Sweats

"We're going to get in more trouble..."

She took hold of his shaft again, and leaned forward off the bench, sliding her lips over the head and drawing it into the back of her mouth. He resumed his thrusts, opposing the jerking movement of her head. As soon as the salty taste of precum slid over her tongue, she felt that sluttish urge take full hold over her once more. The others slid their waistbands down and two more sizeable cocks were presented. She took one in each hand, stroking in time with the methodical sliding of her lips up and down the one in the middle.

She swung left, loudly guzzling another until her nose touched his abdomen. She jerked back and forth on this new cock for a few seconds before lunging all the way to the right, and repeating the act of hungrily swallowing the entire shaft, to astounded moans from all three. She moved back and forth down the line, sucking greedily, replete with glugging and smacking sounds, for a few moments each, her hands caressing those not currently inside her mouth, jerking them vigorously, rolling their balls in her fingers. The more she sucked, the more she lost restraint, ravenously lurching to the next in line to take several deep, moaning pulls. Her hips wriggled on the bench, the moisture of her cunt soaking through her dress as the desperate ache to be filled grew and grew.

Whenever she glanced up, she'd see three snarling smiles, expressions of thrilled, objectifying contempt. All of them looking at her like the coked-out suck slut she now knew she was. She felt the arrogant elation of the coke infuse itself with the filthy pride of worshipping random cocks in the open air, and forced the next deep into her throat, holding it there for a few seconds until tears formed in her eyes.

"Bro, this fucking slut."

She let out a delighted groan at the degrading remark and pulled back out, leaving the throbbing cock in front of her drenched in spit, a drooling smile plastered across her lips as she panted and stared up at him in grateful glee. Almost immediately, Long grabbed her by the hair with both hands, pulling her on to him. She barely had time to open her mouth again and in an instant he was in her throat, holding her in place, blood rushing to her cheeks and her eyes strained open, swivelled to look up at the brute in grey sweats who was manhandling her. She gagged once, then twice, and he released her; she attempted to muster an exclamation, and a wordless sound emerged from her throat before it was stuffed again with another cock -- Smudge, to her right, pulling her by the back of her neck and thrusting cruelly between her lips.

She had lost control of the situation completely. While her mind panicked, her cunt dripped more and more through her dress, smearing a wet patch on the bench underneath. She was soaked in drug sweat from head to toe, her body unreasonably warm even wearing a single sparse layer in the night air. They were laughing to each other, remarking on her "throat game" and calling her "slut" and "cunt" while they passed her around by her hair, fucking her mouth for a few seconds at a time and shoving her on to the next. Her thoughts were a blur; all she could grasp was how alive and sluttishly good she felt being used by these thugs, and how perfect another line would be.

Two pairs of hands yanked her up off the bench, and she staggered forward. Her dress, now saturated with sweat and clinging to her body, was pulled up and over her head and flung away, landing in a heap some distance away on the concrete. The three surrounded her, groping at her glistening, naked skin. Sophia staggered between them, falling into each of their arms in turn, three pairs of hands squeezing at her breasts, her neck, smearing her pussy juices up her belly. Her hips instinctively moved to grind against the nearest on -- she'd lost track of who -- her head tilted left and right, her open mouth searching for a kiss and finding only the same callous snarls; eyes directed downwards to gaze at her glorious, beautiful body drenched in cokesweat and tossed between them.

Their disregard for her was overwhelming. It shouldn't have hurt her feelings as much as it did to be denied a simple kiss, and those hurt feelings put a delicious, yearning lump in her throat at her relegation to a convenient set of holes.

The bag came out again. Long, standing behind her, locked her arms behind her back, and she draped her head dramatically over his shoulder, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide and fixed on the powder. A finger scooped out a clump, smearing it across her nostrils, and she snorted deeply, happily. The others took their share as she felt the high throbbing through her body once more, and the deepest yearning to be thrown around and used she'd ever felt in her life.

