No Rose Petals Here

Like that!

Seems like forever ago. Was dating this guy, Gary - Army dude, hot as shit. I was 18, looked like 15, cursed and fucked like 23. We’d talked about my fantasies, and his, but yknow, you don’t think about the reality until it’s on you.

Important to say I was excited about the idea. Of being fucked by people I didn’t know, and maybe would never know. Can’t remember anymore what my explicit words were. We roleplayed it that night. Jesus I came like the world was ending.

I don’t know if he got rohypnol, or if I just got really fucking drunk. I never asked. I remember the weirdness of breathing in the paper bag. How scratchy the bark of the tree was. I noticed those before I noticed my arms and feet were tied.

I remember I was gagged with a lump of cloth. I could still make noise. So when the first voice said “She’s awake,” I squealed a little. I didn’t know where I was. I knew I was chilly, and there were bugs on my feet, and the bark was annoying. I’d heard one voice, but figured there had to be someone else he was speaking to.

I pulled hard on the arm restraints, but fuck that hurt. Pine bark irritates the hell out of my skin, and I didn’t want to risk any more of it. So. There I was, whining “ow ow fuck ow” into a cloth gag, when the first fingertip touched my clit.

At this point, I didn’t find it particularly arousing. I was more annoyed, as well as embarrassed because I’d been reflexively whining about the bark-burns. But one finger turned to two, then those two discovered I was pretty damned wet. I was betting it was leftovers from Gary; nothing to do with my situation at all. I was probably right - the arousal didn’t hit until they started talking about it. I remember a few choice quotes.

“Jesus, this bitch is wet as fuck!”

“Christ, she really wants it.”

“Dude. Stick a finger up her ass when you fuck her. Sluts get off on that.”

Three different voices. Talking about me like I was only my cunt. There were a few other voices. I lost count at five. My head swam. Five people standing around me wanting to fuck me, and I was helpless.

Well, not helpless. I could scream. But the first cock thrust into me so hard and fast I half-moaned, half-grunted instead. My body did this weird rippling thing that felt so fucking good, I was amazed. I couldn’t figure out what the hell had happened. Then he thrust again, harder, scraping my back skin against the pine bark. I could feel the skin of his stomach against mine, and smell the beer on his breath through the bag. My skin itched like hell but my cunt squeezed me from the inside, and I saw stars.

“Ah… God… This bitch is good…” He thrust hard and rapidly for a few minutes, then pulled away.

“I’m gonna cum if I do more. But this cunt deserves a night of it. You take her.”

I don’t know who “you” was, but I’d never felt a cock that size inside me. At least, not at 18. This guy was more in control, fucking me with brutal sharp thrusts while pinching my clit and biting my nipples in time. I squealed more at this one. After a few minutes of squealing I heard him laugh breathily and whisper at me “that’s right, piggy. Squeal for it. Squeal for my cock, you fucking whore.”

The next three cockpunches took me over the edge. My cunt squeezed so hard I thought I wouldn’t breathe again. At the time, I thought that orgasm lasted for almost an hour. The other three took their cue from that, and I spent most of the night being milked for orgasm after orgasm. I lost count. All I could think was how amazing it felt, and how much I wanted these guys to keep at me, over and over again.

I was mostly brainless when they left me, laughing and joking and what sounded like smacking each other’s asses. I hung there for a while, wondering what was going to happen to me. I didn’t know if they’d taken me and left me to hang, or if they were coming back. I was so drained, I fell asleep, even though my arms were sore as hell and my back itched like a thousand skeeter bites.

I woke up in Gary’s lap. He’d wrapped me in a blanket. He was smiling. I asked him what happened.