Sir Loin of Beef

by Vanessa Vale

  I bit my lip, nodded. This was so hot. The hottest thing that had ever happened to me and he was only staring at my panty-covered pussy. I could only imagine what he’d do if he actually touched it. Or licked it. Or put that big dick of his in it. Nice and deep. I clenched, wondering how it would even fit.

  “Good girl,” Bartender said into my ear. “Getting all wet for us. Getting all wet for our hard cocks. And we are hard, baby, just for you.”

  I flushed hot from head to toe, close to coming from just this very erotic bit of foreplay. They hadn’t kissed me, hadn’t touched me in any way other than their hands on my shoulders and ankles.

  Mr. Big leaned in, his face now right between my parted thighs, inches from my pussy. He inhaled, nostrils flaring, eyes widening because I knew he could pick up my scent. I was wet enough for it. He grinned. “Oh yeah, that pussy’s sweet.”

  His hands slid up my lower legs to my knees—thankfully I’d shaved in the shower this morning—and pushed them a little wider. He was so much bigger than me, including his hands, that his fingertips practically brushed the lacy edge of my panties. My skirt didn’t hide anything from him. He could see almost all of my needy pussy, clearly outlined by my clinging little panties. Even I could see that as I looked down.

  I knew I should be stunned. Scared, perhaps, by their blatant boldness. But I wasn’t scared. Nervous, yes, because nothing like this had ever happened to me. Ever. But, strangely, I felt safe. As if they knew what I wanted, knew how far to push me. They somehow knew I needed to be held down, to give over to them. They knew exactly what I wanted. No, what I needed.

  They knew I was horny and eager for it.

  The song ended, probably pre-programmed for when the cowboy stripper’s act was to finish. Another stripper came out onto the stage but remained off to the side, watching. He winked at me, just like the other stripper had. It seemed I was the latest act.

  “I don’t share,” Mr. Big said, bringing my gaze back to his as his fingertips brushed my panties then. The heat of it, the feel of him being right there, but not touching my clit or slipping inside had me gasp, lift my hips. I was close to coming and I wanted more.

  “Except with me,” Bartender added.

  “What I want to do to you doesn’t involve an audience.” A finger tapped my clit once and I was lost. I’d do whatever they said, whatever they wanted, even if it were here on stage as long as they made me come.

  “Okay,” I said instantly.

  From one second to the next, Mr. Big had me up out of the chair and tossed over his shoulder. I grabbed hold of my glasses before they clattered to the floor.

  The ladies screamed in excitement, clearly happy with the change in the show line-up and thrilled someone from the audience was being carted off by not one, but two hot men.

  All I saw was a tight ass beneath a pair of snug jeans, felt a hand on my upper thigh… beneath my jean skirt, fingers once again very close to my pussy. All I could think was… MORE.

  Ava had wanted me to get back out there. I’d say I had.

  4

  JED

  * * *

  “You know what I thought when I saw you at the bar?” I asked when Duke carefully lowered Kaitlyn to her feet. Her jean skirt had ridden up as he’d carried her off the stage, down the back hall and into my office. I closed—and locked—the door behind us. The music was only a dull vibration here, the air cooler. What mattered was that we were alone.

  Leaning against the door, I enjoyed watching the way she tugged her skirt down over her lush ass and shapely thighs in a somewhat shy gesture considering Duke had had her spread wide on a fucking stage. From my view over her shoulder, I’d seen the way the lips of her pussy had been outlined by the wet, clingy silk of her panties, meaning she was into us.

  Only that tiny scrap of material had kept us from seeing how eager and swollen she was. And now she was covering herself up. As if we’d ever forget what was beneath the skirt. The prim little thing had a liking for sexy underwear and an inner fucking vixen she kept all buttoned up. I wanted to let her out. All the way out.

  Fuck, she was perfect.

  While it would have been amazing to be the two men to take her sweet cherry, she wasn’t a virgin. No, she didn’t give off that vibe. Oh, she still had an innocence about her, but she’d had a man sniff around her before. There was no way in hell he had satisfied her the way Duke and I would. We’d ruin her. Give her so much pleasure she’d crave it. Stretch that tight little pussy, open it up and shape it for our big dicks. Mark it with our cum over and over until our scent clung to her. So that every man she got near could tell she belonged to two real men.

