That was this summer. I had very long relationship and last year i got ridden of it. So I sex occasionally wit various girls till then. One night this September I was very very tired of everything. Job went finally better and some private investing also, but I had being working for 14 hours a day at time. It was About 1 am in the morning and was just went of from long shower and about to lay down on my bad.The voice from the other side of cell phone was very pleasant, some kind of baby talking voice. Voice said" Annnn' what what do want from me now?...LOL.. i said "who is this?&... Continue»
....As she held her keys in her hand and tentatively pressed the unlock key, she was adamant that if this dodgy piece of Italian engineering was going to chuck a shit fit and not start, it would be burnt where it stood.
Lucky for it and for Sharon, all three lights that actually worked briefly indicated its living status, and with a sense of pure relief she pulled open the door and threw herself into the leather confines of her car.
She immediately snapped the cabin lights back on and flicked down the vanity mirror.
"Holy fucking duck shit," she said to herself as she tried to wipe the black sooty mud that she and Phil had landed in off her face.
The cream white leather upholstery was not liking the filth, but Sharon had no option but to bring the engine to life and worry about the clean up another day. Her legs and arms were all covered in grey streaks of grime and silt and she noticed for the first time, a five centimetre tear in her dress.
"Oh for fuck's sake." she laughed and shook her head, "what else is going to happen tonight?"
Once again she was relieved when the engine cranked into life and the sweet tone of the engine purred into the cabin.
She followed Phil in his Holden Astra out onto the main drag and was relieved to see him turn left and cruise away into the drizzle. For a moment she worried about how a he could see without his glasses, but like most moments it was transitory and her attention went back to another matter.
'He won't call,' she said quietly to herself.
In this weather she estimated that within five minutes she would be home to Marcus and she was looking forward to telling him all about her exploits. She knew he'd enjoy them, surely he would, wouldn't he?
The doubt mixed with the disappointment of seeing an empty driveway but as she pulled onto the pressed concrete, and noticing that the lights in the garage were off, she knew that she would have the time to explain all.
The neighbour's dogs announced her arrival with a sharp and decisive array of canine expletives that were met with a few human expletives from Sharon.
Her hands were shaking, something they weren't doing in the car, as she fumbled with the lock and opened the door. Finally she was home in the hands of the man she loved. Marcus was standing at the stop of the stairs putting the finishing touches to a text message.
He was a man whose expression changed from a wide smile to a look of concern.
"What the fuck?" he said as she ran up the stairs towards him.
"You look like you've been dragged through a war zone!"
The first thing she did after embracing him was to cry. The intense emotional occurrences over the past few hours had left her dazed and confused. Should she start the story at the pub or work backwards? Maybe she should let him ask the questions, or maybe just say nothing.
"What's with all this black shit all over you?" Marcus said as he held her back at arms length.
She managed to smile as the image of her and Phil stumbling over the large chunks of gravel and tumbling sideways into the puddle came back to her.
"The train had to stop for some reason just before the station and this lovely man gave me a lift on his back," she subconsciously straightened her dress as the rendezvous with Phil played back. "But he slipped on the tracks and we fell into his bl**dy puddle."
"Why would a bloke do that?" Marcus asked.
"Umm," Sharon smiled up at Marcus whose face was hard to read. "Well he did get rewarded."
Marcus's expression turned from wonder to enlightenment as he realised what she had said. Sharon had broken their Golden Rule.
"bl**dy hell Sharon, why didn't you just stay on the train and call me?" he walked back up a few steps and left her lingering down below.
"I'm..." he shook his head in disbelief. "I know you were looking forward to tonight but you didn't have to go picking up some stray fucker on the train." his tone was now bordering on the angry and it was at this point that Sharon decided to keep the nights events quiet, for now anyway.
"I've got you a present and the lads got you something as well, so," he scratched his head and smiled down at her, "we'll talk about it later, but go up and have a shower, grab a drink and check out the gifts. I'll be down in the garage fixing that bl**dy amp."
He hopped back down the steps towards her and grabbed her on the waist. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down towards her. Their tongues met before their lips did and they kissed passionately before Marcus slid his hands down her back, and feeling that she wasn't wearing any underpants, lifted her dress.
