Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿Kat Fucked Up by greer_masterson

   Kat Fucked Up Pt.  01

   Katherine reveals limited sexual past and gangbang fantasy.

   "I've slept with a lot of people," Kat said, scrutinizing me through
narrowed eyelids.

   "Oh?" I asked her, doing my best to sound bored.  "How many?"

   "A lot."

   "How many people could a 24-year-old possibly have slept with?" I goaded
dismissively.  "If you started when you were sixteen, had two boyfriends a
year, with the random one-night-stand every once two or three years, you'd
be up to...what?  About twenty partners?"

   "Twenty?" she jumped, sounding horrified.  "Oh, my God!  I'm not a
slut!"

   "We have different versions of 'a lot.' How many?"

   She turned her head slightly and looked at me a bit sideways.  "Five,"
she said, pausing before adding, "...before you."

   I stretched and yawned.  "That's not a lot.  When did you lose your
virginity?"

   "When I was fifteen," she responded flatly.

   "So you've had a new partner every other year since you lost your
virginity?  You seemed...more experienced."

   "Well...I was with the same guy for all of high school and into college.
He was horny all the time, so we did it a lot."

   "How much is 'a lot?'"

   "I don't know," she said, her brow wrinkling in thought.  "Two or three
times a day.  On average."

   "Every day?"

   "Pretty much," she nodded.  She extracted a long, shapely leg from the
covers and crossed it over her still-covered leg at her ankles.

   "For four years."

   "Four-and-a-half," she corrected.

   "So that's...," I struggled to do the math in my head.  "So he fucked
you about...three thousand times?"

   "I don't know but it was a lot," she grinned, sensing some measure of
triumph in her ability to finally impress me with her sexual experience. 
"I used to keep track in a diary.  I made a little heart-shaped mark each
time we had sex on whatever day and totaled them up at the end of each
month.  I stopped counting at around a thousand.  That was less than a year
after I lost my virginity to him.  To Kent."

   "Kent?  'Kat and Kent?'"

   She laughed.  "Yep.  We were your typical high school power couple. 
Kent was tall, with wavy blonde hair, and blue eyes.  We were like Ken and
Barbie to the outside world.  Anyway, I didn't have much of any reason to
refuse after he'd popped my cherry, so I did it whenever he wanted."

   "What about...I mean, weren't you worried about--"

   "I've been 5'10" since the eighth grade," she interrupted, "and I've
pretty much had this body since I turned 15, so my mom put me on birth
control early.  She didn't want me ending up pregnant in high school like
her.

   "Shame, really.  I've always wondered what it would feel like to take
that chance--to know that someone could be...like I said, there was
literally no reason in my mind to refuse when I was no longer protecting my
virginity."

   "Wow.  Did you ever get bored?"

   "Not for a while.  We were young and it was sex and we weren't supposed
to be doing it.  It was maybe two years before we started to get bored.  We
were in love, I think.  Or at least Kent was and I was too naive to think
it might be anything else."

   "So what did you do then?"

   "When?"

   "When you got bored."

   "Oh," she said.  "Lingerie worked for a few months, but the newness wore
off quickly and it became too expensive.  Then we tried watching porn. 
That actually worked pretty well, but not because it turned us on.  It was
more that it was how we first learned about new positions.  We hadn't
really thought of much before other than him on top, me on top, and doggy
style."

   I snickered.

   "What?" she asked, smiling.  "'Doggy style?' Does that offend your
intellect?"

   "Of course not.  It sounds funny spoken aloud, but I was more amused
that after having had sex over a thousand times you could only think of
three positions."

   "I know.  That is kind of funny.  Sometimes we improvised out of
opportunity.  Like in the shower.  Or if we were spooning." She paused and
was still.

   "...so you tried new positions."

   "Right," Kat said, grinning broadly.  "We went to Half-Price Books and
found a few Kama Sutra books.  We tried every position.  When we found one
we really liked, we stuck with it until it got boring then moved on to the
next.  Some were one-and-done because they were so stupidly uncomfortable.
If the drawing has the penis, like, eighteen inches long and curved around
someone's leg, then it's either stupidly uncomfortable or that position was
intended only for a man with an eighteen-inch-long cock that can curve
around someone's leg."

   She paused, shaking with silent laughter.  "Anyway, that lasted about a
year-and-a-half.  So we went back to porn for new ideas.  Kent came up with
a list of a bunch of things he wanted to try, but I refused all of them. 
It was the first time I'd refused him.  That's when our sex life kind of
stalled.  In the last year we had sex maybe two or three times a week."

   "What did he want to try?" I asked a bit eagerly.

   She rolled onto her side to face me, grinning like a cat who'd cornered
a mouse, then propped her head up with her arm.  "You're still leaking out
of me.  Could you hand me a few tissues?"

   I rolled to my right and reached for the box of facial tissues, but was
shocked when she poked a finger at my anus.  "What the fuck?" I started.

   "That was one of the things he wanted to try that I said 'no' to," she
laughed.  "I can see you're not a big fan of it either."

   "My 'fandom' isn't an issue.  It's the lack of warning."

   "So I could put something in your ass if I wanted?"

   "I didn't say that."

   "Then we're on the same page after all," she snickered.

   "I didn't say that either," I responded, watching her for a reaction
that didn't come.  "Was that all he wanted?"

   "No.  He wanted to have sex in public and in front of other people.  I
said 'no' to both of those, too.  Then he wanted to tie me up, blindfold
me, spank me, you name it.  I would have said 'yes' to everything, but he
was also talking at the same time about having a threesome and I didn't
want him to try something while I was tied up that I wasn't ready to agree
to, so..."

   "You weren't into being pleasured by a man and a woman at the same
time?"

   "It was more about him having sex with the other woman," Kat said, a
frown on her face.  "He insisted on it, almost desperately.  When I balked,
he tried to tempt me with a tit-for-tat and said we could also have a
threesome with one of his male friends to make things fair, but that felt
too much like we were giving up on each other.  It may not have been the
proverbial 'final nail in the coffin,' but it meant we were talking about
collecting the funeral insurance."

   "Wow.  So after that you called it quits?"

   "No.  I did the threesome with another man to see if he really meant it
or was just offering it up in the hopes that he could have permission to
have sex with one of my friends.  It didn't work out."

   "He didn't like it?"

   "Pretty much."

   "What was it that he didn't like?  Seeing you have sex with someone
else?"

   "I don't think he cared about that.  I think seeing a live sex act
turned him on.  But seeing me have my first orgasm during sex and it not be
with him?  Seeing me have anal sex for the first time and it not be with
him?  Seeing me have sex in public for the first time and it not be with
him?"

   "Holy shit," I snorted, trying to process what she was saying.  "You had
sex with a man over three thousand times and never had an orgasm?"

   "I had plenty of orgasms when I masturbated," Kat admitted.  "But never
with him."

   "Why keep on?  That should have been your first clue."

   "It felt good," she said simply.  "I like sex.  I liked Kent.  And I
didn't really know any better."

