selfish like that sometimes, although I don't really mind. You're fun, too, and the ass-licking is something I like.
We talk and the bar fills up, and after a bit, as I'm wondering what you have planned, you lean closer and say quietly, "I know where there's a party, but it'll be kind of wild. But we can go if you want."
"Wild like how?" I say.
"You'll like it."
I don't know what that means. "Like how?" I say again.
You smile, and reach over for the candle on the table, and tip it onto my arm. You do it slowly, so I could have stopped you if I'd wanted to, but I don't want to. I watch, as you spill wax on my skin. It burns. I gasp.
You put the candle down, then take my hand and pull it up under your dress. You're sitting on a stool, and you shift sideways slightly as you do, so you can pull my hand up your leg, and back past your pussy, and press my fingers against your ass.
"Both things you like," you say. "Wild like that."
You know me, I think. You know what I like. I'm helpless to say no. I nod, and you smile.
We go to a house in the suburbs, and it seems like a strangely quiet party. There are cars parked up and down the street, but no noise from inside. We go inside anyway. You just open the door and walk in. It's a big open-plan house, a nice house, full of people. There's about thirty people here, and they all look around when we come in. Thirty people, thirty women, all looking at us.
Almost as if they were waiting for us to arrive.
