Boston marriage - part II.

Our relationship feels like those old Boston marriages—quiet, private, the kind of thing people whisper about. Sandra Shine and I slip between that word and something rawer. Tonight she has me bent over the edge of the bed, her tongue already working lower, sliding inside me until my breath catches. She eases two slick fingers in next, spreading me wider, then adds a third when I push back for more. The sound of lube being poured fills the room. She works her whole hand inside, slow and deliberate, knuckles pressing past that tight ring until she’s wrist-deep. I bite the sheets and feel my body give. Once she’s sure I’m ready, she withdraws, lines up her strap-on, and sinks in to the hilt. The stretch is blunt and steady, dragging every nerve open. That’s when Lena slips in behind her. Sandra leans forward to take Lena’s cock in the same hole I’m already stretched around. Two shafts press together, sliding deeper, grinding against each other inside me. The weight of both bodies rocks me into the mattress. Sandra groans; Lena curses under her breath. Each thrust lands heavier, filling me until I can’t decide if I’m one slick, greedy hole or just a body made for this. When they finally pull out, the gape they leave behind is obscene. Sandra slides her fist back in, wrist twisting, thumb tucked, and Lena strokes herself while she watches my cunt clench around Sandra’s knuckles. My breath comes in short, wet gasps until the pleasure crests and I come hard around both of them, body shaking and shamelessly open.