Mission work

Christina sent the invitations on thick black cardstock with gold foil lettering:

*You and your partner are invited to an exclusive BimboTech lifestyle demonstration.

Dress code: Easy access.

Expectation: Total honesty.

Reward: Everything your marriage has been missing.*

Twelve couples RSVP’d yes.

Three more begged to be wait-listed.

By eight o’clock the house was full of perfume, nervous laughter, and the low thrum of people who already knew they were about to cross a line. Christina greeted every guest at the door naked except for glossy red heels and a thin gold chain that sat in the deep valley of her massive tits. Her permanently puffy cunt was already shiny. Josh stood behind her equally naked, thick cock half-hard and heavy, the little collar around his neck reading *Property of Christina – Ask Permission* in neat white letters.

“Drinks are in the kitchen,” she told each couple with a sunny, slutty smile. “Rules are simple. No one touches my himbo’s cock without my verbal permission. No one cums without my permission. Husbands who get hard are expected to stay denied unless I say otherwise. Wives who get wet are expected to show me. Any questions?”

No one had questions.

Everyone was already staring at Josh’s cock and Christina’s body like they’d never seen sex before.

She gave them twenty minutes to drink and circle each other like sharks. Then she climbed onto the low stage she’d had built in the living room (just a wide, padded platform with good lighting and easy clean-up) and crooked a finger at Josh. He came to her immediately, thick cock bobbing, empty eyes shining with pure devotion.

“Demonstration time,” Christina announced, voice carrying over the music she’d turned down. “This is what a properly adjusted himbo looks like when his owner is feeling generous.” She wrapped her fingers around Josh’s shaft and gave it a slow, public stroke until he was fully hard and leaking. “Tonight he’s going to fuck whoever I point at. I’m going to fuck whoever I want. And every boring husband in this room is going to watch his wife get ruined while his own cock stays untouched. If that sounds unfair… good. That’s the point.”

She pointed first at Melissa—the country-club wife from last week, already flushed and breathing hard beside her soft husband Brad.

“Melissa. Up here. On your back. Legs open. My himbo needs a warm-up cunt.”

Melissa scrambled onto the platform so fast she almost tripped. She spread her legs without shame. Josh looked at Christina for the words.

“You may fuck Melissa,” Christina said clearly. “Deep. Slow at first. Make her husband hear every wet sound.”

Josh mounted her in one smooth motion and sank every thick inch into her married cunt with a single, obscene thrust. Melissa’s moan was pure broken gratitude. He started fucking her in long, powerful strokes, heavy balls slapping, cock glistening as it disappeared inside her over and over. Christina knelt beside them, cupped Melissa’s face, and kissed her deep and filthy while the whole room watched.

“Thank her,” Christina ordered against the other woman’s mouth. “Thank me for letting my man-whore stretch you open in front of everyone.”

“Thank you—fuck—thank you for letting him fuck me—it’s so deep—thank you, Christina—”

Brad stood at the edge of the platform with his fists clenched and his useless cock tenting his slacks. Christina reached down, unzipped him just enough to free it, then gave the head one dismissive pat.

“No touching,” she reminded him sweetly. “You’re here to watch your wife get turned into a dripping, thanking mess. That’s your role.”

She left Melissa impaled and moaning and crawled across the platform to the next couple. The personal trainer, Sierra, was already dripping down her thighs. Her soft fiancé looked like he might pass out. Christina pushed Sierra onto her hands and knees facing Josh and Melissa, then lay down on her back and slid her head between Sierra’s thighs.

“Sit on my face,” she ordered. “And you—” she pointed at Josh without taking her mouth away from Sierra’s cunt, “—pull out of Melissa and fuck Sierra while she rides my tongue. Permission granted.”

Josh pulled out of Melissa with a wet sound that made half the room groan. He shifted behind Sierra, rubbed the fat, shiny head of his cock through her folds, then drove into her in one brutal thrust. Sierra cried out and dropped her full weight onto Christina’s mouth. Christina moaned into the other woman’s cunt and started licking like she was starving—broad, greedy strokes, tongue fucking deep, nose grinding against Sierra’s clit while Josh railed her from behind.

