By the time she remembered to look at Dylan he had dispensed with his own clothes, his nude body a welcome and delectable sight. She chuckled and her brow furrowed. "Something wrong?" Mike's hands slid up and teased her labia, giving her just a hint of what she could come to expect and making her swell and blossom.
"Everything's perfect," she murmured, Dylan's mouth descending on hers again as he pressed the length of his body against hers, abs to belly, brea**sts to chest, rigid rod to pliant pussy. A quick flash of shower memory, her spray and Bob mimicking what Mike and Dylan were now doing in the flesh, in her bed, very real and warm and wanting. How could she have denied herself this? The scent and taste of Dylan filled her as Mike made sounds of disrobing, the bed shifting as he stood, threw off his clothes, then knelt back on the bed, the smattering of hair on his chest tickling her back, his fingers tantalizing with promise. He sighed into her neck and his hot breath made her belly clench, the tightening leading up to her throat, the body readying for both of them, for all of them, for explosion and release and love.
So much flesh. Her own, ample curves, which the moonlight streaming through the window, between the parted pink curtains, illuminated in a muted relief, the same lush handfuls she'd once found embarrassing now something her men luxuriated in, touching and grasping and caressing and marking with their pinches, their strokes, their licks.
Her men.
And they were, as Mike's finger slipped up to tease her clitoris, giving it a "hello" and then retreating, his mouth dotting her back with small kisses and sighs, his co**ck pushing against the cleft of her as**s as he journeyed across her flesh. Dylan, now, stretched before her, leaning her onto her back and carefully positioning a pillow under her hips, the two men exchanging a glance as Mike moved up the bed to Laura's side. Dylan moved down and then went down, his tongue catching her not so much by surprise but by relief, swollen desire clustered so neatly in these nerve endings made real by vulnerable, pink flesh, her clit screaming out for him, for Mike, for any attention.
Mike kissed her, then, his hands on both sides of her jaw, his mouth both brutal and pleasant somehow at the same time, her own tongue rising to a threshold of near violence as she tried to take in as much of his mouth, his lips, his tongue as she could without hurting them. Yes, yes, yes, their mouths screamed, her hips lifting as Dylan slipped two fingers inside her aching emptiness, her wet warmth closing around him as he hooked one finger up to find a pitch-perfect place to call home, tongue zeroing in on her nub and making her tighten, as**s clamping down, pus**sy folding in to a pinprick of pleasure as he slid in and out, finger and tongue fucking her with Mike consuming her mouth, the multitude of sensations making her forget about climax, forget about orgasm, damn near lose all sense of purpose here as she just was – flesh, rolls, curves, tongue, pus**sy and – ahhhhhhhh.
Mike's fingers rolled one nipple with just a tad too much force, the nip enough to make her throat bleat with pain, which he took as encouragement, pinching a bit harder. She couldn't say no – between Dylan's lapping at her clit and fingers thrusting in and out, the pain took her mind to a new place, and soon she gasped, unable quite to breathe enough, her hips out of control. Reaching for him, she grasped Mike's co**ck at the base and he inhaled sharply, the sound whistling through the night and joining her own rasping throat sounds.
He took her hand as an invitation, moving so he straddled her face and she welcomed it, giving her something to do as Dylan's tongue gave her such devoted attention. He was languid and attentive, giving her body the time to warm up, letting her feel the pleasure and live in the layers that covered each other, each bit of arousal building on the next, a warm, wet blanket of pending orgasm. Her mouth took Mike in all the way to the base, tongue flicking the tip and hardening to give him a concentrated point of muscled focus. Shifting his hips, he started to rotate and move in and out of her mouth slowly. Perfectly pinned to the bed, between Mike on top of her and Dylan below, she couldn't move.
Even if she wanted to.
She was trapped, and the thrill of the realization clouded her mind, because what if she wanted to get up? Get away from the sensuality of Dylan's cunnilingus? Move herself from Mike's blow job? She couldn't. And, for whatever reason, that fact aroused her even more. She had to give and had to receive right now, knowing there was so much more coming. Whatever Dylan did he did to give her more, and now she could take without guilt, could give without fear, could exchange these acts of love and lust and carnal knowledge on equal ground and know that it was mind-blowingly amazing and hers.
