Time for Some Fun Pt. 19

With a powerful groan he sank into her and ejaculated rope after rope of cum from his spewing cock into her cunt, flooding the head of his orgasming cock in even more heat, prolonging the orgasm that would be unrivaled for the rest of his life. He saw white. Aria was in turn cumming around his cock suctioning him in like she needed even more of him, even deeper. And when his head cleared enough that he remembered to breathe, and he blinked his eyes clear he was already pushed aside from his unforgettable experience giving his own sister a creampie, he sat on the ground in disbelief. His cock throbbed and an urge resounded in his mind. He needed to do it again. His penis throbbed back to life and he re-entered the fray for a second round.

Two more men took their turns fucking starlight into her eyes and Aria began to wonder, in that little place of her brain that was still capable of wndering things, if she could even tell where one of her orgasms ended and the next one was forced to begin. At some point a man had climbed up onto the table to straddle her chest and sandwich his penis between her supple breasts. At this time, she had been licking two cocks at once and chanting "ohgodohgodohgod YEEEEESSSss" as a particularly long cock penetrated her in such a way that he scraped relentlessly on her g-spot. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head with that one, and she squirted and came like she was having a seizure.

At some point, a familiar familial cock was in her face and she sucked at it zealously. Aria was being fucked from behind like a spit roast, and Jackson happened to briefly make eye contact with Pat, his former drinking buddy who was now reaming his little sister in front of his very eyes. Pat nodded at Jackson, and a strange acknowledgment formed between them in that moment. Muttering under his breath, Jackson whispered "No homo" and came down Aria's throat.

Pat was in an odd position, as well, as he was frankly manipulated by Frank into lying back on the sticky table that the sex doll of a girl had been on, now holding her like a lover, and not just seeing the face of a young model-esque beauty being fucked silly, but also seeing the cum coated face of his own step-daughter, Hannah, superposed on it. And the taboo of it would have made him buck his hips up harder.

Frank had frankly noticed that Aria was moaning unintelligently while intermittently begging someone to please fucker deeper, faster, yes, or 'there'. She may have been experiencing the pleasure of her life, but she had asked, before this orgy had turned into the debauched gangbang of his wildest fantasies - and he remembered this explicitly - to be fucked until she screamed. And he knew how to up the ante. He was frankly too big, but it was too hot not to make happen. So after pulling Aria up off the table and pushing her onto the random man who happened to be in her at the time, he pushed the bartender towards Aria's bouncing ass cheeks and told him there was another hole in need of fucking. Frank sauntered over to Aria's head, where she turned to welcome him with her tongue, and enjoyed her expression as a rock hard cock, lubricated by the juices of one of her earlier orgasms, pushed into her behind.

Just like Aria had requested, as she experienced double penetration for the first time, she screamed. It wasn't painful, as she was so loosened and wet from the non-stop cumming, she was just so FULL. And all too quick, a hot load shot into her ass and it was empty.

"Please, more" she drooled. "Fuck me more. Fill me mooooore. Please fuck my ass." As is not to leave her pussy feeling lonely in it's undertakings, someone quickly filled the void. "YeeeessaaaaauuuuuAAAAAAAAGHGHGHGG!" Aria began to scream again as her orgasm transformed to something mind numbing and all encompassing. It was slutty and it tingled and it screamed inside her body, zapping her every nerve and rendering all her strength useless as she was rewired to a spasming peak. She squirted violently, , followed by gushing volcanically. Her clit and her nipples poked into the carressing finger of the men around her like steel needles that burned and zinged and pulsed. And as if her arousal were contagious, the few fucking men still standing, pleasuring her and pleasuring themselves, spurted onto her.

They took turns cumming in her, and on her, and just as her brain short circuited, a brief tenth of a second of clarity burst through the euphoria that wrapped her in it's ejaculating embrace. She froze time.

She lay there, on the floor now, wet with her own cum and the sperm of a dozen men soaking into her pale skin. She had no strength in her muscles, not even to move her head away from where Frank's girthy beer-can cock was pressed and spurting semen against her cheek. She just lay there, quivering. Her body wasn't experiencing post-orgasmic bliss. She was s t i l l c u m m i n g. "Ahah" she whimpered, as with a twitch of her lower lips, a large dollop of thick white ooze was pressed out of her convulsing tunnel, dripping down to meet the twin stream of white that ran down from her anus. She felt like her clit was buzzing.

