by Amy Brent
“We can think about that later, Drake and don’t you see that we have a beautiful and compliant woman ready to do our bidding?” I wouldn’t exactly say it like that, but then I wasn’t completely in my right mind at the moment. I was completely off in my own little world and I had no desire to come back anytime soon. “Celeste is a beautiful woman and it’s a crying shame that neither one of us has done anything to show her that.” I’d always thought that Tyler thought of me as a little sister, but this was no way to act with a sibling.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say. I think that I can let things go for the moment to enjoy the kind of sex that everybody will be clamoring for.” I gripped Drake tightly and heard him gasp with arousal, as his cock began to show me that one blow job was never going to be enough. He should have shown some signs of deflating, but it seemed like they had only grown bigger. I had them in my hand and I could feel the weight with the kind of pressure that his arousal was causing.
He lifted me, until I was bent over at an angle with his hands on my hip and his cock rubbing up and down my slit. He purposely slapped it against my clit several times and of course that made my whole body tremble and my knees begin to shake from the effort. He applied enough pressure to that presence and it opened up the gates like that of a magician with a wand. I felt it rubbing up against my walls and it continued to slide along my wetness, until only his balls remained.
“I don’t know how long I’m gonna be able to keep this up. Just moving seems very difficult and the feeling of you wrapped around me is nothing short of euphoria. The sex that I had in the past was good, but it doesn’t even compare. I’m worried that this will become addictive and that we are only asking for problems trying to put it out on the open market.” This time is was Tyler thinking about something more than the moment. I couldn’t have that, so I slammed my mouth down on him and started to suck him on my own.
Tyler was slapping his own face like the added bonus of pain was needed. He was shaking his head with his eyes closed and my mouth now showing him a way to a pleasure filled trip that he would never want to come back from. I’d already experienced that myself, but it was slowly subsiding, which meant the drug that I was on was coming to the end of its cycle.
I was stuck like a pig from both ends on the spike of both of their cocks. My skin was on fire and my flesh quivered with this need for the kind of release that no woman could ever do without. I pitied those ones that thought that they were getting everything they could from a relationship. One taste of this kind of sex would have them tossing their significant other to the side for the chance to feel like this. Nobody would be immune and that was a little scary and also exciting at the same time.
“Your mouth is driving me crazy, but I really do need to fuck you. You have no idea how much it’s hurting me to see him taking you like that.” I heard a bit of anger in his voice and the bit of spittle coming from his mouth told me that that anger was only getting worse by the second. “I can’t take it anymore.” He pulled free of my mouth, leaving me empty and sticking my tongue out to try to draw him back in. I heard what sounded like somebody grimacing in pain and looked back to see that Drake had a bloody nose and was stumbling back with his cock bobbing up and down. He was lucky that his nose wasn’t broken. Tyler was acting like a jealous boyfriend, when there was more than enough of me to go around.
I looked up to Tyler and the look on his face told me that I was in for it now. He lifted me with a strained look and made me wrap my legs around his waist with his cock finding my eager hole with one long and determined thrust of his hips. Our bodies were pressed up against each other with my hands around his neck and his mouth now encompassing the space at the side of my neck.
He was bouncing my big boned frame up and down with no signs of slowing down. He turned and drove me up against the wall making me feel the impact and knocking the very breath out of my body. “Fuck me… Fuck me… Oh my god… I can’t believe that you are doing this to me.” I came undone like my whole body was now one limp rag doll. I hung there precariously, while he force fed me an injection of beef.
I saw the look and knew from personal experience that it could only mean one thing. His face was this contortion of pleasure and then he was pulled free of me, as he began to shoot into the air and not inside me where he belonged. Drake carried me to a nearby metal counter. The cold was quite jarring against my skin and I shivered on contact, before he plugged me solid once more.
The counter shook and the beakers began to dance along the surface, until they jumped practically on their own to the floor to their death. They shattered on contact. I don’t think that any one of us really cared. “I’m cumming again… I’ve never had a multiple orgasm, but I guess there’s always the first time for EVERYTHINGGGGGGGG.” He was working very hard and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to blow the top off of this cock. I could feel my inner muscles working along his length. I had orgasms before, but this one was by far better than all of them combined. I literally blacked out, but not before I felt that knob expand and the sweet cream release like that of something that you would find in a fireman’s hose.
I took the brunt of that attack and I lie there with no control over my faculties. My ears were ringing and my vision blurred, but I knew that I could never have it this good again. “Yeah…this is what you wanted and I’m now going to give it to you every damn day for the rest of your life.” He gave me one final lunge forward and the last of his seed spilled within the lucky confines of my warm embrace.
I was lying there in a sexual induced coma of sorts. I could make out that there was a fight ensuing. They were naked and felt no shame, as they rained blows on each other like that of some kind of secret fight club.
I wanted to intervene and tell them to stop, but it was useless in the condition that I was in. The last of the drug died away and I was left shivering.
“She’s mine and you can’t have her.” Drake drove his fist into Tyler’s stomach blowing the wind out of him and making him double over in pain. He lifted him by his hair and punched him three times in rapid succession. Watching this was fascinating, but also terrifying in ways that I could never imagine.
