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The blindfold had been her own idea. She wasn't otherwise restrained. Only the folded scarf around her eyes looked out of place to the men who filed into the room.
They saw a woman sitting on a sofa, dressed in a casual blouse and skirt. She was about twenty-five, pretty as far as the scarf revealed, with shoulder-length blond hair. Trim legs on a slim figure suggested perhaps 5' 7". Her shoulders were slightly forward, revealing her anticipation but concealing the full thrust of her breasts.
The men were here - she was here - for sex. She couldn't tell how many had arrived, but she knew it was at least five, because that's what Michael had promised. Her lack of sight heightened other sense cues - she could literally smell the musk these naked forms exuded. She waited, patient but keenly aware of sounds and the movement of air, as the men edged closer.
Her skin was electrified, the tiny hairs on her arms reaching out for any stimulation, so when the first cock brushed her arm it felt like a hot iron. She flinched, then felt a hand cup her chin as warm breath caressed her cheek. This she knew was her lover and friend Michael, the one who had made this night of fantasy possible.
"Are you ready, cherie?" His pet name for her, playing on her real name. "Is it time to show them what they paid for?"
A mental jolt - paid for? That wasn't in the fantasy. And even as she thought it, she realized it might be true, or it might just be Michael. She smiled inwardly and accepted it. He knew her so well.
Determined not to speak, she simply stood and reached for the buttons on her blouse.
"No, cherie, other hands will do that."
And they did. Strong hands, rough, unfamiliar hands undid her blouse, casually touching and stroking her. Other hands found the zipper on her skirt, impatiently tugging it and her silky slip down and away. All the while she felt the brushing of the tips and shafts of cocks in various states of erection. Her knees weakened.
Soon she was left in only her sheer bra and panties, standing in a half- circle of naked men, palely quivering, alive to everything, her sex flaming, her nipples erect, her mind racing yet empty of reason, only sensation.
The hands continued. One man slipped the bra straps from her shoulders as another worked the clasp, releasing what everyone now saw was a fine pair of breasts, firm and fleshy with nipples proud. A mouth found one, and a signal coursed directly to her pussy. Then the other was occupied as two men cupped and nipped at her mounds. She began to seep.
Other hands worked their way into her panties, rudely fingering her fore and aft, finding evidence of her arousal. Instead of sliding the panties down her lovely legs, they tore them off, leaving her fully exposed.
Pressure on her shoulders forced her to kneel. She moaned at the thought of what was coming, almost wishing her hands were tied for this initial assault, to complete the delicious sense of helplessness.
Then she was glad they weren't, as two cocks touched her cheeks and she raised her hands to grasp them. The size of them! The heat, and the hardness! Another moan as her mouth engulfed the one on her left. She bobbed her head, tonguing the sensitive spot, while stroking with her other hand. A quick switch, and the second cock received a wet welcome.
Back and forth, six strokes on this one, ten on that, never too many and always varied, she worked her two shafts - she considered them hers - until finally one of the men could take no more. He roughly clasped the sides of her head and began fucking her face. In seconds he flooded her mouth with semen, grunting out his orgasm in pulses to match his spurts.
Reluctantly she let him go with a last sucking slurp, and his companion took up the slack. Soon his semen too was in her mouth and dripping from her nose and chin, and then two more eager men were at her. What she didn't manage to swallow ran in rivulets down to her chest and belly.
In her blindness she gauged the cocks by other means. Some were longer, some thicker, some rough with veins. One curved sharply upward. She felt a mild regret that all were freshly washed - until she tasted them she hadn't realized that she'd expected some to be a little gamy.
After three pairs, a lone cock presented itself. So there are seven, she thought. She hadn't recognized Michael, but she knew this wasn't his. This was the biggest, saved for last, she supposed. Fleetingly she wondered if it was black, then decided that it would be, since at least one such cock was required in her fantasy. She reached to cup the heavy balls, intending to lavish this beauty with oral love.
