popped his slick dong out of my mouth with a champaigne cork pop. What's this? Smiling, the redhead's rolling a greased rubber onto the thing. And..... she's got a dish, a saucer in her hand with some kind of course white powder. It looks like salt? She's rolling the dick in the thing like some kind of pastry, basting the hot meat before slipping it back into my oven..

Again, I look up into his face. Eyes closed, arteries pounding under sweat flecked temples, the guy's working at holding back. The thing's bouncing in front of me again, each swing a magnified pulse beat. Holy cow! I've not closed my lips during all of this! A push at my nape and the thing's slid home again, this time encased in a slick skin basted in salt. It was salt. I'm sucking an engorged salted sausage.

He explodes like a snake bringing up a recently eaten mouse. Gobs of throat. "Uhh, gah ta stah. sperm are ramming into the balloon deep in my

Pleeez Stah!" Oh please stop. I'll drown. I'll suffocate. Oh I can't pull away, the thing will break, he'll coat me with the stuff, I'll have to drink it down. It's awful.

Super Slut the Party Animal, caped, booted, blonded and kneeling to give Super Head. No way my arms will budge, no way I can pull off this rod until it's all done. And as soon as this meal's down, there's another growing hard beside me. They're getting their revenge on three men at once for the way things are and I'm the helpless tool. As my earring catches the glimmering lights, I see Camilla taking pictures of Super Slut at feed, and I can only hope that this is the last meal I'll have to eat before this thing's over. And the salt's getting me so thirsty.

Dancing With A Loon

When the thing gets limp it's popped out, and another salted rod's slipped through my cherry lips. My mouth's dry, but beneath the salt this condom's also oily and slick. It lubricates without satisfying my parched tissues. I give it all the experience of the first. I do things that only a man could know will work. I suck and blow and lick that thing like I want to be suckled. And it rewards me with another enormous explosion, the second to fill my virgin throat tonight.

Both men are recycled, aroused and both given another successfull salt lick in my mouth. Each time the rubbers are collected and removed. There must be about two full ounces of stuff sitting somewhere in soiled skins.

Finally I'm lifted shakily to my high heels and walked as best as possible with the spreader to the bathroom by my giggling captors. The mirror shows a sexy slut with makeup and hair askew. Her Super Slut costume is scanty enough to hide behind a match, but it's stretched to straining over her rich full curves.

While they repair my face I'm given new directions, and they're horrible. Yet the way Camilla tells me, it all seems so...... so attactive.

Returning I ask the biggest guy to dance. An old standard's on the machine, 'Misty', so slow and suggestive of romance. Together we try to dance but arms bound so tightly that my breasts stick out miles, and spreader bar still in place, all I can do is lay against him as he moves. So I follow his lead and plead for something to drink that will ease my salted lips.

Begging For a Drink

"Please get me a drink of something. Please. I'll do anything, but all of that salt and the heat I've got to have something to drink. Anything, especially if it's cold. Look," I say, wriggling my boobs into his chest. "I'll really respond like you can't imagine if only I can get a little something to drink."

At the end of this, I flop down onto the couch again, looking for some kind of release, anything. But while we were up, they brought things. On the coffe table in front sat the blender, ice, tequila, Tripple Sec, some lime juice, a bottle of Kayro syrup, some grenadine and four soiled condoms, their tips bulging with white/green fluid.

The condoms are emptied into a shot glass and fill the thing tight. This is spooned into the blender's beaker. Next two shots of lime juice, four of Tripple Sec and eight of tequila. Finally three egg whites are dropped in along with some Kayro and a splash of grenadine. With the blender on high mix, a cup of ice is worked in as well. About twenty ounces of cool frosty frappe' is being whipped up and, in spite of the sperm, my burning taste buds want the stuff, yearn for it.

"Beg them!" Camilla whispers to me from behind the couch. "Beg them to feed it to you."

"Please. Oh won't you please let me drink that. I'm so thirsty."

"Thirsty for what Baby?" The biggest guy asks through a leer. "Tell me exactly what you want. Talk dirty, Whore!" As he speaks he's pouring the pink froth into a tall glass. It moves like mollasses. Whipped, icy, mollasses.

Describing Every Droplet

I lean his way, licking my parched lips, "Let me drink your sperm. I want to taste it. To see how it mixes with the other guy's. I want to feel it coat my teeth and throat. Won't you please hold if for me?"