I was fucked many times at a Sex party!

"What would you like for your birthday?" I asked her.

We sat in a quiet corner of the restaurant, half way through our meal. We came to The Bull often. It was our favourite restaurant. The food was always marvellous and they had an impeccable wine list. But it was more than this. The Bull was an old manor house with exposed beams, thick walls and uneven floors. The windows were small and leaded and the whole place oozed many centuries of history. The staff were discrete and because of the layout of the place, we always got the privacy we craved. It was like a wonderland for us. Here we loved to discuss the most intimate parts of our life and we did so, regularly, with raw delight.

She had pasta that night. She forked some into her mouth - she even managed to make that look sexy - and dabbed her lips with the napkin. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. There was an excitement about her. She looked hungry, in more ways than one.

I was mesmerised by her, as I so often am. She is a beautiful woman. Back then she was 36 years of age, but even now, a few years later, her dark hair and her chocolate brown eyes project a quiet confidence, a hidden wealth of experience. Her eyebrows are shaped and elegant, and she uses them to project her expression, whatever the mood. Probably her defining feature, though, is her lips. She has a naughty smile that gently hints at the filthy appetites hidden behind her veneer of respectability.

Her lips make you dream. They make you dream, not of flowers and romance and moonlit walks; not of music and love and gentle conversation. Her lips stimulate baser urges. They evoke a bestial, animal lust They make you dream of dirty sex and cum-filled mouths, of wet, open, pussies and of spanked arse cheeks being pulled wide apart to expose the very meaning of intimacy.

Her lips are poetry.

That night as she sat across from me, her black dress clung to her, expressing the sensual beauty of her generous breasts and her perfect curves. She was everything. A woman, a mother, a wife and a whore. My muse and my lover.

She smiled shyly at my question and her deep eyes flashed. They sparkled with gentle mischief.

"Can it be something naughty?" She asked. She gazed at me over the rim of her wine glass.

"Of course."

"Well..." She looked down at the table and an uncertain smirk played about her lips.

Those lips.

"Go on," I urged. My heart beat quickly.

"I want some strangers to use me," she said, simply.

She said it in such a way that it sounded half joking. But where one half joked, the other was perfectly serious.

She smouldered.

Her smile was playful. Hopeful.

"I see." I returned her smile. As I looked into her eyes, a sweet vision unfolded. Somewhere undefined, in the realm of a sweaty fantasy, she was there. I could see her naked and exposed, vulnerable to the will of strangers. Her round arse and her heavy breasts. Her pale neck and exciting thighs. I could see her being prodded and poked and stroked and fucked. The look on her face was one of lust and abandon. Any man that got to play with her was a lucky man indeed. Any man that got to use her would be happy.

I took a sip of wine.

"How many strangers?" I asked.

She bit her lip and looked past me, considering the possibilities.

"I don't know. Two, maybe?"

"Only two?" I said.

Her eyes widened momentarily. She realised not only that I was going to give her what she wanted but that I was pushing the boundaries further.

"Well...no...not necessarily..." She looked me in the eyes. Her smile had gone, all playfulness evaporated.

An atmosphere had descended, heavy with significance,

"So how many?"

"I don't know." Her face was thoughtful, almost studious with concentration. Discussing her pleasure was suddenly something of great importance. "That would be up to you."

"And where would you like this to happen?" I asked. I had no idea of the detail of this fantasy, though I guessed it had been something she had been thinking about for some time.

She shrugged and smiled, her eyes darting around the restaurant. She met mine for just a second.

"Somewhere dirty," she whispered. "Somewhere sordid. I want it to be degrading."

I stared at her. Not for the first time, in that moment I loved her more than I had ever loved her before.

"I'll think about it," I said with a smile.

And that was that. In that short conversation, something wholly new was born into our relationship. She was to be used, humiliated, degraded. Fucked by strangers. And I was to arrange it.

It was her birthday, after all.

I phoned her from work.

"Happy birthday," I crooned.

She laughed and thanked me, her voice thick like chocolate.

"What are you up to?" I asked.

"It's my birthday." I smiled at the playfulness in her voice. "I'm relaxing! And...maybe...thinking about whether or not you have got me the present I asked for."

