It was then that I realized I was still holding Ben’s hand, and my fingers and thumb pressed and rubbed.
The van hit a bump, and I was tossed, unexpectedly, only to land on the plush sofa. My left hand gripped Ben’s fingers while my right hand reached out and seized Noah’s knee. My exploring foot was now held between two legs. I squirmed, but this only made my captor press harder.
I heard an exchange of murmurs—probably Christian and Landon—then my other foot was snatched in a clamp of strong legs.
The van swerved to the left. I tossed—more so than needed—but my body ached to thrash and smack against the warm bodies at my sides, only faintly visible in the dark.
I let escape a breath, a cry, a murmured plea, the sound of which startled me. I jumped as if awaking from a dream—which was not entirely untrue—and regained the sofa in an upright, sitting position. I could hardly make out the forms around me, but I knew that all eyes were on me. I could feel them on me.
“I just had the strangest dream,” I said.
I learned that it was Landon’s leg I had been exploring. I told him that I thought it might have been Ken’s, which neither boy took as a compliment.
Will pulled up his sleeve, dropped his elbow on his knee, curled his fist back toward his chin, and flexed. “But there’s no mistaking whose this is,” he said.
“I don’t know,” said Ben. He struck the same pose. “In this light, it’s hard to tell the difference.”
Christian struck the same pose and addressed Will, “It’s like looking in the mirror.”
Landon chimed in with. “You see a muscular, black man when you look in the mirror?”
“He wishes,” said Will.
I reached out and pushed the men apart, which left just enough space for me to kneel in the center of their half-circle. “I’m going to close my eyes,” I said. “You’ll need to change places or cross arms. I don’t care.” I raised my hands, open palms out. “Present your arms to your queen. We’ll see just how well she knows her subjects.”
One by one, they presented their flexed arms, broad shoulders, and sculpted chests for me to grope. I’d guess wrong intentionally at first as if I needed to practice, but I knew the corporal subtleties of my subjects.
Ken’s arms were the hairiest. Rough bristles tickled my palm as it ran over his hardened mounds of muscle. Landon’s skin, on the contrary, was smooth, and I preferred to explore it with the tips of my fingers, feeling his flesh quiver beneath them.
Will and Ben were difficult to differentiate, actually, so I made them present their offerings simultaneously, one on each side of me. I could tell who was sitting where from their individual scents, but that didn’t stop me from taking my time. I’d squeeze their rock-hard biceps, hoping they’d cry out and give themselves away. Neither of them did.
Eventually, to mix things up, I started guessing right. “I’m getting good at this,” I said. “Let’s make it a bit more challenging. All at once, now.”
At my order, they shuffled and bumped and fought for the limited space around me.
“Don’t be afraid to crowd me,” I said. “It’s okay. I can take it.” My voice rose, as did the confidence in my commands. And I loved the sound of it!
Knees pressed against my legs, arms against my back. When I lifted my arms, I brushed against a crotch on my left. I felt a member harden against my passing forearm. I did the same with my other arm. My elbow skimmed the inside of a leg. When I lowered my hand, it passed against another hardening member. I’d reach out. I’d raise and lower my arms, making a game of who would harden more at my touch. I played them like a conductor at the helm of her very own cock orchestra.
“Ken. Landon. Christian. Noah. Will. Ben. Trevor” I gave arbitrary names to the meat my fingers fell upon. I didn’t care if I was right, and nobody corrected me.
“This is too easy,” I said. “Lightning round!”
I reached and grasped and flailed. My two hands were not enough.
I threw my head about. My jaw fell against a hardened thigh. “Noah.” The back of my head landed in the cut crevice of welcoming pecs. “Will.”
My voice rose with each name until, with the imposing command of a drill sergeant, I ordered, “Now, move.”
With my eyes closed, I groped the air. And with each gesture, my fingers found a new chest or shoulder or thigh or crotch whirling around me. I giggled from the excitement.
I flopped my head from side to side, each time landing against a different slab of meat that quivered from the contact.
When the van came to a stop, I was in desperate need of breath. My brave and loyal—and handsome—subjects cradled me and carried me out.