Page 130 of Riding the Pine

I reach for him, and he’s there, kissing me in a way he hasn’t for so long. It’s like I’ve been on life support for months, and he’s breathing fresh life into me as our tongues and lips battle.

Our kiss deepens, the flickering embers flaring to life, and Ophelia’s there, her fingers sinking into my pussy making my hips buck.

Scott chuckles, breaking our kiss and resting his head against mine as we catch our breath.

“You two are so fucking hot together.” Ophelia works my clit like she’s done it a million times before. “And your pussy is so fucking soft.” She kind of hums her words, and they wrap themselves around my core, another elastic woven into the tapestry pulling me tighter and tighter as she drives me higher with her hand.

“And wet.” She chokes the word out like it’s getting harder for her to think clearly.

Scott grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me to him, kissing me like he can’t be too far from me for any length of time. I don’t know how she maneuvers but when her tongue meets my clit, sparks fly, turning the glowing little fire into a raging inferno.

I jolt, but she grabs my hips. “Ride my tongue, Athena.” She pulls me until I’m sitting on her face, there’s no warning before she goes to fucking town on my clit.

Scott’s hard as a fucking rock, his dick’s poking into me as he kisses me senseless and caresses my breasts.

It’s my first time with a man and another woman at the same time, and the sensations across my skin and deep inside my body make me feel like I’m shimmering, like my whole body is made of light.

Scott works my nipples with both hands as he nips and sucks on my mouth and tongue, he moves to my neck, my collar bones, and my sternum. By the time his tongue brushes against my pulsing, swollen nipple I’m so close to being nothing but bright, white light ready to detonate I’m struggling to keep myself together in one piece.

My thighs sandwich Ophelia’s head in an iron-clad grip, my hips have taken on a mind of their own as they buck and writhe against her tongue, desperately chasing the release that’s seconds away from hitting me, like an F1 car sliding into a chicane at one hundred miles an hour.

Scott’s teeth graze my painfully hard nipple at the exact time Ophelia’s finger slides through my cheeks and circles my tight hole. She doesn’t slip inside, but she doesn’t need to. Both of them waking up different nerve endings unlocks the orgasm that’s been at boiling point for a while.

I toss my head back, narrowly missing Scott’s face with my chin, and let out a primal scream as my orgasm hits me so hard my knees go weak.

Scott grips my torso, supporting me as I rear back, jerking and flailing my Jell-o like arms.

Ophelia doesn’t stop lapping my clit, in fact, she ups her game, and within a minute my body goes rigid as a second wave hits me even more violently than the first.

I have no control over anything, my muscles, my limbs, the screams she’s tearing from my throat as her tongue shows my clit no mercy. I can’t stop fucking her face, I can’t stop riding her tongue, my hips keep moving in time with her tongue as Scott holds me, his strong arms keeping me from slithering onto the mattress like a boneless slug.

She goes for the hat trick, fluttering the very tip of her tongue against my hyper-sensitive, not capable of giving another orgasm, clitoris.

“I c-c-cant.” I’m panting against Scott’s shoulder as he cradles my sweaty body against his.

“You can, and you will.” His voice is firm. “One more, Bright Eyes, give me another one.”

“Sí, Papi.” My eyes flutter closed as Ophelia’s fingers dance at my entrance, teasing, but holding back as if she’s not sure whether or not she should ram three fingers in there and finger fuck me until I scream again, or whether she should even be there at all.

“Please, Ophie, please, I’m so empty. I d-d-don’t want to be empty anymore.”

There’s a pained groan from Scott.

It’s like she was waiting for the green light because as soon as I finish speaking, her fingers are pressing against the soft wall inside me, coaxing my G-spot back to life after a long, dark time of isolation.

Scott’s back to kissing every square inch of my slick skin, but he’s also palming my ass cheeks with the hand that isn’t pressed flat against my lower back, propping me up enough so I don’t crush or suffocate poor Ophelia.

She’s making so many satisfied noises I know she’s not dead, but she’s been down there a whi—“Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

Scott has not only found my ass, but he’s stuck his finger in it. “You said you were empty, amor. I’m just filling you up a little. Too much?”

If anything, it’s not enough, and somehow despite my inability to speak because I’m a bumbling mess of squeaks, incoherent speech, and broken spanglish, he slides another finger in. My body’s overstimulated, I sag against him even more, if that’s possible.

When it hits, my body snaps back like a demon has entered it. My legs crumple, then my body folds in an accordion, collapsing in on itself as the storm bubbles over into a tornado raging through my veins.

My raw throat manages a gravely scream as Scott and Ophelia whip me into a babbling frenzy of delirious pleasure drawn from deep inside my exhausted form. At some point the waves stop crashing, the ebbing tide recedes, and the storm calms.

“Do you have her?” Ophelia’s garbled voice sounds so far away.

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