Nancy’s Night

When she snapped out of her lusty frenzy, Nancy was incredibly uncomfortable. A knee was wedged into her side, an elbow in her left breast. How had things gotten so out of hand so quickly? Her memories were clear, yet confusing, not providing any obvious answers.

There was a certain pride that Nancy felt, having been Tim’s first girlfriend. Not only had she gotten to teach him what it meant to be a boyfriend, she had been the one to set him in the path to being with so many wonderful women! Would he have made moves on her mother, or on his professor, had she not encouraged him? Yes he was a driven man, and a lucky man, but something told her that had she not been so forward in her prompting, Tim would have stuck with her alone.

When she had been speaking with Tim’s mom, enjoying the glass of wine the older woman had poured for her, Nancy had felt a sense of satisfaction at having been part of assembling this group of lovers for her man. Of course she had nothing to do with Tim’s mother being part of the collection. The two of them had been together before Nancy came along, as was proper. In a way Nancy and she were similar. The first girlfriend and the first lover. She couldn’t wait to get to know the woman who raised her love, who cared for him, who brought him into his manhood. What had it been like for the older woman when she finally transitioned to being his lover, seeing her son in his panties and bra and realizing that the hunk of manhood was all hers?

People around school said that Tim was lucky, but Nancy was pretty sure his mother had the real luck.

And so they’d visited, told each other stories of their lives, shared their feelings about Tim. It was lovely, pleasant. Nancy’s boyfriend had been right to set up the evening.

But then it had gotten weird.

When Tim returned, looking like he should be on a beefcake calendar in that playboy bunny outfit, his tits popping out all over the place, it was like a switch had gone off in Nancy’s brain. Gone were thoughts of Tim’s mom. Gone were thoughts of the women in the room. Gone were thoughts of pride at being his girlfriend.

In fact, gone were all thoughts of anything but Tim. Wanting. Needing. She wanted him more than she wanted to breathe. Not figuratively. Literally. It was a ****, almost violent need. And by the scramble of the other women in the room, they felt it too.

Soon all of Tim’s lovers were piled atop him, grabbing, pulling, all needing to touch, to be close to him. She could hear him struggle, she knew he was in distress, but Nancy and the women didn’t care. Their desire and lust had taken over.

And then, just as it had begun, it ended. Suddenly Tim was out from the pile, and the need was gone. Sure, Nancy still wanted him, but it was a manageable need, something she could hold onto without losing her humanity.

“Oh my god,” she had said when she came to her senses, “what the hell was that?”

There were no answers, of course, none that made sense. Becoming untangled from the rest of the group was awkward, each woman feeling embarrassed by how they had acted. Maybe it was the wine, or the excitement of being together. Thinking on it made Nancy feel more than a little nervous. What if it happened again?

Sarah had tried to laugh it off, saying that it wouldn’t be the last time the women got all tangled up together to get into Tim’s panties, something Nancy supposed was true. Being in a group of lovers did seem to point toward deeper intimacy in the future. She just hoped that it didn’t happen like that again.

“Ladies,” Tim said in his manly soprano, his hands on his hips, legs looking great in their high heels, “I agree that whatever that was was weird. Kind of scary, in fact, but whatever it was has passed. I for one don’t want it to ruin the rest of the evening. It would be a shame to have all my beautiful women here and waste the opportunity to have a good time.”

He winked at Nancy flirtatiously, filling her stomach with butterflies.

“Now if all you beauties are in the mood,” Tim continued, lifting one hand from his hips and teasing his cleavage, “I propose we have a little fun.”

“What do you have in mind?” Dr. Morgan asked.

“Why don’t we try…”