  And she was eager for that. The way her nipples were hard, clearly visible through her prim blouse, was a good sign. Also, the way she’d looked when she’d said ‘okay’ right before Duke had carried her off the stage. I was content to leave the other women to the strippers. I had the one I wanted.

  “What did you think?” she asked, licking her lips and glancing between us.

  “That you belong to us.”

  “I thought you were a stripper,” she replied, glancing at Duke.

  He pointed to himself. “Me?”

  She shrugged, blushed hotly. “Ava knows your name and you got up on stage.”

  Duke grinned. “Angel, I’m not a stripper, but I’ll happily take my clothes off for you.”

  Me, too.

  I watched as she pushed her glasses back up her nose, flushed some more. Shit, that motion had me almost coming in my pants. Prim and proper and we were slowly getting her all dirty. A long tendril of dark hair had come loose from her bun, and I moved over to her and tucked it back behind her ear. We wouldn’t finish getting her filthy until she came, screaming our names. Not once. Not twice, but enough times for her to know her body was now ruled by two big, hard cowboys.

  And our dicks. I had to keep mine in my jeans until it was time for her to take me for a ride like the hottest cowgirl in the world, otherwise I wouldn’t get my cum up inside her. It’d be all over that creamy skin. Oh, it’d still mark her, but not how I wanted.

  Duke might be the famous one on a wild bronc, but that didn’t mean he was the only one who could take on a wild thing. I, too, could use a rope and ride for longer than eight seconds, and this little filly was going to learn that soon enough.

  Hell, the way I was feeling right now, I could go all night. I doubted my dick was going to go down anytime soon. And the way my balls felt, I had enough cum to fill her right up.

  Leaning down, I kissed her. There was no way I could wait any longer.

  I heard her little gasp, felt her startle, then relax. Kissed me back, opened for me. Oh yeah, she was just as sweet as I’d imagined. And in the short time since I’d first laid eyes on her, I’d imagined a lot.

  Her between me and Duke. Turning her around so I could bend her over my desk and fuck her. Settle her into my chair, tuck her legs up over each arm, fall to my knees and eat that sweet pussy until she came. Screamed. I’d get my fingers into that tight, needy little hole, find her hot button and make her squirm, then squirt.

  Lap it all up.

  Finally, I lifted my head.

  “Us?” she asked, blinking up at me.

  The one word broke me from my thoughts.

  I grinned, licked the flavor of her from my lips, and Duke stepped close. “We share.”

  “Everything,” I added, as Duke turned her so he could have his turn kissing her.

  We’d been best friends since I punched Neil Kirkland on the playground in kindergarten for fucking with Duke over his GI Joe lunchbox. Sure, Duke had two huge brothers to have his back now, but back then, one had been in diapers, the other pre-school. So it had been up to me to stand up to that front-tooth-missing little fucker. Ever since we’d been sent to the principal’s office, we’d been inseparable. His parents had gotten used to me being on the ranch, loading me in the big station wagon with the four Duke kids whenever they went out. It wasn�
�t as if my parents had really cared. Hell, Mr. and Mrs. Duke were more my mom and dad than my real ones ever were.

  So when Duke—very few people ever called him by his first name, Landon—and I decided we’d share a girl in seventh grade, that hadn’t gone over well. Mr. Duke had been smart and recognized how it was going to be with us, had told us to hold off until at least college before we did that. And we had. We’d practiced with a whole string of women, especially once we got our degrees and then hit the pro rodeo circuit.

  And all those women, all that easy pussy had been practice for right now. For Kaitlyn.

  Duke and I would share her. No one else. The thought of any guy seeing her gorgeous body, even her fucking panties, made me want to poke their eyes out. We were possessive fuckers and Kaitlyn would quickly discover that.

  Possessive with our kisses, our hands, mouths. Dicks. They belonged to her now.

