Ultra Strokes

by Delilah Devlin

  Lily felt a finger slid inside her atop Lou’s shaft. Her entrance was stretched upward. And then she felt the tip of Brent’s cock pushing into her.

  The stretch was almost unbearable, but once the cap was inside and his slick shaft was rubbing inside her walls, she forgot to complain. She could hardly breathe she was so full.

  “Mother fucker,” Lou said, his teeth gritting.

  She leaned down until her mouth hovered over his. “Did you say that because it hurts or because you like it a little too much?”

  Lou growled and gripped the back of her head, bringing her down for a hard kiss. “You still taste like me.”

  Brent stroked deeper. “It gonna bother you that I’m the one who’s going to get you off?”

  “Fucker.”

  Lily laughed and rubbed her tits against Lou’s chest. “Brent, I’m so fucking full. I can’t move. Can you, Lou?”

  “We’ll have to do it together,” Lou said, his voice tight. “There’s not a lot of room.”

  So, together the men moved inside her, shoving in and out, while she braced her knees and hands against the mattress to resist their strokes. Friction had never burned hotter, and she’d never been this wet—her body releasing wash after wash of fluid to ease their motions.

  “Don’t know how long I’ll last,” Lou said.

  “Stop moving then,” Brent rasped. “I’ll stroke you both. Anytime now, Lily.”

  But she didn’t want to come. Not yet. She’d never felt this—blanketed above and below. Two strong, lovely men fucking her with a flattering intensity.

  “Now, Lily,” Brent bit out.

  And it was easy, letting go and riding the wave that lapped over her, making her tingle head to toe. Her channel rippled with strong convulsions and her pussy pulsed, milking their cocks.

  Lou quickly followed. “Oh, fuck-fuck-fuck!” His body arched as he drove his cock deep, and come jetted into her.

  She listened bemused since before tonight she’d never heard him curse before.

  And then it was Brent’s turn. He wrapped his fist in her hair and pulled her up, forcing her to arch her back and brace her hands against Lou’s chest.

  Then he began bucking, slamming hard into her in shallow strokes that caused another ripple of pleasure to sweep over her. She cried out, and hung there, rocked by Brent’s hard thrusts, until he too exploded, his muffled shout echoing in the stillness.

  He collapsed over them both. She snuggled against Lou’s chest. “Can you breathe?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Don’t move while I gather my pride.”

  Which made her laugh. Brent, too, jerked against her back.

  The feel of all three of them chuckling hard was astounding. “You’re both jerking inside me,” she whispered.

  “How do you feel?” Brent asked, kissing her shoulder.

  “Like a well-used whore.”

  He bit her skin. “You are well-used, but never call yourself a whore. You’re loved, Lily.”

  “I should probably go,” Lou said, his smile a little sad.

  Lily glanced over her shoulder.

  Brent’s mouth twitched at the corners. “We’re worn to nubs, Lou. And the bed’s plenty big. Let’s just rest a bit, and then we’ll all have dinner together. That okay with you, Lily?”

  Again, he was leaving her the choice. Dinner. More intimacy. Perhaps another round of sexy fun. As they untangled, she stayed turned toward Brent. Lying in his arms, she listened to the steady beat of his heart—strong and true. She leaned back to look into his face. “I love you.”

  “I know. I’m a very generous husband.”

  They smiled, and she arched a brow and tilted her head in Lou’s direction. He gave a grunt—as close to giving permission as he’d allow for now.

  Lily shifted and stared at Lou whose hands were folded beneath his head. “It’s okay to snuggle, you know.”

  “Do you need that, Lily?” he asked softly.

  “Since we’re going to be such good friends, yes, I do.”

  Lou’s glance cut away to Brent, but she didn’t see his signal. But Lou moved closer, turning her again toward Brent, but carefully draping an arm over her hip and easing closer to her back. He kissed her hair.

  “See?” she whispered. “This isn’t a bit awkward.”

  “No, it’s not.” Brent sighed. “I don’t want to sleep tonight.”

  “Neither do I,” she said, excitement beginning to stir inside her again.

