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And I’m so close…so unbelievably close.
Then Tom rests my feet on his chest and leans forward, practically folding me in two, and I see stars. “Oh…oh…oh…fuuuuuck.”
Someone laughs at my lack of eloquence, but not for the first time since I started having sex with these men, I’m lost for words.
I'm still reeling, when Tom comes, and someone takes his place.
"Gabe’s going to fuck you now," Stefan whispers.
“Unless she wants more?” Gabe’s question has my mind spinning, not because the suggestion of more is new to me. Theron and Jonas shared me that way. And Clay, Gabe and Tom before. It’s because we’re out in the open and whatever I do is being observed by so many men.
But I trust them.
I trust them to keep me safe.
There are four men left. Four men.
It sounds impossible, but I know it isn’t.
I turn to Stefan and reach for him. “What is it, Allie?”
“Four,” I say, nodding. He understands immediately.
“Gabe, switch places with Allie.”
Like choreographed dancers, we get into position, Gabe on his back and me straddling him. Carson touches my hip and takes his place behind me. Jonas stands on the other side of the table facing Stefan.
I lower myself slowly onto Gabe’s waiting cock, knowing how hard, thick, and good he’s going to feel.
My back arches, and lips find my breasts again. Jonas, holding his cock at the root, approaches me.
"Suck it, baby," he says. It's not an order as such, but I fantasize that it is. He moves closer, and I open my mouth. He tastes salty-sweet and hot, evidence of his excitement. He's so huge, and the angle is a challenge, but he knows just how to control the rhythm to make it manageable for me.
The pressure of Carson’s cock against my entrance makes me gasp, and Stefan’s hand runs down the length of my spine, working to soothe me. “It’s okay, Allie. You know what to do. Just relax.”
"That's it," Oliver says in a voice that is more composed of hushed awe than anything I’ve ever heard him say before. “That’s it, Allie. You’re such a good girl for us.”
The stretch as Carson works his way inside me is so intense that I have to brace my hands on either side of Gabe’s neck, and pant.
“That’s it,” Gabe repeats. “Just breathe. You’ve got this. You know how good it’s going to feel.”
Carson fucks me with long, slow strokes that make my toes curl. I can feel the beginnings of another orgasm building, but I know my own body. I don't think I'm going to be able to come so soon. Jonas is close, though. I can taste his arousal and feel the swell of his cock and the tremble of his thighs. He goes to pull away, but I grab him to let him know I'm okay to swallow. He groans like a dying man, gripping my head so I can’t move over his sensitized cock as he spills into my throat. When he lets me go, he flops back into a chair, and I grin proudly at how weak I made him with just my lips and my tongue.
Carson’s hands grip my hips so hard I know they’ll bruise, but I don’t mind. The bite of pain just makes the pleasure so much more intense. I take Stefan’s cock in my hand, letting him slip through the ring of my fingers, over and over. A guttural moan builds in Carson’s throat, and I know that he's close. The thrust of him inside me feels so good and as he thickens and pulses, the stretch gets even more intense.
Gabe’s face is strained. How he’s remaining so still, I don’t understand. "Fuck, Allie.” He grits his teeth, and he stares up at me. “You have no idea how this feels.”
And he’s right. I don’t. A woman’s perspective on sex will never be the same as a man’s. The physical sensations are different. The emotional connection is different. At least that’s what I think. We take men inside our bodies. That has to be different than being the one who pushes to enter.
“I’m close,” Carson warns.
“Me too.” Gabe’s hands rest against my breasts, squeezing, and the connection is like a live wire to my clit.
I urge Stefan forward so I can blow him, wanting to bring us all over the edge together. It’s a foolish aim. Too difficult to achieve, but I try regardless.
He’s so thick in my mouth. My jaw aches as his thighs tremble and he grips the edge of the table to retain some control.
“That’s it,” he says as I swirl my tongue around the head. “That’s it.”
