“Oh fuck,” he grunts back, pressing the head of that long, lovely shaft against my clit, “I can’t wait. You’re so fucking tight, you feel so fucking good.”
“Ready?” The voice in my ear demands my attention.
I nod. “I’m—oh shit…I’m ready.”
…
Not ready. I’m not ready. I said I was, but I’m not.
Because fuck, fuck, fuck, what happens next is too much.
Any capacity I might have had for rational thought is eradicated. I can’t see straight, I can’t think straight; I can only revel in sensation.
Slowly fingers slide out of my ass, but before the muscles can contract they’re replaced by his cock. Just the tip, at first. A nudge in. Spreading me apart. I doubt, for a moment, that I can take him; he’s too big, too much. But then he flexes his hips ever so slightly and I gasp, whimper, and take more. An inch, now. God, I’m being split apart. An ache, a burn, sweet, delicious pain-laced perfection. Something soft and thick rubs against my clit, and I focus on that for a moment, force my eyes open and watch as he grinds his lovely, curved cock against my clit, teasing my slit with it, and holy shit, that’s beautiful. He has his hands on himself, my legs spread open for him, his cock nudging my cunt, and he’s leaning over me and sucking my tit into his mouth. The tugging blast of pleasure of this somehow lets me take more, more of the impossibly massive cock that is somehow fitting into my asshole.
I clutch the cock that’s in front, knock his hand away, and stroke him. I fit him into me. I gasp and writhe as I feel him slide into my pussy. And now…
Ohhhhhh god, oh god, oh god. Too much. It’s too much. I’m so full it hurts, but not in a bad way. It’s madness, utter carnal madness. I can’t breathe, can barely function, can barely move for the fullness.
There’s only a tiny, thin sliver of skin separating the cocks inside me. I’m crammed so full nothing else exists but the fullness, as if I’m about to split open from the inside.
A breathless moan escapes me, turning to an all-out shriek as the man beneath me, my man, buries himself fully into my ass. I’ve taken all of him, an impossible feat, and if I was going to split apart before, now, oh god, now I am bursting apart, because they’re both buried all the way.
I’m crying, gasping, writhing, needing…I don’t even know what I need, don’t know what to do, or even how to exist in this moment of all-pervading fullness.
I flex my hips just a little, to test my ability to move.
Ohhhhhh Jesus, holy hell that’s it, that’s what I need.
“Fuck me,” I hear myself say. “Oh god, please, fuck me. Please…”
And they obey, both of them. In unison.
I roll my hips and feel the cock in my ass tug outward just a little, the cock in my cunt slipping out a bit more, and then as I roll my hips again, they both fuck into me, and I’m crying out, taking it and screaming as they fuck me, both men moving now, thrusting into me, fucking me full of so much cock it should be impossible. There is so much of everything, a mouth on my ear, biting my earlobe, teeth on my nipple, a rough hand cupping my other breast and kneading it with familiar possessiveness.
My world is grunts and groans and muscle slipping and grinding against me, cock sliding in and out of me, splitting me open, mouths on my skin, hands on my hips and hands tweaking my nipples.
“Fuck…”
“Oh god—”
“Jesus, you’re so goddamn tight—”
“Oh…oh god…don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”
I don’t know who’s talking, who’s saying what. I don’t know anything.
I feel the curve inside me, open my eyes and watch him move, watch his long hair sway and curl in front of his eyes, watch his carved abdomen rippling as he fucks me, his thighs pulsing with each thrust, hips flexing, and it’s his hand on my breast, the other gripping my hip and holding me in place.
I turn my head, see the beautiful profile beside my face, familiar dark scruff up close, swarthy skin, eyes closed in bliss, focused, and his body beneath me is a perfect hard cushion, moving, writhing, thrashing as he buries himself deep.
I’m everywhere, with my hands. Clutching biceps, sliding along thighs, burying in hair, smoothing over abdomens, cupping a flexing ass, touching everything I can reach, my body undulating, arrhythmic.
Time out of time, then. Pleasure without end. Ecstasy in never-ending seconds, stretching out into infinity.
