Tattoo gangbang
Hi this is an attempt at writing straight sex non CNC based on a chat with a friend on here.
Let me know what you think and where it could be better.
Thanks Fi xxx
The afternoon sun slanted through the dusty window of the small, cluttered room, casting a warm glow over the scattered dominoes and the worn, plastic table. The air had the scent of old books and the faint whiff of stale coffee that had been sitting for hours. In the corner, a cobweb danced in the lazy breeze, unnoticed by the three figures intently focused on their game.
Rose, a girl with a slender frame and a penchant for practical jokes, leaned over the table, her nose scrunched up in concentration. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, revealing the barest hint of a blush creeping up her neck. She slapped down a domino with a satisfying click, ending her turn with a flourish.
"Looks like you're in for it now, Harry," she said, a mischievous grin playing across her lips. Harry, a man with a thick mustache and a penchant for telling tall tales, chuckled good-naturedly. His eyes twinkled with the light of someone who knew they were about to share a secret.
"You know, Rose," he began, his voice a gravelly purr, "Back in my day, I had a way of playing that would make even the most stoic man quiver." The other player, George, a quieter man with a knowing smile, nodded in agreement. "We've heard about those days," he said, his tone teasing.
Rose felt a sudden warmth in her belly, an unexpected pulse that had nothing to do with the stuffy room or the heat of the day. She was acutely aware of the fabric of her vest top clinging to her, the soft brush of it against her skin setting her on edge. She shifted in her chair, trying to ignore the feeling, her eyes flicking down to her stomach. The tattoo she had gotten on a whim a year ago was peeking out from beneath her shirt, a reminder of a time when she had felt bold and beautiful.
"What's that you've got there?" Harry asked, nodding towards her midriff. "Looks like it's got quite the story."
Her cheeks burned as she tugged at the hem of her shirt self-consciously. "It's just a tattoo," she mumbled.
"Come on, let's see it," George urged, his gaze lingering on the ink. "You're always so shy about it."
With a sigh, Rose pushed back her chair and stood, lifting her shirt slightly. The tattoo, a delicate tribal design, stretched from her navel to the waistband of her leggings. The room grew silent as the two older men leaned in, their eyes tracing the pattern with something akin to hunger.
"It's lovely," Harry murmured, his hand hovering just above the ink. "But tell me, did it hurt?"
Her pulse quickened as his fingers brushed against her bare skin, the touch sending a shiver down her spine. "It wasn't too bad," she managed, her voice a whisper.
With a knowing smirk, George stepped closer, his hand resting gently her hip. "It's so intricate. Did it go all the way down?
Rose felt the heat pool between her legs, the sensation growing more intense with each passing second. The room had become a cocoon of anticipation, the air thick with it. Her heart hammered in her chest, her thoughts racing.
"Well, it goes down a bit further," she admitted, feeling a thrill at their interest. "But I'm not sure if I should show you all..."
The cheers from the other men at the table grew louder, their eyes alight with excitement. She looked around at them, their faces a mix of hopefulness and encouragement. Despite the voice in her head screaming caution, she found herself smiling, feeling a rush of power at being the center of their attention.
With trembling hands, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and took a deep breath. The fabric whispered against her skin as she slowly began to pull them down, the cooler air of the room hitting her exposed flesh. The tattoo emerged from its hiding place, a swirl of black ink that ended just above the top of her pubic hair. The men leaned in closer, their eyes wide and hungry.
Her leggings now rested low on her hips, revealing the full extent of the tattoo and the delicate wisps of hair that grew naturally around it. The sight sent a thrill through her, a heady mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. The men's eyes followed the line of her pantyless crotch, and she could see the way their pupils dilated with desire.
"You're so beautiful, Rose," Harry breathed, his voice thick with lust. "I can't believe you've been hiding this from us."
George's hand tightened on her waist, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just above the tattoo. "It's like you're a work of art," he murmured.
The heat in her belly grew, a pulsing ache that she could no longer ignore. Her breaths grew shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each shallow intake of breath. The sensation of their gazes on her bare skin was intoxicating, sending a rush of wetness to her core.
"You know," Harry said, his voice a low rumble, "back in my day, a girl with a tattoo like that was a sure sign of a wild spirit." His finger traced the edge of the ink, brushing against the soft hairs.
Rose's eyes widened, her heart racing. She felt a wetness spreading between her legs, the fabric of her vest top sticking to her skin. The men's gazes were like a physical touch, sending shivers along her spine. "I just like the way it looks," she replied, her voice unsteady.
"It does look lovely," George agreed, his hand moving from her waist to trace the line of her tattoo, his fingers brushing against the soft hairs of her mound. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt through her body. "But it's not just your tattoo that's caught our eye, is it?"
