BACCHANALIA by Amaraine

“We shall begin,” intoned Zythia, a woman with short cropped brown hair that had begun turning silver and the voice of authority. She wore a long dress that left her shoulders bare with slits on both sides revealing long, slender legs.

Joanna pursed her lips nervously, and glanced around the circle. Thirty or so men and women, some young, some old, a few in their late thirties like her. Some were naked, more were topless; a few, like the Zythia in the middle, wore clothes that emphasized the sexuality of their bodies. Joanna had tried to be one of the latter, and she thought she’d succeeded, with a bandeau top and a short flouncy flower skirt. She’d kicked off her heels and stood barefoot, because the heels would never work on the grass, or even on the blankets that had been strewn around for later. The cool green blades tickled against her toes, and she inhaled the smell of pine trees and fresh air.

Only the woman next to her, who’d introduced herself as Melody and was wrapped in an all-concealing cloak, was being at all modest. Outside the circle, two men and one woman, all topless, sat together on a bench and beat a steady rhythm on drums.

This will never work, thought Joanna. Her shrink, Dr. Smith, had sent her to Zythia. Joanna suspected that the psychologist had simply been tired of working with her. “Darling,” Zythia had told her. “Come to ritual. Try it. I guarantee that you will experience an orgasm. You are such a lovely, sexy person, and when the spirits move you to surrender to your own pleasure, amazing energies will course through you.”

The shrink had never given her a guarantee, and hadn’t gotten anywhere, either, despite sending her home with directions to use toys and not use toys, to abstain and to indulge, to think it was all in her body and all in her head. And through it all, Joanna wondered if she’d ever recognize an orgasm if she had one.

Now she stood in a circle with a bunch of pagans, slightly chilly in the night air. At worst, it was a waste of time. Interesting, she supposed, from an anthropological point of view. Thirty or so stood in a circle, quietly focused.

“Just a moment,” yelled Melody, piercing the solemnity of the moment. Joanna was as shocked as if someone had yelled in church to delay a sermon. She looked over – everyone did, she imagined – to see Melody finish fumbling with the clasp on her cloak and then throw it behind her. Its singularly unaerodynamic flight sent it fluttering all of five feet. Melody didn’t have a stitch on – so much for the notion that the woman was modest. She simply hadn’t wanted to be naked in the cool air until things got started. Instead, she’d drawn everyone’s attention and wrecked the moment. She didn’t even have that nice of a body, though Joanna critically, even though in a saner moment she would have defended the right of women of any shape to wear or not wear whatever they wanted.

But instead of disapproving glares, someone whooped. A woman whistled. A few laughed joyously. Others joined in, combining in an incoherent but undeniably approving noise. And Zythia broke into a wide smile. “Now that was worth a little delay. Blessed be! Anyone else?”

There was a rustling as a few more people got naked, among general laughter and shouts of approval. A woman told a man, “Take it all off, baby!” and he did. No one, she noticed, showed any shyness about looking, either. Melody, transformed from audience to the entertainment and now, audience once more, had her gaze three feet above the ground as she looked around, and Joanna decided she’d take a good look herself. Bare pussies, shaved, trimmed, and au naturel. Cocks, cut and uncut, erect and flaccid. She’d never been attracted to genitalia. The sight of a hard cock did nothing for her, especially unsolicited in her email, but there was something fascinating about the process of them going from soft to hard. One man’s semi-hard cock twitched. She looked up to see what he was looking at – there were so many choices – and discovered that he was looking at her. He’d introduced himself as John earlier, when he’d been wearing clothes. He had kindly eyes, she thought, a little sexy grey in the temples, and a very average furry body. Had her stare excited him? She was tempted to whip her top off and see if it provoked another twitch, as an experiment, but she wasn’t that brave. Which, she told herself, was silly; she was now one of the most dressed women present.

Of course, she’d have to take off her clothes eventually, for there to be any point in all this. She’d have to let other people touch her. It would never work. It was hard enough to feel okay and relaxed when she was by herself. Even Dr. Smith had said that was the first step, and then to try with a partner. With over a score of people present? There was no way. She felt self-conscious just being caught looking, and she turned away as if to pretend that she’d just been scanning, and had hardly noticed John’s nakedness.

