Page 60 of Boneyard HEA

“Care to share her? We can make her come and come, and come, while we pass her around. See my friends waiting?” A shadow moves that’s his hand gesturing, but I’m more into what that tongue is doing, especially now that he’s pushing some sort of dildo into my pussy.

And it starts to vibrate, while still he softly flicks his tongue upon my clit.

I’m gasping, unable to keep my eyes open.

“We should share you,” Mr. Loxland says, and I open enough to see him looming above.

I shake my head, unable to form words. My legs are trembling as I try to squeeze them onto Tomás where he teases me and probes, while that thing keeps thrumming.

“No to that, little psycho slut?” Loxland asks warmly, as warm as that tongue exploring me. “Say please.” His hands shift on my wrists where he still holds me.

I swear, close my eyes.

The dildo is removed. The hum ceases.

“Open wide,” purrs Tomás, as he reapplies his mouth to my clit then shunts the dildo inside me. Only his tongue-tip touches me as he pushes at my clit, slowly, here, there. Excruciating when I’m so needy, then the probe is, suddenly, switched back on, thrumming a bass note, joining that tongue as it delves, making me groan and pull at where my hands are held.

The thrum moves deeper. I cry out.

He engulfs my clit with his mouth and laves across with his whole tongue, coaxing me even higher, higher.

A crescendo of an orgasm arrives, my body tensing and squirting, and I’m panting to the heavens as his tongue continues teasing me without mercy.

When I finally collapse, limp and wrung out, the probe is removed, sucked out of me with some reluctance, as if my pussy wishes to keep it for-fucking-ever.

I’m released and left lying there, still quivering and breathing hard, my arms sprawled above my head. Loxland and Tomás sit beside me.

“We done for now?” Loxland enquires.

“Yep. Did she miss any sirs?”

“I don’t think she remembers the English language.”

I swallow, try to speak. “You are both assholes,” I mumble that then remember. “Sir Assholes.” I curl up on my side for a few minutes before I lever myself into a half-sitting position. “I think I need to pee.”

“Forgive her?” Tomás looks to Loxland.

“For Sir Asshole? We will decide later.”

Oh ohh. I’m smiling inside though. That cannot be a stitching offence.

I look down at the come dribbling onto the paving from between my legs. “Who cleans this up?”

“I’ll arrange it.” Tomás goes off to get someone.

“You two”—I stare at the shade-cloth swaying in the breeze—“are the reason for all the come in the pool.”

“Can you make it without crutches?” Loxland stands and helps me up. “It’s over there, the restroom. It has showers.”

A white door is to the right, in the wall that forms the side of the stairs.

Walrus man aka Mr. Zasha Morosova, is also to our right, on a square lounge-cross-bed with mermaid woman sucking him off.

I switch, instantly, to detective mode. To cock inspection mode.

I can do this on the way, and no one will even notice.

I think?