by Cindy Jacks
“Do I make you nervous?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “A little.”
“Lo siento. It’s not my intention to unsettle you.”
Hands trembling, she reached out to touch him, but then faltered. She gathered her courage, extending a shaky, sweaty palm until their fingers touched. Soft pads of his fingertips grazed over hers, sending a frisson of electricity straight to her core.
Angel brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. Mouth suddenly dry, she took a gulp of champagne. The young man inched closer; a hand slipped up her back and cradled her neck. Fiona drew in a hiccup of a breath as he leaned into her, his exhalations gliding over her cheeks and chin. Their lips met, a soft question of a kiss that grew bolder once she melted against his solid frame.
Marcelo knelt by her side, the familiar touch of his hand making a path up her thigh. Fiona relaxed little by little until she reclined against the back of the seat. Two pairs of hands caressed her. Light-headed from the champagne and arousal, she took in the two distinct scents of her lovers. Marcelo smelled of spice and musk, Angel of citrus and vanilla. The heady blend rooted both men inside her, invaded her consciousness, seeped into her pores. Arousal and need tightened her inner walls, tugging at her mound, pulse pounding between her thighs. She shuddered, lips and fingers tingling.
The limousine came to a stop in front of Marcelo’s building. The trio parted and righted themselves. The door opened, held by a uniformed chauffeur.
Marcelo escorted Fiona through the lobby; Angel followed close behind. Two other passengers in the elevator kept the lovers’ impulses at bay, but once they had entered the condo Marcelo pulled Fiona to him in deep kiss. Angel pressed against her backside, stroking her shoulders and hair. Her head spun. Though each man’s touch differed from the other, they both elicited a visceral response. Heartbeat quickening, she felt dizzy, blood engorging her cunt, breasts tipped with hard buds, every nerve crackling with desire.
“Uno momento, mi amor. I’ll be right back,” Marcelo nearly whispered the words. He walked down the hall and disappeared behind the bedroom door.
Angel turned Fiona to face him. A gentle expression tugged at the edges of his mouth. Tilting her chin upward, he brushed his lips over hers. His tongue traced the inside of her mouth and skimmed along her teeth.
Marcelo returned wearing only a pair of black linen pants. The dim light from a wall sconce highlighted the peaks and valleys of his bare chest. Angel reached out and ran his hand over Marcelo’s sculpted abdomen. The two men leaned into each other, the kisses at first playful nips, then crushed their mouths together. A spark of exhilaration ran through Fiona. She had never seen two men touch each other, not like this. Heat raced through her abdomen, her cunt pounded harder. Skimming her fingertips over her hips and thighs, she could hardly wait for the pleasures to come.
“Everything's ready. Shall we play?” Marcelo took her by the hand and led her to his room. In unspoken subservience, Angel followed a few steps behind.
Indeed, Marcelo had prepared all they would need. Silken ropes secured to the headboard posts and at the foot of the bed, ankle cuffs equipped with a spreader bar attachment sat at the ready. A rush of apprehension coursed through her. It was a familiar nervousness that Marcelo had learned how to quell, but with another man added to the mix, Fiona couldn't help but feel like a novice all over again. As if he sensed her thoughts, Marcelo cupped her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Don't worry. You can trust Angel as you trust me. I wouldn't have invited him to join us otherwise.”
She nodded.
“Are you sure you're ready?” he asked.
Images of both men sharing her body overpowered her natural shyness, her tight mound and heated skin crying out for their touch. “Yes.”
“Bueno.”
With an unspoken synergy—perhaps a well-practiced routine—her lovers began to strip off her clothes. Marcelo worked at the buttons on her blouse while Angel knelt at her feet and removed her heels and stockings. The young man slid her skirt and panties down her hips and let them fall to the floor. Leaning forward, he nuzzled the curly patch of hair she had trimmed into a neat strip. Pulses of anticipation rippled through her.
Marcelo tossed her shirt aside and took a nipple into his mouth. He nibbled and teased it with his tongue; Angel mimicked the gestures below, tongue delving deeper into her slit. A long, slow moan worked up from Fiona’s chest, parted her lips, and echoed around the room.
