I am a proud Texas Latina, a native of San Antonio, and a real flight attendant, but what you wouldn't know from your flight with me is that I am also an addicted exhibitionist. I love to dance and strip from my flight attendant uniform, then sensually masturbate to orgasm for a man or even a group of men if I can arrange it. It is my favorite way of sexually expressing and satisfying myself.

My husband knows this and has, for the most part, supported me in the acting out my exhibitionist fantasy on my airline layovers. I told him early on in our relationship that I had an exhibitionist compulsion that, instead of looking for a cure, I had learned to embrace. It’s not that I was unwilling to give it up but rather that I was unable to. My addiction to exhibitionism is too powerful to overcome. 

I have explained to my husband, Stan, that I believe that my exhibitionism is a primal part of me. I only wore clothes as a child when I was in public but, at home on our Hill Country ranch, almost never. My parents thought I would outgrow it, surely by the time I started school but when I got off the school bus, I’d run up our long driveway, go to my room and take off my clothes. I’d throw my panties in the hamper, get my art box, and join my Mom in the kitchen. Because my parents gave up on trying to keep me dressed, they made some rules. If someone came for a visit, I either had to get dressed or stay in my room. Being naked as a kid was not sexual but, as puberty progressed, I became aware of men’s attraction to my body. I was also very aware of the thrill it gave me to be seen naked. I started looking for ways to act on this new thrill. Eventually, I wanted to be seen masturbating and I acted on this thrilling fantasy as a young teen and quickly became addicted to it.

My husband claims he understands my exhibitionism but I sense his frustration with me and my acting out my fantasies when I’m on the road. I mean what man would tolerate his wife or girlfriend getting naked for other men much less masturbating for them?  

So maybe I shouldn't have been surprised when he said he had been talking to his friend who manages a shift at a machine shop just north of the San Antonio airport about having an after-work Friday night party and wanted me to go.

I said, "It sounds to me like an all guys type of party. Why do you want me there?"

He said, "Because, my exhibitionist wife, we want you to be our entertainment. Plus, I think it's time I see first hand this other side of you."

So we talked about it and I decided to go for two compelling reasons. First, it was different from the usual way I act out my fantasy in that it would involve not one man but a group of men which, when I've been lucky enough to arrange it, has been a lot of fun. The second reason, which was no doubt driven by guilt on my part, was that my husband obviously wanted to be part of what I do in my fantasy life when I'm flying. And when I thought about it, I realized that it might even be good for our relationship. So I really should not have been all that surprised when he suggested that I act out my fantasy closer to home where he could be a participant.

But the machine shop party didn't go exactly as I might have imagined. What happened was that after I danced and stripped for about a dozen men, including my husband, several of them lifted me up and laid me on top of a cork-board surfaced work table. I wasn't expecting this but it seemed like as good a place as any for me to masturbate for these rugged machine shop workers. 

Before that evening started, I'd had my concerns as to how Stan would handle other men seeing me naked much less masturbating for them. I had thought about discussing it with him beforehand to avoid any strains in our relationship but, instead, chose to leave the stone unturned. 

As it turned out, I couldn't help but notice my husband's reaction to his first time seeing me strip naked for not just one man, but a dozen! He was clearly getting off to the intense interest my body was receiving as I revealed more of it. I realized it was about his having control. He had set the event up. He now felt in control. It made total sense because control is something he completely lacked when I was acting out my exhibitionist fantasies away from home on my layovers. 

Well it turned out that the cork board topped table was not going to serve just as a place for me to masturbate. It became more obvious when there was a significant amount of activity that, at first confused me, but as an apparatus was being attached to the table, I realized that I was soon going to be introduced to my first bondage experience. Velcro straps were attached to my ankles and then clipped to cables that attached to a taut cable running overhead maybe three feet above my hips. 

The cable attached to my ankles ran over rollers at the left and right sides of the table and turned down toward the floor. I didn't know where they went below the table's surface. I soon figured out that this setup was designed to cause my legs to be pulled apart. It was only a matter of seeing how much force was going to be involved. 

I said something like, “Guys, is this really necessary?”

It was Stan that spoke up first. “Let ‘em be Honey. It’ll probably be fun.” I let it go….like I was in any position to change this quick turn of events.

Stacks of weights were placed on each side of the table. They weren't big but there was a decent quantity. I was going to be challenged no doubt but I was in good physical shape. I took good care of my body. A couple weights were put on the cables out of my sight below the table's height. It wasn't much of a pull really. I decided to fight it since it was my nature. The seemingly small force was trying to lift my ankles up toward the overhead cable as well pull them outward. 

Without asking him, I could tell that my husband was aware that bondage was going to be part of my evening. As the apparatus was being set up, he positioned himself behind the table at my head and gently held my arms down as if I was going to fight all these men. I could smell the beer on his breath. He’s not a good drinker but I realized it was maybe his way of coping with whatever was going on in his mind - with whatever he had planned for me for the evening.

He was definitely exercising control over me, something I knew that was psychologically important to him. More than ever, I was convinced that he was part of this bondage plan. But I played along and gave him a look of confusion and curiosity. He just shrugged his shoulders and said, "What did you expect? We're at a machine shop. These guys probably create these kinds of fantasies all the time. You're just the lucky recipient of their imagination.”

With the relatively small force pulling my ankles, I showed my defiance by bending my knees up toward my chest and lowering my feet to the table surface. When I did that, it raised the side cables to slightly above the level of the table top. I could directly see my opponents (the weights) to the left and right of me. I felt like I could hold my legs in for a long time. This was probably an initial test of my strength because after those first weights were put on, the men gathered to stand right in front of my butt. Their conversation was about how much fun it was going to be to watch me lose the battle. They took their time, going to a cooler for more beer and returning to see if any progress had been made. 

At first, it seemed easy to resist the pull on the cables but after a few minutes, if I hadn’t been watching, I would have sworn that they added more weight to the cables. Keeping my feet on the corkboard surface was taking up my strength so I let them raise up maybe six inches to relieve some of the increasing strain but I kept my knees together. After maybe three or four minutes, my inner thigh muscles were feeling strained. They started to shake to the expressed delight of these increasingly vocal men. Still, I held my legs mostly together.

But my fighting spirit was losing its confidence and took a turn for the worse when another weight was added to each cable. The result was instantaneous as my knees started to straighten with the upward pull and my now quivering thighs were separating with the outward pull. Their laughter and cheers told me the apparatus was winning and I was losing. Despite my best effort, the parting of my thighs was revealing an increasingly explicit view between my legs. 

This was accompanied with lots of Spanish dirty talk describing my ever-increasingly bared ass and pussy.

I made one last all out effort to bring my legs back together which was not a good idea. It worked but only for maybe five seconds and depleted any further resistance I was going to muster. I felt my muscles trying to resist but there was nothing there. My shaking legs completely straightened leaving me with little strength to hold my thighs together. I couldn’t even manage to look like I was resisting at all. The weighted cables had their way with me. It might as well have been a thousand pounds on each cable because my feet led the way upward and outward as I was forced into a  gymnastic style split. Although I had been fighting an upward pull the whole time, I was surprised when my butt rose up off the corkboard surface. There was no way to fight it, no muscles available to assign to the task. My breasts slid up my chest toward my neck. 

My husband, still positioned near my head said, “So tell me, Yvonne. How does it feel to be forced to display your pussy and ass so graphically for all these men to see?”

I definitely detected revenge in his tone. First, he called me Yvonne and not something more endearing like ‘Babe”. Second, he emphasized the word ‘forced’ meaning I was not in control.

But, despite everything going on with my helpless state, I thought maybe it was good for Stan to blow off some pent up frustrations.

But he wasn’t done. He yelled out, “Hey amigos. Check this out.”

He reached over me and placed his hands on either side of my landing strip. It got the attention of all the men peering in at my pussy. He used fingers from both hands and unhooded my rather prominent clit. Then he transitioned to one hand and formed a V shape to keep my clit exposed. With his free hand, he started to flick my clit back and forth to the delight of men moving in for a closer look, the Spanish dirty talk picking up. I easily sensed Stan was getting off to his control over me made easier by the effects of the alcohol he’d already over consumed. 

