by Amy Brent
“Let’s see how you like this,” I said, dropping to my knees, still holding onto their cocks. I pulled them both toward my mouth until I had both cocks right in front of my face. I stroked my hand back and forth and grinned as the heads grew crimson and wet. I stuck out my tongue and swirled it between them, first around Wynn, then around Holden, then back to Wynn. I heard them gasp with pleasure. I glanced up at them with a cock at each corner of my mouth.
“I’ve waited all fucking day for this,” I said, my hands sliding over the wet shafts. I turned toward Holden and took his cock head in my mouth, then turned to suck on Wynn’s. The room filled with the smell of strawberries and lavender as my pussy started to gush down my thighs. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and took both their cock heads into my mouth at once. I sucked on them like giant jawbreakers, then pulled them free and slathered my tongue around the heads. I could taste their salty precum in my mouth. My hands tightened around the shafts, pumping as my mouth and tongue drove them closer to orgasm.
“Fuck, let us play,” Wynn said breathlessly, his knees teetering a bit.
“Yes,” Holden said, gasping. “Don’t make us cum so soon.”
“If that’s what you want,” I said, holding out my hands so they could help me up. I squeezed my tits and gave them a dreamy look. “You’re the experts. Tell me what to do.”
“Suck me off while Holden fucks you from behind,” Wynn said, taking command. He looked at Holden and grinned. “Then we switch.”
“Works for me,” Holden said, taking my hand to lead me over to the bed. Wynn got onto the bed on his back with his massive foot-long cock extended like a thick flag pole. He stroked himself while I got into place.
“You get on your knees and suck Wynn’s cock,” Holden said. “I’ll stand her at the foot of the bed behind you to bang your sweet pussy.”
“Bang away,” I said with a grin. I crawled onto the bed on my hands and knees, stopping when my mouth was hovering over Wynn’s cock. Holden put his hands on my ass and stepped closer. I felt the head of his cock swirl around my drenched pussy hole, getting lubed up so he didn’t hurt me.
I glanced up at Wynn. He had his hands behind his head and a smile on his face. I wrapped my fingers around his massive manhood and started to pump him slowly with my lips on the head.
“Oh… yes… that’s… yes…” Wynn sighed, closing his eyes and breathing with his mouth hanging open. “Suck my cock… baby… yes… take me… oh… inside your hot mouth… yes… oh… yes…”
I took Wynn’s cock deep into my throat and out again. I suctioned my lips to the shaft and pulled back slowly, feeling the skin roll on the hard muscle between my lips. Just having the taste of Wynn on my tongue made me cum again. The orgasm shuddered through my body, but I did not slow down.
“I can feel you cumming already,” Holden said as he slowly pushed forward. My pussy spread to let his bulbous head slide inside me. I moaned as the breath was pushed from my lungs. With Wynn’s cock fully in my mouth, Holden’s cock filled my twat. I paused for a moment, feeling them both inside me. I swear, I could feel all of our hearts beating as one.
“Oh… fuck… so… fucking… tight…” Holden said as his fingers dug into my hips and he slid his cock in and out, in and out, in and out. With each thrust I slid my mouth over Wynn’s cock. We moved in unison, as one, all headed toward climax.
“Oh… shit…” Wynn moaned as my lips rolled over his veiny shaft. I started tweaking his balls with my fingers as my other hand pumped the base of the shaft, pulling him toward my lips. “You’re gonna… make… me… cum… fuck… fuck…”
I hummed with his cock in my mouth. My fingers slid under his balls, down his taint, to his asshole. I wiggled the tip of my finger around his anus. His cock seemed to grow even larger in my mouth. He moaned and arched his hips off the bed.
I felt my body getting hotter by the second. Holden was hammering into my pussy now with his thick cock, jarring my body, rocking me back and forth, forcing me to hold on to Wynn’s cock, being careful not to use my teeth.
“God… damn… I’m… fuck… getting close…” Holden grunted. “You… guys… almost… fuck… there…”
“I can pop… anytime…” Wynn said, eyes closes, teeth gritted. “Just… fucking… say… when…”
“Jude…” Holden said. “Are you… oh… ready…”
“Mmmm hmmm…” My mouth was too full to speak, but I was ready to cum. The heat, like a wildfire sparking in my cunt and spreading throughout my body, was making me sweat. It felt like I was in a sauna. The air in the room was so thick, so electric, it was hard to catch my breath.
“All right… yes… oh… fuck… now…” Holden said, fingers digging in, hips thrusting faster and faster, pounding into me from behind. “Oh… fuck… now… yessss… yessss… I’m…. fuck…”
“Uh… uh… uh…” Wynn was grunting like a wild animal as he put his hands on the sides of my head and bobbed my head up and down on his cock, mouth fucking me. I could feel his cock twitching, his body jerking. He suddenly exploded in my mouth, shooting his hot, milky goo across my tongue and down my throat.
I came with such force that I thought my body was going to shake, rattle, and roll right off the bed. Holden was behind me, pummeling his thick cock into my gushing pussy, rocking me back and forth. Wynn was in front of my, holding my head, thrusting me up and down, hitting the back of my throat, spraying like a hot geyser. I wished that I had a video of that moment. It would have been a sight to see.
