My Insane Foursome Night: Getting Wrecked by Three Studs

See the steamy pic you see above, sandwiched between two of the three beasts who turned my world upside down. Yeah, that's me in the middle, rocking that tight black dress that hugged my curves like it was painted on, with my legs in sheer nylons and those killer heels that screamed "come fuck me." The guy on my left? Let's call him Alex – dark hair, cocky grin, beard that scratched just right later on. On the right? Marcus – intense eyes, built like he could pin me down without breaking a sweat. The third one, Jake, was taking the Pic, but trust me, he was the wild card who pushed things over the edge. This happened at a hotel after night many years ago. We started with a drink but we ditched the small talk and dove straight into the depravity.

By the time we snapped that photo in the hallway, my panties were already soaked. Alex had his hand on my shoulder, Marcus on my hip, and I could feel their heat radiating through my dress. Jake joined us in the room and that's when the fun started. They didn't waste time with romance; they knew what they wanted and took it.

They pushed me onto the king-sized bed, hiking up my dress and ripping off my tights and thong. "Spread those legs, baby," Alex growled, . I obeyed, my heart pounding as they circled. They took turns diving between my thighs, tongues lashing at my pussy with no mercy. Alex went first – slow, teasing circles around my clit that had me arching off the bed, begging for more. Then Marcus, rougher, sucking hard while his fingers plunged deep, hitting that spot that made my eyes roll back. Jake jumped in next, his beard scraping my inner thighs as he devoured me like a starving man, flicking and probing until I was a writhing mess.

I came hard the first time on Alex's mouth, my juices flooding his face as I screamed his name. But they didn't stop. "Again," Marcus demanded, pinning my hips down. They rotated, each one eating me out with their own brutal style – Alex's precise licks, Marcus's aggressive suction, Jake's relentless tongue-fucking. Orgasm after orgasm ripped through me; I lost count after five. My body was shaking, thighs trembling, pussy throbbing and hypersensitive. "Please... I can't..." I gasped, but it was a lie. I could, and I did. By the time they were done, I was a quivering puddle, my mind blank from the overload. "Do whatever you want," I whispered, surrendering completely. That's when the real fun began.

I was on my knees in seconds, their cocks out and rock-hard – thick, veined monsters that made my mouth water. I sucked them greedily, alternating between the three, gagging as they face-fucked me deep. Alex grabbed my hair, thrusting into my throat until tears streamed down my face. "Good girl, take it all," Marcus and Jake stroked themselves, watching as I deep-throated one after the other, spit dripping down my chin onto my tits.

Then they made me airtight – no hole left empty, no mercy given. Jake laid back, pulling me onto his cock, stretching my pussy wide as I sank down with a moan. Alex claimed my arse from behind, lubed up and slamming in without warning, the burn turning to ecstasy as he filled me completely. Marcus knelt in front, shoving his dick into my mouth, muffling my cries. They pounded me in unison, their rhythms syncing into a savage symphony. I was stuffed, owned, their fucktoy bouncing between them. "You're so fucking tight," Jake grunted, his hands bruising my hips. They switched positions relentlessly – ass to pussy, mouth to ass, no boundaries. I came again, clenching around them, my body betraying me with wave after wave of pleasure-pain.

Hours blurred into a haze of sweat, grunts, and slapping skin. They fucked every hole raw: my pussy dripping cum, my ass aching from the stretch, my throat hoarse from sucking them clean after each round. I begged for more, edging on the brink of breaking, but they pushed me further, slapping my ass, pinching my nipples, calling me their dirty whore.

Finally, they pulled out, lining up over me as I knelt, exhausted and euphoric. "Open wide," Marcus commanded. They took turns stroking their cocks over my face, exploding one by one. Hot ropes of cum splattered my cheeks, lips, forehead – Alex first, thick and salty; then Jake, covering my eyes; Marcus last, aiming for my tongue as I swallowed what I could. I was a mess, cum dripping down my chin, mixing with my sweat and tears. They admired their work, before collapsing beside me

didn’t even remember falling asleep. One minute I was a trembling, cum-drenched wreck on the hotel sheets, the guys kissing my forehead and slipping out quietly while I floated in that hazy post-orgasm void. Next thing I knew, sunlight was stabbing through the curtains and the clock read 8:07 a.m. My body felt like it had been through a war (a very, very good war). Pussy sore, arse throbbing, jaw aching from all the cock it had taken. The room reeked of sex and sweat and me..

