Never quite finished off the story about Herman the German which started off as being about the most men I ever had in one night but ended up being about him. But it was halfway through, because the most (15 if you’re interested) only happened because of him – and the handsome young man who held me across the snooker table so Herman could fuck me hard.
We almost never meet people we’ve fucked (99 times in a hundred that really means people who have fucked me) after the night it happens. Occasionally we’ve seen people who look familiar and I think I might have shagged them but I’m not sure, and once I met a bloke who we picked up in a club and fucked in a hotel room. I was in a club again and he just walked up, kissed me on the cheek and put his hand up my skirt. By the time I turned to face him he was in my knickers, but saying hello Lucy how are you made me guess where I knew him from and why he though it was ok to do that. It was actually. Made me very wet, and I had a seriously good shag later that evening because of it, but not from him. Never go back or meet twice.
Anyway.
About a month after Herman the German, I was standing with Rog in the corner of a big room at a wedding party. The dancing was in another room, the wine and cheese in another, the men were doing business in another room and the wives were doing gossip in the kitchen.
We were watching the younger guests snogging and groping in the chill room, betting on which ones would shag now (there was one couple who seemed as if they were just seconds away from it) and which later (all of them, we reckoned), when a guy comes up and says hi how are you, and then knowing you I bet you’d like to be on one of the couches with one of the young studs.
I knew we must have known each other in some similar situation and I was trying to remember when and where I’d shagged him, and I’d just come to the conclusion that if i had I’d probably remember, cos he was dead hunky, when he said, do you fancy bending over the end of this settee and letting me fuck you really hard, and I was so busy looking at the end of the settee and thinking it was about the right size and shape, and how did he know how much I like being fucked like that, that I hardly noticed the guy standing next to him. But when he said he was sure Roger wouldn’t mind, and nodded past me at Rog, saying hello, I realised there were two of them, the second much older, and certainly no one I recalled from our busy and murky past. Bet you wouldn’t, eh, he asked Rog again, and always one for an honest answer my dearly beloved said he’s always happy to see me bent over and fucked by complete strangers, especially in public. I know that he smiled, and patted my bum while the older one peered round at Rog. That had definitely got his attention. Young guy noticed and spoke to his companion. Told you, he smirked, and then to me I told him, but he wouldn’t believe me.
I still had no idea who he was, but he knew us all right. I said you’d like nothing better than to let Tom here give you a quickie in the shadows while hubby and I watched, he said. In fact I more or less promised him he could lift your skirt and have you from behind.
I was about to say something contrary when he carried on, after all, last time I saw you I was holding you down over a snooker table so some fat old German could give you one, so I know you’re not a girl who likes to say no.
The guy opposite the night Herman the German had won his bet and fucked me on the snooker table. That’s who it was. Although he wasn’t so much holding me down as stretching me across so Herman could do his best work. I’d been grateful at the time, to be honest.
I smiled at him and he nodded at the recognition. Great evening, he said. I had a great time watching. But I seem to recall you enjoyed it even more. I smiled, and Roger joined in with more enthusiasm. He just LOVES talking to people who’ve fucked me, and failing that, the ones who were only watching will do, and now he started recalling about how good my pussy had looked stretched round a cock as wide as a jam-jar, and how red in the face Herman had been when he finished. And I think Lucy was a little flushed as well, laughed Man Opposite, because after all, she was the one having all the orgasms.
We all chuckled politely, then he looked into my eyes and asked me if I’d like some more, right now, bent over the end of the settee, and I thought all the time you’re looking at me like that, talking to me like that and remembering seeing me do it once before, then yes I rather think I would love some more. But before I had the chance to say something throwaway, like maybe or perhaps or why not, Roger had dived in with both feet and said that it was just the thing to liven up a boring wedding and half the people here were at it already so we’d blend right in, and before you know it he’d got my hand and was leading me towards the settee.
I was wondering whether to tell Roger off first and then man opposite, or the other way round, when I realised my knickers were dripping fire, and there was a sudden ache in my pussy, and I suddenly wanted to fuck quite badly and to be rude and naughty even more, so I thought what the hell, and waited while Rog stood me behind the settee, out of sight of the room (from the waist down anyway) and plumped some cushions for me, before leaning me over the end, palms pressed onto the seat, bum pointing backwards, feet astride. Absolutely my favourite position.
