Wreck-It-Ralph Wrecked My Pussy

Hi, I'm Kellia and this is my first story. Mostly true, some embellished, but I swear every time I think about it, I get so wet, so I figured why not write it down.

I'll start with saying that I can't say anyone is really to blame for what happened in this first story, but that said, there's definitely plenty of blame to go around. I can own my own part of it, but for godsake, there was stupidity on everyone's part, starting with the dumb idea of a costume party. Someone at my husband's work had long ago hosted costume parties of different themes, but mainly focused on some variation of women dressing slutty and men dressing like men do. They thought it would be hilarious to reinvent the party and so we got our invite.

Dave and I had a history where some things had happened along the way that we both enjoyed but didn't talk much about. Hell, all the way back to when we met, there was some weirdness. In college, I think the first time I ever met Dave was when he walked in on me topless blowing a guy at a party. Of course, I didn't know he was there watching the whole time as I was gagging on this other guy's cock like a total porn star and slobbering all over myself trying to inhale as much of that monster cock that I could. Nine inches was almost more than I could handle that night, but I still made him cum - like a frickin' firehose. Seemed like it could have been a pint of cum that splashed all over my face and titties right there in front of my husband-to-be. Honestly, it wasn't the first cock I'd sucked off that night, so maybe the other three...wait, no...four cocks I'd finished off earlier had made it feel like I'd had a pint of cum poured over me. But who's counting in high school or college? (167)

Wait...what was I talking about? Right. To the point: Dave had seen me blow guys. Jack them off. He'd watched me get fucked a few times in his frat house before he thought he wanted his shot. And there was something honest and pure I liked about him. His confidence, his gentleness, his intelligence. He didn't have the monster eight, nine, and ten-inch plus slabs of manmeat like I'd gotten used to. Hell, he barely had seven inches, but I wasn't just a slutty little piece of ass to him and so we hit it off. I can't say I didn't stray back to some bigger offerings now and again while we dated in college (no more than a dozen...or maybe two dozen, but honestly the bj's don't count, right?). But still nothing crazy like the couple gangbangs I'd done before he and I'd declared we were boyfriend/girlfriend and nothing serious with the same guy more than once or twice. Strictly no bareback, too. See, I was a good girl. A flirty girl, still, but a good girl...mostly. And so when he asked me to move in, then get married, nothing, nada, zip, zilch for three solid years of honest fidelity to each other. Well except my bachelorette party, but that's another story and we both told each other to have fun, so no worries, right?

Our invite arrives. Hero's and Maidens. Ok, pretty broad theme. And while Dave knew my history was in the past, he also still loved to think of me from time to time as his private little slut to be on display. And, truth be told, I'd always loved parading around as his little slut. Sometimes, by the end of a night of prancing around in front of people in (and sometimes mostly out of) some slinky little dress with no panties or maybe a sheer tank top with plenty of side-boob and tight little pair of mini shorts showing off just a hint of my asscheeks, my pussy would be absolutely drenched in my juices. So this would be a perfect chance for me to show off for him and then get him home and ride him once I was good and wet. And guess it was win-win because he could show me off in some tiny little slut costume. Thing is, it was really tiny and slutty, and in hindsight, way, way too slutty. The Little Red Riding Hood costume he had laid out for me left more of me uncovered than covered. The top was a sheer gauzy white blouse that just barely buttoned over my 36D's, leaving them on full display with my nipples poking through the thin material. A skirt? Yeah, right. It was like a flippy, pleated strip of red cloth that barely covered my front and definitely left about the lower third of my ass on display with a way, way too tiny sheer white thong panty (that kept ever so tantalizingly creeping up between my pussy lips) peeking out from between my cheeks. Sheer white stockings, check, and a pair of 5" ruby red stilettos, check. The only part of the costume that was semi-decent was the cloak (barely reached to the bottom of my "skirt") and the basket that I could hold up in front of my tits to sort of cover up. Of course, Dave's stupid idea was to put a couple of my favorite dildos and vibrators and bunch of condoms in the basket for me to hand out as a joke!

