Strawberry Wax and Leaking Light

The screen door banged shut behind Bobby, and the whole trailer smelled like hot dust and the strawberry wax I’d been melting on the stove for no reason except it made the place feel less like a tin can. I was sprawled on the pull-out couch, one hand under my belly, the other smearing a thin line of milk from my nipple down to my navel just to feel the air cool it.

Peter came in behind Bobby, ducking even though the doorway was tall enough, because Peter always moved like the world was built a size too small for him. He looked at me first, then at Bobby, then back at me.

“You’re leaking again,” Peter said.

“I’m always leaking,” I said. “You know that. Come here.”

Bobby kicked off his boots by the door. He was already unbuckling his belt, not in a hurry, just methodical, the way he did everything. “She’s got that look, Pete.”

“What look?”

“The one where she wants both of us in her mouth before we even say hello.”

I laughed, and a little milk spurted from my left nipple onto the cushion. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

It wasn’t. It was the opposite of a bad thing. I pushed myself up, the weight of my belly shifting low and heavy, and crawled to the edge of the couch. Peter’s jeans were already open, his cock pushing out against his boxers, the fabric dark with pre-cum. Bobby was harder to read, but I could see the outline of him through his work pants, thick and curving left.

“Pants off,” I said. “Both of you. I want to taste you before I even think about anything else.”

They didn’t argue. Peter shoved his boxers down and his cock sprang out, slapping against his stomach with a wet sound. It was huge, the way it always was, ten inches of dark, veined flesh, the head shiny and purple and already drooling. His foreskin was pulled tight over the rim, and I could see the slit winking at me every time his pulse kicked.

Bobby took longer. He peeled his pants down slow, like he was unwrapping something, and when his cock came free it was just as thick, just as uncut, the skin looser around the head, the shaft pale where Peter was dark. Pre-cum was already stringing from his tip to his thigh.

“God,” I whispered. “You two are fucking ridiculous.”

I reached out and took Peter in my right hand, Bobby in my left. The heat of them made my palms sweat. Peter’s cock throbbed against my fingers, the veins like cords under the skin, and I could feel every pulse traveling up from his balls. Bobby’s was harder to hold, thicker at the base, and when I squeezed, a fat bead of pre-cum welled up and spilled over my knuckles.

“Look at that,” Peter said. “She’s already got us both drooling.”

“You’re always drooling,” I said. “That’s not my fault.”

I leaned forward and pressed the head of Peter’s cock against my lips. The skin was hot and slick, and I ran my tongue around the ridge, pushing the foreskin back with the tip, exposing that shiny purple crown. He tasted like salt and something sharper, something that made my mouth water. I opened wider and took him in, feeling the weight of him on my tongue, the way the head nudged the back of my throat before I was even halfway down.

Bobby’s cock was still in my left hand, and I pumped him slowly, twisting my wrist on the upstroke, watching the foreskin roll over the head and back again. He made a low sound in his chest, and his hips twitched.

“You like that?” I pulled off Peter just long enough to ask, my voice thick with spit.

“You know I do,” Bobby said. “Keep going.”

I did. I took Peter deeper, until my nose pressed against the dark curls at his base, and I swallowed around him, feeling his cock jump in my throat. At the same time, I brought Bobby’s cock to my mouth, pressing the head against my lips alongside Peter’s shaft, stretching my jaw wide to fit them both.

It was too much and not enough. I couldn’t take them both deep at once, so I worked them in turns, sucking Peter while I stroked Bobby, then switching, my lips slick with pre-cum and spit, my chin wet, my tits leaking milk down my stomach. Peter’s cock throbbed against my tongue, and I could feel every vein, every ridge, the way his foreskin slid back and forth as I bobbed my head.

“Tell us how it feels,” Peter said, his voice rough. “You know we want to hear it.”

I pulled off with a gasp, a string of spit connecting my lip to his cock. “Your cock is so fucking thick, Peter. The head is like a plum, and when you throb, I can feel it in my throat. And Bobby—your foreskin is so soft, but the head underneath is so hard. I love rolling it back with my tongue, feeling that wet little slit open up.”

Bobby groaned. “Fuck, Carole.”

“She’s not wrong,” Peter said. He wrapped his hand around his own cock, stroking it slowly, and I watched a thick rope of pre-cum drip from the tip onto the floor. “Now do it again. Both of us. Rub them together.”

