Pam's Gangbang Experience

"Does that feel good?" he asked.

"Yes," she breathed, "so good..."

"Yeah?"

"So fucking good..."

He chuckled again.

She groaned as the tongue inside her kept up its assertive rhythm.

Wait a second...

In her lust-and-pleasure-addled mind, it took her a few seconds to realize that something was amiss.

Two things stood out to her.

The first was that during her brief exchange with her husband, the tongue had not stopped moving.

The second was that John's voice had come from next to the bed, not on the bed.

At the same time, the bed shifted on either side of her.

She bucked, pulling at the handcuffs.

"John?"

"Relax, babe," he soothed her, "relax."

"John?"

"You're okay, Pam, just relax."

A soft chuckle came from beside her.

She bit her lip at the implications of the situation.

There was one stranger down between her legs, pleasuring her enthusiastically, with two others on either side of her.

And here she was, helpless and sightless, at their mercy.

The cherry on top was that her husband was the architect of the situation.

Part of her felt that she should be angry, or embarrassed, or fearful, or anything other than incredibly aroused and nervously excited, which was her current mood. A small moan slipped from her lips as a picture came to her mind, of the men around her, salivating over her body like wolves around cornered prey. Her pussy clenched around the questing tongue, bathing it in more cream.

Since Tanya had coaxed out the slut inside her, many fantasies had sprung into her mind.

There was the 'sucking John off in a movie theater' fantasy, which they had done a few weeks ago. There was the 'dark alleyway tryst with a mysterious woman' fantasy, which was yet to happen. There was the 'suck John's cum out of another woman', which was also yet to happen. There was the flipside of that, 'have another woman suck John's cum out of me', which like the previous two fantasies was yet to happen.

And then there was a fantasy which seemed to dominate her mind as of late.

It did not matter the setting or the plot.

What mattered were the participants.

There was her, a submissive and sluttish housewife.

And there were several men, more than two but less than ten, taking her again and again, each one using her for their pleasure. They cared little for hers, but in these fantasies, she always had plenty. Not so long ago she would have viewed these fantasies with shame, but now, they only provoked excitement and arousal. She had confided in John of these fantasies, and he had mentioned the possibility of setting something up.

I didn't think it'd happen so soon.

"Just relax, Pam," John said, "relax."

Now the blindfold makes sense...and I did tell him he should surprise me.

It was exciting to her that she had no idea if there were three other men or ten. There could be a crowd watching her right now, a group of lustful men stroking their thick cocks.

She licked her lips, suddenly aching to know how many men were waiting to ravish her.

"Take off the blindfold," she begged, "I want to see them."

"Not yet," John said.

She whimpered softly.

The tongue was still moving inside her; the finger at her clit had left.

"How many are there?"

"Just relax," John urged, "enjoy it."

She whimpered again, unconsciously yanking at the handcuffs.

The bed shifted again; she became aware of somebody near her, moving closer, sidling up to her head.

Something nudged against her shoulder.

The bed shifted beside her, and as she breathed in, she caught the scent of masculinity.

A finger pushed at her lips, prying open her mouth in a decidedly disrespectful way.

When Tanya had been visiting Pam, the housewife had spent a lot of time worshipping the shemale's testicles. And since then, she had spent just as much time sucking lovingly on her husband's. The texture and flavor of a cum-laden ballsack was easy to remember, the feel of those rounds orbs occupying her mouth, the piquant taste of the flesh, the smell of potent musk wafting into her nostrils.

So she knew immediately, when something was shoved between her lips, that this mysterious man had just put his balls into her mouth.

I don't know what he looks like...I don't know his name...I don't know him...

Pam sucked obsequiously, moaning around her mouthful, feeling sluttier than she ever had before.

"Yeah, that's a good slut," came a deep voice from above her, making her quiver.

The sour-spicy musk was incredible, his crinkled sack sitting on her tongue, searing her taste buds with that incomparable flavor. Her cunt seized around the insistent tongue, reacting to the pair of balls sitting in her mouth, not just the oral administrations the other stranger was giving her. She slobbered eagerly all over, the sounds lewd and lurid.

