Pamela Has Cravings

“Mmm.. I can smell how wet you are.” The next man in the line up remarked, smiling at a stunned Pamela who glanced momentarily up from the line of cocks to make eye contact for a moment.

Pamela managed to slowly make a few steps forward, finding herself pausing to gaze back and forth at the assorted monstrously sized cocks being stroked in her presence. Pamela struggled to move on, and not feel some allure and excitement as it was clear her figure was what they were stroking themselves too.

Pamela felt that question, if she could be as lewd as the woman from the men’s washroom surface in her mind. Almost as if it pounded to unlock an answer with each step along the group of men.

As she paused facing them, listening to their lewd uncouth compliments and crass overtures the one before her stopped stroking to grab and unzip the wind breaker.

“Nice sports bra.” He complimented, smiling as Pamela gazed down to where his long cock brushed across her now exposed midriff, leaving a warm trail of precum as she stood there, unresistant as the jacket was pulled down to her elbows.

Gasping and squeaking in surprise pleasure, Pamela stepped back, leaning against the guardrail behind her, wanting to stare in upset, disgust and offense, but unable to do little more than gaze invitingly. Back and forth along the line of exposed cocks. Begging to be released from trying to figure out what to do.

Finding herself craving the attention, desiring to embrace it, and have more of it. Pamelaarched her back over the railing behind her, pressing her chest out, shifting her torso off to the side she emphasized the curves and slenderness of her body

Pamela half questioned why she hadn’t put a shirt on over her sports bra like usual, but enjoyed the leering gazed at her clearly hard nipples, and the raucous whistles and cheering as she leaned back, flaunting not just them, but the slightly toned stomach, and cleft camel toes created by the stroke of a finger over the yoga pants, sandwiching the fabric between her swollen pussy lips.

“SHOW us a bit more!” One heckled, Pamela was left feeling aghast, and flummoxed at the unusual circumstance for her. The desire to flaunt more of herself to this eager and engrossed crowd of attention colliding with an increasing unease with what was not a normal situation for her.

As Pamela found herself unable, or was it unwilling to continue on her way, or fleeing she became aware of how her hands were slowly roaming her body, brushing lightly over skin tight fabric, bare skin, pausing longingly to trail along hem lines, hardened nipples, the luring need to touch her clit…

It excited her, this audience.

Pamela increasingly wished for them to just act, freeing her of any choice, any claim of consent, and reason not to have been more ****, or resistant to the carnal hunger that had been growing all day.

“We should just fuck ‘er already. Like you did the one in the women’s. That’ll bring her round.” One suggested, elbowing what was clearly the leader of their pack whose cock Pamela had brushed against.

“She’s tainted by idea alone. Best let her discover what she’s missing on her own.” The lead bum remarked throwing his head back and howling in delight, surprising Pamela and drawing her attention up and away, as his cock impressively launched a tether of black cum onto her.

Pamela’s sudden disgust and shocked gaze down distracting her from the rest of the bums crowding around closer to follow suit, their seed aimed squarely upon the center of her spread open jacket, across her midriff, her chest, one lucky spurt hitting her face.

Pamela wanted to remain disgusted, even as she felt herself only grow wetter, the warm black cum soothing and invigorating where it had sprayed, hands initially trying to wipe it up, now smearing and massaging it across her as if some moisturizer or other lotion.

Her contorted face gone from shock, to disgust, to confusion as the scent of it just stoked the flames of arousal that she had sought to quench earlier.

As her tongue stung with the sweet desire to taste more of the spray that had reached it. Pamela questioned how much she wanted more, needed more, how she had never felt such desire before…

Gasping skyward in pleasure Pamela was suddenly aware of her hand having roamed to massage her breast, lifting the sports bra from tight enveloping of her rack, prompting a choir of cheers from her audience for the exposure.

Another hand toyed at the hem of her pants, as if asking politely to descend.

Pamela felt her knees quake.

Pamela considered covering up, but the attention… It felt better than when she got press coverage for volunteering, for her husband’s work, for social achievements. Pamela found herself craving it,

The jacket slipped further down her arms, her hands peeled it from her wrists.

As the still hard cocks were lined up before her, she sunk to her knees, unable to bring herself to act, yet strangely desiring to more directly place her in their line of fire. To have less of it spilled reaching her.

Pamela’s brown eyes stayed wide, needy and pleading.

As the lead bum neared and she became encircled her mouth hung slight agape.

Pamela stared intently up into the yellow eyes of the lead bum, unresistant as his meat met her lips, her slacken jaw spreading for its girth to fill her mouth, her hand milking his shaft.

She wasn’t doing anything, Pamela told herself. They were intimidating her, taking advantage of her shocked state, using and exploiting her.

Pamela wanted so much more.