Preach to me Baby

by Hazel Parker

  And then, things just sort of escalated... I don't remember what the transition was, but suddenly the two men were pouncing upon me fervently. Devouring my flesh with relish, destroying me beneath their kisses and clutching at my body as though neither of them could seem to possibly get enough. They groped and prodded and worked me up so fiercely beneath their fingers that it sent shivers up and down along my spine. Making me cringe with delight and causing my head to spin as they pawed greedily at the fabric of my clothes.

  Seeming to want desperately to get me as naked as possible in as timely a manner as they could. Sliding their warm, loving palms across my heaving abdomen and getting me so worked up that I couldn't hardly stand it. The two of them seemed to relish the act of passing my trembling body back and forth between them. Handling me with an immense sense of fragility given the state of my impregnated anatomy, and squeezing me so tightly between them that I thought I might collapse from the prodding of their fingers.

  The two of them surprised me a little bit, even, as the chain of smacking between our three sets of lips progressed. My lips on Jonathan's, a reunion that was so sweet as to be almost agonizing in its nature. Then Charles' lips on mine, as though he somehow regretted having not locked me down, so to speak, following our initial encounter so many months ago. And then, astonishingly, mind-blowingly, even, Charles' lips planting squarely onto Jonathan's.

  The two of them making out feverishly as though their desire to swap spit with another man reached back distantly in time, their bisexuality an endlessly surprising fact to yours truly, but to them, apparently, as plain an act as you might have hoped to have imagine.

  The three of us continued on in this fashion for some time. Closing in on one another and beginning to spin in our collective arms from the center of the living room, whence the origin of our conversation had begun. The two men were very careful as we ravished one another to keep me from bumping into anything in my ridiculous state of pregnancy. After some time of this extreme care we managed to progress into the bedroom, closing the door shut behind us and melting into a sea of grabbing limbs quite promptly.

  Jonathan, now stood before me. His hands on my sides and his lips against my own, as Charles closed in from behind and began to slather his kisses across the nape of my neck. Sending goosebumps erupting across my skin and leaving me trembling so fiercely that I needed to close my eyes in order to get my bearings about me. Slowly I found myself dissolving from my clothes, their hands effortlessly sweeping the fabric away from my anatomy.

  One article after the other, my maternity blouse vanishing up over my head and the shorts I was wearing being peeled from my ankles. Followed by, in slow, sticky succession, the lacy black fabric of my bra and my tight, skimpy little panties. At this point, mind you, my pussy was so heated up with desire for the two of them that it nearly caused me to pass out. Moisture accumulating fiercely at my pussy and their hands coming so close to pushing inside my body that I grew increasingly frustrated and agonized every time they stopped just short of the mark.

  At any rate, now the two of them were peeling out of their own clothes as well. The sight of their naked, heaving torsos was perhaps as much incentive for granting them forgiveness as I might possibly have hoped to procure. I especially savored the moment when they at last slid torturously from their undies. Their cocks bouncing up and down with the springing motion of a diving board as they revealed to me their nudity.

  My eyes delighting at the contrast in their styles of pubic hair when placed side by side- Jonathan, completely natural and bushy as hell, and Charles waxed so smooth and so clean that you might have cooked a fucking meal on that spotless surface. My eyes tumbled along their bodies with sheer, unabashed reverence. Lusting over the intensity of their pecs, falling happily down the rungs of their six-pack abdominals, and getting absolutely lost in the deeply cut trenches of their Adonis muscles. Each man with V-lines so agonizing that it nearly defied comprehension to behold.

  I licked my lips at the sight of them, and was promptly closed in upon once again. Sandwiched happily between the two men's aroused bodies. The three of us working up quite the sweat as we made out in an absolute glorious orgy of carnal satisfaction. Jonathan kissed me in such a manner that it seemed almost totally at odds with his past sexual squeamishness.

  His cock slapping occasionally against my swollen stomach and producing a noise that was unusually satisfying. And meanwhile, behind me, Charles was clutching the cheeks of my ass in his fingers and massaging them up fiercely. Grinding his long veiny cock up and down between the cheeks of my buttocks. Causing my anus to clench up with each passing sweep, as though somehow intuiting what would eventually take place back there once he ended up getting his way about things.

  And all the while, as this went on, he proceeded to ply my neck with such sweet, sticky kisses that it nearly boggled my fucking brain. Sinking his teeth into my throat in a notably vampire fashion. Between the two men's combined efforts it was as though I was absolute putty melting slowly, slowly into mush. As I continued to heat up in between them and to moan with sheer, splendid delight, I had a very particular notion that aroused me so intensely that I could not help but indulge it in a manner that felt incredibly naughty yet, unmistakably, desirable.

  I slid my body out from between the two of them, and took each man by the hand. Roping them into one another, and pressing their bodies together in such a manner that the tips of their erect penises began to kiss. The shafts collapsed upward against their heaving abdomens. Excited by what I was instructing them to do, they gladly followed my lead and took over from here.

