Work Out Get Away

Saoirse drops and I am enamored with her weight. There is so much of her come to collapse on me and it is incredible. I never want it to end. She takes it slow, getting used to me once more. Such a long absence deserves an equally long reunion. She takes it slow and it's wonderful. She is tight and it is incredible. I close my eyes and give myself to the feeling of her body wrapping around mine with terribly devious intent. There is nothing else in the moment other than each other. There is a presence hanging on me and a presence watching us, eyeing us in a soft jealousy only present because it is not receiving attention right here, right now.

She stops just above halfway and starts to rise. Just a moment of soft exploration. She still needs to get used to my size. I spread her and tear her. Patience. Patience all around. We have time. Not all of it, but enough of it. The one draping over me leaves my side to cater to the one so far away. I don't mind. Everything here is mine and mine alone. The treasures want to knock and collide and jostle in the vault. They should. The jingle jangle of the coin as it meanders through my possession is such sweet music.

Saoirse is back to just below halfway and goes an inch deeper. The ascent starts and I help with everything. Make sure the whole affair is as smooth as possible. She drips down my shaft with small, tight breathes. Eyes closed, teeth gritted, hissing like a cornered snake, she drops. I hold her close, and she drops.

We meet and it is glorious. The moment lasts and stretches and pulls like taffy. She lets out a beautifully horrid groan that throws my head back in a deep sigh. This is what I do. I push at the world and rend it open. I tear down walls and structure into the world is made as wet clay. I move and Saoirse moves with me. My hands are around a pair of shoulders as I spread out and take up as much of my space as I can. Troy, I am next to Troy. He grips my shoulders as well and we share our pleasure. He is strong. He is trying to push me down into the earth in order to preserve his own moment. It grounds me and I smile. Wide, almost serpentine and vulpine and everything predator.

So many beautiful things. So many pretty things. So many perfect things I have all lined up and withing my reach. My other hands go there her chest and squeeze. Heavy and soft, round and tight, filling my palm and making me worship them with all the reverence I can pour into them. My eyes drift open, and I see her breasts quake as her entire body is lost to the motion of taking me in. I lean forward and take a nipple in my mouth. She goes still, all bottled up and crystallized. I work my teeth gently and that's another layer of stillness shattered.

I saw into her from below, bucking and riding, prodding and stretching her my immense presence. She whimpers and stammers.

"Never let me off this thing again," she moans, "Chain me up and put me in shackles. If I ever ask to be let off, muzzle me and go harder."

I chuckle again and go harder. More strength, more power. Hips and thighs, clenching and flexing together. She does have a good scenario playing in her head. It's kind of what I'm gunning for really. Maybe not real shackles and chains, but always there, only an arm's length away. I just reach over and take whatever I wanted whenever I want. I bite her nipples a bit harder and that gets one more terrified squeal from her.

And Troy gives a deeply satisfying groan, a rumble of rock falls through the air. I glance over and Louise is playing with him. Rubbing her cheek along his length and working her deft hands up and won. He's gripping hard. He has control, but even that little bit of stimulation is enough to send him shuddering. Poor thing. We really need to work on getting him used to all this. Can't really rely on the whole puppy eyed gambit forever. Louise is giggling and I imagine that translates to a wonderful bit of tickle on his part our eyes lock.

She asks the question and I smile. She is busy playing and there is another game she wants to try. She wants to keep playing with him. I should probably be asked if that's ok. Troy's too far gone for that question to be asked, but Louise still has something in her mind that says she should ask. She doesn't need to, but I appreciate it. A slight nod and she beams wide and pure at me, and I smile back through Saoirse.

She moves. We all move in the same way. Not the same steps, but all towards the end goal of ecstasy. She slithers up Troy. His shivering numbness comes back to his senses. He sees her rise and looks to me with that same pleading look. Permission, I do not know why they seek it. I am here and I am willing, and it is all for everyone, so long as they are in this room. An endless cycle of giving and taking and sharing and stealing. Louise steals him back with a soft kiss on his cheek. That's fine. That's good. He can go further. She can go farther. She leans in and whispers something into his ear and he looks somewhat scared. I don't know why. He knows Louise. She knows him. Nothing to fear other than the shared mutual destruction.

