Chapter 5: Gifts That Keep Giving
The first sensation was a deep, resonant ache, a thrumming soreness that seemed to originate in the marrow of her hips and radiate outward. Tara’s eyes fluttered open to the unfamiliar sight of a carved wooden phallus on the headboard looming over her. Morning light, sharp and accusatory, cut through a gap in the heavy curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing over the massive, rumpled bed.
She was not alone. A warm, heavy limb was thrown across her waist. Soft breathing and the smell of sex, sweat, and Luke’s spicy cologne filled the air. She was pinned between Julie’s sleeping form and the solid warmth of Kim’s back. Somewhere behind her, Chimlin sighed in her sleep.
Memory returned in a visceral flood. Hank. The couch. The feeling of being un-made. Then the migration to this room, this enormous bed, where the night had blurred into a sweaty, groaning mosaic of tangled limbs and shifting bodies. Luke joining Hank. The two of them moving between and among the four of them with a lazy, possessive authority. The relentless stretch and fullness. The exhausting, overlapping peaks.
Tara tried to shift, and a new, specific sensation buzzed to life deep inside her. A low, insistent vibration, muffled by her own flesh. She froze.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice raspy from disuse and yesterday’s screams.
The movement woke Julie beside her. The taller girl winced as she stretched, her elegant features contorting. “Every muscle I own is filing a complaint,” she groaned. Then she, too, stilled. Her eyes, wide and hazel, locked onto Tara’s. A slow blush crept up her neck. “You feel that?”
“Yeah,” Tara breathed.
A stirring came from Tara’s other side. Kim rolled over, her fiery red hair a wild corona on the pillow. “Feel what?” she mumbled, then her eyes snapped open. “Oh. That.”
Chimlin was the last to wake, pushing herself up on one elbow. Her super cute face was puffy with sleep, her dark hair a tangled mess. She didn’t speak. She just looked down at the sheet pooled around her waist, her expression shifting from confusion to dawning, horrified understanding.
Four pairs of eyes met in the harsh morning light. Without a word, they all moved—a clumsy, pained disentangling of limbs. They sat up in the vast bed, the weathered leather and floral sheets slipping away.
Each of them discovered the same parting gift.
They were all wearing smooth, silicone devices, subtle in color but significant in size. They were still turned on, set to a low, teasing frequency that sent a continuous, involuntary hum through their exhausted cores.
“They left them in?” Julie said, her charismatic laugh absent, replaced by flat disbelief.
“Batteries included,” Kim muttered, her fiery spirit simmering into blunt practicality. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as her feet hit the cool hardwood floor. She stood, her curvy figure outlined against the sunlit wall, and carefully removed the device. She held it up, examining it with a clinical detachment that didn’t quite mask her shock. It was substantial. “Classy.”
One by one, the others followed suit, the soft clicks of the toys being switched off punctuating the quiet room. The relief of removing them was instantly replaced by a strange, hollow emptiness and a fresh wave of soreness.
Tara, petite and feeling particularly ravaged, hugged her knees to her chest. Her firm, thirty-two-D bust felt tender. Her twenty-inch waist ached. “I feel like I got run over by a truck named Hank.”
“Same truck,” Julie said, running a hand through her tangled blonde hair. “Just backed over me a few extra times.”
A flicker of their old camaraderie sparked. Chimlin managed a weak smile. “I think I saw my soul leave my body at one point. It was waving a little white flag.”
The shared, exhausted laughter that followed was soft, real. It was a lifeline back to normality, to who they were before the gazebo, before the loft.
Kim padded naked to the heavy oak desk, her thirty-seven-inch hips swaying with a stiffness she tried to hide. The room’s details came into focus: the shelves of lurid paperbacks, the yellowed posters of bodybuilders and Bettie Page, the gun beside the whiskey glass. It was a room that didn’t apologize for what it was.
“There’s a note,” Kim announced, picking up a folded piece of rough paper.
They gathered around, a naked, sore quartet. Kim read it aloud, her voice devoid of inflection.
