I sit in the green room, waiting. I feel sick from the restless butterflies, and I'm wringing my hands while staring at an exit door that I'm only a hair's breadth away from walking out of. That's a lie. I wouldn't walk. I'd kick off my black heels and run as fast as I could to put the pressure, waiting for me in the studio next door, behind me. I wonder how I let myself get wrapped up in this, despite having so much to lose. But then the deep-seated desire, the elemental need inside me convinces me to stay; to take another deep breath and stop my leg from shaking.
The tap, tap, tap of my clicking heel stops, and I can clearly hear the sound of my beating heart and shuddering breath. I bet a hundred other women have sat on this couch with the same thoughts running wild through their heads. But, they were here to make money, right? My day job pays more than I can spend. I’m here for something else entirely.
This was an opportunity that I just couldn't let slip away. In my mind, leaving was the equivalent of turning away a glass of ice water while crawling through the desert, dying of thirst. For a long time, I've known that this was something I not only wanted but needed. I suppose college was the perfect time to explore my kink, but, for better or worse, I had the discipline to focus on my studies and leave school with a master’s degree instead of a mess of venereal diseases. But, occasionally, I look back and wonder what I missed. I imagine some sort of depraved sorority hazing; a cruel, but satisfying, challenge that would have had me sucking and fucking half the football team. I know that if I’d gone down that path I would never have found my way back. I would have been a dropout, hopelessly lost in my obsession. It frightens me how easily things could have gone differently.
Now, just a few years out of college, the temptation is testing me again, threatening to ruin my future; a wonderful life with a man I can’t wait to marry. I've kept my fetish a secret from my fiancé, fearing the truth will send him running. I have a recurring nightmare where I return home from the office to find him on my computer, scrolling through the gigabytes of pornography on my hard drive. I see him grimacing at folders with titles like Cum-soaked Sluts, Gloryhole Swallows, or Bukkake Whores Vol 3. I always wake up feeling terrible, and afraid I'm going to lose a man I love very much. But, I can't change who I am. All I can do is make sure I keep myself under control when we're in bed and change my password regularly.
And now, here I am, sitting on a leather couch that smells of stale sweat and sex. I’m relieved that it's free of semen stains or someone might find me bent over, licking the cushions clean. Maybe I should be committed; thrown into a padded cell and muzzled. Occasionally, the door to the studio opens to let a crew member through. For a moment I can see the cameras and the lights beyond and I can hear the men; the sound of their shuffling feet, the murmur of their conversation, and the director's instructions. There must be dozens, and my pulse begins to quicken with excitement.
The door opens again and the director's assistant pokes his head through. “Hi, Emma,” he says, “we’re all set up and ready to roll. How about you?” He says it so casually despite what’s about to happen, and I’m amazed at the things people become desensitized to.
My only response is an anxious nod, and he beckons me to follow. I stand up, my legs shaky, and smooth the wrinkles from my skirt. I adjust my top, making sure my breasts are perfect. They are. I brush a lock of hair from my face and notice that I'm still wearing my engagement ring. I follow, telling myself that Jacob will never know; reminding myself that they're paying me for what's about to happen. But, I know in my heart that I'd be happily paying them if they asked.
I’m on my knees, bare from head to toe, and trembling from the sensory overload. The crowd of men is gathered around me like beasts at a watering hole. The studio lights have turned most of them into vague silhouettes; a faceless source of grunts and labored breathing as they pleasure themselves. The sound that fills the air as they stroke themselves is hypnotic: a wet squishing, and slapping as they bring themselves closer and closer to release. The air is thick with a raw, masculine stink. The bright lights and the cameras had me filled with performance anxiety. But, now something’s happening to me, and it’s threatening to steal away my control and tear it to pieces. It’s a prospect that both terrifies and excites me.
Unprompted, I open my mouth wide in invitation, letting my wet, glistening tongue loll out. An image of the primal watering hole enters my mind again. But, I’m the one who’s parched, like a lithe and graceful gazelle that laps at the water’s edge despite knowing that predators lurk. And now, two of those predators stalk close, their turgid cocks, slippery with pre-cum, are only inches away from my face. I can feel the heat, they’re so near.
For a moment I worry that my makeup isn’t perfect. I’m being silly. My friends and family, not to mention my fiancé, have always said that I have a face that belongs on the cover of a fashion magazine. I’d be lying if I said they were wrong. My face is perfect and my heart races as I imagine it covered with the cum of these beasts, my mascara running down my cheeks along with their thick, warm loads.