She rises and it is like watching ourselves from the outside. She is nervous but excited. He is excited, but nervous. And he still reaches far past up her belly button. She's used to that now. Kind of hard to imagine she doesn't look forward to it. Saoirse collapses and holds my shoulders tight. She lays her chin next to my shoulder. Nails and teeth and everything sharp she has on me. Nothing breaks. I am back to her. I am back to her feelings. Our breasts press and glide past one another. It is glorious. It is a soft blanket of lightning comforting and pressing into me. Weight, glorious weight. Heavy and grounding and bountiful, her hair waves like a sea on fire.

Louise yells and she drops. I watch and I am there. We match. Everything is balanced. And that simple fact resonates in my entire being. Everything works, every gear turning, every rivet holding, every pivot and joint slotted against one another. My stomach clenches.

"Please," Saoirse whispers in my ear, "I'm so close. Inside. Please come inside."

That's all I need. That's all I ever could need. She gets a soft kiss on her neck, and I go harder. I go as hard as I can. It's not enough. It's not enough. I grip her ass and feel her entire body tense and react. I come to stand and tower over the room. Mine, everything is mine, always mine. I lift and drop and pound as hard as I can.

I throw my head back and let out every bit of building tension into her. The first shot rounds her belly and sends it spilling over me. I almost topple as the weight shifts and moves. Waves and tide, shifting and moving and teetering. I grip tighter. I grip harder. Saoirse does the same. Together, her release is hitting just above my shaft. Nonsense mumbling and panted breaths, all of it adding to the continued glory of our growing insanity.

She is heavy and I keep lifting. I watch my eyes spark and dim as my mind fades. I am instinct and no control. I fill her. If ill her womb with heavy, virile seed by the gallon. She has forgotten. Her body has forgotten. It will never do so again. I hammer my being into her. Her shape, her body, it is all molded to me. It is all forged by my flesh. She hangs on. She hangs on by the thinnest of threads. But she is mumbling my name and its praises and its damnations.

She goes slack and that is my cue to withdraw. Her breath tickles my neck, and I almost don't register it. My entire body is in the midst of its detonation. I have enough sense to drop my hips and raise hers. My incredible length keeps twitching and spurting with more and more of release. She comes off and a thick puddle forms at my feet, up to my ankles.

I lay her down and wobble a bit as my release continues. One was not enough. And it also seems that my little show has attracted a bit of attention. Troy and Louise are watching me, still playing, but mostly watching. I wave them off and flop down next to them. My hands are busy, and they have their business to attend to.

My hands immediately have company. Troy's. He's reached over in the midst of his act and started playing with my shaft. I pull him close. I pull him close and feel his lips burn into mine. He strokes and it is familiar. I grin through it. He's done something like this before. Of course, he has. I have to. I want to touch his as well, but Louise has that covered.

He whimpers away his final bit of sanity. I pull away and press my forehead to his. Teeth gritted, eyes scrunched, brow furrowed, and body nice and tense. Everything is trying to break.

"Do it," I whisper to him, "Inside her. I dare you."

He takes the bet and it all happens at once. Her stomach distends and Louise wails in pleasure. Not me, but close enough. I watch her belly grow as Troy does the same thing I just did. His hands are still there, but the moment has passed. I am in the dregs of it, slowly pulsing the last dollops and pearls into the remnants on the floor. I sigh and hold him to my chest. He paws at me and pants. My hand goes to Louise and feels the vibrations rise and fall through her. She has gone quiet. We wait for it to end. We wait for him to end. We wait for all the world to fall silent again.

Troy's ends sooner than mine did but the evidence is still overwhelming. Louise has collapsed, still conscious, but exhausted. He carefully pulls her off and away, laying her softly down on a relatively clean stretch of the couch. She sighs and giggles, radiant as the seed drips from her body in thick rivers. Mine and his.

