VIP Room

My name is Julie.
I am forty-five, but my body is still light and toned. Height 160 cm, weight around 50 kg. Narrow waist, flat stomach. My breasts are small, perky, first size -- neat and very sensitive. The nipples are dark and narrow. When I get aroused they harden and stick out sharply, like short pencils. My hips and ass are firm and rounded. Slim legs, light skin. Light brown hair.

We arrived together with my husband. He had rented a VIP room in a hookah lounge for seven people. I knew I would be the only woman there, and I dressed deliberately revealingly, but in my head there was only one thought -- to flash. To show myself. To get excited from their eyes on me. I didn't even consider that it would go as far as real sex with them.

A short black pleated leather skirt. Underneath it -- no panties at all. Only the thinnest black 10-den pantyhose without a crotch panel. Completely open. On top -- a thin white jumper, almost sheer, with no bra. My nipples immediately showed through the fabric as dark sharp peaks and slightly lifted the thin knit.

When we entered, all six friends were already there. Dim light, blue glow, thick sweet hookah smoke, low music, the smell of mint and grape. Conversations immediately died down. Seven pairs of eyes slowly traveled over my legs, over the edge of the skirt, over the nipples sticking out through the jumper.

I calmly said hello, smiled, and sat on the soft corner sofa next to my husband, facing most of them. The leather skirt creaked loudly. When I bent my knees the pleats immediately rode up. The black pantyhose hugged my thighs so tightly that the absence of underwear was perfectly visible. And between my legs the fabric simply parted, leaving my pussy completely exposed.

I crossed one leg over the other more comfortably. The edge of the skirt slid even higher. The tall friend sitting opposite openly stared between my thighs. He could see the light skin of my lips. I noticed his gaze, spread my knees a little wider and pretended I was just getting comfortable.

My husband placed his hot palm on my thigh and left it there. Conversation gradually resumed, someone packed the hookah, the first puffs went around. But the eyes kept returning to me.

I stood up to pour myself some water. I deliberately walked close past them and, taking a glass, slowly bent over the table with my back to the men. The leather pleats rode up completely. Cold air hit my bare buttocks and open slit directly. The crotchless pantyhose covered nothing -- they only hugged the sides of my thighs. I lingered. For a long time I rearranged bottles and glasses even though nothing needed rearranging. Then I straightened up very slowly. I didn't pull the skirt down right away.

When I sat back down, silence hung in the room for several seconds.

Now I was sitting with my legs more open. The skirt was high. In the open panel of the pantyhose the light, slightly swollen lips and even the wet shine were clearly visible. My nipples under the thin white jumper stuck out so hard that the fabric around them became slightly damp from the heat of my body.

My husband began slowly stroking the inner side of my thigh. Sometimes his fingers slipped under the edge of the skirt and touched the bare skin right next to my pussy. I didn't stop him. I only breathed deeper and quieter.

Another twenty minutes of ordinary conversation, hookah and laughter passed. But the tension kept growing. I stood up several more times -- to adjust the hose, to pour more water, to take some fruit. Each time I found a way to bend or stretch so that the skirt would lift. Each time I felt their heavy gazes on me.

At some point I was already sitting completely open. One leg crossed in such a way that the open panel of the pantyhose fully showed me. My husband suddenly placed his palm right between my legs and began slowly stroking my exposed lips with his fingers. I flinched. He spread me open and held me like that for several seconds in front of everyone.

"Look," he said quietly. "She's already completely wet. And she's just sitting here."

I felt my cheeks burn with heat, but I didn't close my legs. I was embarrassed... and very strongly aroused. I still thought everything would be limited to looks and light touching.

One of the friends exhaled hoarsely. Another shifted on the sofa.

Almost with trembling hands I took the bottom of the jumper and slowly pulled it upward. First my stomach. Then the lower curve of my breasts. Then I took it off completely. My small perky breasts with sharp nipples sticking out like pencils were now on full display. I sat back down, naked from the waist up, with the skirt pushed up and my pussy open in the crotchless pantyhose.

Now they were looking at me without any restraint at all.

My husband continued slowly stroking me with his fingers, sometimes pushing them inside. I moaned quietly. My hips began to move on their own. I still didn't believe it would go any further. I thought they would just look and touch, and then we would leave.

But the tension in the room had become almost physical.

My husband leaned to my ear and asked very quietly:

"If they want more... are you against it?"

I was silent for a few seconds. My heart was pounding. Then I exhaled barely audibly:

"I'm not against it..."

He kissed my temple and said calmly to the friends:

"You can come closer."

Two of them immediately stood up and knelt in front of my legs. Now they were examining me up close. Fingers carefully touched, spread me, ran over my clit. I exhaled loudly. Soon the fingers were already moving inside me -- deep and rhythmically. Someone squeezed my small breast and strongly pulled the nipple. I arched.

Only when my husband unbuttoned his pants and guided my mouth to his cock did I finally understand: tonight they were going to fuck me.

I took him in my mouth. The other two continued fingering me and squeezing my breasts. The rest had already taken their cocks out and were stroking themselves while watching me.

Then they stood me on all fours on the low table. My husband entered me from behind in one deep thrust. I cried out. Immediately a second cock was pushed into my mouth from the front. They started using me properly.

After that everything became heavy, wet and endless.
They fucked me one after another and at the same time. They sat me on top, entered me from behind, made me suck two at once. At some point two of them tried to push into my pussy at the same time -- slowly, stretching me. I moaned and took it. Cum ran down my thighs, dripped onto the floor, stayed on my breasts, on my face, in my hair. Some came inside, some on my back, some on my tongue and on my small sharp nipples.

I lost count.
My body no longer belonged to me. It was open, fucked open, filled and used by all seven of them.

At the end my husband put me on my knees in front of everyone and came on my face and into my open mouth. I swallowed part of it and left the rest to run down my chin onto my breasts.

I remained sitting on my knees in the middle of the VIP room. In the torn pantyhose, with the skirt pushed up, covered in cum, with red buttocks, with small breasts in white drops and with nipples still sticking out.

Seven men looked at me with heavy, satisfied eyes.

My husband came up, gathered cum from my cheek with his finger and pushed it into my mouth. I licked it clean.

"Now it's right," he said quietly. "My good little slut."

I only exhaled hoarsely and didn't close my legs.

I still wanted them to keep looking.