My mind was seriously dizzy with the fact of this all happening so very quickly, and I wasn't sure I wholly believed the apparent reality of it as Adam and I were brought over to our respective beds, and with our respectively swapped partners.
I was brought back to reality to some extent, however, by the sudden placing of the man's lips on my own- Michael was his name, by the way, and Ashley was the name of his girlfriend. His lips tasted absolutely sumptuous from the very first nibble, waves of delectable sensation filling me up, and almost forcing me to accept the absurdity of this beautiful transition. His breath, his saliva, were warm and comforting, slowly working down the levels of my inhibitions as his lips slid all over me, his tongue poking into my cheeks, sloshing around and around, and causing me to fight back playfully with my own, the two of us French kissing like young lovers as he laid me down across the bed, and blanketed his warm weight down on top of me.
There were so many damn things I should have been worried about right now, so many things to consider and so many issues to be concerned with. I mean, Adam and I had had no means of discussing this arrangement at all at the point of being asked to join these two in their bedroom, and although we'd both seemed to agree to the idea with a considerable level of enthusiasm, I wondered if this was something he was really okay with, or if it had simply been a matter of the two of us consenting in a hurry on the spot. And, for that matter, I didn't know myself how I felt about the idea of him fucking another woman, much less right beside me, and although I savored the prospect of being plowed mercilessly by Michael, I couldn't help but fear a sense of jealousy beginning to crop up between the two of us by the time all was said and done.
But then, as Michael slid his mouth to my throat and hungrily sank his teeth into my neck, I looked over beneath his weight and caught a brief glance of Adam and Ashley over on the adjacent bed. The two of them were seriously going at one another, moaning and grunting and their shirts already off, Adam bare chested and the straps of Ashley's black bra beginning to slide down along her dark shoulders. She was on top of him, dry humping him as they made out wildly, her ass beginning to peek out from the white fabric of her pants in the skimpy black g-string of a thong, and his hands sliding all over that beautiful vixen, groping her from tit to toe with the greatest of enthusiasm.
And as real as my initial inhibitions may have been about the matter, I found suddenly that I couldn't help but be turned on by this sexual swap, the two of us indulging in a taboo bout of sheer, splendid passion, and I turned accordingly back to Michael on top of me, in order to enjoy this sweet sexual experience for all that it was worth.
For my part, there was something almost magical about kissing someone for the first time again, as Adam and I had been married for several years at this point, and I hadn't really anticipating ever again having this sort of opportunity. It was, suffice it to say, a beautiful thing, and I craved being consumed by this man as his lips dissolved over every inch of me, and his hands began to creep over every warm, soft swath of flesh.
My eyes went wide as I watched him lean up off of me, arching his spine back and peeling out of his sweat-soaked shirt, his broad black chest an incredible sight to behold as I gawked up at him on top of me, and the desire to be utterly taken by this man causing my loins to burn hotter and wetter than I could recall them having done in some considerable amount of time.
And now, God help me, he was peeling me out of my clothes, sweeping off every damn scrap of fabric from my anatomy, piece by piece of the stuff dissolving from my form, and being cast from the bed until I was down to nothing but my underwear. I savored with awe the feeling of my bra being swept down along my arms, the cups slid from my tits and my nipples at last exposed, erect and sensitized in preparation for him, every ounce of my flesh prepared to be positively devastated by his touch.
He reached up, seizing my breasts in his large dark hands and squeezing them tightly, clamping on for dear life, pinching on the nipples and causing me to cry out with passion. He began to knead the two warm mammaries up beneath his grip, and as he did so he leaned in, planting his lips on the side of my neck, kissing me softly and sweetly, so that my eyes fluttered shut, and a warm chill came running down along my spine.
Then, if that degree of sweet, beautiful torture hadn't been enough, now he was letting his lips slide down onto me, pressing them up against each of my tits, and his teeth sinking into me, his tongue rolling hotly around the perimeter of each nipple, and causing me to swell like a damn balloon with sensation. I moaned, and squirmed, and reeled with sheer pleasure beneath him, and all the while savored the feeling of his hot, stiff cock pressing up against me through the fabric of his cotton pants, a cock which seemed absolutely tremendous as it swept across my flesh, and which I simply couldn't wait to have inside me...
