Crown of Horns
1: The Princess and the Poppers
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Drunk/Drugged, Heterosexual, Vignettes, Slut Wife, Wife Watching, Gang Bang, Oral Sex, Spitting, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Tit-Fucking, Prostitution,
Desc: Sex Story: 1: The Princess and the Poppers - This is a filthy story involving a wild woman, a bunch of lecherous men, lots of drugs, verbal degradation, and loads of cum. It's exploitative, disgusting, and wholly devoid of redeeming qualities. I hope you enjoy it.
The bachelor party was in Vegas. My fiancee Samantha had never met these guys. They were my east coast friends from college, and she knew we’d been a wild crew when we were younger.
“You can come to Vegas,” I told her reluctantly. “But I’m going to be off radar for a few days.”
“That’s ok,” she said. “I have an old friend there I’ve been meaning to visit for years.”
“You’re not coming along just to keep an eye on me?”
“Of course not. I trust you, Simon.”
My friend James was the groom-to-be. We hadn’t seen each other in a couple of years but we’d been tight through college. He was the guy you hear stories about. He was quiet, he was handsome, he was a little intimidating. The women couldn’t stay away from him. Me and the guys had planned a hell of a send-off for his single life. Samantha knew some of the details. She knew there would be some recreational drugs. I hadn’t denied that there would be a stripper or two.
“If there are going to be girls there, hands off, ok?”
“Of course, Sam. Hands off.”
“What about other parts?” I joked.
“No touching,” she said. “I mean it, Simon.”
I kissed her, slapped her butt, grabbed my bag, and headed for the hotel lobby.
There were eight of us. We met at James’s hotel. I was the first to arrive. James and I hugged each other and slapped each others’ backs. He was looking good. He wore a tailored shirt, his skin was tan, his dark hair was expensively cut. We opened a bottle of bourbon and chatted. He was on his way to making partner and about to marry a woman who could have been a supermodel if her career in biotech patent law didn’t pan out. Anson showed up next. We all hugged. Anson’s a software engineer. We used to call him Urkel but in a circle of otherwise white friends, he was the black guy in glasses, so that was kind of obvious and kind of shitty. We were kids. He’d actually always been more stylish than any of us.
Joey and Brad arrived together. They’d traveled from Long Island, where Joey worked as a plumber and Brad sold real estate, when he wasn’t surfing. They still liked to party hard and they were always posting pictures on Facebook from dance clubs and expensive boats. There was another round of back slapping, another round of shots.
The next guy to arrive was someone the rest of us didn’t know. He worked at James’s firm. He was a big black guy, shaved head, muscular, dashing. He had a winning smile and could make everyone feel like they’d known him for years.
Gary called and said his plane from Chicago had been delayed and he wouldn’t get in until the next morning.
And finally there was Rob. He was the last to show up, as usual. He showed up in typical Rob fashion, sandy hair disheveled and with lipstick on his cheek.
“Couldn’t wait, huh?” said James.
Rob smiled. “I had to stop to get a little gift, my good friends.” He put a vial on the glass table. He laid his AmEx next to it.
When everyone had done a couple of lines we went out for steaks. We ate slabs of steak, drank expensive scotch, caught up. We traded stories about our girlfriends or wives and the kind of trouble we were planning and whether or not they’d ever find out and what they’d do if they did.
“Tit for tat, man,” said Ty. “Tit. For. Tat. If Cathy ever finds out I fucked a ho she just goes out and does the same right back. No hard feelings or nothing. Just boom, like that.”
“That actually happened?” said Anson.
“Yeah, few times.”
“Shit bro,” said Rob. “My girl Angie, she’d be so pissed, she’d rip my dick off. I have to share everything with her. Unconditional.”
“Well let’s keep this theoretical,” I said. “Hand over your phones.”
“Y’all are going to get pretty lit up tonight, right?”
“You know it.”
James just gave me a quizzical look.
“So by the powers vested in me by Sir James, I need to collect your phones before anything regrettable can happen.”
“Oh this is gonna be good.”
“This is gonna be bad.”
Our first stop was a strip club called The Velvet. Classy, dim. Five star girls. Lots of silicone on display. We bought James a lap dance. A brunette with a hard body did deep knee bends in front of him, then straddled him, pushed her big tits in his face, held the back of his head. She left a wet spot on the crotch of his slacks. Gary said that was just a showgirl trick. Ty said it was just sweat. James touched his finger to it, smelled it, and assured us it was the real thing.
“You boys are bad,” the girl chided us.
“I’ll show you bad,” said Rob.
“All you showed me so far is a bad tip.”
He passed her a fifty. She smiled and flounced away.
Our next stop, after another round of drinks, was a place called The Kitty Korral. It was considerably less classy than The Velvet. Rob got a lap dance from a cute young black girl with a tight, tight body. He whispered something in her ear, and a few minutes later both of them had disappeared.
