Once more?

A luxurious car stopped near me, the driver, like a doorman, opened the door, and I heard from inside the cabin:

— Sveta, why are you standing there? Get in!

Peering into the car, I saw Nastya there, who was waving at me and smiling from ear to ear. Getting into the car, I was stunned by the luxury inside. The driver closed the door behind me, returned to the wheel, and we drove off.

— Where from? — I asked, looking around.

— Oh, just sucked off some oligarch for five years.

— And you couldn't afford Gucci? — I nodded at the Chinese purse.

— The business lady sent the car, we're going to her.

— For something like this, you'd have to suck it all the way to the

tonsils.

— Absolutely.

Nastya had been inviting me for a long time to what you might call a "divorcee club," which was only for insiders, to steam in the sauna, scream in karaoke, drink wine, the real stuff. I had refused for a long time; it felt awkward to go to strangers empty-handed, and who knows what might happen. But the idea of a narrow circle of decent, unsettled in their personal lives but well-established in the business world girls tempted me to network in a relaxed setting, "Free Women."

Upon arrival, Nastya held my hand to stop me from opening the door:

— Ladies don't open doors themselves.

LADIES, it echoed in my head. The driver opened the car for us, a snobbish-looking doorman opened the house door. The porch looked more expensive than my entire apartment: granite steps, a marble entrance arch. Going inside, I saw what you might call "diamond sparkle." Everything looked as if half the European kings should probably bow to the hostess and kiss her hands. Nastya, tossing off her cloak on the move as if on purpose, which was instantly caught by a man who appeared out of nowhere, dressed just like the doorman, led me like a connoisseur to the right door, while I looked around on the move, hastily taking off my jacket, which was caught by the same man who had already gotten ahead of me. Entering the door, which the same man opened for us, we saw a woman in a bathrobe in the middle of the room.

— Liza!

— Nina — and Nastya, whom the hostess had just called by another name, embraced this woman rather vulgarly: one hand taking the other woman's hand, and the other hand frankly below the waist, and they kissed on the lips, not exactly a deep kiss, but not just a peck either; their tongues managed to meet.

— This is Margarita. The hostess of all this, Liza. — Nastya introduced us to each other, winking at me and putting a finger to her lips.

— Everyone just went to the steam room, catch up. — and Liza left through another door.

— What's with Margarita? — I protested. — I didn't bring any bath stuff, you told me yourself, I just don't have any.

— And you don't need to — Nastya opened a built-in wardrobe, sliding a giant door behind which were: about fifty robes of different colors and sizes, bath hats, slippers, and an unimaginable number and variety of other accessories.

— You haven't even seen how many bath whisks she has, some are even brought from South America. Exotic. Here, everyone has different names. It's necessary.

Undressing, I kept fearing that the man from the hall would suddenly appear out of thin air and snatch my panties and bra from my hands and disappear with them impassively. We went to the steam room through the pool, where we left our robes. In the steam room besides Liza, there were two other women: Olya and Masha, as they were introduced to me. In the bath, everyone is naked, nothing to hide. Olya, a woman with a barrel-shaped figure, waist wider than hips and chest. Masha with a boyish figure, nothing stood out, not hips, not waist, not chest, not hairstyle, even her voice and mannerisms were boyish. My friend Nastya, a former figure skater, over the years since her sports days, her figure hadn't worsened; she took care of it. And Liza, she has an aristocratic figure, stately posture, only a small belly gave away her years. My figure, of course, is not athletic or aristocratic, but very feminine. At first, it seemed to me they were groping me with their eyes. I literally felt them fondling my breasts, stroking my ass, and reaching into my crotch. But then I got used to it, and after drinking, I didn't care anymore. Near the pool stood a small table with wine and fruit. We steamed, swam in the pool, drank, steamed again, drank, swam. It was fun. Then we went to another room. There was a large table already with drinks and more serious snacks. Around the table were arranged sofas, on the wall hung a huge TV with all the speakers, karaoke, and much more. Many carpets lay on the floor. Everyone walked barefoot. Around the table, a man in an apron on his bare torso was bustling, and from under the apron, bare legs were visible. I quickly tightened my robe. The others didn't react to him. Some just had a robe draped over them, some held it in their hands. The man didn't react to the naked women either. He filled glasses with drinks. Pouring something different into each. The girls settled around the table, apparently each in her own place. I sat in the remaining spot, to the left of the hostess. Turning his head to me, the man asked:

— What would you like to drink?

