The Gangbang Club Pt. 01

That's right: these seven guys came in me twenty-two times. They didn't all perform equally, though. Poor Frank, try as he might, did me twice (front and back) but just couldn't get his sore dick up for a third round. All the other guys did me three times, and I believe DeShawn and Kevin did me a whopping four times. Bravo!

It got pretty messy, I'll have you know. The bedsheet was covered with sweat, male come, and my own juices. But I was the one who was the real mess. After a while, they'd stuffed my lower orifices with so much of their discharge that I was full to overflowing--so then they started coming on me instead of in me. I think these guys were pretending they were in a porn film and were delivering what is called the "cumshot." Very important! I really didn't mind. But they did come all over me--my back, my butt, my thighs, my breasts, my face (that's called a "facial," in case you don't know), even my hair. (That was a bit annoying: when the come dried, it made my hair all clumpy.) One guy--I think it was David--was in my vagina, and when he was about to come he pulled out and, holding his cock firmly in his hand, poured out his seed right onto my thick bush, like some gardener watering a lawn. (Yes, I have a bush: no shaving for this gal!)

It was quite a performance--by them and by me. But at last it was over, and they happily put their clothes back on and began sauntering out of my place, proud of a job well done. One of them gave me an affectionate slap on the fanny and said, "You were fabulous, Mabel!"

A girl does like to know she's appreciated.

I was lying on my stomach on that untidy bed, just wondering how I'd ended up like this but not at all upset. I'd kind of made up for my year-long sexual drought in one fell swoop. That made me chuckle. But I was also exhausted.

It was only a few minutes after the last guy left that my wayward roommate, Jill, drifted in. It was now past one o'clock in the morning. I guess she'd wanted to make sure that the last pathetic remnants of my dismal party (as she assumed it would be) had finally dissipated before she came back home. As she wandered past my bedroom door, she stopped short as she peeked in.

"Jesus, Mabel!" she cried. "What happened to you?"

I guess it wasn't a common sight for a girl to find her roommate lying naked on her bed with come all over her.

When she tiptoed into the room she made a face and said, "Whew! There's a smell of sex everywhere!"

"Got it in one, Einstein," I said, barely able to turn my head and look at her.

Jill really couldn't believe what she was seeing. She knew about my unwilling celibacy, but to see me in a very different situation was flabbergasting to her. Kneeling down next to my bed, she said, "Is this what you guys did at your party?"

"Well," I said, "it wasn't exactly planned, but that's what happened."

"Who did you sleep with?"

I chuckled at that. "Who didn't I sleep with? That's a better question."

Jill was appalled. "You--you did more than one guy?"

"I did seven, if you must know." I said it with some pride.

"You had sex with seven guys." It came out as a statement, although I could tell that she was dumbfounded at the very idea of it.

"Yup."

"One after the other?"

"At the start. After a while they did me two at a time--"

"Eew!"

"--and then three at a time."

"Three at a time!" Jill almost screeched. "How's that even possible?"

I stared at her as if she was a moron. "Use your brain, sweetheart. There are three places in a woman's body where a man can insert his thing."

"You mean your mouth?"

"Sure."

"They came in your mouth?"

"You bet they did--six or seven times."

"Yuk! I hate the taste of come."

"Well, I'll be honest with you--it's not exactly like a hot fudge sundae. But it's okay. I guess I like the idea of having come in my mouth better than the reality." I looked sharply at her. "There's one other spot you're not mentioning."

She had to think about that for a while--and when it finally sank into her, her jaw dropped into a perfect O of outrage. "You're saying they went--into--your--behind?"

"Of course. You're telling me you haven't done it that way?"

"Not on your life! I'll never let a man do that to me!"

"Why on earth not?"

"Because it's disgusting!"

"Oh, I don't know about that."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"The first one hurt. After that, I got opened up, and so the guys just slipped right in."

I thought she was going to be sick. She kept gazing at my prone form as if something wasn't quite right.

"Why is there come all over your body?" she asked in deep perplexity.

"That's just what happens. Guys splatter."

"I can't believe you had sex seven times in one night."