There was another bar, a few more lines of coke, and yet another bar. Things get a little blurry at this point. What I remember is that the sight of all those gyrating women got me into a state where I needed some relief, and since the suite had everyone in such proximity that a bed wasn’t guaranteed, I decided I would head back to the hotel room that Samantha and I had rented. I was fully determined to fuck her brains out. I apparently made it back to the room, and I have a vague memory of making my play. I woke up the next day, decidedly un-fucked, on the couch. Samantha had shaken me awake and was handing me a cup of coffee and a couple of Advils.
“How was I?” I asked after downing the pills.
“You were too drunk,” she said.
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s ok,” she teased. “Do you have any idea how easy it is for a woman to get laid in this town?”
I changed the subject. “So how’s your friend? I forget her name.”
“Kim. Good. Happily divorced, two kids.”
I sipped my coffee.
“So aren’t you going to ask me how my night was?”
“On principle, no,” she said. “But last night you told me everything anyway.”
I almost choked.
I squinted at her. “How do you know it’s everything?”
“Well, you told me about the strippers and the lap dances.”
“And you told me about the coke.”
I swallowed. Had I told her what was planned for tonight? I didn’t want to ask, but I desperately wanted to know.
“What else?” I said.
She smirked at me. “I love watching you squirm. Now why don’t you get up and bring the guys their phones back.”
The plan for that night, which I was hoping to hell I hadn’t spilled to Samantha, involved a woman I had hired to show up at our suite, give us a solo performance, and then, if James was game, help him out with any premarital tensions he may be having. It was going to be a surprise to James and in fact to most of the guys. Rob and I had made the arrangements.
We reconvened for the day over brunch. Much-needed bloody Marys were sucked down, as well as a few tequila shots. Gary met us there having flown in that morning and dropped his bags at the hotel. He’s an industrial supplies salesman from Chicago, a family man, definitely the most reserved of the bunch. Despite having just gotten off a plan, he looked well put together in a polo and crisp trousers while the rest of us were rumpled and tired. He just drank coffee. We were ordering our second round of the morning.
“So where’d you end up last night, Simon?” Brad asked me.
I hadn’t told them my fiancee was in town with me. They’d think I was whipped.
“A little private entertainment back at your hotel?” said Rob.
“I was thinking about it,” I said. “But I was too drunk and I just passed out.”
While we were waiting for our food to come, I got up to use the bathroom. On my way back to the table, I nearly tripped over myself in surprise. Two tables over from the guys, Samantha was having brunch with a man and a woman, and the woman was the very same woman I had hired for the evening’s festivities. I recognized her from her pictures. She was a curvy blonde with big blue eyes, a broad charming smile, generous breasts. Her name, professionally at least, was Nicki. She and Samantha were chatting in a familiar way that gave me the initial impression that she was the old friend. But there was no way this could be a coincidence. Maybe she wasn’t the old friend. Maybe Samantha had intercepted my email exchange with Nicki and contacted her. Maybe there was no old friend at all. Had I drunkenly spilled the beans last night? And who the hell was the guy? I realized that I’d been standing and staring and I forced myself to return to my table. Samantha was seated facing toward us. I managed to catch her eye. She smiled at me. I couldn’t read it. Had she caught me at something? How did she even know where we’d be having brunch?
I texted her: Did u know we’d b here?
She read it and responded with a shrug and a head shake.
Then the guy at her table said something and she laughed and put her hand on his arm. She picked up her phone again. A moment later I got a text. It was a picture of Samantha on her knees with her arms pinned back, t-shirt hoisted up, tits jutting out, and the guy at the table holding her by the throat as he fucked her from behind.
This is the real reason I didn’t let you fuck me last night.
At this point, I should make a confession. Over dinner that first night when Ty talked about he and his girlfriend trading affairs, and Rob talked about he and his wife sharing their flings, I held my tongue. Samantha and I have had, for a number of years, a similar but somewhat different arrangement. She’s allowed to sleep around, as long as I get pictures or video. So far it had only ever been a one-way arrangement. Don’t judge. It started when I was deployed in Iraq and she was home alone. It’s a more common story than you might think. We started out those two years intending to stay faithful to one another. I could hack it. She couldn’t. One day over a Skype video chat she asked for permission to be with other guys. She was crying, but she was firm about what she needed. I respected that. I said I would think on it and a week later, feeling terribly conflicted but fearing I would lose her, I gave her my permission.
