"I'm an apprentice. A sugar daddy in training."
"You might be younger than I am. How old are you?"
"Legal age. I'm legal, Gwen."
She gave him a look of sham consternation. "You look young, but certainly not like a teenager."
"I'm twenty-five. How old are you?"
"Rory." Brede gave him a warning.
"It's okay. I'm twenty-seven."
"Well, Gwen, maybe you'll teach me a thing or two."
"I doubt it." She turned her gaze on the other man. "Brede?"
"Forty-two."
"Nice."
"Nice?" Brede asked.
"Experience and eagerness," she replied, nodding in Brede's direction at the word experience, and in Rory's at the word eagerness.
"How do you know it isn't the other way around?" Brede teased.
"You said Rory was your apprentice."
"Maybe he's made love to many more women than I have." Brede sounded a tad bit affronted as if she considered him old.
Gwen realized that she may have hit a tender spot with age. She laid her hand on Brede's arm and said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He covered her hand with his. "You'll find out soon enough who has stamina and who doesn't."
That silenced her as her stomach leaped at his sexy, confident smile.
Then Brede leaned toward her. He parted his lips but didn't close his eyes. Until the very last second before his lips touched hers. Warm, mobile, soft. He sipped but didn't use his tongue.
Rory had captured the hand lying in her lap under the tablecloth and brushed his thumb in circles around her palm. Her eyes flew open. She gasped.
Brede's eyes opened much more slowly.
He knew.
"And so it starts, yes?" he acknowledged quietly.
"Yes," she whispered. "What am I supposed to do?"
"You don't have to do anything, Gwen dear. We do it all."
Her mouth hung open. Her eyes widened.
"Are you ready to go?"
Rory's fingers seduced her hand, trailing up and down each of her fingers one by one, touching every inch, rubbing the soft, plump spot below her thumb, tickling her palm. She felt the heat from each man on either side of her. "Will I live?" she asked inanely.
They both chuckled.
"We'll make sure of it."
Rory's voice was near her ear. She quivered like she hadn't had any food, like she'd had too much champagne. Oh God, don't let me pass out before we get to…it. As if God would answer that wicked prayer.
Chapter Three
She walked sedately, arm in arm, between the men, through the lobby of the hotel, and into an elevator. They had to behave decorously since others were in the elevator with them. Could they hear her heart beating, or smell the now extremely familiar scent of arousal drenching her panties, or even guess what was going on? Sandwiched in between the two handsome, hunky men, their warm bodies and light cologne scents filling her nostrils, she didn't care if the whole world knew. She just wanted to get started.
A suite. The door closed behind them. The young Rory pushed her back against the wood, flattening his body over hers, and took her mouth ravenously. He was all desperate lips and tongue and teeth, sucking and nipping at her like he was starving. His hands moved up her sides, palms bracketing her breasts. He cupped them. Didn't waste time brushing her nipples, he went right to grasping them between thumb and forefinger, and squeezed. Hard. She screamed, a shocked and surprised sound, into his mouth and gripped his shoulders.
He ate at her lips, squeezed and twisted her nipples. Oh God, yes! Just right. The pain was just right. How'd he know? No one knew how hard she really, really liked her nipples squeezed. She used nipple clips when she was alone. It always shot her over the edge, maybe too fast, but oh so beautifully.
He re-angled his head and murmured against her lips, "I could smell you in the elevator."
She strained against him, pushing her breasts, surging closer to him. All he did was compress the tips. She whimpered.
"Everyone could smell you, not just Brede and me. Everyone knew what we were going to do."
Her knees were going. The only thing holding her up were Rory's hips and thighs smashing hers against the door.
"Come, dear Gwen," another soft voice commanded.
Two arms from a man on each side of her slipped around her waist and guided her into a bedroom with a king size bed, four posts, and large padded headboard. Ohhh…
Brede had already removed everything but his suit trousers. His chest was magnificent, hard muscled, a sexy line of hair down the middle, circling his belly button, pointing low. He turned her toward a mirror on a floor stand, cradled her chin in his hand, and whispered into her ear, "Watch yourself, sweet."