She continued to cum like that for two would-be minutes. Suddenly, her muscles all released and she relieved herself where she lay and passed out. And the world was quiet, as if purely to let its special daughter rest.

When Aria woke up from the deepest sleep she had yet experienced, she ached all over. Groggy, she wondered what exactly had happened to her. What the fuck was this thing digging into her cheek. She turned her head and was eye to eye with a one-eyed snake. And the snake was spitting at her, but also not moving. Smiling, Aria put the tip of her tongue to the snake and dug it into the urethral hole that was frozen in time on its last spurt of an orgasm.

Aria tried to get up. But she couldn't move. Shit, had they fucked her so good that they broke her? Oh god. She felt like she had died and gone to heaven and woken up in the part of heaven that was like hell or prison for people who had been bad in heaven and punished oh so good. It took all of her strength just to roll over onto her side. She regretted it immediately, because now she could see the floor and oh dear sweet lord the floor was disgusting. She flopped back down on her back, and she winced at how there was a splat noise.

She started to giggle. It welled up in her, bubbling from her chest. It made her lungs hurt, and her muscles ached, and she felt like there were pins and needles on her erogenous zones, which was kind of nice in a "oh god what the hell is this sensation" kind of way. She looked up at the ceiling and laughed and laughed and her face was lit up by the most charming smile anyone could imagine, only it was a little bit ruined with how her face had been ruined. Her hair was a mess and caked in semen, matted into birds nests that defied gravity. Parts of her face glistened oily from the thickened liquids that rested in the groove between her nose and cheek, and in her dimple. She imagined the tiny little sperms that wriggled on her pink lips. Pink, like the hickeys that littered her body.

And she basked in her feeling of post-orgasmic glow, and loose muscles like she had gotten a Swedish massage but by the entire population of Sweden. And she got grossed out by her state all over again and that sent her into a new fit of cute and girlish giggles that was juxtaposed by the mature, xxx womanly heaping mess that lay on the floor.

Time. That was a good time. She had fun. Frankly, she would do it all over again. For some reason, the word "Frankly" made her giggle. To be frank. Lol. Imagine if a guy in this bar was named Frank. That would be wild. She snickered and chuckled, and in a most unladylike fashion, she chortled. Really, someone might think she was a girl without inhibitions by the sound of her. She was a lady at her utmost, frankly. Tee-hee.

But seriously, it was a bit of a problem that she couldn't get up. She wobbled a bit on the floor, trying to move. And she giggled. Somehow stirring up some dust in the one dry patch of floor, she sneezed.

She sneezed while she giggled. Her mind, that was both foggy but clear in her strange sexual enlightenment throbbed, just at the moment she sneezed. And she laughed. And this weird sense of release boomed in her brain in a way her brain hadn't boomed before, waking up a function that hadn't been there before. All because she had laughed, sneezed, and had a spiritual orgasm all at the exact. same. time.

Nothing happened. But that sensation in her brain. That expanding and breaking, she knew it. She had felt something not quite like it before. Aria's powers had awakened the moment, what felt like an eternity ago, nearly twenty chapters of her life ago, even, when she had coughed and sneezed all at once. That had all been about a strange inhale and exhale meeting in her brain, causing a glitch, a freeze of all processes, that had exploded, no... imploded outward from her mind.

But this was a much less physical sensation. It was... not quite healing, but it was something that stitched up wounds. Or unstitched them. Aria had the funniest feeling that maybe the world was always meant to be frozen, but that time was a wound that carved a long scar into existence. And the feeling in her brain... that was the feeling of being able to mend that wound.

And thinking of wounds made her think of the wounding of time and the winding of a clock and being winded by the exercise her body had been through. And the wounding of her tender body by those steely members that prodded and penetrated her body. And how that had been a fun time. And so she laughed again and then time unwound.