I understood. I pressed their cocks together, shaft against shaft, and wrapped both hands around them. Peter’s dark skin against Bobby’s pale skin, two thick, uncut cocks sliding against each other, their foreskins catching and rolling, their heads leaking pre-cum that mixed and dripped down my fingers. I could feel them both throbbing, two separate pulses beating against my palms, and I squeezed harder, making them grind together.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Peter said. “Feel that, Bobby? Our cocks rubbing together. Your foreskin sliding over mine.”

“I feel it,” Bobby said. “Every vein. Your head is so hot against mine.”

“Now watch this,” I said.

I leaned down and pressed my nipple against the tips of their cocks, squeezing my breast until milk sprayed out, coating both heads in a thin, warm stream. Peter’s cock jumped, and Bobby’s followed, and I kept squeezing, milking myself onto them, watching the white fluid mix with their pre-cum and drip down their shafts.

“Jesus,” Bobby breathed. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Taste it,” I said, and I lifted my nipple to Peter’s mouth. He sucked, hard, and I felt the milk let down, a sharp, sweet pull that went straight to my clit. Bobby leaned in and took my other nipple, and for a long moment they both drank from me, their mouths hot and wet, their cocks still pressed together in my hands.

Then Peter pulled back, his lips shiny with milk. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

“Not yet,” I said. “I want you both in my pussy. At the same time.”

Bobby’s eyes went dark. “Carole, you’re so fucking tight. You sure?”

“I’m sure,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I want to feel you both stretching me open. I want to feel your cocks rubbing together inside me.”

I lay back on the couch, spreading my legs wide, my bald pussy already soaked, my clit swollen and pulsing. Milk was still leaking from my nipples, running down my ribs, pooling in the hollow of my belly. Peter knelt between my legs first, his cock in his hand, the head pressed against my opening. He pushed, and I gasped as the thick head stretched me, the rim of his foreskin catching on my entrance before sliding in.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned. “Even after everything, you’re still so fucking tight.”

“Don’t stop,” I said. “Deeper.”

He pushed deeper, inch by inch, until his cock was buried inside me, his balls pressed against my ass. I could feel every vein, every throb, the way his foreskin bunched up against my walls. Then Bobby moved behind him, and I felt the second head pressing against my opening, right at the base of Peter’s cock.

“Breathe, Carole,” Bobby said. “Relax for me.”

I did. I breathed out, and he pushed, and the stretch was blinding, a burn that turned into pleasure, my pussy opening wider than I thought possible. Bobby’s cock slid in alongside Peter’s, inch by agonizing inch, until they were both fully inside me, their shafts pressed together, their heads nudging my cervix.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “I can feel both of you. I can feel your cocks throbbing against each other inside me.”

“Tell us,” Peter said, his voice strained. “Tell us everything.”

I could barely speak. My pussy was stretched to its limit, my walls clamped around two thick, pulsing cocks, and every time either of them moved, even a little, I felt their foreskins sliding, their veins rubbing, their heads grinding together deep inside me.

“Peter, your cock is so hot,” I gasped. “I can feel the head pressing against my cervix, and your foreskin is all bunched up, and every time you throb, it sends this pulse through my whole body. And Bobby—yours is thicker at the base, and I can feel it stretching me even more, and your foreskin is so soft, but the head is so hard, and when you two grind together, I can feel it in my clit.”

They started to move. Not thrusting, not yet—just grinding, slow, deep circles, their cocks sliding against each other inside me, their balls slapping against my ass. I could feel every ridge, every vein, the way their foreskins rolled back and forth with each movement. Pre-cum was already leaking out of me, mixing with my own wetness, dripping down my thighs.

“Your cocks are rubbing together,” I said, my voice rising. “I can feel it. Your foreskins are catching on each other, and your heads are grinding, and you’re both so fucking hard, and I’m so full, I’m so fucking full.”

Peter leaned down and sucked my nipple hard, pulling milk into his mouth, and I cried out as the sensation shot through me. Bobby grabbed my hips and started thrusting for real, and Peter matched his rhythm, and suddenly they were both fucking me, not in sync but against each other, their cocks sliding in and out of my stretched pussy, their foreskins rolling, their heads popping past my entrance with every stroke.

“Fuck, I can feel your cock, Bobby,” Peter groaned. “Every time I pull out, your foreskin rubs against mine, and when I push in, your head grinds against my shaft.”

“I feel it too,” Bobby said. “Your veins are like fucking ridges. And her pussy is so tight around us, I can feel your pulse through her walls.”

I was beyond words. My body was on fire, my pussy stretched to its limit, milk spraying from my nipples every time Peter’s thrusts jolted my breasts. I could feel them both swelling inside me, their cocks getting even thicker, and I knew they were close.

“Don’t pull out,” I begged. “Cum inside me. Both of you. Fill me up.”