A step at a time, Marcelo made his way around her body, leaving a trail of kisses from her breasts to her neck and shoulders, stopping at the nape of her neck. His breath gliding over her skin, goose bumps pebbling her arms, she shivered, ever-increasing need claiming her tightened core.
Angel laved at her clit with a steady, firm rhythm. Running his tongue down her back, Marcelo teased the cleft at the top of her buttocks. He licked between her cheeks, then pushed a finger into her asshole. Breathing ragged, she struggled to draw in enough air. Was this really happening? Were two beautiful men feasting on her body? She pinched and rolled her nipples between her fingers, her own juices wetting her thighs as Marcelo and Angel synchronized their strokes again. But instead of taking her over the edge, they took her to brink of climaxing and then stopped. They both withdrew.
Fiona grounded her teeth in frustration, “No.”
Marcelo’s reply—a wolfish smile. He led her to the bed, scooped her in his arms and laid her on the mattress. Well aware of the next step, she stretched her arms over her head.
“That's my good girl,” he murmured and gave her a soft kiss.
Marcelo tied her wrists to the bedposts. Angel moved to put the ankle cuffs on her, but Marcelo brushed away the young man's hand. Fiona's binding was Marcelo's pleasure, and his alone.
Once properly bound, her legs splayed apart, but tethered only to each other, Marcelo turned to Angel and undressed him. First the coat, and then the shirt. Lips to Angel’s caramel skin, Marcelo raked his lips and teeth over the freshly bared skin. Emitting an almost inaudible hiss, Angel stroked his hard cock, the slipped out of his pants and boxer briefs. Hooking two thumbs around the waistband, Marcelo pushed his own pants to the floor.
Eager to drink in the young man's naked beauty, Fiona turned her head and watched the men together. Both bodies exquisite, both with dusky skin pulled taut over cultivated musculature, she allowed her gaze to meander over them, noting the differences. Where Angel's form tended toward sleek and gracile, Marcelo's exhibited a robust solidity. Submission and dominance incarnate.
Angel ran his hands down Marcelo’s body and dropped to his knees. He licked at his master’s growing erection, then engulfed Marcelo's cock in his mouth. Marcelo tilted his head back, groaning, clearly enjoying Angel’s attention.
Frustration gripped Fiona; she longed to join in. Angel bobbed his head up and down, taking in all of Marcelo’s girth and length. When Marcelo’s body began to tremble, he pushed Angel away, helped him to his feet and turned the young man around. Bending him over so that Angel’s face was once again between Fiona’s legs, Marcelo licked his fingertips and rubbed between Angel’s ass cheeks. He entered the young man without as much care as he would take with Fiona, the action met with no more objection than a grunt.
In time with Marcelo’s powerful thrusts, Angel lapped at her. The young man's breathing picked up speed, his tongue strokes erratic. Fiona tugged against her restraints. She longed to touch the him, feel the smoothness of his skin, taste her juices on his lips. As she neared coming, she uttered his name. Angel worked his mouth with greater ardor, but Marcelo grasped the man's hair and pulled his head back.
“Not yet,” he admonished, withdrawing his cock, and pushed his servant onto the bed to kneel before her.
Marcelo untied her arms to reposition her on her side and secured the bindings once again to the post. He studied his two lovers as if to calculate the best position for maximum enjoyment. Decision made, Marcelo unlatche
d the bar between her legs, cast it aside and climbed onto the bed behind her. Supporting her top leg, he wrapped it around his waist, his cock nestled against her ass.
Silent permission given to Angel, the young man moved forward, straddled her leg that rested against the bed, rubbing his shaft between her thighs. Excitement drew his tongue across his lips, but he held back. The heat of his cock on the cusp of entering her drew more heat into her already engorged cunt. And still, Angel waited.
A nod from his master and Angel pushed himself into Fiona. An involuntary shudder darted through her. Marcelo watched his lovers, eyes seeming to feast on Angel's every thrust and Fiona's gasps. Marcelo's fingers toyed with the juices that wet her pussy, pushing two fingers into her ass. Her yelp served only to spur on both men. Angel arched his back, driving his full length into her.
