My Pleasures Were Undignified

Mike had collected himself somewhat and was staring as much as Chubby had. "Wow," he exhaled. "That was awesome. You are the hottest piece of... of anything I've ever seen." Shakespeare he wasn't, but in my sexually-charged mood it was music to my ears. I gave him a kiss, my nipples rubbing against his shirt.

Chubby was sneakily ogling me; he'd partly turned to get a better view as he was tucking himself away, so I got a peek in the mirror at what was between his hands.

"Oooh, it's not circumcised!" I cried with undisguised delight, whirling around. "Let me see, let me see!" I demanded, reaching for his pants. He was too shocked to stop me and in a flash I had his jeans and underwear pulled down.

Just as I'd thought, it was uncut. The flesh over the tip was so cute, just begging to be pulled back to reveal what lay within. So I did, of course. There was a heavenly smell, which I've since found to be unique to the uncircumcised. Both sets of my lips moistened immediately.

The subject of my examination, already semi-erect, commenced rising to its full extent. I giggled and gave it a kiss. It tasted as good as it smelled. Chubby was dumbfounded, and looked up at Mike. Then his eyes closed involuntarily as I took him into my mouth. The feel as it stiffened against my tongue was mesmerizing.

Mike might have said something at that point, but if I so I didn't care. He was no longer relevant. His cock wasn't hard, and the one I had now was.

Blowing Chubby was different, the foreskin glided with my movements and made for a new and delightful experience. I held it retracted with my hand as I drew back and flicked my tongue at his head. The tip was different, too; the skin was softer, more like a giant clit. He wriggled as I snuck the end my tongue into the hole.

Then I wrapped my lips around him again and slid him deeper than before, to the back of my throat. Wine tasters have a term, "mouthfeel". Every dick has its own, just like every wine. I knew I was going to be a cock connoisseur. Or at least a gourmand.

Chubby never made a sound as he came, except perhaps a breathy hiss. I wasn't really paying attention, I was evaluating the flavor of his cum; again every man has his own unique vintage. Some are tastier than others but none of them are bad.

I happily sat back on my haunches and became aware that I now had an audience. The rest of Mike's crew had come back; I suppose they were wondering what had happened to us. So now I had three new guys looking at me with open mouths.

"Well," I asked, a smug expression on my face, "who's next?"

Precedence was settled quickly, then position, and after a remarkably brief interval I had a fresh prick in my mouth while another labored in my pussy. My legs were locked straight up and my hips cocked back while the guy I was sucking off helped support my upper body. More delight, I was shivering at the flood of sensation, surfing on waves of flesh, riding a storm surge.

I strung the blowjob along but the guy fucking me didn't have a lot of stamina. He shot his wad after only a couple minutes. Of course, I reflected that I really couldn't blame him. I was the sexiest girl in the world, after all. And I knew there was a reservist waiting in the wings.

The next guy started pushing his dick into my asshole. I broke off my blowjob and turned to glower at him. "You carrying some lube, boy?" I demanded harshly. He haltingly admitted he wasn't. "Then go get some or aim lower," I admonished, and returned to the cock before me. There was a brief pause and then I felt his prick sliding into my folds.

I wasn't the least bit reluctant to get cornholed in principle. Indeed, I was idly wishing that I had remembered to pack some lubricant in my purse. But my pleasure was paramount. A little pain was fine; it could even be hot. Raw, sore, potentially bleeding tissues were not.

Fortunately this was only a momentary distraction. He seemed to be enjoying himself in my cunt, and the dick in my mouth tasted as divine as the others had. By the time those two were done, Mike was ready for another round, but our time was rudely cut short by the killjoy bartender breaking up the party. I toyed with the notion of seducing him - I was utterly confident I could do it - but I decided a more comfortable venue wasn't a bad idea anyway.

I stopped conversation on the way out of the bar just as thoroughly as I'd quelled it on the way in. Mike and his crew came with me, of course, and we repaired to a nearby hotel for a few hours of play.

The boys were worn out and asleep as I slipped out of our room at about four in the morning. The desk clerk summoned a taxi and I enjoyed a short wait in the night air. The spring breeze on my skin felt like a caress and I glowed with satisfaction. It had been a very good birthday celebration, I thought.

