When I was a younger man, I would sometimes attend house parties
with a girlfriend or two. Campus parties, house parties, the like. Any
excuse for 20-somethings to drink cheap beer, do jagerbombs, and
"network". I usually went for the sake of my beloved, Sadie. She wasn't
exactly a social butterfly herself, but like any healthy coed, we still
liked to cut loose on rare occasions.

I can't remember the exact excuse for this rager, but it was a
friend-of-a-friend's party at a house across town with 150 people
crammed into a 4-person house. And we were DESTROYING this place. People
were stacked into every corner, holding beer, spilling beer, smooching
strangers, smooching not-so-strangers, grinding, bumping, yelling over
shitty music, etc etc.

House party things.

I made my way to a garage where some bro-types had squirreled away
their own keg, and were playing darts (badly) with a car in the middle
of their throwing lane. I was sure something entertaining would
eventually happen if I waited long enough, and I sat in a camp chair and
drank in relative peace from the rest of the party.

Sadie was on her own.

I was 3 solo-cup refills into my darts game when I got a text from Sadie:

"I said hi to Jocelyn, where the hell are you!?" (This was code for "We can go home now.")

I replied with a belligerent selfie of a drab, industrial garage and
the cadre of frat-bros in backward hats losing at darts.

Sadie answered with a selfie with a red-lit room and about a dozen random people behind her.

I got up and tried to work my way upstream through the throng of
people. I was sure I would find Sadie in the living room where a good
portion of drunk people were dancing. Her blonde hair and exquisite
athletic physique were nowhere in sight.

I sent a befuddled shrugging picture and captioned, "Guess I just missed you?"

In a few minutes, I received a picture of a dart through a windshield: "You just missed this!"

"Are we just playing selfie-hide-and-seek now? I feel like I'm too
buzzed to be good at this." I was more than a little miffed that I
missed the errant dart shot so soon after I left.

Sadie was quick to reply, "!!! That's a great idea! Why don't we
send each other clues to where we are, and we can try to find each other
in this mess!"

"Or we could just... meet at the car? Like sane people?"

I received a selfie in reply of Sadie pulling her halter top up and
flashing a slightly pale breast and bright pink nipple next to her
tanned upper chest. She was giving a big cheesy wink and biting her
tongue to tease me.

I had to give her credit. She made a compelling argument. My beer
buzz and public arousal struck me like a lightning bolt. "Okay... what
if we trade off selfies, pose for pose, skin for skin, location for
location?"

"! You're on. Okay, try to find where I just was, and see if you can get the shot off!"

I was wriggling my way through the party in the hopes of finding
whatever corner Sadie had flashed me in. I'm not exactly a HUGE guy, but
I'm big enough to require some careful maneuvering to get through a
pack. "And what if I can't?"

"Then ... you get a point? A letter? Like HORSE, except... this isn't basketball."

"Loser buys dinner?" I texted, fumbling with the attached message
while I pulled my shirt up to flash Sadie with my own nipple shot and
silly face.

"Loser gets taken however the winner wants... Let's call it
something else though, how about BOUDOIR?" There was a brief silence and
the following message:

"It's your shot."

My body surged with anticipation and I peered left, right, and
about. I worked my way down backless stairs to a dark basement, pulled a
light on an overhead chain, unzipped my pants and took a
descending-body shot of my underwear pulled down to reveal the slightest
edge and contour of cock. I casually walked back out into the party,
feeling like I had just robbed a bank in broad daylight with a note, and
waited a couple minutes before sending the picture to Sadie.

I was certain she wasn't going to find a grey floor and a ring of
overhead light, much less pull off the shot. I was fixing myself another
drink when my phone went off with a fresh alert.

I had expected a defeat, and declaration of "B" from Sadie, but what
I loaded onto the screen was much, much more exciting. On my messages
was a downward shot of Sadie pulling her short skirt and panties down
her hips, and the ittiest, bittiest edge of pussy showing.

I dropped whatever atrocious mixed drink I was preparing and sent back: "Fuck! you're such a good girl!"

In a few moments I received another image. This was a bathroom
mirror shot (but which bathroom???). Sadie had pulled her skirt and
panties down her thighs and her halter up over her tits, giving a full
frontal view. Her face was smoldering with faux-boredom, and the caption
itself was a challenge:

"Am I?"

I worked my way through the packed downstairs like a police dog
clearing road cones. I was a blur, hunting down bathrooms with bad wood
paneling around the mirror, and I eventually found my quarry in the
upstairs master. I shut the door- fumbled with my pants down my ass, and
over my springing hard cock, and I scrambled to pull my shirt up.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

"OCUPADO!" I cried... but I heard the telltale snap of my picture...
I had fumbled the shot. My cock was out, and hard, my shirt was halfway
up my belly, and my face was an irked blur turning to the
would-be-intruder at the door. I sent it regardless. Fair was fair.

