Shy Zeenat's transformation Ch. 03

The return journey home was a contrast, to say the least.

The lights, the cars, and the buildings passed the taxi window, but inside the car, the world had become the space between Imran and me.

There was a lot yet unsaid.

My thigh was against his, and I could feel him, the heat of his thigh, except now there was a new, strange electricity to the feeling.

He had kept his lips tight; not a single word had been said since the reception.

I stretched out my arm, and my fingers wrapped around his. I was limp for a second before he curled his fingers around mine, then gave it a little squeeze. In the flickering street lights, his eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Imran," I whispered, barely audible. "Thank you."

He didn't ask any questions. He only nodded, and his eyes moved back to the window.

A lump of guilt grew in my stomach.

He had permitted me. He had seen me walking off with another man. And now, he was taking me home.

The front door closed behind us, and the storm of emotions took over.

I came up to him with my hands on his face and kissed him. It wasn't a soft, warm peck, like the ones we usually had. It was a desperate kiss, a collision of lips, teeth, and breath. I tried to wash away the taste of Thomas with the taste of my husband.

His hands gripped my waist, pulling me against him. There was a strong feeling of desire pressing against me, but it was not as aggressive as Thomas.

But the desperation was new. His kiss was hungry, almost punishing; he was trying to take back what he had lost in a fleeting moment.

He pressed his lips to mine and whispered, "Zeenat. You're... you're back."

I said, "I'm back," as I twisted his hair around my fingers. "You are not alone; I am with you."

My hands explored his body again. He must have deserved it; I told myself that I was rewarding him. For him, for his sacrifice, his unconditional love. I pulled the collar of his shirt down, my lips following down his neck, my tongue making circles around his pulse point. His head rolled back against the door, making a soft thud.

I went down on my knees. My fingers worked on his belt buckle. I raised my eyes to his face, his eyes blazing at me.

I extricated him, my fingers around his cock. It was hot and firm in my hand, but the thought of Thomas's thick and long dick came immediately and couldn't be denied. I felt like I was being shocked and embarrassed at the same time by the phantoms of Thomas's strength, the way he filled me and stretched me, and the way he stretched my flesh and made me feel full.

I choked it and bent forward, my lips caressing the end of his dick. His hands were in my hair, and he was urging me on, gasping. I wanted it to be a homecoming that he would never forget, and I wanted it to be perfect for him. I did everything I had learned, swirling the tongue, sucking, and playing with the hand, all in conjunction with my mouth.

He was moaning, rocking his hips in a shallow motion. "Zeenat... God, yes... just like that..."

I doubled my efforts; my head rocked more, and I took him deeper, my thoughts whirling with sensation. However, there was a strange dissociation. What it was, what it wasn't.

Thomas' power had created a primal submission in me; Imran's calm delight had caused my mind to wander. Thomas's deep voice echoed in my mind, his hands on my head, his penis in my mouth, his lips sucking me hard. My panties were drenched with a new deluge of wetness, a betrayal of the moment, of the man I sought to please.

Imran's breath started to shake; his thrusts grew more intense. "I'm... I'm close," he panted.

I was ready to explore, but it was quite fast. The briefest of jumps, the muffled groan, and it was done.

He sank against the door, his whole body shaking.

I swallowed; I remembered the taste, but it wasn't so strong, so earthy, as I now wanted.

I remained kneeling, head on his thigh, but my feelings were mixed: disappointed and relieved.

He lifted me, his kiss so tender and sweet, his love so pure it made my heart ache. His hands were on my face, and he whispered, "My pretty wife. Let me make love to you."

The reverent fingers led me to the bedroom. Slowly, he took my clothes away, his lips kissing every inch of skin he revealed. He placed me on our bed, the sheets cool and crisp, but the satin sheets in Thomas' bed were rumpled and filled with passion. He came between my legs, fixated on me, as he made love to my body.

