Page 125 of Agency

“Such a good girl.”

“The best girl.”

“Our best little slut. So tight, so wet, so hot.”

Their hands ran over me like springtime raindrops down a window pane, and their cocks were forking strikes of lightning that pummeled and burned away every trace of my sense of self with great, thunderous claps of skin on skin. Holding me tight and close, they pinned my body between the three of them, and my world suddenly became a cocoon of heat and fantasy-given-life which they’d woven for me inside this storm of pleasure.

What kind of butterfly would I emerge as? A mourning cloak? A painted lady? Or a monarch?

“Cum for us,” Andrew growled in my ear, his body bearing down on my back as I sucked Jericho’s veined thickness. “Drench Morgan’s cock. Tighten up your ass around me, till I’m filling you with my cum and getting you ready for the next cock.”

I came again, my body quaking, undulating, soundlessly screaming with the intensity of everything.

A butterfly?

Or just a good girl? Was that what I would be when my wings slipped free and unfurled? A good girl for all three of them, these men of my dreams?

Or, maybe, a woman who was supported, who had agency, who could submit in bed, but also live life without this funeral pall of her past actions hanging over her head?

Morgan tensed beneath me for a second before beginning to thrust more wildly and off-rhythm. Pounding and pounding and growing and growing, until I felt as if I were nothing but that tightness and sense of fullness as he stretched me even more than before. After a dozen or so more furious, wild thrusts, his cum joined Andrew’s deep inside me, and I was crying out around Jericho’s cock practically buried in my throat, the orgasmic waters of that dammed lake sloshing over yet again.

Andrew, then, tightening and releasing. Filling me, marking me, making me his.

No. Not his.

Theirs.

They were a unit, after all. They were a well-oiled machine, who claimed territory as a group. And I was so much their territory right then!

Sudden shuffling by my three lovers, their cocks sliding from me and leaving me gasping for more.

Morgan and Andrew lifted me, putting my shaking, twitching, cum-addled form to the side with my back on the cushions. Morgan rose from the couch, and Jericho practically leaped over the back of the couch despite his bad ankle. A second later, his spit-slick cock slid into my well-used, well-filled pussy until I felt his tight balls slapping against me.

The force, the eagerness, the need I could feel within his hard, penetrating cock had me crying out in less than a heartbeat as he sent Morgan’s and Andrew’s cum spilling out and down my crack. I was reaching up to find Morgan’s half-hard cock as Jericho fucked me harder and faster, and I began to stroke Morgan back to full-staff as Jericho’s tongue again found my mouth and his cock continued to pump in and out of me, spilling more and more and more of his friends’ seed down to my other, needy hole.

“You look so beautiful right now,” Morgan groaned, his hands down in my sweat-damp hair, stroking as I kissed his boss and friend, as I sucked Jericho’s tongue like a dirty, wanton whore. The tenderness of that caressing hand was such a contrast to what was happening, but I didn’t care.

Goddamn, I didn’t care. I didn’t care at all.

Somehow that tenderness only added to the whole experience.

“So fucking hot and sexy and begging.” Morgan’s hand closed over mine on his cock, and we continued to stroke together as he grew against my clutching palm and fingers, his cum and my wetness covering both of us. “Stroke my cock, Ambyr. Get it ready for your slutty, hungry ass. Get me hard and ready so I can use it the way my friend has. The way Jericho will when he’s done with your dripping cunt.”

Another orgasm washed over me at his words–another wave of pleasure, that had me arching my back and pressing myself to Jericho’s sturdy, unyielding weight.

Morgan hardened in my now cum-coated hand, and then Jericho was lifting me onto his lap and reclining on the couch. With Jericho’s head towards the kitchen, my breasts flattened against his broad, muscular chest as Morgan’s reassuring weight settled into the cushions behind me and his calm, confident hands gripped my cheeks and spread me.

His body was so hot, so drenched with sweat as he pressed to my backside. Still slick with our mixture, he didn’t need me to help ease him in. No, he instead sucked in a sharp gasp of pleasure as the head of his cock effortlessly slipped past my formerly tight ring, and I shivered with pleasure as his full, veined thickness seemed to etch itself into the memory of my insides, forever inscribing this afternoon’s events no matter what would happen later tonight.

Suddenly, I was back to that fullness I needed, that I craved, with my back arching and my lips leaving Jericho’s as their hands closed over me and began to grip, tease, caress… slap.

No, not slap.

Spank.

Taking their pleasure from my body, they made my insides tighten and caress their cocks with every slap on my bare ass. Both of them, taking turns. Hard and rough, each open-handed strike sent sharp pangs of delicious agony arcing through me.

But still giving pleasure, they mixed pain with my ecstasy, pushing me through orgasm after orgasm, till my throat was ragged from my moans and screams.