"Let's fuck this bitch already."

The bump she'd just taken arrived in full as the words hit her, and her response was almost shouted from inside her chest, unbidden: "yes yes yes please fuck me please please please—"

They marched her back to the bench and let her fall forward, catching herself on the backrest and clambering atop, spreading her knees and lifting her ass high, her pussy glistening wet under the amber streetlamp. A hand gripping her left buttock cruelly tight, pulling her open. She felt the breeze inside her and let out a strained giggle at the knowledge of what was about to come.

Her laughter was cut short as the first unbearably hard cock parted her cunt and slid inside her until there was no room left to push. It was the man she'd dubbed Leer. She moaned in thrilled agony, her head hanging over the back rest. She couldn't even bring herself to look behind her. His hips were pressed against her buttocks and she had to push back to keep from being shoved over the bench. He drew out, and slammed into her again, her body lurching, another aching gasp escaping her lips. His fingers dug into her left hip and pulled her into his thrusts; they were brutally hard, fast, and accompanied by the humiliating slapping, thudding sound of her cunt being filled again and again. She craved every thrust. Her mind and body pulsing with the imperious lust of coke on top of coke on top of weed, she felt glorious and impossibly degraded all at once. The night train whore, getting railed like the perfect slut in the middle of the station. Under the veil of her hair, her open, groaning mouth formed a quivering grin, while the stranger's throbbing cock drilled remorselessly into her delicate rich girl pussy.

Amid the pounding, she realised she was only being touched with one hand. She looked up. There were the other two, around the back of the bench to face her with their cocks in hand. She reared up and looked over her right shoulder and saw the phone.

"Um—"

She wanted to demand what the fuck he thought he was doing, filming her under these circumstances. Two things happened instead: first, she babbled "um" several more times as his thrusts continued to pummel trashy, slutty energy up into her brain via her pulsing pussy. Second, the realisation that being filmed compounded her thrill at fucking in public so thoroughly that she let out a delighted, uncontrolled squeal. She arched her back a little more, wiggled her ass left and right on his cock, playing to the camera with pornographic flair. She leaned her head around as far as she could, and eyed the lens. She winked, and with her eyeliner streaming and her lipstick smeared with drool, blew an adoring kiss to whomever the audience might be.

Within seconds, she was being grabbed by her hair, and pulled to face forward. The two other cocks were being waved in her face, and to her horrified delight, both had their phones out and recording as well. She blew another kiss to the camera and opened her mouth to welcome Smudge's sweat soaked prick into her throat once more. The lens was brought close to her face and she stared straight into the black circle, giddy with the knowledge that the screen would be filled with the sight of her pretty face, her gorgeous lips being roughly fucked by her greyclad assailants. She let out several muffled moans, the thrusts from behind pushing her into those from in front. She had no control over her body except to root her hands and knees to the bed and allow her holes to be drilled down, unapologetically deep, rough.

Once more, she allowed them to dictate where her mouth went. The incessant pounding in her cunt was a constant during the greedy tussle over her lips, each man allowing the other a few moments to batter her tonsils before pulling her off by her hair and reorienting her lips on his own wet, reddened cock. She tried her best to perform for the cameras, posing herself as best she could without getting fucked off the bench altogether, smiling unreasonably widely in the brief respite before being made to suck again, rolling her eyes back in apparent ecstasy as the next warm cock slid between her lips, over her tongue, and buried itself in her throat.

"I'm gonna fucking nut".

Oh god yes, she thought, unable to say a word with a cock sliding forcefully between her lips. Inseminate me on a public bench.

"I'm not having your sloppy seconds."

"Yeah man, we're not sticking our dicks in your smelly cum."