Time unwound. But time did not unwind. Time unwounded the scars that it was. Aria unwound. And was thus unwounded. This...this all made sense to Aria. It wouldn't make sense to anyone else. To anyone else, what happened wasn't even that time unwound.

What it did mean, was that while time remained frozen and the world remained still and a beer-can cock was jizzing into the nothing where it was crouched from where a nymphomaniac once lay, the time within time undid its scars. Aria felt strength return to her limbs. The many oozes and goos and filth on her evaporated into never having been. Aria was filled with energy and life. And as she clambered up from the floor, she found herself clean, as if all that had happened had never happened. Except for the fucking, of course. And she stood naked in the frozen bar and was a day younger than she had been when she had originally walked into it.

The fucking stayed, though. While the sperm that had wriggled its way into her fertile womb disappeared, it's trails remained. While the injuries were gone, the caresses were there. While the physical traces of everything were gone, undone by time being undone, the ethereal parts remained.

That is, to put things frankly, all of the bad was gone, and all of the good stayed. That's why it was like healing a scar. So Aria felt amazing. She was well-fucked and glowing in orgasmic bliss. But her body showed no signs of what happened, except for the relaxing pleasure.

She wondered if she could put this newfound skill to use. She closed her eyes and focused her mind outwards. Her goals felt like a trigger she needed to press. And in order to pull the trigger, she did what all of her adventures from the moment she had sneezed in the middle of math class had culminated to.

She smiled. And suddenly, the world rearranged itself. The men in the bar were cleaned. Their clothes in their discarded corner where Aria had carelessly tossed them as she undressed them were cleaned, even of the old stains they possessed long before their owners walked into this bar. The puddles on the ground were gone. The cameras in the building were fixed, as if Aria had never madly swung at them with a chair while balancing precariously on another chair. And of the cameras, though, a peculiar phenomenon had occurred...

And with everything fixed, and filled with an inspiring vigor, Aria left the bar, along with every trace she was ever there. She erased the scar of her time.

When the world came to, a bunch of naked men looked oddly at each other in a bar. There were men on the floor, collapsed in chairs, a few standing in a circle around an empty space on the floor. One man awoke to time while squatting on the floor, a thick cock in his hands, ejaculating the final two spurts of an orgasm, but despite jizzing... there was no jizz. And there was no cheek cushioning the throbbing tip of his Big Ben and redirecting his glorious shots. After a few seconds of exquisite blank-shooting, he stood.

The men continued to eye each other oddly in the bar. Everyone knew what had just happened. But in a moment of euphoric not-light they suddenly knew things had changed. Most apparently was that even though every man in that room had been exhausted just moments ago, they were filled with energy, like that massive fuckfest had never happened. But it was like it had happened. Every man felt satiated and content and they all knew that they had just fucked their brains out. Their balls were still empty.

Secondly, the girl they had all been so blessed to tangle themselves with was gone. The details of her face were gone, but not the impression of her beauty, or the sound of her moans, even though they could remember her voice. The men were all clean, not even remotely sweaty like they had been pistoning and groping in a musty sweaty conglomeration of sex, which they all knew they had been doing.

Someone found the pile of clothes and hollered out to the others. The men quietly dressed. A few of them whispered to each other conspiratorially, but there was so much confusion about what happened, and satisfaction, and guilt about how they didn't feel guilty about what just happened, that mostly they all just left. Two of them even remembered to pay for their drinks.

The bartender fled to the backroom. Jackson and Pat, however, sat together. They were both uncomfortably sober. And Pat had a lot of questions. And Jackson, well, he had a lot going on. He and Pat felt a little different from the rest of the men who had been in the bar. Less like they were blessed. Both of them felt satisfied, but despite that, they both felt lust like they had before the blonde had walked into the bar and changed everything. And they, unlike the rest of the bar, were not empty of semen. Rather, they were full of vigor, even more than before this all began.

Pat asked the dreaded question. "Was that your sister?"

And Jackson stayed quiet, because something inside him was still unwinding. And when it finished, he looked up and said "yes."

Jackson was still attracted to his sister. But he no longer yearned for her. His lust was just fetish and admiration. But the wounds of their twisted relationship were gone.

