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Another man—it could have been Trevor or Landon—took my other leg and did the same, pressing his hard cock against the outer edge of my wet snatch.
“Ahh,” I cried out. “Stop teasing me. Give it to me! Give it to me, now!”
Noah grabbed me by the back of my head. He glided his throbbing cock against my lips.
I opened my mouth and let his warm shaft run along my tongue. Then I found the tip and wrapped my lips around it. I stoked the base of his shaft while my tongue swirled around the tip.
Christian—I thought it was Christian—pulled my leg so that I was now lying on my side. He pushed my knee up to my chest, straddled me, and entered me with a full and impatient thrust.
I let go of Noah and called out something between a moan and a scream.
Christian drilled me hard and fast.
I gripped the sheets and bit into Noah’s leg.
Hands fell on me. They grabbed and groped while Christian pounded.
For a moment, a brief and fleeting moment, I left my body, and I was back in Iceland, running angry through the forest. Then, as soon as I saw the house on the edge of the forest, Christian came, and I was filled and thrust back onto a private yacht sailing across the Atlantic.
Trevor took my leg and rolled me over onto my other side, just as a wave came and lifted the yacht high onto its crest.
Trevor spread my legs apart. In one swift and impatient motion, he straddled me and entered me, and the wave came crashing down, the yacht with it nearly tipping over.
Ben pressed his hard cock against my heaving breast. I wrapped my arms around his waist and brought him closer to me.
From behind me, Noah ran his hands down my shoulders and chest. He grabbed my breasts and pushed them together. Ben slid his cock between them, grinding, while Trevor, at a faster pace fucked me like a savage.
I was back in a dark van groping the air playfully, trying to guess whose hardened muscle my hand fell upon. But this time, it was I who was being groped, and the hardened muscles were rubbed against my flesh. My body was tossed one way; a stiff, throbbing cock filled me. My body was tossed another way; an exploring tongue lapped my wet pussy.
I came.
The Savage Seven didn’t stop. After all, they had a name to live up to.
Epilogue
Bonita
It was all about moderation. And I’d come to learn that I loved moderation. In fact, I couldn’t seem to get enough of it. Give me more moderation!
Moderation, according to Dr. Crumb, meant applying only one drop of corticosteroid in the morning and, with that, I would be protected from moderate exposure to the sun.
I never tested the limits of just how much sun I could take. I was happy with being able to go from one place to the other without needing to be completely covered, in summer like in winter.
Dr. Crumb said he didn’t expect there to be any side effects.
“What about an increased sexual appetite?” I asked.
He said he didn’t see how corticosteroids could be responsible for that.
Oh, well. Perhaps there were other factors affecting my libido. I could think of seven off the top of my head.
Moderation, unfortunately, was something Angelica Fay knew little about. Even after she lost the New York State energy contract and after my documentary came out, revealing some of her more underhanded practices, she didn’t let up. She was now facing multiple charges of racketeering and one count of kidnapping—not from having me kidnapped. That story never had gotten out. Some things are best left in the Icelandic forest. Apparently, I wasn’t her first kidnapping--allegedly.
As great as moderation was, sometimes it was okay to indulge in a bit of excess. For example, when your film is selected to feature at the Los Angeles Independent Film Festival, and your friend from Iceland flies over in her private jet and takes you and your seven-man documentary crew to the festival, that would be a good time to take a break from all that moderation. Too much moderation was not good for the soul.
I only regretted that I couldn’t take Greta with me to Los Angeles. But she was busy with her own man-crew. (I’ll let her tell you about that in her own time, in her own way.) Plus, someone needed to stay back in New York to look after Aurora.
I remembered seeing stars that first night on my trip back to New York, how that had really changed my perspective and set me on the right path. I told the boys that I wanted the baby girl’s name to reflect something about the wonderful sky. I suggested Stella, but I wasn’t sold on it.
Noah told me about when they’d seen the Aurora Borealis. It sounded like he’d had the same experience as me, but from a different perspective, a different portion of the great sky, and it was equally as beautiful.
