“Couldn’t let you boys have all the fun,” Eli says with a dark laugh.
His mouth claims my other nipple and my body goes full rigor mortis. Like I’m a possession victim in a demonology movie. Lucas and Eli’s cocks rub up and down my cheeks and throat. Their mouths suck and tease and tug at my nipples.
Between my thighs, I have Oliver’s ginger head squeezed tight. My cunt is grinding against his tongue in a way I couldn’t control, even if I wanted to. My body is moving on its own, taking what it wants without my consent.
Three men. Three mouths. Good Sofie would be mortified. Naughty Sofie is probably ecstatic right now. On the porno still playing over my head, Big Screen Sofie is getting it from one cock in her ass and another in her pussy.
Where does that leave me?
I don’t fucking know.
I’m not Good Sofie. Not right now. Not while I’m about to cum for all three of these gorgeous men while they worship my body with their lips.
Which ought to make me Naughty Sofie by default, right? But this doesn’t feel naughty. It should, but it doesn’t. Not in the slightest. It feels right as rain. Natural as waking up in the morning. Blissful as heaven and hot as hell.
Big Screen Sofie? Not a chance. Big Screen Sofie as moaning and whining like the porn star she is. People can say what they like about me, but they can’t say I don’t know how to play my part.
Which leaves me with…what?
Lucas’s mouth on my left nipple.
Elijah’s lips on my right.
Oliver licking my cunt like he’s found the Promised Land between my thighs.
I’m the land of milk and honey for these men right now, and believe it or not…I’ve never felt more like myself in my life. Maybe I just need to acknowledge this side of me.
“Aaaaaah!” I cry out as I lose control.
An orgasm throbs through my body, vibrating from my bones to my pores. It feels like something inside me has detonated. A ticking time bomb that it required three men and an orgasm to set off. It’s something that it feels like I’ve been trying to diffuse for so long…
But now that I’ve finally given into it, I can’t imagine a better feeling in the entire world.
My body fills with warmth and my head goes light with pleasure. There’s a ringing in my ears, but no other sound. Like listening to an explosion while under water. It’s disorienting. Discombobulating.
But I know it feels good. The best I’ve ever felt about myself.
When I rise up out of the waves, I don’t know who I am. I’m like, 99% sure I’ve forgotten my own damn name.
And I haven’t forgotten theirs.
“Eli!” I cry out as he takes my pussy. I don’t know when he replaced Oliver between my thighs, but I know that I like having him there.
He hilts himself in me in just a few thrusts, wrapping his arms around my thin shoulders and pulling me to his chest like he’s carrying me home.
Right behind the first orgasm, another starts to build. Like waves coming off a riptide, threatening to pull me under again. Hold me down. Drag me off to sea.
I let them. My pussy spasms around Eli’s huge, thick cock as he pounds it into me, twisting my hair in his fist and biting down on my neck.
“Lucas!” I cry out as another pair of teeth sink into my neck on the other side.
The brief instant of flashing pain is immediately replaced by another sensation completely: the intensity of Lucas’ cock thrusting into my ass. His rock-hard rod forces its way inside me, stretching me out and leaving me moaning as he fills up what little space he can find there.
Another orgasm. This one even more intense than the last. It jolts my body, shaking me like I’ve just wrapped my fists around an electric fence.
My fingers twitch, struggling to find something to hold onto. They succeed as my nails bite into the thick muscles and ginger hair of Oliver’s gorgeous thighs. I open my mouth to moan and he sticks his cock in it.
Now, my pleasure is muffled. Like I’m being gagged.
But if this is what being gagged is like, get me a fucking muzzle. With my mouth full of cock, the intense feeling is locked up in me and looking for a release. It keeps building like I might explode.
The next orgasm hits me as Oliver shoves his cock down my throat, choking me with his thickness and holding my lips flush against the base of his shaft. I cry out against his pelvis, simultaneously desperately wanting air and desperately never wanting to breathe again.