I’m so lost in thought that the first spurt of cum makes me jump in shock. Reflexively, I pull my tongue back in, gasping. The sound of his first squirt is surprisingly loud and the impact against my upper lip is like an explosion. I quickly turn my face to make sure his next pulsing spray goes into my mouth. The cream hits the back of my throat and my lower lip is glistening with his seed. I can feel his massive load on my tongue, which I extend once again to catch as much as possible. The pride I feel at that moment surprises me. Not an ounce of shame. The head of his cock is pressed against my lips, and every pulse that runs down his rock-hard length is accompanied by a bestial grunt. His sperm is heavy and thick with soft clumps. I can only hope that the rest of these animals can give me more of the same.
The next man is as hirsute as his cock is fat. His thick member is beet-red and bulging with blue veins. He smells of musk and sweat, and not unpleasantly. I place my hands on his hips and start running them up and down his thighs with encouragement. My fingers run through the thick fur like I’m petting an animal. I stare at the purple head of his manhood as he strokes it furiously. A heavy pearl of pre-cum jiggles at the tip, threatening to drip on the floor. I can't resist darting forward to lap it up, worrying that it will go to waste. It’s too much for him and I feel the muscles in his thighs suddenly tighten, and he lets out a groaning sigh that makes me shiver in anticipation. His cum-shot is thick and yellowish and so hot it seems for a moment like it’ll burn me. The first pulse splatters against the inside of my cheek, followed by four more powerful jets that soon form a pool beneath my tongue.
I've never had so much cum in my mouth before. I pull my tongue back in and roll it around the collected semen. It’s thick enough to chew and I feel like I can identify each individual rope of jelly-like sperm. I won't say that it tastes good. It’s very bitter, with a taste that defies description. You could only say that it tastes like something that comes from an animal's loins. But, there’s something about it. Something virile and primal. Something that triggers a part of my brain and fills me with satisfaction; a pure and perfect joy.
As I shudder with pleasure, I can't help but feel guilty, thinking of my fiancé. What is he doing right now, as I service these men? Is he shopping for groceries? Carefully checking the labels to make sure he doesn't buy something I'm allergic to? Is he making plans and preparations for the wedding, which is only a couple of months away? Is Jacob thinking about me? About how much he loves me as I kneel here before these perfect strangers, eagerly awaiting the semen they've been waiting days to ejaculate into my mouth, or on my face.
What if he sees this video? I've been thinking about it for the last two weeks. Trying to work out the odds and what he or I would do in a dozen different scenarios. I don't think he will. Why browse the internet for pornography when he has me? A vital woman in her twenties, with a perfect face and a dancer's body that would do anything in bed that he could dream of, and more. But, what if a friend of his sees this? Would they tell him straight away? Or come to me first, demanding favors in exchange for their silence. What if one of them is in this crowd of huffing brutes, waiting for their turn? Would I take his cock into my mouth and down my throat? Then work the throbbing shaft while staring into his eyes, urging him to empty his seed into my stomach? I keep telling myself no, never! But, I know I’m a liar. I'd be begging him to keep quiet. I'd promise to suck his cock and eat his cum, and let him fuck my asshole whenever he wanted. Any time of day or night, just don't tell him! Would I be doing it to keep from hurting my fiancé, or for my own sick pleasure? I don't know. I don't think I could ever know.
But, now is not the time to dwell on it. I don't have the luxury of time. I have a job to do and a mouth that can hold way more than it already is. The first two men have already shuffled off, lost in the crowd. The next one moves in. He's older and overweight, and he strokes his uncircumcised member as he stares at me with a fevered intensity. I'm mesmerized as he masturbates. The way his foreskin scrunches up and then pulls back to reveal the slick and shining head fills me with excitement. I reach out to fondle his scrotum. The wrinkled sack, damp with sweat, hangs low and has a solid heft as if it were filled with stones. I look at him with sincere gratitude, my big, wet eyes, and long lashes triggering his orgasm.
His first errant shot goes wide, barely grazing a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. I grab his cock and press the head hard onto my cum-slick tongue. I gently squeeze his testicles in encouragement and he doesn't disappoint. Pulse after pulse of rich, warm semen slithers down my tongue to join the rest. I wrap my lips around the tip, sucking hard; trying to vacuum out the last string of sperm from his quivering urethra. He lets out a shuddering gasp and has to push me away, the spit-slathered head of his cock emerging with an audible, Pop!