And then let's call it the shining pinnacle of stupidity that night that Dave decided that we should do a little ecstasy. We'd done X a few times before and always had fun with each other. I guess a few drinks at the house made us not really think it through that we were going to be at someone's house...not ours...and I was going to be in overdrive on full slut parade. So that's how we showed up at the party. Buzzing, about to fly on some X, and me already well on my way to hot and bothered and basically on display.

It was fun. Really. We mingled. Dave introduced me around to several groups of people he worked with, bosses and co-workers. The house was huge. People hanging outside by the fire, inside by the fire, downstairs by the fire. It didn't take long for just about everyone to really figure out that Dave was just showing me off. And so it wasn't surprising that guys ogled me. A lot. And told me I looked hot. A lot. And asked me if my tits were real. A lot. And hit on me. A lot. And asked me to dance. A lot. And one of them just straight up asked me to fuck. Not a one of the guys could pass up asking me about the dildos in my basket and I'd just make sexy little comments about having something handy to "ride"... So while Dave was around for some of it, he missed most of it, especially once he just up and passed out. Literally. He went down like a tree. To give him credit, it was later in the night after a long trip back home from a work assignment earlier in the day and the party had started dissipating a little. But still. Splayed out on a couch down in a dark corner of the basement. So I sat there for a bit, waiting for him to come to. And then I got a little thirsty, so I wandered off - one of several mistakes I'm going to have to own. Like as I wandered off to get something to drink, I'd left my cloak on Dave so he had something "covering" him. And there they were. My tits on full display.

Ten, maybe fifteen steps across the room, and I was at the bar where there were a few folks standing around talking. I helped myself to a vodka soda and lime. Had about two sips before some oversized dummy dressed up as Wreck It Ralph backed into me and my white blouse went from semi-sheer peek-a-boo to straight up sheer and wet. Fuck! He turned around and I think my pussy went just about as wet as my shirt. The guy was gorgeous and the shock of the cold wet had puckered up my nipples like crazy so I could only idiotically grin and say "no problem" as he apologized and openly leered at my tits.

His voice was sultry and soft so that I had to lean in a little to hear him say, "Sorry. I mean. Well, I'm not really...not sorry...cause jesus, those tits are fabulous!"

His hands closed around my tits before I could move. And I melted. I had no resistance. I knew I should have pulled away, said something, said anything, done anything...but I had no response other than to stand there as he mauled me like the slut I was dressed to be, like the slut my husband wanted me to be, like the slut I always loved to be. My only verbal response was a soft purring whimper that started coming from my mouth.

"They feel even better," he murmured.

I looked up from his hands and saw there were three other guys standing there watching him.

"No need for this to be in the way," he said as he literally just pulled my shirt apart like it was a piece of tissue paper. His giant bear-sized hands were on my bare tits, just pawing at me, pinching my engorged nipples and grabbing great handfuls of my tits. I gasped and moaned.

He was like the guys that used to fuck me in college; they knew that my barely audible whimpers of pleasure was the only thing I needed to say to give them the go ahead to do whatever they wanted to me, wherever they wanted and however they wanted. And this guy wanted to do me dirty like the slut I dressed to be so he pushed me down to my knees and just said in that so sexy baritone that was nearly irresistible.

"Take it out, slut."

I should have hesitated. I should have stood up and slapped him. I should have said no. I should have told him that I wasn't a slut. But...I could feel the quiver in my pussy when he said it and the excitement was electric in the air as I looked past him to see the other three guys watching with anticipation to see how I would react. So despite all the "should haves" I can think of that never really popped into my lust-fogged brain in that moment, I did what every good slut does in that situation, I unzipped his pants and pulled them down to fish out the cock that would be using me. His cock was simply amazing. Flaccid but quickly hardening at the excitement of using me and the initial response to my soft hands, he was seven inches like Dave when he was hard. As my hand wrapped around the shaft, lifting the head to my lips as I knew I was supposed to do, his cock kept growing. Now, as I shared, I've had big cocks in my past, but whether it was t I'd taken earlier in the night, the length of time since my last big cock, or who knows what the hell else, I'd tell you it was easily twelve fucking glorious inches of steel hard cock with a ridiculously fat, bulbous head and a ballsack of untold amounts of cum, just twitching to unload. Frankly, as I'll tell you next time I share a story about the next time I encountered "Wreck-it-Ralph" on the dining room table of my house and actually measured his beastly fuckstick, it actually ended up being thirteen inches from tip to root when totally engorged and ready to wreck my tight married pussy. And, by god, it was the cock of a god that night and I knew deep in my soul and aching, twitching, overflowing married pussy, that I was destined to serve it. So, I didn't even hesitate before I gobbled it like a submissive cocksucking whore.

