The summer after my junior year in college, I worked for a catering company, waitressing and doing occasional prep.

This entailed nights and weekends at some of the most gorgeous and exclusive homes in town, and sometimes in the lush estates outside the city, too. There was no end to the decadence around me: from the gourmet food we served, to the lavishly dressed guests, the regal historic houses and the sexual proclivities of our very rich patrons.

I will not lie; I have changed some of the names and some details of my story because I would not want to jeopardize myself by exposing some of my former city’s most upstanding citizens — even though I no longer live in there. Though I’m back often enough for business. And yes, it’s still as decadent as ever.

Almost 20 years ago, during one of my first big parties — an engagement soiree — I came across the father of the bride getting serviced in the pantry closet by his daughter’s best friend. She didn’t see me, but he did — we made full-on eye contact while that young woman in taffeta was on her knees devouring his cock. She wasn’t much older than me. I realized for a middle-aged guy, he wasn’t that bad-looking. He still had a full head of hair, bright blue eyes and a rather large cock — so I gathered from the girl’s gagging noises.

Thankfully, instead of having me fired, the father of the bride — Mr. T — slipped me a $100 tip later that night to ensure my discretion. As a 21-year-old trying to pay her tuition, it’s not like I would’ve talked and risked my job — but who would have thought being an “accidental witness” would catapult me across the threshold into an alternate sexual universe that I continue to explore in my 40s.

See, it turns out I had caught Mr. T’s eye. While catering a charity golf event a couple weeks later, he spotted me across the floor and waved me over to his table.

As I closed the distance between us, I knew he recognized me — but I was sort of hoping I was mistaken. I demurred and smiled blankly, like he was any other guest.

“Can I get you another drink, sir?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine for now. But I wanted to get your name this time, Miss — ?”

“Call me Laurel.”

“Well… ” His eyes trailed over my body. Even in the modest attire of a banquet server, my nubile figure was impossible to truly conceal. “Miss Laurel, let me thank you again for handling the wedding ‘situation’ the way you did.” He lowered his voice to add, “Ever since my wife passed, I’ve found I’m a bit, uh, restless. But for obvious reasons, I don’t want my daughter finding out about my hobbies.”

“Not a problem, sir. I understand.”

“Now, I have a friend who is throwing a big party the day after tomorrow, and she’s short a few hands. She’s willing to pay double your rate” — he leaned forward to whisper — “with the understanding that this job would require some discretion on your part.” He paused and studied my face. “Is this something you’d be interested in?”

I nodded, “Of course, sir.” What broke college kid says no to money?

“Wonderful.” He smiled and pulled out a business card. “Give her a call tomorrow morning and tell her I sent you.”

“Will do. Thank you, Mr. T.”

“I’ll see you there,” he said with a wink.

I wasn’t surprised to hear that.

The next morning, I called Ms. M. She had a buttery accent and a warm personality over the phone — and in person. And speaking of her “person,” Ms. M was an auburn-haired lady in her 40s who looked a decade younger, with a “Jessica Rabbit” figure. No doubt she had an amazing plastic surgeon.

Now, the party itself was completely normal. We served cocktails, there were speeches, and then dinner, dessert and some dancing. Most of the guests had left when Ms. M summoned me upstairs, instructing me to bring a bottle of champagne.

She had a beautiful back veranda that stretched across the entire second floor of her riverside estate. I stepped outside, naturally expecting to find her there entertaining some stragglers, but the open-air porch was totally deserted.

“Over here,” a voice called out from the master suite, which, like every other room, opened onto the veranda through French doors.

I was definitely not prepared for the sight of the busty Ms. M fully nude and straddling the lap of a much younger Latino-looking man in a chair, while Mr. T and his 20-something blowjob bridesmaid, Bea, were already fucking on the bed.

Bea was riding him reverse-cowgirl, and unlike last time, she looked right at me. She cupped her small tits and then reached down to stroke her clit. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the sight of her smooth, shaved pussy, which swallowed Mr. T’s shaft with every downward motion. Her wavy, jaw-length brunette bob gave her the look of a wood nymph meets flapper girl as she ground her tiny hips.

Then I felt eyes on me, and sure enough, Ms. M was watching me watch Bea. I fought to regain my composure.

“Hun? If you wouldn’t mind pouring a round?”

“Not at all, ma’am.” I tried to remain professional.

“And when you’re done, go ahead and make yourself comfortable, if you’d like. I love to be watched.”

