These thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt by the guy who was fucking my mouth, suddenly grasping my head and nearly choking me with his cock which he pushed right to my throat as it gushed it's tacky cum in copious amounts.
After this satisfied guy then pulling out, I barely had time to swallow down his sperm and to get my breath before a new cock was presented for me to suck.
I was sure more men had arrived. There seemed to be so many milling around me.
"I'm going to fuck the slut up her ass," I heard one crude comment. It didn't happen immediately, but when my pussy was again adulterated with another supply of cum, and I knew that someone else was preparing to mount me, I felt two hands on the cheeks of my bottom, pressing them apart, and then, after it plunging into my sloppy pussy for lubrication, the feeling of a cock pressing on my tight anus which, after a little resistance, opened up to accommodate this new, hard cock right deep within my rectal tunnel.
My mind and body wallowed in the filth and depravity of the situation as more and more men fucked me. I've no idea how many, I think more than ten.
I felt wonderful. I felt dirty. I certainly felt full of men's sperm.
I loved the snatches of dirty talk that my brain managed to process. I loved the way I was referred to as "the dirty slut." Under normal circumstances I'd have been horrified to be called such names, but under these circumstances I revelled in it. One can after all, be called a slut as an insult or as a compliment.
The events of that experience, afterwards seemed confused in my memory. I've no definite recollection of how it came to end. All I recall is that same guy who had taken me there, eventually taking me by the hand and leading me out.
I spent some time in the ladies, cleaning myself up and fixing my hair. There was no sign of the guy when I came out, so I then made my way back to the stands, wondering what my husband would say about my long absence.
"Where have you been?" he asked, taking his eyes from the game for a moment. "Oh, I had a coffee and have been sitting up the back," I answered, trying to sound normal, but aware that I was blushing.
My husband seemed to take no notice, and simply turned back to watching the game.
__________________________________________
Later, when the game was finished and my husband's team had won, he asked whether I'd enjoyed the day.
"Oh yes," I said smiling to myself, "I had a wonderful time."
__________________________________________
On the Monday, Rob came home from work and told me, "the guys at work were telling me that, at the game on Saturday, there was a whore turning it on in one of the men's toilets. Can you believe that? They swear that it's true though, the brother of one of the guys was involved. What sort of a woman would do something like that though?" then, answering his own question, he said, "some filthy, depraved whore I guess."
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