He is still hard. I am still hard. We both watch and stare at each other in awe. Louise crawls over to Saoirse and starts her own bit of play and worship with her. Is softer than what I had in mind, but it is nice. Saoirse comes back to us, still syrupy slow, but enjoying herself. Troy is still touching me, and I slip my hands down his stomach until I touch him. He twitches. I can't really get my whole hand around him and he can't do the same. Another giddy little thrill through my stomach and he kisses me again. I think there are streaks of our seed on my face. But he doesn't mind.

The game continues. The cards have been shuffled and new hands dealt, but the rules are more or less the same. I love it. I love every second of it. Every single second is another resonant song in my core and all the sensations I give and take add to that wonderful harmony. I'm not sure where exactly the song ends, but I hope it never does.

---

I hear the stove going and that's awesome. I'm hungry and I smell bacon. I also smell Saoirse's tit sweat in my face. I'm not quite horny enough for that to be completely wanted. There's a Louise kicking my stomach as well. No Troy. I use every ounce of my incredible deductive powers to figure that he is making good on his promises of breakfast. He's getting something special for sure. And something extra special if he actually makes something very nice. Louise twitches like a dog with a good dream and I have trouble breathing for a second. I'm not ever sure how the bed has enough space for three bodies, let alone four.

Carefully, I work through the tangle and feel the gentle chill of morning suffuse my body. My head and my arm are through the top of my shirt. I don't know how that happened. Last night was not an endless blur of every possible revel, but there are moments where I don't remember what happened. The times where everything happened all at once and I could only grab one or two events at the moment. It was nice. My feet hit the cold floor and I desperate want a good pair of socks. There are no socks. One more sin in the endless list of horrors committed against me. Such a terrible thing, my life. Saoirse's tits have fallen out and lay heavy across her chest. That's wonderful. The cold has gotten to her nipples and I'm not sure how she plans on getting up without disturbing Louise. I don't know how I managed it, but she can be a heavy sleeper when she realizes she doesn't have work.

I creep over the floorboards and none of them creak. I thought they would. The world is asleep, and I see no reason to wake it up. The air shimmers with that wonderful early morning blue. The lake is smooth and calm. A single fish breaches the surface, and I can see the ripples reach the other bank. I turn the corner and come to Troy.

Bed head, he has adorable bed head that sticks up in spikes and cowlicks and curls like a tumble weed. He doesn't have a shirt and that seems foolish. He is frying bacon. There needs to be some sort of protection between him and that. Maybe the pancakes form a protective barrier on his front. I don't know. But I trace his spine, the muscles on his back, working down like a luxurious waterfall of leather. He has tan lines. I missed those last night. I missed those for the whole of him. In the early sun, I take in the slight details of his body. There's also a set of moles on his shoulder that kind of sort of maybe form a smiley face if I tilt my head and squint and completely ignore how they actually slip together. He doesn't notice me.

I sidle and snake and slither right up to him. I pull him and take him away from the stove. He stiffens and yelps and falls into a scared silence. He realizes it's me once our hips meet. I like to think that particular part of me is rather well recognized. He pushes me away and I don't want to let him go. I do. It seems polite.

"Morning Rachel," he says, "And sorry. There's only so much cuddle puddle I can take."

I think that's a complete and utter lie. There is no such thing as too much contact and he simply hasn't experienced that wonder yet. But I still respect his wrong opinion. I do give his wonderful ass a good pinch, just to let him know that I could have some fun. There's a bottle of syrup around here somewhere.

"Were you always this affectionate," he laughs. It's soft and breathy, just a hint of the tired crags creeping into the edges. The coffee's not on. An oversight for sure, but I think I can handle that. I can certainly cook if a machine does most of the work for me.

"I think so. Probably. People are nice to touch and feel," I shrug.

"That's such a weird thing coming from you."

"Really? Kind of harsh, buddy."

"I would walk into RTL's with broken punching bags and a handful of people that looked shellshocked when you walked out. Then our schedules actually lined up and you kicked my ass harder than I think anyone has ever had any ass kicked in a sparring session. Then I saw you at the club and you almost killed a guy. Probably had it coming but still."

"So, you were scared of me?" I don't like that particular notion. He should not be scared of me. He should like me and hold me and touch me and do things with me. And finish my pancakes. Other people can be scared of me.

"That's a word for it. Not quite cross the street and clutch my pearls, but yeah. You were intense. You are intense."

