Work Out Build Up

"No," I growl, "Sex. We sex now. Sex forever. Sex with you. Sex with everyone."

Someone pinches my ass and I'm not quite sure if that's supposed to pull me out. It does, but only because I have to switch targets. Troy takes the opportunity to squirm away like a coward. But I'm back. I'm cooling down. Nobody's naked, but the spot on my pants is sticky and kind of gross.

Saoirse's out on her lonesome, stranded on our kitchen island. She's filling water bottles. Louise slipped away while I was playing with Troy, but she's back with an armful of towels. It took forever, but we've learned how to mitigate the disaster we cause. I feel somewhat useless, sitting on the couch with my hard dick in my hand, but I can't think of anything I can do other than keep myself revved up. Something hits the back of my head. It's stretchy and elastic.

"Put your knee brace on," says Troy.

"I don't wanna," I say, "It gets itchy." I hold it in my hand. Really, it's a giant rubber band. I start stretching it out with the intent of going ballistic.

"You're going to put it on. And you're going to thank me tomorrow when your knee isn't screaming in pain."

"We have health insurance. We can afford the surgery."

"And if you do get said surgery, you'll be put up for like a month where you'll be unable to have sex. Put on the brace, Rachel, or I'll make you put it on."

There's a bit of a narrowness to his gaze, a hardness in his tone with the suggestion of a belt. I like dad voice. I hate that I like dad voice. There's an edge to it that really does trigger something deep in my mind to submit. I stop playing with the thing and put it on. It's tight and not in the fun way. But it does keep the joint in line. I have to admit that it does kind of feel good to have the support. It was kind of bugging me and that's a sign that it will start hurting me soon. Louise sets out the proactive towels. Saoirse lines up the hydration station at a convenient distance. And Troy sets the bottle of wonderfully slippery lube at a much more convenient distance.

We have a moment to start again, wondering who's going to break the veil first. The grandparents could have forgotten a kid or two and come rushing back. Ruslana could start barking at the neighbor's cat. The roof could fall in and then it'd be a whole thing to wrangle a contractor this late. No matter how thick we slice our time, there's always the threat of another knife to cut it short.

Louise takes the risk first, jumping into my lap and taking my head in her hands and pulling me close. I'm kissing her. She's kissing me. She's rolling her hips along my shaft, up and down, side to side, putting each of the motions to a rhythm that's only for her. She's humping me and I love it. It feels amazing, so close to each other, but still beyond the actual act. She's so damn good with the dance. We should go out more. Shame that there's no good places for that nearby. The curse of the suburbs, although we do live close to a fun little town square with an overpriced coffee shop and like four tattoo parlors for some reason.

Someone helps her take off her shirt. She sighs with the new freedom, the air on her skin putting up goosebumps on her arms. She dives back into me. I am warm and burning and waiting for her.

"I'm going with Rachel first," she says to everyone and no one. We fumble a bit with the clothes, getting my shirt off, getting her underwear down, getting my length free from the bulging hem, making sure everything is in its proper place. It is cold. Damn Troy and Saoirse's shared fiscal responsibility about our heating bill. At least it gives us all an excuse to cuddle nice and tight.

No one fights the escalation between us. I hear the floorboards creak and moan as the other two dance together, working through the rhythm they are setting. We start sperate. It's an appetizer, not overwhelming, even as my erection takes up most of Louise's stomach. To my eternal shame, I think she's finally beaten me at having better abs for the moment. My arms though, they snake and lock her in and nothing, nothing can break us apart. She opens her legs a bit more. I shift her open even more than that. Her hips can take it. Her body wants more. I feel excitement bleed through her and trace along my length. She keeps moving her hips, gilding up and down my length, along the ridges and veins. She is always so good at this.

"Are you ready?" I whisper in her. My breath tickles her and shivers. Just three words are enough to bring her right to the edge. I don't even have to touch her. It's just the two of us locked together.

"I am," says Troy, "This is a good show, but move on. Pacing is half of any good story."

"I never claimed to be a good storyteller," Louise says, "That's Saoirse's domain."

"The brief bit of ASMR stuff was such a mistake," sighs Saoirse.

