Authors: Kristina Lloyd
‘A colleague,’ he replied. ‘And a dom. You said you want to get fucked by a bunch of guys. Short notice, so I’m afraid the best I can do right now is two.’
I began to fear he might be speaking the truth. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not good. I don’t know him.’
‘Trust me, you soon will do. At least, the back of your throat will.’
Again, I tried to sit up but Den pushed me down. He held me to the table, a hand on my chest. ‘Two guys, Natalie, and it’s all for you. Aren’t I kind and generous?’
‘I don’t know him,’ I said again. ‘You haven’t checked if it’s OK with me.’
Den trailed his hand from my chest, across my belly, through my pubes and down between my thighs. Lust made me dizzy, all the blood in my body pumping into my engorged folds. In my groin, arousal thudded so hard I felt faint. His fingers parted my flesh and plunged into me. I groaned deeply, feeling I might expire.
‘It’s pouring from you, Natalie,’ said Den. ‘Don’t pretend you disapprove.’
I fought for my voice. ‘Not fair,’ I gasped. ‘You haven’t asked if it’s OK.’
Den withdrew his fingers from me. ‘I just asked your cunt,’ he replied. ‘And it said “yes”.’
‘No.’ I hardly knew what I meant. I squirmed and panted, desperate to have his fingers inside me again. The prospect of having another guy join us thrilled me from my head to my toes. Excitement made my veins swell and simmer, my entire body strung out on lust. I just wished Den had asked me before calling someone. Wished he hadn’t assumed I’d agree. Wished he hadn’t presumed to know my desire.
‘Yes,’ said Den. ‘Because your cunt is where we get the truth from. You can protest. You can act offended, act like you want me to respect you, but your cunt’s always going to tell a different story. It’s always going to betray you.’
He understood me too well. He was playing along with my fantasies, knowing I would protest if I truly wasn’t keen; knowing that this game would lose its edge for us if I were to say, ‘Yes, please! Bring it on, daddio!’
I heard a tap at the door. A pulse in my head boomed so heavily I felt my brain was expanding beyond my skull. Was this Den’s friend, or someone wanting access to the classroom?
‘Don’t move,’ said Den.
I could have moved. I could have sat up and said ‘enough’. I could have wriggled my wrists free from the phone wire. I could have done many things to make it clear I didn’t want a stranger in the room. And ultimately, so there was no mistaking my wishes, I could have said, ‘safeword’. But I did none of these things because I desperately wanted him, whoever he was, wanted him with every nerve in my body. Right there and then, although I was scared of where this might lead, I wanted a second guy more than anything. I didn’t care who the newcomer might be. I wanted Den to act as if he were forcing me to take cock from someone of his choosing.
In future, I told myself, if we repeated this sort of scene, I’d insist we negotiate first. But for now, what the Hell? Never look a gift horse in the mouth. I just hoped we wouldn’t get rumbled. Supposing this room was booked for a lecture? Oh God, I pictured being trussed up like this as bemused students drifted into their class.
I lay stock still on the table, face flaming at the thought of being publically displayed, my body marked in ink, my acquiescence a declaration of my desire for humiliation. I listened to Den moving furniture away from the door, heard male voices and laughter.
‘Ohhh yes!’ came a new voice as soft footsteps fast approached me. ‘Fresh pussy.’
I saw his lower half first, desert boots and skinny black jeans. I twisted to see more of him and when I did, I knew I was lost. I knew I would let these two guys do whatever they wanted to me. Ty was a lanky black guy with smiling eyes and long dreadlocks fastened in a fat tail. And he was a fast mover, already unzipping as he strode towards me, while Den put the table back to block the door.
‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Ty positioned himself by my head, his erect, purplish-black length bobbing above my eyes.
‘Yes, yes,’ I said, my voice hoarse with greedy urgency. I gaped for him.
‘And she’s keen,’ said Ty, voice singing with enthusiasm. He cupped my head, supporting me as he angled himself to the right height. His blunt tip nudged at my lips then, with a low noise of satisfaction, he drove into my mouth.
After a few slow strokes, he grew rough and careless, slender hips pumping as he slammed. I tried to grip him with my lips but his aggressive rhythm made me cough and
splutter. I couldn’t keep my legs still and within seconds my eyes were streaming.
I remembered the word Baxter had taught me:
irrumatio
. The Latin sounded far more acceptable than ‘throat-fucking’ but whatever you called it, the action invariably got me hot, made me feel gloriously wanton and sluttish. Ty’s pounding felt like an attempt to break down my resistance, not that I had much apart from an under-active gag reflex. But I fancied that, in forcing me to submit by shattering my defences, Ty was aiming to make me game for anything. Well, I pretty much was already. I’m sure both men could see that but I wasn’t going to stop our fun by declaring that he didn’t need to be quite so rough.
