by JA Huss
AJ gets it immediately. Because he’s already behind her, pressing his cock up against her pussy.
She will be very full once he’s inside her.
And her clit vibrator is already pressed up against the base of my shaft. That, along with the internal prostate stimulation and the perineum vibrations, has me about undone. But I force myself to remain calm. I let the motion of AJ inserting his giant cock inside her pussy take over.
And then, once we are all settled—once we are nothing but a tangled mound of vibrating sex organs attached to over-excited bodies—we begin to move.
We fuck each other like some kind of alien being.
All one.
My hand tilting the control, making AJ groan and grunt as he slowly fucks her from behind.
AJ tilting his control until Yvette’s vibrator is thrumming along like an old muscle car.
And Yvette… Yvette takes it all to the next level when she tilts her control up to maximum.
I can feel all of this. Every single vibration. My ass. My balls. My lower stomach where Yvette’s clit stimulator is pressed. AJ’s balls, trembling from the cock ring, transferring the waves of motion to mine as he slowly pushes forward until they touch mine, then pulling back, making sure I miss him desperately when they’re not.
Coming for me isn’t like a regular ejaculation. It’s a stream of liquid pouring out the tip of my cock. Sliding back and forth between Yvette’s stomach and mine.
AJ grunts, leaning back to slap Yvette’s ass as he explodes inside her.
And Yvette… Yvette lifts her upper body off my chest, places both hands palm down on my pecs, arches her back so she’s looking at the ceiling and…
Screams.
With pleasure.
As her fingernails dig into my skin and draw blood.
Evidence of her orgasm in sticky red.
Chapter Ten - AJ
“I don’t know what that was,” I say, rolling off Yvette and taking her with me.
She moans and squeals as I lie on my back and draw her on top of me.
“Turn it off.” She laughs. “Turn it off!”
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” I say, unable to stop my own chuckle. I do not remember ever having this much fun during sex. Or feeling this good.
Logan is silent.
I turn my head to find him perfectly still, eyes closed. Yvette’s remote tossed to the side and still.
“Dude? You OK?”
“Shhh,” he says. “Don’t talk to me. I’m still coming.”
I look down at his cock. Which isn’t coming. There’s a sticky hot mess of semen smeared over his entire chest and stomach. “What the—”
“Just let me burn this moment into my brain. Because I’m pretty sure I will never have sex like this again and I want to enjoy it a little longer.”
“It lasts a long time,” Yvette says, panting. She’s lying on top of me, her back pressed up against my chest. And I wish there were mirrors on the top of her canopy, because I want to see her pussy like this. Filled with the vibrator and little streams of white, milky come dripping out from her lips.
If she were going to live longer than a day, I’d have been more careful about that. Be a little worried that I put a baby AJ inside her.
But she won’t. Live, that is. So I don’t worry about it.
After a few more long silent moments Logan finally says, “Fuuuuuuuuck.”
“Done now?” I ask.
“Hold on,” he says, stretching his head back and opening his mouth. “OK. I think I’m done.”
I might have to give the butt vibrator a go before we kill Yvette. Or hell, who knows? Maybe Logan and I will become a thing? Do this more often once we get back home.
Could happen.
Logan sits up a little, his abs tightening into rows upon rows of muscle, as he looks down at his chest. “Jesus. What happened here?”
“You’re a dumbass, you know that?”
“I need a shower,” he says, sitting all the way up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. And then he walks off towards the en suite bathroom, teal-green butt vibrator sticking out of his ass.
“For fuck’s sake!” I yell. “I can’t unsee that, you dick.”
He stops in the doorway to look over his shoulder. “You two coming or what?”
“He’s so romantic.” Yvette laughs. But she sits up, swings her legs over the side, and follows him.
I just lie there for a few more seconds, looking up at the ceiling with a stupid grin on my face. There are worse ways to spend a Sunday night stuck in a blizzard, that’s for sure.
The shower starts and steam puffs out from the open door to the bathroom. I sigh and look over at the window. There are heavy golden-yellow velvet drapes pouring down the edge of the frame and outside there’s enough light to see that the snow is still coming down in sheets of white.
I look over at the other bedside table and see a drawer partially open. Turning over to reach for it, I open it up and see a book. Or a journal.
Or a diary. Hmmm. Bet there’s some good reading in there. This Yvette is a total sexy freak.
“You coming or what?” Logan calls.
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
I get out of bed and the cock-ring vibrator loosens since I’m no longer hard. I take it off as I walk, then toss it into the sink where the other two toys are already waiting.
Yvette and Logan are in the shower, Logan standing off to one side as secondary jets spray his back, Yvette standing under the circle pouring down from the rain shower above. She’s got her arms lifted up, working the water into her long, blonde hair, and this makes her tits look delicious.
I meet Logan’s eyes as I open the glass door and step inside.
We grin together.
Because we know. We know what we’re gonna do next.
The tag-team fuck cannot end until there’s been a double penetration.
Sex toys don’t count.
But first we wash each other. I grab the sweet-smelling bottle of soap and squirt some onto my palm as Yvette and Logan trade places. I step towards her, massaging the bubbles onto her breasts. She gives me a quirky smile and I wonder… how did Damon let her get away?