“‘Girls – Had business out of town. Make yourselves at home. Help yourselves to anything. We’ll be back by sundown. Try to be ready. – L & H.’
“Try to be ready,” Kim repeated, dropping the note on the desk with a dismissive snort. “The audacity.”
“Sundown,” Julie echoed. She glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the wall. It was just past ten in the morning. “We have… hours.”
A heavy silence descended. The note was a statement, not a request. It held the same assumption of ownership as the toys they’d just removed.
“So,” Tara said, her bubbly voice tentative. “Do we… go?”
The question hung in the cedar-scented air.
“And do what?” Chimlin asked quietly, folding her arms over her busty thirty-four-DD chest. “Go back to the dorm? Take a shower, put on our pleated skirts, and pretend we didn’t…” She gestured at the bed, at themselves.
“They left cash,” Kim said, thumbing the small stack of bills next to the gun. “Probably for food. Or for whatever.”
“I’m not taking their money,” Julie stated, her graceful demeanor firming into something harder.
“I’m starving,” Tara said, her small stomach choosing that moment to gurgle audibly. The mundane bodily need broke the tension. They all were. The calorie burn of the last twelve hours had been catastrophic.
Kim opened a drawer. “Protein bars,” she said, pulling out a box. She tossed them one each. It was a decision, however small. They weren’t leaving. Not yet.
They ate in silence, perched on the edge of the massive bed or leaning against the bookshelves, wrapped in sheets like togas. The sugar and carbs worked a minor miracle. Color returned to their faces. The aching began to settle from a sharp crisis into a deep, persistent throb.
“I need a shower,” Julie said finally, standing. “A really, really long one.”
The bathroom was as imposing as the bedroom—a tiled cavern with a walk-in shower big enough for a small party. They didn’t discuss it. They just all filed in, turning on multiple showerheads. The hot water was a benediction. They washed each other’s backs, winced as soap found tender places, and slowly, under the steam, the silence turned into quiet conversation.
“Do you think Hank’s… you know… normal?” Tara asked, scrubbing at her short, pixie-cut hair.
Kim barked a laugh. “In what universe? The man is a retired weapon.”
“No, I mean…” Tara struggled. “Luke seems like he does this a lot. The vibe. Hank seemed… surprised. By us.”
Julie considered this, letting water cascade over her tall, athletic frame. “He was surprised anyone could take him. We did. All of us. In different ways.”
“Kim broke him,” Chimlin said, a note of pride in her voice. She was carefully soaping her narrow hips, her movements still ginger. “I saw his face after. He looked at you like… like you were a natural disaster.”
Kim shrugged, but a small, fierce smile touched her lips. “He started it.”
“They left the toys in,” Julie mused, her tone analytical now. “It’s a power move. To keep us thinking about them. To keep us…” She trailed off.
“Aching?” Tara supplied.
“Open,” Julie corrected quietly.
The word settled over them. It was true. The low vibrations had done their work on a subconscious level, a constant reminder of penetration, keeping their bodies in a state of heightened, receptive sensitivity even in sleep.
They washed off the last of the night, of the men, but the internal feeling remained. A physical memory. An imprint.
Wrapped in Luke’s oversized towels, they wandered back into the bedroom. The sun was higher now, painting bright rectangles on the floor. The evidence of the night was everywhere—the tangled sheets, the empty glasses by the bed.
“We should strip the bed,” Julie said, ever the organizer.
As they worked, pulling sheets, a new dynamic emerged. There were no more secrets between them. They had seen each other broken down, exposed, pushed beyond limits. There was a blunt, unspoken camaraderie in it.
“I literally thought he was going to split me in half,” Tara said, heaving a pillowcase off. “I’m still not entirely sure he didn’t.”
“I preferred being on top,” Kim stated, folding a sheet with sharp, decisive movements. “More control.”
“Control is an illusion with them,” Chimlin said softly, shaking out a duvet. “It’s about… surviving the wave. And maybe riding it.”
Julie stopped, holding a pillow to her chest. “Do we want them to come back?”
The question was the one they’d all been avoiding.
