4 June 2010

Slut's Revenge

This fantasy was sparked by a real life event, I'm sure you'll be able to figure out at what moment I slip from fact into fiction. I guess you could say that this is a tale which may illustrate the saying 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'. Anyways I hope you like it...


It's late saturday afternoon and I'm standing in the shower looking forward to this evening. My boyfriend's folks are out of town for the weekend and he's having a party, my first "proper" party. I'm gonna stay over too, having told my own folks I'm crashing at a friend's house. I wash my hair and shave all my hairier bits very carefully to be perfect for him when we have sex for the first time later tonight. He won't be my first, but it will be more special than my first time, I just know it.

My mind slips to him so naturally, how he feels when I hug him, how he smells when we're so close, how he tastes when I kiss him. How he tastes when I suck him. We've been together long enough now and all I've wanted to do for weeks is to give in to his advances and let him inside of me. 

My fingers tease over my freshly shaved parts as I imagine how he'll feel in me, so eager already for his fully naked body to cover mine. I snap out of it, rinsing and conditioning my hair, letting my anticipation build slowly as I get towelled off, dry my hair and figure out what to wear.

Even as I look through my wardrobe I'm playing a game with myself, I know exactly what I'm wearing. I should do, I've been planning this evening for weeks now, ever since he told me that the party would be happening. For some reason he was nervous about asking me, even though we'd been together for a while. He was so happy when I told him that of course I would go. He was even happier when I told him that it would be our first time.

In fact we were both so excited by the whole idea that within moments our hands were in each others pants, then his fingers were slipping into me as I leant over to take him in my ever-willing mouth.

I pull my own fingers away from my thighs where they seem to be magnetically attracted, and take the black halter-neck shift out of the wardrobe, holding it against myself infront of my full length mirror. I worry that its possibly a little too sexy for a house party, but I want to look perfect for him tonight.

I hang it over my curtain rail, so I can see it as I slip on a pair of brand new french knickers (also in black, of course) and my dressing gown as I do my hair and make up. I pay minute attention to the small amount of mascara and lipstick I put on. I curl my hair just a touch to give it that slight wave that he told me once he liked. I spray a little perfume on my throat and breasts. All the time my eyes flicking back to my dress, so eager to get into it. The sooner I get into it, the sooner I get it taken off me...

Finally after much checking of the time, I slip it on, smoothing it down over me, checking that my bare nipples aren't *too* obvious under its clinging material. Back infront of the mirror I admire its lines, checking that it doesn't show off my ass when I bend a little. It is rather short, falling to mid thigh, but it's on the right side of slutty. Just.

Grinning, I imagine my boyfriend's reaction to what I have on, then I complete the outfit with a pair of black stockings and my smart flat shoes. Simple but sexy is my motto for this operation. Classy but... easy? Am I looking too whory? I recheck myself in the mirror, reassuring myself that I'm desirable but not too obvious. No, I'm fine. The stocking tops are well above the line of my dress, my ass is covered, my breasts entirely swathed by the folds of the body of the dress. 

I'm good to go, and just in time too as I said I'd be there at 8.30. I grab my bag and slip out of the house, calling my goodbyes through closed doors to both parents. I jump on a bus and within a few moments I'm round the corner from his house. My stomach's churning a little as I straighten my dress and check my make-up in my small mirror, then before I know it, I'm approaching the house, the bedroom, the bed, where he'll be laying me down tonight.

I kinda expected to be the first one there, but when one of his friends answers the door, beer in hand, I figure what the hell, its a party right, it must have started early. 

That it started earlier than I thought quickly becomes apparent to me as I hear yelling and laughing from the garden. The guy who let me in wandered off as soon as I walked in and so I hang my bag up in the cloakroom and look around for my boyfriend.

The lounge and the kitchen are empty, it seems everyone's in the garden. Not that I was expecting him to be waiting behind the door for me to arrive but still I'm feeling a little put out and kind of alone as I step into the kitchen, filled with beer, bags of snacks and one guy opening bottles whilst drinking quickly from another in his hand.

