by Ryan Ramsay
She sighs, which is not the reaction I was hoping for.
“Ash, I thought you’d understand. You’re always saying we should have our own lives, separate from Mom and Dad…”
And boy have I done that, I think.
I want to tell her about my secret life. About how much money I’ve made and how much freedom I’ve gotten. But it seems that she doesn’t like that I’m with three men at once, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
“That figures,” she says. “I can’t even find love with one guy and you find it with three?”
Oh, so that’s it.
Jealousy.
It’s not I can blame her. I was the golden child and she was the scapegoat, growing up. Our parents showered me with attention and her with neglect. But what she was never able to understand is that they didn’t really love me.
Not unconditionally, not for who I am. But instead, for playing the role they wanted me to play. And Ashley had quit the game – not that I could blame her.
“I could help you find love,” I say, trying to make this right. “I have ways; I’m kind of in the business of match-making…”
Or at least that’s one way to put it, I think.
“…and I can even set you up with super rich men.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she says. “I get it. You have ways and means and connections. You know rich people. You’ve always had it made. You always get everything you want. And you don’t even share it with me.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do…” I start to say, but I realize how it could look.
I don’t feel as I have everything I’ve always wanted. I’ve had to carve my own way for myself. But I can see why she thinks that I do. All because of how our parents always treated us. It’s hard to escape those roles, even as adults. I almost wonder if we will ever be able to be close siblings, the way I would like.
“Look, save it,” she says. “I’m happy for you. Glad you found lots of love. But I have to focus on my own life.”
“I understand,” I tell her. “Just, please keep in touch this time?”
“I’ll try,” she says, and then the line goes dead.
I feel down but I remind myself of the news I had called to share with my sister: I have love, times three.
It was only fitting that it happened on Thanksgiving. Because I couldn’t be any more grateful.
Epilogue
Mia
Six months later
When the girls told me how happy they were after hooking up with the guys from my treasure hunts, I thought it best not to intrude. It felt concocted. It felt unreal.
Stephanie once told me that being in love with three men was the ultimate sense of comfort. She told me that the money was just a perk, and that beyond what they were worth, to her, the only worth that mattered was the way they looked at her.
It was in the way they kissed her forehead at odd times of the day. She told me that when she was tired and angry, clouded by mood swings and an even harder turn of a day at work at her art gallery, the feeling of three sets of arms working magic into her tissues was it all.
I did not say anything to that. I didn’t utter a word in retort. I let it be.
Part of me knew it might have been an exaggeration. The other part knew it may have been true.
Now I know that it was really true. That love exists and is real.
The real reason for this business of mine has never been the sex. It has always been about finding the other side of life, the true meaning; it’s purpose. I wish I had known then what I know now, but what would the point of it all be if that was the case?
I am happy.
I haven’t said that in years.
But I am happy, happier than I have ever been. Alex is an assured distance away from me, stuck in New Zealand at a job he hates. I never have to see him again, thanks to the court order and the addition of his name to the no-fly list.
I am happier now, with Bill’s cock pushing in and out of my ass. His hands grab tight and pull me towards him. My knees buckle and I fall, mouth open, onto Scott’s cock.
Its vein throbs along my tongue in sporadic beats. I swallow it whole, and spit it back out. It glistens. I put it back in, using Bill’s grunting force to go up and down the shaft. My left hand twists and turns along the length, and I could almost cry at the sight of Adam’s contorted face, deep in orgasmic pleasure.
I myself came twice already, from anal. All that is left is my pussy, and that is reserved especially for Adam. I promised him an all-exclusive if he beat me at Scrabble last night.
Fucking prude.
But I love him. I love them all.
And I love the games we all continue to play with each other.
Especially this love-making one.
It reminds me a lot of Twister.
Adam
I get under Mia, right where Scott’s balls dangle and Bill’s thighs pursue. I feel her taught breasts on my chest. I love looking at her large breasts and her curvy hips and ass.
I can feel her body rock and shudder under each of my successive thrusts into her ass. I know what’s coming. So does she. So do they.
I guide my stiff cock onto the lateral line, right next to the warmth of Bill’s thrusting balls. I slide through the resistance and meet her in an audible stutter. Her mouth, however busy making Scott inaudible and brain-dead, moans as I grab her by her gorgeous love handles and thrust in.
I feel him leave as I enter, the thin membrane splitting us apart getting tighter and wetter with each passing thrust. I can feel Scott cum; his balls draining right above me into her waiting mouth.
He pulls out and falls heavily to the bed. Mia turns her head down towards me, her lips dripping wet. She makes sure I see as she swallows and licks herself off, leaving an open mouth, open eyes, open tongue… how can I resist?
We kiss unashamedly. That throws me way off balance.
My orgasm kicks off hard, hard enough for hers to follow through. Bill follows; and we moan into one another with curled toes and rigid ribs, begging for the explosions behind our eyes not to stop.