Rose gasped as Harry's hand followed the path of his eyes, sliding under the waistband of her leggings. His fingertips grazed her bare skin, and she felt her body respond, a soft moan escaping her lips. "I don't understand why you're doing this," she whispered, her thoughts a jumble of confusion and arousal.
"Why not, sweetheart?" Harry asked, his voice a gentle coax. "You're a beautiful young woman, and we're just admiring the view." His thumb slid lower, pressing against the swollen flesh of her clit through the fabric.
Her body betrayed her, arching towards his touch despite her mind screaming for her to pull away. She felt the beginnings of a blush spreading across her chest and up her neck, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I shouldn't be letting you..." she began, but her voice trailed off as George's hand slid around to cup her ass, his fingertips pressing into the soft flesh.
"But you are," Harry murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as his hand slipped further into her leggings. "And it's driving us wild." His finger began to circle her clit, the pressure building as he massaged the sensitive flesh.
The room swirled around her, the sounds of the old folks home outside the room fading into the background. All she could focus on was the sensation of Harry's hand on her body, the way his fingers danced across her skin. "Why me?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling.
"Because you're here," George said, his breath hot against her ear. "And because you're letting us." His hand moved up to cover her mouth, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips. "And because we can see that you like it."
Rose's eyes fluttered closed, her body responding to their touch despite the alarm bells ringing in her head. Her hips began to rock slightly, pushing back against George's hand as Harry's finger slid inside her. The feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fear that only heightened her arousal.
"Why aren't you wearing panties today?" Harry asked, his voice a soft growl. "Were you expecting something like this?"
"No," she gasped, her eyes snapping open. "I just... I forgot." It was a lie, but it was the only one she could think of. The truth was too embarrassing, too revealing.
The men shared a knowing smile, their hands continuing to explore her body. The pressure built within her, the room spinning as she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. She knew she should stop them, that this was wrong, but the feeling was too intense to resist.
George leaned in, his breath hot on her neck, and she felt his lips touch her skin. His kiss was soft, almost tender, his hands moving to trace the contours of her waist. His fingertips grazed the bare skin of her lower back, sending a shiver down her spine. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were discovering something precious.
Her breath hitched as Harry's finger slid deeper, his thumb circling her clit with a steady rhythm that made her legs wobble.
Rose's eyes squeezed shut, and she bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back the moan that was building in her chest. The soft kisses on her neck grew more insistent, George's hands moving to cup her breasts through her shirt. The fabric was rough against her sensitive nipples, and she could feel them harden under his touch.
Her body was a live wire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. She leaned back into George's embrace, as she rode the wave of sensation. The room had gone quiet except for their heavy breaths and the occasional clatter of a fallen domino.
Her hips began to rock in time with Harry's hand, her movements growing more frantic as the tension built. "Oh God," she whimpered, her body trembling. The men's hands felt like they were everywhere, touching her in ways she had never been touched before.
George's mouth found hers, his kiss deep and searching. His tongue slipped between her lips, and she moaned into his mouth, her body arching into his touch. The sensation of his hands on her breasts, Harry's in her pants, was almost too much to handle.
With a sudden jerk, George's grip tightened on her hips, and he pulled her leggings down to her knees. She gasped, the cold air of the room hitting her exposed skin, making her nipples peak even further. "Are you ready to be fucked, Rose?" he whispered, his voice low and guttural.
Her eyes snapped open, and she stared into George's eyes, wide with shock and arousal. The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. She could feel Harry's finger slide out of her, and he took his hand away to let George take over. He stepped closer, his erection pressing against her ass, and she felt his hands on her hips, guiding her to turn around.
Rose's cheeks were flushed, her breath coming in short, panting gasps. The two men had her now, their hands roaming her body as if they owned it. Harry's touch had been gentle, teasing, but George's was firm, demanding. She felt his fingers slide into her, filling her up as his thumb worked her clit. The pressure was unbearable, and she leaned back into him, her hands gripping the edge of the table for support.
"Look at us, sweetheart," Harry said, his voice thick with lust. She opened her eyes to find him stroking his own erection, his gaze locked on hers. "You're going to make all of very happy."
The words sent a fresh wave of heat through her, and she nodded, unable to speak. Her legs felt like jelly, but she knew what they wanted from her.
"How many men have had the pleasure of this sweet, young pussy?" Harry asked, his voice thick with lust.
Rose's cheeks burned even brighter as she whispered, "Only two." The confession seemed to electrify the air around them, and she could feel the hunger in their eyes as they took in the sight of her bare ass and pussy.
With a grunt, George pushed her down onto the table, his cock pressing against her entrance. "You're going to take all of us," he murmured, his hands guiding her legs apart. "Every single one."
The words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and excitement that was impossible to ignore. She looked around the room, her eyes meeting the eager gazes of the other men, who had gathered around, their cocks in their hands, stroking themselves in anticipation.
"You're going to be our little fuck toy, aren't you?" Harry said, his voice gruff with lust. "You're going to scream for us."
