Francie’s Cherry Blossom Festival

Francie’s Cherry Blossom Festival

The characters in this story are of legal age & any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

** Episode One: “Welcome”

Francie’s on a slut-walk down the hotel hallway.

It’s her mumble-th birthday (you know better than to ask) and her husband graeme has arranged a special party.

She stops in front of Suite 16, takes off her glasses and tucks them in her clutch purse. She waves her phone at the door and after a few misses (she hasn’t quite got this keyless-entry-app thing down) her screen turns blue to green and the doorlock buzz-hum-clicks. She puts her phone in her bag, presses the lever and steps inside.

The door’s barely closed before somebody’s feeling her up, there’s warm breath in her ear and a boner poking the small of her back. Her purse hits the floor as she reaches back to grab hold of the thing.

Without her glasses on Francie’s world is a smudgy blur, so there’s no point in looking back to see who this guy is. But she has an eidetic tactile memory and never forgets the shape of an erection. Hmmm… Do I know this guy?

She holds the cock halfway up to feel its girth, then does a thumb-and-pinky span to check the length. She reaches back with her other hand, feels the head, puts her fingertips around the ridge of his glans. She cups her palm and weighs his balls (scrotums aren’t much good for ID, but Francie likes playing with them).

She’s pretty sure she recognizes it. As a last test she makes an OK with her thumb and forefinger and slides it up to the head. And… there’s the curve and… Yep! I know this guy! It’s him! He was her first!

Back when Francie and graeme started swinging, when they finally met the right couple… They connected and clicked, and their first play date was amazing. Who could forget sharing her slutwife cherry?

Her very first outside-marriage lover! And her thoughtful husband invited such a special person to her birthday gangbang.

Only thing is, Francie’s so excited she’s drawing a total blank on the guy’s name. Which just makes her hornier, makes her feel like a slut, a tramp who can’t remember a guy’s name but remembers the shape of his dick.

“SO FRESH!” Francie squeaks. He’s got a hand up her skirt, pulling aside her panty gusset, like he wants to slip it in right here, right now. He was so slow and gentle that first time, though it’s a real turnon that he’s so horny for her.

But doing it standing up never works for Francie. She’s so teensy that the height difference is way too distracting. So she squirms away and twists around, squats and gets her mouth around him.

She stays in a squat — no rugburned knees for her, not this early on — and puts a hand down to steady herself. There’s… mooshy… wait what? oh how thoughtful! He’s put down one of those way-soft extra-thick hotel towels for her! Now THAT’S more like the guy I remember.

Francie hits her knees and settles in, curls her tongue into a little pink spoon and scoops up his precum. She rolls it around in her mouth like she’s a wine snob, a warm vintage zesty with earthy undertones or something.

That taste gets her glands going — wet down there and almost drooling up top. She give him a coating of her gooey spit, then ducks under and puts her lips on the underside. He stops and feels the blood pulsing through that big vein, tick, tick, tick… thinking about X-ing off the days on the calendar all week, then setting a countdown clock on her phone this morning, then staring at it, getting hornier by the minute. And now hornier by the second, a dirty girl on her knees with a dick in her face.

She slurps up the head, holds it against the roof of her mouth, then works it inside and over her tongue, getting it close to the back of her throat. She relaxes, being careful with her gag reflex when… OH! hey, WHOA! WHOA! give a girl a heads-up at least! With hardly any warning, the first squirt hits her back teeth.

And at that moment it comes to her. She remembers the guy’s name.

THE NAME CAME WHEN HE CAME!

This thought gives her a little giggle-fit and she’s making a snorty noise when the second gush almost shoots down her windpipe. She twists her head away and the next splash paints the corner of her mouth and her cheek.

Francie kinda likes a boy spilling on her face, but when it’s this quick it’s more disappointing than flattering. But she’s in such a slutty mood she laps up the sticky and hopes ALL the guys saved up big loads like that one.

ooh! And just WHO will those other guys be? What other happy surprises has her husband has lined up for her today?

…which reminds her: I haven’t said hello to that rascal yet!

She grabs her purse, jumps up and skips away.

** Episode Two: “Hi Honey, I’m Here!”

She doesn’t actually SAY that because she’s saving the mouthful of cum. She makes her way toward an unmistakeably *LOUD* blot of bright & ugly color: Her husband graeme’s garish and impossible-to-miss patterned shirt. The thing’s beyond fluorescent, it’s neon turned up to eleven, it’s probably visible from outer space.

graeme wears it when his wife’s with other guys. The shirt’s like a landmark for her. Foggy vision or not, no matter what goes on, no matter which way Francie gets turned on, up, down, left, right, around or halfway inside out, she always knows with a quick look exactly where her husband is.

