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The lingerie magnifies everything. The ache. The need. The power. Suspense skitters beneath my skin as I dance to the pulverizing beat that swamps my bedroom, eyes cast downward, fixed on myself the whole time.Sensational.My reflection smiles with me, muted taps of my toe ring against the glass through sheer hold-ups sweeping toned calves to my slender thighs. The dark bands snapped around them are tantalising, mere whispers beneath the Perthshire District tartan skirt. Vibrant red matches the blood thundering through me; green and blue hatching echoes the dark darts of desire that slice my core. Nanna would throw a fucking fit if she saw how little of her precious clan fabric covers the teal panties that, in turn, shield my freshly waxed pussy.Beyond where the butterflies play, the swell of my chest strains against the bra. It parallels the panties and complements the burnt hazel flecks in my irises, especially alluring in the glow from the strip of wall lights. Slightly cooler than the 2900K of my precious den, they still deliver an inviting hue. Art house erotic.Irresistible. Not long now.I toss back blonde tresses, chin up, and shudder at the vista. Between the expansive ceiling and floor mirrors, light rays bounce endlessly. Me me me, stretching and curving to infinity. Each successive reflection reveals a smaller version of my deliciously lewd display until I’m a thumbnail. A crumb. A speck. Mere atoms.Swooping hands up my body, I cup my tits. Squeeze, modest flesh spilling from the balcony. I can’t resist reaching in to scoop them from the lacy material. Run fingertips around the sensitive areola pigment. Capture the crinkled peaks between knuckles. Pinch.My mouth falls open, the gasp audible even above the relentless, pounding dance beat that mimics the club – minus the dry ice, lasers and stench of spilled beer – from which my unseen audience were curated.I allow myself a further smile at the recollection of scrambling over the metal barriers in front of the stage and hauling myself up amid whooping adulation from the throng of hot, sweaty clubbers. On the platform, I swished my hair and gyrated with the music. Performed for them, ever the exhibitionist. I embodied their wet dreams, basking as they idolized my every move until security staff swarmed in to spoil my display.As the heavies closed, I charged away from them to the front edge, swan diving onto the sea of heads and arms that paid homage to me and the gods of dance. Passed, hand over undulating hand, I was rocked, rolled, and opportunistically groped; ass, belly, tits, pussy, hair, until I was eventually delivered upright at the far side of the dance floor.Strutting to the bar, mussed and tingling, I ordered a double G no end of offers. The antidote to the pressures of my day job.I flirted. Played aloof where necessary. Brushed against potential suitors to excite both them and me. Eye contact here, skin against skin there, until I’d chosen.All four followed, of course. After agreeing to my terms.I shiver at the thought of them lined up, dicks throbbing in their hands, poised to unleash their mouth-watering, milky come. Just for me. I could be on my knees, working my way from cock to beautiful cock, slathering my tongue across each shiny, flared tip to collect the sweet pre-come. To savour it, taste buds dancing in its wake. To lean into each man’s intoxicating warmth, open my mouth and suck hard, gauging his suitability for my frieze downstairs.But that’s not how it’s going to work. Tonight is different. An experiment. New and electrifying.Wrenching my gaze from the ceiling, I focus forward on where I expect each man to be in the adjoining box room, beyond the expansive two-way mirror. It’s already paid for itself in sheer entertainment, the unblinking camera mounted on its tripod capturing my secret videos. I replay them when alone. Masturbate to the immersive opera, cries and groans and slaps and chokes bouncing off the wall upon which the depravity is projected. I writhe and buck on the sheets at every nuance of my performance as I take what I need from each fuck; their power, their photo, their very essence captured in the sheaths of rubber pinned to the wall of my den one floor below.Tonight though, the mirror that reflects the bed and IKEA furniture alongside me plays a different role. It adds to the anticipation. I know the men are there, stiff cocks primed. Watching. Wanking. Aching to win me. To become one-eighty.I can almost taste that shot of slippery, silky come from the victor. My prize before I get to fuck him all