Double Dirty Outlaws: A MFM Romance

by Alexa Anna

He kisses me passionately, and whispers throatily into my ear.

  I nod my approval, a tiny little nod. I want this, and realize I wanted it all along. I want them both inside me, filling me like never before.

  His cock comes into me, pressing into the space. The pleasure is unreal, incredible, almost unbelievable. Their two cocks are squeezed inside me, both pumping in unison at first, and now at differing rhythms. One fast, rapidly, incredible, the other slow and powerful, steady like a jack hammer, like some mechanical instrument of pleasure.

  I cry out as their cocks pound into me, filing me up over and over again. There’s no end to the pleasure. No end to this at all… which is how I like it. I’m going to be with them forever…

  The orgasm explodes inside me. I feel their hot breath on me. I cry out in pleasure. My body shakes. My vision is going. My body feels light and heavy at the same time… the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. Both of them inside me…

  They’re grunting as they come too, simultaneously, right after me.

  THE END

  Receive a steamy bonus chapter when you sign up for my newsletter. http://eepurl.com/cCdhDj

  Turn the page to read Double Dirty Quarterbacks.

  Double Dirty Quarterbacks

  A MFM Romance

  Aly

  “And there’s another one for Colton!” screams the announcer. “I can’t believe it! How many touchdowns does Colton have in him?”

  The camera pans briefly out to the stadium, making me groan with anticipation and longing. It’s only been seconds, but I already miss the sight of his body.

  Fortunately, Colton’s not only the star of this game, but the darling of the entire league. The camera quickly zooms in on him, and I sigh in relief when his body comes back on my laptop screen.

  I’m watching one of his old games from last season, recorded and put on the internet for posterity. I sometimes wonder how many of the viewers are true sports fans and how many are just watching for the hot football player bodies. Then again, does there have to be a big divide?

  My fingers slide beneath the elastic of my panties, underneath my pants. My breathing goes slightly ragged and my heart rate increases.

  Colton’s jogging slowly across my screen, moving his buttocks in those incredibly tight pants. His shoulders move jauntily. I can see his immense muscles moving beneath the padding.

  My breathing is even faster now. My fingers are starting to move fast underneath my underwear. There’s a wet sound. I’m hot, wet, and warm.

  I’ve got my laptop perched next to me on the bed. The screen is only inches away from my face. The heat is coming off it, and its internal fan is whirring noisily. The laptop screen is cracked.

  One of the ear buds is in my left ear, and the other is lying on the messy bed. That’s in case my roommate is knocking on the door. I need to be able to hear her, and I know Colton’s going to suck up all my attention.

  I’m lying on my side, curled up slightly.

  But now I stretch my legs out straight, holding them taut, as my fingers continue to work away, as fast as I can make them work. I let out a little gasp.

  Colton and I went to high school together. That was years ago. Well, not too many years. I’m twenty-six now, so you do the math. It’s never been my strong suit.

  I had a crush on Colton back in high school, back when he was the star jock of the school and everyone wanted a piece of him. He never so much as looked my way during all those years, even when he was essentially spending hours at my house each day, working for my dad, helping him out on the big property.

  I can still remember being in my room the day I graduated. I was eighteen years old but I still hadn’t done much more than kiss. My dad was kind of a hard ass and he made Colton work that day, even though I’m sure Colton would have rather been out partying. But he needed the money, since his family didn’t have a cent. He was out there chopping wood with his shirt off, his muscular body glistening with sweat in the sun.

  I was hiding in my room, peering out a gap in the curtains, spying on Colton while my fingers worked away furiously between my legs, slipped up underneath my gradation dress.

  The look on Colton’s face as he looked up and caught me staring at him… right when I was coming, the lowest moan coming out of my mouth… it’s still tattooed in my memory.

  My attention flicks from my memory back to the laptop screen.

  One last look at Colton’s body as he bends down sends me over the edge. His thick thighs stick in my head and I wonder what it’d be like to have him on top of me, his massive muscles enveloping me.

  I explode in an orgasm. My muscles tense. My heart rate peaks. My eyes close and I flop back on the bed, on my back, exhausted.

  As I take the one headphone out of my ear, there’s a forceful knock on the door.

  “Aly!” screams my roommate, pounding on the door. “Aly! Get out here! Aly!”

  “Just a second,” I say, frantically slamming my laptop closed, and trying to rearrange the covers so that it doesn’t look like I just got off to a football video of an old high school crush in my bed.

  “What’s up, Tami?” I say, pulling open the door. I hope I don’t look like I’m breathing too hard.

  “What are you doing in there?” says Tami, looking at me suspiciously, and trying to look around me into my room.

  “Nothing,” I say. “Just reading up on the new job.”

  “Hmmph,” says Tami, obviously not convinced.

  Tami and I are brand new roommates. I just moved here to New York City one week ago, and stayed in a hotel for a couple days, so Tami and I are literally still strangers.

  She’s an intimidating person, with tattoos and piercings all over her. She’s got dyed hair, and she has a way of sounding like she’s perpetually pissed off. But I didn’t have any other options. It’s almost impossible to find a good place in New York, and I figured that I needed to open my horizons—so what if no one in my small town looks like Tami? It doesn’t mean she’s a bad person.