He continued by using both hand’s fingers to pinch and pull my labia apart. I didn’t need a mirror to know what effect that had on my pussy. The dirty Spanish words told me all I needed to know. The moist pink folds inside my vagina were being described in detail. It seemed only to encourage my husband to pull harder on my labia as well as using his thumbs to uncover my clit at the same time. 

“What do you think, Amigos? Did you ever think you’d see a real airline stewardess with her pussy spread wide open? What does her puckered asshole look like? She’s never been fucked there you know- a virgin ass I guess you’d call it.”

I was getting worried about what may lie ahead for me. My husband, unwittingly or not, was pimping me out to these half drunk, lusty men. Now I thought he was going too far with his repressed feelings of revenge. I was going from thinking I understood my husband’s frustrations to asking myself, “Did I really know this man who was practically advertising my virgin ass.” I wondered if he would later regret going this far. At this point, I had no idea how he would later feel.

Just like that, my husband ceased the graphic display of my pussy and, in drunken, slurred speech, announced that he had to take a piss. No sooner had he gone, another man took his place behind the table near my head. His hands uninhibitedly reached for my breasts. I felt his calloused hands squeeze and manipulate them. His rough fingers pinched my nipples and lifted my breasts up and shook them. More Spanish dirty talk brought his attention to my pussy. I couldn’t believe that this evening was turning out to be like nothing I’d ever experienced. Why did I agree to it? Well I knew the answer to that but I didn’t think Stan would have wanted this for me. I felt like a naive child.

More hands moved in to play with my clit and spread my lips apart. Even my ass cheeks were pulled apart. At least one man, from his Spanish words, was very interested in my virgin ass. I thought this has surely gone too far and needs to end pronto. 

But where was my husband? I hoped, almost prayed, that he had not passed out in the bathroom. What if just one man succumbed to the urge to unzip his pants and harden his cock while sliding it up and down between my pussy lips. Once he was sufficiently stiffend, he would enter me and the evening would turn out much different, even more so than I think Stan would have desired. But then I checked myself. I had no idea what Stan wanted out of this machine shop party. He wanted me to be the entertainment he had said. Is this what he secretly desired for me or, maybe more accurately stated, what he wanted for himself?

I tried pleading with this lusty mob of men to leave me alone but words meant nothing to them. Only one man responded. It was the one whose hands were back on my breasts. He was reasoning that I was too delicious to pass up. He told me that I was like a gift to them, that this opportunity would never come again for any of them. They were going to take advantage of it.  

I know that my exhibitionist exploits make me vulnerable to bad things happening. I am also aware that I stay in denial of that potential danger because my overpowering compulsions don't leave me a choice but to continue to act on my fantasies. You’d have to be an addict like me to appreciate the power that addiction has over a person.

When Stan came back from the bathroom, I was relieved to see that he hadn't passed out. To me, his reappearance meant that he wasn’t going to abandon me to the carnal desires of this rowdy group of Latinos. But, as it turned out, he did nothing to stop their exploring and violating hands. He just stood there, glassy-eyed, and watched. He wasn’t altogether there. Stan can’t drink even a few beers before getting half drunk. 

So now I was left to wonder what it was that my husband wasn’t going to allow. So far, I couldn't think of one thing and if this continued, someone’s cock was going to get intimately involved with me. It wasn’t an uninformed assumption. The Spanish dirty talk turned to that exact subject, about how good a fuck I would be. Stan is not Hispanic so he understood little of what they were saying. I cringed at the thought that if Stan hadn’t come back, my fate would have been entirely in the hands (and cocks) of these men who saw me now as only an opportunity. To them, I was a naked, bound, and very fuckable Latina. To me, I was an exposed, frightened, and very vulnerable woman. 

I felt that I had to say something to Stan to change my fate. I asked him if we could go home. Although he responded that we could, he also said that he wasn’t feeling well. I still hoped that he meant we were leaving but instead of starting the process of unbinding me, he said he needed to sit down for a bit before we left. I knew that his ‘sitting down for a bit’ was not a good idea but he was already headed toward a chair that he then backed against a locker to lean his head against. I sat up and watched him. Not twenty seconds after he sat down, his eyes closed and his lower jaw relaxed, opening his mouth to catch flies as the saying goes. 

What really frightened me was that the attention of all these men had shifted from me to watching Stan. They stood there in muted conversation waiting to see when the hen house was going to be left unguarded. One of the men yelled out at Stan who didn’t stir. Then, just like that, all eyes shifted from Stan to me. I felt like I was the victim in a very predictable B movie. Heck, I wished that it was just a movie scene.

One of the loudest men of the evening stepped between my widely parted thighs and pressed his pants against my pussy. I could feel his hardness through his clothing. He bent forward and practically whispered in my ear, “Your husband don’t hold his liquor too good. But I got a way we can kill some time while he’s resting.” 

Then he stood up and took one step back. When his hands went to his belt buckle, I panicked. I squirmed my whole body to no avail. I sat up and yelled out for Stan but he might as well have been in a coma. 

“Look. You can’t do this. I didn’t come here for this. Untie me so Stan and I can go home. Please!”

“Sure you did. You really think you can strip and dance naked for us and we’re going to act like impotent eunuchs? Besides, you have your fantasies and we have ours. Me, I’ve never fucked a stewardess. Never thought I’d have the chance and certainly not one as pretty as you. You have a killer body, Latina bonita. Can you feel how hard you’ve made my cock? Your big firm titties alone did that. But your pussy? Unbelievable! So no, I’m not passing this up.”

With that pronouncement, he pulled his pants down below his already erect uncircumcised penis. In an effort to prevent what seemed like the inevitable, like the weighted cables that earlier parted my thighs, I sat up and covered my vagina with both hands. He laughed and rested his hands on my thighs and waited. Two men casually came around to my side of the table and easily overpowered me and removed my protective hand barrier. They too laughed as they brought my wrists to the table top. I struggled to their delight as the only part of  my body that moved significantly were my breasts. 

The man holding down my left wrist said something like, “Look at the way her titties are struggling to be free. I fucking love it. Let’s use two more straps and cable her arms out to the rear table legs. But we leave them loose so her titties can be free.”

No sooner than my arms were bound, I felt the man’s penis, now turned to lusty cock, enter me. I struggled again, trying to move my hips in any way I could but with his grip on my hips, the only body parts that moved were, you guessed it, my boobs. He slid his cock in and out in short strokes just inside my vagina opening. I tried tightening to stop him but his ever stiffening cock easily pushed its way past any resistance I might have attempted. 

I couldn’t believe that my vagina was just entered by the cock of a man that I had known for less than two hours. I didn’t even know his name. All l I knew about him was that he was a friend of one of the machine shop workers and that he drank Dos Equis, a can of which he set under my right leg. Maybe he needed to stay hydrated while he was fucking me. No sooner than I had that thought, he picked up the can without interrupting what had become a series of long in and out strokes and took a long pull draining the can. He crushed it and threw it back on the table. His cock was long and coming completely out of me and then pushing past my opening to stroke deep inside me before pulling out again. Using only one hand to hold me down to his cock’s level, while he held the beer, seemed a bit of an awkward struggle for him. After tossing the crushed can, he changed his grip to each of my ankles. He pulled inward which lowered me to near the table’s surface. Then he continued his long strokes with more impacting force. When he drove into my pubic bone, my hips reacted and moved away from him and toward my face. My boobs followed. On the return swing, he’d drive into me again. I could tell he was proud of the fucking ballet he had created on the spot. The men expressed their approval - in dirty Spanish words of course.

Even after ten minutes of this man’s cock having its way with my pussy, I was still in disbelief that it was happening. Nothing like it ever had. Sure, I had performed for men that asked me if I’d have sex with them but no man had ever forced himself on me - until now and I was certain that this half psycho Latino was getting off on my inability to stop him.