The room filled with wet, rhythmic slap of skin and the broken, grateful noises of women being used. Christina came first from the sheer filthy joy of it—squirting up against Sierra’s mouth and chin while she kept licking. Sierra followed thirty seconds later, cunt clamping around Josh’s thick cock, thighs shaking on either side of Christina’s head. Christina pushed her off, rolled Melissa back into place, and pointed.

“Josh. Fill Melissa. Now. Then I want both of them to clean your cock together while the rest of these wives watch and get jealous.”

Josh’s orgasm was loud and shameless. He buried himself to the hilt in Melissa and pumped thick, heavy ropes of cum into her married cunt while she sobbed thank-yous. When he pulled out, a creamy flood immediately leaked onto the platform. Christina snapped her fingers. Melissa and Sierra both dropped to their knees and started licking Josh’s still-hard cock clean—trading slow, slutty kisses around the head, sharing the taste of each other’s cunts and his cum—while every other woman in the room stared with open hunger and every husband stood rigid and denied.

Christina stood, shiny face and heavier tits heaving, and smiled at the crowd like a queen.

“Form a line,” she said. “Wives first. You’re going to take turns on my himbo’s cock while I decide which of you gets my tongue and which of you gets to watch your husband stay denied. If you’re very good, I might even let Josh fuck me in the middle of the train so you can all see how a properly upgraded cunt takes him.”

They formed a line so fast it was almost comical.

What followed was two hours of pure, dripping, orgasmic chaos.

Josh fucked seven different women in a row, never going soft, never needing more than Christina’s clear verbal permission between each one. He took them on their backs, on their knees, bent over the edge of the platform, sitting on his cock while they faced the room so every husband could see his wife’s face while she was stretched open. Christina moved between them like a conductor—licking cunts, sucking tits, making out with every woman the second Josh pulled out of her so she could taste her himbo’s cock second-hand. She squirted twice more just from the power of it: once while straddling a wife’s face and riding it while Josh fucked that same wife, once while she was on all fours taking Josh from behind while two other women licked and sucked her heavy swinging tits.

Whenever a husband looked too close to touching himself, Christina would crawl over, slap his hand away, and make his wife thank her for the denial while Josh kept railing her.

At one point she ordered a full girl-girl-boy train: one wife on her back, another sitting on her face, Josh fucking the top wife while Christina sat on the bottom wife’s mouth and made out with the top one. The wet, muffled, overlapping moans filled the house. Cum and squirt mixed on the platform until the whole thing was shiny. Christina came so hard she temporarily forgot language, heavy tits heaving, cunt pulsing around nothing while she watched her perfect, stupid himbo empty another load into a shaking, thanking married woman.

By the time the last couple signed the recruiting contract (hands shaking, wives still dripping, husbands red-faced and aching), the platform was a ruin of sweat and cum and squirt. Josh knelt in the middle of it all, thick cock still half-hard and shiny, empty eyes soft with pure bliss, waiting for the next order like the perfect man-whore he was.

Christina stood over him, naked and glowing, cum running down her thighs, and raised a glass of champagne to the ruined, ecstatic crowd.

“Welcome to the lifestyle,” she said, voice husky and satisfied. “My himbo and I are booked for private sessions starting next week. Group events once a month. And if any of you boring husbands ever get tired of just watching…” She smiled like pure filth. “Warren has chairs that can fix that too.”

Josh nuzzled against her sticky thigh and looked up at her with pure, stupid adoration.

“Did I do good, Christina?”

She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulled him against her puffy, cum-smeared cunt, and sighed as his tongue immediately started cleaning her.

“You did perfect,” she whispered. “My beautiful, tireless, man-whore himbo. Now keep licking while I schedule the next party. We’re going to need a bigger platform.”

The room smelled like sex and fresh ink from all the signed contracts.

Christina had never been happier.

Or wetter.

Or more powerful.