  “Sleep’s overrated,” Lou muttered.

  Lily settled happily between the two men, imagining the future. She’d have to work a bit to get the guys to go along with what she planned next. But they were both so malleable. So eager to please. She’d gotten everything she’d wanted—and more than she’d ever dreamed.

  Dr. Mullaley’s Cure

  ‡

  I’d been warned the doctor was a bit eccentric. That he dabbled in machinery and had been ostracized by others in his profession for the lengths he went to please his patients.

  “You’ll never find another employer,” I was told. “Not once they see your only reference is Doctor Mullaley.” The mad Irishman. The charlatan who promised cures to bored housewives and whose waiting room hadn’t been empty since I’d arrived for my first day’s work. If I hadn’t already been turned away at every other respectable physician’s practice, I might have heeded the advice. However, those warnings only served to stir my interest.

  I was intensely curious about the nature of the doctor’s cures. Even more so about the conditions he treated, but they were only spoken of in whispers and never in the presence of an unmarried woman. Which made me wonder why he’d hired me. Not that I was going to complain. One glance at his tall rangy frame, frosty blue eyes and dark, slicked-back hair, and my misgivings evaporated.

  However, my curiosity about the man and his practice wasn’t to be satisfied at that moment, because the doctor waved me toward the reception desk where I worked at fitting in patients who arrived without an appointment. A task I found akin to cinching in the waist of a corset. There was only so much ribbon one could pull before something gave.

  That something was the inimitable Mrs. Davies. She arrived in a dudgeon. Cheeks flushed, eyes a little wild. The afternoon was very balmy, and the painstaking curls at the sides of her cheeks had wilted and stretched toward her jaw like earthworms. I couldn’t help staring while she tapped the counter with a sturdy finger, insisting her needs were of the highest import. If she didn’t receive a treatment that afternoon, somebody would hear about it.

  At wit’s end, I gave her a false smile, said I’d find the doctor, and escaped down the corridor to the treatment rooms.

  The corridor was as handsomely appointed as the waiting room with rich oak paneling below the rail, and burgundy brocade above. But gaslight sconces were placed so far apart that shadows loomed between the doorways.

  I paused at the first room to listen, hoping to hear the low timbre of the doctor’s voice. Faint moans came through the door, but since they didn’t have an urgent edge, I hurried to the next and pressed my ear against the wood.

  Hands curved over my shoulders. “Pardon me, Nurse Percy.” The doctor firmly pushed me to the side and strode into the room.

  Glancing around his tall frame, I spotted Mrs. Headley who lay on a table that tilted with the lower half split in two. My jaw sagged as I noted that while she was clothed in a sack-like gown, Mrs. Headley lay bared from the waist down, her legs strapped to the split “legs” of a leather-padded tabletop. Her fingers dug into handles at the sides.

  Most curious, a long, slender trough ran from a tank latched to the ceiling, very like a toilet’s reservoir. The trough emptied into a funnel, which ran into a tube. The tube passed through a device with turning wheels that clicked like a clock’s inner gears, and then ended at a nozzle that spurted water in rhythmic pulses toward the juncture of Mrs. Headley’s thighs.

  How odd, I thought.

&
nbsp; Mrs. Headley moaned. Her gaze roved restlessly until she lighted on the doctor. “Please, Raymond, I can’t take much more. I’m very sure I’m ready for the next stage of my treatment.”

  The doctor stood between me and Mrs. Headley so I couldn’t see what he did, but then he aimed a frown over his broad shoulder. When he turned back, I entered the room and shut the door behind me, staying quiet as a mouse. He turned off the nozzle. The rhythmic splashes stopped, but wet slurping sounds filled the silence.

  “I feel…nearly…oh, the agony…oh, doctor!” Mrs. Headley gave a choked little scream, her upper body arching on the table before settling again. Her flushed cheeks shone with sweat, but the smile she gave the doctor was so filled with gratitude I felt a stirring of something akin to pride for the doctor’s skill.

  However, pride wasn’t what tightened the feminine parts of me. Somehow, just knowing where the doctor’s hands were made the room feel quite warm.

