by Krista Wolf
Dakota filled me simultaneously from behind, his cock buried deep in my ass as I moaned and groaned and held onto Kyle’s shoulders for dear life.
We were still sprawled out naked, basking in the afterglow, soaking up the nearness of just being together again, when the others returned. They came home well past midnight. After we’d fed and hydrated. After we’d laughed and joked and watched TV… before falling back into screwing again.
“I should’ve known,” Ryan joked with mock bitterness, “that you guys would start the welcome home party without us!”
I was absolutely exhausted. Drenched with sweat. Overly giddy and almost totally sated.
I smiled and spread myself open anyway.
“I love this girl,” Jason laughed, pulling his boots off. “Did I tell you guys I love this girl?”
“We kinda figured,” said Dakota. “But hey, don’t let us stop you.”
Crooking a finger, I beckoned them over. Ryan took me on the couch, missionary, while the others held my legs pinned back for him. It was totally raw. Down and dirty. By far the most natural, yet animalistic sex act of my life. I grunted into his face while Ryan slammed into me, fucking me like the savage I knew from experience he was. I kept urging him on, too. Talking filthy to help bring him off. Jamming my fingers into his mouth while telling him all the different ways I wanted him to use every part of my body.
He finished hard, his body surging emotionally as well as physically, emptying everything into me at once.
“UNGHHH!”
I could feel his love. His lust. His passion and frustration and hope and joy… all of it, every last pent up emotional and physical need. He left all of it between my legs, splashing out around his thrusting, churning cock. It was cathartic. Therapeutic. It zeroed him out. Reset him as a human being.
“Turn her over.”
No sooner had he left me than Jason took his place; my fourth lover of the night, my fourth in just a few hours really. He pushed me forward, onto my belly, and began plugging away at me. Screwing himself into me with some wild, desperate need, while the others sat there watching… staring… waiting their next turn.
Holy shit…
The little voice in my head couldn’t hide its alarm.
You might just be in over your head!
I didn’t care. I was hungry for it — all of it — all of them at once. When it came to them physically, I was ravenous. I craved the strength and power of their sculpted bodies, the sheer strength behind their grasps, their thrusts, the movement of every beautiful muscle.
They didn’t just fuck me. They owned me.
And I didn’t care.
“How do you feel?” Jason asked, still pistoning away.
“My heart’s racing…”
“Do you like it?” he growled. “Being ours? Being taken this way?”
I whimpered. His hands felt so good on my hips, I was about to actually come again.
“Do you—”
“I LOVE IT.”
He pushed harder, drove deeper. Made me squeal and scream and cry out loud.
“Oh, GOD I fucking LOVE IT!”
The sounds of our bodies screwing together was absolutely obscene. By now I was a throbbing, dripping hot mess. Come ran down my ass, my thighs, even my legs. The entire room was permeated with the thick, cloying scent of my arousal… mixed in with their sex.
It should’ve been over when he came, but it wasn’t. Jason went on destroying me from behind, until I felt Kyle pushing back against my lips again. I opened my mouth eagerly for him. I looked up and saw his expression, all waxed over with his own desperation, while two sets of hands went to my breasts.
“Oh GOD, oh my fucking GOD…”
There were no words. Nothing could possibly equate what was happening to me. Jason erupted inside me, so hard I thought he might go blind, and before I could recover I was pulled onto Dakota again.
Ohhhhh fuck.
He pierced me to the core. It felt like being impaled. Like being punished.
It’s so DEEP!
The guys were kissing my chest, my neck, my mouth… they were everywhere, taking turns feeding me, taking turns holding me whenever things got too intense, even telling each other when to ease up on me when I needed that too. Somewhere along the line someone brought me a pillow. Someone else brought me a bottle of water…
So good. So fucking goooooood…
And yet they never stopped fucking me. Never stopped tag-teaming every orifice of my body until each of them had come at least twice, and for one or two of them, maybe more.
“If this is four boyfriends,” I breathed at one point, “this is insane.”
“You tapping out?” Dakota prodded me.
“Hell no,” I shot back quickly. All three of the others laughed.
“Good.”
One by one they dropped off in the end, filling me with the smug satisfaction that somehow I’d been victorious. After that we lazed around for hours, talking and joking into the wee hours of the morning. Catching up on everything that had happened on Kyle’s and Dakota’s assignment, while filling them in on Ryan, Jason and I.
Not one of us fell asleep. Not one of us was even tired. Physically we were spent, but emotionally we were supercharged with the need to keep communicating. There were bonds between us now. Bonds that ran much deeper than the five-way physical act we’d just consummated.
No, I was bonded with them in deep shared experience. From the car chase with Ryan, to the intruder Jason had saved me from. We were bonded in restoring and building our home, and through the midnight business with the old storage units.
