Invitation to a secret group sex

It all started with a silly postcard tucked under the windshield wiper of my Toyota. A plain white envelope, no identifying marks, just my name in block letters: "Svetlana." I chuckled at the time, thinking it was an ad for a new fitness studio or, at worst, an invitation to a cheese tasting. But inside was a thick, glossy card. No pictures, just text. The address is a suburban village, the time is Saturday, 9:00 PM, and a strange note: "Swinger code: no names, no strings attached, no prejudices. A secret society awaits those tired of boredom. Come alone. Admission by invitation." I was sitting in my car parked at the mall, feeling the moisture growing between my legs. I'm thirty-four, married for ten years. My husband, Dima, and I fucked once a month, on schedule, quickly, missionary style, with the lights off. Dima is a good man, a provider, but in bed he was simply... present. I caught myself forgetting what it was like to be fucked for real. Roughly, greedily, when they grab you by the hair and force you to swallow. I wanted dirt. I wanted to be used like a doll. I wanted to forget that I was a "mother" and a "wife" and remember that I was just a female. The invitation burned my hands. I tucked it into a secret pocket of my purse, stopped at the grocery store, and cooked dinner. And on Saturday evening, I told Dima that my friend was having urgent problems with her husband and I needed to support her. He just nodded, not looking up from the TV. Bitch. No, I was the bitch. A horny bitch, trembling with excitement. The cottage turned out to be huge, two-story, with illuminated landscaping. Expensive cars were crowded at the gate. I parked my modest Toyota on the side of the road, adjusted my short black dress, which I wore no underwear under, and took a deep breath. My heart was pounding. The door was opened by a man in a formal suit, in his late fifties, with graying temples and a piercing gaze. He silently took my card, nodded, and gestured for me to enter. The living room was dimly lit, lit only by candles and the fireplace. About fifteen people were lounging on the sofas and armchairs: women in provocative outfits, men in relaxed poses with glasses of whiskey. No vulgar music or striptease, just a casual social gathering. But the air was charged with lust. I could feel it on my skin. "Champagne?" A young man, about twenty-five, approached me, with a predatory smile and hands that, judging by the calluses, clearly knew what hard work was. A gym, probably. Or a construction site. It was wild and exciting. “Yes,” my voice trailed off. "You're new here," it wasn't a question. "Relax. No one's going to bite you unless you ask." He introduced himself as Kostya. We chatted about nothing: the weather, traffic. I caught other men staring at me intimately. One, bald and thick-necked, was undressing me with his eyes, unashamedly. Next to him sat a girl young enough to be his daughter, caressing his thigh. A married couple? Unlikely. "Look," Kostya whispered, nodding toward the center of the room. The girl sitting with the bald man suddenly knelt down on the carpet right in front of him. She unzipped his pants and, taking out his half-erect penis, took it into her mouth. No one even turned around. The conversations continued, someone poured themselves more wine. This wasn't a show, it was just background. And it was the most depraved thing I've ever seen in my life. My pussy instantly became wet. I squeezed the glass so hard it almost broke. "Want to join in? Or just watch for now?" Kostya moved closer, and I caught the scent of his perfume mixed with the healthy scent of his body. - I... don't know the rules. "There's only one rule," he said, placing his hand on my bare knee, and the touch sent a jolt down my spine. "Say 'yes' or 'no.' No 'maybe.' Otherwise, they simply won't touch you, so as not to traumatize you. Do you want to be touched?" I didn't have time to answer. The same bald hunk the girl was sucking off, diligently working his mouth, looked straight at me and beckoned with his finger. Domineeringly, like a dog. I stood up. My body moved on its own, as if someone else—bolder and hungrier—was controlling me. Kostya chuckled approvingly and followed. The girl, kneeling, peeled herself away from the bald man's penis, drool mixed with lubricant running down her chin. She smiled at me, giving up her seat, and crawled over to the man sitting next to her. The bald man, his name was Stepan (as it turned out later), spread my legs, lifting my dress up to my waist. "What a neat pussy. Shaved?" he asked, looking me over. "I love intelligent bitches. Sit down." I straddled his lap, feeling his huge, rock-hard cock, wet with the previous participant's saliva, against my thigh. He took my face in his hands. - Will you be a good girl? Instead of answering, I reached for his mouth. The kiss was harsh, with a nip at my lips. He immediately slipped his hand between my legs, and without warning, two of his fingers entered me. I gasped into his mouth. I was wet, practically flowing. He moved his fingers inside me, stretching me, probing the rough wall. "The toy is ready," he announced to the others, removing his fingers and licking them. "Who wants this sweet hole first?" I felt someone grab me by the shoulders and pull me back. It was Kostya. "I want her mouth," he growled in my ear. "Get on your knees, bitch." And I stood up. I knelt in front of Stepan, facing his cock. Kostya came up