Smoke from a Burning Building

It was everything that his underwear had hinted at, and more. For the first time that night, she felt a small flicker of concern--it was entirely possible that he was slightly too large. She shoved the thought away roughly. She had come this far--she'd see it through, one way or another. She nearly dropped to her knees right there, on the laminated tiles of the bathroom floor, but sudden hands around the back of her hips stopped her. She felt herself pressed between the two men as Rierson gently hooked his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and pulled it down her legs. Obviously his underwear had come off at some point, because she could feel his penis between her legs--it pressed up gently on the now exposed skin of her vulva.

She was so wet that Isabella thought she might begin dripping on the man's shaft right then and there. He rocked forward gently, parting the lips of her labia with the upper side of his penis; he was rock hard, and curved upward slightly so that his head bumped against the peak of her lips.

"Fuck," she whispered, the word becoming a mumble half-way through as Michael's mouth moved to cover her own.

She felt his hand go down. Instead of touching her, she felt him take hold of the other man's penis between her legs. His knuckles rubbed against her labia as he slowly worked his hand back and forth. Isabella's breathing trembled against his mouth, and he pulled back slightly--he was smiling at her, she could see. She had no idea how much having a man pleasure another man around her would turn her on; she felt absolutely feral. Rierson's hands held her steadily from behind as Michael stroked his hand over his penis.

"There's condoms in the bottom drawer of the sink" Rierson's voice was little more than a whisper; his hot breath moved the small hairs at the back of her neck and blew against the back of her ear. Whoever said that safe-sex was a turn off was straight-up stupid, Isabella decided; everything in her body pulled tight at Rierson's words, and she struggled to control her breathing.

"We get tested twice a year, and after every..." his voice paused for a moment, "... meeting. But if it makes you feel more comfortable..." this time, when his voice faded it did so meaningfully.

A light layer of steam was moving through the air of the bathroom, now--barely held in check by the open doorway. The mirror beside them was fogged, but Isabella could make out a blurry reflection of their three bodies, held together, in the rectangle of hazy glass.

"If one of you don't fuck me right now," she breathed into Michael's mouth, "someone's going to get hurt."

Behind her, Rierson placed the tip of his penis against the opening of her vagina. He didn't enter her, however. Instead, Isabella gasped--and then laughed sharply--as he picked her up and carried her to the shower. She could feel the laughter in his own chest as he set her feet down on the slick white linoleum, still holding her from behind. His mouth touched the side of her neck, and Isabella turned her head slightly to make room for him.

She watched as Michael stepped over the edge of the tub, pulling the curtain closed behind him. She stood between the men; water splashed over Michael's shoulders and the front of her body--it was hot, almost scaldingly so. Isabella barely noticed it, feeling Rierson's mouth moving down the side of her throat. She gasped a breath as she felt his tongue against her neck, gently licking away the droplets of water that clung to her skin.

"Wait..." the first time she said it she was so breathless that it came out inaudible under the sound of the faucet, "Wait--wait!" She felt Rierson's mouth lift from her neck. In front of her, Michael's expression became slightly concerned once more. Isabella reached back, taking Rierson's penis in her hand and stroking it gently behind her.

"Okay... okay..." she breathed, "A couple of questions. First, are either of you married... girlfriends? I don't need to get stabbed to death by a jealous woman."

"Single," Michael pressed his hand to his chest.

"Separated," Rierson licked the back of her ear, sending a shiver through Isabella's body despite the hot water, "shared custody of my daughter."

"Okay..." Isabella tried to think, but came up with nothing, "Continue."

"Mind if I take control a bit?" Michael asked--at some points, the question would have ruined the mood; coming from this man's mouth, Isabella found it wildly exciting. She nodded, and he raised his eyes over her shoulder. She felt Rierson's mouth move against the back of her neck as he nodded as well.

Reaching out, Michael drew her away from Rierson and into his arms. He stepped back slightly as he spun her; from this position, the stream of hot water ran directly into her hair, down the curve of her neck and back, and split over the cheeks of her bum. She felt one of Michael's hands, reaching around from behind, close over her breast. His other hand went to her hair, parting it gently with his fingers.

