Goddess Pt 02

*Author's note- This is the second installment of the Goddess series. This chapter will make more sense and be much more meaningful if you read

Goddess

first.

I've never been one to dwell on the past. I'm not one for regrets, or mooning over

what-could-have-happened-if?

in any given situation. The idea of time travel has never sounded enticing.

Until now.

Every minute of my six hour drive home was a fight to not turn my car around. The first couple of hours, I thought about running back to the hotel and making my way back into the room, convinced my gladiators would still be there, naked and asleep, ready for me to crawl back between them and resume where we'd left off.

When I was far enough away that checkout would have come and gone before I could possibly get back to Caesar's Palace, I still had to convince myself that driving back and searching the whole of Las Vegas for them was a bad idea.

The only thing that kept me northbound was the fact I knew it was ridiculous. I didn't know their names. I didn't know what hotel they'd been staying at (other than the fact it wasn't Caesar's, or blondie wouldn't have wanted to call a cab)—I didn't even really know what they looked like. Not dressed and unmasked, anyway.

Despite all of the logic working against me, I desperately wanted to be with them again. I needed to feel them against me. Inside me. My body was an exposed nerve, aching for their touch.

I drove straight home, knowing that if I stopped for a break of any kind, I'd find myself southbound. As soon as I was parked at my dorm, I sprinted to my room, and before I could do anything else, I yanked my pants down and delved fingers into my wetness.

A loud moan escaped me before I bit my lip. The walls here were paper-thin—no screaming like at Caesar's. I braced myself against the wall with one hand as I feverishly circled my clit with the other. Six hours of thinking about being serviced by my gladiators meant I was drenched, even factoring in the regret I had about leaving without them.

I came hard and fast, my legs buckling underneath me. I leaned against the wall, panting, my jeans around my knees. Trying to catch my breath, I saw my underwear had become little more than a puddle stuck to my jeans. I stripped completely and headed to the shower down the hall in a towel.

I turned back halfway there. Again in my room I looked up the number for the hotel, shaking with optimism. The line seemed to ring forever.

"Yes, I was in the penthouse suite, was anything left in my room? A note or...anything? No? Any messages left for me? No?"

The disappointment was so suffocating that I hung up on the concierge.

I plodded back to the bathroom, pleased to at least have the shower to myself. Standing under the hot water, I closed my eyes; it was easy to pretend I was in the spacious bathroom of my suite rather than the crappy communal shower of my dorm.

I spread soap across my body, lathering deliberately while my gladiators watched, just waiting for the invitation to join me. I caressed my breasts, tugging on my aching nipples while I watched them stroke their soapy cocks. Turning, I gave them the same seductive over-the-shoulder glance I'd given them on the dance floor, and just like the dance floor, it worked.

In a breath their hands were all over me, slick with soap, exploring every rise and crevice my body had to offer. I writhed between their hard, wet bodies, groping lewdly, not even pretending to bathe them. They stooped, rubbing their massive erections between my legs. Blondie was in front of me, Dark-Hair behind, their cocks rubbing along my labia and rosebud as they dueled for position. A low moan escaped my lips.

"Did you forget this is a public shower?

Fuck.

No one's voice could pull me out of a vivid fantasy like Michelle's. RA by day, epic thundercunt by night. And day. It was a full-time gig. I had no idea how long she'd been there, or how long I'd been lost in my lusty daydream.

I held my breath and discerned exactly where my hands were. One was kneading a breast, the other moving deep between my pussy and anus. Not opening my eyes, I calmly moved my hands around to other parts of my body, continuing my shower.

"Nope. If it were a private shower, I wouldn't have to worry about being bothered while I'm naked. Will you kindly fuck off?"

"Watch your language, Sara. If you don't show me some respect, I might have to report you."

I turned from her and rolled my eyes. Michelle happened to be one of my hated roommates from my first year in college—the only one left at school. The rest had gotten their Mrs. Degrees and dropped out, cementing in my mind how pathetic their faux-lesbianism had been. Michelle had been an RA for over a year now, and she lorded every drop of her authority any chance she got. If she were a man, I'd diagnose her with Tiny Penis Syndrome.

"Do what you've gotta do, Michelle, but do it somewhere else."

