Batgirl and Robyn
- 3 years ago
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Cum On Robyn - Bukkake free porn video
Eight out of ten turned up, which wasn’t bad. Only two timewasters.
I did the sums in my head and came up with £574 – which meant a hundred quid from each of the ones that turned up take off the cost of the room. Even If I deducted the price of the chemise and blonde lowlights, I didn’t count the shoes or red nail varnish since I already had those, and advertising was free courtesy of the internet, it wasn’t bad for a couple of hours work. Not that it was work, not by any stretch of the imagination; I was going to enjoy myself.
I thought about what I was about to do as I drove north. For me it was huge, such a big step. All right, I’d already entertained two men in my living room, feeling their cum splashing over me, but this was a little different and I was nervous as hell, the kind of nervous that had my tummy churning while, at the same time, had my pussy sluicing and my insides clenched with anticipation.
Not that I intended to let them fuck me, it was meant to be strictly bukkake, semen all over me, but I got so turned on that things did get a little out of hand. I couldn’t help myself. Not when I was kneeling on the carpet with a lovely big cock in my mouth, another two in hand while five more waited their turn, the men attached to the remaining five cranking away and calling out encouragement.
“Suck it, Robyn,” I heard someone growl.
There were other murmurings and comments:
Fuck, just look at her…
Sexy…
What a slut…
Beautiful…
I wish my missus would suck my dick like that…
I slurped at that thick cock and revelled in the attention. In fact, I loved being the focal point for such lewd admiration, adored it so much, I didn’t even mind being called a slut. If anything, being called names gave me a perverse thrill – after all, that’s exactly how I was behaving. A lone woman all tarted up in a hotel room with eight naked men, my express intention being getting plastered in spunk – what other name fit?
****
I’d heard of it before – bukkake – but only had a vague understanding. However, a little research on the internet soon brought me up to speed. The question was, regardless of entertaining a garden contractor by the name of Dave and his good-looking friend, could I summon the courage to take it to the extreme?
It took a few days of indecision, with my opinion swinging like a pendulum before I finally registered on an internet adult site and placed an ad: Busty mature for hotel fun. I want you to cum all over me.
I included a selfie (no face) and an email address and waited with a high degree of trepidation.
Oddly enough, in that interim period, while I waited for the ad to get noticed and replies to come in, I was more worried about getting a zero response than the prospect of meeting complete strangers in a hotel in Peterborough – I chose that city because, as well as being far enough away from my home for anonymity, an easy drive an hour or so up the A1, it’s also convenient for punters.
It took a day before the first email hit the inbox. And after that, things got busy.
With so many replies – 204 – I took the plunge and booked the hotel, choosing a Wednesday for the simple reason I couldn’t wait for the next weekend. After that I sent out the date and venue and fee as a blanket email Bcc.
In the end I had ten takers, eight of whom showed up, the first at 3 p.m.
I’d arrived at the hotel just before two in the afternoon. I parked the car and just sat there, wondering what the hell I was doing. It crossed my mind to bottle it. I could switch back on and drive away. There wouldn’t be any comebacks. But in the end I climbed out of the car, grabbed my bag from the boot and then walked into reception on jelly legs.
During check-in I was sure the girl behind the counter knew why I was there. I felt so self-conscious, like I had a sign around my neck that read I’m a cum-slut. Cover me in semen – I fucking LOVE it! My face burned and my hand trembled when I signed the docket the girl thrust at me over the counter, and it was a relief to take the key-card and get into the lift.
It really hit home when I let myself into the room: in about an hour’s time I would be bathed and scented and wearing nothing but shoes, a black chemise with pearl trim, red nail polish and lipstick, and a smile.
The smile would be a shaky one at best.
With fifteen minutes to go I checked the mirror, and what I saw made my tummy tumble: I looked great, exactly as I’d stated in the advert.
My stomach flipped again when the mobile rang.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered, my hand going to the device, pulling back before I finally steeled myself to answer.
“Robyn?” a male voice said. I detected a hint of anxiousness in the man’s tone and realised perhaps I wasn’t the only one bricking it.
I gulped and cleared my throat. “Yes,” I replied.
“It-uh-it’s Baz. I-uh-I sent an email…”
It occurred to me I’d better act like I knew what the hell I was doing, although now the moment of truth was upon me I was close to gibbering.