"No work talk," I say, "We're supposed to be here."

"And now we have a Smart Rachel to deal with."

Troy makes her shut up as I spread Lousie open with my tip because I don't want to listen to the talking words anymore. Louise breaks and hitches and slides down me. That's the show we wanted to see. Her body's taking me so well. Years have made us so familiar to one another and the act is so simple now. We know the steps and we start rutting against one another.

I can feel the bulge of my length shift her stomach and press back into mine. I pass the sensitive part of her body. She shudders and breaks and collapses into my chest. She's playing with my breasts. It's a softer pleasure compared to the grip of her core on my length, even as it reaches up to her sternum. She rolls the soft flesh, pulling and pushing, making a directionless breeze of sparks down my chest. A line of warmth runs through my body and back to her. We're still and quiet, our foreheads touch, and we're still.

Something kicks my thigh. It's Saoirse, hands working on Troy and Troy's hand working on her, and she kicks me again. I glare and I get one more because apparently I deserve torment for not being perfect and active all the time. I try and kick back but that only shifts me inside of Louise and drop her another handful of inches down. Saoirse shoots me a look and gestures for me to go on. We're the entertainment and we're not being entertaining. That's a grand sin.

So, we start working against one another, Louise in her bouncing dance, me in the standard rocking thrusts. I am a stage for her movements, and we start simply. She's breathing hard and hot and heavy on my neck. We still have to get so used to one another, like a good deep stretch. The muscles fibers start to relax and give once more after the initial pain subsides. The muscles burn in that sweet breaking manner. The body loves to be crafted and shattered. The muscles love to be torn and sewn back together. There are parts that break and never come back as they once were. My knee's threatening to pop out of its socket, but the tight band keeps it in place. Troy's smart. I love him for being smart and if I tell him that, I'll never hear the end of it. Something gives in my shoulders and I am relaxed again.

Louise hangs on to me as I keep working into her. I take the shape of me deeper, coring her out and stretching her farther. She takes it in gritted teeth and a manic high and a sharp bite of nails across my back. That's still hard and strong, bother hers and mine. The work we've done has kept it that way. I thrust into her and make the shape bigger.

Saoirse and Troy are playing with one another as they watch us. They can do more. I won't get jealous. I've never had that particular pang through my core when I've watched the others. It has always been the joy of pleasure, the promise that I can join in on at any moment. It's all given and taken without the weight of shame. They are all mine and I am all there's.

The knee brace comes in handy again as my body works through an urge. It's slow and I want it to be hard, but I don't want to bring the wrong type of pain. I lift us both up off the couch, far away from the terrible kicking foot. We have a brief moment of flight up in the air, more cold wind blows on our backs before I take us back down over the coffee table. I scatter the books that are just for show, bend her over until her back arches on the hard wood. She pants and moans as the thought breaks away from the fear. I am still strong enough to take her wherever, whenever I want. She can fight me. She can struggle. It will never work. I will always be strong. I will always be stronger. I will always be strong enough to mold all reality like clay if only because I want it to be something else than what it is.

And she is there with me.

Louise is working me just as much as I work her. There's a hand on her stomach, pressing into the muscles and nerves, pressing into me through her, making me take a harder pace now that I have leverage. The table creaks underneath us as the wood takes the strain. I hear Saoirse gasp as Troy moves a playful hand over her. He hisses in kind as she does the same thing in principle. I'm not sure of the specifics. I'm much too focused on Louise. Her eyes drift open.

"Fuck me hard you pussy," she demands.

Troy starts laughing and that pulls him out of the pleasures of his body.

"Swears don't work with your voice," he says, "I'm sorry. But it always feels so weird."

"We've been together for like 10 years and this is the first time I've thought about it," Saoirse says, "But he's right."

"I fucking hate both of you so much," moans Louise, "You're all stupid bastard cunts."

"He's right," I say with a little kiss on her nose, "Just go back to moaning my name."

"Make me, bitch."

"Bitch kind of works," I concede with another kiss to her nose, "But I still like it when you're my slut."