After that?
I can’t think straight. I can barely see straight.
My world becomes a wash of bliss and ecstasy and color. The freckles on Oliver’s shoulders. The bruises on Lucas’ knuckles. The blue of Eli’s eyes.
The smell of their musk on me, marking me as theirs.
The taste of their cum. Their kisses. My pussy. Their skin.
The feel of hands and mouths and cocks and bodies on me.
I can feel all these but at the same time, I can’t focus on details.
I definitely can’t keep track of the ministrations of three horny men ravishing my fucking body clearly in my mind.
Eli’s cock is on my mouth. Lucas is in my cunt. Oliver is in my ass, pumping me full of man meat with the promise of lots of man cream yet to come.
Lucas’ fist, pressing his cock between my lips. Oliver’s fingers, wrapping around my throat. Eli’s balls, grinding against my clit as he smears my honey across my stomach and thighs.
I can’t think or focus or even make words beyond, “Please!” and “More!” and monosyllabic moaning.
But I can come.
Holy fuck, I can feel myself on the verge of coming hard.
And I do. Over and over and over again. Until there’s not any Good Sofie or Bad Sofie or Smart Sofie or Still-Doesn’t-Know-How-Taxes-Work Sofie left inside me.
Oliver, Lucas and Eli fill me up with cock instead. I become a vessel for their pleasure. A body made to fuck and come and feel good.
And then, when they’re done with me, they fill me up with their cum.
I don’t know whose cum is where inside of me. I don’t know when it happened, or what I was doing when it did—although, based on the dozens of orgasms I’ve been lost in, I can take a solid guess.
I don’t know how much of it there is exactly. Only that, fuck me, it’s a lot.
And I super don’t know how it got on the ceiling, but when I regain the ability to form conscious, coherent thoughts once again, it’s dripping down on my face. Drop by fucking drop.
“You’ve got a little something there, darlin’.”
Lucas’ voice. Lucas’ finger, scooping the cum up and dripping it down onto my lips instead.
I gaze over at him, chest heaving, as I lick it off.
“Good girl,” he says.
He sounds exhausted. I don’t fucking blame him. I can barely move, myself.
I roll the sweet, creamy cum from Lucas’ finger onto my tongue as he sucks his finger into his own mouth.
“Hmm. Not mine,” he says decisively. “Oliver, buddy. You got cum on my ceiling.”
“Slipped out,” Oliver says apologetically. Slowly, I become aware of Oliver’s tongue on my stomach, licking me clean of my juices, or his, or someone else’s. Hard to keep track, beyond the fact that it’s sticky and warm. “Sofie’s too fucking tight.”
“You can say that again,” Eli sighs. I blink as he levels his cock at my mouth. “Suck it clean, sweetheart. You’ve made a mess of us, you bad thing.”
Eli’s cock is softening, which isn’t saying much. He’s a shower, not a grower. Which is fucking impressive when it comes to a cock as big as Eli’s is.
He’s covered in cum—mine, his, and everyone else’s, more likely than not. Tastes amazing, whatever it is. I stare up at him adoringly as I obey.
“Mm,” Eli moans. “Love when you look at me like that.”
“Like the whole universe is dangling from your tip,” Lucas agrees.
“Good girl, Sofie,” E
li says, dropping down to kiss away whatever cum remains on my lips.
“You really are a good girl, you know, babe,” Oliver says. He’s laid his cheek against my thigh lovingly and has taken to smoothing his fingertips over my skin.
“A good woman,” corrects Lucas.
“Our good woman,” corrects Eli.
I know I should say something, but dammit. I’m at a loss for words. It all seems so stupid now, I realize. Good Sofie. Bad Sofie. Whatever. I figure it’s all me, even if I’m not used to owning up these feelings.
Sofie up on the big screen is now curled between her two men, covered in cum. I smile as I gaze up at her. She looks happy. That’s the important thing.
