As You Wish

I am wearing high-heeled shoes that highlight my calves. Today I wear a black skirt that does not reach my knees and allows anyone to appreciate them perfectly. My blouse is see-through and underneath it shows a flesh-colored bra that simulates nudity. Today I dress as a whore and I enter a bar. The atmosphere of the classic bars always makes my libido tremble. Many spend their time in chic places with excessive lighting and fictitious colors, thus missing out on the benefits that the night offers in the clubs.

The smell of cigarettes, the almost silent music, the cheap whores at the bar, and, of course, the pool table full of rascals. In this underworld, I dive in search of adventures. I need to escape from every day and give my life a sip of freedom. I steal the gaze of those present. I walk firmly wrapped in my pride. They all look me up and down. I dress like a whore, but my clothes are expensive. I must be seen by many as a "good whore" assuming I get paid for my services in bed and then spend my earnings on fancy clothes, unhappy fools.

I have a problem, I admit it. At least I did the first necessary step, according to my shrink. I have a problem with sex and I lie in the sessions saying that I fight against it. The truth is that I have never even tried to resist when the desire calls. I own my body and my life, I use it and live it as I want, respectively. I like to be used, period. I like to feel that men take advantage of me, but I don't like men taking advantage of me. It's not that confusing, if I spot someone being smart with me I'll cut it down in the blink of an eye, but if someone thinks they're using me when I'm the one driving it, I love it.

I don't know where this disorder comes from, not even my shrink knows. After numerous sessions, he continues to ask me to tell him about my parents, even after mentioning that everything was fine with my childhood. The source of my problem doesn't matter. The truth is that I enjoy it more than anything in life. The only worry that bothers me and why I decided to go to therapy is that I run the risk of contracting a disease, or maybe getting pregnant if I don't change my lifestyle. But today will not be that day. Today is just one of many days where I surrender to fate and wait patiently for an addictive and dangerous future.

It's been over 2 hours since I've been at the bar. I've had about a dozen "shots". I went to the bathroom and when I came back, I pretended not to be able to stand up. Before I let my hair down in front of the mirror and I sprayed my face with water to damage my makeup. Now I return to my place transformed into a whore who is also drowning in tears and grief, I love it.

The brainless begin to fall, the first one approaches me to buy me a drink but I reject it, I like to play with men. Then I decide to get up and move towards one of those wonderful L-shaped seats, on which you can smell the stories of the poor souls who frequent places like that. I've pretended to slip a little on the way there, stealing a few glances, garnering attention. I have touched one of the animals on the pool table, using it as a wall to keep my balance in my supposed state.

I fall onto the seat and let my head rest back. My sitting position is not the most suitable, enough to keep the previous gazes on me. Now I enter an ethyl coma in full view of everyone, and the fun begins. After 5 minutes the man who previously invited me for a drink approaches. He sits next to me and talks to me, but I don't react. Amusingly, he begins to talk nonsense, talking for the sake of talking.

I have experienced this before; I know perfectly well what he is doing. He pretends to have a conversation with me so as not to alarm the other people in the bar. This is just a little strategy that he applies so that everyone assumes that he has my consent for what he does next. The moment has come. The pig has a hand on my thigh and is moving slowly, groping before lunging. I don't move, I don't make any gestures, I don't do anything, I just enjoy.

His hand begins to gain ground little by little. Now it's between the junction of my thighs. I take care not to open them easily to make it a bit difficult for them, I love to see how the very bastards get desperate trying to get their hands on me. With more abrupt movements he manages to move forward and his thumb is now on my panties, caressing my clit. I remain motionless for a few minutes, then I let out a small moan and spread my legs a little, almost nothing, but just enough to increase his lust. I feel the heat rising in my pussy and apparently, he does too.

With more careless movements he begins to pull on my panties, looking for a way to make direct contact with my pussy. At that moment, I apply my next movement, letting my back fall on the seat. This has not only forced that stranger to remove his hands from me but has also once again stolen the attention of the rest, who are now beginning to slowly approach like hungry hyenas. No one goes directly to where I am, however, they stay around nearby, they just want to see what happens and clarify the situation.

Now I depend on how horny the pig sitting next to me is. If he can't control his desire to feel my pussy with his hands, he'll try to put them there again. Luckily for me he doesn't think about it too much, he drinks the rest of his drink in one gulp and now tries to put his fingers inside me again, but this time from behind, touching my pussy, hams, and anus in the process. I keep my eyes half open to be able to observe the panorama a bit, thanks to this I can contemplate the rest of the vultures approaching.

The first of them sits next to my head. He lifts it gently and moves under it. Now I use her thighs as a pillow. His hands go straight to my breasts without care. He slides them gently over them at first, but gradually increases the pressure as he becomes convinced that I'm too drunk to know what's going on. The first cheeky has already made its way into my pussy. With the tip of his thumb, he gently massages it, at least he treats me delicately.

Now I feel 4 hands on my chest. The feeling they cause me is even greater than the one coming from my pussy. I feel my top being lifted as someone else unties my bra. Damn! How exciting to be fucked by a herd. Now the hands are in direct contact with my breasts. They are firmly pressed, shamelessly. I try to get into their minds to understand why they do it this way. Maybe they've always wanted to squeeze breasts this hard, maybe an oblivious whore is the best chance they've got to do it.

