Fuck Fest

December 21, 2007 – 10:00 am

I was older than my girlfriend by twenty years. That
always bothered me, but whenever I’d mention it, she’d
say, “You’re just being silly,” and she’d remind me,
“Besides, I told you: I like older men.” Still, I’d
think about it. For instance, I was too old to meet her
parents. (After she’d brought home a thirty-two year
old boyfriend when she was seventeen, she decided not
to shock them anymore.) Although she may have liked
older guys, I didn’t think her friends would approve of
me. She pointed out, however, that she didn’t have any
friends her own age. She didn’t have younger friends
because they were, she said, “too immature, especially
guys. I don’t feel I have to housebreak anyone. You’re
housebroken. You were someone else’s problem.” And, she
was right (she was always right.)

She was socially mature way beyond her age, but she had
a figure and freshness that made her look, well, like a
teenager, at times. What a combination we made. She’d
get carded, and I looked like I should get a senior
discount. (She pointed out that I actually had gotten a
senior rate at a motel – I hadn’t even noticed.) She
seemed to think our age difference was no problem. I
wondered, from time-to-time, who else had she dated?
How old were they? She’d married someone her own age,
but she was forever reminding me that her marriage was
“different” and “unlike other marriages.” No matter how
long we had been together, I only got those few hints
and I never knew what “different” meant. I knew she
kept more than a few secrets.

We could fuck like teenagers, literally. Actually, we
both fucked better than we had when we were teenagers,
but the similarity was there: fucking beyond the point
that you need to fuck, fucking until we were both sore,
and then doing it some more. Every time we got
together. When we weren’t fucking, we ate, we took in
movies and theatre, and then went back to the motel
satiated, but we fucked again anyway. We didn’t see
each other that often, but that wasn’t it, it was just
that it felt so damn good. I thought she was a genius
at lovemaking. She brought out things in me that I
never knew were there.

I could never quite put my finger on it. If I thought
about it, I’d say that her sexual prowess had something
to do with making me feel like I could seduce her,
seduce her from that mature, brilliant, genius self,
and bring her down to the level of animal sex. It was
kind of like conking cavewoman over the head. I could
drag my girlfriend around the bed — hell, around the
motel room. No piece of furniture and no part of her
body went unused during sex, and she’d never say a
word. She’d just get that drugged-out, wanton look in
her eyes, and she was off in Never-Never Land.

I liked to take her away for a few days at a time. I
was more comfortable out-of-town. She probably was,
too, although I noticed she had no compunction about
doing it right under the noses of our spouses, either.
There was a real devious side to her. Over time, we
seemed to be pursuing a theme of visiting old haunts:
other places that she had lived, cities where she had
worked, where she went to school.

Her youthful appearance had made a trip back to her
college town a must-do for me. In anticipation of the
trip, I had savored the fantasy of her as the nubile
coed, me the horny professor. We actually took that
trip, but it turned out a bit differently than I had
expected. Apparently, she had her own fantasies. It
hadn’t occurred to me that, if she had always been with
“older” guys, then she hadn’t really experienced
“younger” guys. But she was about to.

We took the trip to her college town. I booked a room
at a hotel on the edge of campus adjacent to the
stately old sorority and fraternity houses. In that
sense, it wasn’t nostalgic. Neither she, nor I, could
ever have afforded such digs, nor had we fraternized
with students. She, like me, had worked throughout
college, and she had gotten out of the dormitory within
her first six-months. But, for now, we walked the
campus, visited the theatre, library, and commons as if
we were back in those days, and we went back to hotel
and did our usual fucking. “Usual” fucking is intense.
As I said, the more we did, the more we wanted. We went
to a movie that night. As we returned home, I noted
that it was Friday, and that we had barely seen any
students. They weren’t in the library.

Where were they, I asked? She said that students didn’t
go to school on Fridays anymore. Thursday night started
the weekend partying. Ah, I thought, that’s what the
whooping and hollering had been late last night, and,
as we turned the corner toward our hotel, that’s what I
heard again. People were coming and going into the frat
houses. There were sounds of parties inside.

I liked the atmosphere of people enjoying themselves. I
suggested to my girlfriend that we join a party. Why
not? We were here to play, after all. I didn’t think
she’d do it. I might have barged in uninvited, but that
wasn’t her style. I knew I’d look too old, but I
figured she’d be my passport. They’d never know how old
she was. My girlfriend just laughed and said, “I’d need
some rum!”