Again, the taxi driver was male, and therefore my ride home was free - or at least, paid for in trade. About the only difference from the earlier ride was that he was Arabic and cried out "Allahu Akbar!" at the critical moment.

I was a touch sleepy as I made my way up to my room. I undressed again, and admired myself one more time in the mirror. There was semen by my mouth, my pussy, my breasts, but I rather liked it. It seemed only right, like warpaint for a conqueror. I regarded the bed for a moment and then came to a realization. Why should I waste time sleeping? I could make Carl do that stuff. It took no time for me to mix up a dose and drink it.

"...plunged into a kind of wonder at my vicarious depravity...

As I came back to myself, to my original self, I felt an incredible mix of powerful emotions. Awe, terror, exaltation, shame, arousal, and more. I could not believe, couldn't even comprehend what I'd been doing, thinking, feeling.

I had been a completely shameless slut - literally like an animal in heat. I had sucked and fucked seven men, had been the focus of a gangbang in a bar men's room... and I had thoroughly and without reservation enjoyed the entire experience. It was mortifying. Even with my 'hobby', I hadn't imagined such raw desires lurked within me. Yet I was powerfully tempted to take another dose immediately, despite my now-crushing fatigue.

I mastered the impulse and staggered off to the shower. I needed to feel clean again; cumstains were not nearly so charming back in my normal frame of mind. My thoughts remained a confused muddle until I dropped into a deep slumber almost the moment I laid my head on the pillow.

The next two days were quite difficult. I argued with myself constantly, parts of me wanting only to down a fresh dose and head out for a night of debauchery, others fretting about the risks and dangers involved. Not only did Sherry have not the slightest concern for my well-being as Carl, she was quite incapable of moderating her behavior. Guilt was not part of her makeup; trying to explain why she shouldn't do what she wanted, when she wanted, would be like trying to explain color to the blind, or music to the deaf... or Deconstructionism to a cat.

She could not be raped in a conventional sense - virtually no sexual activity was against her will - but she might inspire violence among others competing for her attentions. And what if she caught some disease, or became pregnant? I ran the store in a halfhearted way, returning home each evening to struggle with myself. But my timidity was sufficient to keep me from transforming.

"...in my case, to be tempted, however slightly, was to fall."

Friday night, though... my resolve could not hold. When Sherry re-emerged, she had big plans. I remained as her for the whole weekend - and a very busy, and expensive, weekend it was. The first thing she did was take a taxi ride back to the store, paying in her customary fashion, and open the safe. (Like many small business owners, I kept a moderately substantial supply of cash readily available for an unexpected crisis.) The second thing she did was go clothes shopping.

My own clandestine purchases had familiarized me with the costs of women's fashion. Later, as myself, I was dismayed but not surprised that Sherry was able to spend nearly twenty-five hundred dollars in the space of four hours at the mall. She'd recruited with ease two guys to help her carry her purchases, and they drove her back to our house.

Before anything else she made sure to procure a bottle of olive oil from the kitchen. She had the guys strip and chose the boy with the largest equipment - perhaps not surprisingly the black one - and took loving care anointing his tool and making it quite slippery. Then she bent over the side of the bed and presented herself for mounting. Anal was everything she'd anticipated. Some pain, of course, but that simply added spice to the affair. Feeling him come inside her ass while the white boy manhandled her tits was inspiring. That was only the introduction; a long night ensued as she modeled several of her new outfits for them. She enjoyed every minute of the process, and didn't mind that many of her brand-new clothes were so quickly torn or stained.

After she'd worn the boys out to the point of uselessness, she idly masturbated herself to sleep. Sherry's dreams are surreal and, of course, highly sexual. An endless stream of porn done by Salvador Dali and David Lynch.

Early Saturday, after a brisk morning romp with her companions, she sent the pair on their way. Her first shower brought to her attention the scandalous lack of a massager, something she resolved to correct as soon as feasible. Then she took a taxi to a local adult novelties store and spent over a thousand dollars. The clerk closed up early, loaded everything into his own truck, and gave her a ride to a nearby Lowe's, then home. She gave him several rides once they got to my house, breaking in a few of her new toys, including the shower massage she had him install.