I come at least once, maybe twice, or maybe it’s one long, unending orgasm. I don’t know. I just know my whole body is wrenched and wracked and twisted with searing bliss, tightening heat, climaxes shattering me and splintering me, and I come back down only to feel another wave blast through me.
I feel a change, then.
An impatience in the thrusting body above me, driving with unadulterated need.
I meet his eyes, and then reach between us. He pulls out, rises up on his knees, and takes his glistening cock in his fist.
I knock his hand away; take him in both of mine.
He throbs in my fists.
I cup his sac in one palm, feel his balls tighten, slide my middle finger along his taint and press hard. I stroke his length, pulling him closer, feel him straddle me to get close enough that I can take him in my mouth, and pump my fist at his root, and suck on the thick head. He grunts and moves, writhes, curses, and fucks my mouth.
“Shit, I’m close. Fuck, yeah, just like that. Suck it, baby, god, suck it so good, yeah, just like that.”
“Mmm-hmmm?” I hum the question. “Mmmmmm.”
He thrusts wildly, lost to it now. I feel him thicken in my mouth. Feel his thrusts stutter, falter.
Beneath me, my man fucks my ass with a wild, pounding vengeance, hard, rough, and I writhe against him and take it and grind against him. I reach up behind me with my free hand to bury my fingers in his curly, inky locks, clutching his hair viciously, pulling at him.
Above, I have heavy balls in one hand, my middle finger against his taint, pressing, pulsing in time with the sinking, bobbing movement of my mouth on his shaft. Not deep, this time. Just enough to suck hard, a few inches in mouth, my fist stroking the rest of his length hard, fast and crazy, moaning, humming. I open my eyes to watch him. He’s a wild man, primal, sweat coating his body, muscles tensed, everything hard, all raw masculine beauty, blond hair sticking to his forehead and chin and neck, abs flexing as he moves.
“Ah god, fuck,” he groans, “I’m coming. God, take it, baby, oh fuck, right there, just like that…”
He explodes in my mouth, one hand clutching my hair and pulling me roughly into his thrust, and I groan as he slides to the back of my throat, hot cum sluicing down my throat. I swallow and he pulls out, cum filling my mouth, and then he pulls out abruptly, entirely, and I watch him fuck into my hands and watch a thick white jet of sticky wet cum splash onto my tits, and then he spasms again and more cum pools on my breast, slides wet over my nipple and I can’t breathe to swallow the mouthful, so I let it gush out of my mouth and down my chin and throat and he watches this, raptured, still thrusting into my fists, cum no longer spurting out but seeping, smearing, so I don’t pump his length any longer, but caress and twist and jerk, milking every last twitch out of him.
And god, shit, I still have another cock moving, fucking me, another hard male body beneath me, insistent, rough, hands all over me, clutching my tits and squeezing as his thrusts become wild and frantic, and I feel something huge building inside me from the fucking my ass is taking, an orgasm the likes of which I don’t know if I’ll survive. Fingers in my pussy, now, at my clit, fingering me, for my benefit alone. I press my hand to his, show him how I like it: gentle touch, moving fast, circling my clit but never quite touching. He catches on fast, and keeps it up as I begin to undulate in earnest now.
There are grunts in my ear, my man’s hands grasp both my tits, his hips flex beneath me, shoving his cock into my ass and pulling out, hard and fast now. I would never have believed I could ta
ke a fucking like this, but now I can’t imagine anything else, I’m not sure there’s ever been anything else.
I turn my head to the side, finding scruff at my lips.
Kiss.
Breathe—try to breathe, at least—as his mouth stutters against the side of my neck.
His whisper is only for me.
So quiet I nearly miss it, beneath my own moans.
“I’m going to come in your ass,” he murmurs.
Why does that make me even more wild?
I don’t know, but it does.
I’m out of control now, so wild. I can’t get enough of him.
I writhe all the harder, impaled by him, on him. I ride him, feeling complete, replete, flush with ecstasy..
He clutches me against his body, one hand on my hipbone, guiding my undulations, the other sliding up and down my torso, carving over my breasts, between them, and he’s grunting. I’m moaning.
