The Magnificent Seven

It had started as a joke.

No, it was never a joke.

She felt herself smile as memories started to cascade through her head. Words and moments she had forgotten, or, in certain cases, knew she would never be able to not recall. Didn't want to forget. It was like going somewhere on holiday and the thing that stuck with you the most wasn't the obvious; it was a view coming round a corner that took your breath away unexpectedly and made you pull the car over so you could just keep filling your eyes. It was walking footsore and looking for a drink into a plaza in Rome after being at the Vatican and realising you'd stumbled onto the Pantheon and being punched in the gut by the raw elegance and beauty after five hours of marble and saints. It was...real. What got you? Got you. And there was no point arguing or pretending.

I love watching bukkake. Like, lots of loads.

I've never met a guy that didn't like to see that. I've not watched any - think that's more geared towards those of us who have cocks

Oh, for sure

You really are a very filthy boy...I like it

Did you google it?

No, I knew what it was, that was just a general comment of appreciation.

So, no, never a joke. A question, asked and answered honestly by both.

More like...testing the water? She hated that expression, but as she sat there, body angled forward on the stool so anyone looking (and she was aware by now there were several) would get a clear view of décolletage, she had to admit it was the most apt. She liked to think it meant test the water, dangle the bait, let it toss and flow in the current like the little insect it was meant to resemble, and then...fish hooked. Or, she thought, as she felt her phone buzz with a text, it could mean dip a small part of your body in to make sure the water wasn't too hot. Which was the far more accepted and likely explanation for the phrase, but she liked the former.

You don't have to if you don't want to. I know I said go bring home cock, we talked about it so often. I was just joking.

The laugh actually made it past her lips. No, it wasn't a joke.

She hadn't been lying when she said she'd never watched an actual bukkake. Not multiple, never thought to. When he asked though..the first time a guy had said 'I want to cum on your face' her first thought had been 'knock yourself out, I'll just kneel here...this is like effort free for me. You want to and I'm letting you. Perfect closed loop'. And the he'd done it...standing over her, cock fat and full and fucking gorgeous and her mouth had ached to feel the ridges of skin and the smoothness of the head and her pussy was leaking and then he motioned to her with a quick nod and she closed her eyes tight, and he...let go. Her face was upturned and she stuck her tongue out hoping to catch a taste...it landed, hot and urgent. One, two, three, four, five landing points. Cum kisses on her face. She felt it start to run down her forehead, nose, cheeks, right side of her neck, tracking over her upper lip. Caught some on her still-outstretched tongue and curled it into her mouth. Looking up at him, she'd felt like what she really was for the first time. A whore. A dirty filthy fucking whore. And when he said that she started to think...about more than one...about more than two...about being on her knees for cock after cock after cock after cock. About feeling that powerful and owned at the the same time.

And she knew he was being honest when he said it flicked his switch. It nearly radiated off him. Vibrato underneath the words. He sent her gifs, almost gingerly at first, then bolder, once he realised she wasn't afraid or having a girly fit. That she liked it. That it made her wet and him hard. That the thought of a woman on her knees being painted, coated, covered, destroyed by cum by multiple cocks, unable to open her eyes? Killed him stone dead.

That was a long time ago now.

She turned in her stool, letting her long legs dangle for a moment before recrossing them. More eyes than before were paying attention now.

That it was tonight wasn't an accident. What they both wanted would be here. She realised she was twisting her ring absentmindedly. She'd wondered if she should wear it or not, but had reasoned that the type of man...men she wanted, were the very type that wouldn't be put off by it. Besides, she knew he'd want her to be wearing it later.

Cuckold porn?

Yeah, it's where the wife fucks a guy while her husband watches

I know what the word cuckold means. Just never watched that either.

