After two weeks of vacation in southern Italia, it’s time to head home. My husband and I decide to split the trip into two parts. We book a super cheap hotel in northern France where we can stay the next day. The next morning, we pack everything up. Around 10:00 AM, we hit the road north. After a smooth drive, we arrive at the hotel around 19:00 PM. After checking in, we explore the room. The rooms are accessible via an open-air gallery. You enter through a front door with a large window beside it. The room has an old-fashioned steel double bed. In the left corner, there’s a small nook where our little boy’s travel crib can fit. We decide to grab some stuff from the car and take a shower so we can put the little one to bed after dinner and avoid going out again.
In the dining room, we notice it’s full of Eastern European migrant workers—mostly men. Besides me, I spot only three other women. I feel all the men’s eyes on us women from every direction. Even though many are overweight, it still affects me. I decide to have a glass of wine with dinner to ignore their stares more easily.
Back in the room, it’s time to put our little boy to bed. Despite sleeping a lot in the car, he’s out within half an hour. With a sleeping child, there’s little to do, so my husband gets bold. He starts kissing my neck. I’m not really in the mood, but he knows that if he pushes me, it usually kicks in fast. In seconds, he frees my breasts from my top and bra. Then he pulls out two sets of handcuffs and a scarf from his pocket—he’s clearly prepared.
He blindfolds me with the scarf, then walks me in circles around the room, disorienting me. He lays me on the bed and cuffs my wrists to the bed’s iron frame. With my arms spread wide and my jeans and shoes still on, I lie on my back, unable to touch myself. I can’t see, but I hear him undoing his pants. As he pulls his belt off, I hear him head to the bathroom, followed by a loud splash in the toilet. I hear the flush, and soon his hands grip the back of my head.
“You know what I’m going to do now, right?” he asks. “I probably don’t have a choice,” I reply. Before I know it, his still-wet cockhead presses against my lips, the smell of his urine hitting me. “Open your mouth!” he growls. I do, and his cock slides in. He starts penetrating my mouth slowly, the taste of his piss still strong. He pinches my nipples hard between times—it’s clear he’s trying to humiliate me today. He knows it usually turns me on, but today I struggle with it. Still, I let it happen and suck him.
After a while, it gets too much for him, and he pulls out. I hear him walk away, possibly to the bathroom. When he returns, I feel him place a towel beside me. Expecting him to just fuck me, he pulls off my jeans and panties. I hear him take my belt from the jeans, tying it around each ankle and securing them tightly to the bed’s frame. Now I’m spread-eagled, and it definitely turns me on. I can’t see, but I feel him kissing my thighs, moving from my anus to lick my pussy slowly. It feels amazing. When he slides two fingers inside and starts sucking my clit, I come intensely. He kisses my mouth, and I tell him I love him.
As he moves off, I feel him place the towel between my legs over my crotch. As he walks around the bed, I get a shock. “Did you just open the curtain?” I ask. “Yes,” he says. “I think it’s hot if we’re seen.” My face flushes with tension. I know my husband well enough to realize I won’t change his mind. He stands by my head again, pressing his cockhead softly against my mouth. “Suck it, slut,” he whispers. As his cock slides deep into my mouth, he unties my blindfold. He lets me look around. I see he’s positioned me with my head and feet toward the sides of the bed, my legs facing the window, arms and legs cuffed to the steel frame. Thankfully, he’s left the towel from my navel to my butt, covering that area. The curtain is indeed wide open—anyone passing could look in.
He takes his cock and brings it back to my mouth. I decide to let it happen and work him toward climax quickly to end it. Each time I think he’s close, he pulls back for a break, playfully tweaking my nipples. I hear footsteps approaching in the hallway. He immediately brings his cock back to my mouth. As I suck again, two men walk past the window. One peeks in and hurries on. I hear whispers and laughter. Then it goes quiet—they don’t move on.
Above me, I see my husband gesture for the two men to come forward. He doesn’t need to ask twice. They step out and stand calmly watching us through the window. I’m relieved the towel covers my crotch. Suddenly, one man shouts, seemingly calling others to see. I hear more footsteps nearing. My husband pulls his cock from my mouth and lifts my head, forcing me to face the men. There are now five, all staring at what we’re doing.
When he grabs my breasts and pinches my nipples hard, the dam breaks. Loud cheers erupt. One man massages his crotch, pointing at me. The oldest, heaviest one yells, “Show us her pussy!” “Sounds exciting, what do you think?” my husband asks. “I’m not sure, they’re not my type,” I say. “We’ll be gone tomorrow anyway,” he replies. Before I can object, he starts pulling the towel toward my breasts, doing it agonizingly slowly. With one hand on the towel and the other stroking himself, cheers erupt as it passes my navel. I’m still spread wide, my ankles bound to the bed.
To complete the humiliation, he makes me suck him again. Standing behind my head, he thrusts deep into my throat. Leaning forward, he spreads my labia with his hands, sliding two fingers deep into my pussy. When he moves to my clit, I can’t hold out. In moments, I come intensely again, met with more cheers. I’d love to close my legs against all those eyes, but I can’t. He keeps going in my mouth. After a while, he pulls out, strokes himself, and after a few seconds, thick streams of cum hit my tongue. He shoots it all in my mouth—I can barely swallow it all. It was a thrilling experience, but I’m glad he quickly closed the curtain. We skipped breakfast the next morning!