“Spirits of the North,” Zythia chanted, bringing the circle to some measure of attention again. Joanna, too, was happy enough to be able to have her attention focused on something safe, and Zythia, for all her oddness, felt safe. “Spirits of earth and rock, hill and mountain, of flesh and all manner of earthly delights, we salute you, and invite you to our circle. Hail, Spirits of the North!”

“Hail, Spirits of the North,” chanted the circle back, and Joanna tried to mumble the words after them.

Zythia moved inside the circle, inviting the breathy spirits of the East, the flaming desire of the South, the wetness of the West. The drums beat their insistent rhythm, and Joanna couldn’t help but sway to the sound of the drums, or feel a warmth from the sultry tones of Zythia’s voice.

“Bacchus, we invite you to our circle,” Zythia said. “See us revel! As in olden days, we come from all walks of life to celebrate the freedom you give us, to nourish our spirits with your wine and to bring pleasure to you and each other with our bodies.”

With a flourish, Zythia undid something on her dress. It fell off her, and she stood, naked.

“Let the revels begin!”

Joanna froze, watching as people crossed the circle to find partners. What if no one wanted her? There were younger, prettier women. Women with bigger breasts, women with flatter bellies, although perhaps none with both. But there were also older women, and they had no trouble finding partners.

John stood in front of her. “Would you like to pleasure each other?” he asked. She avoided looking at his cock, but he made no secret of sweeping her body with his own gaze, and his smile clearly indicated that he liked what he could see, even if there was fabric in the way.

So simple. Pleasure each other. More enticing than “have sex” or “make love.” She might not cum, but when men cared about her pleasure she had still enjoyed sex. At least, until their egos got damaged by the fact that they couldn’t get her to the “goal.”

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t – don’t worry if I don’t orgasm. It’s okay, really.”

John smiled. “What happens, happens.”

“Yes.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this would be fun, even if it didn’t work the way Dr. Smith and Zythia hoped. He spread his arms, and she stepped forward into them. It was strange, him being naked and her still clothed. In her experience, men always wanted the woman naked first, and afterward they were happy to put their clothes back on, make their excuses, and go.

“May I remove your top?” John asked. “Or would you like to remove it yourself?” Left unspoken but implied by his tone was the third option, to keep it on. But hardly anyone had clothes on anymore, and some couples were already lying on blankets on the grass, touching, licking, and sucking.

“I can get my clothes,” she said, and whipped the top off. There. Boobs. This time she did sneak a peek, and sure enough, his cock had gotten a little harder than when she saw it last. She reached for the waistband. Just getting naked was less embarrassing than a striptease.

“I know you can,” John said, putting his hand on her forearm. “But may I? It would please me.”

She smiled. “Yes.”

He knelt on the ground in front of her and kissed her just below the belly button. Then he worked his way down, and when he got to the skirt he eased it down slowly, following it with his lips. She’d shaved her pussy for the occasion, as she wanted to look her best when naked in front of everyone, and he kissed her bare mound as the skirt fluttered to the ground. Do I smell okay, she wondered. He breathed in her scent like he was savoring it, and then looked up at her with a grin. “Mmmhmmm.”

He liked it, apparently, but it only made her more embarrassed. She had hoped she didn’t smell at all.

He stood and stretched out his hand. She let him have hers, and he guided her to an empty blanket, where they sat down. “Let me start by pleasuring you,” he said. “Because I’m easy.”

“But,” she said. “Really, I’m not going to…”

He nudged her knees open and knelt in front of her.

Oh my god, he’s going to get so frustrated with me, thought Joanna. But his tongue felt good, and he knew what he was doing. He didn’t linger on her clit but explored her whole pussy with his wet tongue and soft fingers, always returning to Joanna’s little pearl of pleasure and frustration. She knew she should relax and enjoy it. She might not cum, but she’d have a good time, and she’d sure as hell make him cum to reward him.

A loud, undulating scream split the night. The scream had deep rumbles, and yet unmistakably belonged to a woman.

“Can always count on Trish to cum first,” said a man nearby.

His female partner chirped back a “yes.”

Zythia clapped her hands like a child who’d gotten just what she wanted for Christmas. “Feel the energy washing over all of you from our darling Trish, and join her in your pleasure.”

