Rain-Soaked and Wanting

The rain had stopped somewhere around mile four, but Demi’s boots were still squelching with every step down the hallway of the apartment she shared with Ben. Her copper hair was a disaster, a damp tangled mess plastered to her neck and shoulders, and her curvy body ached from the unexpected sprint back down the mountain trail when the sky had split open. Bonnie had decided to ride out the rest of the storm in the ranger’s hut, but Demi had craved a hot shower and her own bed. She’d forgotten to text. Completely slipped her mind, the phone dead in her backpack, her brain focused only on dry socks and the particular squeak of their front door.

The apartment was quiet, but not empty-quiet. There was a low, rhythmic sound coming from the living room, a kind of wet, repetitive noise that made her pause with one hand on the wall. She knew that sound. She’d heard Ben make it before, a particular grunt that meant he was focused, enjoying himself. Her pulse ticked up a notch, not with alarm, but with a slow, spreading curiosity. Their agreement was simple: open communication, always tell each other, always come back. She’d broken the first rule by accident, and now she was about to collect on the second in a way she hadn’t planned.

She moved silently, her wet socks leaving faint prints on the wood floor. The living room opened up before her, and there, on the large sectional sofa, was Ben. And Marcus.

Ben was on his knees on the cushions, completely naked, his average build looking compact and focused. His back was to her, the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensing as he worked. Marcus was sprawled back against the sofa, one arm draped over the backrest, the other hand gently resting on Ben’s head. Marcus was a fucking sculpture, all athletic bulk and smooth, dark skin, his chest rising and falling with deep, satisfied breaths. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back, and his mouth was slightly open. The source of the wet sound was immediately, gloriously obvious: Ben’s mouth was wrapped around Marcus’s cock, and it was a cock that demanded attention. Thick, long, and curving slightly up toward a navel that rippled with muscle, it was the kind of dick that made your jaw ache just looking at it. Ben was taking it deep, his lips stretched, spit shining on the shaft as he pulled back with a slurp.

Demi’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t announce herself. Instead, she took one silent step back into the shadow of the hallway, her hand already moving to the button of her damp hiking shorts. She’d told Ben once, months ago, after he’d walked in on her with a guy from her gym, that she loved it when he watched. He’d confessed, later, that he felt a twinge of jealousy but an even bigger rush of heat. Now, the roles were deliciously, unexpectedly reversed. She leaned against the doorframe, popped the button, and slid her hand inside her shorts. Her pussy was already slick, and not from the rain.

Ben pulled off Marcus’s cock with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to the swollen, purple head. He stroked the shaft with one hand, twisting his wrist on the upstroke.

“You taste so fucking good,” Ben murmured, his voice rough. “I want you to fuck my face. Really use it.”

Marcus opened his eyes and grinned, a flash of white teeth. “Yeah? You want this big dick down your throat, baby?” His voice was a low rumble, completely unashamed. “I love a hungry mouth. Open up.”

Demi’s fingers found her clit, a big, sensitive nub that throbbed under her touch. She circled it slowly, her eyes glued to the scene as Marcus gripped the base of his cock and guided it back to Ben’s waiting lips. Ben opened wide, his tongue out, and Marcus pushed forward, not gently. He fed his cock into Ben’s mouth inch by inch, and Demi watched Ben’s throat work, watched him swallow around the intrusion, his eyes watering. Marcus held him there, hips flexing, and let out a long, shuddering groan.

“That’s it. Take it all. Your throat’s so tight.”

Ben’s hands came up to grip Marcus’s thighs, his fingers digging into the hard muscle. Marcus began to move, a slow, deep fucking of Ben’s face, pulling out to let him gasp for air before plunging back in. The sounds were obscene, wet and gagging, and Demi had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. She pushed her shorts and underwear down to her thighs, her other hand coming up to squeeze her own heavy tit through her damp shirt. She pinched her nipple, the sensation sharp and grounding, as she watched her partner get his throat thoroughly used.

Marcus noticed her first. His eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, drifted lazily toward the hallway and locked onto hers. His rhythm didn’t falter. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, and he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. He didn’t stop fucking Ben’s mouth. He just watched her watch him, his expression one of pure, open enjoyment. He loved being watched, loved the performance, and Demi realized he was now playing to a bigger audience.

He pulled Ben off his cock with a wet pop and tilted Ben’s chin up. “We have company, baby. Don’t be rude. Say hi to your girl.”

Ben turned, startled, his face a mess of spit and pre-cum, his lips swollen. His eyes went wide with a flicker of panic before they landed on Demi’s hand moving between her legs, on her exposed, thick thighs, on the hunger in her face. The panic melted into something else, something dark and excited.

