Rules of the Game

I nodded again, too far gone, too submissive now to ask for a condom.

"If you want me to use a condom, tell me now, girl."

Oh, thank God, I thought. I love you. "In the night table drawer," I moaned. "And thank you."

"You're welcome."

As I waited, ready and eager for his taking, he cautiously removed a package from the box, inspected it tortuously, finally ripped the package open down one side, and removed the rolled tube. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake my ass at him, make him hurry up. Didn't he see the torture I was in?

I watched him carefully roll on the tube, check it for fit, check to make sure the tip was properly located—would he smoke a cigarette too, I wondered—and then looked up, grinning at me.

"You ready?"

OMG, yes, I nodded.

"Do you want it in the ass?"

I nodded eagerly again. Then I shook my head. I wasn't a complete slut. Not yet anyway. And I didn't have to beg for it. I didn't have to humiliate myself like this. What was wrong with me?

Instead of fucking my ass, Richard slipped in behind me and gently eased himself into my vagina. A shudder the strength of an earthquake ran down my spine, shaking the bed. He was so big. He was the biggest cock I'd ever attempted to fuck. Jim was child's play in comparison, Steve, a romp in the park. Matt was not even worth mentioning.

"I'll be gentle," he promised. And he was gentle.

Within a minute, previously prepared and primed by Jim and Steve, I found myself filled completely by Richard. I was at the optimum angle, the perfect height, flawlessly positioned for taking from the rear. I began to orgasm immediately.

Taking command of my buttocks, Richard freed my hands and I put them to good use, my right hand attending my screaming clitoris, my left reaching back to finger his scrotum and testicles and the shaft of his cock. I couldn't believe how easily I had adapted to his hugeness. He went in and out of me almost effortlessly, though each time he came in, each time I thrust back to meet him, I felt the compression of my uterus and the stretching of my vagina to accommodate his length. I would be so sore in the morning. I'd feel like a train wreck took place in my gut. It wouldn't be far off, the way he bashed headlong into my poor cervix.

I put in as much effort keeping quiet as I did in enjoying myself, but it was a losing battle. What must the other players think, I wondered, out there at the table? I could see Mike and Nick with grins wide on their faces. Jim would brood and Steve would be stoic. Robert and Gary would continue to exchange self-serving, know-it-all grins, while Bill would be expressionless, his poker face installed. What would Richard think, were he out there too?

He pulled out of me and I went down on my knees again. This time, I did everything possible to get him down my throat. It nearly went down, half a dozen times, but each time I choked or gagged or vomited into my mouth. Each time I had to pull back gagging, defeated. Each time I looked up at him apologetically, wiping my mouth, swallowing my bile, grimacing. My face was a mess. You can imagine, I'm sure. And I heard their laughter out on the room. They knew what I was doing in here, what was being done to me. Steve had experienced it to some degree, as would the others. I blushed bright red, knowing.

"More," I panted, trying to regain the bed. He returned me to my knees.

"I want you to close your eyes," he said, "and put your hands in your lap. Better yet, clasp them behind your back. Like this," he demonstrated, clasping his left wrist behind his back.

I shook my head. "I can't. I tried." I grasped my left wrist behind my back regardless.

"I don't intend to deep-throat you," he said, gently taking me by the hair. "I intend to do this to you."

And for the next five minutes, he gave me a seriously humiliating mouth-fuck.

* * *

It was after midnight. I couldn't believe it. I was completely sober, something I never envision at the start of the night. Richard, for all intents and purposes was stone sober too. We had burned off all residual alcohol. As the bedroom door opened, I felt all eyes at the dining room table turn our way. Richard escorted me out.

"Whoa!" Mike exclaimed. "She still has her hair!" He and Nick and Jim all jumped up and swarmed us in congratulation. They pounded Richard on the back and fingered my untouched locks, marveling at their good luck, telling Richard what a good man he was. And then they all grinned at me wolfishly. I hid my furiously blushing face and beelined for the kitchen for a beer.

"I see you have a matched set now!" Nick called after me. Whether he spoke of the matching hickeys on my neck, the ones on my shoulders, the ones peppering my breasts, or the pair inside my thighs I didn't know. He probably meant them all. Richard had balanced me out, left to right. I felt myself shrink in embarrassment and hurried on to the kitchen. Behind me, everyone laughed and pounded Richard on the back. So humiliating.