Most of all we were tied together through the very fucked up yet necessary events of today. Which, for some reason, I was glad to have been a big part of.
“Sun’s coming up,” said Dakota, staring out the window. “You know what that means.”
“More sex?” I grinned, trying to be funny.
“Sure,” he yawned. It was the first sign of weakness I’d seen from him. “But first, you’ve got four hungry boyfriends taking you to breakfast.”
Sixty-Two
SAMMARA
The horizon swallowed the last of the sun, turning the sky a warm orange as I pushed on the gas pedal. I liked to stay late. It meant I was busy, I was getting things accomplished.
But now more than ever, I also liked to be home.
Home.
The word held little meaning a year ago. Home was nothing more than a tiny apartment, an empty bed. A living room where I sat restlessly, flipping channels, trying to entertain myself. A kitchen where I cooked meals for one, and sometimes not even that.
What a difference a year makes.
Kyle, Dakota, Ryan, Jason… all of them, still home. Still with me, their girlfriend, their one true love in life other than each other. I could accept that now, as readily as I accepted that I loved them. Loved them with all my heart, each of them, through their faults and misgivings, through their laughter and sarcasm and wise-ass joke-making.
Life was good. No… better than good. My business had taken off so quickly I’d been forced to hire again, and I was doing so much design work I was practically swamped with it. I worked the weekends often, usually from my office in the old sitting room. That conversion had been a surprise gift to me. But somehow they’d pulled it off without me knowing.
I worked so early I sometimes missed them completely, although coffee with Ryan was still a regular thing. But the one thing I promised myself — and my boys — was to come home before dark. To be there in the evenings, so that between their busy schedules and mine we’d always have some measure of time together.
Good time. Quality time.
It was still overwhelming when I thought about it, but it was starting to become less unbelievable. Yes, I had four boyfriends. Yes, they shared me between them. And yes… it worked for us. Worked for us in ways that might not possibly work for anyone else, under any other circumstances, other than ours.
And that was okay. That actually made it even more special.
Today was Dakota’s birthday. I’d already given him part of his gift when we’d woken up together that morning, sliding surreptitiously downward, beneath the sheets. The rest of his gift was in a little pink bag, on the seat next to me. His ‘request’ so to speak, which I’d model for him later, when the two of us were alone.
I had his cake on the seat next to me too. Black forest — his declared favorite. Maybe because of the little chocolate shavings on the icing, maybe because of the cherries. The truth was, I didn’t know — just one more little mystery to solve as we grew closer together.
My mind wandered to Ryan, just in from his most recent trip ‘home’. I could tell he was growing to like his father, and in time, maybe even more. They shared the same love of fishing, and planned to charter a boat together when he came out to visit. It would be interesting explaining the dynamic between the five of us. Somehow though, I knew there’d be little in the way of judgment.
As for Jason, he’d been the busiest out of everyone. Di Spatia was thriving as a mercenary force, and he’d procured contracts for his company that were both military and private. Ultimately it would put him in position where he’d soon retire from the Army altogether. The others could work with him too, and probably would. In time.
But more importantly? He’d been grounded. Centered. I slept beside him more than anyone, wrapped in his arms, but even when I wasn’t there his nightmares were becoming few and far between. We even talked about things sometimes, and leaving the past in the past. And while I didn’t think his problems were entirely solved, I liked to think he finally had an anchor: me.
Finally there was Kyle… my sexy soldier. The one who’d come up with this whole crazy idea in the first place. The one who’d brought me into their fold.
I owed him more than anyone, and I loved him too. Kyle had a lightheartedness that helped keep the others from becoming too serious. Just being around him me feel adored, and safe, and happy.
The horizon darkened as I turned my jeep into the driveway. Seeing the house always elicited a contented sigh. Especially at night, especially when it was all yellow on the inside and warm with light.
The house was perfect. Especially now that I’d fixed it.
Especially now that it had fixed me.
I was halfway up the walkway when I saw them, standing as a trio at the front entrance. Ryan and Jason stood behind Kyle, his arms folded across his big chest.
“Black forest?”
I had to laugh. “Of course.”
“You get candles?”
I frowned. “What do you think?”
“Paper plates? Streamers? Party hats?”
I smiled and leaned into them. “You guys can be overwhelming, you know that?”
They kissed me, one by one, each in turn. Slowly. Sensuously. Like a girlfriend.
A very lucky girlfriend…
It was like this at the end of every day.
Every awesome, amazing day.
“The birthday boy won’t be here for another hour,” Jason said. “Give or take.”
His hand slipped downward, over my ass. Or was that Kyle’s hand? With Ryan kissing my neck, and sending shivers up and down my body? It was hard to tell.
“It’ll only take us five minutes to set up,” I said. “Ten tops.”
A smooth palm made its way up my skirt. Two hands began rubbing my shoulders…
“What the hell are we going to do with the other fifty minutes?” Ryan asked slyly.