There were rules, of course. First, it must never mean anything. To avoid emotional attachment, she agreed never to fuck the same guy more than twice. It’s like the old superstition about how you should never light three cigarettes on a single match. Second, she must always tell me about it afterward. Full disclosure. After all, I wasn’t getting any, so I might as well at least live vicariously through her hookups. Photos and video weren’t a requirement at first, but eventually I insisted on getting them, after which I started to look forward to her date nights with a kind of queasy, horny anxiety. Porn is fine and all, but it’s emotionless. But when it stars the woman you love and it’s made custom for you, that’s a whole other thing. When her video messages arrived on my phone, I could barely wait to find a secluded corner with a bottle of lotion and hit play. A couple of guys in my platoon caught me at it once, but that’s a story for another day.
After I returned home, we kept on with her dates. It was just a part of our life now. She enjoyed it too much for me to ask her to stop, and we felt strong in our relationship. Was I jealous? Sure, but at the same time, it remained a huge turn-on for me. Every time she showed me a picture or told me the details of a hookup, my heart hammered and my cock got terrifically hard. When I was deployed, I had always taken this rush of feelings out on myself. Nowadays, I direct that lust at her, with a hard, jealous fucking to claim her again as my own. We love these sessions. I call her filthy names. She goads me with details of how the other guy was bigger, thicker, used her mercilessly, made her do depraved shit that I’d never asked of her. While she tells me this, I fuck her so hard she can’t walk straight the next day. We hold each other afterward for a long and tender while and we fall asleep together.
So the picture Samantha had sent me was on my mind all day, distracting me from the question of how she knew the woman I’d hired for the bachelor party. Instead, I was wondering how she knew the guy, and when, not whether, she was going to fuck him again. (The second time is always the best. She tells them, “My boyfriend only lets me be with a guy twice. This is your last chance so you better make it count.” From the videos I’ve seen, they make it count.) I became so distracted by the idea that I had to find a moment’s privacy in the bathroom, pull out the phone, and jerk off while imagining all the details.
Hangovers put to rest, we started the day’s activities with a visit to the casino. James is an accomplished poker player and he managed to win a couple grand at the table. We went back to The Velvet and tipped big. Lap dances all around. It was late afternoon when we emerged into the scorching sunlight, thirsty from day drinking. We were surprised somehow that the sun was still up. We went for a late brunch at a little out-of-the-way Cajun place that made great po-boys and even better hurricanes. Maybe you could call it high tea, since most of us also took long trips to the bathroom to do a few more lines of Rob’s seemingly bottomless supply of cocaine.
“Oh my god, dude,” said Joey. “That chick with the fuckin’ pierced nipples. She was a fuckin’ freak!”
“Right?” said Ty.
“I would bang her in a hot minute.”
“You mean that’s how long you’d last?” said Brad.
Ty laughed. Joey flipped Brad the bird.
We went out for another round of drinks at a fancy hotel rooftop bar. Ty was getting chatted up by a couple of cute blond girls who were obviously impressed by his muscular good looks, black skin, and sharp attire. Joey went over and tried to edge his way in but they ignored him. Joey is originally from the Jersey shore and let’s just say Ty was more these girls’ style.
While watching this scene and waiting for a drink at the bar, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize. I looked at my phone and there was a picture of Samantha, some dude’s dick dangling above her open mouth, and a puddle of semen on her tongue. The message said, “Talented fiancee you got, bro. Make sure to kiss her goodnight for me.”
“Get some bad news?” said James. He must have seen the look on my face. I quickly put my phone away.
“Just checking work email,” I said. “Never a good idea.”
I couldn’t get the image out of my head. Typically when Samantha had one of her little adventures, she was the one who sent the pictures, not the guy. This one seemed a little vicious and personal in a way I wasn’t expecting. It was humiliating. So why the fuck did it give me an immediate hard-on? I kept my hand in my pocket to disguise it as I walked back to the poolside.
It had just gotten dark. Rob checked the time and said, “We should get back to the hotel after this round. We don’t want to be late for Nicki.”
“Nicki?” said James.
“Yeah.” He smiled. “You’ll see.”
I had told Samantha I would be hands off with any women during this trip but with that image burning in my mind, I was starting to wonder if I shouldn’t exercise a little good-for-the-gander. I took out my phone and responded to the stranger who’d fucked my fiancee, “That all you got?”
He texted me back immediately. “Nope.” Then a moment later another picture arrived. Samantha and Nicki sharing a big sloppy open-mouth kiss.
What the actual fuck.
We’d arranged with Nicki for her to arrive at the suite at 9. I was wondering how I could take her aside and ask her a few pointed questions. When the knock came at the door, right on time, Rob answered it. First I saw her pink platform heels and her long legs and her pink ruffly skirt. Then I saw her curly black hair. As Rob grinningly presented her to the room, I thought to myself, “That’s not Nicki.” It took me a moment to realize that the woman was my Samantha.
“Guys,” said Rob. “I want you to meet our very special guest tonight, Nicki.”