Tara looked out the window at the bright day. She thought of Hank’s hands spanning her waist, of the terrifying, transcendent moment of being completely filled. A shiver ran through her that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “I’m scared to,” she admitted.
“I am too,” Julie said.
“I’m not scared,” Kim said. “I’m pissed off. And I want a rematch.”
Chimlin just nodded, her expression unreadable.
They remade the bed with fresh linens they found in a closet, a mundane act that felt strangely domestic and defiant all at once. They were cleaning up the aftermath, asserting order. But they weren’t leaving.
As the afternoon sun began to lengthen the shadows in the room, they dressed in their yesterday’s clothes, which felt grimy and inadequate. They didn’t leave the loft. They explored it. They found a fully stocked kitchen and made a haphazard meal of eggs and toast. They avoided the living room where the couch held its own memories.
They napped, a tangle of exhausted bodies on the freshly made bed, sleep coming easily this time, deep and dreamless.
Tara was the one who woke first as the light began to turn orange and gold. She slipped out from under Kim’s arm and went to the window. She watched the sun dip toward the horizon, painting the city in fiery hues.
Sundown.
She heard the key in the lock downstairs before anyone else did. The sound was firm, final.
She didn’t wake the others. She just stood there, watching the door from the top of the stairs, her petite frame outlined in the dying light. Her body throbbed a dull reminder of its use. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Fear was there, a sharp, metallic taste in her mouth.
But underneath it, coiling deep in her sore, well-used center, was a pulse of something else. A dark, eager anticipation.
Footsteps, heavy and sure, sounded on the stairs. Luke appeared first, his powerful frame filling the doorway, a bag of takeout in his hand. Hank loomed behind him, his bald head gleaming in the low light.
Luke’s eyes found Tara by the window. He took in her determined stance, the set of her small jaw. His playful glint returned, brighter than ever.
“Hey there,” he said, his voice warm. “You ready?”
Behind her, she heard the rustle of the others waking. Tara didn’t turn around. She kept her eyes on Luke, and then on Hank behind him. She remembered the feeling of breaking, of being overwhelmed, of being conquered.
She thought of the wave Chimlin mentioned.
Tara let a small, slow smile touch her lips. It wasn’t her bubbly, cheerleader smile. It was something newer, something forged in the ache of her own hips.
“We’ve been waiting,” she said.
Luke’s smile widened at Tara’s words. He dropped the takeout bag by the door. “Yeah? Good.”
Hank moved past him, his massive frame making the room feel instantly smaller. His cool blue eyes scanned the four of them, cleaned up and dressed but still looking thoroughly used. A flicker of that same respect Kim had seen earlier touched his gaze. “You’re all still here.”
“Where else would we be?” Kim said, pushing herself off the bed. She stood facing him, her fiery red hair a mess but her chin high. “We owe you a rematch.”
Hank actually chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Kim shot back.
Julie stepped forward, her graceful movements measured. “It’s not a rematch. It’s a new game.” She glanced at Luke. “Your rules are boring. We make the rules tonight.”
Luke raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay. Lay ‘em out.”
“We choose the positions,” Chimlin said, her voice quiet but clear. She folded her arms over her busty chest, her narrow hips angled defiantly. “We set the pace. You don’t just… take. You follow.”
Hank crossed his arms, the muscles in his shoulders bunching. “You think you can handle that?”
Tara looked from Hank’s imposing bulk to Luke’s playful confidence. A crazy, rebellious idea sparked. “We handle you,” she said, the words feeling dangerous on her tongue. “Both of you. At the same time.”
A thick silence filled the room. Luke whistled softly. “Ambitious.”
“We’ve got four of us and two of you,” Julie reasoned, her charismatic logic weaving through the tension. “We switch. We control the rhythm. We see who wears out who.”
Hank looked at Luke, a slow, competitive grin spreading across his face. “They wanna play endurance? I’m game.”
“Bed,” Kim stated, pointing to the massive four-poster they’d just remade. “Now. On your backs.”
The two men exchanged a look of pure, predatory amusement but complied. They sat on the edge of the bed, then shuffled back, lying side-by-side against the carved headboard. They were a landscape of muscle and intent, already half-hard with anticipation.