Rose felt a strange thrill at the thought of being used by these older men, her body responding to their rough words and touches. George's cock slid into her slowly, filling her up, stretching her tight pussy. She bit her lip to hold back a whimper, her eyes fluttering shut as he began to move, his hips grinding against hers.
The sensation was intense, and she could feel the tension building once again. Harry stepped closer, his hand reaching out to stroke her clit, his fingers slick with her arousal. The room was a blur of movement, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the scent of sex heavy in the air.
Her moans grew louder, echoing off the walls as George picked up the pace. She could feel the wetness of her pussy, the slickness of her arousal, and the roughness of the table beneath her. The men's hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, claiming her.
The door to the room creaked open, and a fifth man shuffled in, his eyes lighting up at the sight before him. "I knew I heard something," he said, his voice crackling with age. "You're not going to leave me out, are you?"
The other men chuckled, and George pulled out, his cock glistening with her juices. "Not at all," he said, stepping aside to make way for the newcomer. "We're just getting started."
Rose looked up at the fifth man, her eyes wide with shock and excitement. She had never felt so wanted, so desired. Her body was on fire, and she knew she couldn't stop now.
The fifth man, his face lined with wrinkles and a twinkle in his eye, approached her, his cock standing proud. He leaned in, his breath hot on her ear. "You're going to love this, little one," he whispered. "You're going to take all of us, one by one."
Her heart raced as he pushed into her, the feeling of fullness almost too much to bear. Yet, she found herself arching into the sensation, her body begging for more. The men took turns, their hands roaming her body, their cocks filling her up, each one different in size and girth.
The room was a cacophony of grunts and groans, the smell of sex permeating the air. She was lost in the moment, her inhibitions forgotten as she became the centre of their attention, their little fuck toy to use as they saw fit.
And as she felt the first tremors of orgasm begin to build, she knew she had never been more alive, more desired, than in this very moment. The thought of being taken by each of these men, claimed by them in this most primal way, sent a shiver down her spine.
Her moans grew louder, her body moving in sync with theirs. Each thrust brought her closer to the edge.
"You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you, Rose?" George grunted, his grip on her hips tightening. The words were like a slap across her face, but instead of recoiling, she reveled in them. His cock was deep inside her, his rhythm relentless.
"That's right," Harry murmured, his hand still working her clit. "You're our little slut, here to take whatever we give you."
Rose moaned, her eyes glazed with lust. The names they called her only made her wetter, made her want them more.
"Fuck," George grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic. "I'm gonna cum."
With a final, deep push, George spilled his seed inside her. The sensation of his hot cum filling her only served to fuel her arousal. She felt the warmth spread through her, the sensation of being claimed by him. As he pulled out, she felt a sense of emptiness, a hunger for more.
Ian took George's place, his cock standing tall and eager. He didn't waste any time, pushing into her with a groan of pleasure. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice a raspy whisper.
Rose's legs were shaking, but she managed to spread them wider, eager to take him all in. Harry leaned down, his mouth on her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. "You're doing so well," he whispered. "Such a good little slut."
The words sent a bolt of pleasure through her, and she felt her pussy clench around the new cock inside her. As Ian began to move, his strokes deep and sure. She could feel his age in every movement, the way he took his time, savouring her young body.
"Look at her," Harry said, his voice filled with awe. "She's loving every second of this."
The other men murmured in agreement, their eyes glued to the sight of her being taken, her tattooed stomach slick with sweat.
Her moans grew louder, her body moving with the rhythm of the Ian's thrusts. His grip on her hips tightened, his breaths coming in short bursts. "You're going to cum, for me" he panted. "You dirty slut"
His words sent her over the edge. She bucked against him, her orgasm crashing through her like a tidal wave. She could feel the wetness of her pussy, the stickiness of their combined arousal.
"Fuck, yes," Ian grunted, pulling her ponytail harder as he drove into her. "You're so wet, so tight." His strokes grew faster, his grip on her hips like iron.
Her eyes watered with the pain, but she didn't care. The pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming. She was nothing but a vessel for their lust, a receptacle for their seed.
The men watched, their cocks in hand, stroking themselves in time with Ian's movements. She could feel their eyes on her, their hunger palpable. It was like a drug, this feeling of power, of being desired so desperately.
As Ian reached his climax, he called her a slut, a whore, his voice hoarse with pleasure. The words didn't bother her; instead, they only served to push her higher, to make her pussy clench around his cock.
He came with a roar, filling her with his warmth. She felt his body tense, his cock pulsing inside her.
As Ian pulled out, the feeling of emptiness was brief, for his cum began to dribble out of her pussy, sliding down her inner thighs. The men watched with greedy eyes as the sticky liquid painted her skin, a silent testament to her arousal and their own.