The hotel was quiet — except for us (I’d hate to be
adjacent to our room in the middle of the night.) The
noise outside got louder as the night got longer, but
it was never obnoxious. It was actually quite a turn on
for me. The thought of all those people getting drunk
and getting laid. My girlfriend wasn’t in the same
mood. She was getting grouchy. We made love anyway, but
we didn’t fall asleep. I didn’t know what to do to help
her shake her out of her mood. I didn’t know if it was
something I had done or something I hadn’t done. I
suggested, feebly, that we could get up and check out
the nearest party.

That’s when my girlfriend said in a pouty tone of
voice, “It’s not nice of you to take your girlfriend to
a party without getting her drunk first!” I thought, I
see she knows more about the etiquette of dating a coed
better than I do. Ah, the rum! I hadn’t taken her
request seriously. I hadn’t put two-and-two together,
but I knew how to handle a situation like this. No
apology would do.

“I put on my clothes and said I’d be right back. I
walked – no, I sprinted – the few blocks to a liquor
store that we had passed, got rum, remembered to get
cokes, and I was back in the hotel in a jiffy. She was
impressed. And she drank. I knew from experience that
she tended to drink in moderation, so I mixed the first
drink half-and-half. It was foul (I couldn’t drink it)
but she said, to my surprise, that the second drink
wouldn’t be so bad. I thought, you little vixen, you do
know how to get yourself drunk, what else do you know?
Three drinks almost finished the half-pint, and I had
barely touched it. She said, “We’d better go while I
can still walk.”

It wasn’t a long walk. The house two doors over had the
door open and people came and went freely. We walked
right in. No one blinked. It was immediately like home.
At first, it was like any party I’d ever been to:
people standing around in every room of the house.
People going back and forth to get drinks. Beer, wine,
and hard liquor. Whatever your taste. Relatively few
women, I noticed, but the ones that were there were
loud and having fun with all the male attention. I
pointed this out to my girlfriend as we stood in the
crowded room. Guys came by and jostled us as they tried
to get by without spilling a drink. My girlfriend got
some spilt down the back of her dress.

She said, “It’ll wash right out.”

Ah, I thought, it hadn’t bothered her! She was in a
good mood! I told her that I’d get us some drinks. She
said, “I don’t need anymore,” but I said just to hold
in our hands. “Good idea,” she agreed. I asked the guys
next to us to point the way. They were slow to grasp
the question (like, who wouldn’t know where the liquor
was, and who was this gray-haired guy, anyway) and they
started checking out my girlfriend. I was irrelevant. I
headed off for the drinks.

You meet interesting people in unexpected places. There
was a guy serving drinks, but it was an open bar — he
just liked to act like a bartender. He was good at the
patter. I wasn’t drunk, like the others, and that gave
him the opportunity to show off for someone that could
appreciate his wit and skill. He latched on to me like
we had known each other for years.

By the time I broke away and returned with the drinks,
I had lost my landmarks. People had shifted places, no
one was in the same spot, in fact, no one looked
familiar. Above all, I had lost my girlfriend. She was
not in the middle of the room. I circulated, with the
two drinks in hand. Nowhere to be found! On the other
hand, there were lots more rooms to check out. I
thought, she couldn’t have gone far. I checked the
porch. She might have been uncomfortable alone, and
might have gone outside to wait for me. Not on the
porch. I lingered there, in case she was on the lawn
and could see me but I couldn’t see her. Nothing. I
went inside. A woman said, in a sexy voice, “Is that
for me?” and I realized that she meant the drink.

I said, graciously, “Yes,” and handed it to her. I
wanted to give her both of them. I kept moving, but she
grabbed my sleeve, and said, “Wait.” I kept going. I
was a little desperate now to find my girlfriend. I
knew she’d be pissed that I was gone that long. I
checked each room in an efficient manner. My head was
clearing. She wasn’t there. I re-entered the main room.
“Who are you looking for?” It was the young woman – the
girl that I had given a drink to. I said that I was
looking for my girlfriend.

“What’s her name?” she asked.