"So you're a dirty girl?" His voice breathed against her ear, nearly drowned by the sound of the shower; it was even deeper than Rierson's. The man was a god damn virtuoso, Isabella thought. She arched her back into him, feeling his penis press between her thighs.

"Yes sir," she moaned. His hand tightened slightly around her breast, pinching her nipple between a finger and a thumb.

"Hear that, Rye?" The other man stepped forward slightly at Michael's words, going to one knee in front of her, "Let's clean you up before we make you messy again," he leaned forward from behind her, holding her body tightly against his own for a moment and then stepping back.

His hand fell away from her breast. Isabella focused on controlling her breathing, her eyes focused on Rierson. The man cupped his hands, allowing a small pool of water to form inside of them between his fingers and his palms. Then he raised them between her legs. She felt the hot water touch the outside of her vulva; it lasted only a moment, and then she heard the splash as the man dropped it against the bottom of the bathtub.

"Oh, fuck--" she whimpered, watching as the man's face disappeared between her legs. She raised one leg, hooking it over his shoulder; he shifted forward slightly so that she straddled him, taking the strain off her standing leg. She felt his mouth, somehow even hotter than the water of the shower--and she felt her own excitement peak and make her somehow even wetter than the the water of the shower. She trembled slightly as the man's tongue parted the lips of her labia, reaching up to find her clitoris with a practiced efficiency.

She could have cum just from that--but then she felt Michael's hands. Obviously he had found shampoo somewhere, because she could smell the light, fruity scent as he began to work his hands through her hair. His fingers traced gently over her scalp, parting her hair as he drew them through it. The sudden touch nearly made her collapse over Rierson's body; only his strong shoulders kept her upright. She had had men play with her hair in bed before--but this was different. It was somehow more intimate, and more controlling at the same time. She felt his hands gently massaging the shampoo from her hair, his cut-back nails running along the edge of her forehead and the curve of her ear. Below her, Rierson's mouth circled her clitoris in slow, languid motions.

All of a sudden, the men's touch became more intense--it took Isabella a moment to realize that it hadn't; it was inside of her. She swear she could feel each droplet of water that burst over her skin. The slow motions of Michael's hands against her head worked in collaboration with the tongue of the man below her; their teamwork was excellent. Isabella felt her body sway slightly, and she reached down to tangle her fingers in Rierson's dark, curly hair.

"Are you going to cum, you dirty girl?"

"God, yes sir..." she moaned, "I'm going to cum right now. I'm..." she felt her voice squeezed silently as her body tensed--and then bucked forward. She felt Rierson's mouth pressed against the outside of her vagina, and she let out a long moan as something rushed through her body. Her breathing fought free of her throat as the man's mouth continued to move between her legs. It took her a moment to realize that he was speaking, his lips still held against hers.

"Drinks tomorrow says we can make her squirt."

Her eyes widened slightly; internally, she knew it was a losers' bet, but she couldn't help but be excited by the way that the man spoke about her. It was so confident that he almost took on a domineering tone, without the hard edge she had always heard attached to that word.

She had never squirt before--but she had also never been this turned on. Her own arousal was all-consuming; even after her orgasm, her body ached. She was hornier now than when they had gotten into the shower, and she had felt like the was going to explode then. Her head spun lightly; not as if she might pass out, but pleasantly between the heat of the shower and the heat of the man's mouth.

"I'll take that bet," Michael answered from behind her. His deep voice rolled through the steam-filled bathroom, "Look at you, baby girl." Baby girl--the words made her push her hips back against the man's erection, "Polished as a new penny. What do you say we get you dried off? Clean is good, but I think I prefer you--" his lips touched her ear through her wet hair, parting it with his chin, "fucking filthy." As he whispered the last two words, he leaned down to catch the bottom of her ear with his teeth, biting it gently.

"Fuck me," Isabella breathed. She didn't care if she sounded like she was begging--she was. Her arousal was so desperate she was beginning to move her hips against Rierson's mouth, as if she were fucking it.