I washed my face, wishing I had a way of knowing whether or not I got all of my makeup off. My gladiators had thoroughly taken care of my lipstick, but my eye makeup and the glue from my mask were a different story.

Oh, dear god, my gladiators!

Just thinking of them made me swoon. If I was going to be censured by Michelle while naked, at least the shower would disguise the nectar dripping down my thighs.

I quickly scrubbed my face a second and third time, hoping it would be enough, then rinsed and grabbed my towels. Michelle was still there, glaring at me, her scowl etching deep lines into her broad face. Her arms were crossed against her stocky body, hiding her close to nonexistent breasts. I whipped my long hair into a towel turban and wrapped another towel under my arms.

"It's all yours."

I gestured at her out of control pubic hair.

"I hope you brought a weed whacker to tame that thing. Don't clog the drains, now, or I'll have to report you."

Grinning, I left her in the bathroom to fume. I juggled my shower caddy while I tried to adjust my towel to offer more coverage. I was usually more put together, but I had been too concerned with getting away from Michelle to worry about the state of my near-nakedness. The door shut behind me when I realized the larger towel I usually used to cover my body was wrapped around my head, leaving a much smaller towel to cover me the distance between the bathroom and my room.

My body towel didn't quite stretch across my large breasts, leaving a sizable gap down my body. I tried to angle it in such a way that whatever was showing wouldn't end up on YouTube should I pass an opportunist in the hall. I was hurrying, but that hall seemed to grow in length with every step I took. At least it was empty.

Nope, strike that.

The door to the stairwell opened to reveal two of my only friends in the world. I shuffled past them without making eye contact, trying to maintain a semblance of dignity.

"Hi Mark! Hi Jeff! Give me a minute and I'll let you into my room."

I stumbled through my door and let the caddy drop to the floor along with the undersized towel. I had a crazy urge to open the door and flash my friends, but it was short-lived. I did giggle at the thought of their reactions, though. I'm honestly not sure which of us would have been more embarrassed.

As I rummaged in my dresser for underwear, Mark's voice boomed through the door.

"Hey, Sara, we'll be back in a few!"

My shoulders sagged, I always liked it when Mark and Jeff stopped by to chat. At least I could finish masturbating in peace. I abandoned the search for clothes and climbed onto my narrow bed, balancing a foot on the headboard. I reached to my limit and shifted a ceiling tile, my fingers landing on a purple, satin bag. Laying down on the bed, I opened it to find my well-used and much-appreciated vibrator. I wasn't ashamed that I used one, but Michelle's overreaching authority meant room inspections for contraband without warning. I didn't have anything verboten, but I didn't need her to find it and waive the purple baton around for the rest of the floor to see—which she absolutely would.

Immediately, I turned it on and plunged it inside me, gasping at the sensation. The pulse of the gadget made me squirm; I was desperate for another orgasm. I angled it to hit my G-spot inside while its auxiliary arm buzzed against my clitoris, my mind attributing the sensations to my gladiators. I was riding Blondie's long cock in reverse cowgirl while Dark-Hair crouched in front of us, licking my clit and the base of Blondie's cock as he thrust in and out of my wet pussy.

I buried my face in my pillow to muffle my screams of pleasure, the orgasm was satisfying...but not enough. I left the vibrator inside, my gladiators fucking me in every position I could think of—Blondie from behind while I sucked Dark-Hair off, 69ing with Blondie while Dark-Hair fucked me hard, Blondie occasionally taking his mouth off of my wet slit to suck on Dark-Hair's balls. One orgasm followed another until my pussy started to go numb. I lay in bed panting, still unable to find the deep satisfaction I'd experienced the night before.

A knock on my door pulled me from my stupor. In a flash, I stashed the vibrator in its hiding place, racing to throw on a tee shirt and sweat shorts and wrap my long, wet hair into a sloppy bun. I opened the door to find Mark and Jeff leaning on the doorframe with their forearms, and I could almost swear my gladiators had found me. My battered pussy tingled; I had to surreptitiously rub my thighs together to make sure I didn't drip any juices out of the leg of my shorts; I hadn't bothered with panties or a bra.

