My very own jerking off fantasy! Let me see what I can do, without encroaching on "erotic stories" territory.
I am a young woman of 21 or 22, just moved to the big city after finishing university. I ran cross-country and track in college, but unlike almost every other girl on my team, I have some serious boobs. Most guys consider me to be pretty cute, but my looks are more sweet and wholesome as opposed to overtly sexy.
Very shortly after moving here, I've found myself becoming involved with a woman I met at a party. By "involved", I mean that I've discovered that there is a definite sexual attraction between me and her. I've only ever been with guys before, and every relationship has been totally vanilla. Now I find myself confused, and wondering if I need to acknowledge that I could be bisexual. I find that I want to please her. It's very important to me, somehow. She's invited me to a party at her place. I don't have a date, but she told me that's OK, that there will be a lot of cool people there and I will make lots of new friends. I've found myself assuming, without any real justification, that somehow my hostess and I will end the evening together.
I arrive 15 minutes after she told me the party would begin, and find that I'm the only guest there.
She presents me with a paper grocery bag, and tells me, this is your outfit for tonight. Put it on.
I am so much under her spell already, that I just sort of mindlessly obey. I go into her bathroom and find that I am basically going to be wearing a rubber dress at this party. It looks to be about five inches above the knee, and it looks like it might, maybe, just about cover my nipples.
I am embarrassed, and I feel offended, that she'd just assume I would wear this kind of sleazy stuff for her. I'm also confused. Why can't I just wear what I came in, I wonder.
So I put on this shiny latex rubber dress, and I basically look like a whore. It totally doesn't go with my careful, modest, pretty makeup. It's incredibly tight, and its only feature, apart from the too-tight rubber, is this underwire under my boobs. My rack is thrust upward and outward by this dress; I could almost carry drinks on top of my breasts in this thing. Again, I want to please her, and most of all I'm desperate not to disappoint her. I walk out of the bathroom and stand in front of her. I know I am blushing fire engine red.
She looks very pleased with me. Immediately, just seeing how her face lights up when she sees me, even though I look like some kind of whore, I feel better. I start to feel more confident about myself.
"We need to hurry, Babette" she says. Hurry with what, I wonder.
She comes over to me and I see she has some ropes. Before I know what is happening, she is binding my wrists behind my back. Again, I don't protest. In my innocence or my naïveté, I desperately want her to think that I am special.
She binds my arms behind my back, binds my legs together, and shoves me down onto my knees. She's being pretty rough with me now. She positions me against the wall, near the door. "There you go, dear. You look just perfect."
I am flattered by what she says, because I am still enthralled by the idea that I am special because of being here before anyone else. But then I look down at myself, and I get really scared. The way my arms are tied behind my back makes my breasts project out obscenely. It suddenly occurs to me that she is using me as some kind of pretty ornament; part of the party décor. The reason I am here, it dawns on me, is to be objectified. I don't qualify as a party guest. I'm just part of the surroundings.
Guests begin to arrive, and I realize, to my horror, that several of them are guys that I work with at my new job, where I've been for less than two months. Of course, they do a double-take when they see me. I know that they have thought of me as this very innocent, serious professional young woman.
At first, they seem embarrassed for me, as if they want to help me. They get their drinks, and I see them glancing at me as they talk to our hostess. She is looking at me out of the corner of her eye as she speaks with them. They're looking at me doubtfully, at first. As they continue talking with her, they begin to look at me less politely, and to laugh with each other.
These guys, that I know from work, begin to walk nearer to me, in twos and threes. They begin to talk about me as if I'm not there. They talk with each other, standing where I can hear them, about my boobs and my ass and my thighs, and how hot I look all tied up and defenseless. They keep staring down at me as they talk about me. At no time do they acknowledge me as a person who is at the party. It is very obvious that I am just there to be a sexy decoration. I am so mortified. My face is red with shame.
I see them talking about me with their backs to me. They seem to be looking at our hostess, and they seem to be a little uncertain about what to do next. Then one of them turns around, and he has his cock out. This is a guy I work with every day. He touches it and sort of waves it at me.
I realize suddenly that five or six guys are watching, besides the woman who invited me, the woman I want so badly to please. They are watching this guy touch his cock in front of me. He walks over to me. I am bound and helpless. I look up into his eyes. I hardly know this guy. He starts slapping my face with his cock. What can I do? I just keep looking up at him.
Several of the guys look over at her. Whatever she tells them, whatever indication she gives them, I cannot see it. But they begin touching me, and more of them take their cocks out. They begin grabbing me, groping me and roughly pawing my boobs, and smearing their pre-cum on my face. They're making comments about my body. These comments are incredibly crude and offensive; yet, even as I'm helplessly exposed before them, I feel proud of how I look. I am somehow proud to be leered at by these guys. I find myself listening for, and craving, comments about my "huge fucking tits", or about my "hot little ass", or about how I look like I would "make a great little cocksucker".
Just at the very moment that one of them realizes that there will be no consequences whatsoever for anything he does, I realize that my pussy is gushing. It strikes me so hard, so suddenly, that I shiver and make a little whining noise. I suddenly have an overpowering urge to touch my cunt, but I'm frustrated to realize that I'm still tied up, and this makes me start whining more loudly.
I look down and realize that not only is my pussy gushing and dripping, but that my wet pussy juice has actually leaked out onto the floor. I look up and see that she has observed this.
Now I understand what I am here for, and I am filled with a thrilling desire to do it. I moan with a warm, fulfilling happiness as the head of one my new friends' cocks pops through my larynx and down into my throat. I look up and see that she is smiling at me.
)
Oh my....
Tennis club meeting in my tennis skirt,bra an panty.
