“Keep that tongue fluttering, just there. Oh, fuck, that’s good.”
Her mouth went dry. It was unavoidable. They had been at it for an age. Even the cushions had hardened under her knees.
Abruptly, light filled the space between them. They’d stepped back. She slumped down, head bowed, neck aching. Eyes watering. She wiped her chin and sighed.
Jago brought her a glass of water. She swallowed in one string of gulps.
“Thank you,” she said.
He took the empty glass off her. “Lie down.”
For a moment, she thought it was a time for a break. A quick nap. How foolish of her—this was the Hunger. If there was a pause, it wouldn’t be yet. They had hours to go.
Jago lay over her first, planting his weight on his elbows on either side of her head. A massive man; her nose was level with his breastbone. Below, she obediently spread her legs as far as they would go with her knees splayed wide. His girth, the breadth of his steely thighs, just slotted between her inner thighs. He rose up, driving forward, then pausing. He allowed her a few seconds to stretch and relax, to take his heavy cock in her drenched opening, then he continued to push on into her core.
The pinch was extraordinary. She assimilated the pain, knowing it would go quickly. All the same, she had to wince.
Jago paused; lifting his body higher, he arched his back so that he could see her face. This wasn’t the first time he’d fucked her, she’d been on her back in the cushions several times in the last few days, but on those occasions his cock hadn’t swollen to this size, nor had he such high expectations of her stamina.
“If it gets too much, you must say. We mustn’t damage you.” He clucked his tongue. “Harm you.”
She smiled faintly. “I’m fine.”
He slid down, easing out of her hole until the smooth bulb of his cock remained between her parted folds. Behind him, Kriss watched unashamedly, fingering his own cock in his hands.
“Good.” Jago inched back inside her, to the spot he’d reached, but this time, no pain. She wasn’t sure that she was capable of taking any more of him.
He wrapped an arm around her head, drawing her tight to his chest until her cheek was pressed against him. She could barely breathe. He wanted her as close as possible, flattened to him, so that he could glide over her breasts and ruffle her delicate nipples with his steely abs and chest. He wanted to feel her, she understood, and although it wasn’t as intimate as a kiss, it was a step in the right direction. She got what he wanted, because she’d seen what they did to the droids, the artificial females, and it wasn’t sensual.
He eased his hips back, then thrust. She shrieked. She couldn’t help it. The noise she made though was muffled by his body. He paused, perhaps expecting her call him to halt, but she didn’t. The cry wasn’t one of alarm or horror. She hadn’t split apart, nor was she broken. Her body was made for this, just as she’d been told countless times back on Earth.
Jago thrust again. The ease of his entry, the way his shaft glided in and out, told her she was his match, perhaps she was capable of more? She remained pinned in his embrace, held tight to his body as he bucked his hips against her. It wasn’t rough—he probably could go faster—but neither was it sweet-natured lovemaking. Somewhere in between.
He shifted upward, giving her head more room, and she caught a glimpse of Kriss. He was standing astride, proudly holding his generously endowed and colorful cock in his hand, and with each of Jago’s thrusts, he too squeezed his cock hard, as if to mimic the actions of his nestor. His eyes were narrow slits; she doubted he was aware of her watching him. The sight of him pleasuring himself while his nestor fucked her was incredibly hot. She clenched her pussy in a futile attempt to catch Jago mid-thrust.
Jago groaned and responded to the little gesture with a harder thrust of his own. Free to move her arms, she reached around his waist and grasped his ass cheeks. The muscles were like granite. He didn’t even flinch. She dug her nails into the unyielding flesh and he growled this time. The thrust he offered in return brought tears to her eyes. If she provoked him, he retaliated. She rather liked the game.
The orgasm was there, waiting, desperate to be unleashed. She contained it with her provocations and each time he rammed back inside her, the edge was taken off it. When he stroked her with slower thrusts, using the friction of his organ to excite her sex, she had to grit her teeth and hope she didn’t spontaneously explode with a climax.
Not yet. Not yet. There were hours to go. She wanted to be like them, saving it for one immense orgasm.
Suddenly, and with surprising speed, they swapped places. Jago jumped to his feet and stepped to one side. Kriss hitched her legs up, folding her in half, and aimed the head of his cock at her entrance. He cried out as he entered her, pushing her legs down until her knees were somewhere by her ears. While Jago liked her flat, Kriss wanted her packaged up.
She got this too. Jago preferred as much as her as possible crushed against his skin; with Kriss it was as little as possible. He needed only the core of her being, and he pounded that wet hole with a firm rhythm, making her feel every inch of his cock as he withdrew fully, then re-entered with a bombastic smile on his face. He kept his eyes on her too. Their noses came closer, she smelt his perspiration, the sweet musk of his skin, but their lips didn’t touch. The Hunger wasn’t driven by romantic overtures, today was different to the previous days, and any hope she had for leisurely lovemaking was futile. They weren’t in the mood. If she gave them what they wanted today, then maybe she might have the opportunity to influence them in some other way.
Regardless of the lack of emotional intimacy, she quickly worked out that Kriss wanted facial reactions—something that perhaps the sexdroids failed to deliver. She didn’t exaggerate her expressions; it wasn’t necessary. When he thrust hard and it pinched, she screwed her face up. He responded by going gentler, and she rewarded him with long sighs of appreciation and sensual licks of her lips. Then, when she felt the orgasm build, she snarled at him, as if to goad him into action. He reacted by pummeling deeper. Together, they worked out a duet, just as she had with Jago.
The men swapped again, and again. She lost count. She clawed at Jago’s ass and clung onto Kriss’s shoulders. Stretched out for one, rolled up for the other. The contrast helped her; when one group of muscles ached too much, the other position eased them.
How long? Time was irrelevant. It was perfectly clear neither man was close to coming and consequently, she had to wait.
Jago tapped Kriss’s shoulder. “Enough. She needs food and a break. We’ll resume with stage two.”
Stage two! What the fuck was that?
* * *
They ate in a comical silence, scooping up this and that into their mouths. Food was a necessity, but an inconvenience. They let her replenish her skin with creams and lotions, and reshape her hair. Alone in the bathroom, she avoided spending too much time inspecting herself in the mirror. She probably looked a hot mess anyway. She returned to finish her drink and the last morsels of the bland food they’d served her.