I ignore the beer dude (he feels like a 'dude') most blatantly as I brush past to get to the garden where finally I see *him*. He looks so perfect. I take a stolen moment and watch him before he spies me. He's wearing just a pair of long shorts and those beat up old trainers he refuses to throw out. His chest has finally caught up with his face and arms and is becoming more bronzed with the summer sun. His chest is quite hairless and I do adore pressing my face against it, teasing those small nipples with my tongue. He's just a little toned but kinda skinny with it. Right now he looks as much like a god as any skinny teenaged boy can do.

I feel my nipples harden and my crotch heat just a touch as I idly wonder how white his ass will be under those shorts. I've never seen his ass properly. I will soon.

My gaze widens to take in the four or five guys with him, friends of his who I don't really know. All sat around on patio chairs and benches, laughing and swigging from bottles and cans. Finally he sees me and I wave shyly from my place by the doorway where I'm stood like a shrinking violet. He beckons me over and I sit by him, he pecks me on the cheek and I try and join in with the conversation and laughter. He doesn't ignore me, but I feel selfish and want him to myself. 

If I could, I'd stand up and pull him to his bedroom right now and the rest of the people here be damned. I just feel a little uncomfortable in the company of so many people I've not met before. The outsider, self conscious of my every action and very conscious of my attire. The eyes of the other guys tracking over me don't help my comfort, every time I look around their eyes twitch away from my legs or my breasts. 'Shoo' I think to them 'this is only for *him*, stop ruining my perfect night with your lecherous looks'. Other than a few meek attempts at glares, thinking is all I do.

The next hour or two passes in a similar vein, we get to chat a little by ourselves, but more and more people seem to arrive and I wonder exactly how popular my boyfriend is. Maybe we've just got gate crashers. Music fills the background of people talking and laughing, dancing, messing about. Everyone here seems to be having the time of their lives, everyone but me that is. The few moments I have with him seem almost stolen and without fail are interrupted by one or another of his jackass friends dragging him away with promises of something which is cool for him to witness.

I tire of the evening very quickly, wishing almost that I was drinking to help get myself into the party spirit. I chat idly to a few people I half know to pass the time, sneaking away to the bathroom as often as I can to have some time to myself to relax. I remind myself during one of these many breaks that everything I endure now will be worth it in just two or three hours time when I finally get to feel him between my thighs.

I'll not bore you with the next couple of hours of what, to me at any rate, were like something which belong towards the end of Danté, instead we'll just skip on via a montage of guys cannonballing into the pool, beer cans stacking up, CDs being changed and people being sick, often not in toilets. It was *that* kind of party. A success by most people's standards.

My only measure of success for the night though was how quickly I could get undressed and on that measure, the evening was failing. Badly.

Around 1 am people start drifting off, either away from the house or into a passed out version of sleep. After checking most of the house I finally find my guy playing poker with some of his friends in one of the guest bedrooms. I slip up and lean into him and watch the game.

It's safe to say that I know very, very little about poker. I know the basics, like 3-of-a-kind, full house, and so on. I know there's things called a flush, a full house and a straight, but as to which of these is best I haven't a clue. Once you get past four beats three beats two of the same value card, I get lost. I've just rarely ever played it. Now canasta I could beat anyone at...

So I concentrate instead on how good it feels to be in the crook of my boyfriends arm. How he smells, although by now he's a touch ripe. I might have to suggest a sexy shower before the main action. He leans in to kiss me quickly between hands and underneath the beer and smoke on his breath, it's fairly obviously he's been sick at least once tonight. All the alcohol will have killed any germs by now surely. Small comfort really. Maybe I can get a few cups of coffee into him before he gets into me? And toothpaste. Definitely toothpaste.

Pondering all this as the game goes on in front of my unfocused eyes, I finally snap back into the real world with my guy swearing heavily at one of his friends, but in a friendly way. Well generally friendly. One look at the table confirms my suspicion that he's lost all his money. He finishes his little outburst by asking who wants another beer and then goes off to get the drinks.

More uninterested than ever, I watch the game continue without him. Five of his friends are left playing for pounds and fifty-pence pieces. It seems that Josh is doing best, a huge pile of silver infront of him, with Dave and Peter almost out of cash. Phil and John aren't doing too badly, but then again they never seem to bet that much and John seems two minutes away from unconsciousness. 