  We’d left the pro rodeo circuit two years ago. I’d walked away, but Duke had been carried off on a stretcher with a broken leg. While we weren’t fucking old, we weren’t young bucks anymore either. The travel, the wear-and-tear of hanging onto the back of a bucking bronco or hopping off a galloping horse to wrangle a calf, wasn’t easy to recover from any longer. The buckle bunnies had once been great to soothe all the aches and pains away, but even that had gotten old.

  We’d returned to Montana and Raines, the town we’d grown up in, for Duke to heal, and to settle. I’d bought the bar from a man who’d wanted to move to California to be closer to his grandkids. Duke had started a construction business. We had jobs to keep us from going insane with boredom, plenty of prize money from years on the circuit, a big family—well, Duke’s family—but we didn’t have our woman. Kids of our own. The whole fucking picket fence.

  Until now. Now, this was our last fucking first kiss. Our last first time. And it would be Kaitlyn’s, too. She just didn’t know it yet.

  We’d told her how it was with us. That we shared. Up front. If she wasn’t into it, then we’d slow down until she could get to know us, see what it would be like as part of a threesome.

  But she melted into Duke’s kiss after having her mouth on mine, her hands curling into his shirt and holding on, which meant she was right there with us. Wanted us.

  Fuck, yes.

  I took the opportunity to run my hands over her, learn her curves, how soft her skin was, especially on her thighs as I worked that skirt right back up over her ass.

  KAITLYN

  * * *

  This was insane.

  Completely, totally insane.

  Mr. Big lifted his mouth from mine long enough to say, “I want to know what makes you hot.”

  “What makes me hot? It’s not a guy in a pair of neon nut huggers,” I murmured.

  He stepped closer. Really close. I backed into Bartender, and I felt not only his hand cupping my bottom, but a very big bulge against my hip.

  Mr. Big’s heated gaze ran over every inch of me, and all I could do was swallow and hope I didn’t self-combust. I’d never done anything like this before with one guy, let alone two.

  “Nut huggers?”

  “If the underwear fits,” I replied, not really following the conversation because his hand came up slowly, I assumed so I wouldn’t bolt, and stroked over my hair, then his fingers slid down my neck to the collar of my blouse, setting off chills on the way.

  “I want to know what would happen if I undid one of these buttons.”

  I held my breath and remained still. Clearly the whole nut conversation was at an end. He took my lack of response as a yes—which it was—and flicked one button from the little hole. Yup, I was going to let him. A simple button on my blouse was nothing when he’d had his hands on the insides of my thighs… his mouth almost on my pussy.

  They hadn’t stormed the stage for any woman, they’d done so for me. God, how hot was that?

  While he’d hastily tossed me over his shoulder and carried me off, they were going slow now, starting back at first base with kisses. I didn’t feel threatened or scared. The opposite, actually. The fact that they were taking their time made me want them more, as if they were building it up. The foreplay alone was going to make me come.

  If I wanted to say no, I had no doubt he’d step back and Bartender would open the office door. Let me go.

  But I didn’t want that. I wanted to feel. Feel pretty. Feel attractive. Special. Desired. The way Mr. Big’s fingertips had barely touched the edge of my panties, but now slid almost innocently over my collarbone was ridiculously erotic.

  I didn’t like being flashy, and I didn’t like people looking at me. I was… average. Five-five. Brown hair. Brown eyes. I thought my mouth was too big for my face. While I had plenty in the cleavage department, I also had a big ass. An ass that, no matter how many diets or exercise programs, wouldn’t get any smaller, much to the dismay of the guy I’d last dated—Roger. I also couldn’t fix the fact that I wore glasses. Yet I would have let the two of them do anything they wanted out on that stage. It was like they’d done something to me. Flipped a slut switch or something.

  “I want to know what color your nipples are,” Mr. Big murmured. “If they’re sensitive. If I can make you come from just playing with them alone. Sucking on them.”

  I whimpered as he undid another button. He leaned down, spoke softly into my ear. His breath fanned my neck. I breathed in his male scent. Dark, male. Real.