It’s a fraught moment, then.
“Oh god,” I cry out, my voice louder than I’d intended. “Yes…god yes, fuck me, fuck my ass so hard, baby…come for me, let me feel it—give it to me. Don’t stop, don’t stop—”
He buries his face in the intimate, tender spot behind my ear, and his hand wraps around the delicate column of my throat.
Everything falls way as the pressure of his hand on my throat increases.
Increment by increment, as he fucks harder and harder.
I suck in a rough breath, clutch his hair with shaking hands, feet planted in the bed beside his knees, pushing myself up, bracing against his movements.
“I’m—shit, shit, I’m coming,” he gasps, breathing the words so quietly, so intensely I strain to hear them, but I feel them in my bones.
All the universe shrinks down to this.
To him, beneath me, inside me, hands all over me, fucking my asshole so hard my whole body shakes from the force of his thrusts, our bodies meeting with loud slaps, his hand on my throat, the pressure not quite cutting off my breath, yet somehow not being able to breathe, somehow his hand on my throat sends me over the edge.
I come with a hoarse scream.
And that, my scream, my orgasm, brings him with me.
I feel it, I feel his cock throb and pulse, and then heat fills me, and his fucking slamming grinding thrusts lose all semblance of rhythm or control. He pushes in, deep, coming and coming and coming, and my orgasm is a vortex of dizziness and darkness and wicked delirium dragging me down, everything I am focused on writhing, pulsing, thrashing on top of him, focused on the feel of his perfect cock inside me unleashing again and again and again, and then there’s only his breath and mine, gasping in ragged tandem.
I’m sucked under the veil of darkness.
Sweet, cool, oxygen fills my lungs, a kind of secondary climax.
Voices.
Nothingness.
For a space of a single thought, this nothingness, this succumbing to the darkness is…
Too familiar.
Frightening.
As if I’ve fallen into a blackness like this before.
Not yet, comes the thought, bubbling up from some secret corner of my soul.
Not yet.
….
I blink, and I breathe, and I stretch—languid, euphoric, feline. I’m wrapped up in softness, surrounded by heat.
I awake to a white ceiling above. Cityscape light from the windows lights the dim room. I can see skyscrapers with countless yellow rectangles of light, a helicopter scudding and thudding in the distance, a dark sky and even darker clouds. The moon, a slim crescent in the night sky.
“That was unexpected,” comes a deep voice.
He’s leaning in the open doorway, a glass of red wine in each hand. Back in his jeans, no shirt, barefoot. So fucking sexy.
“What was unexpected?” I ask, sitting up and scooting back to lean against the headboard.
I don’t bother with the pretense of modesty; I don’t clutch the flat sheet to my chest. I just let him look.
He saunters toward me and extends one glass to me. I sip; the wine is rich, thick, bold, dry.
He gestures to the bed. “That.” A long sip. “Us. Him. The whole…thing.”
“Not what you thought it’d be?” I ask him.
He shakes his head; his hair is wet, recently washed. “I felt more jealous than I thought I would.”
I hide a knowing smirk in the wineglass. “I know. I noticed.”
“Noticed?” He quirks an eyebrow. “You noticed? Honey, you were pushing that button for all it was worth.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I mutter, knowing he’s right.
“You liked seeing me jealous.” It’s not a question.
I shrug. “Sure I did. It was hot.”
“Me being jealous was hot?” he sounds utterly disbelieving.
I nod. “Super hot.”
There’s a gleam in his eye. Anger? I don’t know. I can’t read it. Playful? Mischievous? A little of all that, maybe.
“ So, where is our blond friend?” I ask. “Is he still here?” God, am I really still pushing his buttons? I need to stop.
“Yeah, but he’s just getting ready to go to work.”
Right then I hear the soft chime of the doorbell. He goes to answer it and I watch him swagger out of the bedroom, tight ass cupped perfectly by expensive denim. A few seconds later I hear three familiar voices talking together, discussing the show the red-haired woman just returned from.