Joanna did feel something wash over her, but it was quickly replaced by jealousy. How could Trish come so quickly. At least she expected the women to take longer than the men, but Trish had taken like sixty seconds. And now she was going off again, from the sound of it. “Darling Trish.” In that moment orgasming seemed the key to being loved or even liked, until she remembered that Zythia darlinged everybody.

“Just let yourself feel,” John told her, in between licks. He stroked her thighs. “I know you don’t believe it, but you will experience the ultimate pleasure tonight.”

“I never cum,” she said. “I doubt my first time will be in front of all these people, with all this pressure.”

John grinned. “Who said anything about cumming? I simply said ultimate pleasure. Sense the pleasure all around you, hear the beat of the drums, and feel my touch. Look around if it inspires you, or ignore it if it doesn’t, but give yourself to the moment, and into our hands. All of us are with you.”

“But most of the people here don’t even know me.”

John didn’t reply, but slid his tongue along the lips of her pussy and then gently flicked her clit with it. It did feel good.

Zythia, with a walk that was almost dancing, snaked her way amongst the couples. She overheard and answered for John. “It doesn’t matter, darling. All of us are with all of us. Rejoice in others, and we will rejoice in you. In pleasure we are one.” Then she glided off, the flickering firelight highlighting her naked body.

Joanna didn’t know if she was flaky or profound, but then Trish, or someone, screamed again. If it was Trish that made three. She pushed back at her jealousy and tried to be glad for whoever it was, and enjoy another woman’s orgasm. She realized she’d never done that before, and never had the chance to. It felt good.

Maybe she was destined to be a voyeur. Maybe John was wasting his time, and the best pleasure came from listening and feeling others, as before her best moment in sex was making a man cum, since she never did. But then he stroked her clit just right with his tongue. She wanted that feeling again, but he moved it differently this time, side to side instead of up and down, or maybe it was at an angle; whatever it was, it felt just right, too.

Her heartbeat pounded with the drums, and she could feel her engorged clit pulse too. She lost track of time amid the soft slosh of cock and pussy, cock and mouth, mouth and pussy around her, and amid the grunts, moans, and screams. She’d never been so turned on, but it was an all over glow, not the intense clitoral sensation she assumed would precede the big O. Not that John wasn’t doing his best. She almost forgot to think that John must be getting horribly bored, but it didn’t surprise her when he looked up and asked, “May I fuck you?”

“Yes,” she said. Others, she knew, had not only moved onto fucking, but a few must have been cuddling in post-coital bliss. Others had turned twosomes into moresomes. Around it all danced Zythia.

John slipped a condom over his cock – there were some on each blanket – and entered her. He slid in easily. He knelt between her legs while he fucked her, rather than covering her, and so she could see his whole body clearly. He might not be the pinnacle of male physique, but she knew she wasn’t either; it was still nice to look at him, and he clearly enjoyed looking at her.

“Don’t worry about me,” Joanna said. “Just fuck me and let me make you cum. I’ll be okay.”

John grinned. “I’ll take it slow.” John lifted her hips with strong hands, putting his cock at an angle so it rubbed against a spot she didn’t remember any other man’s cock reaching, although someone had managed to get his fingers there once. It had felt good, but the fingerer had been so sure it would be the secret that would unlock her orgasms, and it hadn’t been.

“Take it in the way that gives you the most pleasure,” Joanna insisted. She wanted to please him. His pleasure was her pleasure. Everyone’s pleasure was her pleasure. And she didn’t want him to know she was broken.

“All of us are with you, Joanna.” He thrust slowly, deliberately, sliding out with one beat of the drums and back in with another, always managing to find that delicious angle. Her back arched by the positions he had her in, her body was exposed to everyone. He didn’t stroke her clit anymore, though. She thought of reaching her own fingers down there, but she heard soft-swishes of feet rustle the grass and decided to wait until Zythia had passed.

It wasn’t Zythia. Melody knelt down beside her, her bare breasts wobbling. She smelled of sex, warm and rich. Or maybe the whole glade did at this point. “May I touch you?” Melody asked.

Joanna hesitated. I’m straight, right? Then again, she thought her religion was “lapsed Catholic” and here she was at a Bacchanalia. “Yes,” she said.

Melody slid her hands along Joanna’s tummy and leaned over further to nibble the tips of the closest breast. The fingers felt good, her lips felt better. John’s cock stroked in her gently, making the same sloshing sound that she’d heard all around her. The spirit of water, of wetness; the spirit of earth, of flesh, and the fire of desire, too. Each moan and gasp of orgasm around her traveled through the air and flowed over her body.

