The colors whirling, this dirty phone sex world spinning, the chatter fading in and out and my focus shifting a hard one eighty every few seconds while my insides needily begged me to go get fucked. I’d been drugged, I knew that much, and I knew who did it too. So I had one conversation with my husband, a quick text really, and while the guy was dragged from the party and likely handled quite brutally, I had to stumble my horny trophy ass to somewhere. I didn’t have a lot of time, I knew that, so I did what was natural. I found a nice couch, and passed out on it with my ass up in the air and my panties down so my pussy juices leaked down my thighs and attracted attention. A lot of people would actively try to hide away, I was always more of a glass-is-half-full kind of girl. I wanted my pussy pumped at this party anyway, why not make that clear and push for guided masterbation?
I’m not completely sure how long as I was out, but I do know when I woke up it was to my folds being aggressively pumped while someone else was underneath me rutting into my tits. I knew they expected me to wake up pissed, or at least angry, so they absolutely weren’t ready for me to slam my hips back and start pistoning the shaft between my globes with vigor and joy. I needed his white cream all over my dark face. I didn’t know who he was, I really didn’t give a fuck. As far as I was concerned, I was either getting a facial and a valley of cream-covered tits or another guy was getting thrown out. “Haah, oh, fuck my pussy!” I commanded, starting to rotate my hips and clamp down for his gift. Take advantage of me for your rape phone sex fantasies? Good, but expect to get used for what you’re worth the moment I’m back.
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