“Baz, yes,” I replied, going for a silky smooth seductive tone. “You’ll want the room number, yes?”
A second or two’s pause, a blink of an eye during which I envisioned a man in a car down in the car park licking his lips.
“Uh-yeah, Robyn … That’d be great.”
I gave him the number and said I’d see him soon, and after ringing off dread and excitement mixed in my tummy.
I suddenly needed to pee, but before I could go – and before Baz knocked at the door – the phone rang again.
By the time I’d told Phil the details and hung up it was too late, Baz was at the door.
****
A standard hotel room on an idle Wednesday afternoon: a big bed, a mass produced chair of some functional Swedish design, and an open-fronted wardrobe attached to the wall. Throw in eight naked men of varying ages, physique, and hairline – some sporting tattoos, one with a ring through one nipple – add a big-breasted woman edging past forty and it’s going to get messy.
At first, with the arrival of Baz, it was awkward. He seemed nice enough – mid-twenties, no Gerard Butler but by no means hideous. And it seemed he was as new to this as I was.
I opened the door and he just stood there, eyes on stalks, like he was surprised to see the selfie I’d attached to the advert in the flesh, as though he couldn’t believe I was real.
Standing at the door in the heels, the hemline of the chemise nowhere near modest, I was suddenly very aware of how it would look if anyone from the same floor happened past.
“Baz?” I asked, immediately following with, “For God’s sake, come in.”
He threw a desperate look to his left, back towards the lift, and I wondered if her was about to leg it.
“Robyn?” he gulped. “I-uh-I…” Then he swallowed again and repeated my name.
“Who else,” I hissed, yanking him into the room by his belt.
Baz stood by the door looking very worried when I pushed the door closed. And then the phone rang again.
Their names are a bit of a muddle after that. Not that it mattered, not really. I had Baz in the room, with Phil on the way. The third one to ring was Dave, easy to remember because he was the one who took the afternoon to the level it reached, or at least he was the catalyst – him and his cock like an elephant’s trunk. They say size doesn’t matter, and, in my opinion, they’re right – to a point. But seeing Dave and his appendage stirred me up inside. I got so I was rubbing my clit and coming while he knelt between my legs and tugged at the thing. I got so worked up that when…
Oh, sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll get to Dave later.
So, I had Baz and Phil and Dave, three of the boys with me and five more to come, which is in no way intended as a pun.
Thank God Dave was an old hand, experienced in group sessions where a lady gets smeared with cum. He rocked in, one big confident smile.
I liked him on sight. Dave had charisma, a personality I warmed to, especially since he just sort of took charge and relieved me of the responsibility as host.
“Music,” he said, pulling a small Bluetooth speaker from a small rucksack. He set up some background sounds via his iPhone and then, after grinning at me and winking at the other two men, produced a bottle of rum and a litre of coke. “No ice,” he shrugged, “but at least we’ve got a fridge to put the coke in. Anyone want a drink?”
We all did and Dave did the honours while I answered yet another call.
Finally, when it became obvious we weren’t going to be joined by the last two, the total standing at eight boys and me, Dave got things going by peeling off his t-shirt.
“C’mere, Robyn,” he growled, his voice as deep as his chest.
I rose from where I’d been perched on the end of the bed, legs crossed and sipping rum.
“Undo me jeans,” Dave added, smirking.
He watched my face as I unbuttoned him and unzipped the flies. Then Dave chuckled when I muttered an obscenity, the sight of his big dick forcing the epithet out of me.
“Touch it, Robyn,” I heard him murmur. “Go on, girl. Don’t be shy.”
Touch it? I wanted to wank it ‘til it spat; I wanted to suck spunk off it. Hell, I wanted him to lie me down, spread my legs and stuff my cunt full of it.
“Oh, God,” I groaned, the weight of him in my hand.
“How about a kiss?” Dave asked. He pushed his fingers into the hair at the back of my head. “Before you get a face full of spunk,” he added.
I worked at him as we kissed, with the head of that cock halfway along my forearm, excitement making my pussy even wetter.
Someone lifted the chemise and breathed a sigh.
“Fuck, yeah,” I heard.
Lips kissed my left buttock, anonymous fingers sliding through my labia.
“She’s wet as fuck … It’s like she’s pissed herself.”