night, any way isvecbahis he chooses in this very room. To drown in our actions, from any angle, any hole, any kink, as many times as he has the energy. I’ll match it. Be his toy. Exemplify his needs. Ruin him for anyone else.Part of me desperately hopes he chooses to use my mouth. To treat – no, mistreat – me as his come-slut. To lay me back on the bed, head hanging off its edge, my hair cascading to the mirror below. I want to feel his fingers under my chin, angling my head further, stretching my neck taut so I can stare down at the reflection of his cock approaching my lips. Savour that point of contact, sliding each inch further and further until I cough and spray saliva onto the mirror beneath us, distorting licentious behaviour that makes my ravenous cunt drip onto the bed sheets.That sight of him filling me and taking my air is eye-popping. Drawing out. In. Out. Picking up speed until he’s pounding my throat and I morph into a fucked-up, gagging princess, mascara-laced tears of need dripping onto the glassy surface as I choke on the huge prick ramming mercilessly past my lips. I’ll take everything until he loses control and groans, unleashing his salty prize into my hungry mouth and pulsing throat.The music stops, momentary silence before the track changes and I pick up the new beat, swaying, sliding my hands down my body, licking ruby lips and transferring a little of their waxy coating to my tongue. I flash my attention once more to each man’s probable location, making him believe he’s the only one for me. Drawing fingers level with my hips, thumbs tucking into the waistband of the skirt, I pause, knowing it will amplify their excitement. It does mine.I turn around, casting my gaze rearward to observe the way I bend at the waist, and tug down. It’s thrilling to see my panties ease into view, the curve of my behind filling their arc perfectly just below the dragon tattoo that I swear snarls in anticipation. I let go and the skirt slithers to the mirror at my stockinged feet.Stepping from the garment, I slink up onto the bed and crawl away to its centre, predatory, wiggling my arse provocatively at my suitors. I’m sure there’s an anguished groan and my heart skips a beat at the thought of its owner wanking hard, spewing hot slashes of come against the other side of the mirror. I can barely wait to get my tongue on his sticky, thick spunk, slowly oozing into streaks down the glass as I swipe it to pool on my taste buds. To sit back. Swirl it for my own amusement, shivering at how fucking sexy I am when acting the perfect whore.I’ll do the same for all the runners-up. Show him how much his taste means to me. No point wasting perfectly good spunk.One down, two to go. Time to step up my game.I lower my face to the cool plain cotton duvet cover, reaching back between my legs to rub my panties, ensuring the growing damp patch is visible to the men. I want the touches as much as they do and moan into the bed. It’s not enough. Never is.Slipping fingertips under the material, I stare back through my legs to reflect on the way my knickers deform as fingers plunge into the dripping furrow beneath. My imagination runs amok, each brush of my clit or dive of my fingers representing a hard dick teasing, then filling my greedy hole. I gasp and judder with every touch.The cresting orgasm takes me by surprise and I pull out to lengthen its cusp, peeling sticky fabric down my thighs in the process. Spread. Hold. Pulse. My cunt glistens between my fingers in the glowing light and I hear another groan from the other side of the glass. Not as tortured. He’s not spilled yet, but he’s close. One of the rules is they can’t stop masturbating.A wicked thought forms. I have to act fast so there are still remnants of warmth in their cream when I hungrily lap up their loads from where they’ve landed.Leaving panties behind as I bounce from the bed, I grab my suction cup dildo from the nightstand, stride across, all hips and desire, kneel and slam it dead centre to the lower edge of the glass. I know four sets of eyes are trained on it as the corner of my mouth lifts into a dirty smirk and I engulf the phallus in one swoop.I gag but don’t stop. Choke a little then pull back so they can see the thick loop of saliva break. It stripes my stockings. As I race to rewrap my lips around the rubber cock, each man will imagine it’s his veined length disappearing into my wanton cavity. My nose touches the cool of the glass, and I sputter, spraying the surface with a ring of spit. The noises I make are isveçbahis giriş deplorable but oh so sexy. I’m driven, gunning for my aperitif