“N-nineteen!” Gloria moaned in Morgan’s ear. “Oh fuck yes, yes darling, just like that. Finger me like I’m fucking nineteen!”
They were quickly reaching a crescendo. Morgan felt her orgasm on its way like the not-so-distant whistle of an arriving train. Her entire body tensed, a whirlpool of pleasure gathering itself inside of her. She stared up at Gloria's sparkling blue eyes, moaning with sweet understanding. This was how the world was supposed to be.
“That's it, darling,” Gloria moaned. “Make me cum. Oh fuck, yes. Make me fucking cum like I'm fucking nineteen.”
With grasping, gasping motions, the two came together, legs sliding up and down. Their juices soaked through the coach they were on top of. Gloria kissed Morgan long and hard, laughing at the young beauty's need for more.
“Fifty-two, by the way, darling,” she cooed, sliding her youthful, lithe body up.
“Huh?” Morgan asked, feeling drunk from the orgasm. “Wuzzat?”
“I’m fifty-two, love. I’ve been coming to these parties since the very beginning. I don’t miss a single one.”
Morgan’s lust-addled mind was confused and over-stimulated. But even she knew that didn’t make a single bit of sense.
* * * * *
Journal Entry #5
The deed is done. I made the sacrifice as Yolena instructed, with her guiding me through the process every step of the way. It was a grisly task, working on the animals like that, but it was a necessary one.
The new elixir waits in my laboratory. Time will tell if it works or not.
There is another part of the ritual Yolena had us do that I hesitate to tell, as this is a record. But I must make this a complete record if it is to be a proper record.
After the sacrifice, she pulled me down on top of the pentagram and had me enter her body. I was hard already, watching her exquisite body writhe and dance as she called upon her spirits. It was all I could do not to empty myself in her body right away.
She was so lush. So very...fertile.
Earlier today, as I was calibrating some of my equipment, she asked me if I should like to fuck her again. She spoke at length how good she found me at the task, and thought it a shame that a man like myself was confining my cock only to a wife who could not return my affection.
I turned her down...but even I have to wonder if that was the right choice. Would not Eleanor understand? She has been sick for so very long, and a man has needs. Better some of the hired help than to go out of the house and search around, to be absent. Were I to bed Yolena regularly, I could stay home as much as needed and always be on hand for Eleanor...
Such rationalizations have brought down many a marriage, I am sure. But Yolena assures me Eleanor will never have to know.
The elixir, once it is perfected, will work on anyone. However I wish it too.
I could alter Yolena's preferences in this manner...alter Eleanor's.
A man with the elixir of youth should be able to say he's earned two young beautiful lovers, I think.
* * * * *
Morgan wandered through the party, her dress slowly slipping down from her shoulders. Men and women grabbed her heavy tits and she just giggled, thanking them for the time. Dimly she realized that she needed to find the exit—that getting out was a good idea.
But it was a hard sell. Everything felt so good. Everyone smelled so nice. And every person she saw looked so...fuckable.
She hadn’t had a cock inside her body for more than a year. It felt like an obscene thing to say. She was sure the second such a fact left her lips that her every available orifice would be so pumped full of cock that she would be able to pass for a pincushion.
Once she nearly found the exit. There was a great wide set of ornately carved wooden double-doors. She recalled having entered such a set long, long ago when the party started, though that felt like years ago.
Would it be years ahead? Was she reverse-aging as well? How much younger could she get, when she was already twenty-five?
Twenty...five? Twenty seven?
Twenty four? How old was she, again? She was so hot, and each year she shaved off her mental understanding of herself made her feel so much hotter.
She cast the thought of her aging away, affirming herself to the notion of leaving through the doors. There was no one stopping her. No giant set of tits nearby for her to ogle until she lost her nerve. But there was...
There was a fountain of the punch available. She licked her lips, seeing its dark purple shades sliding up against the magnificently luxurious glass bowl.
