by Alexis Angel
No—I’m marching up there right now and giving 33D a piece of my mind.
This shit ends tonight.
Three
Fletcher
I’ve never been so bored in a four-way in my life.
French girls, right? Fine as hell, but they taste like cigarettes, cheap wine, and stale baguettes.
I was chatting up the blonde, then the redhead at the bar earlier tonight. Just when I was about to drop a cheap line about taking this ménage à trois back to my place at the Bradford, their blue-haired friend came back from the bathroom and suddenly we were talking ménage à quatre.
Don’t get me wrong here—I’m a red-blooded American man, and I have nothing in particular against horny French libertines. In fact, a year or two ago, I would have been coming all over all three of their high-cheekboned faces before they could say sacré fucking bleu—
But either I’m off my game, or I’m just not into four-ways anymore. Tonight, I just couldn’t care less.
I mean, sure. Obviously, I fuck ‘em anyway.
I bend the blonde over the ottoman and do to her what the Russians did to Napoleon.
I take the redhead on the floor by the fireplace until she’s screaming, “Mon Dieu! MON DIEU!”
And I let the bluenette suck me off all she fucking wants—but it doesn’t change anything.
My dick is hard, my balls are aching for release, and my inner caveman is doing everything in its power to convince me to sow seed in all this French pussy…
But man, my heart just isn’t into it.
To my surprise, as the blonde and the redhead drop to their knees on either side of the blue-haired one, I just find myself holding my breath and listening in.
The blonde was yelping like an overexcited poodle on her first day at the dog park just a few minutes ago, so it’s not like we’re not making a ruckus.
Not to mention the shit the redhead was yelling while I gave her multiple consecutive anal orgasms just there on the floor. Either she came so hard she started speaking in tongues, or I seriously need to brush up on my French.
Even now, all the cooing and sighing that these three are doing over my cock has to be reverberating through the floorboards and making 32D grind her pearly white teeth.
So I hold that thought in my head like a promise to my aching balls: pretty soon, her pretty little fingers are going to be wrapping around the hard, thick shaft of her broomstick, and she’ll start ramming it against the ceiling so hard that…
“Do you want to fuck me?” the bluenette gasps, looking up at me with hungry eyes.
I grab her head and push her mouth back down on my cock.
When I picked these three up, I thought the accent was going to be a turn-on.
Instead, it turns out that it just fucking annoys me. And when I’m getting head from three Parisian bimbos at once, the only person who should be getting annoyed is 32-fucking-D.
So where the hell is she?
I know for a fact that she’s gotta be in her apartment. I swear, the only time she ever leaves is to go out for coffee with her mouthy blonde friend.
Otherwise, she’s sitting at home, doing whatever the fuck it is that 32D does when I’m not getting laid—and yelling at me through the floorboards when I am.
But apparently, not tonight.
It crosses my mind that she might be out on a date. All work and no dick isn’t a way for anyone to live—especially not a woman as fine as 32D is.
I bet she’s got no fucking problem getting dates, either. Even though I have her pegged as a fucking shut in—she probably has to turn down twelve marriage proposals daily on the way to that coffee shop alone.
A woman like her…of course she’s on a date.
Probably with another pretentious asswipe who doesn’t fucking deserve her.
That shouldn’t piss me off so bad…
But, Christ. It does. It fucking does.
“Are you okay?” the bluenette asks.
She’s giving me that look that says, Put it in me, and I figure, yeah, I probably ought to…
Then I hear it.
Not 32D’s thumping on the floorboards beneath me.
Not her shrill little voice yelling up through her ceiling.
But instead…a firm little knock on the door.
I make the blonde one answer.
And then there she is.
32D in all her hot, angry, sweater-clad glory.
She’s seriously wearing next to nothing. A sweater that barely covers her sexy little ass. A pair of long socks that go up to her thighs. Glasses—good lord, those sexy fucking glasses.
There’s a look on her face that says she’s here to start some shit. I get twice as hard as I already am, just anticipating what that shit might be.
What can I say? I fucking love me a mouthy, nerdy little brunette.
“32D.” I put on my most charming grin and salute both above the waist and below it.
“33D,” she says back.
“Neighborly visit?”
“Hardly.”
“Wanna tag in?”
Her scowl deepens—and then it turns fucking sassy.
Goddamn. I fucking love sassy.
“Four girls at once? I don’t think even you could handle that.”
The naked blonde at the door is looking at me like who invited this nerd?
The redhead and the other one are still marveling at the way my big, fat, twelve-inch cock just got even bigger.
And me? I’m already imagining what 32D’s eyes are going to look like behind those glasses when I fuck them crossed.
“You’re right,” I say with a laugh.
“Huh?”
Whatever 32D was expecting from me…well, it sure as hell wasn’t that.
Which makes this next part all the sweeter.
“Ladies,” I address the nude French women. “It’s been lovely, but I’m afraid something’s just come up.”
I give my cock an obligatory glance.
“But—” the blue-haired one says, but frankly, I’m already shifting gears here.
