Paresthesia Pt. 10

"And there we go," Sylvia sighs, "No panties. What do I win?"

Hannah laughs and nods her head. I notice that Sylvia doesn't move her hands away after finding all the wonderful secrets. I also notice that the hands don't stop with just floating over her. I am the target as well. She knows where my bulge is and decides that she will not touch anywhere near it. She outlines the shape, though, just enough to let the world know that she knows and that every act of hers is a deliberate ploy on her part to be as terrible as possible.

And my torment does not end. Hannah leaves my lap and I am unmoored from the confines of gravity, lost to the cold expanse of space, the endless abyss where even the warming stars grow cold and dead. She leaves me for another lap, a softer one, a smoother one, one more suited to her tastes not that I have been judged as inferior. She goes to Sylvia and lays her hands on her shoulders. Sylvia winces again, but it all doesn't really matter when there is Hannah looking her in the eyes.

She suddenly goes still once she realizes what's on her. There is a Hannah, and that is a lot to deal with. All that bravado slowly seeps out, leaving behind a nervous smile that suggests confidence in the most unconfident way. Hannah's fine with it. She likes being on top, watching the squirm and the seep and all the terrible confidence slowly drain in the face of her presence. And it's all done with a warm look, smoldering and burning, churning earth as heartbeat and calm breath. They linger. They linger and still as the movie keeps trying to calm any form of attention from any of us. I have none to give and they have even less.

Hannah dives and plants her lips to Sylvia's. The target goes wide eyed and scared, little prey in claws and teeth being eviscerated wide. But she doesn't bolt. She doesn't run. She just freezes in place while I take in the natural sight. Hannah lays into her, all the power coming down with soft intent. She presses into her and I can only imagine how beautiful it must feel to have those tits, heaving and heavy and soft pressing against anything on my body. Hannah savors it. She loses herself in the other body so silent and scared.

"What's the matter Sylvia," I sigh as I stretch out, raising my hips so she can really see what they both are doing to me, "You won. This is your prize. Have fun with it."

I crack my knuckles with out-spread fingers as I pully my own shirt up. It's getting kind of distracting really. Shirts are the worst invention of mankind really. Always in the way, preserving some idiotic version of modesty that only hinders our collective advancement. Sure, there is the moment of reveal that certainly is pleasurable, but I don't think the tradeoff is really worth it, when all is said and done. No more shirts ever for anyone. It'd be like everyone is at the beach all the time.

"Be nice to her, Evan," Hannah says as she breaks, a thin line still connecting them, "This is new for her. Probably. Maybe. We need to be careful. We could scare her off."

"I think you have her on lock, honey. She's not going anywhere. Isn't that right?"

Sylvia nods and it is still amazing how fast the mask can shift on her. Commanding and demeaning into the soft and scared. Not sure which is the true one. Both of them might be the real one, just a simple shift at the drop of a hat. Both of them shift and collide within. Hannah brings back the scared one with more of her lips, her tongue, her hands holding her still. She is learning how strong the quaking earth can be. There is no escape from the tectonic pressure. Sylvia has to learn that you will be reshaped with the will of earthquakes and avalanches.

And I am not helping. I let the shirt keep riding up and her eyes are on my stomach. She forgot. She forgot that I have such a lean figure. She forgot what it's like to watch and not touch hard stomachs and muscled lines. She forgot what it was like to have something and not have it. But there is something she has for her that she does not have. I have my hands, too, administering me as I should have been all along. I don't mind. There is something to gain from self-love. Part of it comes from Sylvia looking at me. I unbutton and unzip and her eyes go even wider. She forgot. She forgot so much and built up the dream in her mind. Now, it is lacking. Hannah breaks again and nuzzles into her neck.

"Settle a bet, would you," she hums, "Is he big? Like, big big? Feels like everyone we do this with has a different opinion."

Sylvia takes a long moment, with a bit lip and flushed cheeks. My hand traces my shape, moving my hips, my thighs, letting her see every angle imaginable.

"No," she says, "he's not big."

I regret absolutely everything. I should not have come over. I should not have taken pity on such emotional honesty. I should have never put on the green jacket and asked for a mohawk. I should have just crawled in some tiny hole that never has sunlight. It would be so much better than the current space I occupy.