Samantha met my gaze and gave me a wink. My heart started to pound.
“I thought you said Nicki was a blond,” Rob whispered to me. I’d been the one to make the arrangements online. Only I had actually seen Nicki’s picture.
I forced myself to shrug. “I guess she changed her hair?” It was only after a moment that I found myself wondering why I’d lied. I suppose I could have said, “That’s not Nicki.” I could I have said, “That’s my fiancee, Samantha.” But what then? I think I was more worried about disappointing the guys. I was definitely worried about embarrassing myself. I couldn’t see how to get from that moment to, “Guys, meet my fiancee.” In any case, things were moving faster than I could keep up. I’d been drinking all day and I’d done a few lines. I wasn’t in control of this situation.
Samantha stepped into the circle of white plush couches in the lounge area of the suite where the guys were all relaxing, vaping cannabis, sipping scotch. She curtsied, holding the hem of her skirt, and then did a slow turn so that we could all get a good look at her. She wore a sparkly tiara. The silk blouse was nearly transparent, with a lacy push-up bra visible under it. Samantha has a great pair of breasts that she used to be shy about because they attract so much attention but every now and then she takes them out to play. Tonight she was showing them off. Her flat belly was bared too. The skirt she wore was very short with her pink garters visible just below the hem. She flipped it up in the back to give everyone a peek at her nice round ass, thonged and framed by pink stocking suspenders. Her shoes were sparkly lucite platform heels, improbably high. Her big blue eyes were framed with long false eyelashes and her eyelids and cheeks were dusted with sparkles and her lips were painted with a wet sparkly pink gloss. Where on earth had she gotten this outfit? She looked like a princess turning tricks. But if James took her up on the offer we’d paid her to make him, then she wasn’t going to look like a princess by the time she left.
Brad whistled appreciatively. Anson said, “Mmm hmm hmmm.” Through my anxiousness I felt a rush of pride. That was my fiancee and my friends were definitely enjoying the sight of her. She was hotter than any of the club girls of the past two nights, and she was mine.
“James, hope you like unwrapping this gift, bro,” said Rob. “Nicki, want to show us what you brought us tonight?”
“Of course,” she said.
She sat down on the glass-topped coffee table in the middle of the circle of couches. The coffee table was built on a pivot. She opened her legs and showed off her long white-stockinged thighs, first for James, then she slowly rotated clockwise so everyone got a peek up her little skirt. The guys’ eyebrows rose enthusiastically. What were they seeing under there? When she rotated in my direction though, she crossed her legs and swung past. She gave me a mischievous little smile. When she faced toward Rob, she opened her legs wide. He took out his phone and took a picture and my heart sank.
I said, “Guys, I thought we agreed no phones.”
“Nicki doesn’t mind,” Brad said. “Does she?”
Samantha shook her head.
“Probably good for her business,” said Gary. “Advertising. Most of these girls have web sites.”
“Take all the photos you like, boys,” said Samantha. Then she unbuttoned her blouse, took it off, and tossed it into Gary’s lap.
“Look at those fuckin’ tits,” said Joey. In response, she bounced slightly, making them bobble in her lacy pink bra.
“Men are always looking at them,” she said. “They can’t seem to keep their eyes off.” She shook them side to side. “Or their hands.” She put her hands under them and plumped her cleavage upward. “Or other things.”
“Where did you find this girl?” said Brad.
Rob looked at me and said, “Simon found her.”
Little did he know. I remembered with a pang how Samantha and I had met in college. But he was talking about Nicki, the stripper I’d found online. None of the guys knew Samantha. Would their fun be over if I told them who she really was? Would hers?
“Good choice, Simon,” said James. “I like your taste.”
Rob walked over to the coffee table and knelt in front of Samantha. He made a gesture with his hands for her to open her legs. After a moment of coy hesitation, she complied. He tapped some coke out onto the glass between her thighs and cut it up with his AmEx card. Then he leaned down and snorted a line. He looked up at her, smiled, and said “Take off those fuckin’ panties, princess.”
She gave him a look of mock surprise, her mouth a glistening pink O. “Isn’t it traditional to start with these?” She wiggled her breasts again.
Rob shook his head. “It’s traditional for princesses to do what they’re told.”
She feigned shock. But then she said, “As you wish,” and she raised her feet up off the floor, hiked her skirt, and hooked her thumbs into her thong.
