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We were invited to a backyard party thrown by a guy my husband works with. It’s an annual affair, distinguished by a large and diverse crowd, and it’s been fun each time we’ve attended. But the weather was unusually bad, hot and muggy, humid in the extreme. Two years ago it had rained heavily, but the party had survived indoors. This year, we were getting damp anyway.

Our host’s yard is huge, and is divided into several areas: There’s a large lawn up near the house, a beautiful garden with flower lined paths, and a more natural quarter given over to small flowering trees and bushes. The effect of the entire space was impressive, and my husband’s buddy insisted that it was pretty easy to maintain, and that it was worth it just to sit out on the deck in the morning. I found, that night, that it was a special place for another reason.

Whenever we go out to party we take turns. One of us will let go and get loaded, while the other serves as designated driver. This time, I was able to let it all hang out, while Bryan had to stick to Pepsi. We had a good time eating and socializing. In fact, me and a female friend at the party even put on a bit of a show for the guys. We had started doing shots, and then jello jigglers. Before we knew it we were dancing together. Realizing that we had an appreciative audience, we shagged a bit, showing off and rubbing against each other.

The guys hooted and hollered as we shimmied to the music. It was fun but it also turned me on to know that I was being admired by a small crowd. It might have been my imagination, but I felt like they were enjoying the show. Even better, there were a bunch of younger people watching – friends of the children of our hosts. Even though they were only twenty-something, they seemed like good kids when I chatted with a few of them. And some of the young guys were, well, hot!

Anyway, as darkness fell the heat remained. I was trying to keep cool with iced drinks, but I hadn’t dressed for the weather: I had on a loose, waist length top, a demi-cup bra, and very loose cotton print harem pants over a comfy lace thong. So, I stayed a little damp, but not swampy. I actually anticipated getting a small tingle or two, imagining some wildly erotic events. At least until my husband pulled me aside with a small group of his friends…

We moved into the garden paths, speaking in hushed tones, and settled in a small clearing where we gathered in a small circle. I was worried about what the secret might be, until Bryan drew me up against him, and I felt that special thrill again. You know what I mean?

But, before I could get too wound up, someone produced a joint. As it passed from one to another I had several hits. So did my husband. As I experienced the first gentle rush from the pot, he pulled me closer against him and kissed me. His tongue moved between my lips and his hands slipped down to cup my butt.

I almost forgot where we were, and started to grind against his leg. Soon, however, the joints were finished, the giggling died down, and we returned to the lawn area. By now I was rather warmed up, but he and I got separated as we mingled. I guess I became a little withdrawn – I wasn’t talking to anybody and I was a little quiet, just nursing my wine cooler – because I found myself focusing on one young guy, and fantasizing about his body. He was only 20 or so, but he was a Marine. It’s been a long time since I’d been with a guy that cut.

And then he sort of slipped away. I had practically been staring at him, but he still managed to disappear. I glanced around and saw him just rounding a corner into the wildest part of the yard. Feeling silly, and a little girlish, I rushed after him – sneaking, like I was going to spy on him. What I expected was to see him taking a pee in private.

What I saw, however, was very different. He pulled something small from his pocket, and twisted its end. Only when he brought the small spoon to his nose did I realize that he was snorting something. Just as he tipped his head back and sniffled with one nostril, I slipped up on him and whispered, “Boo!”

You’d have thought I shot him, the way he jumped. I felt sorry for him, but he soon calmed down and looked very embarassed. I covered my grin, apologized for scaring the shit out of him, and touched his arm gently. His skin was warm, yet he shivvered. My fingers lingered on his arm as a flush rose to his face. He said, “Please… don’t tell anybody…”

My puzzled look caused him to go on, “I shouldn’t be doing this.”, and then, “… drugs, I mean!” He was staring into my cleavage. I traced a small figure eight on his arm and asked him what it was. Looking down, I saw a bulge twitch in his shorts. Still staring at my bosom, he told me it was “…crank – crystal methedrine.” Surprised, I asked him, “Is the meth supposed to arouse you like that?” He looked down at himself, and blushed a shade darker, saying “Not usually.”

With a coy smile, I asked, “Can I have a little?”, and he quickly dipped his little spoon back into the powder, offering it to my nose. I closed the opposite side, and sniffed up the drug. Then he had another quick snort. And then he held one more out to me.

The chemicals burned my sinuses briefly, but I felt a rush spreading across my skin. My fingertips became more sensitive, and I could almost count the little hairs as I traced an endless pattern over his arm. I felt cool, until I saw that his shorts had tented noticeably, and simultaneously felt my loins heating up.

We stayed that way for a few moments – it felt like a long time – as the drug coursed through our bloodstreams. I was suddenly and completely turned on, in heat, and I sensed that he was feeling that too. Something had to give, but I didn’t even know this guy. I surely couldn’t fuck this guy – at least, not right here and now! Still, I reached out with my other hand and palmed his swollen crotch. Knowing that we had to get back to the group before we were noticed, I made a rash decision.

