Keeping Her Happy

Prior to the scheduled day, Willie and Katie had decided that she should use an alias, that is, a stage name. Furthermore, they chose to keep their relationship secret. Their story would be that Willie, one of the bar-keepers, had been asked to pick up the stripper--the evening's entertainment. They arrived at the venue incognito--Katie in a long, hooded parka, sweats, and mukluks--and were met at the door by the fellow who had secured Katie's involvement--the head usher. Emerging, a short while later, from a dressing room, Katie was introduced, to a chorus of hoots and hollers, as Royale--a detail that triggered a suffusion of warmth through her belly. She realized that using a different name, was like wearing a mask, like taking an alter-ego. It made her more relaxed, more confident, braver.

She, in turn, was introduced to the guest-of-honour--the groom-to-be--and the rest of the troop--the best man, two more ushers, and six selected guests. After a mercifully short period of drinking and mingling, they, pretty much dispensed with the preliminaries and proceeded right to the heart of the event.

The back room they occupied even had a pole on a small, raised dais. Katie was more at ease, and more graceful this time, in her exotic dance--so much so that, as she twisted and turned and gyrated, the boys began tucking tips into her skimpy bra and thong! Such encouragement!

Soon enough, the tiny patches of material pretending to be clothing, came off. With nothing left to strip, Katie's exotic, erotic dancing swung away from the pole and down off the stage to land in the lap of the groom. She backed onto him, squirming her butt against his still clad, but rapidly hardening prick. As his hands reached to grab her waist, she coyly slid away, off his lap, but without missing a beat she turned around, sliding her crotch over his knee and up his leg, humping her own knee into his crotch, and wiping her pussy tears off on his trouser leg. This time, when he reached for her boobs, she leaned forward and pulled his face into her warm and soft cleavage. After a moment, Katie pulled back slightly and reached between his legs to release his straining hard-on. With that, the room filled with the sounds of zippers being opened and pants being dropped. While continuing to hump on the groom's leg, rubbing his cock with her thigh, Katie reached side to side, briefly holding, and squeezing, and jacking whosever's pecker came in reach.

And that was all the invitation they needed. Suddenly it seemed that all twenty or twenty-two hands were reaching in, groping whatever they came across--from squishing Katie's boobs to squeezing her buns, from nibbling her nipples to fingering her twat. And, like magic, all the kisses and pinches and general manhandling, contributing as they were to a growing stimulation overload, had her flaring arousal kicking in. Her, up to that point, controlled response abruptly dissolved, morphing into a raunchy frenzy of cock-sucking--or, more precisely, at least in most cases, face-fucking.

A charged atmosphere filled the room. Tasting everyone in turn, taking one cock after another, Katie sensed a sort of tempered violence, as fingers entwined her hair, pubic bones bruised her lips. While riding out the tireless pounding, she determined that there was really no one especially well-endowed, nor anyone especially puny, they were all pretty-well average, pretty normal; notwithstanding, they all possessed that eager firmness and the wonderful staying-power of youth. Hips pumping like rabbits, they were, to a man--to a boy--energetic, but uncouth. They demonstrated no style; "I mean," thought Katie, "points for speed and endurance, perhaps, but none for grace or artistry--or, for that matter, consideration."

As Katie persevered with the flurry, the fury of blowjobs, the boys--the clients--not immediately, actively involved, stood around, watching. Those waiting their turn, idly stroking their erections; those already cum, slouched aside, dripping, working on trying to get themselves up again, as soon as possible. By the end of that first round, Katie felt like she'd swallowed several litres of semen. Having all cum once, orally, it was a short ride to actually fucking. Despite the roughness of the round of blowjobs, Katie's ascending arousal teetered just short of climax.

The groom, being the guest of honour, was vociferously encouraged to kick off the next stage of the debauch. When he was seated in a large, straight-backed chair, Katie straddled his knees and let herself down slowly onto his throbbing pole. Her first orgasm of the evening hit like a lightning bolt, before she had even fully lowered her slick, pulsating cunt over the groom's quivering peg. Sitting on his lap, in reverse-cowgirl position, her quaking and spasming, jolting and jerking, virtually pulled another climax from the hapless groom, sucking his issue deep into her box.

