She liked the way her boobs jiggled with every smack of Crispin’s palm. Apparently Taos did, too, his eyes wide and filled with awe as he held her by the hips. He grunted as he thrust up inside her, and she could do nothing to dampen the bobbing of her tits, with her hands bound behind her like they were.
She pouted. “I want to see you, Crispin.”
“You can’t, love. Not when I’m doing you up the bum.”
They had been experimenting with this sort of double penetration for months now, but Taos was usually the back door man. Bettina had gone on The Pill to prevent fertilization while undergoing the rigorous training for Fugitive Ops, but since things had settled down she’d been considering going off the drug. She wondered how that idea would sit with Crispin and Taos. She thought it would probably fly just fine, even though Crispin’s son had been visiting the ranch once a month or so now. Things had calmed into a nice routine, and there was more than enough love to go around.
Now Crispin greased up her butthole. His tickling made her inner cunt contract even harder around Taos’s cock. Taos loudly appreciated Crispin’s effort.
“Oh, yeah,” he purred. “Squeeze me like that with your pussy, my bouncy hot tomato. You’ve got such a talented cunt. You’ve got powerful Kegel muscles. Your twat clenches me like a hot fist.”
“That’s it.” Crispin soothed her as he positioned his glans against her tight hole. “You’re ready to accept me, Bettina. Squeeze Taos’s dick inside of you. Think how good this feels when you’ve got two fat cocks inside of you.” With a little shove, he was inside of her, and Bettina had to still herself to get accustomed to it. “Tell us how much you love it.”
Bettina grinned lewdly. “I love having both of you inside me at the same time. Taos, can you feel Crispin’s cock as he moves inside me?”
“I feel his dick massaging your asshole,” Taos confirmed. “Do you want us both to come at the same time?”
“Of course,” Bettina growled as she swiveled her hips clockwise to get the full effect of both cocks. “Taos, you have to slow down. Crispin, you have to speed up.”
“No problem there.” Crispin slapped her ass for good measure as he rode her.
Bettina’s canal relaxed to accept Crispin’s penis, which was slightly thicker than Taos’s. The men’s cocks massaged her in tandem as their lust mounted. Taos bounced her and Crispin bucked her, filling her to the brim. When Crispin reached around to rub her protruding clit between his fingers, she absolutely came off.
Her thighs trembled powerfully as the orgasm washed over her. It gripped her in its clutches, and she barely had time to cry, “Don’t stop!” before the strength of the orgasm wrenched her. Her brain was wiped clean by the torrent of ecstasy that rolled through her abdomen as her pussy milked Taos’s semen. Crispin’s cock pulsed inside her ass as he unloaded his jism. It overflowed down her inner thigh where it mingled with a stream of Taos’s jism. Bettina jiggled her hips as she clutched her muscles to drain the men’s seed from them.
She needed Crispin’s help to stand. A gusher rolled down her thigh as she straightened out her cramping legs. Crispin massaged her arms after setting her free from the cuffs.
“Whew,” she said. “That was a head-banging experience.”
Crispin agreed. “I would’ve banged my head if I wasn’t buried so deep inside of you.”
Bettina twirled about to face her husband. He was banging hot with his long prick pulsating as it hung from between the leather chaps. She captured his lower lip between her teeth briefly before shoving him away. “Don’t follow me.”
She went up some sandstone stairs and wound up peeing right beneath where someone had covered over some petroglyphs with stupid graffiti. The Anasazi glyphs were tagged with gang graffiti—the sort of gangs Bettina was constantly in pursuit of. She stood and backed up to look at them. The thugs had all but obliterated handprints from before the days of Christ. It was symbolic they had ruined the sign for endurance that Bettina and her men had chosen to ink on their skin.
Things were moving smoothly into the future. The asshole who had planted the C-4 in the rafters at The Hip Quiver had, of course, been sent by Sirius from his prison cell. It was a disgruntled former fling of Delano’s who had friended all of his Facebook friends before the Marshals Service had had a chance to disable that account permanently. Angry at being dumped, she had funneled any slightly suspicious friend’s information directly to Sirius, which was how he’d found out about the DelHart casino.
Mad bombers formed a clique of their own, and this guy had been paid to permanently stop Taos from testifying against Sirius. Bettina thanked her lucky stars every day that no one had been permanently injured in the explosion—except for her partner Park, who had remained in a coma for several days, and was still out now on sick leave while undergoing physical therapy. Sirius had been sentenced to life without parole under the RICO Act thanks to the testimony of both Taos and Del. The DelHart, which had barely been damaged in the explosion, opened on time, and The Hip Quiver was nearly ready, too.
In fact, Taos was the lion of the day. While everyone else was running out of the building, Taos was busy running in. He single-handedly had saved ten boys before the EMTs even arrived there.
“My hero,” Bettina said out of the blue when she rejoined her men.
“I know,” said Taos with false modesty. “But can you tell me exactly why, again?
“He just likes to hear it,” said Crispin, smoothing down the front of his chaps.
Bettina tugged down the bottom hem of her vest, too. “You’re both my heroes, every day and in every way. I thank my lucky stars for the both of you.”
Crispin held out his hand for her to take. “Oh, yeah? Well then, tell me what I’m doing right so I can repeat it.” They started down the cavern steps toward their bikes.
“Everything. Just keep being you.”
Taos took her other hand. “No. Be more specific. We have to know.”
She shrugged. “Nothing in particular. Just keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing.”
“Screwing you up the ass?” Crispin suggested.
“That’s one,” Bettina allowed.
“Spanking you?” suggested Taos.
“That’s another. Listen. You can keep listing things until the cows come home. You’re never going to reach the end of the things I thank my stars for.”
However, men being men, they kept listing things even as they donned their brain buckets, even as Taos strapped Friendly into the sidecar, even as they blipped their throttles in preparation to ride out.
“Taking you to dinner? Waking you by eating your pussy? Bringing you coffee?”
Bettina finally had to rap her knuckles on Crispin’s brain bucket. Men could be so relentless sometimes.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
THE END
WWW.KARENMERCURYAUTHOR.BLOGSPOT.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Karen’s first three novels were historical fiction involving pre-colonial African explorers. Since she was always either accused or praised—depending on how you look at it—for writing overly steamy sex scenes, erotic romance was the natural next step. She lives near Napa, California where she shoots archery, collects minerals, plays with her not-so-little Newfoundland pup, and does other “guy” things.
For all titles by Karen Mercury, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/karen-mercury
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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Owner of a Lonely Heart (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 17