I kissed him briefly, but hotly, and then dropped into a squat in front of him. My thong slipped between my labia and snugged up against my clit, as I moaned againt his zipper and began to fumble his pants open. He moaned too, and out popped a beautiful cock – nicely shaped, circumsized, and leaking. With no hesitation, I wrapped my lips around it and licked off the drop of clear fluid. We moaned together that time.

Bowing my head, I took more of him into my mouth. He arched his hips toward me as his cock reached the back of my mouth. Then I drew him back out, savored the bulbous tip again, and realized that I was going to finish this – I really wanted to finish this – no matter what.

Cupping his fuzzy balls, I gripped the base of his shaft and squeezed with both hands, as my tongue swirled around his puffy tip. I tasted more of his fluid as my tongue explored the contours of his very warm erection. The sensation of his private flesh sliding around in my mouth was driving me wild with desire. The faint aroma of my pussy wafted up, as I sucked and licked this perfect young tool. I jacked him a bit, and then gave him another two handed squeeze. He erupted suddenly. His sperm rushed into my mouth, and he cried out faintly. I swallowed a little, but left some there to coat his meat as he continued to cum. Oooo – it was so hot!

His hips jerked into me a little, and soon his cock started to shrink while I bathed it. Shame started to rise in me though, as I finally licked his softening prick clean. My husband was somewhere nearby, and I was snorting crank and sucking off some young guy, in the bushes in our friend’s yard, at a party.

As soon as he was soft – tiny, really – as the drug was sure to effect him anyway, I let his cock slip from my lips and rose to grind against him a little. Trying to feel him against my body, as a poor substitute for feeling him in my body. But I couldn’t stay there – I felt like running away. Kissing him on the lightly on the lips, and without saying a word, I turned and left him standing there – stunned and stoned – with his shorts around his ankles.

The sun was setting as I slipped back into the party. I had just grabbed a wine cooler from one of the coolers, when I felt hands on my hips from behind. A whispered “Boo!” sent a guilty shiver up my spine, as he pressed his crotch against my butt. In a panic I glanced around, hoping my husband didn’t see this assault with a friendly weapon.

Then he said, “How ya doin, sugar?”, as he nuzzled my ear. My shock at recognizing that it was my husband embracing me almost caused me to faint, and my skin burst into goosebumps. A huge rush of guilt, enhanced by the drug, coursed through me as he dipped the tip of his tongue into my other ear.

I spun around and hugged him tight, hiding my face in the crook of his shoulder. He held me quietly for a while – I don’t know what he was thinking. His arms relaxed me though, and I soon felt warm again. In fact, my skin heated rapidly and the gooseflesh disappeared. Well… all but those two little bumps on my boobs.

Tilting my head back, I looked my husband in the eye – wondered what he was thinking – wondered what he’d seen, or what he suspected. He looked serious, but calm. And then he kissed me, gently at first, but with increasing heat. My lips parted when the tip of his tongue insinuated itself. With horror, I remembered the last man that had been there – sure that he could taste the other guys spunk.

But he just kissed me, as hotly and deeply as ever, causing my lust to rise again. Causing my juices to flow, as we pressed against each other. Once again, I was trying to meld with a male body, wishing it were inside me. And once again, his hands slipped down to grab my ass. As our tongues danced together, he massaged my cheeks, and succeeded in causing my pussy to become even more inflamed.

Suddenly, he pulled back. By now I had my hands on his ass too, so he couldn’t do more than lean back a bit and whisper, “If we don’t stop, we’re gonna be fucking in front of all these folks.” At that moment, I didn’t even understand. That would have been fine with me – I was more than ready to fuck! Every nerve in my body was aching with the need to cum.

But he pushed me away a little more, before he said, “We’re gonna have to give you some ‘therapy’, aren’t we?” I smiled, catching on to our little inside joke about me needing a cure for my disease – lackanookie! And he was right – I had the disease, I needed some therapy, and he had the cure. I needed more than he knew, I’d say!

Right then, a drop of rain hit me. We hadn’t noticed the storm creeping up on us, but others had. We hurried into the house, along with some other guests. Our hosts were a bit disappointed, and maybe a bit overwhelmed by the horde that had invaded their home. But soon, the music was blasting and several people were dancing, and the storm outside was forgotten.

And I was starting to have a good time again too. My husband doesn’t dance much, so I was left to thrash around alone. The wine coolers took the edge off my guilt, but the speed kept me lively. Soon I was dancing with anybody and everybody – all at once.

There were a few guys in the throng – all of them young – but most of us were girls. I was a little relieved to notice that my young Marine wasn’t around. For a second I wondered how I’d act if he showed up, but soon the rhythm of the music carried me away to a place where the beat drove me on – to where I was letting my body just go with it.

Soon, the music was flowing through me, and I moved with it freely. A group of younger girls had enveloped me, temporarily surrounding me in a gaggle of scantily dressed femininity. I scarcely noticed the lack of guys, so much as I was entranced by the sights of these young bodies shaking and jiggling around me. One girl with full heavy breasts was a little to my right, wearing a flared plaid mini-skirt over knee boots, and a tight black open neck tee that exposed her midriff. She was obviously braless, and her nipples protruded invitingly as they swung to and fro.