Despite having no control over my predicament, I couldn't help but feel like a slut. If I was placed under oath with the threat of perjuring myself, I would have to admit that, under other circumstances, this rock hard cock would feel pretty fucking good. I hated even thinking about it, and I resisted with all my mental fiber. The proverbial angel on my right shoulder was telling me, “You’re not a slut. You’re not a slut.” The bad angel on my left shoulder was telling me, “Admit it, you love a good stiff cock, no matter whose it is. It’s OK to be a slut for a night. And it’ll be more fun.” I was so confused.

Before my husband, I’d had only two intimate relationships, and I’ll admit two one night stands, both with pilots I’d spent my layover with. I don’t look for sex but the one night stands just seemed right at the time. I don’t regret the experience at all. I didn’t consider myself to be a slut for it. I have often thought that a woman as sexual as me might have had more sexual encounters, and yes, even more one night stands but, like I may have intimated, my exhibitionism prevents me from having committed relationships. 

Both of those pilots wanted to continue to see me but I knew it wouldn’t work. My desire to have lasting sexual relationships is incompatible with my fantasy mind’s overwhelming and compulsive exhibitionist desires. In fact, in both of those one night stands, when I woke up in the morning in their hotel room, I asked each of these pilots if they like to watch women masturbate. Their responses were perfect so I offered my ‘parting gift’ to them. I danced naked and then slipped back in bed but with my head at the opposite end of the bed so they could see between my legs. I spread one leg across their laps and showed unhooded views of my clit and labia spread views of my pussy. Each of these men were so encouraging, that fingering to orgasm was easy. I’d like to think that my morning masturbation show had something to do with them wanting to see me again.. 

Another reason I’d had few lovers was that I was a virgin, by choice, until I was nineteen. Without going too much into it, I started acting out my masturbation fantasy as a young teen. My first experience was with my friend, Sheila’s, college age brother. He wanted me to dance for him first, which I did because I love dancing anyway. Then I stripped nude to another song and masturbated for him while lying on his bed. After that, I was hooked. He became like an instructor and suggested things that I could do that men would like. He also told me that it was a huge turn-on for him, and probably most men, to watch a virgin girl masturbate to orgasm. It wasn’t until later that I understood what he meant by that but I believed him. So I also got off on it and intentionally remained a virgin because the more I felt I was sexually exciting to a man, the more I pleased my fantasy mind who, in turn, rewarded me with the most exquisite orgasms. . 

But this night was not fulfilling any fantasy I’d ever had. I hadn’t even masturbated. I was pretty sure we were beyond that. It wasn’t even me that was performing anymore. I was the available pussy being used to satisfy, so far, one beefy Latino’s cock. And the Dos Equis man seemed tireless. In fact he started picking up his pace, making rapid, long strokes. He changed his angle of insertion and was now hitting my G-spot. I reacted without thinking. My eyes rolled upward and my head fell back. I remember saying out loud something like, “Fuuuck!” My bad angel was happy for me. My good angel had no opinion. Her silence meant only one thing. I had momentarily enjoyed a strange cock. I had slut potential.

I was angry with myself. I’d made the mistake of appearing to enjoy being fucked, even when it was forced on me. At least several other men saw my lusty reaction and whooped and hollered in support of Dos Equis man’s ability to use his cock to bring me pleasure when up to that point, I was nothing but resistant. What was happening to me? I asked myself. How could I have enjoyed being taken against my will, having a stranger’s cock violate me, and dare to take pleasure in it? 

My fear, in that confusion, was wondering how my powerful fantasy mind was going to handle this. It didn’t care if I was married or single. It didn’t care if I was bound in velcro and weighted cables. It didn’t matter that I was planning on being a career flight attendant. By that I mean what if someone said something about me that got to my supervisor? Like what if one of the pilots talked about a time when I stripped nude in the cockpit and let my boobs sway and bounce in turbulence while I was leaning forward between their two seats. They might tell one person who tells another, eventually finding its way to inflight.  

My fantasy mind didn’t care about me being told on. It only cared that I was a flight attendant because it brought me many opportunities to act on my exhibitionist fantasies with strangers that I could potentially meet on my layovers. My fantasy mind had one goal. To find the most erotically pleasurable sexual scenarios and then compel me to act on them with the end goal of achieving the best possible exhibitionist orgasm. 

And what if my fantasy mind changed my acting out to not only masturbating for men but then asking them to fuck me afterwards so I could enjoy more stranger’s cocks. Would I now be directed to try harder to find groups of men to masturbate for and then turning them all into one night gang fucks? I let those thoughts go knowing they would resurface. But, for now, I had more pressing matters.

Dos Equis man changed his vice-like grip from my ankles back to my hips. He was pushing me back down toward the table surface. With his being able to now pound away, I hated that my full breasts were rolling in waves up and down my chest. If I could have held them down, I would have but my arms were not available except to struggle and make them jiggle anyway.

My arms were bound so loosely that I was able to sit up enough to see what state Stan was in. I called out for him but it was a waste of breath. How odd was it, I thought, that I was being fucked silly, against my will, by a stranger and my husband was just fifteen feet away. Talk about paradoxes!

Then I thought, what if my husband awakened to find his wife being fucked and ten other guys waiting their turn? How would he react? It occurred to me that there seemed little interest in whether Stan awakened or not. You’d think these guys would be watching him closely for signs of awakening but it seemed not to matter to them. I couldn’t help but wonder, in this evening of unpredictable turns of events, if Stan’s passing out was actually planned. Was it part of his revenge that I get fucked by these men? I didn’t want to believe it but my logical mind wouldn’t let me dismiss it. On top of that, why was he so close to the action? He could have passed out anywhere in the shop. Did he want to be close so he could watch his wife being gang fucked?

My thoughts about Stan wanting this were half confirmed when my wrists were stretched harder toward the table’s sides. I was unable to sit up and see Stan anymore.

Dos Equis man asked for a broken down cardboard box to be put on the floor under me, obviously to catch his cum when it spilled from my vagina. It made me think that his was not the only cock that was going to ejaculate inside me.

All I could do was lay there with my breasts rolling wildly around my ribcage. I had never seen my tits ride up and down so much and so fast. I could feel their mass challenging my upper body to hold them intact. Normally, I would say I loved the size and firmness of my breasts but, at that moment, I hated the visual pleasure they were providing. The talk from the men near me was all about my boobs. Everyone knows men like bouncing and jiggling boobs and these men were no exception. 

Dos Equis man leaned forward into me, I guess to change the angle of his strokes. He started driving harder, his strokes even faster. My hip bone felt like it was being bruised as his hands pressed seemingly to the bone as he let out a loud moan. He buried his cock deep and made short quick strokes.. He pulled on my hips hard so he could sink himself deep inside. I felt the heat and pressurized squirt of his ejaculation. 

Before he pulled out, he told his friend to get him a towel or something. He slowly slid out, took the towel and held it against my pussy. Then he wiped it again with a moistened cloth. The gentleness by which he did it struck me as odd. Did he feel guilty? Was he thankful? But in the psychology department, I was batting about zero for the evening so I gave it little additional thought. 

What I did think about was how to get Stan’s attention but all I had was my voice. I yelled at the top of my voice but he might as well have been a hundred miles away. The men just laughed at me as I struggled again only to their delight, my boobs jiggling away.

A muted pow-wow convened among the men too far from me to make out what they were saying. I figured there was a very low probability that it had anything to do with unbinding me and joining them in finishing off the beer. When their meeting ended there was some activity that brought them over to my table. They were writing their names down on little post-it notes and putting them in a paper bag. Dos Equis took the bag and said. “OK, like I said, the first five go first. Then the next five will go after.”

No sooner had he picked out the first name, that man was already unzipping his pants as he walked up to the spread eagle view of my exposed pussy. I struggled. I didn’t even know why. Well actually I did. I was still in disbelief that this evening had gone so off script as to wind up being like a porn video where a woman takes on a dozen men in a row. In my mind, I chuckled thinking she’d be sucking one man off as she was getting pounded by another. At least no one here was making me suck the cock of the next man in line.

