Fuck Fest

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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