The place used to be a knife factory, back before the recession and the new normal, back before the bottom fell out and all the jobs slunk away, first to Hong Kong and Taiwan, and then to poorer and more desperate places.

When they closed the factory, they erected a fence around the entire site; a twelve-foot tall hurricane fence topped with concertina wire. A fence, I reflected nervously, designed to keep out trespassers, delinquents, people like me.

They hadn’t kept up with it. Big holes were rent in the fence, and in places it had been knocked down entirely by fallen trees. The tall towers of security lights had long ago gone dark. The place was derelict.

I made my way through the darkness and litter, slipping through a hole under the fence tunneled out by a generation of trespassing teens. The night was full of mostly invisible, nearly silent figures making their way into the compound. Like a shadowy migration, the place was swarming with kids.

I found the entrance to the building without much problem. Behind a ragged sheet of plastic, dim battery-powered lanterns lit the way. A couple of burly guys were taking money. It cost twenty dollars to get in. There was a homemade poster taped to the wall with a list of rules written in black magic marker: respect for the performers; what happens here stays here; if your name is called you must abide by the luck of the draw; condoms mandatory for all penetrative sex. There were a pair of plastic buckets just inside the door, a red one labeled ‘Actions’, and a green one labeled ‘Actors’. For another twenty bucks a pop, you got to drop a slip of paper into a bucket.

Inside the building, I followed the trail of spotty lights and the growing crowd as we wound our way through a labyrinth, deeper and deeper into the abandoned factory.

The room we ended up in was fairly small, and it was already pretty packed. The seating was eclectic: plastic Adirondack chairs and cast-off choir risers as well as folding chairs and a few scattered lazy-boys lined the perimeter. In the center of the room was a large square of ratty blue shag carpet and in the center of the carpet was an ornate red velvet Victorian couch. Next to the couch was a little side table with a salad bowl full of condoms, a couple vibrators, and a big bottle of lube. Someone had rigged up a cluster of spotlights, strung together with orange extension cord, and the place was lit up like a stage.

I was surprised by the crowd: I hadn’t imagined that there would be so many people, and I guess I had expected it to be almost all male. The room was full to overflowing. I was lucky to get a seat. There were at least as many girls in there as there were guys. This thing was better attended than the freaking prep rallies at school.

Kim T, our thoroughly straight-laced and chronically over-achieving class president and presumptive valedictorian, strode confidently out into the arena. She was wearing a top hat, black slacks, and one of those novelty t-shirts with a tuxedo printed on the front. She carried a wireless microphone.

“Welcome back Friends and Lovers,” she said into the mic, and she was rewarded with an enthusiastic round of applause. With practiced patter, she quickly introduced herself, explained the rules of the game, and admonished us all to be quiet during the show. She had all the suave showmanship of a practiced emcee; I never imagined she had it in her. The crowd, unusual for a room packed full of teenagers, was dead silent.

The two buckets were brought out, and ceremoniously placed on a low table in front of the carpeted area. Kim made a big show of reaching into the green ‘Actors’ bucket and mixing up the pieces of paper inside. Then she drew out a folded slip and read it aloud:

“Donna S.”

A mousey, curly-haired, slightly overweight girl in a big purple t-shirt stood up and nervously made her way up onto the stage. She sat down on the scarlet couch, looking very nervous and self-conscious.

Kim drew a slip of paper from the other bucket, and held it up over her head.

“Goes down on”

On the couch, Donna smiled widely, caught herself, and then blushed furiously.

“Ricky O.”

A skinny kid in black jeans and a black t-shirt with a bad haircut and braces got up and came forward. There was an awkward pause as they sat next to each other on the couch for a moment, a couple geeky kids on their first date. The audience held its collective breath.

Then Donna leaned over and kissed Ricky on the mouth, and ran her hand clumsily up and down the front of his black jeans. That seemed to break the ice. Ricky stood up and unbuttoned his pants, letting them fall around his ankles. His penis jutted out from the front of his boxer shorts. He scooted the underwear down, and his naked cock protruded straight out from his crotch.

Donna seemed to take a deep breath, got on her hands and knees on the couch cushions, opened her mouth wide, and started doing her level best to swallow him whole, as if she were at some sort of perverted hotdog eating contest.