   "First orgasm, first anal sex, first public sex...that must have been
some night."

   "It was," Kat said.  "It was like an awakening.  That guy wasn't very
big, but he knew how to use what he was born with.  I don't know what he
was doing behind me, but he hit me in all the right ways.  Kent was in my
mouth when I orgasmed.  He was more shocked than I was."

   My eyes were wide.  This wasn't the Kathleen I knew.  She was lost in
her thoughts and didn't notice my surprise.

   "I don't know what happened but something clicked," she reminisced, her
eyes on the ceiling.  "I pushed Kent away and went wild on this guy.  After
my second or third orgasm, I demanded that he fuck my ass.  Demanded.  I
mean, my fingers always wandered when I masturbated and I knew it felt kind
of good when I was doing the touching.

   When I couldn't take anymore, I dragged him out onto the balcony of our
apartment and he fucked me from behind against the rail.  I could see
people standing on their balconies watching.  I think I came two or three
more times out on the balcony.  That night I made Kent sleep on the couch
while I fucked this guy in our bed until I passed out from exhaustion."

   "Jesus, Kat."

   "I know.  It was a rotten thing to do to Kent after we'd been together
for so many years, but part of it was that I knew we were done and part of
it was that Kent did, too, and was trying to use me as a launch pad to
fucking other women.

   I think I was angry somewhere inside and it boiled to the surface that
night.  Stupid thing was that Kent wanted him and the guy to use some sort
of numbing lube, so they would last a lot longer.  That totally back-fired.
Kent couldn't keep an erection and the other guy took forever to orgasm."

   "How did Kent face his buddy after that?"

   "He wasn't Kent's buddy.  He was a random guy from my biology lecture
hall.  He was nice looking, dressed neatly, and was always clean.  He
smelled like soap and cedar.  And he always had a big bulge in his jeans.

   I'd only ever had sex with Kent and he was a little lacking.  Poor Kent.
He wasn't exactly small, but I didn't want to take the sort of sexual leap
Kent was suggesting only to have someone who was the same as Kent or
smaller."

   "I thought you said the guy wasn't very big."

   "He wasn't.  He was about the same size as Kent," she smiled.  "Stupid
Ralph Lauren jeans must be made to make guys look like they're big
regardless of how big they are.  But it worked out in the end." She was
quiet again and stared at something on the wall past me.  "No pun
intended," she said softly, and grinned.

   "So," I urged again, "a random guy, huh?"

   She smirked.  "I mean, I knew him.  We'd talked before.  So he wasn't
exactly a stranger.  He wasn't truly random, like a pick-up at a club."

   "Still..."

   "Yeah," Kat acknowledged.  "Still.  It was the closest I'd come to a
one-night stand.  I hadn't intended to...fuck him all the time.  Or even
another time.  I...I just couldn't stop."

   "Wow.  So you transitioned from one long-term relationship directly into
another?"

   "No.  I still thought of Kent as my boyfriend.  Patrick was a friend
with benefits."

   "Did Kent--wait, 'Kat and Pat?' Are you fucking with me?"

   "No."

   I waited for her to smile at her obvious joke, but she didn't.  "Did
Kent know?"

   Kat looked my face over like she was trying to figure something out. 
"Yes," she said quietly.

   "Yes?  Like 'yes, he knew' or 'yes, he suspected?'"

   "He knew.  The only way I would sleep with him after that night was in a
threesome with Patrick."

   My eyebrows climbed my forehead.  "Seriously?"

   "Seriously."

   We were quiet for a few moments.

   "Maybe I am a slut," she said under her breath, to no one in particular.

   "How does that revelation make you feel?"

   She smirked again and her eyes came to rest on me.  "I don't know, Dr.
Freud.  Should we move to the couch and assume a more professional
position?" For whatever reason, I wasn't amused.  My brain was
contemplating the possibilities.  The smirk fell from her face.  "What are
you thinking?" she asked.

   "Nothing, really.  Just processing," I lied.  "This is heavy stuff."

   "Do you think differently of me?"

   "Yes and no.  You're still the same person, but now there's more to you.
Does that make sense?"

   "Sure," Kat responded, sounding a bit undecided.

   "So how long did that go on?"

   "Kent and Patrick?  About a year.  But I fucked Patrick every chance I
got.  I even started my diary again to keep track of how many times and
ways.  It was a fun game that got me through rainy days when Patrick wasn't
around."

   "How many times did you fuck Patrick?"

   "I don't remember exactly.  About 400 times before he transferred to
Georgetown to be closer to home.  It was more difficult to keep track with
him.  Kent was a pump-and-dump kind of guy, who came back for seconds and
sometimes thirds and fourths.

   Patrick was all over the place for half an hour to an hour.  Except the
times when we ducked into a janitor's closet or the men's room or wherever
between classes.  Then he was pump-and-dump like Kent." She paused before
adding, "But it was so much hotter."

   "You were having two-to-three threesomes every week for a year, then
suddenly stopped?"

   She smiled and looked directly into my eyes.  "Yes."

   "No--what should I call it?--withdrawal symptoms?"

   "Of course not."

   "All that sex for years, stopped cold, and you were...your body was fine
with it?"

   She looked at me like I'd farted.  "Yes."

   I didn't believe her and her face reflected my disbelief.  "Did you stay
with Kent?"

   "No."

   "New boyfriend?"

   "Not until you," she smiled.

   "So you had three one-night stands before we met?"

   "No."

   "Three fuck buddies."

   "No."

   "You're intentionally making this difficult."

   Kat laughed and snorted, then threw her hand to her mouth, blushing. 
"That was attractive," she grinned, her eyes wide.  "They weren't
boyfriends and they weren't fuck buddies.  They were more like brief
flings."

   "Brief flings that you fucked a thousand times before moving on?"

   "No," she frowned.  "More like a few times each before realizing I
wasn't going to get what I wanted out of them physically or emotionally.  I
couldn't orgasm with them and I wasn't feeling anything special or exciting
about them in the end.  If it were love, I might have stayed with them, but
it wasn't, so I didn't."

   "Sometimes it takes time," I offered.

   "It didn't with Patrick," she stated firmly.  "Or with you."

   "To orgasm or to fall in love?" I teased.

   "Either.  Both."

   "Are you in love with me, Kathleen Turner?"

   She frowned.  "Don't call me that.  I can't wait until I'm married and I
have a good reason to change my name."

   It didn't get past me.  She was intentionally avoiding the question, so
I humored her.  It was rare that she spoke so candidly about her past and I
wanted her to continue.  "You could go by your middle name."

   "I tried that in college, but too many people still called me 'Kathleen'
or 'Kathy' or whatever.  And 'Ashley' sounds so sorority, anyway.  Kent
always used my initials, which just happened to be the first three letters
of my name, when he left me notes and some of my girlfriends saw and
started calling me 'Kat.' It eventually stuck with our college friends.  My
high school friends still call me Kathy."

   "It's difficult for me to see you as a 'Kathy.' Were you in love with
Patrick?"

