Page 74
Story: Recover
His hands were running up and down my arms, and even though I was on top, I felt blissfully weak with the view of his chiseled arms. The bandage for the fresh tattoo on his one arm had come off—or rather, he had forced it off for the display—and the black dagger was angled up toward me in its fierce, graceful design. It was a metaphor for one thing, of course—for the thing aimed at the target between my legs.
“P,” I said, realizing something. This wasn’t something he had ever done before. “You really gonna stick that thing in me without lube, or some shit?”
Elliot laughed, and I felt his belly convulse beneath me. His dick nudged the skin just above my pussy, causing me to shiver.
“Don’t worry. We had Leo suck him off before you woke up. Didn’t we?” he said.
“Fuck you,” I snarled, grabbing him playfully by the neck. “Now fuck me.”
“I don’t know,” Elliot responded, lifting his head as if to glance at Pierre. “Should we? Seems like too little foreplay.”
“Or too much,” I said, bending forward so that my tits were pretty much at a right angle to Elliot’s chest, which expanded with each breath he took. His eyes weren’t even on them, to my surprise. They were on mine.
Suddenly, a wave of guilt thrashed through me. It was true. Pierre was right—Elliot was like a drug, or at the very most, just being around him was the equivalent of a mental high. Sure, he had the sex appeal for a number of girls back in high school, but I was lost just by looking at him. And whatever it was, it had lasted for years, even as I hated his guts for what he did to me.
My ability to love him transcended the hate I had for him. And I wasn’t sure I could say the same for Pierre.
“Do it,” I seethed.
My teeth bared as I forced my hips down to grind against him. Behind me, I could feel the tip of Pierre’s cock grazing the dip between the cheeks of my buttocks. I wanted him, too. I wanted both of them.
If only it could last this way.
“Now.”
The last thing I noticed as Elliot entered me was the sound of my own voice.
A deep, animalistic sigh, as if wedging his dick all the way up inside me worked to shove all the air up throat.
Again, and again, and again.
Elliot thrust his hips up at me like he was trying buck me off, and I held on for dear life, my nails digging into his shoulders as he forced my ass sky high. I struggled to keep myself low enough to maintain a rhythm. But I couldn’t keep up with his force, or his pace. Even though I had ridden him once before, my lack of practice was obvious. It wasn’t like working Leo. Elliot was his own beast. He didn’t just want to show me a good fuck. He wanted to show me what true love felt like.
It didn’t take me long to realize that I was missing some action backstage. Pierre was clinging to my waist, his dick humping me from behind with little force. The whole effort was kind of hilarious—at least he was making the effort.
“I need a little help here, P,” I wheezed, craning my neck to try to catch a glimpse of his expression. “I need you.”
Those three words seemed to do the trick. I felt Pierre’s grip on my waist tighten, and I flexed my legs wider to prepare for his entrance.
His dick thrust its way into me, forging a new path, a precarious journey. And it hurt like hell.
“Fuck,” I exhaled, and felt Pierre freeze up behind me. Elliot continued to work his hips against me, slower than before. “What are you doing? Keep going.”
“But it sounds like it hurt,” Pierre muttered.
“I don’t care.”
With that, Elliot’s dick thrust up into me one more time before I felt Pierre push me down from inside. This time, the pain meshed with the pleasure of Elliot’s movements—and the combination of the two sent my body wild. Feeling, pure invasive emotion, rocked through me. Pierre was right. This is what I needed.
Both of them.
I wanted their pain, their joy, their hurt. I wanted to feel it, all of it, in me.
“Tell me why you’re lying,” I breathed, letting my head fall into the side of Elliot’s neck as he continued to pound me.
“What do you mean?”
“Leo,” I said, and let out a moan as both boys started to pick up the pace. “He told me about your plan. Having Pierre do your dirty work.”
“P,” I said, realizing something. This wasn’t something he had ever done before. “You really gonna stick that thing in me without lube, or some shit?”
Elliot laughed, and I felt his belly convulse beneath me. His dick nudged the skin just above my pussy, causing me to shiver.
“Don’t worry. We had Leo suck him off before you woke up. Didn’t we?” he said.
“Fuck you,” I snarled, grabbing him playfully by the neck. “Now fuck me.”
“I don’t know,” Elliot responded, lifting his head as if to glance at Pierre. “Should we? Seems like too little foreplay.”
“Or too much,” I said, bending forward so that my tits were pretty much at a right angle to Elliot’s chest, which expanded with each breath he took. His eyes weren’t even on them, to my surprise. They were on mine.
Suddenly, a wave of guilt thrashed through me. It was true. Pierre was right—Elliot was like a drug, or at the very most, just being around him was the equivalent of a mental high. Sure, he had the sex appeal for a number of girls back in high school, but I was lost just by looking at him. And whatever it was, it had lasted for years, even as I hated his guts for what he did to me.
My ability to love him transcended the hate I had for him. And I wasn’t sure I could say the same for Pierre.
“Do it,” I seethed.
My teeth bared as I forced my hips down to grind against him. Behind me, I could feel the tip of Pierre’s cock grazing the dip between the cheeks of my buttocks. I wanted him, too. I wanted both of them.
If only it could last this way.
“Now.”
The last thing I noticed as Elliot entered me was the sound of my own voice.
A deep, animalistic sigh, as if wedging his dick all the way up inside me worked to shove all the air up throat.
Again, and again, and again.
Elliot thrust his hips up at me like he was trying buck me off, and I held on for dear life, my nails digging into his shoulders as he forced my ass sky high. I struggled to keep myself low enough to maintain a rhythm. But I couldn’t keep up with his force, or his pace. Even though I had ridden him once before, my lack of practice was obvious. It wasn’t like working Leo. Elliot was his own beast. He didn’t just want to show me a good fuck. He wanted to show me what true love felt like.
It didn’t take me long to realize that I was missing some action backstage. Pierre was clinging to my waist, his dick humping me from behind with little force. The whole effort was kind of hilarious—at least he was making the effort.
“I need a little help here, P,” I wheezed, craning my neck to try to catch a glimpse of his expression. “I need you.”
Those three words seemed to do the trick. I felt Pierre’s grip on my waist tighten, and I flexed my legs wider to prepare for his entrance.
His dick thrust its way into me, forging a new path, a precarious journey. And it hurt like hell.
“Fuck,” I exhaled, and felt Pierre freeze up behind me. Elliot continued to work his hips against me, slower than before. “What are you doing? Keep going.”
“But it sounds like it hurt,” Pierre muttered.
“I don’t care.”
With that, Elliot’s dick thrust up into me one more time before I felt Pierre push me down from inside. This time, the pain meshed with the pleasure of Elliot’s movements—and the combination of the two sent my body wild. Feeling, pure invasive emotion, rocked through me. Pierre was right. This is what I needed.
Both of them.
I wanted their pain, their joy, their hurt. I wanted to feel it, all of it, in me.
“Tell me why you’re lying,” I breathed, letting my head fall into the side of Elliot’s neck as he continued to pound me.
“What do you mean?”
“Leo,” I said, and let out a moan as both boys started to pick up the pace. “He told me about your plan. Having Pierre do your dirty work.”
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