“Labwa! Labwa?” His voice cuts through the blur of sensation, and she looks up with wide, wet eyes and nods – once, twice – to show she’s OK. He keeps a tight grip on her shoulders, fingers digging in to the flesh to pin her down, eyes trained on the tension in her arms and legs and stomach – all her muscles straining tight, like she’s holding a pose in yoga.
Having checked in, she lets herself forget him. Focuses on the scene at hand – the brutality of it, the intensity of it, the sheer volume of sweat and piss and cum.
She’s strapped to a chair, legs spread wide. Like she’s waiting at the doctor’s for an intimate exam. Except that isn’t how the roles are working: the men who visit aren’t doctors, but patients. She’s the one who sees them, one by one, each demanding to be cured of his insistent urge to come.
The man who brought her here is her husband – who promised to fulfil her greatest wish – stands imposingly behind her. A passer-by might see him as her dominant, her commander. But a knowledgeable friend would know he’s merely right-hand man to her royalty. He is there because he cares to share, and to ward off anyone who doesn’t respect the rules.
Not that there are many rules, mind you. If you don’t have a clean test, you need a condom. Or you can stand up close to the gyno chair – not between her legs – and beat yourself off as you watch the jiggle of her flesh while other guys slam their cocks home. If you have a clean test, you get to be one of them. Standing in line in the dark, jerking at your dick to keep it hard, as you watch each one in front of you step forward into the spotlight and squirt spunk into the warm, eager depths of her cunt.
She’s tied down with rope, not to stop her escaping but so she has something to struggle against. Struggling makes it more fun, especially as things get messier – wet spunk soaks into the rope that binds her thighs open. One guy takes exception to the cum that coats her tits, and starts to wash them clean with his own piss.
Her eyes burn fire and she flashes him a grin, tells the next one: “harder.” He obliges. Yanking at the ropes and holding onto the chair like she’s exercise equipment at the gym, and he’s just working out. Muscles shine with sweat and when she tells him “hurt me more,” her clit thuds pleasure at the way those arms go taut as he reaches up to squeeze her tits and throat.
One after another after another, they come. And her protector, who stands at her head, does little more than nod or gesture to show each man where he’s allowed to go. Occasionally, when she drifts into blank delight, her eyes rolling back and her mind going spacey and her whole being focused on just the sensation of being filled and the sound of flesh-on-flesh and the slippery wetness coating her stomach and tits and thighs… he’ll check in.
“Labwa! Labwa?”
And she looks up and grins again. Piss-soaked and spunk-filled and tied down and aching. Looks down at her cunt, spread wide and stretched by the latest faceless, nameless guy. Looks beyond him to the fuzzy grey darkness of the queue, where more stand ready – rubbing at themselves with that angry-hungry look she loves so much.
She nods again – twice – as the latest guy pumps cum into her, before glancing at the queue to instruct them: “more” and “harder.”
At the end to show his dominance and that he is more than just a user, her protector was the one and only to her ass with his huge load following a fountain-like shower as he pisses over her while she sucks his balls. What a wonderful way to finish a remarkable night.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/qjumqh/how_a_friend_described_my_hubby_sharing_me_in_a