I was standing in the cafeteria line, tray in my hands, when I felt the first hand. The skirt I'd chosen this morning—my favorite blue one, the one that swished when I walked—was stretched tight over my hips, and I could feel the fabric pulling across my ass as I leaned forward to grab a napkin from the dispenser. The line shuffled ahead, and I shifted my weight, and then there was heat at my back.
"Hey there." The voice was low and warm right behind my ear, breath stirring my hair. I started to turn, but a hand settled on my hip—fingers splayed wide, grip firm. "Don't move. The line's movin'."
"Oh, right." I smiled at the air in front of me, cheeks warming. "Sorry, I'm still learning the schedule. Is it always this busy?"
The hand on my hip slid lower, palm cupping the curve of my ass through the thin fabric of my skirt. Squeezed. I felt his knuckles press into the meat of me, and I giggled a little—nervous, but happy. He was being friendly. Touching me like we were old friends.
"Yeah, always packed." His voice was closer now, lips almost brushing my ear. His other hand came around my waist, flat against my stomach, pulling me back against him. I felt the heat of his body through his shirt, the solid wall of his chest against my shoulder blades. "You smell really good."
"Thanks! It's just the body wash from the dorm. Coconut." I turned my head to try and see his face, but he was too close. All I caught was the edge of a jaw, dark stubble. "I'm Elena, by the way."
"I know who you are." His hand on my ass squeezed again, harder, and then his fingers dug in, kneading the flesh like dough. I felt a jolt—not pain, just surprise at how bold he was being. But that was nice, wasn't it? He was comfortable with me.
"You do? That's sweet." I laughed. "I don't think I've seen you in class or—"
His hand slid down my thigh, then back up under the hem of my skirt. I felt his rough fingertips brush the bare skin of my upper thigh, and my breath caught. That was a little—well. He was moving fast. But the line was shuffling, and maybe he was just bracing himself. I tried to step forward, but he held me in place.
"Whoa—" I started.
"Relax." His voice dropped, and his fingers found the edge of my underwear. The thin cotton of my thong—I'd put on a black one this morning, the only clean one I had—and he hook it aside. His middle finger pressed into me, through the fabric, and I gasped.
"Oh—"
"Shh." His other hand pressed flat on my stomach, holding me still. "Just being friendly."
I blinked. Friendly. Right. He was being friendly. I took a breath and smiled at the back of the head of the girl in front of me. "Okay. Um. So what's your major?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his finger pushed deeper, pressing against my underwear, and I felt a wetness—no, that was from me. I blushed furiously. That was embarrassing. Why was my body reacting like that?
Then another hand found my breast.
I jerked, almost dropping my tray. A girl had stepped up on my left side—petite, with short blonde hair and a sharp smile. She didn't say anything. Just reached out and cupped my right breast through my thin cotton top, her palm warm and commanding. My nipple hardened immediately, pressing against the fabric, a dark dot under the pale blue.
"Oh—hi," I managed, trying to focus on her face. "I'm Elena."
"I know," she said, her voice flat. Then she pinched my nipple between two fingers and twisted.
Pain. Sharp, bright. I gasped—but then it faded into a strange tingling heat. I looked down at her hand on my chest, her knuckles pressing into the soft mound, and I felt a flutter in my belly. She was being friendly too. Of course. Friends touched each other.
"That's—that's a little rough," I said, but I was still smiling. "Are you in my psych class? I think I've seen you—"
Her other hand came up and grabbed my left breast—both of them now, cupped full in her palms. She squeezed, hard, and I let out a breathy little sound I didn't mean to make. My nipples were rock hard under her thumbs, and she rubbed circles over them through the thin cotton, the fabric rubbing against the sensitive tips.
"Oh my God," someone whispered behind me—a guy's voice, different from the first one. "She's not even—"
I turned my head, trying to see who spoke, but then the girl's mouth was on my neck. She bit down, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make me suck in a breath. Her tongue followed, hot and wet, licking the spot she'd bitten.
"That tickles," I giggled, tilting my head to give her better access. "You're really friendly."