The overgrown, flared, throbbing head that seemed far too wide and round to fit in any human orifice and that produced such copious amounts of pre-cum that most mortal men would think they'd cum already. The long, veiny, pulsing shaft that my hands barely fit around and took two to slide up and down with the pre-cum that flowed and lubricated his fuckstick. His glorious, oversized balls that were boiling with so, so, so much thick, tasty, potent cum and were twitching at the prospect of filling up my pretty pussy, mouth or covering my face (which as it turned out, he ended up doing all three). Then back to the fat cockhead. Stuffing as much in my mouth and throat as I could. I was stroking and sucking and slobbering and gagging and moaning for I don't know how long right up until I opened my eyes and saw another cock pointed at my face.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck," I half-moaned as I licked and slurped and gagged on Mr. Ralph's cock and reached my hand out to the new cock to stroke it and feel it.

Then another appeared on the other side in my peripheral vision. Three twitching, rock hard, glorious cocks pointed at me like guided missiles destined to deliver their payload. My left hand...the diamond on my ring, twinkling in the dim light as I stroked the next gift of my night.

"No, oh my god. Mmmm, more cock."

I shouldn't have, but I wanted to. So so so badly. It had been forever since I'd had more than one cock at a time. Dave was going to either be so pissed or so jealous or just maybe he wouldn't need to know. It was his fault, anyway, kinda, right? If I hadn't let him dress me and parade me around like such a good little slut all night...

So. Two hands. One mouth. Their hands on my me, pinching and pulling my hardened nipples and squeezing the flesh of my naked titties. They pulled my ass up in the air so they could rub and slip their fingers into and all over my oversaturated pussy that was so lubed up you'd have thought I could take a baseball bat. Of course, given the size of the cocks that were about to wreck my married pussy, apparently my body knew just what it was doing. I took turns bobbing my head up and down on one thick slab of cock then another and back to the first then the second and I had spit dripping off my chin and onto my tits and the cocks glistened and throbbed in my hands and my mouth. I moaned and told them all how much I loved sucking cock. How much I loved sucking their cocks. How very very much I loved being a slut and how I needed their cum, needed it on me and in me and how much I loved being their slut right there in front of my husband. They loved it when I told them that...how dirty I was and how much I wanted to be their married cumslut for the night...how much I wanted their fatter, thicker, more virile cocks and cum to use me like my husband never could. But the one I adored, the one I craved, the one I lusted for and would have done anything for the most was Mr. Ralph's monster cock. And then he said it.

"Spread your legs, slut, cause I'm gonna wreck that pussy."

What's a cock-gobbling married whore going to do when presented with that? Duh. I quickly hopped up on the bar stool I was kneeling next to and spread my legs as my pussy twitched and pulsed with anticipation of being fed an oversized pre-cum-drooling cock that by any rights shouldn't ever be near a married woman's pussy. The sheer amount of pre-cum that was leaking from Mr. Ralph's pussy wrecker was probably more than enough on its own to impregnate me, but I knew there'd be more, way, way, way more cum that was going to be filling me up and was inevitably going to leave me knocked up by the end of the night. It'd definitely have to be a Plan B at brunch kind of morning tomorrow.