  But she’s quickly fulfilling all the stereotypes I had about people that look like her.

  “Anyway,” I say, after a long, awkward pause in which Tami simply stares at me. “What can I do for you?”

  “Oh,” says Tami, anger coming across her face again. “You’ve got to clean up the kitchen, baby girl. I know this is your first time in the big city and everything, but you’re really got to clean up after yourself.”

  “But I haven’t even used the kitchen yet,” I say, confused.

  “Come here,” says Tami, seizing my hand in her tattooed hand, her many studded leather bracelets clinking, and dragging me forcefully into the kitchen. “See!” she says, gesturing wildly. “Look at this!”

  I survey the scene. There are about ten empty vodka bottles on the impossibly small kitchen table.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” says Tami, looking at me severely, practically glaring right into my soul.

  “I…” I say. “These aren’t mine, Tami. I don’t even like vodka.”

  “Then how did they get here?” says Tami, her arms crossed in front of her. Her tattoos have never looked so menacing.

  “I heard you and your friends all last night,” I say, my voice sounding meek. “I heard you all shouting about vodka. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh…” says Tami, a strange smile suddenly flashing across her face. “I guess you’re right.” She slaps her forehead with her hand. “I took some pills this morning. I guess I forgot the whole thing.”

  She stands there in some kind of daze, and I retreat back into my room where I lock the door behind me. What have I gotten myself into? I don’t belong in New York with these crazy New Yorkers. Is everyone as weird as Tami here? I’m just a small town girl and I don’t know how I’m going to survive in the big city.

  But I have to. I need the money, and this is the first real job offer I’ve ever really gotten. This isn’t only the next big move in my career as a graphic
artist, but it’s going to give me the money I need to help support my mom. My dad died not too long ago, and I know my mom’s finances are in complete ruins.

  The job offer here in New York couldn’t have come at a better or worse time. On one hand, I desperately need the money to support my mom and to repay the loans we’ve taken out for my dad’s funeral expenses. But on the other hand, I had to leave my mom and my home town right after my dad’s death.

  I’m not good at dealing with stress. So many things are swirling around in my mind. I glance over at my closed laptop. At least I have my little Colton fantasy to distract me occasionally.

  Speaking of which, I open my laptop again, and quietly slide my hand underneath my underwear again, squeezing my thighs tightly together as I do so.

  Colton

  The water is freezing cold but it feels good after the workout. The football season is long over, and I’m in that lull before summer practice starts up again.

  I turn the water off and let myself drip dry for a moment before stepping out of the gym shower and grabbing my towel. I start patting myself dry, when I hear the door to the hallway creaking on its hinges. I glance over, expecting someone to show up, not bothering to cover myself up.

  But it turns out it was just the sound of someone leaving the locker room. I’ve got the whole place to myself.

  Despite the freezing cold shower, my cock is raging hard. Sometimes this happens after a workout. I look down at it and almost sigh. Sometimes being a super virile guy has its disadvantages. If you don’t take care of it, that’s all you’re going to be thinking about for the rest of the day.

  It’s not like I can’t get all the girls I want, but at some point, their interest in my fame becomes annoying. The whole thing has started to get boring. I need something else, but I don’t know what it is.

  Since there’s no one else here in the locker room, I figure I’ll just take care of this hard on here and now.

  Hanging my towel back up, I stand on the shower tile, and begin stroking my cock. My muscles clench tight as I start stroking faster.

  I close my eyes and picture what I’ve pictured for years and years when I need to get myself off quickly and efficiently. It’s the hottest memory I have, and it’s not even of sex.

  I let the memory come back to me, flooding over me.

  I was chopping wood with my shirt off on a hot day. It was graduation. Both Aly and I had just turned 18 recently. We never talked at school. She didn’t seem interested in jocks at all, and she always had this superior attitude on her face when she saw me, like she didn’t want anything to with me. Of course, that didn’t make her any less of a fantasy for me back then.

  I happened to look up at her window, as I often did when I thought no one was looking. That one day, though, I saw her staring back down at me, an unmistakable expression on her face. She was clearly in the middle of an orgasm and she was staring right at me.

  I got my fair share of pussy being a jock and all, but there was something about her, and the thought that she was clearly spying on me drove me over the edge.

  And the memory still does.

  My body tenses up and my fist is a blur over my rock hard cock. The warmth starts to flood through me and I shoot my load high into the air. It lands on the floor.

  I close my eyes again for a moment, enjoying the sensation, before I’m back in business mode. I’ve got shit I’ve got to get done today. You wouldn’t believe how much a football season takes out of you in terms of just keeping your shit together.

  Standing out of the blast of the shower, I turn the water back on, and let it wash my come off the floor and down the drain.

  I probably shouldn’t have done this in a public locker room, I think to myself, as I get dressed and head out the door.