Just...just one sip. You know, just a glass. That was it. A nightcap. The drink was so good. How did they make it so well?
She filled up a glass and drank it down. It was delicious, just as she remembered. And then, spinning happily, she took another one and drank that one down too.
She began to hear music. For a moment she wondered if it was really happening or if she was just hearing things in this hyper-aroused hallucinogenic state she seemed to be in. Then she realized it didn’t really matter, as the beat was fantastic.
Morgan spun and danced her way into a small study, her drink forgotten and spilled out onto the ground somewhere. A big-titted servant picked it up, her naked ass high in the air, inviting a quickie to any man who wanted to fuck someone in the tiny, daring outfit.
In the study, Morgan slid her hands across the heavy leather bindings of the books and files, pushing her sweating face close up against the shelves and breathing in deep. Everything about the smells, the sensations turned her on.
Heavy.
Leather.
Bindings.
“F-fuck me...” she moaned, shoving her fingers up into her pussy.
Knowing herself so well, she did a better job than Gloria. That was no knock against the lovely young (older?) blonde; Morgan simply had a whole lot of hands-on time to get acquainted with her cunt, like anyone.
“I can oblige you, sweetheart.”
Morgan turned, seeing a tall, handsome fellow in a thin dark suit approaching. His cock was already out, hanging thick like a heavy sausage. Morgan saw it and her mouth instantly began to drool. Heavy dollops of saliva landed on her swollen, needy breasts.
There had been a whole lot of fucking she had seen, and much nudity. But so many of the cocks had been inside of others that she hadn’t actually seen a cock like this in a while. Big, long, thick and beautiful.
“Do you think she can handle two, Holt?” asked a man behind the first. He wasn’t as tall, but where the first—Holt—was thin, he was thick and muscular.
“Sure, Duncan. Why don’t we ask her?”
Duncan smiled. “How about it, sugar? Can you handle two?”
Both men were soon naked. They ripped their clothes off, not bothering very much with formality. Their bodies were spectacular. Hard abs locked in rock hard hard torsos, pectorals like the vision of god staring her in the face. She wanted to chew on their bodies, they were so hot, but really what she wanted to do was suck...and suck...and suck....
There was too much spare saliva in her mouth—altered, she knew already, to be thick and syrupy, the perfect lubricant for an incumbent cock—for her to actually give a proper answer. And so instead Morgan began ripping at her dress and dropped to her knees.
Her tits, heavy and thick, were exposed to the air. Bright nipples the size of full erasers stuck forward. Remnants of her clothing remained, sticking to her skin as a result of the sweat from the delicious, endless heat that the party provided.
She needed cock. She needed as much cock as she could muster. There was nothing more important in the world for a young woman like her, a young beautiful woman with so much sensuality and desire to offer, than to be fucked brutally and thoroughly and for as long as possible. Her body, scintillating and amazing, was made purely for taking in as many cocks as possible.
“Oh yeah,” said Holt. “She can handle us. What a good girl.”
Holt stepped forward, his cock hardening at the sight
of the kneeling Morgan. Precum dripped down like a leaky faucet, and Morgan moaned with need.
His cock already exposed, Morgan could not stop herself from sliding her mouth directly over the shaft when he came close. The movement took him off guard a little—but only a little. In short order he was raking his hands through the thick, silky tangle of her gorgeous chestnut hair and guiding her up and down.
In the mirror on the wall, Morgan could see her body. It looked younger, fitter, than it ever had.
But she couldn’t hold the image for long. Holt’s cock simply tasted too good. A good girl was supposed to close her eyes while she sucked a man off—or if not that, then to look up at him and let him know what a subservient whorish slut she was just for his use.
So wrapped up with serving Holt was Morgan that she almost forgot about Duncan. Just from tasting Holt's cock, she was close to cumming. It was all her sexified body needed at this point.