The guy behind me let out a low laugh. "Friendly. Yeah. That's what we are."
His hand left my hip and moved to the hem of my top. I felt his fingers hook under the fabric, and then he was pulling it up, exposing my stomach, my ribs. The cool cafeteria air hit my skin and I shivered.
"Wait—" I started, but the girl's mouth found my nipple through the bra I had on—a thin cotton bralette, nothing fancy—and she sucked, hard, the wet fabric clinging to my skin. I felt her teeth through it, scraping, and I moaned. Actually moaned. Right there in the lunch line.
"Someone's enjoying herself," the guy behind me said, and he yanked my top up higher, bunching it under my arms. "Look at these tits. Fucking perfect."
"They're so big," another voice said—a girl, from my other side now. I hadn't even noticed her approach. She reached out and grabbed my left breast, lifting it, then let it drop. It bounced heavily, and I felt the weight of it, the ache.
"Guys," I said, voice high, "I—the line's moving—"
"Let it move," the guy behind me said. His hands found my hips, then slid around to my front, under my skirt. He cupped my mound through my underwear, his palm hot and rough, and pressed. I felt pressure, heat, and then his finger found my clit through the fabric, rubbing in tight circles.
I dropped my tray.
It clattered to the floor, plastic skidding, but nobody cared. Nobody even looked. The girl in front of me had shuffled forward, and now the space was filled with bodies pressing in from all sides. Hands everywhere. On my breasts, my ass, my thighs, my stomach. Someone's mouth found my other nipple—through the fabric of my top, now wet and translucent—and sucked, pulling at the peak until I cried out.
"Oh my—that's—"
I tried to speak, tried to ask what was happening, but the words came out broken. A boy's hand slid up under my skirt from behind, fingers finding the bare curve of my ass, gripping hard. Another hand—the blonde girl's—was unbuttoning my top, popping the small plastic button, then the next, until my chest was bare under the open fabric, my bralette soaked and clinging.
"Look at these," the blonde said, pulling the bralette down. My breasts spilled out, heavy and full, my nipples dark and swollen. She took one in her mouth—no preamble, just open and wet and hungry—and I felt her tongue swirl around the nub, felt her suck so hard it pulled at my whole breast.
"Oh God," I breathed, and I didn't know if it was a prayer or a plea or just the sound of being overwhelmed. I reached out to steady myself, my hand landing on the shoulder of a boy I'd never seen before. He grinned at me.
"Hey, Elena."
"Hi," I managed, breathless. "I—nice to meet you—"
His hand came up and cupped my chin, tilting my face toward him. "You're so fucking cute," he said, and then he kissed me.
I didn't expect it. His mouth was hot and insistent, his tongue pushing past my lips before I could even process the contact. I made a muffled sound, my hands fluttering at his shoulders, and he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding into my hair, gripping tight.
Behind me, the first guy—the one who'd started this—was pulling my skirt up, bunching the fabric around my waist. I felt cool air on my bare thighs, then his hand between my legs, fingers pressing against my underwear, wet from my own arousal.
"She's soaked," he announced, and a ripple of laughter went through the small crowd that had formed around me. "Guys, she's absolutely dripping."
I wanted to deny it, but the evidence was wet against my thighs. I could feel it, the slickness, the heat. I was wet because they were being friendly, because they wanted to touch me. That made me happy. That made me feel—
"See?" the blonde said, pulling away from my chest with a wet pop. "She loves it. Look at those eyes. She's in heaven."
I was. I think I was. My head was spinning, my body was on fire, and all these people—these friendly, wonderful people—were touching me, kissing me, holding me. I had never felt so welcomed, so wanted.
"I'm so glad I transferred here," I said, my voice dreamy, and another round of laughter followed.
Someone's fingers pushed my underwear aside—rough, demanding—and slid inside me without warning. I gasped, arching into the touch, my hips bucking forward. Two fingers. Maybe three. I didn't know. I just felt the stretch, the fullness, the pleasure-pain of being opened.