Then my mind cleared. Of course these weren't my gladiators! This was Mark and Jeff—best friends that had treated me like a best friend for years. Great guys that were studious, like me, but unlike me, also knew how to relax and have fun. Of course, I

was

staring into a set of sapphire eyes and a set of eyes as dark as coal...but the blue eyes here belonged to Jeff, who was

not

blonde, but had almost black hair, and the brown eyes belonged to Mark, whose sandy locks would never be described as dark. Then I realized.

"Hey! You guys shaved your heads! What's that about?"

They grinned at me simultaneously, making the heat in my belly twist again. How had I never realized how sharp their jawlines are? How their full lips were almost pouty, even when stretched into their brilliant smiles? I ushered them past me, and they headed for my twin bed that doubled as a sofa in the small room; the meager size of my dorm was offset by the fact it was one of the few singles in the building.

As they sat, I wondered if they'd be able to smell my sex—I was pretty sure I'd left behind at least a small puddle while wrestling with my vibrator just seconds before. If they did, they didn't say anything, which left me feeling surprisingly disappointed. I sat across from them on the swiveling chair at my desk, pulling my legs under me.

"So?"

They looked at each other sheepishly, then Jeff said,

"We decided to dye our hair blue this weekend."

"I'm sorry I missed that!" Sort of true, but technically a lie, because I'd never have traded my masquerade night for anything. "So how did you go from blue to bald?"

Mark this time.

"Because just after we did it, Jeff's dad called and said we were supposed to meet him at their country club to have lunch with some potential career contacts. We didn't have time to recolor, so

bzzzzt

."

I laughed. "At least you got a good story out of it."

Jeff tilted his chin at me. "How about you? How did the competition go?"

The forensic debate had gone very well, but it seemed like it had happened a million years ago. It took me a few seconds to remember.

"It was fine. The team took second overall, and I took first place in Oral Interpretations."

Why did it feel so deliciously naughty to say that? It was a real thing! And dear god,

why

did I find myself fantasizing about Mark and Jeff, of all people? It took genuine effort to not crawl onto my bed and kneel in front of them, stripping them down and sucking them deep into my mouth. My pussy gushed. I shook my head in an attempt to clear the

extremely

vivid images.

"So, yeah, it went well."

Jeff cleared his throat and I blushed. I hoped he couldn't tell what I was thinking about; I would die of embarrassment.

"Well? Hell, you did awesome! We need to go celebrate."

I know exactly how I want to celebrate, we just need to shut the door and get naked.

What was wrong with me??? I was lucky I hadn't said that out loud!

"Or did you do that while you were in Vegas?"

More heat rose to my cheeks and I shivered involuntarily. My wanton lust hardened my nipples, which I didn't realize were on full display—not only was I braless under the thin tee, but my wet hair had made the fabric damp and sheer before I'd pulled it up.

Mark and Jeff had always treated me like I was one of the guys, which was great, but it was times like this I realized I wasn't. Not really. If I were, I could brag about fucking two of the most gorgeous men I'd ever seen, giving graphic detail about their gorgeous cocks and every way they came inside me. As it was, I was tongue-tied. Our university wasn't small-town Utah, but there were still things a "good-girl" didn't do. Getting double-barreled by strangers was most certainly one of those things.

"Uh, yeah. I, uh, did some shopping. Great outlet malls in Vegas. I thought I'd treat myself."

With an amazing threesome.

"Cool. Well, I'm serious about celebrating. Let us take you dancing tonight."

I pictured myself pinned between them and almost moaned.

"I'm going to have to take a raincheck. The mini-vacay means I'm behind on a couple of assignments."

That wasn't a lie, but the more pressing issue was my barely-controlled libido. I couldn't trust myself to keep my hands off of them, and there was no way I was going to ruin two of the most important relationships in my life because I was ragingly, stupid horny. They were propped on my bed like they had been a thousand times before, knees to chests with their backs against the wall, mirroring each other unconsciously. All I could see were my gladiators, their bare chests gleaming beneath the leather straps that cut across their tight muscles, tunics riding high on their thighs, exposing their thick, meaty erections.

I needed a cold shower.

I needed to be spayed.

I tried to focus on who was actually in front of me, my friends, not my lovers.

"As a matter of fact, I need to get started on those assignments. Can we talk later?"

