Despite the fact that we’re already in crazy porn land.
‘Bet you’re so wet right now, huh? All night with nowhere to go. Bet you’re half crazy,’ he says, and I can’t tell him what I want to – that he’s absolutely correct, of course he is. I have to just sit there, while my heart pounds in all the parts I usually use for speech.
‘Come here, baby,’ Tyler says, but he doesn’t stop there. Once I’ve been hypnotised into standing up, he barrels straight into further, lewder instruction. ‘Lift that T-shirt.’
And though I can hear Brandon somewhere in the background, telling me that I don’t have to if I don’t want to, I’m not really paying attention. The magician has spoken his spell, and I’m compelled to obey.
‘Now take those cute little shorts down,’ he says, and I obey that, too. I have to. His foggy gaze is like a hypnotist’s trick and, after a moment of it, I can’t resist. I wriggle the cottony material down my legs and off, so that when I straighten back up again he can see everything – my smoothly waxed mons, my pouting pussy lips. Even with my legs mostly closed, I’m pretty sure he can make out the protruding tip of my stiff clit.
I must look obscene, and not just because of those two things.
‘Ohhhh yeah. Look how wet you are, baby,’ he purrs, then turns to an almost crazed Brandon. ‘I told you she’d be this wet. Look at it all over her legs and her sweet little mound. Come on, baby, come here.’
He doesn’t wait for me to comply this time, however. He just leans forwards and gets me around the waist, then reels me in as though it’s nothing. It’s not a big deal that I’m naked, and it’s not a big deal that he lifts me off my feet a moment later before spreading me out over the table.
But it is a big deal that the word ‘spread’ is in there. The second I’ve got my back to the wood he shoves my thighs apart and, when I gasp and maybe struggle a little, he holds me there. He keeps me like this, cunt completely exposed and open. Everything is on view for both of them, in a way I’ve never experienced before.
I’m not even sure if I’ve ever had one man looking at me like this, never mind two. And he doesn’t stop with the hands splayed on my thighs, and that hypnotist’s gaze on my exposed sex. He uses two fingers to stroke through all the mess I’ve made, until everything is there for him to see and talk about.
‘Ohhh you’re soaking. How long have you been this way, huh? How long did you listen to us talking, with your clit all swollen like this?’
On the word ‘clit’ he just feathers over the tip of it, but embarrassingly, it’s almost enough to put me over the edge. Pleasure clenches right around that spot and then kicks outwards, leaving me gasping and moaning. I think I even say one or both of their names.
Shortly before Tyler has mercy on me, and bends to lick where his fingers have just been.
Somewhere to the right of me, Bran chokes out a ‘holy crap’, but I don’t mind. I understand. I want to use the exact same words myself the second Tyler starts rubbing and working that slippery tongue over my aching bud. It’s just too much all at once, too intense, and I try to get away at the feel of it. I buck my hips, and squirm.
But that just gives him the opportunity to slide two fingers into me, so sudden and shocking and most of all – easy. There’s no sense of pressure or hint of burn. I’m so slippery he just fucks right into me, slow at first, but then with a little more intent. Soon it’s three fingers instead of two, and then he’s hitting that bundle of nerves inside me, over and over, while his tongue makes those tight, slick circles around my clit.
It’s unbearable. I want to clamp my legs together, but of course I can’t. I’m trapped by his broad hands, digging into my thighs, and by a sensation so intense it’s almost like burning. He flicks over the underside of my swollen bud in this maddening, awful way, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I can’t even tell him not to, because all that comes out when I try is, ‘Uhhhh, yeah, you’re gonna make me come.’
I don’t think I’ve ever said anything like that to another living soul, but it’s impossible to deny. Thirty seconds in and I’m totally going to do it, because of the thick thrust of his fingers and the greedy feel of his tongue. Even the sounds he’s making get me closer – all these breathy, hot groans that gust over my overheated flesh.
And then Brandon joins him in song and, oh, I don’t know what to do.
