Groupie

Princess and I are basically opposites in every way except one crucial one. Both being sluts, we were obsessed with the groupie lifestyle when we were teenagers. I suspect this was a bit of a chicken and egg situation. I don’t know if being a born slut made me seek this stuff out or if coming across it made me a slut but unlike chicken and eggs, you can combine both to enhance your enjoyment.

Sadly neither Princess or I grew up anywhere with access to being a proper groupie (although my first ever email address did have a reference to wanting to as I drunkenly allowed a friend to pick it for me and she clearly knew me well.)

Princess stuck to reading Pamela des Barres’ book along with listening to the music of those who had the pick of those notorious groupies. And clearly she had better taste in sexual fantasies than my teenage interests in tight trousered, big haired LA cock rockers because she neither regrets her early email addresses or her sexual awakenings.

These days I’d probably decline my chances with some of the men I dreamed of back then (debauchery means most haven’t aged well) but my original fantasy has never got old. I’d still get down on my knees in front of a line of horny men with hard cocks and suck their cocks in turn as they watched each other.

So when Princess and Sir went to see the Rolling Stones recently and she revelled in reliving her teenage feelings about Mick Jagger it made me wonder who my band line up would be now if I was creating my own supergroup of cocks to suck. Being indecisive I didn’t make any firm choices but there was one person I’d never say no to and would take any chance to let my inner groupie out to play with.

I have never been a fan of Led Zeppelin’s music but from an early age Robert Plant in leather trousers made me feel all kinds of things I didn’t completely understand. The infamous mud shark story left me with a guilty sense that I should be more disgusted than I was but definitely should have alerted me to my kinky interests sooner.

I think I’ve made my feelings about men feeling the need to speak to women in public clear before. So when years ago when standing perusing a selection of biscuits in a posh deli in central London I whipped my head round ready to use the equivalent of Choco-Liebniz as a weapon when I heard a man striking up conversation about cookies with me.

I could literally feel my mouth fall open as time stuttered into freeze frames and the biscuits hung in my hands like I had T-rex arms as I realised that man was in fact Robert Plant. Large as life and right in front of me discussing biscuits as my mind immediately ricocheted between blank incomprehension, disbelief, filthy thoughts and guilt over my (literally) naked objectification of him over decades. I may even have blushed.

Unlike many hell raisers, he wore living well extremely well and there was definitely that sense of sexual confidence I’d always imagined. I stuttered something back about the biscuits my mouth as dry as my knickers were suddenly wet and I almost willed him to leave me alone before I was so star struck I embarrassed myself.

I must be able to bullshit brilliantly about biscuits because he started asking me questions and advice on cake too. My mouth kept answering calmly and logically about marzipan while my mind screamed at me to just abandon all my life rules about consent and hang ups about initiating sex and just throw myself at him in public right now.

Each time I opened my mouth to reply to his conversation I had to double check I hadn’t just said ‘fuck me now’. I didn’t have the background of Continental foods in mind when I’d fantasised about sucking his cock, but sluts are nothing if not adaptable. I could fuck a long term obsession up against a freezer if it was my only chance and not care about the criminal record for public indecency to fulfil a lifetime ambition.

Being a slow learner and prone to overthinking I started to think as the conversation went on that actually he’d mistaken my taste for dressing all in black for being the shop staff instead of anything raunchier. And then I heard him say ‘shall I get us a coffee then?’ I don’t drink coffee but as I say, sluts will be flexible the situation calls for it.

Before I could accidentally sabotage myself, he ushered me to a table, paid for the cake and biscuits we’d been conversing about and ordered drinks. I attempted to look nonchalant, pretending as such things were everyday occurrences to me. I wondered if I should Google the nearest hotel where he could take me and fuck me senseless or if international rock stars with a reputation knew these things without my help. I did think fast enough to text the friend I was meeting to ask could we cancel, knowing fine rightly I’d fake my own death if that was the only way to excuse myself.

A cup of coffee and some cake appeared on the table and he sat down waiting for the waitress to bring the rest. I normally love flirting. Flirting is foreplay usually. But twenty plus years of fantasising is also foreplay and I needed little else. He started eating the cake and asking me about myself rather than prolonging any more chat about baked goods.

