Your eighteenth birthday party

"Oh God," you groan, staring at the screen. The guys clearly think it's because you're turned on but in fact you're remembering the scene.

It was your eighteenth birthday party and the last weekend before coming out here for college. Your parents had left the trailer to you for the night, spending the evening out (you still don't want to know where). As always happens when a teenager is left alone a crowd of people gathered, music came on, **** and **** were mysteriously uncovered, and dancing and fornicating ensued.

Billy Daniels was your boyfriend at the time and was holding the camera. Both of you had been drinking, but with your significantly smaller body it had hit you hard.

"Billy!" you squeal on the screen as the screen fills with your face, eyes slitted and head leaning back as he does something you heartily approve of.

"Strip and lie down," he tells you, and you smile at him and the camera before slipping saucily out of your clothes. Even drunk you manage a decently erotic job of it.

Sprawling backwards on the bed one leg goes over the end of the bed while the other goes off the side of the bed, giving your hopeful genitals starring view in the film.

"Play with yourself," he commands, and as always you obey.

You recall the moment like yesterday; how your fingers slid across your bare skin your juicy pussy, stroking the edges while a moan escaped you. Up and down, avoid your clit but pulling at the folds around it with your fingers movement. Finally you dipped a finger inside slowly, groaning in ecstacy.

Dimly you notice the boys looking from the video to you, their eyes going wide like they're surprised. You can't imagine why, it's not such a shocking video. Shameful, yes, but for reasons the video hasn't even shown yet.

What you fail to realize, and they see, is that you've begun emulating your on-screen counterpart, your fingers delving into your wide-spread sex for the edification of anyone passing on the street or sidewalk your body faces.