Ex-Girlfriend at Gangbang

She laughed and smiled, her head turning from one man to another while her hand casually stroked the top back edge of the sofa. Occasionally the painted nail of her index finger gently delved and scratched a circle in one of the buttoned depressions. With her other hand, she held a glass and sipped Prosecco while her eyes sparkled with allure. I attempted to judge how much she'd drunk: too much. I watched and saw her inhibitions go off-piste, hurtling down, down, down, towards a precipice of no return called slut.

Her empty hand gently reached out to the bloke directly in front of her in a sham gesture of grooming. Her eyes captured his eyes and exchanged a knowing that only eyes can convey. Then her attention flitted to another of her admirers, giving him a smile, drawing him in, and then turning and laughing loudly at some inanity spoken to her from her left, then laughing more loudly.

How she loved being the sole focus of all that male desire. I saw her complete self-satisfaction and delight and how she revelled in it. She must have to know about the other girls, how the men in front of her could choose any combination of the beautiful and willing females Uri had supplied, any of whom they were free to take and use as they pleased. And so Karen squeezed those men for every drop of attention while in the wings the second team hovered, waiting their moment. A she-cat on heat had drawn in every Tom for miles. I wondered who she would choose.

I observed the minutia of her body language but was too far away to hear her words, but her laughter travelled to me and grated my nerves. I saw her blatant need and so did they.

It took me a moment to realise who the bloke directly in front of her was. He had grown a beard since the last time I had seen him. The site of Jake smiling and flirting with Karen made my guts shrink into a knot of hatred. Jake, keenest of all those men.

Now inches from Karen, he casually placed his palm on the small of her back and drew her slowly to him. At ten-ten but wearing those outrageous Jimmy Choos, Karen was eye to eye with him. An exchange took place in that look. She stated her need; he promised to satiate it.

Then she was in Jake's arms and lost to view. He turned her away slightly, his bulk shielding her from my gaze so that I could only imagine her expression while he enfolded her in his brute arms. I moved my position to gain a better vantage. And when I could see her properly again, I watched her abandon herself to him.

The others thought their chance had gone, and they began to back-off, yet they were unable to summon the will to leave her presence. In their hearts they still held to the desperate hope things were not terminal, that remission might come.

And so for a minute or so I watched Jake and Karen snogging the face of each other while his hand went under the hem of her dress from behind. The others stood gaping too, their envy and silent disappointment thickening the air. Now convinced their moment really had gone, they turned to leave.

But Karen broke from Jake and called out to them. I saw her lips moving, her eyes offering. I imagined her words, "Brett, Tom - no need to go."

She reached out her arm for Tom, beckoning him. Their eyes met, and he understood. He took her outstretched hand, and she drew him close. Then she was kissing Tom while Jake made room for him by easing himself behind her. She leant back against Jake, and his palms captured her hips and pulled her against himself, heaving her soft rump against his crotch while kissing her neck and bare shoulders. His sweaty palms adhered to cloth and caused the hem of her dress to rise as he massaged her flanks.

Karen became the girl filling for a two man Panini. Her remaining suitor, Brett, took a seat on the end of the sofa nearest to where Karen stood fixed in a pincer between Jake and Tom. He watched for a moment and then reached out and manoeuvred his hand so that he could hook it between her legs. Gently then, he swept his palm up her inner thigh, and then let it rise and fall very slowly. I saw how she subtly parted her legs for him. I imagined how the sheerness of her hosiery would feel as his palm travelled up and down.

My mind was spinning by the time they'd coaxed her dress from her. I watched it pool at her feet to become trampled under her heels. It had served its purpose and was now just cloth. She wore no bras, the dress was strapless and had its own supporting cups that lifted and squeezed. Karen, still with a year left as a teenager, she had tits so firm and smooth, still retaining their transient girlish uplift. In the subdued lighting, her nipples looked swollen, in need of sucking.