It was a familiar and comfortable feeling. He filled me, but not full. There was no sweet pain, no pushing to the limit. He started to walk, his steps regular and rhythmic, a rocking walk, the music of our married life. It was pleasant. It was lovely.

It wasn't enough, though.

I closed my eyes, trying to lose myself in the moment, in the love that I bore this man. However, my body, now awake, did not comply! It sought a strident beat and a more visceral penetration, a more animalistic claiming. I lifted my hips to meet his; I tried to turn him a different way; I wanted a friction that was not happening. It was a tremendous pressure. I played along, trying to match his passion; I gave him the moans and sighs he needed, but in my mind, I replayed Thomas's powerful thrusts, his demanding voice, and the overwhelming way he had possessed me.

Imran's breathing became hasty, and his pace increased with his inhalations, coming in short bursts. He was doing his best. However, his endurance was not as great as the one I needed. He collapsed against me, his body sweating and his heart pounding against my chest, with a final shivering cry. He was finished.

I held him, my arms around him, and his weight was familiar but now felt suffocating. My body was like an electric wire with unused energy. The fire I had kindled within me burned on and on, and a few drops of water were added to a bonfire by Imran's gentle lovemaking. I was more turned on than I had ever been in my life, and my beloved, loving husband lay snug and sleeping beside me.

The next few days were a special kind of hell. I felt a sense of guilt and bitterness in my mouth all the time, but there was an insatiable hunger in my belly, too. I would do my best the night before. I would start kissing Imran with the desperation that I hoped he wouldn't question; my hands would be moving, trying to start a fire in him that would match the one that was burning in me.

It only got worse, however. The more I wanted, the more pressure I put myself under to pretend to be excited about something I wasn't really excited about. I was clumsy, with too many comparisons in my mind, my body too tight to enjoy itself. Imran would feel hesitant because he knew that I was frustrated. The events of the reception had shaken his confidence, and it was further undermined. His erections were not as hard, and his endurance was even shorter. This became a vicious circle. For the first was his need, which made me anxious; the second was my anxiety, which made him less potent; the third was his lack of potency, which made me hornier and more desperate and more resentful than before.

I was like a woman possessed. I'd saunter through our apartment, my body buzzing with a low, steady buzz. My brush against my own flesh was a torture! I was on the street, in the gym, or at the supermarket with guys I was seeing, and my mind was akin to unloading a truck--I looked at them and wondered. I was turning into a creature of unadulterated need, a stranger to myself.

Then one day, we received an invitation. A gathering in the downtown area of a fashionable lounge, where Imran's department was holding an office party.

"We should go," Imran said, his voice sounding like cardboard. "It will be nice to see our faces again; it will be normal again."

Normal. What a fucking joke.

At the party, I saw a room of hard cocks and hungry eyes, but. Men who had worked with my husband, men who had seen me off with his boss, their thoughts already concocting filthy scenarios. The possibilities made my tits wet before I even put a single foot out the door and caused me a dangerous, liquid thrill to my cunt.

That night I was dressed for the kill. Not the spectacular saree, but something much deadlier. A green dress; it hugged my curves like a second skin--tits and ass. The neckline dipped so far down that I showed them the valley between my breasts, and the hemline was high enough to show my toned legs and that I wasn't wearing any panties in the first place. My nipples were hard before I left the house and could be seen through the thin little silk, like pebbles asking to be noticed. I was in heat, and this was my hunting ground.

The lounge was filled with heavy bass music, and the roaring of masculine voices rolled in a grown-up growl. The air was saturated with the fragrance of fancy cologne, whiskey, and raw ambition. I held my hand to my husband, Imran, my palms clamming together, while his eyes darted about for anyone who would look at them with a friendly face, and my eyes looked everywhere for something I wasn't looking for.

The lounge was a symphony of controlled chaos, the perfect background for the storm that was brewing inside my cunt. A soft, golden light from recessed spotlights was pouring down on polished tables and casting long shadows that felt like fingers already exploring my body. A live jazz trio in the corner gave it the sophisticated, sultry tune for my debauchery, with the low thrum of a bassline.

