Double Stuffed: An MFM Menage Romance

by Dawn, Daphne

  Soon enough I’ll be writing love poems and shit.

  “Alright, let’s kick this up a notch,” I find myself saying, and my voice sounds foreign to my own ears.

  Right now, I’m not in control of anything I’m saying or doing. I’m just living in the present moment, enjoying the ride without thinking of the consequences. Not a good way to lead your life, I guess, but it’s the perfect way to do things when it comes to sex. At least that’s my philosophy.

  “Please,” Kayla moans as I take my cock out of her mouth. Her hands are on Brad’s chest and, even though she just came, she doesn’t climb down from him. No matter, right now I’m in the mood for sharing.

  “Stay there,” I tell Kayla, and she looks at me, her eyes wide with anticipation. Smiling at her, I stand between Brad’s legs and then go down to my knees right behind her. Placing one hand right between her shoulder blades, I force her to bend forward and I hold my breath as I stare at her perfectly shaped ass.

  “Oh, God,” she breathes out as, with just one finger, I start caressing the length of her crack. I stop for a moment on her ass hole, and then I start sliding my finger in, readying her up for the main event.

  “Please, Scott, please,” she insists, and I just take my finger out of her ass and replace it with the tip of my cock.

  “Is this what you want?” I ask her, leaning in and whispering these words against her. “Is this how you want us to fuck you?”

  “Yes, yes…more than anything!”

  “I can’t say no to a lady,” I whisper. Using both my hands, I spread her ass cheeks wide and start sliding my cock inside her ass. I throw my head back and close my eyes as I feel her tightness. Even though I go slower, I only stop when all of me is inside her.

  “So…so good,” she moans, her quivering voice making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Well, if she thinks this is good…it’s about to become so much better.

  Ever so slowly, I start rocking my hips, making my cock slide in and out of her at a steady tempo. She doesn’t seem to want a slow tempo, though – instead of handing all control to me, she starts rocking her body softly, working on Brad’s cock while I take her from behind.

  Kayla might not look like it at a first glance, but she’s fucking insatiable.

  And that’s exactly the way I want her to be.

  Hungry for my cock.

  Using one hand, I grab her hair and force her to throw her head back. Holding her like that, I start ramming her hard, my thighs slapping her ass over and over again, the sound of it echoing inside the office and my own mind. Fuck, I think I’ll dream of this sound when I go to bed tonight.

  While I thrust, Brad does the exact same thing, pistoning into Kayla and raving her pussy while I take care of her tight ass. We work as one, our three bodies connected by the raging lust coursing through our veins.

  My hands have turned into claws, and now I have both on Kayla’s hips, keeping her in place while Brad and I fuck her into perfect oblivion. She’s no longer moaning – she’s screaming now, the sound of her voice so shrill that I can’t help but wonder if anyone can hear us outside the office. Luckily, everyone has left for their lunch break, which means we’re pretty much alone and Kayla can scream as much as she wants to.

  “HARDER!” She shouts at the top of her lungs, and Brad and I don’t hesitate.

  We start going as hard as is humanely possible, our cocks completely demolishing her body. Beads of sweat drip down my forehead, stinging at my eyes, but I don’t give a fuck; right now I have one concern only, and that’s giving Kayla the best fucking orgasm of her entire life.

  “Don’t…” She doesn’t even finish her sentence. One violent thrust and she comes undone, arching her back and collapsing on top of Brad’s body.

  Every single muscle in her body seems to be twitching, and she’s no longer moaning or screaming. She has resigned herself to silence, one born out of pleasure.

  Still, Brad and I aren’t done.

  While she comes, we keep on thrusting as hard as we can. Not that I can do it for much longer – I can already feel the fire of ecstasy burning deep inside me, and I know it won’t take long until I unleash all of my load inside Kayla’s ass.

