The Fucking Nucleus of the World

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At a certain point it became obvious to me that I needed to cross a new sexual frontier. I craved unique experiences that would leave a mark on me, perhaps in several ways. I needed excitement, I wanted something to remember and, upon this realisation, I sought a similar, but more experienced, mind.

It dawned on me that I had already met such a person, and that he had in fact also introduced me to BDSM. He was perhaps even the reason why I desired to become completely absorbed in my sexual excursions.

I loved his mind more than anything else, but he had a charm to him, an enticing smell that would draw me in and a way with words that enamoured me. Where I lacked refinement, he possessed it; admiration turned into adoration. I loved the side of him he divulged to me, and he, in turn, adored my perceived character.

It wasn’t the first ‘gangbang’ that left an impression on me, nor the second, but rather the third. I can barely remember the first two. We discussed about where he was taking me this time and how it would not leave me disappointed; he expected me to be ravaged.

Before leaving for this excursion into the nameless, I had to make sure that my husband was suitably entertained for the evening. I was leaving him in the arms of a gorgeous redhead whose attitude mirrors our own experimental nature. I kissed them both deeply before watching them wrap themselves around each other. I fed off their enjoyment, it gave me a deep sense of satisfaction as I disappeared into the night.

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A mixture of trepidation and excitement filled me as I waited for him in the bar. We both shared an extreme need for thrills, for that rush into the unknown. It’s not about sex per se, it’s about the exhilaration of doing something unprecedented.  I ordered two drinks, both espresso martinis. A slight energy boost was definitely required for the night’s activities. Although we rarely met in public, he had made an exception this time, another risk I could tell got his blood pumping a shade faster.

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I set myself with as much grace as I could afford him and awaited his arrival. He described to me where we were going and warned me this would be a rougher experience than I was used to. I drank my cocktail and pondered my imminent situation. It was going to be quite the night. Liquid courage now consumed me as we continued to the next step of our depraved voyage.

We were going to a gentleman’s club with unique side entertainment. I was my date’s gift to them, and I knew it. More than anything else I crave a thrilling and lasting experience. In this case, I wanted them to know they would never have anything or anybody better in their lives.

We shed our garments and chose a room where he closed the door and I placed a basket of condoms, plus a bottle of lube, on the bed. I looked up at him and he was physically shaking with excitement. I am always the voice of calm, although inside I was drinking in the feelings he was radiating. The room was encircled by a throng of mirrors giving the ability to see everything from any angle. We kissed passionately for a short time until I got on top of him and started riding his cock. Then came a knock at the door.

Initially, he let five guys in, all naked, all holding hard cocks. I continued riding my date, trying to catch their eyes as I gazed at them, searching for some kind of connection. Before I knew it, a thick nine-inch cock had been thrust into my mouth and I soon had one in each hand, with two more looking on and touching themselves. Game on. My date retreated to the side of the room to play voyeur at the ensuing beautiful chaos.

They treated me like a doll, twisting me to their desired positions. One wanted me on all fours as another stuffed my mouth. One lifted me on to his cock as I faced him and took another in my mouth. I was laid on my side, held upside down, my legs were held apart. A small, energetic man licked my cunt, another drove his tongue deep into my ass. I felt like I was in a swirling tempest, being pulled in every direction as I was pushed to a whole new level.

When two of them came in my mouth, my date ushered them out and invited others inside. At one point, he later told me, there were nine of them pawing at me, twisting my nipples, fucking me, whispering filth into my ears. My date ensured the ones who fucked me wore condoms and, if they came in them, he forced me to eat the contents in front of the admiring group. It only tended to make them more sexually ferocious.

This particular gangbang changed me, giving me a level of confidence that I didn’t possess previously. As satisfied men left and newcomers arrived, I took control, I took over everything as I became the fucking nucleus of the world. If the guy was inept I told him to fuck off and took another instead. I instructed my date to choke me while I was fucked by a guy who can only be described as a machine. I told him to call me a slut, I told him to call me a whore, which he did. The others joined in. My date spat in my mouth and choked me some more. I was calling the tune. It all filled me with a fresh vigour and intense excitement.

As I looked into their eyes I could tell how much of an amazing time the men were having. They knew this was as good as it gets, the best lay of their lives, and it was more of a turn-on than anything I had ever envisioned for myself. Then came the crown jewel of my night, a man with fingers like no other began to play with me. I don’t know what he did or how he did it, but it hit the spot like opening a faucet. It is the only time in my life I have squirted myself dry, there was nothing left, and it was everywhere. My face was glazed with cum.

Eventually, our session came to a close and I took in the tableau of debauchery that remained. I had fucked somewhere between seventeen and twenty guys, I wasn’t quite sure, nor was my date. The entire basket of condoms had expired and the room, with steamed-up mirrors and soaking cushions, told the same story.

As I made my way home on the train, I realised that not only had I just been gangbanged by twenty guys, but I also looked it. I was sitting there drinking a coffee opposite your vanilla suburban housewife. My hair was soaked with my own squirt and my mascara was running down my face like the tears of a fallen angel.

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