My boyfriend finally returns, staggering, and hands out the bottles. Really, how much can one person drink in a night? None of the other guys here seem to be as pissed as him. He does remember to bring me a lemonade, rather than a bottle of beer, unlike the previous times he's gone to get me a drink tonight. I'm fairly sick of carbonated liquid by this point, but a lemonade is better than a beer. Except it's warm. And flat. Wonderful...

I leave the glass on the sideboard they've dragged into the centre of the room to act as a card table and usher him and his fresh beer to the double-bed, our backs to the wall, leaning against it, trying to get cuddly with him. His eyes and attention remain fixed on the game, laughing at poor bets and worse hands. Like he's the expert...

I sneak in a few kisses when his mouth is free of his latest bottle. I try and whisper secret sexy things into his ear as I suckle on the lobe. I run my fingers along the neck of his bottle and down his bare chest. His reactions are... limited... to say the least. A quick grope of my breast, a foul french kiss, and slurred garbled sentences, which I'm sure are not on the romantic side of sexy talk.

I finally give in trying to lure him away to his room and lean back with him and watch the game some more. He fails to notice my freshly frosted mood and it is quite possible he fails to notice me at all. We make no effort to speak to each other for a full 10 minutes, until it gets too much for me to deal with, this awful silence, I'm almost in tears at how our night has been ruined. I blame his friends.

That is until I turn to look up to him, and my apologies die in my throat. He's out cold. Head tilted back against the floral wallpaper, eyelids barely flickering. A snort escapes from his mouth followed quickly by the most disapproving sigh ever made from mine. I shrug his arm away from my shoulders and scoot off the bed. A soft thump makes me turn my head to look back to him. He's fallen to his side, face first into the bed-cover, still half sat, twisted around the waist most uncomfortably. 

Right now all I wanna do is punch him, kick him and slap him til he wakes up then dump his sorry ass in a way that leaves him feeling as utterly awful as I do right now. The things I've done for him... the things I've promised to do for him tonight... and he. Falls. ASLEEP.

If audible disappointment was an Olympic event my tsk-sigh dismount from that bed would have easily have scored a 5.8 or a 5.9 from the assembled judges. As it was though, the only audience I had was my boyfriend's loser buddies. One of them asks what-the-fuck's up with me, then the others start laughing when they see my prostrate date. I roll my eyes in mock disapproval to hide my very real and wrathful disapproval.

One of them, Josh asks me if I want to join in the game, clearly hoping for another sucker to bleed dry whilst he's on his lucky streak. I shake my head and explain how I can't play poker and anyway I have no cash on me. The first, as I explained before, is true. The second however is a flat out lie, but as none of them saw me arrive with my bag, none of them are to know that. It gets me out of a situation which can only lead to my embarrassment, demonstrating my utter ineptitude at a game I've never played before.

'How about strip poker then', Dave calls out. Suddenly my need for revenge on my stupid passed out (now ex-)boyfriend finds a possible outlet. Could I? Really? All five? A spark lights in my stomach, making it churn.

I excuse myself without answering, heading to the en-suite bathroom in his parents room, figuring that might be less horrible than the main bathroom. I'm only going there to make my deliberations. If I do this I want to make sure it's with a full understanding of what I'm doing and not some rash decision. 

After wincing at the contents of the toilet bowl, I put down the lid and sit on it, flushing it five times in a row just to make sure the contents have totally vanished. Whilst I flush like I have severe OCD, I weigh up the pro's and cons of what I may be possibly about to do. Am I really going to be such a slut and fuck five of my boyfriend's best friends as he lays passed out in the same room?

Well he did promise me I'd get laid tonight. I have been expecting sex after this party since I was first invited and *he* clearly isn't interested in me enough to stay sober to even give me a five minute quickie. So why not. Let him wake up tomorrow and hear how all his friends got to play with his best girl right in front of his face. Maybe one of them will even take pictures just for him...

