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“Yes, you will,” Pan whispered in my ear, and I shivered when his lips moved against my earlobe.
Nomios raised my leg higher, tilting my core towards himself, and pushed his cock inside my pussy. I moaned at the intrusion, wide and briefly uncomfortable against my swollen tissue. He pushed further in, as much as he could in this position. It wasn’t the deepest angle, but the sheer girth overwhelmed me.
Pan spread my ass cheeks and positioned himself at my entrance. Before I could prepare or get used to Nomios’s dick inside me, Pan pushed in. Despite the special lube, his fat head was too much for me—too big, too wide, too everything.
I cried out from the stretch, feeling suddenly breakable. Pan relentlessly penetrated my asshole inch by inch, and I could feel the flimsiness of the wall separating these two cocks inside me.
“You’re such a good girl,” Pan breathed in my ear, while Nomios caressed my hip with his large, warm hand. “Taking us both so well. I’m proud of you.”
All my worry disappeared and glowing warmth filled me. His praise unlocked something, or maybe I was adjusting to the double penetration, because a tight, focused pleasure pooled between my thighs.
“Very good girl,” Nomios said.
And he moved. With slow, unhurried thrusts, he fucked my pussy, and I could feel every inch of his cock sliding against that thin wall separating his cock from Pan’s. I moaned and pleaded, moving fast to the peak.
And then Pan moved, too. In the easy slickness of the magical lube, he thrust into my asshole, deeper and more powerful. Both satyrs found a rhythm, and trapped me between them, my body overflowing.
The music began soft, only gentle vibrations ringing through my core and ass, flutters of pleasure strumming my nerves. But soon, it swelled, and where Pan’s flute rang deep and powerful, stretching my asshole with the sound, filling it with full, round notes, Nomios’ melody played faster, more playful.
I crashed into my first orgasm like a wave crashing against the shore, my body light as foam. The music grew louder, each slick thrust a powerful force conquering me from within, each groan of pleasure a vibration going straight to my nipples.
“You’re so pretty when we’re fucking you,” Pan growled into my ear. “Such a pretty, dirty nymph.”
He thrust hard and deep, twisting my nipple to pain and delight, and I screamed from the second orgasm, a harsh, tense explosion of bliss. I clenched, pulling both cocks deeper inside me, tightening around them.
Both satyrs panted and groaned now, moving faster. Their melody became a wild, disjointed crescendo, notes upon notes of primal passion, a barbaric tune tearing me from within.
I came once more, my entire body rising in flames that burned and burned and burned, hotter than the sun, filling me with the light and heat of pure, infinite energy.
Pan ground out my name and stilled deep inside my ass, while Nomios thrust three more times, fast and focused, and he, too, came deep inside my cunt. We stilled, a tangle of sweaty bodies, weightless and fully satiated.
I didn’t fall asleep—more like blacked out from pure sensory overload.
When I woke up naked, sticky and sore, I was back on the mountain trail we had climbed earlier. Dora lay in the grass bymy side, covered head to toe in what looked to be dried, magical cum.
It sparkled in the sun.
I woke her. We found our clothes lying in a pile under a bush and dressed in silence, both dazed at what had just happened and sorrowful it ended so soon.
Chapter 5
Wild Berry Wine
Two months later, I wandered through the downtown. Edward the Wanker, my ex from before the Revel, wanted to get back together.
I told him no with no hesitation. I didn’t even have to think about it.
After the Revel, the thought of having sex with an ordinary man was utterly dreary. Pan had spoiled me and given me expectations so high, no one but him could meet them.
Ever.
I walked down a cute little alley off a busy street and pondered my situation. It looked like until the next Revel, my sex life would be a desert.
I could only have satisfying sex once a year.
A pub caught my eye. It was called Satyr’s Den, and on the glass door leading inside, someone painted a lewd scene. In it, a woman panted in ecstasy, her legs wrapped around a satyr’s waist. Vines covered their naughty bits.
The pub was perfect because, frankly, I needed a drink.
