Chapter 18 Lucian #2
I snap, hips pistoning like a man possessed, and my lust takes over. "That's it, you filthy little cock socket. Take every inch like the cum-hungry slut you are. Choke on my dick like it's your last fucking meal."
Sable pops off my cock, "Yes, keep talking dirty."
I growl, treating her mouth like my personal fleshlight. "Fuck, I bet you could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch, couldn't you, you dirty girl?"
I grip her hair tighter, slamming into her throat.
Emily continues her assault on Sable's pussy, standing up behind her to get the perfect angle, like a porn star pro. Sable moans and screams around my cock, but I shut her up by pushing deeper, her throat now my own personal fuck toy.
"There ya go, baby." Emily's words are like a whip, cracking through the air. "You gonna be a dirty little fuck doll?"
"Yes!" Sable manages to scream around my cock, the vibrations nearly making me see stars
"Mmm…yeah, you are." Emily slams into Sable harder, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room like a round of applause.
Hearing their filthy words is like pouring gasoline on the fire in my veins. I grip Sable's hair tighter, pounding my cock down her throat like it's my sole purpose in life, while Emily fucks her from behind like a rabid animal.
Drool and foam gather around Sable's lips, creating a slick, wet hole for me to fuck with wild abandon, her drool dripping in long strings down to the floor.
God, I'm choking the shit out of her, and I don't even care.
The sight of her spit running down my thighs is so goddamn hot; I have to slow down so I don't blow my load down her throat like a firehose.
I pull out real quick, "Spit on it."
Sable complies, spit running down my cock like a waterfall. Fuck, I love a good sloppy blowjob. Nothing beats the feeling of a warm, wet mouth worshipping your cock like it's a goddamn religious artifact.
I ease off the throttle, frantically racking my brain for something, anything, to stave off the impending jizz-pocalypse.
Reciting the periodic table? Nah, too fucking nerdy.
Imagining Rosie O'Donnell in a thong? Blech, gross, but not quite vomit-inducing enough.
Picturing Mitch McConnell's ballsack? Okay, that's definitely a one-way ticket to Limp Dicksville, but even that nightmarish image isn't doing the trick right now.
And then, like a big fuck you from the porn gods, a stunning brunette with golden eyes pops into my head; her skin is sun-kissed and flawless like an airbrushed magazine cover.
Where the hell did she come from? And why is she invading my thoughts while I'm balls-deep in Witch Barbie's mouth?
My balls are tightening like a python's grip, and Little Lucian is ready to erupt like Mount Vesuvius. I've got no clue who this mystery girl is or why she seems so familiar, but I can't get her out of my head to save my damn life (or my load, for that matter).
I open my eyes and focus on Sable sucking my cock like a Hoover, looking up at Emily, slamming a massive dildo into Sable.
I'm trying to focus on the live-action porno playing out right in front of me, hoping it'll be enough to push Mystery Girl out of my head.
But it's like trying to ignore an elephant in the room, or in this case, a sexy, golden-eyed elephant trampling all over my brain.
"Ohh, my dirty witch is creamy. That's it, baby. I'm gonna milk this pussy like a fucking dairy farm." Emily's dirty talk is like a porno soundtrack.
Christ on a cracker, this is like the best fucking thing to ever happen to me (or at least, the best thing I can remember happening to me, which admittedly isn't much).
But even with all this grade-A spank bank material right in front of me, I can't stop thinking about those golden eyes and that perfect, kissable skin.
Who is she? Why does she seem so familiar?
She must be someone from my past (or at least, the part of my past that's been wiped cleaner than a fucking Etch A Sketch).
When I thought my life couldn't get any more screwed up, the universe decides to throw me a curve ball in the form of a phantom fantasy girl.
It's like the powers that be are saying, "Hey Lucian, we know you're balls deep in the middle of a fucking epic threesome, but here's a mystery chick to mindfuck you even more. You're welcome, asshole."
I can't take it anymore. With a grunt and a thrust, I explode like a goddamn geyser, my cum rocketing down Sable's throat like a surface-to-air missile. She squirms and gags, but I hold her steady, making damn sure she swallows every last drop like it's the antidote to a poison she just drank.
"Fuuuuuck yes, drink that shit down like mother's milk, you nasty little semen demon. Ungh, fuck!"
"LUCIAN!" I nearly jump out of my skin, falling off the couch in a tangle of limbs and a flying pizza box. I look around, disoriented, and see Sable and Emily staring at me with confusion, amusement, and annoyance.
It was a dream—a messed-up fever dream that my brain decided to conjure up. I quickly scramble to my feet, brushing pizza crumbs off my chest and trying to play it cool (spoiler alert: I'm failing miserably).
Emily, looking annoyed, "You ate all the damn pizza? We leave for thirty minutes, and you manage to inhale an entire pizza like some black hole with a tapeworm?"
Sable, giggling and eyeing me, "Looks like someone was having a nice little dream." Her eyes twinkle with mischief. "Secret's out, Lucian. We heard what you were saying in your sleep. My, my, you have quite a vocabulary, don't you? Semen Demon, huh?"
I stammer, embarrassed. "Uh... sorry. I was hungry. You know how it is, you start eating, and then suddenly, the whole pizza is gone, and you're left wondering what the hell just happened, like some food-induced blackout."
I am internally screaming, trying to shake the image of the dream out of my head.
This is so damn embarrassing. My brain decided to take a vacation without telling the rest of me.
And now I'm standing here trying to play it off like I didn't just have the most vivid, messed-up dream of my entire afterlife.
Emily rolls her eyes. "Hungry for what, exactly? Because from what we heard, it sure as hell wasn't pizza you were craving."
Sable giggles, "Yeah, unless that's some kind of new pizza topping I've never heard of."
I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Can we please just pretend like this never happened? I'm begging you, I'll do anything. I'll buy you both a pony if you let me live this down."
Emily smirks, "A pony? What are we, twelve? If you really want us to forget about your little sleep-talking session, about us no less—you'll have to do better than that."
Sable nods in agreement, "Yeah, I'm thinking more of a lifetime supply of chocolate and a foot massage whenever we want."
I sigh, resigned to my fate. "Fine, fine, whatever. I'll buy you all the chocolate in the world and rub your feet until my hands fall off. Just please, for the love of all that is holy, never mention this again."
Emily and Sable exchange a look. "Deal. But know that we'll never let you live this down. You're officially the pervert of the group now."
The girls leave and go to bed, and I flop back down on the couch.
I still can't shake the image of that mystery brunette. It's like she's burned into my retinas, haunting me.
Frustration consumes me. I swear, if this is some cosmic joke, I'm not laughing. The universe needs to quit messing with me and give me some answers before I lose what's left of my already messed-up mind.
I groan, rubbing my temples. My brain is stuck on this chick like a broken record. Those golden eyes, that sun-kissed skin—it's like she's haunting me, taunting me from the depths of my psyche.
I sigh heavily as I try to calm down. I take a few deep breaths and attempt to will myself back into submission. But Little Lucian is having none of it.
I mean, can you really blame me? After that wet dream, it's a goddamn miracle I haven't painted the ceiling yet.
I let out a shaky breath, frustrated as hell.
Part of me wants to say screw it, spank the monkey in shame—consequences be damned.
But the tiny rational part of my brain that's still functioning knows that's a terrible fucking idea.
So, with a heavy heart, I try to ignore it and focus on the cooking show still droning on in the background.
But it's no use. I can only think about the mystery brunette.
Fuck, I need a drink. Or ten. Maybe if I get blackout drunk, I'll forget about this dream girl for a little while. One can only hope.