"I'm sure he was suitably rewarded," he said to her in an ambiguous tone. She really wasn't sure if he was angry or not.
She flicked her hair back and smiled up at him. "I'll go and clean up," she said not fully realising that that statement could be taken any number of ways.
"Pop back down into the garage when you're finished," Marcus smacked her on the arse as she seductively wiggled it up the stairs. "I really do have to fix this amp."
Sharon just tilted her head back and smiled at Marcus wondering just how she was going to play this out.
"Oh," Marcus called out from behind the garage door, "Don't open your presents until after your shower," he popped his head back around the door, "You wouldn't want to get them dirty."
Sharon caught a glimpse of a smile from Marcus as he turned back into the garage. Bastard, she thought, One minute he's cranky, the next there's a hint of a smile.
She gathered her bags and spun up into the main part of the house. On entering the kitchen the smell of takeaway pizza filled the air and the empty boxes filled the island bench.
The two parcels sat sadly on the dining table next to the lads' empty beer bottles. One package was flat and long, the other was square and light. She wanted to open them there and then but considering all that had happened that night, she didn't dare go against his request to wait until after her shower. The yellowish glow from the globe above the mirror in their bathroom cast a triangle of light across the floor of the bedroom to the point at where she was standing. The two parcels were tossed onto the end of the bed as she quickly headed into the polished marble surrounds of their en suite.
When she finally saw her full reflection in the mirror she knew why Marcus was so concerned.
She certainly did look like shit. Her hair was matted and straggly, her face was splattered with the grit and grime of the puddle and her dress was stained and torn. But underneath the filthy exterior, she felt fantastic.
The pipes in the wall clicked and groaned as the hot water began to flow down and out of the shower rose. When the water began to steam, she pulled her tattered and dirty dress off over her head. For a moment she toyed with the idea of washing the dress and patching the tear, but instead she tossed the foul rag into the corner and checked herself out in the full length mirror.
She took in her naked form with an interest that she had never previously displayed. She wasn't admiring her slender torso and magnificent boobs, she was looking for marks, evidence of her encounters.
"Bugger," she said to her reflection as she noticed all the bite marks, scratches and grazes upon her torso. She looked like she'd run naked through a blackberry patch, not someone who'd just been fucked by...she stopped to count how many, but she was confused as to what exactly happened on the train. Regardless of the count she did know one thing, she was still horny.
The hot water opened her pores and sent little shards of pain into the countless wounds on her delicate soft skin. She felt like the water was washing away the sins of the world and she recalled the nuns at primary school reciting the Agnus Dei.
When she rinsed the shampoo from her hair, the mounds of foam trickled down her back and into the crack in her backside where they gathered before continuing down her legs. The peaks of grey water eddied and swirled down the drain. Sharon paid particular attention to her pussy and kept washing it although it was a hell of a lot cleaner than it had been five minutes ago. She wished now she'd gone into the main bathroom where they had a detachable shower head and she could have given herself a thorough clean.
The moisturiser she applied after the shower hoped to settle some of the glowing red patches and her skin was beginning to feel new and rejuvenated. The crisp towelling dressing gown covered her shining form and the red towel wrapped around her hair kept her long, black, curly hair neatly tied and drying on her head.
The two gifts lay side by side on the bed and now she was ready to open them. The first was the square parcel with the large card attached. She knew by the writing that it wasn't from Marcus and had to be from the band. She could also tell that there was no way it had been wrapped by a man. It was far too elegant. The first thing she saw when she opened the paper was the distinctive Victoria's Secret logo on the box. Her heart began to race as she lifted the lid and saw what was inside. The black lace, halter neck baby doll nightie, with matching knickers was divine. She held the flimsy nightie up and immediately held it up against herself to check the size. The dressing gown was quickly removed when its thickness denied an accurate measurement. She flung the towel around her hair across the room before she pulled the light material down over her body. It was a perfect fit.
She checked herself out in the mirror and was impressed with how good it looked. These guys knew her well. When she grabbed the card she realised that it felt a lot thicker than normal. On opening the card she discovered why. She recognised herself on the front cover but for a moment she tried to remember when Marcus had taken the image, it wasn't one that she'd seen before. As she gazed down at her cum splattered face on the card, the realisation of what was happening smashed into her like a tsunami. She sat down on the bed and quickly flicked through the remaining images. The composite of images included some from that evening's activities in the pub and some of her taken during a few of their other encounters. On the front was a smiling Sharon with cum dribbling down off her chin and the words 'Happy Birthday' added across the dirty pub carpet at the bottom.