"Stop it," Steve said gruffly. "How do you think that sounds to Lisa?"

I shook as I opened the refrigerator door. My eyes burned with tears and I was just about to flee out the back door when the whole pack of them burst through the kitchen door and surrounded me. Jim closed the refrigerator door, Nick removed the beer from my hand, and as a group, they all grabbed me into a big hug.

"What's this about?" I gasped.

"We know what that must have sounded like," Bill said.

"We don't want you to feel bad," Nick added.

"Our teasing was meant to embarrass Rich, not you," said Mike.

"We didn't mean any disrespect, we really didn't," from Nick again

"We love you too much to ever make fun of you or belittle you, sweetheart," Jim assured me.

Even Robert and Gary nodded approvingly. My eyes stung again, this time happily.

"Thank you," I said blubbery. "I felt..." I gulped, swallowing hard.

"We know how you must have felt," Jim said. "Its not the way we feel, though." He kissed me on the forehead, as did all the others. "We feel...privileged, that you would even consider being with a bunch of old fogies like us. It makes me feel very special, which makes you special. Right, fellas?"

Everyone nodded, including myself. And then someone patted my rear end affectionately, I laughed, and all the rest joined in, laughing merrily.

"You can just gang-bang me right here on the kitchen floor," I observed. The patting stopped and the men backed away, still laughing and patting me on the shoulder and punching each other's arms. I realized, and not with the shock I should have felt, that I was completely comfortable in my nudity and my situation. I'd fucked three of the eight so far, and the rest knew they would have me too. It felt so natural. It felt right, as though I was suddenly the wife or girlfriend of each man: their communal partner.

Not property, I thought: Partner.

Nick returned my beer and I stood surrounded, Jim's arm proprietarily around my shoulders, Mike's around my waist, Bill surprisingly placing his hand in the small of my back. Nick freed eight more beers and passed them around to the others.

"To Lisa," Jim saluted. Everyone, myself included, clinched their bottles together and took deep swigs of the beers. I gulped, grateful for the cold liquid on my raw throat. And for the strong taste washing the other, more bitter taste from my mouth. I was not particularly found of the taste of sperm. I grimaced, remembering the flood in my mouth, my desperate attempts to swallow it all without gagging. I hadn't been successful. I took another swallow of beer.

"It's late," I pointed out. "Are we okay?"

Nick snorted. "We've played to dawn how many times?"

"You're wives won't get suspicious?" I asked.

"Our wives are always suspicious," Steve grunted.

"Not mine," Bill said, laughing. He was the one bachelor of the group.

"Want me to call Stacy?" Mike quipped. Stacy was Bill's girlfriend.

Bill grimaced, then grinned. "Right after I call Donna and tell her to turn back the bed sheets for me."

Donna was Mike's unfortunate wife. I say unfortunate, because Mike was an acknowledged horn-dog.

I grinned at their happy banter. Until Mike's arm around my waist dropped lower and suddenly he was holding my thigh, and then my rear end. Bill removed his hand and returned it to its former location to everyone else's laughter. I only blushed, of course. And then I took Mike's offending hand, handed him my beer, and took Nick's hand in my other. I said: "I have a suggestion."

Mike and Nick's expressions got almost comically alarmed.

"What?" Mike wanted to know.

In my most coquettish voice, I said to him: "Why don't we three retire to my bedroom and see if we can play three of a kind?"

His eyes, and Nick's grew comically wide. So did the others. "Oooh" came out of everyone's mouths, followed by "Go get her partner" "Save me some, Jack" "What about that hundred you owe me?" and "Someone needs to get a camera." I laughed as hard as anyone else.

Giggling, I drew the two lucky friends through the kitchen door, through the dining room into the living room and through it to my bedroom door. We were followed by hoots and whistles and catcalls, all of which made me giggle all the harder. I truly was their communal partner now. Can a woman have eight husbands in this state? Can eight men share the same wife? Could we move to Utah, I wondered?

Once inside, I closed the bedroom door, quieting but not blocking the catcalls. Immediately, I glued myself to Mike's startled mouth, pushed him against the door and held him there with a hand in the chest as I kissed Nick.

"You won't have problems taking me together?" I asked.

