I think I may well come just from the feel of a fucking woman touching my breasts.
“See how excited she’s getting?” Wade says, and this time Cameron replies.
Though he does more than that. He echoes Corin almost exactly, in a voice that has a core of steel. Even if it’s kind of wavering, at the same time.
“Give it to her,” he says. “Give her what she wants, for God’s sake.”
As though I need someone to have pity on me—which I suppose I do, in a way. I feel almost lost in this, so turned on I can’t move or speak or do anything without feeling a great swell of intense sensation go through me.
And though I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Cameron’s words only make things worse. He sounds so hoarse and desperate himself, and I can see how thick his cock looks, how swollen—but he’s busy thinking of me. Oh, he always thinks of me. He always has.
Unlike Wade, who just circles and circles with the tip of his finger, now on the inner lips of my sex but still nowhere near all the places I need him to be. And he’s laughing too, as he does it, because I’m so wet that the sounds his slight touch produce are obscene. The room fills up with all of this slick, wet clicking, until my cheeks are aflame and my body is shaking and another noise drowns it out.
The harsh grate of my breathing, followed by a whole host of guttural moans.
“I think she’s going to come,” Kitty says, so full of teasing glee that it’s unbearable—but I can’t say she’s wrong. I can feel it winding up inside me, even without a finger on my clit or in my cunt, and I go with it.
I let it wash over me in tight waves, one after the other until I’m sure I’m going mad and all I can say is “Oh God, yeah, make me come, make me come, rub me there, yes.”
But it’s good, because it persuades Wade into that final soft touch—the one that pushes me over the edge and tears an orgasm from me. All he has to do is slide the tip of his finger over my bulging clit and I go rigid all over, twisting beneath the restraining hands Kitty has on me while all the sounds in the world try to pour out of my mouth.
With little success. I think I manage a long, drawn out Fuuuuccckk, and that’s about the most of it.
And then I just lie there, spent, every muscle in my body twitching and every little bit of sense I have telling me to open my eyes. To pay attention to the things going on around me. I mean, it’s not as though I’m in the middle of a pleasant garden party, during which I can sporadically doze or maybe just drift on a haze of warm happiness.
I’ve got a shark on one side of me and a tease on the other, and any second Cameron’s just going to burst out of his bonds like the Incredible Hulk, and then where will we be? In fraught foursome land, that’s where. There’s just no time for bathing in the afterglow.
Especially when I can already feel Wade trying to turn me over. Not even trying, really. He gets two big hands on my hips—oh God, the way he did to Cameron, the way he did to Cameron!—and wrenches me around, so I barely have time to catch my breath or make sense of anything before I find myself face down on the bed.
I don’t even get a lot of time to acclimatize to this position. He yanks and then I’m up on all fours, ass in the air and everything spread open for his viewing pleasure—a fact that does not escape Kitty.
“Tell everyone how she looks,” she says, and Wade obliges. Of course he does. He’s the new, generous Wade, who’s only too happy to share the sight of my clenching cunt and my come-slicked asshole with the rest of the room.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so mortified or so turned on in my entire life. He uses the word rosebud, for God’s sake. Kitty claps her hands!
I’m dying, I’m dying.
And then Wade says: “What do you think, man? You think I should fuck her there, the way I fucked you?”
And I do more than die. I die and then decompose and turn to dust, every little particle of me blowing away on the slightest breeze. In truth, I think Cameron breathes and I blow away.
Mainly because I don’t know what’s worse—that Wade said something like that to torment us both, or that it doesn’t seem the slightest bit cruel. His tone isn’t even smug, the way it was for the reveal about me and the sex toy. It’s just kind of matter-of-fact and a touch teasing, like an old friend punching another friend on the arm.
And when I look at Cameron, he seems… not relaxed, exactly. But certainly untroubled. Wade isn’t trying to be an ass about anything. He’s trying to reach out and shake Cameron’s hand, in the middle of a foursome.
