Page 127 of Agency
Their hands were back on me, rearranging me and positioning me in the best way to fuck me, to use me, to give me pleasure.
How was Jericho hard again?
Did the idea of taking my ass fill him with that added vigor? Of his being where his friends already had?
Against the couch’s backrest, Jericho lifted my legs high, tilting my ass for his cock like a target. I was the bull’s eye, he was the arrow, and he loosed himself with a sighing groan from both our mouths, rather than a twang of bow string.
“Fuck!” I breathed, clenching tight around his sudden length as he embedded himself inside. “Fuck, Jericho! Fuck my ass, sir!”
And he did. My legs up and over his shoulders, he drilled hard and fast and deep into my ass.
Under the watchful eyes of his friends, he braced himself with one hand on the back of the couch as the other closed over my throat, his eyes pinning me to the cushion as much as his cock or hand ever could. Fingers from either Morgan or Andrew, I didn’t know which, slid over my clit and continued to play with me and to coax me along my orgasmic trail as Jericho fucked and used my loosened ass.
My eyes rolled up and lodged somewhere in my head, refusing to focus or look at the world around. My body shook and trembled and quailed through orgasm after orgasm as they circled my clit, and Jericho fucked me deeper than any man ever had.
I belonged to them, to the three of them, in that moment.
No. All moments. Not just this one. All of them.
Hands on my tits. Hands on my calves, ankles, feet, my whole body as they continued to stroke and stroke my clit to the next orgasm. And always, always,always, Jericho’s driving cock pounding into my loose hole, bringing home and reminding me of how much of a slut I was for them.
I’d never erase this from my memory. I’d never be able to find three men who cared more for me. Never be able to find three men I trusted more to have my back, or guard my life like their own, like I had with these three.
I came again. And again. And again. Multiple orgasms became one, mixing together until I realized how much of this afternoon had been one, long, continuous orgasmic manifestation since I’d first taken Andrew’s cock into my mouth. This was a pureness, a lightness, a transcendental moment of pleasure and hedonism I’d never match with anyone else ever again.
I was theirs and this was as much a bonding ceremony as a foursome, I realized as I ground and writhed against their touching hands and thrusting cock. In my heart-of-hearts, I knew that fact. Knew that truth as I gasped through the pleasure for needed breath, as I accepted what I wanted and needed.
But how could I let this go? How could I see them in anymore danger? How could I—?
Jericho emptied himself in me with a roar that nearly shook the rafters and probably made Management shiver in his boots. I flexed, milked, physically begged for his hot cum to coat my insides and join his friends’ as I came, my body working on sluttish reflex in an effort to coax one more bit of pleasure from this all.
Jericho’s softening cock slid from me, leaving me feeling empty as I slumped into and let the cushions swallow me. Empty, but fulfilled and so tender.
And certainly not alone.
No, definitely not alone.
Because hot breath came, then. Warming where their cum had overflowed and already begun to cool, their mouths arrived. Firm and eager and desperate, they licked and cleaned me as their strong limbs twisted me this way and that, turning me over so my ass and pussy lips were exposed to their hunger, with my face turned into the couch’s overfilled back cushions.
I groaned, I moaned.
I pushed back into them, my wings finally unfurling from their cocoon and beginning to spread as my hands began to claw back over my thighs and hips.
I was theirs. God, why did things have to be this way? Why did the men I knew I needed to be with have to be so close to danger?
But still, I found my cheeks, and I spread them. Moaning, I found the wind beneath my metamorphosed wings as my three lovers lapped and sucked one after the other, drinking me down and cleaning me, making sure that I knew who would take care of me.
Because I was theirs. I was their good girl, their good slut. I was their Ambyr, wasn’t I?
And, dammit, they were mine, as they moaned and kissed and licked and drank. As surely as I was theirs, they were mine.
Each tongue and set of lips was different from one another. Each pattern of stubble unlike the previous, their hair softer or more stiff, they worked over my skin and heightened the sense of how raw and overwhelmed and tender I was. Even their movements were different, unique to them.
I knew Morgan ate and drank first. He was more tentative, more worried, like that first time back in my hotel room. But he grew hungrier and hungrier with every taste of me and what we’d all wrought, his tongue delving deeper and deeper with each flick.
Andrew… Andrew was a lover. He licked my clit as much as my drenched holes. He hooked fingers into me, massaging my G-spot till I was squirming with my sensitivity, then moaning from his touch as his tongue flicked back and forth between my holes.
Jericho, though. Jericho was the leader. His fingers found my clit. His hand slapped down on one cheek and brushed mine away as he spread me wider and leaned down closer.