The thought of that turns me on so much, in so many ways, that I have to struggle not to get myself off right there and then. Instead I check my make-up, stealing a little of his mother's mascara in passing. I make sure my underwear and stockings are straight and head back to the guest bedroom. Furtive looks and the trail ends of whispers greet my arrival, then they all look over at me as I walk in. Clearly the subjects of myself and strip poker have been the only topics of conversation since I left. They all seem more alert than when I left and Phil actually blushes as I smile at them.

'So what are the rules?' I ask as I sit down in the seat left vacant by the piece-of-shit now gently snoring on the bed. This is greeted by an unbelieving silence. Finally Josh answers, clearly feeling lucky in more ways than one tonight.
'Shoes and socks don't count, only visible clothes can be removed. Worse hand after two swaps loses'

I look down as see that they're all barefoot and, excepting a be-trousered Phil, wearing shorts. Above the waist to a man they're wearing t-shirts, four of which I recognise from my boyfriend's wardrobe. I look back up to Josh to nod my agreement, finding his eyes on my chest, possibly trying to determine if I wore a bra tonight or not. Where as earlier this would have left me sighing and feeling slightly soiled, now all it does is make my nipples harden. Maybe they want him to see them thru the folds of my dress. Maybe I want him to be able to tell all that stands between him and my bare breasts is just this little shift. Well he'll find out soon enough. They all will.

The cards are dealt to my renewed explanations that I've really never played this game before, this is met with ever growing smiles. John starts to tell me something about different kinds of poker and what kind this one is, but I hear very little of it, nodding every so often for politeness only.

Instead I'm checking them all out as thoroughly as they're checking me out. Josh is kinda cute I guess, though not really my type, quite big and broad, clearly works out quite a bit, short black hair. He knows exactly how cute he is, which is sually the sort of guy I can look right by. Phil is a little bigger, not fat exactly, but a little chubby in the face and not exactly svelte in the waist. He has quite an open face, still quite boyish in many respects, smooth skin around his jaw and upper lip betrays the fact that he's still to start shaving properly.

John and Dave are both, well normal, I guess. Average heights, their arms toned a little, brown hair gelled up in alarmingly similar styles. These guys should call each other before they go out and co-ordinate haircuts. The last is Peter, by far the quietest of the group, almost shy but with a knowing and intelligent look in his eye. He's quite short, only just taller than me in these heels, and fairly skinny. If he were taller he'd look quite gangly, but he does have quite an angelic face underneath a mess of light brown curls.

So these are the guys I'll be playing with tonight, I guess. I smile to myself, if a girl's to have a random orgy then she really could do much, much worse than this collection. I start to wonder what they have in their pants as I lift my cards.

The first few hands I get through clothed, to my disappointment as Dave and Peter both lose their tops and Josh rather leeringly pulls off his shorts, just to be different. He can leer all he likes, because I'm leering right back, my eyes grabbing a hold of the bulge in his CK's, only to be left hoping that there's more than meets the eye under that snug cotton wrapper.

Phil removes his top also, blushing mightily, clearly unaccustomed to exposing his slightly wobbly stomach to anyone, let alone used to disrobing in this type of situation. The air is thick, the drinks have slowed as the cards are concentrated on. As I get a fifth good hand in a row (3 kings is pretty good right?) I excuse myself and go downstairs to hunt out an unopened can of coke.

I return to find my boyfriend still out for the count and an air of innocence in the room as the five guys sit with their fixed hands. Each only swaps one card. I swap two, twice. Surprising, and with statistical implausibility they all have extremely good hands. I lose my first hand. Finally.

I sit there for a moment as they look at me, none of them daring to encourage me, just in case I back out. I squeeze my thighs together hard, feeling my clit start to tingle in the way that it does when a guy kisses down my stomach before eating me out.

Standing I smile and reach for the tie behind my neck. Once this is undone I'll be stood there in just my panties and stockings, my bare breasts, hard nipples, on display to them all. I undo the tie slowly. Making them wait, looking to each of them to enjoy their anticipation of my near nakedness. They don't even know I'm definately braless under here...

...they do now. My dress drops perfectly to the floor and I sit back down, throwing my cards back into the middle of the table. Josh takes a long swig from his bottle, his eyes staying glued to me the whole time before commenting that I have great tits. I thank him and give them a squeeze with both hands, my finger and thumb on both sides meeting to pinch out the nipples fully.

