And with a groan, I took her fully in my arms, scooping up that voluptuous form, pressing it against my hardness, letting her feel the masculinity, the animal energy ripping through my frame.
“Peyton,” she gasped. “Pax,” she sighed.
Because my brother was behind her, his donkey nudging that sweet little butt and she had thirty inches pressed up against her from both sides, demanding entry, hungry for female attention, needing the release that only she could give.
“People could come in,” she breathed, trying to push us away, her movements futile, she was no match for two walls of muscle.
“No one will, princess,” rumbled my brother from in back as he massaged her shoulders, those big hands squeezing soft flesh, angling his hips so that his groin rocked against her, that iron rod making her gasp with shock again. “We rented out the lounge for the afternoon.”
And she turned to look at him in astonishment.
“You did?” she gasped.
“We did,” he confirmed, dropping a kiss onto her shoulder. “We didn’t think you’d meet us in a hotel room,” he ground out, eyes flashing.
And instead of being shocked or dismayed, the girl smiled slyly at us.
“Oh really?” she purred throatily, rubbing against us like a kitten in heat. “Hmmmm….”
And the session turned on full-force, the heat level rocketing to a hundred degrees and beyond. She was like a wildcat between us, dragging us to the ground, all the better because the lounge’s dainty furniture wasn’t going to hold up under the hard pounding we wanted. Five years of emptiness made for two men stretched thin, and we needed to relieve ourselves in that beautiful body stet.
With ravenous kisses, we descended on that luscious flesh, ripping off her jeans and t-shirt, those long, slim legs revealed, the creamy thighs and arched, dainty feet. Like a madman, I dived into her muff, questing between those slick folds with my tongue, running up against her clit, alternately licking and sucking the sensitive nub, drinking her nectar like a dying man.
“Ohhhh,” she moaned breathily, squirming on the floor, her nude form spread before us like a feast. “Yessss,” she hissed, her eyes closed.
And I redoubled my efforts, pulling her thighs apart, flicking open those folds to stare deeply into her deep pink. It was gorgeous, pulsing hotly, the slick walls moist, running already with desire. I had to taste again and bent my head, probing with my tongue, pushing deep into her channel, eating her, devouring that soft, succulent flesh, her aroma rising around us, the sweet scent heady and mesmerizing.
And my brother was busy on her other end as well. He tweaked her nipples, pulling hard at the tips, squeezing and kneading her nips before bending his head to suckle hard.
“Aieee!” she squealed, both ends going from zero to sixty. “Aieee!”
But we wanted more, much more. We needed to bury our dicks in that body and couldn’t afford hours-long foreplay after years of waiting. With a swift movement, I rolled her so that she was on her side, my face still buried in her twat, drinking the sweet nectar.
Meanwhile, my bro unsnapped his pants and his donkey dong sprang out, fifteen inches, the tip already leaking cum, dripping to form a wet pool on the carpet.
“Kiss it,” he ground out, kneeling over her head, brandishing his rod.
And the girl didn’t resist. His cock bounced off her cheek and like a hungry baby, she was sucking it, those little lips stretching to engulf his head, the saliva running from the corners of her mouth as she struggled.
“Mmmph!” she cried, her eyes wide, cheeks bulging. “Mmmph!”
But my brother was impatient. He cradled the back of her head in a big palm and jerked his hips forward suddenly, thrusting that pole into her mouth, the little girl choking as he jammed the snake down her esophagus.
“Mmmph!” Stacey cried out again, tears pooling in her eyes from the effort of the strain, her blonde hair spread beneath us like a flowing mass of gold. I felt a gush between her legs, which only meant one thing.
“Fuck her mouth hard,” I commanded. “Pussy tastes sweeter that way.”
And Pax grunted his acknowledgment, thrusting hard into her throat again, more inches disappearing between those pink lips, stretched to the max so they were like rubber bands, made for pleasuring men.
But I wanted her to have her own fun, and with sly fingers, I tickled up her thigh and stroked that puss a bit, burying my fingers in her wet folds, testing the juicy hole where dick would go.
