Page 44 of SummerTime Madness
“Gosh, you’re pretty,” she exclaims as she takes another drink. I can see Cordelia loosen up. Her brow arching–the girls beside her take a similar pose as if mimicking her movements.
Beside me, I watch Tate move in closer as if sensing danger. Pulling off some of her beads from her slender wrist, she dangles a pink bead bracelet and offers it to Cordy.
“Here, this is beautiful for you,” she says, stepping forward when Cordelia extends her wrist, accepting the party gift.
Cordelia then leans into the redhead, whispering something to her, blue eyes glazed and shimmering with mischievousness. The redhead–whose name is actually Kristina–digs into her fanny pack that sits around her waist, pulling out a small baggie.
Inside is a small, clear capsule with pink glitter dust. After a small nod from Cordelia, she pulls away and digs into the bag.
“What’s your name, little one?”
She closes in on the woman, who smiles nice and wide before she sticks her tongue out.
“I’m Alyssa, let the madness take me,” she breathes as Kristina cups the back of her neck and presses her mouth against her–dispensing the drug into her mouth.
Their bodies begin to slither against one another as fireworks illuminate the sky, confetti bombs exploding all over us–white and neon pieces of paper fall on us like snow. The crowd roars, bubble guns go off, and the bass drops.
The crowd turns into tangled limbs and fluids. The smell of weed, wet earth, and sex filters through the air. Cordelia extends her hand towards me, and our fingers touch, interlocking with eachother. I pull her towards me, then flush her against myself.
Tate finally relaxes, turning his attention to us.
My hand moves towards her ass, one hand cupping a plump cheek as we dance–skin to skin.
Hand to hand.
We dance to the beat of the music, then her head falls back and her eyes land on our favorite sad boy. Tate bites down on his lip as he watches her grind against me, up and down, as her body moves.
“Come.” She mouths to him as her hands pull away from mine–bringing them over her head.
With small circular movements, they slither in the air as if calling to him–wrapping him in her serpentine-like waves. Using both of my hands now, I hold her close, my dick hardening from the contact.
“Fuck, Cordy,” I whisper, feeling the tension–the need–building quickly within me.
I am going to explode. My body feels so sensitive–electric–on fucking fire. Her sweat clings to me, her scent intoxicating, and then there’s the heat that coils around my spine–wrapping around it like a snake.
Hooking her leg around my hips, I pick her up just as Tate moves closer, and her arms wrap around his neck as he supports her back. Her pussy rubsagainst the bulge in my pants. Bringing her hips up, I slither her up to my abs and then back down.
My little snail leaves a glittery trail of her arousal across me.
Through my shades, I watch as Tate kisses her with his inked hand closing around her neck, then deepening the kiss. Not being able to contain the need that rolls through me in waves, I free up a hand, I pull my cock free, and push her panties to the side.
I slid inside her warmth in one thrust.
No condom.
No hesitation.
Just skin to skin.
She gasps into Tate’s mouth, her arms pulling tighter around his neck as her body clenches around me like she’s pulling me into something deeper, more than sex.
Around us, people begin to fuck, like fucking everywhere. The sound of moans and skin slapping blends with the bass line.
More bubbles.
The beat changes to something with more bass and more electric.
“WELCOME THE MADNESS,” the DJ shouts over the speakers, but I focus on the way her pussystrangles my cock, and how beautiful it is to look down to where we connect and watch as I slide out.
