by Ellie Hunt
It was sexy, I realized.
Maybe the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, het already winding down through my core, inappropriate as it was.
That was why I couldn’t bring myself to leave.
Finally Damien pulled back from Sandro and rested their foreheads together, just for a moment.
All at once, I felt awkward. Even though I’d been explicitly invited there, I felt like I was intruding.
I muttered an excuse and turned to leave the kitchen, desperate to leave now that I’d watched this happen.
Damien caught me by the wrist. He had a strong grip, stronger that I would have thought, especially for someone who didn’t do manual labor.
“Don’t leave,” he said. “The fun’s just beginning.”
My mouth went dry. I looked from Sandro to Damien and back.
I liked the feeling of his hand on my wrist. I liked watching them kiss.
Really liked it.
“What kind of fun?” I asked, painfully aware of my Bronx accent as I said it.
Sandro grinned and grabbed my other wrist, pulling me close. He spread my fingers and kissed my palm, exactly the sort of thing I had always thought a European prince might do.
“The wine needs to breathe for a while,” he said, his accent practically dripping from his lips and onto my hand. “Let’s distract ourselves for a while.”
I felt like my spine was melting, turning into hot molten wax.
Sandro’s lips started on my hand and then worked their way to my wrist, up my arm. He pulled me toward himself as he kissed me, until at last, I was sandwiched between the two men, Sandro’s lips on my shoulder, Damien on the other side of me.
Damien put his fingers on my chin and turned my head, a little roughly, and landed his lips on my own. They were warm and soft, but insistent — enough to remind me that that Damien was a man used to getting what he wanted, including from me.
He pushed against me a little harder, just as Sandro nipped lightly at my neck with his teeth, sending a shiver down my spine.
Then Damien’s tongue swiped along my lower lip, silky but hard. I opened my mouth against his, letting his tongue inside, seeking it out with my own.
He clamped his hand firmly on the back of my head not letting me away — no chance of that. He pressed in even harder, and I could feel the pure desire inside him, not to mention the thick, hard rod pressing against my belly.
Damien wanted me, I realized — and for the first time, I realized how much he wanted my.
Delicately, with long fingers, Sandro undid the top two buttons of my black work shirt. For a moment I felt self-conscious — I was messy and probably covered in sweat and food, the end of a long night of work.
They either didn’t notice or care, though.
Damien let me go, his hand still on my head, and looked deeply into my eyes.
I’d never noticed before, but behind the polished, gentlemanly façade, there was something almost feral inside him, something wild and filled with pure animal lust.
My heart pounded, and I felt the hot desire move through my body, downward, the heat making my ache.
Sandro took me by the hips now, his mouth moving around my neck to the other side, one hand tugging on my button-down shirt, his lips moving up my neck to my jaw.
Finally, he turned my head away from Damien and kissed my hard on the lips, his own tongue asking no permission but simply plundering inside my mouth.
I could feel his huge, erection against my back, getting harder and harder, pressing its need up against me, and I moaned into his mouth.
I wanted this just as much as they did, heat flowing through my body. I’d always had a small , totally irrational crush on Damien, despite knowing it would never happen.
Sandro pulled back and chuckled, wrapping his arms hard around me and looking at Damien. I didn’t know what to do — I was panting for breath, weak-kneed.
Oh, and I’d never done anything like this before.
“C’mere,” Sandro said, and took Damien by the waistband of his pants, crushing me between them.
Now I could feel both their erections, rock-hard and thick.
I watched them kiss again, hard muscle against hard muscle.
When they broke apart both men were breathing hard.
Damien looked down at me.
“Let’s get you out of your work clothes, first thing,” he said.
Then he took each side of my shirt in one hand and pulled, hard.
Buttons flew off all over the kitchen, and I gasped.
“My shirt!” I said, dismayed. It was the only one I had with me, of course — I didn’t travel with backup shirts.
Damien just laughed.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “My god, I’ve wanted to see your body like this for ages.”
“Don’t worry about the shirt,” Sandro purred into my ear.
Then he ran his tongue along the outer shell of it, making me gasp and shudder.
Before I knew it, my ugly bra was on the floor too, next to my black work shirt, hands fondling my nipples, rolling and tweaking them, palms rubbing over them.
“How come you’re still dressed?” I gasped.
Damien grinned. His hands were on my waistband now, undoing the clasps of my pants, Sandro still caressing my breasts.
“You haven’t done anything about it,” he teased.
Then he yanked my pants open, pulling them down along with my panties. I kicked them off, just as Sandro slid one hand between my legs from behind.
His fingers probed me, finding the wet cleft between my legs, parting my lips with his hand, stroking me. I leaned against him, sighing, feeling his hardness against my back once more.
I reached in front of me for the buttons on Damien’s shirt, but he caught both my hands in one of his and pinned my wrists away.
I pretended to pout.
“No fair,” I said.
“Don’t care,” Damien said, and then pressed his lips to the tender spot just below my jaw, my hands still held by the steel of his.
Damien’s other hand slipped between my legs as well, probing between my slick folds and finding my clit, then squeezing it between two fingers.
