Billy reached around me and grabbed both my breasts and started kneading them. Not just a little feel, but full-on grab and squeeze. Right in front of the other guy. This must have been a signal, because the guy started rubbing me all over: ass, hips, thighs. And trying to lift my dress so he could feel me under it. At this time, I still had my pantyhose and panties on . . . but in the other order.
Aside: You have to understand, Billy liked me to slit open the crotch of my pantyhose so he could get to me, so if I was going to wear panties around him, for visual protection or to absorb, um . . . "things," they would be on *top* of the pantyhose. I always had to do that at these evening soirees. Cut a little canoe-shaped slit out of the crotch of the hose and then cover it up with some small but opaque panties. I did feel incredibly sexy doing that, knowing that I had deliberately arranged my clothing so that my man could easily get to my sex. And he kept me supplied with lots of replacements, so I didn't mind from that perspective.
You may remember, stockings and garter belts were just out of style at that time. Strictly for hookers and skin mags. This was the best we could do. Kinky underwear works both ways. Even if the guy never gets to see it, I know that I'm a sexpot ready for action. Oooooh. End of aside.
So, Billy and the other guy were holding me tight. The other guy was kissing me, hard and deep on the mouth, gently licking my neck, nibbling ears, everything. His hands were constantly in motion on my hips, trying to get under my skirt. I complained: "Billy, he's trying to feel me up." He just hummed, "Mmmm" in my ear.
I squirmed. I tried to hold his arms back away from me. "Billy, he's trying to get under my dress." He just mumbled, "Okay" into my ear. This was getting more serious. Maybe he didn't want to stop the guy from putting his hands all over me. This was a new thing. A guy grabbing your ass on the subway or elevator is, like, commonplace. But having your boyfriend sort of invite another man to grope you, well, that's different. He didn't want to just feel my butt; he was trying to grab me in seriously private places. I admit, it was exciting, but it was uncomfortable. Some protector he was. Where was this going? "He wants to feel me." "Mmmm. Let him feel you." A loud whisper.
Huh? What? The man persisted. He slid my skirt up high enough that he could get under the hem and onto my thighs. Well, thighs covered with pantyhose and panties. He snagged my panties with his finger, and that's when I got really concerned. I clamped my legs shut and tried to squirm away. "Billeeee, he's really feeling me up. He's touching my underwear!" Billy held me back against him. He said to me, "Why don't you let him take those off." Not a whisper this time. Loud enough so the guy heard. He squeezed my breasts hard. "Go ahead, do it." He said it to me, or to the guy, or to both of us, I don't know.
Holy crap! My boyfriend wants another man to take off my clothes covering my most intimate place? A stranger, relatively. In public. And that's my only layer of protection. When that little wisp of nylon is gone, he will find out that direct access to my sex is available. Hey, that's mine! And I get to pick whom I share it with. Or so it had been until then. "Noooooo, He'll go between my legs!" I tried to wriggle away from his hands. Billy held me tight. His lips were right on my ear. "Relax, honey, go with it."
I didn't really have a lot of maneuvering room there, so eventually I relaxed. He hooked the waistband of the panties and pushed them to my knees, and they fell to the floor. I stepped out of them and tried to kick them away so they wouldn't be so obvious to anyone else looking. Yes, I'm sure they were a little wet, too. As frustrating and scary as this was, it was also exciting, to have a strange man groping me when I'm sort of captive.
The guy didn't let up, of course. He felt all over my hips and my ass over the hose. Then he worked around to the front of my thighs. And he tried to get between them, right at the top, the heat, the damp. Again I closed my legs. I didn't want him to find the secret entrance to my pussy through the hole in the pantyhose. He didn't know yet about the opening, uncovered goodies, but he would soon find out if he continued.
He rubbed my thighs and tried to push them apart. "Oh, god, he's trying to get into my pussy!" Billy spoke up again. "Why don't you open your legs for the nice man?" Ohmigod, he wanted me to spread myself so this strange man could get into me? I was almost in tears. Why was my lover doing this to me, letting this other man touch me so intimately? "Noooooo, Billy, he'll try to get into me." I squirmed some more, harder, but still to no avail.
