Page 38 of The Alpha: Part One
I giggle again. “What should the next picture be?” I hum the question. It’s rhetorical. I already know what picture I want to send next. It’s tricky, everything’s slippery and I’m trying hard to not drop my phone into the tub, but I get a fantastic picture of my hand squeezing one of my breasts, pushing it against the other one. The edge of my nipple is barely visible between my fingers and the full curve of my other breast is delicious, if I do say so myself.
“Are you going to make yourself cum in the shower, baby?” Ben asks. “Didn’t you say Seth was in the living room? That’s just a few feet from the bathroom door. He’ll hear every sound you make while you touch yourself.”
That gives me pause. Part of me worries that it might bother Seth to know what I’m doing in here, I don’t want to trigger him. But another part of me relishes the idea of him listening, maybe stroking himself to the thought and sound of me. Maybe it will be different if he knows I’m alone as opposed to when I was in heat. Maybe the heat is what set him off to begin with.
“You know he wants you, right? I can see it every time he looks at you.” Michael purrs, fueling my own fantasy of Seth sitting out there on the couch, hard and eager while I let the twins talk me through an orgasm…or three. As many as I can have before the water goes cold.
“You like that don’t you, baby?” Ben picks up. “I can tell from the way you're breathing. You like him wanting you. You’d love it if all three of us sat in a row and watched you.”
I hit send on the picture. “I’d love to see all three of you sitting in a row doing way more than watching me.”
“Jesus, Desie. Why are you so evil?” Ben hisses. “I’m so hard that it hurts, and every picture you send is worse than the last.”
I laugh again. “Wait until I switch the call to video.”
“Oh god, please, Desie. Don’t. I can only take so much. I don’t give a shit about the interior of this truck,” Michael groans. The image of him adjusting himself through his pants flashes in my mind and I sigh. Something about them hard and aching with need all for me, straining against their zippers makes slick drip down my thighs.
Speaking of thighs, I push my hand between mine; covering my mound with my palm but making it obvious that my middle finger is tight between my lips, pressing and sliding slickly over my clit, then I hold my phone in front of me to get a good picture. I don’t take my hand away, though; I let my slippery finger slip inside me. Just a little.
“You’re touching your pussy, aren’t you?” Ben asks.
I send the picture. “How did you know?” I drag my fingertips across and around my clit again, moaning into the phone.
“Fuck,” Michael growls, Ben giving a similiar, rough curse.
“Don’t stop,” Michael urges. “Finger yourself, describe it to us, let us hear you cum all over your own hand.”
“I want to see you, too,” I whine.
“We can’t right now, baby. There are too many people around. We’ll give you a good show when we get home, I swear,” Ben promises.
I huff a disappointed breath. I know it’s crowded where they are, that they have little to no real privacy, but it would be so hot to see pictures of them fisting their cocks. Just the thought of it has me biting into my lip, which would be wonderful for the next picture, so I take it and send it off.
“What are you thinking about right now that’s got you making that face?” Ben laughs.
“Watching you jerk off,” I say honestly.
“Damn, Des. Maybe I’ll send you a few pictures. I’m not as shy as Benny. I don’t care who sees my dick, so long as you keep saying shit like that.” I can almost hear Michaels zipper lowering.
I circle my clit again, quietly moaning as I imagine Michael unbuttoning his jeans and dragging down the zipper, pulling out his already rock hard cock, precum shining as it drips from the tip.
“Tell us what you’re doing,” Michael husks.
The strain in his voice causes me to moan again, and I press my fingers against my swollen clit, easing the ache as much as worsening it. “I’m rubbing my clit. I’m so achy. I need you.”
“Put the phone on the wire shelf, baby. You need both hands,” Ben says, his tone tight. “I want you to pull at your nipples the way we do when we fuck you.”
We’ve done this before when they’ve had to be on-site. It’s obviously not as good as them physically being with me, especially not now that we have a bond to nurture, but it’ll have to be enough until they come home. We should probably invest in one of those suction cup caddies so I feel better about putting my phone down with the shower running; but it’ll be secure enough in the slotted wooden tray in the meantime.
I do just what Ben said. It feels so good to rub and pluck my sensitive nipples between my fingers and a soft sound of pleasure tumbles from my mouth.
“That’s our good girl,” Ben praises. “I’ll bet you’re all slippery. I love running my hands all over you when you’re covered in soap.”
I imagine the feel of Ben’s rough palms slipping across my body, sliding over my breasts, my hips, my thighs. I love being taken in the shower. It’s so warm and steamy, and everything feels so much more sensitive because of the water. I like being lifted up and squished between them while they take turns pushing inside of me. I love how our bodies feel slipping against each other.
“I wish you were here,” I sigh, lifting my foot to rest my toes on the edge of the tub while I slide one of my hands back down to my pussy. Between the slick and the soap, my fingers glide easily over my clit.
Michael groans again when I do. “I want you to let us fuck you again, at the same time. I’ll be so easy, Desie. It’ll feel so good in the shower.”