  Doctor Mullaley pulled down his patient’s gown, patted her hand and turned, drawing up short when he spotted me standing in front of the door. He jerked his chin to indicate I should precede him.

  Feeling nervous and a little embarrassed by what I’d witnessed, I stepped into the hall and wrung my hands. “I wouldn’t have interrupted, doctor,” I blurted, “but there’s a woman at the reception desk demanding an appointment. Frankly, I thought she’d push right past me to find you if I hadn’t said I would go.”

  “Let me guess…Mrs. Davies?”

  I nodded, relieved at his even tone.

  He sighed and looked up and down the narrow passage. “I have another hydropathy machine in the treatment room at the end of the hallway. While you were spying, did you happen to notice what I did to turn it off?

  “The hose from the reservoir? Yes.”

  “The reverse turns it on. Take Mrs. Davies there. Find her a gown and help her out of her clothes. Start the machine. I’ll be along when the others have finished their treatments.” He gave me a narrowed glance that ran the length of my appearance for the first time. “After you’ve settled her, find me. I think you might work out after all.”

  I nodded, blushing beneath his approval and walked on air back to the reception room. Even Mrs. Davies’s rude behavior as she complained all the way down the hallway couldn’t dampen my mood. She didn’t relent while I undressed her until I touched her corset. Claiming I’d scratched her, she slapped away my hands, saying she’d manage the garment on her own. Not that she really needed one. Any garment constructed to shape her enormous belly would have required true engineering genius.

  When it came to setting up the hydropathy machine, Mrs. Davies showed me exactly where the nozzle needed to be placed for “maximum efficacy.” That lesson left me blushing because I set the nozzle to squirt at the knot at the top of her sex.

  With Mrs. Davies quiet at last, I went in search of the doctor. I followed the sound of grinding gears and whistling pistons to another treatment room. Inside, the patient lay with her gown scrunched around her middle. Clamps with wire tethers were attached to her nipples. Her legs were spread and elevated, and another device pressed against her sex. My own corset seemed to cinch tighter around my waist, leaving me slightly breathless.

  The doctor glanced up as I entered. “There you are. See the lever on the side of the machine?” He pointed to a large tin box with dials and gauges on the front and from whence the devices at the woman’s nipples and sex were connected.

  Spying the lever at the side, I nodded.

  “Throw it up to start the current.”

  The moment I did, a curious humming sounded from between the patient’s legs. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she moaned around the gag tied behind her head.

  My breath hitched in my throat, and I glanced at the doctor, a question in my eyes.

  He bent toward my ear. “She thinks it’s sinful to make noises when she culminates.”

  “Culminates?”

  The corners of his shocking blue eyes crinkled. “Nurse Percy, has the mister never culminated when in the throes of his husbandly duties?”

  Throes of… My jaw dropped. “I’ve never married or witnessed a man’s…culmination. Are you telling me a woman can too?”

  His gaze honed on my expression. “For the sake of your apprenticeship, I think it will be my duty to demonstrate my cures.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Just what sort of conditions are you treating, sir?”

  The doctor checked the gauges, gave the woman a pat on her hand, then waved me toward the door. “Step outside.”

  In the hallway, he stood close with his hands held behind him.

  Mine, I clutched against my belly as I listened to him describe the many illnesses of the body and mind that occurred when a woman didn’t release the noxious poisons boiling inside her. If a husband wasn’t willing or able to assist, then a woman sought the help of a doctor who specialized in such things.

  “And these machines…?” I asked in a small voice.

  He brought his hands forward. “The machines save my hands from aching after endless pelvic massages.”

  I noted the length and thickness of those digits. Pelvic massage was a term I had heard before. I’d even attempted to perform it on myself a time or two, but I’d given up frustrated just before I’d discovered the mystery that lay at the end of the quest. “Doctor, I am unmarried but hope to be some day. I cannot allow you to directly…massage…that region,” I said in a harsh whisper.

  His lips twitched. “Which is not a problem, dear nurse. I have designed devices meant to assure a woman’s sensibilities aren’t violated. Stay after work, and I will demonstrate them all.”