And then, God help me, I could feel his fingers creeping up along my thighs, slipping beneath the fabric of my panties, and proceeding to tug them down, down, down along my body. The cool air blasted against my overheated loins in such a manner that I didn't know what the hell I should do to contain myself, but at any rate he was now pressing up against my thighs, pushing them apart, and spreading me so severely that I couldn't stand it. I braced myself, holding my breath, counting down the seconds as I felt his face lower into me, sinking, sinking, sinking down, and at last causing my eyes to spring wide.
Sensations coursed through my trembling anatomy, as his mouth conformed with my cunt and his lips aligned with those of my twat, his tongue slipping through me, and rolling around down there with such grace that it was almost dizzying. As tremendous as were my own husband's oral skills, they nearly paled in comparison with what this glorious sexpot of a man could offer me, as he poked and pushed and slurped through my vagina with the greatest of enthusiasm, each nod and bob of his neck seeming more skilled than the last, and my body beginning to react accordingly to his efforts.
My legs began to close around his working head as he ate me, locking him up against my body like a vice, and pulling him in, in, into myself, my flesh quivering as I buried him in my muff, and lights seeming to flash before my eyes as I positively collapsed with pleasure. Moaning vehemently, now, it occurred to me suddenly that the bed beside me was absent of any sort of feminine cries of pleasure, and, curious, I looked over to see what the two of them were up to.
Adam, now, had his head tilted back, his eyes shut and pointing up at the ceiling, and his hand on the back of Ashley's bobbing head as she sucked on his cock for him, her body completely nude at this point, and every dark, splendid asset jiggling perfectly with every sumptuous move she made. Hell, I almost felt more turned on by the sight of it as she deep throated him like a champ, but at the present, orgasm was beginning to course through my body, and I found myself largely distracted from my voyeurism for the time being.
I came, hard, nearly crushing the skull of the beautiful bastard presently sucking on my pussy, my thighs collapsing around his head, and trembling until at last he was released. I then groaned loud with contentment, releasing him, and allowing my body to go drifting back down onto the bedspread in an exhausted heap.
Now, it was Michael's turn to get his nut up, and I was like putty in his hand as he picked me up effortlessly, bringing me onto my hands and knees, and mounting me like a damn animal. I cried out in agony as he pushed himself inside me, piercing my tight pussy with his cock and screwing his way inside, his erect shaft immense as he slid along, filling me up totally with himself, and groaning until he at last touched down, deep, deep, deep within my body.
God, how I loved it, the feeling of him in me, expanding me and pushing me to my outermost limits as he began to thrust, slowly heaving his massive anatomy in and out, in and out, in and out of me, his strokes getting harder and harder and harder as the moments slipped by.
And before I knew it, I was being absolutely pounded by this behemoth of a man, his pelvis smacking against my ass and his thickness being plunged deeper and deeper up between my thighs,
fucking me so hard that I thought I might go cross-eyed, my breasts swaying wildly with each blast of his body and my head waving about wildly and at concussive speeds from the force.
I began to moan, to shriek, to cry out with passion, and suddenly I overheard a similar sound coming from the next bed over, a chorus of pleasure that I simply couldn't help but investigate. Simultaneously, as I was being plowed by Michael, Ashley was straddling my husband grinding away on top of him and humping him like there was no tomorrow, her beautiful glazed body swaying in the darkness, and my husband's eyes so wide that he seemed disbelieving that this could really all be happening to him.
After so much of this pounding of my own, I was at last heaved into with one last, vicious strike, nearly knocked clean off the bed, I thought, until orgasm began to pulse through my form in waves yet again, every part of me lighting up with climax, and the effects even more devastating this time around. But, much to my surprise, Michael didn't yet cum inside me, and though his cock throbbed and pulsed and threatened to burst, he eventually pulled out of me, for the most part, dry.