I guffawed at that. "Girl, you don't know the half of it--or should that be the third of it? The guys did me twenty-two times."

Jill seemed close to the point of fainting. She had to clutch the edge of the mattress to keep from keeling over.

"There's no way a woman can endure that," she whispered.

"Sure there is. I could probably have done a few more, if I were in good practice."

"Did they hurt you? Did they rough you up? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"Oh, Jill," I said impatiently, "calm down, will you? I'm fine. A little tired and, um, sore, but fine. The guys were all sweethearts. You can't believe how grateful men are for free sex. They're not going to mistreat a girl who offers them her body the way I did."

"I think you're crazy."

"Well, maybe, but I have to say it was a lot of fun."

Jill struck me as something of a prude. The idea of even a single guy doing her more than once at a time struck her as the ultimate in debauchery. So the thought of seven guys doing me three or four times each--well, that was almost beyond the comprehension of her little mind.

"You better get yourself cleaned up," she said, frowning deeply at my messy condition. "Why don't you wash off all that stuff in the shower?"

"That would be an excellent idea," I said, "except that I don't know that I can walk at the moment."

You know how a woman sometimes says, "Yeah, my man did me so often that I can barely walk"? That always struck me as silly: why would getting a cock into your various orifices on multiple occasions make you unable to walk? But it seemed to be the truth. My legs seemed pretty weak, probably from being hooked over a guy's thighs when he was pounding me in the missionary position. And when I got into doggie-style position, that made my knees ache. So I didn't trust myself to be able even to stagger to the bathroom and take a shower.

Jill heaved a sigh. "Lemme help you," she said, in some belated spasm of female solidarity.

She had to help me get on my feet--and she made the job harder because she didn't seem to want to touch me anywhere and get some of the come-spatter transferred to herself. But that couldn't be helped. She made all manner of complaints as she dragged me to the bathroom. When we got there, all I could do was hang on to this metal bar inside the shower stall as Jill turned on the hot water. That felt real nice, but she realized that something else had to be done.

"You need to be lathered up," she said, lapsing into a kind of mother mode. "Just rinsing off isn't going to do it."

"Yeah, well," I said, "I don't dare let go of this bar. I'll just fall down in a heap."

Once more she let out a sigh of weariness. "Oh, all right, I guess I'll have to--"

I didn't know what she was thinking, until she started undressing.

Yes, folks, she was going to make the supreme sacrifice of getting in the shower with me and soaping me down.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye. Of course, I'd never seen her naked: I really didn't even know her that well, and we'd agreed to be roommates just because we couldn't find anybody else for the job. But as she peeled off one piece of clothing after another, I realized she was--well, she was a hot little item.

Jill was about an inch or two taller than me. She was slender, but had some spectacular curves here and there. Her boobs were (I will admit grudgingly) bigger than mine, but they were also exquisitely firm and shapely. If I were a man, I would have begun salivating as soon as I looked at them. And the curve of her butt was about as heartrending as anything you'd find in some Renaissance painting. She was built, this girl!

Which made me wonder why she herself wasn't getting a whole lot of action. I knew she wasn't. She'd fled my party, not to cuddle up with some man, but to meet some equally bereft girls who would lament about being unjustly deprived of a penis they could play with. Maybe it was her reluctance to do certain things (like back-door sex) that had made her persona non grata among the lascivious boys on campus. But I wanted to tell them: Guys, you don't know what you're missing.

Anyway, she did a thorough and efficient job of washing me. It's quite an experience to be bathed (or showered) as an adult. I wouldn't at all have minded if one of the guys tonight had done it, but I was happy to take Jill as a consolation prize. Feeling her hands all over my body, foaming me up with the body wash we used, was really heavenly. I wanted to stay in that shower forever. But at last we decided I was cleaned up to a more or less respectable level, and we got out of the stall and dried ourselves off.

Jill went the extra mile and changed my sheets for me. I think she just wanted all traces of my outrageous decadence to be out of her sight. After that, we both went to bed (separately) for a well-earned rest. I fell asleep almost at once.