Page 123 of Savage Daddies

Poet situates himself on the couch between Zoe’s legs and thrusts into her so hard that her breasts jiggle. She sings the most wonderful tune.

Bullwhip and I raise her legs up above her head, almost folding her over. She’s surprisingly flexible.

“Suck my nipples, one of you, please.”

Bullwhip obeys, and rolls the blushed nubs through his fingertips.

I insert my hand between her legs, minding Poet’s dick, and locate her clit.

Her eyes screw shut, and her lips part in ecstasy. “YES! YES! YES!”

“That’s it, darling.” Poet grabs her hips and drags her closer to him. “Let go and come for us. That’s a sweet girl.”

His thrusts become erratic.

Zoe flings a hand behind her to clutch the back of the couch.

“One of you, in my mouth. Now.”

Bullwhip is too mesmerized with her breasts, so I volunteer as tribute and insert my dick into her pretty little mouth. Despite the small size, she accommodates me well, length fitting into her throat no problem.

Her cries become muffled.

Slowly, I thrust in and out of her mouth.

She moans, and it vibrates the tip of my cock.

“Come, darling. That’s it,” says Poet.

She squirts then, and oh my god, it’s the hottest thing I’ve seen in life.

“You look so beautiful when you come undone, darling,” says Bullwhip, continuing with her breasts.

Poet pounds into her even faster, and grits his teeth, chasing his own orgasm. “Turn around, baby. I want to come all over your ass.”

She flips in an instant, baring her two cheeks. I can’t help but spank her, and this elicits a surprising moan out of her.

Poet withdraws. And releases.

“Mmmmm,” sighs Zoe. “That feels so good.”

My own arousal then catches up to me, and I see stars as I come for the second time today, all over her bare ass.

It’s gonna be a long night.

Breath returning to normal, Zoe crashes into the couch and shuts her eyes. “Oh my god.” There’s not much left of her voice. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

“There’s no need to,” Wrangler says. “You’re welcome to stay here for however long you need, no stress at all.”

A tired smile rounds out her cheeks. “Thanks guys.”

We should get cleaned up, but we need five minutes first—I imagine all four of us piling into the shower will result in another round.

Outside, the moon shines bright, and stars fleck across the sky.

I never thought I’d feel love again after Sheila, or get over her death, but here we are. Time is a funny thing, and every time Zoe removes her clothes, I lose track of it completely.

Time used to mean everything to me. It marked the anniversary of Sheila’s death, and measured how long she’d been gone for. Counting the years commemorated her in some way, and was a way of helping me remember her.

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