I thought to myself, no one knows our names, how will
that help? I asked some guys around me if they had seen
the girl I came with. They gave some kind of look like
“what a dumbfuck!” but when I repeated my request, both
of them began to gesture and looked around the room
saying, “Most of the girls are already busy upstairs.”
It made the “girls” sound like prostitutes. Maybe they
were. It took me a moment, but I figured out what they
meant: if there were no girls down here, it meant they
were upstairs with their dates in the bedrooms fucking
their brains out. But where was my girlfriend?

“What’s her name?” The bimbo was asking me again. I
said, “Marie,” just to get her off my back. “She’s
upstairs,” she said matter-of-factly. I said,
sarcastically, “Yeah, right!” She said, “No, really.”
She was serious. I got serious. Now, I felt guilty for
ignoring this Good Samaritan. “She was talking to a
couple of guys and I heard her say her name was Marie.”
I said, “Thanks,” and I began to head off. For the
second time that night, she grabbed my sleeve. I
thought, I’m really being a prick, and this woman is
clearly a little attracted to me or is trying to help
me, or both. She said, “I’ll go with you.”

That statement gave me a sense of foreboding. It made
the upstairs sound like an ominous place: a place where
you needed company. One did not go up there alone, and
she was willing to accompany me. And there was a sexual
charge to it, too. She was physically close to me as we
climbed the stairs. I was aware that we were a couple
as far as anyone else was concerned. Others would
assume that we were going up there to fuck. It didn’t
mean anything to them: it was just what people do.

Halfway up the stairs, I realized that my girlfriend
had climbed these stairs with two guys, not just one
guy. She was one up on this girl. Then it hit me! My
girlfriend went up these stairs with two guys and they
probably had the same idea as this girl. They were
going to fuck. I picked up my speed. My date said,
“Wait up!”

At the top of the stairs I was again confronted with
the fact that it was a large house, only these weren’t
open rooms. There were closed doors everywhere. I went
down a corridor. I must have looked confused.
Fortunately, my date wasn’t. She said, “We have to find
a room,” and she opened the nearest door, looked,
closed it, and opened the next door. I did the same,
only I was looking for my girlfriend, whereas my date
was looking for an available bed. She found one, and
said, “Here!” I looked in and I saw a bed. Only one-
half of it was unoccupied. The other half, and most of
the furniture in the room, was populated by naked
sweaty men and women in various sexual poses.

The room smelled wonderfully like sex. No one seemed to
notice that the door was open, or to notice our stares.
I backed out of the room, and my “date” gave me a look,
like, “What’s wrong with you?” I hated to disappoint
her, but I had to say it, “I want to find my
girlfriend.” As it turned out, my apologetic feeing was
misplaced. Her eyes widened, and she said, “Sure!” like
she had just agreed to a threesome. I thought: life is
strange — I couldn’t arrange threesome if I tried, now
I had a willing woman, and I was too busy to use her.
More importantly, by now easily 30-minutes had
transpired since I last saw my girlfriend. I was
beginning to worry that she wasn’t there, and I was
concerned that she would be really scared or really
pissed.

My “date” started opening and closing doors with zeal.
She opened another door and went inside. This time she
didn’t come out. I went in. My date, fully clothed, was
in an embrace with a naked guy. My girlfriend, stark
naked, was lying on a bed with two guys, one of whom
was pounding the shit out of her pussy. I started over
there in a hurry. My date grabbed me for the third time
that evening, and I finally got the message: listen to
her. She started undressing me. Ah, when in Rome do as
the Romans do. She held my cock as she pulled down my
pants. She kneeled and sucked on my cock while she
pulled down my underwear. I thought, my girlfriend
isn’t the only woman that likes older guys. Even while
my cock was being suck, I thought: what’s the
attraction for them. I hope it isn’t Daddy’s cock that
they’re sucking!

Now, there was another similarity between my date and
my girlfriend: they were both on they’re knees
servicing a guy. A minute ago my girlfriend had been on
her back getting pummeled. Now she was on her knees
sucking off the guy next to the bed. (I think it was
the other guy, they all looked the same to me.) One guy
was rolling off the bed. Another guy (a third guy!) was
getting on the bed. That guy reached from the bed and
tugged at my girlfriend gesturing at his hard on. She
started to get up, but the guy in the chair grabbed
head and held his cock in her mouth.