"You're such a good slut, aren't you, Rose?" Harry whispered, his voice a seductive hiss in her ear. The words sent a shiver down her spine, a thrill that seemed to resonate in the very core of her being. She nodded, her cheeks flushed with a mix of humiliation and excitement.
"Look at her," George said, gesturing to her dripping cunt. "She's begging for more, isn't she?"
The other men murmured in agreement, their eyes dark with lust as they stroked their cocks. The room was thick with the scent of sex, and Rose could feel the heat of their desire washing over her.
Her body trembled as the next man stepped forward, his eyes hungry as they roved over her exposed flesh. He was older still, his skin mottled with age spots, his cock thick and veiny. "My turn," he rasped, his voice like sandpaper on her skin.
Rose felt a thrill of fear mixed with anticipation. The men had called her names she had never heard before, whispered sweet nothings that were anything but sweet. Yet, she found herself craving the filth that rolled off their tongues, eager to be degraded in the most delicious way.
The new man, whose name she hadn't caught, didn't bother with foreplay. He simply stepped closer and thrust his cock inside her, filling her up once more. The sensation was intense, and she moaned loudly, her body already primed for the taking.
The men's hands were rough on her body, their touches no longer gentle or exploratory. They groped and squeezed her, leaving bruises in their wake. They whispered obscenities in her ear, telling her what a good little slut she was, how much they enjoyed filling her up with their seed.
Her mind swam with the words, her thoughts a jumble of pleasure and pain. She didn't know what she was doing, didn't know how she had come to be in this position. All she knew was that she didn't want it to stop.
With each stroke, she felt herself slipping further into the role they had cast her in, her inhibitions shed like a second skin. She moaned and writhed, her body moving with a mind of its own, desperate for more.
The men took turns, each one more vigorous than the last. They didn't care about her pleasure; all they wanted was to use her, to claim her in the most primal way possible.
And as each man emptied himself into her, as she felt the warmth of their cum filling her, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. They had wanted her, needed her, and she had given herself willingly.
When the final man had finished, she lay there, panting and spent, her legs splayed wide and her pussy leaking cum onto the table. The men stepped back, their eyes on her with a mix of satisfaction and hunger that made her stomach clench.
"You're going to be the talk of the home, sweetheart," Harry said with a chuckle. "Every man here will be dreaming of this sweet pussy tonight."
Rose's cheeks burned, her eyes meeting the smug gazes of the men as they zipped up their pants and tucked in their shirts. She knew she should be ashamed, but all she felt was a strange thrill. They had taken her, used her, and she had liked it.
With trembling hands, she pulled her leggings up, the fabric sticking to her cum-drenched skin. She could feel the wetness of their seed seeping into the material, a constant reminder of what had just happened. It was humiliating, degrading, but it had been exhilarating.
The men patted her on the back and squeezed her ass as they left the room, their eyes lingering on her body as if they hadn't had enough. "See you tomorrow, Rose," George called out, a smug grin on his face. "Same time, same place."
The room was quiet now, the only sound her own ragged breathing. She looked down at the table, at the mess they had made, and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. But it was quickly followed by a rush of excitement, a hunger for more.
As she straightened her vest top and pulled her leggings up fully, she knew she would return. The thought of being their little fuck toy, used and desired by these older men, was intoxicating. It was wrong, but she couldn't resist the power it gave her, the way they made her feel.
Her mind was racing as she cleaned herself up, trying to process what had just occurred. She had let these men use her, treat her like a piece of meat, and she had enjoyed every moment of it.
"What have I become?" she whispered to herself, the words barely audible. But even as she spoke them, she knew the answer. She had become the very thing she had always craved to be: desired, wanted, and powerful in her own way.
With a deep breath, she pushed the thoughts aside and gathered her things. It was time to leave, to return to her mundane life outside these walls. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she was back, eager to feel that rush of pleasure and power again.
The drive home was a blur, her mind replaying every touch, every whispered word of filth. Her hand strayed to her pussy, the sensation of her own touch sending a shiver down her spine. She was already planning her next visit, thinking of ways to tease and tantalize them even more.
The men at the care home had unlocked a part of her she never knew existed, a wildness that she had kept hidden. And as she parked her car and stepped out into the cool evening air, she knew that she would never be the same again.
The taste of their desire was still on her lips, the scent of their cum on her skin. And as she walked to her apartment, she felt a strange sense of liberation, a knowing that she had discovered a side of herself that she had never dared to explore before.
In the quiet solitude of her room, she stripped off her clothes, her eyes lingering on her body in the mirror. She was still the same skinny, flat-chested girl she had always been, but she felt different, changed. Her tattoo seemed to pulse with a new life, a symbol of the woman she had become.
Lying in bed that night, her hand between her legs, she replayed their touches in her mind, the way they had claimed her, used her for their pleasure. And as she brought herself to another shuddering climax, she knew that she would be back for more, eager to see just how far she could push herself, eager to be their little slut once again.
