Where did we leave it?

Ah yes, imagining the something special I’d do for Sam to make up for recasting Eric in his place. (Spoiler alert: I thought of something.) 

“Mmm,” Sam hummed into my ear, still reeling from the promise I’d just whispered to him, “You smell nice.”

That quick spritz of Miss Dior Blooming Bouquet had done the trick, Sam pulling me close by the waist as he inhaled the alluring scent. I could feel him hardening against my thigh and when he gave my ass a squeeze under my dress, I had to resist dropping to my knees to take him into my mouth. 

I wanted to get back to business, but Sam was now bloodhounding the bodice of my dress in search of the scent’s source, pressing his face into my breast forms and I laughed and pulled him in close, shaking my tits in his face, which triggered a desperate urge to be titty-fucked. To have Sam straddle my chest and nuzzle his hard cock between my tits as I pressed the cups of my bra together and grinned up at him. Licking the tip each time it slid up between the silk cups of my bra until it unloaded on my face.  

I was pretty far gone and ready to roll with this unscripted scene, but Sam finally pulled away, smacked me on the ass and sat down on the couch. I snapped out of my reverie and tried to recall my role in the drama. Making a note to self about writing a titty-fuck scene into my next story. 

This prospect of realizing what I had written was getting overwhelming me and I began to wonder if the original story was merely a solicitation. A cry to be feminized and fucked and splattered with cum, which Deven had answered. Such was my interior monologue at this point when I heard the door close and noticed that Eric was gone.

“And…action!”

Knock knock. 

I got my head back in the game and sauntered (impeccably, womanly) to the door to greet the shy, bearded man whose strong arms I so desperately wanted wrapped around me. I welcomed him in and offered him a seat (as in the story), Eric blushing and playing the role he was type-cast for to perfection. I informed him that my co-star was late and suggested a warm-up session, went to my knees and laid my palms on his thighs. 

In the story, I was disappointed to find no erection beginning to form, so Deven would have to edit out the rising action in Eric’s lap. He pushed me away and I played the flustered slut, apologizing and retreating to the kitchen to get him something to drink. 

When I returned, Eric was adorably trying to hide his erection by sitting in an obviously uncomfortable pose. I sat as ladylike as I could, crossing my legs, and the uncomfortable silence from my story ensued. The camera alternated between Eric and me, both looking askance, clearing our throats and desperately waiting for the knock at the door. 

This “uncomfortable” silence was erotically charged and when Deven finally knocked, signaling the advent of my co-star, it was so jarring, I gasped. Giggling at my tension, I rose, strode to the door–carefully maintaining the rhythm of my swaying ass–and invited Deven in. 

At this point in the story, I offered my “co-star” a drink and head into the kitchen to fetch it for him. As ready as I was for the inevitable action, I had to depict the anxiety my character felt after the cameraman’s rejection. She didn’t know what’s going to happen next and was having second thoughts about this rendezvous–feeling a bit ridiculous in her outfit in front of these strangers. 

I wobbled a bit back into the kitchen and tried not to notice Deven trailing me to the refrigerator. When I reached over to grab his beer, he lifted my dress and instead of grabbing my ass (as in the story), took me by the hips and pulled my ass back into his groin. 

I grabbed the refrigerator door for balance, put his beer on the counter and clutched the countertop to steady myself while Deven pulled my ass back against his groin and started grinding on me. At some point, Deven would turn me to face him for the kiss and I tried to savor the feel of his bulge nuzzled between my cheeks, the silk panties riding up my ass as Deven lifted my long hair to nibble at my neck.

I wanted it to go on and on, but Deven was getting impatient and whirled me to face him. I only managed the pirouette on those heels because Deven had me firmly by hip (right hand) and ass (left hand clutching) which kept me on my feet and brought his mouth to mine. Tongues intertwined, both hands now kneading my ass, I reached down and gripped the moistened crotch of his sweatpants, where his bulge had elongated into a sidewise baton I clutched like a sprinter ready to run a last lap.

With my earlobe in his teeth, I moaned out a plea, “Can I suck you off now, sweetheart?”

Deven let out a little half-laugh, half groan of anticipation and released my ass to allow me the freedom of movement to lower myself to member-level. After adjusting my tits, dress and panties, I got to my knees and pulled his sweatpants down in one motion, releasing that cock I’d already had in my mouth. 

Round 2 went much like Round 1. A long pause to heighten the anticipation (with protracted eye contact) and then wild, sloppy sucking. If you’re watching the video, you should turn down the volume at this point. The slurping, popping, and groaning is extremely loud and will betray your internet activity to someone in a farther room.

And exactly as it was in the story, I had (understandably) lost track of the cameraman’s presence. Now noticing Eric crouched there capturing my frenzied cock-sucking, I pulled Deven’s cock out of my mouth and slapped my cheek with it, staring down the camera with a smoldering look that said–in no uncertain terms–to the man behind the camera: You’re next.

Unfortunately, that moment was the last to follow the script. It was overly ambitious to think we could reenact the story shot for shot, given the driving lust of four men who had to wait patiently for their cues. 

Maybe it was the spritz of perfume that tried their patience to the breaking point. Or the sight of Deven penetrating me from behind as my gaze summoned each man’s erection into the carefully staged scene.

In any event, Part III of this story will have to wait. I have to decide if I’m willing to reveal what I indulged in for the remainder of that afternoon. I was not theretofore aware of what I was capable of with four horny men hot for my mouth and ass (and yes, tits–that reverie would come to pass in Part III).

Though they blurred my face (per our agreement) in the PornHub video, I’m terrified someone will recognize the tattoo which the viewer catches a fleeting glimpse of when one of my lovers–impatient to direct my attention to his cock (away from the two I was busy with)–pulls the neckline of my dress so as to reveal that identifying mark on my left shoulder. 

I shudder to think of someone I know recognizing that tattoo and suddenly realizing it was me with that cock in my mouth, taking hold of another man’s cock, while groping for a third as a fourth cock went on pounding my ass to the hoots and hollers of “Sam”.

And I have to remember that Deven was able to trace me back to my actual email address (which started this madness). I’m being far too reckless and need to start covering my tracks if I want to continue feeding my insatiable craving for cock.