Gokkun Party: Drink Up, Baby! ♕

On Thanksgiving, I hooked up with my ex-husband and prepared for my first Gokkun Party.

 

I guess break-up sex, or divorce sex, is a thing, but the next day, it triggered me into the same kinda food fetish frenzy I would get into that ultimately led us to divorce in the first place. When I called my friend Brenda to tell her about the turkey day hook-up, it was the last thing she wanted to hear. We’d been invited to a Gokkun Party by her dominatrix client Alan, she told me, and I just had to go. She was on her way to pick me up, she said, and “Don’t eat anything. In a couple of hours, you’re going to have a whole meal.” I had no idea what to expect. I’d never even heard of the Gokkun party.

She set me up in a big dark room with a chair at the end. A lone spotlight was fixated on the chair and I could see it was surrounded by dildos and vibrators. “Have fun,” Brenda said with a wink. “I always do,” I said, and made my way towards the chair. In the darkness, with the one light on me, I was in my own little world. So, I relaxed, closed my eyes and my thoughts wandered. Daydreaming of big, thick, delicious, juicy cocks made me so wet. Once I got myself going, I had a toe-curling full-body orgasm. The fantasy of what this gokkun party would be like was too much to bear. I could feel my entire being consumed when right in the middle of it, Brenda walked in and the lights came on!

As my look of surprise faded, it was Gokkun Party Time!

In the afterglow of my orgasm, I could now see the room was full of beefy, shirtless men, all of them wearing some sort of mask, jerking themselves off under their sweatpants. It reminded me of the glory hole party Brenda had brought me to a couple of months ago, the one where Jeremy (the ex-husband) showed up to deliver me divorce papers. That lovely memory soon faded as on cue, when Brenda gave the order, the rows of men dropped their pants, revealing a chorus line of pulsating, hard cocks. The gokkun party could begin.

Watching all those dicks pour their loads into the giant glass turned me on again, even more than before. My throat and mouth tingled as I fingered myself, watching guy after guy jerk themselves off into it as they gazed upon my glorious wet pussy, their cum drizzling down over their fingers as they squeezed the last bits out, more cum pooling in the glass, which was starting to look more like a bowl as it filled up. Brenda picked up and swirled the glass as it got closer and closer. Then, it was done. “Gokkun time,” Brenda said, as she picked up the heavy, cum-filled glass and brought it over to me.

She was so careful not to spill any as she walked over and ruin the Gokkun Party.

Brenda held the cup to my lips, and as any good girlfriend would, she held my hair back so it wouldn’t get any cum in it as I gulped, and gulped, and gulped. The sound of gulping, it turns out, is the meaning behind the Japanese onomatopoeia “gokkun” party. All of those men, and all of their different flavors. People tend to think of these kinds of acts as being degrading to women, but no one ever thinks that some of us don’t see it as degrading at all and that we even like it. Finally, I swallowed the last of what was in the glass. Fifty loads in all. Delicious. Brenda licked and kissed the rest of it off of my face and neck as the room cleared out, the men’s purpose fulfilled. As always, I’m looking forward to the next one.