‘Yeah, go on, do it to her,’ he says, as though he’s become a different person. It’s just like before, only this time I get to see exactly how he looks when it happens. His face is flushed and his eyes are glazed, and they don’t fix on me with the usual mixture of patience and concern. Instead, they slide over my body, taking in all the sights as they go.
And as for Bran’s mouth … oh God, his mouth. Tyler was right – he is just magnificently horny. I’ve never seen anyone look so ready to fuck in all my days. His tongue is poking up into the corner of his upper lip, like there really is some erogenous zone there that I don’t know about.
And he’s … he’s doing other stuff, too. He’s got a hand over his right pec, but it’s not just lingering there. Once I manage to focus I can actually see: he’s pinching his own nipple, between thumb and forefinger. He’s plucking at it, in a way I’ve never seen any other man do.
And of course he’s hard. He’s so hard his cock has made a little wet spot on the loose material of his sweatpants. Another second and he’ll be masturbating, I know it, and I don’t mind admitting that I want to hold off for that. I do, oh I do.
But I can’t. Tyler gives one last lick over the underside of my clit and my orgasm grabs a hold of me, too tight to bear. I almost scream against my gritted teeth, and I know I go rigid. There’s just nothing I can do about it. The pleasure drums through me, jerking my helpless body as it goes.
And then once it’s done there’s just this relief. Intense, beautiful relief, as though all of these years have actually been an endurance test of some kind and finally, finally I’ve made it over the finishing line. I broke the tape, and now I’m a limp rag by the drinks stand, gulping down oxygen and victory, in equal measures.
Though as I lie there, basking, I neglect one vital component in said victory. I mean, I might be satisfied, but the guy who got me to that satisfied place certainly isn’t. I’m not even sure if ten per cent of Tyler’s kinky desires have been used up, in all honesty, because after a moment of limp bliss I hear him say to Brandon, loud and clear, ‘Here. Taste her. Taste her.’
Of course, I have to look. What sort of fool wouldn’t? My good and very hunky friend Tyler is offering his glistening fingers to my good and very hunky friend Brandon, and when I turn my head I’m just in time to see that neat, square mouth devouring what he’s been offered – with gusto.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Brandon do anything with gusto. And it’s a real sight to see, too – those eyes of his half closed and almost mean seeming, mouth working and working around those two fingers, as though it’s nothing at all.
Yeah, we can just do this now. We suck and fuck each other and get totally lost in pleasure, even if the pleasure makes us insane. Which I think it has, because a moment later Tyler one-ups this dirty little show they’re putting on.
He waits, I think, until Brandon is in that state of dazed complicity. And then he slides his sweatpants down one-handed, and says the words that will probably haunt my masturbation fantasies for the next one thousand years: ‘You want to suck something else?’
Oh God, something else. And he’s clearly not talking about his big toe. You couldn’t possibly mistake what he’s saying, because the thing he’s just revealed isn’t exactly overlook-able. It’s bigger than I remember, and thicker, and it juts out from the nest of oddly dark hair at his groin like an accusation. Like a command.
Do it.
And Brandon does.
He doesn’t hesitate, or shoot a surreptitious glance at me. He just pours off his chair and onto the floor, then takes that heavy, swollen prick into his mouth
– so greedy for it he doesn’t even stop to catch his breath. It’s almost embarrassing for me to watch, because I know I’ve never gotten up this level of sloppy enthusiasm. He sucks so hard and so wetly I almost wish I had a cock so I might know how incredible this must feel.
Though Tyler does, at least, give me some approximation. ‘Yeah, make it nice and wet. Do it just like that – suck me off, you little cocksucker.’
And he also says some other things, too. Things I do not know how to process – I mean, does Brandon enjoy being talked to in such a brutish, mean sort of manner? Somehow I can’t imagine he does … until I realise he’s actually jerking off, as he swallows Tyler’s cock.
He’s got his hand inside his pants, but even that’s not enough. After a second of frantic rubbing, he pulls his cock free and jerks at his own stiff length as he laps and sucks at Tyler’s. I swear, all I can hear are the thick, slick sounds of fucking, and all I can see are hard cocks being pleasured, and then Tyler says, ‘You want some, Maisie?’