“You’re going to have to kill me to have her.” The next punch landed in Tyler’s fist and he rose to his full height and squeezed with the kind of force that you would find in some kinda muscle-bound freak. He made Drake fall to his knees with a tear in his eyes from the obvious pain that he was being afflicted with. “You don’t deserve her and you’ve never deserved her. You are a coward. You’ve never lived a day in your life. I’m the one that goes out on a limb and tries new things just to say that I did it.” His right foot came out and squarely caught Drake in the ribs’.
They were soon rolling around on the floor and then suddenly they stopped abruptly. They lie there moaning and it wasn’t from any kind of pleasure. They were writhing in agony and then they passed out, but thankfully they were still breathing.
It took another couple of hours, but I finally got back on my feet with their seed dripping out of me and down over my body. Normally it would have dried to a paste, but my skin was still warm to the touch.
I sat down in the Lotus position between them and I looked at their bodies and couldn’t quite get enough. The drug had worn off, but I was still feeling this desperate need to be with them. It was like the drug had unlocked something that was already there. It was the key to bringing about those experiences that I’d only thought about and never did anything about.
I stayed with them, until they both opened their eyes at almost the exact same time. They bolted straight up and sat there looking slightly dazed and confused. “I do believe that we have some things to iron out. The way that this drug is right now is not fit for consumption by any one. We were stupid to do this and we risked our own health for something of a hidden desire that we didn’t even know we had for one another.” Drake was using his clinical side to see things for what they were.
Tyler w
as still a little out of it and he was nodding his head like he agreed with everything that Drake was saying. “Drake’s right and we need to take things slowly. I don’t think that we really needed that drug.” I got up and grabbed them both by the hand.
“I’m not saying that I don’t want to do that again, but I don’t think that it’s necessary every single time. In fact, I would like to try a new experiment where all of us go back to one of your place and see what we can do about burning up the sheets without the drug feeding that need. Whatever this drug is can’t be controlled. I do like the after effect and that newfound sense of sexual self is not a bad thing at all.” I had them in my hand and after they dressed, they put one hand each on my ass through my skirt.
We left there with smiles on our faces and we stopped momentarily at the elevator to look back at the drug. We knew that this was not the first time that we would try that. It was inevitable that we would fall back into old habits, but for now it was time to take things to the next level. I didn’t know where we went from here, but I was willing to throw my body at them to find out.
“I have to say that we may have jumped the gun by introducing human trials. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure that Drake will attest that what we did to save your life is something that we don’t ever wanna take back. I just think that we were playing god and maybe it’s time that we start thinking clearly and doing something about these feelings in a more constructive way. I don’t think we were being forced to do anything that we didn’t already want to do.” Tyler was a clever young man.
“I don’t know about the two of you, but I think the drug was the perfect way to reveal our feelings. We no longer have to hide or think that what we’re doing is wrong. We know that we feel this for one another and to deny ourselves that kind of pleasure is foolish. I can’t believe that we have wasted all this time being alone.” The door to the elevator closed and with it came an awakening that was going to have me clawing at their bodies, until the wee hours of the morning.
TROUBLE WITH DOUBLE
Cerise Rhodes handed her stepbrother a five-dollar bill. She tried to ignore his little smirk as he put it in his wallet but at that moment it was awfully tempting to smack him a good one. Jaxon Davies gave her a helpless little shrug and put the bill in his wallet.
The bet between them had been whether her boyfriend—or soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend—was going to show up to mount the cabinets and build the bar. Jaxon had said “no”. Cerise had said “yes”, but by now even she had realized that Devon Brown was a slacker. “He’ll probably come in as soon as we’ve got it fixed,” Jaxon said, taking up a wire-stripper. He was the electrician of the bunch. Cerise scowled. “Stop it,” she said.
“You know he’s like that,” Jaxon said, teasing her this time. “He’s only into you because you’re black, you know that, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t presume,” she sniffed.
They—Cerise, Jaxon, and Miles, Jaxon’s twin—had really been feeling the pressure lately. The three of them had bought the burnt-down husk that had once been Philadelphia’s Laser Tex at a steep discount, but the costs to shore up the main support beams, re-do the interior, furnish the place with the kind of booths and tables that would be worthy of the next “trendiest spot in town”, had all been higher than expected. They were doing a lot of the work themselves—Cerise was doing all of the design herself, using every connection she’d made as a graphic artist to find the materials and furniture. Jaxon was doing most of the plumbing and wiring. “It’s all poles in holes,” he said, which wasn’t exactly reassuring but so far the toilets he’d installed were still functional and the lights that had been put in hadn’t shorted and burned down the place—again. Yet. Miles was the brains of the bunch. He knew how to spot trends and cash in on them, and he knew how to wrangle small-business grants from the city government to help offset the costs and work the taxes so that they came out only slightly the worse for wear.
