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“We won’t stop for as long as you’ll have us,” Noah says.
Within seconds, I’m stripped bare.
My dress is on the ground, along with my panties and my bra. It’s amazing how quickly and smoothly eight hands can move when I’m the grand prize.
I lay on the chaise lounge, and I am theirs for the taking.
I can only watch and try not to faint from this overdose of unexpected pleasure.
Levi slowly massages my calves, watching me closely and following my reactions as he tightens his hold and adds more pressure with his thumbs. I’m jelly in his hands at this point, while Noah and Isaac take care of my breasts, the two of them flanking me as they take my nipples in their mouths and suckle hungrily.
I whimper and push my chest forward, damn near passing out when Beau puts his hand between my legs again.
The fire burns brighter in my eyes as he strokes me into a swelling madness.
My hands react, and I take Noah and Isaac’s massive cocks, squeezing and getting a proper feel of the double, generous girth. I feel the droplets of pre-cum smearing over my thumbs when I reach the tips, and I listen to their ragged breaths when I move back down to the base.
Their clothes have joined mine on the ground, and the five of us languish under the awning while the toothy December sun rises higher above us.
“What do you want?” Beau asks me.
Noah suckles my left nipple and playfully bites into it. I gasp as Isaac holds my right breast in his hand, his tongue flicking over the nipple. It causes a myriad of wildfires to spread across my skin, while Levi trails kisses up my leg.
“I want you to fuck me until I scream,” I tell him, abandoning all sense of self as he nods and pulls his hand away.
My pussy feels empty, but the sensation is only temporary.
Levi steps aside, standing and stroking himself, watching as Beau climbs on the chaise lounge and settles between my legs.
Noah and Isaac stay right where they are, showering my mouth and breasts with wet kisses.
The entire world instantly disappears as I brace myself for what’s about to come.
1
Stella
A Few Days Earlier
"Stella, can you handle the breakfast room?" Connie's voice filters through from somewhere in the lobby, likely balanced on a stool like a Cirque du Soleil hopeful.
"Already on it. I'll be done before you can say 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'!"
"Funny and efficient, the dream team," Connie chuckles, her voice dancing from above.
"I aim to please," I quip.
Connie and I are the dynamic duo in charge of the Elizabeth Bed & Breakfast. A beautiful building with solid oak paneling and huge French-style windows, a river-rock base, and plenty of natural light coming in from pretty much every angle. I love it.
On my inaugural day, I find myself practically salivating at the opulence that envelops me. Sixteen sumptuous rooms. Each is as spacious as a penthouse suite, with many featuring terraces that command breathtaking views: to the north, a verdant expanse of Port Elizabeth’s forests; to the east, the serene shoreline, where dawn paints the water with strokes of golden light. Turn to the south and west, and you’re greeted by gardens meticulously sculpted to perfection—whispering to every guest that they’ve stepped into a realm of refined luxury.
It's a retreat for the discerning—where political dignitaries and corporate titans from around the globe find solace and luxury. Even presidents and vice-presidents have laid their heads to rest within these walls. Now, as winter cloaks the landscape, the property transforms into a snow-kissed wonderland. With the holiday season on the doorstep, the air is alive with the enchanting aroma of cinnamon and the nostalgic crackle of wood burning in heirloom fireplaces, crafting an atmosphere of warmth and timeless celebration.
Much like the lobby and the reception area, the breakfast room I’m in charge of for the next couple of hours is brightly lit and features cherry wood paneling over the walls. The furniture is also cherry wood, which makes the bar and the cabinets seem more like an extension of the walls. It’s easy to clean, too, so dusting only takes about twenty minutes before I move on to the tables. Each needs a new white linen tablecloth from one of the cabinets, along with the appropriate cutlery and decorative plates.
The Christmas tree needs a bit more care, but the feather duster does an excellent job without disturbing the fine red and gold glass baubles, the seemingly endless gold and emerald-green ribbons, and the many other decorations gathered over the years to match its traditional and timeless festive design. It’s the only tree I’ll get to enjoy this year, so I take great care to make sure it’s gorgeous and spotless every day.
My phone rings and damn near startles me.