“Oh,” I said in response. I disengaged from Dave and, while the other men in various stages of undressing – except for Baz who was sitting on the chair looking scared – I excused myself. “I do have to pee, actually,” I informed the group.
With much laughter coming from the others in response, some wag said, “Leave the door open!”
So I did.
The memory of being in a toilet cubicle with my former boyfriend Keith came back to me and sent a shiver down my spine. It was that event which started me off, set me along the track that led to a hotel room full of horny men. I sat down and deliberately angled my pelvis so my water would tinkle into the bowl, the sound of splashing bringing faces to the door.
They crowded one another, shoulder to shoulder and not one of them said a word while I peed, all of them staring open-mouthed when I wiped myself with tissue.
“Okay, lads,” I said, grinning after washing my hands. I was confident, ready for action, and very horny. “Who can I suck first?”
A few moments later I found myself knelt on the carpet, a hard-on in my mouth while I cranked away at two others. From the corner of my eye I noticed that even Baz was naked by then.
“Suck it, Robyn,” I heard someone growl.
There were other murmurings and comments:
Fuck, just look at her…
Sexy…
What a slut…
Beautiful…
I wish my missus would suck my dick like that…
****
Dave Brewster was a man who would lead me towards more adventures. The man’s a perv, and out-and-out degenerate, but he’s irresistible with it: a big man, barrel-chested with wide shoulders and a tight waist. He’s got lovely arms, well-defined, strong, a tribal tattoo creeping like a virus the left one, the complex design spreading across one slab-like pectoral muscle. Dave is cheeky and confident and a charmer with sparkling eyes and a mischievous smile. It was an effort not to focus all my attention solely upon him.
I was on my knees surrounded by the eight of them. I’d suck one and wank the two either side of him before shuffling left, continuing around the rough circle until each of them had been in my mouth.
It was incredible! What an experience. I was thrilled at my own audacity, and as I moved on to the next man I rubbed my clit, occasionally slipping two fingers into my body so I could really get myself worked up.
I’d just gone full circle, my mouth lips about to purse around Baz’s cock for the second time when Dave mumbled, “Get on the bed, Robyn. I wanna lick your cunt.”
Strictly speaking, that wasn’t part of the arrangement. It was meant to be my mouth and hands on their cocks; they could wank all they wanted but, in the end, it was all about them coming on me.
“Dave,” I gasped as he hauled me to my feet by my wrist. “You’re not supposed to--” But I shut up when he laid me on my back, pushed my legs open and, after a good long stare at my pussy, got straight to work on it.
Any protest I might have put forward evaporated, simply melted away as a rush of delicious sensations swept out from my core. Dave lapped at my clit, a big fat finger sliding inside me to where he curled it round and worked at a very sensitive spot inside.
“Ah, shit,” I squeaked when the sudden urge to pee came upon me. “If you keep rubbing me…” I gasped. “Dave … Oh, fuck … If you keep doing that I’ll piss the bed.”
“Oh, really,” he said, grinning at me. He rose up onto his knees, the finger still massaging me inside. “Will you squirt, Robyn? Is that it, darlin’?”
Then, to mixed emotions – I was disappointed yet relieved – Dave withdrew the probing digit.
“Oh fuck, don’t stop,” I grunted, lifting myself up onto elbows and forearms.
Dave was knelt between my legs, cranking a fist along his length as he stared down at me.
“I wanna put it in,” he groaned, wincing. “What do you say, Robyn?” Dave waved that big thing at me in emphasis. “How about I fuck you with this?”
I wanted to, oh how I wanted him to split me in two with his lovely cock. I was so fucking worked up I think I might have taken them all on, all eight in my pussy.
But, thankfully, I found some common sense from somewhere. Ever since I’d let Keith go, my unfaithful former boyfriend, I’d come off any form of contraception. Of course there were the health issues associated with taking Dave’s cock bareback, but my primary concern at that moment was him squirting his seed into my fertile body.
“No,” I managed to mutter. “Dave, you can’t, I’m not on the pill…”
He grimaced and reared back, stepping off the bed.
And the next thing I knew was Phil was urging me to suck his dick while two others crowded in close, their hands jacking their erections.