"Damn," came another voice, "when you said she was a slut, I didn't think she was this slutty."

"Yeah," agreed the first voice, "she's fucking bathing my balls like her life depends on it."

She moaned, loving how they discussed her, how John chuckled at their comments.

"How do my balls taste?" asked the first voice, an upward tug depriving her of those round orbs.

"So good," she whimpered, "put them back in my mouth, please..."

He chuckled.

"Whatever you say," he grunted, leaning forward to drop his sack back between her lips.

She squealed happily, sucking enthusiastically, wanting to put on a show for these men, to let them see how slutty she could be.

As she pleased this stranger, the one between her legs worked to please her. Turned on as she was, it took little time for him to make her come undone. She climaxed with a stranger's balls in her mouth, her pitiful mewls making him chuckle, his hand stroking at her hair. The stranger down between her legs did not leave his post right away, instead taking some time to lap up the cream that streamed out, sighing as he savored her orgasmic nectar.

"Good job, Jordan," came a third voice.

"Yeah, I think we should switch," agreed the first voice, "so you can get a reward for making her cum."

There was a chuckle from between her legs, and then the bed shifted.

The owner of the first voice moved away, once again depriving her of his testicles.

As he switched places with Jordan, she groaned, wanting to see them move about, to see the men taking such lustful liberties with her body.

"Take off the blindfold," she begged, "please."

"Not yet," John replied.

She whimpered, feeling Jordan come closer, sidling up the bed until once again the scent of masculinity was wafting into her nostrils.

Something hot nudged against her cheek, a splash of liquid trickling out.

Her tongue slid out, knowing what it was before her mind understood, and she turned her head, licking at the head of the rigid length, catching a dollop of tangy pre-cum. The taste made her mouth open wider, waiting for the debasement that she sorely needed.

A few seconds later, Jordan dipped his balls into her mouth.

She sucked immediately, slobbering all over him with gusto, grateful for the climax that he had given her. His response was a low groan, his thickness slapping down onto the bridge of her nose, letting out another small stream of pre-cum, the sticky fluid dappling her forehead.

"You are one lucky man, John," Jordan grunted.

John chuckled.

No one took up position between her legs, but she needed little stimulation, so turned on that she was partway to climax just from sucking on a stranger's testicles. It registered in her mind that she should feel something negative about herself in this situation, but the taste was too good, the feel too decadent, the submission too exquisite.

She was only given a minute or so to enjoy this musky mouthful, when Jordan moved away.

As the bed shifted once more, she keened pitifully, her tongue licking at her lips to collect the sweat and musk left there by two sets of swollen balls.

"Take off the blindfold," she begged a third time, "please."

"Not yet," John answered.

She whined, squirming as someone moved closer.

"Open up, whore," came a voice, a lilting amusement evident underneath the steely tone.

Her obedience was natural at this point, so natural that she needed no second thought, barely even a first, her mouth opening wide to let him slide his nuts past her lips. She moaned shamelessly, her thighs rubbing together.

Once again, she was not given much time to indulge, this stranger moving away after less than a minute of her wet adoration.

The four men cycled through, letting her suck at their balls for about a minute each, before letting the next take their place. Thanks to their chuckles and grunted comments, she became aware that there were four strangers, plus John, who was still sitting to the side of the bed. Although her mouth was never left empty for long, she was so caught up in her own slavishness that every time one of them moved away, she whimpered in abject need, desperate for the next set of testicles while already aware that it was only seconds away.

At one point, as the strangers shifted about, she found a few spare breaths.

"Please," she begged, "take off the blindfold."

"Should we?" one of the voices asked John.

"Go ahead," he answered.

In moments, she was relieved of the blindfold, a most wonderful vista just in front of her.

Earlier:

John strode back into the hotel, the automatic doors swishing aside.

As he passed the bar, on the way to the elevators, he noticed the quartet of young men from before and last night. They were sitting at a table, chatting and laughing, each one with a glass of beer.

They're just what Pam would want.

He stood there for a few minutes, weighing the positives and negatives.

I know Pam well enough to know that she would go for it in a second.