They fumbled around a little, and then they seemed to find a comfortable rhythm. There was a brief smattering of applause when she stopped in the middle of what she was doing, sat briefly up, and pulled her purple t-shirt and beige bra off over her head in one smooth motion. She had a beautiful set of tits. You never would have guessed.

When she went back to work, they both seemed more relaxed and focused on the task at hand. He felt up her boobs a little bit. She played with his balls. Then she sucked on the pink head of his long, skinny cock, while he guided her hand up and down the shaft. The room was quiet enough that I could hear the slurping sounds of her mouth on his dick.

Donna looked up at Ricky imploringly. They were both enjoying themselves immensely. This beat the hell out of any porn I had ever seen. Ricky started pumping his own cock, biting down hard on his lower lip. She lapped at the pink swollen crown intermittently, and then offering up her large soft breasts as a sort of target for him. He came with a high pitched yelp, squirting copious amounts of pearly-white semen all over Donna’s breasts. The crowd applauded as they grinned, bowed, mopped up and got dressed, and returned to their seats.

Kim came back to center stage, smiling and golf-clapping. With a flourish, she drew three more slips of paper out of the two buckets.

“Sean A.”

“Butt-Fucks”

“Brian G.”

I knew Sean, he was one of those quiet, really smart kids who sat in the front row of all his classes, wore slacks and button down shirts every day, didn’t really socialize, and, without making a big fuss about it, got straight ‘A’s. It had never occurred to me that he might be in any way a remotely sexual being.

I also knew Brian. Everyone did. He was on the football team; I’m not sure what position, but it was one of the important ones. Big, goofy, popular, not overly bright. And he did not want to get up. There was a muted commotion around where he sat in the improvised bleachers, catcalls and a little pushing. “Come on Man,” someone yelled, “Don’t be a pussy. You know the rules!” Sean just stood there on the stage, grinning and fidgeting absently.

Brian sheepishly made his way up onto the stage. Kim winked broadly, mugging for the audience, and slapped him playfully on the backside. Sean was already undressing.

The kid had a big dick. I mean, holy shit. Who knew? I’m sure that more than one person made a mental note: there was more to quiet, studious Sean than anyone would have guessed. A lot more.

“Suck it” he said.

Brian gave him a murderous look, but he knew the rules, and he was committed to playing along. While skinny, naked Sean lounged on the couch, his oversized cock still flopping around half-hard, Brian shrugged eloquently as if he could really care less, got down on his knees, and started unenthusiastically licking the underside of Sean’s dick.

Sean wrapped one hand around the base of his cock – it was really obscenely big and uncircumcised – and smacked Brian across the face with it, the head peeking out from under its sheath, red and livid angry-looking. He pushed the bulging crown against Brian’s lips and fed it to him. Brian made a face like he was being forced to drink rancid milk. Poor thing. I don’t think I was the only person in that crowd who would have happily traded places with Brian at that moment. But that wasn’t an option.

Sean pulled his cock away from Brian’s half-hearted ministrations, and stood up. He was having his moment in the spotlight and loving it. On Monday morning, he’d be quietly back in class, head down, grinding away at his academics. His dick was fully hard now, jutting straight out from his crotch like a medieval battering ram, and it certainly was impressive. He whispered something in Brian’s ear, something none of us in the audience could hear, but we all saw Brian blush cherry red.

They traded places: Brian unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and underwear and knelt down in front of the couch, burying his face in the pillow. His dick was small and soft, hidden in a curly matt of dark pubes. He had a cute little white butt.

Sean sat down on the small of Brian’s back, facing us. His enormous dick jutted out like a totem pole, standing up past his navel. He began massaging Brian’s backside, gently tracing spirals with his fingertips all over Brian’s butt cheeks; rubbing the backs of his thighs, brushing up against his dangling scrotum, occasionally darting fitfully into the dark crevice between his buttocks. He was masturbating intermittently with one hand, keeping that ridiculous cock nice and hard. The whole audience was on the edge of its seat.

The foreplay seemed to go on forever. The tension was unbearable. After what seemed like an eternity, Sean scooted back so he was sitting on Brian’s muscular shoulders, bent over and stuck his face in between Brian’s butt cheeks, and started to lick. We heard a quite audible sigh, and Brian raised his rump, trying to giving Sean better access. His dick was dangling straight down, meaty and engorged if not exactly erect.