I sucked at Phil’s cock, reaching up to hold it steady while I slurped at the dome. Then I twisted my head to the right and did the same to another hard-on that vied for my attention, the man groaning and rolling his eyes when I glanced at his face.
Pressure on my knees forced my legs apart, hot breath wafting across my vulva. I left the hard cocks alone for a moment, looking down along my front to see Baz ducking in to suck my clit.
“Not so shy now, babe?” I moaned.
It went on like that for a few minutes. I’d slurp and suck at whichever erection was handiest while Baz and his quick, surprisingly effective tongue got me close.
“I’m going to come, Baz,” I muttered, a man in each hand. “Don’t stop. Fuck, please, don’t fucking stop.”
I was still writhing and grunting swear words when Baz stood up and Dave knelt on the bed.
“How about it now, Robyn?” Dave asked.
If I hadn’t been coming so hard, if my climax wasn’t boiling inside me, I might, just might that is, have declined Dave’s offer. But, as it was, I was riding that glorious wave, pleasure coursing through me; and when I saw that big dick sheathed in a condom, I relented.
I experienced a sudden and overwhelming desire to feel a man inside me.
Succumbing to the inevitable I spread my legs wider, splaying my labia with my fingers as I groaned, “God, yes. Put that big fucker inside me.”
****
For a while I let myself get carried away. I forgot about Baz and Phil and the others. There was just no room for them in my mind, especially since another part of me was being filled effortlessly. Despite Dave’s considerable size I accommodated him easily. I was so wet, so ready and willing that he just slid in, the blunt knob-end parting me as he went in to his balls.
I gulped and blinked, my fingers gripping the bulging muscles in Dave’s arms, my knees hooked around his forearms.
“We’re not supposed to fuck,” I mewled, gazing up at my new lover. “It wasn’t meant to be like this.”
That cheeky bastard just smirked at me, he even winked. “It is what it is, Robyn,” Dave replied.
And then I lost it when he began to move.
The orgasm I’d experienced on Baz’s tongue surged anew, my cunt clenching around the girth of male muscle inside me. I tingled all over, even the roof of my mouth fizzed as Dave thrust and probed, the angle and depth of his penetration altering constantly. I never knew how deep or hard he’d go from one energetic lunge to the next. He had me gasping and moaning and cursing, my muscles tensing while wave after wave of delight washed over me, my climax building on itself, rolling on and on like distant thunder.
I was only dimly aware of the other men, intermittently focussing on one tortured face as the man in question cranked at his cock, eyes locked on the scene. At times I was able to concentrate enough to suck or lick at a bulbous cock-head, maybe wanking one while Dave kept pumping away.
Finally, with me having no concept of time, no clue as to how long I’d been taking that bludgeon of a penis, Dave grunted and groaned he was about to come.
“Fuck, Robyn,” the man gasped. “Lift up that negligée; I’m … I’m gonna come. Fuck,” he hissed, eyes wide, face taut, the cords in his neck like steel hawsers.
Dave pulled out of me and yanked the condom off his dick. He tugged at himself, all wall-eyed and manic, his free hand hauling the chemise up to expose my breasts.
“Jesus fuck!” I heard a man spit when my tits rolled and swung, uncovered for the first time. “Look at those jugs…”
“Are you going to do it?” I squeaked. I looked at Dave’s hand urgently yanking his length and then glanced at his face all twisted with the effort.
Dave’s head rolled as he gurgled a strangled, “Yes … Fuck, Robyn, look out, I’m…”
And then he tensed and grunted, his fist moving in quick bursts, jizm flicking out of him to spatter between my breasts.
Semen rained down on me, a deluge of goo that glistened on my torso, my breasts liberally smeared with the stuff, a pool of it in my navel.
Hands grabbed at me after Dave lurched away, hauling me to a sitting position before someone pulled the chemise over my head.
There were comments about my physical appeal, lewd compliments about my generous bosom and how sexy I was.
Then, before I really knew what was going on, I was on my hands and knees, with Baz of all people kneeling behind me, his latex-sheathed cock nudging my opening.
I had Baz in my pussy and one of the other men in my mouth, both of them fucking into me.
While Baz grunted and gasped behind me, his fingers digging into my hips, I slurped and licked the cock in front of my face.
It didn’t take long for that one to get there. I heard a muttered curse and saw him jacking away, a vehement squirt of spunk catching me on the forehead right between the eyes.