Mia’s tongue skids down my throat, my cock spewing jets and Bill spewing ropes into her, all at the same time. My ass clenches, a trail of thin sweat visible down my arms and onto the bed.
Her short wet hair sticks softly to her temples, and I delight in her warmth, her radiance. I am in fucking love.
Bill pulls out first and joins Scott on the bed, dick flaccid and desire sated. I remain alone inside her, watching her breath, feeling the soft skin of her neck with the edge of my lips.
I love the feeling of her light weight on my body. Her cunt pulsates around my cock, the wet squelchy love feeding into my budding libido.
She smiles.
“Once more, my love?”
“Perhaps, after?” I ask, out of breath.
Deception is fundamental in such matters. With her eyes taken by me, she could not see my free arm receive a trinket from Bill right beside her. And so, when I let her up with care, onto the pillow, and the three of us who are in love with Mia get down on bended knee before her onto the fuzzy carpet, with the golden ring held up before her, and as our question is asked, the look on her face is worth it.
It is so worth it.
Extended Epilogue
Mia
The cold slope upward steels my soles. Air, warm and soothing, whips round my naked fingers and guides them through the mess of hair. I watch and smile, almost laughing, at the rawness of the sun on his face.
He smiles back, his eyes close to tears; of joy, I hope. He holds my hands way above their height limit, and plants the softest kiss of the day on me. I reciprocate in kind, giddy and refreshed, like cider on ice.
“You do realize we’re ten minutes late?” I ask.
Adam nudges me, simply ignoring the inevitable.
“Honey, we’re late. I don’t want to be that gal, but I don’t think Scott or Bill will be pleased.”
“
And why is that?” he asks playfully, pulling my scarf to the side and caressing the outline of my jaw.
“Because it’s our anniversary, dummy!”
“You mean our seven-month anniversary,” he says, adding, “Which reminds me, is this the one where we get each other paper plates and peace lilies?”
I smack his back. He responds audibly, tilting his head to the side.
“I deserved that.”
“So, are we gonna get into the bush plane or…” he contemplates, his bare feet reaching lazily for the stray shoe.
“Adam!”
“Okay baby, okay. I say we take the long way there.” He pauses at my frowned face. “What? I asked for your time alone on Wednesday through Thursday. They agreed to it, so don’t look at me like the bad guy of the story.”
“I know. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
We hold hands above the green grass and breathe the silence in. The mountains can be so beautiful this time of the year.
“I’m thinking of shifting the business,” I mutter.
A crow flies high above our heads, and I am sure it’s angling for the drumstick leftovers under the flap of my picnic basket. I should watch that one.
He shifts his attention from the plantation of elephants roaming low, quietly grazing through the plains. In the backdrop, Kilimanjaro sleeps as it always has. I wish his eyes wouldn’t burn through me like this.
“I mean it. I’ve taken some time and I think the tide is right.”
“How do you wanna do it?” he asks.
“Maybe add herbs and honey as giveaways instead of wired cash? I’m still working the kinks out. Also, I really want to try to get Ashley involved. She called again. That makes twice in three months. Progress!”
I wish we had made even more progress in our sister relationship but at least it was something. I just know that if she could let me explain to her everything I’ve been up to, and that she could have the same, that she would want us to be closer. In the meantime, at least I have the loves of my life.
“Whatever you decide baby, I am here for you,” he says.
I just love how hard and soft he can be: and I’m not just talking about his dick. No. I must be the luckiest gal in the world to find love like this. The quiet kind of love. The kind that keeps you smiling before the nightmares hit. I feel young again.
Working night and day, traveling to meet my ends and deadlines, all this can be toilsome. It has been. Maybe it’s time for a restructure. Only time will tell. Suddenly I am gasping for air, my arm stretched out far, my hair whipped and my lips warm once more.
He pulls away and points with his eyes.
“Where?” I ask sheepishly.
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
We run like prairie couples do. Up the hill and down the slope, we forget our shoes. We forget the past. We forget. All we see, all we want to see, are the two other men waiting for us in the barn, dinner ready, the smell of cows and baby carrots, the feel of their touch on my skin as we laugh and eat and talk and treat each other to an earful of crazy jokes.
This is all I want.
And I’m so thankful to have it.
**
And with each passing day, I get to know my husbands a little bit better.
Scott loves collecting comics, which, for a man of his stature and position in far-flung society, is awesome. He made me read an entire collection of this alien love story embroiled in war for over fifty chapters. Well, okay, I got hooked by page one.
Adam cooks like a real man. I find it hard to say that the man makes my spaghetti and casserole look like a second grader was in the kitchen. Three times a week he cooks for the chefs in his house, just so they can have those nights off to go spend time with their families.
I cried the first time I saw this, hidden and whispered to by Bill. See, Mister A. here hates his acts of philanthropy seen, especially not by his wife. His best friend let me in on it. That night I took care of him five times.