There was still a hell of a lot left for the four of us to accomplish before he allowed himself to achieve release...
Very soon, the two king sized beds were being pushed together, in a manner that symbolized that this previously isolated incident of swinging, with the two couples keeping at arm's length of one another, was now being transformed into an outright, free-for-all orgy.
Accordingly, the four of us now dissolved into a sloppy, unsanitary heap of limbs, damning our presumed sexual orientations to hell, and grabbing onto whatever bits of hot, heaving flesh we could find. Before I knew it, I wound up in Ashley's arms, kissing another woman for the first time in my life, her taut, sweaty body, feeling almost magical beneath my fingertips, and her lips tasting sheerly splendid as they melted against my own. I loved having her body pressed up against me, our pussies so close together that they nearly touched, not to mention our breasts making contact at the nipples, and I began to wonder why the hell I had gone this long without ever having fucked another girl.
Almost even more astonishing than this, however, was the fact that our respective lovers were now playing with one another as well, Michael and Adam holding one another's cocks and stroking them wildly as they watched Ashley and I make out, the entire scene seeming almost fictional, unbelievable, but oh so delectable all the while.
Soon, the four of us were spreading out across the bedspread, arranging into a man, woman, man, woman pattern, and ducking our heads between the legs of the next individual in front of us, in what turned out to be an agonizingly beautiful daisy chain.
Simultaneously, I had my pussy eaten out for the third time that day, this time by my husband once again, as meanwhile I did my damnedest to give head to the immensely endowed Michael, his cock a difficult one to get my lips around, but the feeling as it came sliding down the tight crook of my throat beyond any pleasure that words could describe. I sucked and slurped and rolled my tongue around him, swallowing him and letting him slide back out yet again, again and again and again, the pleasure of the scene blinding, mind-blowing, and so sweet that I didn't know how the hell I would go back to my day-to-day life once the extent of this vacation was over.
And finally, following one final, absolutely agonizing switching up of positions, I found myself being smothered with love by the collective of the group. My body was draped out across my husbands, penetrated from below by the man I loved, and his lips pressing warmly against me as I shook with splendid anticipation for what was about to take place.
Then, God almighty help me, I felt Michael climbing onto the pile on top of me, mounting me, and pushing his way inside me. I had to pull my lips away from Adam's, screaming and cringing with sensation, as I was stretched out wide by the force of two erect cocks inside me, their shafts sliding together in the wet folds of my body, and the pleasure of this knowledge crippling me like nothing else could possibly do.
And at last, with both of them pressed deep inside me, they began to fuck, to thrust, to grind together, each motion of their bodies more devastating than the last as they plowed me, so that no amount of screaming, or moaning, or crying out with pleasure, could possibly go any length at all in preserving me. They pushed and pumped and humped, their combined heat and weight crushing me in the most pleasant of ways, the agony a dreadful beauty as the moments ticked along, and the entire room seeming to spin in circles around me.
And finally, with a last, brutal thrust, the two of them pushed their way as deep as they could go inside me, holding themselves in place, and spilling over the edge.
The two of them absolutely filled me up with their warm, abundant seed, the stuff pulsing through my body and overloading me to the brim, their own substances coating one another's still pumping cocks and lubricating them, and at long last setting me clean over the edge.
I came, harder than ever, sandwiched between my two immaculate lovers, my screams causing my own ears to ring, my body trembling all over, and every ounce of my composure shot to hell with each hot wave of orgasm rolling over me like a steamroller.
And finally, after every last bit of pleasure was exhausted, the two men pulled out of me, and wrapped me up in their arms. For some time the three of us, along with Ashley, lay entwined in the afterglow, rolling around and making out, performing more sexual favors for one another as the affair spanned on into the night, and the sheer bliss of it all seeming eternal, permanent, and neverending.
And God... This sure as hell hadn't been mentioned in the brochure...
