Hunted by Billionaires Box Set

by Ryan Ramsay

  I nod off to the humming comfort of the car. It will be two hours’ drive. I might as well start fantasizing about what Matt has in store for us. I think of tulips, my bag, and the not-so-subtle fucking I can’t wait to get from all of them.

  The desert is wide and bare. Stretches of sand litter the horizon. All I can see is yellow that kisses a distant and overbearing blue above me. Then, an oasis appears. A tent, white and flapping in the wind, lingers before a rudimentary and Middle Eastern well.

  I walk to it. I feel the sun blaring on my skin. I can taste the thirst swelling my throat up. I reach the shade, which is as welcome as the mountains of food and drink placed before the throne.

  I walk to it. I sit on the golden seat. It… fits.

  I lean over and take a bite of some kind of fruit. Sweet. Moist. Naturally crunchy. As I chug down some water and finally feel good on the inside, I hear something. Someone. Two people. Maybe more.

  I follow the sound with my eyes and ears. It leads me to a silky curtain, hiding a secret compartment behind it. I stand with chips in hand. The sounds feel like pain. No. Pleasure. Both.

  I lift the veil and gasp. Matt has his cock in my mouth, his skin bare and well oiled. My body is spread wide apart, Chad’s tongue and Richard’s fingers deep in my pussy and asshole.

  Cunt juice drips consistently down the soft hairs of my pussy and trickles down to Chad’s tongue. His cock drips at the tip, and he leans to stroke it.

  Richard’s fingers work hard, but not as hard as my fingers work on his shaft. It is sticky, cloudy white and with throbbing veins. He came. And he wants more.

  His pushes his index finger deeper into my asshole. Matt groans as I swallow him whole at the surprise. He grabs my hair and twists hard, shuts his eyes and calls my name.

  The Amy they’re fucking upon the white sheets moans and swivels her tongue round and round Matt’s cock. He twitches and arches his back, tightening his ass. He leaves her mouth with a soft plop as he falls to the bed, writhing in pleasure.

  Naked Amy moves to lie down on Chad’s chest, prying her legs wide open and caressing his cheeks with her lengthy nails. Her breasts swing to the side as Richard takes his position.

  She guides Chad first. He has his glistening cock at the entrance of her swollen pussy. She then grabs Richard. His flesh is as fast as ever. She puts it at the entrance of her cunt and rubs it over and over to nab the evading juices.

  Then, she firmly grips it and stores it at the entrance of her asshole. And then she whispers something to Matt, who comes over, crouching, kneeling to her.

  She looks into each of their eyes, one after the other, stroking each of their sweaty bodies. And then, her eyes fall on Matt. She smiles.

  “Together,” she moans.

  And they all slide into her at the same time, feeling each other, moaning her name, feeling her power.

  I taste salt in my mouth. My heart races and my belly tightens at the fantasy I’m having. My thighs clamp together. Breath leaves me hot and heavy, and I look outside to try and understand what I just saw.

  The familiar trees and open green grass remind me of the journey. I’m ten minutes away.

  The need to rub my clit through me. I think about whether or not I could get away with it. No. It would be awesome, but I’m meeting my boyfriends in ten. Delayed gratification, anyone?

  ***

  One of the first things on today’s menu is apparently a fight. Between all three men, over me. I can overhear them once I arrive.

  “I was here first. I get her for the hour.”

  “You? Oh, bugger off, mate. I was at the hangar sipping coffee down while you were getting your rocks off. She’s with me.”

  “Then if you two will keep fighting, why don’t I have Amy’s hand?”

  Typical of my three guys to fight over me. I chose this particular Greek silk dress for a reason. It kisses at my knees, barely, and has a thin golden strap at the end of its length.

  My legs are neatly shaven, carefully tied up in gladiator flats. My skin is well moisturized. My hair, slightly trimmed and packed in a comfortable ponytail, falls to my bare shoulders, leaving the fabric skirting across my bare back enough fodder for imagination. I made a point of not wearing any panties; a fact Chad has noticed in his play for supremacy.

  “Oh, come on boys, no need to fight,” I call out.