  “I want to know what your hair looks like down, spread out over my pillow.”

  A hand slid down my back, cupped my butt. I gasped because it wasn’t Mr. Big’s hand, but Bartender’s.

  “And this ass,” Bartender said. “Fuck, it’s perfect.”

  I gave a funny little laugh then because I thought he was lying. But when he pressed into me, I felt how hard he was against my side. I hadn’t realized my eyes had fallen closed, but I opened them, looked up at him... both of them. He was watching me with a small smile on his lips and desire written all over his face. “I want to know what you sound like when you come. Make those glasses fog up.”

  “Yes.” What else could I say? It wasn’t going to be no.

  5

  KAITLYN

  * * *

  Hell no. I wanted them to kiss me and touch me and make my glasses fog.

  And Mr. Big did the kissing. My eyes fell closed. The kiss was gentle at first, then his tongue slipped in—I wasn’t going to keep him out—and found mine. He tasted like mint.

  When he finally lifted his head, started kissing along my jaw, I felt his whiskers. The slight abrasion was a tactile reminder of his… maleness. So was his huge length pressing into me. I whimpered again and I clenched my pussy, feeling empty. I all but melted.

  Mr. Big’s hand slipped into my opened blouse and cupped my breast. He lifted his head enough to meet my eyes, give a dark smile. “Lace and satin, just like your panties. What else are you hiding underneath your prim exterior?”

  I stiffened at that.

  “Angel, that’s not an insult,” he continued as his thumb absently stroked over my hardened nipple. “I like unwrapping presents… and you’re the sweetest gift, I’m sure. Besides, I like knowing you’re covered for other men and yet you allow the two of us to see you. One. Button. At. A. Time.”

  Bartender just grunted as his fingers slipped under the back of my panties.

  “I like… god, I um, like lingerie.”

  They were pleased… surprised even, by my sexy undies. I might be staid on the outside, but beneath, I loved to wear pretty panties and bras. There wasn’t much splurge money in my budget, but I was always on the lookout for a good sale. It had been a while since a man had seen them, and even though Roger had only kissed me, he’d thought I needed to lose weight, clearly too fat to wear sexy things. These guys seemed the opposite. They seemed to like everything they saw… kissed and/or touched. Bartender had even said I belonged to them.

  I didn’t even know their names! I wasn’t going to ask right now, not wi
th one man’s hand on my breast, the other’s on my bottom. I wasn’t going to distract them at their task at pleasuring me. Nope. I wanted every dang bit of what they were doing. I’d get their names later.

  I was safe with them; I could feel it. They’d dragged me off somewhere private, but not completely alone. There were about two hundred people just past the door. And Ava knew where I was. I had no doubt she’d be checking in with the wait staff or the other bartenders. Besides, everyone had seen them carry me off.

  Mr. Big’s thumb slid back and forth over my nipple and it tightened further. “I like it, too. Fuck, too much.”

  His free hand cupped my pussy, easily accessible since Bartender had tugged my skirt up above my waist. “The panties match the bra, don’t they?”

  When his fingers brushed over me, I gasped.

  “Yes!” I could have been answering his question or telling him he was doing A-OK.

  God, I was close to coming. I was standing between two men—strangers—with their hands on me. Both had their hands on me.

  And I was letting them. Not just letting them, I wanted it.

  “Please,” I begged.

  My hips shifted involuntarily, back and forth, not sure if I wanted more of the hand touching me from the front or from the back.

  I was trying to get them to work me more—harder, faster. Mr. Big took the hint and a finger slid along the lacy edge of my panties, then beneath.

  “Fuck, you’re soaked. All this is for us.”

  I nodded as they both took hold of the skimpy fabric and slid it down over my hips and let it fall about the tops of my cowboy boots.

  Bartender hissed out a breath. “Oh, we’re going to have fun with this ass.”

  Mr. Big stepped back, looked down at me, bare from the waist down. “Oh, Angel, you’re so perfect.”

  Unerringly, his hand moved back between my thighs and found my clit, circled it, then moved to my entrance and one finger slipped inside.