"I disagree," I say, "I'm fucking massive. The biggest you've ever had."

"Sure, buddy. Whatever you say."

"Evan, you're not big. You're like the perfect shape and curve and texture, but you're not big," sighs Hannah.

"I have two opinions that disagree."

"Ken and Alessandra don't have the experience to really count."

"And Elastomer has apparently ruined your baseline. He can stretch. That's just not fair."

"Is this a thing for you?" says Sylvia, "She's right. It's like perfect. Even now, when it's just the bulge, it's perfect. It's great. I can only imagine what it'll feel like when its inside."

"Who said you get that," Hannah says, "You have me right now to worry about. He gets to have his fun and we have ours. If they meet up, great. If they don't, well, we live together. You'll have to figure something out, but that's your problem. So y'know. Have fun with that."

"But look at him. Look at his stomach."

"I know right. He makes a really good cuddle buddy, too. And he uses his trick really well."

"Hannah knows how to use hers too. You should show her, honey," I say. I move my waistline a bit lower as the shape still stretches the fabric and tantalizes the vision. Of both of them. They have each other, but I am still the most important thing they can ever imagine.

But Hannah still has the idea to try and pull her attention back to her. It comes in the shift and quake from her core. I get a show, a wonderful show that comes with someone realizing they are completely out of their depth. Been happening a lot to her recently. Deadman dropped her and now she is on the receiving of a full-blown riot. The punch is still pulled from the edge of destruction. The rattling of the chandelier in her spine threatens to cut her to shreds. So, the earthquake keeps to the low end of the scale. And it is still enough to slowly ebb away at the edges of her thought. There is raw sensation on her core and that rattles against everything sensitive and needy for more.

I give her more. I free myself and it hits my stomach with a hard slap. Both of them make a small, needy noise when it does and it resonates within me. It settles in the twitches in time. Even their shared connection of lips and tongue and chest and hips don't quite compete with the show I put on.

"Still not big," mutters Sylvia through lips and tongue and groping hands. I roll my eyes and make it twitch and jump for them and it doesn't matter if they think it's big or not. It is, but that's beside the point. They are enraptured by me and that is good enough.

I grip and stroke and slow them down. Sure, the weight and the straddle are amorous, but I am hypnotic. My hands dance over me, every act I perform from the depths of my experience, lingering at the top, long strokes down, holding the base. Fingers to palms to full grip and back again. Only one hand at a time, though. If I use both there is the possibility that I could prove myself wrong. Better to not know and believe that everything is as I say it.

"With all we've done," I moan, "I'm surprised we never did this. Just find a lazy Sunday and watch each other stroke."

"We haven't had lazy days, period," Hannah says with another break and strand, "let alone Sundays. I always thought you guys took it easier over here."

"Usually, we do," sighs Sylvia, "But I don't know. Ben's been whipping everything up. New blood and everyone's got plans now. So busy, busy, busy. This is the first movie night I've been able to have for a while. And then you both came in and ruined it."

"Oh, please. Kissing me is great."

"Yeah, kissing her is great. Keep doing that. I like watching that."

"And keep jacking off. We like watching that."

Figured that was the case, and the short conversation really just delayed even more of the show. It did allow Hannah to shed her shirt, at least. And me to get mine all the way up to my neck. Full exposure, very important available for a gander. Except my ass. Never quite figured out if that was something they would want to see, but they have enough. Can't put too much on the table at the start.

They go back to kissing, exaggerating the motions now, making more noise than what might be natural. I don't mind. They can make more. I can make more. We can have our show for one another, no matter how exaggerated. Kind of the point, really. Their chests meet and roll over one another, forming around the rocks of being like river currents. Rapids and swells, down to lazy wide flow, it all shifts together for me.

I stroke for them and make the same noises they make. Moans and deep breaths, all the groans and sighs a little too loud for what I am. Maybe not that much. I haven't done this in a while, now that I have a dedicated partner and a roulette wheel of available partners. Probably should do it more, once we all settle in. Morning showers and late nights, afternoons in quiet corners. Maybe not to the level I was at before, but I can certainly pump those numbers. I whirl on the head with my palm and slide it down. That is enough to let them break apart for good this time.