   "I don't know," she responded softly, the distant look returning to her
face.  She brushed back a lock of golden brown hair.  "Maybe." Then, more
quietly: "Probably.  Why can't you see me as 'Kathy?'"

   "Kathy is a plain, brown-haired girl hiding behind a stack of books
hugged tightly to her chest," I teased.  "She avoids eye contact, mends her
own glasses, and wears sensible shoes."

   "I'm a plain, brown-haired girl who avoids eye contact and wears
sensible shoes."

   "Uh-huh." My eyes traveled across her breasts and down the length of the
long leg that was flopped lazily over mine.  Aside from a ridiculous tribal
tattoo near her ankle, her body was flawless.  I knew she knew what I was
thinking.  Usually after noticing the open book that was my face, she
subtly hinted that she wanted to know I saw more than just her physical
appearance.

   "Well...don't discount Kathy," she said.  "You never know what she's
hiding under her skirts."

   "Sensible, white, cotton granny panties." I imagined Kat in plaid
pleated skirts complete with white, knee-high stockings and sensible,
white, cotton granny panties...standing at half-mast around mid-thigh.

   "They're comfy," she persisted.

   "Comfy Kathy."

   Kat relaxed and let her head hit the pillow.  I was content to be quiet
and dwell in my thoughts of Nympho Kat willing to fuck whenever and however
I wanted, of public sex with Exhibitionist Kat, of Cumslut Kat wanting to
know what it was like to be worried that she might get pregnant, of
Spitroasted Kat having a hundred threesomes.

   "What are you thinking now?" she asked, sounding like the first girl I
went to a movie with in junior high school.  "You have an odd look on your
face."

   "Where...what did you do in all those threesomes?"

   "You mean 'where did they...?'"

   "How did they fuck you?" I said 'fuck' with a nasty little emphasis that
wasn't lost on her.  Her eyes narrowed but her fake scrutiny was betrayed
by traces of a smile.

   "Mostly it was one of them fucking me while I blew the other, but there
were times..."

   I waited, but she was quiet.  "There were times?" I urged.

   "There were times when I would be on top of one and the other would take
me from behind."

   "Both in your...?"

   "Sometimes." Her eyes scanned my face.  "And sometimes not."

   I couldn't hide whatever I was feeling and knew my eyes were the size of
dinner plates.  "How...did it hurt?  Was it...I don't know...difficult? 
How did you even...how did...how did it come up?  Did it just happen? 
Did--"

   "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kat interrupted, now looking inexplicably perturbed.
"One at a time."

   I let a few moments pass to gauge how much her attitude had changed
before continuing.  "Okay.  Did it just happen or was it planned?"

   "Neither.  They'd been trying...I don't even know if it was 'they.' I
guess it was really Kent.  Sometimes I would fuck Patrick and Kent would
watch.  After a few weeks I remember being on top of Patrick and Kent
coming up behind me.  I blocked him.  I reached back and jerked him off,
but his attempts became a constant thing.

   One night I just relented, partly out of pity and partly out of lust and
partly out of sadness, I guess, because our relationship was hanging on by
a thread and our days as a couple were numbered.  What we were doing was a
farce.  I don't know...I guess it had been a farce for years at that point.
Maybe it was always a farce." Her eyes again found some distant spot and
she went quiet.

   I waited for some time while she traveled through her memories, then
shifted to alleviate the pressure her leg was putting on mine.

   "Anyway," Kat continued, roused from her reminiscing, "it took weeks of
him trying before I just let it happen.  It was only the second time I'd
outright refused him anything."

   "Was it difficult?"

   "No," she responded nonchalantly.  "I just relaxed and pushed back
against him.  Anal sex isn't that difficult if you're relaxed, and lubed,
and know what to expect.  It also helps if your partner is a little on the
thin side."

   "How did it feel?"

   "Full."

   "Whether there was one in your...one from the front and...or both from
the front?"

   She laughed.  "Full.  Whether I had two dicks in my pussy or one in my
ass and one in my pussy.  Full."

   "That's it?"

   "No.  It's hard to describe.  It's mentally intense.  That knowledge--'I
have two dicks inside me.' It's different than fucking one and blowing the
other.  Those are separate enough that the intensity just isn't there.

   The mental intensity made it enjoyable enough the first few times.  It
was something completely alien and new, you know?  But mostly I felt full.
When they worked out a rhythm...it was as physically intense as it was
mentally intense.  It was mind-blowing."

   "So you were finally able to orgasm with Kent?"

   "Orgasm?  No.  But it was still intense.  I usually came after he pulled
out."

   "Ouch."

   Kat pursed her lips.  "I know.  There was something about Kent.  And,"
she continued, "there was something about Patrick.  Whatever that
'something' was, it couldn't have been more polarized.  I came if Patrick
breathed on my neck.  Kent could go down on me for two hours and...nothing.
It was some sort of mental block."

   "It's hard to believe," I let slip, having missed most of what she'd
just said.

   "That they could be so different?  I know."

   "Not that.  That you've had sex thousands of times and only had five
different partners."

   "Five before you," she corrected.

   "Right.  That doesn't change anything."

   "Five is not a big deal for you?  It is with many men.  Have you been
with a lot of sluts?" she chided.

   "I don't call them sluts.  One or a hundred--it makes no difference to
me."

   Kat looked mildly surprised.  "You wouldn't think differently of me if
I'd slept with a hundred different men?"

   "No.  For someone who's been fucked five thousand times and had dicks in
her ass and pussy at the same time," I said, relishing my frank crudeness,
"you sure have some prudish ideas about sex."

   "I was raised Southern Baptist," she explained, the smile returning to
her face.

   "I guess that explains it.  What's the difference between Jews,
Episcopalians, and Baptists?"

   She shrugged.

   "Jews don't recognize Jesus as the Savior of the World, Episcopalians
don't recognize the Pope as the Head of the Church, and Baptists don't
recognize each other in the liquor store."

   She giggled and turned away for a second, then took a half-breath and
looked at me over her shoulder.  "Do you know anyone who's slept with a
hundred different men?"

   "Yes.  Several someones.  Probably more.  But at least several someones
that would admit it."

   She stared, now breathless.  "It didn't bother you?"

   "No.  Think of it this way--one woman I dated was 38 and--"

   "You dated a 38-year-old?" Kat interrupted.

   "--had...yes...she had started dating when she was about 16.  Over 22
years she averaged about three different men each year.  You slept with
Kent and Patrick and that other guy--Jimmy?--in one year.  Do you think
that makes you a slut?  Should I be bothered by it?"

   "That was one year.  It's not every year."

   "Point is the same," I said, now subtly taunting her.  "What if I told
you this other woman had married at age 24 and lost her husband in the Gulf
War, went wild the following year out of grief and slept with over fifty
different men, then for the next fourteen years barely dated.  If you took
out that one year of grief, she'd actually slept with fewer men than you
have."

   "But you can't take out that one year."

   "And I'm saying what difference does it make?  There's no way she had
sex five thousand times, but you have."

   "That was a long-term relationship."

   "So what?"

