The Three Amigos At The Purple Oyster
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The Bet, Ch 4 - Dining On The Oyster free porn video
This story is based upon a photo series, “The Bet”, by Italian photographer, Andrea James Bramley, who started a photo series under this same name at https://bramleyappletheforbiddenfruit.blogspot.com. I write this with the permission of both he and the model featured in “The Bet”, and with his collaboration. He especially helps with some of the Italian phrasing, which I don’t speak. I present to you this tale of a bet gone wrong. You will also find links to his other photographic works. Please enjoy “The Bet”.
One of the characters in this story is taking photographs to send to Maria’s husband. When Matteo sends them, you can see the photos he sent by checking #BramleyApple’s work. You can also see links to his other works when you check it out. This chapter contains oral sex and fucking between one woman and four men.
The Bet, Ch 4 - Dining on the Oyster
“How do you want to do this, Matteo?” I asked. “It’s your fantasy.”
“Since I’m going to be dining,” Matteo said. “I suggest we use the dining room table. It will be more comfortable for sitting awhile.”
“Only if I have cushions to lie upon,” I said, “otherwise I’ll be lying on a wood table.”
Matteo agreed I should have cushions, so they took cushions from the seats of chairs and put them on the table for me to lie on. Giovanni had disappeared and I didn’t know where he’d gone to, nor did the others when I asked. I’d just climbed onto the cushions when he returned. He was carrying a set of handcuffs and the plastic wrap.
“What is that for?” I asked. “You won’t need to handcuff me. I’m not resisting.”
Giovanni laughed. “It’s not to confine you, per se; it’s to make you feel helpless, like you’re unable to resist. It’s psychological. There’s something stimulating for women about being helpless and knowing they have no control over what’s about to happen to you. You’ll see.”
I shrugged. I was game. “What’s the plastic wrap for?” I asked.
“It allows me to secure your feet, hands, arms or legs without using ropes which might leave marks on your skin, or even tear it if you move too much in your passion,” Giovanni said. “Allow me.”
He put a chair in front of the table, making sure my bottom was at the edge of the table and secured my feet to the arms of the chair Matteo would be sitting on. When he was done, my feet were secured about two feet apart. If you moved the chair closer to the table, it spread my legs even further. Essentially, I was laid out like a banquet for whoever wanted to eat my oyster. I started quivering, suddenly overcome with need.
Giovanni told me to stretch my arms up behind me, to pretend they were secured above my head and I wouldn’t be able to move. I did and felt another surge of arousal. He had Luca actually hold my arms down and I practically climaxed, I felt so vulnerable. Matteo took several pictures of me without the men in the picture. In one of them, I was leaning up on my elbows looking down toward my pussy. My inner lips were parted as if waiting for a cock to pierce them. Others had my arms stretched over my head and in a few, my arms were handcuffed together.
“Bundle them up to send them to my husband, Matteo, then give me your phone.”
He did as I requested. At the bottom of the series of photos, I said, ‘Pietro, this is Matteo’s fantasy. He’s going to eat me now. I need to cum very badly. I suppose he will fuck me afterward. I’m secured to the chair and won’t be able to move.’ I hit send. I heard the familiar whoosh as the photos were sent.
“Eat me, Matteo. I need to cum very much,” I said, lying back on the table.
He hastily complied. Matteo sat down on the seat in front of me, finally with his oyster to eat. I thought Giovanni was good when he licked me during the dice game. Matteo was a true connoisseur of pussy. Despite his skill, he knew when to pause to torment me. He’d bring me right to the edge of my orgasm, then his tongue would wander off until the immediate need for release left me. He was as skilled at reading a woman’s body as he was lapping at her core. When he next brought me back to the edge, it was at a higher level of arousal than before, pushing me past where I thought I’d climax previously. He brought me to a peak I didn’t know existed. Then he stopped again, ending just before I crested, letting me cool down, denying me. When he began again, he pushed me to an even higher level. It was driving me mad, and the third time he did it, I begged him to let me cum.