She let out an alarmed, muffled groan, and realised with a good dose of shame that this horribly worded argument about keeping her cunt suitable for sharing was turning her on as much as any of it. She let out another, needier, moan as he vacated her hole, and the desperation to be filled again immediately replaced the joy of being used. She heard him groan, too, emphatic and drawn out, and knew what was about to happen: she spread her knees wider and got lower, curving her spine as dramatically as she could. She felt the warm ropes of semen land in the middle of her back, several shots hitting her satiny wet skin and guttering down the groove of her spine, pooling in the small of her back and oozing down either side of her waist.

He had to still be filming. She wiggled her hips more, hoping that the camera would capture the streams of cum oozing off her back.

She pulled back off whichever cock she was currently sucking, and pushed upright, turning to face him. He was standing back, concentrating not on her but on the image of her on his phone as he continued to film. He had tucked himself back into his sweats already. His load continued to stream down her hips. Exhilarated with the fact of three cameras trained on her cum-splattered body on this platform, she struck a slanted pose, sliding her hands delicately down between her breasts, squeezing them for a moment, before tracing a line to her navel. She smiled the cokehead's grin once more, and dared to give a little wave to each camera.

She crawled back up on the bench, the men silent, their mouths open in heavy-breathing snarls as they surrounded her. She lay on her back along the seat, letting her arms trail behind her head. It was her favourite position to be seen in, and to see herself in: spread out, slightly arched, the beauty and tone of her sleek figure on full display. She grinned again as they immediately oriented their phones sideways to capture her full length.

"More" she moaned, leaning a leg out and using two fingers to pull her pussy open. "More cock. More coke." She was craving both too badly to retain any sense of dignity. The warm air blew a breeze over her sweat-laden torso.

Her second suitor, Smudge, mounted the bench, laying his phone on her tummy for a moment while he pulled his sweats down a little further and guided himself in. Like his predecessor he immediately began to fuck hard, one hand holding his phone above her to catch the sight of his cock splitting her pussy open as he shovelled his hard flesh inside it; and the hypnotic bouncing of her breasts as each thudding thrust threatened to push her off the bench. The man whose cum she was now sliding around in on her back knelt in front of her, holding his phone up to her face and carefully tipping out a little more powder on to her upper lip, smearing it into her nose with his fingers. She inhaled hard, coughing and spluttering, her head lolling back off the bench, taking in the sight of the layers of trees rolling off into the darkness, past the platform, as the hooded stranger on top of her leaned forward and redoubled his thrusts. Revelling in her tight little hole, making her feel once again powerless and used.

The bump took effect and she screamed long, uncontrolled yesses into the night. She was nothing but a willing body on a bench for them to fuck. She would let anyone, literally anyone, take a turn on her in this moment.

She looked straight up. Three phones overhead, obscuring their holders' faces. Overhanging tree branches behind. The night sky invisible past the glow of the light. The gentle white noise of the breeze. And the deafening slap-slap-slap of her cunt being fucked as hard as he pleased.

She tilted her head back, still moaning, higher than she'd ever been, loving every thrust that filled her up so aggressively and reeling with humiliated ecstasy. Down the tracks there was a light. A... light. A light, approaching. Fuck. Fuck.

"Ummuh..." she tried to gesture at the oncoming train. "We're... it's here, we have to..."

He slid out of her, and she readied herself to get up, to board the train home. They could find a cabin, maybe, and carry on in secret; or she could detour with them. This wasn't ready to end. But she couldn't miss—

Several more ropes of warm cum shot over her belly and breasts in long arcs. She turned to face him, and saw the phones hadn't moved, and the men had made no effort to prepare to board the train. She looked down at his cock, twitching with each spurt of pale liquid. He'd painted her torso with it, a generous load that was now running down her neckline and into her hair, covering her breasts, pooling in her navel.

She couldn't quite catch her breath or her thoughts. Her mouth was agape, panting, as the train pulled up, the lights of the carriages illuminating the four of them. She turned in shock to look, and saw a long row of faces, revellers and late night commuters, the elderly, some aghast, some amused, some visibly just stunned at the hooded creeps surrounding her cum-drenched body in the middle of the platform.