Let me know what you think and where it could be better.
Thanks Fi xxx
The afternoon sun slanted through the dusty window of the small, cluttered room, casting a warm glow over the scattered dominoes and the worn, plastic table. The air had the scent of old books and the faint whiff of stale coffee that had been sitting for hours. In the corner, a cobweb danced in the lazy breeze, unnoticed by the three figures intently focused on their game.
Rose, a girl with a slender frame and a penchant for practical jokes, leaned over the table, her nose scrunched up in concentration. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, revealing the barest hint of a blush creeping up her neck. She slapped down a domino with a satisfying click, ending her turn with a flourish.
"Looks like you're in for it now, Harry," she said, a mischievous grin playing across her lips. Harry, a man with a thick mustache and a penchant for telling tall tales, chuckled good-naturedly. His eyes twinkled with the light of someone who knew they were about to share a secret.
"You know, Rose," he began, his voice a gravelly purr, "Back in my day, I had a way of playing that would make even the most stoic man quiver." The other player, George, a quieter man with a knowing smile, nodded in agreement. "We've heard about those days," he said, his tone teasing.
Rose felt a sudden warmth in her belly, an unexpected pulse that had nothing to do with the stuffy room or the heat of the day. She was acutely aware of the fabric of her vest top clinging to her, the soft brush of it against her skin setting her on edge. She shifted in her chair, trying to ignore the feeling, her eyes flicking down to her stomach. The tattoo she had gotten on a whim a year ago was peeking out from beneath her shirt, a reminder of a time when she had felt bold and beautiful.
"What's that you've got there?" Harry asked, nodding towards her midriff. "Looks like it's got quite the story."
Her cheeks burned as she tugged at the hem of her shirt self-consciously. "It's just a tattoo," she mumbled.
"Come on, let's see it," George urged, his gaze lingering on the ink. "You're always so shy about it."
With a sigh, Rose pushed back her chair and stood, lifting her shirt slightly. The tattoo, a delicate tribal design, stretched from her navel to the waistband of her leggings. The room grew silent as the two older men leaned in, their eyes tracing the pattern with something akin to hunger.
"It's lovely," Harry murmured, his hand hovering just above the ink. "But tell me, did it hurt?"
Her pulse quickened as his fingers brushed against her bare skin, the touch sending a shiver down her spine. "It wasn't too bad," she managed, her voice a whisper.
With a knowing smirk, George stepped closer, his hand resting gently her hip. "It's so intricate. Did it go all the way down?
Rose felt the heat pool between her legs, the sensation growing more intense with each passing second. The room had become a cocoon of anticipation, the air thick with it. Her heart hammered in her chest, her thoughts racing.
"Well, it goes down a bit further," she admitted, feeling a thrill at their interest. "But I'm not sure if I should show you all..."
The cheers from the other men at the table grew louder, their eyes alight with excitement. She looked around at them, their faces a mix of hopefulness and encouragement. Despite the voice in her head screaming caution, she found herself smiling, feeling a rush of power at being the center of their attention.
With trembling hands, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and took a deep breath. The fabric whispered against her skin as she slowly began to pull them down, the cooler air of the room hitting her exposed flesh. The tattoo emerged from its hiding place, a swirl of black ink that ended just above the top of her pubic hair. The men leaned in closer, their eyes wide and hungry.
Her leggings now rested low on her hips, revealing the full extent of the tattoo and the delicate wisps of hair that grew naturally around it. The sight sent a thrill through her, a heady mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. The men's eyes followed the line of her pantyless crotch, and she could see the way their pupils dilated with desire.
"You're so beautiful, Rose," Harry breathed, his voice thick with lust. "I can't believe you've been hiding this from us."
George's hand tightened on her waist, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just above the tattoo. "It's like you're a work of art," he murmured.
The heat in her belly grew, a pulsing ache that she could no longer ignore. Her breaths grew shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each shallow intake of breath. The sensation of their gazes on her bare skin was intoxicating, sending a rush of wetness to her core.
"You know," Harry said, his voice a low rumble, "back in my day, a girl with a tattoo like that was a sure sign of a wild spirit." His finger traced the edge of the ink, brushing against the soft hairs.
Rose's eyes widened, her heart racing. She felt a wetness spreading between her legs, the fabric of her vest top sticking to her skin. The men's gazes were like a physical touch, sending shivers along her spine. "I just like the way it looks," she replied, her voice unsteady.
"It does look lovely," George agreed, his hand moving from her waist to trace the line of her tattoo, his fingers brushing against the soft hairs of her mound. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt through her body. "But it's not just your tattoo that's caught our eye, is it?"
Rose gasped as Harry's hand followed the path of his eyes, sliding under the waistband of her leggings. His fingertips grazed her bare skin, and she felt her body respond, a soft moan escaping her lips. "I don't understand why you're doing this," she whispered, her thoughts a jumble of confusion and arousal.