My fingers felt his warm hold, and his familiar grip was a place I had been about to cut for a long time. He whispered in my ear, "Are you okay?" His smile was too bright; his eyes were begging for normalcy; he was trying so hard. This seemed like a plunge into a sea of shit to me.

I said, "I'm perfect," and my face turned toward his cheek, and I brushed my lips against his. My skin was alive and humming when I knew that I would be used like a whore. In a world that was consuming energy, that little gnawing stomach turned more feral and hungry than ever before, sitting amongst hard, aggressive men.

He was met by a couple of his closest coworkers, who were smiley and polite, but their eyes were drawn down on my tits and on the curve of my ass.

There was a different atmosphere now, a tacit understanding that had altered the energy around me.

I was no longer only Imran's wife; I was the slut who had been taken by Thomas and now was communal property, a fuck-toy to be shared.

Imran, always the blind fool, led us to the bar, his hand a protective pressure on the small of my back. He wanted to break his routine and said, "Let's get a drink."

I had other ideas, however. I heard the music, a slow, smoky blues song, that danced through my flesh like a lover's fingers. I put my hand on his chest, stopping him. I purred, "Dance with me first. It was not a request: it was the first step in my seduction.

I saw his eyes dart from the dance floor to mine, but he didn't say anything. "Zeenat, perhaps we should..."

My voice dropped to a husky whisper that promised sin. "Please. I came closer and closer, my body hugging his, my hard nipples pressing into his arm, and he could feel them through the silk. Dipped my fingers down his tie and traced them slowly down to his penis. "Just one dance, with my husband."

That did it. He was persuaded by the word, through its possessive tenderness. He shook his head slightly and nodded his understanding, letting me escort him onto the dance floor.

As soon as his arm wrapped around my waist, everything became about me and my predatory gaze. The bass started to play a velvety thrumming beat, and it was now the song that played in my betrayal. My body was soft and fluid and pliant, and I entered into him, and our bodies fused in a pure performance. I placed my head into his chest and heard the sound of his heart--it sounded like a man who loved me but was going to be killed by my lust.

I tilted my head back, my lips finding the skin below his jaw. I didn't kiss him; I breathed on him. I let the heat swirl in his poor soul's desire while my eyes were searching. They located their target pretty fast. The man from the wedding, Joseph. He stood with his hand on a pillar, amber liquid in hand, his eyes probing with intense unease. He was not only watching, but he was also dreaming of how to fuck me.

It was an act that was like pouring gasoline on my fire. A sharp, electric jolt surged to my clit.

In Imran's arms, my body, soft, yielded in his. Suddenly taut, coiled with feral energy. My hips took to swinging like a well-trained old dog, this time not for my husband.

Imran was deluded and confused and took the increased arousal I was feeling for him as passion. He came and pulled me into his arms, his lips reaching out to mine. I tasted his kiss and sucked his tongue into my mouth and returned his devotion in marriage, my eyes staying open, fixed on Joseph across the room.

I saw Joseph's smile widen. He pushed off the pillar and started to dance on a slow, meandering path that would take him past the dance floor. He was giving me time, but he didn't like it. The point was to be cutting in to cut Imran out.

My heart was pounding with anticipation and grim, rich at the same time. I parted with the kiss, shallow breathing. I whispered, "I love you," the words I'm about to sever, the anchor I love.

I also love you," he breathed back, with eyes black with deep desire that made my pussy bleed with malice.

Then a smooth, deep voice broke through our bubble. "Mind if I cut in?"

Joseph. He filled his nose with his spicy and assertive cologne while shaking off Imran's soap, which was a cloud in his nose. He was standing next to us, and his perfume was a cloud of spice and assertiveness that drowned Imran's soap. His eyes were not on my husband but on me, a question and a command therein.

My arm was held tight around his waist, and his arm was stiffening. The husband came out for a while to protect. But then he looked at me and saw the answer in my eyes: hunger, need, the silent plea to be taken, like a slut. He looked disappointed and down on his shoulders.

