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“Jessa,” he whispers, a plea of hope that brushes my ear. So innocent, so pure, so unlike the beast stretching my cunt until it’s wide and dripping. His fingers scrabble forward, touching my face, the small heated flush of my cheeks. The higher up my body Danny moves, the deeper into me his cock grinds. He presses against parts of me that feel delicate, uncertain, raw, virginal. I want to scream the library down. My sight is a dazed vision of candlelight and dark blond hair. Features blur into swirling impressions. Most of what I see are shadows, and all that I hear is a needy whoosh.
“Shut her up,” Rory orders, and Danny’s palm slides firmly across my mouth. I realize then that the whooshing noise had been me, on an urgent quest for breath. I retrain myself to breathe through my nose, harsh but quieter, though getting louder from how much of a private turn-on an adamant palm against my mouth actually is. I gaze up at Rory, searching for him, my cheek still flat against the wood grain. The world is tilted, on a slant. I must look obscene underneath Danny, both of us thoroughly naked, me writhing beneath him like captured, silenced, round-eyed prey.
Rory says, “You like that, yeah?” and it’s not his usual voice. It’s not even an observation, but almost an act of ventriloquism, like he’s speaking on my behalf. His tone is pure silk wrapped around my soul. “Fuck me, Danny,” he murmurs, just the right amount of coy to cause Danny’s hips to stutter against me, for his world to crash and burn. “Fuck me hard. Split me open with that huge cock, and bury deep inside me.”
My eyes shutter, drooping as though charmed, as though my body is entering shutdown. I’m unable to focus on the twin sensations of Rory’s free-flowing obscenity and Danny’s cock doing exactly as he’d mocked. When Rory said he’d be talking dirty, I’d assumed it’d be on behalf ofDanny, not me. The fact his words are so submissive, the most submissive he’s ever permitted himself to be around Danny, with my body the only thing between them, stretched and languid and on the verge, blows my mind. The world, and all I had known about Rory Munro, has cracked.
I cling to the edge of the desk as Danny resumes his steady, graceless fuck, hips rolling into me again. I shift myself against him. He grips my hipbones urgently as if telling me to stop. But I want him to come, I want him so badly to come and pour himself and split himself open inside of me.
“Fuck me — just like that.” Rory’s voice, modeled in these moments on the devil himself, insinuates darkness beyond my imagination. “This is what you want, isn’t it, D-boy? To bend me over a desk and fuck me into obedience.” My breath hitches as the tip of Danny’s cock thrusts fully up against the walls inside me. “To fuck me hard and deep with your oh-so-special weapon. To shoot all that cum inside me until it’s warm and dripping down my thighs.”
“Holy fuck,” Danny whispers unsteadily against my neck, planting frantic, purifying kisses against my neck as though to absolve him and make this new, torturous demon we’ve somehow summoned disappear. Rory is nowhere near as flustered. Indeed, he continues to speak with calm relish, as though offering the final story in a weekly news report.
“And all that cum you inject inside me, the gallons of cum squeezed from your cock, D-boy… where do you think it goes?”
Rory lets the silence hang heavily and swell. I’m not sure Danny’s even listening, even capable of listening, for his own sanity.
His response to the question is delayed, as though he’s picking up Rory on another frequency. “I-I don’t know,” he breathes against the baby hairs rising along my neck. His Adam’s apple bobs jerkily against the top of my spine.
“Your cock slops out of me, wet and spent, and then you eat me out.”
“Fuck,” an awed voice says, and it’s not Danny, or even me as I picture this, but Finlay, who sounds deeply engrossed in this sex-fantasy narrative designed to get Danny off. Behind me, Danny gives a wild, throat-torn sob, but it’s his fingers that clamp against my mouth. “I fuckin’ love when ye talk this way,” Finlay adds approvingly. “Yer mouth is pure filth.”
“So’s yours, Danny,” Rory notes, with an increased tinge of pleasure. “Sucking out your cum like that. Utterly shameless and begging for more. You act so innocent but I know what you’re really like. Such a hungry little boy-slut.”
Danny’s teeth suddenly scrape the straining muscle joining my shoulder to my neck. It’s a vicious bite that holds him in place like a gag, as Rory’s slick words wash over him. His hips shift into me urgently, pressing deeper and lurching forward as hard as Rory’s words compel him to.
