The firm mattress shifted only slightly as Owen moved away and Ashton, his mouth finally leaving Gillian’s breast, her nipple aching with a form of exquisite soreness, settled between her wide-spread legs.
She moaned in happiness, expecting already to feel Ashton’s cock penetrating her.
It was a pity she was not quite able to watch as Owen, waving away Ashton’s hand, bent to slide a condom onto Ashton’s cock, first making sure to thoroughly check it for firmness.
Gillian’s head briefly cleared enough, as she realised she was still unfilled, to see Ashton, as he knelt between her legs, seize Owen for another firm kiss, Owen’s hand holding Ashton’s pectoral muscle as he would a breast. Her head spun again, but the image was so vivid she was absolutely certain she would never forget it.
Then Ashton leaned forwards over her, both hands supporting him, as Owen helpfully guided him inside.
Gillian’s legs rose to wrap around Ashton’s waist, holding him so strongly he had to restrain a gasp of pain before he set to fucking her so hard she would not be able to maintain the grip.
Ashton held himself off the bed until Gillian, her arms as forged in the workshop as were his, pulled him down upon her, crushing her breasts between them.
He kissed her, pressing her head back into the mattress with as much fierceness as if he were still sparring with Owen.
Gillian’s grip around his waist did not loosen as the slapping of his hips against hers rose in volume.
Owen, finding himself briefly surplus to requirements, spontaneously slapped Ashton sharply on one buttock at the peak of a withdrawal.
Ashton’s startled buck in response produced from Gillian a squeal that escaped even the seal of their mouths.
Owen grinned then tried it again, on the other buttock. Ashton roared like a bull to match Gillian’s escalating squeals of delight.
Ashton’s hips were moving too fast for Owen to establish a solid rhythm upon every thrust, so he timed it for every second. Then, a wolfish grin upon his lips, he began timing it unevenly, to every third, then second, then fourth, then third, then rapidly on successive thrusts, Ashton not sparing the air for bellowing but grunting explosively, the sinews standing out around his neck.
Gillian, made sensitive by her first orgasm, achieved her second first. Ashton, no stranger to the sounds of Gillian in the midst of ecstasy and not unmoved by them, followed shortly after. Owen, by luck as much as timing, struck Ashton a ringing blow upon his already crimson buttock at precisely the right moment.
Ashton tried to rear up, bodily lifting Gillian off the bed with him for a brief instant before crashing down upon her.
The two clung together as their breathing slowed, Ashton’s face buried in the mattress and Gillian’s locked in a blasphemous version of an angel’s ecstasy upon seeing God.
Owen, unfulfilled but with a true friend and lover’s lack of jealousy, idly stroked the back of Ashton’s leg, feeling a joyous sense of wonder that the touch was nearly as exciting as was the touch of Gillian’s naked skin.
Gillian’s limbs relaxed with a convulsive shudder, falling limply to the bed. Ashton groaned, trying to stir.
Gillian’s hand, nearest Owen, blindly sought for him. He took it off the bed to tenderly kiss the palm. It clasped about his face, pulling him towards her, into a kiss that was a little uncoordinated on Gillian’s part but not lacking in passion.
Ashton courteously, but a little weakly, rolled to the side, remembering at the last moment to keep a firm hold on his condom as he slid out of Gillian.
Gillian seemed to regain energy with an unnatural speed, her kiss becoming more confident, her other arm rising to seek out Owen’s groin.
Owen lost a brief internal battle against breaking the kiss long enough to say “Are you sure, my lady? If you feel that recent exertions have been too much...”
His response was an animal growl, a kiss delivered with heightened strength, and a grip upon his cock that made his body try, for a second, to fold around it.
Ashton, sitting up on the second attempt, fetched a wrapped condom from the pile Owen had left upon the bedside cabinet.
He began unwrapping it, but Gillian, clearer of head now, waved him to stop.
She pushed Owen away from her, onto his back, then slid down the bed.