"Yes, of course," Imran said, his voice tense. He tried to put a smile on his face and let go of me, stepping back as if giving a priceless possession to its rightful owner.

Joseph's hand took the place of Imran's on my waist, and the world changed. Imran's touch was comforting; Joseph's touch was proprietary. His fingers were strong on the green silk, his thumb in the dip of my waist; his hand made it casual. His other hand seized mine, firm.

"You look even more fuckable than the last time I saw you," he said, his voice rumbling through my body. Not waiting for a reply, he took me into the dance with movements strong and sure and took charge, which Imran could never do.

The saxophone wailed a seductive tune. Joseph moved me with ease and assurance, his body against mine. He didn't treat me with reverence; he treated me like he owned me. He knew how I was to be treated. Our bodies were a breath apart, the space crackling with electricity. He kept his lips close to my ear and said, "I couldn't take my eyes off you. So tender, so... loving, but I know what you really want, you filthy girl, watching you with him."

His words were a taunt, firing my fire. I could sense that Imran's eyes were from the bar; it was pain and confusion. I should have taken responsibility for the pain I had caused. Rather, I was dizzy with the feeling of power.

"He's a good man," I said, weak and hollow.

Joseph agreed, "The best," he said, saying it as smooth as silk. But a good man doesn't know how to treat a slut that's so cock-hungry like you.

His hand moved from my waist down to my hip, his fingers tracing the line of my thigh boldly; I gasped. He held me tight, and there was no space between us. His hard chest, strong legs, and his thick, heavy cock pushed into my tummy through his trousers were evident.

You don't have anything on underneath,' he said, his fingers running under my dress, squeezing my soft, moist puss. Didn't you come here for the fucking?

I could do nothing more than nod as he teased my slick folds, and my breath caught.

"Good girl," he said, pushing me off the dance floor with a hard push to the back. As we went through the crowd, they seemed to quiet down in anticipation of what might be coming. I didn't turn my gaze to the bar; I couldn't bear to look at Imran's despair.

And I was taken up by Joseph. We climbed luxurious steps, and the jazz faded away and was replaced by a dense expectancy of silence. There was terror and dark, exhilarating excitement pounding my heart.

The corridor on the upper floor was dimly lit and had thick, soundproofed doors along it. With his key card, Joseph paused just before the final one and tapped it gently with his finger. He propped the door open, hand on my back, saying, "Come in.

A large luxury lounge was the room. There were semi-circular leather couches in front of a large window that looked out onto the glittering cityscape. In the corner was a good bar. The atmosphere was calm and chilly.

We weren't the only ones.

Frank was stretched out on a sofa with a glass of drink in his hands and a slow, satisfied smile on his face. The young, intense 18-year-old Steve stood by the window as the door slammed shut, his eyes wide with wonder and disbelief.

Leaning at the bar, holding a glass of whiskey in her hand, was Thomas. He looked at me, and nothing showed on his face to watch his design and watch it grow. It was his idea. He had prepared the ground.

The shock of adrenaline ran through me. It was now or never--this was the cliff that couldn't be climbed. I had in my mind a stolen moment with Joseph, but that wasn't it. This was an offering, a gangbang on a bed to be debased.

"See?" Joseph's words were on my lips, and he was strong. I said to them, "You don't know what you are needing."

Slowly, fluidly, predatorily, Thomas pushed away from the bar and walked slowly towards me. He halted in front of me, his gaze sweeping from my heaving chest to my shaking legs. But he didn't touch me; he just looked, his look more intimate, more possessive than any touch.

"You have been very busy," he said, in a deep, quiet tone. He reached up and stroked a strand of hair behind my ear--deceptively tender. "I told you that you were the desire of all. Did you doubt me?"

I could not talk; I could only shake my head--breath caught.

He said good to me when he touched my cheekbone with his thumb. Because we're all here to celebrate you, to give you what you've longed for, what your husband can't.

