Kneeling for 17 Strangers: My Anonymous Salon Surrender

The salon door clicks shut behind me. Plush red carpet, dim lamps, bourgeois hush. My phone buzzes in my purse—hubby’s text, oblivious. I silence it. Days of filthy app chats led here. ‘Anonyme’ profile: straight to sex, no games. Heart hammers. I wear the lace set he gifted—ironic push-up bra, matching thong. Ready to get wrecked.

She appears first. Black corset goddess, whip in hand. Smells like leather and smoke. ‘Kneel, slut.’ No hello. Adrenaline surges. Old man in the armchair nods. ‘Tits out, hands back for a proper blowjob.’ I obey. Bra down, nipples hard. Knees spread wide. Phone vibrates again—ignore. This is my rush.

The Approach

Men file in. No names. First cock: thick, circumcised, veiny. Matches my chat kink confession. She grabs my hair. ‘Mouth wide, tongue out.’ He rams deep. Gagging reflex hits—tears stream, mascara runs. Push through. Suck harder. Her whip snaps my ass. ‘Look him in the eyes.’ He explodes. Hot spurts flood my throat. Swallow every drop. Lick him clean. Pristine.

One by one. Seventeen total—I count. Cocks vary: curved, fat, endless. Saliva drips, mixes with cum on my chin. She pinches nipples, slaps tits. ‘Filthy whore, take it.’ Fingers plunge my soaked pussy. Grateful eyes meet each as they pump and unload. Seventeenth floods me—mouth brims, overflows. Bassesse bliss. Face wrecked: cum globs, drool, ruined makeup.

She yanks my chin. ‘My turn, bitch.’ Pussy to my lips. Musky scent hits—perfume of lust. I lap eagerly. Tongue dives in. She moans, grinds. On the table, ass up. I rim her tight hole, slick with her juices. Prep her like a pro. But eyes on me—five guys stroking. My denied fantasy: anal train.

The Explosion

First lubes my ass. Finger pops in easy. Cock? Brutal stretch. Scream rips out. She shoves my face in her crack. ‘Lick while he reams you.’ Pounds every angle. I shatter—orgasm rips through. He unloads deep. Next slides in slick. Massive, effortless glide. I buck back, heat slut. Cum leaks out, trails thighs. Third, fourth, fifth. Rectum overflows. Creamy mess puddles.

Old man: ‘Spread and drip for me.’ Hands pry cheeks. Gaping hole weeps seed. Hubby’d faint. I pulse, spent.

They fade. She zips up. ‘Good girl. Gone.’ Wipe face, fix lace. Phone: 12 missed calls. Slip out. Street air cools cum-sticky skin. Back to wife, mom. Stranger again. Rush lingers. Crave next click.