THE END
Menage In The Attic
It wasn’t like they’d never joked about it before. Seriously, who hasn’t joked about a zombie apocalypse? Who doesn’t know exactly which weapon they’d choose to battle the undead? Who hasn’t semi-seriously considered the layouts of places like Walmart, Lowe’s, and Target, pointing out the fact that it would be much easier to grow a sustainable, aquaponic garden in Lowe’s, but less effort necessary to expend while living off the snack-packed aisles of Target? Who hasn’t debated the speed at which a zombie can run, and whether they can survive in frigid climates or not? The three roommates had gotten drunk and talked zombie contingency plans more times than any of them could count. It was practically a right of passage as a young 20-something to know your plans in the event of a zombie apocalypse.
They just never expected to have to use those plans.
“Max, stop fucking around and nail those boards over the windows,” Casey Beeler yelled as she flipped back her long red hair and used the heel of her beautiful spiked Louboutins to hammer a nail into a plank of wood across the front door. Because, of course, this incompetent house of juvenile delinquents didn’t have a second hammer. For Chrissakes, of all the people to be stranded with during a zombie apocalypse, Max Schwartz and Jeff Conrad were not the ideal candidates. Casey paused to pull her phone from her back pocket and check the screen for any messages. None. She sighed and jammed it back into her jeans.
“No word from ‘New Boyfriend’?” sneered Jeff, taking a break from hauling boxes of canned food up to the third floor to lean on the counter.
“No word from ‘Rainbow Tears’?” Casey snapped back, slamming her shoe against the head of the nail. Scuffs were starting to mark the black matte sole. If they survived this attack, Casey was going to kill these assholes. And then buy them a better toolkit. One that didn’t include a single hammer, a broken ruler, and an old Snickers bar.
“Her name isn’t ‘Rainbow Tears,’ it’s Misty,” Jeff sniffed, folding his arms. “And I’m sure she’s perfectly fine in a safe house somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Casey snorted. “A safe house of incense and patchouli and her feelings.”
“Casey, stop fucking around and nail those boards over the door,” Max called from the front window, where he was ineffectually trying to fasten two boards in an x formation over the glass. He paused, picked up the smoking joint he’d set beside the broken
lamp, and took another hit.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Max, how are you this incompetent. And how are you getting high right now?” she asked incredulously. “We’re trying not to die.”
Max raised an eyebrow and took another hit. “How are you not getting high right now?” he replied easily.
Casey thrust her shoe at Jeff and glared at him. “You do the door,” she said. “I have to help Max understand that two measly planks, shoddy construction, and marijuana are not going to save us from the undead.”
They hadn’t moved into 183 Dancy Street together because they were friends, not by a long shot. Casey was studying painting at the university, and she’d needed a cheap place to live close by. Unfortunately, so did everyone else attending the university, and finding an apartment she could actually afford to rent in a place that wasn’t an hour away minimum by public transportation turned out to be an impossible venture. When she saw the ad for a room in 183 Dancy, she’d been ecstatic. The house wasn’t much – a two storey post war blue house on a corner, the porch sagging on one end, the floor boards rattling beneath her feet, dishes unwashed in the sink, stupid figurines on the old mantle above the fireplace (which she later learned belong to Max, because who else would own an Indian snake figurine that promised fertility to all the men in the house), and strange dirt marks all along the walls in the living room. The stove hardly functioned when called upon. The furniture was mismatched and broken. Nothing had been dusted in the last fifty years. But the room had cream-colored crown molding and a nice view of the trees, and the roommates… Casey would be an idiot if she didn’t admit that the first time she met them, she had to work to keep her face from betraying how gorgeous she really thought they were. Jeff was a photographer, and maybe he was a total slob and was constantly bringing home the dumbest girls humanity had to offer, but his swooping mop of blonde hair and his tall, strong physique had made her heart pound. And Max was a massage therapist, for God’s sake. With strong hands and a permanent 5 o’clock shadow and green eyes that could weaken her knees in a millisecond. Yes, he smoked a lot of weed and played video games all day long, and maybe she should have paid more attention to those attributes when she was looking at the room, but she’d been blinded by their combination of light and dark beauty. It was all she could do not to cheer while she signed the lease.
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