The first of the five men put his cock against my pussy lips. Then he stretched the skin away from my clit and just looked at it while he slid up and down, hardening with each stroke. His fingers left my clit to direct his cock into my opening. He moaned in pleasure as he made penetration. 

I was helpless to do anything to prevent it. I lowered my head to the table and felt my boobs start to ride up and down my chest. Then I heard another man say, “Alright, Manny, you got thirty seconds left.”

OMG, I thought to myself, “These five men are all going to have their cocks in me within the next five minutes. Then what? The next five?”

I raised my head to see the time keeper already had his cock in his hand, stroking it. I guess if you only have one minute, you want to get off to a quick start. When he said, “Times up Manny. How was it?”, he was already erect. 

His cock was dark and thick - its mushroom cap very bulbous. 

He wasted no time and directly entered me. I felt the stretch on my opening as he pushed past it, the remaining thickness of his cock tried to pull my labia in with it.

He voiced, “Fuck, that feels good. Such a tight pussy.”

He pulled completely out, unhooded my clit to see it as he pushed his way back into me. “Your clit is amazing. Never seen anything like it. How much time do I have?” The response was twenty five seconds. With that, he kept looking at my clit while his cock all but came completely out of me. He brought it to where my vagina starts to close and then pushed back into me. He quickened his strokes and started to voice his pleasure all in Spanish. When his timekeeper said, “Rico. You only got ten seconds left,” He yelled, “Diego, I need another fifteen, twenty seconds. I’m about to unload, please!”

So Dos Equis’ name was Diego. He said, “Sure. Go for it. She’s fine ain’t she Rico?”

Still looking at my clit, Rico drove his cock from just at my opening to deep inside. He was super hard. The bad angel had something to say. “Quite the cock, eh, Yvonne? The way it’s stroking you, rubbing your wet walls. See how much fun this is? Cocks are like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. You’ve already had three mystery cocks tonight. And there’s more to come, pun intended. If you don’t want to give in and let these men know you’re actually enjoying the gang fuck, I get it. But I say who cares whether these hombres know if you’re loving it or hating it. As long as their cocks are enjoying your pussy, I say turnabout is fair play. It’s time for you to be selfish. You’re a smart girl, Yvonne, take advantage of this rare opportunity. You’re on your own anyway. Stan’s been a failure. You most certainly are not cheating on him if you allow yourself some pleasure.”

Rico’s super hard, thick cock was undeniably pleasurable so I took bad angel's advice and allowed myself to enjoy his powerful, precum strokes. I raised my neck enough to watch him over my wildly shaking boobs. Now I liked how they moved because I saw what men see during sex. And I’m pretty sure men love the side show of bouncing boobs and how it accompanies the main event.

Instead of hoping that Rico’s cock would leave me alone soon, I was actually regretting that he was about to come and pull out of me. But then the bad angel reminded me that there was another unknown cock getting ready. That thought both comforted and excited me. How had the bad angel changed my attitude so easily? Or was it really my fantasy mind’s creation of a new exciting future scenario?

I didn’t know if I was buying into everything the bad angel was trying to convince me of. I mean that’s her job. But she wasn’t wrong in saying that if I let myself enjoy these cocks, I still was not cheating on Stan. I didn’t have to answer to him for this, especially if he was aware it was happening. And I didn’t know any of these men so I cared little for what they might think. Heck, they’d think I was hotter if I did show enjoyment. The rest of my evening was going to be me and bad angel’s experiment. My fantasy mind was just observing for now but my hips and pelvis got involved and timed their motion with Rico’s strokes. It felt wonderful to be positively engaged instead of fighting and resisting. Just like that, my entire attitude had changed. Rico moaned loudly as he twisted his neck around its base and came inside me. I was actually happy for him, glad that my pussy had a role in pleasing him. 

He pulled out and used a moistened cloth to clean me.

Diego spoke up, “Change of plans amigos. So no one has to wait too long for a taste of Yvonne’s pussy, everyone gets one minute to enjoy fucking her. Nobody comes. Nothing to clean up that way. Just fuck for a minute’s worth of pleasure. Then you’ll know what to look forward to the next time when you get two minutes. If you haven’t come in the two minute window, you’ll enjoy three minutes the next time to get your rocks off.

And that’s what they did. Each of the remaining eight men had their cocks ready when the previous man withdrew. But I wasn’t counting cocks. Instead, I was enjoying each man’s hardness and vigor as he used his minute to enjoy the pleasure provided by my pussy. I only knew that it was eight more men because I recognized the first of those men when he stepped up for his two minute fuck. I wasn’t sure of his name. It might have been Jorge. Bad angel told me names weren’t important unless I wanted to give each cock a name. I laughed inside but took on her attitude. Rico was stroking me so fine. Rico the cock, not Rico the man.

Rico didn’t need the whole two minutes. He exploded in me after a frantic stroking session. If he would have kept it up, I think I could have orgasmed. I was feeling very horny now. I was eager to have the next cock in me, whatever its name was.

Right after Rico cleaned me, the next cock stepped up to fill me. I was not disappointed. It was so thick that I threw my head back in reaction to its first few penetrating strokes. It felt like my clit was rubbing its shaft each time he stroked inward or maybe it was that my clit hood was rubbing on it as my pussy lips were being forced in with this magnificent cock. I realized something else about this cock when I felt my G-spot being tapped each time he went deep, giving me a set of wonderful pre-orgasmic chills. I wondered if it was curved. I asked the man in Spanish if he would show it to me. Sure enough, it was curved upward and long enough to reach my G-Spot. I told him how good it felt when he went up and deep.

When he reinserted, his cock was going even deeper, striking my G-spot each time with enough force to guarantee that an orgasm was in my near future. His strokes were long, almost a tease because I found myself lustily looking forward to each orgasmic tap. This cock knew what it was doing - slowly building me up.  I didn’t know the man’s name. It wasn’t relevant. All that mattered was how good his cock was making me feel. If this made me a slut, so be it, but bad angel argued that enjoying intercourse does not make me a slut. It makes me the hot Latina woman that I am. Anyway and most importantly, I was forced into this situation and was making the best of it. Call it psychological survival. Bad angel said my new attitude made me smart. I couldn’t argue. With this rock hard talented cock inside me, I didn’t want to. I could sort this out later but, right now, I wanted this orgasm more than anything.

I talked to him in Spanish, telling him how good a lover he was - how good his cock made me feel when he went deep. No sooner than I said that, he started driving into me at a faster pace….tap, tap, tap. I held my neck up to watch him. 

I was curious to see if what I suspected was actually happening. It was. I could see my abdomen, just above my landing strip, raising a little each time my G-spot was tapped. It was visual confirmation of what I was already feeling. I never felt more certain during sex that I was going to orgasm. I loved it. I did want it to last but as long as this long, thick cock maintained its motion, there was going to be only one outcome. 

I felt my orgasm starting. “OMG I’m going to come. So good! So good! Don’t change a thing. Your cock is like a fucking orgasm machine. Oh fuck, I’m coming! I’m coming so good. I want you to come too. Can you come with me?”

He said, “I’ll come after you. I want to watch you orgasm. You’re so fucking beautiful, everything about you. Can you feel how hard I am? That’s because of you.”

I moved my hips almost involuntarily to match his strokes as chills filled my whole body. The swirl that entered my head was overwhelming. It was like a liter of adrenalin had been released from its gland. I heard myself moaning loudly, my head shaking back and forth.I felt the orgasm in my nipples. I looked at my tits to see if my orgasming nipples were as perky as I felt they’d be. They were. I liked that my tits were rolling in waves on my chest for the visual enhancement it would bring to this man and his cock. Again, I noticed the 180 in my attitude.

“I want you to come inside me,” I told him.

“I’m going to come on your beautiful titties, I fucking love ‘em. They’re begging for a good squirt. You ready? Here comes.”