Mr. Ralph had just pressed the slippery oversized cock head against my pussy and rubbed it up and down across my wet cunt, making me beg for his cock, making me beg for his cum, making me beg to have him fuck my married pussy and put a baby in me, making me beg to cum on his monster cock, making me beg for him to fuck me anytime he wanted and anywhere he wanted, making me beg to be his slut, his whore, his worthless cheating married cum dumpster. And I did, happily and obediently. I begged for it between slobbering breaths as the two other cocks kept dueling for my mouth, one rubbing against my cheek and face while I sucked the other cock. And it happened. I came. I couldn't help it. Mr. Ralph hadn't even put his cock inside my cheating cunt and I came like the dirty whore he'd made me scream out at the top of my lungs. I came loudly. I gushed pussy juice all over his cock and hand and between my alternating cock sucking, I sucked my own girl jizz off his fingers as his cock just rested on top of my thin landing strip with his oversized, cum-filled balls pressed against my drenched, overexcited pussy. His cock reached to my belly button as it twitched and oozed precum like a leaky fire hose made of steel.

And then he did what he said he'd do. Mr. Ralph wrecked my pussy. For nearly an hour. Through four blow jobs and at least eight cumshots across my face and tits (yeah, I know there were only two others...at first...but apparently word got around). Through me constantly begging for more cock and cum and to do anything and everything Mr. Ralph wanted me to just so he'd keep slamming that godly fuckstick into my pussy. Through six orgasms that rippled through my body like I'd never felt before. Through countless pictures snapped by I don't know how many men and women while I was overwhelmed by innumerable throbbing, pulsing, cocks that wouldn't stop cumming all over me and in me. Through at least four position changes during which Mr. Ralph's gargantuan cock never left my pussy and was joined by three different cocks, maybe four, in my ass at different times that left my tight little pucker leaking cum all over his shaft and balls, turning into a froth of white cum that he kept pounding into me. Through at least ten minutes of relentlessly being fucked into oblivion on my hands and knees with my head in my passed out husband's lap all the while telling everyone what a big cock slut I am and how my husband had a dick that would never compare or give me what I needed (he did compare at 7 inches and gave me what I needed, but not compared to Mr. Ralph's pussy wrecker).

And then he stopped. For just a moment. Enough for me to start to panic about why he was stopping. But my panic quickly disappeared and my eyes went wide when I felt it and I realized why he'd stopped. His cock was buried to his balls in my cunt and I felt it - every nerve ending in my pussy was tingling. Massive pulsing twitches of his balls against my now-gaping pussy, tickling my raw and sensitive clitoris, feeling his cum as it traveled up the length of his shaft, expanding and pulsing as the baby making juice he'd promised to spray deep inside started surging into the core of my being. And that was it, literally all I was in that moment, all I'd been reduced to in my fuckslut induced mania, was a needy, wanton cunt that craved the only thing that would sate me - cum, cum, cum and cum and more and more cum. I could feel the powerful jets as his supercharged jizz filled me beyond overflowing. After what undoubtedly was 7 or 8 huge blasts of cum, Mr. Ralph was still spraying his cum everywhere when he pulled out of my pussy, and I was furiously jacking him off on my face and tits for another 7 or 8 long ropes of sticky cum. It was inhuman how much cum Mr. Ralph had pumped inside and all over me. And as I licked and sucked down the last dribbles of cum from his still iron-hard cock, I truly knew that I'd started down a path again that I would be hard pressed to leave. Well, and hard-pressed was exactly what happened as the last five or six guys at the party who I hadn't already jerked, fucked or sucked descended on me with their hard-ons needing to be relieved.

I think I passed out after about three hours of being passed from one cock to another to another. I'd love to tell you more, but it was a bit of a blur as I quickly lost count of the number of times men had cum on me or in me when I'd gotten to ten, eleven - twelve, somewhere in there. It could have been double that by the end of the night. In fact, I'd later find out from some video a few folks had taken and pieced together that the best count was twenty-nine, but some of them went twice. My husband's co-workers reveled in defiling me and making me promise to fuck and suck them at their office and in the board room and on my husband's desk and just about anywhere they wanted. They knew I would and I now knew I would, which again...another time, another story.

In the ensuing fuckfest, my clothes pretty much disappeared except for my tiny little thong panties and my high heels. So, when all was said and done, I walked out of the party wearing only my tiny little drenched panties that did close to nothing to stop the deluge of cum leaking out of my overflowing pussy and ass and smearing down the inside of my thighs as I walked. A couple of the guys were kind enough to carry my still oblivious husband to the car but of course wanted a quick bj there on the front lawn. They added to the cum that was plastered all over my face and tits.