by Amy Brent
“It’s a miracle Jake even agreed to share.” Emmet adds.
“Paris? With the two of you?” I turn to Jake and remember our conversation nearly two months ago, about my dreams of traveling.
“And everywhere else.” He mentions, reading my thoughts.
The tickets drop to the floor as I kiss each of them passionately.
“Merry Christmas.” I say to the both of them.
Chapter 109
“We’re going to be late!” Jake yells from the stall of a bathroom as I fix my hair. Emmet left to grab snacks for the flight, and Jake snuck me into an empty restroom for a quick make out, despite me calling him childish and irresponsible.
“You’re the one taking a piss. I’m just fixing my smudged eyeliner.” I argue. We meet Emmet at the terminal just as they’re calling for our section. I hold my ticket close to my chest, staring widely at the giant plane on the other side of the gate.
“There’s nothing to be worried about.” Emmet says when he notices my sweaty palms. “First time on a plane is always the scariest, but it’s never anything more than a few bumps here and there.”
Jake makes fun of me instead, asking who the child is now.
We wait in a long line until we find our seats, and I quickly excuse myself to the tiny restroom in the back. My hips touch the closed door and I pour water on my face. When I woke up Halloween morning I was almost convinced my romantic dreams were just that, dreams. But here I am now, with two brothers taking me to the most romantic city in the world.
I return to them and take the middle seat. Jake puts on headphones and stares out the window while Emmet smiles kindly at an old couple to our right. Shortly afterwards, the plane’s engine roars to life, and we start moving.
My heart leaps as we take off, grabbing both of their hands and holding them firmly in the center of my lap.
Two Hard
She felt his hands on her thighs, slowly moving upwards higher and higher still. She felt another hand on her other thigh, and she smiled to herself knowingly. It was always this way with them; they both were eager to touch her and she loved having two sets of hands on her. She felt them move higher now and the first set of fingers slipped into the wet heat of her, apparent as he slid his two fingers in and out and back in again. She bucked her hips slowly, riding his fingers as the other set of hands slipped further back, rubbing her other entrance gently. He always wanted more of her, wanted to push her limits. She kept moving, coming down harder onto the fingers inside her, feeling the end of a finger in her backdoor. He always started this way, just enough to make sure she felt him there before he did anything more.
She moved to her knees now. She had one in front of her and the other in behind her. The man behind her, still nudged a little more, pressing the finger into her another half inch, causing her to moan. He pushed her forward slightly, and she grabbed the broad shoulders of the man in front of her, who still fingered her wetness, this time using three digits.
She grinded down on both hands, feeling the back finger slip into her fully, and a soft moan escaped her lips. Moving her body up and then down she sloppily fucked both sets of fingers, urging them onward, taking everything they wanted to give. She glanced down at them, both lost in her actions. Her massive 44DD breasts were bouncing and swaying with every frenzied movement she made, the fat puffy nipples now harder and darker than they were normally. She reached up, grabbing a hard nub in both hands, which only pushed her further.
She wanted to cum, hard and fast, but they wanted to play, pausing and playing with her until she was frantically slamming her hips down on their fingers. It was too much now, and she felt the man in the back move slightly, and she knew what was coming. He replaced his finger with something bigger, thicker, and as he pushed into her, she whimpered slightly, the size almost too much. He pulled out and pushed back in until soon she was full of him in her tight backdoor.
He moved slowly at first, and soon he was jerking in and then out in quick motions, the tightness almost too intense for him. She looked up and the man in her front smiled at her as he used his thumb to rub the tiny nub of her womanhood. She moaned loudly as she felt the first stirrings begin again; this time she wanted it more than ever. She was coming down hard on him, using him to make herself cum and as she did, the wave hit her hard, causing her body to shudder over and over, pushing the man in the back into pulling out and finding his own release.
As he finished, she smiled to herself, proud of her efforts. She was still smiling when the man in the front pushed her down on her back roughly and slammed his manhood into her full and hard. She inhaled sharply as he pounded into her harder and harder, with no thought to her. She wasn’t sure if it thrilled her to have him use her body as a vessel, or if she was thrilled because he slammed into her over and over with no sense of softness in his actions.
He used her, until he was finished, kissing a trail of kisses down the length of her body as he stood before cleaning himself up. As always, the two men held out a hand to her and helped her stand, both working together to clean her up, and giving her gentle kisses.
She smiled at them both as she redressed, and casually made her way out of the private room. They were the exception to the rule, they were the only ones, and she liked it that way.
Lyla Montgomery wasn’t your ordinary girl. In fact, she was far from ordinary in any way, shape or form. At 21 she was barely making it, and yet deep down she was still ready to take on the world. She was never herself, not her true self anyway. Sally Mae, her birth name, had been replaced years ago by something more interesting. Lila seemed to be a good fit for her then; she and her mother had picked a new name for her, for a new life. Even now Lyla seemed like a name a regular girl would have, but she was never a regular girl. She was 5’6, taller than a lot of girls, but she had a flared hip, and a curvy figure without being too big. Her black hair fell in curls down her shoulders, and it contrasted to the soft paleness of her skin. The look was completed by a set of piercing blue eyes, and freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose.