There's another fight brewing between them. And they were getting along so well just a second ago. I can feel it. And I don't really want to stop it. I am just the ball now, so I don't really have a say at all. I just have the tremors and quakes to shift through the show to enjoy. They should get back to it. Hannah's the only one really doing anything, idle fondling of a breast in shaking hands. Idles, they are both idle and watching and I am lost in the fantasy of what should be.

More of them, mostly, the bandages gone and the skin smooth and soft and heated. Pressing into me. I close my eyes and let the hum echo from my core. It is good to let it all out, to let the bones and the joints and everything go slack in the mindless haze of pleasant feelings. I am hard and I am dealing with it while Hannah and Sylvia simply watch me go through the motions. They can go further with me or each other or just by their lonesome. I really don't care.

But my apathy finally spurs some action from beyond me when Hannah grabs my ankle and drags me across the couch. Now, the bodies form a tangle instead of a neat little nest. I am still in the center of the tangle, limbs and torsos and hands all colliding into me. My length is in between a pair of hard lined stomachs and that's certainly something I like. Slick hard muscles and soft, quick heartbeats all in a colliding drumroll. It is chaotic. It is insanity. I lose track of which one is mine.

"Why'd you ruin the show," I say.

"Because it was going nowhere," Sylvia says.

"Yeah. And you deserve a prize too."

"For what? I did nothing. I got everything wrong."

"Shut up. We're going to kiss you now. And you're going to like."

I do like it and apparently this is what I get for doing nothing at all. I should do nothing more often. It gets two women on my chest, licking and kissing and nipping the edges and lines. I get hands on me and I get things to get handsy with. There is a hard back and one covered in bandages. The hard one gets nails and pressure. The bandaged one gets soft caresses and gentle fingers. Both of them melt into me. The hard one starts thrumming like an idles motor. The bandage one goes still and calm. Everything stills as the lips slowly creep higher. My stomach has its marks, and then my chest, and then my neck. All of our lips meet and then everything comes colliding back. I have two fistfuls of ass and two pairs of tits pressed into me and nothing in the world can take this from me.

All of our tongues intertwine in wet knots and biting lips. All of our hands collide and touch and bend the others. We have a mess of tangled knots that only seem to grow tighter and more convoluted with each second. I am down between a pair of pair of things, muscled and soft and squeezing together in a wonderful vice. I shiver and move into the tongues with my own. I taste them and they taste me with just the same eagerness. An ouroboros, devouring while being devoured, we are all a maddening collection of selves that have no end.

"Can I have him first, please," one of them asks. Sylvia, it's Sylvia. I can tell because the tongue that remains has avalanches and demolition in the motions. I don't mind being hers first. Don't really have a preference either. If I could, I would have them at the same time. Kind of impossible, but not really. From my point of view, sure, but not theirs. The other pair of lips leave me and I feel the remnants of stick and balm on my cheeks.

Hannah takes a long moment deciding, idly playing with Sylvia's breasts, checking them for worthiness. I certainly think that they are good enough. She sighs and drops them. They land on my chest and impart a good weight unto me. Those can stay. Those can stay and I am rather fond of them now. I think I should have her first, just so I can keep the weight on my chest for a little bit longer.

"Since you said please," Hannah relents, "I guess I have to. You're being a good girl now, so you get a reward."

Sylvia shudders a bit and lays down deeper.

"Oh, that was weird," she murmurs.

"Hmm. Come on. Share with the rest of the class."

"Good girl. I really liked being called that. Like, really, really liked it."

"Well, now we have a fun little button to press whenever we want."

"She has to earn it though," I say, "And she really isn't right now. I'm not inside of her and no one's really doing anything about."

Hannah takes over and finds Sylvia's hips, getting them open and spread, thighs splayed and everything aligned as it should be. She is open and weeping and flushed with need. Sylvia moves slowly. The cotton wrapping still hinders her and keeps the motions from being graceful and serene. Careful, they are careful and cautious, slowly rocking back and forth and back and forth over me. She is spread and slick and beading down my length.