And then, from behind, Duncan entered her hot, waiting cunt. She was surprised by the entrance, but she definitely welcomed it. Her slit was sopping wet, so eager to take in cock, so happy to be filled by a member that was as thick and large as Duncan's was. He drove into her with abandon, strong hands grasping at her wide fertile hips and jackhammering up into her cunt.
Hands—she didn't know whose—slipped over her tits and nipples, squeezing and playing. That sent her over the edge. She moaned as an orgasm struck through her body, purest pleasure lighting up every atom she had—and then it kept going and going. Every stroke from Duncan became another hot orgasm lighting her brain on fire. Every slurp and suck of Holt's cock was another round of blissful waves, sending her mind to the next level of consciousness.
She was nothing but a fertile cock vessel, and that was how life should be. Any thoughts of her ever being anything else, wanting to be anything else, were fucked right out of her stupid, small, empty little head. There was no room for anything but serving cock.
The two men loved her body, groaning and sputtering.
“Fuck!” they would groan. “She's so fucking tight!”
“So fucking good!”
“So goddamn hot!”
“Gotta cum. Gotta empty myself in this cunt.”
Whose voice was whose hardly mattered. All that mattered were their cocks, their cum. She waited, aching, and then finally felt it. Holt emptied down her throat, covering her mouth and esophagus with layers of his startling hot white goo. .
Spurred by his friend’s eruption, Duncan unloaded himself, creaming into Morgan’s fertile cunt. She took all of it, squeezing her cunt muscles to take more and more, desperate to feel as much of his sweet liquid gift in her pussy as possible.
They each took a moment, pumping silently into her hot, waiting body as she absorbed their cum and cleaned them dry with her mouth and grasping pussy. When they exited, both seemed out of breath.
Morgan turned then, opening her legs to the two men. Hot seed dripped from her cunt. Dribbles of it ran down her chin.
“Come on boys,” she cooed. “Is that all you’ve got for me?”
The two young men high-fived. It was not.
* * * * *
Hours later, the sun finally rose. A servant gifted Morgan with an elegant silk robe that she could wear on her drive home now that all her clothes were ruined by all the fucking
After Duncan and Holt, there was William, and then Reggie, and then Paul, and then Hannah and Ivy. There was no doubt about it any longer—Morgan was definitely not a prude anymore. She loved sex. She loved fucking. She loved lust and she absolutely loved the Lust Party.
That was what she was calling it now, in her head. She had heard it once or twice around the crowd, and it was a brilliant name for the wonderful event.
There was a lot she didn’t understand. All her stamina. The seeming fountain of youth that Braddock provided. The nonstop feelings of arousal pumping through her system.
But that didn’t feel very much like it mattered, anymore. All that really mattered was getting her fertile fuckbody full of some stud’s cum.
With all the raucous fucking that Morgan had enjoyed throughout the night, one might have expected her to be staggering out, maybe limping. But instead she frolicked out to her car, with more sexual energy than she had felt in ages. She felt like there was nothing she couldn’t do—no one she couldn’t fuck.
She licked her lips. This was going to be fun.
And there was one thing she knew for certain—she would have to go back to the next party.
# # #
The fucking had been going on for hours now. It wasn't right to call it an orgy, exactly. There were lots of men fucking, but only two women. They had become the stars of the show. Other women there—cheerleaders—could only look on with wanton jealousy at the two girls that had become the favorites of the men in such a short time span.
All they had done was show up, and their presence, their beauty, had demanded the cocks of the dozen-plus ripped athletes who were there already.
Both young beauties were covered from head to toe in sparkling hot cum. Their skin glistened with it. They were full of it on the inside.
And still they wanted more.
Always more.
The gorgeous young hotties would never have enough, would never feel enough cocks inside of their beautiful bodies. All they wanted in the world was to be fucked. To have whatever cock they wanted stuffed in their beautiful bodies until their minds blinked off from overload.
And they would get it. Because this was a place where everyone got what they wanted. This was a place where the nastiest, dirtiest fantasies came to life.