She didn't let it bother her that the crew dragged her around like a rag-doll, hither and yon--that's what they'd hired her for--to have their way! And the customer was always right. From cowgirl and reverse cowgirl, both seated, and on the floor, she ended up, at some point, hanging onto the back of a chair, bent at the waist, in a sort of standing dog-fuck--a position that allowed for the very deepest of intrusions. The first of the invaders slipped in, in a long and steady penetration--firing up her responsiveness--and stopping only when he'd reached her depths. Then that current cocksman paused, leaving Katie impaled and hanging--both physically, off the end of his prick, and sensually, her excitement sparkling and crackling, and pushing at the door of her impending climax. Back in motion, the increasingly frenetic in and out strokes further lit up the sensitive lining of Katie's pussy. The release of pent-up, erotic energy exploded into orgasm, flooding her awareness, and overwhelming her stability. The scalding heat of the complementary ejaculation filling her feminine deeps, brought her dangerously close to swooning.

Quickly withdrawing the wilting cock, hands passed to other hands the supporting of her hips, and without missing a beat, another firm weapon glided into her depths. Unsure of how many times she was given to another fresh rigid pecker, Katie only knew that her orgasm continued in waves--wave upon wave, peaks and troughs--until the ecstasy was almost unbearable. Just in time, the guys took a break, and Katie, collapsing onto the carpeted dais, caught her breath and let her heart-rate return to normal.

Katie could not adequately explain, even to herself, how everything--all this promiscuity and exhibitionism--came to her so easily. Somehow, she felt like she'd done it all before, in a previous life, perhaps--an old pro, confidently coming up with ideas, apparently out of thin air.

"Who the hell am I? And what have I done with the old Kate?" she wondered, unaware that she was echoing her hubby's thoughts almost exactly. Katie marveled at how easily she handled eleven horny guys. It was like she was born to it. She didn't understand how she knew to do what she was doing, yet, it was, quite obviously, the right thing to do. And Willie, her incognito hubby, disguised as a disinterested barkeeper's assistant, watched in astounded disbelief, as the clients gleefully took all that their party-director had to offer.

As some of the boys began to work on getting themselves up, yet again, Katie decided servicing only one stud at a time was terribly inefficient. So, after raising herself up on her hands and knees, and non-verbally inviting someone to take her doggie-style, again, she looked about offering her mouth for simultaneous cock-sucking. Being no stranger to double-penetration, she became her own fluffer, as the kids lined up in front of her for a bit of fellatio, before rotating around behind her for yet another fuck. "Saloon-sex," Katie thought, smiling to herself. "Lick 'er in the front; poker in the back!" Jangling constantly on the edge, Katie climaxed sporadically at the injection of fluid warmth into her pulsating twat.

Eventually, as the orgy progressed, with cum flowing steadily down her inner thighs, it was the rather manic husband-to-be, in his alcohol-fueled conceit, who decided Katie's cunt was entirely too swampy, and, so, without any discussion, pushed his hot rod firmly up her poop-chute. Katie was only surprised that she was hardly surprised at all; in fact, some part of her had been expecting it. As the presumptuous groom shoved his way balls-deep into her grippy, pulsing rectum, Katie's deep sensitivity lit up again, responding to the first anal stimulation of the night. Treating her like nothing more than a cum-dump, the groom took up a frenetically pounding rhythm.

He seemed to be obsessed--like he was trying to prove a point, trying to demonstrate to all his buddies his superior virility. Katie wondered just how long his impending marriage would last. Notwithstanding, her response to his sudden sodomy was a significant spike of delight and a rocking back of her butt to assist in his plumbing of her anal depths. Very soon, he emptied a third--or was it his fourth--load into her bowel, boasting that he had successfully opened her third hole. But even in the pinnacle of youth, the carnal prowess of the company began to flag. Their desire outweighed their libido, and their imagination had outlasted their potency.

As one woman servicing a bunch of horny kids, Katie had to get creative: and so, to give everybody a shot at her ass, Katie introduced the final activity. "Okay, guys, now we're going to play 'The Airtight Game'. The rules are simple. To begin with I need three volunteers to three-hole me--that'll be the groom in my pussy, the best man in my ass, and the head usher, in my mouth," she said matter-of-factly, as she arranged them in position on the day-bed. "Once we get underway, every five minutes you'll rotate: from mouth to pussy, pussy to ass, ass to mouth. You drop out as soon as you cum, and get replaced by the next in line, at the next interval, in the next station. Also, you must drop out if you've gone two full circuits without cumming. I'm sure Willie, the assistant bar-keeper, will keep time, eh?" She looked to her hubby, who responded with a curt nod. "The object is to see how much longer you can stretch out this event. When you're done, we're done." About half the kids climaxed--basically a couple in each orifice--and half timed-out, but everyone agreed the evening was a smashing success, and the game was a great way to finish it. Katie was shocked at the generous tips the boys left for her--some were just given to her, some tossed onto her discarded costume. A few of them tried to deposit their tips in her cleavage, or the folds of her twat, or between her ass-cheeks. In the final analysis, Katie pocketed a substantial wad of cash in tips alone, not to mention her fees.

