You break every rule you have by letting them both in the apartment at once, but you don't care. You have more important things on your mind.
They stand one behind and one in front. They kiss you. Caress you. Their hands are all over you, and you love it. You wriggle in their embrace, tickled by their fingertips and the tingle between your legs.
The shorter man behind you is stocky and strong. He smells of the ocean, of oil and sweat. He's dressed in jeans and a nice shirt. You really only notice the bulge in his denim. He reaches down the sides of your legs and slides your dress up your body, rough fingers on smooth skin. Legs, thighs, hips, waist. His hands stop at your breasts, the dress bunched above his fingers. He squeezes your breasts through the cloth, and you feel the strength in him.
The man in front is taller, a little thin, perhaps, and slightly older. He looks as though he thinks for a living, rather than working with his hands. His dark suit is stylish and tidy. His eyes are possessive as he stares down at your almost bare thighs, your thin purple panties on show. Then he kneels without a word, his clean-shaven face serious with intent.
His hands are on your hips, and you like him staring at you. You jump though, when his lips touch the front of your panties. You know he can feel you. You know he can tell you're shaved. You know he's hard, without seeing him. You know, with a gush of desire, that he can see the wet patch, and you can feel him licking it, sliding his tongue up and down your slit as the other man lifts your dress off over your head.
The man behind you is still saying nothing, but he unclips your bra. As he removes it, releasing your breasts, the other man has hooked his thumbs in the sides of your panties. His tongue slides up your hairless slit through the panties, pressing hard, making sure you are taking notice. He slides his tongue back down as he lowers the panties off your hips, and by the time the wet purple cloth falls to your knees his tongue is sliding against you again, between your swollen labia, up and over your rigid clit.
Your first orgasm hits you hard, and the man behind you holds you up as the kneeling man slides his tongue deep inside your hot slippery wetness.
The tongue man holds your hips, and stops you from falling, while the man behind you lets go of you for just long enough to unclip, unzip and drop his trousers. You look behind you and can see how hard he is, and suddenly you realise how much you want him in you.
You mumble briefly about how you need something to lean on, and all three of you shuffle over towards the wall.
The man behind you is just the right height, and with the other man still holding you, and sitting between your legs, you lean against the wall, spread your knees a little, and invite the man and his hard cock between your sopping wet thighs, and up, inside you.
The tip of him feels delightful, and you drip incessantly as he teases you. His fingertips find your nipples. You shudder. You push against him in desperation. He chuckles, grabs you, and impales you carelessly on his solid girth. He's done this before. Casual sex is his natural state.
You grunt as he spreads you from the inside, and stand there, leaning against the wall, feeling him in you while you regain your breath. Then you start moving against him, loving the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, his hands on your shoulders, his chest against your back. You understand the rhythm. You understand the need. You massage him with your body, willing him to come. Just as he gets close, you feel something else.
The man sitting in front of you returns with his tongue. He licks you just like he did before, but you know he's also licking the other man's cock, and part of the slipperiness is his. You know it, and you feel it, and you love it so much that you come again just as the cock inside you explodes. You come harder than the first time. Harder, more emphatically, and you feel oh-so-dirty.