Happy Endings

"Perhaps you boys deserve a little treat," she said aloud. "Come here."

Myr knelt down again, facing them, beckoning. Both men walked eagerly up to her, their quivering erections about level with her shoulders, shiny with pre-cum. Joe brought his cock to her mouth, but she slapped it away irritably.

"No," she said wearily, as though addressing a slow child. "That's been up my arse, hasn't it?"

"But..." he began, looking disappointed, pleading.

"Nothing that's been up anyone's bottom is going in my mouth," she said firmly. "Just be grateful for what you get."

Before either man could reply she quickly reached up and took one stiff penis in each hand. They gasped as she began to stroke her nimble fingers gently, languorously along their cocks and circle a thumb beneath each swollen purple glans. She grinned wickedly, revelling in the sense of power, and tightened her grip.

In many ways this was the part she enjoyed most about these occasions, Myr thought as she expertly wanked off the two men. She could sense the pleasure growing in each of them - watching their facial expressions and body language, feeling the pulse and throb of blood through their cocks as she slid her hands skillfully up and down their full lengths. Joe's was the longer, by almost an inch. In girth there was little difference. Each cock was a satisfying weight in one hand, throbbing as she stroked on and on, faster and faster, watching the skin slide wetly back and forth.

She brought them both to the same point - just one tiny, teasing stimulation short of orgasm - then slowed, holding them there with the most minute strokes and squeezes. She stared closely at the glistening ends of the two penises, each poised over one of her large, pale breasts.

Such a stereotypically male fantasy, she thought - a busty woman on her knees, virtually naked, giving selfless pleasure to two men at once, only a few strokes away from having her face and tits coated in their combined jism.

Myr found no particular pleasure in being ejaculated on, and found the male obsession with the practice genuinely baffling. Misogynistic pornography was most likely to blame, she suspected, though deep down it was probably a possessiveness thing (conscious or not) like cats spraying to mark their territory. That said, having cum on her skin was not something she found entirely disagreeable, and she was happy enough to indulge a man if she liked him enough. She always insisted that he lick his own semen off her body afterwards, of course.

In this case she felt nothing but lust for either of these men - physically impressive though they might be - and so neither one would have the honour of covering her with his territorial love-pissings that evening.

She thought she had probably teased them enough now. Time for the happy endings.

She began stroking harder, faster, and felt each of them tip over the edge. Just as Harvey and Joe closed their eyes and drew breath for an orgasmic exhalation, Myr pushed gently on each penis, swivelling the two unresisting bodies around to face one another, still stroking furiously. They came simultaneously - she was quite proud of that - each man spurting a long, thick jet of white onto the other's stomach, cock, thighs and balls.

The spurting went on for a while, and there was quite a mess by the end of it.

With the last few post-orgasmic strokes concluded, the two men opened their eyes and looked at one another's spunk-coated genitalia with a bizarre and, to Myr, utterly hilarious cocktail of expressions. There was horror, embarrassment, curiosity, anger, shock and, in Harvey's case at least, some hint of desire. Neither man could meet the other's gaze.

Both men glared down at her. Harvey looked confused and embarrassed; Joe looked hurt, even angry. Both of their expressions melted quickly into submissive humility when Myr returned the stares. She had her best don't-fuck-with-me face on and, more to the point, was still tightly gripping their dicks.

She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly, glancing at each of them with an expression that said: "And?" They both tried to relax, and smiled awkwardly. Joe even gave a little laugh. With a curt nod, Myr let them go and stood up.

After that it was just a matter of cleaning up and getting dressed. Between them they used an entire catering-sized roll of paper towels. The three women giggled at one another; the two men went and had a quiet talk in a corner. Myr noticed them swapping phone numbers.

Awww....

Myr was the last to be fully dressed, obviously, and she needed Ren's help to get back into the corset. She didn't put her knickers back on, but told the men they could argue between themselves over who got to keep them.

She went round the group, giving them each a quick kiss on the cheek before all but skipping out of the room. She made her way back along the dim corridor to the elegant interior of the hotel's conference-cum-party suite.

The small room was empty, but by the sound of it the party in the main room was now in full swing. There was loud pop music and loud voices, the sound of a hundred single men and women partying, having fun and getting to know each other.

She shuddered, and made for the cloakroom.

She waited patiently at the gleaming mahogany counter, humming to herself, watching the clearly-quite-stoned young man on duty as he tried to find her long, bright red coat among the hundred or so black, brown or grey ones hanging from several long rows of hangers. He had just passed by it for the second time, but she was in no hurry and didn't feel like spoiling his fun. She turned and took an aimless little wander around the small reception area.

She had left the party suite by a side door, and behind the main, grand double-door she could hear the party in its full, hateful swing. The doors opened suddenly with a roar of sound. Two white-coated waiters held them open while a third wheeled out a trolley laden with dirty plates. Behind them, a way inside the large space beyond, Myr suddenly spotted Sir Chester the Chinless. Thankfully he didn't see her. In fact, he looked quite preoccupied. Two tall, handsome and clearly - Myr had an uncanny sense for such things - gay men stood on either side of him. All three were smiling, though in Chester's case a little nervously. The doors swung closed over the scene, the noise dimmed and the waiters disappeared.

Myr tittered to herself and returned to the desk, where the young man was standing looking confused.

"Sorry, what did you want again?" he asked, blinking.

Myr sighed, vaulted over the counter, retrieved her coat and vaulted back again before the man had even moved. She gave him a wink, turned smartly and walked down the short corridor leading to the outside world. A doorman opened the door for her with a respectful half-bow. She treated him to the cheekiest smile she could muster, and walked out into the cold, sharp London night.

It was a short walk from here to her step-father's club, where she had a modest suite of rooms, but a quick look at her phone confirmed her suspicions - it was barely ten, appallingly early.

It was Valentine's day, and the night was young.

She hailed a cab.