Chapter 11: The Taste of Him
Joaquin pulled out with a wet, obscene suck of flesh leaving flesh, and Christine felt the sudden emptiness like a wound. Her cunt clenched around nothing, greedy and aching, her thighs slick with the mess of him. He did not give her time to mourn the loss. His hand found her shoulder, firm and guiding, and he turned her, pressing her down until her knees found the mattress.
"On your knees," he said, his voice low and rough. "I want to see that mouth."
She went willingly, eagerly, her body thrumming with a need that had been building all week. Behind her, she felt the bed shift as Zack moved, felt his hands on her ass, spreading her cheeks wide. She heard his breath hitch, felt the warmth of his mouth before it touched her, and then his tongue was there, a long, slow stripe that started at her clit and dragged all the way up to the base of the glass plug.
She cried out, a sharp, startled sound that turned into a moan as Zack's tongue pressed against the puckered flesh around the plug, tasting her, tasting Joaquin's lingering presence. Her hands found Joaquin's thighs, gripping them for balance, and she looked up at him through the haze of her arousal. His cock was right there, glistening with her juices, dark and thick and impossibly hard.
"Open," he said.
She opened. Her tongue slid out, and Joaquin guided himself forward, the head of his cock pressing against her lips. She tasted herself on his skin, salty and musky, and the intimacy of it made her moan around him. He pushed deeper, not rough but insistent, and she took him, her lips stretching to accommodate his girth. She had done this a thousand times for Zack, but this was different. This was Joaquin, a new taste, a new weight on her tongue, a new rhythm she had to learn.
Behind her, Zack's tongue dragged over her clit again, slow and deliberate, and she whimpered around Joaquin's cock. The sensation of being filled from both ends, of being tasted and tasted in turn, sent a flash of heat through her core. Zack's hands kept her ass spread, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin near the plug, and then his tongue was inside her, fucking her cunt in long, deep strokes.
She had to focus to keep sucking Joaquin. Her hands moved on his thighs, nails digging lightly, and she bobbed her head, taking him deeper, her nose brushing the coarse hair at his base. He groaned above her, a low, animal sound, and his hand came to her hair, not forcing, just holding, grounding.
"That's it," he said. "Fuck, you take it so well."
She felt Zack's mouth leave her cunt, felt his hands shift, and then the plug was moving, pushed deeper with a slow, relentless pressure that made her gasp around Joaquin. Her eyes watered, her throat working around the cock in her mouth, and she realized she was close already, impossibly close, the week of denied orgasms making every touch electric.
Zack's voice came from behind her, warm and amused. "She's been thinking about this all week, Joaquin. Haven't you, baby? Thinking about how it would feel to have a cock in your mouth while I was buried in your ass."
She moaned in response, the vibration making Joaquin hiss above her.
"And now you have it," Joaquin said, his voice strained. "You have my cock in your mouth and your husband's fingers in your ass. How does it feel?"
She pulled back just enough to answer, her lips slick, her voice wrecked. "Full. God, so full."
She took him back in, deeper this time, her throat opening for him, and she heard Joaquin groan, felt his hips shift, a shallow thrust that pushed him further in. Behind her, Zack was working the plug in and out, a slow, torturous rhythm that matched the bobbing of her head. The three of them found a cadence, older than words, a dance of give and take, and Christine let herself fall into it.
She was nothing but sensation. The weight of Joaquin on her tongue. The pressure of the plug in her ass. The knowledge that Zack was watching, that he was participating, that he was getting off on this as much as she was. She felt his cock brush against her thigh, hard and leaking, and she knew he was touching himself, stroking to the sight of his wife on her knees for another man.
"That's it, baby," Zack said, his voice thick. "Take him. Take all of him."
She did. She took him until her jaw ached and her throat burned, and she loved every second of it. Joaquin's hand tightened in her hair, and he pulled her off him with a wet pop, his cock glistening and swollen.
"Turn around," he said. "I want to see you from behind."
She turned, and Zack was there, his hands on her hips, pulling her onto his lap. She felt his cock pressing against her ass, the plug still seated inside her, and for a moment she thought he would take her there, right now, with Joaquin watching. But he didn't. He held her steady, his mouth on her neck, and Joaquin knelt before her, spreading her thighs wide.
"Look at you," Joaquin said, his voice full of wonder. "So wet. So ready."
He lowered his head, and his mouth found her clit, and Christine cried out, her back arching, her hands fisting in Zack's hair. Joaquin licked her slowly, deliberately, his tongue drawing circles around the swollen nub, and Zack's fingers found her nipples, pinching and rolling them until she was a trembling mess.
"I can feel her clenching," Zack said against her ear. "She's so close. She's been waiting all week for this."
Joaquin hummed against her, the vibration sending a jolt through her, and she whimpered, her hips grinding against his mouth. He didn't rush her. He drew it out, licking and sucking and teasing, and behind her Zack whispered filthy things in her ear, about how she was going to come on Joaquin's tongue, about how they both wanted to see it, about how he was going to fuck her ass while Joaquin filled her cunt, the both of them splitting her open.
And then she was there, the edge looming, and she sobbed with relief as she went over. The orgasm crashed through her, white-hot and blinding, and she screamed, her body convulsing between them. Joaquin didn't pull away, his tongue working her through it, and Zack held her, his hands on her breasts, his mouth on her neck, so she had nowhere to go but under.
She came and came, her hips jerking, her voice breaking, and when it finally subsided, she slumped between them, trembling and breathless.
"Good girl," Zack whispered.
Joaquin sat up, his face slick with her, and he kissed her thigh. "More," he said. "There's so much more."