My 26th birthday is a night that I doubt I’ll ever forget. It was a seriously intense night from start to finish, even before we’d left the house on our way to the swingers club we visited often. But the real fun started once we arrived.
We’d been there several times before, knew the people who owned the club, the girls who worked behind the bar, and several of the regulars. But there weren’t usually so many single guys around. But it was to be expected – it was a greedy girls night, and we’d made it known ahead of time that I was going to be there, being greedy.
The club were very good. They made sure I had bottles of water to keep hydrated, offered me “spotters” to make sure that no one tried to do anything I didn’t want (I didn’t take them up on their offer, my domme and her friend were there to “spot” me). They told me to pick a room and get comfortable, said that word would soon get around as to where I was and people would come and find me.
And soon people did start coming to find me. At first there was one guy, on his own, then someone came in and watched, took over when the first had finished with me. Then the line of guys watching started to grow. To begin with, they were shy, preferring to take me one at a time, but after a little encouragement, I was soon surrounded. At that point, it all blurred, I was just focussed on what I was doing, with little awareness of who I was doing it to. I had a cock in each hand, one in my mouth, and one in my cunt. The night carried on like that, until I needed a break.
Heading down into the bar was the point at which I realised that I’d paid very little attention to the cocks I’d been servicing. There were a few faces I recognised, but on the whole, I didn’t know who I’d fucked, and who I hadn’t. Never mind would I recognise them the next morning, or next week, or next month. I didn’t recognise them less than 20 mins after they had been fucking me.
I didn’t know any of their names. Didn’t know anything about them beyond how our bodies fit together. But I wasn’t done yet.
I’d gone to the club with a number in mind. The number of times I wanted to get fucked. 26, of course. And I was going to keep going until I’d hit that number.
I kept going. Some guys fucked me more than once, but I don’t know how many, or how many times they fucked me. At least one fucked me three times. I remember him a little. I wanted him to be number 26. His cock felt good in me and I wanted it one last time.
I still don’t know how many guys I fucked that night, and this long after, I know I never will find out. There was the handful of guys who fucked me twice, and a handful of guys who I only gave blowjobs to (they weren’t counted in my 26). But I know, that even if they recognised me now, I wouldn’t have a clue who they were if they passed me in the street.