The Card Game

Their roles in this final act were the supporting chorus, and they eagerly reached out to take their own body shots from the body my man owned. As he lifted my knees to spread wide the entrance to my pussy, I could feel shot glasses pressing against my tits. Limes dripped their juice down my breasts as my man's hardness pressed against my pussy lips, and I felt several mouths licking, biting into juice half on me and half on the limes, and shots being taken. But my consciousness, what was left of it, was on the sensation as my pussy was spread and his hardness plunged into me. My legs raised, my tits bouncing and being sucked as various men took their shots, and the insistent pounding that was both familiar to me and so very strange, surrounded by so many men yet dominated by the one.

I was no longer able to rise to orgasm; this I was aware of. But at this point, it was all about who was the one who would fill my cunt at this moment. The others could take their sips- whether of his tequila or his woman- and yet in the end, he owned both. It was evident in the thrusts of his still-raging dick; it was evident in the fact that every man still felt the urge to have me, even though they'd had most of their fantasies about me fulfilled. From this point on, every one of them would wonder whenever they saw me if that night would be the next time my man decided to display, to expose or to share me. As he finally clenched his face and closed his eyes for the final thrusts, every person in the room knew that he was the one who held the winning hand. His cum flooded into me, and I knew that whatever the deal, I was in his hands, but those hands would hold me gently in the end.