Robert Plant was quite definitely flirting with me and I have no idea what I told him. In my mind he was giving me orders to strip for him, not asking about my interests and hobbies. What do you say to this? Well, I enjoy going out and staying in and picturing your cock going in and out of my mouth until my eyeliner runs and I beg you to fuck me?

I was almost relieved when the waitress came over to give me a moment to breathe. I needed a moment to regroup my slutty superpowers. I waited for the second coffee to be set on the table so I could flirt properly. And waited. The pause was momentarily longer than expected and I looked around to hear him say ‘oh did we arrange to meet here?’

It was me guilty of mistaking someone for the shop staff this time as the well dressed young woman in front of use was clearly his girlfriend and if looks could kill, it wouldn’t be my awkward flirting that finished me off after all.

I introduced myself as politely as you can when you were shamelessly about to fuck someone’s partner as he started the kind of innocent explanation as to why we were having coffee that only ever sounds extremely incriminating. I’ve rarely felt as frustrated in my life sitting there as she whisked him away briskly making damned sure I didn’t have the chance to pass him my number and cursed that he of all people didn’t have an open relationship.

His girlfriend then insisted on ordering drinks to take out so they were standing just enough in my line of sight as to be both awkward and tantalising in equal measure. Plus I had to sit and drink the coffee I hate in order to cover my less than innocent intentions while kissing goodbye to the chance to turn my adolescent fantasies into very adult actions.

I watched them walk out just as my extremely prudish friend walked in. She hadn’t got my text and she certainly hadn’t got the interest in slutty men I did so I couldn’t even share my moment of almost groupie glory with her.

Instead I sat and nodded occasionally as she talked as I used my brush with reality to really enhance my fantasies for when I got home. I think the orgasm was definitely increased by the delayed gratification but also the seal of approval of my sluttiness by one who knows best…

Groupie

Working It

One of the many things I’ve learned by fucking Princess for almost two years is weirdly to appreciate men more. Because until I had a go at fucking someone else with a cock, I had no idea what hard work it is.

I sort of assumed it was similar to being fucked in that you could make it as energetic or not as you wanted but only when I first tried using a strap on on Princess did I realise it’s a world apart. There’s a lot more rhythm and angle skills going on required practise than I quite understood (blame this on me starting my fucking life with grown men and not teen boys still finding their way.)

And more than that, it takes core strength and stamina I had never imagined. How anyone with a cock fucks someone to orgasm was beyond mine. No wonder so many men like to lie back like a log in a wood you’ve been able to mount and let you fuck them on top without them moving. They need the rest.

Luckily Princess prefers my penetration of her to involve fingers so I’ve been able to skive off and save my muscles and the shame of having stop each time it gets good and starting to hit the spot and regroup. My version of nailing someone with my strap on is about as good as I am at banging actual nails in walls.

Princess however is getting seriously good with the double ended dildo (which reminds me to buy one for my flat too. You know a sex toy is good when you literally double up.) She’s developed quite the knack of fucking me to multiple orgasms with it. Her cunt is tighter so grips it better and my stretched cunt just loves any kind of penetration and gobbles up a good fuck.

We’d been playing with the double ended dildo when my Master was away recently and I’d absolutely loved her technique with it squirming and hoping it would make me squirt. Perhaps subliminally I’d left it by their bed when Sir got home. So when we all woke up from a little power nap feeling horny it was no wonder his eye lit on it.

He lay back cock in hand and ordered Princess to fuck me with the dildo while he watched. Once I was wet and wanting more, he lay over her and put his cock in her mouth as she kept fucking me. Her rhythm skills are definitely above mine keeping both cocks moving and happy as she was used by both of us.

Just as I was getting very into being fucked as she sucked, Sir sensed that I was being rather lazy and ordered me make more effort and start fucking Princess instead of making her do all the work. It felt hot to have my legs so open to slip the toy into her while she had her head thrown back swallowing Sir’s cock but it took me a while to find my stroke.

I had to fuck her cunt at half the speed my Master was fucking her throat but the problem was that doing it was making me so wet and turned on my cunt was even more stretched and open than usual and the dildo was hard to hold in place to keep going.

I need a double ended toy with a smaller size for Princess and the width and heft of the John Holmes for me. Why do all the double ended toys assume both users want the same dimensions as each other? And why so many toys designed to be held in the cunt not work with the wetness of a well lubricated one?