  My legs slide over each other and give room for the decorative sunlight to glaze over my inner thighs. I lean back into the reclining couch and exhale.

  “There’s only one way to resolve this.” My lip finds the crowns of my lower teeth and bites. Gentle enough to make them quiet down. Hard enough to make them step towards me, fingers on their zippers.

  Good.

  I want to see what I can do.

  Richard beats the bunch.

  “Do you like my dress, Richard?”

  “I do.”

  With my finger I trace the curve of the length of my breast. The outline is clear and shaded under the window’s filtered light.

  “I think it’s not pretty enough on me,” I tease. “Would you like me to take it off, Chad?”

  “Yes.”

  I can feel his chest thud, his lips exhale.

  “Then unbutton your shirts. All of you. Slowly.”

  Matt takes his time, watching me from the corner of the bar where his drink remains untouched. Chad lingers and bites his lips, watching my face as I roll my tongue along my cheek. Richard steps closer than he should. I lift my leg and touch him softly at the tip of his boner, hidden underneath dense cotton.

  I flick the end of my dress and hook it with a finger. Sadistically I lift and drag it across my skin. It feels great, seeing their brows furrow. The lump in their necks under their throats bobble. The veins on their arms tighten.

  I raise my finger and coyly put it on my lips.

  With caution, I search their eyes and suck it with slow slurps.

  “I’m going to close my eyes, lovers. Surprise me.”

  They are silent before me. And then I hear innocent rustling, and an almost orchestrated sound, a flow, of jeans scraping thighs and shirts falling onto coat jackets. There are soft wet sounds, of dripping cocks tapping onto muscular thighs.

  I feel more than the warmth of the sun around me and my face, surrounding my semi-naked body. I smile, and gasp secretly at the slither of a silk tie around my wrists.

  Richard.

  A coy and exasperated set of hands lurch under my thighs and hoists my body upward. Both my hands are rushed, clamped together, and tied to a bearing tightly fixed on the plane’s wall, while a nose trails across the inside of one of my arms.

  His goatee rubs across my shoulder, and his breath, oh, God, his sweet mint and almond breath, centers my world and proceeds to rip it apart.

  Chad.

  “Oh, my. This feels like a warm surprise.”

  Near my mouth, right under my chin, is a finger playing with my tongue. It tastes of dates and chips. He traces a light touch across the warm thin skin around my neck.

  I feel him playing along my breasts, tasting them with a bated tongue that is flowing low, cascading to my navel.

  He stops.

  The plane hums.

  I feel nothing but him now, the warmth from his mouth and nostrils wetting the fabric right above my skin.

  I moan, careful not to moan his name.

  That would be unfair to the others, wouldn’t it?

  And then I feel him, his breath, his chin, punishing the mottled area that I so well hide between my thighs. The thighs he so badly wants to taste open wider for him. It slithers and glides along the still of my wet pussy. I use my thighs to guide him to reach the spot.

  There.

  That’s it.

  “Ah!”

  They take this as an invitation to plunder. I let them.

  It takes a few seconds for me to feel like I just swam into a mystical glade. My pussy lips are spread wide open for them. Two sets of tongues pry within, one u
p and down, the other side to side.

  I clench my ass cheeks and smile wantonly. A cock is on my lips. I kiss it. Peck it. God, I wish I could stroke it. It spews an intoxicating stream of pre-cum onto my tongue. It satiates me as I swallow the meat down.

  His flesh grinds across my teeth. I open wider. Both legs and lips. They dive deeper into my cunt. He dives deeper down my throat.

  His firm hands grip me by the sides of my neck, squeezing as he fucks my mouth. Tongue and fingers dive into my pink walls, one of them playing with his thumb along the ridges of my bud.

  “Mmh.”

  “You like that, baby?” asks Chad by my head.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “You like my tongue down your cunt?” asks Matt, when he rises for air.

  “Mm-hmm-mmm!”

  Richard digs into my asshole. Chad lets his cock out. I breathe.

  “Open your eyes, love,” says Richard.

  I do, exhaling.