She hates to have her head held when she’s giving head,
but that guy couldn’t have known that. Her hands went
around the base of his cock to keep it from going down
her throat. Despite her efforts, that cock was jabbing
pretty far in. At one point, my girlfriend gagged, and
then violently pulled back and said, “Gak!” It didn’t
phase the guy. He had her head bobbing on his cock
again. Her initial discomfort seemed to give way under
his guidance. Now she looked remarkably comfortable and
compliant while this guy fucked her mouth. She said
“Gak!” every once in a while, but it looked like she
was as intent as he was in keeping that cock in her
mouth – she just didn’t want it too far back in her
throat.

Meanwhile, for me, it felt like my date actually did
have my cock down her throat. I looked down and saw her
lips down to my pubic hair, and her face was tight
against my belly. She didn’t move for a long time. She
hummed. Interesting, I thought. I hadn’t asked her to
do that. She did it because she wanted to. Then I
thought I saw fingers in her hair. It wasn’t a
hallucination. The naked guy behind her had her head in
his hands. I realized, belatedly, that he had been
forcing her head to bob up and down on my cock and down
her throat while I had been looking over at my
girlfriend. I looked at him and he looked at my
girlfriend and then down at my date and he grinned.

I think he would have given me the thumbs up sign, but
he never took his hands off my date’s head. Instead, he
started moving her head faster and faster. A guy was
jerking me off using some bimbo’s head! This was
unreal. And then he stopped, but, fortunately, my date
kept going. She was going for my cum. The naked guy
moved off toward the action on the bed. I thought, he’s
going to screw my girlfriend, but, no, he went behind
her. Then, like with my date, he grabbed my
girlfriend’s head and started forcing her up and down
on the seated guy’s cock. Uh-oh, I thought, she’s not
going to like that!

I know my girlfriend, and I know that she’d get her
hands around that cock real fast so that she didn’t get
choked. The guy behind her was shoving so hard, though,
it looked like her mouth was getting forced over her
own hand. She took her hands away and put them on the
guy’s legs to steady herself as she tried to get up.
The naked guy shoved her head down again. This time the
cock must have gone down her throat, because there was
no place else for it to go.

My girlfriend looked ridiculous: mouth pinned on a
cock, butt up in the air, legs trying to stand. My
girlfriend convulsed. She came up for air and
spluttered. Her head was shoved down again. More
convulsing. Up again. More spluttering. The naked guy
was in camaraderie with the guy on the chair: this was
for him, he didn’t care about my girlfriend. He said
something like, “Nothing like a girl twitching while
you cum!” Only the guy in the chair hadn’t cum in her
throat.

She had come up for air at the same time that the guy
was cumming, and it shot in a long arc as only a young
guy can. As it landed, a thick white line stretched
from her nose, touching one eyebrow, across her
forehead, over the top of her head, down the back of
her hair, and onto her shoulder blades. She winced and
screwed up face. She closed her eyes tightly. She
reacted vocally, but it was hard to describe the sounds
she made as the hot cum landed on her. She just kind of
froze in time.

Now, next to having her head held while giving head, my
girlfriend hates to have cum on her face. Next to that,
she hates to have cum in her hair. My girlfriend wasn’t
having a good day. But now, the guy on the bed had
yanked her off her knees and onto the bed. He put her
on top of him and he was in her in a shot. She yelped,
but soon she was bouncing up and down on top of him
while he slammed it all the way in and all the way out.
I thought: she fits right in, now. She’s like any other
girl in the room: cum on her, cum in her, and she’s
still ready to be fucked by anyone in the room.

I began to notice that there were three of them: the
girl off to the side, my girlfriend on the bed, and my
date on her knees in front of me. The guys seemed to
change positions frequently, but the women stayed where
they were, except to get rolled over, put on top, put
on their knees, etc.

Every hole in every woman got used. I noticed that
condoms were in abundance, and the used ones were
piling up on the floor. I reached for the bowl, fumbled
to get one on, and I started fucking my date’s cunt
while she was on her hands and knees. It couldn’t have
been comfortable for her, because we were on the floor
and not on a bed, but it afforded me the view of a
lifetime. The naked guy (they were all naked, but he
was the first that I saw, so I called him the naked
guy) climbed on the bed while my girlfriend was atop
the other guy. He looked over at me for approval
(considerate guy that he was) while maneuvering his
cock toward the moving target of my girlfriend’s
asshole. She can’t do that without lube, and I mean she
can’t do anal without lots and lots of lube.

