Boxers & Briefs: An MFMM Romance

by Abby Angel

  "I’m not done yet," I whisper, more to myself than to Parker, and then force myself to roll to the side. I sit up on the bed, and slide down to the floor, kneeling there. I throw one smile toward Parker and, without a word between the two of us, he climbs down from the bed and stands in front of me, towering over my exhausted body like a Viking warrior from the old ages.

  My right arm moves toward his cock fast, and I start stroking him the moment I have my fingers curled around his shaft. My lips are pursed as I focus on the steady movement of my hand, and I lock eyes with Parker as I feel the first spasms running over his cock and making it twitch against my fingers.

  "Do it… I want you cum all over me," I say with a grin, and I’ve barely finished speaking when the first thick strand of cum jumps out from the tip of his cock and hits me straight across the face. I open my mouth in a wicked grin, more strands following after that one, and a violent shiver goes up my spine as the warmness of his seed starts cascading onto my naked tits.

  He keeps on cumming for a long time; each time my hand goes down the length of his shaft another rope of cum darts out from his cock. Gushing a never-ending stream of cum onto my naked body, he lets out a groan as his cock twitches one last time against my hand. I peel my fingers off from his shaft slowly and bring my hands to my breasts, squeezing them as I move the palm of my hands back and forth over my chest, smearing Parker’s cum all over my skin.

  Still in silence, he kneels right in front of me; he cups my face with his hands, and then leans into me, pressing his lips against mine. He runs his tongue along the crevice between my lips, taking his own cum into his mouth, and then he offers me his million-dollar smile.

  I smile back at him and wrap my lips around the tip of his tongue, sucking the few drops of cum still lingering there, and then swallow.

  "This. Until we’re old," I whisper, pressing my slippery skin against his.

  "Old and wrinkled," he whispers back at me.

  A perfect man. Amazing sex. Love. Happiness.

  I have it all.

  New York Daily Journal

  New York City to Governor Morality: Fuhgeddaboudit (And F*ck You!)

  All the politics, scandals, and dirt...just the way you like it!

  New Yorkers delivered a strong and stern rebuke yesterday in what was perhaps the most decisive show of public opinion in the history of the state.

  Assembling at a spontaneous demonstration in Times Square outside the headquarters of Kinky Amy’s, New Yorkers vented their frustration at a faraway statehouse attempting to legislate what should and should not be allowed in people’s lives.

  Prior to the demonstration, the area was quickly becoming a flash point between New York State National Guard soldiers, who were attempting to execute a warrant to close and seize the assets of Kinky Amy’s versus the NYPD who had vowed to stand next to their Mayor and prevent this from happening.

  Witnesses who were present at the scene prior to the arrival of the media describe a hair trigger scene in which the Governor was pushing for an escalation that would have surely resulted in the death of innocent people.

  However, it appears that New York City’s own bad boy Mayor had a different plan in motion, summoning the press at the last minute to witness the standoff and lay the stakes out on the table.

  At heart - a question of whether freedom should be curtailed at home by the people, or by leaders that live far away.

  But the Mayor also revealed a deep and dark secret about the Governor that instantly swayed public opinion back in his favor.

  So far in fact that the Governor has today announced that she is pulling out of the race for Senator and officially resigning from office at the end of the week.

  But even her hasty resignation has not stopped political commentators from weighing in whether the Governor has run afoul of violating ethics laws that prevent personal vendettas from being acted out using state resources.

  Judge McGill, the jurist who signed off on the court order to close Kinky Amy’s has released a statement whereby he lists a pattern of intimidation, extortion and abuse by the Governor towards him in order to preserve the knowledge f a secret child that he had fathered 16 yeas ago.

  Indeed, many former aides, allies, and enemies have been coming-out of the woodwork in the last 24 hours to the media - recounting a story of a politician who wielded her power and influence to get her way and enrich herself at the expense of the public.

  Prosecutors have not ruled out a formal investigation and this morning the FBI and Justice Department both announced separate investigations into the administration of Governor Kate Meelios.

  But regardless of what these months long investigations will turn up, it is safe to say that Governor Meelios has effectively ended her career. She went up against the best New York City had to offer - and she lost.

  It remains to be seen what the city’s favorite son does next. But rest assured, we’ll be watching. So you can keep reading.

  Epilogue - Amy

  "Oh God, I think I’m going to pass out," I hiss, grabbing Parker’s hand so tightly that I might crush it.

  "Take a deep breath, Amy," he says, his eyes wide and a fearful expression on his face. Taking a deep breath, he picks me up from the bed I’m lying on and crosses the bedroom, kicking the door open with the tip of his shoe. "Get me the fuckin’ helicopter!" He shouts from the top of the stairs, and one security guard raises his eyes toward us, his mouth hanging open.

  "Right away, sir," he snaps into attention, picking up his radio from his belt and talking into it. "Chopper’s on the way, sir," he tells us as Parker hurries down the stairs and leaves the mansion, taking me out onto the courtyard.

  "What’s going on, sir?" The rest of his security detail rushes over to meet us, all of them looking around as if the mansion was about to be swarmed by gun-toting terrorists.

