The late afternoon sun baked the asphalt, and I could feel it through the thin soles of my sandals. My goal was simple: walk to the corner market, pick up the lemons and basil I needed for tonight's dinner, and walk back home. A normal Tuesday. I was just blocks away from the house when I first noticed a strange… tug.
It wasn't a sound or a sight, but a feeling. A low hum, like a bass note from a distant party, vibrating not in my ears but in my bones. I felt a strange warmth blooming in my chest, a pleasant heat that made the flapping of my skirt feel less like a cover and more like a barrier.
As I drew closer, the warmth spread, settling deep in my belly. A flush crept up my neck. The lemons and basil felt suddenly unimportant. More than that, the very concept of cooking a complex meal suddenly overwhelmingly tedious. What I really wanted, I realized with a jolt of surprise, was to relax and feel the breeze on my skin.
A man walking his dog across the street glanced over, gave a lazy wave and then looked away, his attention returning to his dog's sniffing. He was shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned but still pulled up. A few houses down, a woman watering her petunias on her porch was topless, her breasts swaying gently as she moved. Nobody cared. The thought that I should care flickered through my mind - a ghost of the person that had left her apartment not all that long ago - but it was extinguished by another wave of that intoxicating heat. That hum.
And if no one else seemed to mind…
Without a second thought, I shrugged the tote bag off my shoulder. It hit the sidewalk with a soft thud. I didn't even bother to pick it up. My hands were too preoccupied pulling my shirt up and over my rack. My bra fell about ten paces from the canvas tote.
The air was glorious on my bare breasts.
My skirt and panties followed, landing on the growing pile of my discarded life by the sidewalk. And not just mine. The further I walked, the more discarded items I saw. Bags and bras and boxers and even a few shoes. The feeling was euphoric. Like the world was suddenly right.
The hum was was stronger now, a palpable thrumming in the air that made my exposed pussy throb. It seemed to emanate from the old Starlight Motel up ahead, a place I usually avoided. Its neon sign had been flickering ST RL G for years, a monument to faded glory. But today, the hum drew me in. My original purpose, the market, the dinner, felt like a story I’d once heard about someone else. All that existed was the path ahead, the source of this wonderful feeling, and the growing, urgent ache between my legs.
My body knew the way. I approached the motel office, where the clerk was leaning back in his chair, completely naked, his feet propped on the counter, watching a small TV. He didn't even look up. He was too busy stroking his cock. As I passed the door I could hear the sounds of sex coming from the television. From the looks of him, this wouldn't be the first load he'd shot across his chest today.
The door to room 117 hung open, surrounded by a small gathering of the people who should have been out on the street. Or other guests. The owners of all those discarded garments and accessories on the sidewalk and here in the parking lot. All were in various states of undress and arousal, though none of them touched one another.
They might be naked and exposed but that didn't give me the right to touch.
Inside, I could see someone fully dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, a stark contrast to the nudity blooming outside. He wasn't traditionally handsome, and his eyes betrayed the slight panic that he was feeling. Behind him, in the center of the room, was a machine. It was a mess of coils, glowing crystals, and humming copper wires that looked both futuristic and cobbled together. This was the source. The heart of it all.
He kicked at the thing and cursed. Sparks flew and the blue glow turned an angry red. Suddenly, the freedom of nudity was replaced with a deep and powerful hunger. The reticence to touch vanished in a wave as the low hum changed with the light into a new and needier sound. Suddenly the crowd of people gathered around the entrance to the room churned like water upset by stone.
The man furthest back in the crowd lunged for me and hefted my tits in his hands. I collapsed onto one of the chairs set out and guided his already-hard cock into my desperate hole. The sounds of skin were all around us. Slapping and moaning and squelching. It was a wonderful, holy din. Lips wrapped around my nipple that belonged to someone else. My tongue slid along the entrance of some middle-aged woman's cunt.
Cum splashed across my face, smeared by the woman's thighs. I don't know who's it was. I didn't care. I was just thrilled to have received it. As the first man pulled out of me, a second took his turn. My left hand stroked a cock. My right hand groped a tit. A tongue probed into my ass. Another into my mouth.
The sound of more feet thundered into the motel lot. New bodies liberated by the strange resonance of the machine. More cocks for me to fuck. More cunts for me to taste. More cum for me to share and swallow.
And all the while, the chorus was overlain but the soft string of cursing and banging from inside the hotel room.
A final crash brought the hum to an end. The orgasmic sounds of the crowd transitioned into a soft chorus of panting and groaning as we all caught our breath. By the time someone had recovered enough to look into Room 117, the machine was smoking and the man was gone.
One of the hotel maids stood off to the side, handing towels to everyone off one of the carts. I realized with sudden embarrassment that I knew what her pussy tasted like. She wouldn't meet my eye. No one would, myself included.
We each took a towel, and the hotel manager let everyone into various rooms to shower. Someone muttered something about mass-hysteria, and we were all more than willing to just agree with that. Better than to accept the truth. The hum had set us free, and every single one of us would remember today as the day we all simply acted on what we all wanted every minute of every day.
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