Chapter 4: Synchronized Worship
Pete’s fingers, wet with her, slid from her cunt. He placed his slick hand on her belly, a possessive, warm weight. His other hand guided her head forward. "You know what to do, Good Girl. Take what you want."
Before her, Dylan's cock stood rigid, the head flushed dark. Joey licked his lips, his gaze fixed lower, on the glistening thatch between her thighs. The fire popped, sending a cascade of sparks up the chimney.
Stacy didn't hesitate. She leaned forward from Pete's lap, her hair falling like a curtain, and took Dylan into her mouth. She started slow, enveloping the crown, swirling her tongue along the sensitive ridge. A low, appreciative groan rumbled from Dylan's chest. His hands came up, hovering near her head, but he didn't touch, remembering Pete's rule. He simply watched, his breath hitching, as her lips stretched around him.
"Joey," Pete commanded, his voice a low thrum against Stacy's spine. "Get your mouth on her. Taste what you helped make."
With a grunt of eagerness, Joey shifted forward on his knees. He buried his face between her spread thighs with a singular focus. His hands gripped the swell of her ass, pulling her open for him. The first broad, wet swipe of his tongue from her opening to her clit made Stacy jolt, a muffled cry echoing around Dylan's shaft. She bore down on him, taking him deeper into her throat as the sensation detonated through her.
The rhythm was immediate, punishing. Joey ate at her with a desperate, messy hunger, his tongue stabbing and lapping, his stubble rough against her inner thighs. Each graze of his teeth against her swollen clit sent a shock up her spine. Above, Dylan began a shallow, tentative rocking of his hips, fucking her mouth in gentle, sliding pushes. She matched him, suctioning hard on the upstroke, milking him with a hollowing of her cheeks.
Pete watched, his own cock a steel bar against the cleft of her ass. He thumbed her nipples, pinching and rolling the hard peaks until she whimpered. "That's it," he breathed into her ear. "Look at you. Fucking beautiful. Taking them both."
The sounds were lewd, obscene, magnificent. The wet, rhythmic slap of Joey's face against her flesh, the choked, guttural sounds he made as he devoured her. The slick, slurping pull of her mouth on Dylan, whose controlled breaths had dissolved into ragged gasps. "Oh, God, Stacy," Dylan choked out, his fingers finally tangling gently in her hair, not to force, but to anchor himself. "Your mouth... Jesus Christ, your mouth."
Stacy was a conduit, a live wire strung between three points of raw sensation. The pleasure built in a terrifying crescendo, a pressure in her belly coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust of Dylan's cock, every clever flick of Joey's tongue. She was losing the ability to distinguish one sensation from another; the prick of Pete's nails on her nipples fused with the deep, throbbing ache of need Joey was stoking, fused with the weight and salt of Dylan on her tongue.
Her muscles began to flutter, a frantic, helpless tremor. A high, desperate sound escaped her, vibrating against Dylan.
"She's close," Pete growled, his hands tightening on her breasts. "Joey, don't you fucking stop. Dylan, give her more. Let her feel it."
Dylan obeyed, his hips losing their restraint. He thrust deeper, his grip in her hair firming, guiding her pace to match his own building frenzy. Joey doubled his efforts, his tongue focusing on her clit, licking fast and hard, then sucking it between his lips.
It shattered her.
The orgasm ripped through her with a violence that seized every muscle. Her back arched hard against Pete's chest, a raw, scream tearing from her throat, muffled only by the cock filling it. She convulsed around Joey's tongue, her cunt pulsing, dripping a fresh flood of release onto his chin. The intensity made her vision whiten at the edges, a static roar filling her ears. Dylan cursed, a sharp, broken word, and his thrusts became erratic, brutal. He came with a deep, shuddering groan, jets of hot cum spurting onto her tongue, down her throat. She swallowed instinctively, greedily, the act dragging another, smaller quake from her core.
Joey rode out her climax, gentling his mouth, lapping softly at her sensitive flesh as she twitched and shuddered through the aftershocks.
For a long moment, the only sounds were the crackling fire and their labored, gasping breaths. Stacy went limp against Pete, spent, Dylan's softening cock slipping from her lips. Joey rested his forehead against her thigh, his breathing hot and heavy on her skin.Pete moved then. He lifted her easily, turning her in his lap to face him. Her eyes were glazed, her lips bruised and glistening. He kissed her, deep and consuming, tasting the salt of her sweat and the bitter tang of Dylan on her tongue. "My perfect Good Girl," he murmured against her mouth. His hands slid down to her hips, lifting her.She understood. Her body, boneless and oversensitive, rallied at his unspoken command. She braced her hands on his shoulders, her knees on the couch beside his thighs. He guided himself to her dripping entrance, the broad head of his cock notching against her.
He looked up at her, his eyes black with want. "Mine," he stated, simple and absolute.
Then he pulled her down, impaling her in one slow, devastating stroke. She was so wet, so open from her climax and Joey's mouth, that he slid in to the hilt, a deep, filling stretch that made her cry out again, a sound of pure, overwhelmed possession.
He held her there, fully speared, letting her feel every inch. His hands clamped on her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Now," he gritted out, "you ride me. Show me what they did to you. Show me who you belong to."
With a ragged breath, she began to move.