Pool Night

It had been two weeks since the all-night card game that had turned into a night beyond belief, beyond fantasies. The night on which 7 men, including my man, had viewed me, felt me, touched me, licked me, spanked me, dumped their cum in and on me. Each had grown an erection larger than he thought possible, held it unbearably long, and then between them thrust every possible body part into each crevice my body offered. I had been hand fucked, rubbed off on, jacked off on, mouth fucked and had my ass invaded and exploded into by my own man while another pumped his dick into my face and shot his cum down my throat. In the end, after every other man in the room couldn't quite manage to come one more time, my man had fucked me silly, laid out in front of the rest.

It had taken days of pampering and relaxation to begin to heal my ass sore from spanking and fucking, my neck and lips raw from beards and mustache rubs, the bites and hickeys from enthusiastic mouths. My man even relaxed his usual plans for daily or every-other day sex, knowing my capacity had been temporarily exhausted. But quickly, and encouraged by the tender attention he gave to my body, I began to feel my usual arousal at his approach.

One of the things I reflected on immediately after the fuck-fest was that I now held great knowledge about these men. It gave me a sense of power to know that every one of them would wonder whenever they saw me if that night would be the next time my man decided to display, to expose or to share me. That is what came to mind the night he took my hand with that look in his eye- not the look of sexual need or arousal, but the confidence that he alone was my master.

He did not speak. He simply took my hand with a commanding manner, and led me to my dressing area. I could tell from past knowledge that his slave was about to be dressed by her master.

He selected a push-up bra with tiny wisps of lace that covered my nipples, and a thong in the same cream color. I stood without moving while he quickly stripped me of my jeans and soft sweater, and stepped back to silently asses and admire my naked body. My tits, heavy and full, drooped somewhat, as was inevitable with their size. The pink nipples had leapt to attention as soon as their normal bra was stripped away, and they hardened and darkened under his gaze. I could tell he was enjoying the sight of their darker pink, surrounded by pink-tan areolas, standing out from the cream-white of the globes of my tits.

Swiftly he lifted each globe to ease it onto the shelf of the new, sexy pushup bra. His fingers caressed my nipples as he positioned the lace. But just as quickly, he evidently decided to indulge himself in his own slave's treats, and he pushed the lace aside a bit roughly, and covered my nipples with his mouth.

He was so talented at sucking my tits. He knew exactly what would give them most pleasure and give me most arousal. I could feel the little knot of sexual excitement begin to form in my belly. But he was not sucking to arouse me this time; he was taking for himself whatever he wanted. He was my Master, and he was in charge.

His teeth clamped down on my hard, flexible nipple. I squealed, twisting, and he jerked his head away long enough to slap my tit, hard. I knew what that meant, without words. Although he loved hearing me squeal, adding to his pleasure at mastering me, he would not tolerate pulling away. It would be punished by a slap, or worse.

Immediately, his hand grasped my other tit, hard. Squeezing it, extending it into a protruding cone, he clamped down on this nipple, giving it the same treatment as the first. Licking, sucking, tongue on the hardened tip; he again stirred the beginnings of my desire. This time, the bites were nibbles on the nipple and the sides of my tit. I moaned softly, and obediently stood where he had placed me.

Now he pulled back and readjusted that bra. Softly he stroked the lace into place over my engorged nipples. My excitement was definitely in the opening stages of what would need to conclude with orgasm, or more likely, orgasm after orgasm. I was now looking forward to this night.

He stepped back and handed me the thong. Wanting to please him, I leaned forward deeply in front of him, letting my heavy mams sway and the nipples peek-a-boo out of the lace. I threaded my feet through the thong, then turned so my ass was directly facing him. I spread my legs ever so slightly, hoping the sight of my ass and the suggestion that he had the power to spread its cheeks or the labia of my pussy with whatever he chose would arouse him further than my tits had already.

I slid the thong very slowly up my legs, settled its triangle of cloth across my pussy and allowed the thong itself to slip up my ass and work its way deep into my ass crevice. Pulling it tight, I knew it separated the cheeks of my ass ever so slightly, and I made sure this was fully on display to my master before I stood. Smack! He slapped me firmly across the exposed ass cheeks, smiled and then handed me a leather mini-skirt.