“You can take it, preciosa?” Marcelo asked.
She nodded, lips tingling, unable to form meaningful words. Beads of sweat broke out along her forehead and neck at the pain—and pleasure—of being stretched beyond capacity. And there was more to come.
Once her body relaxed against Marcelo's fingers, he slid them out and slipped the head of his cock into her ass. Again, she let out a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan. Her teeth ground together and she struggled to control her panting breath. Angel smiled down at her and ran his hands over the curves of her breasts and hips. Inch by inch, Marcelo pushed forward until his pelvis sat flush against her ass. He grabbed Angel by the neck and drew him into a savage kiss. A fresh surge of arousal pulsated through Fiona's body. At the sight of Marcelo in command of the situation, complete control as usual, her inner walls contracted, gripping the two cocks that filled her.
Marcelo broke away from the young man with a laugh. “Angelito, I think our beautiful vessel has waited as long as she can bear.”
“May I?” The young man's voice wavered.
“As long as she takes her pleasure first.”
They moved together, stroking deep inside her. Angel picked up speed, but immediately slowed, straining to control himself. His torso brushed against her clit with every upward thrust. His eyes pleaded with her; he needed to come as badly as she did.
She longed to please Angel, for him to fill her with his hot, sticky cum. And Marcelo, would he unload in her ass or would he pull out and shoot ropes of semen across her back? How sweet it would be to take all they both had to give, their scents mingling on her skin. Her pussy contracted at the thought. Raking her teeth over her lips, she whimpered. Completely at the mercy of her lovers, she prayed for release.
Marcelo adjusted his grip on her leg, still wrapped around his waist, shifting her body weight backward so that her ass rested against his lap. He made only small movements, his cock deep within her. The position tightened the rope around her wrists, but the pain in her arms and strained back gave her the nudge she needed to reach a new level of ecstasy.
Angel drove himself into her; short, fast strokes urged her higher. Her body went rigid and jilted, the power of the climax almost too much to bear. She cried out, jerking against the ropes that held her arms immobile. Sobs clutched her throat riding on a wave of emotion she didn't fully understand.
“Yes,” Marcelo said. “That's it, mi amor. Let go.”
Rapture twisted Angel's features, sweat streaming down the young man's torso. His groans drowned out Fiona's whimpers. He bucked against her, his cock pumping spurts of cum into her spasming cunt. If she could’ve, she would’ve clung to him, melded her body against his, absorbed him through her skin. As it was, she watched tremors of pleasure play out in his rippling abdomen and heaving chest. Tears streamed down her face, her chest gripped with emotion.
Marcelo released her leg and withdrew from her, then he undid her bindings, allowing her and Angel to crumple against each other. Their bodies still conjoined and twitching with aftershocks, they huddled together―two submissives who had clearly pleased their master. Angel wiped away her tears and kissed her eyelids as she gulped for air.
“Shhh. Sh, sh. No lloras. Don't cry. You did beautifully,” the young man reassured her. “You are beautiful.”
Before she could reply, his soft lips covered hers, his tongue making lazy circles around her mouth. When the kiss receded, she asked, “Where's Chelo?”
“Washing up. He'll be back in a few minutes. Just rest for now.” He fold his arms around her. Surrounded by his heat and scent, she allowed herself to doze.
Gentle caresses woke her some time later; a warm, moist rag applied between her legs. She recognized Marcelo's touch before she opened her eyes. His amused face hovered over her.
“Have we worn you out?”
A half-hearted grin. “Yes, a bit.”
He passed a towel to Angel who set about cleaning himself. “But we have more games to play.”
She rubbed her wrists which were already marked with light bruises. “I don't know if I can take much more.”
“Don't worry. It's Angel's turn.”
Fiona raised herself up onto her haunches and turned to the young man, whose shaft had already begun to stir. A playful exhilaration replaced her fatigue.
“I think she likes that idea.” Angel chuckled.
“Come here.” Marcelo wrapped his arms around her, nipping at her lips. She kissed her way down to his stiffening cock and enveloped it with her mouth. An inhalation hissed through Marcelo's clenched teeth.
“That's enough, preciosa. Just a taste.” He backed away from her. “But make sure you get Angelito good and wet.”
