Gangsta Moll Deactivated

Ghost lover

The first man The first man is stocky, muscular: midddle aged but fit, well built. He enters alone, as agreed for this my first time. I am far from a virgin: but here, doing this, I am - my first time here, my first time letting these men do this to me - and the hostess has explained to me that the men will be excited by this but she has reassured me that her role is to ensure that I am treated as i wish to be and not forced beyond my own limits. The man is already very erect when he enters: it is big and thick, pointing upwards. Although in a way he looks comical as he walks in - his erect penis swaying gently in the air - I do not laugh or smile, am in fact tense, nervous, anxious, biting my lip. The hostess holds my hand reassuringly: she holds it a little above my head so that my body is laid back, open to the man as he enters the room. I sense in a way that he is nervous too: tensed - understandably, I think to myself, this is as much a performance for him as for me and he must be anxious to perform well. He is slightly clumsy as he clambers onto the bed: but once knelt between my parted knees I can see his attitude shift, confidence returning. He looks down at me and smiles - a greedy eager smile but still in a way a nice one: "Nice..." he breathes: a compliment, albeit a small one. I tense as he starts to feed his cock into me: the hostess squeezes my hand and I relax. It goes in easily - I am very very wet - and he sighs luxuriously as he pushes it in, slowly but firmly, until it is embedded fully inside me. It is very big, very thick, very hard indeed. He looks at me, his eyes holding my gaze, as he completes the full penetration. I can sense that my eyes must be big, wide, dark with sensual feeling but still tentative, anxious. He holds himself in me, filling me very full but unmoving, for a moment until I relax a little more: parting my thighs a bit more so that he settles just a little more firmly inside me. Then he starts to move: gentle pumping movements at first, gradually gathering force and rhythmn. I orgasm quite quickly: the sexual intensity leading up to this, and now its beginning, so erotic, having primed me. My cunt ripples, squeezing his shaft, my hips rise, to take him in deeper, my body shudders, naked under him. It is a small brief orgasm: but I sense there will be more, and more intense, to follow. He pauses as I cum under him: tensing, holding himself still as my orgasm passes: "Fuck, girl, you nearly made me cum doing that!" But he does not cum: not yet - he holds himself firmly in me, riding out my orgasm, and then he fucks me: really fucks me, hard an ddeep, no longer holding back, pistoning into me, using his hips to drive himself in as deep and as hard as he can. And he brings me to orgasm again - longer, more intene, this time - and I can feel him exult in the power he exerts over me - not just the fucking of me but his making me orgasm, making me cum, I can feel how much he luxuriates in that. The hostess holds my hand gently throughout: and gently strokes a strand of hair from my forehead, where it has strayed and stuck in beads of sweat. He drive my body down into the mattress: his whole body devoted now to the deep hard powerful fucking of me, to taking me, to using me. He is no longer using his cock to drive me to orgasm: he is using my cunt to bring himself to the point of cumming, fucking me so that he can cum. And he does: shooting load after load of cum deep inside me, gasping in shuddering breaths as he does so, thrusting in to drive the cum in deeper, his whole body shaking as he floods me. And I orgasm too, arching up and up to take him, my cunt snapping and milking at his cum, sucking at it. He seems almost dazed as he climbs off me: "Fuck... that was so ... fucking hot ..." he gasps. "Yes... yes it was ..." answers another male voice, from the man who is now at the head of the queue.

Don't we all?