He quickly pulled out of me, stroked his cock and then pulled back and held it at the base just above my landing strip. I was watching, anticipating. His balls had practically disappeared up inside him. He gave another three strokes and held it. A shot of his white juice ejected from his curved cock and actually flew over my head, just a bit of it catching my hair. His next shot was like something out of Guiness. An impossibly long stream of white hot semen squirted out. I didn’t have time to react. It hit me square in the chin, its momentum taking it up to my lips. Most of it was laid down in a stream that landed on my neck and upper chest. I felt it pool into a depression in my neck, the rest of it running down the side. No sooner than he’d finished his impossibly long squirt, another shorter stream landed on my right breast. He finished with the last of his ejaculation filling my navel and dotting my lower abdomen. He admired his work and turned away. 

The next man didn’t need his full two minutes to reach climax. He too pulled out like Rico and ejected his semen on both of my tits. It was thick and ran slowly down the sides. 

I didn’t really like all this cum being splattered on me. But I felt the theme for these last six men may have been set. And like it was some type of competition, they all went for my face. Several of them made it to the laughter of the others. I’d heard of bukake but never thought I’d be the recipient of it. My hands were restricted so I could do nothing to clean myself. No one offered to do it for me. In fact, it was the opposite. For these men, it was their game for the remainder of the evening. I felt I was back in the toleration instead of the enjoyment mode. I had already orgasmed and didn’t need anymore cocks. It’s not that they didn’t feel good but I could have stopped with the curved cock after Rico that drove me to ecstacy. But now, I felt like a slut being used only as a cock depository and semen target. Turnabout was indeed fair play. I had used these men’s cocks for my own pleasure and these men, in turn, used me to get their rocks off and play their studly squirt game. 

When the last of the eleven men had drenched me in cum, they untied my hands and gave me a moistened cloth to clean myself off. My feet were released from the cables. I was left alone, the men off to the beer cooler to celebrate a successful evening.

Then, like it was scripted, someone half whispered that Stan was stirring. I sat up to see for myself and indeed he was. I called out to him and he opened his eyes. He said to me, “Are you ready to go Hun?” I almost laughed. I wanted to say, “It’s OK Mr. Oblivious, I’m glad you got some rest. I killed the time and filled my pussy with the willing cocks of your new Latino friends. Are you feeling better now? Ready to go home?”

I heard the cardboard on the floor get kicked and felt it strike the back leg of the table. I couldn’t walk from being in a split half the night so one of the machine shop men brought my clothes to me and handed each piece as I needed it, a nice gesture. He helped me down and steadied me until I could support myself. Maybe he felt guilty for what I’d been through or maybe he was showing his appreciation.

We drove home in silence. There was so much to say but where to start. I had decided that I wasn’t going to say anything about what happened to me after Stan supposedly passed out in the chair. Who knows where that would have gone. I wondered how that experience would affect my acting out of any future exhibitionist masturbation fantasies. Knowing myself well, probably not long. I know from experience that even a temporary setback is no match for my fantasy mind’s demands. I didn’t know how to feel about having enjoyed multiple cocks in one night. But I decided not to be hard on myself. It wasn’t my choice to engage in a one woman - eleven men orgy.

I knew I would be OK but it seemed like every waking hour, I tried to make sense of what was going on with Stan that night. What if he had actually passed out and awakened to witness my being further restrained and fucked by a men most of whom he didn’t even know. How would he have felt about it? I truly didn’t know. From how he was acting, I was leaning toward his being OK with it, maybe even regretting missing it. 

But I was leaning toward the fact that he faked passing out. That he had prearranged the whole gang fuck. What I really didn’t know was why. Was it simply for revenge purposes - to get back at me for acting out my exhibitionism on the road - for ‘cheating’ on him? Or was it because he was acting on a fantasy of his own that involved watching his wife having sex with multiple men? It could have easily been a combination of the two motivations.

My psychoanalysis of Stan enjoying me being forcibly fucked by multiple men was halfway confirmed when, a couple of weeks after the machine shop experience, he asked me if I would consider acting out a gang rape fantasy. He wanted to invite his poker buddies, he said.

I just looked at him and said, “What’s happening to your mind? That's a lot more than doing a strip show or even masturbating for someone."

I stared at him and waited but his expression did not change. "You’re serious aren’t you?”

In a rather business-like tone, he reminded me that we’d talked about it after I danced and stripped from my uniform and masturbated for him and his poker buddies one night when I got home from a trip. He asked if I remembered how erotic and fun that evening was for all of us, me included.

I said, "Yes, I remember it vividly," as I recalled the details….

When I come home from a trip, I put my suitcase and large handbag by the stairs. Stan carries them up later for me. On this particular homecoming, he greeted me with a shot of my usual fantasy releasing Tequila. Stan knows it is the elixir that quickly puts me into an exhibitionist mood. He said he had really missed me and asked me to come in and spend some time with him and his friends. They were playing poker over at our home for, I think the second time. I was going to change out of my flight attendant uniform but he asked me not to. I wasn’t surprised. Stan likes that I'm his stewardess wife and I think he wanted to show me off in my uniform. What I didn't realize at the time was just how much. But one indication was that he had already poured me that shot of Tequila and the second was when he stopped me before we went into the den. He looked approvingly at me and said, “You always look so sexy in your uniform. But let’s make a little improvement.” He released another button on my white blouse and pulled it open more. 

“Aren’t you in an interesting mood?” I expressed. 

He just smiled and said, “Come on. Let me introduce you to my friends.”

I took a big sip from my glass of Tequila before we went in. The Tequila’s effect was instantaneous as usual. So it wasn’t going to be too difficult for Stan to persuade me to do more than just say hello. 

You see, I always come home in a very sexual mood in anticipation of dancing in my uniform for Stan, which he loves, and is perfect for me because I love to dance both clothed and naked. Besides, he says, as long as I'm going to get undressed, Why not make it sexy and include him. 

So after I dance and strip, we do a variety of sexual things but his favorite, as well as mine, is after I’m nude, I lie somewhere in front of him like on the couch or even the dining room table. I part my thighs and pinch and pull my labia apart. Sometimes I pull and release them. He calls it my pussy snap.

Other times I bring them in and out like butterfly wings. Stan says I have perfectly sized and shaped labia, whatever that quality is, but I have also heard it from other men for whom I have masturbated so it gives me confidence and encourages me to do it often. Some men ask me to keep stretching my labia apart, which provides a graphic view of my vagina. I do this while they masturbate which I take as a nice compliment and which further feeds the exhibitionist in me. Stan also likes me to unhood my rather prominent clit so that's something I do for him. I knew I had an exceptionally large clit when every man that I have masturbated for comments on it - all positive. You should see their reaction when I show them how I can move it in a half circle and make it vibrate for a couple seconds.

So here I was - home after a difficult commute to San Antonio from Dallas because of weather delays. I needed to let my hair down, both literally and figuratively. I told Stan to go on in with his poker game and I’d be back in a minute. I slipped into the powder room and freed myself of my not sexy pantyhose and took the pins and hair tie out of my regulation hairstyle. I went into the den where they were playing cards, kissed my husband on the cheek and said hello to his friends that I had met before but didn't really know because this was a fairly new event for them.

Stan had picked music that he knows I like to dance to and whispered to me saying he'd love for me to dance for them. I was very much in the mood, enhanced by the Tequila, and needing to unwind, I started dancing in my flight attendant uniform in a sexy Latina style holding my hair on top of my head. With my pantyhose removed, I felt free and sexy. Even though they pretended to be involved in their card game, I could tell I was interrupting their concentration, even that of my husband of two years. It felt good to still have that effect on him.

Since I very often dance and strip for my husband when I come home from trips, dancing for him and his buddies felt very much the same. And since my instinct was to free myself of my uniform, I placed my fingers on the next undone button of my blouse and waited for my husband to look up from his card hand. His eyes met mine and he gave a smile, a wink and a hidden thumbs up at his side.

He put his cards on the table and turned his chair toward me which was a tactful invitation for his buddies to watch his stewardess wife who was apparently going to do more than dance. When I unbuttoned the fourth blouse button, my husband got up saying he was going to get more beer because he said, "This is turning into a real party."

