“Or your body, it seems...” He gives me a few more strokes, then supports me as I fully collapse in his arms, waves of pleasure slicing through.
“You're so hot and needy. Look at you. You want us to fuck you, don't you? You want us to ravage you...”
I have no idea how he's so perceptive, how he can see those animalistic desires that inflame my brain, but he does, and he expertly drags it out of me, forcing me to embrace my darkness. His fingers swirl around my lower entrance, before he hesitates.
“Wait. Are you a virgin?”
I tremble, but confirm that I am.
“Oh,” Peter says. I see his erection is straining against his pants. “Really? Won't that be a problem?”
In response, George dips one thin finger inside me, and I gasp at the contrast of cold and hot. Through my hazed brain, I understand what he's trying to do. He's testing to see if I still have my hymen.
I don't. All the masturbations I've done in the past, including the vibrator I keep artfully concealed under my bed, have been fair contributors to the losing of that.
“Good,” he breathes into my ear. He then faces Dennis as he takes his finger out of me, and continues lightly teasing my bundle of nerves. “Both of you are virgins. I think you should both fuck first.”
The authority is back in his voice. Dennis protests at first, but I'm no longer wobbling on my feet. I agree wholeheartedly with George's plan.
I'll do anything to make this fantasy come to life.
I walk up to Dennis, and, surprised at my boldness, I plunge my hand into his pants and grasp the hardness that awaits there. His brown eyes dilate in lust, and he groans, even as Peter grins, and George folds his arms, a faint smile upon his lips. He's like a conductor, weaving magic into the room, shaping the atmosphere into one of danger and lust.
It's automatic for us to obey George's demands. Our brains aren't fully functional at this point, so devoured by arousal and lust as they are. “Strip each other naked,” George orders.
Dennis and I hasten to do so, both our hands shaking, our hearts beating in excitement.
I see George wave to Peter, who leaves the kitchen for a moment. Underneath Dennis's hoodie is actually a well toned form, slender yet aesthetically pleasing, with pale, milky skin that is almost unblemished. He's anxious when I take off his pants and boxers, revealing his curved erection and finely trimmed hair around his groin. I like the shape of it, and I lightly begin stroking him, imitating the more sensual movies I've seen, rather than the aggressive chugging that pornos seem to love, and he twitches under my ministrations. George is still fully clothed as he watches us, and it doesn't occur to me or Dennis to ask for him or Peter to not watch. I think it strange for a moment, before I realize that these friends must have discussed everything together, good and bad. Perhaps they've even dabbled in things together.
I can wish, right?
Peter strolls back into the room, and he's smiling, happily holding up a string of condom packets. “Something for Dennis, my boy,” he says, ripping one off and tossing it to Dennis, who catches it with a startled reflex.
“You don't mind if we watch, do you?” George purrs, now slipping his hand into his pants. “If we all get involved...?”
Dennis flushes.
“Don't worry,” Peter adds. “We can guide you.” He seems insanely excited by the notion, and so am I, honestly.
Under George's orders, I help place the condom over Dennis's erection, before guiding him to the leather sofa. We kiss each other in reassurance, to make sure the both of us are okay with this. His nervousness makes me less nervous, and I spread my legs, allowing him to settle comfortably between me. I've never had someone inside me, but I'm ready, and I coax him in with a slight tilt of my hips. He groans as he slides inside, and we stare at each other, before he begins to thrust inside me, gradually building up confidence as we adjust to one another. I like that he's gentle and clearly mindful of the fact he may or may not be hurting me. George recommends better positions for me, and Peter encourages Dennis to put everything into it, saying that the best sex comes from making sure the girl you're with enjoys it as well.
I moan and thud my head back onto the sofa, and this encourages Dennis, making him grunt and push into me harder, even having him bury his face into my neck, to experience the smell of me, and my arms wrapping around him. My heart hammers like a piston, and I feel Dennis shudder, just before he orgasms, and slows down, panting.