Her lip quivered, her eyes wide, scanning up and down the row of faces. Nobody departed the train. Some had taken their phones out, too, and were filming and photographing her debasement. Through the cocaine surge and the adrenaline and the sheer euphoria, she barely cared. But the objective humiliation of it caused her cunt to throb for more, and she arched, sensually, her back lifting up off the bench in an expression of sheer excitement. She would be stranded again. And everyone could see why.

She stared, still, with mouth open. The cum that had coated her torso was dripping off her body and onto the bench and concrete. She squirmed a little, stretching her arms out behind her, letting the row of carriages get a good, unobstructed look at her beautiful, used body. The train merely lingered on the platform, and the staring and filming continued.

She let out a stunned howl as Long's, the third and final cock, took her by surprise, filling her in front of everyone and resuming the aggressive, pounding fucking demonstrated by the other two. She turned towards him in shock, and he spread her legs wide with both arms, his friends stood over the back of the bench: one filming her wailing face and bouncing breasts, the other getting a close-up shot of her pussy with hard cock pistoning in and out of it.

The train began to pull away, the whistling and rumbling of the engines overwhelming the slapping and squelching of her pussy for just a moment. She let her head hang to the side and faced the procession of departing passengers, many locking eyes with her, many more pressing their phones against the glass to commemorate her debasement forever. Her transformation into a spectacle, a display of extreme, naked sluttishness, charging her arousal and euphoria as much as the coke, as much as the thrumming pleasure of the cock plunging forcefully into her used, sore pussy.

The train disappeared into the night, and she felt alive with degradation from head to toe. She got up on her elbows and looked her last hooded bully in the eye, moaning, snarling animalistically while he fucked and fucked. Her smooth, pretty skin was a mess of sweat and cum. She couldn't remember where her dress was, or her purse. He had her by her thighs and she was spread wide, and she relished every inch that slid inside her body as he built and built.

She turned to face the camera pointing at her head, and grinned a wicked, thrilled grin, grunting euphorically through her teeth and staring once more into the lens. She knew she was finished; her dignity, her privacy. Their friends would all get a look. Maybe they were planning to upload the footage somewhere. Even if they didn't, the people on the train would. Smudge spoke.

"Tell them your name."

She didn't hesitate. "Sophia" she panted. "I'm a posh slut."

"And what have you been up to tonight, Sophia?"

Her head rolled back for a moment and she let out a groan of pleasure before turning back to the camera.

"I've... I've been getting fucked on this bench."

"By who?"

"By you... by you three."

"Who are we?"

"I have no idea." She grinned and cackled, keeping her gaze trained on the lens.

Long, now fucking her at unbearable speed, moaned "I'm gonna fucking cum."

"Bro, paint her face."

"No, no, don't..." Sophia, gripped by a deep and specific desire, leaned forward, and stretched a hand around his waist, imploring him to stay inside her. She stared into his eyes, her face a disaster of sweat and smeared, running makeup, and gave him a fast, instructive nod. She felt the twitching and pulsing she'd craved so badly. He hunched over her, and she reached a hand up to caress his sharp features as his brow knotted and he moaned, his orgasm releasing rope upon rope of semen into her pussy. Her brow, too, furrowed in delicate elation. The pulsing continued for a good while, and she moaned with him at the sheer thrill of being filled with cum by this stranger, in this strange, open place.

He slid out of her, and immediately his cum oozed back out as well. She savoured the sensation of it seeping out of her pussy, into the crevices of her thighs and her anus. The other two had crowded round to film her cunt as a puddle formed on the bench between her legs.

The night air felt amazing on her skin. She didn't know how long she'd have to wait to go home, or how she could clean herself off. She didn't care, either. As the hooded stranger who'd recently shot his load inside her tucked himself back into his trousers, she reached into his pocket without asking, and pulled out the bag. Cum continued to ooze out of her; she kept her legs wide and let them see. Let them film. She plucked open the bag.