I wriggled into the skirt, which stretched tightly across my ass, down over my hips and about 4 inches down my thighs. I made sure that the wiggles not only allowed my ass to jiggle a bit, but also to make my titties sway, bounce and challenge the support shelf to keep them suspended upright despite their weight. I wanted my man/master to wonder just slightly if my heavy tits would overcome the bra and come spilling out.

Now came a blouse. So we were going out, I guessed. But this blouse was extremely sheer, a chiffon covering which served to display rather than hide. I slipped it on, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The sheer material fell from my shoulders to the hills of my tits, shaping tightly to them and exposing their round, full contours above the bra. That bra was doing its difficult job: holding them firm, supporting the weight while looking like almost-bare lace. But across my nipples, the understructure was gone and the lace was all that concealed the pink points. Caressed by the lace and the chiffon, they were maintaining the extreme hardness that Master's assault on them had produced. Looking at me, anyone could see the slight tan of my skin where it was exposed in a bathing suit, contrasted with the whiteness of the mounds of my tits normally covered by a halter top. You could see the tan lines where they crossed the swell of breast, and follow the lines down to where they intersected with the lacy bra.

It was easy to see the structure and shape of the bra. Eyes were drawn to the slight dark pinkness of my nipples, being only barely concealed by the lace and the chiffon. And their shape was emphasized by this color change and the whisper layer of chiffon. Tiny peaks, breaking the line of the chiffon, were beckoning to be touched, to be pinched, to be pulled and bitten. I doubted that anyone seeing me tonight would wonder at whether my nipples were brown or pink, whether they were naturally soft or erect. The evidence was staring at them, and they would probably be staring back at the evidence. In fact, in my experience, most men would not be able to glance at me without locking onto the almost-displayed nipples and immediately imagining them in his mouth. Few men would be able or interested in putting their attention on any other woman or in any other part of me, when my tits were thus displayed. "Target fixation" is what my Master called it and my nipples and tits were their targets.

The rest of the blouse gathered in to my waist, making those breasts appear even larger than they were. The loose material below the waist extended down almost half of the leather skirt, easily visible beneath the chiffon. It ended just above the most protruding part of my ass, emphasizing that booty tightly encased in leather and rounded in luscious mounds. If there was an ass-man in the crowd who had gotten past the sight of my jumbo tits, he would be looking at this rear view.

My master held out a shoe and reached for one foot, then the other. Of course, shoes for this outfit had to be 4" heels, so as he slipped each on and I rebalanced on the stilts, my ass pushed out even further. My tits swayed again with this movement, reminding my master that there were buttons to be considered. He began buttoning at the bottom, below the waist, up two, three, and slipping his fingers into my cleavage, he considered. Would he want to keep me open to below my tits, allowing the bra to be exposed in the cleavage? Or, trying it, he considered whether buttoning up to the level of my nipples gave the most tension to the chiffon, pulling it tight across the swelling nipples and creating the perfect packaging for my pretty, perfect boobs?

He turned slightly away, leaving the buttoning done to the nips. The tension increased the friction across my nipples, exciting them even more and pushing them out further. The color deepened also, showing even more through the fabric. He smiled, slipping a golden pendant over my head, dangling enticingly against the material covering the deep cleavage cleft. Suddenly, his fingers were on both nipples, pulling firmly through the lace and the chiffon, pinching and extending them. This was evidently giving him pleasure also, as I could see the swell of a hard-on beginning to bulge his pants tight. He rubbed his member along my thigh, bare to the tiny mini-skirt, and he groaned slightly. But he obviously had other plans in mind. I would not get release from the sexual urges that were taking hold of me; at least, not now. But I had no doubts that my need for orgasms would be met by the end of the night.

He produced my leather coat. Long enough to skim my hips, belted tightly, this would be the only covering my bouncing mounds would get. Wrapped in leather, legs lengthened and shaped by the heels, ass caressed and shaped by leather that barely covered it; this would be the sight that would be on view to start with wherever we were going. And when the unwrapping occurred, some dicks somewhere would be rising to the occasion.

