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I am super flirtatious sometimes it gets me in a pickle!

Twenty feet in front of me, five fit men in tiny pink speedos sit on a float shaped like a giant butterfly, waving to the crowd. I make eye contact with one of the men and he smiles warmly. His flirtation catches me off-guard and by the time I think about responding, my four measures of rest are over and it’s time for me to play again.

It’s a blistering day in late spring, and although I’m wearing a light uniform with a short skirt, I’m sweating profusely. Playing the sousaphone while on the march is actually a pretty intense cardio workout. My band is in the middle of a bland Sousa number but I remain focused on the sexy man on the float, who is now guzzling cold spring water.
I know it’s cold because I can see the condensation dripping from the bottle.
He notices me watching him and jokingly offers me a sip. Obviously, I can’t take him up on it. We’ve got eight more blocks and 10 more songs before this thing ends. Only then will I finally be able to put down my instrument and have a drink.
The good news is we are about to enter a tunnel, which will provide some temporary cover from the blazing sun.
Yes, you heard me right — our parade will be going through a tunnel. Where no spectators will be able to see us for about 15 minutes.
This is a very poorly-planned route, but the mayor didn’t want us to go past the hotel where he fucks prostitutes. He’s probably there right now instead of in his top-down limo at the front of this parade where he belongs.
When we finally reach the tunnel, relief from the heat is immediate and dramatic. It fills me with a blast of energy and a giddy sense of boldness. With my instrument still wrapped around my body, I jog the 30-foot distance to the back of the slow-moving float.
When my guy sees me, he reaches out with a strong hand and helps me onboard.
“Wow, you must really be thirsty,” he says, offering me a chilled, unopened bottle of water from a cooler stashed discreetly under the butterfly’s anus.
“Thank you,” I say before taking a big gulp. Some of it spills out of my mouth and trickles into my cleavage. It’s very refreshing.
He notices, but his eyes don’t linger on my tits. He also doesn’t acknowledge that my skirt has ridden up my leg to reveal my tiny thong. I’m somewhat disappointed by this.
The Sousa piece ends, and they start the next song, which is an instrumental arrangement of Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’. I look back at the rest of my bandmates. Most don’t acknowledge me, but I do get an approving nod from Tina, one of our snare drum players.
There are two other tubas in the band. They won’t miss me.
“I’m Paige, by the way,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Timothy,” he says. “But my friends call me Mothy.”
“Mothy? Not Tim?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Does it have anything to do with this thing?” I ask, gesturing towards the giant wooden butterfly. Its antennae are just inches from the tunnel ceiling.
“Uh, no, actually. That’s just a coincidence. Our org is called the Blue Butterfly, so this float has nothing to do with my name.”
“I’ve never heard of you guys before. What does your organization do?”
“We’re working to combat toxic masculinity through education and group therapy. The butterfly represents the changes we all hope to make in our lives.”
“That’s really cool. And I love this float.”
“Thanks. This is our first year being a part of this parade.”
Even in the darkness of the tunnel, I can see that Mothy is a beautiful man. He’s got stunning green eyes, a regal nose, and a totally ripped body. Normally, I’d be transfixed by his abs, but the lump in his tight little bathing suit has my full attention.
“So, this might sound like a weird question,” I say, “but are you guys all celibate?”
He laughs. “No. We try to be respectful and not bully anyone or be manipulative, but uh… that doesn’t mean we can’t engage in healthy consensual sex if such a situation were to present itself.”
“So, say such a situation did present itself. How would you proceed?”
“You mean how would I let someone know I was interested in them without being creepy?”
“Exactly.”
He smiles. “I might start by offering them a bottle of water.”
I scoot closer to him so that our bare knees are touching. “And under what set of circumstances would you initiate a kiss?”
“These days? I’d probably ask, just to be on the safe side.”
“Well, you haven’t asked me yet, so should I assume — ”
“Can I kiss you?”
I answer by bringing my mouth to his. Before I know it, we’re pawing and groping and rolling around on the tissue-paper-covered base under the butterfly’s ass. Mothy’s little banana hammock is not equipped to contain his growing cock and I feel him poking against the thin fabric of my underwear.
The mayor designed this parade route so he could get laid with impunity. It’s only fair that the rest of us get to take advantage of it, too. I’ve got 12 minutes of darkness in this tunnel, and if we’re still fucking when we come out the other side, the shadow cast by the butterfly and the decorative rim that goes around the entire float should obscure us enough as long as we’re laying down.
But what about his friends? So far, the music has been enough of a distraction, but it’s only a matter of time before one of them glances over their shoulder and sees Mothy and me going at it.
“Are your buddies ok with this?” I ask as Mothy pulls aside my panties and rubs his stiff dick across my wet pussy lips.
“I’m sure they’re fine with it. Probably. I guess it’s too late to ask.”
“Actually… why don’t you ask if any of them want to join us?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Well… me and the fellas have been exploring ways to be more intimate with each other so we can challenge the narrative that straight men can’t be affectionate with other men.”
“Yeah. And nothing is more intimate for straight men than sharing a woman’s pussy. A bukkake would be ideal, but under the circumstances, that would make us too conspicuous. It’s probably best if you all take turns.”
“I like the way you think!”
He gives me a long, wet kiss before going around to speak to the other men.
While I’m alone, I keep my pussy warm by rubbing it with a half-full water bottle. It’s ribbed for my pleasure, with deep, easy-grip ridges. I’m just about to insert it when a v-shaped shadow smelling like Old Spice looms over me.