But the big cock had its own agenda. It took her semen-slick mouth as its own. In and out, it rasped her throat and scraped a bit against her teeth. It set up a rhythm that pleased it, and didn't disappoint her. For several minutes it took its pleasure, and when it finally released a payload, the discharge overwhelmed her. Jets of potent seed made her gag, and lose contact with the tip. Her face was slimed but she was happy, not for the goo but for the getting of it.
Hands that had been supporting and caressing her, pinching and probing, were withdrawn. Michael leaned in and helped her to her feet, kissing her gently on the back of the neck - her only dry place - murmuring how proud he was of her, and how sexy she looked while sucking cock. She could tell from the sounds around her that the men were recovering, stroking themselves back to life. The ice was broken, and after a short recess more fun awaited.
He led her to the bathroom, took off the soiled scarf and helped clean the semen, some caked and some still dripping, from her lovely face and frame. She kissed him passionately, the taste of seven men on her lips, as he reassured her.
But now it was time to continue. "Do you want the blindfold still?"
She hesitated. They had seen her, all of her - did she want to see them?
"You know, cherie, they could be men you see every day. Men you've talked with, bought from, worked next to, brushed past at the gym..."
They'd talked about that. Did it matter? She decided it did. It meant that every man who smiled at her tomorrow, every eye that followed her, might be remembering the way her nipples tasted, how her mouth felt on his cock. In the long run, isn't not knowing more ... interesting?
She shuddered a little. "Are any of them black?"
He smiled. "With the blindfold, as many as you like." Oh, yes, he knew her well. She accepted a fresh scarf, and with it the continuation of fantasy.
The seven were growing restive, with murmurings audible through the door, demanding pussy. As they left the bath, Michael guided her through a gantlet of erections toward a bed near the center of the room.
She was pressed backward until her knees touched the mattress, making her fall onto her back. Rough hands spread her legs as stubbled cheeks scratched at her thighs. She would learn today that some men loved to eat a fresh pussy, and some enjoyed a well-fucked one.
This man knew his craft. He nibbled at her outer lips, gradually opening them to lick the inner ones. Occasionally he'd flatten his tongue and sweep along the track from her asshole to her clitoris, then pause to suck at the hooded bud. Soon that morsel sought more stimulation, peeking out from shelter and throbbing in anticipation of the next nip.
Some of the others joined in. Her breasts were massaged, the sensitive nipples tweaked and pulled. Hot male mouths sucked them to even greater states of erection. As her arousal grew with each kiss and caress, the licker worked relentlessly at her crotch.
She felt the stirrings of a climax, and a flush spread upward to redden her breasts and face. Her lingual lover intensified his ministrations, applying more attention and force to her eager clit. Her breathing became quicker and shallower - she strained for release.
And then she was there, over the top, clutching his head with hands and legs, rigid in orgasm, at first soundless and then in full voice, as waves of pleasure radiated from her core to fill her consciousness. He kept a steady pressure on her sensitive parts as she rode those waves, holding her at one peak and taking her to the next, until she could stand no more.
But there was more. He stood, and from his position at the edge of the bed, with her legs still dangling to the floor, he pressed his length fully into her in one swift stroke. It was his turn now. And having been expertly sucked off just a short while ago, he was going to last a bit.
He fucked her like a pile driver, his selfish pleasure-seeking in sharp contrast to the attentiveness of a few moments ago. Yet for all that he seemed not to care what she felt, his insistent, metronomic pounding, the slap of his balls against her asshole, the rough grasp of his hands on her tender breasts, all combined to focus her anew. Time distended. Was it one minute? Thirty?
When she became aware again, his pace had increased. She knew his climax was imminent, and it triggered her own. As she yelped in surprise, he howled with her, pressed himself against her as if trying to enter her entirely, and came. They say a woman can't really feel a cock squirt inside her, but she felt something as he gave up his second load of the evening to her willing body.