Melody leaned over to kiss the other breast, her own tits brushing against Joanna. Instinctively, Joanna reached out to cup one, and then pulled away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask.”

“That’s a shame,” Melody said, “Because the answer is yes, please.”

“Oh,” said Joanna, and reached out again for Melody’s curves. Melody’s nipples were a hard contrast to her soft skin.

“Does that feel good?” John asked.

“We are all with you,” said Zithia at nearly the same time, kneeling at her feet. “May I touch you?”

“Oh yes,” she said, intending to answer John, but not minding the result. Zithia’s hands were soft and expert on her legs.

Others gathered around, seemingly done with their own tryst. “May I touch you?” “May I kiss you?” May I taste you?”

“Yes, yes,” Joanna said. Saying yes was getting to be a habit. She thought it was Trish that kissed her belly and then flicked her clit with her tongue. The man kissing her might have been the one who’d called himself Satyr, but no matter, his lips were soon replaced by another – a man, then a woman. Lips and fingers brushed her breasts, her legs, her tummy. Not an inch of her was left untouched, unkissed, or untasted, as John sped up his rhythm to match the insistent beat of the drums. Energy flowed over her, and whether it was from without or within she could no longer tell. Overwhelmed with sensation, she closed her eyes and simply felt it all.

The drums sped up and her breathing quickened in response. A wet tongue danced with hers; she didn’t know or care who. A skillful tongue darted patterns over her clit while John’s hard cock made her feel more full than she ever had. Her body pulsed and tingled with excitement.

And then, it happened. Her mind had been so swept up by the sensual wave of fingers, cock, and tongues that she had lost track of even the concept of it. Suddenly the tide was a tsunami, tossing her limbs out of control and making her pussy contract. It ripped a scream out of her. For a moment, she didn’t even realize it was her own. And then, in a few seconds that felt much longer, it was over. She caught her breath in hard gasps and became aware of her flushed skin.

I did it, she thought. She opened her mouth to tell everyone else, as if they couldn’t tell, but instead of words a moan came out as the wave rolled over her again.

“You can have as many as you want,” Zythia told her softly.

“I, I -” she started. But it wasn’t any use. She just kept cumming, and cumming. Her eyes fluttered open to see that Melody was standing now; the other woman was holding a man’s head to her pussy, but her gaze was fixed on Joanna.

“So hot,” Melody told her.

“So fucking hot,” a man’s voice agreed.

“Oh my god, I’m -” John said.

“Yes, please, cum with me,” Joanna practically screamed at him. It had always been “for me” before – as in, cum and let’s get this over with. His face contorted with pleasure, and she effortlessly joined him, her pussy pulsing on his cock as it erupted inside her. For that moment, despite all the people around them, she was aware of only herself and him.

When at last he finished, and withdrew, she had not merely cum, she was satiated. Trish cuddled her from one side, John from the other. Other people that had been gathered around moved back, taking to other blankets to snuggle up together. “That looked like it was incredible for you,” Trish whispered. “I think I’m a bit jealous.”

“You?” Joanna asked. “Jealous? But you -”

“I’m not,” Trish said, “as jealous as I am very happy for you, and privileged to have been a part of it.”

“Hmm,” Joanna said, and just reveled in the warmth of her partner’s arms. She wished she could cuddle everyone who had touched her, but they’d never all fit. She closed her eyes again, feeling John’s furriness against one side of her, the soft smoothness of Trish on the other.

When she opened her eyes, Zythia was there, smiling down at her.

“Thank you,” mouthed Joanna.

“You’ll be back, yes?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. But you, I mean everyone was having -”

“Honey, I feed off everyone else. I could feel all your orgasms as if they were my own. And, besides, after we all go, my husband is going to, um -”

“Make love?” asked Joanna.

Zythia laughed. “Fuck my brains out. But yes, in love.” She leaned over, kissed Joanna on the forehead, and drifted away again.

Joanna giggled. Trish, who had been very still, grinned at her. Suddenly Joanna became aware of where she was – naked, in a crowd of people who could all see her, who had all witnessed her have sex. She glanced over at John, who smiled at her. She smiled back.

“When’s the next time?” she asked.

THE END