Whether you are fucking another woman or pegging someone, there are few things hotter and wetter to do but lubrication becomes your enemy with an in-cunt toy especially if you aren’t a very set size of tightness. I pouted and complained that my fun was being spoiled and Sir quite rightly punished me for my brattiness.

He took the toy out of my cunt and turned me onto my side on his cock and fucked me so hard I had to curl up in a ball as he held me against him, pulling my hair at the same time and shut me up with the skill of his stamina and rhythm. Princess kept the dildo in her cunt and pressed the Doxy against her clit watching us fuck.

I presume she came like the Doxy slut she is but I was distracted by my Master coming into me hard enough to make me do things I didn’t know my core muscles could do with a cock inside me either.

If he hadn’t made me come hard enough to lie down, I think I might have been tempted to use his come to see how it helped the double ended dildo hold in place in my cunt and see if I could give Princess another orgasm.

Definitely one to try in a future threesome once i’ve had time to practise my angles and abs more…

Working It

Pillow Princess

I love Eurovision. Partly because I’m Irish and we excel at it and partly because it’s such high camp it’s known as Gay Christmas. I love the unbridled kitsch of it from costumes to songs you really shouldn’t love but do. I even forgive it for unleashing Michael Flatley on the world. And I adore that it owns its LGBTQ+ heritage and often shows the mainstream world aspects of queer culture they didn’t know about before.

In fact it was the one day of year the gayness didn’t have to hide or make itself acceptable in 80s and 90s Ireland and so I was very very surprised on my first Eurovision in England that there was a lack of campness or kitsch around it, more lot of self knowing jokes about European history. So when I found myself at my first English Eurovision party listening to middle class uni types winking about the former Czechoslovakia’s voting intentions I did the only thing you can do. I necked all the gin I could find and fucked the hostess’s flatmate without her knowing.

He was a ridiculously good looking semi professional swimmer with the smooth sleek body and core strength of someone who spends a lot of time in the pool. He was also very serious and bookish and totally out of his comfort zone with a tipsy Irish woman who actually likes the music at Eurovision rather than showing off their intellect ironically.

Yet he happily kept pouring me drinks and asking me lots of questions about Irish politics and the border in a very serious attempt to geekily flirt and offered to stay behind to help me clear up when I insisted on doing so to thank our hostess for her hospitality. She went to bed grateful and gin filled and left us to it unaware my intentions were not as clean as my manners.

So I came in from the kitchen irritated to see that my crush was carefully laying out a sleeping bag on the sofa for me. There’s nothing like thinking you’ve been cock blocked by something as ugly as practical sleepwear. I tried to shake the rejection off with a gracious smile until he said ‘ the pillows are in my bedroom. You should come with me to get them.’

I did not need asking twice because even if I was mis-reading the signals I need two pillows to sleep or I hate the world. But once inside his room, his upright demeanour seemed to disappear and within seconds, his smooth body was wrapped round mine and we were kissing hard.

It was like one of those TV sex scenes where you kiss hard enough to devour each other and start pulling your clothes off at the same time. He was lying back on the bed watching me undress when I realised he was actually wearing a pair of tiny swimming trunks and nothing else.

Normally I’d judge the shit out of a man who wears his sports kit in scenarios not involving said sport. Plus I’d have my ‘oh really?’ face on if confronted by the dreaded budgie smugglers with their image of middle aged European lotharios but maybe out of Euro solidarity, I didn’t mind so much that night.

Not only did he have the kind of body made for them including those well defined crests above the hips that serious swimmers get, he also had a beautiful thick hard cock poking out of the top of them. One of my favourite things is a ready to fuck cock rising out of a waistband like an erotic invitation and this was a particularly glorious example of the genre.

He pulled me on top of him and rubbed his hard but semi clad cock against my very bare cunt as we kissed again. I had much smaller tits in those days and he took delight in sucking my nipples hard and biting them in between kisses, using his knees to lift me away from his cock when I squirmed too greedily against it.

Having made me wait all night, he was going to keep me waiting a little bit longer before I got my hands or mouth on his cock. He pulled me up and turned me round onto my hands and knees over him with my ass in his face so I could look down at his incredibly hard cock but unable to touch.