This is a story in many parts. It is a story that has run through my mind so many times over the years: autobiographical in the desires it portrays, though I am not at all reckless enough to give in to them. I hope you enjoy me. The Quiet Room I have been here so many times: stood here, pretending not to have come on purpose: not to know where I am; not to know what is behind the shabby facade; not to want to go in. I am pretending to check my phone, as I have so many times before: as if I have stopped here by chance and am on my way to somewhere else. I know what is inside, what sort of place it is, what they promise: though in truth I cannot really imagine - no matter how many times I have tried - what it would really be like. What it will be like: because this time I am at the door, ringing the bell. They will let me in free: I know they will, and they do - a woman alone, this early in the night, I am welcome. My face is aflame, I am flustered, hesitant. But they must see this often, and they are calm, welcoming, caring, supportive. Yes I will be safe: yes I can back out any time, yes I can stop if things go too far for me. Being new here, a hostess will guide me - and protect me. She is nice: fit, trim, neatly though sexily dressed, well spoken, reassuring. She will stay with me, this my first time here - and other times should I need her to, should I return. The changing room is neat, clean, tidy: like the changing room of a hotel swimming pool, neutral, muted. And it feels like changing for a swim - except that here I do not put on a bikini. I am nervous, but my hostess guide sees that, takes my hand, leads me gently through the door. The lighting is dim: a corridor, plush, as neat and clean and reassuring as the reception and the changing room. "It is your first time" my hostess whispers: "we will go to the Quiet Room" and it is quiet: discreetly lit, warmly welcoming. A bed, at its centre: lit from above with a soft spotlight. She helps me lay on the bed. Offers me a blindfold: I decline - I want to see who enters, who uses me, who waits, who will be next. I am nervous still, so she holds my hand - drawing my arm out a bit above my shoulder as I lie so that my body is exposed, laid out ... available... "Just one at a time, for now.." she whispers: leaning close to my face. Her free hand trails so softly up my tummy, cups one breast. Her head bows, her lips kiss one nipple, suck it in, kiss, release it. My nipples is so hard, so stiff, so erect. Her fingers test it: "You are ready now, aren't you?" and I nod, mutely, biting my lip. The door opens...

Am I invited?

Who wants to be gangbanged?

Bucket list

in my face

spurting creamy cum

and bursts free

it grows huge

I would be happy to donate credits, if I have any: I have no idea what to do with them. I seem to have 16,000 credits, would that help?

