Blowjob

Sara grinned widely into the microphone and raised her hand to quiet the crowd. “All right then, guys! Who’s next to donate 200 euros and get served by the little blowjob queen? No hands—just mouth and throat, just like Florian ordered!”

The crowd cheered. Hands shot up immediately. A second man—a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a dark beard, one of Florian’s coworkers—pressed 250 euros into Sara’s hand and stepped through the narrow gap in the curtain. The semi-transparent fabric panels revealed everything perfectly: every movement, every twitch, every glint of spit and cum.

Svenja was still kneeling on the floor, trembling, her face already smeared with the winner’s first thick load. White strands stretched from her lower lip across her chin, dripping slowly into her deep cleavage and running further down the plump curves of her breasts. Her veil clung damply to her cheek. The transparent dome around her hips wobbled slightly with every breath; her bare, bright-red cunt was still gaping open, glistening with her own juices. A long, thick thread of her arousal hung from her swollen clit down to the floor, swaying with every tremor.

The bearded man unzipped his pants. A thick, heavy cock sprang out—already rock-hard, the glans dark red and glistening with anticipation. Sara grabbed Svenja by the back of the head and pushed her face forward. “Open your mouth, slut. Show him what you’ve been practicing all day.”

Svenja obediently parted her full lips. No sooner had the hot, swollen glans touched her tongue than she moaned softly and desperately. The taste was intense: salty, masculine, a hint of sweat and the remnants of the first load of cum still clinging to her mouth. She felt the thick vein on the underside of the shaft pulsing as she let it slide deeper into her throat. The sound was loud and obscene—a wet, smacking gurgle as her throat closed around him.

The man grabbed her veil as if it were a handle and began to direct the movements of her head. Svenja’s head was thrust back and forth rhythmically. With every deep thrust, thick, clear spit oozed from the corners of her mouth, running in long, glistening strands down her chin and dripping loudly onto her bare breasts. You could hear it through the speakers: gulp-gulp-gulp-gulp—the deep, gurgling **** sound as his glans blocked her throat. Her eyes watered beneath the veil, mascara running in black streaks down her cheeks. At the same time, she felt her own cunt twitch convulsively with every gag. The empty, hungry opening contracted as if trying to grasp something, and a fresh gush of clear pussy juice ran down the inside of her thigh, pooling beneath the dome and forming a small, glistening puddle on the floor.

“Fuck, this little one sucks like a vacuum cleaner,” the bearded man growled. He pushed her head all the way down until her nose bumped against his stomach. Svenja’s throat clenched, a loud, choked gagging sound escaped her mouth, and then he came. Hot, thick spurts of cum shot straight down her throat. She swallowed convulsively—you could see the movements in her throat—but it was too much. Some of it shot back up, oozed out of her nostrils, and ran in thick white strands over her upper lip. The rest spurted out as he pulled his cock out, spreading the last drops over her face and cleavage. Svenja coughed, gasped, and a long, lustful scream came from her throat as her pussy visibly twitched and spurted even more juice onto the floor.

The crowd applauded and whistled. Florian laughed over by the edge and called out, “See, honey? The guys are having fun!”

Sara just wiped Svenja’s mouth briefly with a handkerchief—more for show than for cleanliness—and grinned at the crowd. “Next! Who wants number three?”

This time a slim, young guy came up, maybe in his early thirties, with a fairly long, slightly curved cock. He donated 300 euros and stepped forward. Svenja was already kneeling upright again, her face now completely smeared: two thick loads of cum glistened on her cheeks, stuck to her eyelashes, and trailed down to her nipples. Her lips were red and swollen; saliva and cum dripped incessantly from her chin.

The young man was already so horny he could barely wait. No sooner had Sara pushed Svenja’s head forward than he shoved his long cock all the way into her hot, wet mouth. This time it was slower, deeper, more sadistic. Svenja felt every inch: the slight curve that pressed right against her palate, the pulsing heat, the salty, bitter taste of his skin. Her saliva was flowing in streams. With every deep thrust, it bubbled out of the corners of her mouth in thick blobs and splashed onto her breasts, which were now completely shiny and wet.

The guy held her head tight and fucked her mouth in long, controlled strokes. You could hear the wet, smacking sound of her lips closing around his shaft, the deep, stifled gurgling as he stretched her throat, and Svenja’s own horny moans, which kept breaking through. Her pussy beneath the dome was now a single, slippery mess: her labia thickly swollen, her clit rock-hard and dark red, and with every deep throat fuck, a small gush of pussy juice squirted out and splattered onto the floor. The inside of the transparent dome was already fogged up and covered in splatters.

“Oh God, she’s so horny…” the young man gasped. He pulled his cock out, slapped it hard against her cheek a few times—splash-splash—and then shoved it deep inside her again. Svenja gagged loudly, tears streaming down her face, but she kept sucking, desperately, greedily, as if there were nothing more important in the world.

When he came, he pulled back at the last moment. The first thick stream hit her tongue directly, the second shot across her nose and forehead, the third landed in her open mouth. He kept ejaculating until her entire face, her veil, and the upper part of her dress were covered in fresh, thick cum. Svenja swallowed what she could, coughed, and a long, trembling orgasm rolled through her body. Her cunt visibly cramped, the muscles twitching rhythmically, and a small, clear fountain of fluid shot out of her, splashing against the inside of the dome and running down in rivulets.

She knelt there, completely spent, her face a glistening mask of cum, saliva, and tears, the dome around her hips a wet, dripping mess—and yet she smiled, trembling, through all the slime.

Sara leaned toward the microphone: “Anyone else up for round four? This little bride is far from satisfied…”

The crowd went wild. Florian clapped, laughing.