It doesn't stop here. Oh no. George and Peter close in, and I see Peter's ready to take me. George seizes me by the wrists and pins me tight against the sofa, whispering that there'll be no escape.
He knows these kind of words thrill me, to feel that faint sense of danger, to be taken roughly. Peter rolls on his condom and then quickly enters me whilst Dennis watches, finding the whole incident additionally arousing.
Peter puts more force into it, and his strong muscles cage me on each side as his blond hair flops, and his powerful hips push. George orders Dennis to suck on my breasts, and he does so, whilst George squeezes hard enough on my wrists to cause some pain, before he scratches along my arms. I feel his erection pushing against my head, and I slaver at the thought of being able to take him in my mouth as well, finding the image erotic, though admittedly, I haven't exactly practised my blowjobs aside from the occasional foray with a cucumber.
Not that they need to know that, of course.
Peter's strength invigorates me as he thrusts his way to an orgasm. George, however, certainly isn't done with Dennis yet. He orders Dennis to go down on me, using his tongue to lap up my juices, and he does so with aplomb.
Now George massages my breasts, and although I enjoy the feeling of Dennis between my legs, I also know he's not hitting the right spots. Before I attempt to guide him with my voice, George takes over, going by my legs to show Dennis where to lick. It's such a strange sensation, to feel him part my folds with his fingers, to have those slender musician hands point out my sensitive areas and where best to lick. He brushes over my bundle of nerves slightly in demonstration, and I twitch, gasping.
“You see? Look how she responds.” George flicks me there again for good measure, before trading spots with Dennis. Now Dennis is doing better, much better, and I struggle to stay in one place. George pins me down, and Peter helps restrain my legs, so I'm forced to lie there and endure the sweet torment, my sensitive nerves down there making me wince and gasp at the same time.
Just before I come, George orders Dennis to stop before pulling down his pants, lifting me bodily up and pushing me forward so I'm on my knees, before placing on his condom. George then lunges forward, clasping me firmly by the rear and sliding inside me with his huge erection.
I scream in pleasure as he jabs into my g-spot, and I spasm, limbs twitching as a monstrous orgasm rolls out inside me. He quickly comes after that with a sharp grunt, and I lie on the sofa, dazed by the biggest orgasm I've ever felt in my life.
Sure beats masturbation.
“That wasn't so bad, was it...?” He whispers in my ear, stroking some of the strands of hair away. “And I get the feeling this isn't even nearly enough for you...”
It's not. I want more.
Just... just after I've recovered.
The four of us smile at each other, until my phone vibrates from wherever it is on the floor.
“Ah, shit,” I say, and Dennis grabs it for me and hands it over. I thumb through my mother's message. “Yeah, she's expecting me back for dinner.”
“You lied to her about where you are, right?” George is now placing on his boxers, after having used tissues to wipe himself off.
“Yeah. Shit, it's nearly seven. I did not expect to be this long.”
George smirks. “Come again, won't you?”
Oh my, I think. “Definitely,” I grin, prompting bubbling chuckles from them.
Peter happily helps drive me back home, and George is in the back with me, Dennis in front. George, of course, absolutely loves tea
sing and the risk that comes with it, and he dips his hand into my panties in the back seat, deftly finding my bundle of nerves there.
“Don't forget,” he says to Peter, “you have to focus on your driving.”
“You fucking asshole,” Peter replies, whilst Dennis giggles, able to enjoy the sight as the passenger seat rider.
The car isn't exactly tinted with black windows, so it effectively means that if anyone happens to be looking into the vehicle at the moment it drives past them, they're very likely to see me in this compromising position, and there's not exactly much I can do about it if I'm caught, other than maybe grin and bear it.
It's a scary and wonderful feeling at the same time to not be in full control of this. I'm not so sure how to describe it. I like being in a vulnerable position. I like being regarded as an object of lust, though I also like to be respected as well. It does feel as though the two are mutually exclusive, but I did feel that I was respected as a human being, even during the happy fun times at Peter's house. First off with the fact I was invited into the conversation in the music room without so much as an eye flutter, then I got to play games with them for a bit, and they clearly compensated for my lack of gaming skills by choosing a fun party game instead.