My heart rose into my throat. She was really going to go through with this. I wanted to stop her, call the whole thing off, nice joke Samantha, ha ha. But I also felt proud because she was so sexy and self-possessed. There was no question that she knew what she was doing. She’d somehow taken the place of the real Nicki, if the real Nicki had even been real. She’d have known going in that she would be the center of attention at a bachelor party, with me looking on as well. She’d have known the guys would be expecting a strip tease and probably she’d have known what more we’d asked Nicki to do for James if he was into it. Had she fucked that other guy in order to get herself worked up for this performance? Or in order to get me worked up for it? I couldn’t connect the dots. The thought kept spinning through my head in any case that the woman I was going to marry was shameless. I had always loved that about her. But a slutty woman is a both a gift and a burden. When I kissed her, I would always be wondering who else had kissed her that day. But wasn’t that just part of the thrill?
With her ass on the glass tabletop and her ridiculous glittery pink fuck-me heels in the air, she shimmied the panties over her hips and up the length of her stockinged legs. She couldn’t get them unhooked from one of the heels. They just dangled there. She put her feet back on the floor. I walked around for a better view. Her skirt was hiked up in order to display her pink, bald pussy, framed by pink garters and suspenders and pressed against the glass, with four lines of coke just inches away.
Joey said, “Aw, fuck yeah. This shit is gettin’ real.”
Brad took another picture. Then he put his phone under the table and took a picture upward through the glass and he passed it around. I had to look. Her puffy lips were smushed against the glass, splayed slightly, and very obviously wet. Brad said, “I need a sniff of that,” and he knelt to do a line, but first he made a show of inhaling deeply between Samantha’s thighs. She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. He snorted some coke. Then he kissed her thigh, stood up, and gestured for the other guys to follow suit.
They did. Joey was first, with Brad close behind. Each of them kissed her thigh before standing up again. Finally Anson said, “Fuck it,” and snorted the last one. He didn’t kiss her thigh. He kissed her mouth. She smiled at him and reached up to wipe a little gloss off his lips.
With those lines of coke gone, Samantha said, “Ok. So who wants to snort some off of these?” and she unclasped her bra and let her magnificent breasts spill out. They’re heavy and pear shaped with big dark nipples. Several of the guys immediately took her up on the offer. I hung back and watched with growing jealousy but arousal as well, as she held her breasts up and Rob tapped a few bumps onto them. My cock was throbbing in my pants. I made myself a drink and watched my friends sniff coke off the tits of a woman they thought was a hooker, who it happened I was going to marry.
“So what else is on the menu tonight?” said Brad when her tits had been snorted clean.
“All of this,” she said, her gesture taking in her whole fabulous body, now clothed only in a garter belt, stockings, skirt, tiara, and heels.
“Just for looking or... ?”
“Princesses likes to be touched, too,” she said. Then, “Oh, look! You missed a little.” And she hefted a breast and licked a little spot of cocaine off of it.
She stood up. She walked to where James was sitting and straddled his outstretched legs. Along with Gary, he’d been hanging back, just watching the antics and sipping scotch. “You the one getting married?” she asked him.
“She’s a lucky girl. You going to share yourself with the world one more time before she locks you up in a tower?”
“Well it turns out your friends have asked me to give you special favor. A royal favor.”
“Aw you guys,” he said. “You’re the best.”
She swayed her hips back and forth. She swing her tits in his face. Then she turned around and bent forward and presented her ass. Her skirt rose up so he could get a good look at her pussy. Was she actually offering herself to my friend right in front of my eyes? I was used to her being with other guys. But I never met those other guys. This was a different matter. She was reaching back and spreading herself open for James. She looked me right in the eye when she did it.
“Nicki,” said James. “You are fucking spectacular. I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t share. So I’ll tell you what. Let me offer to return the favor. Whatever they’re paying you for me, I’ll pay you for each of them.”
She stood up. She seemed taken aback. She looked around the room. She met my gaze and held it for a moment. I wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but she wasn’t expecting this. But the twinkle in her eye told me she was already considering it. “There are eight of you,” she said. “That’s a lot of work for one little princess.”
“Better get started then.”
She strutted slowly around the circle. She looked over each of the guys in turn. “Well I am a princess,” she said at last. “And it is my duty to try to please all of the people. So who’s first?” She looked at Ty, who stretched his legs out and gave her a smoldering look. “I think I need to work my way up to you,” she said.
She looked next at Gary but he shook his head and gestured to his wedding band. She smiled at him wickedly and said. “I’ll get back to you.”
Rob wasn’t so shy. He sat down on one of the couches, unzipped his pants, and took out his cock, which was already hard. He was uncircumcised and very thick. “Here you go princess.”