"Why not, sweetheart?" Harry asked, his voice a gentle coax. "You're a beautiful young woman, and we're just admiring the view." His thumb slid lower, pressing against the swollen flesh of her clit through the fabric.
Her body betrayed her, arching towards his touch despite her mind screaming for her to pull away. She felt the beginnings of a blush spreading across her chest and up her neck, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I shouldn't be letting you..." she began, but her voice trailed off as George's hand slid around to cup her ass, his fingertips pressing into the soft flesh.
"But you are," Harry murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as his hand slipped further into her leggings. "And it's driving us wild." His finger began to circle her clit, the pressure building as he massaged the sensitive flesh.
The room swirled around her, the sounds of the old folks home outside the room fading into the background. All she could focus on was the sensation of Harry's hand on her body, the way his fingers danced across her skin. "Why me?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling.
"Because you're here," George said, his breath hot against her ear. "And because you're letting us." His hand moved up to cover her mouth, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips. "And because we can see that you like it."
Rose's eyes fluttered closed, her body responding to their touch despite the alarm bells ringing in her head. Her hips began to rock slightly, pushing back against George's hand as Harry's finger slid inside her. The feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fear that only heightened her arousal.
"Why aren't you wearing panties today?" Harry asked, his voice a soft growl. "Were you expecting something like this?"
"No," she gasped, her eyes snapping open. "I just... I forgot." It was a lie, but it was the only one she could think of. The truth was too embarrassing, too revealing.
The men shared a knowing smile, their hands continuing to explore her body. The pressure built within her, the room spinning as she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. She knew she should stop them, that this was wrong, but the feeling was too intense to resist.
George leaned in, his breath hot on her neck, and she felt his lips touch her skin. His kiss was soft, almost tender, his hands moving to trace the contours of her waist. His fingertips grazed the bare skin of her lower back, sending a shiver down her spine. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were discovering something precious.
Her breath hitched as Harry's finger slid deeper, his thumb circling her clit with a steady rhythm that made her legs wobble.
Rose's eyes squeezed shut, and she bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back the moan that was building in her chest. The soft kisses on her neck grew more insistent, George's hands moving to cup her breasts through her shirt. The fabric was rough against her sensitive nipples, and she could feel them harden under his touch.
Her body was a live wire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. She leaned back into George's embrace, as she rode the wave of sensation. The room had gone quiet except for their heavy breaths and the occasional clatter of a fallen domino.
Her hips began to rock in time with Harry's hand, her movements growing more frantic as the tension built. "Oh God," she whimpered, her body trembling. The men's hands felt like they were everywhere, touching her in ways she had never been touched before.
George's mouth found hers, his kiss deep and searching. His tongue slipped between her lips, and she moaned into his mouth, her body arching into his touch. The sensation of his hands on her breasts, Harry's in her pants, was almost too much to handle.
With a sudden jerk, George's grip tightened on her hips, and he pulled her leggings down to her knees. She gasped, the cold air of the room hitting her exposed skin, making her nipples peak even further. "Are you ready to be fucked, Rose?" he whispered, his voice low and guttural.
Her eyes snapped open, and she stared into George's eyes, wide with shock and arousal. The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. She could feel Harry's finger slide out of her, and he took his hand away to let George take over. He stepped closer, his erection pressing against her ass, and she felt his hands on her hips, guiding her to turn around.
Rose's cheeks were flushed, her breath coming in short, panting gasps. The two men had her now, their hands roaming her body as if they owned it. Harry's touch had been gentle, teasing, but George's was firm, demanding. She felt his fingers slide into her, filling her up as his thumb worked her clit. The pressure was unbearable, and she leaned back into him, her hands gripping the edge of the table for support.
"Look at us, sweetheart," Harry said, his voice thick with lust. She opened her eyes to find him stroking his own erection, his gaze locked on hers. "You're going to make all of very happy."
The words sent a fresh wave of heat through her, and she nodded, unable to speak. Her legs felt like jelly, but she knew what they wanted from her.
"How many men have had the pleasure of this sweet, young pussy?" Harry asked, his voice thick with lust.
Rose's cheeks burned even brighter as she whispered, "Only two." The confession seemed to electrify the air around them, and she could feel the hunger in their eyes as they took in the sight of her bare ass and pussy.
With a grunt, George pushed her down onto the table, his cock pressing against her entrance. "You're going to take all of us," he murmured, his hands guiding her legs apart. "Every single one."
The words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and excitement that was impossible to ignore. She looked around the room, her eyes meeting the eager gazes of the other men, who had gathered around, their cocks in their hands, stroking themselves in anticipation.
"You're going to be our little fuck toy, aren't you?" Harry said, his voice gruff with lust. "You're going to scream for us."
