Page 48 of Watch Me

He lifts me up by my ass, effortlessly carrying me as he turns around and lays back so that I’m on top now, straddling him, one knee on either side of his hips. To my right, I can see the side window, and the faces looking through at us seem to blend with our own reflection.

I start riding him, moving up and down on his cock exactly in the way that I want to feel it, getting hotter and hotter as I exaggerate my movements for my audience, tossing my head back and placing the palms of my hands on his hard chest for balance. The bull lifts his hands to my breasts, fondling them as they bounce, and then I feel the warmth of David’s hands on my hips from behind, his body against my back as he lifts my hair and kisses my neck.

I’ve never had a threesome before, but David’s touch feels natural—essential, even. The bull digs fingers into my hips, pulling me down against him as he pumps into me, while I let my weight fall backwards against David’s chest. It’s such a surrender. My gaze gets unfocused, everything is feeling and sensation, and soon I don’t know whose hands are whose, only that hands are cupping my breasts, brushing my nipples, holding my hips—four hands exploring my body, and it feels like they must belong to the bull beneath me. As if it’s a function of his size and power that he can touch me everywhere at once. When I realize that one of the hands is rubbing slick lubricant against my asshole, I try to arch my back and lift my ass as much as I can, because it makes perfect sense. Four hands, two cocks, and I want as much as I can get.

“I want him inside of you, too,” grunts the bull, his voice taut, strained with the labor of speaking through his own torturous pleasure. Why is arousal so close to agony? “I want him in your ass.”

Of course. Of course. The connection between us feels so heightened, so supernatural, that it no longer feels necessary to speak at all. My answer is a hitched breath and the responding wetness that makes the bull moan underneath me. The idea of having two cocks inside me at the same time has me panting in anticipation, but David pauses, his breath against my ear, and his hard length pressed against me.

“Is this okay, sweetheart?” he rasps. “I need you to say it.”

“Yes.” Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Yes. “Fuck me.”

I don’t know my own voice. It’s all breath, sounds barely forming on the air, but then I feel David’s cock move, his swollen head seeking the soft spot where my flesh gives, and I stop moving. The bull holds still, and then David is pushing, pushing through the tight ring.

“Fuck yes,” cries the bull, helplessly, as David penetrates me. David runs a hand up my throat, wrapping his fingers around my neck and kissing my shoulder while I whimper through the exquisite sensation. And then he’s in. Both men are inside of me, fucking me, and slowly, slowly, they both start to move.

“Hold still,” says the bull. “Yes, good girl. Oh, good fucking girl.”

I do as I’m told, holding in place until the rhythm becomes natural, until I don’t have to think about it anymore, and then it’s just happening. We’re all moving in an instinctive, effortless rhythm, and it’s the most intense physical sensation I’ve ever felt.

I have the strongest urge to kiss the bull, to pull his mask up and feel his mouth. Instead, I stare at him, as if his non-face were a face, and imagine that he’s staring right back at me. I can hardly believe it because I’ve already come twice, but soon, pressure is mounting inside of me with every stroke until, like a dam, it bursts. My vision swims and I cling to the bull as I ride the wave, my fingers digging into his hard, muscular shoulders, my body rocked by a nuclear blast. I’m an atom splitting, I’m searing with a white heat, and just as a violent convulsion rocks my body, the bull cries out, a wild, guttural roar, and his hips start bucking underneath me. I lean forward and rest my head on his shoulder, my nose just under his ear as David pumps faster, gritting out, “Oh, fuck,” with every thrust until he falls over my back and grunts, his cock shuddering inside of me.

I could stay this way forever, collapsed onto the broad, muscled chest of an anonymous animal, every cell spinning and buzzing, pure oxytocin coursing through my veins.

Maybe, just maybe, I am ready to move on from Nick. Sex is amazing. Even if I don’t fall in love as hard as I did with Nick, there can be other men. I can still feel something. I can still feel this.

Finally, the bull’s cock starts to soften. David pulls back, and there’s a slipping, alarming feeling as he carefully pulls out. I hear him walk away, the tap running in the sink, and unwillingly, I lift my head off the bull’s shoulder, as he holds the condom in place and pulls himself out of me. I swing my leg over him, and dismount unsteadily from the bed.

“Fucking beautiful, darling,” says David, catching me by the elbow. He pulls me in for a hug, just the way he might hug me at home when I’ve had a long day and need support, and I lean into the familiarity, guiltily wondering if I feel familiar to him, too.

“Thank you,” says the bull, standing up from the bed and wrapping one arm around my shoulder, kissing the top of my head. After the closeness we’ve shared, he feels familiar, too. “I needed that.”

I feel the exact same way. I could never explain how much.

And then the fantasy comes to an abrupt halt.

“Shall we hit the showers?” suggests David, in one sentence puncturing the balloon of suspended reality I’ve been in for the past few hours.

I can’t shower with him. I can’t even talk, and I can’t take off my mask. If I didn’t want David to know I snuck into the club, I most certainly don’t want him to know that the intimacy he just shared with a stranger wasn’t actually with a stranger at all.

So I shake my head, pursing my lips to show regret.

“No?” he says with disappointment and surprise.

I shake my head again.

For a heart-stopping moment, he’s looking at me too closely again, cocking his head like he’s trying to figure something out, and then he straightens up and says, “I hope we didn’t steal you away from anybody tonight.”

Ah—he’s wondering if I’m here with a partner.

No. I shake my head. I pick the pieces of my bathing suit up from the floor where they’re laying on either side of David’s codpiece and hurriedly tie and clip them back on.

Suddenly, David’s hand is on my elbow—I almost jump. “Do you have a name?” he asks.

I shake my head again, pulling back. The bull, naked and magnificent, watches the interaction, his thoughts unknowable.

“Sorry,” I manage, in a quiet voice.

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