And I float up, out of my body, to watch all of this from someplace safe. I have the overwhelming urge to check over my shoulder, just in case there’s another hotter, dirtier girl lying on the table behind me.
I know there isn’t. There’s just me, and Tyler, and Brandon, and Tyler is fucking Brandon’s face with his meaty cock, and Brandon is moaning and sucking and stroking himself, so really, who’s the odd man out, here? I’d practically be a social pariah, if I didn’t at least nod my head. And maybe fumble my way off this table, until I’m somehow on my knees, too.
I’ve got a close-up, then, of Tyler’s cock easing in and out of Brandon’s mouth. All that slick spit greasing the way. The flicker of his tongue over the flared head, just before the whole thing sinks back in. It’s delicious, unbearable – and yet when Tyler forces his friend back and exposes all of that thick length, something clenches low down in my belly.
I think it’s nerves. Or arousal. Or a mixture of the two. And it comes again – harder – when Tyler offers his dick to me. I’m going to taste Brandon on him, I think, deliriously, but the idea doesn’t stop me. I want to do this dirty thing, even though Brandon echoes some of my concerns a second later.
‘You don’t have to be a part of this,’ he says, but that’s both the problem and the allure of it. Being a part of something – something sexy and forbidden and full of delicious promise.
A little piece of me wants to say no and end it. But most of me wants to say yes.
Yes, I think, and then I lean forwards and part my lips around the sweet swell of his cock. Slow, at first, but, oh, when he groans for me, when he gives me a sound that has as much abandon as Brandon usually does, I can’t stop myself descending into frantic. I suck hard, licking and licking to get more of that taste – different to Brandon’s salt-sweet cock, but with a hint of his mouth at the back of it – greedy for it before I’m even sure I want to be.
Though I’m surer after he speaks.
‘You want it? Huh? I’m gonna do it in your mouth.’
Yeah, I’m sure then. I glance up at him and he’s near shaking, face as flushed as Brandon’s, nipples making tight little points through his shirt. It’s arresting to see him like that but even more so to feel him this out of control, and I push for a bit extra.
I want him to fuck my mouth, I realise. I want him to be rough with me the way he was with Brandon, but he holds back. Just a little. Just enough for it to surprise me when his head goes back and his hips jerk forwards, and his thick, creamy spend floods my mouth.
‘Ohhh yeah,’ he tells me. ‘Keep going, keep going, I’m coming.’
But he really doesn’t have to explain. Even if he wasn’t spurting all over my tongue, I can actually feel his cock swelling and jerking. He’s trembling, too – little spasms that make me crazy and remind me of how it felt for me to climax so viciously and hardly be able to think through any of it.
I can hardly think now. I drown in the sounds of both my men going over, first in the guttural but reined-in groans that Tyler gives me, and then the much bolder, brighter cries of pleasure from Brandon, as he gives me what I never thought he could. He stands up for his orgasm and instead of tamely splashing my belly or my breasts he coats the place Tyler’s just finished filling.
He covers my lips and my chin and my cheek with his come, until I’m nothing but a used up mess. I’m a cock-sucking slut, too, but that’s not half the insult it used to be in my head.
It’s like a badge of honour, instead.
Chapter Six
I don’t know what to do, once it’s done – and that’s probably how I end up taking another shower like a maniac. I stand under the hot spray and have ten imaginary conversations in my head, most of which start with the words So what do we do now? And finish with me returning to my monotonous life.
I’m not brave enough for this, I think. I’m the kind of person who started out at college dreaming of being a writer, and gradually eroded that dream down to a journalist, and then a teacher, and finally ended it with what I am: a librarian.
I can sense that I’m going to erode this, too. After all, I did that very thing last time. I took something sexy and risky and great and turned it into something I never wanted to think about ever again.
And now it’s back, with reinforcements.