Then, after that, when we went the full hog with the sex, even though I was ordered, and the three of them took their turns with me, I still felt in control. I saw Dennis's timidity, I was allowed to move the way I wanted, and none of them wanted to get rough with me, aside from George, who figured I could probably take it.
It's wonderful to be in that kind of vulnerable position and yet still feel powerful, one way or another. I like the excitement and unpredictability that comes with it, too. Not a planned sex session, but a spontaneous urge, where we go along with the flow and see where we end up.
I spread my legs, trying to give George more space to work with, and he sucks lightly at my neck, careful to not leave any bruises there that will need to be explained later to my parents. He continues to stroke me, soaking my panties once again, and he works at my nub with light strokes, as if he's playing his violin down there.
To make it easier for Peter, I try not to be too expressive, though all I want to do is melt into George's touch. I do, however, want to get home in one piece, and I doubt any of us will be pleased if Peter gets too distracted and crashes. I bite down on my lip hard and try to even out my breathing, despite my thundering heart and uncontrollable excitement. I become bold as well, latching onto George's ear and nibbling at the lobe, which he accepts, not pushing me away like a part of me expected, since I know sometimes dominant people don't like to be touched so much.
It's about three blocks from my street when he tips me over the edge, and I launch off into another orgasm, feeling my toes curl in my shoes. I dig hard into George's arm in an attempt to suppress my scream, and Dennis's eyes are shining as he witnesses this. Peter has been giving covert glances through his mirror at every opportunity, especially at red lights.
“You're quite the insatiable one, aren't you? Impressive,” George purrs, stroking my chin with his long finger. I can smell myself on him, with that strong nectar. I expect him to place the finger into his mouth, but he does nothing of the sort. Soon, I ask, a little sheepish as I do so, why he doesn't do that.
“I don't find it arousing,” he replies simply. “I like the act, I like the feel, but when I see someone just dip in and then pull a kind of sultry face before tasting – it's actually a big turn off for me.”
Huh. I just figured it was something people liked to do. To hear George say it turns him off makes me revisit some of the porn videos I've watched in my head. There are certainly some things I don't find arousing at all, but that isn't one of them. Really young teenagers, for example – I hate seeing that, because it's even more blatant exploiting than the rest.
I hate humiliation where the woman is treated like shit, too. Hard to get aroused when you see she's crying or clearly not at ease.
I talk about the different desires we have, eliciting turn offs from the other two.
“For me, it has to be seeing teeth in a blowjob,” Peter says. “So I tend to avoid them in general. I don't like the idea of sticking it into something that has a lot of sharp edges, you know? You piss that girl off, and next thing you know, you're in the hospital getting it stitched back together.”
“Ew,” Dennis says, and I share a chuckle with George.
“For me,” Dennis then picks up the thread after Peter, “I suppose it's the idea of anal. The thought of anything going near my butthole makes me cringe. Like, that's my poop hole. It should only be for pooping, not for sticking things up there.”
All of them have varying tastes in what they don't like, but before I ask what they do, we arrive at the street back home. Disappointment tangs, but I try not to show it. I want to talk to them for longer, but I can't stay until my mother starts getting suspicious of where I am – since I'm never late back.
Still, I like the stark conversation we're having. I've never had this sort of thing before, with anyone I know. Tori tends to just whine about her boyfriends, but she's not so much a fan of talking about sexual desires. I couldn't have a conversation like this about fetishes or things we dislike. For Tori, I suspect she isn't fully aware of what she likes and doesn't. She just enjoys the image of having a man on her arm. She knows things she's expected to do during sex, and she complains to me if he's not meeting her needs, but I also think she could always communicate better with him as well. It's not like everyone is deliberately being assholes. Sometimes people need a little guidance.