   "Really?" she frowned at me indignantly.  "You really don't see the
difference?"

   "Nope," I responded firmly.  She continued to look a little perturbed,
but said nothing.  "How many partners, how many times--it makes no
difference.  Did all the sex you've had change your vagina?  The way it
looks and feels?"

   "No."

   "Of course it didn't," I continued.  "That's a myth schoolboys like to
perpetuate about schoolgirls who won't sleep with them.  It wouldn't have
changed anything if it were five thousand times with one man or one time
each with five thousand men."

   I had no idea where the conversation was headed.  I felt like I had some
purpose with all this, but I wasn't sure.  I spent a lot of time teasing
Kat about sex because she was naturally defiant and strangely compliant.  I
teased her about 'roadies' until she surprised me one night and blew me in
the car on the way home from a concert.  I teased her about going
'commando' until she handed me her panties one afternoon in the parking lot
of a restaurant.

   I wasn't sure what this teasing was going to lead to, if anything. 
After the parking lot, it had led me to unceremoniously filling her with
come in a stall of the men's room.

   "Have you...have you ever known anyone who was in a gangbang?"

   Holy shit.  That went somewhere I wasn't expecting.  "Yes," I said
simply and waited.

   "I..," she looked at me hesitantly, "...sometimes when I was with
Patrick and Kent I..."

   Her eyes were wide open.  I'd never seen her look this serious.  I bit
my tongue to keep from scaring her with a barrage of encouragement and
tried to maintain a poker face.

   "...I wanted...I wanted...I wondered..." Her eyes shifted nervously.  "I
imagined what it would be like if there were more men," she finished barely
above a whisper.

   "At the same time?" I asked as calmly and gently as I could I muster. 
She nodded.  My cock was throbbing.

   She turned away.  "But it was just an afternoon breeze of a thought.  It
was there and gone.  It came and went.  I would never do it," she declared
to the wall.

   "Oh?" I responded, pleased at how calm my voice sounded.  One of my
friends in grad school had been the object of a five-man gangbang one
drunken night.  I was too sober to participate but not sober enough to keep
from watching.  It was the dirtiest, hottest thing I'd ever seen and, I
later learned, became a monthly ritual for her.

   I'd also met a "model" during my ill-fated venture into photography when
I grew frustrated with pharmaceutical research science who eventually
invited me to photograph a porn gangbang she was filming for a website.  It
was far more clinical and scripted and much more of a process, but still
amazing.  From time to time I still masturbated to those memories.  The
thought of beautiful Kat in a gangbang...

   "Of course not," she declared quietly to the wall again.

   I snuggled up behind her, my erection prodding at her.  "What if I told
you it wouldn't bother me and that it would turn me on?"

   "What if I told you I'm not your toy and that you're a fucking weirdo
for wanting to share me with other men?" She sounded serious, but she
spread her legs a little and I slipped into her.  Her pussy was on fire and
I could feel her lubrication on her ass and on the backs of her legs.

   "You're not my toy?" I breathed into her ear as I moved slowly inside
her.

   "No," she said, again sounding serious, but grinded against me anyway.

   "And you think I'm a weirdo for wanting to share you with other men?"

   "Yes," she said, pushing her ass back against me with greater force.

   I hunched, my shoulder in an uncomfortable position made tolerable by
the vastly more comfortable position of my cock, and pushed deeply into
her. "But you would still do it," I whispered in her ear, nibbling on it
gently.

   "Yes," she moaned, then, "I mean, no."

   "No?"

   "Of course not," she whispered between breaths.

   "What if there were three men at the same time?"

   She moaned before whispering, "No."

   "Or five men at the same time?" She started to shake her head, but I
thrust deeply, stretching her and she moaned instead.  "Or," I whispered
into her ear, "ten men?  Ten rock-hard cocks around you, filling you,
probing wherever they could find a spot.  One in each hand with four more
prodding at you for attention.  One in your mouth with two impatiently
pressing against your cheeks.  One in your tight little pussy, with another
pushing against your ass, and--"

   She shuddered and reached back, grasping me with her hand and sinking
her fingernails into my ass.  She moaned loudly and threw her head back,
smacking me in the forehead.  I saw stars, but she didn't seem to notice as
her orgasm overcame her.  She clenched her legs together tightly and
spasmed as I rubbed my forehead and grimaced.

   When her spasms subsided, she rolled onto her stomach and laughed as I
continued to rub my forehead.  "Sorry about that."

   "No problem," I told her.  "Happens all the time." I blinked my eyes
several times and looked at her, exaggerating daze and confusion.

   She laughed again.  "Well...this will make it feel better," she
whispered, then licked my mouth and dragged herself to my ear.  "I want you
to fuck my ass." She retreated to her previous position, a wicked gleam in
her eye as she half hid her face behind one of her arms.

   I rolled over on top of her, forgetting entirely about the pain in my
forehead.  We'd been fucking for nearly six months by now and I'd never
fucked her ass in that time.  I nearly came when I felt her spread her legs
to accommodate me.

   "Wait," she said.  She put her middle finger in her mouth then, looking
back at me, reached down and rubbed it around her hole before inserting it
and moving it back and forth slowly.  "Okay," Kat whispered.  "Go slowly."

   I positioned the head of my cock at her opening and pushed.  I felt
resistance, then some give, then tightness.  "Deeper," she mumbled, "but
slow." Her face flopped into her pillow.  I pushed slowly until my abdomen
rested against her.  My cock was throbbing and she shuddered.  I felt her
fingers near my balls, barely grazing them.

   Slowly, I began moving in and out.  I could feel Kat moving moisture
from her vagina to the shaft of my cock, but didn't realize what she was
doing at first.  After some time she began pushing back against me.  Soon I
was fucking her ass in steady, even strokes.  "Faster," she urged,
breathless.  "Oh, my God, faster!"

   "I'm gonna come," I announced, grunting.

   "Oh, fuck!  Come in my ass!" she yelled.  "Give me your come!" I thrust
twice more, then pushed as deeply as I could go.  I could feel the tips of
her fingers against my balls again as she masturbated, felt the spasm
between my asshole and my balls, and came.

   "Oh my fucking God, it's so warm!" she moaned and buried her face in her
pillow again.  She began jerking and exclaiming, "Oh my God!" as I held on,
biting her shoulder and leaving anything I had inside her.

   We stayed locked there, breathing heavily, until she finally said,
"Okay, get off of me." I pushed myself up and gradually pulled out of her,
then rolled over onto my back, my rapidly-deflating cock flopping to the
side in a slimy, soiled mass.

   She propped herself on her elbows and looked at me with some emanation
of weird self-satisfaction about her.  "I'm going to go...take care of
this," she smiled, jerking her head slightly towards her rear.  She kissed
me on my temple as she poured herself out of bed.

   I watched her slender, elegant form walk away towards the bathroom.  She
glanced over her shoulder at me, smiling, as she disappeared through the
doorway.