‘Maisie?’ Brandon calls through the bathroom door and, for this huge moment, I can’t actually answer him. The words make this clicking sound in my throat, as my head floods with the images of all the things we just did. I just did them, like it didn’t even matter. ‘You OK in there? I’m just gonna put some clothes on the wash basket, OK?’
No, not OK, I think. You’ll come in and see me naked!
But of course that’s crazy. He just saw me naked about half an hour ago. He saw how pink and tight my nipples get when I’m excited, and how swollen and messy my pussy was. If he strains hard enough, he could probably recall it all from last time, too.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly shy. When he comes in, I find myself moving to the back of the rickety shower, so that he won’t see me through the frosted door. And, once he’s left the clothes, I dart out like a criminal, drying hastily and shoving all the stupid things on, before anyone can catch me.
I feel like a fool, afterwards – and not just because of my still-wet skin and my misplaced embarrassment. There’s also the fact that I’m wearing an old college jersey of Tyler’s, and a pair of jeans of Brandon’s, and both things are so immense on me I can hardly walk. The hems trail off my feet like flippers. I have to roll up the sleeves, just to make sure I still have hands.
And naturally they both laugh when they see me – Brandon in an apologetic sort of way, Tyler … less so.
‘I don’t understand why you didn’t bring anything with you,’ he says, as though it’s that simple for him, to pack a bag full of assumptions and bust down the door of a life you stopped leading years ago.
He should know that it isn’t. I’m struggling just to keep myself here, in front of the bed they’ve both sprawled themselves across. Tyler isn’t even wearing a shirt – he’s just got that pair of sweatpants on, and even that item of clothing doesn’t scream innocence. All I can see behind my eyes is how he looked when he pulled them down one-handed. That move he made … so desperate, and yet so not at the same time.
It’s like he’s somehow above his own desires, looking down on them. And they can take hold of him and do things to him, and even make him a little crazy, but they can’t take away his awareness of what’s happening. He can’t be hypnotised, the way we can.
‘I … um … I just …’ I say, in the absence of the things I really want to mention. Thankfully, however, Brandon saves me.
‘You OK?’ he says, then even sweeter: ‘Sorry about the clothes. Didn’t want to give you your old ones, but ours are obviously much bigger than I’d expected them to be on you.’
That’s the understatement of the year. I have to actually hold the jeans up in one bunc
hed fist, and those hem-flippers aren’t getting any easier to move around in. Plus, that awareness of how naked I am inside the clothes … it’s getting almost vicious, now. When I yank the jeans up the seam slips between the still tender lips of my pussy, and rubs right over my clit.
Which sounds like it hurts, I know.
But it doesn’t.
‘No, no it’s fine. This is great,’ I tell them both, which is true. It’s not a big deal that I’m swamped in clothes – the opposite, in fact. The material protects me when Tyler lifts an arm as though to say, Come on, come onto the bed and we’ll snuggle, and I crawl between them like a bomb expert, determined not to detonate anything. Something’s bound to go off, any second – I know it.
Only it doesn’t.
We all just lie there and watch a movie together, while my body hums and hums crazily. Brandon holds my hand and Tyler strokes my hair. Sometimes they shift around and sprawl across me, just like they used to.
But nothing else. They don’t try anything, or say anything, to the point where I start thinking I imagined it all – though of course I know I didn’t.
* * *
These peaks keep really happening, these swells, and, after they’ve receded, I’m left stranded on a beach of TV watching and Chinese take-outs and short trips into town. There are cakes in cute cafés and viewing of sights, as though I am on vacation and Brandon and Tyler are my tour guides. They show me where I can buy clothes, and we take pictures together in a photo booth. In all four I look bright, happy, relaxed.
So why am I tense inside? Why am I in a state of incredible waiting? I keep feeling these words on the end of my tongue: If you want to again, we can. It can be that kind of vacation, you know?
But somehow I always stop short, as though the carousel has gone around and it’s not my turn any more. Tyler has to say, I think. I see him stood by the railings around the river, looking out over the city as it fades into dusk. And he just looks so … dark. So commanding. Command us, I think at him.
Make Me Page 6