From the clerk she got an introduction that afternoon to the owner of an area strip club, the 'Corinthian Lounge'. Of course Doug 'Dawg' Simmons hired her on the spot. He was upset about the issue of her lacking any official identity, however. Not out of any moral qualms, of course - he didn't even evince much curiosity about her situation - but apparently tax people paid particular attention to businesses like his. Fortunately this was not a permanent obstacle; it would only delay her start date. Dawg evidently had some extralegal acquaintances that could make such arrangements. Sherry convinced him to front the money for the new identity and take it out of her earnings.

By then it was early Saturday evening. She couldn't be an official dancer yet, but an impromptu 'audition' was held on the center stage and she was a smashing success. There was a certain amount of resentment from the other dancers, but she had clearly won the hearts of the patrons. Sherry enjoyed watching the other girls as much as any of the men there, and her earnings were quickly distributed among their g-strings. (She wasn't heterosexual or homosexual or even bisexual; she was pansexual, omnisexual. Freud had claimed that everything was really about sex. For Sherry, that was literally true.)

She left the club with a particularly rowdy bachelor party. The six guys took her back to the best man's house in the suburbs. She'd never been in a Hummer before, and took full advantage of the ample space to partake of one of the groomsmen on the way. She sat in his lap and the vibration and jostling of the ride added some excitement to the festivities. The stares they drew at a few stoplights were utterly priceless.

Once they arrived Sherry decided she wasn't in the mood for a gangbang. They were fun, of course, but she felt like focusing and take her time. She appropriated the master bedroom and instructed them to send in one man at a time. She lay on the bed, idly toying with the tassels on the throw pillows, a pleasant anticipation building in her loins.

She wasn't surprised that the best man came in first. The house showed that there was a Mrs. Best Man, but he had demonstrated earlier that he was no stranger to strip clubs. And he'd seemed put out that he had to drive, so Sherry couldn't do much with him on the way from the club. She had him sized up as a macho, take-control type... or, at least, a wannabe. So she gave him what he was looking for.

As he paused at the door, sizing her up himself, she put on a half-fearful, half-anticipating expression. A little tentatively, she asked, "So... whaddaya got in mind?" Her tone, her delivery was just so; it said that he would be able to make her do whatever he had in mind, and he would be able to make her love it.

He paused uncertainly for just a moment, then strode briskly toward the bed. "What I got in mind is for you to get your ass off that bed!" She jumped to comply, and he began pulling off her clothes. She didn't directly help him but he didn't run into any trouble. Soon she was naked, standing shyly but with erect nipples and a modicum of color in her cheeks. He turned her about, and slapped her ass appreciatively.

He shoved her down onto the bed so she was bent over it, her rear facing him. His hand insolently explored her pussy, fondling lips and clit. She yelped and shivered but made no attempt to pull away. Her juices drenched his fingers. "Oh, yeah, bitch, that's a nice tight box."

Then, peremptorily, he stepped back and waved at himself. "Your turn. Go." Sherry leapt hungrily to the task, and stripped him as well, but much more respectfully. She started with his shirt and worked down, so she was kneeling in front of him in a most convenient position as she pulled down his underwear.

She started to kiss his tool but he jammed his dick to the back of her throat. She coughed theatrically. (Not sincerely, though; Sherry had total control of her gag reflex.) Then she began sucking and licking, moving her mouth up and down his shaft, letting out little moans and hums of appreciation.

"You like that, huh? Yeah, suck it just like that, you little slut!" He was acting out his own little porno movie, complete with bad dialogue, but Sherry was happy to star in it. After all, she did like it, and she was a little slut. She sucked him harder, looking up into his eyes as she savored the taste. Then she pursed her lips and pulled back, kissing just the head as her tongue flickered across it inside. With a smacking sound she released him. One hand glided smoothly up and down his saliva-soaked cock as she ran her tongue along his scrotum, lifting and dropping each ball in turn. It was his turn to let out a choked groan.