They can stay, or they can leave—I don’t fucking care at this point.
32D is standing here in my doorway with a look on her face like she’s not sure whether she wants to kiss me or smack me.
Either way…I know I’m in for a wild fucking night.
Four
Erin
I’ve never seen a man tell his four-way partners to fuck off mid-bang before, but 33D fucking does it. Somehow, I doubt it’ll be the last impressive sight of tonight. Watching him stand there, naked and too fucking gorgeous for words, I still feel my frustration at him bubbling in my chest like a pot of water boiling over.
But seeing him like that—cocky, erect, muscular, and so handsome I could die—it’s easy to forget what I came up here for in the first place.
Vaguely, I recall being pissed off at him.
It’s a start.
“You’re a fucking dick.”
I point my finger at him for emphasis. Immediately I wish I hadn’t. Because when my eyes track to where that finger is pointing…
It become pretty obvious to both of us that my eyes are focused on his big, thick cock.
“Not yet I’m not.”
He doesn’t even look at the French girls currently gathering up their little black dresses and cursing at him en français as they trek out the door.
“But bring that sweet little cunt over here…and I could be.”
I hate to admit it. I don’t want to admit it.
But when he talks to me like that…
My pussy throbs.
I swallow and try not to think about swallowing his cock. With my mouth, or my cunt, or—fuck, I’d even let him take my ass with a dick that gorgeous.
It’s like when someone tells you not to think about elephants—you immediately start to think about elephants. The heat building between my legs makes it hard to think straight—unless I’m thinking about how I want to launch
myself pussy-first straight at his dick.
I’m trying to remember what the fuck I came up here for to begin with, but as I take a step forward—a step that he matches—the only thing I can focus on is the elephant in the room.
He might be a dick, but he’s a dick I want to ride.
Desperately.
“You’re fucking noisy,” I say, briefly recalling my argument as I take another step forward.
On my way up here, I had this all planned out perfectly in my head. Every beat. Every scathing point.
Now, I’m just walking towards him, licking my lips and trying to piece it all together, when all I really want? For him to rip this sweater to shreds and fucking take me already.
He smirks in response. “I could be louder.”
“You’re a horny fucking bastard.”
“Damn right I am, sweetheart.”
“I bet you fuck any woman who throws herself at you.”
“Yeah? Why don’t you try it and find out?”
I stop, maybe a foot away from him. Maybe less.
“You’ve been keeping me up all night for years, asshole.”
I’m fucking shaking, and I don’t know if it’s from rage or lust, or if I just confused my brain so hard I’m having a gentle fucking seizure.
Apart from the shaking, though, I don’t even move.
I don’t trust myself to.
But 33D doesn’t seem to have any problem with closing the gap.
“You wanna know something, 32?”
He runs his thumb across my lower lip, turning my chin up at him, and I feel my breath catch in my throat.
I just stare at him. If I have words, they’re not coming out right now.
“You’ve been keeping me up all night, too,” he says.
And that’s all there’s left to say.
He kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that’ll probably leave bruises on my lips come morning. I fucking want it to.
The next time he’s having rough, loud sex over my bed late at night, I want to be able to touch the tenderness on my lips and remember how he felt. But the bruises don’t end there.
As his tongue darts into my mouth, his hands claim my body next. His fingers curl around one wrist, around my throat. He claims my tongue with his while he captures my neck.
And that’s when I know.
The next time he’s having rough sex over my bed late at night, it’s because I’m in his bed beneath him. If he wants to be loud while he fucks over me…
Fuck figuratively. He might as well be literally be fucking me over.
He doesn’t rip my sweater to shreds, but he does pull it over my head before he even bothers to ask what I want. I’m fucking grateful for that. Anyone else, the courtesy would’ve been nice…
But I don’t want him to be a nice man right now.
I want him to be every bit of the loud, dirty jackass I came up here to bitch out.
“You’re a real piece of work,” I snarl at him as he tosses my sweater across the room.
“Yeah?” he challenges me.
His fingers dart between my legs before I have a chance to think of something clever to say back at him.
“Well, you’re a mouthy fucking whore. Little slut didn’t think to put on panties before she came up here, huh?”
Despite myself, my hips buck against him. They’re not under my control anymore—they’re at his mercy.
“Fuck” is all I have to say about that.
“Christ,” he swears. “You’re fucking smooth, too. Fresh shave, kitten?”
His fingers twitch at my clit, and—god. I purr for him. I abso-fucking-lutely purr.
“Daddy likes that,” he purrs back.
Then he picks me up. One arm wrapped around my waist, one hand on my clean-shaven cunt. His fingers slip right inside me as he does it, stroking against my G-spot and making me moan. I’m already halfway to an orgasm by the time he tosses me onto the bed.
“I fucking hate you,” I spit as I spread my legs for him.
That just makes him laugh.
“Oh, honey. I bet you do.” He prowls toward me, cock in hand. “Let’s see if we can’t change that tune.”