The already tense atmosphere just got 200% tenser. I try and sneak a peek at the two crotches that are in my eyeline to see if I'm causing more than just staring, but the shorts are pretty baggy on both sides of me. I'm hoping to find out soon tho.

3 hands later and I'm starting to think I should become a professional poker player or something. I've clearly won them all, once with a straight. Apparently. Go me. The result of this success on my part has been the de-shorting of Dave, John losing his top and Josh being reduced to just his snug pants. He's not looking much more promising down their either. Dave on the other hand was defiantly semi-hard from the quick glance I managed to snatch before he sat back down opposite to me after the last hand.

The staring at my breasts isn't diminishing, which may be aiding my winning streak. Admittedly I have started playing with them between hands, just cupping them, or stroking the nipples teasingly. Wanting to see how far I can push these guys before they forget all about the cards and just start playing with me.

The ninth hand finds me with a pair of threes, which even I know is rubbish, but Peter has a single 8 as his best card and joins Dave in just his underwear. As he's sitting to my right I get a good long look at the tenting of his boxers. I lick my lips without realising it then meet his eye. I'm not quite sure I've ever seen anyone blush quite so much. I giggle and pick up the next hand.

Again, it doesn't suck. I'm starting to think something's being fixed around here. Another hand and still no nudity. I'm sure once one of us is naked things will escalate.. and quickly. Instead John is the fourth of the guys to be left in just his underwear. Once more I get to have a good long look at what appears to be a good long cock held inside some rather terribly patterned vivid green and bright red boxers. I want to sit on that cock so badly, yet we're all seemingly locked into this pretence of a cardgame.

To hurry things a long a little I announce between hands I'm going for another coke and tell them I'll bring them back some beers. I rush down the stairs and find the drinks and slip my fingers into my panties as I stand in the kitchen.

Such relief as my fingertips brush my clit. I slip a digit down to my hole, parting my lips, I'm so utterly, no-two-ways-about-it soaking wet. I slide my finger all the way into me then back out before sucking it clean and taking the drinks back up.

I pass out the drinks when I get back, not even bothering to check if sleeping beauty is still comatose. I so, so hope this hand has been fixed. If it's not I'm just gonna throw away any decent cards I have. If I'm not touched soon I'll just have to lay on the floor and get myself off.

The guys try to look as innocent as they can when I view my hand. A two, a four, an eight, a jack and an ace. Good. I swap two without thinking and pick up an ace. I throw it, and the original ace back along with the jack. I'm left with a single nine as my best card. My cunt clenches hard with anticipation of what's to follow.

I lose easily, and thankfully. I stand. I look around at the five guys staring at me. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my french knickers. I hear the intake of their breath. The guys can't believe I'm actually doing this. Neither can I. I bend forwards, way forwards. I push my panties down to my knees. They drop to the floor. I straighten slowly.

I stand almost naked in my black stockings and shoes. My hands raise to my breasts without my brain getting involved. They stare some more. I stare at them staring as they inch over my flesh with their eyes. I can smell my arousal. I wait for something to happen, for one of them to make the first move. I can't wait, I want their hands over me, grabbing me, mauling me. Poking, fingering, squeezing, pinching my pale skin. Come ON...

Josh finally breaks the silence: 'nice pussy'. He gathers up the cards and starts to shuffle. What? Is that it? Confused, I sit back down. This is getting very weird now. Another hand is dealt. I don't think any of us are concentrating on it in any real way. I lose again, this time by sheer poor luck or bad strategy.

I point out that I'm already naked, except the stockings, a fact which I'm fairly sure they are all aware of. I'm told by a grinning Josh that I have to do a dare instead. I agree before he's finished uttering the words. He finishes his drink with a long last swig and places the bottle purposefully on the table. He meets my eyes. 'Fuck yourself with it.'

God this guy's arrogant, but right now I'm so far beyond caring. I take the bottle in my hand and push my chair back a few feet from the improvised card table. I look down my body as I stroke the top of the bottle over my lips, parting them gently with the cold glass. I slip it forwards, rubbing it up against my opening. My left hand returns to my breast, gripping it tightly as I slide the long cool neck of the beer bottle deep inside my very wet cunt.