But no amount of bookkeeping magic could conceal the fact that they were two weeks from opening and the place was still only half-finished. Cerise had seen enough interior redesigns to know that the bulk of the transformation happened in the last three or four days, but they should have laid down the flooring by now; the walls needed primer and the lighting on the stage needed to be fixed. Instead, she was still sanding the panels that held the bar together with a belt sander, and she’d need to fit the doors to the cabinets before the end of the day. Jaxon was still wiring the sound and lighting systems to a central switchboard. The club had a dance floor in the middle and a small stage opposite the entrance, where they’d planned to have bands play on the weekends.
But now they had to contend with the fact that Devon, the guy who was helping with the building and carpentry work, had probably bailed on them. She had to admit she wasn’t exactly surprised. He was the kind of guy who yelled at waiters and waitresses just for the power trip and ran over stray cats for fun. They’d only been together for two months—and at this point the only reason she hadn’t called it quits was that he’d been helping remake Laser Tex into their own nightclub. But for the last week he’d been ditching them, not showing up when he’d said he would, and then showing up when they weren’t there, only to call them up to yell about how he was the only one doing any work around the place. “You gotta ditch him,” Jaxon and Miles had told her. Now, Jaxon was saying, “Can you dump that motherfucker already?”
“Done,” she said. She already had her phone out and was texting him. Just a short one: “We done”. It was so cold that even she felt a little cooler.
“Was that really that hard?” asked Jaxon, teasing her again.
She pretended not to notice that he was teasing her. He’d always teased her, ever since the first time they met, as kids, outside the library. She was reading a book, the new girl in the neighborhood, waiting for her mother to finish buying groceries from the bodega. He was kicking a can around with his brother. They were, in her words, “Gross”, as her mother liked to remind her, though she couldn’t remember what they’d been doing to make her think that. Miles and Jaxon were two years older than she was, so while they went to the same schools and played in the same neighborhoods and hung around the same pools during the summer, they weren’t exactly friends growing up. If anything, she still remembered running after Jaxon, screaming with fury at the top of her lungs when she found that he’d decapitated her Barbie dolls.
They grew up and moved away on the periphery of each other’s consciousness. She had dreams of moving to Europe and making something with her art, and she was living small while saving up the money to make it happen. So she was slightly annoyed when her mother called her and said she was getting remarried—weddings were expensive—but it was just a small affair, friends-and-family only, capped with a backyard barbecue that was the hallmark of Philadelphia social life. Nothing big, nothing fancy, just a good time.
It was strange—when she met the groom she knew that he was Jaxon and Miles’s father but for some reason the fact didn’t click until they were all sitting around on the porch, drinking lemonade and iced tea and waiting for the barbecue to get going. They were lounging next to the shed, with their respective (now-ex-) girlfriends when she saw them, and her heart skipped a beat—they’d grown up. In retrospect that shouldn’t have been the surprise that it was, but she still remembered them as the lanky, pimpled guys who had funny laughs and the weirdest hair who stole her Barbie heads. Seeing them at the wedding, as men, their bodies having grown into their height, their faces unblemished, and their hair neatly trimmed, had really knocked her perspective on these guys sideways. She’d been a bit apprehensive about approaching them, but in the end Miles had seen her first and waved her over. “I guess you’re our sister now,” he’d said. There were empty beer bottles lying around—Miles and Jaxon were just tipsy enough to have no shame saying, “That’s too bad—I always thought you were cute.”
Then over Christmas Laser Tex had been burned down, accidentally, by
a crew of graffiti artists who for some reason decided that it was a good idea to use a lighter around their cans of spray paint. It was Miles who smelled a good deal in the making and somehow conned—she maintained it was a con, but “charmed” was the word he preferred using—Jaxon and Cerise into ponying up for equal shares to make the “biggest, trendiest club around.”
Thank God for YouTube—that was all she could think, now, as she used the sander to carefully smooth the edges so that they would just fit together. Her mornings now consisted of taking notes while watching YouTube clips of how to assemble furniture, and then following those directions in the afternoon. She wondered, now, what it was about Miles that she’d agreed to this insanity.
“Where the hell is Miles?” she grumbled. Finally. The panels fit together smoothly. Now it was just a matter of glue screws, some wood-putty, a day to let everything set, and a new stain—or, in other words, when the real work began.
“Ask and you shall receive.” Miles came in, wheeling in a box that was as high as he was tall. He was virtually identical to Jaxon, but there was an air of assurance and seriousness about him that invited people to trust him. She’d always liked him better of the two, even though Jaxon was the funnier one.
“Oh my God, did you get it?” Cerise asked, her annoyance forgotten in the excitement of seeing the box.
Jaxon and Cerise gathered around. Miles grinned and cut open the tape with his pocketknife. It was one of those things that everybody, including Cerise, always teased him about—“Yo man, this is Philly, ain’t no Boy Scouts here”—but little blade came in surprisingly handy at the weirdest times, and she caught the little smirk of triumph he gave her (See?) and she rolled her eyes back at him (All right, all right). As the sign emerged she felt a shiver run down her spine—for the first time since they signed the mortgage for the property the enormity of what they were trying to do hit her. Shit be real. The sign was big, bold, the typeface one of the brush-script fonts but still regular enough so as to be easy to read: The Azure Code. It came with a bunch of individual letters, numbers, and symbols so they could advertise specials and what-not.