He walked by me and whispered, “I'm luvin' it, Babe. Keep going. Do your thing. Did I say it's really good to have you home?"

He kissed my cheek, left for the kitchen and returned with four beers and a Tequila shot for me. I took a sip and felt a surge of exhibitionist buzz sweep through my head. I closed my eyes, danced and absorbed the pleasure of a new exhibitionist experience unfolding. Having Stan’s approval was very liberating for me. I finished unbuttoning my blouse but did not remove it. I thought in the moment how sexy it would be to take my bra off but leave my blouse unbuttoned and open. His friends wouldn’t be able to take their eyes off the gap in my blouse watching, hoping to see more of my boobs, maybe even a reveal of a nipple. I worked my bra through the sleeves of my blouse and tossed it to Stan who then passed it around the table. To provide at least a partial nipple reveal, I placed my arms across my head to increase the gap in my blouse. I don’t know if it resulted in a nipple slip but it must have been good. My eyes were on their eyes that never left the gap in my blouse.

I unzipped my skirt, let it drop and kicked it away. I danced in white panties, my black heels, and my white blouse, smiling the whole time. I could tell that my husband was just as excited as his friends were as they watched my uniform come off but I could tell that he was really getting off to his friends getting off. I indulged his little side fantasy and danced up close to him seated in his chair, pushed my hips forward and pulled my panties out just enough to give a peek at the top part of my dark natural landing strip neatly framed in tan lines.

He leaned in to see farther down and I teasingly closed the top of my panties. He gave me a pouting look and I couldn't help but laugh. I stepped closer and pulled the elastic out and down to show the length of my pubic hairs. His friends were straining their necks to see what I was doing.

"I love a lot of things about your body, Babe, but your sexy landing strip alone could win an award."

Knowing he was in the mood to show off his stewardess wife, I wasn't surprised when he said, "Don't be selfish Babe. I'm not the only one at this party. How 'bout Bill here? Let's see what he thinks."

I stepped to Bill and lowered my panties enough for him to see the top of my dark landing strip. His interest seemed so high that I pulled them out farther and gave him the same all pubic reveal I had shown my husband. I did the same for his friend, Jason, but to change it up and please my husband, I decided to do something bolder for his friend, Matt, who I thought was very cute with a nice smile and eyes.

Standing right in front of him, I moved my hips sensually and then slowly pushed my panties down below my bikini tan line to reveal the upper part of my pubic patch. When I was ready to show more, I looked to my husband not only for his permission but because I knew he'd like directing me to go further. He gave an inquisitive look and then an approving expression so I continued lowering my panties but looked at him to study his reaction which was very telling.

I looked back at Matt who seemed engrossed - like he was studying each row of pubic hairs as it came into view. I stopped just above my clit and looked once more at Stan who smiled and mouthed, "Really?" then subtly nodded his head in approval. He widened his eyes as I pushed my panties farther down and spread my legs apart for a more erotic view. Then I pushed my panties halfway down my thighs. I raised my arms above my head and closed my eyes in a sensual nude pose picturing Matt looking at the length of my pubic patch and my vulva as they curved under between my thighs. Even though Matt’s eyes were above my clit, I assumed that it was visible to him as it stands out pretty well from its undersized hood.

Then I heard Matt say, "Stan I'd like to be the guy that presents that award."

There was laughter around the table but what I didn't realize was why. With my eyes closed, I hadn't noticed that Matt had leaned over and was looking up between my thighs at my pussy.lips and protruding clit. Earlier, my husband had said that my landing strip should receive an award but after knowing that my clit was peering out uninhibitedly at Matt, I think his proposed award was for something else.

Knowing that his eyes were not ten inches from my clit, I felt the blood in my neck surge hotter, my nipples harden and my clit tingle. My fantasy mind compelled me to masturbate right there so I closed my eyes again and used the fingers of my right hand to trace down over my breasts, my abdomen, my landing strip and onto my clit. It felt very erect. I extended my middle finger and made slow accentuated circles around it. It’s hood was in my way. With one hand, I pulled up on the skin above to completely unhood and reveal the full size of my clit. With my middle finger at the base of my clit, I fingered rapidly back and forth knowing that Matt would see my clit dancing side to side. All my concentration was then directed to making myself feel good. I got lost in it. If I hadn't forced myself to stop, I would have fingered to orgasm right there in front of Matt.

"OMG, I'm sorry. That was too much." I actually felt myself blushing. I pulled my panties up.

My husband called me over and said, "Don't be embarrassed. You looked amazing doing that. Don't you guys agree?" They all said they did.

Then Stan pulled me over and whispered in my ear. "You can't stop now, Babe. The panties and bra have to go. You know that right?" "

"I do, dear husband. You asked me to entertain so I'm here for the pleasure of you and your guests. And I'll be right back."

I excused myself telling them I was going to the kitchen to refresh my drink but, first, I took off my heels and dashed upstairs and reapplied my makeup in a darker more exotic shade, mussed my hair, and took off my panties and bra. I didn't like the lines under my boobs from having spent the day constricted in a bra but what could I do? I got a last-second idea that sexy white thigh high stockings with the lacy band at the top would make a nice presentation. And Stan would love me for thinking of wearing his Valentine's Day gift to me.

I paused in front of the mirror and liked how I looked with the white of the stockings contrasting with my dark landing strip framed in tan lines. I got a surprisingly strong but very welcome orgasmic chill anticipating Stan’s friends looking at my nude body while I casually acted like it was no big deal. This was going to be fun!

Back downstairs, I slipped my black heels on, fetched four Lone Stars from the fridge, poured a shot of tequila into a glass of ice with a slice of lime for me and put it all on a try and casually walked back to the den. The sound of my heels on the Spanish tile announced my return so when I walked through the entry, their eyes were already on me. Every one of them looked from my face down past the tray to my pubic patch, then back up to see what they could make out of my breasts partially hidden by the beers and back down to my pubes.

I set the tray of beers down on a side stand and served each beer individually. I had brought a moistened cloth in with me to wipe the spot in front of each of Matt’s friends. With the cloth in one hand and a beer in the other, I reached from across the table to wipe the surface in front of each man. My full sized boobs swung freely over the center of the table as I served each beer. My peripheral vision told me my boobs were a ‘big’ tit, I mean hit! Stan’s friends seemed so genuinely surprised that I smiled and said, "What, you've never had a naked flight attendant wait on you?" 

I picked up any empty beer cans, put them on my tray and walked casually to the kitchen. When I reentered the den, all eyes were on me as my accented walk jiggled my boobs. I naturally smile easily and this was no exception.

Then I stood behind my husband and lightly massaged his shoulders. "Don't let me interrupt your card game. I'll stay right here out of the way."

Stan tilted his head up, "Honey, you look fantastic and I like that you chose to wear your Valentine's stockings. Don’t they look great on her guys? Why don't you dance for us? You're too pretty to hide back there."

"Thank you, Stan. I’m very much in the mood to dance for you and your friends."

I took a sip of my Tequila and half walked, half danced my way to a spot about eight feet away. I kept my back to them at first because I knew Stan would like his friends looking at my bare Latina ass as I danced for them. I turned slightly to the left and right as I danced to offer side boob views.

When I turned to face the card table, I looked at Stan to read his thoughts. I could see that he was very engaged in watching his buddies watching me. So I took that as a sign to keep doing what I was doing. He and I were now like a team and I wanted to support him while he supported me.

Performing sensually in the nude for my husband’s poker buddies wasn't something I envisioned when I was introduced to them. But with my Tequila influenced fantasy mind compelling me to take advantage of the opportunity, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that the evening turned out to be way more erotic than I would have otherwise imagined. The real credit goes to Stan because of the added element of him getting off to what I was doing in the presence of his friends. In other words, not only was I an exhibitionist fulfilling my desires but my husband was getting off to his role in exposing me. My fantasy mind found it to be a very pleasurable and erotic new experience. My desire to masturbate was overpowering. 

