One weekend I was chosen to pleasure the guys in the bedroom, so I stripped off and went into the bedroom where I was 'Hog-Tied' to a table top, then blind-folded, thereby, I never knew who was who, the ultimate submissive, so I lay and let each stranger have his fun, without even a murmur, it was all about giving pleasure.The eighth guy in, spent a lot of time touching me, kissing and licking, before finally mounting me and cumming inside my pussy.He got off and left and I made a mental note of his number, he was number eight, he felt good and I wanted to know who he was, my friend was counting and keeping tabs on the guys as they took their turn.'Who was number eight', I demanded to know from her, she thought then made a counting gesture with her fingers and looked at my with a puzzled expression, 'You mean seventh', she replied and mentioned his name.In bed later that night I went back through the numbers, counting and recalling how they each came, and there was definitely eight. To the left and right, two wide curving stairways led to the balcony and restrooms. He climbed the stairs on the right, eager to find his wife, but fearing what may lie ahead. The carpet accepted each footstep, collapsing just enough under his weight, then rebounding, as if impatient to send him on his way. At the top of the stairs, an empty foyer greeted him, silent as a tomb. After pacing in front of the ladies room, he entered cautiously, glanced quickly left and right, only to find it empty. After a hasty retreat, he crossed to the men's room and entered. "Good evening, sir." The tuxedoed man standing a mere two feet to his right stood straight and still as a statue. His face was pale and as translucent as tissue paper, and as Steven met his stare, he recognized the same blank, unblinking eyes as the guests downstairs. "I - uh - I'm looking for my wife." "In the men's room, sir?" "No - I mean - well, she left her seat twenty minutes ago, to go to the ladies room." "Ah, the ladies.
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