Yep, last year’s New Year’s Eve was a real doozer.

I remember quite clearly what was going on leading up to the 10, 9, 8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1…hoo-ha. I wore heels and a hot, red satin dress, adorned with sequins, straps, and pearls. Undoubtedly, it helped attract Adam.

We made eye contact and a connection early in the evening which led to a tango, in which I felt his pocket rocket up against me, as his knee moved between my thighs and I received the rapture of his first kiss. He was a fit fellow with a big smile. With just ten strokes left before midnight, I felt his delightful cock between my legs. It was like a rocket ship taking me all the way to the moon. We were on a huge coach with other entwined couples, shagging away, strobe lights flashing and the loud music blasting.

I humped him like a banshee, grabbing the hair on his head and pulling him into me, all the while howling like bloody hell. I was thinking baby, having his baby and bringing joy to the world.

Abruptly, right around midnight, he flooded my pond and pushed me away, and took the hand of some random floozy and headed to a dark corner of the room, never to be seen again by me.

I lay there in shock, stunned and devastated by my loss. My dress was up to my waist, with my legs still splayed open, with my panties down around my ankles and his ­sperm pouring down my slot. I was in that moment thinking desperate, loser thoughts.

And then, in the midst of my despair, the host, bless his heart, intervened and broke the spell of my hellacious experience. Obviously having observed my plight, he said, “Perhaps, I can be of some assistance. My name is Hubert, Melanie. Are you up for an adventure?”

I distinctly recall my rather defensive answer. “Well, I don’t want a pity fuck, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, that’s not at all what I had in mind,” he said.

I looked at the man more closely, realizing he was concerned and, seemingly, really wanted to help me.

He wore a tux, probably the only person not undressed to some extent at that point. He was tall, and may I dare say, noble-looking. He had slicked-back, shiny, black hair, along with a broad nose, a handlebar mustache, spectacles, and dainty side-burns.

“Listen,” he said, “do you want to play the Game? It might cheer you up.”

“What’s the Game?”

“Yes or no? You’ll see. You’ll find out. Truly, it would spoil it for you if I told you now. You know, part of the Game is the surprise of it all.”

I figured, what the fuck, anything was better than to stew in my own juices, all alone and exposed in the party aftermath. Frankly, I was desperate. Better, I thought, to start the New Year fresh, than as a loser and a reject.

“Alright, alright, you won’t have to twist my arm; yes, yes,” l said.

“Alright, come along with me then,” he said while quickly taking my hand and leading me to an elevator.

“Don’t worry, Melanie, the Game is guaranteed.”

“What do you mean, guaranteed?”

“You will go home with someone of your choosing, if you like.”

The elevator door opened and we got in. Immediately, Hubert suggested I strip in order to better prepare. At this junction, I felt I knew what the Game was going to be about, so rather than being suspicious, I calmly let my clothes fall to the elevator floor, while smugly hoping for a big one.

Yet, I certainly was not ready for the commotion that erupted as soon as the elevator door opened. There were at least a hundred naked men yelling,

 “Yes, yes, bring her in, bring her in.”

My memorable words were, “Are we talking serious gang-bang here?”

Hubert laughed and said, “Sorry, not on the menu for this evening but, maybe we can fix you up just right."

He led me up a small staircase onto the stage and gestured toward a sturdy-looking cage, 6’ by 6’ by 6’ with a chair in the center. I turned towards him and let him know I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in that cage. Hubert registered my distress and let me know it was for my own protection. As if to emphasize the wisdom of this necessity, two men rushed the stage and began jerking off.

Seconds later they were bounced by two burly bouncers. Hubert, in his best reassuring manner, let me know again that the cage was for my own protection in case things got too crazy and out of hand. He gave me the key to the cage and said I could lock and unlock it at will.

So there I was, standing naked and vulnerable on stage, in front of a whole lot of naked, hollering men, holding their dicks and jerking off. Why? It struck me that here in the basement, in the middle of this madness, was where the real party thrived. I knew it was a crazy thought, perhaps, an insane thought, but that’s where my head was at in that moment. Suddenly, it dawned on me that this was the call of the wild.

 My curiosity blocked out the chaos and insanity that triggered my fear and I asked Hubert (who was rapidly losing my trust) what the hell was behind the screen. Three bachelors, he said, and then he told them to say hello.

“Hello,” said bachelor number one in a squeaky voice, “hello,” said bachelor number two in a scratchy voice, and “welcome,” said bachelor number three in a deep baritone.

Hubert then gave me a script of questions to ask and told me I could go home with a person of my choice. Also, Hubert gave me a vibrator and dildo with which to entertain the audience, so they wouldn’t get bored while I asked questions. Without thinking I started to use it and found it transporting. The crowd seemed to like it, too. They became even more aroused and rowdy. Hubert noticed the danger, and in an effort to preclude my leaving, he thanked me vociferously for agreeing to play the Game.

The basement smelled kind of funky by the time we began. Guys were jacking sperm that streamed out like, well, confetti on New Year’s Eve. Blokes with big boners kept rushing the stage as I sat inside the cage wondering if I should ask the questions written on the script; debating with myself whether I should even play the Game.

Finally, Hubert demanded silence of the rabble and proclaimed,

“Let the Game begin!”