My eyes close instinctively and my back arches as I slide it out and back in deep as it will go, slowly starting to fuck myself. God I wish the neck of it were longer, and thicker, and ridged somehow. I push it as deep as it will go, rolling my wrist to rotate the tip inside of me, opening my cunt up with it. Holding it deep, slipping my thumb from it's cold body and to my hot clit, pressing against it, rubbing it gently in small circles.

A remonstrative cry of 'Dude' makes my eyes flick open to the sight of Dave holding his phone up right in front of , filming me on it. Peter's glaring at him, maybe worried that this will cause me to stop the show. Fuck will it. I smile to the small lens, pulling the bottle from my cunt and bringing it to my lips, letting my tongue snake over and into the opening as though fellating it. Peter shrugs before turning his gaze back to me.

I'm sat there legs and lips spread wide, hand on breast, sucking a beer bottle like it was possibly the best dick in the world. I glance at them in turn. All their hands are on the table, as they all try and act cool, like they don't want to jerk off right now over me. The two pairs of boxers I can see are tenting most impressively and I give John an extra slow appraisal.

Suddenly it dawns on me why none of them are making a move. My boyfriend, their friend is slumped unconscious on the bed not 5 feet away from where I'm making their Playboy fantasies come true. I turn my head to check he's still out for the count, he is. Good.

'So who wants to be first?'

My hand places the bottle on the floor, indicating that I'm done with the sideshow and am ready to become the main attraction. I reach down and open my lips wide, letting them see the deep pinkness of me. I slip the tip of an index finger in, rubbing firmly against my tightness as Josh claims his alpha-male role by standing and pulling off his tight white underwear and walking to me with his 5 inch cock leading him forwards.

He pushes the cards and coins off the table, grabs me under the arms and lifts me bodily, laying me down flat on my back. Then without any preamble, my legs are pushed into the air, he leans into me holding them up and then his cock's in me. I groan, more at the sensation of having someone inside of my flesh, rather than through any great sexual satisfaction. He fucks me hard and fast as the others watch. I notice Dave position his phone on the window board so it captures everything. I blow it a little kiss as Josh fucks me.

He parts my legs enough to get his head to my breasts and starts to kiss and lick them hungrily, taking each nipple in turn between his lips, suckling on them. I moan as he does this and that spurs him on, fucking me faster and harder, using every inch he has to get deeper inside of me. I'm pretty sure he must be close to cumming, and although I'm on the pill I'd much prefer none of them came in my cunt. Such a waste...

'Please... please cum on me, I want to feel it on my skin.' At this he pulls out instantly, taking his cock in his hand, jerking hard and fast as my legs split wide open and he starts to cum hard over my stomach, four thick spurts leaving long strings of cum along my flat pale stomach. I dip a finger in to one of them and sample it as he tells me I'm a nasty slut.

'As nasty as you like' I reply tasting more of his cum, waiting for my next cock. Instead of one, I get all four. They've all stripped and suddenly my head is tilted backwards off the side of the dresser and a cock much bigger than Josh's is pushed nearly fully into my mouth making me gag. In such a prone position I don't get to see  who it is, or who's entered my cunt. That gets stretched deliciously as a new cock fills me utterly, my legs get pushed back up and each of my hands is guided to a cock. I stroke them in rhythm to the fucking I'm getting.

Mouth, cunt and hands all full of throbbing hard cock, I love it. I suck hard, using my tongue as much as I can, hands over my tits, feeling pinching, twisting my nipples as they push each other further. Whoever's in my cunt tells the others how good it feels how wet I am. He starts to bang harder and harder, deeper and deeper. Long slow strokes, pushing every piece of himself into me. The guy in my mouth follows suit, pushing the head to the opening of my throat and holding me there as I gag over his head. Pre-cum staining my tastebuds now, his balls are slapping against my closed eyelids.

The guy in my cunt declares he wants to cum in the slut's mouth, and they have a very, very rapid change around, swapping ends in seconds. I look up to see John jerking over my face, rubbing the head into my cheeks and forehead. Then his hand grabs my chin and he's balls deep in my mouth, and cumming over and over, pumping his hips as more and more cum flows from him. I swallow greedily and a last spurt leaves me a reminder as he pulls out, wiping his cock in my hair before he joins Josh sat on the floor with a beer. 