My eyes darted to the rest of them. Frank's eyes were piercing and intense. Young and hungry, Steve was desperate. Behind me, hands on my hips, Joseph stood strong and reassuring. And Thomas... thrusting forbidden fruit to me on a silver platter.

The decision was a fast one. I had made it walking up those stairs.

But I didn't reply; I lifted my hand and touched the knot on my dress's halter behind my head. I pulled. Emerald silk that whispered down, gathering at my feet. I was in front of them in just my sheer crimson panties and high heels, my body lit by the city lights and nipples begging for attention.

A collective sharp intake of breath was the only sound. I was taken in by four pairs of eyes. The power was like a virus; it was a heady drug pumping through my veins. I was not a wife anymore; I'm not a woman with guilt anymore. I was a flesh goddess; they were my worshippers, my fuckboys.

Thomas moved first. He drew nearer, his hands around my face, his mouth against mine, kissing me deep and possessive, sucking the air from me. It was a kiss of ownership, to remind me that this started with him, that this was his cunt first.

His tongue was playing with mine, and I could feel other hands. Joseph's lips on my shoulders, his from behind, tracing my neck, his lips hot and open, kissing my neck. There Frank was, before me, on his knees, hands on my thighs, lips blazing up my belly. Nervous, then confident, Steve came over to my side, fingers to my breast, his thumb brushing my hard peak.

It was a storm of feeling all around me--hands, mouths, and bodies touching me. Rough suit jacket against my back, smooth skin against my arm, soft hair against my stomach. Their perfumes and their raw masculinity--this was a potent aphrodisiac, and it had my mind clouded.

They backed me up until I was lying on my knees on the couch. I settled myself down into velvet, and they came down like worshippers at an altar. Thomas's mouth left mine, and his teeth grazed my pulse on my neck. Joseph knelt beside me and took one of my nipples in his mouth and sucked with a force, sending a jolt of joy to my core. Frank, with his knees on my chest, his hands between my legs, staring at the wet skirt of my panties.

I could see the youthful eagerness of Steve; he was kneeling on the other side. He took my hand and put it to his lips, his eyes fixed on mine, his lips puckering my finger as though it were a straw. It was an unexpectedly intimate gesture, one that made me feel some arousal again.

Frank hooked his fingers on my panties' waistband and slowly, reverently, took them down my legs. I was totally naked, helpless, in their hands--alive more than ever.

Thomas stood, threw away his jacket and tie, never taking their eyes off me. "Let's beat this whore," he roared in a deep growl.

He bent between my open legs, wide shoulders pushing my legs apart. He didn't hesitate, lowered his head, and the first contact of his tongue to my clit was lightning. I screamed and curled my hands around his head and started arching my back and tangling my fingers in his hair.

My cunt was worshipped well by Thomas, and the others went on. Joseph's mouth is from my breast to my lips, deep and demanding. My stomach and hips were Frank's playground for his hands and felt like they were both exploratory and possessive. Steve saw his opportunity, and he replaced Joseph and sucked more frantically and needily.

I felt myself lost in the ocean of pleasure. I felt my body was no longer my own; it was theirs. Each touch, each kiss, and each lick was layering on top of the other, creating a symphony of sensation far more overwhelming than I could have ever envisioned. All guilt, all love, Imran, all shores are distant in the raging ocean of ecstasy.

I couldn't help but feel the tension growing, like a coiled snake in my belly tightening with each lick of Thomas's tongue, each suck of Joseph's mouth, and each clench of Frank's hands. There was a tight coil in my stomach, tightening with every lick of Thomas's tongue, every suck of Joseph's mouth, every clench of Frank's hands.

Thomas spoke into my skin, through my flesh, his voice soft and weak: Let go, Zeenat. Come on, my dick, face my dick face.

And I did. The orgasm that burst through me was like a supernova, a blinding, purest explosion of pleasure rippling through me, making me convulse and scream and just a sobbing mess without any mind. They didn't hesitate--and held me then, through the firmness of hands and softness of mouths, coaxed me back up again as they climbed.