I must have looked panicked as my eyes searched the
room: I saw the bowl of condoms passing around, but
where was the lube? The naked guy was way ahead of me.
The lube was in his hand. I nodded and looked down at
that lube. He acknowledged, and he squirted it into his
palm, and then around his cock. I gestured at her, and
he understood. He squirted out some more and then
smeared it on her asshole.

My girlfriend stiffened and looked back. She tried to
squirm forward. But by now, however, she should have
been used to it. These guys got what they wanted, and
they got forceful when there was resistance. He grabbed
her shoulders, and he pulled her back and down. She was
impaled on his cock. It was so slippery that it had
gone straight up her ass to the hilt without stopping.
The other guy was still deep in her cunt. She looked so
small between these bulky, oversexed guys. She arched
her back and raised her butt in an effort to get off
the spear that had suddenly goosed her. She was
unsuccessful and her efforts resulted in a shuddering
orgasm before they even began their thrusting.

My girlfriend collapsed on the guy below. The naked guy
now had even better access to her ass, and he plowed
away. My girlfriend was yelling, but I could barely
hear her. My date was yelling. Everyone seemed to be
yelling. I yelled, but I yelled for the lube. This girl
was tight, and I wanted lotion. I also wanted to fuck
her in the ass like my girlfriend was getting it. The
naked guy thought I meant for my girlfriend to get
lubed again. He pulled out of her ass and he lubed
himself. My girlfriend’s asshole did not close. Her
asshole was agape. What a sight! I wondered, “Would it
ever be the same?”

He lubed her asshole, only he didn’t use one finger. He
didn’t use two fingers. He might have used more than
three fingers. It looked like he was trying to fist her
asshole. That would have been painful no matter how
stretched out she was, but it was short-lived and he
went back to stuffing her ass with his cock. She turned
her head on the mattress, and I could see her face. Her
mouth was open and she let out one long groan with each
repeated thrust.

Her eyes were open, but they didn’t look anywhere. I
hoped she was alright. I hoped she’d recover. And then
she did an unexpected thing, she reached back and
separated her ass cheeks. If that wasn’t slutty enough,
what she did next was pure slut: She grabbed his cock
with one hand, and started pumping on the shaft. She
was literally jerking this guy off into her asshole. I
thought to myself, I’ve got to ask her about this one.
Where the hell did she learn that?

I finally got the lube. I used it as fast as I could,
and I jammed myself up my date’s butt. It seemed to
make no difference to her: ass, cunt, mouth – just
stick it in and saw away. Come to think of it, I didn’t
feel a difference either. I wondered: what had happened
to the days when a girl’s ass was so much tighter than
her cunt? I guess with lots use, it works out about the
same as a cunt. Still, ass-fucking was such a charge
for me. I was not only turned on by seeing my
girlfriend service these guys, watching her jerk a guy
off trying to get him to toss in her ass, but I was
also wailing away on some nameless piece of shit’s ass.
I found that I was a little pissed off at my
girlfriend, too, so I pounded my date’s asshole extra-
specially hard (not that she seemed to notice.)

My girlfriend’s handjob was working wonders, and I
watched the naked guy cum in her ass. That slowed him
down, and he kind of froze with his cock up her butt.
My girlfriend shivered and she probably came again, but
then she looked uncomfortable. I know from experience
that she doesn’t like the full feeling from a cock that
isn’t moving. I’ve always suspected that she also hates
feeling controlled by the cock in her ass, and this was
partly why I was pissed off: she was letting herself
get controlled in a big way by this guy’s big cock.
This was also very exciting for me, and I would have
cum in an instant, but I’m older, and I don’t cum fast
anymore, so I kept sawing away at this poor bitch’s
asshole. If she was uncomfortable, she never gave any
indication.

The naked guy spanked my girlfriend on the rear, making
her jump in surprise or pain. It kind of woke her up,
too. She kind of came out of her daze, and she must
have felt his cock rip out of her asshole and his
weight off her back. She started to roll over,
disengaging from the other guy, and onto her back, so
she wouldn’t have seen the fourth guy coming toward
her. He had been with the girl across the room, but he
had also been watching my girlfriend’s butt-fucking,
and he was coming toward her. It was like he had been
waiting his turn and now he grabbed my girlfriend and
pulled her to him.

