Adultery Who Watches The Watchmen (continued)

[samgreenvalley]

Another tumultuous orgasm hit her.
 
It came out of nowhere—a wave of pleasure so intense that her vision went white, her body convulsing, her screams muffled by Karthik's cock. She came around Singh's cock, clenching him so tightly that he groaned and nearly lost his rhythm. She came around Sharma's cock, her ass spasming, her inner walls gripping him like a fist. She came with Karthik's cock in her mouth, her throat working, her tongue lapping at his shaft.
 
And still they didn't stop.
 
"Give it to her," Singh ordered. "All of it. Don't stop until she tells you to stop."
 
They didn't stop.
 
---
 
For the next three hours, Menaka was passed around like a banquet.
 
Singh came first, his cum flooding her cunt as he fucked her missionary style, his face buried in her neck. He withdrew and Gupta took his place, his cock smaller but eager, fucking her with a desperate energy that made her laugh even as she moaned.
 
Sharma came second, his modest cock twitching in her ass as she rode him reverse cowgirl, her back arched, her tits bouncing. Mehta replaced him, his cock thicker than Sharma's but not as long, filling her ass with a satisfying stretch.
 
Karthik came third, pulling his cock from her mouth at the last moment and spraying his cum across her face, her tits, her stomach. She opened her mouth and caught what she could, swallowing, licking her lips.
 
"I thought no cum on the face," Joshi said from the corner, where he had been watching, stroking himself.
 
Menaka turned to him, her face streaked with semen, her eyes wild. "Really," she said. "A lot of rules are being broken tonight. Why don’t you break some more?"
 
Joshi's eyes widened. "Me?"
 
"I know you've been watching from your balcony for weeks. You've been dreaming about this. Now get your cock here and fuck me like you mean it."
 
He came to her. He fucked her. And when he came, it was inside her cunt, his cock buried deep, his body shuddering against hers.
 
"Thank you," he whispered in her ear. "Thank you, Menaka ji."
 
She kissed his cheek—almost his mouth, but not quite—and pushed him off. "Next."
 
---
 
By 3 AM, Menaka had lost count.
 
How many orgasms? She didn't know. A dozen? Two dozen? Each one blurred into the next, a continuous wave of pleasure that left her shaking, sweating, barely able to speak.
 
The men had taken turns in every position imaginable—missionary, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, spooning, standing, against the wall, on the floor. They had fucked her cunt, her ass, her mouth. They had come inside her, on her, around her. She was covered in cum—her face, her tits, her stomach, her thighs. She could taste it on her lips, smell it on her skin.
 
And still she wanted more.
 
"Get the bottle," she said, pointing to the single malt. "I want to drink while you fuck me."
 
Karthik handed her the bottle. She took a long swig, the whiskey burning her throat, then passed it back.
 
"Now," she said. "Someone fuck my face while someone else fucks my cunt. And someone—" She looked at Joshi, who had been watching again, his cock hard and ready. "Someone fuck my ass."
 
They obliged.