Sean seductively licked his fingers, one, two, three of them, and when they were glistening wet with his saliva, he started tracing them up and down Brian’s backside, traversing lazily up and down, starting at the dimple at the base of his spine, down his crack, along his fat testicles, and finishing at the pink head of his penis, which was now quite definitely hard.

The silence in the room was intense. I could hear Brian’s raspy breathing, the little gasp when Sean found his butthole, the sigh when he moved his attentions away from that sensitive spot, the sharp intake of breath when he came back to it, more aggressively this time, probing and penetrating with his wet fingers.

Abruptly, Sean stood up, and snatched up a condom from the salad bowl on the little side table. He tore the package open, and slowly and meticulously rolled the condom down his over-sized cock. Wrapped in beige latex, his penis looked faintly ridiculous, all out of proportion with his skinny body, as if he were goofing around, holding a salami between his legs.

He slathered lube all over his dick; and then poured what seemed like half the bottle down Brian’s butt crack. He pried the cheeks apart, and we caught a glimpse of Brian’s crinkled asshole; tiny, pink, vulnerable. “Fuck,” I thought to myself, “that thing’s never going to fit.” Brian whimpered softly as Sean violated his ass again, smearing lubricant up inside his anus with two fingers.

It took a little while, but Sean was patient and determined. He stood behind Brian, who now had his rump thrust up in the air like a cat in heat. He rubbed his condom-covered cock up and down Sean’s crack, eliciting and involuntary moan, before pressing it hard against his target. The two boys rocked together like kids on a seesaw; it was intensely erotic for everyone in the room. They seemed lost in a world all their own. Sean pulled away, got down and licked some more; tried again. This time, it slipped right in. Brian grunted like he’d just been tackled by a big lineman, and Sean threw his head back and let out a long, drawn-out quavering groan. He was inside.

Sean didn’t get the whole length in; that would have been ambitious! He kept the bulbous head of his dick lodged just up inside Brian’s anus, and fucked him with tiny, rapid humping motions, almost as if he were some bizarre wind-up toy. It only took a few moments. Both boys were breathing hard and fast, like they were running the hundred meter dash. Then Sean let out with a tortured, quavering whine, and squeezed his own ass, and we knew he had come.

He pulled his cock out, threw away the condom, and flashed us a smile as he put his clothes back on and went back to his seat in the bleachers.

Brian seemed dazed and confused. His own dick (regular sized, and not bad-looking at that!) was achingly erect, curving skyward, balls drawn up tight. He stumbled over the couch, picking up his scattered clothes into a bundle, and wandered blushing off the stage, his bobbing erection leading the way.

Kim the emcee took center stage again, clapping politely. “Well, that was really special,” she said, “I know that made my panties moist! How about you? Let’s have a big hand for Brian G for being such a good sport!”

When the applause died down, she pulled a fresh slip of paper out of the green bucket.

“Susanne S.”

Susanne was a dancer, a tall, quiet, elfin girl with long red hair and pale, almost translucent skin, an easy smile, delicate features, and the shoulder blades of a quarterback. She shyly stood up and walked up onto the stage.

Kim pulled a slip of paper out of the red bucket. This time it made her pause. She held it up for everyone to see. Someone had used a black magic marker to scratch out the list of verbs, and had written above it, in large block letters, “FISTS”

Susanne made an eloquent little shrug and sort of half-smiled, giving nothing away.

Kim pulled out another slip from the first bucket. “Kelly W.”

I didn’t know Kelly by name, but I recognized her from school. She was sort of a plain girl, the kind who easily blends in with the crowd: brown hair, neat and tidy, plump but not fat, neither short nor tall. She had, I noticed in my current state of advanced sexual excitement, nice big boobs, and pretty, naughty-looking lips.

“It’s not really According to Hoyle,” Kim said as Kelly joined them up on the stage, “What do you think?”

“I’m up for it if she is,” Kelly said. Her speaking voice was so soft it was hard to hear her words, but she didn’t seem particularly nervous.

Kim surrendered the stage to the two girls. Kelly sat on the couch, and Susanne sat on her lap. They started out kissing, softly and tentatively at first, then more and more urgently.

Susanne pulled Kelly’s black t-shirt off up and over her head, and unsnapped her bra. I was right, she did have beautiful big breasts, with thick pink nipples that pointed eagerly up and out. Susanne wasted no time kissing and sucking on them.

