Once A Slut by Amber Gray

Author:Amber Gray [Gray, Amber]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Daddy, daughter, father, step, gangbang, grandfather, crime criminal cop sherrif young girl mother son older woman group soldiers gangbang
Published: 2017-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

For the next half an hour, I shuttle beers back and forth. Sometimes, I bring a bottle and other times, I have to bend over to use the keg. Of course, I pump the keg first. Giving them a good show of my tits as they strained to be free.

I passed Tony as his friend DJ said, “No way. Tony, you’re so lying. There is just no way.”

Tony motions for me to come over. It was about time to get this started. I was thankful. By that time, I was so hot and bothered that I thought I’d die if I had to wait much longer.

I sauntered over as seductively as I can. Everyone was watching me as if the secrets to eternal happiness were written across my ass or in the cleft of my tits.

Speaking of which, Tony said, “DJ wants a better look at your tits.”

DJ looked at me dumbfounded. He expected me to slap his face. Instead, I gave him a wink and said, “That could be arranged.”

The young man was everything Wallace would have hated. He was dark-skinned with jet black hair and wild brown eyes.

I looked into DJ’s eye, but he cannot take his gaze off my tits. The front of his swim trunks had tented out.

I ran a finger through my cleavage and circle my nipple through the thin fabric.

DJ looked as though he was sweating. Several of the men took in deep breaths.

The music started. It was a heavy classic rock song. I was so high on the sexual energy in the room that I couldn't remember the same of the song to save my long ago lost virginity. I began to gyrate and wiggle slowly for them. I teased them. I pushed their buttons.

I paid special attention to DJ. I squeezed my tits together while I looked at him, inviting him to do as he pleased. I allowed him to pull the string in the back, but I didn’t show them my tits yet.

No, I let them percolate like steaming coffee.

Being a housewife allows me time to do whatever I want. I don’t clean--I paid a maid service. I cook on occasion, but mostly, I make large pots of something that we return to every four days.

When I worried about turning 40, I took a pole dancing course. I needed to prove that I still had it.

Our patio didn’t have a pole (something we should probably rectify).

I crawled across the table to DJ. It was the same table that I’d sat under to service Tony. I lowered my face to DJ’s lap and let my hair fill down on him.

The crowd cheered.

They couldn’t get enough of me. Poor DJ would have a horrendous set of blue balls later.

I fake a kiss and move away. I teased the other men, allowing them to cop a feel here and there. I wanted them to eat it all up. I only protest one time. I slapped a hand that pinched my nipple. Though it felt good, I wouldn’t do anything without Tony’s say.

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