It was a familiar compulsion, one that I not only accepted but embraced. I lowered myself to my knees on the tile floor, looked up and saw that I had my four voyeurs full attention. I snapped a mental photo for my fantasy mind to use after I closed my eyes and started masturbating.

With my stockings on the tile floor, I easily slid my knees apart and pictured in my mind what Stan and his friends were now seeing. I leaned way back, arching up, with my breasts pointing toward the ceiling. To make it easier to arch back, I slid my knees farther out, allowing a generous view between my thighs. Sharing the more intimate view made me feel close to Stan’s friends. I wanted to share more of myself in a sensual way. I reached down with both hands and sensually pinched and pulled my labia straight out and then wide to share an uninhibited view of my pussy. I held my labia apart while Stan reacted.

“Damn, Babe, that’s beautiful. I can never get enough of your exquisite pussy. What do you guys think? I know I’m biased, but she’s like a work of art to me? And, by now, you guys may have figured out that Yvonne is also a total exhibitionist. Honey, I have an idea. The lighting here is inadequate to fully appreciate your beauty. Let’s take you and your award winning pussy into our living room.”

He helped me up and then invited his friends to bring their beers. He switched on the lamps on both sides of the couch where his friends sat and directed me to sit on the ottoman in front of his sofa chair. Then he gently pulled me back, coaxing me to lie between his thighs resting my head in his lap.

I was fairly buzzed from three shots of Tequila and very much in an exhibitionist mood. I knew that my pussy was now well lit. I leaned back on the ottoman into Stan's lap but so that my legs wound up straddling a corner of the ottoman. I relaxed my legs and let gravity pull my knees apart. The surprise was that I hadn't thought about my heels raising my calves as much as they did, so my pussy was more revealed than I would have normally intended.

I knew that my husband would be getting off to having my well-lit pussy on display. I also didn't need to wonder why he invited them into our living room. I was even more sure when he said to me sotto voce, "Tell these boys what you’re going to do with your pretty pussy.”

I whispered back, "Don't you think they might be able to figure that out by now?”

He reiterated stronger this time, “Yeah but don't you think they'd like to hear it from you.”

I knew where he was going with this and it got me going there too. So I lifted my head and said to his friends, "When I get home from flying, I often strip from my uniform and masturbate for Stan and since you guys are here and I'm already naked, he wants me to show you guys how I masturbate and bring myself to orgasm."

Their eyes got big and Matt said. "You should listen to your husband."

"By all means show us,” Bill added.

So I closed my eyes and started fingering. While I did, I listened to Stan tell them about what I do for him when I come home from a trip. He told them about how I lie on the dining room table and spread my labia for him.

Stan said. "Babe, the lighting is much better here. Show my friends your beautiful labia spread again. They will love you for it."

I pinched and pulled my labia apart. "So hot, Babe, so hot. Show 'em your big clit."

I unhooded my clit. It's even bigger than men think when I do that.

"Amazing clit. Just amazing. Stan, you are one lucky man," Matt said.

"Wait til you see this, Guys. Honey. Show them your dancing clit."

I showed them how I can make my clit move in a small circle, first in one direction, then reverse and back the other way. They expressed amazement and actually clapped when I did that.

"I can do more. Watch this." I showed them the partial circle that my clit makes from 11 O'clock to 1 O'clock but also showed them how I can make my clit rapidly vibrate when it hits those stops. It only lasts for two or three seconds. Then I go to the other side and do it again.

Matt, especially, couldn’t get over my dancing clit. “Yvonne, you’re amazing. Please do that again.”

It got me increasingly excited. I tried to take my time to savor the exhibitionist experience but my mind and clit were very much in tune with Stan's erotic description of me masturbating for him. In a very short time, I was fingering like crazy and nearing climax.

I thought of what Stan would like and said, "OMG, I'm going to cum. I want you guys to watch me. I'm going to cum for you? "

My husband said, "You guys are in for a treat. Go ahead, Yvonne. We're all watching. Make your beautiful pussy cum for us."

I pictured his three friends watching me fast finger my clit with my breathing rate rapidly increasing until I suddenly held it. I came in a long exquisite orgasm, my legs involuntarily straightening and shaking almost spastically as they rose up off the ottoman into a gymnastic-like split. With my thighs across Stan’s legs, my butt rose up off the ottoman. My lungs released their air in a loud satisfied moan.

After I came, I sank back into the ottoman and my husband’s lap, the long day of flying, the commute home, and three shots of Tequila suddenly overwhelmed me. My orgasm was like a big sleeping pill. I was way too tired to get up and put something on.

My husband told me he was proud of me and started caressing my breasts. It was different with him doing it in front of these men but it seemed right for this intimate setting. I was content and felt safe lying in his lap.

Someone got fresh beers and the conversation continued. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was Stan saying he was 'just going to have a little fun' when he leaned forward and slid his hands from my breasts down to my thighs and pulled them farther apart. He likes to play with my clit and labia and from what I learned about him that night, he was going to share with his friends explicit views of my orgasmed pussy .

When I woke up, I saw that my legs were raised up and straddled over my husband's who were extended on either side of me. So he positioned me like that after I fell asleep, I thought. And to make my pussy the centerpiece of the remainder of the evening. I noticed that one of the lamps had been moved closer. I wondered for how long I'd been out but of one thing I was pretty certain - that my husband’s friends now knew my pussy every bit as well as he did. He'd made sure of it.

The next day, Stan asked me if I enjoyed getting naked for him and his friends and I admitted that I did, even more than I had imagined I would.

I said, "So you got off showing them your flight attendant wife's pussy. And you were getting off to your friends watching me. I guess you know that I got off to you getting off. It made me want to do things that pleased you. The way you urged me to pull my panties down for Matt and when you told me I needed to get naked - that's why I served your beers in the nude because I knew you'd like it. How did you like my labia spread for you guys when I was on my knees in the den? I liked what you said about it being like art.”

“It was art, Yvonne. You amazed all of us. So erotic. Graphic but, with you, classic art.”

“I very much wanted to please you. And then you told me to tell your friends that I was going to masturbate for them. That really got me hot. We were quite a pair weren't we? This is an interesting side of you I've not seen."

Stan replied, "I know. You are the exhibitionist and yet I felt like the one exposing you and it excited me to no end. I got off to my buddies getting off to you for the entire evening. After you fell asleep I wasn't ready to stop so, yes, I showed off your pussy."

"Let me guess. You showed them pussy snaps, didn't you?"

Stan nodded. "I did, Babe."

"And did they like it?" I queried.

Stan came right back, "Are you kidding? They loved it, and Matt? He couldn't get enough of your exceptional clit. I wasn't surprised but you should have seen the way he got his head between your legs for a closeup view. You know, you must have really been tired."

I could tell Stan was hesitating about something so I prodded him to open up. "Why what happened?"

"Well, first off, it didn’t take much to surmise that Matt was a big clit lover. So it was no surprise when he asked if he could lick it. I got off to that too so I told him to have at it."

"I can't believe I slept through it."

"Me neither. You stirred but didn't wake."

He said, "OK. Let me ask you something. You seemed comfortable with me caressing your breasts while the guys sat on the couch watching us. I was tempted to do more but decided against it because, one, you were pretty out of it, and, two, we hadn’t discussed anything beyond you stripping and masturbating. So were you OK with me touching you like that?"

I told him it did surprise me how comfortable I was with him caressing and playing with me in front of his friends.

"What if I would have done more?" he asked me.

I looked at him inquisitively. "More? Like what?"

He said, "What if we had had sex in front of them?"

I thought about it and said that I think I would have been OK with it. My response surprised me. I think it's probably because I was very comfortable being naked in front of them and wanted them to watch me masturbate so maybe I would have been OK with them watching us having sex too. I couldn’t believe I was feeling that way but it was true. What I realized was that having his friends watching us have sex might not be any more intimate than me masturbating for them. It was just another form of exhibitionism really.