And as for me? Your girl—woman—Sofie, this Sofie right here, in real life?
She’s happily covered in cum too. Laying on the floor with three men.
All of us naked. All of us pretty damn happy too.
“You alright, darlin’?” Lucas asks me. He turns my chin towards him with his thumb and teases me with the closeness of his lips.
“Yeah,” I finally say, all dreamy and dazed and completely spent. “Wow. Yeah…Yeah.”
I can feel them laughing at me as I flutter my eyelashes and Lucas lays a kiss on my lips, but I don’t fucking care.
This is who I am now.
Sexy, naughty, good, bad, porn-star, still-doesn’t-know-how-taxes-work Sofie.
Not very catchy, but overall, pretty accurate.
Maybe just plain Sofie. You know. For short.
Sofie
“…belly-flopping into the leaves, swimming through the chlorophyll.”
That’s my classmate, Richard. He’s somewhere behind me, still making that goddamn comment after almost every class. I hope he gets a laugh someday.
I’m still the same student as when I first heard that joke. I still have that reputation for sitting in the front of the class and furiously recording notes.
Truthfully, I can glean all the details of a Botany lecture and retain that shit like a motherfucker—and without notes—but since this is already my life’s work, it’s not like I’m going to risk forgetting something.
Today, I have all the lecture notes on my phone, along with a full-length audio recording, because who knows when that’ll come in handy. While the other students teeter out of class and the professor makes herself scarce, I stay in my seat long enough to watch everything upload to backup servers on my phone screen.
“Who is it? Is he hot?”
The teaching assistant still here, and she’s hovering over my desk.
She’s trying to be amiable, or something, and she thinks I’m texting.
And we do talk to each other like that, sometimes.
"Yeah, Shirley, he's a real hottie,” I reply, still staring at my phone.
"Ooh, a hottie,” Shirley chirps, with a touch of irony. “What’s his name?”
“Christen.”
“That sounds promising. Christen what? Does he go to school here?”
“I don’t think so. Christen Raunkiaer.”
I watch the files finish uploading before I finally look up to see Shirley’s face squishing as she starts to realize the joke.
“Wait, you mean that Danish plant ecologist? Didn’t he die like eighty years ago? I don’t remember that lecture...”
“Somewhere around then, yeah.”
“Oh, I hope you’re not texting with him. Now, that would be scary.”
I slip my phone into my purse’s outer pocket. I kind of know Shirley as a fellow student, much less so as a TA, and I have no clue why she’s talking to me after everyone’s gone.
“So, that’s the wit that lands you a sweet TA job, huh.”
“That and a willingness to sacrifice all your time, plus any chance of a social life, all for a couple lines on your resume.”
I nod, smiling a little. Shirley’s stalling, if she has anything to tell me at all.
“What’s up, Shirl?” I stand up and start moving towards the exit. She better make this quick.
“What? I was joking around about the texting…”
I’m practically out the door, and Shirley’s not following. I’m almost home free, but I glance back. “What else?”
“…and the dean wants to see you.”
My shoes squeak on the floor when I stop short just outside the lecture hall door.
“The dean?”
“Dean Kent Hughes, the one and only.”
“That’s the dean of the entire university!”
“I know. Try not to yell that at him like you just did at me. On second thought, he might like that.”
“But, how? When? Why?”
I look back into the lecture hall, Shirley does not look like she’s messing around.
“I’ll start with how: I get emails from admins all the time, usually not from the dean requesting to see a student immediately, but…”
“Immediately?”
“That answers when, I guess.”
“But, why?”
“I’m getting to that: I have no earthly clue. Only one way to find out. Good luck, kid, maybe you’re getting an awesome job or something.”
Well, first, I have an awesome job already. Second, I don’t think that’s it, although I don’t have the foggiest fucking notion why I would possibly be summoned to the Dean’s office.