  “Fuck,” I groan, my train of thought derailing as I feel my cock spasming hard inside Kayla. Brad groans something at the same time, and next thing I know I’m coming, my fingers digging deep into her ass cheeks and my eyes rolling in their orbits.

  Fuck, my purpose was to give Kayla the best orgasm of her life, but I think this was the best fucking orgasm of our lives.

  Brad

  While I get dressed for the morning, getting ready for a long day at work, I can hear Shauna click-clacking on her laptop in the other room. She’s a “heavy typer.” I’ve known a few, and it always makes me laugh.

  She’s no doubt doing her morning routine, searching and reading the blogs for juicy gossip.

  Some people find it odd that my personal assistant lives at my penthouse apartment, but that’s how I fucking roll. I don’t like to waste a single minute of my day, and if that means having Shauna live here rent-free, so be it. She doesn’t seem to mind, not even when I bring the odd girl home.

  As I put on my watch, a Rolex, I imagine what kind of day I’m going to have. Good? Bad? Exciting? Boring? The possibilities alone are electrifying.

  I’m a doer. I don’t find enjoyment in reading about what other people do. Especially not like Shauna does; she loves all that crap. But her ability to keep a finger on the pulse of this town is one of the reasons I hired her.

  Shauna’s smart and savvy and remembers everything she reads. I’m lucky to have her. Truly fortunate.

  I look at myself in the mirror. What a day yesterday was. It’s going to be hard to forget.

  I feel myself becoming aroused. I stroke myself over my pants a few times, look at my watch, and start considering what I have time for.

  “Hey, Shauna, how’s my time?”

  “Looking good, Brad.”

  “Do I have an extra fifteen or twenty? What do you think?”

  I hear her typing away for a moment.

  “Checking the traffic. Looks like there’s a minor traffic accident on the highway. I’m thinking not,” she replied. “We’re gonna need an extra few to get in on time.”

  I stop stroking myself and sigh. “Okay, thanks.” I’m going to have to wait until I see Kayla again. Maybe after lunch , I think, smirking.

  While tying my shoes, I hear Shauna groan or moan or something. She’s clearly affected in some way by something she’s reading. This isn’t out of the normal, but after yesterday, I’m feeling a little paranoid.

  “Find something juicy?” I’m just teasing. I don’t expect her to answer, and I kinda hope she won’t.

  “You could say…”

  “Really?”

  “Um…yeah…”

  I’m done getting ready. I walk out of my bedroom to the kitchen area. I see her staring, reading, and in deep thought.

  “Shauna?”

  “Yes, Brad?”

  When she finally looks at me, I wave.

  “Oh,” she says, smiling. “Good choices. I like those colors on you. I think this outfit shows your serious side.”

  “Thanks.” I nod. “What did you find?”

  “Find?”

  “Online.”

  “Oh, right.” Her face goes back to its normal blankness. “How have things been with Kayla? Everything working out? Moving along?”

  “Things are going well. Fine,” I say, not feeling like elaborating at the moment. “Yeah, fine.”

  “Better than fine, I’d wager.”

  “Okay. Better than fine. Why?”

  “Much better than fine,” she says, winking.

  I’m catching her drift. She knows something, but she’s being too shy to say it. I walk up to the breakfast nook where she’s sitting and pick up the apple she left there for me.

  “You found something. What did you read, Shauna?�
�

  “Just a couple of lines. A blind item. Nothing big….”

  “But…”

  “But there promises to be more.” She shrugs. “Sorry, boss.”

  I take a deep breath. I’m trying to control my anger. It’s a battle, and I’m not winning.

  “Show me,” I tell her.

  Shauna turns her laptop to the side so I can see the screen. There, on one of the worst celebrity trashing blogs, is a headline about me and Kayla. I can hardly fucking believe it. “LONG LUNCHES. LONGER STARES. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT…”

  “Fuck,” I say loudly.

  Shauna does her best to deflect. “It could be about anything.”

  My voice grows louder. “Fuck!”

  “Maybe it’s nothing.” She tries to ease my anger.