And she hadn't. Could count on one hand and not get to the pinky finger the number of men she'd known who didn't act like her person, her mind, and especially her cunt, became their own personal fucking property the moment they put the mental label on it 'mine'. For however long that might last. The quiet, feminine part of her enjoyed it in a certain way - grow up as a female and you get it shoved down your throat (unfortunately not literally) that a man wanting you, dating you, being possessive and jealous is a sign he loves you. Therefore you have achieved. The part of her, the main part, the part that made her flirt and laugh and simply enjoy the company of men on their own behalf, the part that reacted to the word 'whore', the part that loved looking at, touching, being touched by men, the part that made the hair on her arms and neck rise involuntarily and her pussy weep uncontrollably when she was hot. The part that reacted to every single word or image he'd sent her. The wanton part. Wanton. That was the word. And old-fashioned one, but the correct one. That was what she was. And he not only understood it, he gloried in it.

And, as she shook herself out of her musings, she reflected, not for the first time, that there was a difference between a man thinking he owns you, and knowing you belong to him because you want to. The reverie, however inadvertent, had not been in vain - there were at least seven men tracking her movements as she swung a low glance across the room

No accident. The place, the night, the not slutty but..evocative dress. Bright blue and black zigzags, clinging to her curves, velvet open toed heels and hair tumbling down in waves. They'd fantasised about it so much, and it wasn't that there was a need or lack of anything, not even close...she permitted herself a well-satisfied smile for a moment, it was just...the idea of being wanton, while he watched, had stuck like the fishing fly she thought about and wouldn't let go. Nor for him. Testing the water indeed.

'Oh, yeah, that's fine, but just so you know? The Vikings have their senior teams breakup that night. We're closing off the inside for them, up but it might get a bit rowdy.'

And that? That innocent query regarding a booking for Saturday? Had unleashed the thought once and for all. When she'd told him he'd sat stock still, smiling at her. She in turn had pushed him into the couch, hands stroking and rubbing his thighs, turning inward, pulling down his shorts and taking his cock straight into her mouth, looking up at him as she worked, his hands in her hair, watching and twitching both, eyes locked, knowing they were going to do what they were going to do tonight.

'Hey'. He was about six foot, brown hair, blue eyes. Very nicely built. And had been watching her for the last half hour             .

She tilted her head and smiled.

'Hi'. She let her gaze deliberately sweep down his form and back up, managed to stifle the giggle that the little frown, followed by the little sideways smirk that always crossed men's faces when a woman assessed them as openly as they did flickered across his face. She could almost see the words 'I'm gonna fuck her' pop, fully formed, in large sparkly letters, to the front of his brain. She inclined her head towards the other side of the restaurant where almost fifty men were congregated, drinking, laughing, no doubt retelling stories of their seasons exploits, and absolutely no doubt overselling 'their' moment. She didn't begrudge them that at all. Was one of the few ways men were free and allowed to be men. Although she did nearly laugh out loud at the memory of a man she'd worked with physically recreating a play and informing her that they all got out of the way 'when the D-Train was coming'. Well, the D-Train never did get to cum, but she was absolutely determined there would be several arrivals later tonight. She turned her attention back the first catch, swept a look up at him from under her eyelashes and asked him if he was lost.

'What? Oh, no, yeah, it's our club break up. I just thought it looked more fun over here'. He gave her a a smile and leant against the bar, body inclined towards hers, his arms and chest tensing against the wood.

She gave him points for that. Confident but not cocky. She never had had time for men who didn't know what they wanted. You don't ask? You don't get. She decided her was allowed to ask and deliberately used her left hand to reach for her drink so the discreet gold band caught the light, recrossed her legs and said that she thought he was probably right. She saw him register it, saw him process, saw him think quickly that ring or not, she was sitting, had been sitting, at the bar for almost forty five minutes by herself and was giving green signals, saw the moment he did not give a fuck. The sparkly letters won. He flicked a look towards her drink.

'Can I buy you another? I'm Ben, by the way, in case you have rule about not accepting drinks from strangers'. She looked at him and imagined what his cock looked like. A brief hot flash of her kneeling in front of him seared through her brain, sticking out her tongue to delicately tease the head with her tongue in a slow circle over and over...flick the tip over his opening...moisten her mouth, readying it...she held that thought and deliberately let it show on her face as she let out a little breath and accepted the offer.