  Wrapping one another's naked bodies in their arms and squeezing one another's asses as they kissed. Their tongues rolling and sloshing and twisting more passionately together than they had the entire evening up to the present point in time. I stepped back for a moment and decided to observe from afar, just out of reach of the splash zone, if you will. I began to play with my pussy as I watched the two men making out like newlyweds. I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed myself as their dicks crossed and grunts echoed from deep within their throats.

  Manipulating not only my pussy but my enlarged nipples as well. Pinching them tightly between my fingertips and getting so damn worked up that I could have continued to watch them entwined like this for hours. But as the moments ticked by, however, I began to gaze more intently at the two men's jousting penises. Bouncing and dribbling and the strands of pre-ejaculate beginning to seep and band tantalizingly from one engorged tip to the other...

  I thought maybe I could indulge myself and them in a bit more of a hands-on approach, if you catch my not-so-subtle drift...

  Moving in a way that was almost excessively careful as I approached them. I began to stoop slowly, slowly down onto my knees in between their two bodies, reaching up, and taking hold of their erect shafts. Slowly beginning to pump on the skin, and savoring the warm, delectable squelching as the flesh seeped back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in my grip. Each taut pull of the loose flesh, meanwhile, served to push their tips forward and kiss devilishly with one another, and after so much of this I decided that I simply could not take it.

  Leaning into each man I then began to down their cocks entirely into my gullet. Having some trouble swallowing them at first after so long a hiatus without sucking a single prick, but the act, I found, coming back around to me in terms of familiarity quite certainly enough. My tongue rolling wickedly across each man's shaft I bobbed and slurped and gouged my fucking windpipe.

  Switching continually from one shaft to the other to the other, at certain times downing them so entirely that I was on the verge of throwing up. At one particularly ambitious juncture swallowing both throbbing erections at one time. Savoring the warmth as they squelched through my saliva and loving the challenge of attempting to wrap as much of them up as possible inside my tongue at any single given moment.

  After some time of this, my brutal, dehumanizing slurping from engorged prick to the ot
her to the other, the two men at last separated from one another. Taking note of me, and apparently deciding that I was, at present, a far more pleasant sexual prospect than either of the two of them could possibly ever hope to be.

  I felt myself picked up in their arms and carried to the bed with the reverence of a sacrificial lamb. My body being rolled over on top of Jonathan's and his heat radiating into mine. Our lips locked together and his hands on my ass as though to steady himself with some support. Down beneath us, Charles wrapped his fingers around Jonathan's pulsing, veiny penis, and I started slightly as I felt the warm chill of his tip being pierced into me, cleaving my body apart, and the shaft of his erection following promptly behind it.

  Inch by inch by inch of his immensity came sinking so far into my gash that I thought I would go cross-eyed. The feeling of his cock up my pussy one that I hadn't truly realized I'd missed to the extent I genuinely had. But at long, long veiny last he did, in fact, eventually touch down. He began to grind up inside my pregnant body with an agonizing slowness.

  Pushing and pumping and stirring the pot at such a rate that I could scarcely get my bearings about me by the time he pulled out, only to have him push back inside me once again and send me reeling with sensations.

  And, if that wasn't enough, I felt the heat of Charles mounting me very shortly after. Climbing onto my ass and causing my eyes to grow wide as his engorged tip peeked its throbbing little head through the tight, puckered sanctity of my anus. He then proceeded to push his way inside. Slicing into my rectum in a manner that made me scream with sheer agony, yet somehow filled me with such splendid bliss as he touched down inside my innermost reaches that I began to absolutely shake from head to toe with sensation.

  And, well, what more can I possibly say?

  The two of them promptly began fucking me from there on out. Their delicacy in the handling of their pregnant pussy seeming to fly out the window altogether. Their thrusting turning fierce as hell as they clapped and smacked and smashed into my respective orifices with brutalizing speed, screams pouring from my throat and the sensation of the two penises grinding together inside me turning me on like you wouldn't fucking believe.

  Their cocks overflowed into the throbbing pink orifices of my body. Their sperm erupting with near simultaneity all over my inner anatomy. Drenching me with so much hot, sticky splooge that the accumulated stuff rolled back out of me. Dripping onto the mattress, and setting me over the edge. I came like hell with the combined fury of vaginal and anal orgasms. The sensations pumping through my body like a drug and causing me to scream so loud that my lungs nearly fucking burst from the effort.

  And at long, long, long last, when it was all over, the three of us lay entwined in the sticky, sweaty haze of the afterglow. Making out wildly, our heads spinning, and my security renewed with the knowledge that, whichever of the two of them happened to be the father. The baby inside of me as well as its mother would almost definitely end up in good hands.

  *****

  THE END

  Her Ex

  Jacqueline quietly closed the door to the guest room. Penelope’s room now, she corrected herself with a sigh. She walked down the stairs, back to the living room, picking up a forgotten sweater, Penelope’s discarded suitcase, a few paper plates that hadn’t been thrown away. The house was finally quiet after another draining day of mourners coming and going. Entering the kitchen, Jacqueline surveyed the disaster awaiting her there.

