I awaken to the sound of my cell. It rings, the sound dulled by sheets and pillows, and it takes me a moment to place my surroundings, to identify the ring. I grope through the bed and answer the call, our conversation short, a few I love yous and then a goodbye, his voice muffled, the signal poor as Stewart boards the plane.

I roll back over, the room dark, and wait for sleep to come. Minutes tick and I only grow more awake, frustration growing with each passing moment. Finally, my hands itching and legs squirming, I close my eyes and let my fingers move, traveling lightly over my body and slipping under my boxer shorts, the cotton band yielding easily to my hand, my fingers sliding along the thin strip of hair, moving more, my legs spreading, knees bending, my body quivering as I gently run my digits lightly, so lightly, over the lips of my sex. I keep my eyes closed and let my mind wander to my favorite fantasy, the one that takes me quickly to the edge and down the cliff that is my orgasm. It starts much as it normally does, with me on my knees, both of them before me.

Stewart wipes his mouth, his eyes on mine, piercing blue that mirror the man to his right, the man that unbuckles his pants, slowly, his fierce gaze pulling my eyes, my stare traveling from one man to the other, from one possessive glower to a second. Paul’s belt buckle clinks as it is undone, and his zipper is pulled down, his hand reaching in and pulling the object of my desire out. He is beautiful, standing there, his t-shirt stretched tight over his muscular frame, his jeans low and unbuckled on his firm hips, his hand wrapped tight around his shaft.


Stewart moves, walking slowly around my still frame, stopping behind me, his hand brushing the back of my neck as his fingers find the pull of my dress zipper. He unzips me slowly, my eyes held by Paul’s, as he strokes his cock and watches, his eyes dark.

Stewart’s hands slide the loose straps of my dress down, and I am suddenly before them, my breasts swollen, my nipples hard against the rough lace of underwire cups, the cloth of my panties pleasurable when I squirm against them. Stewart pulls me back against him, his hands cupping my breasts, his firm fingers massaging and squeezing, Paul lets out a soft groan when Stewart’s mouth comes down on my neck and his fingers tug the lace of my bra down, exposing my breasts to Paul’s eyes.


Paul steps forward, his hand continuing its slow, steady movement, my eyes drawn down, and I focus on the delicious glimpses I receive, his hand exposing and then cover the rigid, stiff length of his cock. He bends slightly, his soft wet mouth taking an exposed nipple, his tongue lightly running over it before sucking it gently into his mouth. Stewart’s hands slide lower, over my panties, and he firmly grips my hips, rocking me back against his body, his arousal hard against my ass. I moan when I feel it, his breath catching against my neck.


Paul releases his cock, it landing with a heavy thud against my stomach, both of his hands moving to my breasts, his hands reaching around and unclasping my bra, his fingers covering the area where Stewart’s just were. Then he kneels, his mouth making a wet trail down my stomach, his teeth grazing my skin, biting me gently as he moved.


They switch places, Stewart’s hands returning to my upper half, his hands turning my face to the right, and he kisses me softly on the mouth as his hands strum lightly over my breasts, lifting and squeezing the skin, pressing them together, my nipples sensitive, each brush across their surface causing me to gasp, to quiver, my legs weak.


Paul’s mouth is soft and hot, his fingers skimming my panties down, down my legs, the wet cloth leaving spots of arousal on my thighs, his mouth, his firm tongue, following the path of my hair. As soon as my feet lift and move, discarding my panties to the side, he lifts a leg over his shoulder, his breath on my delicate folds, his tongue following this path, dipping into my sex, flicking over my clit, his entire mouth taking my sex in one, delicious, cover.


I sag, his shoulder supporting my weight, his hands holding me up while he buries his face into me, moaning, Stewart’s cock replacing his mouth, his hand tugging me down until I am bent forward, his hips thrusting into my mouth, the firm shaft moving thickly down my throat. I gag, and feel Paul’s hands tighten on my skin, holding me in place, the delicious strum of his mouth on my pussy making me lose all focus on Stewart’s cock, my movements sloppy as my body grips, an orgasm close, my eyes closing as all sensors in my body tune in to his mouth. Stewart pulls me up, his wet cock sliding out of my mouth, my eyes opening to find him looking at me, his cock in his hand, the possessive look on his face on I know well.


It is the look he always gets when he thinks of Paul with me. When he thinks of another man’s hands on my skin, mouth on my sex, cock in my body. The incredible blend of want and arousal, competition and conquest, that burns through his eyes and causing him to unleash holy hell on my body. Hell that feels incredible, our sexual energy uncontainable, the combustion of two bodies moving in slick, perfect percussion. And now, in this fantasy, I finally have them both. At the same time, their possessions at peak points, directly competing to bring me pleasure.

My fingers dip inside of me, cupping my sex, borrowing moisture and dragging it up to my clit, my fingers starting a steady circle around the pleasure point. I lift up slightly with my hips, my eyes opening and focusing on the dresser’s mirror, the dim reflection showing my open legs, my hand moving between them. I pull off my shirt, running my free hands gently over my breasts, imagining Stewart’s hands on them, the scruff of his cheeks scraping them.

Stewart tilts my face up, stares into my eyes, and I struggle to maintain eye contact as Paul’s mouth takes me closer and closer to orgasm. My leg shudders around his neck, pulling his mouth closer, my pelvis beginning to thrust into his mouth as I grip his hair. “Come, baby. I want to see your face when you come. Come all over his face.”


I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut, fighting the sensation, Stewart’s hand puts pressure on my chin, and my eyes burst open as it comes, a swelling surge of pleasure, my mouth making animal, guttural sounds as I come, arching my back and staring into Stewart’s face, his handsome smile curving in approval as he strokes his cock faster, And as soon as I finish, when my moans subside to heavy breaths, he guides his cock back to my mouth, and I work on his cock, sucking and pumping with my hands, as I feel Paul move my legs, putting me on all fours, and preparing for entrance at my rear.


My eyes flip open, my legs shaking, and I watch my body twitching, my toes curling, the reflection showing my face, flushed and panting. I forgo my clit and thrust fingers, in and out, fucking fast, my pelvis lifting off the bed as I finger fuck myself to orgasm. It is strong, racking my body, and I clench every muscle I have, the thought of Paul fucking me onto Stewart’s cock stretching out my orgasm... the waves of pleasure making me moan and thrash in the sheets until there was nothing left to hold onto. I still, spent, my fingers wet and sticky, Stewart’s scent on the sheets all around me. I roll over, pressing a button on the wall, the fan starting to spin about me, pushing cool air on my naked skin, a sudden chill coming over me. Reaching down, I pull the thick down comforter up, over my chest, and relax back against the mattress.

Thirty seconds later, pleasure aftershocks still flickering through my body, I am asleep.