   Jesus, I thought.  I've never felt her pussy that hot before.  She was
really into it.  Ten guys...  My mind was racing with images of beautiful
Kat fucking a dozen men or more.  The toilet flushed and brought me back
from my reverie.

   "Okay," she sighed, leaning against the door jamb.  "Your turn."

   My cock jumped a little at her words.  Your turn.  "Just what I was
waiting to hear," I said.



   Kat Fucked Up Pt.  02

   Katherine acts on her gangbang fantasy.

   The place smelled vaguely like bleach and stale sweat.  I maneuvered Kat
through the aisles to toward the back where the video booths were.  We were
in uncharted territory and the possibilities streamed through my head at
the speed of light.  What would she do if presented an opportunity?  My
entire body tingled.

   Several months had passed since Kat revealed her sexual past to me and,
tacitly, her desires, and our sex life had escalated to levels I never
could have guessed.  Over the first month I came up with more extreme
stories to tell her and for her to fantasize about when we had sex.

   In the second month, we made a quantum leap.  On the first occasion I
had her do what she'd done several times before when we were seated at a
booth--take off her panties and give them to me.  Her chest had flushed red
and she'd looked around nervously before rocking side to side quickly, and
swiftly handing me her panties under the table.  The next time we weren't
seated at a booth, but at a table near the middle of a dimly-lit
continental restaurant.

   "People will see," she hissed.

   "So?"

   "So we'll get kicked out," she said quietly.

   "We'll go somewhere else."

   "I really wanted to eat here.  Wouldn't you be embarrassed?"

   "No," I smiled.  "We don't know any of these people and we'll never see
them again.  If we get caught, they'll tell the staff, who will discretely
ask us to leave, if they or the staff even care.  Maybe two or three people
will know.  Maybe four.  Chances are better that no one will say anything.
They'll be too embarrassed or incredulous to do anything other than wonder
if they saw what they thought they saw."

   She stared at me blankly, then casually looked around.  She shifted to
one side and I imagined what the view must be from the next table as I
pictured her pulling her skirt out from under her.  She hunched and did a
tiny hop in her chair.  I smiled widely knowing that her panties had made
their way to her thighs.

   "Would you like some more tea?" the waiter offered and she jumped, her
knees smacking the table.  He nearly dropped our appetizer in my lap.

   "Sorry," she grimaced at his surprised face.  "You startled me."

   "I'm sorry, ma'am." He looked confused and backed away, forgetting about
the tea.

   Kat watched him go, her face flushed bright red.  "I told you," she
hissed.

   "And I told you.  He had no idea."

   I expected her to stop, but her bare knee briefly appeared at table
level then disappeared again.  She glanced around before her other knee
made a similar appearance.  She studied the medallions of steak au poivre
we had ordered as an appetizer, then slid her tightly-clasped hand slowly
across the table at me.  I covered her hand with mine.  She slowly relaxed
and withdrew, leaving her panties in a moist bunch in my loosely clenched
fist.

   "Wow," I said, squeezing her panties in my hand.

   Kat blushed again and stabbed a medallion with the slender fork the
waiter had left.  We finished our dinner without incident.  Afterward, she
directed me to a dark corner of the parking lot and we fucked in the
backseat.

   After that success, we became bolder.  "Leave your panties at home," I
told her the next time.  She didn't hesitate.  "Scoot your chair back and
spread your legs a little so the waiter can catch a glimpse," I instructed
her the time after that.  She'd protested, but had complied anyway. 
Eventually she left the house in panties only when her cycle arrived.

   Not long after it became normal for her to forego panties, we'd gone to
the movies and I'd told her to remove her skirt and give it to me.  She did
without hesitation.  The next time, emboldened by the sparsely populated
theater, I had her strip naked.  She didn't hesitate, but sunk down to
hide.

   When she realized there was almost no one there, she grew bolder and
eventually sat normally.  We took the exit to the alley after the last
patron left and she waited there while I drove the car around.

   We went to more movies that month than in the rest of our relationship
to that point.  The next time I parked near the alley and she walked, clad
only in heels, to the car, spending several titillating seconds in plain
sight, though no one saw her.  A week later I parked farther away.  Several
days later I parked at the back of the parking lot.

   The parking lot wasn't huge, but was large enough to hold a hundred
cars, maybe more.  At a normal pace, she could cross it in a relatively
short time.  I knew she was nervous.  I watched from the car as she poked
her head around the corner several times, waiting as an overweight man in a
struggling Chicago Bears sweatshirt labored through the parking lot,
munching on the remnants of his popcorn.

   To my surprise, she emerged from the shadowy alley a few seconds later
and nonchalantly started her journey.  My eyes darted between her and the
Bears fan, who seemed oblivious to anything not covered with salt and
butter.

   Until he wasn't.

   For whatever reason, he stopped and turned around, then froze.  She saw
him and maintained her journey without pause, smiling politely.  His
popcorn hit the pavement as his gaze tracked her to the car.  She got in
the car as if everything were normal and we left as she explained that she
could hear movie theater employees bringing trash into the alley.

   "It was either flash one guy who might not even notice me or stand there
in an alley with several people who definitely would," she said.

   "How long did it take you to decide?" I teased.  Her eyes met mine.  I
sensed a snappy remark teetered on the tip of her tongue but something gave
her pause.  To my further surprise, she said nothing and relaxed in her
seat, her fingertips casually drawing circles on the inside of her thigh.

   After the next visit, she stood and waited for the theater employees to
walk into the alley and stood there, waiting until she was sure they'd seen
her before she turned and walked across the parking lot.

   The next month passed at an unsustainable pace.  We met for lunch at The
Roaring Fork and I dared her to give me blowjob in the alley between the
Stephen F.  Austin Intercontinental Hotel and the adjacent parking garage.
I couldn't believe when she did and watched nervously as people strolled by
on the sidewalk not thirty feet from us, completely unawares.

   Despite my nervousness, I came a couple of minutes later.  She stood,
smiling broadly at me, then stopped and the smile disappeared from her
face. I followed her eyes and saw two workers on the loading dock, staring
at us.  She dragged me out of the alley and into the parking garage where
we made a quick getaway.

   To my further surprise, she called me several days later to meet her for
lunch, again at The Roaring Fork, the wicked glee flowing so thickly
through the phone I was nearly choked by it.  As I parked, her text message
told me to look down the alley before going to the restaurant.  My heart
pounded.

   I nearly flew down the stairs to the ground level and skidded to a stop
at the corner.  I peered, slowly, past what used to be the entrance to
Mike's Pub and saw her standing on the other side of a dumpster, chatting
with several men who were standing on the loading dock.  I wondered if she
was setting us up for a repeat performance, but knowingly this time.

   I stepped into the alley, a smile spreading across my face.  One of the
workers saw me and nodded in my direction.  She turned towards me and held
up her hand.  I stopped, confused.  She undid the button on her coat and
shrugged it off.

   She wore only black high heels.

   Blushing at the catcalls and whistles behind her, she struck an
Amazonian pose, feet past shoulder width, fists on her hips.  I stood,
mesmerized.  I wasn't expecting this.  A strange look of triumph on her
face, she jerked her head back, signaling to me to join her.

