New Year Mosh Pit

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: General Erotica  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

Petra and Lydia are tarts, happy to cross the etiquette line in a mosh pit from the moment they are both felt up; from behind. As the New Year is welcomed in, they welcome fingers in.

Petra and Lydia had always liked moshing. It was how they had met their ex-boyfriends. So, it was no surprise that now the cheating pricks had been dumped, the girls were back in the pit with one of their favourite heavy metal groups really thrashing out the beat on New Year’s Eve.

The duo was quickly high on the music. The pair was already higher on some quality weed scored outside the venue. With an entry line as long as your grannies bloomers, you need something to pass the time.

Petra was feeling upbeat before the grass started to weave its magic. She had new black leather knee-high boots and a shiny silver tongue stud. The shoes looked great with her denim skirt. Well, a girl has to get her self-esteem up if there's no cock to keep it up. 

Lydia had her hair cut today, jagged and purple-streaked. She thought she looked great, and hey, that's half the battle in getting a new have to feel good about yourself first....and she did ...her arse curving out in her so short favourite black leather skirt: complete with a new black G-string.

The push and slam occurred in the pit from the opening number. God, the band themselves had their usual stoned live performance, and it was amped up by the countdown to midnight and a new year.

The love of the loud was very present. The girls were both here because they didn't want to hear themselves think. With any luck, they would get a hunk and screw the dude senseless, probably in the esplanade park, opposite the converted warehouse venue: after the gig. What better than a root to start the new year?

By the fifth song, there was already a couple of pissed college idiots crowd-surfing. However, the unpredictability was half the fun. Lydia and Petra bumped and ground into each other. Hot and chickee girly fun. They were going to make a night of this. They had their chests squeezed into each other and liked it. The guys around them, some really close, liked the look too, especially the look in their mutual eyes and their deep cleavage. Both girls had flaunty, sexy tops on.

Suddenly it got cramped very quickly. It was super confined in the mosh. Free movement was at a premium as the girls were hemmed together, side by side. Their arms were tucked in unwillingly. It was jam-packed in their part of the pit. 

They both felt the pressing full-body contact with complete strangers from behind. Hard male bodies. It was clothed flesh, but the sensations were bodily sexual too. It was a frenzy of constriction, and the girls were right into it. There was no personal space. It was body jam and body ram.

Towards eleven-thirty, the band's anthem thrashed out of their guitars, blistering through the enormous audio system and belting out of the drummer's hands. The audience, without a cue and with raucous love, joined the lyrics as the lead singer's gravelly voice hammered them out into the pit.

The press in the mosh got sphincter tight. It was hard to move. It was difficult getting anything but recycled; pre expelled air. It was a sweaty, cotton-woolly, body-near straight-jacketed atmosphere. Close to a crush with a near-dangerous sway.

Lydia suddenly copped a feel under her skirt. But she didn't respond to the harassment like she knew she should have. Rather she took a smutty adrenalin hit from the combination. The anthem, the weed and a hand massaging her bum skin. She was really randy anyway. God, she needed a root.

Lydia was here looking for sex. But not here in the pit. Yet the feel-up had momentum all of its own. It hit all her sensitive spots very quickly.

She was so close to Petra at her side ...she heard her girlfriend gasp...and could just see the look in her bestie’s eye...and she knew Petra was getting the feel up too. Two cocky bastards behind two exhibitionist tarts. 

There are poorly executed, sleazy gropes. There are rushed snatching wrenching ill, advised gropes. Then there are gropes designed for sluts. They always come from behind and initiate a state of sexual blessedness. Thank God some guys know how to dirtily excite a woman with their fingers.

Petra could feel the fingers exploring her arsehole, squeezing through her legs, and fingering her slit. A thumb in her bum and two fingers in her wet honey pot. Her G-string offered no resistance. The fingering felt great. No inhibitions or doubts...she surprised herself. She couldn't see the guy. Couldn't turn around...but felt his powerful probing digits. God, he was an arsehole teaser. Stretchy and dirty.

The pit remained cramped, and some guy's finger was jammed even tighter in Petra's personal furrows. She heard Lydia gasp and realised it was a dirty foursome.

Lydia's head was crowded with good hard-hitting music. Her body was rocked by a crowded pressing sway in the mosh. But more enjoyable were the fingers lewdly now ramping into her tight butthole and stuffing into her coochie. Geez, she got wet fast, and despite the constricted squeeze between her legs, she could feel the wetness seeping down her thighs. She only wanted cock now between her legs, filling her needy girly cavern. But here in the pit...unthinkable.

In the insane press and the mind-numbing inferno of noise, four lives went on their own harder press. As personal space was destroyed for everyone in the pit, intimate space was detonated for four young people. The risk-takers get all or nothing. The guys could have been thrown out of the pit and faced an out-of-court session. But they picked their girls or just got extremely lucky.