Someone strokes my stomach too, if I'm not mistaken 4 pigs are groping my body right now. How good it feels to be used, this morbidity is dangerous, this morbidity is true. God, it's coming, I feel it pushing in, finally. My pussy has been penetrated by the first of my stalkers, I don't think his cock is a big deal, I must say, but the hands of the others make up for it. It feels good, it feels divine. The pants that lay under my head have disappeared. Now my face rests on that man's bare abdomen, who begins to swing his cock through my mouth, brushing my lips with each movement.

His finger separates my teeth and makes gentle pressure. As a whore that I am, don't resist and let myself go. I can smell it, it's coming. His cock enters my mouth while I feel the other guy cumming inside me, a damn premature ejaculator. I hear some very sublime laughter from another of those present, who now demands his turn to taste my pussy. It never ceases to curious me how they keep silent at all times. Maybe they think if they talk they're going to wake me up, poor fools, or maybe it's the natural response to recognize that something wrong is being done.

I return my attention to my mouth where I savor that delicious cock. I can't wait to press my lips together and suck hard to leave his taste in my mouth, but I know that would take me out of character, so I just keep my mouth open. Oh my God! My second stalker's dick far exceeds the first. He took a breath out of me as soon as he put it in me. I couldn't hide the pleasure I felt.

I make a small movement to better accommodate myself to the situation, making everyone stop at the possibility that I return from my supposed ethyl coma. Fools, I'm not going to stop so much morbidity. Seeing that nothing has changed, everyone goes back to work, this time with more confidence. They accommodate me as they want on that sofa, and now I find myself lying on my back while the cock that used to push inside my mouth now ejaculates on my face.

I don't know what gives me more pleasure, the smell of sperm or the gasps of that man when he cums on me. My left leg is on the back of the seat, the right one is being carried by a fucking fetishist who runs his dick over the soles of my feet. The truth is that I don't dislike it. Now the one who penetrates me has taken advantage of my new position to unleash his waist. Seeing me open like that has given her the impulse to start a series of sudden movements that make me feel his cock in my stomach. My sighs start to rise, I can't take so much pleasure, I'm being fucked properly.

-- Slowly, you're going to wake her up-says the feet lover-

-- This whore is completely drunk-says the fucking pig, increasing the pace-

I feel the heat on my foot, the fucking fetishist came without even giving me some pleasure in return. My foot now falls to the ground, forcing the pig that continues to fuck me to slightly adjust his position. Now it's just the two of us left on the sofa. His strong thrusts crush my hams against the cushions as he begins to show signs of an imminent cumshot. I narrow my eyes to look around. Usually, more people always join to take a piece of me, but this time it was different.

The bar is empty, the bartender took charge of sending everyone to their homes to put on some kind of private party among the few that remain there. The bartender comes to my side as I receive the other man's cum in my pussy.

-- Shit, you already have it full of milk-says the bartender to his buddies while they smile-

-- You can fuck her from behind-says the one who just came out of me-

This idiot grabs my leg that was still resting on the seat and pushes it to the ground. Now only half of my body remains asleep on the sofa, while my legs rest on the floor of that dirty bar. My exposed hams are mercilessly slapped and squeezed by the same bastard:

-- His little ass is still clean-he says encouraging the one who was missing to take his piece-

I prepare myself in my head for one of my favorite parts, however, I hear the words of the bartender saying that better not, that I was already very used. This jerk doesn't want to give me what I deserve. I begin to sigh and issue ardent invitations to receive what I want. Phrases like "give it to me daddy" and "yes baby" begin to come out of my mouth between murmurs.

-- The whore thinks she's fucking with her boyfriend or something like that-says the fetishist and they all burst out laughing, it backfired on me-

-- Take her to the back street-orders the bartender between laughs-

They all carry me to the back alley. When the door is opened, the weather changes immediately, outside it rains a little hard. They carelessly drop me into a puddle in the middle of the narrow alley and walk off laughing, probably back to their pool table. I find myself there, alone in the middle of nowhere, resting in a puddle of dirty water that will leave a smell in my hair that will take me several days to get rid of.

I make a vain attempt to look at the sky, but the raindrops insist on hitting my pupils, forcing me to keep my eyes closed. I stay there meditating on my life when I feel a presence next to me. His body receives most of the rain that comes from that direction and now I can open my eyes. Now I can see it well. He's a dirty homeless man who moves his dick desperately while looking at my still-bare breasts.

I don't even flinch, I'll wait for him to finish, the night was already ruined for me anyway. The idiot has also cummed on my face, luckily the rain will help me remove it later. He puts his cock away and leaves at full speed, but not before stealing my high heels. God, I could write a book about my life-I tell myself between laughs.

It seems that there will be no more surprises and I decide to get up and walk. The cold water under my feet feels delicious. I cover my breasts and walk slowly to the end of the alley, where a car can be seen with its lights on.

-- Are you all right ma'am? -I hear the typical question from my bodyguard-

-- All good Ed, take me home.

-- As you wish-he says as he rushes to open the door for me-