The man's face was in white makeup like Pierrot.

— What? — I asked, confused.

— Whiskey, cognac, tequila, scotch, vodka?

— Vodka. — I named the familiar drink.

He poured and left the room, probably for something else. Glancing at him as he left, I saw that besides the apron, he had nothing on. Seeing a male ass, I involuntarily giggled. Liza observed my reaction.

— Has it been a while since you had a man? — she asked, drinking.

I just drank and, covering my mouth, waved my hand meaningfully. We drank a few more times, the man brought something else.

— Come here, — Liza commanded him, indicating he should stand in front of me. He approached me.

— Show, — she commanded again. He obediently and without the slightest emotion lifted the hem of the apron, presenting his "equipment" to my view. Besides my eyes widening in surprise, nothing changed in the room. The girls were talking about something, still not covering up, as if this wasn't a man but a tray on wheels. Even the exposed "equipment" attracted no attention.

— Touch it, — she said to me. — Go on. Be braver.

I was embarrassed, probably blushed. She laughed, took my hand, and placed my palm right on his penis, holding it a bit so I wouldn't pull back immediately. How long had it been? Warm, firm. The balls weren't hanging, pulled up to the body. Lightly touching with my palm, I moved from the head up, circled around the scrotum, and returned my palm to the head from the side of the legs, lifting it with my hand into a so-called working position. The weightiness of this "device" was felt, but no weight. He reacted to my touch. I really wanted to pull the skin back to expose the head, and secretly, somewhere deep in my desires, I wanted to kiss it. Liza sensed my mesmerized state.

— Hey! You're not alone here. Wipe your drool. Go to the next one. — she said to the man.

I removed my hand, and the man obediently, holding the apron hem up, went to the next woman. There, they didn't stand on ceremony with him: they tugged at both his penis and balls and even jerked him off. The man remained emotionless. Literally, his equipment was passed around. Going around the circle to Liza, the man received a slap on the ass from her with the words:

— Enough shaking your balls, time to drink.

The man immediately got back to his waiter duties. We drank many more times; at some point, Liza took a bundle of something from a secret compartment in the wardrobe, threw it on the table, saying:

— Time to play.

The bundle turned out to be a number of rubber dildos with straps; the girls took them apart, one was thrown to me.

They all put them on quite quickly and put my set on me, amid general giggling.

— What game?

— Cards, for real.

— What real?

— This one, — and Liza, with a whip she also took from the wardrobe, snapped it against both halves of the man's buttocks. — you'll understand now.

On the table already lay a deck of rather large playing cards. Everyone sat around the table. Well, drunk women are drunk women; before sitting at the table, they shook their dicks in front of each other, squeezed each other's, imitating men, as they thought, laughing loudly. The principle of the card game was simple: take turns drawing a card from the deck and showing what was on the picture. There were inscriptions like: skip one to the left or one to the right. Then Masha drew a picture: a couple having sex sexpornotales.cc in the doggy style, and she pounced from behind on the man, pushing him onto the carpet and did with him what was drawn on the picture, amid the general hooting of drunk women. The man offered no resistance. After a couple of minutes, she returned to the table, and everyone continued drawing cards. Now the same picture came to me. I started to refuse. But they pushed me out from behind the table toward the man, who after Masha was still on his knees.

— Go on! — everyone shouted, but I resisted.

And suddenly the air was split by a whistle, and a red stripe appeared on the man's buttocks from the whip, blood began to show. The man whimpered through his teeth.

— A woman doesn't want you, what's wrong with you? — Liza yelled at him.

— Ah! — I cried, — it hurts him!

— It'll get worse! Do him!

Tears streamed from my eyes. The others dragged me to the man from behind.

— Go on, go on, do him, the whip hurts more, for sure — they said in turn.