  "I’m having a fucking baby, that’s what’s going on," I cry out in pain, mashing my teeth together, and trying hard not to scream.

  That’s right, after nine months of my belly growing at an alarming pace, I’m finally ready to give birth. Which, let me tell you, feels as painful as I’ve imagined it’d be. Or worse.

  "Oh, fuck, where’s the fucking helicopter?" I cry out, both my hands on my overgrown belly. I’m cursing like a sailor now, but I don’t care. Pain numbs everything, and that includes all norms of polite society.

  The next few minutes seem to take an eternity, and only when my hair starts being whipped back by the helicopter’s blades do I finally allow myself to relax. I’m hauled inside on a stretcher, and Parker follows after me half-anxious, half-excited. It’s not everyday that your wife gives birth, right?

  Yes, I said it—wife. Parker proposed a few days after our showdown with my mother, and one month after that I was walking down the aisle in a wedding gown. Just like in a fairy tale. One of these with a saccharine happy ending. But that’s exactly how I like my happy endings, so don’t judge.

  Of course, I never expected this part of my happy ending to be so fucking painful. The miracle of life, yeah, right. More like the extreme pain of life, that’s what this is.

  Thankfully, Parker’s important enough as a senator to merit having a helicopter come and pick up his pregnant wife. Seriously, I’d die if I had to wait for an ambulance and then face the traffic on my way to the hospital. To say that I’m in pain right now is putting it lightly.

  Still, as the helicopter takes off and the mansion shrinks into a tiny pebble, I grab Parker’s hand and smile. I’m sweating, my hair plastered to my forehead, but I feel like the most beautiful woman on Earth right now. Why? It’s hard to put it into words, but the recipe is a simple one; just add the love of a perfect man, mix it with a baby, and voilà!

  "Just breathe, Amy," Parker tells me, and I can tell he has no idea what to do. And that’s probably why he went with that line guys use all the time in the movies. Just breathe, yeah, right; what the fuck does it look like I’m doing?

  God,
I really turned into a cranky wife, haven’t I?

  Hours later, all the crankiness has vanished, and I’m back to being my old self. Except now my huge belly is gone. And I’m exhausted, completely drenched in sweat and wearing a hospital gown. But I’m cradling in my arms the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.

  Natalie, that’s what we decided to name her. And, yes, it’s a girl. And you can bet that she’s going to grow into a strong woman who won’t take any shit from anyone—just like her mom.

  "Can I…?" Parker asks me in a low voice, almost as if he were too afraid to raise his voice.

  "Here," I whisper, carefully handing him Natalie. He extends his arms, holding her as if she was made of glass, and then pulls her into his chest. Looking down at her with a soft smile, he’s a far cry from the man who stood his ground while dozens of soldiers pointed their guns at him. Parker’s the bravest man I’ve ever met, but right now, he looks docile and completely in love with his daughter.

  Of course, I bet that his fierce side will show up anytime someone decides to mess with Natalie. Yeah, her boyfriends are going to love him.

  "I love you," I say, smiling as I watch him hold our baby. The look on his face reminds me of all the reasons I’ve fallen in love with him, and trust me, they’re too many to count. All I know is that falling in love with Parker was the wisest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.

  And, if you’re wondering, that has nothing to do with the amazing sex we have every single day. Yes, even while I was pregnant; that required a bit of creativity, but it was fun nonetheless. What I mean is that, despite our bodies' burning need for each other, my relationship with him goes way beyond that. Okay, sure, amazing sex is one of the pillars in our relationship, but there are many others: trust, kindness, and fun. And, above all, love. Genuine love.

  This last year has proved that, even though our relationship might live on the outskirts of what society deems to be moral and decent, we were made for each other. Life’s an open road right now, and the only thing I’m sure of is that I’m going to be by Parker’s side until the very end. Wherever that road may lead.

  He has taken to his position as a Senator, and a few political strategists are already trying to peg him as a presidential candidate for the next elections. Which I think Parker will win if he decides to go for it. Can you imagine me as the First Lady? Yeah, neither can I.

  But I try not to think about that stuff too much. The thing I’m most excited about for our future concerns the child Parker is cradling right now. I’m a mother now, and that feels like a heavy responsibility. After what I’ve lived through with my own mother, I’m hell bent on doing the best I can for my own daughter.

  Not that she’ll have to worry about an evil grandmother. Mom went to jail roughly 6 months ago - abuse of power. She’ll be gone for a long time.

  "What are you thinking about, momma Amy?" Parker asks me with a teasing smile, and my heart melts as I notice Natalie’s tiny fingers wrapped around his thumb.

  "I’m thinking of how perfect life is," I reply, and he just looks into my eyes with a loving expression on his face.

  "It is," he whispers, and then we fall silent, both of us looking down at the small human we’ve helped create. If that isn’t a miracle, I don’t know what is.

  Sometimes life’s like that. If you believe hard enough, it might just surprise you with a miracle. My miracle came in the shape of a family.