Or maybe the question is… why did he make her want to run?
She seems cool. Nice. Open to new experiences. Interested in Logan and me equally. Kinda chill, actually. Which is a welcome change to the women I’ve dated in the past who were all psycho.
Because that’s how this goes. Psycho comes along for the ride. You want kinky girls who are up for anything? You got it. Just deal with this unstable personality while you enjoy your vibrating cock ring and prostate stimulator.
But Yvette seems calm. Almost Zen. Like she knows her place in this world and she’s satisfied with it.
I like that.
I might even like her.
She has soap in her hands too. And when she places them on my shoulders and begins to rub up and down my arms I feel myself relax. A warm rush of easiness fills me.
I want to talk to her. I want us all to talk for some reason. It feels like we should have things to say. About our day. Or what some asshole did in the car behind us on our way home from work. Or some jerk person we were forced to interact with at a drive-through while we got lunch. Small talk, I realize. It feels like we should have some small talk.
Which most people might think is meaningless, but I don’t. Small talk says you know each other. You have little things on your mind you’d like to get over. And this person you small-talk with is the one who erases the tension or the leftover bad feelings about an argument, and makes everything better.
Just makes things better. Life richer. Shit like that.
Logan and I trade places. I stand under the rain shower and rinse off while he shampoos her hair.
It feels like such an intimate gesture. Feels almost… wrong. Because even though we all just fucked and blew each other’s minds, we are not connected. Not even a little bit.
Logan and I are here to kill this girl. Kill her.
We have a plan. We have body disposal figured out.
And yet he shampoos her hair.
I step away from them, trying to figure this all out. Trying to make all these jagged pieces fit together into something that makes sense.
Yvette steps under the water and he helps her rinse out the suds so he can apply the conditioner.
I just watch them. Take a seat on the stone bench on the far side of the shower, some random shower head down by my feet blasting hot water onto my lower legs, and become an observer. A voyeur.
We say nothing because there’s nothing to say. We literally have nothing to talk about. And that sucks.
After Logan rinses the conditioner out of her hair I stretch out my hand. Because I know what comes next. I want there to be more to this. I want there to be a connection, but there isn’t. It’s not there. And it’s not gonna magically appear.
This is just… sex.
Yvette accepts my offer and takes my hand. I pull her towards me. She straddles my legs without being told. Because she knows it too. She feels it.
This encounter has no meaning at all.
It’s just sex.
I frown. And Logan says, “What?”
Logan has positioned himself behind Yvette. Her long, wet hair sticks to her breasts, winding down and over her nipples. He wraps his fingers around it from behind and pulls it into a ponytail before arranging it down her back. I look up at him and have no explanation for the expression he’s reading on my face.
So I just shrug and say, “Nothin’.”
Does he accept my answer?
Yeah. He does. Because even though we were close once, it was a while back now. We were pretty tight then but now… all the connections are still there, but they’re loose. Some of them lost, maybe.
I look at Yvette, trying to figure her out. But she’s got a blank face. There’s nothing to see there. Nothing to read.
Logan massages her shoulders, his long fingers and strong thumbs kneading the tight muscles to either side of her neck. Yvette closes her eyes and smiles.
But it’s not a smile of, Thank you. I appreciate you. I really need this today.
It’s a smile of, I know what comes next.
So do I.
Logan’s hands slowly begin to explore, dipping down to the top of her breasts, then back up to her shoulders. He does this several times before he actually cups both breasts and begins to massage them instead.
It’s a classic move every guy learns to do. Would you like a massage? Let me take that tension away. Oh, did I just grab your tits? Did I just take my shoulder massage down to your pussy?
Classic, no-brainer move.
And even though Yvette—and pretty much every other woman on the receiving end of one of those let-me-help-you-with-that-tension-ma’am massages—appreciates it, and thinks it feels good, it doesn’t change anything.
It’s just sex.
“AJ,” Logan says. “What is your problem?”
This breaks the spell still-half-drunk Yvette is under and she opens her eyes.
Now I have two people looking at me for an explanation. Because I’m thinking when I shouldn’t be.
“Nothin’,” I say. “I’m fucking great, actually.”
I throw out one of my charming smiles. The kind people expect from me now. The kind that says, Sure, I’m a six-foot-three meaty monster of a man and I can kill you seventeen different ways—none of which have anything to do with the gun in my hand pointed at your head—but don’t worry. I have this good-natured personality and smirky smile to put you at ease.
“AJ,” Logan says, kinda laughing. “What the fuck are you thinking about?”
“More sex,” I say. “With you two.” Because that’s the correct answer. And it’s stupid, anyway. To think about this shit when nothing will ever come out the other end.
So I place my hands on Yvette’s hips and lift her up a little.
My cock is hard again. Even though my mind isn’t. So she understands what I’m asking and obliges me by sitting up, reaching between her legs to grab me, and placing me at the entrance to her pussy.
This pacifies Logan, because he’s grinning down at me like, OK, yeah. You’re normal again. He steps to the side of Yvette’s head just as she sinks down onto my cock with a moan. His also-hard cock aimed right for the invitation her open mouth implies.
