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“How do you like your room?” Timothy asks me shyly, smiling delightedly.
“I absolutely love it!” I gush, holding my hands out like a game show hostess. “I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s like you have one of everything here. There is every item of clothing a woman could ask for!”
“That’s great!” he beams. He seems very interested in my reaction and enjoys the praise.
“Wait… did you do this, Timothy? Did you arrange all this? All the soaps and makeup, all the clothes?”
Liam comes over to clap Timothy on the shoulders. “Tim is our personal shopper!” he explains with a grin. “If it can be ordered on the Internet, Tim can get it
for you. Amazon invented those drones just for us, I’m pretty sure, since the access road to the house is closed for about nine months out of the year.”
“Did they really?” I marvel. “Wow, you must order a lot of stuff. Oh… right, because you guys haven’t left here in a long… um, time…”
My voice trails off sheepishly. I glance from face to face, looking for signs of discomfort. Before I can get too worried, I feel someone picking me up and look up to see Jake’s smiling, bearded face.
“You really should be staying off your feet,” he scolds me as he swoops toward the bed and deposits me in the middle of it. All of the guys clamber on top immediately and I have the distinct impression of having a pack of very friendly wolves closing in.
“Whatever you say, Jake,” I giggle, lying back among the dozens of pillows.
“That’s right,” he says with mock seriousness. “You just obey what I tell you and we will get along just fine.”
Normally, I wouldn’t want anyone telling me what to do, but how can I resist? Something about these wild yet gentlemanly men makes me want to submit to everything. Not to mention, I sort of feel for their isolation. I mean, it must have been so difficult for them. Part of me is so intrigued by the challenge of trying to take care of them, to satisfy the desires that must have built up inside them.
I look around, noting how they are eagerly staring me down, each with an expression of unsteady control. With a smile, I realize they’re waiting for my permission again.
“So you’re saying that you like the room?” Carty murmurs, though he sounds distracted. His eyes keep tracing the outlines of the lilac silk covering my right breast. I could feel my nipple getting hard and watch his lips part in fascination.
“I really like the room,” I answer, but I do not think he is listening to me.
Experimentally, I run my fingers up my left thigh, slowly, watching them all track the movement. They really are like a pack of wolf cubs, instinctually distracted by their hunger. Slowly I open my thighs, listening to the sound of their breathing quickening as they lean in.
“How does this work?” I ask, finding my voice thin and timid. “How does… all of you work?”
“It depends on how adventurous you are,” Liam says, grinning.
“I would say I am… extremely adventurous,” I answer automatically. At this point, I am so horny I would like all of them in me simultaneously. Is that possible? I have a feeling I’m about to find out. At least I hope so.
“Why don’t you just let us show you?” Jake growls, shifting his weight toward me. The nearer he gets, the faster my heart races.
After another moment to consider, I raise my arms. “Yes,” I sigh confidently. “Why don’t you just show me everything you want? But this time, I want all of us to get off, okay? Is that even possible?”
“Oh, it’s not just possible… It’s definitely gonna happen,” Carty smiles, stroking his woolly beard.
With the utmost care, making sure that my ankle doesn’t get tweaked, the guys work in tandem to lift and maneuver me, rearranging my position for their purposes. Immediately, I understand why this bed is so big. They are very large people who need a lot of room to move around.
I feel like a leaf floating on a river, or perhaps a carnival balloon, swept up on dizzying tides of laughter and pleasure. At first, I try to keep track of who is doing what, but their arms and legs move over each other so quickly, it’s like trying to keep track of which wolf cub is wriggling through the pile.
All I know is that in mere seconds, the camisole and panties are gone, and I am being lavished in touch and sensation once again. The delicate feelings of breath, fingers, tongues over my skin is starting.
“Careful of her leg,” I hear someone say.
“Just move her arm a little bit this way,” someone else coaches.
“Yeah, that’s right, get her down here for me,” someone begins to moan.
Warm and wet, slippery and strong, I can barely tease out individual sensations. Everything is a stew of pleasure and desire, and undulating mass of trembling impulses. Soon, though, I feel an unfamiliar sensation. A wet touch is circling my asshole, exploring, prodding, pushing new boundaries.
But instead of objecting, I allow myself to relax. If there was ever a time to have my rear entrance plundered, this is it. Every inch of me wants to be satisfied, to be explored. So when I feel a finger or tongue pushing past that first, tight barrier, I let it happen. I welcome it, telling myself to open up further.
