The other men are too spellbound to speak, but the American still has mastery of his vocal cords. ‘Are you getting good and wet for me, honey?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I’ve got a nice thick cock for you, gonna ride you good. You better have those legs spread wide.’
I part my trembling flanks for him. I know he can see my hand, bunched inside the tiny lacy knickers, working.
‘You like to get fucked by strangers, honey?’
‘I love it.’
I’m outside myself now, fully in my zone. I can’t wait for him to mount and push his big fat American cock up inside me.
‘This is one hot bitch,’ says the younger man admiringly. ‘I’m going to see I win the next hand.’
‘You better make sure you’re big enough to handle her, son, cos she’s getting stretched.’
The American backs up his words as soon as the condom snaps on.
He pulls my hand roughly from the G-string and pushes the gusset to one side, sinking himself in my cunt with one rough stroke.
‘Oh yeah,’ he purrs. ‘Good and tight. A real hot little pussy here. You like that, honey?’
‘Mmm, so full.’
‘Right. Now hold on tight, sweetheart, cos I’m gonna pound you. Real. Hard.’
His big hands settle on my hips, then he makes good his promise, pulling halfway out then slamming me against the table. Luckily, it’s a gaming table with a smooth padded rim or there’d be bruises for sure.
He bangs me – there’s no other way to put it – brutally and fast, lifting my feet from the floor with the force of each thrust.
‘She’s getting it,’ says the Cabinet minister admiringly.
‘She’s loving it,’ says the younger man. ‘Look at her. She’s in a trance.’
I want to shove my hand back down my knickers, but I need both hands to keep me anchored to the table while the American gives me one of the most punishing fucks of my life. I want to touch my clit, want to get myself off, but he’s not interested in me, or my pleasure.
Lloyd would be angling his cock so that it swept over my G-spot, or stroked my clit on the way out.
This man has no such consideration.
He comes in ten hard thrusts, grunting and pinning me to the table until I can’t breathe. When he releases me, my legs feel numb for a moment and I flop into a semi-crouch, hanging on to the padded edge.
The American falls back into his chair, puffing mightily. ‘That’s how a man fucks,’ he claims. ‘She can’t even stand.’
I know it was all grandstanding for the benefit of the other men, and I ought to feel affronted, but I just feel relieved to have ticked another box on the challenge sheet. Two down. Two to go, then the spending-the-night thing. I hope it’s not with him. Actually, if it’s him, I might well concede.
I pick myself up. The G-string rubs a little painfully against my swollen pussy lips. I turn to stagger back to my chair, but the American clears his throat. ‘Forgetting something?’
I shimmy off the tiny ruffled skirt, leaving me in underwear only. I risk the briefest of glances at Lloyd. He is getting something down off a shelf. Did he watch? Or did he turn his back for the duration?
The third winner is the Cabinet minister, who goes for a blow job. He is neither especially well endowed nor demanding and in a way it’s quite peaceful to just bathe him with my tongue while he lies back and sighs and the others talk about investments and world banking.
Once he has come, I swallow it down and remove my basque, returning to the chair in just suspenders, stockings and G-string.
Only the evil-faced one has not had some part of me yet. I wonder if I’ll get away without having to service him. Maybe the American will win again. The Cabinet minister might be OK to spend the night with. He seems pretty reasonable. The Russian seems more of an unknown quantity and the younger guy … just no. I just don’t like him.
Standing on the chair in just the scantiest of wisps, I feel cold, my nipples standing painfully erect. I hear Lloyd clattering glasses and I can’t stop myself from twisting my neck in his direction.