Five
Fletcher
She’s a good girl. I can tell.
33D. She came into my apartment looking for a fight. Instead, I’m giving her a roll in my sheets.
She tried her best. I’ll give her that.
She tried to come at me from her moral fucking high ground, but without my floor and her ceiling between us, there was no question about what she really wanted.
What we both want.
“Tell me your name, kitten.”
I move between her long, slender thighs and put my cock between her pussy lips.
“Tell me your name—then make me moan it.”
She’s soaked. She’s fucking swimming in it. But I don’t take her—not yet.
Right now, I’m all about the grind—and the way that my cock against her clit is making her hips do bad-girl things.
“Erin,” she gasps as I position my tip at her entrance.
“Nice to meet you, Erin,” I tease as my cock knocks at her dripping wet front door. “I’m—”
“I fucking know who you are,” she growls at me through her teeth. “Fletcher.”
I smile. “My reputation precedes me, huh?”
“Only every fucking night when I have to hear some bimbo yelling it through your floor.”
That fucking tickles me, you know? The thought that she’s been thinking of me like I’ve been thinking of her.
It’s crossed my mind once or twice, I have to admit. Maybe I’ve been bringing all those bimbos home with me just to fucking tease her. Torture her.
Make her want me. Let her know what she could have if she was just brave enough to show up at my door.
“How long have you wanted this?” I say, slapping her cunt with my iron-hot twelve-inch cock.
“Long enough,” she says.
And I don’t know how she does it—some twist of her hips maybe? Maybe my cock just gets a mind of its own.
But before I know it, I’m inside her.
Her wetness. Her heat.
“Erin,” I gasp, because she steals the fucking breath from my throat.
“That’s right, jackass,” she snarls. “Say my name.”
Just like that…we’re gone.
I plow her. I use her. I fuck her harder than any woman I’ve ever fucked before in my life.
I take her rougher than even seems right. She’s a good girl—goddamn, she’s the best girl—the kind of girl that should be put on a fucking pedestal and worshiped. Adored.
But I didn’t even taste her cunt before I stuck my cock in her.
There was no room for foreplay—only need. I’m fucking her like she’s Bad, capital B.
I can’t help myself. It’s what my body wants and my cock fucking demands. But next time—and there will be a next time, so help me god—next time, I won’t make that mistake.
I don’t make mistakes like that twice.
Thank god she can fucking take it. Her cunt is more responsive than any cunt I’ve ever met—and my mouth, my body, my cock were all made to please.
She should be whimpering right now. She should be gearing up for a breathy, earth-shattering orgasm that will leave her so spent she drifts right off to sleep and stays that way for days. But I guess all that keeping her awake that I’ve been doing hasn’t exhausted her nearly enough yet.
Because instead, she’s moaning—low and deep, the kind of moans you just can’t fake. She’s clawing up my back with her glossy nails and marking the flesh of my shoulder with her sharp, white teeth. We’re fucking ruining each other.
Nothing has ever felt so right in my entire life.
“Take it! Take it, you dirty little slut,” I find myself barking at her. “Take my fucking cock!”
“Give it to me!” she takes her lips off my shoulder to bark right back.
“Yeah? You fucking like that?”
She sinks her teeth into my shoulder again in response, and I have to grab her pretty little throat just to keep her from drawing blood.
“I thought you were a good girl, Erin,” I pant, balls-deep in her wet, throbbing cunt. “Who would’ve thought you’d turn out to be such a horny little bitch?”
“Oh, I am a good girl.” She runs those razor-sharp nails down my back until I hiss. “You’re just a bad fucking man.”
“Is this what good girls do in your book? Come up to the apartments of strange men with their smooth little cunts dripping?”
“Good girls…”
She’s getting close. I can fucking feel it.
“Good girls put men like you in their place.”
“Yeah, kitten? And where’s my place?”
She moans. She moans like a fucking animal. Like she doesn’t have a single word left in her pretty little head.
And that’s when I know I have her.
“I think my place,” I tell her, building to an orgasm of my own, “is right here. Balls deep in your cunt, little girl. Between your sexy fucking thighs.”
“Fuck!” she shouts.
That’s when I feel it. Her hot, slick cunt throbbing around me, like she’s trying to milk my cock of every last drop of cum in my balls.
I don’t even try to hold it back. I just fucking give it to her.
“ERIN!” I yell. I don’t hold anything back—I yell her name so loud, it probably wakes the entire building up.
And she yells back at me, “FLETCHER! GOD, YES! FLETCHER! MORE! MORE MORE MORE!”
That’s not the best part, though.
The best part is hearing my upstairs neighbors grab their fucking broom and start pounding the handle so hard against their floor that my lights start to shake.
“If you little shits are about done, go the fuck to sleep already!” a cranky, elderly male voice shouts through my ceiling.
I fucking laugh as my cum pools around my cock, and I bury my face in Erin’s dark, silky hair.
“You’re expanding my fan base,” I chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever woken up my upstairs neighbors before.”