  My best advice? Believe a little. Love a lot. It might work out for you.

  It did for me.

  Prince Me Harder

  A Bad Boy Prince romance.

  Waiting for Prince Charming to come and save you?

  Tell him to stand in line while this filthy Prince fucks you…

  The world can kiss my fucking ass.

  Known to billions of people as the Bad Boy Prince, I’m desperately trying to run from my destiny.

  How do I run?

  The only way I know how.

  Being lewd, crude, and completely out of control.

  Until I meet Nicole.

  Now, all the girls who sucked my cock are a distant memory.

  Every single slut that I banged is cause for regret.

  Because all I want more than anything in the world is...

  Her.

  So when my ways put it all at risk and I have to choose between the good of the kingdom and the good of the woman I love, I’m put in a pickle.

  Which will I choose?

  ***Come enter a world of modern fairytales in this full-length standalone romance by Cara Angel. No cheating or cliffhangers but it's going to contain very mature themes with scorching scenes. HEA? Always.***

  Nicole

  Something about summer and coffee makes me nostalgic. The smell in the air, the taste on my tongue, and the reminder of days gone by. The way the two spells out good memories has to do with my childhood, I think.

  Schools are out, kids play in the street, and I have only one assignment for college. I'm procrastinating. I'm not in the mood to sit at my desk in my apartment and study.

  I'm sitting in a Starbucks just a few blocks away from my place, looking out the window facing the street. I watch New York City walk by, and the sense that I'm part of something bigger overwhelms me. The people in the coffee shop mutter to each other, and the hissing of the coffee machines interrupt them after every order. Every time the door opens, the smell of summer clings to whoever walks in.

  I sip my coffee and page through Sigmund Freud’s On Dreams. It's recommended reading for my program. At least I'm doing something. No one else in the third year of Psychology reads what's on the recommended list, only what's on the compulsory one. I'm not like the rest of the students. I don't want to become a psychologist for the money.

  I want to help people. I'm still far away from that, but I'll get there, eventually.

  Movement in the corner of my eye draws my attention away from the book, and I watch a young man cross the road. His hair is ruffled and wind-blown, like he’s just come from a run on a beach somewhere. His pale skin tells me that's not the case, but it doesn't detract from his looks. He walks past the window right in front of me.

  He glances sideways and catches my eye. A ghost of a smile appears on his lips. I turn my attention back to my book. I'm not going to stare.

  A moment later, the door opens, letting in another burst of summer. I look up and freeze. He enters the shop. I watch him as he walks to the counter. He moves like he belongs here, like he's right where he needs to be.

  I envy that kind of confidence.

  He walks to the line. While he stands there, he turns a little and looks over his shoulder, right at me. I flush and turn back to my book. I feel like an idiot for getting caught staring. The first time he walked past, anyone could look up and watch a stranger passing by. This time, it's obvious.

  I try to focus on my book, but his eyes burn my skin. I glance up at him. He stands with his hands hanging loosely by his sides, body slightly turned, staring at me. I shift in my seat and rake my hair back with my fingers. I read two pages without taking in a single word.

  He's still staring at me. Every time I look up, my eyes meet his dead on. He isn't even ashamed about it. His stare is disconcerting. He looks like he has every right to stare, like whatever I'm doing is exactly his business. It makes me uncomfortable. But I guess I started it.

  I read two more pages without seeing a single word. My attention is on the stranger with the dangerous eyes. I'm not looking at him, but I know exactly where he's standing when he steps forward along with the line that is waiting to order. I know what he looks like without having to look again. He's handsome, I can tell, even when I'm not glancing up at him, that his easy confidence is well earned. He has nothing to hide with his careless blond hair and smoldering dark eyes.

  What's his problem? Surely, we are square now? He’s made his point. I turn around in my chair so that my back is to him and faced the other way. I'm not going to look at him, and he h
as no reason to look at anything other than my back, either.

  I manage to focus on my book again. Freud is going into depth about dream analysis. I reread the same two pages, concentrating on what I'm reading this time. Someone sits down right next to me. When I look up, I look right into his eyes.

  I drown in the deep, dark depths of them. I shudder.

  "The virtuous man contents himself with dreaming that which the wicked man does in actual life." His voice is deep and smooth like velvet.

  "What?" I ask.

  He nods to my book. "Freud."

  Did he just quote the father of psychology to me?

  "Are you a fan?" I ask.

  "Of doing things rather than dreaming?"

  I shake my head. "Of Freud."

  He shakes his head and smiles. His teeth are too white to be real.

  "Only when his theories suit me."

  I raise my eyebrows. "That’s a glib way of living."

  His smile doesn't fade. He sits sideways in the chair, one hand resting on his leg, fingers relaxed. The other hand is on the table, holding loosely onto the cup of coffee he just ordered.

  He doesn't respond. He doesn't leave. He sits next to me as if he’s been invited, looking at me with a stare that makes me feel naked.

  "Don’t you think Freud’s theories are outdated?" he asks.

  One sentence, and I have my back up. "If he was outdated, the field of psychology wouldn’t be based on his findings."