“Ashton, kiss him,” she commanded as she moved to kneel between Owen’s legs, one hand securely around his testicles.
Ashton complied with more willingness than he had before, holding Owen’s head down with one hand across his forehead so he could control their kiss.
Owen reached for Ashton, wanting to feel his skin, as he felt the first touch of Gillian’s breath upon his cock.
He tried to respond to Ashton’s aggressive kiss in kind, but when he felt Gillian’s lips close upon the head of his cock he groaned and submitted to being kissed, his hand falling back to the bed from Ashton’s waist.
Ashton smiled fiercely against Owen’s mouth, feeling a flush of triumph that made his recently sated cock stir again.
Gillian, sparing some of her attention from giving pleasure to Owen, saw this. She smiled even with Owen’s cock sliding to the back of her throat.
Gillian was an enthusiastic student of pleasure, and as attentive to the responses of her partners as either Owen or Ashton, so she had soon pushed Owen into a mental state not far from where she had herself been with both men attending to her nipples.
Whether Ashton contributed to this was not certain, but it was certain that Ashton took advantage of it, taunting Owen’s mouth with his as Owen gasped for air and another kiss, sliding his hand possessively over Owen’s chest to knead each breast in turn as he would a woman’s.
When Ashton’s fingers first toyed with, then sharply pinched and tugged, one of Owen’s nipples, Gillian felt Owen’s cock pulse inside her mouth.
She drew back, a determined look in her eye.
Ashton, a grin upon his face, offered her a wrapped condom.
“Get behind me,” Gillian ordered as she took it. “I said I want both of you, and both of you I shall have.”
Ashton’s eyes widened before he scrambled eagerly to obey. Owen blinked in stupefaction as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard, but he recognised the feeling of a condom being put upon him.
“Wait!” Gillian ordered, when Ashton was abreast of her. One hand not leaving Owen’s cock, she lifted herself until she could move to Ashton, quickly giving his cock the same oral treatment until it was glistening with saliva.
Gillian crawled up Owen’s body for a deep kiss of her own, which he gave with returning agency and enthusiasm.
When she raised her hips, Ashton reached between them, lifting Owen’s cock into place. Gillian sheathed herself upon Owen with a deeply heartfelt groan from him and a long moan from her. She wriggled until she felt she could not take him any further inside, by virtue of her limits and his hips.
“Ashton!” She said, a little breathless, as she folded her knees up beside Owen’s torso.
Normally firm and assertive, Ashton knew when and how to be gentle.
He eased himself inside her arse carefully, giving Gillian time to adjust.
With much gasping, groaning, the occasional encouraging imprecation from her, and a hiss of breath from him, he worked his way until he was ballocks-deep between her buttocks.
To Owen, buried deep within Gillian but with no movement beyond the shifting of her hips and involuntary clenching of her inner muscles, the wait was exquisite torture. He occupied himself by licking sweat off her chin and insinuating his hands between them so he could cup both her breasts, beginning to squeeze them firmly every time she squeezed him.
Ashton felt the quivers of Gillian’s body as she sought to restrain her impulse to thrust back painfully upon him, but Owen could also see, fro
m his position, the whites of Gillian’s eyes as they rolled back in her head. It was only by exerting the greatest exercise of will that Owen prevented himself from beginning to fuck Gillian soundly.
When both men were hilted inside her, Gillian managed to draw breath enough to focus.
“On reflection,” she said in a quavering voice, “I am not sure how this is going to work.”
“Lift up a little,” Owen said. “Let us move.”
Gillian, whose intent had been to be in command, relinquished it with a whimper, her head sinking to Owen’s shoulder, biting into the muscle there by habit more than intent.
Owen, looking over her shoulder, locked gazes with Ashton. They began slowly moving, fucking Gillian with patient, perfectly synchronised care without taking their eyes off each other.
