He had come in from working our little truck garden fields a little earlier than me. He is a little older so he often does. He is retired, but he often helps me with my chores. I was disappointed to find him already clean and dressed. Our showers together are one of the joys in my life, that I so missed when I was living alone. Anyway, he was dressed rather fancy for an evening in together, not just clean jeans and a T-shirt like normal. His odd eccentric dress suggested some interesting play time ahead, but what I did not know.

I went into the shower alone, but he followed me. He pulled back the curtain to just watch. I ached for his touch, but apparently I was the show for him tonight. Him and his camera, anyway. I was always nervous about his camera. Never knew when, as he would tease me, that compromising photos of myself might be found on the internet. He always insisted that when I got on the internet, everyone that I work with at the genealogical library would know where to find me. Slut shaming the younger generation would call it. Would he really do that to me? I know his own fantasies of being humiliated, even mutilated, were not something he wanted for real; only some fantasies we share.

Coming out of the shower, he just backed off and watched (and photographed) me drying myself.

Dry, he lead me by the hand to the bedroom. There, the bed had been made with white sheets covered in a white sheepskin throw. Even making the bed was unusual for us, let alone making the bed. When did he have time for that? He had pulled back so half of the sheet was exposed. On the white sheets were what was apparently a new outfit for me. It was one of his special outfits, one I could never wear in public. But I knew I would be wearing it tonight and I would be photographed on the freshly made bed. I often wondered how much he spent on my special outfits? How we might have used that $ elsewhere, akbatı escort even clothes I might wear in public. Maybe even nice clothes I could wear when selling perfume. But I always knew good sex was ahead when he dressed me in his fantasy clothes.

All was white. A white lacey bra: white lacy crotch less panties: white garter belt: white thigh high stockings (probably upper thigh for my little short legs); white leather knee high boots: and long white lacy gloves. He just snapped away as I dressed myself.

Upon completion of dressing, he had me twirl, as is his want, as he continued snapping photos away.

He pulled out a white rope, relatively thick, but soft. Must be a satin or silk drapery cord? With that he tied my hand together, walked me to the corner of our 4-poster bed, and tied my hands above onto the tall post. He then kissed and fondled every part of me, including penetrating me with his finger. Enough to get me hot and wet, but he stopped before I could find relief. Many photos of me tied to the bed post.

He laid my face down on the edge of the bed, by body across it. He then untied my ropes just long enough to tie each of my forearms behind me to my shins bent up behind me. Then he lashed my forearms together so they could not get too far apart. Many photos, again.

The last I remember seeing for tonight, was a white blindfold being placed upon me. It was of a good design. I really could not see after that. I hear again the familiar sound of the camera shutter.

He climbs on the bed beside me and lifts my head by the hair. I am now like a rocking chair. With one hand, he pushes the corners of my mouth, making it open.

That is when it all got weird. I could smell and feel a cock being forced into my mouth.

The cock had a strong odor, not like my lover’s my soul mate’s, and not freshly akçaabat escort showered like my lover’s was. I was suddenly aware there were two men in the room. I really, really get off on my lover’s odor, even when he is not so fresh, and I did not find this odor that kind of a rush turn on. I instinctively started kissing and then sucking, knowing it was some strange man’s cock. I really was not thinking in the front of my brain, but oh were thoughts flying in the back of my brain. I think my lover was controlling my head and forcing it up and down, rocking me, onto another man’s cock.

Then from a far corner of the room, I hear the camera shutter again. There is a fourth person in this room. Now my thoughts are really racing. Is it another man? Is it a woman, a couple joining us? Do I want it to be a 3rd man? Do I want it to be a woman? Do I want him to force me to have sex with another woman, like in his fantasy?

I feel the testicles of the man in my mouth tighten against my lips. He stiffens and stops stroking for just a second, and I suck hard to bring him off. He comes in my mouth. As soon as he has completed, a bearded man is kissing me, licking this man’s come from my mouth. Must be my lover my soul mate. Sucking other men’s come from me is his fantasy. I shudder as I think where else my lover my soul mate’s other fantasy is of drinking come from me.

Someone now grabs me by both knees and drags me to the other side of the bed. The camera shutter keeps clicking through all of this. My knees are lifted up as my head gets rocked into the sheets. A cock, someone’s cock, quickly penetrates my sopping wet pussy. The angle seems just right. Each of his frantic strokes hits my G-spot hard. I’m finally coming and releasing. I scream into the sheets. I feel him filling my belly with his warm seed as I throb around his cock.

Thoughts of pregnancy akçakoca escort and STDs bounce now through my head, but it is too late now.

Another hard cock replaces the man that has grown limp inside me.

This next cock hits me the same place as the first in my pussy. There is both pain at my over sensitive G-spot, slowly replaced by a warm throbbing. I mew into the sheets. He too, fills me with his warm spunk, but I don’t rise to another orgasm.

Another hard cock enters me. Again this is a wonderful angle for hitting my G-spot. He brings me to the brink of another screaming orgasm, but then he comes in me and grows soft before I find my release. I scream into my sheets again, but this time in frustration, not pleasure.

I lie sweating into my sheets. I shudder a little, as the sweat begins to cool me. I feel my hair matted down. I feel those men’s offerings dripping down my thighs. I must be a sight (not that I can see).

I am pulled upright, dragged over a person. I am placed over a face. I feel his beard caressing my sticky thighs. The beard tells me this is probably my lover my soul mate. This tells me I am about to be cleaned of these many men’s soilings, this would be my lover’s fantasy he has often told me about. How he had cleaned his first wife after watching her inseminated by lovers. And now he will be cleaning me, after watching me multiply inseminated.

My clit is on fire. It has not been touched tonight. Two other mouths find my breasts. His tongue brings me to another crashing big O. I can feel my womb spasm, bringing those other men’s sperm both up into the womb to impregnate me, and down into his mouth to further humiliate him. That is what he wants, isn’t it? The double humiliation of watching me impregnated by cum he also has to taste?

After the crashing big O, he gives me a couple more purring soft orgasms from his tongue.

I awake without a blind fold, under covers, and alone with my man. His beard is a nasty stinking mess. My thighs are nasty sticky. I don’t remember how we got from riding his tongue last night to this state early the next morning. It really was not a dream, was it? Maybe I can wake him and we both get a needed shower.