I opened my blurry eyes and my body shook with fear. I was watched by faces, bare of the softness of civilization, with their black, unstained, hungry eyes. The night was fresh, and the air was pure, and I was young and theirs.

Thomas, rising between my legs, glistening with my juices, said, "Steve. "Come here and eat this pussy. I want to know if that can make her scream."

Steve was as eager as a puppy, jumping between my legs. Hushed, and his eyes filled with adoration and lust, he looked up at me. "Can I?" he asked, shaking with fear.

Joseph growled, "Fucking devour her," still holding my nipple.

Then came Steve, his tongue licking at my tender folds with eager frenzy. He was inexperienced but eager, his tongue darting over my clit, then sliding down my hole, tasting me, and drinking me down. I said, "Ugh," and put my hands on the couch while my hips jutted forward to meet his face.

That's all, boy," Frank said, stroking his cock into his pants. Bring her back. "Show her what that virgin tongue can do. Bring her back. " Show her what that virgin tongue can do."

Steve was really passionate and contagious. He sucked my clit into his mouth, humming against it; I heard myself spinning. I came hard, screaming his name, my thighs wrapped around his head, wave after wave of him crashing through.

Thomas said, "Good boy," and pulled back Steve by the hair. Next, it's Frank's turn to sample this whore.

Frank replaced Steve; he was more systematic, more sure of himself. He opened my legs and gazed at my shiny cunt with adoration. He said, "Beautiful," then licked his tongue from the back of my asshole to my clit in one long dirty lick.

I shivered; it was so strong! Frank settled in, his tongue teasing, circling my entrance, before he sank deep inside. He licked my pussy, rubbed my clit with his nose, and held and held me by my thighs; I was shaking and clenching my legs as he did it.

"Please," I pleaded, not knowing what I was pleading for. "Please, please..."

"Please, what?" Over us he stood, demanding as he stroked his huge cock, Thomas. Say what you've got in mind, slut.

Make me come," I cried. Make me come on his face!

Frank doubled up his efforts, his tongue working the magic, his fingers working in circles and rubbing my clit. My juices flooded him; I blew out again, drinking him down greedily as he moaned satisfaction, making my orgasm last even longer.

But Joseph, Thomas said, "Now... it's your turn to eat this married pussy."

With a laugh, Joseph shovelled Frank out of the way. He rolled his eyes and said, "I've been waiting for this! He was not gentle at all; he went for my pussies with his tongue. It was his rough tongue that was demanding for me to open so he could get deeper in. With his rough fingers, he spread my pussy so he could get deeper. He sucked me off hard one moment and let go the next, again and again and again, and again, and again, making me crazy with the rhythm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chanted, punching my hands into his hair and pulling him closer. Don't stop, don't fucking stop!

Joseph put his two fingers in my pussy and bent them to give me a tap on my G-spot, all the while his mouth working its tongue on my clit. It was more than I could handle: I burst in, my eyes spinning, my body trembling as I squirted all over his face and chest.

Joseph laughed at me. "Dirty fucking slut," Joseph wiped my juices from my face and licked his fingers. "You took a shit so you could enjoy yourself."

"Now you've all tried her," Thomas said, a cock throbbing in his hand. It's time to feel her mouth, Joseph. Put your cock in her face so that I can watch her sucking you.

Joseph stripped off his clothing and showed him a marble body, thick and dark and heavy, his cock. He knelt by my head, leading his length to my lips. I opened my eyes and mouth wide and turned my head all the way as if to beg him to enter, and he grumbled with delight at going in.

"Fuck yes," he hissed, starting to fuck slowly. The mouth of this married whore was designed for a cock.

Thomas was standing up over us, watching Joseph fuck my face, his cock in his hand. "Deeper," he commanded. Make her swallow it all and let me see her throat bulge.

