He instructed me to stay exactly where I was, not to move and he left the room. On his return, I could hear and sense the motion of more than just him. People were in the room with us. Seeing only darkness with the hood tight over my face, I didn't know what was coming. I heard whispered words but couldn't make out who was where, or to whom my husband was speaking. Then the exciting and surprising words came, "There's the slut, fuck her!" My heart raced, as I felt someone on the bed behind me. A cool and unfamiliar touch on my sides and ass, and then the clincher, a stranger sliding his cock inside me. Hubby rounded the side of the bed, climbing onto his knees next to me. He forced my head around and drove his own cock into my mouth. I could taste my pussy off of him. I heard his cheeky snigger once again. I couldn't believe he had organised this. The man behind me fucked me good, pulling me back onto him and going quick and hard into me. Hubby spoke to a third man, who. “I hate when you call me that,” he said. But he wasn’t really thinking about what she said. He was thinking about the way his house was going to feel so empty after she was gone in the morning he’d feel the urge again to torch it and let it burn down. “Then why do you always cum so hard when I do?” she purred. Jesus Christ! but her lips curled into something that made centuries of painting, music and sculpture seem like an afterthought. Other than the excessive opulence of her body, her mouth was one of the few things he could look at and make him feel in touch with luxury. “You got a mouth like a spunk trough, little girl,” he said. The curl of her lips became a full blown smile and he kissed her before she could say anything more, squeezing her breast firmly, thumb back and forth across her hardening nipple, tongue curling into the wet core of her mouth. Kissing Lace always hit Fallon like the onslaught of some sublime reality. It was like being shrouded in something.
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