Others in the room were becoming aware of the knot bodies and its continually altering configuration; the men in their dark jackets, the stark soft white of Karen's naked breasts appearing and disappearing among their bulk. The hubbub of voices faded as, one by one, conversations stalled and all eyes became drawn to the salacious spectacle, dancing ceased as couples turned and stood arm in arm and watched. Some drew closer still, better to see the unfolding depravity. Expressions became those of drivers hypnotically eyeing multi-vehicle carnage on an oncoming carriageway. I know that sounds a cliché - but it really is what their faces made me think of. Conversations no more, the background music, previously slow-dance-romantic stalled. Silence became the soundtrack to debauchery.

Jake and Tom let their mouths move down to her neck, then her chest, their moves looking long choreographed, perfectly synchronised. In the lamplight their spittle glistened on her baby-soft skin, slathering her neck, chest and breasts.

As they lapped and sucked her tits, Karen's eyes scanned the room. Her expression grew smug when she saw how all those present gawped. Then she noticed me and her smile was of gloating triumph. I watched her kissing Tom again as her tongue went Foie gras into his throat, soon reappearing and curling about his in an ostentatious display; an unambiguous, fuck-you-darling kiss.

Brett, the guy on the sofa, leant over the leather arm and reached high for the waistband of her tights, yanking them down with both hands, bringing along her thong too. Her kicking off her heels and then dancing a jig to rid herself of their unwanted tangle of hosiery while she continued to kiss and kiss.

In all, maybe eleven couples stayed to watch, plus the four guys from the reserves. One of the couples moved in real close for a ringside view, standing right next to the action with drinks in hand, sipping from tall glasses not saying a word. The female was so petite, a mousy girl who looked hardly out of college. They stood so close that either could have reached out and touched the two male bodies sandwiching Karen. From time to time the couple shared a kiss, then their eyes back to Karen and her men.

Those men had Karen drop to her knees while all three got out their cocks and lowered their pants. They stood side by side with their trouser down around their ankles, cocks protruding like pegs on a hat stand. God, other men's hard cocks are so ugly. Three in a row was almost too much for me to stomach. I nearly turned and left the room.

But I didn't.

In this version of the old story, the seven dwarves had long gone, and it was the trolls who'd captured Goldilocks and intended to enjoy her before her prince appeared.

Each time, before she took a cock in her mouth, she brushed her thick, long blonde hair away from her face, flinging it back over her shoulders with a brassy flourish.

While she sucked Tom's cock her hands worked the other two, then after a minute she moved her mouth onto the next cock along. The baton passed, she moved on to repeat a winning combination: a cock in her mouth, another in each hand. Her wrist action determined yet thoughtless.

Her skill was too much for Tom. She was just about to move from him to the next bloke when he shot his load. She must have realised her mistake the very moment she took her lips from off his cock. In a flash, she turned back to him, gave a hurried attempt to take it in her mouth again. But she was too late, and his jizz splattered her face, glazed her hair at the temples. I remember the glisten of his cum on her cheeks, clumps matting her hair. Then the back of her hand smearing her lippy when she wiped it from her lips. He shuddered and groaned in pleasure; his sex noises almost a whimper in the large, oak-panelled room.

Then they hauled her up and to the sofa and brusquely positioned her with belly against the deep-set buttoned leather back. They brusquely parted her legs as she kneeled and I imagined bruises. They made her available, arranged her just-so.

Jake jostling to be first. Quickly up and kneeling behind her, jamming her hard against the back of the sofa, her belly flattened against the chilled leather, her breasts resting on the top edge. Quickly his palm between her legs insisting she spread wider still; his cock clumsily pushed forward into the crack of her arse causing her to moan loudly before she took it in hand and redirected him, easing its head into her cunt.

Have you ever watched a bloke built like a prize bull, a slab of a man, six-four of brawn and muscle, fucking a tall but ever-so-delicately built girl? She was slight-soft-flesh between a rock and a hard place: his crushing body mass and the cushioning sofa held her firm in a pincered vice. All his weight against her as he fucked her, forcing her ribs into the leather, her breast began to wobble as they rested on the sofa back, each flanked by her palms clutching tight. The marks from her nails in the leather would be permanent.

Hard thrusts, over and over. The brutal hip-lunges lifting her bodily and threatening to launch her over the back edge of the sofa. But her expression told absolute pleasure. A look of sheer in the moment bliss transformed her usual condescending self-regard into an expression that one might see on the face of one of the beloved on the day of the Rapture.