My dick throbbed.

"I'm glad you mentioned that," I said. "There is a little something for you at the front door. Why don't you take a look now, while I listen in."

"Okay..." She said. I could hear her smiling and her voice was low and expectant. She cradled me to her ear as she walked through the house to the front door. I heard her open it. Then a pause.

When she spoke again, she sounded disappointed.

"It's a package," she said.

"Yes! A present. From me to you. Open it."

The front door closed and I heard her tearing the paper. On seeing the jewellery box I knew she would be perplexed. On opening it, I was pretty sure she would be disappointed.

There was a pause.

"Thank you," she was trying to sound grateful. "It's really pretty."

"It's an ankle bracelet," I whispered.

"It's...really nice. Thank you."

"Wear it tonight," I said.

"OK." She loved me and she covered her disappointment well. "What's happening tonight?"

"I'm taking you out, darling."

"Oh, ok! Where are we going?"

"The Bull of course!" I said. "I'll pick you up at seven."

We said our goodbyes and I wondered if she had the slightest inkling of what I had planned for her.

I pulled up at seven o'clock and waited for her in the car. I didn't go to fetch her. This was normal practice for us. Her children were in their late teens and were rarely home, and her husband was always away. Even so, it was still her marital home and it felt wrong to corrupt it.

When she came out my heart stood still. She looked gorgeous. She wore a thin, olive-green dress that came down to her ankles. It clung to her like a second skin and every curve was beautifully accentuated. Her arms were bare and showed a faded tan from a family holiday many months ago. Her brunette hair looked freshly washed. It looked soft and silky as it cascaded down behind her. She wore a small amount of make-up. It was all she ever needed to look beyond perfect. Her eyes were wide and excited when they met mine. Her mouth was slightly open and I saw her white teeth, and remembered what they felt like against my skin. As always, her lips were full of promise.

Looking down at her feet I saw that she was wearing easy sandals and, I was pleased to see, on her left ankle she wore the bracelet I had given her. She would wear this always as a reminder of the secret we would share this night.

She walked down to the car, mindful of her step. I knew she was conscious of my eyes on her.

Because of the neighbours I didn't get out to open the door for her, as I would like to have done. For the same reason, I didn't kiss her when she got in and closed the door. I looked her in the eyes, loving how close she was. She brought the scent of expensive perfume with her. And something else. The subtle, musky, feminine smell of woman. I could smell her desire. She would open to me in the flutter of a heartbeat. At that moment, I would have given almost anything to kiss her.

"How has your birthday been?" I asked, as we drove along.

"Lazy!" She laughed. "I've done...nothing. Ooo, except a bit of shopping online. I didn't get enough birthday presents, so I thought I'd buy myself some."

I smiled. I liked the thought of her buying things for herself.

"What did you get?"

"Oh - I spoiled myself. Some new pans for the kitchen. A new book. A new set of mugs."

She was laughing at her own urbanity.

"Is that all?" I goaded. She looked out of the passenger window, at the passing scenery.

"Well...maybe one or two little personal things, too." I could hear her smiling. "Some sexy underwear, maybe. And a new toy, to keep me warm on those lonely nights."

I glanced at her and saw that she was blushing. But her smile was genuine.

"That sounds more like it," I chuckled. "When do I get to sample it?"

"What the toy, or the underwear?"

We both laughed.

"Because I'd like you to sample both," she said, arching her eyebrows suggestively. "The underwear - well, we'll have to arrange a special viewing. I'll model it for you. I think you'll approve though. You're a big fan of French knickers, as I recall."

"God yes."

"And skimpy g-strings."

"You know I am!"

"And suspenders."

"Damn you."

"And as for the toy...well let's put it this way. It'll keep me very well satisfied in times of need."

"I'd love to use it on you," I said coolly, my eyes focused on the road, my mind on something else entirely. She leaned over, her breath warm against my face.

"And I was serious before," she whispered. "I'd love to use it on you."

My mouth was dry. I shook my head in wonder at the woman I had fallen for so completely.

It didn't take her long to realise that we were not driving to The Bull.

