1
Violet Nichols, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Miami
This had to be a dream. But it felt real. So damn real.
I was blindfolded. Naked. The subtle sound of a man’s groans of pleasure reached me, flooding my core with wet heat. But I didn’t need to be able to see to know that strong hands gripped my hips and I sat on a man’s face as he ate my pussy. My thighs clenched against his ears, his wicked skill so intense that my leg muscles quivered, tightened and relaxed as his tongue slid over me, then pulled, drawing my sensitive clit into his mouth with just the right amount of suction before releasing it over and over again. I moaned when he flicked a very sensitive spot at the top. His hands were big, his fingers long enough to hold my slippery folds open for his tender assault. Again and again he made me tremble, shifting from demanding suction to the gentlest of brushes. For someone so big, he was very careful.
I couldn’t tell him this, couldn’t do more than beg for more with a sexy moan and desperate whimper, for while he was beneath me, a second man thrust his cock into my mouth. The thick girth of it was smooth and hard as steel against my tongue as I laved him, felt the pulsing line of the vein that ran up the length.
When he pulled back so that I could circle the rim of the crown with my tongue, I was able to take a deep breath before he stretched my lips wide once again, thrusting deep so he entered my throat. His growl of appreciation and the way his big hand tightened in my hair was all the indication I needed to know I was pleasing him. One of my hands rested against his abdomen, the steel hard abs clearly defined beneath my fingertips as I explored him, touched him like I owned him, like he was mine. When he paused, pulling back, fighting for control, I didn’t allow his retreat, pushing forward, swallowing him down like he was mine to take, mine to pleasure. I slid my hand down, cupped his balls gently and pulled him closer, his growl of warning unheeded. He was all mine, and I wasn’t giving him the chance to escape me, and I knew he didn’t really want to go anywhere but deeper.
But even that wasn’t all. They weren’t all. This dream? There was more.
No, he was more. The third man touching me. I was surrounded, yet I felt completely safe. No, more than safe. Needy. Desperate. Like I was about to break into a million pieces—wanted to break—and knew they would catch me. Three men, and they were all mine. One beneath me eating my pussy, one in my mouth fucking my throat and a third—I had his cock in my hand, stroking it from root to tip, feeling the pre-cum seep from it and smear beneath my thumb.
I’d never felt a cock so long, so thick; my fingers didn’t even wrap around all of it. He wasn’t just kneeling beside me, cock thrust toward me so he could get a hand job. No, he had his hands on me, too. My breast was cupped in his big palm and he was pinching and tugging the nipple. While the others were thorough in their attentions, this one was more demanding, pinching a touch harder than I expected, tugging longer so there was a bite of pain. This only made me feel even more. Better. I was on the brink of pleasure, of my orgasm. God, so close.
Then he moved his other hand low, cupping my bottom, circling my sensitive opening with his thumb. The shock of that caress jolted me forward with a groan and I came down on the first man’s mouth harder, wanting more. Needing something inside me. My pussy was empty and aching. Hurting. I wanted them all. I wanted them to fill me up, give me their seed, give me their bliss.
The thought was strange, but I didn’t argue. Somehow, I knew that their cum was like magic, that the touch of it on my flesh, the taste of it in my mouth, would push me over the edge into an orgasm so intense I’d forget to breathe. And I wanted it, wanted them to give me everything and make me feel like I was theirs, just as they were mine.
And that made my pussy wetter because I was just...about...there. Somehow, the man beneath me knew and he licked, flicked and moved lower, slid his tongue into my pussy, fucking me with it, teasing me with something that wasn’t quite enough.
I couldn’t talk, but I had other ways to communicate. Wrapping my hand tightly around the third man’s cock, I trapped the second man’s hard length in my mouth with a gentle nudge of my teeth, not enough to hurt, but just enough to let him know I was tired of being teased. Played with. I needed to come, needed it so badly I felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest.
“Our mate is making demands.” The words were strained with the same desire I felt, but there was laughter in his voice as well. If I had teeth around my cock, I wasn’t sure I’d be laughing.
“Perhaps she should be taught who is in control.” The hand on my ass slid lower and the tip of the third man’s thumb slid inside. “And who is not.” Those words were whispered against my ear, the heat of his breath so intense I whimpered as he played with my ass, teasing me, slowly sliding his thumb in and out of my body, making sure I knew he could do more.
I would have begged if I could, but I could do nothing. I was completely at their mercy and that fact made me wild, mindless.
Holy hell, I wanted him to do more. I wanted him to fuck me there, fill me with his cock as the other took my pussy and I conquered the third with my mouth. It would be so good. I knew it would be good. I remembered…
Wait. What? That was impossible. This was just a dream. I’d never been with three men. Never even imagined it. But this was my dream and I could do whatever I wanted. Or whoever. Or three whoevers.
And in a dream, I could love having three men. I could be sweaty and demanding. Lost to the pleasure, my nipples hard nubs that were so sensitive I could come from those just being played with alone. But my clit being sucked…
Yeah, that was the hottest fucking thing ever. I’d had a guy eat me out before, but I’d never ridden a man’s face. Never had
someone just...know what I needed. Know that a cock deep in my mouth made me hot, made me feel submissive and wildly dirty. But I wasn’t ashamed. There was no guilt, no judgment, no frowning old woman scolding me for being so deliciously wicked. How could I not want to be exactly where I was when all I felt was adored? Worshiped? Gifted with pleasure?