Page 65 of Puck Me Thrice
The room was dimly lit, the bed a vast expanse of navy sheets that smelled faintly of cedar cologne. We migrated there like a pack, clothes shedding in a haphazard trail: my jersey tugged over my head by Logan's eager hands, his mouth hot on my shoulder blades; Blake's quiet efficiency unclasping my bra, his lips brushing the nape of my neck in silent thanks; Nolan watching from the bed's edge, shirtless already, his jeans tented obscenely as he palmed himself through the denim.
I stood there in just my thong, skin prickling under their gazes—Logan's hungry and teasing, Blake's adoring and deep, Nolan's calculating and fierce. My nipples hardened in the cool air, a flush creeping from my chest to my cheeks, but there was no shyness left between us. Only want.
Nolan stood, closing the distance in two strides, his hand cupping my jaw as he tilted my face up. His thumb traced my lower lip, parting it slightly, and when I sucked the pad into my mouth, his eyes darkened to storm clouds.
"I want to show you," he murmured, voice low and commanding, the kind that brooked no argument but invited surrender. "How we can all work together. Not just taking turns—together. Every touch, every thrust, synced for you."
His free hand slid down my side, hooking into the thin strap of my thong and tugging it down my thighs in one fluidmotion. I stepped out, bare now, pussy already slick and aching, the cool air kissing my folds like a promise.
Logan chuckled from behind me, his breath ghosting my ear as he pressed his clothed body against my back—his cock a hard ridge grinding against my ass. "The man's got a plan, huh? Bet it's a good one." His hands roamed forward, cupping my breasts from behind, thumbs flicking my nipples until I arched with a gasp.
Blake knelt before me, unhurried, his large hands spanning my hips as he nuzzled my mound, inhaling deeply. "God, Mira," he breathed, reverent as always, "you smell like ours."
Nolan nodded, guiding them with subtle gestures—a tilt of his chin for Logan to pinch harder, a hand on Blake's shoulder to urge him closer. "Start slow," he instructed, shedding his jeans to free his cock—girthy and flushed, curving up toward his abs like it had a mind of its own. He stroked himself once, base to tip, pre-cum beading at the slit, and the sight made my mouth water. "Build her up. Remember last time—her tells."
It was a lesson in collaborative pleasure, and fuck if it didn't feel like a goddamn masterclass. Nolan took the lead, easing me back onto the bed until I was propped against the headboard, legs splayed wide. He knelt between them first, but didn't dive in alone.
Blake flanked my left, his mouth finding my breast—lips sealing around the nipple, tongue laving in long, worshipful strokes that had me keening low. Gentle, always so gentle, but devastating in its thoroughness. He sucked until the peak was swollen and sensitive, then soothed with small licks, his free hand tracing idle patterns on my inner thigh, inching closer to where I throbbed.
Logan mirrored on my right, but his style was fire to Blake's embers—playful, teasing bites along the curve of my breast, teeth grazing just enough to sting before he soothed with a swirl of tongue.
"These tits," he growled against my skin, nipping the underside, "fuckin' perfect for marking up." His hand dipped lower, bolder, fingers parting my folds to circle my clit with loose, maddening loops that avoided direct pressure. I bucked, chasing it, but he pulled back with a grin. "Patience, baby. Let us play."
Nolan watched my face—the hitch in my breath, the flutter of my lashes—adjusting on the fly. "Good," he murmured, then lowered his head, his breath fanning my core before his tongue extended in one flat, deliberate lick from entrance to clit.
I cried out, the sound muffled as Logan's mouth claimed mine in a messy kiss—tongue thrusting deep, mimicking what was to come. Blake's hand joined Nolan's between my legs now, his finger tracing my entrance while Nolan focused on my clit, sucking it between his lips with precise, pulsing pressure. No fumbling; they moved like they'd rehearsed this on the ice—anticipating shifts, covering angles.
Logan's kiss turned sloppy, spit trailing down my chin as he broke away to whisper filth: "Gonna fuck you so good, Mira. All of us. Fill you up."
The symphony built. Nolan's tongue delved deeper now, fucking into me with short, sharp thrusts while his thumb ground my clit—methodical, unyielding. Blake's finger slid inside alongside, thick and curling slow to stroke my front wall, his mouth transferring to my other breast, sucking in time with his thrusts.
Logan—never one to be idle—straddled my chest briefly, his cock bobbing near my face as he leaned down to kiss Nolan over my mound, a filthy three-way that had me clenching around their fingers.
"Taste her," Logan demanded, and Nolan did, sharing my arousal in a swipe of tongue that made them both groan.
I was gasping already, pleas tumbling unfiltered: "More—fuck, please, I need—" Incoherent, lost in the overload.
Nolan pulled back, slick-chinned and eyes blazing. "On your back, full," he commanded the others, and they complied seamlessly.
I was maneuvered onto my stomach first, pillows under my hips to arch me perfectly, ass up and presented. Blake took position behind me, his hands spreading my cheeks reverently, thumbs parting my folds to expose me fully.
"So wet for us," he whispered, like a prayer, before his tongue traced my slit from clit to the tight pucker above. Gentle laps at first, worshiping every inch, then delving deep—tongue fucking my pussy while a finger circled my ass, teasing the rim without breaching.
Logan slid beneath me on his back, face upturned between my thighs now, his mouth latching onto my clit with playful suction—sucking hard, then releasing with a pop, only to nibble the hood lightly.
"Ride my face, Mira," he urged, hands gripping my thighs to pull me down harder. The dual strategy—Blake's tongue in my pussy, Logan's mouth on my clit—had stars bursting behind my eyes, my hips grinding instinctively, chasing the friction.
Nolan knelt to the side, his hand fisting his cock as he watched, but he wasn't passive. "Blake—add a finger," he directed, and Blake did, sliding two into my dripping heat, scissoring slow while his tongue flicked my asshole. Logan's playful vibe amped up; he hummed against my clit, the vibration zinging through me, then thrust his tongue up to meet Blake's fingers, their mouths nearly colliding inside me.
"Switch," Nolan said after I'd started babbling—nonsense pleas, my fingers digging into Logan's shoulders. They moved like water: Blake rolling out, Logan flipping to take his place behind, his cock nudging my entrance now. No preamble; he was playful but not patient, rubbing the thick head along my slit before thrusting in—halfway at first, teasing, then bottoming out with a slap of skin that made me scream into the pillow.
"Fuck, so tight," he groaned, hands spanking my ass lightly—once, twice—for that sting of play. He set a rhythm: shallow thrusts that ground his balls against my clit, then deep ones.
Blake took Logan's vacated spot beneath, but instead of face-sitting, he guided my mouth to his cock—long and straight, leaking steadily. "Please," he murmured, voice wrecked, and I engulfed him, sucking with reverence to match his own.
My jaw stretched around him, throat relaxing as I bobbed, tongue swirling the vein underneath while my hand pumped the base. He was gentle even here, hips rocking shallowly, one hand in my hair like a caress.
Nolan positioned himself at my side, reaching under to roll my clit between his fingers—intense, pinching just enough to border pain—while his other hand guided Blake's thrusts, deepening them. "Feel that?" Nolan asked, voice strained. "All of us, Mira. Connected."