  Naked. Sweaty. Hungry. Each is hard, his cock lined up at some orifice in my body. My head spins. I realize I’m facing downwards, my hands tied up and stretching before me, my hair angling at the sides of my face, my legs holding onto either of Matt’s or Richard’s strong windmill arms.

  A moan escapes my lips. They take this as a yes.

  At once, they enter. I muffle an ‘Oh God’ into Chad’s fat cock and stifle a scream at the feeling of cock upon cock split by a thin membrane between my legs. I gasp and breathe, trying to make sense of the world all over again.

  All three are sliding and slipping and grasping and taking my cunt, ass and mouth for their violent pleasure. The air thins and my skin crawls with an anticipated charge.

  My nostrils flare. My clit fans with flame. The plane rocks. I am suspended in the air. I am theirs. I clench my holes.

  “Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum, Amy,” groans Chad.

  Good. I swivel my tongue and pump his balls with the tip of my bottom lip. I feel the rush, a swelling of fluid jutting from the base of his shaft. He tightens his hold on my head, thrusting down my gagging throat like there is no reward for modesty.

  “Fucking hell, I’m cumming baby!”

  “Mmmmm,” I echo down his meat.

  I feel his dick hole widen at the back of my throat, his vein throb, and his balls punch his ejaculate out. I receive it, all of it, until it breaks the seams of my mouth.

  He plops his cock out and looks up to the heavens, or to hell, does it matter?

  His eyes are closed shut, his arms still strong and holding the upper weight of my body. He opens his eyes. I try my best to swallow what’s left.

  “I won’t let you go.”

  An assurance.

  Enough for me to focus clenching and crafting my pussy and ass to the liking of their cocks.

  The air I breathe thins.

  My eyes flutter, trying to keep open.

  Chad kneels before me, still grasping on the silk tie. His face comes into contact with mine. We kiss. His tongue playfully slithers across mine, still slippery with his own cum.

  He deepens his exploration. I feel my pussy release come. I want to cum with them inside of me. I want to feel his tongue and their cocks in me as… as… oh… yes… I want him to keep kissing me like this, my naked breasts hanging and my nipples pointing to an accused earth, his tongue pouring affection down my throat, scrambling for the remnants of his balls, helping me, saving me, steering away the wetness from his loins and replacing it with the joy of his fluid tongue.

  Oh God, his cock. His cock dives deep, slow and purposeful. It goes out just when the other goes in, rubbing differently, but both meeting… meeting… meeting at the same point… oh, God… my clit… my ass… oh, God, his tongue… ah… ah… ahhhhh…I plop his tongue out and breathe them all in to the sound of their orgasm reaching high pitch.

  “I’m cumming!”

  “Fuck yeah!”

  “Oh baby, oh my love, I’m cumming!”

  As they fill me up, I squeeze them out with juicy spurts of my essence. The fluids meet in the middle as I peak at ecstasy. My nipples ride. My cunt is completely satiated.

  I open my eyes to see God in the clouds through the cabin window, through my men. I close my eyes and swallow it all down, smiling, as the silk tie loosens its grip, and I fall into a pit of nothingness.

  They are mine. They are mine… They are mine.

  ***

  “Be honest. You love it when you are all inside me,” I tell them.

  We lie sprawled naked on the shaggy carpet. A mound of clothes shacked together beneath my head act as our pillows. Gentle spurts of fluid drip from my asshole and pussy.

  I refused their offers to clean up. It’s simple. I want them to see what I can do to them. I own them. They are mine.

  “We do. I know I do,” says Matt, with a bit of grape on his tongue.

  Chad and Richard just smile and caress each of my nipples, perhaps as a response in agreement. Chad licks on it and makes sure to leave a hickey. I laugh and slap him softly on his belly.

  “Amy,” starts Richard. “I think we’re falling for you.”

  I turn my head.

  “Really?”

  “We’ve been talking.” Chad scratches at his scalp and smiles while pulling at the hair stems. “Is it crazy? Is this crazy?”

  I sigh.