And Bill. God, Bill. The bearded man of the trio. There’s this thing he does with his tongue that makes us all go nuts. He can curl it. I fucking married a foursome and he’s the only one who can curl his tongue.
But it doesn’t matter. I love all three of them. And I’m so thankful they love me.
**
The night sky under the full weight of the crickets chirping and the elephant bulls trumpeting into the void make it all more resounding with their tongues slithering up and down my pussy.
The candlelight surrounds our writhing bodies, simmering, smoldering our naked bodies into something…more.
Adam braces his tongue hard on my ass. Bill flicks his finger across my tits, pinching each as he spades his nails across my budding goose bumps.
And Scott…well, who else am I supposed to kiss when my body is torn apart like a wet sheet between the loves of my life?
“It feels so good,” I moan, as I cum for what feels like the hundredth time.
“It sure does,” Adam says, his dick in my pussy while Bill’s is in my ass.
I take Scott’s cock in my mouth and tell them, “Now I want you to all cum in me.”
“We can make that happen,” Adam says.
He thrusts his cock in and out of my pussy while Bill pushes his in my ass. I swallow Scott’s cock whole, then stroke the shaft with my hands while I suck on its head.
“Hell yeah,” he says, reaching down and grabbing my hair and twisting some of it in his hand. “That feels so good. That’s going to make me cum.”
I slide around on Adam’s dick while Bill’s is in my mouth, just like I used to fantasize about. And meanwhile Scott’s is all the way down my throat.
“I’m cumming!” I call out, while my three rich, handsome men say the same.
We all release together, joined in pleasure and love.
I couldn’t be any happier that I was their prize on Thanksgiving day. I’ll remain grateful forever, to be with all three of them physically as well as romantically.
The End
Hunted On Christmas
A Virgin and Billionaires Reverse Harem Romance
Copyright © 2019 by Ryan Ramsay; All Rights Reserved.
Chapter 1
Ashley
There are days I wonder out loud why the food in the school food hall lacks a slice of avocado. Those are the days I get visibly agitated when I can’t have the sweet savory tastes I love.
Sandra tells me I should keep that in check whenever we’re in public, or better yet, even when I’m alone. She says I’m weird for caring so much about food.
Then there are days like these, days when I regret. Everyone has regrets, I know. Nothing makes my own any more special than others, if one could call regrets “special.”
Sometimes I regret starting college at all. But once I get through the final exam period that occurs between Thanksgiving break and Christmas, I’ll be in the clear. I’ve come this far – literally this far away from my home in Newport – that I might as well finish it out.
Now I’m sipping on tea and thinking the blend is quite strong for my tastes.
The waiter, waitress, Jacinta, struts quite comfortably around the block of seats, waters the fifty-year-old shrub growing by the farthest window, pats her apron’s edge, smiles at the sods delivery man, and walks on to the third table to my left.
It is all quite fascinating, watching her as she makes her way to me. She’s the reason I come here almost every Monday afternoon.
“Hey, Ash! Heard they’re considering growing patches of lemons and scorpion peppers at the garden down at Carlton’s. There may be avocadoes too,” she adds, with a quick refill of my tea.
And that’s why I come here. She knows what a customer wants.
“That’s an interesting turn of events.”
She frowns.
“You okay? Professor Winger wigging you out again?”
“No,” I reply. “It’s that time.”
She raises a quick brow.
“Of the year, not what you’re thinking. Exams,” I defend.
She chuckles and pats her apron once more, revealing a slight baby bump.
“How far along now?”
“Two more months to go.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Ash. It means a lot coming from you.” She pauses. “You wouldn’t mind if I named her after you?”
I almost choke.
“It’s a girl?” Then, “Why?”
“Hey,” she says, with a rushed pat of my shoulder. “I’m only kidding. The part about naming her after you of course. And yes, it’s a girl.”
“Congratulations, Jass. I’m sure Perkins is elated,” I say, with a glance at the delivery man.
She leans in, careful not to bend at the knees.
“It’s our little secret,” she confides. “I’m not telling him yet.”
“Ah,” I breathe. “It’s all good.”
“More tea?” she asks.
I seem to have been sipping at it while we talked, although I hadn’t meant to be. I shake my head, without telling her it’s not my favorite – my literal “cup of tea,” ha – because I don’t want to hurt her feelings.
She beams.
“We should go to Carlton’s over the weekend. Bring Sandra along if she’s available. We can have a lemonade bonanza, yeah?”
It’s our favorite cocktail there, although we’ve only been once.
“Sure thing, Jass,” I nod.
She almost floats away to the next table, serving and smiling like it is her life’s ultimate purpose.
I lean back. The empty plate of onion rings and the lettuce bowl next to it don’t complement the almost-warm tea. I feel funny in my throat. I wish I hadn’t eaten the food before the mint tea came along.
Why is she always like this?
Mia, that is. My beloved sister.
Three years, it’s been. She still doesn’t make it any easier. I still can’t believe that three years have actually gone by. And she’s still the same.