As the first fish stepped away down the bar to order she scanned the room. The watching eyes were still watching and she didn't want to put them off. She made sure they all saw her head turn, saw her take her hair in both hands and pile it on top of her head lazily, let it fall down and shake it out. Made it abundantly clear she had not 100% decided on her options for this evening.

Turned her phone face up and sent a quick text.

How many did you want?

She knew the answer. She just loved asking. And he loved telling her.

At least five baby. More if you can. Plus daddy.

As Ben slipped into her vision again holding her wine and his beer, she shot a look over his shoulder at the assembled Vikings and thought that she could very much accomplish that. She caught they eye of another one, blonde and not her style, but even taller and obviously trying to catch hers. She let out the reel with a slow look and ran her hand down her thigh. He saw.

She smiled. Two down.

A half hour later she assessed the table they'd shifted to. From left to right, Ben, Sam, Jamie, Marco, Riga (last name is Rogowizc, turned into the diminutive at high school he'd explained), and..her eyes settled on the last one...it wasn't that she cared, she just though she should be able to remember...and he'd want to know their names afterwards. Jacob! That was it. Jacob. She smiled internally at the fact his mum had probably breathed fire every time anyone had tried to shorten it to Jake or Jack. The fact he was still using the full one at the age of...about 25 in her estimation? Meant mum had won.

All and none of them were her type. They were built and fit, and their bodies...no, their cocks, were the only thing she was interested in. Mind you, she hadn't thought he was good looking when she first met him. Mostly his fault - she hadn't realised he had teeth for the first day or so, and then he smiled and she realised they were in fact there. Her first thoughts had been 'Big guy...and that's a world class scowl'. And then thought no more about him than that he existed. But he kept smiling, and one day she realised she liked it.

She looked down at her lap to help smother the smile that she knew was on her face. Looked back up. Whatever any of their names were, they were all looking at her and pretending not to. She leant back, making her breasts shift forward, let her arms go loose by her sides and said she needed to use the bathroom. As she got up she dropped a quick wink at Ben, swung her handbag over her shoulder and very, very deliberately swung and dropped her hips as she walked away. It took all the restraint she had to not turn around and look at her assortment - she could feel the eyes and the waves of lust that were following her...cocks tingling a bit and already imagining scenarios in their heads.

Six. I have six...I think...I think this is actually going to happen???

The response was rapid fire

Fuck me, are you serious?

Are you sure?

I know I want this, but like I said you really don't have to if you don't want to

For a moment she stared at her phone, he knew her better than that, surely? The way they both were, that was what they'd both discovered, it had exploded out of them and it was amazing, it was raw and honest and goddamn it was hot as fuck. She'd never felt it quite like that before - the sympatico, the easiness, the...honesty. It might have started as his fantasy but it had unlocked something in her. Her phone buzzed again.

You're my whore.

You're my dirty little cunt.

I know you want this.

She slipped her right index finger into her mouth and sucked it slowly, pressing her tongue to the skin as it slid over the mid joint and up to the pad. There he was. She tapped quickly, hit send.

Of course I do. I am, you know it.

And she was. He owned her whilst simultaneously understanding she owned herself. Knew he'd kicked down the last wall and that she hadn't needed a helping hand to step through. The sense of understanding and freedom still took her breath away sometimes.

She deliberately redid her make up to kill some time, fluffed her hair, turned in front of the mirror so she she could see what they saw. Placed her hands on her hips and ran them down her flanks, slipped a hand around and cupped her ass, gave it a squeeze, thought of the six men at the table, arranged them in her head around her as she knelt, hands behind her back, head tilted back, tongue out, face there for them. Ready for their cum. Ready to be a dirty little cum whore. Her pussy gave a twitch and her back arched as she exhaled, head rolling back almost involuntarily.

Should be home in about an hour baby.

