Page 27 of Once Upon a Dream
“You’re so big,” a ballerina cooed.
“So big,” another echoed.
“I want to use him first!”
“I’ll be next!”
“Oh fuck,” he mumbled, feeling something wet and hot close over the hard tip of his cock. A mouth. A warm mouth with a fluttering tongue and soft lips. There were more giggles as he tried to lift his hips and push more of his shaft into that willing warmth, and then he felt other mouths. Pulling his jeans all the way off and kissing his thighs, working their way around his hips, nuzzling at the seams between his groin and his legs. More dancers came up on the bed, crowding around him and Tamsin and Daneice, their hands and lips everywhere.
He tugged at Tamsin’s leotard, wanting it off, and she obeyed, even as she was just as busy kissing and squeezing and rubbing as he was. The mouth on his cock took him deeper and deeper, working him hard, until it was replaced by another mouth, and then another, and another.
Somehow, he worked his way up higher on the bed, making enough room for all thirteen of them to be arranged comfortably, if intimately, because there was no flesh not touching other flesh; the entire bed was a lacework of long, lithe limbs and smooth skin and silken pointe shoes. That pink silk was the only stitch of clothing any of them now wore, shocks of cool ribbons against all that hot skin.
There were too many kisses, too many hands, too many needy mouths and rubbing thighs to keep track of who was where and doing what, but Cal kept track of Tamsin beside him the whole time. With me, he’d said and he’d meant it.
With me, he said as Nanami rolled a condom down his dick. With me, as Mary Grace swung a leg over his torso and sank down his sheathed cock. With me, as he guided a pretty head between Tamsin’s legs to make her feel good, as Devorah straddled
his face and he held her hips as he sucked on her clit. With me, as they all fucked each other in a tangle of fingers and tongues. With me, with me, with me.
“We want you to ruin our shoes too,” Lael said into Cal’s ear. She was currently rubbing the swollen bud of Ling’s clit as Ling rode him. He was getting close to the edge—Ling was the fourth ballerina to fuck him until she came—and Cal felt like he had no self-control left. His entire body was stretched tight, his toes digging into the sheets and his thighs so tense they ached. His cock almost hurting with the need to release.
Next to him, Tamsin had already come twice, once from riding his face, another time from Louisa’s clever fingers. “Oh yes,” she said, “you have to. Just like you did for me.”
“Happy to,” Cal said. “Might take more than one time though.”
“I think we can make that happen,” Lael purred, and then Ling came with a series of wracking shudders, her little mouth parted in an O of surprise. Cal gritted his teeth and endured the feeling with as much restraint as he could manage, but once she was finished, he gently lifted her away.
“Gonna come,” he grunted, and with the same kind of grace and quickness they had on the stage, they arranged themselves in a little row on the bed. He managed to get to his knees and rip off the condom before it happened, and with a sharp wave of release, he emptied himself over several pairs of ballet slippers. With grunt after grunt as he stroked the semen out of his cock. He came so hard he could feel it in the soles of his feet and at the top of his scalp. And when he was finished, still-hard cock in hand, he saw that he’d only stained about half the shoes.
Which meant…
“More,” Tamsin said firmly, pushing him back down on the bed and rolling another condom down his length after a few strokes to keep him at full mast. “You’ve still got more shoes to ruin.”
And so he let the girl he’d started to care for guide pussy after pussy down on his cock, his face, his fingers. He fucked every girl in that room, more than once, he fucked them hard and soft, fast and slow, until the night grew old and blue at the edges, until they were all too sated and tired to do anything other than hum and snuggle and yawn.
And Cal ruined every single slipper they wore.
Epilogue
Two Months Later
Cal
Cal caught the duffel bag easily and tossed it to the ground. He held up his hands to signal he was ready for more, and Tamsin leaned out of her window with her dance tote and dropped it down. That, plus a weekender bag and a pillow, and all of Tamsin’s worldly possessions were ready to be packed away in Cal’s car. He’d wanted nothing but this as early as eight weeks ago, the first weekend they’d met, but had respected her wish to stay until her successful audition with the American Ballet Theatre.
But finally, finally she was leaving, and instead of leaving on the train tomorrow like her father thought she was, she was sneaking out tonight with Cal. And he had one final surprise for her…if she wanted it.
Cal put her things in his car and came back to the window.
“Why don’t you come up here?” she asked in a low voice. “One last time?”
He wordlessly started climbing the tree; he knew the way into Tamsin’s room by heart now. Since their weekend at Persepolis, Cal had advised all the girls to stay in more often—Mistress Hell would protect them as much as she could, but a little caution would go a long way with a man like Purkiss. And they had cajoled and wheedled and touched him with butterfly hands to beg, and somehow he’d ended up agreeing to visit them on the nights they stayed in. They were insatiable, demanding, creative, and sweet, and after eight weeks of servicing all them, he understood Mistress Hell’s fascination with the dancers. They were like gifts from the gods of fucking, come to earth.
And Tamsin…Tamsin most of all.
Cal had assumed what happened that first weekend had been some kind of adventure for them, an experiment of sorts, and that even if there’d been no lasting harm done to Tamsin’s feelings, that it wouldn’t happen again. He was used to women who didn’t like to share after all, and he figured if a wife couldn’t share her husband with war, then this young girl couldn’t be expected to share him with eleven of her friends.
He’d deeply underestimated Tamsin. Tamsin and her obsessive craving for the wrong and the taboo in life. She loved nothing more than all of them playing together, she loved choreographing their orgies, debasing him and herself and everyone around them in delightful, ecstatic ways, and she came the hardest when she was the last one to fuck him. When she had him sweaty and raw and at the edge of his control. That’s how she liked him best.