He slipped two fingers into my incredibly wet cunt and proceeded to lick my ass with great enthusiasm much to my surprise. Certainly not something I’d encountered back in Ireland either, it was yet another English twist to the evening. The taboo feel of it made it more enjoyable than the act itself but it was the effect it was having on his cock that made me a big fan.

Making me come with his fingers, he pulled those teasing trunks down enough with the other hand to let his cock spring free. Even harder than it had been and glistening with that pre come that shows just how turned on a guy is, he finally pulled me down onto it and fucked me hard.

I do love that moment when you finally get a cock inside you and this felt particularly good from the delayed gratification and how clearly horny he was. I’ve rarely fucked in that position as usually being on top is about seeing the man’s face but following on from him eating my ass it worked well. He came hard into me as I ground against his hips for another orgasm for myself.

It probably would have been a better finish if he hadn’t reminded me while I was still on top of him, cock inside me not to forget the pillows I’d come for. I awkwardly scooped up clothes and dressed again aware of his come dripping out of me as I did and went back to my sleeping bag on the sofa.

My only small comfort was that I scooped up his trunks along with my clothes and kept them to remind me and to inconvenience the fuck of him next time he tried to dress for training. Sluts get the best revenge…

Pillow Princess

A Real Buzz

I like to think all my fears in life are completely rational. The Tory government, abandonment, stepping on the cracks on the pavement, all the usuals. But really I am lying to myself because my greatest fear in life is wasps. Which is completely irrational since they are small, I’ve never been stung and like the rest of wildlife in the UK they can’t kill you unless you have an allergy.

But I am terrified of them (and by extension bees because when I’m running in the opposite direction at hysterical speed they look like they might be wasps) and I even had hypnotherapy to deal with my phobia of them. I can just about tolerate them in their outside environment but in my indoor space, the freak out continues.

This generally makes me not a fan of summer. All that sun and sticky drinks are usually bad omens for my ability not to look like an arm flapping lunatic around people. But age must be mellowing me because I spent the evening with my Master and Princess on Friday with the windows open to embrace the warm weather and drinking a few ciders and not watching the window like a hawk.

So we were all in the perfect mood to have an impromptu threesome next morning. My Master hadn’t seen the pussy pump in person yet so it seemed a good time to use it on Princess as she sucked Sir’s cock. She squirmed with each pleasure-pain pump of it and each stinging slap of the paddle I was using on her bare ass too.

Her cunt was swollen and dripping wet and her eyes got that glazed look of horniness where all she wants is orgasms. Sir kept his cock in her mouth and slipped  two fingers into her cunt and one in her ass and brought her to the kind of writing gasping state of orgasms where you want to keep sucking cock but your mouth just falls open with pleasure and all you can do keep gasping in enjoyment and for a hard cock resting on your lips unable to do more.

Having left her in that state of sated but waiting more Sir started fucking her ass while I put a finger inside her. The feel of his cock in her ass determined the pace at which I fucked her cunt as we both filled her up and worked in tandem to turn her into a begging mess of horniness. Greedy slut that she is she asked for the Doxy as well and she came dripping my Master’s come out her ass and they both slumped on the bed looking very content.

I was incredibly wet from watching them fuck and Sir knew it, telling me to put the pump on my cunt for him so he could see the piercing in my clit rising and falling with each time he sucked the pump tighter on my cunt. I’ve enjoyed playing with that toy on my own but someone else dictating the pace made me ridiculously horny.

So when Sir ordered Princess to play with my clit while he watched, all I could do was lie back, eyes closed only aware of the work her fingers and tongue were doing. I came several times before the kind of final orgasm that lifts your whole body off the bed and made me feel like I would squirt from so much sensation and sexual pleasure.

It’s taken me a while to get the hang of just enjoying being fucked without feeling like I ‘owe’ someone pleasure in return. The fear of being bad in bed or a pillow princess made me often unable to relax in simply receiving pleasure and believing the person giving it was enjoying it as much as I enjoy giving my partner pleasure.

Lying in bed in a just fucked heap after our threesome I discovered just how far my ability to relax has come when my Master told me a wasp had flown into the bedroom while Princess was fucking me, done a loop of the room round us, gone back out and then returned for a second sweep all without me noticing. In fact I’d managed to orgasm while it was buzzing around.