I wrote this before, but it's one of my most erotic memories, so: My first sexual experience was with two boys. It was not what you might think - it was silent, secret, in the dark, gentle. But it was intense, for me. I had gone camping with my girl friends. Some boys were at the same site - we interacted with them only a little, and mostly through them teasing and showing off. I was 18, had never had a boyfriend: had been kissed once by a boy, at age 14, and had not liked him or the kiss. My friend Sue was the main target of the boys' attention: she always was - much prettier than me, with blonde hair and a buxom figure: we are still best friends and she is still the focus of male attention when we are together, and I the plain, quiet, reserved, cautious one - the eternal wallflower. There was a huge storm one night: very intense, thunder and lightning, torrents of rain. My friends all went to shelter on the shower block but I love storms so I stayed in the tent - on my back, in my nightdress, on top of my sleeping bag, my head out of the tent looking up into the flashes, feeling the rain drench my face, watching. There is something in me that loves overwhelming awesome power - the sheer intensity, the raw primal natural force of nature in a fury is one example. The boys came to check we were all right, and went on to join the girls: but two stayed with me, to watch the storm. I do not know which boys it was: it was dark and after the others left we did not exchange even a single word: nothing was said. The lightning was blinding and the darkness between deeper because of that - the whole world was lit by flashes and roiled by crashing thunder. The boys laid either side of me - each of us on our backs, our heads out of the tent, looking up. It felt intimate, nice - I was pleased they had decided to stay with me, it was unusual for boys not to go off with my other friends. When I felt the hand on my leg I thought it must be an accidental touch - that he couldn't have realised he was touching me. I dared not move in case he realised and took his hand away - I didn't want him to take his hand away, it felt intimate, tingling, exciting. I had imagined boys touching me, in my sexual fantasies, but this was at once a lighter, more tentative touch than I imagined, and at the same time incredibly more intense - a real hand, a real touch, a real boy touching me. When he shifted his hand higher, up to my bare thigh, I knew it was not an accident. I kept very still because I did not want to alert his friend to what was happening. Where his fingers touched, my skin tingled like electricity - a sensual heat that washed out through my whole body, radiating from that soft gentle slight contact. I could not hold back a tiny quiet soft whimper when his fingers at last brushed, teased, through my soft dark curly cunt hairs: my body wanted to buck, to arch, and it took all of my will power to hold that urge back. I could feel I was biting my lip to stay silent. My wetness surprised me - and I was naive enough to be embarrassed for his finger to find me that wet - I remember thinking very clearly that I hope he would not think I had wet myself. I didn't feel the least shame, or anxiety, or any urge to stop it. I was naive, but not stupid: I knew what sex was, how it might progress from an intimate touch to full sex - I just didn't want it to stop. No, more than that - I wanted it to happen: not only my mind but also my body wanted it with a hot sexual fire I had never until then experienced. He fumbled clumsily beside me and I knew he was tugging his shorts down. That is when I realised his friend was not unaware, because a hand lifted my nightdress, slipped it up, and settled on one small bared breast. The boy rolled over me easily, mounting me - his knees between mine, pushing my legs apart gently. He was big - his cock was big, much bigger than in my fevered sexual imaginings - bigger, and hotter, and harder as I held it and guided it. There was no difficulty, no awkwardness, no pain as he penetrated me - sliding in, easily, lubricated by that new copious wetness. Right in: all the way; all of it; fully in. I think I came - orgasmed -= almost as soon as he penetrated me, because my whole body snaked, arching, so that I actually lifted his weight with mine, my buttocks rose right off the sleeping bag: and then it rolled through me - wave after wave of shattering, shuddering feeling that I now recognise as orgasm - so much more intense than the feelings I had excited by my own self stimulation - all-consuming, awesome with the power of raw primal sex to match the crashing thunder of the storm. I could see his shape silhouetted above me in each flash - his chest felt so firm, with soft curly hair, as my hands reached up to him. I do not think he was any more experienced than I: and I do not think my immediate orgasm helped him to hold back because he too came very quickly, flooding me with his cum: but it didn't matter, it was enough - more than enough - I was in heaven, my head going side to side, moaning wordlessly as he thrust and emptied himself in me. He rolled off when he was done, and his friend rolled on to take his place - entering me easily, fucking me with more purpose, so that for the first time I felt the real force of a man's fucking me - the hard deep full thrusts, the feeling of his need to do it to me, to empty himself inside me. He too came quite quickly - but none of it mattered, I was on fire and then hot with the slowly fading embers of being fucked. They lay for a few minutes either side of me, breathing hard. Nothing was said - not then nor ever, even the next day. They slipped away and left me on my own without a word. But I didn't need their words: I didn't need anything more, not for ages - I didn't even masturbate again for a week. I lay there, on my back, feeling their cum ooze inside me. I remember thinking - very clearly, as I do - I form the words, in my head, clear and concise - I thought about Sue, and how they all fluttered around her: but, I thought to myself, I was the one who got fucked. That's how I thought of it: I got fucked. The storm faded, and I literally hugged myself: I felt like a sex goddess - I got fucked. I have a photo, taken the day after, of me in my bikini on the beach, combing my hair after swimming - I look like the cat that got the cream - so smug, so satisfied: I can see it in my face in that photo - what my husband used to call my 'just fucked' face. The following week I met my husband, and remained faithful to him with few exceptions until we separated and then divorced. I never told him my experience, and now is not the time to do so. But I am sharing it with you, who are reading - and I hope you enjoy it.

Incredibly erotic, yes

I'm buying you and I'm going to enjoy you

but others desired

I vote for flexibility in time zones.

