Ten Men

Hello, my lovely, this is Roxy Callahan and welcome to season two of Choose, the Erotic Podcast, where you get to decide what happens next. You wake with a director's final choice echoing in your mind, a stark, explicit fork in the road bukaki or a gang bang. Lying in your bed, you let your mind drift to the first option, Bukacki. At first, the word itself conjures not just a sense of messiness, but a feeling of being drowned. Come in your nose, in your eyes, and just covering you. It feels overwhelming. But as you push past the initial reaction, a different picture forms. You imagine the feeling of it. The shocking, almost searing heat of a man's orgasm as it hits your skin, the thick scent, the surrender of being a destination for their pleasure. There's a strange, undeniable erotic charge to the idea of feeling their orgasmic heat on your face, on your breasts, your stomach. It would lack a deep connection, though you could look up and see the man's eyes as he comes, see the pleasure contort his face, But you would be an ornament, a place for him to leave has come. Then you consider the other alternative, a ten man gang bang. The phrase itself has a somewhat impersonal, almost industrial feel, an assembly line of cocks. Could that truly be erotic? But then you think about the dynamic of it. Ten men waiting not just for anyone, but waiting to fuck you, lining up for the privilege. The sheer, crushing weight of that much desire all focused on you is an intoxicating thought. It's a kind of power you've never imagined. You let your thoughts linger on the actual sensation. What would it really be like to feel ten different cocks inside your pussy, one after the other. Would you be able to tell the difference, the subtle variations in size and girth, and the texture of the head, the angle of the curve, would they be rough gentle? Would they fuck you fast or slow? And the biggest question of all, would they come inside you? What were the rules of this ritual? A hot, liquid thrill runs through you. This is the way to go the questions. The unknowns aren't scary anymore, they're intoxicating. The BOOKACKI is a painting. The gang bang is an immersive experience. You want to be immersed you find the director in his office, and he seems to know your decision before you even speak. I have some questions about the gang. He simply nods, waiting the men. Do they finish? Of course, each man fucks you until he comes. Your breath catches in your throat, And where do they come for the first time? His answer is truly shocking, strioping away any pretensive control you might have imagined. That is up to him inside you, on your ass, shot onto your back. You are there to be on your hands and knees and get fucked. Your only role is to receive. He let the words sink in his gaze on wavering. There's no negotiation, no room for preference. It's an act of total, absolute surrender to the desire of others. Are you ready, Goddess? A shiver runs through you, a potent cocktail of terror and ecstasy. There is only one possible answer, yes, he smiles. Then go to the Sunstone Room. They will join you shortly. You walk into the Sunstone Room and your breath catches in your throat. The room is simple, dominated by a low, wide bed covered in a plain white sheet. It's silent and empty save for a single figure standing near the bed the director's assistant. A cold knot of dreadforms in your stomach. Her presence here, in this most vulnerable of moments, feels like a violation. She looks up from a clipboard, her expression unreadable. Get undressed and get on your hands and knees. You shed your clothes, shooting a glance at the assistant, who stares at you, her face unreadable. Your body trembles slightly, though not with fear. As you are about to climb onto the bed, she tosses a small plastic bottle at you. It's lube. Unless you're sopping wet already, you'll need it for the first one. A smirk finally through her professional facade. But trust me, he won't need it after that. She gives a wicked little grin and steps back, leaning against the wall to watch. You're not happy about her being there, but you rationalize that it must be for your safety, a chaperone in this temple of depravity. You crawl onto the bed, assume the position, and hear her walk to the door and open it. The first man enters and approaches the bed with a quiet confidence, A short, barrel chested man who looks like he works with his hands. He doesn't say a word, simply positions himself behind you. You feel the blunt, warm head of his cock pressed against you, and then, with a single smooth motion, he is inside. The shock of the first penetration is electric, a jolt that travels from your pussy straight to the base of your skull, Erasing all thought, you close your eyes, committed to the feeling, the knowing, the experience of each man. His style is steady as his approach. He grips your hips firmly, his calloused hands a grounding presence, and begins to fuck you with a powerful metronomic rhythm. There's no variation, no change in pace, just a relentless, deep stroking that sets the tone for the entire experience. You lose yourself in the motion, your body becoming a simple instrument of pleasure, rising and falling with his every thrust. He is establishing the foundation, teaching your body the language of the ordeal to come. You feel his balls tightened against you, a telltale sign of his approaching climax. He lets out a low grunt, his rhythm quickening for just a few final plunging thrusts. The orgasm that follows is a profound beginning, a warm, wet shock that floods you with the first offering of the day. He pulls out, slowly, deliberately, and without a single word or a backward glance. He walks out of the room. As you wait, You take it all in. It was nice, pleasant, but not entirely erotic or enough to raise your heart rate? Is that odd? You think a man just fucked you and paym inside you, and you're