Telling Tales (22 page)

But he can do this now, it seems.

“Make her take it,” he says, again, and this time when Wade rubs the swollen head of his cock against my clenching hole, it gives. I think of Cameron saying words like that and of maybe him behind me instead of Wade, pushing into my yielding body, and I let it happen.

Wade just sinks right in to the hilt, groaning all the while.

I can’t blame him, however. I groan too, so loud it’s embarrassing. And I keep groaning, because just the feel of it, just the sense of being filled so completely and the rough, stretched sensation it pushes through my body… it’s unbelievable.

Was this how Cameron felt, when Wade did it to him? Could he feel every little part of that greedy, grasping hole, rippling around something so thick, so solid? I’m pretty sure Wade wasn’t as patient with him as he is with me, but the feeling remains the same, I’m certain.

Like a million nerve endings are waking up, and firing through my body.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he blurts out, and I can’t help it. I have to imagine all the possible differences between me and Cameron, and how I now feel compared to him. Do I clench harder, around Wade’s slowly working cock? Am I smoother inside, slicker with lube, do I tremble and groan more loudly than Cameron did?

It’s a perverse series of thoughts, but I let them come. They make it easier when Wade finally, finally starts pounding into me, because just the idea of him doing the same to Cameron makes me moan with unchecked arousal.

“Oh yeah,” Kitty gasps, high and tight. “Oh yeah!”

But I don’t know what she’s shouting it about. I’ve got my eyes screwed tight shut so can’t make out if she’s coming or not, and there’s something so random about her cries that I can’t pin them down to anything that’s happening. Is it the sight of Wade, fucking into me hard? Maybe his face is red and his mouth is tight, and she can see by the pressure he’s exerting on my hips that he’s almost past breaking point.

His cock feels even bigger in that narrow channel, now, and I know he must be close. He must be, but he’s not saying anything or showing me anything, and it’s only Cameron and his little filthy outbursts that give me any indication of how this is going.

“Yeah,” he says, brokenly. “Fill her ass.”

And I turn over inside. I call out his name—I have to. I can’t stand to hear him saying things like that while all of these strange, dark feelings barrel through me. It’s not just the actual physical sensation of it—the way the thick ridge around the head of his cock is rubbing and rubbing over that tight ring of muscle; how slick and slippery and rude it all feels, as he ploughs in and out—it’s the feeling it gives me inside.

Of being debased, and used, and oh God I’m sure Cameron mentioned something like that in one of his stories. I’m sure he did, I’m sure, oh Lord, why didn’t he tell me how good it feels? How good it feels, to just give myself over to this wonderful, glorious, down-and-dirty pleasure.

“Harder,” he tells Wade. “Fuck her harder.”

And then Wade says the magic words. The ones I’ve been waiting for, the ones I didn’t even know I wanted until Wade gives them to me.

“Is that what you want, baby? You want me to go harder?” he says, and in reply I tell him the very thing I didn’t fully understand until right now, right this minute, with my orgasm cresting through my shuddering body and everything streaked with unbearable pleasure.

“Don’t ask,” I tell him. “Don’t ask.”

Nobody moves for a long, long time. Probably out of necessity, if I’m honest, because I’m pretty sure Wade has broken me. And I’ve
definitely
broken him. He doesn’t move when I ease myself off his softening cock, and he doesn’t move when I put a hand behind me to see if he’s died, and when Kitty rubs her boobs on his face and says
Hey, hey, Wade, check out my amazing rack?

Yeah, he doesn’t move then, either.

But at least I know that Kitty’s still living. In fact, she seems to be doing more than just simply
living
. She seems to be buzzing with this newfound energy—one that prompts her to rub her boobs on me too—until I realize with a little guilty start why that may be the case.

Me and Wade have just had incredible orgasms. Hell—I’ve had
two
incredible orgasms. And she’s had…maybe one? Possibly? By her own hand?

I know nothing about foursome etiquette, but even I understand that this is not acceptable. Cameron’s fine—he
chose
to be in this position, and even though he looks like he’s been hooked up to the mains and his face is redder than the heart of the sun, he continues to choose it.

Whereas Kitty…well. She hasn’t chosen to have zero orgasms. She chose to partake in this bizarre mingling of bodies we decided to embark on, and she deserves more than two people passing into a coma while a third remains tied to a bedpost.

In fact, she probably deserves something more than anyone else here. She’s the only one who hasn’t judged, or brought her own deep-seated issues to the party—and she almost never seems to demand anything for herself. It’s really no wonder that she manages to get involved in so many group sex sort of situations.

She’s so
generous
.

“You like that?” she whispers in my ear, and I manage to get an arm behind myself. I hook it around something on her—I don’t care what—and squeeze her tight, just to let her know that I did.

To let her know more than that, in fact. I want her to be sure that I don’t feel weird about anything that just happened, that I’ll never feel weird about it, that she touched my boobs but so fucking what?