Messalina Cousin to and wife of Emperor Claudius, cousin to Caligula and Nero. Sexually predatory and insatiable, Messalina exploits her rich and powerful family background, connections and position as wife to the Emperor to satisfy her most devious and debauched desires: coercing slaves and nobles alike into servicing her sexual desires. With a desire for power that matches her appetite for sex, she is ruthless in using and sacrificing others to advance her own interests. A cruel and perverted streak runs through her soul: in the exercise of political power as much as in sexual domination - and a debauched dark side leads her sometimes to crave for herself the degradation she visits on others. A complex and devious character, Messalina is a product of her time and place: elevated to the pinnacle of power through sexual intrigue and family connections, she is unpredictable but always greedy for power, sex - and risk. A slightly built woman of 30, Messalina wears her dark hair short: a style that lets her slip out of the Imperial Palace disguised as a boy, to indulge in perverted practices with the dregs of society as well as to experience the risks of life without the protection and isolation afforded by the Imperial Guard - a dark desire for risk that has led her to enter herself, incognito, for auction

I am up for this

Being auctioned off to the highest bidder is super erotic.

Dave I feel like I have drained my sexual soul into her along with my cum: my heart beating so fast I have to sit down - almost lie down. I don't think I have ever fucked anyone so hard in my life. I'm so exhausted I am only dimly aware of Richard dragging her onto the floor and fucking her. My first thought is for her: he uses her so hard that I fear for her. I should stop him but I lack the strength to even stand: as I recover my breath I keep thinking "what a bastard!" and I want to shout "leave her alone!" but I can't find the breath, it is as if I am in a dream. Then I see her react - she is actually taking it, humping up to take it even though he is really hammering her: and my mind shifts to anger: "she's mine!" and then to rage at her: "what a cheating bitch!". And that holds me back from stopping him: the confusion of anger at her, at him, roils inside me and keeps me watching, breathing hard: which makes me rage at myself too, for being a voyeur. Then she just fucks Mark - he just goes over to her, and she almost drags him onto herself and they go at it like rabbits: like wild animals. I don't know what to think - I thought I had crossed a line, and now I see her just dragging any man within reach into her. Then Mark finishes in her and she crawls away and Richard just sneeringly stops her, shoves his rod into her mouth and starts to use her like a cheap whore and I come back full circle to rage at him only now I stand up and stalk over: I am going to punch him so hard ... but her ass is in the air, and it just looks so good, and ... and I can't help myself, I find myself kneeling and she is so fucking tight but so fucking wet as I slide in and I am so angry at her for letting him do this to her, I ram myself in so deep, in a hot rage: and as i do so I feel her shoved forward so her mouth swallows Richard's dick and it is like I am fucking him through her and he fucks back so he is making her cunt fuck my cock and it is so utterly fucked up and I am just muttering: "bastard!", and "bitch!" and "whore!" and "fuck you!" and Richard is doing the same, like we are fighting to fuck her the hardest, to teach her the hardest lesson for being .. fuck, I don't know, for being .. a good fuck I suppose. And Richard grins so wide, and it is like we are fucking a cheap whore in a Thai brothel, vying with each other to fuck her hardest: and Richard lifts his hand, grinning, in a 'high five' and I grin back and slap my palm against his and it is like we are team mates again - shipmates, sharing a whore. Then Sarah, squashed and hammered between us, lifts her own hand, shakily, palm up - and I high five her and Richard high fives her and she cums, so hard it grips my cock almost painfully and Richard pulls out and shoots cum all over her face, into her hair, and that's too much for me so I pull out too and coat her bare back with my cum and she just flops down to the floor, sprawled there, naked, with us kneeling over her grinning.