behind me. A small line of about five people had already formed behind me. The couple in the next chair, watching us, were already having sex without getting off the couch. The woman was sitting on top of her husband, riding him, moaning loudly. I opened my mouth and took Stepan's cock. It was huge, with a thick head, and I could barely take it halfway. It smelled of male sweat and sex. I licked the shaft, trying to get it deeper, gagging, but I kept going until tears streamed down my face. Stepan ran his hand through my hair, twisted it around his fist, and began to fuck my mouth himself, hard, impaling me on his cock all the way to my throat. “Come on, swallow it, slut,” he hissed from above. At the same time, Kostya spread my buttocks from behind. I felt his hot, wet tongue licking my hole, my perineum, and down to my clit. I moaned with pleasure, trying to keep my mouth in rhythm. But he didn't lick for long. Soon, his tongue gave way to the head of his cock. Kostya entered my pussy from behind, with one sharp thrust, all the way in. I was stuffed to the brim. A cock in my mouth in front, a cock in my vagina behind. Kostya fucked me hard, his tempo increasing, his balls slapping my clit, adding sparks. I felt myself leaking, my juices mixing with his lube and running down my thighs. "Now in the ass," I heard Kostya's voice, and he pulled out. For a second, I felt empty, but then someone's hands spread my buttocks wider. It wasn't Kostya, but someone else, coming up from behind. The tongue swept over my anus again, generously lubricating it with saliva, and then I felt pressure. "Relax," an unfamiliar voice whispered. The head of his cock pressed against my sphincter and began to enter. It was painful, sweet, and tight all at once. I screamed, releasing Stepan's cock from my mouth. “Shut up and keep working,” Stepan slapped my cheek with his shaft, and I took it in my mouth again. The cock entered my ass completely. Now I was being fucked in both holes at once. One man in my mouth, the other in my ass. Their rhythms didn't match, and it drove me crazy. I was just a piece of meat, an incubator for cocks. I looked at the floor at my dripping drool and tears and felt my orgasm approaching. A wild, animalistic wave. Someone took my hand and placed it on his penis. I mechanically started jerking him off, without looking. Someone else was rubbing my nipples. Dozens of hands were groping me. "I'm cumming!" the man yelled from behind, inside my ass. I felt his cock twitch inside me, flooding my rectum with hot sperm. But he didn't pull out right away, continuing to move slowly, smearing his seed. Stepan was the second to come. He growled, forcing my nose against his pubis, and I felt thick streams of sperm hit my throat. I swallowed and swallowed, choking, but tried not to spill a drop. As soon as he loosened his grip, I was flipped onto my back, right onto the carpet, which was drenched in someone's wine. Kostya and three others were leaning over me. Their cocks were hard, dripping with lube. I spread my legs, holding my wet, swollen pussy with my hand. “Come on... everyone...” I whispered. Kostya lowered himself onto my face, thrusting his cock into my mouth. One of the strangers immediately entered my pussy. The third positioned himself at my side, and I took his cock in my hand, guiding it into my mouth, alternating with Kostya's. We moved in a frantic rhythm. The room swam before my eyes; all I heard were wet, slurping sounds and the man's heavy breathing. "Cum in her! All in her!" someone growled. My body couldn't withstand this humiliation, this pressure, this total fulfillment. I convulsed in a violent orgasm, squeezing my throat and pussy around their cocks. The wave washed over me, and my vision went dark. At that moment, they started cumming inside me. Hot sperm flooded my stomach as the cock slipped out of my pussy, drenching my face, hair, and breasts. Kostya came right in my eye, and I didn't even blink. I lay on the floor, breathing heavily, covered in someone else's sperm mixed with wine and my own juices. My body ached, my throat was sore, my butt hurt. The same girl who had been the first to give Stepan oral sex came up to me. She handed me a damp, warm towel and a glass of water. "You're doing well," she said simply. "Excellent for a first time." I silently wiped my face. The men had already gone to their rooms, some were smoking on the terrace, others were pouring new glasses. Stepan sat down next to me and stroked my tangled hair. — Come again. We liked you. Natural, no pretense. I nodded. There was emptiness and a strange peace inside. I stood up, my legs shaking, and sperm began to leak out of me, running down my inner thighs. In the bathroom, I tidied myself up. A pale, happy, and exhausted woman with smudged mascara looked back at me in the mirror. I returned home at two in the morning. Dima was asleep on the couch, the TV was on silent. His mug of half-drunk tea was sitting in the hallway. I walked into the bathroom and stepped into the hot shower. The water washed away the traces of a dozen men. I watched the sperm trickle down the drain and smiled. My husband didn't even move when I walked in. I lay down next to him, feeling a pleasant ache in my aching muscles. He muttered something in his sleep and turned to face the wall. "A secret society," I thought, closing my eyes. I wonder when the next invitation will arrive? Or maybe I should just write myself? For someone else who's equally bored.