That bastard, Sharon thought, how the hell did he get a hold of these?
She hit the rewind button in her mind and recalled how Marcus had asked her what the pub was called and had urged her to 'see if she could get pick up'. She remembered them laughing at the images on the phone and taking the pics of her when they'd finished with her.
He was controlling this whole thing. Sharon was both relieved and disappointed. Relieved that Marcus knew about it but disappointed that had he been there, maybe the night would have ended with at least a decent orgasm.
Inside were more pics of Sharon being fucked by various men in a number of different positions. In the centre they'd written 'Looking forward to adding a few more memories tonight, happy birthday from all of us.'
Damn, she thought,I guess I missed out on that one.
When she threw the card down she saw the final image. There she was sitting on the train with the left shoulder of a transit cop slightly obscuring her legs, an image taken only an hour or so earlier.
She tidied her damp, long black curly hair a bit before opening the second box. The wrapping this time was obviously done by Marcus. She could tell by the torn edges. The box inside however immediately caught her attention. A long jewellery box is difficult to confuse with anything else. The Japanese script on the front of the box made her recall the quickie with Phil and 'Turning Japanese' was still on the high repeat playlist in her brain.
Her chipped nails unclipped the gold clasp and when the long pearl necklace reflected the light behind her, her breathing involuntarily doubled. "Oh my good god," she whispered.
She held the long strand of pearls up so gently that she thought that they may break at any moment. Inside the box was a small card that Marcus had added. 'For someone who loves a pearl necklace, a real pearl necklace,' the inscription said.
Sharon smiled at that and pulled her hair to the side and strung the milky orbs around her neck. They hung seductively down around her neck and once more she checked herself out in the mirror.
She decided to wear it all down to the garage, and after applying some deep red lipstick, she fossicked for some suitable shoes to wear.
The black stilettos she'd bought for their anniversary were the obvious choice so she strapped them on and picked up the knickers that lay on the bed. Looking in the mirror she decided not to wear them and just let Marcus enjoy the show she was going to put on for him.
The garage was still quiet as she opened the door and strutted in expecting only to see Marcus working on the amp. Instead she was met with six coloured lights and the riff from The Beatles 'Birthday'
'He says it's your birthday It's our party too yeah We've all taken Viagra We didn't want to waste it.
Yes we're going to fuck you silly Yes we're going to fuck you silly Yes we're going to fuck you silly
We would like you to suck (our cocks) Like you did with the cops (our cocks) And those blokes in the bar (our cocks) Fuck...
Birthday! It was probably her least favourite Beatles tune and she agreed with John Lennon when he described it as 'a little piece of garbage.'
Sharon braced her hands against her hips, frowned and cocked her head like a teacher regarding a class of idiot c***dren. She began shaking her head slowly until the lads noticed and their song began to fall off one fading voice at time. Their faces sank with worry as it dawned on them that perhaps their chance at the always reliable Sharon might not be the sure thing they'd imagined. All except Marcus, that is. He retained his cocky crooked smile as he looked up at her.
Sharon resisted the urge to wink at him. Instead she focused on his mates. "bl**dy hell lads... apparently you've been watching this whole bl**dy fuck-up of an evening while drinking our beer and now you think I'm eager to have you lot climbing all over me? Not bl**dy likely!"
Panic bloomed across their faces. Several of them looked to Marcus as if searching for a reprieve. But Marcus only bit back his smile and shrugged at his mates.
"As for you Marcus," she stared him down, "You're a cunt." It was an insult heavily steeped in affection.
"I'm going to bed," she continued, investing her voice with a heavy dose of exhausted impatience. "If you lot are so worried about wasting your boner pills you can bugger each other for all I care."
In sync, Mick and Ben and Dan and Jim's mouths all fell open as their eyebrows crinkled together in disappointment. But when Marcus quickly pulled his right hand up over his mouth to hide his smile Sharon couldn't maintain the façade any longer. Clasping the door frame to keep from tumbling down the stairs, she doubled over with laughter. When she saw vivid relief erupt back into their faces, it only made it funnier to her exhausted mind.
