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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Beautiful beads of sweet sweat drip onto me from Carlo’s forehead as he leans closer in.
He watches the other two approach with a look of wild satisfaction as he moves, jabbing in at a steeper angle. His pelvis thrusts to stab his cock higher and faster into me. I don’t know how much of this I can take. But what a way to go.
Standing close, behind the couch, Bruno’s cock is hot and thick. Firm and full. My eyes roll as I pull on the smooth flesh, hardening in my hand.
Carlo touches my clit with ferocious expertise. I gush and squirt until there’s a lake between us.
On the other side, Alessio stands near enough that the scent of his cock is in the back of my throat. I take hold with my other hand. A spit of saliva that I rub and spread along him, makes him even more appetizing.
“Did you think you’d get such a filthy princess, Carlo?”
His teeth flash. “Not in my wildest dreams, principessa.” He grips my hair. “You’re dirtier and more beautiful than I would have ever thought possible.”
Carlo watches as I take Bruno’s cock into my mouth. The rocking stroke of his hips slows and becomes more deliberate. “You like that, Cinders? You like the taste of my brother’s cock?”
I nod, sliding my lips on Bruno’s shaft as I do.
Alessio massages and strokes his cock by my bobbing head.
“You look like a porn star. A thousand-dollar working girl.”
I pull the ridged skin on Bruno’s hot meat. “Ten thousand dollar.”
“Deal,” Bruno rasps as his face screws up.
Wrapping my lips around Alessio’s bulb, I look in Carlo’s eyes and he rams his cock higher into me.
An hour ago I was, at least technically, a virgin. Now I’m splayed on a couch surrounded by men, with a hot, thick cock in one hand, one between my lips, and another one hammering into my wet pussy and splitting me wide.
I wonder how many virgins get to sign away their V-card with an extra cock in each hand. Bruno’s face reddens as he pulls his cock harder. I catch his eyes and pat my chest. I want his cum on my chest. Looking up at Alessio, I arch my eyebrows. With my mouth still full of him, I say, You, too.
When I see the flicker of disappointment in his eye, I know, I feel that his reflex reaction is to tell me how it’s going to be. But then he thinks better of it. I’m sure I can sense him adapting, accepting a new situation. The turning of a card, a change in the landscape of power.
Carlo is nearly ready to come.
My back arches and my pelvis rocks, hard along his rail. I hold Bruno and Alessio, pulling and teasing at the most sensitive parts of their underside seams, helping while they drag themselves to climax.
Carlo bends my legs farther back and drives me up to another plateau. I feel like I’m balanced, pummeled in the winds of a storm. Then up, like I’m on a waterwheel, turning higher and higher, always on a lurching upswing. I’m tense, clamped on the stinging friction of Carlo’s pole. Rising intensity and shortening, quickening breath.
Then, stretched like a balloon, bulging full of water, I break.
Like fireworks bursting high in the vaulted roof of a cathedral, as the walls collapse and flood waters foam, bursting through.
Bruno grabs my breast. “You are filthy, Lucy. Filthy and beautiful.” I smell his cum before I see the bolts, rising through his cock and splashing hot and thick on my tits and my throat.
“Dirty princess,” Alessio groans as he shoots. Splashes from both men reach my tongue, and the difference in their tastes sends me tumbling, exploding, on and up. Over and over.
Carlo shouts and I squeeze my sore and worn out pussy around him.
“You’re mine. My fucking principessa. My princess of fucking.”
My sore and aching pussy pulls and kneads him. Suckles him. Milks him. Trembles on him and around him. Holds him as he pulses, slams and pumps his hot seed, blasting and covering my walls and my waiting insides.
He grips my hair and glares hard into my eyes, “Come with me,” and he hammers, hard. Helpless, I gush. Squirting and flowing, free.
We thrash together, wild in helpless ecstasy.