“Ti prego, Matteo, basta giocare. Fammi godere!” Please, Matteo, stop playing. Make me cum, I pleaded.
He took pity on me and sent me over the edge, with his tongue alone. With the next one, his fingers insinuated themselves into my cunt, and he stroked my g-spot with two of his fingers as he caressed my clitoris with his tongue, almost instantly giving me another orgasm, a second wave of pleasure rippling through my body like the sonic boom of a jet flying faster than sound. I was still riding that one when Giovanni held my hands above my head, pinning them to the table and I shuddered wildly as a third one swept through me like a tsunami, my hips thrusting up towards Matteo’s tongue, the source of my pleasure.
“Matteo,” I said, carried away by the strength of my orgasms. “bet or not, I’d let you do this to me again any time you wish.”
Giovanni had been unerring in his assessment that helplessness fed my excitement. As soon as he held my hands down, my gratification increased from the sense I’d lost all control of my situation and was now their plaything to do with as they wished. Matteo let me settle from the last orgasm a few minutes before he forced another on me, the fourth in a half hour and I felt it might have been more if he’d wanted. He’d toyed with me, delaying my pleasure while he strove for quality above quantity. With my legs spread and pussy dripping with my cum, he stood up and pushed his cock into me, filling me with his rampant shaft.
“No, Matteo, you must wear a goldone, a condom.”
“No one said anything about a condom, signora,” Matteo said, pumping into me. “Aren’t you on the pill?”
“No. The doctor said I had to come off them a few months; a hormonal thing,” I said, panicked.
While I’d threatened Pietro with making a baby with these men if he came home early on Monday, I’d not meant it. I’d only wanted him to realize how angry I was he’d wagered me.
“It’s too late for that, Maria,” and I felt him flood me with his seed.
I could feel his semen leaking out of me and I squeezed down, hoping to force more from my pussy. I tried to think. What had the doctor said? ‘If you intend to have children, you should get off the pill now. It may take several months for the hormones preventing pregnancy to clear your system.’ When might it be possible for me to conceive? Was I fertile now? Were the hormones still in my body? I’d been off them for three weeks; much less than the doctor’s several months. Surely it was safe.
Giovanni was still holding my hands down. Marco was taking Matteo’s place in front of me, Matteo leaving, wanting to get home to his wife despite wearing another woman’s cum on his cock.
With another man’s cum leaking from me, Marco still applied his tongue and lips to my folds, swirling his tongue deep inside as if he were trying to remove Matteo’s seed.
I felt even more out of control. My feet were firmly fastened to the arms of the chair. Giovanni still held my hands down. He attached the handcuffs to my wrists, increasing my feeling of helplessness. Marco teased at my cunt, sending me off the cliff once more, shivering through another orgasm. It barely ended, the aftershocks still reverberating, when he stood up as Matteo did and plunged his erection deep inside, thrusting, sliding easily through my wetness, banging hard against my open crotch. I orgasmed again, throbbing over his cock.
“Per favore, Marco, a condom please,” I begged, not wanting to think of another load of sperm flooding my womb.
“I have no condoms, Maria,” he said thrusting. “My wife is pregnant and can’t get pregnant again.”
Marco continued pounding my pussy. In minutes, he groaned and slammed into me one final time as his prick erupted, sending hot spurts of his cum into me. I orgasmed again, ashamed I was responding to their fucking without protection, possibly fertilizing me, and I had so little control; spasming from one climax to the next.
Luca held my arms as Giovanni started sucking on me next. Giovanni ignored my messy pussy, concentrating solely on my clit and gave me two more orgasms. My back arched off the seat cushion on the second one, moaning, wordlessly begging for more pleasure, another orgasm. He gave me another, not with his tongue, but his cock, filling me as the two before him had done. Thrusting, pumping, as skilled with his fucking as he was with his tongue. Instead of crying for him to stop, I was grinding upward against him, hoping he could fuck me harder and deeper. I felt him speed up and then freeze, only his cock throbbing as he sent his seed to join the rest flooding my figa.
