The Party

I want to watch cocks harden when my legs are spread, to know the effect I'm having on all of them, watching you take me. Only your fingers go in my pussy. You could show them how wet I am, how hot I get when you suckle me. Maybe somebody asks - "is she into watersports? do you control her pee, too?" and you grin and say, "watch," thrumming your fingers over my pussy and whispering "release" into my ear as my pee sprays through your fingers for everyone to see.

Someone gets me another glass of water without being asked. You start rubbing my pussy as the other volunteer suckles and the onlookers tune in with more interest. "She could cum for you, too," you mention casually, as the volunteer moans against my breast - he's just gotten a spurt of warm milk in his mouth. My other nipple is dripping and spraying a little for the others to see while you talk and touch.

The crowd murmurs appreciatively at the show we're putting on, and an excited hum ripples through the crowd when you suggest that I cum for them. "I need an extra set of hands," you say, like a magician looking for a volunteer. A girl steps up, confident and ready. You strip my panties off so everyone can see better. You position her between my legs and instruct her to push on the base of the cock, thrust it ever so slightly deeper.

"She cums hardest this way," you explain, as if this is a classroom. "She'll cum pretty much however I tell her to, but she likes it best when she's filled and stretched, with some movement. Since we started working on bladder control, we've also been working to get her to squirt when she cums." People nod, as if taking mental notes. The girl starts up a rhythm, push-release-push-release. I open my mouth and tip my head back, arching my back into the suckler's mouth, pushing my pussy toward your hand. I'm breathing hard, not caring what sounds I make.

"Good girl," you say quietly into my ear. I relax into it, close my eyes. Someone asks if they can massage my feet - their own fetish, not particularly mine, but you are happy to give them use of this part of my body we don't particularly connect with. He digs his thumbs into the arch of my foot and I moan, the sweet sensation of a foot massage mingling with the building pressure in my pussy. He moans, too, taking a few of my toes into his mouth, watching the proceedings.

You know my body well enough to know the signs that I'm close. I start tensing, holding my breath, saying "please? please? please my I cum?"

"Ask them," you reply. I squirm. You push down on my bladder, stroke my clit faster. "Please!" I burst out, opening my eyes to see that dozens of people have their eyes locked on us. "Please let me cum, I'm so close, he's going to make me cum, oh please, I can't stop, I - PLEASE!"

The hearty chorus of "yes!" and "cum for us, sweetheart" rings in my ears and I let go, twisting and spasming and screaming in rapture. You motion all the volunteers away, and they do. The cock falls from my tired pussy, coated in thick white cream. You lay me back on the couch and curl up next to me, latching on tightly and holding me close as the crowd begins to disperse.

You're lying next to me and holding me in your arms and I can feel your cock through your jeans against my soft skin. I made your jeans wet. I'm sorry. Your hands are wandering all over my breasts, my ribs, belly, dipping into my pussy. It's slick with cream and want and I moan a little, lifting my hips to your fingers. I want to feel full again. I want you inside me. You slip two fingers into my pussy, so warm, inviting, my muscles grabbing at your fingers. I want it.

You thrum your fingers against my g-spot and I start writhing, burying my face in your shoulder as my hips move, crying for more, more. I can feel the tension and the pressure building, but I'm missing that sweet stretch that brings me right over the edge.

"You want more?" you whisper into my ear. I can hear you grinning as your fingers press harder inside me. "You want to be filled all the way up, don't you. It's not enough for you. It's never enough."

I nod into your neck, burning with shame. Not enough shame to stop, though. I do want more. I want more and more and -

"Ask for it," you breathe, pulling your fingers out and rolling on top of me. My legs reflexively wrap around your lower back while your cock teases the entrance of my pussy. Tiny, featherlight kisses on my neck and breasts. It feels as desperate as tickling.

"Please?"

"Please what?"

I burn, squirm, whimper.

"I'm not going to give it to you unless you ask, sweetheart."

"Please give me your cock!" It comes out as a desperate whisper, but I've barely finished the sentence before you sink deep into me, filling my pussy. Giving me what I need.