My whole body spasmed and I bolted upright, surprised at the shock that went through my whole body.
“Oh!” I cried out.
Damien squeezed my wrists just a little harder, and I felt my knees go slightly weak. He moved his other hand again, letting his fingers move against my pleasure button, just as Sandro moved his against the slick folds of my empty, waiting channel.
I arched my back and moaned again. I wanted one of them to do something — for Sandro to put his fingers inside me, so I could feel them on that delicious spot against the front wall of my channel, for Damien to rub my clit again like he kept teasing to do.
Looking down, I could see the outline of Damien’s cock through his expensive suit pants, perfectly hard — and massive.
I bit my lip and he pinched my clit again, lightly, making me shudder with pleasure and desire.
“I want to watch you come,” he said, his face close to hers.
I looked up at him uncomprehendingly. All I could think about was how good this felt — and how I wanted more.
“I’ve wanted to see you come since the first time I hired you,” he said.
Sandro’s fingers slowly began to enter my slit, pushing through the folds at the entrance, making their way inside me. I arched my back even harder, trying to offer myself up to him.
“That’s right,” he said, smiling at me.
He began to rub me in little circles, gently at first, but then harder and harder.
“Sometimes I’ll throw a party just so I can hire you,” he said. “After you go home, I go to bed, thinking what if this time I was brave enough to proposition Cora.”
I was breathing hard, my whole body beginning to get flushed pink. The tingling heat in my pussy was threatening to take over my whole self, and it felt so good that
I couldn’t even focus on what Damien was saying.
Sandro’s fingers were moving too, faster and faster, insistently rubbing against that wonderful, sensitive spot inside me. The two men seemed to have a rhythm between them, rubbing and fucking and grinding at the same time, until finally, the heat deep inside me exploded, sending a wave of pleasure jolting through my body.
I gasped and moaned, bucking hard against Sandro, still standing behind me, leaning my face into Damien as I moaned and moaned.
At last, my orgasm over, I felt limp and sweaty, gasping for air. They pulled their hands away and then, without any conversation, Damien lifted me in his arms and carried me out of the kitchen. I was too surprised and spent to even protest.
They went through the living room and dining rooms of the vast penthouse, the two huge rooms where the party had been. I was surprised at how strong Damien was, and how easily he carried me.
Finally, he took me into the bedroom, Sandro right behind them. I’d never seen the inside of it before, of course — why would I?
It was just as massive as the other parts of the penthouse, with beautiful, expansive views from floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Sandro touched a button and sheer curtains spread across them — everywhere but the massive skylight, through which I could still see the stars.
It was incredible.
As I was thinking that, Damien tossed me onto a huge bed, piled high with fluffy, perfectly white linens. I landed softly, still utterly naked.
As I watched, Sandro came up behind Damien and grabbed him, hard, wrapping his arms around the other man and unbuttoning his shirt for him, his mouth on his neck and then his collarbones, spinning him around and tearing his shirt off.
Not content to stand there, Damien was tearing off Sandro’s clothing with the same speed, shirts and cufflinks and belts and pants landing on the expensive rugs all around them.
Finally naked, I still on the bed, I watched as they made out again, pressing their bodies together hard, their erections between their taut torsos.
Damien lowered his hand, wrapping it around Sandro’s cock, stroking it hard and up down. Sandro let out a hiss through his teeth, his face no more than in inch from Damien, and he grabbed the other man’s member as well.
They did that for a moment, both growling and moaning, sounding almost animalistic, and then Sandro let go of Damien and looked at I.
“Have you recovered?” he asked, his own cock still hard in Damien’s hand.
I just nodded, not really sure what to do.
Sandro grinned and strode over to the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling me toward him.
“How would you like an exotic European cock?” he growled.
Normally I would have laughed at such a ridiculous come-on, but under the circumstances, I found it wildly sexy.
I didn’t need any prompting to get on my knees in front of him, taking his big, hard cock in one had.
“This one?” I said, teasingly.
“That’s it,” he said, his hands on my sides, trying to guide my over to him. “Why don’t you try giving it a little ride?”
I didn’t need to be asked twice and straddled Sandro without a second thought, positioning the head of his cock at my wet, waiting opening, ready to slide myself down…
“Turn around,” said Damien, just as Sandro was just ready to enter me.
I didn’t want to — I just wanted to fuck this magnificent cock that Sandro had, so hard and ready for me — but Damien practically lifted me off of the other man, turning my to face him, before I could reposition myself.
Finally, I lowered myself onto Sandro, letting him fill me completely. I saw stars as I began to ride him, slowly at first and then harder and harder, totally lost to anything that wasn’t the pure, wonderful sensation of his thick cock filling my pussy.
Then Damien knelt in front of my and, before I knew what was happening, pushed my knees apart roughly and pushed his head against me.
His tongue was hot and wonderful, making I gasp with even more pleasure than I’d thought possible. He was exploring every millimeter of me, his tongue making slow, lazy circles from my slit up to my clit and back, working me into a state of frenzy before moving back down to where my pussy lips were stretched tight around Sandro’s big cock, pumping in and out of me, making me moan.