The light was thankfully dim, just the flickering fireplace. It left many shadowed areas, but she could see the two men quite well.
Brede cupped her breasts from behind. She watched him peer over her shoulder and into the mirror. His gaze rested on her breasts as he slid the tank straps from her shoulders and lowered the dress to her waist. "Are you watching your face?"
"No," she barely moved her lips. "I'm watching my breasts."
"They're beautiful."
"One's bigger than the other."
"I don't care."
"Yes," she sighed. He held her breasts, cupped them, strummed her nipples, squeezed the already very sensitive tips, gently learning them. Her eyes became slits, she could hardly breathe. Her head dropped back on his shoulder, her mouth falling open in ecstasy.
He kissed her neck where it curved into her shoulder.
She shivered, clutching his thighs behind her for support. His muscled legs were hard, strong. She could only get a grip on the cloth of the pants.
"You're not watching your face. I want you to see your face when you climax."
"I'm not going to climax yet." She almost wept in euphoric agony.
His hands drew up, and his fingers again grasped her already primed nipples.
She groaned. It happened so suddenly. Her pussy clenched, unclenched, spasmed, throbbed. Her eyes opened, her mouth opened in shock.
"A nipple climax, my dear."
"Oh Jesus," she cried, sinking toward the floor, her knees almost giving out.
Brede caught her and slipped the rest of her dress off. "Very nice," he said admiringly, giving the band of her lemon yellow thong a little flick with his fingers. Then he picked her up in his arms and deposited her next to Rory on the bed.
Naked. Rory was already naked. He lay on his side, broad shoulders, narrow hips, lean thighs all lightly dusted with hair. More body hair than Brede. Then she stared. "Your nipple is pierced." Her voice sounded strangled.
"Uh huh," he said, his finger flicking the little gold ring up and down.
"Did it hurt?" she asked in a whisper.
"Uh huh." He smiled conspiratorially.
"Does it hurt now?"
"Only when someone…" He tugged the ring sharply. "Does this." He twisted it. "Or this," he whispered sensuously.
She swallowed heavily. Her whole body was one giant, throbbing ache. Rory's cock, thick, red, and veined, jutted from its dark nest. She was so ready for him and knew it would fit inside her. She gave another little whimper thinking about that cock pumping into Brede's ass. They'd do it if she asked. She might faint.
"Should I take them off?" She indicated her panties.
Brede, at her back, stopped her hand. "No," he commanded softly. "I like them. Don't you like them, Rory? I have the nicest view, though," he added, palming her ass. "The lemony strip disappears right down the middle of her crack." He squeezed and brushed his thumb along the elastic, nudging and tightening it between her cheeks.
She couldn't breathe. Her heart thudded, a wave of hysteria flowed through her.
Brede, as if sensing her anxiety, kissed her neck, a feather soft brush of his lips. She shivered, her butterflies forgotten in the rush of arousal.
Rory kissed he
r breasts, dragging long swaths of his tongue over and around them. "Have you had a nipple orgasm before?"
"No," she eked out.
"Would you like another one?" His mouth closed over a nipple. He drew it roughly into his mouth, captured it with his teeth, and suckled.
Again, he sucked hard. Yesss. "How did you know I like it like that?" she gasped out the words.
"I didn't. I like it like that," Rory responded. "Obviously. My nipples are very sensitive, too."
She clutched his shoulders, hung on, folding her hands around his nape, pressing tense, excited fingers into his hair. "Do the other one," she panted.
Four hands pushed her flat on her back and another mouth latched onto the other nipple. She growled deeply in satisfaction. "Hard. Suck harder…" Two heads, two mouths suckled, two sets of teeth bit and twisted, rocked her nipples, the sensations different, but the pleasure staggered through her the same. The upper part of her body surged. She opened her eyes to see the tops of their heads, their noses, their mouths circling her nipples. She wanted to slip her fingers through their hair, but her arms were caught beneath them. All she could do was arch her back and moan.