Joseph gripped my hair and pushed it in, his cock hitting the back of my throat. I relaxed and swallowed around him while he was sliding farther, my nose pushed against his stomach. He held me down, my throat tightening around his body, and then he withdrew, and I gasped for air.

"Good girl," he praised, then drove back in again, driving deep and hard enough to make me gape and moan about him.

"Frank," Thomas said. "`Get out of that piggy hole. She needs to suck you, too.

His cock was hard already, veins throbbing along his shaft, as he moved to my other side. Joseph pulled out and turned my head, and I took Frank into my mouth, eagerly licking his pre-cum around his head. Taller than Joseph, thicker, he stretched my lips, and I cried out to the feeling.

"Take a look at her," Thomas said to Steve. Look at how she loves it, boy; you're going to feed this slut that young cock.

Steve came up tentatively, and his cock sprang out when his pants came down. His youth was apparent in his quick aging, and he was long but thinner. I pulled him to me and placed him in my mouth with Frank, and my mouth opened wide and my tongue swiped between them.

"Holy shit," Steve gasped as his hips bucked involuntarily. "Oh god, her mouth..."

They alternated every few minutes, so I could sample each one as they alternated their cocks inside my mouth. Joseph was rough and demanding, holding my hair and had my throat. Frank was slower and more deliberate, savoring the wet heat of my mouth. Steve was frantic and desperate, and his thrusts were erratic and needy because of his youth. Thomas... Thomas waited, his cock the biggest and most intimidating.

Finally, he led his length to my lips, and I opened wide to take my master's cock into myself with reverence. He had filled my mouth so that it was full; I could feel his taste, and it was very familiar and addictive. He was penetrating my face with deliberate thrusts as his hips jutted forward and his balls drummed my face.

"No more! ", he growled. Take it all. Demonstrate what a good little cocksucker you are.

I complained to him, and he groaned with that vibration. He suddenly emerged, and I was left in a state of gasp and emptiness.

"Enough," he said. I need to feel that cunt, Frank. Fuck her first. I want to see.

It was only a matter of time before Frank heard what he had to hear. He was rubbing the head through my soaking folds as his thick cock was in his hand, moving between my legs. Are you up for this, you dirty whore?" he asked.

I pleaded, "FUCK ME. Please, for fuck's sake, fuck me hard!"

With one forceful blow, Frank came crashing into me, filling me. I shrieked, and my back arched off the couch, hands gripping his back. He was thick, so fucking thick; he was stretching me out, deliciously. He started to beat the shit out of me right away, no niceties, no hesitation, just animal fucking.

"Yes, yes, yes!" I chanted, answering his thrusts, hips rising to accommodate him further.

"If you look at her, look at her, take it," Joseph said, stroking himself as he watched. "She's having fun with it.

Frank was relentless in his penetration of me, with his cock hitting my cervix with every stroke, and sparks of pleasure-pain would shoot out from me with each thrust. I went round his dick, my puss sucked it, and he shouted, sucking out his load on my tummy and tits.

"Next," Thomas commanded.

My spit and his pre-cum coated Joseph's cock while he was in the place of Frank. Then he slowly and slowly entered me, feeling the cum on my cunt, and then he started to plow me with a heavy, grinding rhythm that touched every nerve end. Those hands of his went everywhere, squeezing the nipples, grabbing, and using the ass.

Thomas said, "Turn her over. I want to watch him fuck her ass.

Joseph pulled me out and turned me over on my belly, pulling my hips up onto my knees on the couch, face down. I was hit from behind, and he pushed hard and deep, his balls smacking my clit with every stroke. The angle was just right; it hit my G-spot, and I was soon moaning into the leather and another orgasm building.

"Frank," Thomas said. "Get your cock in her fuck hole; this slut needs to be tight."

Frank came close to me and pushed his almost-hardened cock into my mouth. I opened up, and he took me deep as Joseph pounded from behind. I had my ass chewed up at both ends and been spit-roasted like a proper whore, and the thought was the one that got me off again.