“I’m Marlon,” he says. “Can I give you a hand with that?” He’s got his hand down his g-string, jerking his own cock.
Obviously, I love the feel of a dick in my hand, but watching Marlon masturbate is so hot.
“I’m Paige. And I’m totally ready for you.”
I pull him down on top of me and steer his cock into my hungry snatch. Marlon isn’t huge, but he’s fine as a warm-up. And he really knows how to use his limited resource. He has this awareness of his body that allows him to angle his thrusts perfectly to hit all the juiciest nerves.
“Fuck me, Marlon!” I yell, knowing the sound will be buried under When the Saints Go Marching In.
If I had to guess, I’d put Marlon in his mid-20s. His skin is soft and supple, and he has almost no body hair. Two minutes in, and he’s already making his “O” face. If his dick was the only one I was getting, I’d be bummed at his inability to last. But since I know there’s more where that came from, I can revel in my ability to get him off so easily.
“Don’t fight it, baby,” I say. “If you want to cum, just go for it.”
“Are you sure?” he pants.
“Yeah, just let go. Fill me up with your load.”
And that’s exactly what he does. He cums so hard that it feels like I’m being drilled into the wood underneath me.
“That’s it, baby.”
What a sweet guy. It’s encouraging to see that the Blue Butterfly is connecting with men this young. It gives me hope for the future of our civilization.
Marlon kisses me and then moves along to make room for the next guy, Tony.
I swear this must be the Magic Mike float because every one of these men is chiseled like a classical Greek sculpture. Tony is slightly bulkier than Marlon, with cannonball shoulders and a wide neck that suggests he could be juicing.
But then when I see what he’s packing between his legs, it sets my mind at ease. Nobody taking steroids could have such a big cock. And like Marlon, he gets himself hard right away.
It feels good to have my pussy penetrated so deeply, but he doesn’t have a very good rhythm. Not many women can handle this much girth, which means he’s probably used to standing still and letting them do the work so that he doesn’t accidentally break them in half. Realizing this, I roll us over so that I’m on top.
“Your cock is so amazing,” I say as I bounce up and down on him.
He grabs my breast on the outside of my uniform. I wish I could feel his skin on my bare nipple, but it would be too risky to take off my clothes. In fact, I’ve still got my panties on, pulled to the side.
And they are completely drenched.
“Cum for me, baby!”
He grips my ass like a vice as he explodes inside me.
The echo of the tunnel is transitioning to the roar of the crowd as the next guy, Eric, mounts me. Four floats to go before we’re back in the sun.
Eric is on the older side; probably in his early 60s. He’s got this fire marshal look to him. He doesn’t get as hard as the other boys, but he makes up for it with tenderness. When he’s not kissing me, he’s staring deeply into my eyes, which is totally hot. Just because our connection is brief doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
He’s taking too long in my pussy, so I finish him with my mouth. He caresses my cheek as he blasts my tonsils with jizz.
As my band starts into their Taylor Swift medley, Mothy brings over the last guy, Jason.
“So, it looks like we’re running out of tunnel, and we’re worried there won’t be time for you to fuck us both separately,” Mothy says. “How would you feel about some double penetration?”
I take a gander at their packages. Both cocks are of average size, but Jason is slightly bigger. If only they had saved Marlon for last…
“Ok,” I say. “But Mothy, you have to be in the back.”
The two men fist bump each other, then kiss me on the cheek before we get into position. I haven’t had both holes plugged at the same time since college, and while the prospect is thrilling, it’s also a bit scary.
Mothy helps his dick go in smoothly by covering it with a thick coating of oil-based sunblock. I was worried it would burn, but it’s actually soothing. I’ll have to make a note of the brand he’s using.
Sandwiched between the two meaty men, I feel the tingle of my orgasm building. This is a new level of intimacy for them, but they sync up quickly. One thrusts while the other pulls, like two lumberjacks sawing a log together.
The heat we’re generating with our bits and holes could power a factory, and it’s exhilarating. They’re mostly focused on each other, but I don’t feel ignored. In fact, it’s their openness and vulnerability as men that finally put me over the edge.
“I’m cumming!” I shout. “I’m cumming!”
I reach back and grab Mothy’s ass to hold him still as my pussy quivers. Warm goo spills out of me and fills the small gaps between our bodies.
I see Jason’s eyes roll back and know that he’s next. I shove my tongue deep into his mouth as he explodes inside of me.
As much as I enjoyed the anal pounding Mothy has been giving me, my ass is just too sore to let him finish in there. I pull him out and turn to face him while I jerk him off. But it’s not until his good chum Jason puts an encouraging hand on his shoulder that Mothy finally blows his wad.
His powerful load blasts me in the stomach just as the butterfly emerges from its cocoon.
“Hit the deck, guys,” Tony says from the front of the float. “We’re out in the open again.”
Mothy, Jason, and I remain in a spoon formation while the other three men position themselves strategically to obstruct the crowd’s view of us. It’s impossible to know for sure how effective this is, but at least nobody is pointing and laughing, and the cops we pass don’t seem to take notice.
Feeling safe, I let my post-orgasmic bliss shuffle me off to dreamland. You know I must be spent when I can sleep through my band’s rendition of Katy Perry’s Firework.
I finally wake when the parade comes to an end and it’s time to say our goodbyes.
I’m totally soaked with sweat, spring water, and cum to the point that you can actually make out my nipples through my polyester top. I realize now that I should have stripped after all. Once I wrap my sousaphone around me, all the naughty bits are covered. For the first time ever, I’m happy to be playing the largest instrument in the marching band.