  But inside, I’m already a burning inferno of rage. “Fuck!”

  I throw the apple across the room, striking a wall and knocking a framed painting off its hook.

  “Brad—” Shauna begins.

  “These fucking idiots, Shauna,” I say, beginning to pace. “Insiders. Paparazzi. Fucking fame seekers. What the fuck do they know? What the fuck do they want?”

  “They want money.”

  “I don’t need this shit. I don’t need this attention. Not now. Fuck. Not now.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” Shauna repeats. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “ What happens next …” I reread the headline. “Shauna, what if they know what happened next?”

  “What happened?” Shauna asked.

  I give her a look. She knows the look. It’s the one I give when I’m about to get laid, or just did.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well…”

  “Yeah.” I shake my head. “Fuck!”

  “I could make some calls.”

  “You know what pisses me off the most, Shauna?” I ask, but I don’t wait for a response. “Kayla really doesn’t need this. She doesn’t need any negative press right now. She’s just getting started. Just getting her stride. She’s better than these dumb blogs. She doesn’t need this. Fuck. If this hurts her career, I’ll—”

  “Brad.”

  I look at Shauna. She has her glasses on, she’s sitting up straight, and her lips are drawn. She looks like my middle school vice principal when she was about to doll out a punishment.

  “Yes?”

  “I will make some calls. I will track down the sources. I’ll see if I can’t squash this before it goes anywhere.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  “The blood stays on my hands, Brad. That is why you hired me.”

  I finally laugh. Shauna lightens the mood. I really appreciate her being able to do so.

  “Yes, that’s why I hired you.” I look at the oven clock; it’s getting late. “That and your skills as a getaway driver.”

  “Oh shit.”

  I pick up the keys and toss them to her. She catches them with ease. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drop them.

  Shauna rarely drops anything. I’m beginning to feel more confident by the second. Shauna will take care of this.

  Kayla will be fine.

  Everything will be fine.

  Kayla

  The jackhammer that has been working away in my head all morning seems to be increasing in intensity. I can’t believe we’ve been going over the same scene for the last hour.

  Every time I think it’s been a take, Derrick insists it needs to be done again.

  Rehearsals have never been this hard.

  Last time, he didn’t like the vase on the kitchen table with flowers, which only ended up there because ten minutes earlier, he had insisted the kitchen needed to look a little brighter. Not to mention the number of times we have to stop to prompt Ian for his lines.

  I will need to go and find aspirin or something similar on the next break; there’s no way I’m going to get through the day with this massive headache.

  “You’re meant to be annoyed. The line is ‘Why does he get all the fun?’ It’s not hard.” I call to Ian and stomp closer to the set.

  This man is really driving me up the wall. A cockroach would be more useful right now than this bumbling excuse for an actor.

  I see Ian glare at me. There’s something else in his eyes, something I haven’t seen before.

  “If you bothered to learn your lines, we wouldn’t need to stop every five seconds.” I flick through the pages on my e-reader.

  “Brad comes in and picks on you,” I tell him, looking at the script.

  Scott chuckles, and Brad whispers something to him. Briefly, I’m distracted and lose my momentum.

  “And then,” I say and turn my attention back on Ian. “And then you say the seven itty-bitty words I just told you.” I lower my device and put one hand on my hips. “Brad and Scott are able to learn their lines and do the take without interruption. Why can’t you?”

  Perhaps I have overstepped my mark, but I can’t keep my anger bottled up any longer. Someone has to tell this pompous ass he is useless like tits on a bull.

  “Scott and Brad.” Ian mimics me.

  My insides feel as though they are going to boil over.

  “Instead of being the idiot on the set, you should focus on your acting. I mean, have you even read and studied your lines, or do you just turn up to annoy us?”

  “Like you three studied lines the other day at lunch?”

  My brow furrows, and I count to three before I feel I can open my mouth again.

