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Organizing a Gang-Bang... The morning you wake up to host your first gang-bang is a morning like no other. After weeks of meeting and talking to people in order to herd a bunch of horny men to help fuck and overwhelm your loving sub with strange cock is a feeling akin to trying to sleep on Xmas eve when you're 8 years old. Excitement and nervousness fall on equilibrium. But this is her birthday surprise. It's a fantasy that's gone unrealized for years and you're going to make it happen for her. Despite being straight you've spent more time chatting up men in the past weeks then you have girls. Despite the struggles and the bumps in the road it's going to happen. You've carefully sifted through close to 50 men that were more than willing to help you celebrate her birthday, and out of this you chose 10, knowing (as you had been advised by others) that there were going to be a handful of last minute drop outs; guys who got cold feet, or whose desire to use a willing sub-slut was overpowered by a latent homophobia regarding being a naked dude in a room full of other naked dudes. So your 10 turns to 4, including yourself, and you wonder if maybe next time you should just invite 30 with the hopes that 10 will show up. In the hours beforehand there are no sexy thoughts that run through your head. Your pants don't stiffen as you pour your first cup of coffee of the day while text messaging your platoon of cunt-hungry gang-bangers to assure yourself that there are no more last minute drop-outs. Your thoughts, as you pull on your coat and compile a "to-do" list, go out as sympathy to your mother and all the trouble she went through while organizing a dinner party. You pull on your coat, hat and mitts and suck back the last of your coffee at the door, looking at your list and, noticing that there's no food listed, you wonder if there should be, and if so, what? Do people eat at a gang-bang? Will it actually last long enough for people to get hungry? and if they eat, what will they eat? snack food? potato chips? would you really want to put your hand into a bowl of potato chips under those circumstances? The image of half-masticated chip crumbs falling into your subs hair as she sucks cock and takes it from behind presents itself in your mind. You see crumbs spraying out like confetti on the breeze of exhaled groan, hands that go unwashed after a trip to the snack bar and suddenly her tits are covered in sour-cream and onion flavoured dust, and her cunt tastes mysteriously like au-gratin Ruffles. Ew. Yeah. Nothing sexy about that. You conclude that all these men, like yourself, are going to have a healthy meal before the evenings festivities in order to keep their energy up. You cross snack food off of your list. People are however, you're sure, going to drink. but your not holding an open bar. You're providing the pussy, they can bring there own booze. You send a text msg out to all the confirmed attendees "BYOB..." then, while walking into shoppers drug mart you add "and condoms." No need again for you to provide such things. They can bring there own or waddle home with<b> blue balls. </font></b>Safety first. At shoppers you buy condoms for yourself, mix for you and your subs beverage of choice, strawberry flavoured lube (her mouth is assuredly going to need a little extra moisture after a while) and baby wipes....just because it seems like a good idea so people aren't wiping fluids on your furniture or in your sub's hair. As you walk to the LCBO you realize that all of the glassware in you cupboard has been pilfered from your many string of bar jobs; mismatched pint glasses displaying the labels of a variety of different beers, and you decide that maybe hitting the dollar store for some unified glassware might be a good idea. You return to your apartment with freshly purchased booze, drug-mart supplies, some new glassware, and a bag of laundry picked up from your local wash and fold. Looking at the sink full of dishes and the scattered debris seemingly left behind by the bomb your roommate set off the night before, you decide you have to start cleaning immediately. You've invited your sub over an hour earlier so that you would have time to prep her, and have some personal play time before opening the bedroom door to let in the hoards of men waiting to surprise her with an anonymous b-day fucking, and the time of her arrival is drawing nearer. You've also asked another sub to come by and play host....take coats, pour drinks, suck cock...all in your living room and kitchen while you use your sub in the other room, so that the scene isn't interupted by you having to get up and answer the door. Only once everyone is in attendance and your sub is fully restrained to the bed with her legs spread will you open your bedroom door and let the festivities begin. So you clean, frantically, the mundane over-powering the perverse you have not a single horny thought in your head. You worry only about everyone showing up on time and as you finish your fourth cup of coffee and a text from your sub saying that she's running late you begin to panic that your "host" will arrive before the "b-day girl" and therefore spoil the surprise. You panic momentarily about having enough toilet paper. But then, just as you've finished cleaning, febreezing every piece of fabric in the place, and have one leg in your jeans, after you've showered and spritzed, you realize you have time to kill with nothing but too much coffee in your veins and panic about about everything going as planned. You worry about too much, pacing the floor and trying to relax And then your phone rings. She says "hello sir" meekly, sweetly, and all of the mundane actions of your afternoon seem weeks earlier. For the first time since you woke up you allow yourself a smile. Your body relaxes. You feel your dick get a little hard at the sound of her voice, at the anticipation of the events to come. You still have your hour with her, before your other sub arrives to answer the door for you, entertain for you, before the room full of men you're sharing her with are set to arrive. She comes upstairs and she peals off her long coat, wearing exactly what you told her too; nothing. Only her thigh high PVC boots and her collar. You smile and take her gently by her throat, kiss her lips and put your mouth to her ear, asking "have you been a good little slut?" "Yes sir." "Good." you say, smiling, walking away from her to pour both of you the first of a long night's cocktails, handing her one and toasting her as she thanks you, taking a fist full of her hair to give her the last gentle action she'll receive till scenes end; a kiss. "Cause your birthdays about to start with a bang." DBJ |
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