  She shook off the exhaustion that was creeping in and started collecting the half empty glasses that littered the table. Hooking a glass in each finger, Jacqueline picked up four glasses in each hand and crossed the kitchen to the sink. Halfway there a glass slipped from her fingers, falling to the floor and splintering into tiny pieces on the tile. With a frustrated groan, Jacqueline set the rest on the counter and bent down and began to pick up the shards. It felt like this day was never going to end.

  She reached for a piece that had skidded under the table only to pull back her hand in pain. She looked at the bright red blood erupting from a gash in her hand and felt her stomach start to roil. She hated blood. Jacqueline grabbed for the dish towel, only to see it covered in a sticky pink substance, remembering that Aunt Sylvia used it to clean up a jelly salad spill.

  She pulled open the drawer where the clean ones were kept. It was empty. Jaqueline looked back to the pool of blood collecting in her hand, then back to the dirty towel. She recognized the feeling of tears gathering behind her eyes. The ones she’d repressed for days.

  Jacqueline sank down to the floor, tears wetting her cheeks. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the past few days, or maybe it was burying her sister this afternoon, or maybe it was finding out that her niece was now her ward. Whatever it was, she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling out and began to shake with uncontrollable sobs.

  She and her sister hadn’t been close for years but Jacqueline mourned the loss of who her sister used to be. The sister she wanted to remember her as. She cried for her niece who lost her mother, and she cried for herself, left with one more of her sister’s messes to clean up.

  Through the fog, the exhaustion, and the tears, Jacqueline heard the door. Someone else knocking. Someone else bringing a casserole, or flowers, or a half-hearted sympathetic smile. She didn’t want to talk to anyone else today. She didn’t want to hear one more person tell her how wonderful her sister was, all the while avoiding her eyes because they didn’t really believe what they were saying. Her sister was a junkie, and hadn’t been a wonderful person in years. There was no use hiding that fact. Lord knows her sister never did.

  The knocking persisted, though, becoming louder, more obnoxious. As much as she wanted to just sit there and ignore whoever it was, she couldn’t tune out the sound. Jacqueline wiped her eyes on her sleeve and got up. She had forgotten about the cut on her hand, but was quickly reminded when she tried to use it to get up. Jacqueline winced and used her other hand to pull herself off the floor.

  She took a minute to inspect the cut. It was deeper than she thought, blood still trickling out of it, and she had to shake the feeling of nausea that tore through her at the sight of it. Once she dealt with her visitor she would have to scrounge around for her first aid kit and see if she had a bandage big enough to cover it. But for now she grabbed the dirty dish towel, found the cleanest side, and pressed it into the cut.

  Taking a few deep breaths on the way to the door, trying to pull herself together, Jacqueline unlocked the deadbolt. She had barely turned the knob when her guest pushed his way into the house. His jet black hair was swept to the side, his shirt only half buttoned. His face showed more than a decent amount of scruff. His eyes darted past Jacqueline and around the room.

  When he didn’t see what he was looking for he began moving through the house. A normal person would have assumed it was an intruder and tried to call the police. To Jacqueline, who had spent too much time cleaning up after her sister, figured he was one of her junkie friends either coming to party or to crash here. A few had even come to mourn and tell her how totally bummed they were.

  Even though he may not be a complete stranger, he still wasn’t welcome. Now that her sister wasn’t using Jacqueline’s house as a flophouse whenever she decided to blow into town, Jacqueline was no longer under any obligation to let all these losers into her house.

  She followed him as he searched around the main floor, still not finding what he hoped for. Moving to the back of the house to the kitchen he stopped, pieces of glass crunching under his heavy black boots.

  “If you’re looking for the free food, it’s gone. There’s nothing left for you here.”

  He finally turned to her, his steel blue eyes piercing her. She had enough experience to know that he wasn’t high. That still didn’t make him any more welcome.

  “I need for you to leave.” She said, exhausted.

  “No.” His voice was rough, gravelly.

  “No?” She tried to inject a little enthusiasm into her voice,
but it just came out flat, matching her mood.

  “Not until I know for sure. I heard some of the guys talking, but I didn’t believe them. I had to come here and see for myself.” He rambled.

  “What?”

  “Is she really dead?” He asked, not quietly like most people speak of the dead. His voice boomed.

  “Yes. Her funeral was today.”

  The mixture of emotions flashing across his face - pain, relief, guilt - was hard for Jacqueline to see, because she too struggled with those same feelings. What kind of person would be relieved to hear her sister died? It was a small bit of relief to see the same feelings reflected in someone else.

  He paced the living room with big, heavy steps that shook the floor. Jaqueline felt bad for this man, really she did. He obviously knew her sister beyond just seeing the addiction, which was something most couldn’t see past, but Jacqueline was beyond comforting anyone else tonight. She sat on the couch and watched him, waiting for him to say something else or to leave. Finally he stopped pacing and looked down at Jacqueline.