Performing had its unusual way of presenting situations that could help keep her lifestyle the way she liked it. Even now glancing up at the tall building covered in black where she worked most nights, she smiled; she really did love when the two of them came to see her. It was rare these days -- only once every few months, but when they did she always enjoyed them. Separate they were just ordinary men, but together they seemed to bring life to her body that no one else had ever done. She pulled up the neck of her jacket, convinced that the cold air was good for her as she made her way home.
Home, even that was a word that was foreign to her. Ever since she turned 5 she and her mother had struggled, moving one place to another and never quite getting it together. One home after another, they saved and pinched every penny just trying to stay alive. Now, as an adult, Lyla had finally landed a job 6 months ago, though stripping wasn’t exactly the position she thought she would find herself in when she daydreamed as a child. She and her mother still lived in a one-bedroom apartment, in the bad area of town. Though lately, her mother had spent most of her time with a boyfriend she had managed to snag a few months back.
Being alone was hard, but it wasn’t something she wasn’t used to. Her mother often found new boyfriends and she would leave Lyla alone in a hotel, going off to enjoy her still youthful life. At the age of 36 she was young and still looking to find a man to love her just the way she is. Lyla, on the other hand, wanted nothing of that nature. She would rather do it all herself.
So, when she had been approached by a man in a black suit 6 months ago, she took his card, never really expecting to call him. One night, bored, she did and since then she had been a hit. Reggie was a good boss, and he allowed her to keep a larger chunk of her money than some of the other girls. He taught her everything she needed to know about dancing, and how to appeal to men. She had been inexperienced in seduction, but she had been a quick study. Dancing came as second na
ture to her, the easy way she moved her supple body made men crazy and she loved the affect she had on them. There was a sense of power that came over her and she loved that feeling. Even though it was enough to keep them afloat the real money hadn’t started coming in until she met them.
Charles and Nickolas, brothers so they told her. One was dark in every way; his black hair, facial hair and skin was just slightly darker than his brother’s. He had dark eyes, and was dominate in his interactions with her. Nickolas, on the other hand, was different. He had sandy hair and was a giver. His clean cut look made him look like a model out of the catalogue, but in their private moments he was the one to give her pleasure first, until she was exhausted, and then he took over.
They were a package deal, and they had explained that from the first time she danced for them. They had paid an elaborate amount of money for her to visit their private room, and she had danced for them, letting them both touch her only slightly, as touching very clearly was not following the rules. In that one time there was something very special about the way they interacted with each other. She was turned on more by the both of them than she had ever been in her entire life combined. There was something special about how they loved her, and how they touched her, both working with the other to take her to the highest levels of pleasure. In turn she did the same thing for them, giving them both all of herself, and it was a wonderful thing they had going.
It took a good while before they crossed the lines they had. In fact there had been long conversations and just simple private dances long before it had gone too far. Even now she remembered the first encounter like it was yesterday. Since then she would receive a black card in her dressing room, letting her know that they were in town together, and were requesting her time.
The routine was one she knew well. She would make her way to the stage, and do her show. One she had put together for the upper class men who came to this venue in the first place. She started with black silk; the long trails of her lingerie would touch the ground, but flare out when she spun around, making circles along the stage. Her massive breasts pushed through the top, almost spilling over, every time she moved and her hair was wild and hanging freely down her back. It was part of her act and part of what made her so appealing.
The song was soft and sweet and she would walk the length of the stage, moving with grace as she found herself crawling on the floor, much like a cat. Her long, slinky strides we deliberate as she crossed the length of the stage, reaching her hands up high to grab a long rope that hung there. As she did, her swelling breasts would pop out of the bottom of her lingerie; the swollen globes would remain there, peeking out from under the bra built in the outfit. Being exposed always fueled her desire, and her puffy fat nipples would harden almost instantly under the watchful eyes of the patrons there.
She loved giving them the impression that she was simply dancing, without any clue how exposed she was. The innocence in that act made the men crazy, and she loved it. Soon she would pick up the pace, using the rope as a tool in which she straddled and moved along the length as if she were riding a man. Her breasts swayed and jiggled with her every move, and soon she freed herself from the bindings completely, her shaved pussy bared and giving off an even younger appearance.
They would love watching her as she danced seductively, moving her hips and ass in time with the music, creating a slinky, sexy feeling in the room. She never touched anyone, but she especially loved the men who would sit near the edge of the stage and she could lay on her back, spreading wide to expose herself to them. She was always very wet and she would see the desperate excitement in their eyes as they caught a glimpse of the pink wet between her thighs.