Francie leans in for a kiss and shares her mouthful of gangbang birthday cake frosting.

“So,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Whose dick’s a girl gotta suck to get a drink around here?”

** Episode Three: “Half the Pleasure’s in the Anticipation”

Francie perches her little bottom on the edge of the divan, sips her Venetian Spritz and has a look around Suite 16.

Well, not really a ‘look’ because she can’t see a darned thing. She had her glasses on earlier when graeme showed her the space, so she knows the layout. Suite 16 is double-big, takes up both both sides of a corner, has a fabulous overlook of the river and the municipal arboretum (it’s the time of year when the city’s grove of fruit trees is blooming, a gift from their Sister City in Japan). Here inside there’s a huge play area in the sitting room, and a couple of huge bedrooms big enough to… well, they’re big enough to hold a gangbang!

And that’s what Francie’s taking in. With her twenty/umpteen-hundred eyesight, all the men are vague, soft shapes here and there around the room. But glasses-off, her other senses jump up. Every sound, scent, taste and feel is sharper. She figures that’s why some gals like a blindfold for this kind of party.

Francie scooches back on the divan, crosses her legs and takes another sip of her Spritz. She swirls her tongue around, all the bubbles and tartness rinsing out the nutty taste of her first load, thinking about the next one and the ones after that.

She takes another sip and drifts away to another party, to Jane Austen and Pride & Prejudice and Lydia Bennet and where…

“With a creative eye of fancy Lydia sees herself the object of attention, to tens and scores of them at present unknown. To complete the view, she sees herself seated, tenderly flirting with at least six at once.”

An ice cube in grame’s cocktail shaker cracks, and the sound snaps her back to the here and now. She can smell the vodka (two parts) and the gin (one part) and the Kina Lillet (one half part) and the twist (lemon) in his vesper martini (shaken, not stirred). She goes back to her Spritz, tasting every ingredient, tonguing apart the aperol from the prosecco from the fizz water.

graeme’s got the lights turned down just right and the temperature’s perfect, the room’s vibe is quiet excitement. Francie listens to the silence, letting the anticipation build, then REALLY LOUD her stomach growls.

She’s been fasting; she likes the extra sense-edge that gives her, and she likes how every tum-grumble and hunger pang adds to her own anticipation. (Plus, Francie’s a practical girl and she’s expecting to get her buns drilled today.)

Let’s go, she thinks, there’s a lot of balls to drain. Francie stands up, hands her husband the mostly-full glass, says: “Be a good cuckold and stand by with the water and the lube.”

** Episode Four: “Francie’s Wing-Slut”

There’s a blur in the corner of her eye and a hand on her waist and warm breath in her ear: “Hiya pretty!”

OMG Francie says. Gemma!

Gemma: “I know you don’t need a fluffer, but mmmfff!” Francie shuts her up with a kiss over the shoulder.

Gemma was Francie’s first girl crush (well, her first girl crush that went beyond a little flirty kissing) back in college, a cutie in Russian Lit class that kept giving Francie the RSVP eye. Study Buddies With Benefits.

Years later when Francie and graeme got into the lifestyle, by the wildest coincidence ever in the whole wide world ever EVER, the SBWBs reconnected at a club. What a wonderful surprise that was then, what another wonderful surprise it is now, what a thoughtful cuckold husband she has!

Francie takes her tongue out of Gemma’s mouth, feels her cheek, runs her finger along her jawline, that familiar chin and throat. She bends over to kiss her navel, breathes the scent of her soft soft skin, feels the faint trace of Gemma’s tummy-down.

As she tongues a wet line from Gemma’s belly button to the waistband of her bike shorts, a memory from that Russian Lit class pops into her head: “skin smooth without luster, for all the world as if she were made of ivory or meerschaum.”

She reaches around to feel Gemma’s pretty backside when (WAIT! What? Is that a buttplug?!?) Gemma scoots away, giggling. “Naughty girl!” she scolds. “You’re here to play with BOYS today!”

** Episode Five: “graeme’s Guest List”

“And these boys,” Gemma says, with a wave of her hand that Francie can barely make out. “These gentlemen are all here by special invitation.”