Before I can blink, the third donor is swallowed by the crowd and three more men have replaced him. They're pressed close together and the sour stink of their musk makes me lightheaded. They stare into my mouth with indescribable lust; past my glossy, crimson lips and into the sloshing pool of semen. They're almost fighting for territory as they position themselves for their shots and the cameraman struggles for a clear vantage.
The first one lets loose prematurely, the first thick rope landing heavy on my cheek and across my nose. The others follow suit like falling dominoes and now the cum is flying; a cross-fire of spurts that soon has my chin and my lips plastered. I can feel the heavy shots that splash into the pooled semen in my mouth and the dripping globs that run down my neck toward my pert breasts.
I'm in heaven, or maybe hell. I can't tell. But, I spread my thighs a bit more and reach a hand between them to rub at my dripping cunt. The tips of my slender fingers circle my swollen clit before pressing inside the warm wetness. I let out a moan of pleasure as the threesome retreats; strings of cum stretching between my mouth and their cocks as they pull away. I smile as I feel the weight in my mouth. It's very full now and I'm struggling to keep what I've gathered from leaking out. I feel like I'm going crazy and so are they. The whole room feels fevered and desperate.
The men can barely control themselves now. They push and press against one another, trying to get closer. It's all the director and his assistants can do to eke out a measure of order from the building chaos. I admit, I wouldn't mind if they gathered around on all sides, six or seven at a time, to drench every inch of me. But, I know there's a product to make here and I have to set aside my selfishness.
The newcomers surprise me with their varied performances. Some give me thin, watery cum-shots that spray like squirt-guns. Others squeeze out thick, oozing loads like something you'd pipe onto a cake. After four more shots, my tongue is swimming in the collected semen and it feels incredible. I'm just about at the limit of what I can hold. The director gives me the signal to swallow. He's harried and sweating and occasionally I see him rubbing at the bulge in his pants. I shake my head, nearly spilling a bit, and hold up a finger to tell him, “One more.” In return, he gives me an exasperated shake of his own head but motions for the next man to step up.
But, this one is hardly more than a boy, barely out of high school if I had to guess, and he reminds me of my first boyfriend. We were both freshmen at university, and I scared him off after our first few awkward sexual experiments. I couldn't control my kink back then, and, strangely, I'm anxious that this one will run away too. He lets out adorable little moans and sighs as he strokes himself, his eyes half-closed. I reach up and pull his hands away. We lock eyes as he stares at me in surprise. I grasp his cock, but gently. My small fist pumps up the slick shaft until each of my fingers has rolled over the ridge of his glans and the ball of my thumb has brushed across his drooling dick-hole. I then run my hand down his swollen length until my grip is nestled in his downy pubic hair before giving a little squeeze. Seeing the golden loop of my engagement ring, with its diamond glittering in the bright light, rubbing against another man's cock thrills me, while also striking me with more than an ounce of guilt.
The boy is flushed and trembling and I know he's close. I give him a little nod, so he knows he has my permission to cum. After another full pump, we both get our reward. He cums like only a teenager can. I'm barely able to close my left eye before he glues it shut with his first powerful jet, and much of the spurting semen is deposited on my forehead and in my hair. The rest of his cum strikes home. Rope after thick rope of sperm splashes against my teeth and the roof of my mouth. If I could have managed it, I would have thanked him. All I can do is give him a smile before an assistant pulls him away to make room for the cameraman and my close-up.
After receiving the loads of ten men, I'm well and truly at my limit. I've seen videos of women who can take fourteen or fifteen at once, and I'm filled with envy. The director gives me the signal again and I gaze at the scene around me. They've all spread out to get a good look and the assistants are struggling to keep them from blocking the studio lights. I'm not sure I've ever been the center of so much undivided attention. I feel like an actress at a red carpet premiere or a fashion model strutting down a runway. It's time to give them what they want.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose. The smell is thick and raw and perfect. My eyes are watering and I feel a tear, dark with mascara, course down my cheek to mix with the drying semen. I close my mouth. My cheeks are bulging from the sheer volume and I have to purse my lips tight to keep the cum from squirting out. I can do this. I've dreamed about it dozens of times. But, this is real and my body is shaking from the nerves. The first gulp is comically loud in the relative silence. The sensation of the cum working its way through my gullet is a truly unique experience. I can feel each gelatinous clump of sticky sperm as it slithers down my esophagus. But, my throat does its job and soon I've got it down. The taste is powerfully strong and I feel a slight burning in my sinuses. My mouth is still quite full and it takes me two more big swallows to get the rest of the viscous fluid safely in my tummy.