  “No. It’s not. Because I’m falling for each of you.” They light up at this. “It can’t be crazy. I mean, when a parent loves her children, she loves them all equally, right? So, love can be shared… equally, then?”

  They hold confused looks, and then they sprawl out laughing.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Did you just admit to being a parent in this case, or that you love us?” asks Richard.

  “’Cause either way we really need to talk,” Matt joins in and shuts his eyes in congealed laugh spasms.

  “Oh, fuck off,” I mutter and hide under Chad’s muscular chest.

  I feel warmth from them all right here, right now. In all honesty, I can’t wait for the plane to land. Maybe this warmth I feel in my heart needs just the right amount of date night to let itself out.

  ***

  Panama.

  God, it’s so beautiful.

  The cobblestone pavements lie severally to the side of dirt roads. Palm trees and tropical plants litter the already crowded walkways. The air wafts of indigenous foods, most of it being served out of food trucks, and there are little kids holding out welcome signs with smiles perched on their faces.

  The smell of the ocean so close by can drive anybody mad. Mad enough to dance.

  The Spirit of the Red Dress is upon me tonight. Lace and sexy are the themes of the night, but so are casual and toned.

  The warmth of the nightly slow breeze does not necessitate the shoal I have on my bed. It does, however, call for a lack of underwear.

  I stifle a naughty laugh and walk to the mirror at the end of the honeymoon suite. What I’m wearing is cute. Not too underdressed. Not too overdressed.

  I adjust my bra and exhale.

  It is going to be one heck of a date.

  The Coco Navana stands at a majestic seven floors down, with the honeymoon suites and exclusive rooms at the seventh floor. The corridors are lined with thick waterproof glass that reflects the marine life that occasionally swims by.

  It is modest, almost regular in its design. I guess this is what Matt wanted in the first place: not to impress me with his wealth, but to keep me guessing around his nature. I like where this is going already.

  I clamber into the elevator. A man, short and paunchy, smiles back at me and asks if I’m going to the ground. I nod. He pushes a button in his white and black latex gloves. The doors slide shut.

  The doors slide open, and I smile lightly as he says his goodbye. Rio has some interesting stories, some of which I hope to share with Christy when I get back home.

  The ground floor is quite regular: comfortable plushy leather seats, a receptionist who is always stan
ding or pacing around, and a water cooler at the corner.

  When we four arrived, I almost double tracked. They laughed, stating that this is what they do: turn the regular into magic. I could almost swear a little orgasm swept through me then.

  They stand by the rented limo, waiting, clad in classy suits and with flowers in hand. I greet each of them with a kiss on the cheek as I strut over to the end of the car.

  “Damn,” says Richard. “You look lovely this evening.”

  Well, I sure am glad he noticed.

  I pick each of the bouquets of flowers they have in their arms. A rose. An orchid. An aster. I gaze at them and smile.

  “Interesting,” I utter.

  The door latch is clambered for until Chad succeeds. I lean and get into the car, after which they follow. We ride in expectant silence. No one speaks. No one gazes. I am tempted to lift my dress and show my shaven calves, but the voice inside me tells me we need to eat first. It’s been a day.

  We get to the restaurant, just a mile off the coast, on a strip of land that, as I realize Rio had told me, is an island on its own.

  I cannot read the name as it’s not in English, but the reception is quite warm. This I like.

  We are walked up a flight of stairs to the first floor, where a few couples, maybe two, are seated and having some food. Matt fights for the right to pull out my chair for me.

  I sit, blushing. They sit next to me, with Matt at the farthest corner of the table, since Richard and Chad beat him to it. We are all seated now. The menus are delivered.

  Matt waves the waiter off and tells him exactly what we all want and what I want specifically, down to the minute details.

  Of course he speaks in Spanish. Or Portuguese. I can’t tell: someone has his hand on my thigh.

  So does someone else.

  Two hands on both my thighs and the entrees aren’t even here yet.

  I coyly smile at Chad and Richard.

  You bad, bad boys.

  I want them now. Right here under the canopy of the most beautiful yellow and white lanterns I have ever seen. I want to suck them off, rub them down, until they show the rest of these couples how it’s done.