Having gathered her previously shed garments, Katie left the venue on the arm of her rather bewildered husband, tired and happy. Over the following few days Willie and Katie discussed what had happened and what was going to happen next.

"What now?" Willie queried, honestly in the dark and conflicted. He had never, in all his life seen anything so erotic as that latest stag party. But he worried that his wife had become an out-of-control whore--despite the loving she'd been showering on him since they'd got home.

"What else is there?" Katie asked, answering a question with a question--before gathering her thoughts and going on. "To start with, you just wanted me to experience sex with a real hard-on, right?" Her intense stare finally prompted a slight nod. "Well, I don't know if I've actually 'done it all', but I've experienced pretty much everything to be done with an erect penis. I've fucked and sucked, taken it up the bum, tried double-penetration and triple-penetration, and been gangbanged." With a disarming smile and a cute shoulder shrug, she concluded, "And I'm really quite good at it, don't you think?"

"You obviously enjoyed it. There's no denying that." There was no rancour in Willie's voice, just a background tinge of confusion.

"I know." Katie's eyes dropped, as she went on, almost apologetically, "I don't know how you put up with me and my almost insatiable hunger for sexual experiences. But, you know, I love you. I really do.

"We can stop if that's what you want. Or not..., as long as we're together in this--on the same page. You just say the word when you want it to stop. I mean it. I really do. Honestly." She realized she was pleading--for what? Pleading for understanding, she supposed.

Willie hugged her tight as he replied, "If it makes you happy, it makes me happy!"

Having gained a rather unorthodox knowledge of the business--albeit, the shady business--of organizing stags and after-parties, Katie and Willie agreed to try starting up a semi-legitimate business, setting up stags and other, similar, special events: such as divorce parties, promotion parties, even 'Getting-Fired' parties! Hence, Dee-Luscious: Specialty Event Planning and Hosting was quietly born. Initially, they depended on word of mouth, but, as they evolved, they began to subtly advertise on-line, in social-media, as facilitators of events like: office success celebrations; company merit-award-bonus getaways; team-building retreats; as well as bachelor parties; even bachelorette parties, where they would engage the services of Josh, and Warren, and some of the studs they knew from earlier escapades. In most situations, Katie would serve as Mistress-of-Ceremonies--MC--as well as hostess, cocktail waitress, exotic dancer, stand-up comedienne, masseuse, and--the admission of which made her cringe--whore!

Words like: stag, gangbang, and orgy were, perhaps, vaguely, alluded to, but deliberately avoided in any printed or online ads, though Willie and Katie were, in fact, mainly renting out Katie's sexual talents. Well beyond plain old promiscuous bachelor parties, there were milestone birthdays, business rewards and incentives, extraordinary achievement recognition events, retreats, and just plain old participatory adult entertainment. Certainly, there was truth in their advertising; just not the whole truth.

And, throughout, they made sure it was something they did together. As professional development, Willie took a bar tending course. Katie collected classy stripper costumes, and researched off-colour one-liners. They limited their engagements to two or three, occasionally four events per month, even as the demand grew beyond that, and, managing to stay, apparently at least, just on the very edge of legal, the business became a lucrative avocation. Willie would still arrange, from time to time, and at Katie's request, 'therapy' sessions with Josh and Cane and some of the familiars. But more to keep the connections than actually provide any 'therapeutic' experiences. And, before they knew it, five years had sailed by.

Katie, now thirty-three years old, became aware of her biological clock ticking, and was, suddenly, almost constantly thinking about babies--about having a baby. But she was terribly conflicted. Considering her husband's impotence, she saw any thought of getting pregnant as a betrayal of the man she loved. Willie, on the other hand, closing in on fifty-six, told her, "Considering all of the other variations on surrogacy that we've dealt with, dear, engaging a surrogate sperm-donor seems like a no-brainer."

That, however, would be another story.