Kelly kept slipping her own hands inside Susanne’s leotard, and Susanne finally smilingly indulged her, shrugging off the spaghetti straps and pulling the top down, exposing her own breasts; small, pale, and perfect. They kissed some more, sprawling across the couch with Susanne on top, their boobs mashed together, hungry lips playing tag, Susanne seductively rubbing the crotch of her tights up and down Kelly’s thick, blue-jean clad thigh.

Susanne wiggled out of the rest of her leotard, kicking her tights aside. Her body was beautiful, lithe and trim. She wore skimpy, sapphire-blue panties that exactly matched her eyes and kept crawling up her ass in the most fetching way imaginable.

She tugged and wrangled Kelly’s jeans off. Underneath was a rather chaste and plain pair of white panties. These went flying, and Susanne gently but firmly pushed Kelly’s legs wide, wide apart.

Kelly had a light brown, fluffy, unruly muff; and her pussy was a prim, pursed vertical seam. Susanne flung her long red hair over one shoulder with a toss of her head, and buried her face in between Kelly’s thighs.

She licked; long, lingering slurps; once, twice, three times. We couldn’t see much: Susanne’s head was in the way; but I think we all felt it almost as intensely as Kelly did. “Oooooh, ah…” she sighed as the third and final lick trailed off and left her hanging. When Susanne removed her head, Kelly’s pussy was transformed. It had bloomed: the petite inner labia were peeking out, eager and moist and pink. The nipples on her big boobs were standing straight up, fat and erect.

Focused like a surgeon on the task at hand, Susanne sensually licked her middle finger until it was thoroughly wet (if every dick in the house wasn’t hard yet, I’m sure that did the trick!), and carefully inserted it into Kelly’s hungry little pussy. Kelly threw her head back, closing her eyes and sighing audibly. The finger came out again, shiny and slick, and was quickly replaced with a second digit.

Susanne finger fucked her gently at first, then less gently with two fingers. Then she added a third, which didn’t slip in as easily as the first two, but took a little work. Kelly was lolling her head from side to side, eyes shut tight, hands pulling her pussy open for Susanne’s invading fingers. Susanne took a moment to lap once or twice at Kelly’s over-excited clitoris, and then slathered lube onto her own fingers and all over Kelly’s horny little pussy. This time her three fingers slid easily up inside.

“More” Kelly grunted huskily. Susanne readily obliged, liberally pouring lube onto Kelly’s vulva. A fourth finger joined the first three. Now all that was left was the thumb.

The crowd held its breath, fascinated. I, for one, was wishing fervently that Susanne would shed her panties and let us all see what was hidden underneath, but she seemed completely focused on the task at hand. Oh so gently, she formed her hand into the shape of a duck’s beak, working it slowly, slowly into Kelly’s pretty little cunt.

Kelly was whining, a constant seesawing drone. It was hard to tell whether the noises she was making were an expression of pleasure or pain. Her eyes were scrunched tight, her lips curled in a grimace, her toes pointed skyward, her nipples were red and swollen.

Her cunt finally relented. Both the girls sighed as Susanne’s fist disappeared inside Kelly, swallowed whole up to the wrist. Susanne smiled wide. Kelly was visibly shaking. She whispered something inaudible to Susanne, which made her smile even wider. She started moving her hand inside of Kelly’s distended pussy.

Kelly’s moans and whines had become a wailing torrent. Her head lolled from side to side, and she kicked her feet. I don’t know if everyone saw this, but Susanne discretely slipped a hand down the front of her own panties for a moment.

At last Kelly gasped out “No… fuck… I can’t… no more!” And Susanne gently removed her fist, leaving poor Kelly’s pussy gaping and gasping. Susanne’s hand was totally covered in slick, glistening wetness. The girls kissed, long and sensuously, got dressed, took a bow, and sat back down.

Kim retook center stage. When the applause had died down, she spoke into the microphone, “Well, now THAT was different!”

She drew a slip of paper out of the green bucket.

“Darren McP”

“Fucks… Excellent, a good old fashioned fuck!”

“Julia McP… Oh dear.”

If you didn’t know, you would probably never guess the McP’s were twins; once you knew, it made perfect sense. It was like looking at two different architects’ conceptual renderings of the same building; two completely different expressions of the same set of specifications.