  The rest of the day passed in a blur as I learned to apply the devices to other women’s tender breasts and nether regions, all the while admitting a deepening sensitivity in my own body.

  When at last the office closed, the doctor led me into the treatment room which held the widest array of machinery, including one device still covered by a tarp in a corner. My glance must have lingered there.

  “Something I’m developing,” he murmured, “but I’m looking for a volunteer to test it.”

  A thrill shot through me at the word volunteer and I opened my mouth.

  His head shook. “You’re unmarried. This machine would shred your maidenhead.”

  After all I’d witnessed this day, I thought there wasn’t a blush left in me, but my face heated.

  His fingers trailed my cheek. “There’s a gown on the table that I’d like you to wear. When you’re ready, just open the door.” With that, he left.

  The gown was a thin, dove-grey silk. I passed my hand beneath it and realized my entire body would be visible. Still, I didn’t hesitate to remove my clothing. After all, he was a physician. I would do this in the name of my education and the furtherance of science.

  When I was dressed in nothing but the sheer gown, I opened the door a crack and peeked into the hallway. He stood with his back to the door. I cleared my throat, and he turned to meet my one-eyed glance.

  “I’m sure you’re lovely in that gown, but I promise not to ravage you,” he said, his voice a lovely rumble. “Open the door, Nurse Percy.”

  Taking a deep breath, I stood to the side and let him enter, and then locked the door behind him, even though I knew there wasn’t anyone else about.

  “Lie on the table, please.”

  His brusque voice, the professional one devoid of amusement, was back. This was the voice that reassured the most skittish of his patients. His actions were just as clinical and brusque as he ran straps around my thighs and set my hands on cushioned squabs with a warning to keep them there.

  As docile a lamb as any of his patients, I let out a quiet gasp when he pulled up the gown, showing care as he freed it from the straps before smoothing the garment up my thighs to bunch at my hips. I managed to remain silent when he parted the table’s divide and thus my thighs, even though he came to stand between them and fingered the dark hair that
cloaked my Venus mound.

  “I thought it would be coarse,” he said, “as curly as your hair is.”

  My blush deepened, but I didn’t attempt a retort as he didn’t seem to require one. He parted my folds and swirled his fingers around the opening. “To stimulate you, my dear. I want your pretty little nubbin to come out and play.”

  My breaths grew choppy. The entrance he toyed with clenched. “But you didn’t do this before you started the machines for Mrs. Davies or Mrs. Smith.”

  “Before I designed my devices, all my treatments began with direct stimulation,” he said, sliding his fingers between my folds to capture the moisture sliding down my channel then smooth it around and around. “But my hands tired, and I could only handle so many patients a day. The demand grew, and I knew I had to do something or see them find physicians who might have less care for their delicate sensibilities.”

  “Your machines provide a service, I know. I’ve seen the transformations.” And wanted one for myself. “Even Mrs. Davies left cooing like a dove.”

  He flashed me a grin, and then his gaze dropped between my legs again. “There she is. A little shy this one, but a lovely dark pink. Have you ever seen your love knot?”

  “That’s what it’s called?” I asked, jerking when his thumb rubbed it, and I felt my blood thrum a bit faster.

  “It’s called many unsavory things and a couple of medical terms that aren’t flattering at all, but for you, Nurse Percy, it’s a love knot. You’re very sensitive. I’ll be sure to adjust the nozzle burst to something softer than I would for a woman who has had hers tweaked by a lover a time or two.”

  Thoroughly embarrassed, I let me glance slide away. “You really shouldn’t say such things to me.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied my face. “Nurse Percy, I’m your employer, and my business is one that requires civility and discretion when dealing with patients. However, you will need to accustom yourself to frank terminology. You will hear it now and again from some of the ladies’ own mouths. They cannot help themselves when they are…culminating.”

  I swallowed hard, still so aware of where his fingers trailed, and of the fact liquid flowed from inside my body. Silky moisture which he used to swirl over my folds and that sensitive, swelling nubbin he seemed to be fascinated with.