"Christallmighty, that was a cruel joke," groaned Mick.
"Getting' nasty in your old age, eh OW!" said Jim, finishing in a twinge of pain as Dan punched him in the shoulder.
"Don't ever use the phrase "old age" to a woman you bl**dy idiot," hissed Dan. Marcus was laughing along. His eyes sparkled with love towards his lovely, sexy and frequently exhausting wife. After so many years together and so many adventures both sexual and otherwise, she could usually read his mind. She could tell there was another surprise for her; something he could barely hold back.
"OK. I guess I can take five more cocks today," she said with comically exaggerated reluctance.
The guys all cheered in a single voice.
"BUT... I have two conditions."
"Anything"; "Whatever you want Sharon"; "Your wish is our command"; etc.
"One: I want a massage. A nice, looooong, oily massage; from all of you; at once."
Heads nodded eagerly.
"Two: I don't want to fuck you lot on the floor or on the pool table or on top of an amp or splayed across the hood of a car... I want to fuck in a nice soft bed for a change."
It was the guys' turn to laugh now. They turned toward Marcus with knowing looks. His final secret was welling up behind his eyes. Sharon cocked a hip and stared at him; saying, "What?"
"Come on lads, let's show her."
The guys came filing up the stairs towards her and she backed up into the kitchen to let them pass. Marcus took a detour and switched on the sound system he'd wired up to broadcast his mp3s throughout the house. Sharon recognised the tune as "Sparks" by the Who. The building tension of the instrumental infected her with a growing impatient lust as the lads surrounded her and lifted her in their strong but calloused musicians' hands to carry her back into the house. She let her head drop back and saw Marcus following. His face had that "I'm a lucky bastard" gleam it always got when they indulged in their naughtiest impulses together.
She was carried to the door to Marcus's "office", the spare room he'd planned to turn into a home office, but which instead kept getting used as a dumping ground for hand-me-down furniture, unwanted gifts, old books and etc. But as they opened the door and carried her in, her breath caught in her throat in surprise. The room was now floored, wall to wall, in mattresses, the walls were tiled in mirrors and the ceiling had several of the bands' old lighting rigs mounted into the corners with a small mirror ball spinning slowly in the centre and casting little drifting points of light around the room. She also spotted several small cameras mounted at various points around the room. She had no doubt he was recording the scene, as usual.
"Holy shit Marcus... What's this?"
"Well, I figured the garage had become my office, so I thought I'd use the wasted room for something more... for us."
"And us!" said Mick.
"You built a fucking orgy room? You bl**dy mad man," she said in wonder. She speculated how much this and the lovely, but obviously super-costly, pearl necklace cost. She decided now was not the time to worry about their finances. Especially since the lads were now laying her out in the centre of the room and easing her new nightie off over her head.
The lads pulled their shirts off and began drenching her in lavender scented oil Marcus seemed to have stockpiled in the room for just such an event (the man knew what she liked!). As ten hands began kneading and sliding against her raw skin and aching muscles, the music changed over to "Can't You Hear Me Knockin'" by the Rolling Stones. She closed her eyes and let herself drift off into another girlhood dream, the one where she was a sixties groupie on tour with the young, Brian Jones era, Stones; in their private plane; surrendering her body to their raging libidos.
"Help me baby, ain't no stranger," Jagger was singing over and over as the fingers slid along her body, tweaked and pulled her nipples, explored the hot creases of her pussy. Strong hands flipped her over and now her back and arse was being coated with oil and roughly caressed. The song had entered its long swirling saxophone-y second half and she let herself get lost in the groovy music and the strong hands. She was being lifted and stretched, probed by fingers and poked by frustrated but expectant pricks as one man after another paused to shed his pants. Once again Marcus' band was her own personal male harem of willing meat: full of lust, eager to please, touching her, feeling her, wanting her. A thumb brushed over her clit. Teeth pulled at her left nipple as a strong hand cupped her right breast. An errant cock slapped her across the face. She opened her eyes and looked up from the bottom of a deep, slick-walled well of male flesh lit in the pulsing and sparkling coloured lights of the new orgy room. It felt like she was tumbling down into the centre of an erupting spark of pure desire that was burning out through every cell of her own writhing body. "Ooooh FUCK," her voice croaked; completely feral. "Fuck... Fuuuck Meee.."
