I rolled off and reached for the tissues the staunch the backflow of semen from my just fucked cunt.  As usual, there was a lot.  As usual, I had come more than once.  The first time sitting on his face, his lips suctioning on my clit, one of his hands holding a tit, the other hand with a finger up my arse.

After I had fed him with cunt juice, (I don't think that I squirt  but I do get very wet.) I shuffled down and impaled myself on his lovely cock, riding him to my second orgasm, then relishing the sudden flood of his cum inside me.

"He", is my husband, Sam.  And I love him more than life itself.  We had been together a little over ten years, seven of them married, the other three trying each other out.  An extended test drive.

We are faithful to each other, our idea of extra marital sex is not doing it with different partners, but in different places.  Sometimes it's spontaneous, sometimes planned.  And deliberately outrageous and risky.  Our flat has balcony.  Weather permitting, I sometimes lean over it as he fucks me from behind.  In broad daylight, but fully dressed, except where necessary.   If a passer by looks up, I wave to them.

But that's tame, I have sucked him off driving on a motorway, then masturbated with my tits out and my feet on the dashboard.  We have fucked in a broken down lift in, let's just say, a very tall building in a very large city.  The breakdown was contrived by him.  He is an engineer.   Somehow, he had contrived the make the lift stop between floors, almost at the top.  Waiting to be 'rescued', he fucked me standing up, facing, with one leg raised.  It was the closest we have come to being caught, we were both still panting.

Probably the most risky, was being fucked in a shopping mall, again over the balcony.  It was quite early, so not exactly crowded, but still quite busy.  We went into our respective loos, where I removed my knickers and him his underpants.  I leaned on the balcony rail, he lifted the skirt of my loose summer dress, fished his erect cock from his flys and slipped it into my wet cunt.  I pressed my thighs together for friction and he came almost without needing to thrust.  As I walked back to the loo, his spunk was running down my thighs.  Heaven.

But I digress.  I cuddled up to him and reached down for his still damp cock.  It was in that delicious half-hard state, that I just love.  Actully, I love it anyway, hard, soft or anything in between.  More than love it, I worship it.  It stirred slightly, but I knew that there was little chance of a repeat.  Not for a while anyway and anyway, it was a workday tomorrow.

I could feel his heart beating.  He was deep in thought.

"Penny for them."

I said.  He laughed and said;

"Big birthday coming up, I was thinking about that."

"Don't remind me," I said.  "I can't believe that I'm forty."

"It's alright," he said.  "I've been there, you won't turn into a pumpkin and I will still fuck you."

I bit his ear.  Gently.

"Tell me what you would like as a present," he said.  "Anything you want, whatever you have always dreamed of having."

"How about a big black stud with a ten inch cock?"

I joked.  He was quiet for a while, then;

"If that's what you would like, I'll arrange it."

We drifted into sleep.

The next day at work, I couldn't get my mind off a ten inch cock.  Of any colour.  I had been joking, I've had big ones, not ten-inchers, but big enough to cause more discomfort than pleasure.  There is such a thing as a goldilocks cock, not too big, not to small, but just right.  For me  that's what Sam had.   But he hadn't ridiculed the idea of me being fucked by another man.  What then?  For his fortieth, I had given him a day driving racing cars around a circuit.  Not really my thing.

I have never had sex with a woman, but the idea doesn't appeal anyway.  What then?  Something unusual, something involving sex.  I had never been d.p'd, unless you count a dildo in my cunt as Sam plunders my arse.  But that would involve being fucked by another man, one way or another, and condoms, which I loathe.   As far as I was concerned, all of my holes are Sam's and Sam's only.  Besides, anal is not my thing.  Sam buggers me occasionally, I refuse him nothing  but it gives me no pleasure, other than knowing that he is getting pleasure.  I'm happy if he's happy.

Then at lunch time, I read an article in a women's mag about the popularity of bukkake parties, including an interview with a young woman who is the target.  I do like cum.  Sam's of course.  I can't get enough, I would bathe in it if I could get enough.

I was home first.  I Googled "Bukkake party".  In one of the many videos offered, was the girl from the interview.  She knelt on the floor wearing only knickers and spectacles, while men wanked themselves and came on her.  Afterwards, still coated in cum, she answered questions about it.  At the end, a web address scrolled across the screen.

After dinner, I said to Sam;

"You know how much I love your splosh?"

"You mean my spunk?"

"Alright, your lovely, thick, rich spunk."

"So do you want me to spunk your or splosh you?"

"Both.  Later.  What I want for my birthday, is lots of it."

"I could catch it and save it until then and pour it over you.  Warm or cold?"

I hadn't thought of that.  Yuk, cold spunk!"

"That would be nice," I said.  "But I like the way it splashes on me, thick and warm."

It was true, I like to massage it into my tits.  I also like to masturbate, using a freshly harvested cuntfull.  He likes it too.  I showed him the video.  He was gobsmacked.

"If it's really what you want," he said.  "Go ahead.  But I want to be there."

That was a given.  I clicked on the website and scrolled to where it said;

"Private parties catered for."

