Claimed and consumed

Three days after leaving Max’s, his message lit up my phone:

Max: We want you for a whole week. Just us, the house, and as much pleasure as you can handle. Are you in?

I replied instantly: Absolutely. I want all of you.

When I arrived, the air was thick with anticipation. Max, Mark, Bob, and Markian - each with their own hunger and style - were waiting, their eyes devouring me before a single word was spoken. There was no slow build-up; the week began with hands, mouths, and dicks everywhere, each man eager to claim his turn and his place.

The first night, they took turns. Sometimes I rode them, feeling their hands grip my hips, their bodies stretching me deep. Max would hold me close, his voice rough in my ear, “You’re so fucking perfect.” Mark pinned me down, fucking me until I screamed, while Bob and Markian watched, stroking themselves, their eyes locked on every movement.

But it wasn’t just about taking turns. The men loved to switch things up, keeping me guessing and my body constantly on edge. Sometimes Max and Mark would both slide into my pussy, stretching me wide and making me gasp, while Bob took my mouth and Markian pressed into my ass. Other times, Markian would take my pussy, Max at my ass, Bob at my mouth, Mark’s hands everywhere - pinning me, guiding me, making sure I was never empty. They’d pause to switch positions, dicks slick and hard, trading places so every hole was filled by someone new, every sensation fresh and overwhelming.

No matter where they were, they always finished inside me. Their cum was hot and thick, spilling deep, mixing and leaking from my pussy and ass, sometimes dripping from my lips after Bob or Max finished in my mouth. The sensation of being filled, stretched, and shared by all of them was almost too much, but I craved every second.

They praised me constantly, their voices a chorus of approval and filthy encouragement. “Just like that.” “Take it all.” “You’re incredible.” “So tight, so perfect.” The words blended with the relentless rhythm of their bodies, their hands, their mouths, until I was shaking and begging for more.

Between sessions, they cared for me-feeding me, hydrating me, letting me rest and recover before starting again. But as soon as I gave the word, the hunger returned, and I was theirs once more.

By the end of the week, my body was marked by their hands, their mouths, their teeth, my mind floating in a haze of exhaustion and bliss. We even joked about it, but it was true: combined, they came in me about two hundred times, every load claimed, every drop savored, every moment a testament to our insatiable hunger for each other.

I was utterly spent - sore, sated, glowing, and cherished, knowing I’d been shared and filled beyond my wildest fantasies. By the end of the week, I couldn’t walk or sit normally...and I can’t wait for the next time I’m invited over.