Francie knew about this party of course, and by now she knows graeme isn’t putting on just any ol’ kind of gangbang for her birthday. This is no random bunch of guys running a train on her. First, her first-ever partner, then Gemma. Francie’s excitedly wondering who-all has been ‘specially invited’.

And graeme did make up a special list. He went back through all their partners and playmates, remembering Francie’s favorites, especially her “first-time-I-tried THAT” dates. Then he got in touch (bless the internet!) and — as if this were any surprise — they remembered Francie, alright.

And he wasn’t going to script out a gangbang in three acts or anything like that, but he did want a sort of story, something with a rhythm and a pace. Spontaneity of course — no director barking PLACES EVERYONE — but with a coherent flow. What he needed was an MC.

And who else but Gemma, that arsty girl Francie knew from school? And she sounded even more enthusiastic than the guys — or at least she felt more O.K. expressing it: “We’ll call it Francie’s Frisks and Capers!” she said. “I’ll curate the party like a piece of performance art!”

And here she is now, artfully curating Francie out of her pretty wrap dress.

** Episode Six: “Gemma’s Victorian Party Game”

The dress falls off Francie’s shoulders and drapes around her feet. She steps out, slips off her flats, flexes her toes and rubs her instep. Gemma gives her a hand and Francie hops up on the divan.

“The Empress of All Russia!” Gemma announces. Francie’s looking royally sexy in nothing but her lavender panties (not quite Royal Purple, Francie thinks, but she’s sure it’s showing off her wet spot). Gemma turns to the Empress’s subjects and says: “It is my duty to see that all rules are kept.”

This lights another Russian Lit lightbulb in Francie’s mind. She recognizes that line, it’s from a Turgenev story… oh the name’s escaping her right now but… Now Gemma’s pushing something into her hand, shaking it a bit so Francie can “see” what is it and what’s in it. It’s an upside-down hat, full of folded-over sheets of stationery.

And now she remembers the name, the title of that story. Gemma’s doing a bit from “First Love”. And then another lightbulb goes off: Francie’s first swing date, Francie’s first girly-girly… grame’s gangbang theme is “first love”! What a clever boy that husband of her is! She turns her toward that fluorescent blob and gives him an I-get-it wink.

Then Francie turns back and — remembering how the story goes — stands like a young princess, holding out the hat. All the young men cluster round her, trying to put their hands in the hat. She keeps it above their heads, shaking it violently every now and then.

“We’re using the permission slips from their wives,” Gemma says to France. To the guys she says: “But in my version of the Kissing Forfeits game, I am the one who chooses the turns. So hands off!” They clear away obediently.

Gemma carefully picks one out and singsongs: “Here is a pretty thing and a very pretty thing, what is to be done to the owner of this?”

After a pause Gemma reads the note, says it’s from Will’s wife. “Will?” Francie thinks. “THE Will? Him?” Will’s the first uncut boy she ever played with!

She hears Gemma whispering to him, then out loud: “Oh what fun it is to give orders. There is no greater pleasure in the world.”

Francie feels herself taken off her feet like she’s a little doll, then laid gently back down on the divan. She remembers how strong Will is, thinks this may be why a cuckold would call his wife’s lover a “bull”. The name really fits him.

The name really fits and he’s really fit, too! (Will is also the first Olympics medalist — one those sports nobody’s ever heard of, but still — that Francie fucked. O.K., the only Olympics medalist that Francie’s fucked.)

She’s feeling him all over, those arms and pecs and abs, moving her hands around and back to his delts to the glutes and and and — yum, he’s already naked, Gemma probably stripped him so she could gawk at that bod — and back up front she touches him THERE and…

Yum, my wrapped birthday present! Francie puts her hand around the nob, feels his foreskin stretching and peeling back as he gets stiff, looks ahead to trying to feel that little extra bump when he slides in her.

** Episode Seven: “2 POVs of Romance & Foreplay & Francie Getting Railed”

Gemma’s idea of a proper gangbang is nothing like those internet vids: start with the girl surrounded by penises, sucking one while jacking two, moving around the circle, blah blah blah, paint by numbers. Who does that, even at a gangbang, am I right?

This is all about Francie and Gemma knows first-hand how much that girl likes touching and petting and closeness. Francie’s tactile thing is a lot more than just a way of getting around without her glasses on, it’s part of what makes Francie Francie. And Gemma’s given Will the privilege and responsibility of ‘performing the forfeit’ and getting Francie going.