Luck had nothing to do with the filling both girls got. They had the capacity. The guys had the goods in their pants. Fuck knows how they got their zips undone. Getting a frickin erection was way easier...all they had to do was press and rub against the bum in front of them. 

But it's skin-to-skin that brings all of life's delights. Amps the pleasure to the max. Sears the brain more than your favourite heavy metal band's memorable refrain. Two cocks just drilled their way forward into private pits. Trouser wads muscling between tight thighs into moist womanly recesses. Boring past G-strings. Cocks implanted in pussy; as only a cock can in the most restricted of spaces. Give a cock a will meet it.

The girls were moaning. They heard guys, unknown guys groaning behind them. The rhythm of their bodily coupling wasn't theirs to create: it came from the sway and surge of bodies around them. Pressing heated bodies, with four bodies generating even more heat. 

All their sexual apparatus in a mutual upsurge of pleasure. Private bits enjoying the roll and eddy of movement.

Guys and girls close to the four tried to look; they understood what was happening but were mostly beyond shock. It was like: well, someone has the balls to feel up their girlfriend in the mosh and mush pussy. Or what trashy sluts. No one else realised it was frickin mosh pit copulation except the four encircled in the sex.

Lydia and Petra couldn't contain their euphoria. Still, it was lost in the mass pit elation of the encore refrains of the band’s anthem. The lead singer's head banged the refrain as two girls’ bodies were banged by cock.

Deep, dark, morose lyrics...the ones that strike a chord at the seeming meaningless of it all played next.  Yeah, the slow- what the fuck are you doing with your life lyrics. Yet four people couldn't question their existence in the pleasurable sway of pounding hot hard sex. They were so alive to bodily need ...and the hits of sexual pleasure that amped and amped through them... as the riffs continued on stage. Intense, repeated, straining hardness between their moist slits.

Next, the band hit their song banned on the radio, and the crowd roared. It was raunchy; yeah, fuck me, baby, fuck me like they saw the four in the pit and egged their egos on. The two girls yelped in sync as their sweet petite starfishes got crammed. Arseholes thumped to a tempo fiercer than the drummers pounding beat. Meat sticks drummed through the backdoor of constricted delight. Then the rapid rigid jerks were felt by both tarts. Followed by the slippery exit of wet cocks as a spewed discharge smeared across the girl's butt cheeks.

Seemingly over...not entirely...there was the grinding of pubic bones into their happy arses.

Two girls were full of jizz. Full of music. Full of still decadent bodily pleasure. 

Finally, the crowd gave here and there. Space appeared. Breathing spaces. A break in the song list for booze cup refills before the New Year was counted down and in.

There were gaps around Petra and Lydia. The band to the side were swigging Jack and lighting joints. Who cared?

The sidebars weren't filling plastic cups with beer as quickly as they were being emptied. Midnight was closing in fast.

There was jostle and bump and unruly elbows around the girls. A reverberation of a shove from elsewhere in the pit. Petra and Lydia separated in a series of jolting, competing, pressed and divergent, incoherent; group movements. 

Two minutes to midnight and they elbowed to a sidebar in a packed movement like an undertow directing them there whether they liked it or not. 

They looked at each other: happy, sexually filled, girly smiles. 

Next, they looked around. Who were the guys? God, any guy here looked okay...they were both that high on immediate great sex and weed...they locked arms and pushed and squeezed together to the bar counter...for a much-needed gulped drink.

Behind them: the band was back. They started a near-deafening raucous rendition of Lydia's all-time favourite banned track to lead into the New Year.

Let’s get New Year naked, lovely baby.

Let me flavour your crack with my gravy.

Time to turn your pretty starfish inside out.

My stick beatin’ your arse with rhythmic clout.

Lydia grabbed Petra, and they squeezed back into the mosh jam. They embraced the congestion.

Then on your New Year’s knees, beggin’ for meat.

Lettin’ ya lick my lollipop here on the street.

Lickin’ my stick, Lickin’ my stick

Yeah, every drip, every drip.

Both hoping that just as lightning did strike in the same place...maybe cock would too. Throwing their arms in the air, they shouted together, “Happy New Year.”

Then baby, we gonna raise the New Year cheer

Your thighs to the sky as you fear for your rear

As I split ya, yeah, as I split ya, split your corn hole

Leavin’, you gushin’ like an ocean, lovin’, my pole.

Suddenly their skirts were lifted again, and fingers plied their flesh pits. Same or different guys. They didn’t care. Yeah, it was a fuckin’ Happy New Year from the first minute.


Submitted: December 26, 2022

© Copyright 2023 Janus. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



This was absolutely titillating. Lydia and Petra definitely brought in the new year the best way they knew how. But it really screwed my mind not to know the men who were fingering them, but I guess that's the point lol This was really eye catching and mind painting. Keep up the phenomenal work Janus! :)

Mon, December 26th, 2022 1:21am

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