before the main course.The cocks I crave must be mere inches the other side of the glass. I can almost sense their magnetism. Touch them as the dildo triggers my gag reflex and I cough, pulling back to the halfway point, imagining it’s the next guy about to lose it, his hands on my head, pulling me, fucking my face.Streaks of makeup stain my cheeks, springing from the corner of determined eyes that stare back a few centimetres away.Riveting.That brutal power I have over men is at its peak when I’m on my knees, stuffed by their machismo. The voracity in my expression doesn’t lie. Without me, they’d be nothing but selfish promises. Nights at home with a right hand. Clumsy fumbles with a prim girlfriend who prefers the lights off. Instead, they’re here, slaves to what I represent, offering one hundred percent raw lust at the prospect of breaking me. And that taste of true, unbridled intent permeates every delicious drop of semen that I strive to collect.My eyes widen and my reflection blurs as I jam the fake cock into my mouth once again, gagging and spluttering until I hear the next man’s snarl and know one more has fallen. I pull back and smack my lips, mimicking what I’d be doing if I were the other side of the glass.Leaving the dripping dildo, I stand and swipe spilled saliva from my chin, turning away and bending at the waist. I gaze over my shoulder at my inviting rear, reaching back to spread my cheeks and swirl a spit-soaked digit across my arsehole.I’m such a slut letting men take me there, but sometimes I can’t help it. Swept up in the moment, I crave that stretch and burn as he enters and exits my naughtiest hole. If I’ve already captured his spunk for my wall, I may even let him fill me there to intensify its flavour when I dribble it into my palm, lapping and drinking in front of him. I love that combination, similar to when it’s infused with juices from my leaking cunt.The lights catch the gleaming saliva that coats my rosebud and I apply pressure, watching my finger sink to the first knuckle. I gasp, draw out and swipe it across my tongue to wet it further, as much for my benefit as theirs. The forbidden tang crawls over my taste buds and thrills me to the core.Such a dirty bitch.Spit dangles from my index finger and I drip it to my arse then push in further. The second knuckle disappears and I cry out over the music, wiggling home. In a flash of lust, I raise my free hand and crash it into my displayed rump. Holding my palm there, I squeeze then draw back and spank my flesh once more, the cheek’s redness seeping inward through the curved strata to swirl my clit. I bite my lower lip and stare at my reflection. Through it. Lift. Strike. Soothe. Watch the skin deform as my gasps fill the space between the beats.Worming my finger fully into my derriere, I grip my arse then deliver a satisfying wallop to the nearby cheek. My cry precedes his and my heart leaps. Showtime.I withdraw, straighten, grin and stride out of their view into the short corridor, twisting the door handle to the adjoining room.The space is small, almost claustrophobic with five of us there, its light subdued. It has to be for the two-way mirror to work effectively. More of a blue tone than the harsh white of the bedroom.Three flaccid men stand beaten, the one smiling nearest me, clutching his rigid cock, clearly the winner. Wordlessly, I sidle past him and sink to my knees, palms to the back of the mirror and stoop to lick up its surface. My tongue stud scuffs the cool glass as delicious cream fills my mouth and I greedily swirl it. Let it permeate; infect me before I swallow and turn to show the first loser my empty mouth.Tilting my head, I hold out one hand and mime a wave by waggling fingers of the other. He zips up, reaches into his pocket and slaps a hundred into my upturned palm, then trudges out, shutting the door harder than necessary.I fold the bills into my bra strap and shuffle along the glass to stop at the next dirty streak, slightly translucent now; the first guy to go. His flavour is strong. Like seventy-two, that earthy musk overshadows the sweet high note as his come pools in my mouth. I sample it, rolling it between my upper palate and tongue, smearing the stickiness so every taste bud can respond before swallowing, stooping lower and lapping to capture the entire trail.It takes a few strokes to remove the glued-on spunk but it’s worth every extra moment. He’s fucking tasty, isveçbahis yeni giriş and a pang of regret washes over me as I finish up. He’s tucked himself away, perhaps embarrassed at losing first, so I don’t get to ogle him. Pity. He hands