New Year's Drop and Dripping

This is all a fictional fantasy. Headcanon fantasies are different than real ones acted out. Don't assault women thinking they'll be into it. They will not! Trust me. Enjoy reading and fantasizing, but don't actually try this.

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It had been happening all evening, to be honest.

Getting front and center in Plaza del Sol for Madrid's New Year's Eve means accepting a bit of groping. Especially when you and your friends are all in sexy little black dresses. There just wasn't much between my body and the world.

It was a problem, but also a benefit. It was assault, after all. I didn't consent to a one of them. It was disgusting, but also surprisingly arousing. Untold numbers of hands had felt me, and I couldn't even assign a face to most of them.

The crowd pressed closer as midnight approached. The Coronavirus problem had kept us separated for so long; now everyone seemed to feel the need for connection, for contact. I had to hold tightly to Jeanne's hand and I hoped she was doing the same to Marta. It would be impossible to find each other if we got separated.

A popular tune caused all the bodies to begin swaying. I found myself pressed against the back of a tall woman. Behind me, two strong sets of hips pressed mine forward from either side.

And a hand cupped my ass.

That had happened a few times already tonight, but this time we were no longer moving through the crowd. This time the hand stayed.

And moved downward.

I couldn't yet tell if it came from the man to my left or my right. And to my surprise, I realized I didn't want to know. I very deliberately did not look back. I didn't want to know his face. I didn't want to know his name. I didn't want to know if he was tall or short or black or white.

All I wanted was to feel his desire for me.

Getting groped was something most girls had to deal with on occasion. It was not normally something I desired. But here, far from home, in the middle of Madrid's busiest square, on one of the biggest party nights of the year, and with a couple martinis in me for good measure, the sensation of this stranger's hands exploring my body felt intoxicating. The little heater in my loins, already primed by the excitement and throngs of beautiful people, kick-started itself.

I realized I was already arching my back, pressing my buttocks into his palm. I tried to sway with the music, but also couldn't concentrate on the beat.

The fingers didn't take long to reach the edge of my dress. It wasn't far below my ass, after all. Fingertips curled around the hem and slid slowly side to side, probing, touching, testing.

A voice from the stage that I'd all but forgotten about announced "Cinco minutos!" Jeanne shook my arm excitedly, though I couldn't even see her face in the press of people.

The man's hand, meanwhile, was circling my thigh, following the hemline of my dress. The man had moved to stand directly behind me. I danced awkwardly, grinding my butt against his loins, savoring the careful tickle of his finger on skin that wasn't fully exposed.

His other hand found my hip, matching my gyrations and inviting me to grind harder.

The exploratory fingers rounded the front of my thigh and followed it up, inching closer...closer...

He only grazed the edge of my panty, but it sent shivers up my spine. Was anyone else receiving this sort of treatment? We were in the middle of the public plaza and a random hand was between my legs.

The far-off voice called "Quatro minutos!" I could hardly have cared less.

The off-hand slid around to my belly, pulling me close. I could feel the bulge behind me, straining, wishing to probe where those lower fingers now moved.

The first brush against my clit was electric.

My thong was lacy and cute. I had gone out and bought a pretty one that looked great with this dress. Now I realized it didn't matter much. He wasn't going to see my underwear and right now I only wished the material was thinner.

His free hand moved upward to become more gainfully employed. I might have pushed it there myself if he hadn't. My sensitive breasts were more than just decoration and they were screaming for attention too.

"Tres minutos!"

The lacy barrier between those fingers and me disappeared, pulled aside to allow direct access. It sparked more shivers across my skin to feel the rough texture of his fingerprints on my sensitive button. But it was exactly what I wanted. What I needed. What my body demanded. I felt my knees already growing weaker.

Hunched as he was around my form, his lips grazed my ear. He didn't speak. But I felt as much as heard his heavy, desperate breaths.

Somehow, my one free hand was behind me, groping him in return, tugging at a stubborn zipper. How had my hand gotten there? I hadn't given such a command.

But he pushed a finger between my creamy lips and I cared no more for that quandary.

"Dos minutos!"

It wasn't until my nipple rubbed against the woman in front of me that I realized my tits had been freed from their prison. The chill night air contrasted sharply with the hand that assaulted them.

My hand, meanwhile, was busy freeing something else. The man wore no boxers or briefs; as soon as my fingers were able to snake into his fly, it was there, stiff and enticing. I gripped the warm rod, feeling the same wave of giddiness I always got.

The texture was hard but forgiving, smooth, yet rippled just below the surface.

I wondered if he felt cold when I pulled him out into the open air.

"Un minuto!" came the announcement, and the ball above our heads lit up even more brilliantly than before. The hands, the cock, and I hardly noticed.

My dress had to be halfway up my ass cheeks by now but I angled my butt out toward him in my best contortionist act. And, with a little guidance from my fingers, his head found my lips -- and all the lubrication they'd been building.

He slid into me like Cinderella into the slipper.

Our pace was surprisingly slow at first, not so much pumping as grinding in unison. It gave me the chance to marvel at the situation: I had never even considered fucking during the turnover of the new year, but now it was happening in the public square with someone I'd never even laid eyes on. The thought was enough to make the blood to my loins run even hotter, my soaked pussy prepping itself for my own internal fireworks.

His actual thrusts came as the final countdown began. Those ten seconds gave me ten delicious thrusts. Each time I could feel every centimeter of his cock. The whore that had awakened in my brain today basked in the act of not only getting fucked but a random cock, but doing it amid thousands of oblivious people. The thrill may have been better than the physical pleasure itself.

"Tres!" came the crowd's chant.

A thrust and grunt in my ear

"Dos!"

Thrusting even harder, he almost felt like he was growing thicker.

"Uno!"

My muscles began to lose control.

"Feliz año nuevo!"

The crowd erupted in cheers but more importantly, the pipe inside my love cave erupted, dousing my organs in thick seed.

As promised, my own orgasm hit right afterward. The city's fireworks exploded above me and my body practically combusted from within. I might have crumpled to the ground had the crowd not been so tightly packed.

The fireworks show was approaching its conclusion by the time I recovered my wits and adjusted my dress to cover me again. I was almost surprised to discover there was no longer a penis in me. The only evidence of our elicit encounter was the thick river of white dripping down my leg. I shuddered again.

Jeanne and Marta squeezed between bodies to come hug me. I was almost sure they'd see the trail of cum or notice my sex-addled expression, but they merely hugged and giggled and blew their noisemakers.

Curiosity finally overcame me and I hazarded a glance behind. Nothing stood out; a couple kissed, a group toasted, a girl sat on her boyfriend's shoulders smoking a joint. I couldn't pick anyone out as a likely owner of my mystery cock.

But mystery cock I'd had! The evidence was dripping from deep within me. This, I knew, was a new year's party I'd never forget!