Chapter 8: End Game

By now it must have been three to four hours into the night. Damn, had he said fifty guys? It felt more like five hundred - and every one of them must have fucked me. Of course that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but to call me a cum slut now would be like calling Paris Hilton a little spoiled.

I would’ve given anything for just a ten minute break and a shot at the shower. I felt absolutely filthy as the layers of cum on me dried only to be covered by yet another layer. It was like my face would have been used for some archeological dig - sifting through layers of sperm to find the original base layer of skin buried underneath. It was like taking Elmer’s glue and pouring it over your skin and letting it dry and then pulling it off in one piece - come one, we’ve all done it when we were little kids.

My pussy was numb. It didn’t hurt but it was like running a long race and afterwards not feeling bad but I knew the next morning I would be paying for this. I could only imagine how the poor thing looked by now. Beside the “miners:, guys cumming inside of me and the “firemen”, guys squirting their cum over my pussy, there were those who were one step kinkier and held my pussy open while they came into it like pouring water into well. Bottom line, my pussy had been fucked like it had never been fucked before - and that was saying something!

My ass hurt like hell. After the first guy led the charge, it seemed the next half dozen or so had to follow suit. Thankfully, the “ass craze” died out and guys went back to doing my pussy again. Even so, it was tender and I had a feeling sitting down was going to be whole new experience for me later.

The one thing that remained consistent, and that was the steady stream of guys. At times the room filled up more than at others, and a few times I even had the momentary thrill of thinking we might get a break after the next guy, but sooner or later someone always appeared just in time to keep things moving along/

Before anyone asks, I can’t say I came the entire night expect for those moments I spent with Becky into the hotel room. I simply couldn’t put myself in the right frame of mind for it. Guys can cum no matter what so long as you manipulate their dick enough. Hell, a guy can cum in his sleep it’s so independent of his head. No girl I have ever met has ever had an orgasm while she was sleeping, no matter what was being done to her. Look how many girls never have one - or least don’t have one for years. For a girl it’s more a frame of mind than a physical thing and trust me, my frame of mind was not centered around my own orgasm.

As the last guy left the suite, the first thing I noticed was how quiet it suddenly became. No more grunts, swearing, foul language, lewd comments, moans, groans or whatever. I collapsed on the bed in a fetal position, not sure whether I should laugh at myself for what I had just allowed to be done to me, or cry for the same reasons.

“Come on, Kelly, you need to clean up so we can go,” I vaguely heard someone saying to me, their hand on my shoulder trying to awaken me. It sounded like they were a mile away and all I could hear was their voice coming out from afar.

I groaned and somehow got out of bed for the first time in hours. I almost fell to the floor as my legs felt like rubber and my sense of balance was off. I felt almost like I had been drugged or was coming out of a coma.

“That’s it Kelly, you’re doing great,” I hear my cousin to the one side of me as someone, Alicia it turned out to be, helped me on the other.