I imagined Princess and my Master looking at each other thinking ‘fuck, sex is over if she sees this’ and then laughing at how much they must have been trying not giggle or draw attention to the interloper in the room.

I’ve rarely felt sluttier or more bisexual than at this moment. Discovering wasps are little voyeurs who like to watch threesomes helps make them less terrifying. And it turns out that  all I need to cure my phobia was getting fucked by my girlfriend while obeying the man who owns me’s orders. That’s my kind of exposure therapy for sure and the ultimate act of submission…

A Real Buzz

Spring Warmth

The absolute best time of year for your boiler to stop working is the Saturday afternoon of a four day weekend. I had to get naked at my Master and Princess’s over Easter for purely practical reasons to use their shower while I waited for my landlord to get back to work.

But it did offer up another opportunity to invite a boiler engineer into my house since we all know I love flirting with men who come to my door for work. My Master has me back in stretching training and he’s never a man to miss the chance to push my training further.

So while waiting for the engineer I was to train my cunt with the giant jiggle balls and my waist with the corset, both of which I’ve been neglecting a little bit recently. I love both but potentially wearing them for a time slot between 2pm and midnight was daunting.

The last time I wore the corset, I struggled a bit to get it done up and was panicking a little that I’d lost my hard won waist training milestones. It’s been hanging there taunting me while I’ve been working hard  with the waist trainer.

I brought it down to try it on over the dress I had picked out to make sure there was just slightly more hint of nipple piercings than there should be and was pleased to see that the reason I’d struggled to pull it tight enough was that the laces on one side had twisted and ruined the tension.

A few minutes untangling and untwisting them and a few minutes reminding myself how to pull the laces behind my back properly and the corset went back into place perfectly. I was tempted to keep going but my tits were quite perky enough with an inch to spare so I decided not to push myself in case I was wearing that corset until the clock struck twelve.

I was so pleased that after my worries the corset fitted so well that it didn’t occur to me that I had meant to take it off and put it back on to wear it under my dress. I’ve really missed wearing it and that comforting feeling of being held by it made me only concentrate on enjoying the movements within its structure. I love that feel of being shaped yet supported by the corset just like my submission to Sir.

I was so distracted by that and how wet it was making the panties I’d also been ordered to wear that next thing I knew the boiler engineer had arrived earlier than I’d expected and I had to answer the door with the corset fully on display. And I think it worked well.

Not only was the engineer even friendlier and flirtier this time (bearing in mind he practically invited to visit his parents’ house in Portugal before) but he resisted the temptation to laugh in my face when it turned out the boiler fault was because of my own incredible stupidity with my gas meter. He solved the issue easily but just ‘double checked’ the previous fault again to linger slightly.

I was half enjoying him staying with all the flirtation and flashes of exhibitionism that entailed being the slut for that that I am but I was also desperate for him to leave because Sir had ordered me to make myself come the second he left and I was more than ready for that moment.

I managed to reassure him that my carbon monoxide levels were perfectly safe and I wasn’t going to touch my gas meter again and he finally left. The second I heard my front door close as he let himself out I was leaning against the kitchen work top with my fingers down my panties and not stopping myself from touching my clit.

The corset held me up as I pressed my hand onto my cunt and made myself come hard and fast. It reminded me of when Sir uses the constriction of the corset to hold me up in place while he fucks me against the front door and the thought of that exhibitionism on top of my afternoon made me come very easily.

It was only after I’d texted my Master to thank him for the orgasm and show him my waist training progress in the corset I remembered how visible it had been to the engineer. Even Sir was impressed by that level of blatant sluttery putting it down to my inner instincts rather than accident.

Now all I have to do to impress him further is keep up my training and find a new home for the panties I was wearing when I came…

Spring Warmth

Easter Love Eggs

My Master likes an occasion. From dressing up to Christmas presents he likes to mark events. I am a massive fan of this mix of sentimentality and smut especially as it often ends up with me getting to be my filthy self at moments when he’s pretending to be the very opposite.

I enjoy following his orders and showing him the evidence at any time but there’s a particular slutty impishness I have when I get to send him photos of the sexually creative things I’m doing for him when I know he’s at a family lunch or waiting for a meeting to start.