“You love licking me, don’t you? On your knees, spreading my cheeks. Nose pressed right up against me.” He pauses for a moment, letting us picture the scene. “Your tongue jabbing into me, sucking out every bit of cum from my hole like the good slut you are.” Danny makes another of those indistinct noises that indicate how lost he is. “Is that your favorite part, Danny? Or is it the bit where you plow into me, stuffing me with your cock. Stretching me to eternity. Hot cum spilling deep inside me.”
“Fuck, yes,” Danny whispers brokenly, and his hand drags down my body to my curls. Soft fingers caress my cunt, twisting coils of agonized pleasure deep inside me. I realize I’d been grinding against the edge of the table, pressing my clit helplessly to the blunt teasing rim angled against me. Danny’s fingers are direct. They slam instead of stroke.
“So do it,” Rory instructs. “Come inside me. It’s not like you’re going to last much longer.”
He takes one look at my face, at the hand sealed over my lips. My eyes are bleary, my head rolling around my neck as I fuck Danny’s cunt-splitting cock with each shallow jerk of my hips.
“God, Danny,” Rory says, his eyes never leaving mine, and it’s as if he’s listening to my inner monologue, to the words I would have moaned if I could, “fuck me hard, fuckingpoundme, you sweet little slut—”
I feel the moment Danny explodes inside me. The stillness as his heady sweat-slick body rushes to overwhelm him, a grace period that finds him desperately licking up the side of my throat, his fingers dialing spirals against my clit, urging me to break alongside him. He burns with heat like the flicker of the flame before me, and as Danny’s release overcomes him, he grabs hold of my breasts and growls deeply through a desperate bite and into my neck. I’m pinned, legs quaking, feeling, enduring, the weight of Danny’s thick release entering me. His muscles tremble around me like an enclosure, like he’s the roughened shell and I’m the hidden pearl. His breath hits me, short yet heavy, gusts that tickle the sweat-gathered tangle of my nape, as he gives way to blessed delirium.
He remains slumped against me, his heart banging against the back of my rib cage. The only sounds are our harsh pants, and I listen to the stuttering music of his breath, the secretI love yous he keeps unvoiced. I clench my cunt around him as a reward, wringing every last bolt of pleasure from his immense cock, willing him to pour the gallons that Rory spoke about into me. He flexes above me, softly groaning, and kisses the sweat-slick bobbles of my spine.
Slowly, Danny eases himself off and out of me. Rory regards us coolly, as though he’d played no part in Danny’s leap from the edge. My mind is still a happy buzz, my clit a brightly shining craving to be indulged. No one will care, I reason desperately, if I stroke myself… if I just touch myself…
“Where did you learn to talk like that?” Danny asks Rory, his lips barely moving. “‘Pound me, you sweet little—’?” He breaks off, like he’s forbidden from even repeating Rory’s words.
“I told you, D-boy,” Rory replies lightly, “it’s just asking for what you want. What’s so bad about that?” He gives Danny a moment to mull this over, because if what Rory’s saying is true, then some ultra-horny part of him must want Danny to take him over a desk and pound him. To wring his cock dry inside Rory. For Danny to kneel and suck out his cum. Before Danny can say anything, which seems impossible enough given the seemingly debilitating nature of his orgasm, Rory turns his attention to me. “No,” he scolds, and at once I drop my hand.
“I’m not going to beg,” I tell him sharply.
“Sir.”
“I’m not going to beg,sir.” My teeth grit together. “You can play games with Danny, but not with me.”
“I wouldn’t,” Rory acknowledges, though I’m not sure I believe him. “I’m fully aware of how close you are.” He nods down at the table I’m still sprawled across. “Get up. I want to see you properly.”
My body resists, locked into place by a lengthy lack of movement and the ghost of Danny’s relentless, crushing force. Every part of me aches as I crawl onto the round wooden table. It should be strange — these are the tables we sit at when westudy— but for right now it seems perfectly reasonable that I should be propped naked on top of one, on a pedestal, ready to come. Danny doesn’t have a care in the world, either, collapsed unguarded on one of the library chairs, languidly tying a knot on the end of the filled condom. His cock shines, obscene and glazed, in the quivering candlelight.
“Spread your legs.” Rory’s voice is gentler when he’s with me. Does he really think he’s going to scare me away after everything tonight? But I do as he says, positioning myself in front of three sets of mesmerized eyes. My legs open into a wide diamond, exposing my glistening cunt, and I lean back, playing with myself.