A deep breath, she takes a deep calming breath, before slipping down. The tip is in her and she is tight and wet and warm until I am bleeding out through reason. Slow, still slow and relaxed, taking each second for herself and savoring the spread of her inside. I am filling and wide and long, taking her pleasure from me with no sense of repayment. I sigh and move to her hips. I coax her down and she finally starts to slip down deeper onto me. She still needs to go farther, though. There is still more of me to take.

"So," I sigh, "Am I still not big?"

"No," Sylvia whines, "Wait, yes? No? You're not big. But you are fucking amazing. Oh god. I needed this. Why is he so good?"

"He is, isn't he," says Hannah, "Not big, but the shape. The way it kind of rides on your stomach? That curve. And that thick bit right after the head. Just wait until you take him all. That's where he really gets amazing."

"That's the thick part. Oh yeah. You lucky bastard, Hannah. You get this every day? That's just not right. That's just not fair."

"Not really. But that's why I share him. And he likes being shared, don't you, baby?"

"Why isn't she going deeper? She needs to take me deeper."

"And you heard him. Can't really argue with that. So down you go."

Hannah has to help her take more, but she does. She takes me deeper and deeper and I slip through the depths of slick vice grip. Her grip shapes me, pulling on the length and twisting it inside of her. She rises a bit and drops down more. Another rise and another fall. Another rise and another fall, until the center of her grip finally falls to my hips. She throws her head back and moans loud enough to rattle the windows and shake the ceiling. Hannah slips into a giggle fit.

"I know right?" she chuckles, "Poor thing can't quite take it. But he only gets better. Now you can ride him. And you can be rough. He won't break."

"I wouldn't go that far," I say, "But I can take some punishment. Certainly, more than what you're doing right now."

"Big words," she moans, "Big words from a- oh god, right there. Ok. Ok. I can do a bit more."

She does try. It's soft, the little bit of extra effort she tries to impart. And it is enough to let me toss my head back and sing for her. She's earned that much. She gets the song of deep resonance.

"And he can get loud, too," Hannah says, "Real loud. That means he likes you. Feels good right?"

"Can't talk. Too good. He's too good."

"Well, if that's the case, then I think there's something else that I think you can do. Evan, could you help me a bit? Just lean her back."

I do. I slam into her all the way, holding at our deepest with shallow pulls to get her sued to the shape. I certainly feel big inside of her. Liars, they are all liars. I just need Alessandra and Ken. But we are both sitting up. Her eyes are closed, head tilted down, trying in vain to wrest some control from me. She gets nothing. She has chosen chaos incarnate and it is simply too much. In the face of such disarray, there is no amount of perfection that can withstand. The act of defiance in and of itself is still welcome. Makes the whole thing a bit better.

She is on her back and that is fine. Her chest spills over to the sides of her body, still moving with the motions I impart. I keep the rhythm the same, a little shallower and a little more linger in the hollow gape while she is vacant. She does not like that. She wants me in her and filling and the whines and hips she shifts towards me are all the urging I need to keep going as I am. I like her when she whines. I like her when she does not take what she wants. It has to be given. It has to be earned. It has to be a joint effort that is shared with all of us.

"Good girl," I say and the words tighten her with shudders and shakes and terrible convulsions. Something hits my stomachs and it seems that I found another one with that particular quirk. 2 out of 3 ain't bad. Not sure how Ken fits in. He just gets cut from the count. Hers is rather quick, just a short spasm to send everything tight and out of control. Almost over before I even realize it hits her. But she comes down and puts a hand over her eyes, like that would make her look more composed.

"Oh, I hate that you can do that to me," she sighs, "I was better off not knowing that."

"Can't take it back," says Hannah, "And you are a good girl. You're taking him so well. Is it everything you ever wanted?"

"God yes. How do you get anything done? I would just ride him forever."

"We do have a lot of fun together. And now you can be a part of it."

Hannah swings over and straddles her head. She has lost her pants. Not sure when that happened. I was preoccupied. And Hannah without pants is one of the better Hannahs I know. All Hannahs are created equal, but some are more equal than the rest.

Sylvia gets the game know and dives into her, hands to her thighs pulling her down to rest where tongue and lips start their work. And Hannah is now starting to lose her grip on this. She knows what the tongue can do and now it is doing it to somewhere very sensitive and touchy.