She turned her attention to the young man, licking and sucking at him while Marcelo tied each of Angel's limbs to the bed posts.
“Straddle him,” Marcelo ordered.
One more swipe with her tongue, and Fiona did as instructed. Positioning Angel between her legs, she moved to take him in, but Marcelo stopped her. Waggling finger a finger, he silently admonished, Not yet.
Aching with renewed need, she rubbed her wet slit against Angel's throbbing erection.
Marcelo climbed onto the bed and mounted the young man's chest. He traced Angel's lips with the head of his cock, leaving a glistening trail of pre-cum in its wake. Angel licked at his master, then seemed to swallow the entire shaft. Marcelo groaned and his body tensed. Fiona leaned forward to watch the two men, gripping Marcelo's shoulders. His head lolled back, lips pressed to her cheek and ear.
“Put him inside you, now, but don't let him come.”
“How do I do that?”
“Feel the way he tenses and bucks. Grip his cock with your inner walls, if it gets harder or twitches, stop moving. Don't let him come.”
She pushed herself back, sinking all of Angel's shaft inside and adjusted her position so she still had a view over Marcelo's shoulder. The dom drove his mushroomed head farther into Angel's throat, pushing deeper through a series of gags. A lift of the young man's head allowed Angel take in all of his master's shaft without choking; he held his abs and legs tense, a masterpiece of strength.
Marcelo grasped the headboard with one hand, the other under Angel's neck. Fiona was surprised to find herself enjoying the way Marcelo brutally pounded into the other man's mouth and throat. Angel timed his breathing with his master's strokes, muscles quivering, but he didn't dare relax his pose. A guttural exhalation announced Marcelo's impending orgasm. He pulled his cock from Angel's mouth except for the very tip. Spurts of semen oozed down the young man's lips and chin as he lapped at it, gulping down his master's cum.
Unable to wait any longer, Fiona tucked her feet beneath her so that she crouched on Angel's lap and began to ride him. Marcelo moved aside, taking his place by the side of the bed and watched her satisfy herself.
Angel bucked beneath her, clearly losing control of his orgasm. She knew she should stop as her master had instructed, but she didn’t. She rode his slick shaft until a climax racked her body. Over and over, her pussy contracted, milking Angel’s cock. Her own juices spilled out in a rush of cream; she gasped, the rel
ease even sweeter than the first time. With a series of shivers, moans, and sighs, she slumped against Angel, exhausted. Marcelo stroked her hair until her body quieted.
She felt Marcelo moving around the bed, unfastening Angel's bindings. As if the young man knew what came next, he withdrew, settling her onto the bed beside him. Planting a lingering kiss on her cheek, he murmured, “I've enjoyed our time together, Fiona.”
“That will be all, Angel. You may go.” Marcelo handed him a terrycloth robe and a bag containing his clothes.
No argument and no hesitation, Angel climbed out of bed, wrapped himself in the robe, and padded out the door.
“But—” Fiona started to ask why.
Marcelo shook his head. “We've had our fun. Now, it's time for him to go.”
Edges of his lips turned down, he grasped a handful of hair, shoving her onto her belly. “And you weren’t supposed to let him come first.”
His hand crashed against her ass several times, the heat and pain of the spanking sending quakes of pleasure through her already sodden cunt.
When he finished her punishment, she murmured, “I’m sorry, Marcelo.”
Caressing her stinging buttocks, Marcelo chuckled. “What a lovely shade of red against your creamy skin.”
“Did you make him leave because of what I did?”
“No.”
Still a little doubtful, she turned to face him. “Did I please you otherwise?”
“Sí, preciosa.”
Studying his expression, she wondered if he knew how much she liked Angel, identified with the young man. Most likely he did. He always seemed to know what she was thinking.
“I didn’t want him to go so soon.”
“I know, but it’s better this way.” Marcelo reached for a washcloth.
Cleaning the last of other man's scent from her body, Marcelo murmured assurances to her. The attachment she felt for Angel was natural, he was the first to share in their bed, but he wouldn't be the last. When she asked if she would see him again, he replied only, “We'll see.”