I think he must enjoy it too because during a family visit over Easter he texted me to tell me that I was going to spend my day with the giant love eggs he bought me for Christmas. After the melodramatic start with them where I managed to lose roughly 300g of metal ben wa ball in my cunt for half a day we haven’t played with them again.

But I’ve been a little bit concerned that I’ve tightened up a touch recently. That last relapse I had health wise definitely set my body back a bit and I haven’t been my usual penetration slut in the same way which is unnerving for anyone who knows my sexual preferences. So I wasn’t going to miss the chance to get back into some training.

Sir started me with what I thought was an April Fool and told me to wear panties for him. It’s been so long since I wore underwear I actually had to go hunting for it which was a lot more enjoyable that it might have been since he told me to wear the small Lelo jiggle balls for an hour to warm me up.

It’s been a while since I wore those as my cunt had stretched enough to not be able to walk with two pairs inside me. This time, I was able to pop a pair in with ease and hold them in place while I suddenly felt a real urge to bend and stand up and do things that made them jiggle and roll and get my cunt soaking wet.

I was then to pull the panties aside and use the new pussy pump on my cunt and then make myself come rubbing my clit through the soaking knickers. It took me a minute or two to get used to having my cunt covered but I actually used to love masturbating while wearing panties so it didn’t take long for my muscle memory to kick in.

The jiggle balls seemed to loop the loop inside me when I started pulling the suction tight on my cunt with the pump. I enjoyed the jolt of jiggling so much I made sure to tighten and loosen the toy three or four times to maximise how wet and swollen the toys were making me.

I’d forgotten just how good the feel of fabric against a dripping wet cunt can be. That feeling of pulling my knickers aside for instant gratification takes me back to those youthful fucks that were just about getting to cock and therefore orgasm as fast as possible. It reminds me of balancing on my tiptoes in alleyways and toilet cubicles to push my cunt down harder on hard cock and it always turns me on even now.

I didn’t take that long to come. I’m not sure I’ve combined panties, piercing and pure horniness ever, but letting the fabric slip slickly up and down my swollen clit and create a friction on my piercing with fingers worked magic and I came ridiculously hard sending Sir some excellent photos.

pink panties and pussy pumpHe approved enough to tell me to repeat my orders with the giant jiggle balls and that when I’d come with those he would give me my next order. I had come so hard and ejaculated so much that when I took the Lelo balls out my panties were beyond wear because they were so wet. I slipped them off and got ready to rumble with the giant jiggle balls.

I was expecting to find them a little tricky to get in since my cunt is so out of practice at the moment. I rolled the first one up and down my sopping cunt and it was so slippery it was like I’d used lube. I pressed it against my cunt and it just glided in with the merest pressure with my two fingers. My cunt swallowed it whole with one hungry gulp and I was left with dripping wet fingers for the second one.

My fingers have been inside my soaking wet cuntI didn’t need lube for that one either as it slid in with a satisfying thud against its twin that reverberated through my cunt and down to my toes. Despite not having had much in my cunt for months, the balls were actually less uncomfortable than the first time I’d worn them and I couldn’t wait to feel them tilting and moving when I used the pump.

Giant ben wa ball in my gaping cunt

The new pair of panties I put on to accompany them were a sopping sodden mess in no time and my cunt was dripping onto the bed when I took the pump off. I actually thought for a minute that the combination of the balls and the pump had made me squirt already but I was just that wet.

In fact I was so wet my fingers just kept sliding off my clit even with the fabric and I had to use the heel pressed into my cunt with my fingers cupped underneath holding me to make myself come. I came hard enough that the second jiggle ball slipped down and rolled out which actually felt amazing stretching me open like when Sir takes his fist out of me.

I texted him more very family unfriendly photos and awaited my next orders. No more orgasms sadly but I needed to find a site I can sell my soaking wet panties I’ve fucked myself in to people online…

Easter Love Eggs

Gatecrashing

One of the hot topics on Twitter this week came from the chat started by this article by Exhibit A on inviting exes and people you have slept with to your wedding. Lots of people seemed to be of the opinion you should never have anyone you’ve had sex with at your wedding which surprised me considering how many people stay friends with exes.

Then I remembered that I’ve used that social pressure to avoid attending weddings on more than one occasion. I’m not a massive fan of weddings (although I did enjoy the one I met my Master at) and the only thing more awkward than wearing the same dress as someone at one is having fucked the same person as the bride has.