Maybe I’m getting his job. I chuckle to myself, letting that thought carry me across campus so don’t I fly into a panic on my way to the main administrative building.
The path to the administrative building is crowded with students and random locals wandering in from the neighborhood. Nobody I recognize, though.
It’s not like Lucas is going show up out of the blue again.
There are heaps of important research occurring on this campus all the time, though. I’d love to have a job somewhere high on the food chain at this Ivy League someday.
Heck, maybe word is getting around about BioKin. Maybe not about me specifically, but my involvement may have triggered this audience with the dean somehow.
I would turn down any job offers for sure, however. I’m way too happy in my current situation.
My nervousness starts coming back with a vengeance when the administrative building is in sight, and I start getting close to the entrance.
Is Shirley for real? Approaching the dean’s office seems like a bad idea, although I’m not sure why.
There are also a lot of people hanging out in front of the administrative building. Most of them are students dawdling between classes, taking the chance to socialize and get some fresh air, but something feels off.
I’m staying with my plan and taking Shirley’s word, but I feel my stomach tightening as I approach the hefty wood doors to the old building that houses the dean’s office.
It’s like there’s a force field keeping most of the students a few yards away from the entrance, except for one figure I catch out of the corner of my eye, loitering on a bench just outside the door...
Now I know why I’m starting to feel ill: Greg is perched on the bench, by himself, watching me as I walk in. My stomach must’ve known he was there before I even saw him.
Greg doesn’t say a word, and neither do I. I try to remember if there’s another way I can leave the building later.
I push through the entrance and tread through the huge, old front hall, heavy with the smells of old oak and marble, every step I take echoing heavily.
I’ve never been to the dean’s office, but my instinct leads me right up the grand marble staircase and down the spookily quiet corridor.
“Miss Carson.”
The office door is open, standing on the other side of a small abandoned reception area. I can see why the walk up here is so intimidating that he doesn’t even need a staff member.
“Dean Hughes,” I manage, sounding confident.
“Please, come in and have a seat.”
I walk through the reception area, which feels haunted, like everything else
in this part of the building. I sit on a small wooden chair set up across from the desk.
The dean’s desk is lovingly disorganized—it’s oddly reassuring. The dean himself is far from disorganized, projecting an air of supreme self-assurance.
“What is this about, Dean Hughes?” I’m getting ahead of myself, but I’m not a fan of suspense.
“Did you know I was a chemistry student when I first started here?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I reply, not sure if I did know that.
“I thought science was my future, but then I broadened my perspective. I fell in love with academia—this old place especially.”
Fuck, is he going to offer me a job? I don’t even know how to respond.
“There’s nowhere else like it,” I add uselessly.
“Of course, not—and you were one of our best, from the very beginning. From your application on, you impressed everybody.”
Wait, were one of our best?
“I’m very passionate.” I’m trying to hide my anxiety, but I’m ready for him to get to the point soon.
He lets out a little sigh and taps his desk a couple times like he’s thinking about what to say next.
“You have no place here anymore.”
“Why is that?” I just say it, very calmly, before what the dean says actually hits me and the room starts closing in.
The dean levels his eyes at me. If he seemed hesitant before, he’s showing no qualms about it now.
“This is one of the top schools in the country—the world,” he rumbles, “and BioKin is still an impossible nut to crack for our alumni, not to mention our students.”
“I have an internship there. Is that a bad thing?”
“How did you get it?” Dean Hughes is nearly barking. “No, don’t answer. I know: you auctioned yourself off.”
I shake my head in disbelief.
“That’s a weird, misleading way of putting it. I did an auction for charity.”
“You did an auction? Okay. What was being auctioned?”
“I’m involved with Fostering Angels.” My voice sounds a thousand miles away. The rising anger I feel is so overwhelming I can hardly move. “You know why the charity has special meaning for me, right?”
“Don’t obfuscate.” The dean’s face is reddening, but his voice is controlled. “You auctioned yourself off...”
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