Then her face was lost to me as Brett came round the back of the sofa and began wiping his cock around her cheeks. She snapped greedily for it, stretching herself to capture it in a mouth now gaping in nestling gawp. But constrained by Jake's implacable mass, there was no hope, and so Brett aimed and lunged. She pursed her lips and Brett used them like a cunt while Jake fucked her actual cunt as if she need teaching her table manners.

When I look back at that moment, it fills me with such desire for Karen that I could cry at the loss of her. Her almost willowy slimness now bent forward like a high diver over the thick leather back of the sofa as she leant over to Brett, to take his cock in her mouth. Jake her pillion passenger, his hands secured on her hips, her thick blonde hair a torrent of wild beauty curtaining her back and the sides of her upper torso. Her breasts now free of that dress resumed their dainty perfection, resting on leather, shuddering at each thrust pushed into her.

I don't think Jake had even cum when he moved aside and let Brett have her. By visual cues and laconic insistence, Brett manipulated her down flat on her back on the sofa, adjusted and positioned as if performing some necessary erotic feng shui. Placing a pillow beneath her back, he had her spread her legs wider than I'd ever seen.

Positioned just so, he loomed over her and descended quickly and was in her and powering deep. His hairy buttocks began their relentless rise and fall, his hips powering his cock with scrum-push brutality.

I still ask myself why I watched. I suppose I was in shock - and also it was a revelation to me: the whole thing turned me on like nothing ever had. Yes, I was outraged, and yes I felt humiliated — but more than that, I became consumed by a sexual arousal of such intensity it overrode all rationality. It swept aside all social expectations of how a man should behave on seeing his girlfriend used like that.

So, yes, I just watched; watched how she raised her knees high and brought them all the way back; watched how she pulled him to her and ran her fingers over his shaven scalp; watched how he pressed her heels into the small of his back. Most of all I watched her face, looking for any signs of the person I thought I loved and who supposedly loved me. She never once closed her eyes, never once flinched. Not then; not later - no matter how many came or went.

When he'd done with her, Brett stood up and laughed out loud and said, "Karen, you really are a slut." As he turned from her, he caught sight of me and held my gaze. The utter contempt in his look was such that even now it makes me cringe when I recall it. I knew then, at that moment, any connection I imagined I still had with the club was gone.

Already the reserve team were in line, some a little sheepish. The first one approaching to asked Karen if it was okay, using his eyes to indicate his desire to mount her. It was as if he were asking if the seat next to her on the train was free.

He did not even remove his chinos, let them bunch around his ankles and kneeled and hurriedly pressed his cock against her. His aim was incompetent and was going nowhere. Her expression was exasperation as she took him in hand and guided him into her. But his furious attempts to prove himself caused him to slip from her on his first outstroke, and she had to take him in hand again and reposition him for entry. To be sure not to lose him again, she brought up her legs to encircle and pincer him, keeping him on track. She pulled him tight into her, and when he was deep, she gripped his buttocks with both palms to steady him, nails digging deep into hairy, muscled flesh. And so with legs and hands, she prevented him slipping from her, though his thrusts grew even more desperate, His jerks inelegant, sordid.

And while he fucked her, the others waited their turn. Three stood close, some already hard, others in need of self-coaxing. Then her hand going up offering aid to the needy.

They saw her state of utter abandon and grew more confident, reaching for her breasts, mauling them and pushing their cocks at her face as she was fucked. Her mouth again snapped greedily, capturing one and taking it deep to graze her throat before letting it free. And again: another caught, tasted and spat out. Over and over; by rotation, one and then another. Begin again.

And all the while one or other of the pumped up players pounded her, fucked her as if they needed to prove something to someone. To me, it looked as if they hated her and wanted to punish her for offering herself so freely. Perhaps a realisation was dawning that it was they that were being used, that they had been tricked into satisfying the needs of a slut.

