He’s getting hard.
“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Connor breathes. His voice is strained, stuck in his throat.
He frees a hand from my breast to reach for the back of my husband’s head, pulling him tighter into me. A finger slides deep inside of me, and I pull in a sharp intake of breath.
“Mmmm, fuck,” Tripp groans into my skin, his words muffled by the greedy mouth that won’t leave my skin.
My hips roll with a loud groan, my ankles crossing behind Tripp’s neck as the two of them work what feels like every sensitive, desperate spot in my body with an almost synchronized rhythm.
Every sense is overwhelmed, every nerve vibrant and buzzing with intense pleasure.
Hands bite into my flesh – I’m not even sure whose, at this point. Both of them are all over every part of me, teasing, playing, licking. Their touch feels infinite.
My eyes meet the woman in the mirror. Her mouth falls open, a flush creeping across her cheeks as two beautiful men devour her body from every angle.
And then I remember…
She isme.
Iam the woman with one man between her legs and another underneath her.Iam the woman whose body they are so eager to bring pleasure to.
I cry out as a second finger slips inside of me, but the sound is cut off as Connor turns my head toward his to claim my mouth in a kiss. His tongue slides against mine, and as my husband works the most sensitive spot that he knows all too well, my body tremors.
Vibration hits me with a hum, forcing my hips to rock against the mouth devouring me. Connor grips my chin as I chase my orgasm, forcing my face in the direction of the mirror.
“Look how pretty you are when you come for us, Princess,” he tells me. His hands move down my body, sliding between my thighs to spread them wide open while I whine. “Make that pretty pussy come in your husband’s mouth. Let him know how good it feels when he fucks you with his tongue.”
Tripp’s movements don’t stop until I’m practically flying off of the bed, sent into near orbit by a radiant orgasm. Delicate kisses are pressed against my clit, my thighs, my knees, as I come down from my high, my body melting against Connor’s while my fingers comb through our husband’s hair.
Behind me, I feel the shift of a body, the rustling of moving fabric following after as Connor pulls his cock from his pleated slacks with a groan. Tripp’s body slides up between my legs, his lips meeting mine to let me taste myself on his tongue.
“Baby, I think it’s time to give Schepp his birthday present,” he tells me.
My heart pounds against my chest, my teeth tugging at my lower lip as I slide off of the bed on wobbling legs. In my absence, my husband’s hands take hold of our partner’s slacks, dragging them down past his ankles and onto the floor. As he reaches for the buttons on his dress shirt, their lips collide, the two of them left starving after their appetizer.
And I feel so delightfully full.
Tripp’s shirt is pulled off of his body as I reach the night stand and pull the harness from its drawer, squirming anxiously as I slide each of my legs into their designated slots. The most delicious sounds flow from our bed as I secure the attachment into place, reaching into the drawer for a bottle of lubricant.
At the closing of the drawer, an uncertain look shoots over Connor’s shoulders as our husband guides him onto his hands and knees. When their eyes meet again, Tripp offers him a wink, the corner of his mouth pulling up into mischief.
“Let’s see if a good memory can outshine a bad one, huh?” He teases.
Shaking palms slide across the skin of Connor’s ass, massaging into his flesh as I climb into the space behind him and spread him open. His skin is soft and supple, and I chuckle at what I believe to be a hint of my coconut and lime body scrub wafting off of him.
Birthday sex.
I overheard him talking to Tripp once, telling him that birthday sex was his favorite, because even on a bad birthday, it was still better than everyday sex. I can only imagine what he’d spent all of that time doing in the bathroom before joining us upstairs.
Bringing my lips to his skin, I leave a rose pink mark on his ass as I pull away from him.
Connor feeds a desperate groan to my husband as the pad of my thumb meets the sensitive skin just before his entrance, my tongue joining it moments later in a delicate stroke.
I let my eyes drift closed while my tongue works to coax whines from his lips, my palms making a slow crawl along the lengths of his thighs.
I may have had my moment, but this night is about him. It’s about showing him that he matters; that his wants and needs, even the ones that someone else has made him too afraid to express, matter to us.
It’s about showing him that he’ssafehere.