Rose felt a strange thrill at the thought of being used by these older men, her body responding to their rough words and touches. George's cock slid into her slowly, filling her up, stretching her tight pussy. She bit her lip to hold back a whimper, her eyes fluttering shut as he began to move, his hips grinding against hers.
The sensation was intense, and she could feel the tension building once again. Harry stepped closer, his hand reaching out to stroke her clit, his fingers slick with her arousal. The room was a blur of movement, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the scent of sex heavy in the air.
Her moans grew louder, echoing off the walls as George picked up the pace. She could feel the wetness of her pussy, the slickness of her arousal, and the roughness of the table beneath her. The men's hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, claiming her.
The door to the room creaked open, and a fifth man shuffled in, his eyes lighting up at the sight before him. "I knew I heard something," he said, his voice crackling with age. "You're not going to leave me out, are you?"
The other men chuckled, and George pulled out, his cock glistening with her juices. "Not at all," he said, stepping aside to make way for the newcomer. "We're just getting started."
Rose looked up at the fifth man, her eyes wide with shock and excitement. She had never felt so wanted, so desired. Her body was on fire, and she knew she couldn't stop now.
The fifth man, his face lined with wrinkles and a twinkle in his eye, approached her, his cock standing proud. He leaned in, his breath hot on her ear. "You're going to love this, little one," he whispered. "You're going to take all of us, one by one."
Her heart raced as he pushed into her, the feeling of fullness almost too much to bear. Yet, she found herself arching into the sensation, her body begging for more. The men took turns, their hands roaming her body, their cocks filling her up, each one different in size and girth.
The room was a cacophony of grunts and groans, the smell of sex permeating the air. She was lost in the moment, her inhibitions forgotten as she became the centre of their attention, their little fuck toy to use as they saw fit.
And as she felt the first tremors of orgasm begin to build, she knew she had never been more alive, more desired, than in this very moment. The thought of being taken by each of these men, claimed by them in this most primal way, sent a shiver down her spine.
Her moans grew louder, her body moving in sync with theirs. Each thrust brought her closer to the edge.
"You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you, Rose?" George grunted, his grip on her hips tightening. The words were like a slap across her face, but instead of recoiling, she reveled in them. His cock was deep inside her, his rhythm relentless.
"That's right," Harry murmured, his hand still working her clit. "You're our little slut, here to take whatever we give you."
Rose moaned, her eyes glazed with lust. The names they called her only made her wetter, made her want them more.
"Fuck," George grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic. "I'm gonna cum."
With a final, deep push, George spilled his seed inside her. The sensation of his hot cum filling her only served to fuel her arousal. She felt the warmth spread through her, the sensation of being claimed by him. As he pulled out, she felt a sense of emptiness, a hunger for more.
Ian took George's place, his cock standing tall and eager. He didn't waste any time, pushing into her with a groan of pleasure. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice a raspy whisper.
Rose's legs were shaking, but she managed to spread them wider, eager to take him all in. Harry leaned down, his mouth on her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. "You're doing so well," he whispered. "Such a good little slut."
The words sent a bolt of pleasure through her, and she felt her pussy clench around the new cock inside her. As Ian began to move, his strokes deep and sure. She could feel his age in every movement, the way he took his time, savouring her young body.
"Look at her," Harry said, his voice filled with awe. "She's loving every second of this."
The other men murmured in agreement, their eyes glued to the sight of her being taken, her tattooed stomach slick with sweat.
Her moans grew louder, her body moving with the rhythm of the Ian's thrusts. His grip on her hips tightened, his breaths coming in short bursts. "You're going to cum, for me" he panted. "You dirty slut"
His words sent her over the edge. She bucked against him, her orgasm crashing through her like a tidal wave. She could feel the wetness of her pussy, the stickiness of their combined arousal.
"Fuck, yes," Ian grunted, pulling her ponytail harder as he drove into her. "You're so wet, so tight." His strokes grew faster, his grip on her hips like iron.
Her eyes watered with the pain, but she didn't care. The pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming. She was nothing but a vessel for their lust, a receptacle for their seed.
The men watched, their cocks in hand, stroking themselves in time with Ian's movements. She could feel their eyes on her, their hunger palpable. It was like a drug, this feeling of power, of being desired so desperately.
As Ian reached his climax, he called her a slut, a whore, his voice hoarse with pleasure. The words didn't bother her; instead, they only served to push her higher, to make her pussy clench around his cock.
He came with a roar, filling her with his warmth. She felt his body tense, his cock pulsing inside her.
As Ian pulled out, the feeling of emptiness was brief, for his cum began to dribble out of her pussy, sliding down her inner thighs. The men watched with greedy eyes as the sticky liquid painted her skin, a silent testament to her arousal and their own.