God! Tthe way they swapped around, one and then the other, over and over. A new scene continually unfolding. The cocks of those who waited wiped across her breasts as the man of the moment fucked. Then all change. One and then another, again and again. Cocks against her cheeks, cocks over her lips. Cocks between wide jaws, grating over teeth. Jizz everywhere, dribbling from her mouth, dribbling down the crack of her butt, dribbling across her belly and over her tits. It was in her eyes, her hair, her ears.

Jake returned for seconds, Tom and Brett too. Then there were four, six. They continued to fuck her, one after the other for another half-an-hour, on and on it continued until one by one, growing bored of her, they slinked away, their cum-slathered, icky cocks tucked away snugly, satiated.

Tom was the last to have her while some of the crowd who'd watched earlier lingered with declining interest. Word was spreading things were about to begin in the banqueting hall, and people drifted away. About half a dozen remained, including the young couple who had got close to the action earlier. The pair seemed beguiled by Karen, could not get enough of watching her relentlessly fucked, their eyes still full of excitement as Tom went through the motions one last time, eventually delivering his final ejaculatory groan.

Karen with eyes full of strange disappointment watched him as he climbed off her and dressed. No words of closing, no thank you, no tender farewell kisses. She lay exhausted on the Chesterfield, turning on her side to rest her head in the crook of an arm propped by a cushion. She looked so bedraggled, icky with sweat and cum, her makeup a disaster, her visage a portrait by Picasso on an off day. She made no attempt to move, or even clean the cum from her face

Little by little she seemed to remember where she was. When she saw me her eyes frantically scanned for a means to escape so as not to face me. When she saw the young couple and how they stared at her, she saw an opportunity. There something she could use in the girl's expression. With an intense look, she invited the girl to come closer, and whispered with emphasised lip clarity the command, "Come here", as if speaking to a deaf person.

The girl looked at Karen and then turned to her boyfriend. The young man saw the excitement in his girlfriend's eyes, and he kissed her gently on the cheek and then bodily turned her, so her back was to him and began to unzip the back of the sparkly-topped, Tulle short flared party dress she wore. It fell away from her breasts revealing their sumptuous glory. He had to tug at it to get it over her hips, but it slid easily down her legs. It fell at her feet, and he stooped to retrieve it. As he did so, the girl stepped away from him and went slowly towards Karen.

The girl was naked apart from a black thong. I later learned she was called Katrina, Uri's niece just flown in from St Petersburg along with her boyfriend. She was just eighteen years old.

And so Katrina kneeled by the side of the sofa next to where Karen's head rested. Without a word she leant forward and began to lick the jizz from Karen's face; off her cheeks and brow, her tongue cleaned obsessively, licking in long, generous passes over Karen's nose and chin, neck and ears. She performed the task as if in slow motion, gracefully and with considered attention.

And then Karen and Katrina were kissing like porn-whores, their need for each other off the scale. How Karen must have relished the girl's sweetness, savoured her fresh, young femininity after the brute masculinity of the men she'd just enjoyed; men she had conjured with her beauty and sexual allure, men from whose bodies she had extracted all they had to give, exhausted each one in turn.

It was a unique sight: Karen shop-soiled and naked, a strange and beautiful girl in her arms.

As for the Katrina, she had watched every second of Karen's hour with her men, her eyes now blazed with want and excitement. By the time she kissed Karen she was volcanic with desire. She gave herself over completely to that kiss, just as she had selflessly licked every inch of Karen's sullied body.

Katrina manoeuvred Karen onto her back and whispered something and smiled. Karen returned her smile and nodded. Katrina turned and looked up at her boyfriend, who had drawn closer, her voice in sing-song sweet Russian telling him, I assume, to join her. He said something back and laughed nervously. Next thing he stood by the sofa and lowered his pants and then kneeled between Karen's legs, who took his cock and guided it into her cunt, which by now was brimming with the jizz of all those other blokes. I saw it seep from her as she spread her legs to accommodate his cock. He said something in Russian and I imagined his words telling of his complete delight in the squelch his cock caused in Karen's cunt brimming with the slops of parted lovers.

Katrina now joined her boyfriend by Straddling Karen's face and lowering herself so that her cunt rested on Karen's mouth, her arse cheeks on her chin. Then she began to rotate her hips over Karen's face while caressing and pinching her own nipples.