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Joel thrusts inside me, his movements jerky, his cheekbones flushed, his eyes over-bright. Sweat glimmers on his face as he fucks me, rocking back on Jet’s hand every time. He’s panting harshly, his mouth slack with pleasure, his cock so swollen and hard I know he’s close to coming.
I’m not far, either. Not with his soft cursing, the roughness of his thrusts, the way his breath catches on a moan every time he rocks back.
“Damn, this is so hot,” Jet mutters, “you’re both so hot, I—”
I cry out as I come again, a different, deeper orgasm that I feel all the way to the tips of my boobs and down to my toes—a hot rushing wave that spears through my body, then draws me under with aftershocks.
“Oh fuck.” Joel fucks me harder, plunging inside me faster, until he shudders and moans, the spill of his hot cum triggering more pleasurable pulses in the deepest part of me.
Jet gasps, leaning back, his cock jerking, painting his tattooed chest with cum. “Hot damn…”
Joel reaches out and grabs him, hauling him to his side before Jet is even done coming. “Jesus, that was good. Did you…?” He shakes his head, grinning. “Will you fuck me now, Jet?”
Jet laughs breathlessly and his eyes find mine. “Not today. But you liked my finger up your ass, so… Maybe.”
“Maybe? What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means…” Jet turns and winks at Joel. “We’ll try something bigger than my finger next time.”
I lift a hand, too wiped out to move anything else. “I volunteer.”
“To do what?” Jet looks baffled.
I wave said hand back and forth. “To help. Participate. Whatever.”
I think Joel will back out, but he just huffs a laugh. “I see.” He cups Jet’s face. “I vote we accept her help.”
“Most definitely,” Jet agrees, leaning in for a kiss. “I can try my toys on both of you at the same time, how about that?”
They drag me up and kiss me, too, one after the other, and all I can think of is, We’re going to initiate Joel to sex toys.
When do we start?
***
Not today, as it turns out. We barely sit down to dinner—Joel’s world famous Spanish omelet and a special about Japanese comics on TV—when my phone rings.
I ignore it the first and second times, worn out from sex and just happy to be sandwiched between my boys on the couch, eating and listening to Jet commenting on one thing or another.
The third time I sigh, put my plate on the coffee table and go answer.
“Candy!” My mom sounds all breathless. “I’ve been calling you all day.”
“No, Mom. You only called three times, all in the last ten minutes.”
“Really? It felt like longer.”
I shake my head and can’t help a snicker. She drives me nuts so often, but sometimes she’s just plain funny. “What’s up?”
“Just checking up on my baby girl. Your brother has threatened to disconnect his phone if I call him one more time, so he said.”
Ow. “Why? What did you do?”
“Who says I did something? He’s being difficult. When your mother asks you for advice on an important matter, you shouldn’t threaten never to speak to her again. Jet barely knows me and he was so helpful.”
That sets of a number of alarms. “Mom, what did you ask Holden about?"
“Oh, just this and that. You know.”