She’s my best friend, and my best friend can touch my boobs if she wants to. I’m not even going to quibble about how awesome it made me feel, or do any kind of weird
Oh
no
I’m a lesbian
sort of thing, because I’m not, and neither is she, and oh my God the whole thing was just so awesome.

I can’t feel conflicted and weird about something so awesome. And neither should she—not ever, no, never. I just want her to feel fantastic about everything we’ve just done, and more than that, I want to be as generous with her as she was with me.

I want to give her stuff, and do stuff for her, and what she says next gives me the perfect opportunity.

“Damn it. I really
wanted
a turn.”

Of course it takes me a moment to process what she means. But then I turn and see Wade snapping the condom off his cock—a cock that’s now as soft and sleepy as he looks—and I understand perfectly.

And though I can’t give her a turn myself, I can
offer
her something. Something that looks down at me with this strange mixture of trust and frustration all over his gorgeous face.

He’s sweating, I notice. Perspiration has slicked the hair down at his temples, and it’s given his body an almost heavenly sheen. Like he’s been dipped in honey, then presented for our delectation.

It’s too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Why don’t you try out our little slave?” I say, and by God I struggle to get out that last word. Not just because of its meaning, but also because of how silly it sounds in my mouth. I’m so nothing, I’m so
not
a Queen. What right do I have to call anyone my slave?

But ohhhh, the way Cameron looks at me when I do use it. His eyes roll closed, briefly, and his lips part, and even as Kitty squeals and squirms down the bed toward him, his gaze stays locked on mine.

It doesn’t even shift away from me when Kitty runs a couple of fingers up over his bare chest, and says to him in her low, teasing voice: “You sure you’re ready for this, big guy?”

Of course I know what she’s doing. It’s as close as she can get to asking permission, without breaking the spell of this little game. But to her credit she doesn’t wait for an answer—she just takes the condom the moment I offer it to her, then clasps his thick, leaking cock in her two tiny hands.

It looks almost comical, I have to say. But the thought of that big thing plunging into my little bird-like Kitty…yeah, that’s not quite as comical. It’s arousing and disturbing all at the same time, instead, and it only gets more so when she struggles just as much as I did, with the rubber.

Maybe even more than that, because oh
Lord
is Cameron ever on edge. Every squeeze and push of her fingertips over his clearly sensitive cock makes him tremble, and I can’t get over how much strain he’s now putting on his shoulders. He’s leaning so far forward that his arms are practically at right angles to his body—though it heartens me to see Kitty forcing him back.

She does it just the same way I would have done it, soothing him and stroking all over his gleaming body until he leans against the post. Of course, he pants and shakes while she does it, but that’s understandable.

He’s too far gone. Way, way too far gone.

“Use him up,” I tell her. “Get yourself off on his cock.”

And it sounds cruel, I know it does. But it also gives him what he wants and needs, quite obviously. His face changes and his body thrums, visibly, and then she just turns around on all fours like a bitch in heat, and works herself back on his cock.

It’s a sight to see, I tell you. I try my best to remain cool and aloof—in perfect keeping with my story, and his fantasy—but I know I shake with newly blooming arousal. Her expression alone is enough to get me going—so shocked, suddenly, so full of that same thing I had felt, the moment his thick cock stretched me open—but oh she does more than that, so much more.

She asks me to help her. Actually asks me to, just as I think she’s finally notched his prick to her little slippery hole, and oh Lord how can I refuse? I can’t, I can’t, even though the idea seems to make Cameron go absolutely crazy.

He’s shuddering almost constantly now, and it only gets worse as I slowly make my way back to them. By the time I get to the place where his body is almost joining with hers, he’s letting out those little broken
ah
sounds, and straining at the shoulders again.

I can’t help kissing him. Just a little, just a glancing brush over his lips, while he grits his teeth and tries not to rage for more. Corin didn’t rage for more in the story, after all. He held out to the very end, to the very edges of his limits, and oh God it makes me wonder just what Cameron’s limits are.

“You want to fuck her, baby?” I say, and then I put my hand on his cock. Which I’m sure is going to be a mistake, but no, no. He holds his pleasure in and only lets me have a hot, bursting gasp, just before I angle his cock and aim it at her tight little cunt.

“Talk to me,” I say, but he won’t. Not even when I press my open mouth to the side of his face, and slide the head of his prick through her soft, slick folds. It must feel like heaven—I know Kitty sure thinks so—but he remains on this trembling precipice, body stiff, eyes unseeing.

And then I lay a hand on Kitty’s back, and just ease her down over his hard length. Just slow, just syrupy slow, Kitty moaning and rocking all the while, and when he’s seated fully in her and all I can see is how much he’s stretched her tight hole, I tell her to fuck back on him. I tell her to do it hard, just as Wade says, “Fuck yeah,” and adds his own series of sounds to proceedings, and I sigh under the glorious weight of it all, and Cameron turns his face toward mine.

He looks at me, then, all heavy-lidded and too desperate, but I don’t give him any respite. When Kitty seems to flag, her cries of pleasure almost verging on sobs, I get hold of her hips myself and yank her back on his prick.

