You find an unstamped, unaddressed letter on your mat, with only your name on it. It contains a hotel room key card for an upmarket hotel in your town with “Room 409 19:00 Don't be late” written on it in marker.
You should tell someone. You certainly shouldn't go. You shove the key in your pocket and throw the envelope away. It's not that you are going to go, it's just, well, it's interesting to think about.
You make an excuse to leave the house that evening, a fictional package that needs collecting. You pace around the hotel, your heart racing. You had a smoke to try and calm down before you left but you think you had way too much. Your head is spinning. Obviously you're not going to go in. Obviously. But you wonder what would happen if you did.
You're standing outside Room 409, the key card in your hand, visibly trembling. It's ok, you tell yourself, you just need to know who sent you this. You can tell them to leave you alone, that you're not that kind of guy, threaten to call the police. If they're trouble you can scream or call 999, this is a busy hotel, you'll be ok. It's probably just a practical joke, the card isn't even going to work.
Beep. The door opens. You open it the smallest crack. You can't see anyone, you open it a bit more. There's no-one there. You take a couple of steps into the room. There's something on the bed. It's a padded leather blindfold, with secure fastening straps. It looks expensive. A hotel business card lays beside it. “Put it on and lie down” is written on it in marker. This is too much. You'd never do anything like that. You're in danger. You really need to go home right now and forget this ever happened.
The blindfold doesn't let any light in at all, and fits tight to your head. All you can hear is your own rapid breathing and racing heartbeat. You're too high for this. Is anything actually going to happen? How long are you going to be here? Should you have taken your clothes off?
You jump at a beep from the door, and hear footsteps approaching you. More than one set. You panic. This is really, really bad. What are you even DOING? You need to get this blindfold off and get out of here NOW. But you don't move. You just lie there, trembling.
You cry out a little as you feel the first touch, a large, soft hand gently running through your hair. Rougher hands slowly slip under your top to caress your tummy and chest. You smell aftershave as a stubbled face buries into your neck and softly starts to kiss it.
You're gently and slowly undressed, the men working together to remove your top while supporting your body. Their hands and lips are all over you, you can't tell how many are. Three? Four? Or maybe just two. One gently parts your legs before putting his face between them and inhaling deeply, followed by a shuddering sigh of pleasure, the first time you've heard one of them make a noise.
You feel yourself start to dissociate, the sensations are just too much, they're washing you away like a river and you lose track of what's happening. At one point you swear one is gently teasing your pussy with his tongue, while another two suck your nipples. And hands everywhere, caressing, grasping, exploring.
You're bought back to earth as a hand that was running through your hair suddenly grips hard and yanks your head back. The mood of the men shifts instantly. You feel a hand roughly force your mouth open and another stuff a pillowcase into it to gag you. You cry out in shock but hardly any sound comes out as your mouth is filled with dry cotton.
A hand clamps across your gagged mouth as both shoulders are firmly pushed into the mattress. You smell his scent mixed with your own fluids from where he'd been fingering you moments before. Your legs are torn apart as one of them, slim but shocking strong, mounts you.
He hammers into you with such urgent need it knocks the breath out of you. The strength of his desire for you makes him feel like an animal or machine. His clothes brush against your naked body, he hasn't even undressed fully. Your scream when you cum is muffled to a thin squeak, and you feel yourself squirt all over him and the bed. You have a moment of clarity and fear - is he going to be angry? But if anything it seems to excite him even more, and he fucks you with even more intensity until seconds later he cries out with what sounds more like a bark than anything as he shoots a load inside you.
The next one is gentler, but no less needy. He wipes away some of the cum from your thighs with a sheet, and his soft hands caress your face and squeeze your ass as he enters you. It's all so much. You surrender completely, just letting it all happen, desperately sensitive and overstimulated, you just become an animal, howling and moaning as it's fucked.
You barely notice as the last one finishes, dropping your ass into the sodden mess of the sheets. As you are feeling, you hear the rustle of cloth as their heavy footsteps leave as quickly as they came.
The last set of footsteps stops before the door. There is a pause, and he walks back over to you. Your stomach muscles are spasming and your whole body is twitching and overstimulated. You gasp in surprise as he plants a kiss on your tummy, low down, on your womb. Then he's gone too.
Six weeks pass. This is the first morning all week that you haven't thrown up. You need to go out, get a pregnancy test, there's no rush though, it's just going to be a false alarm like it always is. You zip up your coat and freeze at the door. Another envelope is on the mat, bare except for your name.
HOLY SHIT AWOOOOOOOOOOOOO