On more than one occasion she had watched men masturbate for her as she danced. Some of them were discreet, some more open about it. She could see their hands moving furiously over the stiff members in their hands under the tables. It was almost like a game for her, to try and guess how big a cock would be that night based on the man who was stroking it. Some of them were average, but on occasion there was something bigger, and special, she could watch in action. Something she could use later when she was alone and wanted to please herself. Once in a while a man would pay for a private dance and she would love those times the most. The extra money she made during a private dance was hers and only hers. So she could work the situation to her advantage, and make much more money that way, all without touching any of them very much.
The last private dance she did was two months ago, before Charles and Nickolas had crossed the line with her. After that she knew better than to ever cross a line again. An older man, a frequent visitor actually, had finally asked for a private dance, and she had done so eagerly. She had been watching him; months now he had been coming in spending money on every woman that worked there. Then one day, he had come to her show, and he had been a regular there since then. He spared no expense and she knew he liked the way she moved.
On that particular day she had been feeling alive, and maybe just a little lonely, mainly because of the black card she found at work. Letting her know the boys would be in town on Friday. As she danced, she thought about their attention, and the feelings they put on her again, and how wonderful that was. She saw the older man watching her, and he gave her a smile. As she finished, she found herself escorted to a dark room down the hall. Typically, she only did a private dance from time to time, but she felt a small thrill of excitement as she walked down the long hallway. As she entered the room, she saw him, in the center of a couch, and he waited for her.
“Dance for me -- take everything off.” He demanded it with a quiet calm that sent a thrill up her spine.
She did as he asked, hearing his breathing change as she did her moves, gyrating on his lap, grinding down hard on the firmness she felt there. He wanted her and she loved knowing it. The night went on and she soon found herself laying back on the small platform that had been built into the side of the room.
“Will you touch yourself for me? I want to watch your face, I want to see you cum, and I won’t touch you.”
She licked her lips, feeling the swirling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She let her fingers drift down, slipping and sliding in the wet valley between her thighs as he watched. She spread her legs wide as he came to stand over her, but without touching her. True to his word he simply watched, his hands stroking his massive cock that had made an appearance as she rubbed herself between two fingers, making soft swirls, her body eager to find release. She saw him moving his hands harder on himself and she wanted to taste him, but she knew better.
She felt the orgasm rise up within her and she knew what he would like.
“Cum on me.” She whispered it and even the words pushed her over the edge. She came hard, her moans loud and sharp in the small room. She heard him moan loudly and felt the explosion as he did as she asked him, rubbing his love juice into her skin, feeling the proof of his lust drip off her pert nipples.
He pulled up his pants, smiling at her as he did.
“You are amazing.” He dropped a stack of bills on the table beside her as he walked out. “You did well. I am looking for a new girl, one who will belong to me and only me. That is the rule you will live by if I choose you.” He reached for her, running his hand down the length of her face, smiling at her. She felt something shift, and a deep seeded fear creep up in her as he talked. He moved his hand again, this time moving up towards her throat, letting his fingers linger there for a moment before he blinked, smiling at her once more.
She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say to him next. Fortunately, he moved towards the door. “I will let you know if you are the one dear.” With that he was gone, leaving her with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She picked up the money, suddenly feeling something akin to disgust. She had just gotten paid for something she did all the time, but somehow what had started off as a sexy thing, had become something dark and bad. She jumped up to clean up the mess, and head
for home. Whatever he had meant about being chosen, she would make a point of steering clear of him from this point forward.
That had been then, and ever since he would simply smile at her as he passed her on the way out of the building if he happened to be there. It was no surprise that she rarely saw him anymore, until she noticed him spending a great deal of time with Chelsea, anyway.
Chelsea, for all intents and purposes, was her only true friend. She noticed his frequent visits with her, and Chelsea was gradually changing. Her outfits became more elaborate, and her time was spent with him more often than not. Some days she wouldn’t show up for work at all, calling in to say she was sick, but Lyla knew something different was going on.
As time went on Chelsea had less and less time to spend with Lyla, and she knew something was wrong. When she did see her, her usually bubbly attitude was somehow solemn and quiet, which made no sense. Lyla, did her best to reach out but ultimately knew it wasn’t her situation to handle Whatever the old man had been trying to get from Lyla, he had obviously found in Chelsea.
Late on a Thursday, she watched as Chelsea made her way down the long hallway, carrying a rose with a black ribbon in her hand. She made her way outside and then home, not really thinking about it again.
The next day, she woke to the frantic cries on her phone from Megan, another dancer from the club.
“Chelsea is dead! They found her body in the ditch across the street from the club. They say they may shut it down Lyla, what are we going to do?” She wailed loudly on the other end of the phone.
Lyla sat up with a start. “Wait what? Start over. What are you talking about, Megan?”
After some time went by Lyla had enough information to last her a lifetime. She sat on the corner of her bed, lost in her own world, thinking of her friend. Whoever had done it had been brutal and angry, somehow taking out his frustration on her. She let a tear slip down her face. Chelsea was a good girl, just dancing to pay off her student loans and taking care of her baby boy.