I dragged myself to the shower, legs still shaky, and tried to wash the evidence away. But no amount of hotel body wash could scrub the scent of raw fucking off my skin. It was in my hair, under my nails, soaked into my pores. And then there was the outfit situation. My little black dress was crumpled on the floor, My thong? Long gone (probably a souvenir). Sheer black tights were OK. That was literally all I had. No coat, no sweater, nothing even pretending to be daytime appropriate.

I slipped the dress back on, tugged the hem down as far as it would go (which wasn’t far), and strutted out into the brightly lit hotel corridor like I owned the place. Old couple in the elevator? Eye-fucked me from head to toe. Businessmen in the lobby? Stopped mid-conversation to stare. Receptionist eyes popped when he saw my nipples trying to cut glass through the thin fabric. I just smirked, heels clicking across tiles feeling every drop of cum still drying between my thighs.

The drive home was a delicious torture, dress riding up, air-conditioning blasting cold against my bruised skin. I’d texted my husband the night before: “Don’t wait up, baby. Things got… extended. Home tomorrow. Love you. ” He’d replied with a single Aubergine emoji and “You’re in so much trouble.” He wasn’t wrong.

I walked through our front door at 9:15 a.m. still in that wrecked cocktail dress, hair wild, reeking of three other men. He was waiting in the bedroom doorway, arms crossed, Joggies tented so hard it looked painful. His eyes went dark the second he smelled me. “Get in here, slut.”

Two seconds later I was bent over the edge of the bed, dress flipped up, ass bare. He didn’t even speak; he just grabbed the biggest ball gag we own (the Black one, 2.5 inches) and shoved it between my teeth, buckling it viciously tight. Drool was instant. Then the rope came out. He hogtied me brutally fast: wrists to ankles, arching my back, tits crushed into the duvet, ass high and exposed. I couldn’t move an inch. Could barely whimper around the gag.

He left me like that for thirty minutes. Thirty. Fucking. Minutes. Just the sound of him breathing, slow and controlled, while I squirmed and dripped and sobbed into the rubber ball. Every shift of my hips reminded me how raw my holes still were from the night before. I was a helpless, soaking mess by the time he came back.

opes came off. I collapsed, gasping, drooling all over myself. He flipped me onto my back, grabbed the cane (thin, whippy rattan, the one that leaves perfect tramlines), and didn’t say a word. Just positioned me on all fours, bum up. Twelve strokes. Six on each cheek, perfectly spaced, no warm-up. The first one cracked across my skin and I screamed into the gag so hard my throat burned. By the sixth on the left cheek I was crying real tears, body shaking. The right side was worse; I was already swollen and tender. When he finished, my ass was a lattice of angry red welts, throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

He tossed the cane aside, climbed behind me, and slid into my pussy in one slow, punishing thrust. No lube needed; I was drenched. He fucked me torturously slow, hands gripping my welted ass hard enough to make me scream again, forcing me to recount every filthy detail between moans.

I told him about the rotation of tongues, the orgasms that wrecked me, how I begged them to do whatever they wanted. How they made me airtight, how I swallowed load after load, how I walked out of that hotel looking like a well-used whore.

Every confession earned me another deep, grinding thrust. By the time I got to the part about the facial, he was losing control, hips snapping harder, breath ragged. he grabbed my hair, and snarled, “You’re mine, you filthy little cumslut,” right as he came, flooding me so deep I felt it in my spine. I came with him, screaming his name, body convulsing around his cock while my caned ass burned against his thighs. He collapsed on top of me, both of us panting, my welts throbbing under his weight. After a minute he kissed the back of my neck, soft and possessive.