Someone's fingers toyed with her pussy--they'd removed her panties--parted her lower lips, exposed her clit. Oh God. They worked in tandem, one plucking her clit, the other circling a thick finger around the opening of her vagina, spearing it just inside the rim, then out. In and out, again and again.
She shook her head, she couldn't take it. It was too intense. They'd already triggered one eruption that seemed to start in her toes, toes that she didn't feel anymore. This time it was more than a nipple climax, it was a whole body climax. Her muscles reflexively squeezed the finger encroaching further and further into her body. He, whichever man it was, stroked her sweet spot intermittently, until she unconsciously reached for it even when his finger wasn't there, the irregularity as arousing as steady strumming would be.
The need built, it grew into an unquenchable hunger to come. Her body shimmied, shook, rippled. Her head pressed back on the pillow, her neck extended, tendons tight until…combustion. She climaxed in a paroxysm of acute sensitivity, the sound of her piercing shriek bouncing around the room until it came back to her ears.
One of the men, Brede, shifted his body upward and crushed his lips over hers. His tongue, slick, thick, and hot, filled her mouth like a cock, and her hand, newly freed, raked his back, scoring the skin over the hard muscles. It all ended with her whimpering like a baby, exhausted, sated, and neither one of them had technically fucked her.
Sometime later, she didn't know how long later, Gwen opened her eyes awakening to a completely darkened room. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. She wasn't at home, that was for sure. She held her breath listening for other sounds. Sibilant murmurs alerted her to other persons not in the bed but nearby. Lifting her head, she peered into the darkness toward a window.
Two figures stood next to each other. One arm of each person stretched up, resting on the window frame like matching bookends. With her quickly adjusting eyes, she could see they were naked, could see the round firmness of their ass cheeks. It all flooded into her consciousness then. Her heart raced, her stomach clenched, and her vagina swelled and throbbed with desire. She had just had sex with these two men and had come so fiercely, multiple times, that she'd passed out.
Didn't she owe them some reciprocation? She hoisted herself up to rest on her elbows.
Both heads craned upward, apparently looking at something high in the sky outside the window. One man, she thought it was Brede, leaned his head against the frame, his profile now visible. His face was not as long as Rory's, more compact, his nose smaller, but his chin just as firm, even at forty-two.
She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't think her lungs would support the effort. Swinging her legs off the bed, instead she joined the men at the window.
Chapter Four
"Hi, sleepyhead," Rory said. "Back in the land of the living?" The amusement in his voice clear as he cupped her nape and tilted her head in his direction.
"Well, what do you expect," she responded in mock confrontation. "You killed me."
"Look," ordered Brede, pointing to the sky. "We're watching a lunar eclipse."
She looked, and her lips spread in a smile. The moon was halfway covered by the earth's shadow. "Wow, I'd forgotten about this. It's pretty amazing, huh?"
"Yup," Brede agreed. "But, you're pretty amazing, too."
She laughed uncomfortably. "I passed out. That's not amazing, that's rude."
"There aren't any rules. We're here to give you pleasure."
They stood at the window talking like they were just three people anywhere, instead of three people who were buck naked, who had just sweated up the sheets in a hotel room, and who did not actually know each other at all. Except for Rory's hand on her nape, they weren't even touching.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she said. "I'll be right back." In the glamorous bathroom, Gwen used the toilet and tried out the bidet. She'd never used one before but figured this was the time for it. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw no major changes like you would expect after being in a threesome. There should be some way to tell she'd gone over to the kinky side, but she was surprised at how normal she looked. Color a little heightened, hair pretty much sticking straight up, but then it was short anyway, makeup worn completely off.