Her hand goes to my shoulder to steady herself, while the other one takes his cock and guides him forward until her lips seal around the tip of Logan’s dick.
Logan grips her head, bunching her hair up in his fist, and pushes her into it a little further.
I watch as his shaft begins to disappear inside her throat.
It’s slow, at least. Maybe even a little bit careful. And this makes me relax against the cold, tiled wall.
I sigh. Because being inside her feels good. And watching her devour Logan’s cock feels erotic. So I let go of all that stupid connection bullshit. Let go of my desire for small talk and just… enjoy it while it lasts.
Tomorrow this storm will be over, the roads will be clear, and Yvette Nightingale’s body will be wrapped in a tarp at the bottom of a ravine. Waiting to be found when some hiker happens upon it in some future spring.
Chapter Eleven - YVETTE
I don’t really understand how this day went from how I planned it to mind-blowing sex with two strangers… but I’m not sure it matters.
It feels good.
They feel good.
And I deserve this night with them.
That’s what I keep telling myself.
I deserve this. I earned it.
But I didn’t earn anything. My life is a series of bad choices and unfortunate circumstances. It’s just luck, I guess.
Whatever it is, I like it. Feels good. So I erase all the stupid thoughts in my head about how I’m now behind schedule and just live a little.
I take Logan’s cock as deep as I can. Deep enough to trigger my gag reflex when the tip of his head bumps up against the back of my throat.
But Logan is there to pet my wet hair and murmur encouragements. Things like, “You got this.” And “Yeah, I like that.”
And AJ fucks me slow. Or rather, lets me fuck him slow. Lets me find my own rhythm and set the pace. Lets me rise and fall on my own good time. Lets me lead.
So it’s nothing like it was downstairs. Which was rough, and fast, and desperate. Or even like it was in the bedroom. Which was a whole lot of kinky play with orgasms as the only goal.
I lose myself in the blow job. Sometimes even forgetting to fuck AJ. I close my eyes and just exist in the peaceful dream-world of slow sex.
But eventually Logan pulls his cock out of my mouth and AJ stands up, taking me with him. His large hands grip my ass as he walks forward and says, “Stand up and face Logan.”
So I do that. Automatically. No questions in my head to stop me. No second thoughts. Nothing but obedience.
Because I’m tired of being in charge. I’m tired of making decisions. I’m tired of life and I need someone to step in and just… tell me what to do. Just get me through things.
And these two seem more than willing to pick up my slack.
So I turn to face Logan and find him smiling. Which is a nice look for him. Even though I have no idea who this man is, I’ve seen enough of him today to understand he is hard.
Not the same way AJ is, either.
AJ is clearly the muscle of this team. A huge man with cannons for arms and a wide chest that, when he wraps his arms around me, feels like protection. And AJ is a joker. A guy who likes to laugh and smile.
Logan feels like the other end of the spectrum. Hard in a different way. Hard like a man who has to make big decisions. The suit, the frown, the almost-always squinting eyes as he evaluates things and comes to conclusions.
So this smile is good. It says a lot. It says, I’m having fun and fun isn’t something I usually have. It also say
s he wants more. More of me, at least.
Which I’m willing to give.
Because why not?
And let’s face it, he’s handsome. His hair is darker when it’s wet. And his body, while also muscular, like AJ’s, is different. Angular and cut like a sculpture. The low light in here catches all the lines of his body. The shape of his thighs and the hills and valleys that accentuate his six-pack abs.
I smile back at him. A real smile too.
“It’s my turn, I guess,” he says, grinning just a little wider.
And I know what that means. They’ve been fucking me different ways for hours now but Logan and I have not yet been face-to-face while he was inside me.
Fingers don’t count.
But something inside me likes this. And even though I just smile at him—and am still smiling now—it changes. Not the smile, exactly. The pleasure behind it.
It morphs into something, dare I say… real?
I admit, I get a stab of guilt deep inside my heart over that realization.
Because I smile all the time. I smile to customers, and vendors who deliver my alcohol. I smile at the locals who come in to check up on me. I smile at the TV every now and then. When I find a show that can make me forget who I am and what I went through.
But they are all fake. Every single one of them for the past year has been fake until right this second. Until this hard, angular man showed me something I’ve missed dearly.
Logan found his own joy in me. And even though it hurts so bad—to think of another man finding that kind of joy in me—I can’t afford to not appreciate it.
So I hope I’m forgiven for what I say next. Because I say, “It sure is your turn. I hope you make the most of it.”
His wide grin goes wider. His gray eyes shine with light, even though he is a dark man and everyone in this bathroom understands that.
AJ comes around behind me, leaning his back against the shower wall. The water is still luxuriously hot—thank you, brand-new tankless water heater—and the glass walls go all the way up to the ceiling so it’s literally a sauna in here. The air is thick with steam. Water beads up on our bodies, a combination of the still-raining shower head and various spray nozzles strategically positioned around the large enclosure, and the sweat that pours out of us like regrets and the repercussions of bad decisions.
