I love the long prefaces. Especially since they, as a rule, are standard. Company, drinking, music, dancing. So it was this time.

About fifteen people crammed into the room. The tables were filled with alcohol. Snacks, by the way, was significantly less. Usually, in such companies, people are divided into pairs. Not immediately, of course. At first, the couple are sitting in orderly couples, but gradually - as the intoxication increases - turn out to be apart.

We have been in such situations before. The case ended in a slight flirtation, in extreme cases, kisses. Nobody was jealous of anyone. And everyone had fun.

At this time, we got into the company of unfamiliar people. And, nevertheless, in the beginning nothing foreshadowed trouble. True, I immediately noticed that the two guys noticed my wife. Noticed how they looked at each other. As Natasha was stripped with her eyes. She really was good. For a long time I was dieting - I lost weight and looked very impressive. A short dress, a short haircut, a straight, frank look - sometimes he seemed to me to the limit lecherous, in a word, a tasty morsel.

Everyone was drunk enough when the landlady announced the dances. I did not have time to come to my senses, as my wife was already lost in the meandering bodies. The fast dance was replaced by a slow one. No one thought again sits at the table. I also had to dance with a certain portly lady in a defiantly red dress. I am not fond of fat women, but the lady was very persistent. Cuddling passionately to me during a slow dance, she tormented my sense of smell with the smell of French perfumes and female sweat. Inevitably getting excited from the proximity of the female body, I tried to find my spouse in the crowd dancing. Sometimes it was possible to catch her in the arms of a partner - one of those guys who stared at her from the very beginning.

Having decided to look after them, I almost did not hear the languid babble of my partner. However, Natasha soon left the crowd - flushed and embarrassed - heading, apparently, to the toilet.

Me, in the next slow dance, was a mummy stout lady. By the way, I never recognized her name. This time, she frankly rubbed her stomach on my rebellious member.

I wonder if my spouse - did she dance? No, nonsense. This is not she, this guy stuck to her: But generally, who knows how they danced :. Something in the toilet ran, flowed, probably from excitement.

I was immediately ashamed of my own suspicions. Climbs into the head: Jealousy leaped! Natasha has always been true to me, as far as I know. True, she was raped twice, but she herself wasn’t :. The woman is not to blame in such cases, and that she experienced an orgasm while doing so, so try, don’t try, when you’re whacked and hollowed: Memories:. How much can you justify?

What was - something has passed! But, nevertheless: those feelings :. I didn’t feel anything stronger and it cost me, during love games, to remember how Natasha belonged to others: In short, I became a super riffler and two - three orgasms

for me and four - five for my wife, were provided. Only, it was necessary to remember, in all details, in order to feel again the humiliation and unhealthy excitement, pity for the tormented spouse and the sweet feeling of sexual flight. Freedom. Yes, paradoxically, it is freedom! I was free in my feelings, since I was not able to help.

She was not suspiciously long. And her partner, by the way, too. Crimped in the hallway? Or in the bathroom? Another jab of jealousy. Well, to hell with them! Get drunk now, let him drag me home - and I will vomit on the way! A couple of vodka glasses, and drink some beer: And here is my lady in red - red death, haha: we'll have a drink with her brotherhood: ... let's kiss:

Further vague passages. Deep kisses. Someone, it seems again she puts me in bed, to lie down next to and pressed against a hot body. Head spinning wildly. It is hard to breathe - it is on top. Is it still worth it? I will never finish :.

Further darkness.Woke up from a wild headache. No strength to move. Where I am?

On the bed. Squeaks wildly! But I'm not moving? Groans, sighs. Head like a cast iron pot. I feel hot breath on my cheek. Who is it? With difficulty I open my eyes. Everything is floating. In front of me is Natasha's face. Sweaty, exhausted. She breathes intermittently. What is it? What's the matter? Hairy hands grab her temples, turn and someone's face, thick, sweaty, nasty, sticks her lips. Sucks for a long time, shaking rhythmically. Then wheezes and fits in convulsions.

The bed froze. I am getting better. I see the fat figure moving away from the bed. Immediately someone else falls next to me. Falling, as I guess, on Natasha. Rumble, whisper.

"No ... I can not ... enough ... I can not more ..."

Skip the bed, the sounds of slobbering kisses. Fast-fast movements at the end. Wheezing - and all from the beginning. How many of them? Does the whole male party population fuck my wife today? Long, long squeaks and groans ...

In the morning my head is not mine. Beer, water, juices, hangover. I'm sitting on the couch, they give me a juice. Nausea All immobilized. Natasha, in a rumpled dress, sits guiltily next. The face is swollen. From the kitchen, a burst of laughter from the men. Already hung up, fun, apparently, to recall yesterday.

- How are you? - silence. And what does she say? How was she raped all evening and all night? What is there to talk about?

After a while - again fun. Only, this time, sluggish, lifeless. Women otpaivayut me with beer. Ruining people is not beer:

I fall into a stupor. What is there in another room? Screams? With an effort of will, I try to get out. What did they give me with beer ?! Drug? Feeling unreality. Someone strokes me between my legs, caresses member. He does not think to get up. Take in the mouth.

- No, don't ... I can't ... everything hurts ... enough ... - this is Natasha! It is necessary to her ... Damn, I'm cumming! An orgasm firework explodes in the brain. Fountain sperm! Relaxation.

Everything is quiet. How much time has passed? Hour? Day? There is not anyone. Going, swaying into the kitchen. Everywhere empty bottles and syringes. Well, got into the company!

Where is my faithful wife? Staggering, dragged into the bedroom. She is here. Unconscious or sleeping? Absolutely naked, she sprawled on the bed. On the floor, in the slime, are the panties and the dress. The body is bruised. The chest is swollen from bites, the lips are blue, bloodied. But the worst is between the legs. Swollen, red, rubbed labia are all in sperm and nugget, the inner surface of the thighs is solid blue and mucus. The belly and pubis are wet. A downed sheet under it is just a lump of reddish mucus. Oh god What was it? What was there while I put all these women in my mouth? How many men walked through it?

Then I often tried to conduct an inquiry - what was there? How it was? What did she feel? Has it finished? That same agonizingly painful feeling made me reopen this wound. But is it a wound? Natasha, terribly slowly shared the details. Yes, she went to dance, thought nothing would happen. Felt him rubbing. I wanted to leave, and you got drunk: Dragged into the bedroom :.

You, by the way, there fucked with some fat bitch. I was laid nearby.

Next - a nightmare! All night ... Men exchanged - you slept beside me and, while I was being raped, I held your hand. All night ... probably every dude five times. Solid orgasms ... they ... well, yes, and I have ... several times ... maybe more ... I do not remember how much. In the morning again ... hot, straight hot limbs, slobbering lips, wheezing to the face ... hot streams inside. I can never forget. One always forced to raise his legs to penetrate deeper. I searched everything there ... Actually, then everything was aching for a long time. And it was especially disgusting when kissing. One sucked all the time, did not let breathe. True, under it I experienced several orgasms, and when he lowered, kissed, not looking up and moaning like a bull.

Every time after such stories, I rushed at her and my dick entered, like butter, into hot, moist flesh. She was ready. She remembered how she was raped and, judging by how she, with these stories, flowed - she remembered everything in detail. Would she like to repeat? No, no, of course not violence: ... Or maybe it is violence? When he doesn’t depend on you, because you are powerless, because everything is decided for you and you just have to obey, endure and experience endless orgasms? Would you like?