A few minutes ago it was Francie couldn’t hear whispers (Gemma was reminding Will about no-kissing-on-the-mouth and Francie’s rule about taking off her underpants). Now it’s Gemma who can’t make out what Francie and Will are cooing to each others ears, squirming around and giggling. She steps away from the divan, moves over to graeme and steals a big sip from his superstrong martini. Whew!

Francie keeps one hand on Will’s cock while the other wanders all over the rest of him. She eventually works that free hand back to herself and hooks a finger in her waist band. She pauses there, drawing out her husband’s favorite part of foreplay. The sub cuckold gets a big kick from watching his wife take off her own panties when she’s sharing herself with another guy.

She peels off her wet underpants as slowly as she can, but as they reach her knees she starts hurrying. She gets them off one leg, and leaves them looped around her other ankle. Then she lies back, readjusts her grip and pulls Will up and over her. She lubes up Will’s sheathed cockhead with her own wet.

As dim-lit as the place is, graeme can make out a glint off that shiny knob. He gets a cuckold’s look from the foot of the divan: here’s another man on top of his wife, she’s rubbing his dick on herself, he can see her starting to guide the head inside, can hear her girl-whispering things to the bull, see her legs spreading wider.

Francie gets Will partway inside her and squeezes her thighs around him. She sets one foot and arches her back; the other comes off the bed and her wet panties wiggle halfway back up her calf. graeme watches the little lilac pretties wave around as his wife kicks her feet up. Her bull sinks in balls-deep and they settle into a rhythm together. graeme sees Francie peek around Will’s shoulder, squinting with a little smile in the corner of her mouth. She gives her husband a little bye-bye wave before she disappears into Francie-Land.

Gemma drains the rest of the martini, thinking: That girl sure loves her missionary. The body-on-body feel, front-to-front with all those nerve endings touching another person. The closeness, breathing each others breath, that part of your brain starts saying: here’s the part where you kiss!

She sees Francie half-open her mouth, but then she turns her head. In a room as well-populated as this one, Gemma thinks, the no-kissing problem solves itself! She giggle-snorts and thinks maybe she’d better lay off that gin…

With Francie’s mouth now full of dick, Will lifts off her a little to give the other guy room. Francie rearranges herself underneath him.

Francie’s too small to do things some other girls can. But that means Francie’s just the right size to do things some other girls can’t. Right now she’s knees-up with her feet up against her bull’s chest. She scooches her butt up and makes an inverted ‘v’ under his collarbone, and when she feels the penis settle back in her, she touches her toes together.

The girls at yoga probably have a name for this kind of contortion, some explanation about her core or whatever, but what Francie cares about is how it makes a cock rub her Goldilocks spot juuuuust right.

She reaches around to find a cock for each hand, past the point of caring whose dick’s in her mouth, or who she’s jacking off. She feels the mist roll in.

** Episode Eight: “First Intermission”

Afterward, Francie lies on the divan catching her breath, twisting the cap off a bottle of water. She’s really dry, she’s been sweating and must have been sucking a lot of cock. Just how many guys are here, anyway? Not knowing the answer makes her feel very dirty and very sexy.

She lifts herself on one elbow. It’s very quiet, and as far as she can tell, she’s the only person in the sitting room. Well, except for that martini-mixing technicolor smudge over there. She smiles and waves, then finally gets those panties off her leg. She tosses them his way; no reason her husband’s got to be the only guy her who doesn’t get a whiff of her pussy today.

She’s idly petting herself and sniffing the sweetish-smelling b.o. she’s worked up when a Gemma-shaped outline comes out of one of the bedrooms. When they’re snuggled up on the divan, Francie picks up a delicious tangy musk. What has SHE been up to?

Gemma pushes pushes away some strands of hair stuck to Francie’s forehead, says her lips look beestung and that she’s beautiful. Francie takes a sip of water and kisses her, playfully squirts a little water in her mouth.

“Well!” Gemma says after she swallows and drags the back of her hand across her mouth. “Aren’t you the spunky one? Makin’ me think you’re ready get right back to it!” She stands, pulls Francie up and they walk hand-in-hand (Francie wobbling a bit, her cuckold husband a few steps behind) into one of the big bedrooms.

** Episode Nine: “Cowgirl Kidney Punch”

Even through the cum-fog and blurry vision, Francie can tell what she’s getting right back to. Or rather WHO she’s getting to: That big dark man on the big bed can’t be anyone but Jonnoe, her first BBC!