Page 85 of The Preachers' Promise
Ophelia swings her leg and settles above us.
“That’s it, good girl,” I praise. “Slide down over us.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Just take it slowly. We can stop if you need to.”
She lowers herself. She’s facing Cain, her hands on his big shoulders to keep herself steady. He grabs her hip with his free hand. I wish she was facing me, so I could look in her eyes asshe stretches around us both, but the sight of her ass more than makes up for it.
Her pussy meets the tips of our cocks, and she drops lower, hissing air over her teeth. “The stretch… it burns.”
“Keep going,” Cain growls.
She’s so wet and stretched that she manages to slide lower.
“Oh, fuck.”
When we first met Ophelia, she didn’t swear. Hearing those words pass her lips now, and filled with so much emotion, turns me on even more.
“This is so fucking hot,” Cain groans. “I’m not going to last long.”
I know exactly what he means. The feeling of her walls clamping around us both is incredible. The heat of two bodies pressed against my dick is almost too much to take. There’s something about doing this with us all in masks, except Ophelia, which allows us to push the boundaries further. This way, we can pretend we’re not who we are, or at least that we are something more in this moment. We are darker, more elemental, something of a different plane. This isn’t my best friend’s cock I have compressed to mine, with Ophelia’s pussy wrapped around us both. It’s a masked man, a stranger.
I don’t know if we’re going to get much deeper, but that’s okay. It’s enough for us to feel her as she lifts herself slightly then slides back down. She lowers another inch and whimpers. I don’t think I’m going to manage much more. I’m fighting every instinct not to buck my hips and fuck into her, but I know if I do, I’ll lose my precarious position with Cain, and we’ll both probably slide out of her.
Because Cain is facing her, he touches her face, her lips. He can’t kiss her because of the mask, but I can see from the holes where his eyes are that he’s completely focused on her. We help her move between us, me with my hands on her ass, his with oneon her hip while he still grips our cocks together at the base with the other.
“Oh, ooh, no… I can’t,” she whimpers.
But Cain moves his hand to between her thighs and applies pressure to her clit. He keeps moving his finger over her, and soon she’s panting and moaning. It doesn’t take long to work her into a state of desperate need. She’s a deeply sexual woman, despite having spent so many years suppressing it, or maybe because of that.
There’s a slapping sound, and I realize Cain has gently smacked her clit. He does it again, and then a third time.
Shelosesit, and, instead of taking it nice and slow, she pushes herself down on our cocks, fucking us hard. She takes us to the hilt, then lifts again and slams back down.
A strangled cry escapes her.
“I’m coming…oh, fuck…I can’t…” Her words turn into a wail as she bounces up and down on us. Cain and I remain locked together. Timing is everything now, because we need this to happen at the same time. If one of us comes too early and grows soft inside her, it’ll make this difficult.
“I’m close,” I tell him.
“Fuck, yes,” he groans. “Me, too.”
Ophelia’s pussy pulses around us, and she tosses her head back, crying out.
From the corner, Roman mutters, “Fuck,” and comes into his hand.
Then Cain lets out a guttural roar, and his cock jerks against mine. It’s enough for me to lose it, and pleasure soars up from my balls, searing up my spine, and ejecting from my cock. I come, emptying inside Ophelia, my semen joining Cain’s as we flood her pussy. Ophelia jerks and shudders around us, her pussy fluttering and pulsing. We remain locked together as the last vestiges of her orgasm flow through her.
We all fall into one another, sweating and breathing hard.
Holy shit. That was…something.
I remember what’s happened on some of the occasions we’ve fucked her before. How the Prophet’s voice came back to her, probably manifested by her inner guilt at having sex.
“Hear any voices, baby?” I ask between my pants for breath, brushing a lock of her pale hair from her neck.
She lifts her head from Cain’s shoulder and angles it slightly, then gives a shake of her head. “No. All quiet.”