  “We all know who the blind piece in the gossip column was about, don’t we?” Ian continues.

  I don’t want to lose self-control, but at the same time, I cannot let Ian get away with this. If the vase had still been standing on the kitchen table of the set, I would reach for it now, but one of the prop guys has moved it already.

  Before I can say or do anything, Scott’s fist collides with Ian’s face.

  “No need to get personal,” he hisses at Ian who crumples into a heap on the floor.

  He doesn’t stay down long.

  Quick as lightning, Ian is on his feet again and lunges at Scott.

  Scott is nimble on his feet, and he avoids the forward-moving Ian.

  It’s Brad who receives a wayward swing from Ian’s flailing arms.

  I scream. Chairs are being pushed over; one of the lights crashes onto the floor, and splinters of glass explode on impact and scatter across the set.

  “Stop it,” I yell into the chaos.

  Brad swings a left-handed hook at Ian’s chin.

  Ian ducks, and it is Brad who is unbalanced.

  The spindly figure of Ian lunges at Brad, spurred by some invisible force. His arms wrap around his waist, and it appears as if he’s trying to push him across the set.

  Scott comes to Brad’s assistance.

  For a few seconds, I can’t work out what is happening. Three bodies go tumbling onto the floor. Prop guys are moving quickly between the fighting men to move precious filming equipment out of the way.

  “Stop it,” I scream again. There’s no denying I enjoy seeing Ian get his ass kicked, but I know violence doesn’t solve anything.

  I turn to Derrick. “Do something,” I demand from the director, who so far has not moved out of his chair.

  With four large strides, he is at the rolling mass of bodies.

  I’m not sure how he manages to separate the bundles of testosterone, but he does.

  Ian is breathing hard, and blood is trickling down his chin. His lip is split, and I can see a bruise forming around his right eye.

  Makeup will have their work cut out to get him ready for filming.

  “Gentlemen.” Derrick keeps his hand on Ian, who looks like he wants to kill Brad and Scott. “Let’s take a break. We need to clean up the set.”

  He makes no comment about the incident or what consequences will flow from it. I admire his calm manner. The man is a total professional.

  I see Ian hesitate.
/>   He turns to leave.

  “You’ll be sorry.” His comment is directed at me.

  I feel Brad come to stand to my left, and Scott to my right.

  “You’ll be sorry you insulted me. Ed will hear about this, and you’ll be sorry.”

  I take a step forward toward Ian. He doesn’t scare me.

  “Newsflash, dickhead,” I yell at him. “I’m already sorry I’m in this mess. I’m sorry I have to work with you.”

  I watch him leave.

  Part of me wants to laugh. I know I should take his threat seriously, but with his fat lip, he sounded less than threatening.

  His words did not come out clear, and he just looked pathetic and not menacing at all.

  I feel Brad’s hand on my shoulders.

  I turn toward them.

  “You okay?”

  I nod. Now that I see the total destruction of the set, the seriousness of what just happened descends on me like a giant weight.

  Ed won’t be happy.

  This won’t be the last of it either. And he will use this to pressure me into killing one of my men.

  Kayla

  I pick up my coffee cup and take a large sip of the hot black liquid. After I swallow, I smack my lips together. Boy, this feels good.

  Angela, sitting across from me, is sipping on a large iced chocolate. The drink is overflowing with whipped cream.

  “Mm, whipped cream. Imagine all the things you can do with whipped cream,” Angela says and grins at me.

  “Stop it.” I try to sound serious. “Focus. I need you to listen. I can’t understand how my life suddenly has become so complicated,” I complain and drink more of my coffee.

  Laughter peels from Angela’s lips. She puts her tall glass down and leans back in her chair.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  I pretend to scowl at her.

  “I mean it, Ange. All I wanted to do was to come to LA and write. Head down, bum up.”

  “You’ve sure put your bum up,” teases Angela, and I regret my choice of words.

  “Stop it. You know what I mean.” I roll my eyes.