“Oh!” came my startled reply.

“Don’t worry,” Bea purred. “We’ll make sure you get a hell of a tip.”

Mr. T laughed.

Ms. M got up and touched my arm. It was impossible not to stare at her incredible body — and feel a little jealous. “If you’re not into it, not a problem. There’s no pressure.”

“Before I knew it, I had two women’s tongues slithering over my pussy.”

“I… I can stay. It’s fine.” After refilling their glasses, I sat down in a chair across from the bed. I crossed my legs, already feeling wetness pooling in my panties.

“Great.” Ms. M smiled and motioned for her boy toy, Anthony, to join her on the bed. At that point, Bea dismounted Mr. T and got on all fours, so she and her lover could fix their eyes on me while he took her from behind. Ms. M laid down in front of them and guided Bea’s eager tongue to her pussy. While Bea ate Ms. M, Anthony put his cock in Ms. M’s mouth.

The foursome fucked one another until almost 3 a.m., but the time seemed to zoom by. I left that night with $800 dollars extra in tips, and I had to pull over on the drive home to finger-fuck my soaked pussy in my car.

You better believe when Ms. M called the next week, I gladly took another job. And the same thing went down at the end of the night, except that time it was Mr. T, another guy — who is now an important local politician — that guy’s wife and Ms. M.

I sat there watching in rapt silence, utterly captivated by what unfolded before my eyes. I was young and pretty, with brunette girl-next-door looks and green eyes. But I’d been single for a year — and it was swiftly becoming the summer of sexual frustration.

I was so envious of these women, so open and wild, getting their every desire satisfied — in ways I’d never tried — but I didn’t want to invite myself into their clusterfuck and risk losing easy tuition money.

Well, after a couple more weekends of watching the after-party orgies, I almost creamed my panties when Ms. M phoned me with an exciting new proposal.

“I’m not calling to ask you to work, but I’d like to know how you’d feel about being a guest this evening? And maybe joining me and Bea with some… gentlemen callers?”

In a voice I couldn’t believe was my own, I replied, “Sure!”

I’d never felt sexier as I got ready. I slipped on a slinky black dress, no bra and a lace thong. Ms. M sent a car for me, so I didn’t even have to drive. I had the whole ride to fantasize about the night ahead.

Instead of a lavishly catered party, I found myself alone with Bea and Ms. M in the lounge.

“You don’t mind being the center of attention tonight, do you?” Bea asked me, as she poured us glasses of wine.

I shook my head and smiled. “I just… hope I don’t disappoint.”

“I don’t think there’s any way you could,” Ms. M said before leaning in close to stage whisper, “Now it’s my pleasure to serve you.”

“I want to second that.” Mr. T entered the room with Ms. M’s boy toy following close behind. “Laurel, you remember Anthony?”

“Yes, of course I remember.” I smiled.

Bea then surprised me with a kiss on the lips. She fondled my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress as she said, “Let’s get this party started.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Ms. M, who came up behind me and slipped off my dress. Then she slowly drew my thong down while Bea sucked my nipples. My knees buckled, so they had me lie down, and before I knew it, I had two women’s tongues slithering over my pussy.

Delirious with pleasure, I reached up and grabbed for Mr. T’s hefty cock as he stepped closer.

“That’s right, take what you want,” he said.

Meanwhile, Anthony got behind Ms. M and started fucking her — first her pussy, and then her ass after she instructed him to get the lube.

Bea beckoned Mr. T toward my wet entrance, saying, “She’s so ready for you.”

“Oh fuck!” I gasped, as he eased his erection inside me.

While Mr. T stuffed my pussy to the brim, Bea further demonstrated her expert oral skills, lapping at his cock and balls as he thrust in and out of me.

After I came the first time, Ms. M asked if she could fuck me with her strap-on — and if Anthony could plow my ass. Naturally, I said yes. Sandwiched between Ms. M’s tits and Anthony’s muscular body, my first ever double-penetration felt exhilarating. I had no idea I could come so hard — or so long!

At some point Ms. M finally came, and Anthony pulled out and shot his load on my ass. I looked up and saw Bea riding Mr. T again, frantically rubbing her clit. As we made eye contact, she gave me a knowing, naughty smile. Once I caught my breath from that amazing DP, I couldn’t wait to eat her cunt.

My wild college days might be long over, but to this day, Bea’s smile and an inviting pussy continue to brighten my visits whenever I’m in town.