I shove down the urge to hug him and pull him back to bed. He needs space. He does not need warmth and cuddling and presences that are not intense. He needs pancakes and bacon and a clear morning in a hammock overlooking a lake. Not what I particularly want, but he is not me. I do want pancakes though. He gets a lingering glance on his shoulder and that's for me. He reaches out with a leg and gently kicks my shin. Not the most romantic of contacts, but still appreciated. The coffee is going, and it will take a few moments.

The screen door creaks open, and I plop myself down in a chair that has so many shapes beaten into it. Some of them align with mine and it works. The morning is cold. The lake is smooth. There's a soft breeze coming in off the water. The insect song has given way to the birds. Tweets and chirps and soft mournful coos. I put my feet up and let it all wash over me in a gentle blanket of calm. Even without all the fun I've had, it's nice. Been forever since I've had a vacation. Work has a way of turning into more work. It's a snowball, forever rolling down a hill, gathering mass and weight and heft until it simply can't be stopped. I have to keep running away in front of it. A simple sidestep and it keeps on rolling. I have a mountain to myself. There are other avalanches coming and I can catch the next one to run in front of. I wish I had a hoody or something. Just a bit more cloth to pull up and block out just a bit more of the world. A wonderful thought occurs to me. I now have a boyfriend, technically, so I can steal his while Louise steals mine. Saoirse's going to be a bit of a stick out in all that, but if she double dips between us, then I think that will cover it. I'd have to do a full inventory to get the logistics down, but I can manage. Another fish breaks the surface with a quiet plop along the water's surface.

The coffee pot beeps and tells me it's done. Troy says the same thing a moment later. I appreciate that. I also appreciate the soft footsteps coming to join me outside. I guess Louise.

"I'm worried about Louise," says Saoirse, "I don't know if you heard her mumbling in her sleep last night, but she mentioned wanting a massive monster cock to fuck people to death with. Not sure if that's a red flag or not."

"She's just jealous," I sigh, "Wants me to feel the way she does when Troy and I are working."

"Is that what that is? Cause I'm tapping out at three of them. Two almost killed me."

"Don't be so melodramatic. I heard what you said last night. Something about living as an eternal slave to our carnal pleasures. I'm sure we could work something out."

"I haven't seen you in like 3 weeks, so yeah, I was a little starved for that level of attention. Felt like 3 years. But no. I am not interested in a 24/7 fetish dealy. I do have a career to think of."

"What do you do? Figured I should know that at some point."

She laughs a bit and that turns into a yawn. Her freckles stretch and spread before coming back down together. She shivers in the cold. I pat my lap and look at her. There is room for her on me. She can slide on over and take my warmth and redouble it for us both. It would be nice. She rolls her eyes, no doubt thinking of so many ulterior motives I must have for the simple act of closeness. My lap does get a new companion, however. So, I still win.

"You're going to laugh," she sighs, "But I stream a lot. People want to see a lady with big boobs play cards. That, plus the tournaments, plus some inheritance, plus some investments basically makes me an idle rich jackass. So that's nice. Also work part time at a bakery so I don't stay inside all day."

I don't laugh. I don't get it either, but she has money, and she likes what she does and likes how it all flows in. And I do see the appeal of watching a woman with big boobs play cards. I understand the appeal of watching a woman with big boobs doing more or less anything.

"Do you sell nudes too?" I ask. She snorts a little and leans into my shoulder.

"No. Those I give away for free, but only if I like you. I took a lot, so you're getting a good drip feed for a while. Look forward to that."

I will. I am already looking forward to it. I am looking forward to pulling them up on my phone and doing terrible, unspeakable things to myself.

"Thank you," she says, "I don't know if I ever thanked you for saying yes when I asked you out."

"I think I got the better end of that deal, honestly."

"Probably, but I was so nervous doing that. Hard to get the nerve up. New city. New place. New people. Kind of scary. So, thank you for being cool and having weird taste in music. Shame I had to bounce so soon after making it official."

"I don't have weird taste in music. You just don't get it."

"That's what every single person with weird music tastes says. It's not for me, but I do get it. And it's weird."