She had been talking about this fantasy a lot, and he was sure that if she were presented with the chance to make it a reality, she would not hesitate. There had been little restraint recently in her desires, only a lustful voraciousness. Each time they had done something different or kinky, he had been the one with reservations.

The main issue was that he had no idea who these young men were.

If I can figure out who they are, and if they're clean, they'd be perfect.

After some deliberation, he walked over to the quartet.

"Hello, gentlemen," he said, stopping behind them.

They regarded him curiously.

"What's up?" one of them asked.

"I couldn't help but notice you guys checking out my wife."

"Hey man," one of the oglers said, throwing his hands up in a defensive gesture, "we didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah," the other ogler agreed, "she's a cute little thing."

John chuckled.

"Relax, I'm not here to accuse or judge. In fact, I take it as a compliment."

He noticed two of them were wearing t-shirts emblazoned with 'Henrickson College'.

"You guys are from Henrickson College?"

"Yeah," one of them supplied.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you in town? Henrickson is a few cities away."

"We're on the basketball team," another said, "we're in town because we played Harrison College today."

"Do you guys ordinarily celebrate with a postgame drink?"

One of them shrugged.

"Coach is more lenient with us," he said, "since we're seniors."

"What are you doing in town?" another asked him.

"My wife and I are visiting our daughter. She's a freshman at Durham."

"Cool," another said noncommittally.

"I'm John, by the way," he offered.

"Victor," one of them replied.

"Luke," was another.

"Jordan," was the third.

"Marshall," completed the quartet.

"Look," Victor said, "not that I mind small talk, but why are you talking to us? Just to say that you caught us checking your wife out?"

He shook his head.

"So why are you here?"

"I have a problem," he said with a small smile.

"What sort of problem?"

"Well, I was going to invite you guys back to my room, to gangbang my wife with me, but I have no idea if you guys are clean or healthy, if you follow my meaning."

His statement hit three of the four like a bomb, their surprised expressions making his smile grow wider.

But Victor was unaffected, quickly reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

He hit a few buttons, and handed it to John.

'Coach Matthews' was the contact that he was calling.

"What do you want?" came a terse voice a few seconds later.

"Ask him about us," Victor urged.

"It's late, Vic, I got no time for your shit," the voice continued.

"This isn't Victor, this is..."

"Tell him one of us wants to date your daughter, and you're worried about whether or not we're healthy or whatever."

"If this isn't Victor, who the fuck is this?"

John sighed.

"This is John..."

"John who? Why do you have Victor's phone?"

He looked around, his gaze settling on the four glasses sitting on the tabletop.

"My name is John...Glass."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Glass. Who the fuck are you and why do you have my player's phone?"

"Your player?"

"Have you heard of Henrickson College?"

"Yes."

"I'm the basketball coach. Victor is one of my players. Now do you want to tell me, finally, why you have Victor's phone?"

"Do you have kids, Coach Matthews?"

"Yes. Three. What do they have to do with this?"

"Victor wants to date my daughter. And I want to know if he is a good guy, specifically if he is, you know, healthy, clean, and drug-free. He said to talk to you to find out. So father to father, is he good?"

There was a sigh from the other end.

"We test our players every three weeks, for drugs and STDs."

"Really?"

"Yes, Mr. Glass. Our athletes are representatives of our school. We want to make sure they are healthy and at least appear respectable."

"So he's good?"

"Their last test was last week. If you're asking about drugs and STDs, he's good. Can't say I'd want him dating my daughter, but that's your choice."

"Thank you, Coach."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Good night, Mr. Glass. Good luck with your daughter."

John handed the phone back to Victor.

"What did he say?" Victor asked, with a wide smile, already knowing the answer.

"He said you're good."

Victor chuckled.

"Hear that," he said to his friends, "we're good."

John hesitated.

"He said you're good," he corrected, gesturing to Victor, "but he didn't mention your friends."

Victor shrugged.

"They're on the basketball team with me. If I'm clean, so are they."

John hesitated.

"What, you don't believe they're on the basketball team?"

"The coach only cleared you. I didn't ask him about your friends."

"We all get tested. Not just me."

"I know. But this is my wife. I need to make sure."