Focusing on the rest of her body, her nipples were rosier than normal and there were some red marks over her chest and belly. She smiled at her reflection, a cat eating the canary smile. Brede and Rory had done her well, so well in fact, she'd passed out. Now she wanted to repay them. To do unto them. But since she was a novice at this, they would have to teach her how. Making love with two men at the same time? Was it possible? She wanted to find out, and right now was the optimum time.
When she left the bathroom, she found Brede and Rory lying on the bed, their backs against the padded headboard and a space between them, apparently meant for her. Her lips parted on a little puff of air. One of them had turned on a light just dim enough to see by. She didn't know which man was more gorgeous.
Rory had long, lean legs, narrow hips, six pack abs, and that erotic ring in his nipple on a chest as lightly furred as his legs. His cock had not risen yet; it lay partially swollen, resting on a bed of soft balls and dark pubic hair.
Brede was just as tall as Rory, but his thighs were more muscular, his belly not exactly six pack but still flat, and his chest had less hair except for the sexy line from just above his belly button and shooting down to his pubic hair. And unlike Rory, Brede's cock stretched long and thick from its nest--because he was stroking it.
Her gaze glommed onto the beauty of it as her tongue rolled instinctively across her lips. "I want to taste you." Her voice came out feather soft.
"Come here then," Brede responded. "I'd like that." He continued to stroke himself.
She climbed onto the bed from the side near the footboard and crawled to the center. Feeling like a predatory cat, she crept forward on hands and knees until she was even with his hips. Her mouth watered. She'd never be able to get the whole long cock into her mouth but hungered to try. Glancing at Rory, his gaze was hotly interested too, his lips pursed, his eyes bright. She trailed her eyes down his body. His cock was hardening and lengthening now under his own ministrations.
She lowered her head and smiled. Brede's hand flopped down on the bed, outstretched toward her. She leaned down to nuzzle and kiss his palm, and since it was lying right next to his cock, she nuzzled and kissed that, too. She heard a slight moan, but wanted more from him. Sticking out her tongue like she was going to lick an ice cream cone, she took a long, wet swipe over the heavy, round crest and lapped up the drop of pre-cum that had oozed out of the delicate hole.
Brede's long, harsh groan rewarded her. Rory groaned too in appreciation, and she supposed in anticipation. But Brede was her target right now.
She aroused him with mor
e long strokes of her tongue, up and down the sides, ignoring the head, teasing him by nipping close and around the ridge encircling it. His musky scent rose to her nostrils. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw his hands fisting tightly on the sheet next to him. His hips shifted like he wanted to plunge into her mouth, and she was more than ready to accommodate him.
Lifting up on her knees to be right over him, she closed her lips around the crest and sucked, swirling her tongue in circles.
He bowed up at the waist, his fingers threading through her hair.
She suctioned, working him with her lips and tongue, and lowered her mouth to meet her hand gripping the base of his penis. She had to hold him there. He was too long to go all the way into her mouth, and, as it was, her mouth felt stretched open to its limits.
Both hands were in her hair, fingers flexing at the short strands. She almost swooned at the sharp, sensual pull on her sensitive scalp.
She kneaded and massaged his penis, suckled it, swept her tongue over and around the top, poked it into the tender hole.
She felt hands on her. Dimly she realized that Rory had joined the party. His big palms smoothed over her backside. Already moaning herself, it turned louder. He slid his hands to her waist, then up to cradle her breasts, one in each hand. He leaned over her, his hard cock pressing shallowly into her crack as he stroked her, pinched her nipples.
Rory behind her, over her, his nipple ring imprinted on her back. Brede under her, his cock deep inside her mouth. She lost all thought processes, just reacted to the feelings, the heat and scent of their musk. She reacted instinctively to Rory's bites on her shoulders and neck. Reacted to Brede's fingers clutching at her scalp, yanking the strands. She suckled strongly, fiercely, rhythmically. With her palm, she followed his balls as they withdrew into his body, felt the flutters at the base of his penis that signaled his climax.
"Yes!" Brede shouted. "God, yes," he groaned.
His Hers & His Page 2