"Where are we going?" She asked. She seemed genuinely surprised. I have asked her since if she knew what I had planned for that night. And if she is to be believed - and I think I can believe her - she truly did not know what I had planned. She thought, simply, that I had chosen another, more salubrious restaurant, or that I was taking her to a concert or something equally unexpected.

It was my turn to smile. I put a finger to my lips and shot her a playful look. My secret. My surprise. She would find out when the time came.

We drove for more than an hour and the night grew dark. It was a mild evening and I was glad of this. As we drove along darkened roads, we talked sporadically about life and love and those many small things that fill the cracks in any relationship. We were easy in each other's company and the journey, not the destination, as ever, gave us everything we needed from each other.

Now and then I reached my hand over to caress her body through the thin material of her dress. It was soft cotton and I could feel the firmness of her skin beneath. I stroked her, as I pleased. As I needed. My hands glided over her thighs and her calves; her arms, her tummy, her breasts. Now and then I would touch her in just the right place and she would sigh gently. At such times, when I looked, her eyes would be closed. I loved to see her lost in her own world, feeling nothing but the gentle touch of my fingers. It turned me on to have her so responsive to me.

I was aware of her parting her legs and when I moved my fingers lower, feeling the soft skin of her inner thighs, she opened them wider still. I resisted the temptation to glide my hands further up her legs, to touch her intimately. To touch her pussy. If it was frustrating for me to resist, it was even more so for her and she jerked her hips whenever my fingers were close, trying to feel my touch between her legs, trying to find that delicious friction. She groaned lightly with the frustration of it and I knew she hated me in her own devoted way for refusing her.

When we reached the unmanned service area that was our destination, I guided the car in. My hand was still playing between her thighs. Her eyes were closed with a mixture of pleasure and concentration. At this moment she was oblivious to her surroundings. It would become obvious to her very quickly.

The service area, located on the outskirts of a forest, was hidden from the road. It held a large concrete parking area for cars and trucks and in the middle, built from red brick, was a nondescript building with high windows. It bore the legend Public Convenience. It was basically a public toilet. That was all this place was, really. A place for drivers to pull in, take a rest and use the toilet. During the day, there would probably be a burger van here. At night, it was deserted.

Well...kind of.

The toilets were open 24 hours a day and the area was minimally lit. A small number of pale orange lamps gave enough light to the area at night and from inside the toilets, bright white fluorescent lights shone through the high windows. Tonight, as I had anticipated, a number of men stood around outside. I had done my research.

As I slowed down to park, my date opened her eyes. My hand was still playing gently over her parted thighs. I pulled the car up, close to the toilets, and only at that moment did she become conscious of where we were. She glanced over at the toilets, to the men standing around, waiting outside.

Waiting.

I felt her legs stiffen beneath my fingers.

"What are we doing here?" She asked. Her voice was noticeably quieter than normal.

I gazed at her, aware of the smile on my lips. She looked beautifully disorientated. She looked a little worried.

I hoped that my eyes communicated the answer to her, as I removed my hand from between her thighs and up to her face. I held her firmly by her jaw and pulled her towards me, wanting to kiss her. She resisted momentarily - I knew she wanted me to answer her question - but she gave in quickly and her mouth met mine hungrily.

"God I've needed this," I murmured, as her lips pressed against mine.

Her lips were open and I slipped my tongue into her mouth. I felt how she opened her mouth to receive me, as my tongue pushed to find her. Our mouths locked together and we kissed, explored. Our tongues danced together. As I stroked her tongue with my own, she pushed back and I felt hers slip in between my lips. I bit it gently, and she gasped. We fought, warm and wet and expressing our passion, while our tongues fought and swirled over each other, the mutual need intensifying with every passing second.

Eventually I pulled back and held her off, so that I could admire her. Her face looked flushed, gently lit by the service area's poor lighting. Her eyes were liquid sensuality.

"What are we doing here?" She repeated, a soft, feminine whisper.

"Your birthday present," I said, simply.

Her eyes widened. She gasped.

"What?"

"I said I'd think about it. To be honest, I made my mind up as soon as you asked for it. How could I deny my lover such a wonderful gift?"

"Oh my god." Her eyes were horrified.