That gets a moan out of both of them. It gets more than that from Kitty, in fact. “Uhhh yeah, I’m gonna come,” she says, then hotter, dirtier, “God, his cock feels so good, oh Jesus, Cameron, you fill my pussy so good.”

It’s the first time I feel a spark of jealousy, just remembering how that same cock had felt in me. Like it might split me in two, like I could come from nothing but the feel of it, shoving into me roughly, and oh I think Kitty is experiencing almost the exact same thing.

“That’s it, oh God, just like that,” she moans, and then her body jerks, and spasms, and Cameron stiffens under my touch as though he needs to communicate to me exactly what’s going on.

She’s coming. She’s coming and clenching tight around his probably bursting prick, and the effect on him is electric. His body stiffens and his jaw tightens and he squeezes his eyes shut. I’m almost certain he’s coming himself, until Kitty gives one last long sigh of pleasure and slides off him.

And then I can see that he hasn’t. He’s still rock hard and he hasn’t filled the condom, but more than both of those things is how strung out he seems. Like he’s just going to go insane at any moment—and I’m sure Wade’s comments aren’t helping any, with that.

“Jesus, man, you’re still going?” he says, and then I glance at him, and he’s just doing the lewdest thing possible. He’s stroking his already-hard-again cock, fresh lube all over everything so the tip and his hand fair near glisten, and while he does so he sucks long and slow on his middle finger.

You know, like a little hint at all the things he could do, if Cameron was feeling adventurous, and wanted to ask.

I don’t mind admitting—it sparks a little light in me, to think of Wade sucking Cameron’s cock. But then Wade kneels up, suddenly, and goes for the box of condoms still rolling around somewhere, on the bed, and I know he’s going to try for something different.

“Bet you’re wanting Allie’s pussy now, huh?” he asks, and I have to say—I think he’s going to be kind here. In fact, I’m so sure of it that I snap the rubber off Cameron’s cock, in anticipation of the new one Wade is obviously going to hand me.

Obviously.

Only then he says: “But I dunno, man. I’m not sure you’re in any fit state to give her what she needs—do you? Seems like a much better plan for me to take her, don’t you think?”

I would find him almost unutterably cruel, if it were not for the questions he puts in there. The constant stream of questions, like he’s just waiting for Cameron to answer, to do something, to step up. But the thing is—Cameron isn’t going to answer, or do anything, or step up. His limit is clearly on some impossible horizon that I can’t even imagine, far away in the honeyed land of Hamin-Ra.

And even if it isn’t, he’s just not Corin. Not really. He doesn’t want me enough, and I can tell that’s the case when Wade just pulls me away from him and stretches me out on the bed, hungry mouth on mine before I’ve even had the chance to say,
Hey, I think it’s Cameron I love.

I know we did that thing earlier, but it’s Cameron I love. Even though Cameron maybe doesn’t love me. I’m sure he doesn’t. In fact, I’m so sure that I feel it all the way up to the point of hearing those scarves rip, I feel it right up until his hands are on me, yanking me, shoving Wade, everything suddenly brutal and too good and oh, yes.

“You’re mine,” he growls, right down into me. “You’re mine you’re mine you’re mine.”

And oh it’s better than any story I’ve ever imagined. His grip presses a bruise into my thigh and I feel his teeth graze my cheek, my throat, my shoulder, everything hot and desperate suddenly. I barely have chance to get the condom on him before he’s fucking into me, hard and frantic, those big hands splayed over my ass and my lower back until I’m sure he’s just dragging me onto his cock.

I’m aware, faintly, of Kitty or Wade or maybe both of them saying
Fuck
in a shocked sort of voice, but that’s OK. I get why. I feel like I’m being mauled or pummeled and for a long moment I’m just clinging to his shoulders, holding on as he takes me in a way I never in a million years thought he would.

And oh God, it’s bliss. It’s unbelievable. His cock
grinds
against my G-spot. His body shoves against my stiff clit. When he grips my ass and pulls me into his arms, legs spread over his thighs and everything in me just holding on tight, he leaves marks, bruises, evidence that he was all over me.

I think I pull out a clump of his hair. I think I make a noise like a wild animal, snarling at an intruder. But I
know
that I look right into his perfect, amazing face just as he starts to shudder uncontrollably, and my own pleasure spirals out of control.

My climax works its way up through my body, cunt tightening almost unbearably around his still working cock, and I say the words I’ve wanted to for a while now. I don’t just think them. I let them out.

“I love you,” I tell him, and then he presses me so tightly to him that I can’t breathe, and oh God he comes, and comes, and comes. I feel him doing it, in spasming jerks and the tense swelling of his cock inside me. In the way he grunts in a protracted, abandoned sort of way, right into my hair and the side of my face and, oh Lord, it’s so good.

But it’s only when he’s shivering in my arms, slick with cooling sweat and completely broken apart that I realize something.

He might have groaned and lost himself in pleasure and fucked me like a maniac. But he didn’t say it back. He doesn’t say anything like it back. And he continues to not say it, long after all of this is done.