I writhed between them, caught, trapped, feeling them smash into me, both of them, as Dexter reached for Sir, and they held each other, me between them. It built in my chest and cunt, this intense ache, and Dexter drove it out of me with his cock, Sir yanked it out of me with that chain, and I let it out, pouring from me, sobbing, coming, desperate, losing all sense of ground.
Dexter roared in satisfaction, shoving his cock into me even harder, so fast I could tell he was coming too, pushing another orgasm out of me before I finished that last one, and I was sure I was not going to make it, and started whimpering as I cried and shook my head. He began to growl as he fucked me, ramming into me, telling me I had to take it for him, that he was going to fuck me as much he needed to, and I had to take it. I was sobbing and shaking my head, I couldn’t take it, it was too much, too hard, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let go any more. I had to hold on to something. He was merciless, grinning down at me as I cried, moaning and grinding his cock into my cunt in time with my sobs.
He shuddered inside me, his eyes feral and frightening. I didn’t want him in me anymore, he was too scary, too much. I couldn’t do it, I didn’t know how to please him, wasn’t sure he really wanted me to let go. I shook my head harder, crying, and looked up at Sir, desperate.
Sir told me to just let go and take it for him, that he needed me to please Dexter. There was no escape from it. I was trapped between them, helpless. I took a slow breath, and looked up at Dexter, aching for him to tell me what he wanted from me.
“This is how I like it. I like fucking you as you cry. I like knowing that it’s my cock that is making you cry. I like claiming your cunt with my cock as the tears slide down your cheeks, knowing you are helpless to stop me. That’s my good girl. Cry for me.”
I felt the tightness in my chest release. He did want me, he did want me to cry as he fucked me. I could really let go. I wailed, and held his eyes as I did it, feeling his cock ramming into me, letting it all out, showing it to him, feeling how it made him come. It felt so good to let go. He was really going to catch me. I was safe. He leaned over, and slid his finger along my cheek, sliding it into his mouth and grinding his cock into me as he tasted my tears. Then he lifted up, and pulled Sir’s mouth down to his.
“Taste her tears on my lips,” he said reverently, going still inside me, holding his breath as he waited for Sir to complete the motion and kiss him.
I held my breath too, knowing how much they both needed this, how important it was. I trembled, waiting, trying desperately to be quiet for this moment. Hoping.
When they finally kissed, I was aching to breathe, and couldn’t. It was like a prayer at first, and then filled with hunger, and sadness, and so much love it made my heart burst and my cunt explode, and I couldn’t be quiet anymore.
They began to writhe with me as they kissed more fiercely, cocks shuddering as they came, growling into each other’s mouths. And after we came, we broke into laughter, falling all over each other, sweaty and joyous, limbs all confused and tangled, eyes smiling.
My Sirs wrapped me up that night between them, holding me as we slept, hands gently stroking me, heads resting against mine, slow steady breath on my skin. They had found each other again, and we all knew that they would not let go this time. It was what we all wanted, needed. They were big enough, powerful enough, and cruel enough, to hold all of my aching desperate need, wring every ounce out of me. And I was glad to be held by them, used by them, claimed by them both.
VACATION
Ali Oh
This is my vacation. It includes waking up at 5:30 or earlier every morning to Jae’s screaming nieces, sleeping on a couch because I, in my infinite wisdom, forgot to bring my air mattress, and most of alclass="underline" stress. The lesser stress of worrying that her family doesn’t like me and is judging my every motion, word or thought. (I’m sure they can read minds, right?) And then there’s the greater stress of her family having too many people, too little money and certainly not enough time.
Yet Jae and I want to make this our vacation. We’ve taken time off from work to relax. And we… well… we can make some adult fun happen.
It starts in the car on the way back from Orlando, after dropping off her brother’s computer for repair. We’ve been teasing all day—remarks here and there, subtle touches. Jae slapped my thigh while we were waking up. The tension had been building and all I wanted to do was fuck. I said so. I told her we had to make it happen. And she kept saying, “We’ll see, we’ll see.” Which I understand. How, in a house with so many little monkeys, can adults have their own time-out? I’ve made an executive decision to take it outside the house. Jae is driving and I am so hard that I ache. The blood rushes in and makes me stiff, makes my face flush. I reach my left hand under her seat belt and pull her button loose, slide my hand farther down. There’s a sensory aspect, something about just feeling. I feel things I don’t usually notice, when I’m not staring at what I’m doing. I run one light finger up and down—she opens out, flower-like and just as soft.
“What’re you doing?” Jae always asks this when I’m being especially naughty; especially forward. Harnessing my attraction is not my strong suit, so I hear this phrase often.
“Playing, baby boy.” I keep running my finger over her slit. I watch her. We aren’t naked, so I can’t see her body. I can barely see her eyes for the sunglasses, but I can watch her face. I can feel her tense up every time my finger brushes her clit, like that spot makes electricity just for me. She jolts as I find it again and circle around it with one finger. She grabs the wheel, and I see her knuckles white against the black leather. I slide her between two of my fingers, rubbing on either side. She’s wet for me—judging from how much, I think maybe she’s been wet for a while. When did it start for her? She moves a hand to her face, puts one delicate finger between her parted lips, a silent sigh held back as my slick finger plays. She’s my boy, sure. But there are moments when I see her vulnerability; where I see how much she wants me to top her. This’s one of them.
I keep making her gasp. She’s supposed to be driving seventy, but she’s at sixty-four and falling. Cars are zooming by and I say nothing—I want her to lose her mind. I don’t want her to worry about the landscaping truck next to us, the driver attempting to watch. I can’t take it anymore—she’s so beautiful, and as she gets more slick I can’t help myself. I rip my button open, tell her I’m not wearing underwear, start touching myself as I’m watching her at the wheel. I’m louder (I’m usually louder). I start to moan and she inhales sharply. I know exactly what she wants—she need not ask. It’s written all over her open mouth, her hands gathered at six o’clock; in the way that she shifts, trying to get my fingers lower, into her opening. She wants me to fuck her on the highway.
“Can you drive?”
“Yes.”
I inventory my fingers, numb from the seat belt pinching my wrist. But I don’t care—I want to feel her envelop me, come all over me. She feels like silk. I fuck her first with one finger and finally, I hear a noise. A squeak and a whisper. Two. She opens for me and I feel her drip down my fingers. I slip one finger into me. Then two. “Fuck me harder, baby boy.” She likes when I play like that. When I tell her how thick she is, how much she fills me up.