This all takes about a minute, during which time I get my third cock in my cunt, not as big but a little thicker as it stretches me wider, opening me up, pressuring me deliciously. This, combined with the cum filling my mouth, makes me tremble towards my first orgasm of the night. I shout out as I cum hard and shuddering, my spasming cunt and vocal encouragements to fuck me hard. This causes Dave, who it turns out is the one in me, to buck harder and harder against me, til at the final second he pulls out, leans forwards and splatters my stomach and breasts in his cream. It joins the now hardening cum from Josh covering my belly.

These boys sure are quick, I barely have time to catch my breath before Phil is between my thighs, rubbing his head over my now sopping hole. Peter meanwhile is stroking himself just in front of my face, watching me try to catch his nicely sized cock in my mouth. Finally he pushes it in and I start to suck with my cum splattered mouth.

I've not had chance to really realise exactly how *big* Phil's cock is. As he leans over me, my legs split over the sideboard, his weight pressing onto me, I finally appreciate exactly what he has down there. Man, is he large. Even in my lubricated state, he struggles to fit himself in me. I feel completely full as he finally slides home fully. Then as I suck noisily on Peter, he starts to pump, slowly at first, as though he's scared to hurt me, then fast and harder. These two guys last longer than the others and fuck me thoroughly as the others watch on. Their hands move around my body, I groan round the cock in my face when a nipple is pinched, and am rewarded with a slap to my breast, which only makes me groan harder.

Finally, one, then two orgasms rip through me, each more powerful than the last, pre-cum dribbling into my mouth sets of a third and I'm exhausted. That doesn't stop them from fucking both my holes as hard as they can now, picking up their pace finally. Then they change ends and I get to taste the result of my orgasms on the big cock that gave it to me. I lick Phil as best as I can, sucking just the head, unable to get any more into my mouth.

Peter tries his best at the other end, but by now I'm so wet, stretched and tender that it does little for me. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the other guys are still watching and wanking over us, all three of them fully hard again. I free myself from Phil & Peter and kneel on the floor, motioning them to circle me.

I suck and stroke them in turn, taking cock after cock into my mouth as I rotate through them. Hands and lips constantly full of cum flavoured cocks. Squeezing soft balls, gripping hard shafts, licking eyes and ridges. Bringing them all, hopefully, to the boil at once.

I don't even see who's first. The cum just lands on my forehead. I can feel it dripping towards my eyes as the next guy unleashes on me, and the next, all of them cumming over my face. I open my mouth wide to catch what I can and the rest literally covers me, hairline to chin. My fingers find their own way to my sore clit and I ride roughshod over it's protestations as I lick each cock clean, I cum again, loudly, shivering on my knees, tightening my thighs together, trapping my hand between them. There's cum in my eyes and in my hair, all over my lips and forehead, cheeks and breasts. I look to the phone still recording us and scoop a fingerful of it up and slowly suck on it.

I rub the cum from my eyes then stand, face uncleaned, and turn to the bed. My boyfriend has finally woken up a little with my last vocal outburst. He's groggy and confused. Half drunk, half hungover.

I smile at him, I lean in and kiss him, smearing his friends cum all over his face and lips. He lays there bewildered and before he can fully comprehend the situation I've grabbed my dress and ran down the stairs to get my bag. I slip the dress on in the shadows of the garden and call a taxi.

As I wait for the car to arrive I clean my face up properly as best I can and hope that the ignorant son of a bitch is having fun watching the video of me taking all his friends in turn on what was supposed to be our special night.


FYI fantasy split with reality after I was asked if I wanted to play strip poker. I actually went to the bathroom, cried quite a lot, then went home, slept, then dumped the sorry loser the very next day. The fantasy version is much, much better I think you'll agree.

My Introduction to Slavery - Part 2: In The Dungeon will be appearing next week, should I get the time to do it justice. 


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Bravo my dear. Think you may have excelled yourself with that one. Can really tell how much you enjoyed writing it through the fluidity of the prose. Getting better every time.