Sarah It is almost like an 'out of body' experience: floating, above my naked body as it gets fucked - watching myself get fucked, seeing the men fuck me. I can almost feel what they do - the sexual power, so like a rage but so much deeper, more primal, that they channel into me. But at the same time I am very much in my body: feeling every thrust, every inch of cock moving in me, every touch and caress and grasp and grope of fingers on my bare skin. I genuinely don't know what I did that led to this: Cabin Fever, perhaps - cooped up so close with these virile men, my own sexual frustration perhaps mirrored by theirs and then so suddenly unleashed, so raoidly rising to a sexual frenzy - an orgy. That word sticks in my mind, even through the chaos of sexual feeling that surges like a storm inside me - orgy: I am in an orgy. Richard takes me so hard, punishing me with great heaving brutal hammering piston thrusts. I feel like a sex toy, a sex object, used - abused - but at the same time he seems to very much see me as a person - as me - grunting curses under his breath: "bitch", "whore", "slut" - and if I were me - the 'real' me, normal ordinary me - I would be shamed, and outraged, at being called such things, at being treated in such a way. But now, here, in this flaring sexual frenzy, I am not me - not 'normal' me, anyway - I am slut, I am whore, I am bitch to be fucked and used - and my mind glories in it, a perverse exultation that to the 'real' me would be as shocking as what Richard does to me. Not an orgy - the word comes back into my mind. Not an orgy. A gangbang. I am being gangbanged. And I orgasm, hard, loudly, messily, thrashing under him - and I can feel my orgasm trigger his, a spurting flood of cum. He pulls out so angrily, I can feel his rage at me flare even higher - frighteningly angry. And I am limp, exhausted, my arms and legs feel weak, I can only lie as he left me, breathing hard. Mark is different. Good kind caring thoughtful Mark - the group's informal mediator, always thinking of the team first. His eyes when I open mine are like a rough sea in crosswinds: surging emotions written in them - concern, hesitation - lust. Lust wins - and I want it to. I reach up to feel his chest - not to push him away but to just feel his skin as he fucks me: to touch him as he slides in. Not so different now, though - kind caring Mark gives way to raw primal sex Mark - and I take it, laying under him, letting him fuck me, taking it - glorying in it. My orgasm is easy, simple - natural and all-consuming. When he rolls off I can hardly move: I roll onto my side, haul myself up to a crawling position - no thought in my mind, just starting to sort of crawl away. Exhausted, drained - fulfilled, sated. Richard blocks my unplanned progress. Kneeling, his cock not fully erect but hardening. His hand grasps my short hair, grips, lifts my head. His other hand guides that thickening cock to my mouth: pushes it in. "We're not done with you yet, love" he smirks.

Mark I didn't mean to do it. I swear I was only going to make sure she was OK. Richard gave her such a hammering: fucking her as if he hated her: maybe he did, I don't know, he always had a sharp edge when she was around, thought she was a tease - stupid idea, she was naive, yes, but totally unaware of how cute she looked - how fuckable. Pounding into her like he wanted to hurt her, I don't know why I didn't stop him, it was brutal: but it was like a dream - everything happening too slow then too fast then too slow again. He came inside her like a fire hose - humping it in as deep as he could, really shoving it in to her. And then he just pulled out and left her lying there like a piece of meat - fuckmeat. Just dropped her on the floor like he was disgusted, even though his cum was dribbling down her leg. And she just lay there - limp, like a wounded bird, like something that had been battered and left. So I went to make sure she was OK. But I forgot I had pushed my shorts off when this started, and she was limp, yes, but so fucking hot - her short hair fringe plastered to her forehead, her tits rising and falling with each breath, her legs splayed, cum drizzling from her. And it just happened: I think I leant over her to ask if she was OK, and her eyes opened - so big and so wide - and she lifted one hand to just touch my chest and it was like lighting a fuse, I just couldn't help it, I mean she was naked and splayed and I swear her eyes said "fuck me" like shouting it. So I did. Went in so easily, so much cum in her. Tight and warm but so wet. And once I was in she just looked up at me with those big dark 'fuck me' eyes and she kept her hand up so lightly on my chest and yes, I fucked her as hard as Richard had, I couldn't help it. And when she came it was like riding a bucking bronco, her hips humping up to take me deeper, her arms flailing, her cunt clamping and squeezing and milking me. I came harder than I think I ever have before: and I knew why Dave and Richard were so dazed after cumming in her, because it was mind-blowing intense, like I dumped my sexual soul into her with my cum.

I visited the link but am not sure I'm registered

Yes please