Ty popped out of me, giving me a short breather. ‘Oh man,’ he asked, ‘where d’you find her?’
Den approached, upside down in my vision and blurred by my tears.
‘A street corner,’ said Den. ‘Plying her trade.’
Ty held my head in both hands then, taking his time, eased his cock past my lips, gliding to the back of my mouth. ‘Take it, take it, take it,’ he urged as he pushed gently against the barrier of my throat. ‘That’s it. Make it disappear. Hold it there.’
I kept him lodged in my throat until I couldn’t stand it any more. When I writhed and thrashed, he snatched his cock free, spilling saliva onto my face. As I gulped for breath, Ty used his cock to slap my face, bashing himself against one cheek then the other, smearing wetness over me.
‘How’s she doing?’ asked Den.
‘She’s good, man,’ said Ty. He sank his length back into my mouth, slowly this time. ‘Hold her legs still.’
Den grabbed my thighs, pushing my legs open and flat to the table. ‘Better?’
Ty nudged fractionally to and fro, allowing me to recover my breath and steady myself. Then for the second time, he eased himself deep into my throat, ordering me to take him. His balls rested against my nose, their velvety warmth half-smothering me while he uttered cries of ‘oh man’ and warnings of, ‘Not yet, hold it, girl.’
When he pulled back, leaving me gasping and gulping, Den said, ‘I’m going to make her come. Make her prove to us how much she loves this.’
‘Good plan,’ Ty enthused. He used his cock to slap my face again. ‘You hear that, girl? We’re gonna make you come. And you’re gonna show us how much you love getting your face fucked.’
Again, he began thrusting into my mouth. I groaned awkwardly as Den slid a bunch of fingers into my wetness, twisting and turning them. The two men drove at me, filling me at either end. The intensity rising in my cunt had me whimpering around Ty’s cock. I could hardly keep open for him, could hardly grip, but he didn’t seem to care. He just used my mouth like it meant nothing to him, as if any cocksucking skills I had were worthless.
When Den started paying attention to my clit, I knew I was moments away from coming. Ripples shivered along my thighs, reaching in deeper. I wailed around Ty’s length, gasping for breath, my nearness clutching and tightening.
Den kept up a deliberate, consistent rocking on my clit. ‘She’s nearly there,’ he said.
‘Come on, girl,’ said Ty. ‘Show us how much you love this.’ He grabbed my breasts, a hand on each, squeezed and
slapped my flesh. ‘These tits,’ he said. ‘Oh yes, look at these tits.’
Calm and workmanlike, Den kept rubbing – his fingers inside me, his thumb on my clit. ‘Nearly … nearly.’
‘Oh man, yes,’ said Ty. ‘Gonna get my cock so deep in your throat when you come, girl. You won’t make a sound. Gonna fuck your cries right back inside you.’
My tightness squeezed faster, higher.
‘Here we go,’ said Den. ‘She’s nearly there. You ready, Ty?’
Ty took my head in his hands, holding me steady. I fought to regulate my breathing, on the verge of coming. Den circled my clit, his thumb rocking the tiny bud, keeping me on a plateau of nearness. I was desperate, delirious, consumed by the need to climax. Then Ty’s end was pushing at my throat and I started to come, my throat muscles softening for him.
‘There she goes,’ said Den. Ty lodged himself in the depths of my throat, blocking my cries as I tumbled into my rapturous finale. I couldn’t gasp and thrash, needing to follow a focused stillness to accommodate Ty’s cock. Every ripple, clench and shimmer of my orgasm lifted me higher. Ecstasy and my body were separate entities. I was scattering like a million stars pouring from a champagne bottle and filling up the skies.
‘Oh, wow,’ said Ty. ‘This chick’s loving my cock, ain’t she?’
Waves of bliss clutched. I had no breath left. Sensation shivered in and out, parts of me sinking, parts of me rising. Den pulled out of me, laughing softly.
‘Way to go, man!’ said Ty, snatching himself free. The two men high-fived each other over my body.
My orgasm faded, leaving me with a sudden headache and weakened legs. I gasped for air as Ty began wanking. ‘Let’s wash that nasty word off your face,’ he said.
Den laughed again. ‘Never let it be said Ty’s not a gentleman. Say “thank you”, Natalie.’