"Yes. He just wants to feel you. Your delicious insides. I love your insides. Let him feel, too." I heard him but sort of didn't believe him. Then again he said, "Do it!" and squeezed my breasts hard. And I did. I closed my eyes and moved my feet well apart to make room for his hand to get to my slit.
The man was quite gentle, actually. He cupped my mound, squeezed it. He caressed my pubes and opened my slit. If he was surprised by the open crotch of the pantyhose, I couldn't tell. I could feel that I was wet, his fingers moved easily up and down my lips. He found my clit, which was excited and hard by this time, and twirled around it making me moan with pleasure. I couldn't help crying out my passion when he touched me there. Even through my embarrassment I was very turned on and wanted this to continue. His fingers found my hole and started to press in, but he wanted more room to play. "Spread your legs," he said, and nudged my ankles with his foot. I obeyed. Nothing too bad could happen; my wonderful lover was with me.
My two feet must have been, oh, two feet apart by this time. Anyone looking over at our little group would have seen immediately that the female was wide open so the males could get into her sex. I'm sure a number of other partiers noticed my legs spread like that, wide open for sexual access. He came into me and started to fuck me hard. His arm was moving to pump his fingers into me and my hips responded to his invasions, up, down, in, out. I hated it and I loved it. Onlookers saw my eyes tightly closed, and me biting my lip and moaning with each stroke of his arm pistoning into me.
On the one hand, I couldn't believe that my lover would do this, let another man finger fuck his woman, right there in front of him and in public with others watching. Everyone saw his hand under my dress and knew that he was delving into my sex, my vagina, my pussy, my cunt. Later on, I understood, I think. Billy was demonstrating that he really was my "master" and could order me to do whatever he wanted. He was giving his friend access to this pussy that was his property. Now I see that my lover was passing me around to his friends like I was his whore. Not a protector: a pimp. What crap! I didn't understand it at the time. These days it's political. Then it was just his alpha male dominance and the disdain of powerful men for mere women. Just meat.
On the other hand, it was incredibly erotic. I admit it. I was sex-crazy, hot, sweaty. Those strange fingers were just sloshing inside me. I was so turned on that my pantyhose were wet and juices were almost running down my leg. To have my lover holding me like that, feeling me intimately himself, and at the same time instructing another man to probe my insides, my honey pot, my juicy love hole that only he had access to! He told me he wanted this stranger to feel me, that he wanted me to open up and allow him to; that he wanted the stranger to push inside me, to feel the softness and hot wetness of my fuck tube, to make me grind and moan with sexual pleasure; and that he wanted everyone to see me want it. God, I was so wet and so hot. I came and came. Gangbusters. I think I screamed. That certainly would have got everyone's attention to my shameless, erotic, wanton display.
And then it was over. I shrugged loose and went into the bathroom to collect myself. And to wipe my sex juices from my pussy lips and stockings. When I came out, Billy was there with another drink for me, and the party went on as though nothing had happened.
Well, something had happened. That was probably the beginning of the end of my fling with Billy. After that I was a little less enthusiastic about being with him, partying hard and getting sexual at those evenings. We didn't talk about it directly, but I'm sure he noticed that I tried not to get into those situations.
There was another incident a month-ish later that really was the last straw. I still wanted to party and screw and be the good time girl . . . until I didn't. He wanted to expand our horizons. One night we were drunk and stoned, making out pretty hot on cushions on the floor over in a corner, his hands all over me, on my ass and under my skirt, and I was red hot. He somehow invited another man to join us. He came up behind me, started kissing my neck and shoulders, his hands went around me to my breasts. I was surprised. Not appalled at all, because it felt good. I knew the other guy a little, had certainly kissed him and been hugged heartily by him many times, pat on the ass and all. I looked questioningly at Billy, He said, "I want him to play with us, let him play with you." I guess I was buzzed enough that I didn't object.