   Seconds later I fucked her from behind against the side of the dumpster,
while the workers on the dock made lewd remarks.  I slammed into her as
deep as I could go and came.

   "Hey, baby," one of the men said, "Can I be next?"

   I whispered in her ear, still pumping semen into her, "What do you
think? Want to let him have his turn?" Her pussy grew warm and she moaned.
Suddenly struck by inspiration, I added, "Or all three of them?"

   The heat around my cock spiked and I felt her spasming.  "Is that a
'yes?'" I teased and started to withdraw.

   "No way," she hissed, snapping out of her reverie.  A few moments later
she let them watch as she squeezed my remnants onto the concrete in the
alley and, replacing her coat, we headed off to lunch.  She paused as we
rounded the corner and glanced back at them.  I didn't let on that I'd
caught her, but I could barely contain my smile.

   A week later we repeated our performance and she only mildly protested
when the boldest worker, the one who'd commented before, jumped down from
the dock and massaged her breast while I came inside her.  When the others
hopped down, she grabbed her coat and fled, smiling and shaking her head as
she walked briskly away.

   We didn't return to the alley behind the Stephen F.  Austin, but she was
addicted to our public displays.  Next it was the alley behind the movie
theater while the theater employees watched.  We returned until one of them
tried to join in.  She protested, but let him cop his feel, and we didn't
return.

   We moved on to the small side parking lot near Moonlight Grill and
performed for some of the restaurant staff who were on a smoke break.  Same
as before, we returned for repeat performances until one of them decided to
touch her, which she again allowed reluctantly, signaling our final
appearance at Moonshine.

   Next we moved on to the alley behind The Belmont, where a tiny parking
alcove nestled into the back and was hidden by buildings on either side
from all other than those driving through the alley and passing right by.
We parked in the adjacent parking garage, whose exit stairwell let out into
the alley barely 20 feet from the parking alcove.

   On our second repeat performance, I dared her to leave her clothes in
the car.  "The stairwell is always empty and everyone takes the elevator
anyway," I told her.  "If we get caught, the stairwell is right there.  Two
or three seconds away, if even that."

   "If we get..." Her brow furrowed and eyes narrowed.  I wasn't sure if
she was contemplating the consequences or the possibilities.  "I think
it's...safer...taking my coat...with me," she hesitantly concluded, her
mind still somewhere else.

   She stood next to me, looking into my face but not seeing, her fingers
drumming slowly against the bare skin below her collar bone.  I could see
the struggle within, her indecision over carrying one vestige of safety
with her versus letting slip the dogs of war.

   "Give it to me," I finally said, "and turn around.  I'll make the
decision and you won't know if I'm carrying your coat or leaving it
behind."

   "I know what decision you're going to make," she said as she shrugged it
from her shoulders and handed it to me without pause.  She turned and
headed for the stairwell, the echoing click of her heels sounding in sharp
contrast to the chaotic noise of nighttime traffic of downtown Austin.

   I lingered to watch Kat.  After a dozen steady steps and no backwards
glance, she disappeared between two parked cars.  I heard the creaking
stairwell door open, then slam shut a moment later.

   I stood as if rooted, wanting to burn every detail into my memory.  It
was slightly chilly but not uncomfortable, clothes or not.  I could hear
the muffled sounds of music from some band, probably playing at Red Fez. 
It sounded like Ill Camino but, then again, a lot of local bands did. 
Gibson leads and rhythm, fretless bass, seven-piece kit.

   I could smell something glorious wafting up from the street but couldn't
pinpoint it other than it was the smell of searing beef and onions.  It
could be from some rat-trap lunch truck selling the most delicious street
tacos imaginable or it could be from a hundred dollar filet at the
Headliners Club next door.  I couldn't tell.

   It was a vintage late fall evening in Central Texas, the sort that won
over hundreds of thousands of people in the last several years.  Music,
food, drinks, weather, beautiful men and women--for miles.

   And in my own insignificant corner of this false paradise, a tall, lean
exhibitionist, hips swaying as she strode away, the swell of her breasts
visible for nanoseconds as her arms swung, the icy blue pallor of the night
lights on her flawless skin.  I took another deep breath and exhaled
slowly, then started for the stairwell.

   At the bottom I opened the door a tad and peered through the crack.  Kat
was calmly leaning against the brick wall in the alcove across the alley. I
inhaled sharply as a car roared through the alley, but relaxed almost
instantly as it became apparent it wasn't hesitating on its journey between
Lavaca and Guadalupe Streets.

   If it affected Kat, she didn't let on.  I headed through the door,
checking for other oncoming cars, and moved to join her, dropping her coat
inconspicuously near the corner of the brick building.  When she saw me,
she turned and put both hands on the wall, bending at the hips.

   I was hoping we'd have an audience, but there was none.  No busboys on
smoke break.  No kitchen assistants taking out trash.  No waitresses
dashing out to check their texts or e-mail.

   No matter.  I moved behind her and caressed her buttocks.  She shivered
and shifted, arching her back a little.  I moved one hand around between
her legs.  I felt heat emanating from her before I touched her.

   She was soaked, and moaned as I invaded her with one, then two fingers,
and rubbed my knuckle against the hard little nub I found.  I unzipped my
pants and pushed into her, shocked and excited by the heat that suddenly
engulfed my cock.

   We fucked for a few minutes, near orgasm, when she froze and her head
turned to the left.  In the deep shadow at the juncture of the brick
building and the building next to it stood a young man, probably Hispanic
but difficult to see in the pale light, masturbating.

   She relaxed, now somewhat accustomed to fucking in front of an audience.
I stroked into her slowly, making up an excuse in my head that I hadn't
seen him because I was so intent on Kat.

   Her head kept turning towards him and he gradually emerged from the
shadow.  I gestured him over and he reluctantly made the few steps distance
between us.  I reached around and massaged Kat's breast, then nodded at
him. He reached for it haltingly, then cautiously put his hand on it,
moving slowly and gently.  I felt the heat between Kat's legs spike and a
moan escaped her lips.

   The young man massaged her breast in earnest and I noticed his hand was
still on his cock.  I took Kat's left arm and moved it down toward his
manhood.  She froze when her hand nudged him, but she quickly relaxed and
permitted him to massage himself against her hand.  A few moments later,
she began stroking him.

   My own motions slowed as I watched her jerk him off.  I stepped back and
came free from her.  He reached for her buttocks, then stopped and looked
at me.  I nodded again.  He massaged her breast with his left hand and her
ass with his right, while she stroked him.  I silently pulled my phone out
of my pocket and opened the camera app.

   As I took a video, I noticed his right hand was making broader and
broader sweeps until he was brushing closer to the inside of Kat's thigh.
He looked at me again.  She wasn't hesitating, so I shrugged.  His hand
immediately went between her legs.  Her knees buckled.  My cock was rock
hard.  I'd never seen her let anyone go this far before.  Sometimes she let
one or two of them feel her breasts, but that was where it stopped.

