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As he talks, his hand casually slides along my collarbone, lowering my loose T-shirt to expose one of my tits.
“Am I picking?” he asks, that dangerous glint in his eyes.
I realize that not answering isn’t an option unless I want to spend the rest of the night with many, many cocks inside me.
And I don’t. Because that would be insane. Not to mention, unsanitary.
Not that what we’re doing right now is all that clean either.
“W—watch. They can watch.”
“Indeed, they can.”
I didn’t even see him open his pants, but telltale velvety softness slides against my entrance, and his fingers leave my pussy. I find myself swaying my hips to align the glistening hole with his hard shaft.
I should ask for a condom. But then again, I did fuck him bare less than two months ago, and I wasn’t even on the pill then. I am now; and after a health test, I know I’m clean—so he is too. Or at least, he was in July.
Before I can make a conscious decision one way or another, he’s pushed inside me, filling me so damn much.
The first time, there had been some discomfort through the night, but it’s entirely absent today; there’s only fullness and tension that make me shiver inside out. His hand grasps the back of my neck as he slides out, and sinks back inside, ever so deep, making my core tingle.
I like this. I like thisa lot.
Not just the steady rhythm of his thrusts in and out of me as his mouth swallows my moans and his hand on my tits, or the other, tightening around my throat.
I like watching the two guys who have forgotten the reason why they came here in the first place, and are standing right behind Callum, eyes devouring us.
The door opens again, and again, and a third time. There are five onlookers, and no one is going to leave until the end of this.
One of the guys pisses right next to us, washes his hands, and keeps his cock out, grasping it firmly as he enjoys the show. Enthused, the others follow suit, touching themselves like we’re nothing but a porn video.
Either way, you’ll be the center of attention, I promise.
Callum had sounded...reassuring. Like he believed that I wanted that. And while I didn’t ask for it…I revel in it.
“Hold her up,” Callum grunts, leaving my throat long enough to grasp the knee of the leg resting on the lavatory, and hand it to the closest guy. “Open her up for me.”
I don’t doubt he could do it himself, but he wants more than an audience. Their participation is a turn-on. For him. For me.
The stranger doesn’t need to be told twice. He pins my knee to my shoulder level. Another one seizes my supporting leg, lifting it too. An animalistic sound rises up from Callum’s throat as he angles himself differently, reaching new depths. My entire body weight falls on him each time he rocks his hips into me, in thrusts so powerful I could black out.
I’m so close to losing it, and the asshole knows it, because he pauses just as my core starts to tighten, only resuming his onslaught when I’ve somehow regained control.
“You’re such a good whore, Liv,” he praises me.
At least I think there's praise somewhere, buried deep under the insult. Maybe it’s in his reverent tone, like he can’t possibly think of something better than a whore in that moment.
“Fuck, look at how she’s dripping! Your pants are gonna be drenched, man,” some blond guy laughs, bending to get a better view of Callum’s cock going in and out of me.
“Jesus. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any girl that wet. You’re sure we can’t have a piece, Cal?”
“Next time, if you’re good. Tonight, my lovely whore wants to go home with my cum dripping down her leg, no one else’s. Don’t you, Liv?”
I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but all I manage is a long wail. His thumb found my clit, and it’s not being gentle with it. Pinching. Pulling. Slapping.
My legs start to tremble, toes curling.
Once again, Callum stops moving, though his cock pulses inside me. “You’re not coming until I’m ready to paint your cunt white, got it?”