Our mutual orgasms seemed to last for hours, though it was over in less than a minute. We froze there, like a statue, holding onto each other, sweating, panting, smiling. I looked up at Wynn after he released his grip on my head. He was smiling, licking his lips, panting like a tired pup. I looked back over my shoulder at Holden. He was smiling, as well, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Holden gave me a concerned look and arched is brow. “Are you okay?”
I blew out the words and gave him a dreamy smile. “I am more than okay. You?”
He nodded without answering.
I turned back to Wynn. “And you, sir? Are you okay?”
“I’m more than okay, as well,” he said, letting his head fall back on the pillow as his long cock withered in my hand.
I pushed myself up to my knees and smiled at them both. “I just have one question,” I said.
Holden sat on the bed and leaned forward to brush the hair from my sweaty forehead. “And what question is that?”
I smiled sheepishly and put my hands on their cocks. With a glimmer in my eye, I asked, “Can we do that again?”
EPILOG: Jude
That first night together with Wynn and Holden will forever be branded in my memory as one of the greatest nights of my life. Not just because the three of us had sex for hours and hours, in every possible way, but because it enlightened me as to their way of thinking.
Even though I had always been promiscuous to the point of sluttiness, I had always connected sex with affection. And as such, I had always seen sex as a one-on-one act between two people. To me, sex and affection went hand in hand. I gave men sex because I longed for affection. And they gave me affection because they wanted sex.
Wynn and Holden showed me that great sex didn’t have to come with strings. Yes, sex with affection—sex with those who you care for— is better emotionally because it stimulates not just your libido, but your heart. But that didn’t mean sex required monogamy or commitment. To the contrary, sex was a physical act that served to satisfy one’s most basic need. Society had tied strings to the concept of sex and piled on baggage filled with judgment and rules. Wynn and Holden taught me that I could break free of those rules. It didn’t matter what society thought about me. It didn’t matter what rules society had established for me. All that mattered was that I was happy, healthy, and satisfied. And boy, was I ever!
Someday, sex and affection would come together for me. I had no doubt in
my mind that someday I would find the perfect man and commit myself fully to him: heart, body, mind, and soul. Until then, this girl was out to have a little bit of fun. In fact, I had a new motto: variety is the spice of life.
Sunday morning, we all slept in late, me and Holden in our bed, Wynn in the guest room. We then got up one by one and made our way to the kitchen for coffee and bagels. We sat around the table giggling and snickering like kids on a camp out, only this boy’s club allowed girls, or at least one very special girl. Me!
After breakfast, we were lounging on the sofa letting our bodies recover and our brains rest. Wynn was on one end of the couch with his long legs stretched out and his feet on the coffee table, reading the morning paper. Holden was on the other end of the couch in a similar position watching football on TV. I was lying between then with my head in Holden’s lap and my feet in Wynn’s, wearing the short robe and nothing else. Every now and then I’d grind my heel into Wynn’s cock to tease him. Finally, he put the paper aside and gave me a sideways smile.
“Are you ready for more?” he asked, sliding his hand up my leg to tease my bare pussy, which was tired but ready for more. He rolled his thumb over my clit and slid his fingers between my moist lips. “Parts of you certainly are.”
“They certainly are,” I said, my heel grinding. I felt his cock getting chubbed inside his boxers. I looked up at Holden. “How about you, Professor Moss? Ready for round three?”
“Actually, it would be more like round ten,” Holden said, reaching inside my robe to cup my breast. My nipple popped against his fingers.
“Well then, why don’t we—” Before I could finish my sentence, the doorbell rang. I noticed Wynn and Holden glance at each other, little sly smiles on their handsome faces, like two little boys sharing a funny secret.
Holden let go of my breast and said, “Jude, do you mind getting the door.”
“You want me to answer the door?” I asked, frowning.
“Well, we’re both are a little…” Holden gestured toward his crotch, then to Wynn’s. Their erections were poking through their boxer shorts like turtles sticking their heads out of their shells.
“Fine,” I said, huffing as if I’d been asked to push a boulder up a hill. I rolled off the couch and cinched the robe around my waist as I padded barefoot to the door. When I opened the door, there stood a mountain of a man so good looking that he made my jaw drop. He looked like a football player, tall, broad shouldered, muscles on top of muscles beneath the tight shirt he wore. His dark hair was cut short. His eyes were the color of blue ice. He had a Kennedy jawline and a Clooney smile. He stuck out his hand and gave me a look that made my knees wobble.
“Hey, I’m Lane Curtis,” he said, his hand the size of a catcher’s mitt compared to mine. The moment his fingers closed around my hand I felt a little chill run up my arm that made my nipples hard. “And you, you must be Jude.”
PART 3
Description
Call me a nympho or call me a slut, but I love having more than one man in my bed at a time. My name is Jude… and I am addicted to men…
It all started with just me and Professor Holden Moss, the grad school professor I seduced by flashing him my pink goodies the first day of class. I love being the Teacher’s Pet. And Holden loved playing my games.