I said nothing, too stupefied to speak. Ty pumped on his cock, making rich, deep noises of pleasure, his hand a blur. He aimed himself at my face, his violet-dark tip inches away. Seconds later, with a series of groans, he unloaded his release. His come jetted onto my chin and cheek, chaotic splashes of warmth. I squeezed my lids shut, not wanting him dribbling into my eyes because experience had taught me that it stings.
With a heavy sigh, Ty stepped back. So physical, so crude. Had he seen stars as well when he’d come on my face? He smeared his fluid onto my forehead, rubbing at the inked word.
‘Say “thank you”,’ repeated Den.
I stayed silent, refusing this tiny additional humiliation. A few moments passed, nothing but the sound of our breath in the classroom.
‘If you don’t say “thank you”,’ said Den, ‘I’m going to walk out of your life once again, Natalie. All I’m asking for is a little politeness, a little bit of respect for my friend.’
My mind swam with confusion. Was he saying we were potentially back together? I was assuming that would be the case after this unexpectedly horny reunion. And yet already he was threatening to deny me that prospect.
‘Just two little words,’ continued Den, ‘to show me how badly you want this. And then maybe we can talk.’
I breathed as steadily as I could, wishing my hands were free so I could wipe the come from my face. I opened my eyes, blinking against the sting and the blob of pearly liquid resting on the lashes of my left eye. I half-wondered if the droplet were full of champagne bubbles and stars.
‘Well?’ said Den. ‘Cat got your tongue?’
I shook my head. Though my voice emerged croaky and weak, the meaning of my words rang out as clear as a bell. ‘Thank you,’ I rasped. Then, hoping to grab back my dignity by injecting a note of sarcasm, I added, ‘Thank you ever so much.’
And so it seemed we were back on track.
The two men waited till I’d tidied myself up, and they had to wait a while because the ink was seriously hard to remove from my skin. Den put the tables back in their correct place. In those minutes, the mood lightened to a friendly atmosphere where the three of us, on a post-sex high, were able to banter lightly. The guys, Ty in particular, were careful to check I was OK while maintaining physical distance.
‘That was great,’ I said. ‘A bit of a surprise but …’ I checked my reflection in my compact mirror. ‘Ty, don’t ever think of selling your come as ink remover. Doesn’t work.’
Ty laughed. ‘Noted. But hey, worth a shot.’ He laughed at his inadvertent pun, adding, ‘So to speak.’
I wondered if he were single, my contingency if things went nowhere with Den.
‘I’ll call you,’ said Den.
I almost laughed. It sounded like the sort of polite lie you’d give to someone at the end of a dreary date rather than a promise you’d make to a woman covered in come and ink after twenty minutes of rough, humiliating sex.
‘If you don’t,’ I said, ‘I’ll call you.’
‘New phone, new number, so no you won’t. But I’ll call, I promise.’ Den lifted my chin with one finger, inviting me to look him in the eye. ‘You’ve taken this up a notch and I respect that.’
We left the classroom and went our separate ways, me with a raw, pink forehead. I headed straight for the Ladies to do further repair work on my face. When I was presentable, I found a small cafe-bar away from the main dining area where the delegates were finishing lunch. I drank Earl Grey tea and ate a huge, restorative slice of sticky chocolate fudge cake. Replete, I sat back in my chair, steeped in the afterglow of sexual and sweet-toothed indulgence. I felt elated and untouched by guilt, feelings I wouldn’t have allowed myself to experience several years ago.
I had no further interest in the conference and would have gone home except for one thing: I didn’t want Den or Ty to think I’d run away in shame or embarrassment. So I returned to the lecture hall for the post-lunch session and made a deliberate effort to talk to a couple of people, hoping to appear relaxed and content. I left at the mid-afternoon break, overwhelmed by long words. But I didn’t merely slope off. I politely interrupted a conversation Den was having to say my goodbyes then I sought out Ty, saying, ‘Lovely to meet you’ before returning to the train station. I walked on air, proud of myself for refusing to stay home waiting for the phone to ring as if this were courtship in the 1950s.
A short while later, as the train sped towards the coast, I was gazing out at louring grey skies and velvety fields of undulating downland, cocooned by a new sense of peace. I told myself only time would tell if Den would make good on
his promise to call but ironically, it no longer seemed quite so important. Rain started to fall, spattering the window. I tried to work out if I liked Den for his personality or his sexuality. But the two elements were inseparable so I had no answer. Either way, I was pleased I’d been in the driving seat for a while, obliging him to be the one reacting rather than steering. If we were to make a go of it, we had a lot to sort out first. I was still unhappy with the way he’d gone cold on me after declaring ‘one chance, one meeting’. I never did establish what that line was about. I’d ask next time, if we had a next time.