Her other hand ran her nails gently up and down one of his legs. She brought her mouth back to his tool and resumed servicing. He grabbed her hair as he grunted approvingly. "Uuuh, yeah, that's it, you bitch, you whore, take it all!" Sherry found his words exciting, arousing, nasty in the best way. He stiffened and pulled her head back by the hair as his other hand grabbed his cock and began stroking. An instant later his cum began spilling onto her face and breasts. She extended her tongue to catch some of the sticky rain.

Sherry was wet and turned on by the whole experience. His shudders subsiding, Best Man seemed a little sheepish now that his little drama was over. He gruffly thanked her and put on his clothes as she went to the bathroom to clean up. He was gone by the time she returned.

Next in was the groom himself, pushed along by the the other members of the bachelor party. His reluctance was not a surprise - he'd seemed embarrassed by the entire bachelor party and Sherry thought he was probably fairly shy. He seemed to mostly be going along with his best man's plans. More, she had the idea that he probably genuinely loved his bride-to-be and didn't want to cheat on her.

That just made things a challenge for Sherry, though. She didn't care about his feelings except insofar as they involved getting her rocks off. The groom seemed to sense this, too. He stepped forward like a man entering a she-bear's cave. "Look, really, no offense, but I'd rather just..."

"Shut up," she snapped. "Get over there by the bed." Best Man wouldn't have recognized her; the submissive toy was gone, replaced by a forceful dominatrix. The groom meekly though apprehensively obeyed as Sherry marched to the closet.

She searched for a moment and came out with several neckties. Groom's eyes widened as she stalked toward him but the look in her eyes kept him frozen. "On your knees!" she barked, and he complied. Roughly she hauled his arms up and deftly tied them to one of the short posts at the foot of the bed. A second tie went around his neck as a leash.

"Now, let's see what I've got to work with." He tried to mumble some words of protest as she began to take off his pants but again her glare quelled any actual rebellion. Her hunch was confirmed as his dick was freed; he was getting hard. "Yeah, I figured you were whipped," she sneered, giving his dick a pinch. He looked away from her but his cock stiffened further in her hand, as if it was eagerly admitting the charge.

She deftly stripped him from the waist down. She stepped in front of him, legs spread. and grabbed his head by the hair. Bending over, she dragged his red-flushed face to her feet, his arms straining and stretched. "Worship me. Now."

He balked for an instant, and she icily hissed "Now!" once more. Groom commenced licking her toes and rubbing his face on her feet. She was almost dripping with the intoxicating power she felt. A few guiding tugs on his 'leash' and he started to gradually work his way up her legs.

Once he reached her thighs, she lost patience and directed him insistently to her crotch. "You should know what to do. Get to work!" He began mediocre cunnilingus, but Sherry would have none of that. "Get in there and lick boy!", she commanded imperiously. At that, he started pleasuring her in earnest. He wasn't particularly skilled but she was direct and insistent about what she wanted and soon enough he was doing a creditable job. Without for a moment diverting attention from the experience at hand, she amusedly reflected that she was probably doing his bride a favor.

It went on like that for some time, Sherry being in no hurry. Eventually she came, quietly but very intensely, only a sharply-drawn breath indicating the violence within. He might have heard her, or sensed the tremors - he began to slack off. But a firm hand yanking his head forward restored his vigor. Once the climax had fully passed, she released her grip and let him pull back.

His dick was rock-hard, waving gently in the air as he caught his breath. She bent over and stroked it with just her fingertips. He froze and the tip swelled... Slap. "Not yet, you pansy. I'm not finished with you."

She loosed him from the bedpost and used his leash to drag him onto the bed. First one hand, then the other, was lashed to the headboard. His apprehension grew visibly when she constrained his legs, too, in a spread-eagle arrangement. He tried to sputter an actual protest as yet another necktie was formed into a gag, but by then it was too late.

His struggles to free himself only increased his anxiety as Sherry ambled unconcernedly to her purse, since her knots held fast. But actual terror filled his eyes when he saw what she pulled out of it. She began strapping a dildo onto her crotch, finding his muffled shrieks terribly cute. It was rubbery and flexible, with a longish base that would offer her pussy excellent stimulation during its use. She'd been wanting to try it out all day.

"You don't have a choice about this, boy. But if you quiet down, I promise to use this," she teased, waving a tube of lubricant in her hand.