We pulled up in front of a bar. Not too swanky, but not a dive either. I made sure to show plenty of leg to my man as he opened the car door for me and helped me out. As we walked through the door, I could see plenty of male eyes checking me out. And sure enough, I saw three of the men from two weeks ago giving their full attention to my form, even though it was still wrapped in the leather coat. And they were not alone. As we crossed the main bar and headed for a side room, I saw several men pick up their beers or their drinks, and subtly or not-so-subtly follow in my wake.

The room we were headed to, I could see, held a full-size pool table. The lighting was centered on the table, with the room's edges in partial shadow. Four men were mid-way through a game, and looked up to carefully check out my legs, and the soft leather wrapping tightly around my torso. After seating me at a table in the shadows, my man headed to the bar.

I was proving quite a distraction to the men at the table. I could hear the comments, as they intended. "Oh, baby, I won't leave you at a table alone." "How about some company?" "I'd like to peel the leather off those babies. And peel whatever's under it too". Each would take his time lining up a shot, while the other three speculated about my partially-hidden assets or claimed that their own assets would convince me to abandon my man and throw myself at them.

Evidently, my man wasn't about to tempt fate too long with these horny gents so close, and with the other tables quickly filling with men from the main room. He quickly appeared with a Grande Cadillac margarita for himself, and a Kir Royale for me. He slid into his seat next to me, and handed me the bubbly drink filling the flute. He toasted me with his margarita, and I raised the glass to my lips. The bubbles, perfectly flavored with currant and good quality champagne, cooly tickled my tongue and left warmth in their wake.

One set of eyes across the aisle were following the movements of my lips, mouth and throat intently. The man smiled slightly, following the course of the champagne. It was obvious that he was imagining that what I was swallowing was not a drink but the content of his dick as he spilled his cum into my mouth and it pulsed down my throat. And he smiled with the confidence of someone who has acted out this particular fantasy. Yes, one of the Card Players. And as I had suspected, it only took seeing me, not even viewing any hidden glimpses of my tits or ass, to take him back to that moment two weeks ago when he shoved his dick into my mouth for real.

My man motioned me to loosen the leather belt that held the coat closed. I complied, shaking my body slightly, and the coat swung partially open. At least 10 sets of eyes followed my movements, and bore into the shadowed cleft between my uplifted but mostly revealed tits. But large as those tits were, they kept the main body of the coat lapels suspended on my peaks. 10 sets of eyes: my man's, the 4 at the pool table, the Card man- no, 3 more men I recognized from that night had also taken their seats at various tables within easy eye-shot. Every one of them was intently exploring with their eyes, seeking to discover for themselves exactly how much of my body was revealed now, and to anticipate how much more they might be able to get revealed later.

The reality right now was that my creamy mounds were rising boldly from the shadow of my cleavage, barely covered by the chiffon. The leather still concealed my nipples, but the promise of the full handfuls suggested by what was in view was captivating what was now overtly my audience. The loosened coat also showed how short was the miniskirt I wore, and how tightly it stretched over my hips, my thighs and curved over my ass. It seemed that one or two of the men were appreciating my legs, even with the distraction of tits almost on display.

The music from the main bar was somewhat muffled in here, but contributed a pulsing beat to the warming atmosphere. The pool game continued, with the men reluctantly pulling their attention back to it, while shooting me glances and lusty looks. They were not expert players, but not horrible either. The game see-sawed back and forth, with one or two balls finding holes, but no one clearing the table. Finally, the last ball sunk, money picked up and the next round ordered, the men looked around for their next opponents.

Two of the four at the table were adjusting their hats, adjusting their jeans which now appeared to have shrunk slightly in response to the tempting show I was giving them, and putting on jackets. They left the bar, and I noticed that the bar was noticeably emptier. I realized that closing time was nearing, and the bar crowd was thinning out. Even some of the men from our card game had evidently left for the evening, figuring that they'd seen the little bit of show they were getting tonight.

But the remaining two pool players called out for challengers for one more game. My man rose, as did a remaining "card player". They both approached the two at the table, and for a moment, some intense negotiation appeared to be occurring.