  The walk to the entrance passes by the gym again, and I can’t help but glance at the women in their sports bras and tight yoga pants that grip their asses. I get more than a handful of glances myself. Sometimes it’s just because they like what they see, and often it’s because they’ve seen me on TV and know who I am. Hell, that’s what happens when your face appears on the cover of magazines with the words sexiest, etc. plastered all around it.

  I hit the Manhattan streets and the crowd envelops me. This is one of the few places I can be anonymous. There are so many famous people on these very same streets. Sure, people do come up to me, but if I wear my sunglasses like I’m doing now, you’d be surprised how good of a disguise it can be. No one ever noticed Clark Kent was Superman, right, and he just wore regular clear glasses.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket.

  “Hey Dad,” I say, holding the phone to my face. “What’s going on?”

  “The usual,” says my dad, gruffly. He’s never been a guy with a lot of words. Try growing up with parents that hardly ever talk and see how you turn out.

  I nod my head before realizing he can’t see me.

  “Mr. Stillson died last week,” says my dad, his tone of voice unreadable.

  “Mr. Stillson?” I say, my own voice falling. I stop in my tracks. Someone behind me bumps into me, and curses me out in true New York style before moving on down the street. “Are you serious?” I say.

  “Yeah,” says my dad. “Heart trouble, you know?”

  “Wow,” I say. “I knew his heart was bad, but… He’s not that old…”

  “About as old as I am,” says my dad. “We’ve all got to go sooner or later.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I know, but…”

  “Listen,” says my dad. I can hear the irritation in his voice. This is already far too much chit chat for his liking. “I’m calling because the Stillsons’ daughter just moved to New York City this week.”

  “Aly?” I say.

  “Yeah,” says my dad. “I don’t know if you remember her…”

  “I remember her,” I say.

  My dad grunts. “Your mother and I thought it would be nice if you could show her around. Help her out. She’s gone through a lot, and she could use a friend in the city.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say, while images of my Aly Stillson fantasy flash through my mind. My cock is growing again already…

  “All right,” says my dad. “I’ll have your mother send over her information.”

  “Talk to you later,” I say, knowing that’s the end of the conversation with my dad.

  He grunts before hanging up the phone.

  I’m still standing in the middle of the sidewalk, with crowds of people rushing past me. I’m standing like a stone in a river, everything parting for me.

  I can’t believe Mr. Stillson is dead. That really hits home. He was pretty tough on me, making me work on days when I really wanted to be out partying. Then again, I was always half glad to go there, on the off chance I’d catch a glimpse of Aly, the hottest girl in school, the only girl in school who never gave a damn about me, who always turned her nose up at me, the shy girl who was way too good for a jock like me.

  Mr. Stillson wasn’t like my dad at all. He may have been a hard ass at times, but he would actually talk to me. He’d listen to me complain about school, and he’d occasionally give me some friendly advice. It’s not like he took the place of my dad or anything. No, he wasn’t like that. It was more like he was just a friend of mine, even though he happened to be older.

  It’s not like Mr. Stillson and I had an incredibly close relationship, but he was kind to me, and the friendship and job meant a lot to me. I don’t think he always needed the work done around the house, but he knew that I really needed the money if I was going to save enough for college. So he always gave me work.

  I just can’t believe he’s dead. That’s so screwed up.

  My phone beeps again. It’s Aly’s phone number, probably gotten from her mother most likely.

  There’s a note in the text message after the number. “I know how you are, Colton,” writes my mother. “Leave the poor girl alone. There are plenty of other women in the city for you.”

  Gre
at, so even my mother knows I’m a hopeless womanizer. It wouldn’t kill the tabloids to lay off me for a little bit, you know? Is it my fault the women love me and I have an unusually high sex drive?

  Zach

  “Ready to get down tonight, bro?” I say, giving Colton a hug as I walk into his apartment.

  I throw my duffel bag down on the floor, and head to the kitchen, where I take two beers from the fridge. I toss one to Colton, who grabs it in the air, his reflexes lightning fast.

  Colton nods at me and opens his beer.

  I crack mine, and down half of it in one gulp.

  “So we’re hitting the clubs or what?” I say.

  It’s been a whole season since we’ve last seen each other, but nothing ever changes between us. I’m the fun one and Colton is the serious one. That’s just who we are. But it gets old always trying to drag him around to go drinking.

  The problem with him is he’s lazy. He gets enough pussy without having to work for it. Hell, I do too, but I’m not satisfied with just enough. I always want more, more, and more. You can’t have too many women. Not even in one day. I’m always trying to make it more extreme, more intense.

  “Actually,” says Colton, looking into his beer. “I’ve got to do something tonight.”

  “Always letting me down these days, man,” I say. “You never want to party anymore. I mean, you were always kind of like this, but remember the shit we used to get up to?”

  Back in college, Colton and I were roommates. We lived in an off campus apartment and went to separate schools. We each were the starting quarterback for our respective schools.

  We used to party back then quite a bit, even when Colton took some convincing. And, more often than not, we ended up banging chicks together. It sort of became a habit after a while. It was definitely a turn on for the women, and in a sense it was a turn on for us too. We just loved giving them everything they’d always wanted in a fantasy… two of the hottest quarterbacks doing them at the same time.