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 cl*t 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 h*ps out of control. Reaching for him, she grasped Mike's c*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 bl*w j*b? 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 ass 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 br**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 n**ples, 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 h*ps 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 cl*t 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 cli**x, 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 cli**x 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, h*ps still elevated, she felt an enormous wet spot under the cleft of her ass 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 cli**x 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 p**sy spasms that nearly brought her to orgasm from the mere thought. Dylan climbed on top of her and pulled the sheet back, his c*ck settling into the cleft of her ass, micro-movements from his h*ps 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.
Which was her form of nirvana, really.
No one bothered to make a pretense that they would do anything but double, so Laura rolled herself into a sitting position, completely uninhibited, as if it were routinely part of life to be nak*d in her own bed, wet spot testifying to an eroticism a few minutes ago she'd never thought possible, while her eyes feasted on the long, lean Mike and the shorter, muscled Dylan, both watching her with expectation and very, very obvious signs that they were eager for her.
Signs pointing up.
It was Dylan who gently nudged her to the side and slid under her, positioning her h*ps over him, guiding her to straddle. Her br**sts, pendulous and full, brushed against his chest as she laughed, her hair falling over her shoulder and tickling his chin. His tip touched her clit, an agony she inhaled her way through, the feelings so raw and exquisite she wanted to plunge herself with him.
So she did. Angling her h*ps just so, she rode him effortlessly, his rod filling her slick walls and making her cry out to Mike. “You, too!” she gasped, ready for the forbidden once more, but this time completely at her call, at her request, as she opened herself up to them on equal footing. No lies, no secrets, no omissions.
The bed seemed to tilt slightly to the left, then right, as she felt Mike climb behind her, his hands on her ass and then his voice. “Hey.” Hot breath on her neck, a kiss. “Do you have any lube?”
“There.” She pointed to the drawer next to her bed. She'd bought a new tube – and cleared out her electronic boyfriends – for tonight. Somehow, he managed to keep his knees in place, firmly planted on either side of Dylan's legs and her ass, and pulled the bottle from the drawer. In seconds she felt the delicious, wet, slippery warmth of fluid on her ass, her walls clenching with greed for all of him in her.
“Oh,” Dylan sighed as she tightened. And then Mike's finger sent an electric jolt through her as Dylan sat up and took her left nipple in his mouth, the combined sensations making her buck against Dylan and start to really f**k him.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk!” he teased, his words mumbled through a mouthful of her bosom. Coupled with Mike's finger's making slow, snail trails along the edge of her puckered ass, she felt swollen and captivated by the anticipation of what was about to happen, to have Mike in her, both holes full, all three joined by her flesh. Mike's finger slipped past her over-snug hole, the feeling so thrashingly hot she almost came, though Dylan held her still, anchoring her to the bed as Mike prepared to enter her. His oiled-up hands roamed her ass and hips, a playful slap making her gasp finally break.
“God, Mike, just fill me. Please,” she begged, Dylan reaching up with his lips and fingers to bite and twist her n**ples just as Mike centered the tip of his c*ck over her ass. Tapping at the gates, the feel of him perched on the precipice between in and not-in made her push back a bit, needing him to do this, wanting to be complete with them both.
Burning, Stretching, Fire. Then – ahhhh...
Like pouring something warm and enormous in her, she felt her body seize then relent, seize and relent, the dance almost too much, her throat yielding hitched gasps as she worked to hold both men. Mike's belly pushed against her lower back and ass, his hands on either side of her and Dylan, his balance perfect. It needed to be; one misstep and what was now a tortured pleasure would just be torture.
Taking Dylan's mouth with hers, she moved so carefully, Mike following her lead, until she felt them all tighten viscerally, as if nerves and pores and skin and need all pinpointed to the perfect cli**x. It was just standing there, as if summoned, and Mike pressed his stubbled cheek into her backbone and groaned.
“Ready?” Dylan said. It really wasn't a question, his face grimaced with excitement and the barely-held-back release he so obviously wanted. Her body utterly impaled by both men, thoroughly full and ready for explosion, they slowly moved, awkward at first and then finding their rhythm, the power of three bringing them all quickly to the edge, friction and sweat and slick and mouths and everything.
Her ass burned and hummed, buzzed and clenched as Dylan's thick rod worked in tandem with Mike's hands and his mouth on her br**sts and h*ps and then she felt it – that imperceptible roar that came from nowhere and told her she'd soon burst blood vessels around her eyes, scream until her throat ached, and shoot neurons from parts of her that weren't supposed to have them.
Dylan's chest hair was matted with sweat, hers and his and Mike's dripping into a thin sheen as she caught his eyes in the moonlight, his face dark and ready. “God, Laura, I'm – ”
Tip. She just...tipped, her ass and p**sy and body tightening, fingers digging into Dylan's shoulders then releasing as she drew long, deep scratches, etching some part of her pleasured agony into him, then releasing and grabbing the sheets, ripping them from the corners of the mattress as she howled. Howled. The sound was like a rutting animal and then she realized it wasn't just her, Mike's long form pushing against her haunches as she thrust harder, splitting her in two and finding a sweet spot deep inside that made her feel like a dwarf star, imploded and eviscerated, a cli**x of every muscle and of no unturned sensation.