Mike was red-faced, panting and shaking. "Fuck no!" he said, looking at Nick. Nick's face was approximately the same color as Richard's cock. I had to laugh.

"You've taken a girl together before?" I taunted.

Mike laughed. "In my dreams."

Nick shook his head. He looked desperate to reconnect with my mouth. I let him, and then gave it back to Mike. I had never been with two men before and found it extraordinary. I had always wanted a threesome. Two men and me as a threesome, I mean. I'd tried with Angela and found it not to my liking. I'd like this, I knew.

"I've never been doubly penetrated," I said. Nick's face grew decidedly purpler. I gave him my mouth again to calm him down.

"I've never been take from both ends, either," I said, locking mouths with Mike again.

Mike's hands were busy, exploring the topography of my chest; Nick concentrated on the environs just south. He had me squirming badly, and when I next kissed Nick, Mike evaded my hand and attacked my breasts with his mouth. I groaned, and then Nick took over while Mike battled my tongue for a while. Together, they half-walked, half-carried me to the bed. While Nick quickly undressed, Mike helped me find my place on the mattress. I was really breathing hard now, nearly hyperventilating again. Two mouths and two pairs of hand returned twice the adrenalin. Every nerve in my body tingled, every muscle twitched in anticipation. How did someone get through something like this alive, I wondered? I wondered if I would. I wondered what two cocks inside me, driving for my heart from both ends would feel like. I wondered if they would flip me end to end, or circle around me, like hands on a clock. I wondered if I would like being taken anally by two men. Richard hadn't at all. I wondered if either man was as big as Richard. I prayed so. I prayed not. I prayed for my soul.

Nick was Steve's size, but with a bigger head and a distinct downward turn hooking to the right. I sighed in disappointed relief. He was exceptionally muscular, with the physique of someone much younger. Decades younger, really. I was in awe of his washboard abs and thickly muscled chest and arms. Not an Arnold Schwarzenegger, not muscle-bound—just hard. I laughed when he struck a pose for me.

"Asshole," Mike muttered.

Mike had no cause for embarrassment either. Though not as buff as his friend, he had the hard-muscled physique for a laborer, in Mike's case, a professional carpenter. Despite having his own company with dozens of workers in his employ, Mike still worked every day on the job. His hands were huge and calloused from 2x4's and hammers and bundles of roofing shingles and bags of cement. Nick, conversely, worked in an office. Mike cut a pose for me with his shirt unbuttoned and his jeans unzipped. I giggled, appreciatively.

"I'm so glad Rich didn't cut your hair off," Nick said.

"I am too," Mike and I said together. I laughed again, watching in mortified fascination as he removed his jeans and then his shorts. He also was bigger than Steve, but smaller than Rich. He was perfectly proportional with a delicious looking head, a nice smooth shaft, small but intriguing testicles, and no hair whatsoever. He was a clean-shaven as myself. I licked my lips unconsciously, and then blushed, realizing what I'd done. Consciously, with the two men watching, I deliberately raised my knees, tucked in my heels, and slow butterflied myself for their astonished eyes.

"Oh, God," Mike groaned.

"Thank you, God," Nick amended.

I watched both of their erections pulse up and down. I grinned, invitingly and spread my legs completely and totally apart.

* * *

I won't cheat you on this one either. You will read, every single thing those guys did to me, and what I did to them. But first, I want to explain something.

I meant what I said about being a slut. I consider myself one, although it's possible I'm being hard on myself. As I explained earlier, while in the kitchen, I had become comfortable with my partners, and myself, what I was doing with them, what they were doing to me. Even the deteriorating control I had on myself. I knew I was wanton. It was no longer revenge I was interested in, but sexual discovery. Maybe sexual adventurism is a better word. What I'd done with Jim and with Steve, and then exploited with Richard...well, it had liberated me. I was alive, free--at least sexually--as I'd never been before. I had the opportunity to do and enjoy acts that I had hardly dared fantasize about, much less ever hoped to perform. It had been handed to me, by myself, with the help of eight wonderful guys. Although by that point in my adventure, I was sure only of the first five. Gary and Robert I had my doubts about; William was poison. Another reason, I discovered, to give a person the chance to prove himself, as I was given the chance. I'm still a slut, but a slut with a clear conscience.