not even turned on enough to call it foreplay. The door opens again and you look over your shoulder. The next man enters, a ponchy, middle aged man with a kind face that belies the determined look in his eyes. His cock is incredibly thick, and as he lubricates himself with what's left of your wetness, he braces for his entry. He pushes his way inside you slowly, and the sensation is a searing combination of pain and overwhelming pleasure. You have never been fucked by a man near this thick, and you casp as you feel yourself stretched to your absolute limit, a feeling that is both terrifying and thrillingly obscene. Once he's fully inside you, he begins to move with a slow, grinding purpose. This is not about speed, It's about presence. He wants you to feel every inch of his massively thick cock, the full stretching pressure of his girth. With every rotation of his hips, you feel muscles you didn't know you had, clenching and unclenching around him, your body struggling to accommodate this impossible size. The pleasure is deep, overwhelming, a pressure that builds from the inside out. You close your eyes and just absorb the feeling. It's like every part of your pussy is being stroked by his cock, and his sensation is extraordinary. His orgasm is a deep, shuddering affair. He groans your name, or perhaps just unname, a prayer to the Goddess of pleasure as he begins to come. The release feels like it feels every possible interior space, a tense, heavy load that makes your pussy contract greedily d inside you for a long moment, pulsing before withdrawing. The feeling of emptiness he leaves behind is profound. Before you can recover, the tor swings open and a lanky college aged kid is there, vibrating with a nervous almost frantic energy. He practically leaps onto the bed, grabbing your hips with a surprising, almost bruising strength. He fumbles for a moment, his excitement palpable, and then he is inside you, a blur of motion and raw, desperate need. There's no finesse, no rhythm, only a hard, fast fucking that is purely primal. He hammers into you, his breathing, ragged, his body a conduit for a desperate, youthful need that is shockingly infectious. You meet his frantic energy with your own, bucking back against him, your mind a white hot blank of pure sensation. It's over almost as quickly as it began, a frantic, explosive encounter that leaves you breathless. Just as you feel him about to come, he pulls out. The feeling of his hot loads splashing across the small of your back is a shocking contrast to the interior heat of his fucking. You shiver as his seed begins to cool on your skin, a sticky testament to his raw, untamed pleasure. He stumbles off the bed and is gone. The almost clinical feeling you had for the first man is completely gone. Your pussy has swollen and ready for more. You're ready for more. The raw, primal excitement of the college kid filled you with your own excitement and is coming on your back, somehow fueled the need for more. And with that thought, another cock enters the room. The man who enters is thin, older, with gray at his temples. As he positions himself, you immediately notice that his dick is smaller than the others. The initial entry is almost a relief after the last few men, a gentle slide into your now well used pussy. There's no stretching, no struggle, just an easy acceptance. He makes up for his lack of size with incredible stamina. He begins to fuck you with a rapid, piston like rhythm, his lean body working with a surprising intensity. He knows what he's doing and angles his cock so that as he grinds into you, he hits your clip with every stroke, a targeted, relentless friction that soon has you moaning. The intensity of his effort is shockingly pleasurable. A different kind of stimulation that attacks you from the outside. In His orgasm is a quiet, shuddering release. You feel his load inside you, a warm punctuation mark that feels almost delicate compared to the others. He paints softly for a moment before he pulls out and leaves as quietly as he arrived. A man with a confident swagger enters next. He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes locking on your reflection in a darkened window before he approaches the bed. He enters you slowly with an almost torturous deliberation, sliding in just a few inches before pulling all the way out, a wicked smile playing on his lips. His entire method is a maddening, exquisite torture. He fucks you with a slow, deliberate rhythm, alternating between shallow, teasing strokes that barely enter you and sudden, deep drives that leave you gasping. He has you bucking back against him, whining and begging for more, completely at the mercy of his whim. He is playing you like an instrument, and you are singing for him. When he's finally ready, he pulls out, but he doesn't come on you immediately. He takes his time, stroking his cock as he looks over your body. Choosing his target, he aims carefully, then releases a thick, hot stripe of cum right in the crack of your ass. The feeling of it, so specific and targeted, is a final, masterful touch. By now you are a slick, used thing. The sixth man enters, a man of average build and appearance. He slides into you easily. You're pussy now, a welcoming wet cavern. There's no struggle, only a smooth, slick glide. As he settles deep inside you. His rhythm is steady and unremarkable, almost perfunctory. You realize that with this man, the focus isn't on the style of his fucking, but on the inevitable result. He's a conduit, a delivery system for what is to come. He builds his pleasure with a workmanlike efficiency. His thrusts deep and regular. All he wants is to come, and he's going to get there as fast as he can. His orgasm is anything but average. When he comes, he floods you with what feels like an impossible amount of come. You feel his hot seed mixed with the others already inside you, a warm, heavy pulling inside you