Gillian made a pleading sound mostly smothered by the meat of Owen’s shoulder but loud enough for both men to hear. They responded. She gasped with joy.
Ashton’s fingers curled tightly into her hips. Owen’s curled into her breasts, squeezing not too tightly but enough to add to the delirious feeling of being given pleasure too great to deny.
Neither man noticed when they stopped attending to her because they were focussed on each other. Gillian certainly did not notice that she was merely between them, the object of their fucking but not their attention.
Neither man could bear to blink unless the other also did, and neither man would look away. Owen, with the weight of Gillian pressing upon him, could see Ashton’s naked, sweat-coated chest. Ashton could see little of Owen but knew himself to be kneeling triumphantly on top.
They stared fixedly at each other, fucking hard enough for Gillian to be making helplessly ecstatic noises but no harder, as they each imagined themselves to be fucking the other.
Gillian, helpless between them, neither knew nor cared about their fixation as she approached another orgasm. Ashton, who had already spent once and felt himself more sensitive because of it, and Owen, who felt his testicles tight with frustration, were at least as close as she.
Gillian came first, releasing her teeth from Owen’s shoulder so she could properly give vent to an appropriately loud scream.
The men, who had entered an almost fugue state as they mentally warred with each other to not be the first, were pushed almost immediately to their own climaxes, arching their necks as they roared in concert.
***
They lay across a bed barely large enough to accommodate them, both men sprawled on their backs, Gillian on her side with arm and leg thrown over Owen, sweat cooling upon all of them.
“I,” Gillian announced, sleepily, “am sore all over my body, and very satisfied about it.”
Ashton grunted in recognition. Owen, feeling it incumbent upon himself to say something since Gillian’s face was next to his, managed a more articulate grunt.
Gillian, moved by a sudden surge of love, lifted her body far enough to kiss Owen on the cheek. She fell back with a wince and a rueful “Ouch,” as Owen turned his head towards the kiss too late.
Ashton, hearing this if not watching it, chuckled.
Gillian tried to turn over to kiss Ashton, but stopped halfway, lying on her back with a rueful moan of pain that made Ashton, chastened, begin to apologise.
“Apologise for nothing!” Gillian ordered. “I will heal, but I am overjoyed to say the memories will linger. And do not doubt we will be doing that again!”
“I am your humble servant,” Owen managed.
Ashton chuckled, a leer in his voice. Gillian, showing remarkable aim as she reached up without looking, tweaked one of his nipples sharply, producing a yelp of surprise.
“We shall make each of us servants,” she said meaningfully. “That did not proceed according to my plan. I was fully intending to take control, not have it taken completely from me. Don’t think I’m complaining, but don’t think I will not demand the opposite.”
This time, they spoke in unison. “We are your humble servants.”
Night Flight
Crysta K. Coburn
“So who’s your boss?” Mika Grayburn asked, brassy brows raised slightly.
From that expression, Harold did not think he would be able to con her. He didn’t really know how to con anyway. He was an honest man, a good worker, and this was the first time his boss had asked him to carry a package for him all the way from Pallets City to New London.
“Smith,” Harold answered. She did not believe him. “Garson Smith! He’s a real person!”
Mika pursed her lips and studied Harold from his yellowed cane, hat with the red and blue band all the way to his scuffed black shoes. She did not look impressed and Harold couldn’t help feeling offended. Mr. Smith had told him to wear his best clothes when seeking passage on an airship, and this was it. Who was she to judge him anyway, in her black trousers with patches in the knees, shabby blouse and checked grey and white vest? She was young, sure, but no great beauty with black coal smudges beneath her eyes and goggles perched on the top of her blonde head. She was also the only woman at the docks at the end of Market Street (a common place for people to find quick and private passage by sea or air). Harold had found her less intimidating than the men, thus he’d approached her.
“You got the money?” Mika asked.
“Right here.” He defiantly opened an envelope filled with notes.
“Please don’t flash it around,” she sighed, then continued her interrogation (or so it felt to Harold). “Is this Mr. Smith human?”