And she came. At last. At. Fucking. Last.
And it was a powerful climax too. She was still panting and seeing stars when she found herself being lowered on to Dan's young, finely muscled body and his cock sliding easily up into her sopping wet hole. She was still fairly tender from the long day of heavy usage, but the ache gave the pleasure a keen edge, like painfully hot Thai food or a really fat cock.
The lads were so kind. Beneath her Dan surged up into her like a heavy sea swell so she didn't have to do much but move her body so he hit her spot just right. Then there was Mick, stepping up in front of her and sliding his familiar cock past her lips and along her eager, drooling tongue. He took her head in his hands and fucked her face with just the right touch of tenderness and wanton f***e. Her hands were pulled up to wrap around a pair of waiting erections. She recognised Ben's big, thick rod by touch as she slid her right hand up and down along its length while she worked Jim's with her right. But where was Marcus? She wanted him inside her. She wanted that so very badly.
Almost as she thought of her husband, Sharon felt his fingers pull her hair to the side and his hot breath wash across the back of her neck. She groaned lividly around Mick's cock as Marcus reached around to cup her breasts. She could feel his cock pressing into the small of her back. He was as hard as steel.
"I love you Sharon," he whispered into her ear. In the pulsing synthesiser freak-out of the currently playing song (she couldn't place the band now playing, not that she cared) only she could hear him; a tender, shared moment in the centre of a thrusting knot of fucking flesh.
"Mm gullg umm ooo" she affirmed to Marcus as Mick continued to use her mouth. She felt Marcus's glans pushing at her slick, oily anus. "You want it in every hole, don't you?"
"uuee" she answered, nodding her head as much as she could.
He pushed into her. Her body complained a bit at first, but she enjoyed the sensation: that virginal feeling of a difficult boundary crossed. He worked it into her slowly as Dan adjusted his thrusts to match. Finally, they were both sunk fully inside her and began working her in a complicated syncopation that reminded her why she loved fucking musicians. Not accountants, cops, engineers, teachers or waiters; no one fucked like a musician. That's what she was thinking as her second orgasm overtook her almost by surprise.
They moved her. She was sitting with her arse impaled on Marcus' cock as Ben squatted between her thighs to push his massive meat into her straining pelvis. A gentle hand helped her head back and there was Jim feeding his cock into her mouth. Her hands found Dan's dick, still gooey from her insides, and Mick's, still slick with her saliva. Ben began pumping her roughly and expertly. Is it any wonder she came again almost immediately?
Thinking back on it later - and dear reader, let me assure you she still frequently recalls this episode to this very day - this is where her memory gets hazy. Three rapid fire orgasms tend to scramble events in even the most staid woman's mind; but Sharon is not a sombre sort, nor is she above throwing herself into a moment. And at this moment she was positively fuck-mad. Suffice to say, she was on her hands and knees taking cocks from front and back when she realised it seemed like the room was more crowded than previously. Looking up she saw the long pink body of officer Barnaby of the Transit Police as he pumped his cock into her mouth. Straining her eyes to her right she saw his colleague Collins with his cock in her right hand. Marcus had gathered quite a party for her. If it wasn't for the storm he'd probably have those fuckers from the pub show up too.
"Out of my way Barnaby, I've got a load for our hostess here," said Collins as he approached to spray her forehead with a load of sperm.
It was the first of many. Whether it was the room or whether it was her, the lads seemed inspired and driven that night. They ejaculated onto her face and across her tits. They filled her mouth with warm heavy loads that she drank greedily down; they flooded her cunt and inundated her ass. Many came twice. Dan came four times (and wouldn't shut up about it for months). By the time every man was slumped exhausted against the mirrored walls of the reeking orgy room, Sharon was left lying dazed and spread eagled on the new mattresses, their sheets now rank and musky with the flood of semen.
Sharon raised herself to her elbow with difficulty. The lads looked at her with disinterested, half closed eyes. She looked down her body and noticed the thick soup of coagulating cum that hung from the shimmering pearl orbs: a pearl necklace on a pearl necklace.
"Love, would you get the clasp for me? Love? Hey, Marcus!" she shouted to wake him up.