He wrapped his arms all the way around her and she
looked small. It was like she was entrapped by a
spider. She looked up at him with a wary eye. He picked
her up and he seemed to be trying to maneuver her onto
his cock. He swung around and dropped her onto a chair.
It made a beautiful sight: a naked, white, long-limbed
beauty on a brown leather, wing-backed chair. She
watched to see what he would do next. He grabbed her
legs and pushed them back. She hooked her own legs
within her arms and she looked like some Hindu deity
with contorted limbs and sex prominently presented.
There was a worried look upon her face, but I knew it
to be the look of passion. The look that says: I can
hardly wait for that cock and the orgasm that it will
bring.

He kneeled in front of the chair. He grabbed his cock,
and he rubbed it up and down in her juices all the way
from her cunt to her asshole. With just her own juices
and the lubrication from the other guy’s cum, he slowly
inserted his cock inside her. If my eyes hadn’t seen it
make the journey from glans to hilt, I could have
followed it by listening to my girlfriend. If there had
been any doubt about which hole he entered, it was
answered by her vocalizations. She made a sharp intake
of breath and a sound of surprise. I heard an “Oh!”
followed by a long crescendo of hissing, ending in a
sharp, “Ah!” as he bottomed out. My girlfriend makes
the most guttural sounds while she’s getting screwed in
the ass, and there was no doubt from the sounds that
she made that this position afforded him deep access to
her ass. The problem was the position, for two somewhat
contradictory reasons.

One, my girlfriend has a very sensitive G spot, and, as
I learned from experience, you could hit her G spot
from inside her ass when in that position. That was the
good point. Two, my girlfriend hates to look at you
while she’s getting fucked in the ass. I don’t know
why, perhaps something about vulnerability, control,
and domination. She just hates it. She’d rather look
down at the mattress.

Now, guy four was up her butt, hitting her G spot like
there was no tomorrow, that was good, but he was
looking her straight in the eye, that was bad. Worse
yet, he was telling her all the things she was probably
thinking (or, at least, I was thinking): “You little
whore. You like a cock up your ass? You’re good at
this. Do it a lot, don’t you? Come on baby, cum from
your assfuck like a stuck pig.” Another from the list
of no-no’s for my girlfriend. No defamation. No
denigration. Too late for that now, I thought, I was
going to pay for this tomorrow.

She averted her eyes. She looked away. She looked down.
She must have seen his long cock sliding slowly in and
out of her ass. She didn’t look up again. She seemed
mesmerized. She emitted one long tone. It was
plaintive. His face wasn’t far from hers. Her eyes
lifted slightly, and she locked her gaze on him. Now, I
thought: she’s going to put two-and-two together. The
cussing and defamation that was coming out of his
mouth. The cock that was invading her very bowels, that
was his cock. He must have cum a lot already or he had
exceptionally good control, because I came before he
did, and I came more because of the erotic sight of my
girlfriend assfucked in that position than from the
sensation of my date’s cunt-like asshole.

My girlfriend, meanwhile, got that bulging veined, red-
faced, anxious look that precedes her most intense
orgasms. She let go of her legs, and she grabbed him by
the neck and shoulders. It was a combination of pushing
him off, holding him in place, and pulling him toward
her all at the same time. He froze at just wrong time
(or at just the right time) and her butt made several
quick involuntary thrusts. It looked like the abdomen
of a wasp stinging. She was giving herself a big anal
orgasm. She fell forward, and slumped limply in his
arms, and he did an amazing thing: he used one arm to
push her to the back of the chair, and then he resumed
his leisurely fuck of her ass.

I don’t know how or why it all stopped. At some point I
was getting back into my clothes. My girlfriend hadn’t
moved from the chair, and she was still naked. My date
was dressed again, and the guys were in various states
of dress and they looked like they were leaving. My
date said, “What about her?” I said, “She’s not going
to be able to walk.” I meant that she was too drunk and
too fucked-out to walk, but my date took it a different
way and said, “Well, at least she’s going to be walking
really, really funny,” and she snickered fiendishly,
obviously referring to the extensive ass-fucking my
girlfriend had taken.

