Clink.
Three wine glasses collide with one another, sloshing the sparkling moscato back and forth. I bring my glass to my lips, sipping at the bubbly drink and smiling over the rim at the boys. My boys. Jude and Gray.
Jude and I have been together for a long time. I love every inch of that man, inside and out. And I know he feels the same about me. Romance novels could be written about his muscular body, tattooed arms, black curly hair, and mischievous green eyes. He loves me more than I love myself some days. When he looks at me, he sees the most gorgeous woman in the world. I know this because he tells me every day.
On the days when I don't think I can make it, Jude is there, whispering in my ear, you got this, babygirl. You can do it. I know you can. When he pins me down on the bed, when he fucks me from behind and pulls my hair and calls me his babygirl... I know I'm his, and my heart belongs to him. I've never been loved so damn thoroughly by anyone before.
Our best friend Gray, with his shredded-all-to-hell jeans and classic rock t-shirts, has been there since the beginning. He was Jude's friend first--but he took me on as soon as Jude told him I was The One. We all hang out together on weekends, playing video games, watching movies, and pigging out on delicious food from the many fine establishments in our area via Door Dash.
Jude and I have always been open with each other about our fantasies, and with our sex lives. We follow the general adage, "If you love them, let them go--if they love you, they'll come back". We have our fun with other partners, and at the end of the day, we always come back to each other. He didn't even seem surprised when I told him about my threesome fantasy, how I'd love to be used by more than one man at a time, pleasuring them until they are both fully satisfied. He knew exactly who to call on. And within a week, he made it happen. That's how I ended up here--sitting naked on our bed, toasting my boys with moscato, and still dripping wet from them taking turns devouring me.
We jokingly called it a "dinner party"-- and I was the main course. Now we're laughing and having a drink together, and it's the most natural feeling. Gray's already asked about "dessert", and I can't wait. My lips, already swollen from being face-fucked by Jude, long to be rubbed raw by Gray in turn. His gaze is on my face as he sips his wine, and I lower my own gaze to see that he's still hard as a rock.
I toss back the rest of my wine and Jude collects the glasses, putting them on the bedside table. "So," he says with a raised eyebrow toward both of us, "you mentioned dessert?"
I lick my lips--the intoxicating taste of Jude and wine mixed together still clinging to them--and crawl toward Gray, who watches me like a jungle cat about to pounce on his prey. As I reach him, he grabs the back of my head and pulls my mouth against his, sandpaper stubble grinding against my lips. I don't mind the light pain sensation; on the contrary, it makes me want more.
Jude reads my mind like he always does. In the next moment, he smacks my ass hard, and I cry out against Gray's mouth. That had to have left a handprint. I hope it did. He squeezes the tender flesh as Gray forces my lips to part, exploring my mouth. His hand on the back of my head tightens in my hair--God, it makes my thighs quiver every time these boys pull my hair--and his other hand squeezes my breast, tugging hard on the nipple. He's playing rough, just like Jude does, and it drives me wild.
"Lie back," Jude says, and at first I think he's talking to me, but then Gray lets go of my hair and pulls away from me, leaning back on the bed. I'm still on my hands and knees, and I crawl over him, straddling his legs. His cock reaches up toward me, begging, that little drop of precum shimmering on the tip. I'm overcome with the desire to taste him, to feel him down my throat. Jude knows. He always knows what I want. He grabs my hair from behind me and pushes my head down until Gray's cock presses against my lips.
