In getting there, I wrap myself around Cassie. Her navel spangles indent the soft flesh of my forearm as my hand holds her tight. The sharp edge of my other hand sweeps down her back, speed-bumping with every vertebrae until it gathers up the ejaculate where her buttocks begin...and then I take this and push it against her pucker. Once done, I take hold of my cock at the base, just between finger and thumb, and hold my still-seeping cockhead at her rear entrance. “OK.”
“OK,” comes Imogen’s acknowledgment.
“OK…?” Cassie wheezes.
“Third time lucky,” I whisper to her, taking her weight from Imogen, feeling her begin to accept me in, feeling my glans capped by the strong muscles of her sphincter, breaking past this resistance, then the narrowest diameter of my shaft, and then, with her shoulders at my chin, as she leans back into me, her weight shifts and she’s descending now, taking me now, into her ass, into her wholly, the widest part of me, the thickest part of me, her rectum expanding to accommodate me.
It is a slow journey, a careful journey.
But with all this, even before she’s arrived, she’s fucking me. Before she’s settled, she’s moving on me. Writhing. Into another phase, no questions asked.
Seeing this, Imogen wastes no time. “Perfect...” And so she goes back at Cassie, looking at filling her again. I can feel her enter, feel Onyx against me, feel the abrasion there, cockhead on shaft, rising up to meet mine, somewhere along the way, a confluence of cock so high inside Cassie, impossibly high in Cassie, rapturously high in Cassie.
She is spread like a gymnast on me. Her thighs are splayed wide, her heels knocking against my shins from the outside, hitting me on an angle. Imogen is wedged there, between these legs, in the very corner, as close to Cassie as she could be, flesh on flesh, all this flesh pressing against me, layered on me.
“Yes,” Imogen says, soft and low. “Yes...” she continues, thrust matching her exclamation, speed coming, momentum coming, all of it combining now, friction there, fields there, fucking her, fucking her, fucking her...
“Yes!” comes Cassie’s compliance, unable to move, pinioned there, fixed there, between these two lovers, between these two cocks. “More, more more!” she squeals, sounding delirious. “Don’t you dare show me any restraint,” she declares. “Fuck me until I black out.”
Imogen nods in her fury. She thrusts forward. I feel her abs against my arm, still coiled around Cassie’s waist; Cassie hold me there, hand glued to my wrist, at her side, her fingers plying my flesh, all the more contact between us, a spicey hidden contact that only adds to the wealth of emotions being generated between we three. I watch Imogen stare into Cassie’s eyes with this fury of hers. I feel her cock against mine, feeling her fucking her just as I am fucking Cassie too. In fucking her, she’s fucking me, and the same in reverse. Then her lids flutter, her eyes rolling as an orgasm takes her, and as she goes, she pulls Cassie with her. I feel the contractions, the pulses, the spasms that wrack Cassie, that are transmitted through her. She is one sexual cavern, two halves, each filled by cock, stretched by cock. So Imogen climaxes, takes Cassie with her, and as she sustains it all, her hand dives down, goes to its station, and she applies her fingers to Cassie, worships her clit, and as a final offering she fights against her own stature and shrinks, is tiny once more, tiny and suckling at Cassie, gathering up a non-breast and making its nipple hers, both hands in motion, her hips in motion, her cock certainly in motion, all this motion towards one end, one end only.
Imogen leaves off for only a moment, just long enough for one final ragged sentence, the last thing that Cassie hears before she’s taken by unconsciousness some time anon: “I can live with that...”
The lights go down, the curtain opens and there’s a cadre of dancers on stage, in a close-knit circle, all in that archetypal Fosse pose, hat in hand, gesturing as it’s being tipped, frozen there, elbow pointed, back bent, one knee high, heel of that foot off the ground, back arm tucked in tight. Stylized, black-garbed statues.
And there, front and center, is Cassie. Her face comes up and it shines, beams into the audience, though she cannot see anyone.
She cannot see anyone, but still, she is shining at us.
She shines with us.
“OK,” comes Imogen’s acknowledgment.
“OK…?” Cassie wheezes.
“Third time lucky,” I whisper to her, taking her weight from Imogen, feeling her begin to accept me in, feeling my glans capped by the strong muscles of her sphincter, breaking past this resistance, then the narrowest diameter of my shaft, and then, with her shoulders at my chin, as she leans back into me, her weight shifts and she’s descending now, taking me now, into her ass, into her wholly, the widest part of me, the thickest part of me, her rectum expanding to accommodate me.
It is a slow journey, a careful journey.
But with all this, even before she’s arrived, she’s fucking me. Before she’s settled, she’s moving on me. Writhing. Into another phase, no questions asked.
Seeing this, Imogen wastes no time. “Perfect...” And so she goes back at Cassie, looking at filling her again. I can feel her enter, feel Onyx against me, feel the abrasion there, cockhead on shaft, rising up to meet mine, somewhere along the way, a confluence of cock so high inside Cassie, impossibly high in Cassie, rapturously high in Cassie.
She is spread like a gymnast on me. Her thighs are splayed wide, her heels knocking against my shins from the outside, hitting me on an angle. Imogen is wedged there, between these legs, in the very corner, as close to Cassie as she could be, flesh on flesh, all this flesh pressing against me, layered on me.
“Yes,” Imogen says, soft and low. “Yes...” she continues, thrust matching her exclamation, speed coming, momentum coming, all of it combining now, friction there, fields there, fucking her, fucking her, fucking her...
“Yes!” comes Cassie’s compliance, unable to move, pinioned there, fixed there, between these two lovers, between these two cocks. “More, more more!” she squeals, sounding delirious. “Don’t you dare show me any restraint,” she declares. “Fuck me until I black out.”
Imogen nods in her fury. She thrusts forward. I feel her abs against my arm, still coiled around Cassie’s waist; Cassie hold me there, hand glued to my wrist, at her side, her fingers plying my flesh, all the more contact between us, a spicey hidden contact that only adds to the wealth of emotions being generated between we three. I watch Imogen stare into Cassie’s eyes with this fury of hers. I feel her cock against mine, feeling her fucking her just as I am fucking Cassie too. In fucking her, she’s fucking me, and the same in reverse. Then her lids flutter, her eyes rolling as an orgasm takes her, and as she goes, she pulls Cassie with her. I feel the contractions, the pulses, the spasms that wrack Cassie, that are transmitted through her. She is one sexual cavern, two halves, each filled by cock, stretched by cock. So Imogen climaxes, takes Cassie with her, and as she sustains it all, her hand dives down, goes to its station, and she applies her fingers to Cassie, worships her clit, and as a final offering she fights against her own stature and shrinks, is tiny once more, tiny and suckling at Cassie, gathering up a non-breast and making its nipple hers, both hands in motion, her hips in motion, her cock certainly in motion, all this motion towards one end, one end only.
Imogen leaves off for only a moment, just long enough for one final ragged sentence, the last thing that Cassie hears before she’s taken by unconsciousness some time anon: “I can live with that...”
The lights go down, the curtain opens and there’s a cadre of dancers on stage, in a close-knit circle, all in that archetypal Fosse pose, hat in hand, gesturing as it’s being tipped, frozen there, elbow pointed, back bent, one knee high, heel of that foot off the ground, back arm tucked in tight. Stylized, black-garbed statues.
And there, front and center, is Cassie. Her face comes up and it shines, beams into the audience, though she cannot see anyone.
She cannot see anyone, but still, she is shining at us.
She shines with us.