I’m pretty sure it was Rog who lifted my skirt up and then stood aside, but the firm hands on my hips were definitely not Roger, and then long fingers pulled my suddenly-wet knickers aside, spread my pussy lips and slipped in, two long thin ones, flexing and spreading inside, a great beginning but I knew this wasn’t going to be about foreplay and I could tell from the way he moved that his other hand was unzipping his trousers and freeing his cock, and then suddenly it was touching, pushing, sliding in, filling me with its length. It felt good, I have to say, just the way you want a hunky young man to feel when he takes you from behind, and he started slowly, no rush, gradually building speed and going deeper.
As he headed towards a steady pace I looked up, watching 3 young couples in various chairs and settees snogging and groping, oblivious to us and each other. As they explored I was listening to the rustle of silk dresses and soft moans as fingers searched inside underwear and it all felt very horny indeed, and I could feel myself getting wetter and closer to coming and I could hear the wet gurgle as Man Opposite plunged steadily in and out of my pussy and I wondered if the couples would hear it or care, and decided it didn’t matter now because I was about to cum, and then Man Opposite appeared in front of me, back to the room, a huge big erection sticking out of his zipper, waving softly from side to side, and whispered just you wait for the real thing.
By the time I worked out that it was old Tom’s cock in me and that I was pinned to the sofa by his hand pressing down on my bum and couldn’t get away from him if I wanted to, my brain had lost control and my pussy was gripping his shaft like a vice, squeezing and releasing and I was cumming and cumming and cumming simply because I was not being fucked by the fit young man I expected, but instead had the cock of a rather dodddery old bloke I’d never met before in my life and certainly hadn’t agreed to shag right up inside me.
And now that I thought about it – not that doddery. In fact, realising that I was cumming, Tom had doubled his efforts and was suddenly fucking me quite briskly, and his squirt of hot cum just landed inside me at the end of my orgasm and finished it off rather nicely for both of us.
He slid quickly out and was muttering a very polite thankyou, and I would have stood up and kissed his cheek before telling off Man Opposite, but a very much firmer hand than Tom’s was pressing me back down and a very much bigger and harder cock was parting my pussy lips and rolling steadily up inside me and I quite forgot about anything else and let myself relax and let it happen.
And boy did it happen. He was young and fit and shagged like a man with something to prove, hard and fast, thumbing my bum cheeks apart so he could watch himself, thumping up into me and pushing me over the edge of the settee so my feet were hardly touching the floor, and just when I was really starting to like it, he came in a huge flood that gave me quite a nice one as well, heaving breathlessly on the settee edge, watching the youngsters as I came, a girl lazily opening her legs so her stud could slide his hand up under her dress and cup her pussy.
Man Opposite jerked once or twice more and was gone, and I pushed down with my palms, lifting the top half of my body and settling my feet on the floor, and feeling another man stand up close behind me, guiding a hard cock between my thighs, upwards, against my lips, all soft and wet, spreading them and going in, higher and higher and I though Tom you old rascal and allowed myself to fall forwards while he began to fuck me again. Then Roger leaned over and whispered in my ear. Sorry about this, he said. Tom seems to have told his mate, and invited him to have a go as well. Tell him to go away, I said. Bit late for that, said Rog, looking at me as if I was mad and then I realised. The cock in me now – the cock doing rather excellent work inside me now – wasn’t Tom, but Tom’s mate. I couldn’t see from here, and it didn’t feel much different, so I didn’t feel too stupid. In fact i felt rather good. Apart from the steady in and out, how bad was this?. I was being fucked by a bloke I’d never met, couldn’t see and hadn’t invited. He’d just found me with my bum in the air and started to fuck me, and I’d started to enjoy it. In fact realising that I was enjoying it made me enjoy it all the more and I came immediately and quite noisily, stuffing a cushion in my mouth to stifle the squeals.
He was still going and I was still enjoying the feeling of a completely unknown cock in me so much that when he came I did too, munching the cushion again while he squirted and sprayed, pressing his hands down into my back, holding me in place while he emptied himself, my unknown warrior, easing his still-hard cock out and swinging away from me – and holding me still as another rock-hard erection thrust up inside me so hard and fast I made a noise they could hear in Edinburgh, 20 miles away.