"You're such a good slut, aren't you, Rose?" Harry whispered, his voice a seductive hiss in her ear. The words sent a shiver down her spine, a thrill that seemed to resonate in the very core of her being. She nodded, her cheeks flushed with a mix of humiliation and excitement.
"Look at her," George said, gesturing to her dripping cunt. "She's begging for more, isn't she?"
The other men murmured in agreement, their eyes dark with lust as they stroked their cocks. The room was thick with the scent of sex, and Rose could feel the heat of their desire washing over her.
Her body trembled as the next man stepped forward, his eyes hungry as they roved over her exposed flesh. He was older still, his skin mottled with age spots, his cock thick and veiny. "My turn," he rasped, his voice like sandpaper on her skin.
Rose felt a thrill of fear mixed with anticipation. The men had called her names she had never heard before, whispered sweet nothings that were anything but sweet. Yet, she found herself craving the filth that rolled off their tongues, eager to be degraded in the most delicious way.
The new man, whose name she hadn't caught, didn't bother with foreplay. He simply stepped closer and thrust his cock inside her, filling her up once more. The sensation was intense, and she moaned loudly, her body already primed for the taking.
The men's hands were rough on her body, their touches no longer gentle or exploratory. They groped and squeezed her, leaving bruises in their wake. They whispered obscenities in her ear, telling her what a good little slut she was, how much they enjoyed filling her up with their seed.
Her mind swam with the words, her thoughts a jumble of pleasure and pain. She didn't know what she was doing, didn't know how she had come to be in this position. All she knew was that she didn't want it to stop.
With each stroke, she felt herself slipping further into the role they had cast her in, her inhibitions shed like a second skin. She moaned and writhed, her body moving with a mind of its own, desperate for more.
The men took turns, each one more vigorous than the last. They didn't care about her pleasure; all they wanted was to use her, to claim her in the most primal way possible.
And as each man emptied himself into her, as she felt the warmth of their cum filling her, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. They had wanted her, needed her, and she had given herself willingly.
When the final man had finished, she lay there, panting and spent, her legs splayed wide and her pussy leaking cum onto the table. The men stepped back, their eyes on her with a mix of satisfaction and hunger that made her stomach clench.
"You're going to be the talk of the home, sweetheart," Harry said with a chuckle. "Every man here will be dreaming of this sweet pussy tonight."
Rose's cheeks burned, her eyes meeting the smug gazes of the men as they zipped up their pants and tucked in their shirts. She knew she should be ashamed, but all she felt was a strange thrill. They had taken her, used her, and she had liked it.
With trembling hands, she pulled her leggings up, the fabric sticking to her cum-drenched skin. She could feel the wetness of their seed seeping into the material, a constant reminder of what had just happened. It was humiliating, degrading, but it had been exhilarating.
The men patted her on the back and squeezed her ass as they left the room, their eyes lingering on her body as if they hadn't had enough. "See you tomorrow, Rose," George called out, a smug grin on his face. "Same time, same place."
The room was quiet now, the only sound her own ragged breathing. She looked down at the table, at the mess they had made, and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. But it was quickly followed by a rush of excitement, a hunger for more.
As she straightened her vest top and pulled her leggings up fully, she knew she would return. The thought of being their little fuck toy, used and desired by these older men, was intoxicating. It was wrong, but she couldn't resist the power it gave her, the way they made her feel.
Her mind was racing as she cleaned herself up, trying to process what had just occurred. She had let these men use her, treat her like a piece of meat, and she had enjoyed every moment of it.
"What have I become?" she whispered to herself, the words barely audible. But even as she spoke them, she knew the answer. She had become the very thing she had always craved to be: desired, wanted, and powerful in her own way.
With a deep breath, she pushed the thoughts aside and gathered her things. It was time to leave, to return to her mundane life outside these walls. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she was back, eager to feel that rush of pleasure and power again.
The drive home was a blur, her mind replaying every touch, every whispered word of filth. Her hand strayed to her pussy, the sensation of her own touch sending a shiver down her spine. She was already planning her next visit, thinking of ways to tease and tantalize them even more.
The men at the care home had unlocked a part of her she never knew existed, a wildness that she had kept hidden. And as she parked her car and stepped out into the cool evening air, she knew that she would never be the same again.
The taste of their desire was still on her lips, the scent of their cum on her skin. And as she walked to her apartment, she felt a strange sense of liberation, a knowing that she had discovered a side of herself that she had never dared to explore before.
In the quiet solitude of her room, she stripped off her clothes, her eyes lingering on her body in the mirror. She was still the same skinny, flat-chested girl she had always been, but she felt different, changed. Her tattoo seemed to pulse with a new life, a symbol of the woman she had become.
Lying in bed that night, her hand between her legs, she replayed their touches in her mind, the way they had claimed her, used her for their pleasure. And as she brought herself to another shuddering climax, she knew that she would be back for more, eager to see just how far she could push herself, eager to be their little slut once again.
21 days ago