She started back, she'd been gone for long enough to let them properly think and talk, glanced to the left as she wound her way back to their table and almost stopped dead. The girl was in her late teens and breathtaking. Golden brown hair waved down her back, full lush mouth, she couldn't tell in the light what colour her eyes were but she could tell the look they were shooting her was not friendly. She held the look, returned a calm gaze until the girl broke, turned back to what was obviously a family dinner. She remembered being that age and not wanting to be seen dead in public with her parents. Guessed this had been a pay off for being allowed to go out after. She stood for a moment, had a better look. God she was gorgeous. Not tall she didn't think, but her light blue dress showed an enticing amount of leg, and the bodice was tight enough to inform anyone who'd care to look that there was very good pair of tits there. Smooth, golden skin, and oh, yes, as she got another dirty look shot at her, a hell of an attitude. She knew she'd never met this girl before, so she was slightly confused at the look until the girls eyes shifted slightly then came back full force, anger clear across her otherwise lovely features.

She looked over her left shoulder - maybe it wasn't her? And realised. The girl was looking at her collection. Had probably been watching as she, Ben and Jamie had settled there and the rest had arrived like osmosis, cock drawn.

Without missing a beat she smiled, lips curling up on the left. The girl frowned, not expecting that response. She shrugged lightly, made a discreet wave that encompassed the family table and risked a quick head nod towards her. Turned and walked on, shooting a look over her shoulder that very very clearly said 'come on then baby girl. You want to play? Play'.

She sat back down, squeezing behind Ben and Jacob, knowing her hip brushed both of them as she did so. She looked across at the sulking girl and smiled, not unkindly, but in a way that made it clear she knew the girl wanted to be her and was probably not used to another female commanding that amount of attention. It was actually one of the reasons she preferred the company of men - you get more than two women in a room it's a statistical certainty that one of them will take offence at something and sides are taken in a silent, bitchy, nonsensical Cold War without any actual words being exchanged between the agitators, and that grudge would be nursed longer than the last finger of 12-year old single malt scotch.

With men you could laugh, with men you could talk about things other than babies and handbags, and men certainly laughed easily around her. She was well aware she wasn't as gorgeous as the young girl sitting disconsolately with her parents, but men had always liked her back, and not just for the long legs and enticing shadow of cleavage on display tonight. Hadn't always gone down that well with the wives, partners, girlfriends or whatever label suited of her male friends and colleagues, but she was shrewd enough to know that one wasn't actually about her - it was that whichever woman it was didn't like her? Said more about her relationship than it did about any intent or desire she had towards a certain man. No, what they didn't like wasn't her, it was that they didn't trust their man to say no if she offered him a taste. She recalled one wife storming up to her at a Christmas party and almost spitting at her that her husband was always talking about her. Given that she was his boss and his closest work confidante and support, that was hardly surprising. But no, this woman didn't want to say thank you or to get to know her, she just felt the need to say 'Lee says you're amazing, I don't care, I just needed to see if you were hot', scanned her up and down and then spun on her heel to no doubt berate and give (the absolutely innocent) Lee the cold shoulder for the rest of the evening, and probably the better part of the next week. The girl was looking at her the same way that woman had. Resentful and jealous.

She turned back to matters at hand. Speaking of, she'd established that of her collection, Ben was newly single, Sam and Marco were casually dating, Jamie had a girlfriend that the rest rolled their eyes about when he mentioned, Riga was married although that hadn't stopped him from trying to eye-fuck her every time he caught her eye and Jacob was hooking up with a girl with hopes of it becoming something more.

'So what about you then?'. Ben reached across and grabbed her left hand. 'Where's hubby?'. His smile was teasing but there were layers there. He was closest to her and she felt his left thigh shift and rest against hers. A brief flash of inspiration and she took out her phone, tapped out the text quickly, read it aloud as she did so and showed it to Ben as she hit the send arrow.

My new friends want to know where you are. Think they think I'm being a very bad wife indeed and you have no clue

Took less than thirty seconds for the reply to arrive. She read that out as well, and her reply.