I gasped as a finger pierced me. It was slow… gentle. But insistent.
“Oh I don’t know,” I heard one of them say, somewhere past the haze of my growing arousal.
“But I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
Looking for even more Menage?
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Thanks so much, and enjoy!
Krista
One
Blackstone Manor wasn’t black. It wasn’t even made of stone. But the old Tudor-style manorhouse more than made up for the mischaracterization. Its historic halls were warm and inviting, its sprawling estate groomed and well-manicured. They had been for a hundred and eighty years. Would be for centuries more.
It was as if time had no power here.
Kara squirmed into her high-backed chair, her ass squeaking noisily against the leather. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get comfortable. Not in this room. Not now.
“Everything alright Ms. LoPresti?”
Besides, she was just too restless.
“You’re shifting around like you’ve got bugs crawling all over you.”
She stared over the ancient wooden desk, at the tiny woman sitting behind it. She was frail and dark-skinned, but sat dignified and upright, without the slightest hint of a hunch. Behind her the massive fireplace of the office roared and crackled, casting shadows over the rich, wood-paneled room.
“I’m fine,” Kara declared. The glass of water on the desk in front her remained untouched. She resisted the urge to reach for it.
“Then what’s the fucking problem?”
Kara’s mouth curled into a smirk. When it came to social graces, Xiomara Magoro lacked many things. Bluntness wasn’t one of them.
“I said—”
“It’s just strange, that’s all,” Kara said. “That you’d pair me up with another member of the Order. Especially when you and I both know I work best alone.”
Xiomara leaned forward, emerging from the silhouette of the fire behind her. “Don’t tell me what I know,” she snapped. “You work best when you’re focused. And lately, you’ve been pretty fucking distracted.”
She waved one small hand dismissively. Kara bit her tongue. It was tough but she did it.
“And besides,” the woman continued, “this is too big a project for any one member. Especially not right now.”
Kara’s dark brow furrowed. “Right now? What’s so important about—”
“The opportunity is time sensitive,” Xiomara replied. “It’s… inherent to something that happens in just a few short days.”
Now Kara did reach for the glass, if only to give herself a moment to think. The technique worked.
“The winter solstice?”
“Yes.” The old woman rested her elbows on the desk and eyed Kara shrewdly before continuing. “Have you ever heard of the Averoigne?”
The question was almost insulting. Anyone who’d spent any length of time in the Order’s massive library knew of the Averoigne. It was in the upper echelon of all credible paranormal reports, and one of the top continuous hauntings.
“Late 19th century Art Nouveau style hotel? New Hampshire?”
Xiomara actually looked pleased. “That’s the one.”
“Plagued with sightings since its inception.” Kara went on. “One of the only hotels that downplays its activity instead of promoting it.”
“Okay, now you’re just showing off.”
“Activity increases every winter. The only hotel to—”
“Oh shut the fuck up.”
Xiomara shoved a folder across the desk. A thick folder.
“Everything your wise little ass just recited is in there,” she snapped, “and then some. Read it. Study it. Know it all by the time you arrive, which should be in about nine or ten hours.”
“Ten hours?”
“There’s a car already waiting outside.”
“My—”
“Your shit is already packed.”
Kara’s mouth opened and closed slowly. She blinked twice in indignation. “You packed my stuff?”
The Head of the Hallowed Order leaned back in her chair and just grinned. “Oh you poor little princess. Do you think you’ll be okay?”
“You packed my stuff?”
Xiomara continued along, completely ignoring her. “I’ve sent equipment ahead already as well, everything you should need. And the owner of the Averoigne is expecting you. Make sure you shake the man down for whatever information he has. You’re good at that, LoPresti. Better than most.”
Kara swallowed hard. She’d received last-minute assignments before — there was nothing new about that. In the realm of investigating paranormal events, being able to leave on the fly was something that went with the territory.
But she’d never seen Xiomara this anxious to get her out of her office.
“So about your partner…”
Here it comes.
“Remember, you’re a grown woman, LoPresti.”
Kara growled.
“You’re well past being coddled. The whole ‘impetuous youth’ thing has worn off for you long ago, so—”
“Who is it?”
“—I don’t want to hear any whiny bullshit about you being uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable?
“You’re going to lecture me about comfort?” Kara scoffed. “You sure seem comfortable enough sitting here in front of a warm fire, in your cashmere kaftan. Indulging in—”
Xiomara stood up. As always she wore one of the colorful tribal robes of her West African heritage. Today’s was a spectacular green and blue.
“Fuck you Kara,” the woman snapped. “You get to be my age, and chafing becomes your biggest enemy.” Her robe fluttered around her tiny wrists. “And believe me, I’ll indulge in whatever the fuck I want.”
Kara couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. Xiomara was not as amused.