I'm dropped off trying not to look completely dishevelled and as if I've just come out of an orgy. Mothers can sense things, and I need to put on my best game face to ensure that my secrets remain undetected. Though I've kept things benign for a long time. She wouldn't expect me to suddenly change my tune.
My mother greets me with a smile, and asks how it was at Tori's place, and I nod, saying it was fine, we did some homework, and Tori was having some boy troubles again. She accepts this without question, and I can't help the guilt and shame creep across my face when I head upstairs tp change. I'm still within time for my mother to not suspect anything, but it doesn't alter the fact I'm now officially deceiving her.
I don't feel like studying at all. I just want to lie in bed and picture everything that's happened again. I want to see them all there, not just figments of my imagination, but as real, living and breathing people who have actively participated in the one thing I've been craving for since I first started college.
Looks like I've well and truly changed thing up forever. And that's okay. A dormant part of me, the one that wants to be sexually active, to plunge headfirst into the game of lust and love has been awakened.
I do my best to catch up on the homework I do have, since I've missed out on a lot because of the conversation, and then the session at Peter's house.
It's hard to concentrate, of course, but I manage it all the same, glancing at my cellphone all the while, in case one of them calls. No one does, and I try not to let it get to me, or to start worrying needlessly about things that shouldn't need much thought. At the end of the day, we had a good time together. That's what is important.
I hope.
Chapter Four
There are no calls, but getting to sleep last night was pretty entertaining, to say the least. With the memory of what happened between us fresh, I spent a fair amount of the night revisiting the moments, remembering everything with a pleasant shudder in my body. The memories compared to my usual daydreams are full of vivid colors. All five of my senses are engaged, from the creak of the leather sofa, to the combined man sweat from the three of them, I've been nothing short of recollection material.
I went through the memories over and over again, not wanting to lose the freshness of them. All I want to do is indulge in the reams of hot, heavy sex. I want us to have more frank conversations where we unleash some of the secrets most people
keep wrapped up in their minds. I want to be possessed, dominated, anything that can serve to heighten the sexual experience. I'm no longer satisfied with just masturbating alone, or watching something to help speed me along to that final destination.
One thing's for sure. I'm no longer dirty in mind but innocent in body. I've crossed the line. I made it to the place I've secretly wanted to be. I've been tempted to text them as well, though I'm not sure what I would say. Hey, nice sex we had seems a bit informal. I imagine it's the same for them as well, since I don't have a message from any of them.
It might even be a one time thing, though I hope it's not. I don't think I could stand going into college and seeing them completely avoid me, now that they've gotten their screw out of the way.
It didn't feel like just a one time thing. It felt like something we all shared, where all of us gave into the dark desires that exist within us. I think we all harbor those inside, really. Some fetishes are mild, some are not. Some people prefer safe, vanilla sex, others most certainly do not.
Interesting how a certified psychopath is able to guide us all to an orgasm, though. For someone who doesn't feel emotion the way we do, he seems to be able to observe and understand people and figure out what they want.
I find it terribly exciting, though I'm hoping that things are not about to be massively awkward at school. I think I can endure it if they start blabbing about me. I can either deny it or act accepting of it. People find it harder to torment someone if they don't care, after all.
I'm not sure how I can explain what happened to anyone else, though. My mother and father simply wouldn't comprehend. High school sweethearts, never cheated (as far as I know) and never deviated. I don't even know if they enjoy sex, because they never talk about it. I don't see any sex magazines, and I've never caught them in any compromising positions.
At college, everything seems as usual, apart from the floaty feeling inside me which is decidedly less than normal. If any of my teachers notice me drifting off, they don't comment on it at least. I'm usually the one who answers about fifty percent of all questions, but by pretending to look as if I'm frantically scribbling down notes, I get away with it, especially in the big lecture auditoriums. My best friend is seated next to me though in one of my lessons, and she definitely notices something's up with my behaviour.
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