   She moaned while his hand worked.  Her moisture glistened on the insides
of her thighs, all the way to her knees.  Moments later I held my breath as
he moved behind her.  Her left hand returned to its place on the wall and
she arched her back again, presenting her sex to him.  As if shocked by
what she'd done, she froze and looked over her shoulder.  Her mouth hung
open and she breathed heavily.

   He looked back at me and I shrugged again.  She moaned loudly as he
pushed into her.  She began shaking almost immediately.  She threw her head
back as he pounded into her as fast as he could, the slapping sounds of his
thighs against hers echoing around us in the small alcove.  Seconds later
he thrust into her and groaned.  She made odd choking sounds, like she was
struggling for breath and her head slumped forward as she shook again.

   The young man quickly pulled out of her and, looking guilty of
something, disappeared through the back door to the restaurant.  The door
had barely closed as I propelled myself into her and came.

   We stood there, locked together, and heaving for air.  It didn't take
long before she came to her senses and whispered, "We have to get out of
here." We made the corner and I was wrapping her coat around her as the
kitchen door opened and several men appeared.  I smiled and waved as we
disappeared into the stairwell.

   Other than her asking me to hand her a box of Kleenex, we drove home in
silence.  When we arrived she got out without a word and disappeared, her
coat and clothes falling onto the garage floor in a heap.

   Still dizzy from what had just taken place, I moved in slow motion
collecting her things, walked slowly into the house, and draped her clothes
neatly over the back of the sofa.  I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my
socks with my toes, looking after where she might have gone.  The hallway
was dark and uninterrupted by light from any source--not the master bedroom
or bathroom or any other room or window shed even a sliver of light into
the blackness.

   I stared into the abyss, still gathering my thoughts, then went to the
liquor cabinet and mechanically grabbed a bottle of Aberlour A'bunadh.  I
needed something stout.  I poured a couple ounces and headed for the
balcony.

   There I stared through the trees at downtown Austin.  I could pick out
the building where Headliners Club was, marking the precise area where the
night's events had taken place.

   I sipped, and the cask-strength scotch burned my nose and mouth, as cold
from the ravine crept through the floorboards beneath my bare feet. 
Halfway through my drink I wondered if I should be worried about Kat and
instantly felt guilty that it had taken me nearly an hour from the time we
escaped the alley to finally think of her mental well-being.

   I shivered at the cold seeping into my bones and shook off my guilt. 
She'd frozen momentarily, but there'd been no hesitation, no protest, no
flight from temptation.  She had every opportunity to refuse, I convinced
myself, and hadn't.  And when the time came, she...

   She had a near-instantaneous earth-moving orgasm.

   I frowned and Kent suddenly flashed through my head.  I shook it off
immediately.  I wasn't Kent.  She had orgasms with me.  I was Patrick in
this equation.  Her anonymous partner was Kent.

   But she'd orgasmed.  She never did that with Kent.  It took me another
half hour to finish the scotch and almost that amount of time to decide
that this was uncharted territory.  I was neither Patrick nor Kent.  This
was wholly new.

   I stole into the house and cautiously put the tumbler on the hard, cold
granite at the pass-through to the kitchen.  I padded quietly down the dark
hallway and stood in the doorway of the master.  It took a bit for my eyes
to adjust, but I quickly realized she was the lump in the bed.  I could
hear her rhythmic breathing and knew she was asleep.

   I retreated, retrieved my glass, and poured another ounce of Aberlour. I
headed for the balcony again and closed the door behind me.  I banged the
phone in my pocket against the baluster and quickly retrieved it.  I'd
completely forgotten about the video.

   I watched it with the volume subdued, ecstatic at how clear the video
was.  I could see the glistening of her thighs, see him sawing his fingers
into her, see the flexing of his buttocks as he pounded into her.

   I ventured to turn the volume up a bit more.  I hadn't realized how loud
she had been.  Her moans were distinctly audible, even at low volumes.  I
marveled at her orgasm, at how her legs shook.  And I hadn't realized I'd
left the video going when I'd thrown myself into her.  I'd crushed my phone
against her side so it showed nothing, but I could hear her.

   I tracked backwards and put the speaker against my ear.  "'More?'" I
whispered.  I tracked back again.  'More.' She was clearly saying 'more.'

   Jesus.  I watched the video at least two dozen more times and ultimately
set my scotch down to masturbate on the balcony.  I sat up for another
hour, thinking, before I finally joined her in the bedroom.

   The next morning we said nothing of the night before.  She followed her
normal routine, lounging about in her panties and one of my t-shirts while
she watched Sunday Morning, ate half a salted grapefruit, then granola over
honeyed Greek yogurt, and drank strong, black coffee.

   I sat at the kitchen bar and watched her while I read the Austin
American-Statesman, responding occasionally when she mentioned something
about the piece she was watching.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

   The week that followed was just as pedestrian.  No clandestine
performances at lunchtime or after dinner.  No movies and, therefore, no
nude walks across the parking lot.  I wondered if we'd reached the summit
of our adventures and resolved to be neither pushy for more nor sad that
the adventure had ended.  It happened.  I had a video memento.  My
curiosity was partially sated.

   When I arrived home from work that Friday, she was standing in the
middle of the living room, legs apart, hands on hips, her woolen overcoat
draped about her.  Aside from black stiletto heels, she wore nothing else.
Her firm breasts stood at attention.

   "Ready?" she asked.  "I thought we might eat at Wink and then, who
knows, maybe The Belmont afterwards?" I stumbled backwards through the door
to the garage, Kat striding towards me.

   Over dinner, she spoke about nothing singular--her day, her dismay that
rush hour now started at 3 o'clock, her refusal to believe that Whole Foods
had sold out to Amazon.  I would have thought it a normal dinner date had I
not otherwise known she was wearing nothing beneath her coat.

   After dinner we parked in the garage.  "Get your phone out," she
commanded.  She left her coat in the car and headed for the stairwell. 
"Are you getting this?" she asked.  I nodded and followed as she, walked
down a couple flights of stairs and across the alley into the alcove behind
The Belmont completely nude.  I didn't comment, so intent was I to see what
was going to happen.

   She put her hands on the brick wall, set her feet apart, and arched her
back.  She looked directly at my phone.  "Fuck me," she commanded.  I moved
to her and felt her.  She was soaking.  I unzipped and quickly stabbed into
her.

   She moaned whorishly.  "Oh, daddy, I need you to fuck me!" I felt her
reach between her legs and massage my balls.  "Fuck me, daddy!  Fuck me!  I
need your come inside my pussy!  Fill me up with your come!"

   Suddenly she stopped and looked to our left.  She beckoned and the same
young man from the previous weekend emerged from the shadows.  He casually
walked over to us, saying nothing.  She looked back at me and chided,
"Don't stop!"

   He stepped to her and roughly grabbed her breast.  I felt her pussy
spasm around my cock.  He manhandled her for a few moments, then stood
there hands on hips, an arrogant air about him.  She reached and unzipped
his pants, pulled out his cock, and, to my surprise, bent over and took him
in her mouth.  I came instantly and his cock fell from her mouth with an
audible 'pop' as she inhaled sharply and shuddered.