“Shit, Demi, I forgot to—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Demi said, her voice husky. She peeled her wet shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor with a wet slap. Her heavy, pale breasts swung free, her nipples tight and pebbled. “I came home early. The storm was a bitch. But this? This is a very nice welcome. Don’t stop on my account.”

Ben’s cock, average but hard and curving up toward his belly, twitched. He was on his hands and knees on the sofa, and he looked from Demi to Marcus and back again. Marcus laughed, a low, delighted sound.

“I like her,” Marcus said. “Get your fine ass over here, Demi. Clothes off. Ben was just showing me how good he is with his mouth, but I’ve got a feeling there’s more fun to be had.”

Demi didn’t need to be told twice. She kicked off her boots, shimmied out of her shorts and soaked underwear, and walked, naked and curvy and unashamed, toward the sofa. Her big butt swayed with each step, and she felt both their eyes on her, a heat that made her pussy clench. She knelt on the sofa beside Ben, her hip pressing against his, and reached out to run her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” she whispered, and then leaned in to kiss him, tasting Marcus on his lips, a salty, musky flavor. Ben moaned into her mouth, his body relaxing.

Marcus shifted, turning his attention to Demi. He reached out and cupped one of her heavy breasts, his thumb immediately finding her nipple and pressing down hard. “These are gorgeous. I want to play with these.” He leaned in and took her other nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. Demi gasped, arching into his mouth, her hand still tangled in Ben’s hair.

Ben watched, his breath shallow. He’d seen Demi with another man before, but this was different. This was shared, a triangle of heat. He dropped his head and pressed his mouth to Demi’s shoulder, biting gently, then licking the spot. His hand slid down her belly, his fingers finding her wet, swollen folds. He pushed two fingers inside her cunt, and she cried out, the sound muffled by Marcus’s mouth on her tit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Ben groaned against her skin. “You love watching me suck his big dick, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “I want to feel it. I want to taste it.”

Marcus released her nipple with a pop and grinned. “Get up here, then. Straddle my face. I want to eat that pretty pussy while your man fucks my throat. Let’s see how coordinated you two are.”

Demi scrambled up, her thick thighs trembling with anticipation. Marcus lay back, adjusting his position, and she swung one leg over his head, facing Ben. She lowered herself down, and Marcus’s hands immediately clamped onto her ass cheeks, spreading her wide. His tongue, broad and flat, licked a stripe from her clit all the way back to her asshole. She shuddered, a full-body tremor, and grabbed the back of the sofa for support.

“Oh, fuck, his tongue,” she moaned.

Ben, not to be outdone, moved back between Marcus’s legs. He took the massive cock in his hand, stroking it, and then lowered his mouth onto it again, but this time he was watching Demi’s face, watching her eyes roll back as Marcus’s tongue speared into her cunt. Marcus ate pussy like he was starving, licking and sucking, his nose bumping her clit, his tongue delving deep before dragging up to circle that big, throbbing nub. Then he’d move lower, his tongue-point pressing against her asshole, rimming her with wet, insistent circles.

Demi reached down and grabbed a fistful of Marcus’s short hair, grinding down on his face. “Yes, right there, eat my ass, fuck.”

Ben deep-throated Marcus again, and the vibration of Marcus’s groan of pleasure shot straight through Demi’s core. She started to rock, fucking herself on Marcus’s tongue, her own fingers reaching down to spread her pussy lips wide so he could get deeper. Ben reached up with his free hand and found her clit, his thumb rubbing fast, hard circles while he sucked Marcus’s dick. The coordination was sloppy, desperate, and perfect.

Marcus pulled his mouth away just long enough to gasp, “Fuck, I need to be inside someone. Demi, I want to feel that pussy stretch around me. Ben, get behind her. I want your tongue in my ass while I fuck your girl.”

The shift was a tangle of limbs and slick skin. Demi climbed off Marcus’s face, her thighs glistening, and he sat up, positioning her on her hands and knees on the wide sofa. Her big, pale ass was in the air, her copper hair a wild mess down her back. Marcus knelt behind her, his huge cock in his hand, and he slapped it against her pussy, once, twice, the sound wet and lewd. Ben moved behind Marcus, his hands spreading those muscular ass cheeks, his mouth finding the tight pucker of Marcus’s hole.

Marcus pushed the head of his cock against Demi’s entrance. She was soaked, but he was so thick, the stretch was immediate and intense. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, and Demi let out a low, guttural wail. Her pussy stretched to accommodate him, a burning, aching fullness that made her see stars.