Samantha knelt in front of him. She leaned down and slowly, teasingly moved her mouth toward him. Then she moved away. She dangled her breasts over his erection. She brushed a nipple across it. He stroked the sides of her breasts and then squeezed them so they plumped out in his hands. She looked at me again. She seemed to be saying to me, “I’m going to suck your friend’s cock right in front of you and you’re going to watch me do it.” Rob followed her gaze. “I think she likes you Simon,” he said. “But it’s my turn first.” He put his hand on her cheek and guided her pretty pink mouth down to his prick. She kissed the head. She kissed her way down the underside. She left little glistening tracks of lip gloss on him. He fetched his balls out from the waistband of his briefs and she kissed and suckled them. “Look at me with those pretty blue eyes, princess.” She did. With her gaze locked on his, she ran her tongue in a broad swipe up the length of him from balls to head, and then took him into her mouth. It was unbearable to watch. I felt jealousy, admiration, lust. She rose off him, stretching a string of saliva. She pumped his fat cock in her fist.
“Princess knows what she’s doing,” said Ty.
She winked at him. Then she took Rob’s cock into her mouth and worked her way down on him bit by bit, throat open. She got up onto the couch to adjust her angle. She was a very accomplished cock swallower and I knew what was coming next. With her head now upside down relative to Rob’s body, she was able to take the whole length of him into her throat, until her nose was nestling into his balls. She make a few deep swallows like that, up and down, and rose off him again, strings of thick saliva dangling around his swollen prick.
Ty amended himself: “Princess really knows what she’s doing.”
“You gotta suck a lotta cock to get that good,” said Joey.
Brad stood up, stripped right out of his pants and underwear, and kicked them aside. “Why the hell not, right?” he said. He was particularly fit and well hung. He had a long tapering cock and it was shaved all around the base and balls. Maybe it was an optical illusion because he was shaved but he seemed to have two inches on Rob.
“Well isn’t that a treasure,” said Samantha. He brought it to her where she knelt on the couch. She started to lick and suckle the head. He was content with watching that for a few moments, but then he started to fuck her mouth with long, deepening thrusts, until a lather of spit was built up around her lips. Rob, lying under them, was watching intently. He grabbed her hand and made her jerk him off. Samantha creased her eyebrows, kept eye contact with Brad, and started trying to work him deeper and deeper into her throat. I wasn’t sure if she could manage this one, and I felt a momentary pride when she brought her nose into contact with his flat stomach. He held her there like that until her eyes were watering, then pulled her off to let her breathe.
That was the opening Ty needed. He said, “Let me get some of that.” He stood alongside Brad and opened his trousers. She made an eager little whimper as he drew out a cock that was black and shiny and thick and nearly as large as Brad’s. She swallowed him to the roots on the first thrust. While she was blowing him, he stripped off his shirt. He was a bodybuilder, all muscle and not a hint of fat on him. She ran her hands over his six pack and his pectoral muscles and she moaned worshipfully as her head bobbed up and down on his prick. Joey stepped up now as well. They lifted her off the couch and put her on her knees on the carpet, and a moment later my fiancee was kneeling in a ring of hard, eager cocks, trying to suck them all in turn, while the others stroked themselves and rubbed themselves on her face.
It was Joey who brought out the poppers. He took the little brown bottle from his pocket and held it up and said, “Any of you guys ever do poppers?”
“Oh shit,” said Brad. He held out his hand. Joey gave him the bottle. He opened it and took a sniff. He got this look on his face. He put his hand on Samantha’s head and tipped her back and pushed his balls into her mouth, one and then other. His dick was draped across her face. He humped on her face in that position for a moment. His cock head knocked her tiara askew.
“You know how to really bring the slut out in a woman?”
“Bro, she’s already got your balls in her mouth,” said Anson, who was angling for a position.
“Watch and learn,” said Brad. “Watch and learn.”
Then he pulled his balls out of her sucking mouth and offered her the poppers. She took a sniff. She laughed. She was looking up at him like he was some kind of god. She started running her tongue up and down his cock and all around the base of it, moaning while she did it like his cock was the most delicious meal she’d ever had. And while she blew him she was feverishly strumming her pussy, fast little strokes back and forth across her clit. Finally she was too worked up. She sat back on the floor, spread her legs as wide as they would go, and threw her head back. She looked up at the four men stroking themselves over her with a look of rapture on her face, and she came with a scream that half the guests in the hotel must have heard.
Before she could get up, Joey squatted over her and grabbed her head and started fucking her upside down face. His cock made obscene squelching noises in her throat and his dripping balls slapped her nose. Meanwhile Anson opened his trousers and produced the biggest cock in the room. He was a skinny guy but his dick was a monster. He laid it between her tits, wrapped them around it, and began fucking her drool-slicked chest.
They passed the bottle of poppers around and lost any remaining restraint or decency. They took turns tea-bagging her and fucking her throat. She climbed back to her knees, got back in the driver’s seat, sucked them and jerked them all off by turns. At any given moment she had a cock in her mouth and one in each hand. She had all of their rapt attention focused on her and what she was doing with their cocks. And the way they talked to her as they debauched her, that was almost worse. My fiancee, who I loved more than anything. I had to lean against the wet bar to hold myself upright.
