Apollo removes him as his legs begin to tremble and Marcus barks out a curse with his own orgasm. I’m flooded with more fluid. None have worn condoms, which I'll be addressing the instant it's feasible, or cleaned me up, and I have alternated between being fucked dry and being a sopping mess. Tilted as I am on the wedge, it has to run over or been pushed out each time a dick’s entered me. I know when I stand up, it’s going to be gross.
Braeden is led around, and my legs are pulled up and out on either side by Marcus and Apollo. My bestie traces his fingers over my sore mound briefly before meeting my tired gaze. I keep eye contact as he enters me. Even after Marcus, I've maintained some elasticity. Gonna have to do some exercises or get loose in this crowd. Braeden is close to Marcus’ girth, but not quite there. He’s several inches longer though and soon hits my cervix. I involuntarily flinch away a little. It’s been well abused already and is extra sensitive by this point.
He tries to back up, but Marcus shakes his head at him. Clearing the expression from his face and pushing until his balls are against my ass, he makes me squirm and grimace at the sharp prick of pain. Even at his lazy rolling pace, boy has moves that get my attention even through the discomfort. With a hip tilt and rotation, he’s hitting all my spots with every stroke. I help as much as I can from my position, which isn't much, but I feel myself building to a climax. Soon, I’m straining towards it. Never thought my best friend could rock my world so well.
Apollo reaches down, I think, to flick the clamp on my clit. Instead, he releases it, allowing the blood to rush back into it, causing a pleasure/pain so intense I let out a guttural cry and instantly come around Braeden, dragging at his dick as he tries to keep moving. He can't keep it up and comes with a quiet moan. We rest that way for a moment before Marcus removes Braeden and binds him, taking him over to another wedge prop. He drapes his tall frame over it and mounts another large plug in him, tying it up like the others.
Apollo removes the pillow, and when I sit up, as I suspect, the fluids that were released into me slip out. Apollo hands me several wet wipes, and I clean up as well as I can, but I think I just succeed more in pushing it around than anything else but oh well.
The lights on the platform dim, forcing me to face what I've blocked out the entire time.
People watching— hungry people watching. I want to hide from those expressions. They want one or more of us, to use us like this constantly. I cringe, imagining that sort of life.