“You look nice,” she said to an older man, not much better looking than the man whose wife I had just kissed, “Let me taste you.”
He leaned in and kissed her, swapping tongues. The man had no right to be within fifty feet of a woman like her, and he knew it. The whole horde of them thought they’d found the honeypot.
“Mmmm, you taste nice,” she purred, then laughing seductively. He tucked a finger into her dress and pulled it down. Her tit slowly slid out, and she made wide eyes coupled with giggle, as if it was a happy accident.
This brought on the horde like nothing else. The dicks started coming out. Grown men were hypnotized and jerking themselves to the scene while their dejected wives and girlfriends could only look on, feeling every crack in their self esteem shatter. I don’t know if my daughter knew what she was doing. At any moment the scene could collapse into anarchy. Maybe it needed to happen to her. Sometimes the only way to teach a lesson to the naive is to let them get slapped in the face.
Hands, a web of hands, reaching from the circle, gropped her exposed tit. She leaned back and kissed another stranger, moaning, making eye contact, smiling and putting them under her spell.
Connections, as the older woman had called it. Feelings.
One of the younger men took her nipple in her mouth, driving off the competition. His hand went up her stocking-clad legs and touched her womanhood. Another strange hand came out of the group as the circle around her got smaller, pulling down her dress, leaving the other breast free. She closed her eyes and submitted as another man lifted her by her ass. The hands kept coming, groping. She laid back into a man’s arms and another man’s cock was jerking relentlessly, ready to spray its seed on her dress. As she asked to taste another stranger, the cock exploded, putting a line of cum along the material. She barely flinched. She sunk further back, and if the man behind her let go, she would fall to the floor. The horde would just descend on her, and it would get ugly. At just the right moment, when she approached the brink, she motioned and let them have her stand up.
“Let’s go to a bedroom….” she said, scanning the crowd. She eyed a black man who was perhaps in his 50s, “You,” she said pointing. She turned to the man behind her, “You,” she said. In a move that made no sense to me, she pointed to a rather portly old bald man with a zit-covered back. He looked like the type that lived in a van parked a little too close to grade school, “And you. And everybody else come with if you want!”
With her tits bouncing about she made her way through the crowd, accepting casual gropes and smiling as the men around her masturbated.
“This is bullshit,” I heard a disgruntled wife say, “What is she even doing here?”
Her pudgy friend chimed in, covering her own sunken tits, “Who does she think she is?” she chimed in.
I had to hurry. If I was supposed to “stay close,” I had to at least be in the room. When I found the horde inside a large master-sized suite, I saw her standing on a chair.
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