This was the Lust Party...and guests never had to leave.
# # #
Lust Party 2
The day after her first Lust Party was mostly a wash. Morgan stumbled home, her body full of the cum of strangers, and slid into her bed. She slept the day away, waking from time to time to raid her fridge for the most carb-heavy, calorie dense foods she could find. There was a distant memory in her head of sending a text to her boss at the newspaper where she worked, The Edition, informing him that she wouldn't be arriving that day.
But the next morning—after the day long rest that she was able to have, Morgan woke up in her bed feeling terrific. She slid out of her sheets and stretched her lithe, tight body long and high, shaking her hair out until the fine, glossy chestnut locks settled into their natural wavy length, framing her angelic face and resting at the halfway point down her back.
Wait...what?
She stepped over to the full-length mirror she kept attached to her closet door across from the bed, one perfectly constructed eyebrow raised curiously.
At the Lust Party two nights ago, she had been fucked, and thoroughly, several times. She had imbibed Braddock’s “Elixir of Lust”, or whatever he wanted to call it—probably a lot more than she needed to. In her half-awake calculations the day before while she recovered from its grogginess-inducing after-effects, she had written the substance off as merely some form of very strong booze. But now that she looked at herself in the mirror, that write-off seemed very hasty indeed.
Morgan was twenty-eight years-old. She was attractive, though not stunning, and while she turned heads from time to time she had to go out of her way to really make men look for a long time—to get the kind of open, jaw-dropping looks that made her thighs tremble and her stomach quiver.
It was a nice in-between and she had used what looks she had from time to time to give an advantage to her journalism career, where a pretty face could go a long way toward loosening tongues.
She had shoulder-length chestnut hair that always seemed a bit drab to her; she had modestly-sized breasts and, though not in perfect shape (thanks to a regular habit of stress-eating whatever bread and cheese was on hand, usually on the weekends), she ran nearly every day and kept herself in physical form.
That was not the reflection that looked back at her in the mirror this morning.
What she saw w
as, at most, a twenty-one year-old. And more than that, a twenty-one year-old porn star, with magnificently sculpted, naturally perky tits that seemed like they would burn bras off if any dared to disgrace the sight of their physical perfection.
They were easily 36Ds, when Morgan before had been a much more modest 32B. Her muscles were toned and visible—the soft surface of her abdominals was layered with tight, compact muscles that made Morgan’s mouth drool just looking at them.
Her reflection was turning her on.
Little wonder.
Her hair, as she had found out first, was long and luxurious, each lock a glossy silken strand that made love to Morgan’s skin as it stretched down her toned back. She had grown at least four inches, well beyond her previous height of five foot four. Her posture was a perfect C shape—chest out, ass out, belly in. It felt more comfortable than any manner of holding herself she had felt in years.
It was not lost on her that this was the perfect way to display her body to men, too.
The coup de grace was her face. There was not a hint of any blemish, no sign of any imperfection. Her face held all the glory of youth—smooth shiny skin that practically begged to be kissed, her lips plush and full, her dark eyes brimming with sultry mystery. Cheekbones had been raised and enhanced just so, and her jawline evened out, and so while she was still recognizable as Morgan, she was definitely an improvement.
“Fuck,” she said, her voice an earnest, breathy whisper, though she had intended to speak at full volume. “I’m amazing!”
She was indeed. That was why, mere moments after catching the sight of herself in the mirror, her hands slipped down to her cunt and began exploring. She was sensitive there—much more sensitive than she could ever remember being.
A gentle touch sent a lightning bolt of pleasure through her body that dropped the buxom beauty to her knees, and she had to keep going from there. Her fingers expertly knew how to pleasure this new body, working in and out of her slippery hot pussy with delicious ease, and her fingers knew also to grasp the raspberry-sized nipples waiting for her touch.
Lust Party Bundle (Unprotected Delights) Page 4
