Gangbang Your Way to His Heart

After that, I didn't much care who took me or how. I let the shirt fall back over my head, not wanting to see while I felt them rubbing themselves on me, thrusting into my pussy, my anus. Someone moved me briefly to lie under me on the coffee table, forcing my hips up and down to ride his fat cock, and at the same time someone else came from behind and took me in the ass. The sensation of being filled so completely, by two different faceless guys, was more than I could take, and I came again.

The guy under me rolled me onto the ground, my shirt still covering my head, and I took more abuse in that position, bent over double with my ankles around a guy's neck as he pumped into me. My entire body felt gross and slick with cum, the pungent odor of sex palpable in the room, and I had more of it squirted onto my tits, my stomach, into my pussy, my ass.

I still felt pleasantly filled and stretched when someone finally pulled my shirt down from my face, leaving it up around my armpits so my tits were bared. I looked down at my body, covered in hickeys, red marks from where I'd been slapped or pinched, sticky with cum in various stages of drying. Someone had inserted a beer bottle into my pussy, and it was still in there, buried so only the very bottom of the label showed.

Dave snapped a series of pictures, the flash blinding me. I knew my face probably looked like a deer in headlights.

I glanced over at Derek, and something made me ask the honest question that was on the tip of my tongue, the one I normally would've died before saying aloud: "Do you love me now?"

I felt like I deserved at least an answer to that.

"I'm getting married in two months," he said, lighting up a cigarette and taking his first puff. "Her dad's the bank president."

I was still processing that information - the disappointment, the anger, but also the sweet, sweet ache of my pussy as it stretched around the beer bottle - when I glanced around the room and saw the crowd of men who'd taken me so violently and wonderfully in the middle of some stranger's living room. There was Dave, and Jackson, and Pete, and Paul, who licked his lips deliberately when he saw my gaze pass over him. There was the guy from the couch and the guy from the armchair and a couple others, ones I hadn't even seen when I'd come in, and then there was . . .

Oh my god.

"Tim?" I breathed.

He looked stricken. What had he seen?

What had he done?

I glanced up at the clock. It was one o'clock in the morning. I'd been at the party for five hours.