I smile, waiting for the next guy to kneel behind me on the mattress, and as his weight drops down, Ant gives me another whisper, offering me what feels like the greatest reward on earth.
“You can play with yourself now, princess. Work your clit until you come like the dirty slut you are.”
I don’t need telling twice. My fingers are straight down there, circling the sopping wet mess of my clit, and it feels fucking amazing as the latest cock slams me. My tits bounce and my nipples graze the mattress, and I tip my head back, moaning, giving everything to the sensations between my legs as the guy picks up the pace. He’s gripping at my thighs, thrusting so hard, and holy fuck it feels so good as the orgasm starts to spark.
“Look at the camera,” Ant says when I get into the zone, and I smile and look up at him, squirming and slamming and pushing back against a random guy’s cock as I come like a slut for the guy who wants me to be one.
Even now, trashed drunk and lost to all reason, I know what my clit wants, and how my pussy feels. I’m working myself like a filthy bitch, gasping and coming because I want it.
Yes, yes, yes, fucking yes.
“Dirty fucking slut,” the guy says, his cock slipping free.
“Thanks,” I say into the mattress, absolutely exhausted when the door closes behind the last of them. I don’t know how many I’ve taken, or by which guys and when, but my pussy is battered so bad that I wince when I move. I try my best to stay in position enough to keep my pussy filled tight, but my knees are sore and my breaths are ragged and I’m so desperate for a pee that I’d piss all over the mattress if I didn’t know it would spill all the cum down my legs.
I may have peed myself a bit already, I don’t even know. I don’t know how much is left of the bottle of champagne, but probably none, as the room is spinning so fast I can barely keep my balance.
I don’t look behind me as someone comes back in, but I know it’s Ant. I can hear it in his footsteps.
He gets down behind me and I whimper as he pulls my ass cheeks apart, running his thumb down my sopping wet slit.
“Fuck, Cass, this is the horniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re so damn hot I can barely believe it.”
I know he’s got a camera up close. I feel him shuffling as he films me.
“Push down like a good girl,” he says, and I do it. I let the cum dribble out in spurts, a bit at a time.
“That’s my perfect slut,” he whispers. “Play with yourself, baby.”
I shake my head because I can’t. I’m just too fucked and exhausted.
“I said play with yourself!” he snaps, then takes my wrist and pulls my hand to my pussy, hooking two of my fingers inside me.
Jesus Christ, I’m so full and so wet, and so sore to go along with it.
I don’t know whether to laugh or grin or cry, so do a combination of all three.
“One more cock to go,” Ant says and I hear his belt loosen. “This one is the one you’ve been waiting for isn’t it, princess?”
I can’t do anything but moan and whimper as he fucks me hard and fast. It hurts, and pulses, but he’s just too good at using me. I feel the pleasure over the top of the pain.
I’m crying out in whimpers, still trying to give him what he needs, and he rewards me. He wraps his hand around and rubs at my swollen raw clit, gently enough that I get a fresh little burst of an orgasm. Oww, but yes. Yes.
I don’t feel Ant come inside me, just hear his curses and flesh slapping flesh when he does.
I’m swaying drunk when he lifts me to my feet. He leads me through to the bathroom on legs so bandy I could easily tumble.
He puts me on the toilet and I piss so hard I feel the cum dribbling out of me in a stream.
“Cass?” Ant asks, and I realise I must be in and out of consciousness. “Cass, baby, stay with me. Are you really that fucking trashed?”
Yes, I am, so I shrug at him with a giggle and almost fall off the toilet.
Ant swiftly catches me and helps me upright. “Fucking hell,” he says, and wipes between my legs. “I expected you to be responsible, but look at the state of you. You’re a fucking wreck.”
His tone is so condescending that it makes me cringe, even through my drunkenness.
“Maybe I should ration your drinking like a fucking teenager,” he snaps, and I get a spark in me I haven’t felt before. But it’s more than a spark. It’s absolute fucking rage.