Seven Strangers and the Promise I Made to Bruno
My legs were trembling and my hands were damp as I stared at the closed bedroom door. On the other side, in the living room, was Bruno, my years-long “friend,” the only one who knew exactly what I liked and how far I was willing to go. He had taken care of everything: he had set up the other six men, taken their money, organized the night as if it were a private event I was the only one missing. They were already gathered. I was still inside, finishing getting ready.
I had put in a big plug, big enough that anyone who wanted to could take me without waiting. I had cold-effect lube between my legs, nipple clamps joined by a fine chain, and over that a red plaid schoolgirl costume that fit me tightly in all the right places. I looked at myself in the wardrobe mirror. The girl looking back at me didn’t look nervous. She looked impatient.
Three knocks on the door and I come out. That’s the signal.
We had planned every detail for weeks. How many there would be, what was allowed, what word I would use if I wanted everything to stop. Bruno had made me repeat it three times before they arrived. “If you say that word, it’s over, no discussion,” he had promised me. Knowing that limit existed was exactly what allowed me to let go without reservations.
I heard muffled voices filtering in from under the door, laughter, the clink of glasses. I imagined their bodies waiting, the tension building in the living room like before a storm. I took two deep breaths.
When the three knocks finally sounded, I felt a spasm rise up from my belly. I opened the door slowly.
***
Seven naked men were waiting for me, standing, all different from one another: tall, broad, some bearded, others smooth-shaven, all looking at me as if I were the only thing that mattered in the world that night. Bruno stepped forward, grabbed the two pigtails he had made for me at the sides of my head, and pulled me down until I was on my knees on the rug.
—Easy —he said, almost tenderly—. We’ve got all night.
He didn’t give me time to answer. He put his cock in my mouth and I looked up at him from below while I felt him filling me to the back of my throat. I choked, a tear ran down my face, and even so I didn’t pull away. He spit toward my lips, though some of it ended up on my glasses, so I drew back for a second and stuck out my tongue so he could aim better. He shoved in again. His saliva slid down my chin while I tried to breathe between thrusts.
Soon the others joined in. I stopped knowing which hand was on my ass and which one was squeezing my breasts. There were so many that the sensation became one thing, a continuous groping that got me so hot I could feel the wetness running down to my knees. Someone tugged on the chain of the nipple clamps and a jolt of pleasure ran down my back. I took turns, sucking one and then another, opening my mouth for whoever was closest.
I was so desperate that gagging stopped bothering me. I grabbed two cocks at once, one in each hand, and took them in turns in my mouth while a third man jerked off over my tits. I could have come right there, from the situation alone, just from knowing I was surrounded and desired by all of them at once.
The floor under my knees was cold, but I was burning. Every time I looked up I found a different pair of eyes fixed on me, and that turned me on more than any caress. One grabbed my chin and forced me to open wide; another adjusted my pigtails to get a better grip. There was no hurry among them. They knew they had time and they took it, and that deliberate calm drove me to the edge of desperation.
***
Two of them lifted me into the air and carried me to the bedroom. They dropped me onto the bed and, before I could get myself situated, I felt the plug being pulled out. They put me on all fours. They lined up behind me, orderly, almost patient, and started taking turns one by one.
Every time I felt the orgasm approaching, the one in turn would pull out and give his place to the next. It was a delicious frustration, a rope being stretched tighter and tighter without ever quite snapping. I learned to recognize each one by his rhythm: the first thrust slowly and deeply, the second was impatient, the third held my hips with a firmness that almost made me beg. When one of them was about to finish, he would pull out and bring his cock to my mouth, holding the chain from my nipples up to stretch them while he emptied himself over my face and chest. The one after him was already ready behind him.
—Look at how well-behaved she is —one said, and the others laughed.
I didn’t mind them talking about me as if I weren’t there. On the contrary, every comment reminded me that I was there for that, that for those hours my only job was to take and give myself over. I liked the way they coordinated with one another, how one held my hips while another swept my hair out of my face, how they took turns without fighting, with an almost absurd courtesy that contrasted with what they were doing to me. When the last two took me at the same time, one behind and one in my mouth, my body reacted on its own: a warm jet came out of me without warning. It wasn’t the full orgasm, but it left me even more on the edge, even more needy.
***
They took a break. They smoked, had a drink, caught their breath. They talked quietly among themselves, laughing about something I couldn’t make out, and every so often one of them would glance at me from the corner of his eye, as if measuring how much longer I could hold out. I was still sprawled on the bed, my face covered and my breathing ragged, and none of them let me clean myself. Hands came back to me between laughs and comments, groping me, reminding me the night wasn’t over. I was almost begging them to keep going.
And they did. They arranged me on my back. Two positioned themselves on either side of my head and used my mouth in turns. Another got between my breasts, pressed them together with his hands, and moved between them. Two more took me at once, one from above and one from below, and just when I felt like this time I was really going to come, Bruno pushed his way in and entered my cunt with one deep thrust.
I love feeling so taken that the body doesn’t even respond. Just receive. Just give.
The seventh grabbed my feet, pressed them together, and started rubbing himself against them, slowly, looking me in the eyes. That image was what finally pushed me over. I came at last. My cunt was throbbing, leaking, and Bruno finished inside me at that same instant. It was like a signal: the others came almost in a chain, over my face, my nipples, my belly, my thighs.
***
They dragged me by the pigtails into the living room and surrounded me. What happened next I had discussed with Bruno beforehand, it was part of the deal, and even so I was taken by surprise by the intensity with which it hit me. I let myself fall to the floor, opened my mouth and started touching myself while they soaked me. They aimed at my tongue, my nipples, my clit. I came again, with another gush that mixed with everything else, feeling like an animal in heat begging for more instead of begging them to stop.
When they were done, Bruno saw them out one by one at the door, shaking their hands as if they were coming back from an ordinary meeting. I listened from the floor, exhausted and still vibrating.
***
He came back, helped me up, and took me to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, sat me on the edge of the tub, and aimed the stream of warm water right between my legs. The pressure on my clit had me on the verge again in a matter of seconds.
—You’re not coming yet —he whispered in my ear.
He turned me around, lifted me in his arms without stopping the shower from pressing against my sex, and started alternating, going in and out, playing with the water and with his body at the same time. He tugged on the chains of my nipples, bit my neck, and I strung orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, without pause, until I lost count. He crushed me against the shower screen glass and pushed with all his strength, no reprieve, until he came inside me once more.
I knelt and cleaned him with my mouth, slowly, looking at him the same way I had at the beginning of the night. He stroked my head, went to get his clothes, and left me alone under the warm spray.
I lit a cigarette, grabbed the showerhead again, and went back to tugging at my nipple clamps while I touched myself. The night was over for them. For me, not yet.