In my highly sexed state, I didn’t realize that I was staring at her, but she did. All I knew was that the pulsing movement of my dance was making me extremely aware of the heat of my lust. And the hottie there in front of me was watching me watch her.

She raised her arms over her head, lifting and accentuating her round breasts. We locked eyes as she gyrated in front of me, and her dancing took on a decidely erotic appearance. I started to imitate her moves as we moved closer together. We began to dance more together than separately, as we mimicked each other’s steps.

As she spun, her skirt flared and I was treated to a glimpse of white satin. The she was backed up against me, shaking her butt as she moved against my lap. Without hesitation, I rested my hands on her narrow waist, pulling her to me. She ground her round little bottom against me and I answered her with two quick thrusts of my hips. We were so caught up in what we were doing that neither of realized that we were dirty dancing in front of everyone – including my husband.

I was, frankly, fantasizing about fucking her, and my body was acting accordingly. My nipples swelled as they brushed her back, and she continued to grind her ass into my loins. I wanted to touch her breasts, and I might have done it, except that she broke contact and slowly danced away.

Left with a renewed aching, I was deep in an erotic dream world of my own. In my mind, we were just a heaving mass of flesh seeking release in the sharing of each other. Visions of body parts flashed through my head – breasts, asses, legs and cocks – all combinations, and all seeking release.

Suddenly, there were hands on my hips again, and I smelled a light perfume envelope me just as a pair of soft breasts pushed into my shoulder blades. Her hands slipped down my flanks as her lips moved close to my ear. And then she was whispering, “Hmmm… you look so hot! Are you as hot as you look?”

The rush of sensation caused by her breath threatened to overwhelm me. I simply nodded, blushing crimson. She could have done anything to me, at that point, but she simply murmured, “Wanna get away for a sec?” I must have nodded again, but I don’t remember it, as I was lost in this sex fantasy where eveything was reduced to flesh seeking flesh.

She turned me a little and then herded me forward toward a darkened hallway. As we moved along, just past the bathroom door, she pulled us around a corner and pressed me to the wall. I put my hands out for leverage, and pushed my butt back against her as her hands encircled my breasts. She whispered again, murmuring, “God! I wish I could fuck you right now!”

Visions of being fucked sprang into my mind – I saw a long stiff rubber cock strapped to shapely naked hips, and then I saw this cock entering me – filling me with swift, sure strokes. But all that really happened was that she groped my tits a little before turning me back around.

I leaned into her as our lips met. Our tongues slipped against each other as we shared a passionate kiss. My hands slipped around her neck and my thighs parted to allow us to connect below the waist. Her thigh ground into my pussy, and I welcomed it. I wasn’t really thinking about our situation – standing there in the hallway, kissing like lesbians – I was only trying to get off. All I wanted was to be fucked!

She had a grip on my butt cheeks as we frenched deeply. I ground my pussy against her leg as she caressed my back under my top. My hand slid up under her skirt a little, then up further, caressing her smooth inner thigh. Dazed by lust, I gently aimed for her sex. My fingers pushed past the elastic and I slid between her labia. She gasped breathily, “Can we just slip into one of these rooms?” My finger pushed into her. “Yes!”, my brain screamed, but my lips were locked in a slippery embrace with hers, so nothing more than a high pitched moan escaped. Yes, I wanted to fuck her, and I was dying to let her fuck me – I wanted somebody to fuck me – anybody!

Suddenly, she was pushing me away, and I became aware of someone walking down the hall toward us. It was horrible, because I just didn’t want her to go – I was nowhere near finished. But she was. She pulled away, and my fingers slipped through her wetness as I saw my husband round the corner. Both she and I were panting, and probably looked like we’d been doing what we had been doing. I didn’t feel guilty at all, though. By then I was just deperately horny.

The girl in the tiny kilt fled back up the hallway as my husband stopped. Tilting his head at her retreating form, he asked, “Was it something I said?”

Part of my answer was in the way I threw myself against him. But I did manage to croak out, “I think I scared her…”, and I tried to smother my man with my lips. My hands moved down his back, and on to his hips – so that I could pull him to me. When he started to grind his hardness against me, he finally asked, “What’s that mean?”

Pulling him back into another French kiss, I moved my middle finger up between our noses – sort of like I was scratching my upper lip – but when he caught the scent of her, he broke the kiss. He looked at me, he looked at my finger, and then he looked back at me and smiled as he took my whole finger into his mouth.

After just a few moments of sucking on it, he let my hand go. It returned to his butt, of course.

“I think you’re ready for your therapy, baby.”

I could only whisper, “… it’s the weather, honey. I’m under the weather…”, as I nibbled on his collarbone.

Taking my hand, he began to lead me to the door. “Yep”, he agreed, “Particularly nasty weather…”

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