I sent them an email;

"I would like to be the target,, can you provide the men?"

The reply came back immediately;

"Can you be more specific?  When?  How many men, what kind of contact will be allowed?  Would you like the event to be filmed?"

Well, it was my fortieth.  I replied;

"Forty, no contact other than with semen, my husband will film."

The reply came back;

"Are you sure?  Forty is a lot.  But yes, it can be arranged.  Will your husband be one of the forty?  Can you provide photographs of yourself?"

I said that I would send photos as soon as possible and that my husband would just be filming.  I was guessing that he (Or she?) meant nude pictures.  I had none.  The next day, I bought a carnival mask and posed for Sam wearing just the mask, high heels and a pair of skimpy knickers.  I emailed them.  A reply soon arrived, quoting the price.  We discovered later that the fee was just for private hire of the premises.  The men came free, literally.  We paid the deposit.

Confirmation arrived the following day.  It was done.  They advised that my genitals be covered and that I should wear glasses to protect my eyes.  No explanation was required, I didn't want alien splosh anywhere near my cunt, and we knew that ingestion is fairly safe, but that cum in the eye is less so.

I had two weeks to wait and I began to have second thoughts.  What had I done?  Sam assured me that it would be okay, he would be there.  We discussed what I should wear.  Or not wear.  I wanted to feel the cum land.  All over.  So I wanted my tits on display, like the girl in the video.  I would wear stillettos, sussies and stockings, again like the girl.  I would wear a thong, leaving my buttocks bare, but as extra protection I would insert a tampon.  I bought a pair of huge, horn rimmed 'secretary' specs, with plain lenses.  I was ready.

The venue was in another town, at nine p.m. on a Saturday.  My birthday was on the Friday before.  We booked a luxury hotel on the edge of town and both took Friday off work.  We celebrated à deux, with a delicious meal and even more delicious fucking later.  The next day, the hotel hairdresser put my long hair into a bun, leaving my neck exposed. We took a taxi to the venue, which was a single story building without windows, on an industrial estate, arriving half an hour early, as suggested.

We were met by a couple in their fifties, the owners.  We paid the rest of the fee.  I was asked if I had any last minute requests, did I want the 'donors' to be naked?  Would it be alright if they chose to wear masks?  Did I want a break for a cleanup or a non stop session.  I was shaking with fear, I could feel my heart beating in my throat as she helped me prepare.  I removed my wedding ring.  Somehow, it seemed inappropriate. 

She led me to the main room, where forty-one naked men were waiting.  I nearly wet myself.  Forty men is quite a crowd.  Somehow, I resisted the temptation to run.  One of the men was Sam.  He had a video camera in his hand, the others, their cocks.  One of them was the man who had welcomed us.  There was music with a heavy beat playing, around the room there were large screen T.V's showing porn.  In one corner was a well stocked bar.  The men were all shapes, ages, sizes and colours.  Some wore masks, none had erections.  In the centre of the room was a mat for me to kneel on.  The woman went to tend the bar  apparently drinks were free.

The men surrounded me, those closest began to wank themselves. There was a delay, it seemed like ages but was probably only a couple of minutes, then a man stepped closer.  A tall, fit looking black man.  Completely hairless.  His hand a blur on his large circumcised cock.  He came in my face, obscuring the glasses.  Even though I was ready for it, it made me jump.  It was warm and salty on my lips.

I raised my hands to wipe my glasses and a second load spattered onto my left tit.  That was more like it.  The third volley was from behind, hitting between my shoulder blades.   Then the barrage seemed not stop, with spunk peppering me from all sides.  As soon as one cock spurted, it's donor moved aside for another.  I kept my hands on my thighs and realised that I was digging my nails into my flesh.  Still the shower came, I had to call a halt, spunk had found it's way into my eyes, probably trickling from me forehead.  Somebody handed me some wetwipes, I wiped my eyes and the glasses that were supposed to protect them.  As soon as I replaced the glasses, a volley hit them.

Then as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.  I was helped to my feet.  I was covered from head to toe with cum.  I had had my spunk shower.  The woman helped me to the ladies where I stripped naked and showered, scrubbing away what I travelled all this way for.  I threw the spunky knickers into the bin along with the sussies and ruined stockings.  Both stockings had ladders where my nails had shredded them.  Sam calls ladders in my stockings;

"Stairways to heaven."

He likes to walk up them with his fingers, to my cunt.  But not today.  When I emerged, only Sam, now dressed, and the couple were left.  We were offered coffee while we waited for the taxi.  We discovered that the men had paid £75 for the privilege of wanking on me.  They had been shown the photos.  The couple had raked in almost £3000 for the evening, plus what we had paid for 'venue hire.'  I guess the owner, man number forty, had a freebie.

We didn't speak during  the ride back to the hotel.  What was going through Sam's mind?  Disgust?  As soon as we got back, I showered again, trying to remove every trace of my shame.  Sam was already in bed.

"Please fuck me," I said.  "Wash me clean with your spunk."

I would probably not do it again, it was a one off.  What would happen for my fiftieth?  A fifty man gang-bang?