I leaned down so that I could get a good view of the men standing around outside, next to the toilets. There were five of them. None of them looked particularly handsome or well-built. I supposed that was the nature of these places. They ranged in age, from what I could see, from their twenties through to their sixties. They looked dirty. The whole scene was sordid. It was what she had asked for.

"Take a look," I suggested, casually. "They're going to think all their birthdays have come at once when they see you."

She turned her head to look at the men. Her breathing quickened.

"What do you think?" I asked. I loved how quiet she had become. How subdued. "Take a good look. I am going to give you to them. I am going to let them do whatever they want with you."

She turned to face me once more. Her face was uncertain. The fantasy was now a real possibility, a tangible reality. Perhaps that changed everything. She looked worried. She looked excited. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes disbelieving.

She licked her lips, nervously.

I opened the door and got out of the car. Without any ceremony, I walked round to her door, opened it and stood back to let her climb out. I was aware of the men shifting away from the toilet block to come a bit closer. They were moving forwards to peer inside the car. As they looked in, she was exposed to their scrutiny.

Her dress had ridden part way up her thighs and her legs looked magnificent.

I offered my hand and she took it, almost in a daze. Her eyes moved from me to the men and I pulled her out of the car. She stood, uncertain of herself, gorgeously demure, while I stepped away and held out a hand to exhibit her to the men.

"Gentlemen," I said. It was impossible not to notice how lustfully they stared at her. It was primal and real and I knew that every man was thinking about what he wanted to do to her. Each one of them wanted to take her in the most basic, brutal way. There may have been even darker fantasies at play, as they stared.

I smiled.

"Gentlemen, I hope I have come to the right place. This is my girlfriend. I've brought her to be used. And enjoyed. And degraded." My heart swelled with love and pride as she turned away, embarrassed by what I was telling these complete strangers. I loved it that she didn't know where to look. "Am I in the right place?"

There were a few smiles and some conspiratorial nods.

"Great," I shrugged casually, put a hand on her back and pushed her forward. "Then please enjoy yourselves."

She looked at me, strangely betrayed and yet full of love and I pushed her again, more forcefully. She stumbled forward and the men moved to meet her.

They surrounded her. It was an instinctive movement, rather than a coordinated one. It was a pack instinct. She would not get away from them.

She was good meat.

I stepped back, keen to melt into the background so that they would not be inhibited. I listened as they exchanged crude comments and I was pleased to hear no pleasantries were being exchanged. From where I stood, leaning against the car, snippets of their conversation drifted thinly into the air. The words started off admiring but quickly they became dirty and base.

I listened in, my heart pounding, my breath quick.

What a babe. Classy. Sexy. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Nice legs. Look at the tits on in. She wants it. Bet she loves it. This is perfect for her. What a slut. Fucking whore. Bitch. I'll stick it in her. She's gonna swallow. I bet she can take it up the arse. Let's give her a cum bath. Do you think we can slap her around a bit? She'll choke on Tucker's cock. Let's gang bang the cunt.

While the words were exchanged, she stood in the middle of them, uncertain and unmoving. They weren't talking to her. They weren't flirting with her. They weren't seducing her or asking her to like them. She was just an object. A piece of meat. They couldn't give a fuck about her and I liked that. I wondered how it made her feel.

"Nice to meet you," I heard her say. I could tell that she was trying to lighten the tension, that she was trying to inject some humour into the situation. Her voice was soft in the night air.

"Shut up bitch," came the reply.

One of the men walked forward and grabbed her face, roughly. He was smartly dressed, with neat, combed-back hair. He looked her in the eyes then moved her face from side to side, examining her. When he was finished, he pushed her away. In the lights from the toilets I saw that her face was flushed. She looked disoriented and confused. He grabbed one of her full, beautiful breasts through the material of her dress and caressed it lightly. I saw his thumb circling her nipple.

He watched her face, looking for her reaction.

She closed her eyes briefly, looking red and flustered. After a while he gave her breast a firm pinch and then slapped it before stepping back.

"She'll do," he said.

They all laughed.

Another one stepped forward. He was a fat man, in jeans and a baggy t-shirt. He walked around her. She looked gorgeously feminine in her dress. In the pale light it looked colourless. Her curves were full and sensual.

I hope you enjoyed my story. Go and check out my over content. I look forward to making more in the future.