me the money and does the walk of shame without me needing to point to the door.Stuffing the cash behind the other strap, I focus on the final loser, limp yet thick, his circumcised head shiny from ejaculate. I can’t resist crawling to him, ducking beneath it and swiping my tongue over the tip. He draws breath as my tongue stud swirls and I engulf the fat head to the ridge, sucking hard to draw any remnants of come.He’s sweeter than the other guys – probably a higher sugar diet or he drinks more water – and I let the drop linger before turning to the glass and lapping his streaks. There’s a lot of it. Viscous and creamy, it coats my tongue, slithering down my throat as I alternately gulp and lick everything he released.When the mirror contains nothing but my saliva, I stand, turn and hold out my hand. He knows the drill, counts out a hundred, wedding band catching the light with each bill, zips then turns to leave, casting me an expression partway between dolefulness and gratitude.Excitement fizzes in my belly. I can’t believe I’m considering this, but it seems somehow fitting. “Wait.”He pauses. I bite my lip. He’s too tasty to lose. “As runner-up you can stay and watch. For another hundred.”He’s torn. Young wife waiting for him after he’s been out with the lads. A few drinks. Dancing. Letting off steam after the pressures of the working week in the capital. I know how it is. But this. This unexpected turn of events is something even further than he could have imagined.For a moment I think he’s going to decline, his hand jittery in his pocket. Then his wallet appears and he riffles through the notes. “I have sixty-five left.”I tilt my head playfully. Hold out my hand. “Deal.” I don’t need the money, it’s just a bonus.The notes crinkle in my clutch as I strut to the winner, grab his hand and drag him back to the bedroom.As we enter, I dim the lights fractionally and turn the music down to a comfortable level. Stashing all the money in my underwear drawer, I pull the straight-backed chair from alongside and spin it to rest at the long edge of the floor mirror, pointing. Runner-up is obedient. Sits as I stride to the bed and perch on its edge, facing them.Crooking a finger, power surges through me. The winner obeys and pauses a few feet from me.”Is… is this for real?”I nod. “She won’t find out, lover boy. Promise. I’ll only bite if you tell me to.” Our eyes lock and I flick my hair back, planting my feet apart to see how long it takes for his gaze to drift between my legs. One-thousand, two-thousand… there it is. I smile. “Now undress and show me how you like to treat filthy sluts.”Eyeing me, mouth slack, he glances at the other guy before self-consciously shucking his jeans. He unbuttons his shirt and leaves everything in a pile on the mirror. He’s not in bad shape underneath and I lick my lips. Rove my gaze over his underwear and give the faintest nod. He complies and I take in his glorious nakedness. Not fully hard, he hangs there, thick cock nodding and twitching as if possessed. Leaning forward, I stroke one edge with a manicured fingernail, delighting at the way he responds, then cup his balls and gently squeeze.”Feels like you have a big load for me.”He stares at his rising manhood and nods absentmindedly. Says nothing.”So here’s the deal.” I stoop to one of the drawers under the bed and retrieve a condom, handing it to him. “This is for your first – first – load. I don’t want a drop wasted, okay?” Without waiting for acknowledgement, I plough on. “If you have enough energy after that, you can fill me any way you like.””A… any way?””Aha. Use your imagination. And,” I grip his cock to help me stand, stroking its firming length, “I guarantee you won’t break me.” Leaning into his personal space, I whisper in his ear as I eye guy number two, “Make me fucking scream and it could be the best night of your life.”I release his prick and he stands there, hard and dumbfounded. He’s going to take some encouragement. Perhaps it’s the presence of the onlooker; amusing, given they’ve all been lined up in a dick-off. I drop to my knees and gaze up as I take him in my mouth. Just the tip, sucking as I creep my lips down his shaft. I think the poor guy expects me to stop when I’m full, but I carry on to the base until I’m stuffed and my nose is buried in his pubic hair. That gasp he emits is electric but only a fraction as exciting as when I pull off and stare up at my reflection in the ceiling mirror. A pair of bubbly saliva strings connect his glistening manhood to my lips and I suck, watching them snap.
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