Chapter 3

“You want us to what?” said Kyle.

Pete grinned. “It’s like in that porno Rob downloaded the other week. She wants one of us to bang her arsehole, while the other—”

“Fucks my sweet cunt. You got it. So, what do you say?”

There was a moment’s silence. Pete looked at his friend expectantly. Kyle shrugged. “Why not?”

Pete grinned. “Excellent.” He looked around the room. “Here on the desk? Or on the floor?”

“I think the floor would be better. I’d hate to have to explain to the boss on Monday morning why the desk collapsed.”

“Fine, by me,” said Pete. “As long as I get your arse.”

“You can have it, mate,” said Kyle. “I’d rather my cock didn’t stink of shit, thank you very much.”

“I’ll have you know, my shit smells sweeter than most. Now get on the floor, Blondie,” she ordered. “Come on, hurry up. I still want to get to Ritzy’s tonight.”

Kyle threw himself down and held his cock pointing straight up as she straddled him and lowered herself onto it. She sighed as his purple knob touched her swollen lips and moaned as she sank down and her pussy stretched to accommodate him once more.

She settled into a comfortable position, rocked back and forth a few times and then looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows to Pete. She flicked her head in a ‘come hither’ gesture and he stepped forward and grinned. He knelt behind her, his knees on the floor between Kyle’s, and rubbed his prick against her puckered arsehole. She closed her eyes and nodded to signal her readiness for his entry.

But as he pushed into her she cried, “Ow. Ow. Fuck! That hurts.” She grimaced and tried to scramble away from the would-be invader, which was difficult because she was trying to keep Kyle in her cunt at the same time. “Wait. I said, wait, you little shit. Damn”

“What? This was your idea.”

“I know, I know, but I haven’t had anyone back there in a while. I think we just need some lube. Okay? There’s some hand cream in my desk drawer. That should do the trick. That one over there.”

“Hand cream? Will that be any good?”

“It’ll have to do—it’s all I’ve got. I might be a slut and I might be a stereotype, but I don’t fucking carry KY in my handbag just in case I feel the need to get fucked up the arse. Now go get the damn hand cream, or put your fucking clothes on and piss off.”

Pete hurried over to her desk and Carla couldn’t help but giggle at how his cock bounced in front of him as he ran. He pulled open a drawer and stared into it.

“Next one down,” she said as she slowly rocked on Kyle’s prick while he sucked on one tit and pawed at the other.

He slammed the drawer shut, opened the next one, reached inside then slammed that one shut too. Moments later, he was kneeling behind Carla and pouring and a generous amount of her strawberry scented hand cream on her arsehole. From underneath, Kyle pulled her cheeks apart and she shivered as the cream ran down her crack.

“Put some on your dick too,” she said. “Get it nice and slippy.”

Pete greased up his cock and then set about working the head past her sphincter and into her bowels. She screamed as her rear entrance was stretched and filled and gasped for breath when he was fully buried in her anal chute.

“Oh! My! Fucking! God! Shit! So fucking full! Give me a sec to get used to this, boys. Okay? Then you can pound the living shit out of me.”

Pete and Kyle paid no attention to her instructions. Between them, they fucked her ass and her cunt and proceeded to rock her body through one orgasm after another. She didn’t even notice when Pete popped his cock out and shot his spunk over her arse.