That sets her off again. And setting her off sets me off. My legs are pressed against the couch, all the leverage pointed down directly towards her core. I hammer and saw and pound through the work. My muscles sing and burn so sweetly. Louise doesn't have the words anymore. They're gone. It's in her breath, the pants and moans, snippets of my name, half swallowed curses and damnations against me. I'm such a terrible person because I have to be goaded to do this. The table yells at me again. It can shut up. I'm doing something so much more important than stability.

I pound into her and she rolls her hips against me. Even pinning her down, she's strong. Her core works tight against me. It's crushing. It's amazing. I have my muscles twitching in instinct and urge. It all fades away into the warmth of our bodies. She moves back into me, just as lost. Something rolls off the table and clatters to the floor. I think it was a scented candle we've never bothered to light. Nothing broke. We can keep going. Everything is still safe . Troy and Saoirse keep playing with one another, giving us another undercurrent of noise.

There's a thin coat of sweat on her forehead and she keeps everything bottle and in control. We both want this act to last forever. I keep pounding her and she keeps taking it so well. She's staring me down. She still wants more. I give her more. I adjust my stance and go harder. The table keeps creaking. We can do it. We can break the stupid table and make it a monument for our rut. We can bring the whole house down until the rubble is ground down into dust. Louise watches the promise of destruction in my eyes. She shivers and twitches. She's getting close to that wonderful starburst of annihilation that always comes from use at this moment. She works towards it even as she fears the end.

"Cum for your little slut," Louise whispers in my ear. She gives me her teeth, working my ear and scratching my back.

She makes such a reasonable request, in the grand scheme of things. And we really want the same thing at the end of the day. But I want something a bit more from her,

"Are you sure you're ready for that?" I hum. She whimpers at the edge in my voice. She shivers and shakes. All of her body is ready and willing and I refuse to let her throw herself off the edge. She nods with watery eyes.

I press into her, all of my gargantuan length buried in her body. My sack clenches and tightens and I am shot over the edge. The first pulse is long and heavy, pulling a wail from her as every part of me clenches over the action. My lips clamp over her mouth and work her tongue. She works back. There is more for us to do other than fill and spread.

"Jesus," Saoirse gaps, "Could you always hear her like that?"

"Probably. But we're so loud otherwise," says Troy. Over my release, I can hear him playing with himself in long, heavy strokes. I've heard his release too, in Saoirse, in Louise, in me. Even against the wall. But this is all for Louise now, my arms smother her head, my body pressing her down, even as my core tightens again for another pulse lasting an eternity.

I can feel my seed fill her core through my body. Her stomach rounds and swells with the release. The weigh shifts and rolls between us. She does not let go. She refuses to let go. It is all for her, every single drop of my release will bleed my burning warmth through her entire body. Her legs are shaking. I feel her own release break against my stomach in a harsh stream. She's quiet. Every noise she's making small and choked and jagged. It echoes down into my chest and I take it all. I give her another long, deep pulse, and that's all she can take.

I start my withdrawal, my seed clinging to my leg as I keep pulsing. I break from her lips and she moans wordless and primal and raw. I'm in the deep dark place where that doesn't even register. My body keeps working and I am free. My seed starts to flow from her.

"You're welcome," says Saoirse.

"I thought Louise put the towel there," Troy says.

"Nope. Me. I'm the best wife. I need my reward."

There's an excited yelp and that's fun. I lay my length across her round stomach, pulsing up across her chest and watching my seed pool and flow across her dark skin. Her hands are limp and slack, eyes closed, entire being riding the gentle waves of the afterglow now that the terrible flood is over. She sighs and takes a deep breath through her nose.

"God, I missed real Rachel sex," she giggles, "I could do without the Greek chorus."

"If I didn't kick her, you wouldn't be almost comatose on our coffee table," Saoirse says.

"I'd be comatose on the couch. I think that would be better. But good job Rachel. A+ work."

She groans again and starts to get to her feet. I fall back to the couch, legs weak and wobbly in the best way. I have to agree. Real Louise sex is its own special treat, but it is better on a couch. My elbows took the pressure. Troy's going to make me get a brace for those as well. He'll be right because he's Troy and he's right.

