Their eyes darkened—Logan's with wicked delight, Blake's with quiet hunger, Nolan's with calculated want. They stripped efficiently, cocks springing free: Logan's thick and curved, already leaking; Blake's long and straight, veins prominent; Nolan's girthy, flushed deep red. I sat up, the bed dipping under our weight, and pulled Logan first—because he was closest, because his grin begged for it.
"On your knees," I said, emboldened, and he complied with a chuckle, kneeling before me like an offering. I wrapped my hand around his base, feeling the velvet over steel, and leaned in, tongue flicking the bead of pre-cum from his tip. Salty, musky—him.
He groaned, hand cupping the back of my head, just holding. I took him deeper, lips stretching around his girth, hollowing my cheeks as I bobbed slow at first, savoring the weight on my tongue. My free hand cupped his balls, rollingthem gently, and he bucked, cursing low. "Fuck, Mira—your mouth's a goddamn vice."
I hummed around him, the vibration drawing a hiss, and glanced up—meeting Blake's gaze as he stroked himself lazily, watching. Emboldened, I took Logan deeper, throat relaxing to swallow half his length, nose brushing his trimmed pubes.
Gags threatened, but I breathed through my nose, tears pricking as I worked him—twist of my hand at the base, swirl of tongue under the head on every upstroke. He was vocal, praises tumbling: "Just like that, baby—suck it harder—yeah, fuck, you're killing me."
Blake couldn't wait long. "My turn?" he asked, voice rough, and I pulled off Logan with a wet pop, nodding. Logan stepped back, fisting himself to stay hard, and Blake took his place. His approach was different—gentle even here. I started soft, kissing along his length, tongue tracing a vein from base to tip before sucking the head like a lollipop.
He sighed, deep and contented, fingers threading my hair. Deeper now, my jaw aching as I took more, but he fit smoother, sliding down my throat with less resistance. I bobbed steadily, hand pumping what I couldn't swallow, the other reaching for Nolan's thigh to steady myself. Blake's hips rocked subtly, fucking my mouth in shallow thrusts, his free hand tracing my cheek.
"So beautiful like this," he murmured. "Taking me so well."
Nolan was last for the solo turns, and by then I was a mess—lips swollen, chin slick with spit and pre-cum. He stood over me, cock in hand, waiting for my signal. I lunged, greedy now, wrapping both hands around him—couldn't close fingersfully around his thickness—and licked a broad stripe up the underside.
He grunted, the sound raw, and when I engulfed him, it was a stretch, my jaw protesting but my core clenching in response. I worked him methodically, matching his intensity: deep throating until I gagged, pulling back to tease the slit, then plunging again. His hand tightened in my hair, guiding, hips snapping once, twice. "Mira—Christ, your throat—"
But I wanted more. Two at a time.
"Logan, Blake—here." I patted the bed, and they knelt on either side, cocks bobbing. Nolan pulled out, watching as I turned to Logan first, sucking him sloppy and fast while my hand pumped Blake in tandem.
The contrast—Logan's playful thrusts into my mouth, Blake's steady glide under my fist—had me moaning around the fullness, vibrations making Logan curse. Then there was a switch. Blake in my mouth now, gentle rocks while I jerked Logan rougher, thumbing his slit. Spit dripped down my chin, onto my heaving breasts, the room filling with wet sounds and their groans.
Nolan joined for the finale, kneeling behind me as I leaned forward on all fours. One hand on Blake, mouth on Logan, and Nolan's fingers found my pussy—teasing, dipping in to keep me wet. But it was too much; they were unraveling. Logan first—his hand fisting my hair as he fucked my mouth shallowly, grunting.
"Gonna—fuck—Mira—" He pulled out at the last second, stroking furiously, hot ropes painting my lips, cheek, tongue. I licked it up, salty-bitter, eyes locked on his as he shuddered through it.
Blake next, my hand a blur on him while I caught my breath, Nolan's fingers curling inside me in reward. "Come for me," I whispered, and he did—deep groan, cum spilling over my knuckles, dripping onto my thigh. I smeared it there, marking myself.
Nolan took over my mouth fully then, the others stroking lazily as they watched. He was close already, my earlier work and the show pushing him. I sucked hard, hollowed cheeks, hand twisting at the base until he snarled, pulling free to stroke himself over me.
"Open," he commanded, and I did—mouth wide, tongue out—as he came, thick spurts landing on my chest, neck, one hitting my extended tongue. I swallowed what I caught, the rest cooling sticky on my skin.
We collapsed in a tangle, breaths ragged, but they weren't done. "Your turn again," Logan murmured, flipping me onto my back. They took turns fingering me—methodical, devastating.
Logan first, between my thighs, two fingers plunging deep and crooked, thumb grinding my clit with that confident pressure. "Remember last time? Gonna make you soak the sheets."
He pumped fast, wet slaps echoing, his free hand pinching my nipple. I writhed, oversensitive from their releases, but the build was swift—walls fluttering.
He passed to Blake seamlessly, who slid three fingers in slow, stretching me full, his touch gentle but deep, curling to massage my G-spot while his thumb circled softer, building layers. "Breathe, Mira," he soothed, mouth on my breast, sucking in time with his thrusts. Pressure coiled, tears pricking as I teetered.
Nolan last, taking over with precision—fingers scissoring wide, then narrowing to stroke that spot relentlessly, his other hand pressing my lower belly to amplify.
"Come on," he urged, voice low. "Let it go." It crashed—orgasm ripping through, pussy clenching in waves, squirting around his hand as I screamed, body convulsing.
They held me through it, kisses and whispers, until I floated down, spent and adored.
Afterward, we cleaned up and lay tangled in a pile that felt like coming home. My head on Nolan's chest, Logan's arm around my waist, Blake's hand in my hair. Four bodies arranged in impossible geometry that somehow made perfect sense.
We fell asleep like that—tangled together in a hotel room, breaking approximately seventeen different athletic department policies, and probably destroying any chance at normal cohabitation.
As I drifted off with three heartbeats surrounding me like a symphony, I thought that maybe normal was overrated anyway. Maybe this—complicated and unconventional and terrifying—was exactly what happy was supposed to feel like.
Chapter 17: Logan
We returned from the road trip victorious, emotionally raw, and—in my case—spiraling into an anxiety-fueled research binge that would have impressed even my most neurotic tendencies.