I looked around and asked a couple of guys to help me
get her to the hotel next door. She was still naked,
and that seemed to sweeten the deal. With lots of
fondling of her body, we got her clothes half-way on
and they carried her down the stairs and out to the
street. My date said, “It’s this way.” How did she know
so much, I thought? She was a lot keener than I had
originally thought.

When we got to the hotel I realized I hadn’t the
foggiest notion where the room key was. The young woman
that pulled the nightshift was obviously a student.
They knew her, and she knew them. She said, “Who’s the
whore?” referring to my girlfriend. I came up from
behind and asked for my room key. The clerk said, “Oh!
Sorry,” after she figured out who we were. I looked at
my girlfriend in the arms of two college students with
cum glued in her hair, and I stammered, “No apology
needed.”

My date was alert, and she grabbed the room key and
directed the guys toward the stairs and right up to the
room. “I work here part-time,” she said. I thought to
myself, just what kind of work do you do here? She
opened the door and we piled into the, now, too small
room. My girlfriend was thrown on the bed. I had
expected everyone to leave. No one moved. It was weird.
Was I supposed to tip them? My date figured it out, and
said, “You can fuck her once, and then you have to go.”

No one said anything they just pulled down their pants
while my date started to undress my wife. First one,
and then the other fucked her. The second said, “No
sloppy seconds,” and then he fucked her ass. It was a
gratuitous gesture. The sloshing sounds that emanated
from either hole gave ample evidence that she had been
soundly fucked in every hole all night long. I thought
she had been unconscious, but the minute he entered her
ass, she clamped her hand around his cock and did that
jerk off thing. The guy came quickly with that
treatment. Who wouldn’t?

The first guy was impressed watching her jerk the other
guy off into her asshole. He started jerking his own
cock. He tried getting it in her mouth, but the angle
was bad and my girlfriend was thrashing around, so he
“painted” my girlfriend’s face. She tried to dodge the
splattering cum, and a lot of it dripped down her jaw
and on to the silk blouse that was now pushed up around
her neck.

The guys left, and I wondered why my date was still
there, until she spoke up and said, “Can I eat her
out?” Oh, right. Her eyes had brightened when she
thought I was talking about a threesome. Bit of a
lezzie in her, wasn’t there, I thought. I didn’t say a
word (my girlfriend would have killed me if I had given
permission) I just waved her on.

My date ate out my girlfriend with relish. It would
never have been to my taste, but, after nibbling and
licking on her clit and asshole (yes, her asshole) she
started sucking and scooping my girlfriend’s cunt with
her tongue. At one point she commanded me, “Help roll
her over,” and then she gave my girlfriend’s asshole
the same treatment as her cunt. I wish my girlfriend
had been awake to experience it, but she wasn’t. My
date left, and said, cryptically, “I’ll see you
tomorrow.”

My girlfriend and I said little to each other the next
morning. There was some reference to what happen, like,
“I’m sore in places I’ve never felt before,” and “That
was quite a party,” but, fortunately, there was no
rebuking and no regrets. She didn’t mention anything
about the girl-on-girl event. I kind of figured she
knew. For instance, even though she had looked
unconscious, she had known just what to do when the
last guy was fucking her ass.

I figured she was just too embarrassed about the girl
going down on her and didn’t want to mention it. I
didn’t know if she knew I had screwed the girl, so I
didn’t bring it up. I was really curious about her hand
jobs while they were fucking her ass, but I didn’t
bring that up either. We showered and got our stuff
together to check out. We didn’t fuck for the first
time in a long time. I hadn’t fucked her at the party
either, but I was pretty satiated, and I assumed she
was, too.

I left a double size tip for the maid. The place
probably smelled like a whorehouse. My girlfriend and I
hadn’t showered before we slept. She had oozed copious
amounts of cum all night long. Worse yet, the cum,
mixed with shit, had oozed from her loose ass and it
had stained the sheets. (I knew, because I had rolled
over on to an enormous, cold wet spot at some point in
the middle of the night.) We got down to the lobby and
my “date” from the night before greeted us from behind
the counter with a cheery, “Good morning! Checking
out?”