The girls huddled for a second, a quick, whispered council of war.
Tara went first. She climbed onto the bed, her petite ninety-pound frame a stark contrast to Hank’s immensity. She didn’t hesitate this time. She straddled his waist, her small hands braced on his chest. His sheer size beneath her was still terrifying, a monolith of flesh and power.
“Slow,” she instructed him, her bubbly voice firm. “You let me.”
She guided him into herself, a gasp tearing from her lips as the unforgettable girth began to stretch her. It was even tighter than yesterday, her sore, swollen tissues offering fierce resistance. She took only the head, maybe an inch, the burning stretch making her eyes water. She couldn’t take him balls deep, not yet; the promise of that full, devastating penetration was a distant, aching threat.
“See?” she breathed, rocking minutely, a tremor running through her thighs. “My pace.”
Beside them, Julie chose Luke. She positioned herself over him with her dancer’s precision, lowering herself onto his length with a controlled, deliberate slowness. Her elegant face was a mask of concentration as her well-used body accepted him, her thirty-six D bust swaying with the gentle motion. She set a slow, deep cadence, using the strength in her toned legs to dictate every rise and fall.
Kim watched for a moment, her fiery eyes calculating. Then she moved to Hank’s head, kneeling beside him on the pillows. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, hard and demanding. “You watch her,” she said against his mouth, nodding toward Tara working desperately on his cock. “You don’t touch. You don’t move. You just take it.”
Chimlin, meanwhile, attended to Luke. She leaned over his torso, her super cute face hovering above his. She took his hand and guided it to her breast, but not for his pleasure. She pressed his palm against her, letting him feel her heartbeat hammering against his skin. “This is what you get,” she whispered. “Just feeling.”
For a while, it worked. The room was filled with the sounds of ragged breathing and soft, rhythmic creaks from the bed. Tara fought to maintain her slow, grinding pace on Hank, her tiny body quivering with the effort of containing even that partial invasion. Each small movement sent jolts of sharp, overwhelming sensation through her core. She was so tight he couldn’t move, pinned by her clenching heat around just his tip.
Julie rode Luke with a relentless, metronomic consistency, her athletic body glistening with a sheen of sweat. She was in control, her pace steady, her breathing even. But Luke just watched her, his hands gripping the sheets at his sides, a patient smile on his face. He was letting her work, biding his time.
The energy began to shift.
Tara’s thighs began to burn. The shallow, grinding motion wasn’t enough to bring her to the edge, only enough to keep her agonizingly aware of the massive, unmoving intrusion. A frustrated whimper escaped her. Hank’s hands, which had been flat on the bed, tensed.
“Getting tired, honey?” he rumbled, his voice thick.
Before she could answer, he moved.
It wasn’t a thrust. It was a subtle, powerful roll of his hips, an upward tilt of his pelvis that sank another impossible half-inch into her.
Tara cried out, her control shattering. Her body arched, her twenty-inch waist bowing under the sudden, deeper stretch. She was forced to take more of him, her incredible tightness protesting with a fierce, burning ache. She couldn’t stop it.
Seeing Tara falter broke Julie’s concentration. For a fraction of a second, her rhythm hitched. Luke seized the moment. In one smooth motion, he sat up, wrapping his powerful arms around her. He flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath him.
“My turn,” he said, his playful glint gone, replaced by sheer intent.
He drove into her, his strokes deep and claiming. Julie’s elegant control vanished under the sudden, pounding assault. Her cries filled the air, not of command, but of surrender.
Kim snarled and climbed onto Hank, trying to divert him. She positioned herself over his face, lowering her thirty-seven-inch hips onto his mouth. “Earn it,” she demanded.
Hank’s response was to lick her with a broad, rough stroke that made her gasp. But his hands came up to Tara’s hips, holding her in place as he began to move her on his cock, forcing her up and down a terrifying, shallow inch. Tara was a doll in his grasp, her petite frame manipulated easily, her tight passage stretched a little further with each forced descent.