Which is absurd enough on its own—or at least it would be, if Cameron didn’t shake his hand back.
“Go on,” he says, voice grating. Body almost trembling, all over. “Fuck her ass. Take it. Make her scream your name.”
It’s like some kind of fucking gentlemen’s agreement, about asses. I don’t even know what to make of it, or understand how I feel about it, and this continues until Wade quite suddenly slides something between the cheeks of my bottom, and every nerve in my body wakes up and goes nuts.
“Oooh, you like that, huh?” Kitty asks, and when she does I make the mistake of looking up. Though really, I suppose it’s not exactly a mistake. Seeing someone spread out on a bed in front of you, legs open and a hand working busily over a very wet, very bare pussy…it’s not exactly something you never expect to see in the middle of a foursome.
It’s just that it’s really in my face, and really jarring, and yes, I’ll admit it—really arousing. It trumps the glimpse I got of her pussy to the power of eight million, and I can’t help marveling over how it looks, so close up.
I’ve never even seen my own that close up. And she’s circling her clit in slow, easy circles too, so it’s not as though I can just pretend we’re in the locker room together, soaping ourselves down.
I have to face this, in the same way I have to face Wade doing another thing I’ve never actually experienced before.
Something very slick runs between the cheeks of my ass and I balk. Partly because of the sensation—so tingly and liquid and rude—and partly because I know what it is, and what it means. He’s lubing me up before he puts a finger or a cock in my ass, and I don’t think I can take it.
It’s just too sensitive. I can feel every groove and fold, distinctly, and even more so when he runs a finger down over my clenching hole, again. Or at least, I think it’s a finger. For all I know it could be the vibrator, his cock, the handle of a hairbrush, and oh Lord I really can’t take that.
I lurch forward, unsteadily, and suddenly I realize why Cameron was bruised the next day. I understand, because Wade immediately puts one hand on my hip and drags me back, so hard I just have to gasp aloud.
“Keep still,” he orders me, and I shudder to hear him. Kitty shudders to hear him. Hell—I’m pretty sure Cameron shudders to hear him, though I only get vocal confirmation of this when Wade finally, finally presses the thick head of his cock to that tiny, tiny place.
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ,” Cameron says, even though it’s Wade who’s getting the sensation of this. Wade who’s working and pushing and jerking his cock into my tight hole, until my whole body feels like one big burn and I’m so shaken, so disturbed by the feel of it that I need to tell him to stop.
“Don’t,” I think I say, and he actually obeys me. He eases up, that red hot pressure leaving me for just a second.
Only then…only then…
“Make her take it.”
I think I go rigid. Wade definitely goes rigid. And I understand why, completely—because it isn’t either him or Kitty who gives that one cruel order. It’s Cameron—seething, shaking Cameron, my lovely guy who couldn’t so much as ask for a blowjob, a few weeks ago.
But he can do this now, it seems.
“Make her take it,” he says, again, and this time when Wade rubs the swollen head of his cock against my clenching hole, it gives. I th
ink of Cameron saying words like that and of maybe him behind me instead of Wade, pushing into my yielding body, and I let it happen.
Wade just sinks right in to the hilt, groaning all the while.
I can’t blame him, however. I groan too, so loud it’s embarrassing. And I keep groaning, because just the feel of it, just the sense of being filled so completely and the rough, stretched sensation it pushes through my body… it’s unbelievable.
Was this how Cameron felt, when Wade did it to him? Could he feel every little part of that greedy, grasping hole, rippling around something so thick, so solid? I’m pretty sure Wade wasn’t as patient with him as he is with me, but the feeling remains the same, I’m certain.
Like a million nerve endings are waking up, and firing through my body.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he blurts out, and I can’t help it. I have to imagine all the possible differences between me and Cameron, and how I now feel compared to him. Do I clench harder, around Wade’s slowly working cock? Am I smoother inside, slicker with lube, do I tremble and groan more loudly than Cameron did?