Lastly, it was Luca’s turn. He didn’t even bother with the pretense of his mouth. He pushed his horse cock into me, so big it drove everything else out. I could feel the previous cream left by the others squeeze out around his cock, no room for our fluids and his prick both. I felt rivulets of cum dripping out, running down from my overpacked pussy to the starred sphincter of my rectum and onto the cushions.
Sadly and sordidly, I begged him to fuck me, to fill me with his cum, a fallen woman. He found a rhythm he liked, not fast, not slow, but steady, in and out. Out until the lips of my pussy barely clung to the thick head and I mourned the loss of my fullness: in until he rocked my body, little shock waves radiating outward from my cunt. I orgasmed three times during his steady fucking, whimpering each time.
If I were to go to confession on Sunday, it would be me telling the priest how I’d been fucked to cumming multiple times by four men, begging at the last to be fucked, another of Luca’s conquests. Confessing I’d done so without protection and might end up bearing another man’s child. I hoped not. I should have another month or at least weeks, of relative safety. In the end, it had made no difference to me. I hadn’t cared enough to stop them. Hadn’t fought hard enough. I’d wanted them to fuck me, begged Luca to fuck me, and they had.
Luca slammed into me one final time, groaning, so deep he might have entered my womb, releasing a river of his cum. After throbbing for a minute inside me, he slid out, already shrinking, though for Luca, he was still as large as other men hard. Some of his sperm followed him out, trickling out of my cunt, left gapping by his organ. I looked up at the ceiling where I knew a camera was hidden. If my husband was looking, he’d see me on the table, spent, tired, my hands still cuffed, but no longer held down, my feet still confined with legs parted. The white cream of four men dripping from me. What was he thinking now? Did he regret his wager? Did he remember his wife was off the pill, or had he forgotten, not thinking of me, but only of himself.
Giovanni released me from the cuffs while Luca unwrapped the plastic wrap from around my feet, until I was finally free. He helped me to sit up, then to stand. I stood there for a moment, realized there was liquid running down my legs. Looked down and saw white rivers of cum. The cushions under my bottom were a mess and would need to be washed. Tomorrow. I’d do it tomorrow.
“I need to use the bidet,” I said.
I walked to the nearest bathroom, my legs feeling disjointed, not a part of me. I managed to squat over the seat and sent the water washing over my pussy, rinsing away the majority of the mess, but some still clinging stubbornly. I wiped it with paper, loosening more and rinsing it. I should really douche. It might help but what I needed was in my bedroom upstairs and I didn’t have the energy at the moment to climb the stairs. I used more water from the bidet, hoping to wash more out of me.
Finishing, returning to the scene of my crime, Marco informed me that he and Luca flipped a coin and he won. I would be spending the night with him.
Giovanni said, “If you’re serious about satisfying Luca’s fantasy, you should start to practice on a smaller cock.”
He was right of course. “What were the things you said might help me?”
Giovanni had me lie on the table again, though the soiled cushions were piled along the wall. I was on bare wood and he had me turn so my head was at the end and not my sex.
“Lower your head over the edge,” Giovanni said. I did so. “You see how this straightens the airway from your mouth to your throat,” he said, running his fingers from my lips along my cheek down my neck along the front. “Marco, put your cock in her mouth. Do not thrust,” he warned, “her neck is unprotected from the edge of the table.”
I obediently opened for Marco and his cock entered my mouth. He hadn’t yet cleaned himself off. I could taste myself on him as well as his own cum, probably Matteo’s as well, since he entered me after him. It had started to dry, though it responded to the saliva in my mouth to begin washing off with my tongue. He wasn’t hard yet, so I was able to fit all of him into my mouth.
“Now as he gets hard, you will begin to experience a gag reflex, like sticking a finger down your throat.”
I couldn’t speak, Marco’s cock filling my mouth. I wanted to say I know all about gag reflex, this isn’t the first cock I’ve sucked.