* * *

If you're not a woman, you can't fully appreciate or imagine what it is to be a woman with two men. I am sure you will argue this if you're a man: I've gotten it on with two girls at one time. So why is it different? It's different, because you're a man with a penis and you stick it in us, that's why.

By design, a woman has only one orifice intended for a man: her vagina. Add a second penis, and it has to go someplace, either in a woman's mouth, or up her ass. (I know they routinely inhabit these places anyway, but not simultaneously or concurrently with the "A" penis.) A woman with her vagina full and one of her other locations under seige is sexually out of her design parameters, effectively being over-stimulated and over-sexualized. (Forget what you see on videos; those women are professional cocksuckers or highly motivated amateurs in search of a good time. Or being pushed into it by a husband or a boyfriend or financial circumstances. They are more concerned with the camera than with the men fucking them, and therefore distracted. There is no such distraction in your own bedroom with two pairs of roaming, groping hands, a pair of hungry mouths, and two even hungrier rock hard erections. I was overwhelmed the instant the two joined me on the bed.) I'm not a paid professional or an unbridled sex maniac; I'm a 25 year old grad student, with good grades.

I'll try to be as precise about this as I can. The onslaught of hormones, adrenalin and wandering inquisitive hands makes memory somewhat unreliable. I was lost in a fog of doing this, doing that, holding this, spreading that, taking this, giving that, opening my mouth, closing it, opening my legs, closing them, and do I move this way, or the other...and God, can I do that without breaking my back?

Truthfully, Mike and Nick were as gentle and patient with me as two men in the heat of passion could be. But I was a woman to begin with; a woman being shared, and a man's most treasured fantasy next to seeing two girls make love. The shear taboo nature of sharing me doubled their sexual arousal. The thrill of having a girl in her own bed unexpectedly, added to the mix. And then, add in the gang-bang factor and it's a wonder I survived at all. Their excitement and arousal and need translated into twice as much for me: instant overload.

There were moments I almost panicked. Have a man twist your upper body in one direction to kiss you or fuck your mouth, while the other is twisting your lower body in the opposite direction, like a plastic Barbie Doll, whether to eat you out, stick his cock up you, or put you in position for something else, like his inquisitive fingers.

Men don't coordinate when sharing; they divide you, like spoils of war. Upper half to one, lower half to the other. Then they want to share the same half, then the other half, and you spend your time trying to keep your body parts intact. And there is nothing dignified about being shared. Was I humiliated on my knees with Richard's cock? Double that for Nick and Mike together. Missionary position? Try it laying atop Mike while Nick folds your legs against your chest and they go in and out of you like pistons in a small engine block. That'll make you pray to God, believe me. On top? No problem. They sandwich you nicely and destroy the front and back of you neck and shoulders at the same time, while performing extensive simultaneous laparoscopic examinations of your vagina and rectum with their gynecological instruments. I won't even get into what goes on with your psyche kneeling between two guys who are simultaneously getting a blowjob and a piece of your ass with the intention of spinning you like a coke bottle any moment. It's worse, when the one behind you is up your ass. What do your do then? Thank God for condoms.

Okay, I've complained enough. I just wanted you to understand what two men taking you together is like for a woman. I hope I got it across. It is at once electrifying, terrifying, abhorrent, scintillating and demeaning. The longer it goes on, the more depraved you feel.

Okay, back to the story.

* * *

Mike was on my right side, Nick my left. I had a leg over either and was trying to kiss Mike while Nick sucked my nipples and kissed my breasts and examined them for inauspicious lumps. My heart had gone wild and I thought my blood pressure would blow off the top of my head. I didn't kiss Mike so much as I tried to eat his tongue. Then Nick took over and Mike had at my breasts. I moaned almost continually. You tend to do that when a pair of hands is intent on owning you, inside and out.

I jumped and gasped as Mike pinched me between his fingertips. I stared at him agape, shaking my head back and forth frantically.

"What are you doing to her?" Nick wanted to know.

"He's trying to steal my clitoris!" I squeaked.

Glowering, Nick looked down between my legs where his own fingers owned my vagina, and observed Mike's trespassing fingers.

"Don't hurt her, man. That's uncool."

"Uncool!" I gasped; though I hated myself for liking the pain he had me in. His pinch eased and I returned to the bed. I hadn't realized I'd come off it.

"Jenny taught me that," Mike said.

"She taught you to maim her?" Nick said doubtfully.