"She's so tight," a girl's voice said—a new one, dark hair, glasses. She was watching from inches away, her eyes fixed on where the hand disappeared between my legs. "But she's taking it."
"She'll take more," the guy behind me grunted. His fingers curled, pressing against something inside me that made my knees buckle, and I sagged against the bodies around me. They held me up, hands on my arms, my waist, my breasts. Someone licked my neck. Someone bit my shoulder.
"I'm—I think—" I tried to form a sentence, but the words dissolved into a moan as his fingers pumped in and out, wet and fast.
"You think what, Elena?" His voice was in my ear, rough, amused. "You think you like this?"
"I—yes—I like—"
"Good girl."
He pulled his fingers out, and I whimpered at the loss. But then I felt pressure at my entrance again—something larger, something blunt and hot. His cock. He was lining himself up with my soaked, exposed cunt, right here in the cafeteria line.
"Wait—" I started, but the blonde girl kissed me again, swallowing my protest. Her tongue was in my mouth, her hand gripping my jaw, and I couldn't speak. I couldn't think.
And then he pushed inside me.
I screamed into the kiss. The stretch was immediate, burning, electric. He filled me in one long, smooth thrust, his hips meeting my ass with a wet slap. My body clenched around him, instinctively, and I heard him groan.
"Fuck, she's tight."
"Told you," someone said.
The kiss broke, and I gasped for air, my head spinning. I was being fucked. In the cafeteria. By a stranger. And I could feel every inch of him inside me—thick, hot, pulsing. I felt full.
"Is this—is this okay?" I asked, the question coming out breathless and small.
The guy behind me laughed. "Yeah, Elena. It's okay. We're just being friendly." He pulled out halfway, then thrust back in, harder. I felt my breasts bounce with the impact, and the blonde girl caught them, holding them, squeezing.
"Friendly," she repeated, and bit my nipple.
I came. Right there. Without warning. My body convulsed, my cunt gripping his cock, and I let out a long, shaky moan that turned into a sob. My vision blurred. My legs gave out completely, and I would have fallen if not for the hands holding me up.
"Jesus," the guy behind me said, and he kept thrusting. Slow now, deep, grinding against my g-spot with every stroke. "She's cumming on my dick."
"Already?" someone asked, amused.
"She's eager," the blonde said, and she laughed—not mean, just fond. "That's adorable."
I was still trembling, still clenching, when another boy stepped up—tall, red hair, freckles—and took my face in his hands. "Open," he said, and I did, without thinking. He pressed his thumb against my bottom lip, then slid it into my mouth. I sucked automatically, tasting salt and skin, and he smiled.
"Good girl."
I moaned around his thumb as the guy behind me sped up again, his hips slapping against mine, his breath hot on my neck. "Gonna fill you up," he muttered. "Gonna pump you full. You want that, Elena?"
"Yes," I breathed, the word muffled by the thumb in my mouth. "Yes, please—"
"Please what?"
"Please fill me—"
He groaned, and I felt him pulse inside me, felt the hot rush of his release, deep and endless. I whimpered, my body clenching around him again, drawing out every drop. He stayed inside me for a long moment, breathing hard, then pulled out slowly. I felt the wetness trickle down my thigh.
The thumb left my mouth. The hands on my breasts loosened. I was standing again, more or less, my skirt still bunched around my waist, my top hanging open, my underwear twisted and wet.
Someone handed me a napkin.
"Thanks," I said, dazed, trying to clean myself up. "That was—" I laughed, a little breathless. "You guys are so friendly. I'm really glad I met you all."
The blonde girl smiled, patting my cheek. "We're glad too, Elena."
I pulled my top closed, buttoned it with trembling fingers, and watched the line shuffle forward as if nothing had happened. The boy behind me was already gone, disappeared into the stream of students. The girl with the glasses was walking away, adjusting her bag.
I blinked, looking down at my tray—still on the floor. I bent to pick it up, wincing at the ache between my legs, and someone's hand brushed my ass as I straightened. I turned, but no one was there. Just the crowd, moving, talking, eating.
My stomach growled. I was starving.