Chapter 20 #2
He lifts me until I wriggle free, his cock springing up, and I’m passed across to Tomás to do the same.
Repeat, rinse, get wetter, hornier, letting lust drive me like a machine.
I’m begging by the time Tomás releases me, my hair tangled across my face, but instead of letting me crawl to him, Loxland hops into the pool, pulls me into it and positions me until he can bend me over the edge, face down, while he thrusts into me.
He reaches around and between my legs, finding my clit and circling and rubbing it with his fingers, and when I stiffen and gasp, he stays there, repeating that same. Fucking. Circle. Just enough…
In the same second that I clench my hands on the stone, dying for that final push, he drives in again, and my walls clamp onto him, and I’m shaking, mouth strained wide, as the tsunami sweeps in, rendering me mute and blind…
Fuck. Fuck. I bow my spine so hard I’m seeing stars as he keeps pounding into me.
When he comes I’m a hammered, destroyed mess, still clawing at the stone as Tomás slips across into the pool, swapping with Mr. Loxland.
He grips my waist, and nails me so brutally I’m instantly lost again and don’t breathe for the first few thrusts, though my mouth is stuck open.
The orgasm hasn’t completely abandoned me, and I’m so close to coming again, but not quite, not there, craving the wildness of the peak, when I feel him spear in and stop, and his come floods me while he holds me against him, jammed in…
I gasp at the swell inside, whimpering a little from the expanding need.
He presses me into the pool edge with hips and cock. “Want to come?”
I nod frantically, ohmigod yes, whereupon…
I’m flipped onto my back, hauled backward onto the warm pavers until my legs are clear of the pool.
I’m held down by Loxland, my hands pinned above my head, and I’m expecting tongue because Tomás has such a glorious, amazing tongue.
My legs are held apart and spread. My bikini top is already rolled up and a mouth, someone’s mouth, Tomás it must be, begins to probe me and lick and suck down there.
I shut my eyes, arching upward. His knees nudge at my inner thighs and spread my legs further.
Then a stranger interrupts, a man arrives somewhere to my left, and I glimpse him standing above.
“Care to share her? We can make her come and come, and come, while we pass her around. See my friends waiting?” A shadow moves that’s his hand gesturing, but I’m more into what that tongue is doing, especially now that he’s pushing some sort of dildo into my pussy.
And it starts to vibrate, while still he softly flicks his tongue upon my clit.
I’m gasping, unable to keep my eyes open.
“We should share you,” Mr. Loxland says, and I open enough to see him looming above.
I shake my head, unable to form words. My legs are trembling as I try to squeeze them onto Tomás where he teases me and probes, while that thing keeps thrumming.
“No to that, little psycho slut?” Loxland asks warmly, as warm as that tongue exploring me. “Say please.” His hands shift on my wrists where he still holds me.
I swear, close my eyes.
The dildo is removed. The hum ceases.
“Open wide,” purrs Tomás, as he reapplies his mouth to my clit then shunts the dildo inside me.
Only his tongue-tip touches me as he pushes at my clit, slowly, here, there.
Excruciating when I’m so needy, then the probe is, suddenly, switched back on, thrumming a bass note, joining that tongue as it delves, making me groan and pull at where my hands are held.
The thrum moves deeper. I cry out.
He engulfs my clit with his mouth and laves across with his whole tongue, coaxing me even higher, higher.
A crescendo of an orgasm arrives, my body tensing and squirting, and I’m panting to the heavens as his tongue continues teasing me without mercy.
When I finally collapse, limp and wrung out, the probe is removed, sucked out of me with some reluctance, as if my pussy wishes to keep it for-fucking-ever.
I’m released and left lying there, still quivering and breathing hard, my arms sprawled above my head. Loxland and Tomás sit beside me.
“We done for now?” Loxland enquires.
“Yep. Did she miss any sirs?”
“I don’t think she remembers the English language.”
I swallow, try to speak. “You are both assholes,” I mumble that then remember. “Sir Assholes.” I curl up on my side for a few minutes before I lever myself into a half-sitting position. “I think I need to pee.”
“Forgive her?” Tomás looks to Loxland.
“For Sir Asshole? We will decide later.”
Oh ohh. I’m smiling inside though. That cannot be a stitching offence.
I look down at the come dribbling onto the paving from between my legs. “Who cleans this up?”
“I’ll arrange it.” Tomás goes off to get someone.
“You two”—I stare at the shade-cloth swaying in the breeze—“are the reason for all the come in the pool.”
“Can you make it without crutches?” Loxland stands and helps me up. “It’s over there, the restroom. It has showers.”
A white door is to the right, in the wall that forms the side of the stairs.
Walrus man aka Mr. Zasha Morosova, is also to our right, on a square lounge-cross-bed with mermaid woman sucking him off.
I switch, instantly, to detective mode. To cock inspection mode.
I can do this on the way, and no one will even notice.
I think?
Half his cock is being swallowed half the time.
“Be back soon, sirs.” Legs still a little out of action, I pick my sarong off the floor, decide not to refasten it as…come everywhere, and amble his way. My bikini is mostly still in place? Or not. I pull the top so it covers my nipples. Not that most here would care. My bottoms have vanished.
I’m struck by a thought, backtracking to the orgasm I just had—almost no one cares, apart from whoever that stranger was. Who was that?
I keep myself distracted until I reach near Mr. Walrus, Mr. Zasha, who is actually a very fit man, just stocky as hell with muscles like a train that turned human. He’s lying on his side, naked, absorbed in getting sucked off, with hair on his back to rival a baboon.
I decide to look as I go by, accidentally, when his woman is on the upstroke so I can see the whole length. This search for scars is both ludicrous and essential.
And as I glance at said cock, he looks at me, and our gazes lock. There is a knowing in there, a focus that says more than that he thinks I’m a woman studying his cock.
A chill falls through me, all the way to my bones, and I hurry onward to the restroom.
I’m scared, I realize, as I push through the door with cold hands despite the warm weather and the sun. That man would not hesitate to put an axe in his enemy.
No looking on the return journey. I’ll scoot past him, do a more wayward trip to Loxland and Tomás.
Problem is, when I open the restroom door, he is there, waiting for me, inches away.