“You fuckin’ get it, princess.”
“Tug on those fucking balls.”
“Don’t forget the black one, baby. You know it’s your favorite.”
“Look at that fuckin’ slut choke down that dick meat. You’d think she hadn’t eaten all day.”
“Oh she’s gonna get plenty to eat when I nut in that pretty mouth.”
“I’m saving my nut for those perfect fucking titties but she can clean it off when I’m done.”
“Fuck, I’m gonna pump so much cum over this little lady, I won’t have to choose where it goes.”
“You getting that? Get a picture of that. Sweet fucking Jesus.”
“Give her some air, bro.”
“She doesn’t need it. Bitch just needs cock.”
“Look at that. Cock sucking olympics right there.”
“Nine inch freestyle?”
“Gonna be some skeet shooting in a minute.”
“Holy shit. Every fuckin’ inch though. Anson, man.”
“I always said if I met a girl who could do this I’d marry her, but this one doesn’t seem the marrying type.”
“Not unless her husband like the smell of jizz.”
“You don’t learn that shit without a lot of practice, bro.”
“She’s getting plenty now.”
“Fuuuuuuck. Suck. That. Fucking. Hog. You fucking filthy slut.”
And she was. There no point trying to deny it to myself. The woman I was going to marry was a filthy slut, on her knees shamelessly letting five men unleash this depravity on her while I looked on. This was who she was. She wasn’t hiding it. She was reveling in it.
Ty was the first to come. She seemed to like him the best and had been paying his cock the most devoted attention. Then Rob passed him the poppers. He took a sniff. His eyes widened and he pulled his pants down around his knees and he rocked his hips back and forth, fucking Samantha’s face until drool was running off her chin. Then he gave out a long low groan, pulled his cock out of her mouth, stroked himself hard with his fist, and burst. Thick strings of hot cum flew from his shiny black cock over her nose, her mouth, her cheek.
“Oh fuck, man, you just came on my dick!” laughed Rob. A rope of Ty’s cum dangled from Rob’s cock.
Samantha didn’t miss a beat. She caught the hanging cum with the tip of her tongue, then swallowed Rob’s cock, slurping up the cum that had been meant for her face. A rope of it was stuck to her cheek and it stretched out and dangled each time she swallowed him. She kept on sucking. Rob’s look of surprise turned to one of concentration as he looked down at her. He put his hand on the back of her bobbing head and began to thrust his cock into her mouth to meet her own determined movements.
Anson moved in for more. He smacked his massive cock across her forehead. She took hold of it and stroked him with her left hand but she didn’t take her mouth off of Rob. She was going hard after his orgasm. She was looking up at him, working him over with her mouth, while in an unabashed display of cock worship she stroked and rubbed Anson’s weighty member against the side of her face. She swept her tongue back and forth between their cock heads and jerked them both off.
“You’ve got two hands and a mouth, girl, so use them,” said Brad, leaning into the action. She jerked him off as well and focused her sucking again on Rob. She ran her lips down the underside of his shaft and nuzzled his balls and said to him, “I know you want to blow your load all over me. Hose me down you fuckin’ degenerate.”
Rob said, “You’re calling me a degenerate?” He sniffed the poppers. “She’s calling me a degenerate?”
Anson laughed and smacked her cum-glazed face with his thick black cock.
Rob said, “This little slut is calling me a degenerate. Ok, then. Ok.” He pushed her mouth onto Anson’s cock and started to shove her forcefully up and down until she was gagging. He was jerking himself off the whole time. Then he shoved his cock into her mouth right alongside Anson’s. They each did a sniff. Anson has his arm around Rob’s shoulders and Rob was holding Samantha’s head and both of their dicks were stuffed in her face. Her cheeks were distended to try to accommodate all of that throbbing thrusting wet cock. The other guys were shouting encouragement. Rob spit on her face. Anson followed suit. With their spit and Ty’s sperm dripping from her face she continued to suck and make desperate little mewling noises. Her hand was still wrapped around Brad but she was just holding on, too overwhelmed to stroke him.
“You like having two dicks in your mouth you little slut?”
She mumbled, “Mmm hmmm” and tried to nod.
He pulled out. She kept slurping on Anson’s enormous meat pole, almost choking herself in the effort to swallow it all. She took her mouth off of him and pumped him fast with both hands while sucking hard on the head.
Brad said, “I think she needs some encouragement.” He squatted behind her, reached between her legs, and started to finger fuck her with his middle and ring fingers. She gyrated her hips, grinding herself down on his hand. She kept jerking Anson’s cock with her lips locked around it. After a few moments an orgasm shuddered through her. She seemed to be holding onto Anson’s cock just to keep herself from falling to the floor. But Anson dislodged her and while she was still moaning and coming, because Brad had not let up slapping and finger-fucking her cunt from behind, he unloaded his giant black dick all over her face.