“This time,” Sandro said in my ear, “Come for me.”
He pushed me down onto his cock a little more forcefully than before, sinking himself even deeper into the girl, listening to my half-scream of pleasure when he did.
“Oh god,” I moaned, over and over. “Oh god, oh god.”
Damien’s tongue flicked back and forth just a little bit faster and Sandro fucked me just a little bit harder and then suddenly, before I knew what was happening, I was cumming hard, the ache in my cunt transforming into an explosion of pleasure, shooting jolts of it through my body. My toes curled against the comforter and my hands scrabbled at Damien’s head, the only thing that I could reach in my position.
I felt like fire was running through my veins, this sizzle of sensation that threatened to totally overwhelm me. I didn’t know how long it last, but finally, it died down to a mere hum and I opened my eyes, still gasping for air, my whole body flushed and pink.
Damien stood and then lifted me off of Sandro. I sat heavily on the edge of the bed next to him, still breathing hard, my eyes unfocused.
Almost tenderly, Damien brushed my hair off of my sweaty forehead, pushing my knees apart to stand in between them, his long, thick hardness against my belly.
“Ready for one more round?” He asked, grinning down at my.
I looked over his hard, cut body, his wide shoulders rippling with muscle. Despite having come twice, each time harder than I’d ever come before, I found myself nodding.
I did want just one more, after all.
“Yes,” I gasped, leaning back on my elbows.
Damien ran his hands down the length of my thighs, stroking and caressing them. Then he grabbed my calves, almost roughly, and yanked.
With a yelp, I landed on my back on the plush bed as Damien tugged me to the edge, my ass hanging off of it, both my legs in the air.
With one hand, he rubbed the tip of his cock against my clit, making me moan one more time.
Then, roughly, he thrust it inside me.
Damien hilted himself on the first stroke and I shouted, my hands clutching at the fluffy white bedspread, my back arching from sheer pleasure. He was deep, deep inside me, deeper than I’d ever felt anyone go.
“Oh my god, your cock feels so good,” I moaned.
Damien just growled, pulling himself halfway out and then thrusting in again, fucking me slowly.
For now.
“Fuck me,” I moaned.
This time his balls slapped against my ass as he fucked harder.
I could feel the heat and tension build up inside of me, like I was a rubber band threatening to snap. I’d never thought that something could feel this good, but I felt my entire body was tingling with pleasure.
All I could do was lie back and moan.
Then, behind Damien, I saw Sandro rubbing something on his own cock, then walk up behind the other man.
“I guess you’re the lucky Pierre tonight,” he murmured.
Damien grinned.
“This is my idea, so I guess I am,” he said, turning his head an accepting a kiss from Sandro, his thrusts into I slowing for a moment.
“You ready?” Sandro murmured.
“I’m always ready,” said Damien.
Sandro’s face changed, just for a moment, and so did Damien’s. His cock inside me stilled for a moment, as a look of pain crossed his face, quickly followed by a look of pleasure.
He growled, the noise resonating from deep inside his chest, and over his shoulder, I could see a look of near-bliss cross Sandro’s face as he pushed himself fully into Damien’s ass.
Both men groaned, and then, slowly but surely, Damien began fucking my agai
n.
It was even better now, and I gave myself up entirely to the sheer pleasure of getting fucked hard, over and over again. An orgasm tore through, making my fingers and toes tingle, leaving me breathless, only to be followed by another and then another, like I was permanently coming, riding crest after crest.
Before long, Damien was growling and shouting, thrusting as hard as he could into me. Every time he did I could feel an echo, the force of Sandro fucking him, almost like they were both fucking me at once.
“I’m gonna come,” gasped Damien. “I can’t last like this, I’m — oh god, I’m coming.”
He grunted and growled and then a long, low moan escaped his lips. I could feel him empty himself inside me, his cock spasming again and again.
Then he went still as Sandro came in his ass, the foreign man’s face a portrait of ecstasy as he did.
Finally, we slumped onto the bed, crawling a little further up onto the pure white sheets.
There was a knock on the door, and I bolted upright. For half a second I had no idea where I was — a window box with curtains? — and then I remembered everything that had happened, and blushed.
I needed to leave, I had to get home and — someone knocked again.
“Come in,” I said, my voice raspy.
“Wine’s ready,” said Damien, sticking his head through the door. “You really fell asleep.”
“How long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Thank god, thought I.
“There’s a bathrobe on that hook. Bathroom is that door there.”
“Thanks,” I said. “What time is it? I should go home…”
Damien just laughed.
“Nonsense,” he said. “Stay the night. Go back in the morning. I insist.”
I wasn’t going to argue, not anymore. I took a three-minute shower then donned the bathrobe, joining the two men in the parlor, on beautiful, expensive leather couches.
The wine was delicious.
A few days later, someone knocked on the door of my one-bedroom apartment in the Bronx. It was nothing fancy, but it was a miracle I could afford it, even there.
When I opened the door, a courier was standing there, a thick envelope in his hands.
“Sign here,” he said, and I did.