I relax my body with a sense of relief and accomplishment. I let out a satisfied breath so thick and humid I'm practically steaming. I stare into the camera with a sultry expression and open my mouth wide to show what a good girl I've been. My wet, searching tongue emerges to lap up any of the remaining semen slathered around my lips. The men around me are more than ready to continue. There are so many of them, and I realize that we've only just begun.
The next twenty or so minutes are a haze in my memory. There was no sense of passing time in the moment. It's only later, sitting in my living room and playing back the finished video, that I get the full picture of what I'd done and what had been done to me. The camera pulls back until my kneeling form is fully visible. I'm luxuriating in the glow of my first swallow and I see that my inner thighs are slick with my own juices and I remember my drenched pussy being more sensitive to the touch than it'd ever been.
My hands run down my toned body; slowly following the curves of my cum-spattered breasts and over my flat belly. Moving past my tummy, my hands delve into the swamp between my legs, my fingers dredging through the sopping folds of my labia. The soft flesh of my glistening sex squeezes through my fingers and the heel of my palm presses hard into my swollen clitoris, sending a tremor of pleasure coursing through my body.
As beautiful as the sight is, the director knows to keep things on track. The camera zooms back in and more men emerge from out of frame. Once again my jaws open to their limit, my wet, wriggling tongue taunting them to show me what they're made of. They each empty their balls efficiently and obediently until my cum-dump of a mouth is teeming with their yellowish-white seed. I remember the raw taste of their cum lingering for a few days afterward and I already miss it. Then, I'm surprised to see a man on the screen that I didn't recognize at the time. All I can see are his thighs, his cock, and his pumping wrist, but I remember the silver Rolex. I wonder if the director had ever participated in one of his movies before. In retrospect, it seems unprofessional, but at the time, I was only too happy to accept his substantial contribution.
Now I'm overflowing again and I begin the arduous process of my second big swallow. My brow is furrowed in concentration, and I see my throat working as it struggles with every grueling gulp. But my blushing chipmunk cheeks slowly deflate and eventually, I send the last of it down. I can see that my tummy now has the slightest bulge to it. I place my hands on it gingerly and give it a gentle rub of satisfaction. I can’t help letting out an almost drunken giggle before raising a hand to my mouth in embarrassment. I'm amazed that an inadvertent laugh in front of the camera could make me feel that way after being the subject of so much depravity and debasement.
The video finishes with an extended facial from the remaining volunteers. Before long, my face is like an impressionist painting, glazed and gleaming and stained with their dripping semen. A masterwork crafted with cocks and cum rather than brushes and paint. The familiar topography of my fresh, young face has been transformed into something new and beautiful. And I imagine that only a careful observer would be able to recognize me.
As the video nears its end, I'm hot and flushed despite wearing shorts and a tank top and sitting in the cool breeze of the air conditioning, which lets me know my face is damp with perspiration. I'm about to reach a hand beneath the band of my sweat shorts and into my soaked panties when I hear the apartment's front door open. I jump in surprise and scramble to hit stop on the video before slamming the laptop shut.
"Hey-yah," calls my fiancé from the entrance hall as he locks the door behind him and takes his shoes off.
"Hey-yah," I blurt back as my racing heart starts to calm, and I wonder if my greeting sounded strange to him. He emerges into the living room, handsome as ever in his suit, though his jacket is draped over an arm. He's nearly as fit as I am and his black hair is expertly styled along with his short, neatly groomed beard. I toss the laptop and its perverse contents onto the couch cushion beside me and leap to my feet.
"So, I spoke to the wedding DJ this afternoon," he says, throwing his keys onto a side table before walking into the kitchen to grab a drink. "We were able to work out most of the details and settle on a price, but-" He stops short as he closes the refrigerator door and turns around, with a drink in hand.
I'm suddenly there, pressed against him with my hands around his hips and a mischievous grin on my face. I raise myself on tip-toes and give him a long, wet kiss filled with passion. He blindly sets his soda can down on the nearest countertop and tosses his jacket onto the kitchen floor. He wraps me with his strong arms, nearly smooshing me. There's almost nothing in this world that feels better.
"What's going…" he starts as I pull away. But not before I press a finger to his stunned lips. Without a word, I grab his hand and lead him into the bedroom.