Then Holden invited his best friend, Dr. Wynn Driver, to join our little party. Wynn was the epitome of hotness: tall, handsome, with surfer boy good looks and a foot long of pleasure inside his linen slacks. The three of us were having the time of our lives, then along came Wynn’s buddy, Lane.
Dr. Lane Curtis, the former football star turned psychologist and bestselling author who held orgies at his exclusive spa and became the forth player in our little game.
Now, I have three lovers and experience something new and fantastic every day.
Someone should write a book about the things we do to each other.
Oh, that’s right… someone has… Enjoy.
Chapter One: Dr. Lane Curtis
When I asked the young, attractive red head who was sitting on the other end of the sofa in my luxury hotel suite how she liked being a magazine columnist, she gave me a confident smile and said what most people say when you question their choice of career.
“Oh, yes, I just love my job.”
I gave her a wary look. “Do you? Really?”
I said the words playfully, as if I didn’t really believe her.
Her confident smile faltered for a moment, but her blue eyes held their sparkle. Her lips were full, painted deep crimson to contrast the light tone of her ginger skin. Tiny freckles danced across her nose, across the top of her chest. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, I just loved red heads.
She cocked her head and gave me the eye. “Do I really what?”
“Do you really love your job?”
She blinked as if I’d just asked if she was sure her name was… what was her name… Meredith… something… I think. Her business card was on the glass coffee table. I didn’t bother to glance at it. A look of confusion washed over her pretty face. When she frowned, a line went across her forehead that Botox would have to address a few years down the road.
“Well, yes, I really do love my job,” she said, a little defensively now. “I mean… Don’t you?”
“Don’t I what?” I asked with a mock frown.
“Don’t you love your job?”
“Well, yes, now that you mention it, I do.” I said it with a grin that should have let her know that I was just messing with her, but she still looked unsure. Just to be clear, I added, “I do love my job.”
“Oh, that’s great!” The words tumbled out over a long breath that she’d been holding. Her shoulders relaxed, and she gave me a demure smile. “It’s always nice when you love what you do.”
“It is,” I said with a nod, thinking that it was also nice when you loved who you were doing it to. She glanced into my eyes and looked quickly away. Score one for Team Curtis.
I should have been focusing on the interview the poor girl was trying to conduct, but it was hard to concentrate given her look and her smell and the way she kept looking at me and the movie that kept playing in my head. Being on the cover of a national magazine would definitely make the cash registers ring—sales of my books, DVDs, seminars, retreats, private sessions with big stars—but sometimes a guy had to do what a guy had to do. And I was all guy. And despite all my advanced degrees in psychology and understanding of how the human brain works, sometimes my cock just seemed to have a mind all its own.
This was my subtle way of innocently flirting with a girl almost half my age and getting away with it without being branded a lech. I had learned early on in my career that when a rich and famous, forty-year-old guy like me, hits on a hot and “seemingly vulnerable” twenty-something girl like her, there were protocols that had to be followed to make sure everything that happened between us—or didn’t happen—was consensual and without coercion. You’ve seen the news lately. Every day it seems there’s a new story about these guys in my position who force themselves on women. They use their power and their influence and their money and outright fear to “persuade” girls to do things they otherwise would not do. Cosby. Weinstein. Spacey. They should have known better, and I hope they get what’s coming to them. End of sermon.
Times have changed, and protocols must be followed so there can be no doubt. Meeting up in a bar was one thing, but if I hit on this girl directly while she was interviewing me for her employer, Psychology whatever magazine, if I made overt suggestions that maybe we should move this conversation to the king-sized bed in the master suite, there would always be that shadow of doubt in her mind that maybe she was coerced or forced into doing something she didn’t really want to do. And shadows of doubt lead to tawdry tabloid headlines and ugly public relations scandals and expensive law suits.
Besides, I was not that guy. I didn’t have to force myself on anyone. I’m Dr. Lane Curtis. I could have women lining up outside my door if
I wanted. I’m not being cocky. It’s just the truth. It’s one of the things I love about my job. Fame and wealth have benefits. You’ll hear no apologies from me.
And unless my “horny meter” was failing me big time, Meredith and I were both thinking the same thing. I leaned in and gave her a salacious grin. “In fact, I love all sorts of jobs.”
Her cheeks flushed red and she directed her eyes back to the list of questions on the iPad resting on her crossed legs. She ran her finger down the pad to figure out what her next question would be. I had flustered her, but in a good way.
Flirtation aside, I have always been genuinely curious about what makes people tick. What makes them happy. What makes them miserable. What turns them on and what turns them off. I also wonder why so many people lie about such things. They lie to themselves and they lie to others.
You hear people say that sort of thing all the time. I love my job. I just love my job. I love my spouse. I do. I really do. And I love my life. I’m calling bullshit. Usually, the people who say such things are trying to convince themselves of the fact more than anyone else. They think if they tell themselves something enough times, maybe it will really come true.
So, they chant it like a mantra.
I love my job.