The dark-haired one at my breast pinches my nipple hard.
I gasp.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Let him hear you."
The masked man is watching right now—probably stroking his cock, probably getting off on how spread open I am, how helpless, how three strangers are touching me and I can't do anything but take it.
The razor moves lower.
Between my ass cheeks.
Oh god.
I try to stay still. Try to breathe. Try not to think about how exposed I am right now, how violated, how?—
"Almost done," the blond one says. "You're doing so well."
He rinses me with warm water from a pitcher. The liquid cascades over my freshly shaved skin, washing away the last of the cream.
Then oil.
His hands spread it everywhere. Along my bikini line, between my pussy lips, over my ass. Massaging it in with firm, possessive strokes that make me shake.
The dark-haired one's hand slides from my breast to my stomach. Down. Down.
His fingers find my clit.
"Fuck," I whimper.
"Should she come?" the blond one asks, looking up at the tall one.
The tall one smiles. "I think she needs to."
No.
I can't.
If I come now, he'll?—
The masked man will?—
But the dark-haired one's fingers are circling my clit with expert precision. The blond one's hands are spreading my pussy lips, holding me open, exposing everything. The tall one is whispering in my ear about how wet I am, how good I look, how my masked man is watching me lose control.
I try to hold it.
Try to be strong.
Try to?—
The dark-haired one slides two fingers inside me.
Deep.
Curling up to hit that spot that makes my vision white out.
I come.
Hard.