“Too much,” she sobbed, her hands scrabbling at his wrists. “Hank, please, it’s too much!”
“You wanted this,” he grunted, not unkindly, but with a brutal truth. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Her body was too perfect, too tight, a slick, clenching fist around him. He was fighting his own climax just from these shallow, controlled strokes.
Chimlin scrambled, trying to reclaim some agency. She pushed at Luke’s shoulder as he hammered into Julie. “Stop, you’re hurting her!”
Luke didn’t stop, but he slowed. He looked over at Chimlin, her cute face fierce with anger. “You want me to stop?” he challenged, his voice rough. “Make me.”
It was an invitation. Chimlin didn’t hesitate. She moved behind him, pressing her slender body against his back. She reached around his torso, her hands finding their way between him and Julie. She touched Julie’s clit, drawing frantic, tight circles.
Julie’s back arched off the bed, a scream tearing from her throat as a violent orgasm overtook her. The convulsing clamp of her body around Luke’s cock was too much. With a shout, he followed her over, his own release pumping into her.
He collapsed to the side, breathing heavily.
For a second, there was stillness. Then Hank growled, a sound of pure need. Tara was still stuck on him, impaled slightly deeper than before, held immobile by his hands. Kim was grinding against his mouth, her fiery determination focused on forcing a reaction.
Hank looked from Kim above him to Tara’s tear-streaked face. He released Tara’s hips.
“Switch,” he commanded.
He lifted Kim off his face and pulled her down, positioning her over his cock beside Tara. Tara, freed, scrambled off him with a ragged gasp of relief, collapsing onto the sheets. Kim didn’t need guidance. She took him in one determined, smooth motion, her curvy, powerful body sinking onto his considerable length with a deep groan. She could take more of him than Tara could, but even she couldn’t take him balls deep; he was simply too big, too thick for her well-used passage to accept fully.
She rode him with a furious, bouncing energy, her strong thighs driving her up and down on the portion of him she could manage. Hank’s hands went to her hips, not to control her now, but to meet her, to push up into her with short, powerful thrusts that matched her punishing rhythm.
Chimlin and Julie, recovering, saw Tara lying devastated beside Hank. They shared a look. Together, they moved. Julie went to Hank’s head, her graceful fingers tangling in his hair, guiding his mouth to her breast. Chimlin, her narrow hips sliding across the sheets, positioned herself between his legs. She used her mouth on him, her tongue working deftly alongside where Kim sheathed him.
Hank was surrounded, assaulted from all sides. Kim pounding on his cock, Chimlin’s mouth, Julie’s breast against his lips. He grunted, a sound of immense strain, his body tensing like a loaded spring.
“Come on, big man,” Kim taunted, her voice ragged with her own effort. “Wasn’t this the plan? You gonna let four tired cheerleaders break you?”
Hank’s eyes shut tight. The stimulation was overwhelming—the tight, hot clasp of Kim, the wet suction of Chimlin, the soft press of Julie. His hips stuttered, losing their rhythm.
With a roar that shook the bed frame, he erupted.
His release was fierce, pumping into Kim as she continued to ride him, milking him dry. He shuddered, his massive frame going taut and then slack all at once.
Kim climbed off, collapsing beside him. Chimlin and Julie fell back, breathing hard.
The two men lay spent between them, eyes closed, chests heaving. The room was silent except for the rough sound of five people trying to catch their breath.
Tara pushed herself up on her elbows. She looked at Hank, then at Luke. Then she looked at her friends—Julie flushed and triumphant, Kim wearing a savage grin, Chimlin wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
A slow smile spread across her sore, tear-stained face.
She looked at the clock. It was barely past eight. The night was young.
Her body ached in places she didn’t know could ache. She was tender, stretched, and utterly exhausted.
But so were they.
The two studs lay vanquished, for now. The girls had won the round.
Tara lay back down, her head swimming with a profound and weary satisfaction. She listened to the heavy, even breaths of the men beside her. Sundown had come and gone. They had been ready. And for the first time, she felt the faint, undeniable shape of something new: not just surrender, but a fragile, hard-won parity.