“When it begins to cause this reflex, swallow like you’re trying to swallow food,” Giovanni said. “You don’t gag when you eat, despite swallowing food.” This was true. Unless the food was too large and then you coughed or gagged to clear your throat, but normally, you wouldn’t. “Keep on swallowing. It will train your throat to accept something in it without gagging. This along with the position you’re in should help you to swallow even Luca with a little practice.”
I couldn’t answer him. Marco’s cock was taking up residence in my mouth, slowly swelling again. He wanted to thrust. His hips were getting twitchy and rocking slightly. I was cognizant of the sharp edge of the table under my neck. I pushed him away, gasping slightly.
“Not now, Marco,” I said, breathing hard, “we have the entire night to practice. We should shower before we retire.”
I thanked Giovanni for his advice. Giovanni blew me a kiss as he left for his room. “Have a pleasant night tonight.”
I led Marco up to my bathroom which had the largest shower. Since I was here anyway, I got what I needed to douche. I washed as much semen out as I could.
“Why bother?” Marco said. “I’m going to fill up your pussy again.”
“It’s sanitary,” I replied.
I spent some time soaping him off as well. His cock grew harder as I washed him. He’d already cum twice this evening. I was hoping it would stop at three so I could get some sleep. We dried each other off and I started leading him back to his bedroom.
“Why not use yours and Pietro’s bed,” Marco said, stopping as we passed it. “You’ll be more comfortable sleeping in familiar surroundings.”
He was right. I would be more comfortable sleeping in my own bed. If Marco was going to sleep with Pietro’s wife, he might as well do it in Pietro’s bed. The sanctity of our marriage was already tarnished, four times. What difference if we used our bed. I climbed into the bed and hung my head over the side, like I had the dining table, the mattress soft instead of hard.
“I need to practice,” I told him. “Feed me your cock.”
Marco didn’t need to be told twice; once was sufficient. He put his prick in my mouth and started pushing towards my throat. It reached the point I wanted to gag, but remembering Giovanni’s instructions, I swallowed, the swallowed again, and again. He got much of his cock inside me, but I needed to breathe, so pushed him back until I could take a breath.
“Easy,” I said. “You have to pull out every twenty to thirty seconds so I can breathe. Then you can start working it back in.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.”
I took a couple deep breaths, then pulled him back and he pushed in, going further this time than he did the last, remembering to pull back far enough to grab a lung full of air, then easing back into my mouth, actually reaching my throat this time. It took twice more thrusting in before I felt his sack on my lips and realized I’d taken him all the way; the first time I’d ever accomplished the feat. From then on, it became easier, and Marco slowly fucked my throat, using it the way he’d used my pussy earlier. He had more stamina than earlier, having emptied his balls twice previously. My jaw was started to get tired from being held open for so long.
Suddenly, Marco grunted, freezing and I felt the head of his prick swell, and salty jets of his cum shot to the back of my throat. Fortunately, he still remembered to pull out enough I could inhale still. His cum was less sweet and more salty this time than when he orgasmed in my hands. I was able to swallow all of it since the volume was diminished from the first time.
“Keep sucking my cock,” Marco said, gasping. “I want to get hard again so I can fuck you.”
My jaw was already tired. The thought of getting him hard enough to fuck again, exhausting, but I continued working his prick and I was pleasantly surprised to find he did not fully lose his erection and was soon hard enough to fuck again. I guess the idea of fucking another man’s wife in the other man’s bed was enough of a stimulant to push him past his own fatigue.
Not so much he was willing to do the work, however. He got on his back on the bed and expected me to ride him. I was tired and did not expect to climax again tonight, but this was his fourth time tonight and Marco was not going to cum soon. I was pleased to find my arousal increase as I rode him. Before he emptied himself into me again, I climaxed, moaning ecstatically as I crested, Marco happy to have pleasured me again. I lay down on his chest, until his cock left my body, then rolled to the side, satisfied. He curled around me and we both went to sleep.
****
Blaze
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