"You could call Coach back and ask him about us," Jordan offered.

"And tell him what?" Victor shot back. "We want to gangbang this guy's wife?"

"Look up the Henrickson Hunters basketball team," Marshall cut in, "our names and pictures should be there."

A quick search yielded the team roster. Victor Guardado, Luke Archer, Jordan Gentry, and Marshall Wilson were all there, the pictures matching the quartet sitting at the table in front of him. It had seemed cut and dry, but he had wanted to make sure.

This is my wife we're talking about here.

"You're all there," he admitted finally.

"Like I said, if they're on the basketball team, they're just as good as I am."

"Can't argue with that logic."

"So," Victor said, leaning forward, "what's this about gangbanging your wife?"

Back in the present:

It's like Christmas and my birthday rolled into one.

John was off to the side, watching from one of the chairs in the room.

Surrounding her were four young men, each matching the type of man that had recently infiltrated her fantasies: young, strong, and dark-skinned. These four in particular were also tall and broad, bigger in size than John as well as her.

Making the picture even better was that all four were naked, and stroking their rock-hard cocks, a predatory hunger in their eyes.

"Please," she begged, "fuck me..."

The quartet shared a glance.

"Who goes first?" one of them asked.

"Pick a number?" another offered.

They all nodded in agreement.

The one who had proposed this method turned to Pam.

"Pick a number between one and twenty," he ordered.

Fourteen.

"Done," she said, amused by this method of choosing who would be the first to fuck her.

"Alright now," he continued, talking now to the others, "no Price is Right bullshit. The closest to her number gets to fuck her first, even if they went over, and then the next closest goes, and so on. We break a tie with rock-paper-scissors."

"We got it, Vic," one of them said.

"Alright then, I'll take eight," Vic said.

"Seventeen," another said.

"Six," the third chose.

"Ten," the fourth chose.

A few seconds passed, during which Pam was strangely reminded of times with her kids, when she had to choose somebody to go down the waterslide first at Six Flags, or somebody to pick a movie to watch, or somebody to choose which restaurant they would eat at.

"What's the number?" Vic asked.

"Fourteen."

"So, Marshall, you're first," he directed, "then Jordan, then me, and finally Luke. Everybody cool?"

A chorus of affirmative responses followed, and the other three slid off the bed to watch.

Marshall moved up towards her, every inch of his approach making her breathing quicken. His hands found her ankles, using that grip to spread her legs. A smirk crossed his lips as he glanced at her, seeing the desperate need written so plainly across her face.

"You want it bad, huh?" he asked.

She nodded, biting her lip.

"Please," she begged, "fuck me."

He chuckled, arranging himself between her legs, her impatience leading to another series of tugs on the handcuffs.

Her eyes fixed on his cock, long and thick, aiming at her vulnerable slit.

When the former met the latter, he groaned and she sighed, both enticed by the sensations, his hard heat finding her slick wetness.

It had been a challenge at first to take Tanya to the hilt.

These four surrounding her either surpassed or rivaled that formidable length that had conquered her. There was a nervousness underlying her arousal, the sense that she might not be able to take all that they would dole out.

I have to at least try.

Her thighs trembled as he put pressure on her lower lips, the slick entrance flowering open, the first few inches pushing inside her. She moaned, feeling him throb, that thickness demanding all the attention she could give it.

"Fuck, she feels so good," he groaned, gritting his teeth.

Another push sent more inches into her. She yanked mindlessly on the handcuffs, gasping as her channel stretched slightly.

He cursed again, pushing himself deeper in her clutching heat. The presence of that formidable intruder was intense, a force of power and might that stole her breath, that made her quiver, awaiting the moment when he would begin to fuck her, when he would pound into her slender frame, claiming her for his use.

"Fuck me," she breathed, hitching her hips upward.

He chuckled at her impatience.

Another push further stretched her.

As she gasped for air, he drew back briefly.

And then jabbed into her several times, pumping his thick member with fervor.

Pam cried out, cumming quickly, her back arching so hard that her shoulders hurt. Her sex flooded around the intruder, anointing it with her juices, honoring its inimitable awesomeness.