Fucked Three Ways from Sunday

“I can’t sleep. How am I going to sleep? I think I’m wired.”

I tossed, huffing and sighing in bed next to John Brownstone who tried (in vain) to read his book. He set his Kindle on the nightstand.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Were you trying to read? I’m distracting you aren’t I? Don’t worry about me. Go ahead and read. I’ll lay here quietly. I promise….really.”

I thought I heard a “yeah right” but the moment was lost when he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his chest. He wrapped his hand around my knee to spread my legs apart. I resisted.

No, I don’t know why either.

“Spread those legs for me, girl. Now.”

I squealed and giggled, blushing and hiding behind my hands. “I want to but, but…” I had no words.

“But what?”

“What if I can’t handle it?”

“Oh, you will. Give me access to that pussy…now.”

My breath hitched in my throat as I opened my legs, granting him the access he’d demanded.

SMACK!

His hand came down across my slit. I jumped and yelped. Several times more, he smacked my pussy. The pain was minimal. It was the wetness seeping from my body that mattered.

He pressed his thumb into my clit. I rocked my pelvis back and forth, finding my pleasure from that small, but firm, touch. Until he pulled his hand away and brought his palm down with a loud crack.

I shrieked and cringed, but my legs did not close.

Rubbing and stroking my body again, I began to convulse as he touched me, feebly attempting to beg for the orgasm about to flatten me. I barely heard his growled “Yes” when my muscles tightened and my thighs clamped down on his hand again. I writhed on the bed, my climax rolling through my body.

As I caught my breath, he came up on his knees, pulling me to the center of the bed, parting my legs and pushing them back to my shoulders. He entered with a smooth thrust. I squealed underneath him, my arms wrapping around his waist, hands stroking his back, as he fucked me. Hard.

The bed squeaked. So did I.

My nails raked along his back. His strokes came faster and harder. I melted. Time stopped.

He pulled back so I could wrap my legs around his waist. His speed and motion never slowed. I moaned, my eyes rolling back in my head.

Pulling out with a small pop, he leaned back, grabbed my ankles, and flipped me over. On my knees, doggy-style. God damn it had been too long.

I cried out as he entered. Somehow I was impossibly tighter than before. The length of his shaft rubbed my pussy and pounded into my g-spot until I wanted to weep with need. His fingers gripped my hips in a bruising crush. He pushed my head down into the bed, forcing my back to arch further.

Just as a small, improbable g-spot orgasm beckoned, he pulled out again. This time, he pushed me to my side. Oh yes, our favorite position – my bottom spooned into against his pelvis. My body welcomed him back. The sensations were new again and no less overwhelming. The small orgasm that I thought may have flickered out came roaring back to life.

Each stroke, each thrust stoked my own internal fire. My body began to tense and clutch around his cock. I heard a satisfied chuckle in the midst of my moans and shrieks.

Finally…”You feel so fucking goooooooooooood!” On his last deep thrust, my pussy clenched around his shaft in a shuddery, earthquaky orgasm, milking him dry, and pulling a final, “Holy fuuuuuuuuuuck” from him.

Later, when we’d cleaned up and caught our breath, I said, “I think I can sleep now, Daddy.”

“You damn well better, girl. I just fucked you three ways from Sunday.”

Welcome to Masturbation Monday! Yes, he really did, and if either of us had more stamina, maybe we could have made it to six ways from Sunday as the colloquialism goes. But three was enough. I slept like a rock, lol. Okay, go forth my smut-loving friends and see what other writers have in store for you this week – especially with this week’s hot-as-fuck prompt (if you like M/M/M).

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