It’s a perverse series of thoughts, but I let them come. They make it easier when Wade finally, finally starts pounding into me, because just the idea of him doing the same to Cameron makes me moan with unchecked arousal.
“Oh yeah,” Kitty gasps, high and tight. “Oh yeah!”
But I don’t know what she’s shouting it about. I’ve got my eyes screwed tight shut so can’t make out if she’s coming or not, and there’s something so random about her cries that I can’t pin them down to anything that’s happening. Is it the sight of Wade, fucking into me hard? Maybe his face is red and his mouth is tight, and she can see by the pressure he’s exerting on my hips that he’s almost past breaking point.
His cock feels even bigger in that narrow channel, now, and I know he must be close. He must be, but he’s not saying anything or showing me anything, and it’s only Cameron and his little filthy outbursts that give me any indication of how this is going.
“Yeah,” he says, brokenly. “Fill her ass.”
And I turn over inside. I call out his name—I have to. I can’t stand to hear him saying things like that while all of these strange, dark feelings barrel through me. It’s not just the actual physical sensation of it—the way the thick ridge around the head of his cock is rubbing and rubbing over that tight ring of muscle; how slick and slippery and rude it all feels, as he ploughs in and out—it’s the feeling it gives me inside.
Of being debased, and used, and oh God I’m sure Cameron mentioned something like that in one of his stories. I’m sure he did, I’m sure, oh Lord, why didn’t he tell me how good it feels? How good it feels, to just give myself over to this wonderful, glorious, down-and-dirty pleasure.
“Harder,” he tells Wade. “Fuck her harder.”
And then Wade says the magic words. The ones I’ve been waiting for, the ones I didn’t even know I wanted until Wade gives them to me.
“Is that what you want, baby? You want me to go harder?” he says, and in reply I tell him the very thing I didn’t fully understand until right now, right this minute, with my orgasm cresting through my shuddering body and everything streaked with unbearable pleasure.
“Don’t ask,” I tell him. “Don’t ask.”
Chapter Fourteen
Nobody moves for a long, long time. Probably out of necessity, if I’m honest, because I’m pretty sure Wade has broken me. And I’ve definitely broken him. He doesn’t move when I ease myself off his softening cock, and he doesn’t move when I put a hand behind me to see if he’s died, and when Kitty rubs her boobs on his face and says Hey, hey, Wade, check out my amazing rack?
Yeah, he doesn’t move then, either.
But at least I know that Kitty’s still living. In fact, she seems to be doing more than just simply living. She seems to be buzzing with this newfound energy—one that prompts her to rub her boobs on me too—until I realize with a little guilty start why that may be the case.
Me and Wade have just had incredible orgasms. Hell—I’ve had two incredible orgasms. And she’s had…maybe one? Possibly? By her own hand?
I know nothing about foursome etiquette, but even I understand that this is not acceptable. Cameron’s fine—he chose to be in this position, and even though he looks like he’s been hooked up to the mains and his face is redder than the heart of the sun, he continues to choose it.
Whereas Kitty…well. She hasn’t chosen to have zero orgasms. She chose to partake in this bizarre mingling of bodies we decided to embark on, and she deserves more than two people passing into a coma while a third remains tied to a bedpost.
In fact, she probably deserves something more than anyone else here. She’s the only one who hasn’t judged, or brought her own deep-seated issues to the party—and she almost never seems to demand anything for herself. It’s really no wonder that she manages to get involved in so many group sex sort of situations.
She’s so generous.
“You like that?” she whispers in my ear, and I manage to get an arm behind myself. I hook it around something on her—I don’t care what—and squeeze her tight, just to let her know that I did.
To let her know more than that, in fact. I want her to be sure that I don’t feel weird about anything that just happened, that I’ll never feel weird about it, that she touched my boobs but so fucking what?