“You like, little girl?” I asked slyly.
Stacey’s eyes flicked down to look at me for a moment, her only reply before a guttural moan escaped from around my bro’s dick.
“Oh yeah,” I chuckled, “you’re going to get more.”
With that, I trailed my fingers slowly down from her puss to her butt, letting my digits probe that back hole, a tight, musty smell rising between us, the hot, dry space the ultimate temptation. I stroked it, my big fingers massaging those tight pleats, a groan rumbling in my throat as the girl’s hips twisted and turned, thrashing at the unexpected sensation.
“Oh yeah,” I said appreciatively, my voice muffled against her twat still, “oh yeah.”
Because she was going to take donkey up her ass, get that beautiful rectum invaded by a fifteen incher, no mercy. It’d been too long and I needed every orifice at my disposal.
Getting in back of her, I pressed my dong against her anus, lightly testing, pressing slightly, rubbing my wet glans against the pucker, feeling her body stiffen with shock suddenly, her eyes turning to look at me with astonishment.
But it didn’t matter. I loved assplay and this was my opportunity – with the girl we loved. With ever increasing pressure, I nudged my dick up her backside, the little hole resisting at first, Stacey letting out little squeals of aroused discomfort, her pussy gushing into my hand as I fucked into that backside. It was tough, I admit. She was an anal virgin and taking a massive dong up there as your first is no easy feat.
But she could do it, or more accurately, she was going to do it whether she wanted to or not. Increasing the pressure again, I thrust my hips upwards with a jerk and with an audible pop, her sphincter gave in. Immediately, I slid in a couple inches, my veiny length in an iron grip on all sides, the dryness arousing, the friction incredible.
But that was only three inches … and there were still twelve to go. With a long groan, I held her hips still and pushed again, this time driving my hips upwards into her ass, the Donkey insistent, making headway with each thrust, each sweet, dry slide.
“That’s it,” I grunted, holding her still as my brother continued to run his dick into her mouth. “That’s it.”
And that was all I needed. With one more insistent shove, I was in all the way, my rod embedded in that hot cavern, her anus clenching tight around me, the muscles so young, so firm, that I practically spurted right then and there, there was probably a load of pre-cum leaking into her ass at this very moment.
But Pax had plans for her as well.
“Roll,” he commanded, and I knew exactly what he wanted. With my dick embedded in her, I rolled us so that I was on my back, Stacey on top of me facing forward, my dick embedded in her ass.
And Pax took advantage of it like a seasoned pro. He knelt between her legs, holding them up and apart in a big V, her pink slit wet and dripping, on display.
He circled his dick, purple, monstrous and slickly shiny from being in her mouth, around her little pussy hole before pushing deep into that cunt, forcing her to take fifteen inches in one massive stretch.
“Aieeee!” Stacey squealed, her body trembling and shaking between us, the ecstasy rapturous. “Aieeee!”
And it felt fucking good, her anus clenching on my dick at the same time that my brother fucked in, feeling his hard cock slide right in next to mine through her pussy wall. Like madmen, we started going at it in tandem, sawing into that little cunny and ass, finding release in her sweet little body, pounding her, doing the ultimate double
penetration with thirty inches at our disposal.
“Aieee!” Stacey squealed again and again. “Aieee! Aieee! Aieee!”
God it was fucking dirty and amazing. Within a few minutes we were blasting load after load of sperm into her hot box, the fluid flying into her in reams, spraying her insides with load upon load of creamy white.
She squealed, she twisted, she turned, and sure enough, our little girl came as well, her puss clenching down hard on my bro’s cock, her anus spasming around my rod, forcing us to give it up, squeezing every drop of DNA from our cocks, our balls emptying everything into her, giving it our all.
Finally our breathing calmed, our massive bodies relaxing, her breasts pressed up against my bro’s chest, her sweet ass cheeks jammed against my balls. Stacey wiggled a bit, making Pax and I groan, our dicks still in her body, the sensation incredible.