I found myself inexplicably going along with his edict! But I do know that when I started asking the questions that my pussy was wet from the anticipation of doing so. I wasn’t sure how it would end, but I started to feel enthusiasm for playing the Game.

“Bachelor number one, if we went on a date, how would it end up?”

“With my dick in your pussy.”

“Thank you, that sounds delicious,” I replied.

“Bachelor number two, if we went on a vacation together, where would we go and what would we do?”

“We would go to Jamaica and I would take you to an orgy and I would make sure you got some big bamboo.”

“Mmm…”

“Bachelor number three, tell me about yourself.”

“I am a fucking monster, born in the Bayou. You see, I am a swamp creature.”

“You must be joking. How did you get here tonight?”

“By limo, in a fish tank.”

Right then, bachelor number one, a thin, naked man, ran out from behind the curtain and demanded that I suck his cock. It was stiff as a rod and he put it through the bars of the cage.  Again, I wasn’t quite sure what to do, but I started to suck anyway, only to be interrupted by bachelor number two, a stout, muscular fellow, who yelled he wanted to fuck me from behind. I let bachelor one’s cock slip out of my mouth and I felt impelled to obey the new man’s request, so I turned my ass towards bachelor number two and shouted,

“Go ahead, fuck me, you rogue.”

Hubert tolerated this breach for a bit, no doubt for the benefit of the audience, which currently appeared to be in the throes of an onanistic revival.  Then after a while, he had his bouncers escort the two bachelors off the stage.

There was nothing left to do except unlock the cage and see what exactly was behind the curtain.

Bachelor number three was in an extremely large jar. He was a miniature monster with hundreds of tiny eyes looking about. His extra-long, slimy tentacles were much larger than his hairy, egg-shaped body. Indeed, his tentacles had suction cups that held the wonderful promise of exotic pleasure.

Overwhelmed, all reason failed me, I felt compelled to say, “Take me home, handsome.”

“Okay, but I have to confess right off, I am not a bachelor. I am married, but I am ready to share, if I have my wife’s permission. So come home with me and let’s see what happens. If she approves you, we can all get it on. By the way, my name is Hercules.

I must admit, Herc cheated a bit on the way to his home. He climbed out of his jar and sat on my lap and started making out. He gave me wet, juicy, slimy kisses while he hugged me like a boa.

Once we arrived at Herc’s house, he had the limo driver, a man with an extraordinary physique, carry his jar into this residence. Meanwhile, Hercules slithered like a slug from the limousine to the front door.

Gertrude, his wife, was cool. She immediately gave me the A-OK. I think she had quite a yen for pussy. Her comments about me were very complimentary. Something like, how could I not like that curvy behind, those magnificent tits which tilt like ski slopes, and a pussy as rich and fine as the Riviera.

So before I knew it, Hercules and Gertrude each took one of my hands and we all leaped into “bed” together, making a huge splash (the bed being a tremendous, warm water pool). I was soon getting multi-fucked from behind, but not before the creature asked me if I wanted him to wear some sort of protection. I told him no, I want to feel your slime all over me and inside of me. Instantly, I had my mouth on Gertrude’s pussy (oddly, she tasted like tartar sauce). Yes, she had a pussy (though somewhat altered in shape). Her labia were tentacles that could wrap around dick, balls, or a tongue (such as in my case). Her clit had suction cups. So when I licked her clit, she sucked onto my tongue and lassoed it, as well, with her labial tentacles and gave it a pleasurable squeeze. We certainly had fun when I gave her cunnilingus. When she put everything in motion and squirted onto my tongue, I felt as if she was water-skiing on it. And she knew how to grind! She pulled my nappy head down onto her clit, which was rock hard, and rubbed it good on my captive tongue

Hercules was fantastic as well, a regular pleasure-chest that first time. He was underwater taking care of my needs, as I licked his wife’s cunt. Need I describe the way he pleased me; maybe I do, it was so excruciatingly unbelievable.

We were in the warm water pool as I previously mentioned. He had more tentacles than Medusa or Kali, and he knew what to do with them. One was up my vagina, becoming, alternately, convex and thrusting, and then converting to concave suction cups that sucked on my g-spot and clit for about thirty seconds at a time. Simultaneously, one tentacle was wiggling up my ass, allowing the pressure of warm blood to swell and create pleasure, and two others were tickling my nostrils while two tiny ones borrowed in my ears. At the same time, one was in my mouth alongside my tongue, helping out Gertrude and another two were rubbing under my armpits. Also, two more were clamped onto my very erect nipples and ten others were fastened tightly around my toes. Another ten were wrapped around my fingers and one more lingered around my neck.

Everything happened all at once. It became my motto for the New Year, everything happening all at once, all for a reason: my pleasure! Don’t miss out, pig out! And my pleasure was their pleasure, a monster mash that any connoisseur could savor

This past year, we have lived happily. It has been a year of bliss. I can’t wait for the bliss of this coming year. I offer humble gratitude to you, Gaia, O Great One. Thank you so much.

I love getting fucked by Hercules, and I love having Gertrude’s tongue/tentacle wrap and suck my clit and, of course, I love giving head to Gertrude. She is amazing! She’s a wonder!