Julia was a skinny, triangular girl, with pale skin, long clever fingers, wide hips, no discernable breasts, a hooked nose, and the same thick, nearly black hair as her brother.

Darren was an ovoid, soft and rounded, with thoughtful, inset brown eyes, and neatly manicured fingernails at the ends of short, stubby-looking fingers. His skin was pale, like Julia’s, but he was prone to acne. She gave the impression of being the taller of the two, but when they stood next to each other up on the stage, it turned out that they were the exact same height.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kim said, holding her hand over the mic. Her words may not have been amplified, but every person in the audience heard them anyway. “I could draw two different names.”

“Meh. Why not?” Julia responded.

“Yeah, why not?” her brother echoed. Kim left them alone on the stage.

They stood facing the audience, straight-backed and expressionless, like soldiers on parade, about an arm’s length apart from each other, and stripped.

Julia had thick thighs; a curly triangle of shockingly black pubic hair; a flat belly, breasts that (while not non-existent) were little more than speed bumps on her torso; and a long graceful neck. She tossed her shoulder-length hair defiantly.

Darren had a big, bulging belly; a deep navel; thin, wispy black pubes; a fat set of testicles that reminded me of tennis balls; and a shy, flaccid, circumcised penis. He had large, dark pink nipples surrounded by sparse hair. He tugged nervously on one ear and rubbed his nose.

She stepped behind him, wrapping her arms around his portly expanse. Julia lightly ran her fingertips up and down Darren’s body, from his nipples down to his scrotum and back again, tracing little spirals and curlicues as she went. We watched Darren’s cock rise and swell like a toadstool, until it was proudly erect and stood out at a forty-five degree angle from his crotch. He wasn’t absurdly well-hung, but he was certainly sizeable enough!

While he stood at attention, Julia moved around to his side, rubbing her furry pussy up and down his leg and fondling his penis and playing with his balls and his butt. She rubbed her small boobs up against his, smiled, nibbled on his earlobe, and whispered something to him.

They separated again. Darren sat down facing us on the red couch, his cock standing proudly up. Julia clambered up on the couch cushions, and stood unsteadily facing us, straddling Darren’s lap, her ass right at a level with his face. He steadied her with a hand on each hip, and started licking. She bent over to give him better access, and her thick black hair cascaded down, obscuring our view.

This lasted for a few minutes. We could hear their breathing, the wet sloshing and slurping of Darren’s busy tongue. Then Julia straightened back up.

Still facing us, she sat carefully down on Darren’s erection. In flagrant violation of the rules, they didn’t bother with a condom. Her pussy engulfed him easily, swallowing him whole. When his cock was buried all the way up inside her cunt so that his thick ball sac was pressed up against his sister’s jungle of black pubic hair, they started rocking back and forth together. She had her hands on his hips to control their movements. One of his hands reached down to find her clitoris; the other hand pinched and played with one of her tiny nipples. There was no sound in the room except for the squelching and squishing noises of Darren’s cock in his sister’s extremely wet cunt.

It didn’t take long. He came silently inside her, hugging her tight, his face turning bright red, and I think she may have come at the same time. They stayed conjoined, unmoving, squinting at the stage lights for a long moment before she stood up, releasing his spent cock with an audible *plop*. As Julia lifted herself up, their co-mingled come and juices drooled out of her pussy onto his lap, an image that struck me as almost intolerably sexy.

The applause was thunderous as the twins awkwardly pulled their clothes on and returned to their seats. Kim stepped up to the microphone.

“Well, that was certainly different! It’s been an unusual and exciting Saturday night. But then, isn’t every Saturday night exciting and unusual here? I hope to see you all again next week!”

The stage lights dimmed, and the crowd of horny teens dispersed quickly and efficiently, like rats evacuating a sinking ship. I made my own lonely way out of the old knife factory, slipping under the hole in the fence and making my blind way through a patch of woods, peripherally aware of other unseen figures making their not-quite-silent way through the dark. It was long after midnight and I wished I wasn’t going home alone. When I finally got to bed, I would masturbate, that much was a guarantee.

I was hooked, like I’d caught religion. I’d be back the next Saturday and the Saturday after that. And maybe, just maybe, this next time I’d shell out an extra twenty bucks and drop my own name into the bucket.

END