"B."

Sadie absolutely roasted me for my failure, but the next picture she sent more than made up for it.

In a busy corner of people dancing poorly, Sadie was turned away
from the crowd. She had a depraved self-satisfied glint in her eyes, and
a mouth full of her panties wadded up into a little ball. A glistening
slight trail of drool descended the edge of her lips. She looked so
agonizingly smug, almost like she had been touching herself.

Unconsciously, I had begun stroking my cock in the master bedroom,
plopped on the edge of the bed, staring at the flush of red on Sadie's
cheeks and pining for the short denim skirt that was barely covering her
ass and nearly-exposed pussy. I unzipped my jeans. I was unaware of the
people downstairs. Abandoning all pretense of the game, I removed my
aching hard cock from my offending, constraining garments and gave
myself a few long, caring, necessary pumps. It felt so good to have my
hand around my cock and to completely forget where I was, or what I had
been doing, and just focus completely on Sadie. I scrolled back to the
recent pictures and a lusty gasp escaped my chest as my hips rolled and I
stroked faster.

God, her body is magnificent...My phone buzzed in my hand and stirred me from my stupor.

"Are you okay XD ? "

"Come suck my cock," I replied automatically. Somewhere, far, far
away my mind was aware that I had been playing a game with Sadie... and
the door to this room had not yet been locked.

"Does this mean you're giving up this point? You'll get your "O" ;) "

"I'm in the master bedroom." I texted inartfully with my left hand
as my right continued to pound, gripped tight on smooth velvet skin
anchored to such contrasting heat and hardness. Was my body always this hot? Or is it just the room? I mused as I pulled my shirt off. A refreshing gust of the stirred air passed over my torso, but I was not soothed.

"I need you."

"You have five minutes to copy my pose..."

I sent her a quick snap of myself jerking off in the bedroom dresser's mirror.

"... that's an O," she replied, nonplussed.There was a familiar
knock at the bedroom door in only a couple minutes. I knew it was her.

"Come in!" I made no effort to cover up. Sadie gracefully stepped
through the cracked door and shut it behind her with a snap of the lock,
in all the same motion. She practically leapt to me, a springing kiss,
and a roll backwards as she landed on my body. We were a hot melt of wet
kisses and gentle hands and pleading sighs. It had been at least six
hours since I held her. Centuries since I had kissed her. Eons since I
had been inside her. I always needed her THIS much. I put my hands on
her hips, and pulled her skirt over her firm, round ass to reveal her
missing panties and a dripping desperate eagerness to be together. I was
quick to oblige her.

My whole body was hot and radiating as she took me inside. Every
hair on my body, every exposed inch of skin could feel her, needed her.
We were going to sweat through this stranger's sheets at this rate. We
sealed our covenant with a kiss as I bottomed out, and I told her how
much I missed her as our bodies were touching at every conceivable
point. She answered in gasps and darted her tongue around my mouth as
she began to buck and ride. She went wild, losing the beat as a basic
need to be together had overtaken both of our minds. I was no help
either as I continued to hold her, trying to press her against my body
and feel closer than we already were. I felt the rolling clench of her
pussy as she came over and over. She had a vacant glassy look in her
eyes, and I knew she was working purely on instinct. Her hips bucked
harder against my grip, trying to take deeper strides and a harder ride.
I relented. I could not resist such a beguiling call as she unwound her
body from my grasp and began to languidly work her back and hips more
rhythmically.

There was our dance. There was our beat. There was my Sadie.
Wreathed in a golden glow of soft interior light, and an aura of
orgasmic effort warmed us as our bodies pressed together at the hips. No
camera could capture her grace and beauty in this moment. We were one
in this now, and we were perfect. With or without the permanence of
record.

I get so poetic when I'm cumming inside someone I love. I watched
her stomach tighten and her chest heave as I filled her. She looked me
right in the eyes and leaned in to give me a deep and dreamy kiss before
I saw aghast post-horny realization dawning.

We had fucked a ring of sweat into the bedsheets, and it was a fair (but obvious) approximation of my silhouette!

We snuck down to our friend's basement as we walked with the bundle
between us, tossed them in the washer, loitered a bit and popped them
into the dryer before hastily leaving once a few of the partygoers
departed. Weeks later, we heard tell of the party Jocelyn hosted where
someone had stripped her bed and left her dryer running. We thought
better of getting her a gift certificate to a department store for new
sheets, for fear of outing ourselves. According to Jocelyn, this had to
be at least the fourth time someone had done mystery laundry at her
house, and she dismissed it entirely as party shenanigans and "The price
of hosting the best ragers."

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