"And you're into that kind of thing? Well, I kind of know from our earlier conversation, but... has anything changed?"

"Yes, but... no?" Jackson was puzzled.

No one, however, was more equipped to understand what Jackson was going through than Pat. Because he had that same taboo fetish for a hot blonde teen who was related to him. And he had his own wounds unwound in a similar fashion. He was thinking about his step-daughter. He was thinking about how excited he was when he was hammering that mysterious sister of Jackson's and how it was even better surrounded by others who worshipped that glowing body.

And Pat could not help but to suggest something strange, that felt instinctively right to him. He turned to Jackson and began to say some really weird shit. But it was right. He said: "Jackson, my daughter - step-daughter - is a big slut. And frankly, she's a dumb slut. And she is hot as hell."

Jackson really didn't see where this was going, so he just nodded along.

"She is such a slut, and I already told you a bit about this before, that she has several boyfriends who she just treats like fuck buddies. And once, she called me in the middle of getting screwed. And I got so fucking horny. And angry. And jealous. And when she came home, I was ready to punish her. But it became more of a BDSM kind of punishment. Jackson, I've done things a parent should never do with their child. But at that moment she wasn't my child. She was my bitch, my hot little slut."

Both of the men were aroused again. The story continued. "Jackson, I think I'm going to keep doing those things. I'm going to fuck my daughter. But I also want what's best for her. And I'm not that. I want her to have a steady boyfriend. And I want that to be you. Jackson, I want you to fuck my daughter."

Jackson was stunned. "And Jacky boy, I'm going to fuck her too. And I want you to be her boyfriend. And mostly, she's just going to fuck you. She's going to have a relationship with you. But one guy isn't enough for a slut like her. I think between the two of us, we can manage her. And I don't know why, but I trust you. Something tells me this is what's supposed to happen."

Oddly enough, this offer sounded right to him, too. "I'd have to meet her first, before I decide."

"You saying that, that makes me feel even more like you're the guy for the job." Pat stood up from his seat and reached into his pocket, pulling out his keys. "We're going to meet her now, okay?" Jackson got up and followed him out. "Hannah is going to love you."

Jackson got one last surprise. "Hannah? Are you... wait. Sir, I think I have something to tell you. I may have fucked your daughter." As they drove down the street towards Pat's home, Jackson detailed the story of how he and Hannah had met, the kinky shit they did, and how she kept calling him Daddy when he spanked her.

Pat didn't even miss a step "Perfect. That'll make this even easier. Although," they pulled into a large driveway in the upper class suburbs. As Pat locked the car door behind him, he chuckled, "We'll have to have a talk about which one of us gets to be called Daddy."

That night, Jackson and Pat participated in their second, albeit smaller, orgy. And Daddy was right, Hannah loved it.

The bartender ran to the back room as soon as he had, to some extent, comprehended what had happened. He was so going to be fired if this was found out. And so he went to erase the camera footage. But as he pulled the files up on the Windows 7 computer in the pantry-cum-office, he saw the oddest thing. Rewinding the footage to the start of the incident, he pressed play.

The bar door swung open. Everyone in the room looks to the door, then slowly looks at the counter. As if in a trance, the men start moving toward the bar. Suddenly, the bartender was yanked forward by an invisible force and his pants fell down. Shortly after, suddenly all the men in the bar were naked. No undressing, they just blinked into their birthday suits. A young man then walks to a table in the middle of the room. He gets down on his knees and begins licking at... the table. Some of the men start wrapping around the table. Two men began suckling at the table as well, further up. The ones at the head and arms start humping the air. One man on the side humps the table, even.

He himself on the footage is standing at the left behind the young man sucking on his fingers. He clearly remembers the sensation of the girl's toes in his mouth, and smoothness of her heel in his palm. But could he really have been sucking his fingers? No, he knew what happened was real. But? The man a few feet to his right, Frank, a regular who works at a shoe store shared his foot fetish. The bartender remembered seeing Frank masturbating with the girl's foot, because he adopted the idea himself a minute later. Yes, and there it was! Except, neither of them was holding the girl's feet. They were both just standing there doing some strange, two handed masturbation.