“You like?” she said sweetly, a smile beaming for the first time, her form slick with sweat … and our cum.
“Oh yeah,” grunted my twin, reaching up to capture her mouth in a deep kiss. “You’re quite the receptacle.”
And I had to agree. With my dick buried deep in her ass and my twin similarly placed in her cunt, we were home … for good.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Stacey
I don’t even know how to describe what happened between me and my steps. Wild? Impassioned? Hot sex? HOT SEX, all caps? It was crazy, completely uninhibited, and totally, utterly satisfying.
But how to reconcile that with the video exposé? I was too numb to even be embarrassed. The world had no color, I was merely a robot, limp, dragging myself around, going through the motions.
Fortunately, the network wasn’t making me appear in front of the cameras, so at least the public didn’t see how drained I was, barely able to crack a smile, my entire persona a drab grayish-beige.
But my co-workers could see it, shooting me looks of concern, the hushed whispers whenever I walked past, the pitying smiles. After all, I was the one with a sex tape out there … the sex tape with two dildos. Oh god, FML.
It was embarrassing. Beyond embarrassing. Totally, utterly shitty. Someone in my place would have been ready to kill herself except that I had Pax and Peyton … my brothers were back and it made a huge difference, their support meaningful, helping me get up each morning.
But it’s not like life is perfect now. After all their betrayal still stung, the hurt forming a lump in my throat sometimes. How could they have turned their backs on a virgin? How could they have left me naked and used in the woods, alone for the second time? Despite my steps’ apologies, I wasn’t over it. I’d had five years to reflect and stuff doesn’t go away just like that.
So I stared at myself in the mirror, sizing up my appearance. Not bad. I was no longer scrawny, instead I filled out the bikini, the tiny swaths hugging my boobs, barely covering my snatch. As a test, I ran a finger along the string tie of the triangle bottoms and snapped them. Oh yeah, a glimpse of pussy, then away again.
Because I was getting ready to dance. I’ve never done something like this before but I felt so limp, a worn-out dishrag, that I needed to do something to make me feel alive again.
So the Donkey Club was my big chance. My friend Jen had told me about it, shame-facedly, barely even able to get the words out.
“Um, there’s this place,” she began hesitantly, “it’s not like most places in the city.”
“Uh-huh,” I said listlessly, toying with my sandwich. We were seated outside during lunch break, the sun shining, birds tweeting. You’d think I would have been happy to be alive, enjoy the spring breeze on my face, riffling through my hair, but instead I had no appetite and looked like a half-dead corpse.
Jen was silent for a moment, sizing me up. I guess I looked so bad that she took the leap and confessed her big secret.
“It’s called the Donkey Club,” she rushed, her voice quiet in case someone came out on the patio. “It’s a place in the city, I go there to let go, relax, let my hair down.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, playing with the edge of my napkin. Most days after work I went home and got straight into bed. Life was easier asleep than awake.
“You should go too,” she said forcefully, trying to get my attention. “It’ll do you good.”
I continued to examine my napkin, not looking up.
“Listen,” said Jen, this time shaking my arm. “The Donkey is a strip club and dancing there will help you get some adrenalin going.”
At those words, I finally snapped awake.
“Strip club?” I repeated dumbly, my head woozy.
“Strip club,” Jen nodded emphatically, shaking my arm again. “It’s what you need to build your confidence. You look bad Stacey, real bad.”
I knew she was right. My blood pressure was probably so low that I was the walking dead at this point. But I had to put up some defense.
“How do you know what I need?” I protested. “You’ve never been in my shoes before, it hurts Jen, my life really hurts right now.”
She was silent for a long moment, looking into her lap and playing with her hands before looking back up.
“Stacey, remember when I took medical leave for six months? I was gone one day, MIA with no explanation?”
