The rest of the masseuse story, when I was a 22 [f]

So several messages later, encouraging me,here’s the humiliating conclusion.

I had 3-4 massages left there, on a gift certificate. Never went back for a massage. Utterly Humiliated. But I did go back looking for him a few months later.?

He had moved on, but one of the other coworkers was kind enough to give me his number…

I called him for 2 weeks straight. He finally answered, and just told me to meet him at this pretty seedy motel. I agreed. It was a Friday. I had a date. He said, im gonna be at the Texas Inn in 2 hours. First room bottom floor, closest to office.Be there, and if not, I’ll never take a call again. So, I probably cried a bit. Mostly because I already knew what would happen: I canceled the date. He was a sweet guy too but, no matter. I wanted to get fucked. Desperately. I was already a slave to this guy. Just like that. The heart may want what it wants…but my legs were aching to spread for him.

So I went. I knocked, and surprisingly, the door pushes opened. Before anything, as soon as the door opened I heard his voice. And I smelled alcohol and cigarettes. Both are yuck in my book.. total turn offs. He told me to remove my clothes, and come to the backroom. And, I did. In record speed. I pushed the door open, and there he was. That part I was ready for. The part I wasn’t ready for, was the other man in the room.

I tried to not show anything but…I couldn’t help it. I felt disappointed. I knew what was going to happen. At the least, me, and my perfect little self, was about to be shared between these two. Or I was going to be watched. By the time he set toward me, I didn’t care. He roughly tweaked my nipples. I winced. He told me to lay across the bed, on my back, and lock eyes with the other man.

I have to say, this wasn’t me. I was 100% out of my element. But of course, I did it. There was no foreplay. No nothing. He barely acknowledged me. He just told his friend in the room about my last encounter. How He His, in his words His, throat fucked me.. His friend looked at me w disdain. I asked about condoms, and he laughed. He told me I was community property and to shut the f up. Another barrier ignored. I felt pathetic. Thankfully, it started. He began to fuck me, and I didn’t care. I was soaked, but even so, his immediate balls deep assault on my pussy hurt. I’d had bigger. Much bigger. But he was soooooo thick. He fucked me, and fucked me, and fucked me. And I came soooo many times. All over his cock. I came 3-4 times before his friend started talking to me, and then probably 2 more times after that. When I felt his pace strengthen, I begged him to cum on my instead of in me…they laughed. He stopped immediately and pulled out. I frantically began begging. Within minutes I went from meekly asking him to not come inside me, to literally begging to be pumped full of cum. And when he did, I felt so much cum flood me. I never cared for that but this time, it didn’t matter. He got off me, and was replaced by his friend. Not as big, but possibly the thickest cock I’ve ever seen, or taken. And powerful. He manhandled my tits, my ass, my thighs. He left bruises, and I absolutely LOVED it. I loved everything about him. His fat cock inside me. And I told him??? To my horror I told him how i loved his fat cock. His big huge swollen balls. I felt them slap against me. So. Fucking. Hot. Honestly, my body reacted to his more intensely. My pussy craved this man.
I came all over his cock. All night long. Even worse, when poor John (the canceled date) called, and they told me to tell him what they were doing to me…I followed instructions. He never called me again. It was fine. I was cock crazed anyway.
I dont know how many times they fucked me. I know by the nights end I was completely wore out. I walked in thinking we would have sex and I would go.
In reality I would violate all my promises.They drank, snorted coke, smoked, and I was perfectly fine. No condoms. Anal. I gave myself over completely. They abused every part of me. They took turns calling friends and letting them listen. I protested once, but when I did, they threatened to stop. And I didn’t want that. I mean, if I’m totally honest, I wondered and hoped that others would come.
I came countless times. And that became my life for about 2 months. I never thought twice. Even when they brought another friend.
Every Friday. They never called me by name. Just the slut. I was never forced. I did it willingly. And I desperately loved their cocks. They moved on eventually. And I did cry. Weekly went to every other week. Then monthly. Occasionally midday.
I was a 4.0 perfect college student, active in the community, on a path to grad school. But more than anything, I was their toy.
And I was more excited by that thought.
I know it sounds absurd. Some of you will judge me. I don’t care. As they say, it was the best of times it.was the worst of times. But what I would do to feel those huge heavy balls slap against me once more.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/l8ul4o/the_rest_of_the_masseuse_story_when_i_was_a_22_f