“Of course he is.”
“Yeah? Because you look like a goon. Are you some Other’s lackey?”
“I’m not a goon!” Harold fairly shouted and immediately regretted it as there were a number of smartly dressed men around who most probably were. “I’m not a goon,” he repeated in a whisper.
Mika chuckled. “I didn’t really think you were. I just wanted to make sure. We don’t really like goons on our ship.”
She gave him a knowing nod, which he returned automatically. A lot of working class humans didn’t like the Others, and the goons who worked for them, though fully human, often meant trouble. Harold had seen goons, of course (he was currently surrounded by many of them), but never had anything to with them. He was a respectable person. He’d also never seen an Other. He knew they were supposed to resemble humans, though he’d been raised by parents who insisted they were, emphatically, not anything like humans. Others only came out at night (they used the goons as day men), and Harold always did his business during the day, so he didn’t think he’d ever be likely to run into one either.
“Alright,” Mika finally said. “You’ve got yourself a cabin. Give me a third of the fare now, and the rest when we take off. It’s a small ship, but fast. You want the particulars?”
Harold considered that for about two seconds. He knew nothing about ships that sailed through water or air. “Not necessary. When should I meet you?”
“We leave tonight just before sunset. Is that too soon?”
“No, that’ll do fine.”
She nodded curtly. “We’ll be east of the main airfield, away from the commercial ships. You’ll see signs, then you’ll see me. Ok?”
“Uh,” he stammered. “I think so?”
“Just take the steam shuttle to the airfield and get off at the last stop. Ship’s called the Mermaid’s Revenge. We’ll be by the woods.”
“Right. Got it.” he said...at least, he hoped he did.
***
Harold arrived at the airfield well in advance of sunset. He was the only one left on the shuttle as it reached its final stop, a fact that made him nervous. Had he made the right choice? What kind of name was Mermaid’s Revenge? It sounded like a pirate name. He spotted the ship instantly as the shuttle approached. It was completely on its own out there. After disembarking, th
ere was still a fair bit to walk. Refusing to feel daunted Harold raised his chin, clutched his valise, and started to walk.
He soon spotted Mika who was checking items off on a list with a half-chewed pencil. She glanced up at his approach and held out a hand. He gave her the envelope with the rest of his fare, which she quickly counted.
“Excellent!” She grinned. “Welcome, Mr. Green, to the Mermaid’s Revenge. I’ll take you aboard.”
The ship was, indeed, small and Harold questioned whether it could carry much cargo. There was a short, squat foredeck and no aft to the gondola. A short set of steps led to the upper deck and next to it was a similar set that led down into the hull. This second set of stairs is where Mika led Harold. The hallway was tiny, and six slim doors opened onto it. Mika opened the middle door on the right and gestured for Harold to go in ahead of her. As soon as he stepped through, he stopped dead.
“Is this it?”
She shrugged. “I warned you it was small.”
“This. Is a closet.”
“Lucky for you it’s a short trip.”
Harold dropped his valise onto the slip of a bed and slumped his shoulders. Mika patted his back.
“Buck up, boyo,” she said. “Three meals a day, and once we’re in the air, you’ll have use of the upper decks. You’ll be so in awe of the view, you won’t want to spend any time in your cabin, I promise you. But until we’re in the air, you’ll have to remain here. There’s a lamp by your head.”
She closed the door behind him and Harold sank to the bed.
***
When it came time for take-off, Mika gave a rap on his door to warn him. There were no windows in the cabin, so he could see nothing of the procedure. He imagined there was a lot of wind as the lines were cast off and the engines started up. The gondola pitched fiercely two or three times, so it was probably better that he was inside. A singular gas lamp that hung from a hook in the ceiling swung so violently from the shaking that Harold turned it off and took it down from fear it would break and leave him permanently in the dark.
Valves & Vixens, Volume 2 Page 16