Page 18 of Double Mountain Men

“We’re doing exactly what we promised, sweetheart,” I say in a throaty voice before bending my head to kiss that plush pout.“We’re going to fuck your curvy form, sweetheart, because you were built for us.”

Then, the three of us are in the bedroom, making love again. It’s furious, it’s fast, it’s wet, obscene, and everything in between. Misty moans, her delicate features cast in ecstasy, as she takes our hard cocks again and again. I know she can’t get pregnant because the service verifies that all girls are on protection. Evenwewouldn’t agree to the arrangement if she wasn’t using some type of contraceptive. Still, a man can’t help but fantasize ... because Misty is a dream come true.

10

Misty

It’s only been two days since I arrived, but it’s been forty-eight hours of non-stop revelry and hard, filthy sex. I feel used, to be honest, but in a good way. My body is achy and sore, and my pussy literally seeps with Chris and Brett’s come. Oh my god, it’s so wrong to even think those thoughts, and yet I smile to myself secretively because I’ve been a bad girl this weekend, and I loved every second of it. The two men make me feel so complete, and so feminine, that I’m a bit at a loss now that the weekend’s coming to an end.

Stop being sentimental, the voice in my head scolds.You’re getting paid, remember? This was never about hearts, roses, and sweet I-love-you’s. This was always about the no-holds-barred sex, and you’re getting six figures in your bank account as compensation.

The words ring true in my head, and yet I can’t help but feel what I feel. I’ve enjoyed my time with Chris and Brett, full stop,because what girl wouldn’t? The two mountain men are actually successful businessmen in the outside world, which is really attractive. They know how to care for their women and have full lives away from the cabin. In my opinion,that’sthe true definition of being an alpha male: Chris and Brett are killing it in business and life. So what if they want to get away from it all once in a while? Everyone needs some R&R, and this is how my men do it.

Yeah, but you know nothing about these dudes, the voice in my head snarks again.Everything they told you about themselves could be lies. They could actually be members of an Albanian gang that specializes in cutting peoples’ fingers off. Or maybe they actually work as clowns at the circus, and don wigs and make-up on the reg.

I smile while folding my laundry because it’s true. Everything that Chris and Brett have revealed about themselves could be a lie, and yes, they could be gang members or clowns. Anything is possible. And yet, I don’t think they’re lying. Of course, I don’t have any way to check because I can’t google these men, but I get the feeling that the broad sketches they provided are accurate. They’re college buddies who played lacrosse back in the day, and they’ve gone on to lead successful lives as powerful CEOs. Brett even revealed that he has two sons from his first marriage who are adults now. Why would you fib about something like that?

So I hum as I continue to fold my laundry. Chris and Brett are outside right now, chopping wood actually. They say that the exercise does a body good, and they certainly have the muscular physiques to prove it.

Meanwhile, I’m getting ready for my departure tomorrow by doing a bit of laundry before I leave. Although I’m sad to depart, I’ll always treasure the memories of this weekend because ittaught me something about myself: that I enjoy being shared by two powerful alpha males.

But after I’m done folding my clothes, I look down and see that there’s still one item left. That’s weird because I thought I got everything. Reaching down, I pluck the piece of balled cloth crammed in the corner of the basket and then frown. It’s a woman’s purple thong, sexy and sweet, made of wisps of lace and elastic. Even worse:it doesn’t belong to me.

What the hell? How in the world did a thong get into the basket? Who does this belong to, anyways?

My mind whirls as I try to think back. Brett has two sons from a previous relationship, and Chris mentioned that he’s never been married. A girlfriend, maybe? A friend? A visitor? But the thing is that Chris said he hasn’t let anyone stay at the cabin in over a year now. He said it’s his private retreat, and the cabin has pretty much been empty. Maybe they have a housekeeper who comes once in a while, and she washed her clothes in the machine?

But with a sinking heart, I realize that my worst fears are coming true. Strike that, because it wasn’t even my worst fear. It was an unrealized fear that’s only taking shape now because the panties are making me see something that I didn’t want to acknowledge: that Brett and Chris have likely been using this cabin to fuck women on the reg. This is their hidey hole where they bring girls, and then they fuck said girls before sending them on their way.

So what?the voice in my head snarks.Did you really expect otherwise? You’re one of those women, Misty. Did you really think you were different?

I blink, tears filling my eyes because to be honest, I did. It felt so special being with Brett and Chris that I thoughtIwasspecial. I thought that we shared a magical weekend together, to be treasured forever in our hearts. But now the truth is like a massive piano landing on my head: I’m nothing to them. I’m one of a bevy of women whom they bring here to fuck and suck.

Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted when the door to the muck room opens. Chris appears, handsome and sweaty, with his plaid shirt crumpled in one hand. His bronze chest gleams with perspiration, every muscle delineated.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets, still panting a bit from exertion. “Chopping wood is hard work and my shit is sweaty now. I’m just going to throw it into the washer.”

But then, he stops when he sees the tears in my eyes. “Is something wrong, Mist?” he asks. “What’s going on?”

I rise from where I was kneeling by the laundry basket, the offending thong dangling from one hand.

“What is this?” I whisper in a broken tone, my voice cracking.

Chris squints a little, eyeing the fabric.

“Ladies’ underwear? Why?”

I pause, barely able to breathe.

“It’s not mine, Chris. This belongs to someone else.Anotherwoman.”

His handsome face drains of color as he stares at me. At that moment, Brett enters the small room, their massive forms taking up all the space available. But Brett sees the thong and immediately realizes the calamity.

“It’s not what you think it is, Misty.”

I gulp, the sound audible in the silence.

“Don’t lie to me,” I say in a whisper, tears smarting at my eyes. “Please don’t insult me by lying about this.”

---