Somehow, I don’t think my parents were expecting me to ask them what a gangbang was at 10 years old. But there we all were watching Grease, specifically the scene where Rizzo (in true Rizzo fashion) kicks all the other T-Birds out of Kenickie’s car and says, “What do you guys think this is? A gangbang?” It’s a testament to my parents’ integrity that they didn’t pretend not to hear me or just lie to me, although I was mortified as they started to explain it. In that moment, I never could have imagined that one day, five dykes would affectionately encircle and use me until I squirted through multiple puppy pads, all to make my 29th birthday wish come true.
Since my first foursome a year before, I’d been looking for the opportunity to ratchet up the level of erotic intensity that comes with group sex and earn my orgy badge. But trying to coordinate five+ hotties’ availability turned out to be a Sisyphean task, so I figured I’d put my faith in the play party gods. As luck would have it, one of my favorite sex and kink collectives was hosting an erotic bacchanal just days before my birthday.
As much as the orgy would be about taking clothes off, I had to figure out an outfit that would scream sex for all the pre-fucking flirting. I passed on strappy bras and thongs, a leather mini skirt that wriggles up my ass with each step I take, and a variety of mesh numbers—I’d worn it all to other play parties much too recently. I settled on something simple, a black snakeskin bodysuit cut low on the chest and high on the hips, the barely-there back showing off a luscious ass that would hopefully be spanked crimson by the end of the night.
Upon arrival at the downtown Manhattan venue, I discovered I wasn’t the only one celebrating a birthday with an orgy that night. In the back room, at least a dozen people in various states of undress were writhing on a mattress. The birthday babe was taking a massive cock down their throat as someone else went down on them. Friends who joined wished them a happy birthday and inserted themselves into the mass of pleasure. At one point, someone even brought out a cake and the orgy paused to sing happy birthday (and eat something other than pussy).
Having yet to secure my own birthday orgy, my voyeurism was tinged with envy. But this party wasn’t even close to over. Besides, I already knew I had one orgymate locked in. Wyatt*, trans-masc friend and occasional lover, had been egging this idea on since I first brought it up and was eager to help fulfill my group sex dream. But a twosome does not an orgy make.
Thankfully, over the last few months, I’d made some incredibly fun and sexy connections at this very venue. There was Allison*, a gorgeous femme with flowing red locks whose sapphic group-sex cherry I contributed to popping at the last party. And Eva*, the curvy bombshell with a mischievous smirk and one of the most spankable asses in New York—something I’m fortunate enough to know from experience. Yael* I met earlier in the year at her first sex party, where she was testing the waters by just observing. A few months later, I saw her back here again, this time being led on a leash by her date and getting fucked on a St. Andrew’s cross. Thanks to a bit of birthday luck, the gang was all here tonight.
And in the most pleasant of surprises, I also ran into Kaya*, a friend of my college roommate who was visiting from out of town. Having once lived in the same city, we first met the night she bought my bed frame and mattress off me right before I moved away. How serendipitous that five years later, a different mattress would reunite us.
One by one, I let each of them know what I was hoping the play party gods would deliver that night. One by one, I watched their faces light up.
When a large mattress on the floor freed up, I turned to Yael. “Birthday party is starting—wanna come?” We gathered Kaya, Eva, Allison, and Wyatt, and as they knelt around me, their eyes roaming my body, I realized something. This wasn’t just going to be a birthday orgy. This was going to be a birthday gangbang.
These five stunning sapphics took turns warming me up with hungry kisses I greedily accepted, moaning into them as I did. Soon, Allison’s teeny blue flogger appeared and someone suggested I get flogged 29 times to commemorate this 29th birthday. My eyes widened and a grin spread across my face as I gave an enthusiastic nod. Not a second later, I felt my head shoved down into Eva’s lap so my ass was on full display. When the tail of the flogger connected with my cheeks, I was instructed to count. So I did.
“One…ah. Two…oh! Three…fuck! Four….” My counting got breathier the higher the numbers climbed. How delightfully cruel to make me focus on anything other than the feeling of leather painting my ass red. I’d been sure that because the flogger was so small, I’d breeze through this beating. But without longer leather falls to spread out the impact, the tiny flogger’s concentrated hits stung hard. As the pain deliciously intensified, I braced myself by digging a hand into Kaya’s silky-soft arm.
After Allison finally delivered my 29th spanking, Wyatt picked up my all-time favorite toy: the Wartenberg wheel. Their plan was to drag that medieval torture device over my back and scarlet cheeks not merely 29 times, but in the formation of numbers 1 to 29. I knew I was in for birthday bliss.
With each spin of the wheel running sharp teeth over my skin, I felt fireworks explode across my body. This sweet torment lit my nerve endings aflame, jerking me around in masochistic euphoria. My toes curled as the muscles under the wheel’s teeth clenched and released, my back alternating between seizing tight and arching. My brain couldn’t compute how to handle this pleasure-inducing pain. All I knew was that I wanted more.
While Wyatt continued branding me with every age I’d ever been, someone took my nipples in their mouth as another playmate kissed me. Coming up for air, I let myself admire Kaya’s all-black ensemble and how Eva spilled out of her jewel-green matching set. Tingles ran down my back and left my cunt throbbing as I took in their beauty and erotic energy.
Yael—with whom I’d shared only one brief kiss over the course of our four-month flirtation—got on her knees in front of me, ripped off her shirt, and shoved my head into her chest. I took her perfect nipples in my mouth, rolling them between my lips, flicking them with my tongue, and biting down until she moaned. “Good girl,” she cooed. I could have melted into the mattress from those two words alone.
At some point, when I’d fully lost track of time and space, someone pushed me onto my back so Yael could straddle my face as Wyatt fucked me with my thickest dildo. Every slick silicone thrust had me moaning into Yael’s cunt. As she ground her hips deeper into my willing hole, I bucked against the cock. Lapping her up just made my pussy hungrier for Wyatt’s dick. I was lost in pleasure—thank god no one made me count my orgasms (or the number of puppy pads I squirted through).
I could have spent every minute of the gangbang reveling in the absolute eye candy that was before me. But I wanted to fully give myself over to the experience of being used, so I spent most of it with my eyes closed and no idea who was doing what to me. The feeling of having no control, of not knowing who was teasing my clit, who was yanking on my hair so they could expose my neck, whose fingers were in my mouth, felt holy.
As the gangbang died down and I became a panting puddle of post-orgasmic ecstasy, I whispered a quiet thank-you to the play party gods for making my birthday wish come true. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have had five dykes dripping with sultriness and sex toys lavish attention on me, draining this spoiled birthday bottom of every ounce of cum and squirt as they flogged, fingered, and fucked me senseless.
And if you told 10-year-old me this was our future? Well, then maybe she’d really understand what Rizzo was missing out on.
*Name has been changed.