I gave a yelp as more of the stuff flicked against my cheek, finally having the presence of mind to purse my lips around the cock-head, semen squirting into my mouth.
Without swallowing, with a recollection of one of Keith’s porn films coming back to me, in the style of a particular German actress he’d favoured, I held the man’s outpouring in my mouth. Then I mixed it up with saliva and, when he’d run dry, held him steady with one hand. I gobbled his cock and let the goo slide down the shaft, lapping it off again on the upward lick.
I then turned to the assembly and let spunk cascade over my chin.
I knew I had long strands of cum dangling, the threads shivering, blobs of cum plopping onto the bed cover, but I wanted to make this as dirty as possible for the punters. I wanted them to go away satisfied, and perhaps come back again another day so we could do it again.
Phil offered me his dick to slurp at while Baz fucked away behind me. I sucked at Phil, wanking at him while using my free hand to rub my clit to get me there again, my fingers and Baz’s cock taking me to the brink while my own obscene actions tipped me into the abyss.
Baz, after being warned by Dave not to shoot into the condom, somehow maintained the presence of mind to pull out, de-cloak, and then let fly over my back and buttocks. After that I ended up squatting on another penis, fucking up and down while the man beneath me lay flat on his back on the floor.
I felt the man’s fingers on my buttocks. He splayed me wide to expose my anus, and I entertained a brief – and anxious – notion that someone was going to try to fuck my rectum.
Thankfully nobody attempted to stick his dick into my muddy hole, and all that happened was the man beneath me fingered my sphincter for a few seconds, a sensation that wasn’t unpleasant. Then I got distracted when Phil, who had been using my mouth again, unloaded what seemed to be a gallon of jizm over my breasts.
After that it all went wild. I had cocks in my mouth, in my hands, and in my pussy. Semen squirted everywhere: on my face, over my breasts, more of the stuff flicking into my hair. It dribbled and slid over my skin, the early deposits drying and tightening while I smeared gloop over my tits, rubbing more of it over my tummy, exhorting those men to shower me in spunk.
Of course, eventually, with me spattered and utterly debauched, the supply of spunk ran dry.
Dave – who else? – managed to coax a second serving, slapping my cheeks with his big dick after coaxing an insignificant ooze from the eye in its domed head, painting one nipple with the stuff sliding out of him while the others slowly dressed and looked on idly.
I sat on the bed, a pillow behind me, legs straight out in front, jizm all over me while I sipped rum and Coke and bantered back and forth with the men as they readied themselves to depart.
When they had all gone I kicked off the heels and padded to the bathroom, surveying the carnage of wild hair, smeared lipstick and my cum-spattered body in the mirror. I did consider taking a shower, but a dark voice in my head snickered it would be a filthy thing to do if I crawled into bed and snoozed for an hour. That way I could lie there and feel so wicked with all that semen still plastered to me, the scent of it wafting up to remind me of just how wanton I’d been.
I’ll admit to experiencing a stab of guilt at the poor house-keeper, thinking I could at least strip the bed before I left the scene of the crime. After all, how thrilled would I be if I had to tidy up after someone’s spunky pleasure?
I drifted off, thrilled and appalled at how I’d let slip and allowed at least five of those men to fuck me. Pregnancy was a niggling concern – unfounded since I came on a week after the event – as was the potential for picking up a nasty STD, or worse, and I had a dim idea to set up some form of health screening if I was going to be doing this again, which I wanted to most definitely. Now I’d gone as far as fucking multiple men I didn’t see much point in pretending I had boundaries; I was hooked on the idea of nasty, dirty sex with a number of partners in one sitting. I was getting paid for it, too.
I’d crossed so many lines.
The mobile woke me an hour later, the dirty phone as I called it, the Tesco throw-away I’d bought specifically for my internet contacts.
“Hiya, Robyn?” Dave said when I answered. “Great session,” he added enthusiastically. “I hope you’re gonna do another … Mebbe let us take pics and video it?”
Thinking about seeing myself sucking and fucking sent a frisson of arousal between my legs.
“Anyway,” Dave went on. “I was wondering … Have you ever heard of glory holes?”
END
***
A third scene featuring Robyn.
I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.
Feedback is appreciated.
Ricky - Milton Keynes, UK - 17th June 2019.
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