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking big,” she cried, her fingers clawing at the cushions.

“And you’re so fucking tight,” Marcus grunted, his hips pressing forward until he was buried to the hilt. He stayed there for a moment, letting her adjust, while behind him, Ben’s tongue was working magic, licking and probing, making Marcus’s thighs shake.

Then Marcus started to move. He fucked her with long, deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, his balls slapping against her clit. Demi pushed back to meet every thrust, her tits swinging heavily beneath her. Ben reached around Marcus’s hip and found Demi’s clit again, his fingers slick and knowing, rubbing in time with Marcus’s thrusts. He kept his mouth sealed over Marcus’s asshole, his tongue fucking in and out.

Demi was babbling, a stream of curses and pleas. “Fuck me, fuck, yes, right there, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop.”

Marcus grabbed a handful of her copper hair, pulling her head back, arching her spine. “You like this big cock stretching your pussy? Tell me.”

“I love it, I fucking love it, fill me up,” she sobbed.

Ben pulled his mouth away, his chin wet. “I want to taste you both. Marcus, let me suck your dick after you’ve been inside her.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat through the group. Marcus pulled out of Demi, his cock glistening with her juices, and she collapsed forward, panting. Ben scrambled around, and Marcus lay back, pulling Demi on top of him. She straddled him, and this time, she sank down onto his cock, her own weight forcing him even deeper. She screamed, a sharp, high sound, and started to ride him, her big ass bouncing, her hands braced on his chest. Her clit, swollen and huge, ground against his pubic bone with every downward stroke.

Ben knelt beside them, his hand on his own cock, stroking. He leaned down and took two of Demi’s fingers into his mouth, sucking them, and then guided them to Marcus’s lips. Marcus sucked them in, his eyes locked on Ben’s. Then Ben bent lower and licked Demi’s clit while she rode, his tongue flicking rapidly over the hard nub, his lips closing around it to suck.

The triple sensation was too much. Demi’s orgasm ripped through her, a violent, convulsive wave that made her pussy clamp down on Marcus’s cock like a vise. She screamed, her whole body shaking, her nails raking down Marcus’s chest.

“Fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming, oh god, Ben, Marcus, fuck!”

Feeling her spasm around him, Marcus’s control snapped. He grabbed her hips and thrust up into her hard, three, four times, and then he roared, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside her. The heat of his cum triggered another, smaller aftershock in Demi, and she collapsed onto his chest, a sweaty, trembling mess.

Ben, his cock aching, stroked himself frantically. Marcus, still catching his breath, reached out and pushed Ben’s hand away, replacing it with his own mouth. He sucked Ben’s dick hard and fast, his hand cupping his balls, and Ben came with a hoarse cry, his cum spilling into Marcus’s mouth. Marcus swallowed, then pulled Ben down for a kiss, sharing the taste between the three of them, a messy, salty communion.

They lay there for a long moment, a pile of tangled limbs and cooling sweat. The rain had started up again outside, a gentle patter against the windows. Demi was the first to laugh, a breathless, happy sound.

“I should forget to text more often.”

Ben groaned, his face buried in her hair. “Our open communication policy is a mess.”

Marcus chuckled, his hand lazily stroking Demi’s ass. “Seems like you communicated just fine to me.”

Eventually, they untangled themselves. Ben disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a warm, damp washcloth. He gently cleaned Demi first, wiping the sweat and cum from her thighs, pressing a soft kiss to her clit as he did, making her jump and giggle. Then he tossed the cloth to Marcus, who cleaned himself up with a grateful nod. The domesticity of it, the easy care after such filthy intensity, settled over them like a blanket.

Ben pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants, Demi slipped into one of his oversized t-shirts that hung off her shoulder, and Marcus, finding his boxers, padded into the kitchen. He opened the fridge with the familiarity of someone who’d been there many times before.

“You guys have any of that lemonade left? I’m fucking parched.”

“Pitcher on the second shelf,” Ben called back, his arm wrapped around Demi as they curled up on the now-ruined sofa. “Grab the leftover pizza too. All three boxes.”

Marcus returned with a stack of pizza boxes and three glasses of lemonade balanced precariously. He set them on the coffee table and flopped down on Demi’s other side, his big body warm and solid. They ate cold pizza in comfortable silence, the earlier frenzy giving way to a lazy, satisfied calm. Demi’s head rested on Ben’s shoulder, her feet in Marcus’s lap, his thumb rubbing absent circles on her ankle.

“So,” Demi said, taking a sip of her lemonade, “Bonnie is going to be so pissed she decided to stay in that hut.”

Ben snorted. “We are not telling Bonnie.”

“