I finish the glass of wine and realize that what I want more than another glass of wine is a hot shower. I’m crusty from recent activities and, god, a shower sounds beautiful. I grab the rest of the wine, and pour the last of it into my goblet. I take my glass into the shower with me and turn on the water so hot it nearly scalds me. I luxuriate in the large shower, taking my time washing my hair and scrubbing my skin.
The shower is equipped with a lot of gels and soaps but, curiously, there is also a matched set of high-end color-safe shampoo and conditioner for red hair.
I’m hit by a burning, gut-twisting emotion. Jealousy?
I think so, yes.
I’m a natural blond, so there’s only one person I can think of who might need this kind of hair product.
And I’m pissed.
But do I have any right to be, considering what I just did?
I use the shampoo and conditioner anyway, because it’s quality stuff. I rinse, shut off the water and step out. I towel off my hair and my body, wrapping a huge bath towel around me. As I leave the bathroom, I can hear them.
His voice, low and deep.
Her voice, breathy and excited, yet sultry and sexy at the same time.
Then I hear an amused huff of laughter.
“Yeah?” she asks, her voice low, just above a whisper. “Like this?”
“Yeah, just like that,” he says, his voice tight, buzzing with pleasure. I know that tone in his voice. I know what it means.
Jealousy burns bright, followed by anger.
But I also feel that damned specter of curiosity.
I walk on silent feet to the bedroom door, which is open, just a crack. I peer out.
He’s leaning back against the front door. I can just barely see him; his head is tipped back, eyes closed. His jeans are tugged down around his knees and I can see his abs and his hairy, powerful thighs, but nothing in between. I can’t see any more than that because the red-haired woman is on her knees in front of him.
She’s giving him a blowjob.
One hand is clutching his ass, the other is in front of her face, near her chin, and I can see her arm moving, her wrist sliding up and down.]Her head bobs. Crimson hair, loose, wild, a profusion of scarlet waves.
My gut twists into a knot. He’s got his fingers buried in her hair, and he’s pulling her against him, encouraging her to take him deeper. And shit if she doesn’t do exactly that, letting go of his cock for a moment to brush her hair out of the way, and then she grasps him again and bobs harder, deeper. I can hear her
gagging on his dick, hear the wet slurping, sliding sounds. He grunts. She moans.
I watch, because I can’t look away.
And then his eyes slide open lazily.
His gaze is directed at me.
A smirk curls the corners of his mouth.
Bastard. He’s getting back at me.
What follows is an almost out-of-body experience. My hand lifts. I watch it rise up, watch my fingertips, all five of them, touch the white wood of the bedroom door. I gently push it open. The hinges squeak, ever so softly, but it’s enough.
She pauses, just for a second. She knows I’m here.
I walk across the thick rug over to them.
I am naked but for the towel wrapped around my torso, tucked under my armpits. My hair is wet, stringy, and sticking to my shoulders.
My eyes are narrowed and my breath is coming in long, deep gusts. I’m angry. I’m jealous. I’m confused.
I’m less than a foot away from them, right behind her. His eyes are on me, his hands in her scarlet locks, pulling her against him as she sucks him eagerly, ferociously.
She doesn’t slow in her movements, even though she must surely know I am standing right behind her, watching her suck my man’s cock.
Or is he even my man?
Now I doubt it.
Suddenly, I don’t know anything.
Or rather, I realize I never did. I only thought he was my man. Now seeing her again, and knowing she has an established presence in this home, I wonder.
I cast my thoughts aside and my eyes follow his fingers as they descend from her scarlet hair down to her shoulders and to the thin straps of her dress. I watch in rapt attention as he slides them aside and off her shoulders. The fabric falls, exposing her breasts. She does a little shimmy, and it falls to pool around her waist. She’s not wearing a bra.
God, she’s still sucking his cock, and she’s making quite a show of it. Slow. Deliberate. Teasing. Backing away, then sliding down. A lot of tongue. She’s using her hand as much as her mouth, too. God, she’s good. He’s struggling mightily, his eyes narrowed to slits, his head resting back against the door, breathing hard, abs tensed, trying to hold back.
The Black Room: Door Two Page 4