Well that’s what I thought until I accidentally ended up at a wedding where I’d fucked the best man and the groom at the same time and took awkwardness into a whole dimension. As I’ve said before I’d encountered quite a few guys who had hired me for a threesome when I was an escort but it had always turned more into tag teaming.

These two stood out because they didn’t display any of the toxic masculinity many men have around anything that might  make them seem ‘gay’. They didn’t look awkward about seeing each other naked or brushing against each other even thought they weren’t being sexual with each other.

And unusually and memorably while both of them went for the sharing style of a tag team fuck by ending with their cocks aimed over me, there was a last minute surprise when one of them came over his friend’s cock, leaning so close the tips practically brushed together and the second guy came hard over my tits having had his cock well and truly lubricated with fresh come right at the crucial moment.

It was one of the few erotic experiences I ever took home from ‘work’ that genuinely turned me on. That kind of team work went right to my cunt in its casual filthiness and I thought it about enough times over the next few years that I’d sort of turned a reality into a fantasy and forgotten the people behind it.

So a few years later I’d moved from my seaside uni town to the big smoke and had a job that often involved doing make up and styling at weddings. I’d spent a warm Sunday morning in August lugging a heavy kit to one of those postcodes that sounds central but in the arse end of suburban London and I was frazzled after doing four women’s make up by the time I arrived at the church to tuck myself away unobtrusively until the photos.

One of the bridesmaids spotted my wheely kit and called me over to her and the groom who was standing with his back to me. Because the day was warmer than expected he was sweating in his suit and she wondered if I could help. Her exact words were ‘could you touch the groom here up a bit?’ just as he turned and we both recognised each other.

I’d last seen him pumping his come lubricated cock over my tits and it seemed the occasion was as memorable for him as me. I froze and he appeared to melt inside his suit. A few beads of sweat turned to a torrent and I genuinely thought for a second he would faint. He looked like his entire life had just flashed before his eyes.

And the bridesmaid noticed too and called the best man over. I didn’t even need to look to know the man in the grey suit coming towards me was the literal third party. I could see the dawning realisation of the situation on his face like his steps seemed to stand still as he came towards us. From their terror I surmised the groom had not been single when they’d been fucking me for cash in a hotel room.

In autopilot while the bubbly bridesmaid chatted about make up I did myself best to hide the sickening shade of pale grey the groom’s face had gone clashing with his suit and his dreams of the best day of his life. Both he and the best man reacted to me touching them like I was handling live venomous snakes in their face and it was so noticeable the bridesmaid actually joked that ‘she won’t think you’re gay if you wear make up.’

I wasn’t aware three people could clench tighter than we were already doing but every day’s a school day it seems. The bridesmaid nipped off to do something else and the best man hissed at me ‘why is there a whore at the wedding?’ while his friend looked like he might vomit on his own shoes.

Considering he and his pal had much more to lose at that precise moment than me, I replied much more calmly than I felt that ‘like her husband to be, the bride had had hired me for services rendered’ and walked off before I either yelled at him or burst into tears.

Clearly a stern talking to worked on both of them because they pulled it together enough to get through the ceremony without looking like two over grown schoolboys in good suits caught with their hand in the cookie jar and do the legal bits without fucking it up and I managed to restrain myself from shouting anything out at the lawful impediment bit much as I was tempted.

I even managed to make the bride look radiant and the groom less grey before their photos so that hopefully there was no photographic evidence of his shame for them to look at on the mantelpiece for years to come. Standing back while the photographer did his job with the happy couple I took a deep breath and felt some of the tension of the day ease.

And that minute the best man appeared at my elbow and asked me was I staying for the reception. My mouth fell open at the sheer brass balls of him and he took my pause as encouragement rather than horror and followed it up with ‘I’ll make it worth your while since that’s all you care about.’

Clearly I have no moral objections to exchanging sexual acts for money but I do object to men using that to insult or undermine me and in lieu of dropping that heavy wheely kit on his very shiny shoes I turned and said ‘no thanks. Your friend was hotter. That’s why he’s married and you’re trying to pick up whores at his wedding.’

And it was true. The best man was definitely only the warm up act to the groom’s starring role which is the only reason I still find the original memory so hot…

 

Gatecrashing