Marcus crawled across the floor like he'd been the one fucked by a baker's dozen of dicks that day and fumbled with the clasp on the strand of pearls until it came undone and rolled down her body. Pulling it up through the heavy filth covering her stomach and tits she displayed the dripping string of pearls to the suddenly attentive men and ran it slowly though her lips while audibly slurping it's salty load into her mouth.
"Fuck me!" gasped Barnaby.
"Sharon's you're a national fucking treasure," said Mick with wonder. "I think we should put a picture of that on the fucking dollar."
"Nobody'd spend the bl**dy things," laughed Ben.
"There'd be economic chaos!" continued Marcus. They were all laughing now as Sharon looked them over, her face twisted up in a wicked smile.
Sharon was tired. She'd never been so tired. She'd probably be bed-ridden for days from this endurance fuck on top of the two previous gangbangs. But she was enjoying the attention and she was letting the sensation run away with her. A nasty idea popped into her head and as the guys laughed she slowly wound the string of pearls around her index finger until they covered it from the nail down to the base. She clasped the end of the strand in her palm and held it up in front of her face.
"Watch this... We can put this picture on the one hundred dollar note," she said and dropped her hand down between her thighs. Every eye was flung wide as the men watched her finger-fuck herself with the strand of pearls.
Of course, she was too exhausted to come again. After the string of consecutive orgasms she'd had only moments ago; after the long day and frustrating trip; after two previous gangbangs; of course an orgasm was out of the question.
...But... she felt the warmth building in her as the smooth but lumpy pressure of the pearls strained at the limits of her overused pussy. The guys were tugging at their limp pricks as they watched, trying to eke out one last go for their now-useless shafts. Their desire and frustration was a like an aphrodisiac and she felt her muscles grow taut and her breath grow shallow as her body hummed with one last impossible climb up to of the apex of sensation.
"Unnng" she gasped as she felt her body grow tense with power of the coming explosion. She collapsed onto her back and began ramming herself hard with the pearls. "Ohhhhh Fuuuck!" she groaned as she felt her skin, then her bones, then her very soul tingle with the incipient pleasure she could no longer hold back.
"OwAaahh, Ahhhh, Ung. Fuck. FUCK. Holy Christ. I can't fucking believe that." She panted as the men looked on in disbelief. They traded glances back and forth as if looking for confirmation to what they'd just witnessed.
She brought the filthy strand of pearls back to her face and began to lick at them once more. Thanks to Pfizer's blue diamond she saw several of the lads cocks were getting hard again.
It was hours, many, many hours, later and Marcus and Sharon were laying arm and arm in the stale funk of their orgy room. Dave Graney's 'Rock and Roll is Where I Hide' filled the room with his cheesy groove and took her back to her first threesome with Marcus and a workmate called Julian. They'd slept late, but they had no idea how late since Marcus had purposely not installed a clock in the room.
"So," he said when he noticed she was awake. "Did you like your party?' "Of course I did you bl**dy fool."
"So how much of our money did this," she waved her hand to indicate the room. "And this," she plucked at her necklace, "cost us."
"Quite a bit. Quite a bit."
"So that pushes back our trip to Amsterdam to... when?" she asked pointedly, trying hard not to feel annoyed.
"Well, that's the surprise I didn't tell you. Remember that CD that my old band put out like ten years ago, back before Mick and I started playing together?"
"Well, the last track is pure filler. I banged it out in the studio myself one afternoon to just pad the album out to forty minutes. Anyway, some bloke in America heard it - fuck if I know how - and decided it was just what he wanted as the theme for some TV show he's producing. Something serial about a woman cop."
She narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head. "Pull the other one."
"No. It's true. They bought the rights to it. I made enough to buy the materials to build our little fuck chamber and get you the type of pearl necklace you can show your mum. Plus, there was a little extra to throw into the bank towards our trip."
Sharon's jaw had dropped open. "Oh darling, you should've got something for yourself."
"I thought I did."
She smiled a little half smile. "You always were a lucky bastard."
He reached out and pulled her to him. Their flesh was still tacky from the night before as they pressed their bodies tight.
"Yeah," he said as he pulled her face to his for a kiss. "I know I am."
PLEASE SEND A COMMENT