“There it is,” said Rob, still standing close by and jacking himself off over the scene. “Douse that fucking slut like she asked for.”
With Anson still stroking out cum onto her cheek, she turned and swallowed Rob to the roots. She grabbed his balls and engulfed him with her throat. Anson squeezed one last dollop of jizz onto the side of her mouth and she wiped it with her hand, licked her fingers clean, and went back to throat-fucking Rob.
“Goddamn,” said Brad appreciatively. He grabbed her by the throat with his cunt-soaked hand, put his other hand on the back of her head, and shoved her face against Rob’s stomach.
“Get some!” said Ty.
Rob groaned, grabbed her head, and came with his cock sunk all the way in her throat. She was gasping for breath when they let her go. A string of cum and saliva hung from her lips to the head of Rob’s cock. She sucked it back and she nuzzled her sperm slicked face into the wet mess of his crotch. He rubbed his turgid cock all over her face, knocking loose one of her false eyelashes, which stuck to her cheek. She plucked it off and flicked it onto the carpet.
“Who’s next?” she purred.
“My turn,” said Joey. “Hold those fuckin’ tits up for me.”
She pushed her tits together and jiggled them. There was spit and cum dripping from her face and she wiped it off and slicked it over her tits, then lifted one of them to her mouth and sucked her own nipple. Joey said “Aaaaaaaw yeah, fuuuuck,” stroking himself slow and hard.
“Hit this, man,” said Rob, handing him the bottle. Joey took a sniff. He got a lecherous look in his eye. He leered down at Samantha. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t stop watching. In all of the years she’d been sending me videos of her adventures, I’d never seen her lose herself so completely. These men, my friends, were amped up on weed and coke and poppers, all restraint gone, egging each other on to new levels of depravity, and she was drunk on the attention. Joey leaned her back, straddled her chest, grabbed her wet sticky tits, and wrapped them around his cock and balls. He began to hump her chest. She leaned into him, the flesh of her breasts jiggling. She reached under and grabbed his balls. He put his hand on her head and pushed her mouth so she would lick his cock head where it emerged from her cleavage. Brad was jerking himself off over her. She turned and sucked his cock while Joey tit-fucked her. She moved her mouth back and forth between the heads of their cocks.
“Can I get you boys both to spray me at the same time?” she said.
Brad took a hit of poppers, pulled his cock out of her mouth, and stroked himself with a look of intense concentration. He was watching Joey’s cock sliding up and down between my fiancee’s tits and he started repeating, “Spray the slut, spray the slut,” like it was a mantra. Then Brad zoned out, glazed over, and spurted a gigantic glob of cum across Samantha’s outstretched tongue. She tried to lick his cock head but he was too sensitive, pulled away, and lobbed a second cum stripe across her eye where it dangled on her eyebrow and remaining false eyelashes.
At the sight of it, Joey came too. His cock erupted like a geyser in her cleavage, spewing a flood of runny cum up her chest and neck, that ran back down around his cock. He kept fucking her tits until his cum was a white froth, then pushed her head back down.
“Clean that fuckin’ jizz off my dick,” he leered. “That’s it. That’s my good little whore. You fuckin’ love that don’t you? You little cum eating slut, you fuckin’ love it!”
I felt like my heart had gotten caught in my throat and I was choking on it, not just because of the way my friends were using my fiancee so savagely, but because of the way she responded, eagerly encouraging them to do it. Even as Joey was holding her hair and guiding her mouth over his still-hard and cum-coated cock, she made eye contact with me. I recognized the look. She loved the rush she got from having this power to make men dissolve into a frenzy of cock need directed entirely at her. The part of me that had wanted for a moment to stop the whole thing had quietly surrendered. There was no going back. She was too far gone into it, and she clearly wanted more.
James put his arm over my shoulders and said, “You gonna get in there?”
“How about you, man?” I asked him, and really, why the hell not, right? Five of my friends had just face-fucked my fiancee right before my eyes. “This was for you. You going to take your turn?” The guys were all slumped on the couches now, recharging, chatting, watching. Samantha had turned her attention to Gary, who’d so far only been a spectator. She’d said she’d get back to him and now she was sitting beside him on the couch, legs spread, one thigh touching his, and she was petting her pussy in slow circles and whispering something to him. He was listening intently but so far wasn’t taking her up on the offer I presumed she was making.
“I’m not sure,” James said quietly. “I really appreciate you guys doing this for me and it’s been a hell of a show. But a whore like that. I mean, I’m about to get married. The guys have still got their phones.” Then he said, “She is fucking hot though. That little princess getup. Jesus.”
The whore comment stabbed me and the “I’m about to get married” twisted the knife. But of course I knew it was true.