They turned me around once more, with Steve taking me from behind and then Thomas fucking me missionary, as Steve and Frank went to town on my tits. I lost count of the number of times I came, and my body was a wobbly, shivering, sensationless sensation.

"Steve," Thomas ordered. "Fuck that pussy, see if you can get this slut to beg.

He was hard and desperate and had a lot of energy for his young age; he was relentless. He fucked me hard, his cock hitting me so deep it was pounding without mercy, his hands gripping my ass like it's their job to bruise. I embraced him and pulled him further and further on and on as he mounted me.

Thomas said, "Come in here. I'll put my youthful shit in that married cunt."

Then Steve gave an ecstatic roar and inserted aggressively and blew his load in my pussy, and I had an orgasm in return. My body quaking with the power of my release, I clamped down on him, milking every drop.

Thomas finally took his turn, his cock the biggest, the most demanding. He slowly entered me, one inch at a time, and spread me out so much that I felt full enough. After that, his movements started, long, deep movements, reaching areas that were out of the reach of anyone else.

I looked him in the eye and replied, "You're mine. This cunt is mine; these men are just borrowing my cunt.

Yes," sobbed I, grasping him by the back. "Yours, all yours!"

He shook me, his hips slamming over, his cock making my fucking life a living hell. I returned again and again, my body fighting, my mind shattering, at the taste of pleasure. When he finally came filling me with his seed, I felt complete, owned, and marked as his property.

However, they didn't stop there.

The men rested for a while, after which they took drinks and became strong. Thomas looked at me, spread out naked on the couch, and my pussy, cum leaking out, and he smiled. "Are you ready for round two, slut?

I nodded, and my body already reacted, and my cunt hurt for more.

"Good," he said. "Well, this time we're going to make good use of you." "Joseph, get on the floor; you're taking that ass first."

Joseph, his cock back to normal, stood straight up, like a monument, on the carpet. They pulled me up so that I was over him, facing away with my back to him. I felt his cock slide to my tight, puckered entrance and relax, allowing him in.

It was a good stretch that felt intense, burning, and just right. He slowly put himself in my ass from inch to inch, his balls in my ass, until he was all the way in. I just felt full to the max, and his big cock had my ass wrapped securely around himself.

Before I could get used to it, Frank went between my legs. He said, "My turn in that pussy," and he inserted his cock in my opening. He came in one time, and I shrieked, the double penetration taking over.

They started to dance and started to find some rhythm: Joseph was moving backwards while Frank moved forward and then the other way around. It was a friction so great, a fullness such as being completely used and consumed, and a sexual delirium so overwhelming.

Thomas was standing above us, watching, stroking himself. "Take a look at this dirty DP whore," he said. Two cocks, she has been born for.

Then Steve came up to me with his dick in my face, and I turned my head to swallow him into my mouth. Now that was really airtight, cock in my ass, cock in my cunt, cock in my mouth. The ultimate is the ultimate degradation and the ultimate pleasure.

They switched places, with each man holding me upside down in my ass and pussy. Thomas gave me his cock in my ass, and Joseph gave me his pussy, and together their cocks rubbed and rubbed against each other through my thin wall, making me scream while Steve gave me his cock. Then Frank took my ass and gave me his fat cock, stretching my ass till I couldn't take any more, and Thomas gave me his pussy and tightened me till I was lost.

I was coming and coming and coming--I didn't know how many times I came--my voice had gone hoarse from screaming, and my body shook. They used me for hours; they stuffed all the holes in me and covered me with their cum and marked me as their shared whore.

I was all over the floor, with cum in my hair, on my face, dripping down my ass and pussy, bruises all over my body and bite marks, and my throat raw from screaming when we finally got to the end of the day. The first time I saw him, I was more beautiful, more whole, more complete, and more satisfied.

Thomas, I was tired and tired, and he took me into his arms and held me, cradled me. He whispered, "You were flawless. Our perfect little gangbang slut."

I smiled, closed my eyes, and my body was satisfied. I was theirs, whore, to their cocks and to their cum, to their desire.