I was reminded today of our old writing group. The secret one. The one that was just friends and just fun. The writing group that involved lots of drinking and dirty words and laughs.
To be honest, my favorite part of our old writing group had to be Lisa Tan’s pussy.
The back room of the Village Playhouse was a magical place. It was a weird little bar on the second floor of a building down some tiny block near Washington Square Park. Cash only, no tabs. It was a dingy little place with a decent selection of whiskeys and beers and a small stage where they had folk singers and comedy open mic nights.
The little room was past the bar and the stage, all the way in the back. A rickety door hiding a twelve by twelve square room lined with bookshelves and holding an assortment of mismatched chairs and benches along two walls.
It smelled like old books and stale beer, and that was just about perfect for us.
Buddy was just getting into a long poem about Times Square. He was the best reader of all of us, by far. He’d been a youth minister and had a way with dramatic pauses and timing.
Like most of his stuff, it was sweet and nostalgic and then hot and dirty. Fucking your childhood sweetheart when you are both jaded and in your twenties. He had a way of making anal sex romantic.
Bill went next and had an unfinished piece that was dark and brooding and intense. A motel room with dirty sheets, and we could smell the piss and see the track marks. There were moments of raw beauty in his stories that took me by surprise sometimes. It made us all tense and nervous.
In the little room was the core writing group; me, Buddy, and Bill. Then there was Lisa, younger, very slight, looking twee like she had a real-life Instagram filter on her. She was a writer, too, though she said what she was working on wasn’t ready for public consumption yet. She was mysterious like that.
There was also Karen, tall, dark-haired, rich, brash, cocky. She could be a pain, but she was fun to beat up. She wore a simple black shift dress and eyed everyone in the room hungrily.
Rounding out the group was Jim, who was just happy to be there. A tech-savvy friend who always had a bright smile and a knowing wink. He was the perfect audience.
I scrolled through various stories on my phone and debated reading the thing I had been working on all morning. It was dirty. Maybe too dirty to read in public.
Looking around the little room, Jim slipped a hand onto Karen’s knee, and Lisa bit her lip, watching them, I reconsidered. This wasn’t public. This was our secret.
So I started the somewhat creepy tale. People who shouldn’t be fucking, desperately grinding against each other and talking about all the reasons why it was wrong. I kept my head down and tried not to stumble over the more embarrassing parts.
It was explicit. It was fucked up. About halfway through, I looked up to see Karen had unzipped her dress and pulled it down, exposing her tits, her nipples recently pierced and finally healed.
Jim made out with Lisa as his hand crept between Karen’s legs.
I went on, getting to the filthy parts. When I looked up again, Karen was on her knees between Lisa’s legs. Lisa’s pretty pleated skirt was pulled up, and her panties were on the bench, looking like a discarded pink flower.
Bill laughed at the punchline at the end of my story. Buddy stood by the door, guarding it, and took pictures on his phone.
I blushed their little applause. Karen got up and went over to me and kissed me on the lips, still wet from Lisa’s pussy.
Jim and Buddy made out as Bill slipped out to get us another round.
I got pulled into the heat of Karen’s kiss, the taste of Lisa still on her lips. I liked the feel of Karen’s soft breasts in my hands, but my attention was firmly on Lisa.
I peeked over Karen’s shoulder as we kissed because I had to see Lisa’s pussy. It was the first time I’d seen it properly. My crush on Lisa flared as Karen reached her hand down my pants, groping for my cock.
By the time Bill was back with six shots of whiskey, Karen had her dress off, and Jim was sucking Buddy’s cock.
I wanted to spank Karen, but we couldn’t make that much noise. So I settled for pulling her hair and fingering her a little while I whispered what a slut she was in her ear.
All the time, though, my eyes were on Lisa. Her bare legs and her white socks and black Mary Janes. She was watching Jim and Buddy as her fingers made their way between her legs. Light copper-colored skin and a neat triangle of dark stubble, framed the prize I had been longing for.
I whispered to Karen to go open Lisa’s shirt. She smirked and shook her head at me, but went over and did it anyhow.
Lisa’s tits were smallish, dark nipples that were very hard as Karen sucked one and then the other.
As I watched, I crawled over to them. Lisa smiled down at me as I knelt in front of her. Karen and I each sucked one of Lisa’s nipples. Her body was ridiculously hot. My hands wrapped around her, I moved up, and we kissed. I felt Karen slip down and bury her head between Lisa’s legs again, and she moaned sweetly into my mouth as we kissed.
It was getting humid in the room. It smelled like whiskey and fresh pussy, and things were building to a fevered pitch.
Then the crackle of microphone feedback filled the little room, and just outside the door was the sound of chairs shifting, telling us some show was starting on the stage. Like kids almost getting caught by their parents, we hurried to fix our clothes and hair and kissed a few more times before laughing and sneaking out of our room and going out into the warm streets.
We hugged and said our goodbyes outside the bar. Karen kissed me hungrily and whimpered when I bit her bottom lip.
When I got to Lisa, I let my infatuation with her fill me up. It felt good to have a crush. It felt good to not really need it to go anywhere or be anything, just to enjoy wanting someone.
She smiled sweetly and raised her face up, and closed her eyes. I kissed her tenderly, wrapping my arms around her. She laughed and pulled away after a moment, waving to me with her usual mysterious grin.
Then we all went our separate ways in the night. I walked and walked all the way to Union Square with my cock hard and my lips wet and the whiskey and the kissing making me giddy.
Anyhow, that’s how I remember our old writing group.