Isabella found herself amazed once more by how easy it was for the man to lift her. Putting his hands around her waist, Michael lifted her easily away from Rierson's mouth and up from his shoulders. He placed her down on the shower-mat, grabbing a towel from the rack with the hand he wasn't using to steady her. If Isabella thought that she was going to be allowed to dry herself, she was incredibly mistaken. She felt the man's hands through the slightly damp fabric as he worked them down her body, starting at the shoulders and going all the way to her ankles. Lifting her feet, one at a time, he dried them thoroughly--she blew a light break as he wiped between her toes; she had never been a foot person, but that...

Rierson had turned off the shower, climbing out behind them. She watched as he toweled down his own body. Reaching up, Michael went to work on her hair. She turned around for him, as he used his fingers and the towel to work the wetness out. It remained slightly damp, but she didn't mind--in fact, she enjoyed it. Michael lowered his mouth, pressing his lips to her shoulder as he turned the towel to his own body. Then, grabbing her by one cheek of her bum, he steered her gently out of the bathroom doorway.

"Couch," he said quietly.

This time, Isabella walked. She felt the men following her. At first, she bent down so that her stomach was over the slight rise of the couch armrest; then she changed her mind, turning over so that her legs hung over the armrest, draping one arm over the back of the couch to steady herself. As she did so, she could see that Rierson was now holding a grey bottle; it was nondescript, but she recognized the bottle as Sutil--a lubricant.

In front of her, she watched the unexpected happen. Rierson stepped forward, his erection standing straight out in front of his body. He was slightly longer than Michael, and only marginally less thick. Whereas Michael's penis was slight flat along the top and bottom, Rierson's was round the whole way around. It looked like the cardboard tube at the center of a paper towel roll, she thought suddenly. She very nearly laughed at the mental image.

Her laughter disappeared, becoming an entirely different sound--almost like a hushed gasp--as she watched Michael go to his knees in front of the other man. She saw his dark lips part, and he leaned forward to take the other man between them. Rierson grunted quietly, putting a hand around the back of the other man's head. Isabella watched, amazed, as Michael sucked cock in front of her.

Reaching down, she teased her fingers over the front of her labia. Michael had just dried it, but already she was soaking wet again. The skin was slick beneath her fingers as she rubbed slow circles over her clitoris. She could hear a wet sucking sound coming from Michael's throat--it made the breath catch in her own throat. It was one of the hottest things she had ever seen, and she let out a low moan of appreciation.

This seemed to draw the men's attention back to her. She watched as Michael leaned back, drawing his tongue over the tip of Rierson's penis as he stood. They kissed quickly; a strangely romantic gesture compared to everything else that was going on.

Isabella felt herself being lifted as Michael slid onto the couch beneath her. She felt the muscles of his stomach clench as she balanced on his thighs. His erection stood straight out between her slightly parted thighs, which were pushed father apart as Rierson stepped between them. Any thought that they might take turns vanished at that action. She rubbed her fingers slightly more vigorously over her clitoris and the top of her labia as the man stared down at her from between her legs.

"I'm assuming this is okay?" She smiled--now he double-checked? She nodded quickly, adjusting herself slightly against Michael's body so that the men had easier access to both of her holes.

"Please," she moaned, the circles of her fingers tightening ever so slightly, "I want you so fucking badly. I want both of you."

"Which first," Rierson stepped forward, running a finger between her legs with the hand that didn't hold the lubrication, "Here?" He traced his finger up between the folds of her labia, touching the entrance to her vagina. She felt the finger become slick, and it slid downward until it was pressed to the tight entrance of her butthole, "Or here?"

"There sir," she leaned into his finger slightly, as far as Michael's penis between her legs would allow, "Oh god--right there."

"Okay," Rierson cracked the lid on the lubricant.

Isabella watched as he squirted a small amount onto the palm of his hand, setting the tube down on the back of the couch. He reached forward, taking Michael's penis in his hand. He stroked up and down between her legs, spreading the clear, somewhat viscous liquid along the length of the other man's shaft. Then he rubbed his hands together, reaching down to press a finger against her butthole once more. Isabella took a few deep breaths as she felt the tip of the man's finger resting against the tight hole, and she forced herself to relax as much as she could.

"Ready baby?" Rierson's deep voice asked, "As slow as you need."

"Fuck slow," she panted softly. She could feel her heartbeat in her temples, in the palms of her hand, in the tight ring of her ass, "Give it to me."