Rog was whispering in my ear. Tom seems to have told more than one person he said. How many I asked? Well, several, he said. How many’s that I asked, but he didn’t answer and I lost interest because who ever this one was he was cumming inside me like a fountain, within seconds of putting it in, filling me with cum like a bloke who hadn’t had a shag for years, which almost certainly made him old and ugly. I came on the spot thinking about that one, and I was still cumming when he pulled out, pussy clenching and bum heaving at empty air. So I was very glad of the next bloke, inside me in a second, fucking me hard and fast, just what i wanted, and as soon as I got my breath back and was enjoying what he was doing for me I pushed up, got my elbows on the back of the settee and had a look at the courting couples, still busy, still lost in their own world. Then I looked over my shoulder and saw a crown of men behind me, watching the best man, still in his tail coat, shagging away behind me.
Rog, I said, turning to look at him over my other shoulder, and I made a face at all those guys. Maybe they’re just watching, he said. Right. I knew why they were here and so did he. And if Rog could arrange it, he’d let them all have a go, the evil pervert. It’s why I love him.
The Best Man wasn’t the best man, but he wasn’t bad. One or two used condoms. One or two had seriously big cocks. One or two came in a few seconds. Most lasted a minute or two, but one or two lasted five or ten. Apart from that I don’t remember much except the feeling of being continuously fucked, cum into and then fucked some more. The feeling of a rock hard cock carrying on immediately when one has just cum inside you is hard to describe, but I think it could become seriously addictive. In the course of history several famous women have taken on roomfuls of men or entire regiments, and liked it so much they couldn’t stop. I can see why. It’s the baddest thing a girl can do, and the best.
All those strange, hard cocks, men I knew, but never knew. Some of them, Roger said after, joined the end of the queue, which confused Roger’s counting, but lasted a lot longer the second time, which I’m not sure was a good thing. I’d have preferred more, and quicker.
As it is, Rog said first he thought there was 13, more than my previous record of 11. Then he said that there might have been 15, because he was trying not to count them twice if they joined the back of the queue and actually had a second shag. He thought one guy might have had 3 goes, but most of them had wives in the kitchen and scurried away before they were caught, but they never were. Upstairs the DJ started making going-away announcements and everybody sort of trooped off, leaving me to tidy myself up a bit.
Old Tom started the evening and I still had my knickers on. I remember someone pulling them down, instead of aside, but it made it hard to open my legs, and the next man pushed them down before he began, but after that they vanished, so I guess someone took them home as a souvenir.
While they were throwing rice at the bride and groom upstairs, Rog leaned me upright, bum against the settee, stood between my legs and we had a slow but brief shag. He came very quickly because watching had made him very horny, and that had already happened to a lot of guys that evening for the very same reason, we think, which is fine by me, and I guess they got what they wanted too.
Rog said he loved the queue, and the looks on their faces, and the fact that my bum was often still shagging air for several seconds after a guy had cum and pulled out of me, and I really didn’t seem to care who or what was next. Which was true. I didn’t. At least 15 guys shagged me that night, probably more. Several did it it twice or three times, so more than 20 guys came in my pussy, and I think if Roger was honest he’d say it was more than 20 different guys altogether. However many it was, for me the best part is that I only ever saw one of them, and I still don’t know even his name, which I quite like, for the badness.
Almost as good, there was cum running out of me for days afterwards, and I clearly remember talking to my sister at the Sainsbury checkout when a thick blob trickled into my knickers and started dribbling down the inside of my thigh. As we walked to the car I could feel it lower and lower, and as we sat down I could see where it made the inside of my knee shiny and wet. She never noticed, but as soon as we got to her house I went to the bathroom, wiped it off and then used my fingers to make myself cum, thinking of all those cocks and all that spunk, wishing I had managed to cum once myself on every cock .
But I’ve made up for it since and while remembering the details I must have cum ten times at least for every cock I had that evening, either on Roger’s cock, or his fingers or tongue, on my own fingers and on my rabbit and other devices,at home, in the car (parked and on the motorway while Rog was driving) in the cinema, restaurants and clubs, a couple of times in the Ladies in odd places and of course home in bed.
So when people ask me if I want to do it again I have to say yes, because it’s bad, wicked and horny and makes me cum. But it’s not as horny as having one very rude man twist you round his little finger (and hopefully his nice big cock) and involve your mind as well as your pussy. No matter how much your pussy loves cock. And mine does.
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