At a high school graduation party you fuck a boy you think is your boyfriend

Originally the movie the boys and you are viewing was much longer. It was your last date with your previous boyfriend and right after your eighteenth birthday - now scarcely a month ago.

Your boyfriend at the time - Brad the bastard - had taken you your high school's graduation party at a hotel. You'd dressed up for the night - wearing a dress that Brad assured you would look amazing. It was just a tube top and a tight mini, which you now know to have been a poor choice, but back then you'd been overwhelmed - as you usually are - by your boyfriend's effusive compliments.

The girls there had been much less effusive, calling you slut, whore, trailer trash, and many other nasty things. With the help of a couple of glasses of spiked punch you managed to shrug off their **** as jealousy.

Then you made the fateful decision to go back to the coat room to freshen up your make-up. A boy had followed you in, and at the time you'd assumed it to be Brad. He'd put his arms around you, his hands pushing up under your top to roughly squeeze your tits. A giggle escaped you.

"Here?" your on-screen self asks, giggling some more.

The man grunts, fingers digging into your breasts before reaching down to pull up your skirt. You'd at least worn panties that day, you think with relief, clenching your hands at your side as you watch.

"Grab the shelf," the man said in a guttural voice, pitched just high enough for the the camera to hear. It filmed from a side-profile as you reached up to grab the shelf above the coats, your boobs pressing outward beneath the pushed-up tube-top.

Behind you Chayse Cohen - a nasty local thug in your grade - unzipped his pants, drawing out a hard cock.

"Ass out," he ordered. Hearing him now you wonder why you'd thought it was Brad. The two didn't sound alike, but at the time you'd been drunk and had no reason to think otherwise.

As your fingers creep up the sides of your body toward your tummy you see your onscreen self jut out her marvellous posterior, and remember hoping that he'd put it in your throbbing pussy, but ready to accept it if he - like so many others - chose the other route instead. The curse of an amazing ass, you've always known, is that men want to ride it just as much as your front.

Fortunately for you, or so you'd thought, he chose your pussy, jamming himself inside with one hard thrust.

Conscious of the boys watching the video you tell yourself that you want to hop up and turn off the video. And yet you lie still, pulling your legs further apart and edging your finger down the hairless front of your crotch.

Enthusiastic moans and cries come from you onscreen, joined by a moan from the real you. It coincides with your fingers finding your oh-so-exposed slit, and continues softly as you rub up and down the sodden lips.

With your clit directly under your fingers you pant heavier just like the girl in the video, working up a head of steam that you, unlike her, don't have the time to release.

Chayse Cohen fucked you to an orgasm in that coat room, and then splashed his seed inside your unprotected pussy. It hadn't been until after you broke up with Brad that you started on the pill - roughly three weeks ago.

First Chayse, and then a dazed you, leave the room. The video cuts out the boring nothingness separating your first encounter with the second, and your increasingly heavy breathing intensifies as you masturbate, oblivious to the boys and the window through which anyone on the street outside could see you.