“Sure,” I nodded woodenly. What did this have to do with anything? “Rumor was that you were in a car accident, that you needed time to recover. Mike and I brought some flowers over to the hospital in fact, but we couldn’t find your room.” I remembered asking the nurse on duty for Jen Rollins, but the nurse had searched the hospital’s records and come up with nothing. I figured it was just a glitch, they were probably overhauling the computer system.
“No, I wasn’t in a car accident,” my friend said softly. “I was raped.”
Now my mouth dropped open, my expression shocked.
“What?” I stuttered. “What do you mean?”
“It’s simple,” said Jen softly. “I went to a party and got really drunk. When I woke up, my clothes were on all wrong and my body felt weird and bruised. When I went to the hospital,” she choked, her eyes tearing, “they did an exam and sure enough, I’d been violated.”
I had no words, looking at her with shocked eyes, stunned, not knowing what to say. What is there to say when something this awful has happened to one of your friends? My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
Jen read my expression and nodded.
“I didn’t want people to know, I didn’t want their pitying stares, the uncomfortable looks, the victim-blaming,” she said bitterly. “After all, I was drunk, someone would say it was my fault. So I stayed silent,” she said. “The police never figured out who it was.”
“But was there any DNA from the rape kit?” I asked.
“No, he was careful and used a condom,” she said, her eyes tearing again. “I’ll probably never find out who did it to me.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching to take her hand. For the first time since the scandal, I felt someone else’s pain in place of my own. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “That’s the thing, I needed time to recover, go to therapy, take art classes, do whatever I needed to become myself again. And dancing … that was a big part of it.”
“What do you mean?” I said puzzled. “I don’t get it.”
“Dancing took me to a higher plane,” she said simply.
Huh? I shook my head, confused. I’d never taken Jen for the mystical type.
But my friend sighed and tried again.
“I was lost, Stacey, really lost. I didn’t feel like myself, I was spinning through a void with no direction, no sense of self. And the Donkey gave it back to me,” she said simply.
“But how?” I asked. “How did dancing do that for you?”
“It was empowering,” she said simply. “I chose when to take off my clothes, how to do it, I controlled the men with my dancing, they looked, they touched, but only if I let them. A
nd it helped me regain control, all eyes on me but only if I wanted it that way,” she said. “I went from being a victim to the one holding the reins.”
I looked at her with my head cocked. Jen was pretty but I would never have pegged her for a stripper. She looked too wholesome to play the part. No stripper heels, heavy make-up, or visible tattoos. Instead, her medium-brown hair was pulled into a sensible ponytail, and she was wearing regular clothes, totally office appropriate.
“I know,” she laughed. “It’s hard to believe that Jen Rollins is also Cherry Max, but I was and I still am,” she confided.
“You still are? You’re still dancing?” I asked, disbelieving. Holy cow, this was a lot of information.
“I am,” she confirmed, “and I’d recommend it for you too. There’s something about you right now Stacey, you’re so lost … drifting. Take back yourself, and use the Donkey to do it.”
I sat back, unconvinced. This sounded too sketchy, I had no dance skills, and I’d never taken my clothes off for anyone other than Peyton and Pax.
But after another miserable week like a limp dishrag, I decided to go with it. Jen had given me the name of the manager, and I dialed hesitantly.
“Donkey,” said a nasty voice.
I almost hung up right there, but forced myself to reply.
“Hi, I’m calling for Stanley,” I said hesitantly.
“This is he,” the voice said, suddenly welcoming. Oh gross, it was one of those guys who responded only to women. Uck.
“Hi, I was wondering if you had a slot for a new dancer,” I began. “My friend Je- I mean Cherry, recommended that I come try out.”
“Tell you what, instead of trying out, why don’t you come to Amateur Night tonight?” said the wheezing voice. “It’s open to everyone.”
“To- tonight?” I stuttered. “That’s kind of soon. I’m not sure I can make it.”
“Up to you girlie,” he wheezed again. “Tonight’s the night or no go.”
Oh, so suddenly he was playing hardball. But I felt so miserable, so down on my luck, that with a snap, I made up my mind.
All the Best Men: An MFMM Menage Romance Page 39