Well, she did work there after all! I signed everywhere
that she pointed to, and I started to give her a tip.
She said, “No tip necessary for the management, but we
have something for your lady friend!” I couldn’t
imagine what she meant, but she said to my girlfriend,
“Come this way.” I started to follow them around the
counter, but the clerk said, “Wait right there sir,
this is for the lady.” Feeling like an idiot, I stayed
at the counter. She had taken my girlfriend into what
looked like the baggage room, and she closed the door.

They were gone longer than I expected. In fact, they
didn’t come out. I went to the door, and I could hear
an excited voice, very commanding in tone. What was
going on in there? I opened the door and stepped
inside. Apparently, this was “okay” with the clerk, or
should I say, with “the mistress,” because that’s the
way she was acting. She had my girlfriend sitting on a
chair, and her arms seemed to be bound behind her.

My girlfriend’s shirt was unbuttoned, and it was pulled
back over her shoulders. Her hands and arms were bound
up in the sleeves, and her bra was pushed up. No, it
must have been pushed down, because my girlfriend’s
tits were sticking out at an unusual angle, as if
“offered” to the mistress. “Mistress” was exactly how
she was behaving. She was barking commands at my
girlfriend like a drill sergeant. My girlfriend wasn’t
saying a word – a sure sign that she was turned on.
What happened next really surprised me. The mistress
slapped my girlfriend’s titties really hard several
times.

My girlfriend didn’t say a word, but she wiggled her
legs and her butt on the chair. The mistress taunted,
“Does that you turn you on, whore?” and things like
that. The flushing on my girlfriend’s neck and chest
answered louder than words. The mistress looked
sideways at me, while saying to my girlfriend, “The old
fart is here and it’s time to go.” Then, while looking
my girlfriend straight in the eye she said to me,
“She’s going to want you to bring her back to me, and
you know where to find me.”

I had greatly underestimated this woman, and now I
wasn’t going to doubt anything else that she said. I
said, “Okay. I understand. I’ve got it. We’ve got to
go.” The mistress used her hands and grabbed and
pinched my girlfriend’s tits really hard. She planted a
big fat wet French kiss on my girlfriend’s mouth. It
lasted longer than I would have liked. My girlfriend’s
tongue was obviously moving around in the other woman’s
mouth.

The clerk untied the shirt from my girlfriend’s hands,
and my girlfriend stood up. My girlfriend looked
embarrassed. Her shirt was open and her tits were
sticking out. Usually, it would have been me that would
have put her in that state of disarray, and it would
have been my responsibility to put her back together
again. Now, my girlfriend just stood there with a meek
expression on her face as if she needed permission to
dress herself.

The mistress returned to her “clerk” persona, and said,
“I hope you both enjoyed your stay here, please let us
know if there is anything else we can do to make you
next stay more hospitable. It was clear that she wasn’t
going to touch my girlfriend now that she was the clerk
again, but she got in one more dig. With an officious
snooty tone to her voice she said to my girlfriend,
“You might want to use the lavatory to get the cum
stains out of your blouse and to freshen up before your
journey,” and she looked straight at my girlfriend’s
chest.

She turned on her heel, and left the room. I didn’t
know what to do. You could cut the tension with a
knife. The mistress/clerk had squished my girlfriend
beneath her foot. This was so unlike anything I had
ever seen in my girlfriend. I followed the clerk, and I
left my girlfriend alone to “freshen up.” I felt badly.
My girlfriend came out a few minutes later. Her bloused
was buttoned. The dried cum spots were still there. Her
face was red. She didn’t look at us. Her lip trembled.
She looked liked she was going to cry.

I didn’t know what to think or feel, but I got the
impression that I had just started something that had
unintended consequences. I felt unsettled. Last night I
had watched my girlfriend get used like a whore. Worse
yet, I had seen my girlfriend act like a whore. (What
was with that jerking off action?) She was clearly more
experienced with guys than I had assumed. And, now,
there was this dom/sub stuff. Was she lesbian, bi-
sexual, or was she just generally sexy?

We drove home, mostly in silence, but those questions
were on my mind. I had no idea what was going through
her head. When I dropped her off, I got emboldened, and
I said, “Looks like I know where I’m taking you the
next get-away.” Her face reddened. She might have been
really angry at me, but she wasn’t, it was a sexual
flush. She looked down and said in a sing-song voice,
“That would be nice!”


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