Peter came first. I felt his cock jerk, felt the first hot spurt of semen flood my pussy, and then Bobby followed, and I was suddenly so full of cum that it started leaking out around their cocks, dripping down my ass, pooling on the couch beneath me. They kept thrusting, even as they came, their cocks sliding through the mess, pushing their semen deeper, and I could feel every pulse, every throb, every hot gush of cum being pumped into my body.

“I can feel you cumming,” I sobbed. “Both of you. Your cocks are throbbing, and I can feel the cum shooting out, and it’s so hot, it’s so fucking hot.”

They didn’t stop. Even after they finished, they kept thrusting, slower now, their cocks still hard, still throbbing, and the cum kept leaking out of me with every stroke, a thick, white mess that coated their shafts and dripped down my thighs.

“More,” I whispered. “I want more.”

Bobby pulled out first, his cock glistening with cum and my juices, and I felt the emptiness for only a second before Peter pulled out too. Then they both knelt beside me, their cocks still hard, still dripping, and I reached for them, pulling them back to my mouth, tasting our combined fluids on their skin.

But it wasn’t enough. I wanted them inside me again. I wanted all of them.

“I want you both back inside,” I said. “And I want Peter to fuck me too. All three of you.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Three cocks in that tight little pussy?”

“Yes,” I said. “I can take it. I want to feel all of you stretching me open, all of you pumping cum into me, all of you rubbing against each other inside my body.”

Peter laughed, low and dark. “You’re fucking insane, Carole. I love it.”

They positioned me on my hands and knees, my belly hanging low, milk dripping from my nipples onto the couch. Peter knelt behind me first, his cock sliding back into my soaked pussy, and then Bobby pressed in beside him, and the stretch was even more intense than before, my walls burning as they forced their way inside. I screamed, but it was a scream of pleasure, and I pushed back against them, wanting more.

Then Peter reached around and grabbed Bobby’s cock, guiding it to my opening alongside his own, and I felt the impossible stretch of three thick, uncut cocks trying to fit inside me at once. It hurt, but it was the best kind of hurt, and I bore down, relaxing, letting my body open for them.

“That’s it,” Bobby grunted. “Take it, Carole. Take all of us.”

They pushed, and I felt the third head pop past my entrance, and then they were all inside me, three cocks buried in my pussy, their shafts grinding together, their foreskins sliding, their heads pressing against every inch of my walls. I couldn’t speak. I could only moan, my face pressed into the cushion, my body shaking, my pussy stretched beyond anything I’d ever felt.

They started to thrust, not in rhythm, but against each other, their cocks sliding and grinding, and I could feel every vein, every ridge, every throb. Cum was already leaking out of me, pushed out with each thrust, and I could hear the wet, obscene sound of their cocks moving through the mess.

“I can feel all three of you,” I finally managed. “Your cocks are so thick, and they’re throbbing, and I can feel your foreskins rolling, and your heads are grinding against each other, and I’m so full, I’m so fucking full, and the cum is just pouring out of me, and it’s so hot, it’s so fucking hot.”

Peter came again, his cock jerking inside me, and the sensation pushed Bobby over the edge, and then the third wave hit, and I felt myself coming too, my pussy clamping down on all three cocks, milking them, pulling every last drop of cum from their bodies. Semen flooded my pussy, so much of it that it gushed out around their shafts, spraying onto their thighs, pooling beneath us on the couch.

They kept thrusting through my orgasm, through their own, and every stroke pushed more cum out of me, a thick, white flood that dripped down my legs and soaked the cushions. I could feel their cocks still hard, still pulsing, still grinding against each other inside my ruined pussy.

When they finally pulled out, one by one, I collapsed onto the couch, my body trembling, my pussy gaping, cum pouring out of me in thick, slow streams. Milk was still leaking from my nipples, mixing with the sweat and semen on my skin.

Peter flopped down beside me, his cock still semi-hard, glistening with our combined fluids. Bobby sat on the floor, his head back, breathing hard.

“So,” Bobby said after a long moment, “who’s cleaning the couch?”

Peter laughed. “Not me. I can’t feel my legs.”

I rolled onto my side, cupping my belly, feeling the last of their cum drip out of me. “You’re both buying me a new couch. And then you’re doing that again.”

Bobby grinned. “Deal. But next time, I get to be on the bottom.”

“Next time,” I said, “we’re doing it in the kitchen. I want to mix the milk and cum in shot glasses again.”

Peter groaned. “You’re going to kill us, Carole.”

“Maybe,” I said, smiling. “But what a way to go.”