Thankfully, he didn't listen to her--at least, not about the fuck slow part. He pushed the tip of his finger inside of her ass, only up to his first knuckle. She felt him drawing his finger back and forth, and the band of her butthole tightened around it for a brief, startling moment before relaxing. He pushed his finger slightly deeper, reaching over with his free hand and adding slightly more lube to his hand. Capping the tube of lubrication, he dropped it to the floor. The plastic bumped quietly as it met the carpet. Isabella didn't even notice it--she lay back with her eyes closed, feeling the man's finger inside of her. She felt his slow insertions become easier as the lube worked around her ass. She almost jumped as the finger pulled out of her, leaving the hole of her bum slightly open behind it.

"Your turn," she saw Rierson reach down, guiding the shaft of Michael's penis between the cheeks of her bum so that its head rested against her hole.

"Oh god, please fuck my asshole sir."

She could feel the man breathing below her. Ever so slowly, she felt the tip of his penis press against her. There was another moment of panic as she realized that he wasn't going to be able to, that he thought in the bathroom had been right, that he was too large to fit inside of her--and then, he did. Isabella gasped as the muscles of her stomach spasmed slightly, her ass clenching around the man's shaft. He was only in a couple of inches, but she could feel him pressing deeper. He slid inside of her over the space of a full minute, an inch at a time. She gasped for air on top of him, clenching one hand around the soft fabric of the back of the couch and the other into the hard skin of the man's waist.

"You're so... fucking big," she breathed, "Oh fuck! oh, fuck! Thank you--thank you sir."

She felt Michael's hips touch the back of her thighs, and she let her eyes roll back in her head as she dropped her head against his shoulder. He held her, propped slightly upward against the side of the couch. Ever so slowly, his body began to move below her. Isabella moaned, feeling the man's penis draw about half of its length outside of her and then press back in slowly.

"Faster," she breathed--and felt the man respond beneath her. His rhythm increased slightly, his hips pressing more deeply into the couch as he pushed in and out of her.

"My turn."

Rierson stepped forward, rubbing the last of the lube on his hands around the shaft of his penis. His erection was so hard that it was almost trembling, and Isabella let her lips fall open slightly as she lifted her head to watch him enter her. His right hand went around the base of his shaft, pushing it down slightly.

Isabella felt the head of his penis slide between her labia; much easier than Michael's had been, but the combination made her feel as if she were going to burst. She let out an obscene moan as he slid inside of her--she barely recognized the sound of her own voice.

Unlike the other man, Rierson did not start slowly. Only the first movement was gradual, as he slid his length into her wet, tight vagina--she was so turned on that it felt as if it were throbbing around his penis. Then he began to move, and there was nothing slow about it. His hips rocked back and forth in a steady motion, pulling his length out of her and then driving it back in. For Isabella, the sensation was obliterating--the only sounds she could hear were the whimper from her lips that quickly rose into an open-mouthed cry, the set slap of the men's legs against the back of her bum and thighs, and their deep, steady breathing.

"You're so tight--" Rierson's voice matched the word.

"She's fucking amazing," Michael's voice came as a pant against the side of her head, just behind her left ear, "You're--amazing. Oh, God. Oh--oh, fuck. I'm--" he cut off, and Isabella felt his penis, unbelievably, stiffen inside of her, "Where do you want me to cum, baby?"

"There!" She gasped, dropping her hand from the back of the couch to clutch as his arm, "Please cum inside of me!" she moaned, "Please--" a deep breath, "please fill my tight little asshole with cum, sir. Please--"

She had never been so aroused in her life. The men's thrusts alternated, first one and then the other. She spread her legs slightly wider, feeling the heavy beat of Rierson's front hips against the back of her thighs. His rhythm was increasing, as well--pushing the other man closer to the edge.

All of a sudden, he reached out a hand and caught the bottom of her pelvis. Isabella shrieked as his thumb began to stroke over the fold of her labia, pressing down gently against her clitoris. She emptied her lungs of air, and then gulped mouthfuls as the sound of her voice faded. Her vision went white as the speed of the man's thumb increased, and increased, and--changed ever so slightly, so that it rubbed over her bare clitoris. The remnants of lube on his hand made the gesture incredibly smooth.