"Well, you won't be surprised that you're going to play a part in this game, baby". My man grasped my wrist gently and stood me up. He pulled me out of the shadows, out into the better-lit table area. The four men at the table, now the only ones in the room, locked their eyes on my legs, reaching up from the high heels and extending under the barely-there mini. For a moment, my man let them drink in the current view. Then he reached out and removed the coat from my shoulders, and all four of them locked onto my now-revealed massive tits.

The warm air of the bar had somewhat relaxed my nipples from the extreme hardness my man had produced earlier in the evening. But the friction from the removal of the coat, and the simple act of walking to the table was creating new friction, tugging and pulling the sheer chiffon over the tips. They sprang to attention, as usual, and each of the four men appeared to be mesmerized by the sight of pink/brown nipples darkening, hardening and swelling to large points.

"Come on over here and let us pay you some attention between shots, Sweetheart". My man led me to the edge of the table, pulled up a stool and I planted my tightly wrapped ass on it. My breasts swayed with the movement, and three sets of eyes drank them in as my man racked up the balls and got ready to break.

Now, Master was not the worst pool player, but he was not some kind of a pro. The two players we'd watched earlier were a good match for him, but I knew his buddy from the card game was at a much higher caliber of play. So it worried me when each man laid a hundred dollar bill on the edge of the table in front of me.

"We were discussing whether we'd let those gorgeous tits hold the bets for us. But as much fun as we'd have tucking them in so carefully to that cleavage, we don't want to block the view. So the bets go on the rail, but the fun comes anyway." With that, the two original pool players reached out from the table, each taking hold of one tit.

The first guy slid his hand along the underside of my left tit, lifting it slightly. He silently hefted the weight, drinking in how the nipple continued to harden and grow as the chiffon chaffed it. A large finger brushed over the swelling nipple, and I groaned slightly. Liking this response, he rubbed harder, and got an even harder nipple as his reward.

On my right side, the blond guy was wasting no time. His finger and thumb went straight to my boob, finding the nipple with a firm pinch. This got a squeal out of me, and he repeated it several times. Then a quick movement, and our card-playing friend moved the two out of the way.

He positioned himself in front of me, spreading my legs a bit against the leather skirt, and adjusted his hips as close to my shadowed pussy as the skirt and my position on the stool would allow. I could feel the heat radiating from his groin, and I could feel the growing length of dick as he rubbed his hard-on against my inner thighs. He grasped both tits in his hands, squeezing firmly. Then he expertly popped open two more buttons on my blouse, and with a swift movement, scooped his hands under each tit, between my mounds of flesh and the bra. His fingers immediately found my nipples, and as he pinched them rhythmically, he lifted both tits free of the bra and lace that covered them, and locked his lips over first one, then the other. Sucking hard, pinching and kneading the one not in his mouth, he was now making my tits themselves get as firm and swollen as their nipples had been most of the evening.

"Ok, guys, you got your fun "tucking in the bills". Now are you going to play pool, or am I walking away with the money AND the girl?" my man challenged them in a firm voice. He was setting the ground rules: I'm in charge, and you're playing freely with my girl because I'm letting you do so.

"Now here's the opening rule. She picks a hole, and he who sinks his ball in her hole on the break continues play. Only her hole counts."

Oh, I understood what he meant by "pick". I slid from the stool, and walked around the table, letting them view my tits, which now hung outside the bra, and my leather covered ass as I balanced on the high heels. At the third corner, I planted my ass on the edge of the corner, and swung my legs up onto the rails. I hiked the skirt up just enough to allow me to spread my legs to stretch one on each rail, positioning my ass at the outside edge of the corner and hovering the opening between my legs right behind the pocket.

Well, this was pretty suggestive! Four men with long sticks, trying to be the first into that deep hole between my legs. I remembered that the thong I wore was cream, and was undoubtedly slightly visible under the tiny bit of skirt that stretched across my thighs. As I balanced there, my tits swayed and bobbed on my chest, and all four men suddenly had to adjust their swelling cocks as my eyes fell to their jeans and I checked out their packages.