I'm still hard. I know I am, because that's all I'm really built to do. I don't think I even softened in the break. The strength is back in my limbs. The urge is back in me and Louise is wobbling back towards our love nest. I watch her chest, the sway and bounce of her breasts. She can do that now. It's beautiful. She's so beautiful with the way her entire body works and flops and slips into a restful stillness. She's claimed Saoirse now, searching her gaze for the same spark that was in mine, She doesn't have to look for long. And that means I get Troy.

I grab his ankle and pull him towards me. He gives me a playful smile and nothing else. I loom over him and he's not scared at all.

"You look a little disappointed," he says. He moves his length against mine. It's slick with his preseed and my remnants.

"You should be scared," I growl.

"Well, I'm not. I'm either about to get my pelvis crushed or my back blown out. Both sound absolutely fantastic."

My hands are on his shoulders and he can't leave. I refuse that reality. He takes his leg up between mine and gives me his thigh. He works that against me, simple pressure and release. It's nowhere near enough to actually get me anything, but it is enough to keep the screws tightening in my body. He keeps staring me down and I keep glaring at him. It's all a simple dominance ritual. We make the other submit to get what we want.

"It really is like watching wolves at the zoo," says Saoirse.

"No. On me. Don't focus on them. Eyes on me, big girl," Louise says and I almost break back to her with the edge in her voice. There's a twitch in me and Troy doesn't have that. I need to wipe that smirk off his face. Then the thigh breaks me down and my arms give out.

"There we go," Troy says, "Are you ready to have some fun with me?"

"I'm still just sensitive from Louise," I mutter.

"Sure, sure. And this?"

He presses a bit more and that has me buried in his neck, slack and loose. His arms work around me and I start spinning again. He's over me again. His gaze is still soft and playful. I want to work against him and I don't have that power in me. He kisses my cheek. I melt.

He's big. I never tell him that, but he's fucking massive. Not quite much as me, but I am not immune to that tool he's swinging. Ours are pressed together, slick and hard and burning. He works his hips and I work mine. I find it in me to take my hand down and entrap us both. That breaks him. He finally breaks from my gaze and grunts with the motion.

"We should have grabbed a sleeve," he sighs.

"Not doing that for you," says Louise, "I'm busy."

Saoirse is also too busy, I guess, judging by her lack of response. I hear Louise give her tongue and that's about it. I hear Louise's fingers work as well. Troy grins me back to us with another set of motions. We play our lengths against one another. The same nerves match in the other. We share the same sensations. I feel the soft pulse of my prelude ebb and flow from me. That just makes us play faster and faster. Our stomachs are a tight seal, growing warm and slick with every second. I can feel his heartbeat play from his tip. It's fast and strong and I lock his shoulders with my grip. He touches his forehead to mine.

I like this distance. I can still hear and feel and taste every sensation we can give one another. But I can see it, find the empty space and pour myself into it. The bits where the seal is not quite tight spark against the parts that are covered. All of me is brought to the building pressure along my shaft. His breath tickles my neck and that drags the sparks through my entire body.

His stomach clenches and another deluge of preseed spills from his tip. That spark works against my stomach sets me off again. I thrust hard against his body. I work as hard as I can in this position. It was never my strongest configuration, but it can feel so damn good when I want it to be.

And that's the end of Troy. He's bucking wild now. So soon, so fast, not nearly enough for either of us at the moment, but its where we've ended up together. I love the way he groans. His voice gets so deep and strong, enough to set the whole foundation trembling. I make noise with him. We don't kiss. We are far too buried in one another to have something so distant. His entire body presses into mine, all that weight, all that strength, all that power. The primal thoughts all agree that this was the right man to seed me and give me that same strength to add to mine.

His climax hits the point of no return and just as I did the same to Louise, he does to me. Drop for drop, ounce for ounce, pound for pound, his massive release matches mine. The warmth burns up to chest in a wide, mammoth torrent. It flows up to my chin, indenting my skin with the pressure. It spills out between us. It's a river and a sea ,forced through a stream, flooding the backs and spilling over. It is all so warm. Poor thing must have been so pent up. I think it's been a while two days since we've gotten to play with someone else. That would drive anyone insane. It would have me clawing at the walls.