Stan asked how would I feel about someone else fucking me while he watched. I didn’t know how to answer that. Of course, I wanted to say, “Well, you had your chance but you slept through it!” 

He went on. He asked if I’d be willing to do it with more than one guy?

He used his story-telling ability to make me think a lot harder about it. He started to describe to my powerful sexual imagination how it would have played out at our house on poker night. First, his friends would have watched him fuck me on the ottoman and then he would have wanted me to invite each of them to fuck me.

He described me being bent over the back of the couch for one man while sucking and jerking another so he could mount me next. I got so turned on by his vivid tale that I suggested that we go into our living room where I took off my clothes and laid on the ottoman he was using in this new fantasy that he was creating for me. I rested my head in his lap and, with his imaginative story, a possible new fantasy, I fingered myself to a very pleasurable orgasm. 

I don’t know if this is how your own fantasy mind works but when I orgasm to a fantasy, it automatically becomes desirable - a fantasy that I want to act out, maybe ever to improve upon.

Stan knows this about me and took advantage of it. Me? If the way he describes a gang rape scenario is pleasing to me, my fantasy mind wants it because the ultimate goal is to produce sexual thoughts and visualizations that compel me to masturbate and reward myself with an orgasm.

To make the fantasy seem more real, Stan ordered me to suck his cock until it got hard. Then he bent me over the back of the couch and fucked me. He did it very aggressively and told me to imagine it was an unknown cock being driven into me with another one waiting its turn.

He said, "You're being fucked by one cock after another." 

I felt Stan's cock get super hard as he continued to describe the scenario involving multiple men, his descriptive words drove both him and me easily to orgasm.

Afterward, Stan asked me if that fantasy would be something I would consider.

I sat up and studied his eyes. "So you're really serious aren't you? I’ll admit that I’m not opposed to it as much as I thought I would be."

I knew that a big part of this fantasy was designed probably more for Stan than it was for me. But I also realized that because of my exhibitionist addiction, I was always considering the next more erotic adventure. I couldn’t help but consider being in the gang rape scenario and allowing myself to enjoy it rather than fight it like I mostly did at the machine shop. I say mostly because the bad angel won’t let me forget that I could have easily enjoyed Dos Equis’s long stroking cock if I wanted to.

I also considered this. When I started flying Amsterdam trips, I developed this fantasy of working in one of the sex shop picture windows in the Red Light District of Amsterdam. I fly to Amsterdam when I can hold the trip and have gone across the canals with the gay flight attendants who, in my experience, are more attracted to the sexual fringe than most other people.

I never thought the picture window fantasy would become reality but I got more excited each time I went there. I fantasized about being watched from the sidewalk by the curious tourists but, being an exhibitionist, I would enjoy it more than the regular picture window girls because it's work for them but, to me, it would be safely acting out my masturbation fantasy in front of strangers. After fantasizing to the point of making it seem real, I finally revealed it to a gay male flight attendant friend of mine that flies Amsterdam frequently. He also  knows about my exhibitionism. He contacted a well connected Dutch friend of his who made the arrangements with one of the shop owners.. I went out and bought VS lingerie and a feathery style Mardi Gras mask and performed in a picture window for an hour on a Saturday evening in the De Wallen section of Amsterdam and absolutely loved it.

So by applying the same rationale, that of doing something I normally wouldn't do, I thought I might feel the same way about a simulated gang rape fantasy. But I also was feeling pressure to do it for Stan. He was clearly very excited, I think too excited, and even though he wasn't insistent, he talked convincingly about how much I'd like it if I tried it. He said he would make all the arrangements. The men he said he had in mind would be very excited to hear that I was willing to try it.

About a week later, he comes to me with more details. He wants me to consider a scenario that would be played out at his friend's machine shop, the one referred to earlier in this story. He said it was a place we could use that was better than someone's home and yet still private on a Sunday night when the shop would be otherwise closed. Plus it was a place I was already familiar with and it would be men, like his poker buddies and guys that were there when I stripped before that would be participating. He said if I was going to act out this new fantasy, he was going to make it worth my while.

I told him that it sounded like plans had already been discussed with his friends and the guys at the machine shop. So he explained that seeing me bound and submissive, so fuckable (their words he said) on the cork-board table in the machine shop made a lot of guys very horny. I told them I’d ask you to consider it. So you can imagine that they would be highly anticipating another visit from you.

I was tempted to tell Stan that I knew I was ‘so fuckable’ because Dos Equis man had turned it into reality - that if he had not passed out, he would have fulfilled his desire to see his wife having sex with another man, but I held my tongue. I didn’t want to fight about it. If we did, I’d probably get emotional and tell him out of anger that I enjoyed having another man’s cock inside me. Then he’d ask me if I meant it. My hesitation would give away the fact that I had to admit that part of me did enjoy it.

Stan continued to press me. He really wanted this. I just stared at him knowing that he knew how my fantasy mind worked. It was racing ahead visualizing the scenario. I would be taken by surprise, stripped of my clothes, and held against my will while I struggled to get free. I would be passed from one man to another for their pleasure.

I thought about my Amsterdam fantasy of playing a prostitute for one night and having sex with multiple strangers. It was fueling my interest. I probably shouldn't have told him that because he equated it with the gang rape fantasy.

"Same thing, Yvonne. Same thing."

He talked about it every day for a week, building it up. He said he had already told his poker buddies who would be really disappointed if I backed out.

"Backed out?" I said.

He looked down. "OK bad choice of words. I'm just saying this has such potential. I told them they'd be helping you with a new fantasy because they already like exhibitionist Yvonne who stripped and masturbated for them. And now they'd love to enact a gang rape fantasy with you.

Stan didn't say it. He didn't have to but I knew this was really about him and not his buddies. He got off on my stripping for his friends. He got off to his friends watching me masturbate. He liked showing my pussy to them after I fell asleep. Now he had this new fantasy of watching multiple men have sex with me. I wasn't there yet. There were a lot of unknowns. But I told him I'd work on it. And I didn't want to let him down because he had always been, until recently, supportive of me acting out my masturbation fantasy on my layovers. 

I knew he was jealous of my involvement in masturbating for other men even though he usually acted cool as if it didn't affect him. That was up until his taste for revenge reared its ugly head at the machine shop. I felt tempted to test how far Stan thought he would go in his taste for revenge, if that’s what it was. Or maybe he really was like some men that get off seeing their wife fucked by a stranger. I didn’t think that’s what was going on with Stan but I realized I could be completely misreading him.  If it was revenge he was seeking, it occurred to me that I could get back at him by becoming the nympho that was apparently not so dormant in me. How would Stan like that? He wouldn’t be punishing me then.

I could already hear the bad angel, “Come on, Yvonne. You can’t deny the latent slut in you. You’ll kick yourself if you don’t release her. And, consider this. You’ll turn Stan’s revenge into your own. My advice though, is to enjoy as many cocks as you can and don’t think about Stan. He’s giving you the green light. How often do you think that’s going to happen?”

So my husband coordinated for me to arrive on a Sunday night when I would return from my Amsterdam trip. I would already be at the airport and near the machine shop just north of there. He said that the men were very excited knowing that I’d be arriving in my uniform which didn't surprise me. Gang raping a flight attendant innocently lost in an industrial park would have quite an appeal.

I could think of two rules right off the bat. One was that they had to wear condoms and, two, that my uniform needed to be in the same condition when I walked out of the machine shop as when I walked in. He assured me that he would discuss it with them. 

So I waited for him to set it up and used the days in advance to convince myself that it was right for me and a welcomed new fantasy.

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Before I got my new boobs, I made a playful masturbation video for a friend. It’s kind of dark but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway. It’s 2:59 long. Sample cut below.

YOU CAN WATCH IT HERE ON SENDVID WHERE I UPLOADED IT.

ENJOY A UNIQUE CLOTHED/UNCLOTHED HOME VIDEO COMPILATION

Sample cut below:

(Album of Videos, GIFs, and Photos of a Real Texas Flight Attendant is Posted Here in Google Photos)

See my home video here:   https://sendvid.com/if6owgfr