Organising the Sunday Orgy

You’re one of the last to arrive at the games room. The whole room is buzzing with excitement, except in the corner armchair where Lucy lies slumped, somewhere between sleep and awake.

“You’re here, we can start,” Gloria exclaims on seeing you.

“We can’t start yet, not everyone’s here,” you reply.

But it isn’t long until the stragglers appear. You take a seat in the main sofa, an old soft affair, freshly covered in blankets.

“How are we doing this?”

“Yes, how are we doing this?”

“The same as usual.”

“There’s nine of us now. Unless Lucy’s playing.”

“Lucy, do you want to play?” Anna turns to ask the semi-comatose Lucy. Lucy lets out a groan and waves a hand. Lucy never takes part in the Sunday orgy. She’s never in a fit state to take part in the orgy. She just likes to lie there and watch.

“How do we do this, then?” Some of the girls look around confused.

“The same as always,” Gloria states. “I’ve got the bag of balls here.” She lifts up a small cloth bag. It jiggles with the weight inside. There are 8 balls in there, 4 red, 4 blue.

“Yes, but there are 9 of us,” Sarka states. “And we only have 4 controllers.”

“Oh,” Gloria had forgotten that.

The rules of the Sunday orgy are simple. The girls play among themselves. The organiser choses what game, the only instruction being that there must be a winner every 5-15 minutes. Whoever wins a game sits out the next game on your cock. You have a rotation of your girlfriends’ pussies, while they compete to be the next one.

Gloria had chosen a Mario Kart version as her game of choice. As you only have 4 controllers only 4 girls can compete at once. So you have 2 heats, and then the top 2 from each heat compete in the final, winner winning time with you. To randomise the heats, the girls pick a ball out of the cloth bag. If they pick a red one, they take part in the 1st heat. A blue one and they take part in the 2nd. This works fine if there are 8 girls (or even 7) but fails when there are 9.

Gloria hadn’t considered that, but you had.

“I say the organiser sits out the 1st game,” you tell them. Gloria is horrified by the concept. She chose the game because she’s good at it, probably the best in the household. She was hoping to win the 1st game so she could be the first to get fucked. Usually, the 1st 2 girls to win the competition get orgasms but not a super one. You tend to hold on until the 3rd girl in the orgy. So you’re pretty certain Gloria’s tactic is to win the 1st game, get fucked during the 2nd game, win the 3rd game, and milk you of your seed during the 4th game. Now you’re telling her she’s sitting out the 1st game, blowing her plans. Obviously, the other girls take the idea much more enthusiastically.

“Look,” you tell Gloria. “While these girls play you can sit next to me and watch. Or we can cuddle, or make out, or grope. Maybe I’ll let you give me a handjob, or a blowjob, or a titjob. But no sex. Sex is for winners only.”

That suggestion lightens Gloria’s mood. She accepts holding the bag while each of the remaining girls pulls a ball out of it. The result is Melody, Anna, Morgane and Niemira have red balls (and will be in the 1st heat), while Belka, Nekane, Sarka and Sybil end up with blue balls (and will contest the 2nd). Gloria had already decided which track they were going to compete on. It’ll be the same track for at least the 1st hour of the orgy, one which isn’t too convoluted or complicated, but still requires skill to complete. The girls place the balls back in the bag, Gloria puts it to one side and then joins you on the sofa.

While the girls fuss and get ready for the game, Gloria cuddles up to you. She presses her soft body against yours, rests her head briefly against your shoulder, but not for long. She can’t resist leaning in for a kiss. Her lips are soft and filled with passion. Her tongue is eager to wrestle with your tongue. You don’t see the game start. You’re engrossed in the passion of Gloria, her lips against yours, her body against yours, her desire fuelling yours. She’s no longer beside you, she’s straddling you, her hands roaming your body, your hands roaming hers, while your mouths clash and suck on each other. You feel the weight of her breasts beneath her simple black t-shirt. She’s not wearing a bra. You suspect none of the girls are, because a bra would get in the way when they get their shot at you. Your hands roam down her back and feel her tight ass. She’s wearing a short skirt and no panties. Again underwear is generally ignored, because underwear would just get in the way. You’re only wearing t-shirt, baggy trousers and boxers, the bare minimum because you expect to lose them all very soon.

Your t-shirt is still getting in the way. Gloria has bunched it up under your armpits so that she can run her hands across your chest. She tweaks your nipples, tickles your belly button, lets one hand roam down to the growing erection in your pants. All the while her lips clash with your lips, her tongue dances with your tongue. You’re overwhelmed by the taste of her, by the smell of her, by the desperation of her desire. You catch glimpses of her eyes and are overwhelmed; they’re hazel pits of utter devotion. They tell you she’s yours forever. Nothing can satisfy her like you can satisfy her. Nothing gives her life more meaning than your pleasure. Nothing gives her more pleasure than pleasuring you.