They aimed "my" dick into him, pushed me from behind, so it went in halfway. It went in with resistance, like a knife into cheese, but not very hard cheese; the other end pressed against my pubic bone and slightly lower. Under other circumstances, this should have led to pleasure. But I was close to hysterics, and if not for the fear that she would whip him to death, I don't know what would have happened. I started moving my hips: toward and away from the man's ass. The man slowly moved his ass toward me so the dick would go deeper and Liza wouldn't get angry. But apparently, she didn't like it. She waved the whip and said:

— Enough suffering, there's no pleasure in force. Take off the gear.

I pushed his ass away from me, so much so that the dick came out with a pop, and I sat on my knees, all in tears, almost sobbing. Masha and Olya dragged me to the sofa by the table and took the dick off me. Liza poured a triple dose of cognac into a glass and dripped something from a small bottle.

— This is a sedative.

I drank, wincing, taking small sips, gulping air with my mouth. I stayed on the sofa; the girls with Liza went to sing karaoke, apparently with the same interest. But I couldn't see that from behind the table anymore. The alcohol started to work, and what Liza had dripped too. A certain detachment from external bustle began; I lay down on the sofa and fell asleep completely calm.

I woke up because someone was caressing me, like a man before sex. Trying to look around, I started to move, which led someone to more active actions. It was Masha: she started kissing my chest, neck, face, lips, and with one hand reaching into my crotch. I started pushing her away, but she deftly dodged my hands from herself, more persistently trying to kiss me on the lips. After a while, we were having a full-scale sofa struggle.

— Hey! You on the sofa! What are you doing there?! — Liza asked menacingly.

We stopped. I raised my head above the table. In the corner of the room on the carpet lay the man on his back. Liza was sitting on his penis, and Nastya on his face. Apparently, they had been kissing until Liza got distracted by us. And then an unexpected phrase escaped me:

— Everything's fine.

The women giggled and continued kissing and wiggling their asses each on their part of the man's body. Olya in another corner was watching TV, proving something to it. And then I screamed:

— Aah! — this was Masha biting my breast, right on the nipple, not lightly, but not too painfully either, just unexpectedly. — Oh, you! — and our struggle continued.

From the side, it looked like two playing puppies were called out, they said — Okay — and continued.

Masha ended up on top. Hey, from on top, it was easier for her to "conquer" me. I thought: what will she do next? I started to weaken my resistance, little by little began to respond to kisses, which reflected on their quality, and after a while, we were sucking face like young lovers in a passion, and she took me like a man (the panties with the dick were on her). And this lesbian knew how to please a woman, and after a couple of minutes, I was already moving in rhythm with her and moaning. After a while, warmth from my belly spread through all my muscles with a heartbeat rhythm, they all contracted, and ORGASM. Masha apparently too, synchronously with me. She lay on me, breathing heavily. Catching her breath, she asked:

— Want more?

— Yes! — I instantly replied.

Slowly, smoothly accelerating, she started... and the second orgasm came much sooner. How long had it been, how long. The body took over the mind, and I whispered:

— More?

— Now you on top.

And we flipped over synchronously. I sat on "her" dick, she reached out her hands, took my waist, moved her hands higher, pulling me toward her. I started leaning toward her, and some force started leaning on me from behind. Masha was pulling me from below toward her, someone piled on my back, I didn't have the strength to resist, they pushed me onto Masha and started taking me from behind. I realized it was Olya. Scream? Would they believe me? Not long ago, I was struggling with Masha and said everything was fine. She'd gag me. And I didn't have the strength to resist or scream anymore, I just wanted it to end faster. And yes, it ended quickly, as if they just wanted to show me that we can do this to you. A minute's work, and they got off me from behind. I remained lying on Masha. She stroked my back. I turned my head away from her.

About ten years ago, I went to my lover, whom I saw once a week. That day, he was drinking with a friend. I wanted to leave, but they persuaded me to stay, saying he'd leave soon, and we'd be alone. We drank quite nicely, and indeed, the friend, with a very unsteady gait, left. Actually, to another room. Soon we heard his snoring. So, we decided to do what I came for. He gallantly undressed me, undressing himself in parallel