Unicorn at the Mon Chalet- Back in the Room, Part 3 of 3

Darian and I rushed through the winter night from the pool to my room, clutching our robes against the biting cold. His seed had been hot inside me just minutes before, now it trickled cold down my leg. Once the door slammed behind us, he drew me against his chest to share his warmth. Although he needed some recovery time, my body hummed with anticipation for what would come next.

With a flip of a switch, the room glowed in deep 1970’s crimson. I scrawled across the bed, face up, letting the red light wash over me. Fanning my thighs wide toward the mirrored headboard, I slowly fingered myself, then fumbled my phone from my robe pocket. Photography was not allowed in the pool area, but it was, here in my room. "Wanna make my husband jealous?" I joked, knowing full well this was all his idea. I laughed at the irony of him being stuck at an airport, three states away, while I’d been getting stuffed by this stranger. I extended the phone to Darian and gestured to the reflection of my used pussy. Click, click, click—preserving my decadence for later, when we were together again.

“Ever heard of the Red Light District in Amsterdam?” Darian asked, already tugging at the blinds’ open.

“Sure,” I answered, watching the slats slide upward to reveal the narrow sidewalk filled with others hustling to the pool we had just left. Several paused when they realized what was happening on our side of the window. Even after our sex show at the pool, their double-takes sent a naughty thrill through me.

“At Mon Chalet,” he said, “opening the blinds is like the red-lit windows the ladies of the night use to display their wares.” He paused, shooting me a wicked grin, then cracked the door open an inch, and the breeze cooled my showcased pussy. “You know what that means, right?”

I giggled at the idea, “Bring it on, D!” Then I mused to myself, I am ready for all comers tonight?. I just nodded my assent and motioned him to me. He was still soft, so I grasped the pink vibrator I’d left on the bed hours ago and flipped it on.

After a few moments, familiar faces appeared at the window—eyes wide in curious caution. The guys from the pool? The pink vibrator hummed over my twat, for the growing audience. The door creaked open wider, letting in a draft that pebbled the flesh around my nipples and sent a shiver through me. One man stepped inside, then his buddy, as I sprawled languidly across the sheets, feeling their stares caress me like hands across my skin. To them, I wasn’t someone’s wife or the mother of men their same age—they only saw a vixen waiting to be claimed.

They both seemed unsure of what was permitted until Darian, a stranger to me until two hours ago, gave an almost imperceptible nod to proceed. The first one dropped to his knees, his anxious tongue lashing my swollen lips, devouring me while I moaned. The second undressed, his thick shaft springing free. The ink on his back…he was part of that couple from the hot tub. His wife was flopping those big titties on somebody else’s face this very minute! He nudged his buddy aside to flip me over, his fingers digging into my hips. He paused at my entrance to slip on a rubber before penetrating me, shoving my face into the sheets. The barrier felt foreign inside me, but I was glad it was there. I was lamenting the fact that I had already let Damian and James bareback me at the pool. A no, no in the lifestyle, but fuck, their cum felt hot. He slapped my ass, leaving a faint pink mark. "Again," I gasped after his palm cracked against my flesh. With each slap I tightened around him, and he swelled. I looked to Darian, ordering, "Get that red mark—I want my man to see exactly what he missed.” The action had drawn several more spectators into her room.

The camera clicks must have awakened something in Darian—his magnificent cock rising to attention after watching those young bucks have their turn with me. They stepped back instinctively, like supporting actors yielding to the lead. He yanked me from the bed and into the adjoining room where the gleaming steel apparatus— the "Sex Machine"—stood ready.

He steered me onto the sleek leather pads, the skin on my ass still burning crimson where the newcomers had spanked me raw. I was splayed on the padded bench of the contraption. Above me, the mirrored ceiling reflected a woman I barely recognized in graphic detail—my own flushed, wild-eyed face, hands pawing at me. The obscene tableau of limbs and torsos knotted together in pursuit of a single, shared goal—defiling me. My small breasts jiggled against my heaving chest, dark nipples erect with arousal, glistening with saliva where someone’s mouth had just been. The silver-flecked fur of my bush was matted and sticky with Damian’s seed. Cool leather stirrups cradled my ankles, forcing my knees wide, opening my swollen, flushed cunt for whatever carnal pleasure these three studs might devise.

There’s an exquisite euphoria that comes from being feasted upon. Not merely fucked, or even worshipped, but wholly consumed—by three men at once. A few more voyeurs joined our soiree to watch the first guy climb between my trembling thighs, press his tongue inside me, lapping at my clit, making me buck against his face. The second one, the tattooed guy, captured my gasping mouth, his stubble scraping my chin as he forced his tongue against mine. Damian latched onto my nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before sucking hard enough to leave marks, before he moved his hips between my legs and shoved his cock deep, deep inside me…again.

There were moments when the room spun, but then Darian’s voice would break through, murmuring encouragements and praise, his hands steadying my hips for the next cock to impale me. His thumb stroked my cheek to say, “You are mine…aren’t you?” I was not his of course, but in my state I could not argue—I simply submitted. Several of the voyeurs had jumped in for their turn with me. At some point, I counted at least six filled condoms on the floor, foil packages strewn across the room.

Exhaustion flooded through me, a delicious afterglow of satisfaction. I crawled under the covers while Darian herded the others out, locking the door against the storm. Something about his earlier caresses in the Jacuzzi—tender amid all that raw hunger—had endeared him to me, and his cock had rocked my night. I glanced at my wedding ring, then to the window where snow was piling on the sill. Normally, my trysts didn’t last till morning. A rule Tom always enforced so he could reclaim me. But after orchestrating my debauchery, I decided Darian had earned the sanctuary of my bed for the night. I pulled him under the cheap blanket, needing his body to warm mine tonight. I was certain my husband would understand this one transgression.