She’s my best friend, and my best friend can touch my boobs if she wants to. I’m not even going to quibble about how awesome it made me feel, or do any kind of weird Oh no I’m a lesbian sort of thing, because I’m not, and neither is she, and oh my God the whole thing was just so awesome.
I can’t feel conflicted and weird about something so awesome. And neither should she—not ever, no, never. I just want her to feel fantastic about everything we’ve just done, and more than that, I want to be as generous with her as she was with me.
I want to give her stuff, and do stuff for her, and what she says next gives me the perfect opportunity.
“Damn it. I really wanted a turn.”
Of course it takes me a moment to process what she means. But then I turn and see Wade snapping the condom off his cock—a cock that’s now as soft and sleepy as he looks—and I understand perfectly.
And though I can’t give her a turn myself, I can offer her something. Something that looks down at me with this strange mixture of trust and frustration all over his gorgeous face.
He’s sweating, I notice. Perspiration has slicked the hair down at his temples, and it’s given his body an almost heavenly sheen. Like he’s been dipped in honey, then presented for our delectation.
It’s too good an opportunity to pass up.
“Why don’t you try out our little slave?” I say, and by God I struggle to get out that last word. Not just because of its meaning, but also because of how silly it sounds in my mouth. I’m so nothing, I’m so not a Queen. What right do I have to call anyone my slave?
But ohhhh, the way Cameron looks at me when I do use it. His eyes roll closed, briefly, and his lips part, and even as Kitty squeals and squirms down the bed toward him, his gaze stays locked on mine.
It doesn’t even shift away from me when Kitty runs a couple of fingers up over his bare chest, and says to him in her low, teasing voice: “You sure you’re ready for this, big guy?”
Of course I know what she’s doing. It’s as close as she can get to asking permission, without breaking the spell of this little game. But to her credit she doesn’t wait for an answer—she just takes the condom the moment I offer it to her, then clasps his thick, leaking cock in her two tiny hands.
It looks almost comical, I have to say. But the thought of that big thing plunging into my little bird-like Kitty…yeah, that’s not quite as comical. It’s arousing and disturbing all at the same time, instead, and it only gets more so when she struggles just as mu
ch as I did, with the rubber.
Maybe even more than that, because oh Lord is Cameron ever on edge. Every squeeze and push of her fingertips over his clearly sensitive cock makes him tremble, and I can’t get over how much strain he’s now putting on his shoulders. He’s leaning so far forward that his arms are practically at right angles to his body—though it heartens me to see Kitty forcing him back.
She does it just the same way I would have done it, soothing him and stroking all over his gleaming body until he leans against the post. Of course, he pants and shakes while she does it, but that’s understandable.
He’s too far gone. Way, way too far gone.
“Use him up,” I tell her. “Get yourself off on his cock.”
And it sounds cruel, I know it does. But it also gives him what he wants and needs, quite obviously. His face changes and his body thrums, visibly, and then she just turns around on all fours like a bitch in heat, and works herself back on his cock.
It’s a sight to see, I tell you. I try my best to remain cool and aloof—in perfect keeping with my story, and his fantasy—but I know I shake with newly blooming arousal. Her expression alone is enough to get me going—so shocked, suddenly, so full of that same thing I had felt, the moment his thick cock stretched me open—but oh she does more than that, so much more.
She asks me to help her. Actually asks me to, just as I think she’s finally notched his prick to her little slippery hole, and oh Lord how can I refuse? I can’t, I can’t, even though the idea seems to make Cameron go absolutely crazy.
He’s shuddering almost constantly now, and it only gets worse as I slowly make my way back to them. By the time I get to the place where his body is almost joining with hers, he’s letting out those little broken ah sounds, and straining at the shoulders again.
I can’t help kissing him. Just a little, just a glancing brush over his lips, while he grits his teeth and tries not to rage for more. Corin didn’t rage for more in the story, after all. He held out to the very end, to the very edges of his limits, and oh God it makes me wonder just what Cameron’s limits are.
Telling Tales Page 21
