Page 77 of Savage Daddies

Poet scoots me to the foot of the bed, and standing up in front of me, inserts what feels more like a hot steel rod.

His head rolls back. “God, Zoe.”

“Does it feel good?” asks Wrangler.

“Even better than before,” grunts Poet. He tenses his face.

It’s better than a fucking porno.

I could be a porn star. For them.

Exclusively for them.

Shit, I’d do anything for them.

Bullwhip walks around to my head, and my hands fight his zipper. As soon his pants fall down, I release his dick from, of course,blackboxers. Surprisingly, I’m still conscious enough to see the color.

I fondle his balls and insert his dick into my mouth.

It’s an explosion of flavors.

He tastes so fucking good.

He guides my head as I fit more of him in.

Wrangler squeezes both of my breasts, contorting the tissue like he’s kneading dough or something.

My bedroom walls close around me, and the next bellow of thunder crackles someplace distant, like it’s storming in the southern hemisphere, not right outside. Reality doesn’t exist anymore. Each time Poet thrusts, it fades just that little bit more.

Until my ears can no longer pick up the storm.

It’s kind of like sound waves. Human hearing only picks up a range, but the frequencies stretch far, making it impossible to pick up every single noise to ever exist. Scientists suggest that it’s not necessary to hear every single noise, so the human range spans from twenty hertz to two thousand for a reason—those are the only sound waves important to us.

Having sex with Poet has shortened my range significantly. It’s like nothing in the world matters, like nothing exists outside of this bedroom.

The only things my ears pick up are our aspirated breaths, and the men’s harmonizing moans coming together in symphony.

Poet loses rhythm. “I’m gonna come.”

“Me too.” I close my eyes as an orgasm crashes over me stronger than a high tide.

Poet fills me with his cum and then withdraws.

I prop myself up on my elbows and ask, “Who’s next?”

“You can go again?” Bullwhip chuckles.

“I could go all night.”

Bullwhip scoops up my body like I’m featherweight and turns me around, hands instructing me to stick out my ass, which I do gladly.

“Good.” He whips me, and I feel the cheek recoil.

That starts up the arousal again.

He enters me, and I arch my back to fit him in. Stretched out already, it’s easier to accommodate his even bigger size.

He begins slowly. But it’s deep.

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