   When I was finished, I stepped back from her and he took my place.  She
orgasmed as he entered her, and then again when he came.  When he pulled
out of her, she turned and went to her knees.  She took him in her mouth
and cleaned him off, gazing at my phone as she stuck her tongue out and
coaxed the last drop of come out of him.  The whole experience lasted maybe
four or five minutes.

   As she tapped his cock on her face and gazed up at him, the door to The
Belmont kitchen opened.  I'm not sure what I expected, but I was mildly
confused when she abruptly stood, grabbed her coat, and disappeared into
the stairwell.

   The young man gave the two men who'd appeared in the doorway a huge
smile and two thumbs up before pushing past them.  They stared at me in
surprise.  I smirked and walked out of the alley toward the sidewalk.

   The next night Kat wanted me to blindfold her and tie her to the balcony
handrail with her legs spread obscenely far apart.  She told me to leave
her there, but to come outside randomly to fuck her for a few seconds
before walking away.

   She orgasmed on my third return trip, then orgasmed each time after over
the course of a half hour.  When I untied her she was exhausted.  I carried
her to the bed and she dozed off immediately.

   The next morning she had her breakfast and watched Sunday Morning as she
always did.  We still didn't talk about our experiences.  It went that way
for two more weekends--fucking me and then the young man at The Belmont,
then fucking at home on the balcony--before we made another quantum leap.

   *****

   We neared the video booths and I could feel her shaking with excitement.
I saw men loitering amongst the toys, magazines, and DVDs, watching us as
we made our way through the store.  I thought back to the previous weekend,
when I'd had the stroke of genius to bring the blindfold with us to the
alcove.

   When Kat leaned up against the wall, I approached her as I usually did,
but this time quickly positioned the blindfold over her eyes.  I felt her
back straighten, but she said nothing and kept her hands on the wall.

   I teased her like I had on the balcony--entering from behind and fucking
her for a brief time before backing away.  When our alcove friend appeared
I motioned for him to be quiet and pointed to the blindfold.  I jerked my
head toward the door.  He stood there for a few moments, confused, then his
eyes brightened and he disappeared into the kitchen.

   He returned with three men.  I wasn't sure if they were the ones who'd
almost caught us twice before, but it didn't matter.  When they saw
beautiful, naked, blindfolded Kat, legs spread and ass gyrating in the air
with her hands on the wall, they understood.  I returned to her and entered
her again.  She felt the young man's hands on her and moaned.  Then she
felt another set of hands on her and she gasped.  She shuddered as she
exhaled and after a few more strokes, orgasmed.

   I pulled out of her and took a step back, gesturing to one of the other
men.  He didn't hesitate, quickly moving behind her and fucking into her
for all he was worth.  He lasted maybe half a minute and she moaned loudly
as he came inside her.

   The next man needed no prodding and quickly stepped in.  He didn't last
long either.  The young man followed and lasted longer, but still took only
a couple of minutes.

   The last, a much shorter man, stepped behind her and kicked at her feet,
forcing Kat's legs farther apart.  When he was satisfied, he plowed into
her and fucked her in deep, severe strokes, burying himself as far inside
her as he could go before pulling out and plunging into her again.  He
lasted the longest, and grunted loudly when he came, pushing into her so
hard that she lifted up onto the balls of her feet.

   All of the men had their cell phones out and were taking pictures or
videoing Kat's performance.  After the short man pulled out and wiped his
cock on Kat's ass, I stepped behind her and fucked her viciously.  She came
as I flooded her insides.  I stepped back to admire my handy work as thick
globules of semen slid from her red, gaping hole.

   The first man stepped forward with his phone, then, to my surprise,
pulled his cock out and fucked her again.  When he was done, Kat slumped
against the wall, her knees collapsing.  I signaled to the other men that
she'd had enough and covered her with her coat.  We headed for the
stairwell.

   In the car, she left the blindfold on, then reached between her legs and
evaluated the sticky mess.  "Oh, my God," she sobbed.  "How many?"

   "Four plus me," I quietly replied, somewhat taken aback at her reaction
given how she'd acted in the alcove.  "One of them fucked you twice.  Are
you okay?"

   "Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!" she continued.  "I don't...I don't--" To my
surprise, Kat started shaking, then moaned loudly and convulsed.

   "Did you...did you just...orgasm?"

   She was breathing heavily.  "I...think...I don't know what just
happened." She slumped and stared out the window while I drove us home.  I
had some idea what was going on her head and left her to her thoughts.

   As we pulled into the garage, she suddenly jerked upright.  "Did
you...did you take a video of...did you get a video?"

   "Yes."

   Her lips parted slightly and her chest flushed red.  She breathed
deeply, then removed her blindfold.  "I want to watch it," she exhaled. 
With some trepidation I opened the video on my phone and handed it over. 
She watched, her mouth ajar.  It seemed like it had taken longer, but the
whole thing was over in barely seven or eight minutes.  She watched it
again.

   "Can you put it on the TV?"

   "I don't know.  Probably." I thought for a moment.  "Yes."

   It didn't take long before we were in the living room watching Kat's
performance.  She watch it three more times before abruptly standing and
heading to the bedroom.  I waited a few minutes and, when it was apparent
she wasn't returning, followed after her.  She was sitting at the edge of
the bed, legs spread, one hand between them.  She looked up at me.

   "I need to clean up.  I've never had this many...this much...inside me."
She sat there unmoving, staring at me.

   "Are you okay?"

   "I don't know," she said wistfully.  "Part of me is disgusted." She
paused.

   "And the other part?" I prodded.

   She whispered, "The other part wishes there had been more."

   I picked her up and took her into the shower, washed her, dried her, and
carried her to the bed.  She curled up and went to sleep immediately.

   When I awoke the next morning, I found her sitting on the balcony
wrapped in a throw, drinking coffee and staring over the hills at downtown
Austin in the distance.  No Sunday Morning.  I went outside, worried,
expecting to see tears and regret on her face.  Instead, she was smiling.

   We made small talk about the weather, the view of downtown she'd never
taken the time to enjoy before, and the sound of the creek below running
towards the Colorado River.

   "Not watching Sunday Morning?"

   "Mmm...no.  Not really interested today."

   "Hungry?"

   "Famished."

   "Grapefr--"

   "Can you make a Denver omelette?"

   "Of course."

   Her gaze turned back to downtown, a contented smile on her face.  The
day passed normally, but that night she insisted we return to the alcove
where she fucked the same four men plus two newcomers while I took a video,
then begged me to fuck her ass.

   "I want more," she'd told me on the way home.

   "You know," I ventured, "in the last 24 hours you've doubled the number
of men you've slept with."

   She sat without responding, the only sound the low noise of Lake Austin
Boulevard humming beneath the car as we approached our turn at Red Bud
Trail.
   "Let's double it again," she said quietly.  "How do I do that?"