They looked disappointed, but I needed them to leave before I molested them and made a fool out of myself. We made non-committal plans and they left.

As they passed by me again, I inhaled as deeply as I could without looking weird. They both wore my favorite cologne, and I'd often wondered if that was why it was my favorite. Certainly my gladiators had cemented its spot at #1.

Am I ever going to be able to look at another man again without seeing a gladiator?

I hoped so, because Mark and Jeff were two of my best friends. My very best friends, if I was being honest with myself. They were the reason I still lived in the dorms—their spontaneous visits were always the best part of my day, and I liked being close enough for that to happen. They always seemed to know when I needed to be forced out of isolation and when to let me be solitary, when I needed to talk and when I wanted to listen. We laughed often, but beyond that, they were perfectly happy to just let me be me, and I loved sharing in their close friendship, however peripherally. I wasn't about to screw that up by hitting on them.

I looked at the closed door, leaning my forehead against the flimsy wood, wishing I didn't like their friendship quite so much. Then I locked the door and recovered my vibrator, hoping to quench some of the excess lust that threatened to burn me up completely.

Over the next week or so, there was a direct correlation between the drop of my sex drive and the rise of my regret. No matter how often I got myself off, or how detailed the fantasy, it wasn't enough. I looked around my classes, around the quad, around the student union building and the cafeteria, searching out potential flings for relief only to realize with a sharp pang in my chest that I didn't want to just get laid—I wanted my gladiators.

I had to throw myself into studying even more than I had before my fated trip to Las Vegas. Any time I allowed my mind to wander, it went back to their bodies, beautiful and muscular and naked and right at my fingertips.

That was actually the easy part to dwell on. The hard part was remembering how at ease I'd been with them, how

right

it felt to be between them, the three of us sharing something unequivocally exceptional. As much as I tried to convince myself that it was impossible, I couldn't, and it began to eat at me. My

heart

hurt, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it because I'd decided to be a badass and sneak away from the best thing that had ever happened to me in order to leave my mystique uncompromised.

Every morning I woke up wet to my knees from dreams of my gladiators fucking me blind, or crying because they were only dreams. There was no in between and at this point, neither was welcome. I just wanted to move on with my life, live as the goddess in the here and now, but my brain and my heart and my pussy were leading an effective campaign against that happening.

After almost a week and a half of my voluntary confinement, Mark and Jeff demanded my time; making it impossible to say no by asking for my help with assignments from Econ and Poli Sci classes we shared.

I tried to put on a brave face, meeting them in their room as I had so many times before, but they saw through it immediately. I brushed off their questions and attempted to focus on the projects, but it became readily apparent they'd feigned helplessness to draw me out of seclusion.

Did I mention how well they knew me? They definitely knew my weaknesses, too.

Growing weary of denying my state of, well, weariness, when they obviously knew I was lying, I finally relented. Sort of. I chose my words carefully, knowing that I could all too easily lay out needlessly lurid details. They'd never understand the depth of my feelings for not one, but two complete strangers.

I

didn't even understand it.

Sitting on the floor against Mark's bed while they sat across from me against Jeff's, I sighed heavily and rubbed my eyes. I couldn't look at them and talk about that perfect night. I didn't know how something so incredible could make me so damn sad! How was I supposed to explain it to them when I couldn't make sense of it myself? I closed my eyes and laid my head back onto Mark's bed, hoping that I'd make sense.

"Have you ever followed through with something that you thought you absolutely needed to do, but then later realized your choice was monumentally, epically stupid?"

They didn't respond, so I kept talking.

"I just...I did something that I knew I shouldn't be doing

while

I was doing it and I did it anyway. Like, I pushed myself to go ahead when every part of me was screaming to stop, and now I can't help thinking about what I

should

have done, or regretting what I

did

do, and it's eating me alive."

I rambled, desperate to hear them say it would be okay. Desperately wanting to believe it myself.

"It's killing me because I can't take it back or change what happened, and I'm afraid I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life."

Hot tears burned the backs of my eyes. I clenched my hands into hard fists, digging my nails into my palms to hold back actual waterworks. It was bad enough when it happened in private; Mark and Jeff didn't need to witness my blubbering. My voice was small.