that feels both obscene and deeply, profoundly sading. He has topped you off, filling you to the absolute brim. The seventh man is long and lean, and you feel the difference in his length the moment he enters you are completely drenched income but the men don't care. All it does is make it easier to slide inside you. This man uses that to the utmost advantage, his long cock finding its way to your deepest places. Just as the thick man was the thickest cock you've ever experienced, this man is by far the longest. He seems to go on forever, and with every powerful thrust he hits your cervix, sending bolts of shocking pleasure and pain deep into your core. It's an internal bruising that feels exquisite, a pleasure so intense it overwhelms the pain. He seems to know exactly what he's doing, targeting that deep hidden spot with every single stroke. You cry out as he drives into you again and again, pleasure so overwhelming it's almost unbearable. You are being fucked not just in your pussy, but in the very center of your being. He pulls out as he comes, and his orgasm is as long and deep as his cock. He coats your now comes slipped back with another thick, hot layer the fresh seed mingling with the cooling load from the third man. You are being painted inside and out. The eighth man is a force of nature. He enters with a grunt, all sweat and muscle, and mounts you immediately. There's no preamble, no gentle entry, just a powerful shove, and he's inside you, thick and hot. He fucks you like a man possessed. His rhythm is chaotic and powerful, and with each thrust he slaps your ass, his hand, leaving a stinging red print that only serves the height in your arousal. His all guttural sounds and animalistic grunts, fucking you with a raw, primal energy that speaks to something deep and untamed within you. His orgasm is a roar that seems to shake the room. He comes all over your ass, cheeks, his seed mixing with the cooling cum already there, creating a messy, sticky, glorious tableau of his pleasure. He collapses on you for a moment, panting, before pulling himself off and stumbling out of the room. By the time the knife manners your slick inside and out, the bed sheets beneath you are damp and a small puddle of cumb is forming. He has to be careful that the slip as he positions himself behind you, his cock already slick with the seed of the men who came before the moment he begins to fuck you. It starts with every single thrust, a bit of cum is forced out of your overfull pussy, a constant, undeniable reminder of how thoroughly you're being used. He fucks you with a steady, relentless rhythm, and with each stroke, the warm trickle down your inner thighs grows. You're not just being filled, You're now overflowing. You're no longer a witness, as the unique experience of being fucked with cum pushing out of your pussy totally focuses your mind on the raw pleasure of it all. Your orgasm starts to build. His own orgasm is the final straw. He adds his massive load to the mix, and the damn breaks completely. The slow leak becomes a steady stream, a warm, sticky river of cum flowing out of you and down your legs, pulling on the white sheets. It's a feeling of utter, complete saturation. The final man enters. He's a strong steady presence, and as he approaches he feels like the culmination of the entire experience. He enters you with a single smooth thrust, his cock sliding through the slickness as if it were made for you. He fucks you with a deep, knowing rhythm, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive strength. He seems to understand exactly what you need, driving you higher and higher, pushing you towards the edge of a full body orgasm you've been holding back. He's the final punctuation, the signature on the masterpiece of your surrender. As he pours his final hot load deep inside you, your own orgasm hits. It's a tidal wave of pleasure that rips through you, a full body seizure of ecstasy. As you scream into the sheets, the river of cum flowing down your legs becomes a constant, warm flood. You collapse completely, utterly and divinely spent. You lie there for a long moment in a quiet room, a messy, beautiful wreck. You hear a sound and look up. The assistant walks over and throws a clean white towel onto the bed beside you. She looks you over from your comb streaked back to the puddle seed on the sheets beneath you, and for the first time, her smile seems genuine, almost admiring. She winks that was hot. She turns and leaves you alone in the room. You feel a profound sense of peace as you sit across from the director, a comfortable looseness in your limbs, and a quiet hum of power under your skin. The soreness is a dull, pleasant ache, a physical reminder of your triumph. That was elemental. You can't even find the words to describe it. It wasn't just about the sex. It was the sensation of being the focal point of that much raw desire to take it all, to absorb it. It was the most powerful I've ever felt. Every cock was different, every moment was something new. My orgasm started the moment I walked into the room and ended with ten loads of come on or inside me. The Director's eyes gleam with pride. And how do you feel now? A little sore? You let out a short, genuine lene. Okay, a ladsword, He smiles warmly. The feeling of a goddess's muscles after a worthy trial. You've learned to receive worship. Now you must learn to consciously give your gift. The next step is about embracing the giving of the goddess, to understand that your body is a font of pleasure for your worshippers. Will your gift be a personal one where you are seen and revered in a room full of faces, or will it be an anonymous one where you are a pure, selfless conduit of pleasure. Your choice is to be the free use gift at a private staff party, available to anyone who desires you in any way they like, or you will service the community gloryhole for the evening. The choice is yours.