Page 66 of Puck Me Thrice
The fullness was transcendent—Logan's cock splitting me open from behind, pounding with that confident swagger. Blake's in my mouth, sliding deep enough to bulge my throat. Nolan's fingers everywhere, directing the chaos into harmony. They synced: Logan's thrusts pushing me deeper onto Blake, Blake's rocks matching Logan's pace, Nolan's pinches timed to the slap of hips.
Sweat slicked our skin, the room echoing with wet sounds—schlick of cock in pussy, gluck of mouth on dick, my muffled moans. I came first, shattering around Logan without warning, walls clamping like a fist as I wailed around Blake's length, drool spilling down his balls. They continued. Logan fucked me through it, grinding deep to prolong the spasms, Blake petting my hair with whispered praises: "That's it, beautiful—let go."
But Nolan wasn't done directing. "On your back," he ordered again, pulling me up as Logan slipped free, his cock glistening with my release. I collapsed onto the sheets, legs trembling, pussy clenching around nothing. Blake took my left side, lifting my leg over his hip as he slid in slow—reverent, inch by inch, until he was seated to the hilt.
His thrusts were deep and measured, like lovemaking, eyes locked on mine as he whispered, "I love how you feel—love you." Gentle rolls of his hips that hit every spot, his hand splaying over my belly to feel himself move inside.
Logan knelt between my thighs now, straddling Blake's legs to rub his cock along my clit—teasing, smearing our mixed arousal—before nudging at my entrance alongside Blake. "Double up?" he asked, grin wicked, but Nolan shook his head.
"Not yet. Mouth." Logan obliged, swinging a leg over to straddle my chest, feeding his cock between my lips. I suckedgreedily, tasting myself on him—salty-tangy—hollowing cheeks as he fucked my face with shallow pumps, playful tugs on my nipples keeping me grounded in the haze.
Nolan finally claimed his spot, kneeling at the bed's edge and guiding my free hand to his cock—letting me stroke him in time with Blake's thrusts. But he wasn't content to watch. Leaning over, he captured my mouth around Logan's shaft, tongue licking where we joined, sharing the taste in a messy, possessive kiss that had Logan cursing above me. His intensity shone: fingers joining Blake's where we connected, rubbing my clit in tight, relentless circles that had me sobbing around Logan's cock.
"Come again," Nolan demanded, voice a growl. "Milk him."
I did—second orgasm crashing harder, pussy fluttering around Blake as he groaned, thrusting deep but holding back. Logan pulled out to let me breathe, painting my lips with pre-cum before diving down to suck my nipple, biting just hard enough to spike the pleasure.
The finale built like a crescendo. Nolan orchestrated the shift: Blake pulling out with a wet slide, Logan taking his place for a few brutal thrusts—playful slaps to my thighs, cock angling to hit my G-spot until I squirted around him, soaking the sheets.
Then Blake again, slower, drawing out my aftershocks with deep grinds. Nolan last—easing in with focused precision, fucking me like he was solving a puzzle, hips snapping in a rhythm that had me incoherent, babbling their names like a litany. "Nolan—fuck—yes—more—"
The others flanked me now, cocks in hand—Logan jerking lazily, Blake stroking with that gentle grip. Nolan's thrusts faltered, his control cracking. "Together," he rasped,pulling out at the brink. They crowded close: Nolan over my belly, stroking furiously. Logan aiming for my breasts, thumb swiping his slit. Blake at my thighs, eyes locked on mine.
It hit in waves—Nolan first, hot ropes splattering my stomach, pooling in my navel. Logan next, grunting as he came across my tits, the warmth trickling down my sides. Blake last, a deep moan as he painted my inner thighs, cum dripping toward my still-pulsing pussy.
I trembled through it, aftershocks rippling as they milked every drop, hands smearing their releases over my skin like war paint. Exhausted, sated, I looked up at them—Logan with his sated grin, Blake with his soft glow, Nolan with quiet triumph—and felt wonder bloom deep in my chest.
We'd learned each other's rhythms, moved without collision, discovered that three men, utterly focused on my pleasure, could craft something godlike. Transcendent. And as they curled around me, cleaning me with warm cloths and murmured affections, I knew we'd only just begun composing our symphony.
The NHL draft was three weeks away, and I was absolutely, definitively losing my mind.
I sat at my desk surrounded by different spreadsheets, each one attempting to solve an impossible equation: how to maintain a relationship with three people who would potentially be drafted to three different teams in three different cities.
If I chose a location equidistant from all three, that put me somewhere in... I squinted at my calculations. Kansas. The geographic center of potential NHL team locations was Kansas.
Kansas had no ocean, no mountains, and definitely no prestigious doctorate programs in biomechanics.
I created another spreadsheet. This one calculated drive times, flight costs, and the feasibility of maintaining three separate long-distance relationships while pursuing my own education.
The numbers didn't lie: this was impossible.
"Mira?" Blake's voice came from my doorway. "Have you eaten today?"
I looked at the clock. 7 PM. When had that happened?
"I had coffee," I said.
"Coffee isn't food."
"Coffee beans are technically vegetables."
"That's not how nutrition works."
I turned back to my spreadsheets, making another notation about flight times between hypothetical cities. If Nolan went to Seattle and Logan to Boston and Blake to... anywhere, really, since enforcers were less predictable draft picks... then I could potentially—
"Mira." Blake's voice was firmer now. "Close the laptop."
"I'm almost done with this calculation—"