All hers to take and give.
Tall, long, lean Mike seemed to stretch up to the sky as she took her hands and moved up his as**s to the small of his back, then maneuvered to get one finger on his taint, pushing up hard on the spot between anus and scrotum. He threw his head back and groaned, the vibration so intense she could feel it in her teeth, which were currently around the base of his cock, a light pressure but held back by tongue and lips that buffered. Slowly, he changed position and slid out of her, her hands fondling his balls now and his hands scooping her brea**sts as Dylan closed the deal.
And the Mike changed places with him. The sudden shift of men made her lose the rhythm, the near-orgasm retreating now and hiding a bit, though the different technique Mike used quickly coaxed it back into play. Dylan stood by the bed and watched Mike and Laura, one hand lazily stroking himself, waiting for what she knew would be next, the thought sending a shiver down her spine. Mike's mouth was so different from Dylan's, faster and more demanding, a personality change. He was aggressive and intense and her body rose to it, Dylan sauntering over to mouth her nipples, biting suddenly as Mike's tongue pinpointed and began to apply hard, friction-filled strokes just as her entire body clamped and flushed.
Her hands grabbed fistfuls of pink satin bedsheets, flailing and stretching out like a woman impaled by a tongue. "Oh, oh, oh!" she cried out, words long gone, her hips now thrusting up and down, seeking Mike's face and tongue, a sudden balloon feeling making her inhibited but too late –
She exploded. Gushed. Squirted, the stream flying through the air as Mike followed her gyrations, seeking to keep a steady pace on her clit as she bucked and groaned and thrashed and turned all animal. Basic instinct was it – that was all she could be right now as she was the climax, was the orgasm, was the fluid that poured out of her, evidence of the drama of what these men had wrung from her.
And this was just the appetizer. "Oh, yeah, Laura. Let it all go," Dylan cheered quietly, his hand no longer on himself but his turgid member at attention and ready for orders. She gently pushed Mike's head away, the climax still in progress but the touch now almost painful, that post-clit orgasm sensitivity that made her grit her teeth in a not-good way.
He sensed it and pulled back; ah, good, she thought. He knew enough to do that. Learning about new lovers' bodies was always a game of does he/doesn't he/will he/won't he that was new each time, and never reliably easy to guess. Lying on her back, hips still elevated, she felt an enormous wet spot under the cleft of her as**s and just panted little breaths, letting her arms go liquid, her legs splay out, her body in some yoga position of complete contentment.
Yet still she wanted more. Needed them both in her. Rolling over, she chuckled at the sight of the wet spot, bigger than her ass, knowing she'd gushed and not at all shy about it. It had happened once or twice before, typically when she was so blindingly aroused and not looking for it. Squirting found her when it wanted to, and on its terms, and damn if Dylan and Mike hadn't summoned it.
"Well, that's new," Mike laughed, staring at the spot.
"Really?" Dylan puffed up a bit. "Never seen that before?" Clearly, Dylan had, and viewed it with his typical assertive self as something he had manifested. Proud of it, even. And damn if he shouldn't be, with that magic tongue. Mike's, too.
Their talk amused her. "I have, you know, in videos," Mike sputtered, his body stretched out. They seemed to know to wait, to give this a few minutes. Laura pulled back the wet sheet and crawled under, cuddling a pillow.
"G'night, boys," she whispered, then pretended to snore. "Thanks for that."
Her passage almost cried out in agony, needing to be filled by something other than two wholly inadequate fingers, fingers that had been fine when they were touching her and teasing out the climax but that needed to be replaced by Dylan’s cock, or Mike’s or –
Both.
Both in her, the double penetration right there, moments away, the thought of it sending her into pus**sy spasms that nearly brought her to orgasm from the mere thought. Dylan climbed on top of her and pulled the sheet back, his co**ck settling into the cleft of her ass, micro-movements from his hips making him ride her.
“Sure you don’t want more, Laura?” he murmured in her ear from behind. The groan that escaped her mouth came from another layer of self that was ready, teemed with intent right now, her thick throat the only sign of struggle in her, some part knowing all too well that she would be completely drained of all passion and sex by the time they were done with her.
