Chapter 11

Eventually Jamal does stop. For breathless, dead-silent seconds we remain coupled that way, floating together someplace far above the tawdry nightclub that our bodies inhabit. Then he rises, and slurps free.

I can tell that I’m gaping open down there, and the sensation is one of being empty and adrift and abandoned. But I’m reassured when Jamal heaves into my frame of view, towering above me where I remain flattened on the tabletop. The triumphant expression on his face contains more than a hint of self-congratulation. “Damn girl, you are one fine piece of ass”—and he gives my actual ass a whack to emphasize the point.

Hmm, maybe he didn’t find our copulation to be as deep and poignant as I did. He probably bangs hotter chicks than me all the time—probably has a cool, sexy girlfriend and I’m just a bonus fuck on the side. Still, I smile weakly back up at him through my messy bangs. I did have fun too.

He leans in a little closer. “You doing all right Jess? Up for a little more?”

It’s hard to muster the energy to speak. “Yeah I’hhm good. Thirssty.” Instantly, as if by magic, someone puts a drink in my hand. I know I should have water, and this isn’t that. But it’s frosty and fruity and strong, so I raise my head a little and pour it down, taking big, greedy gulps. It’s hard to drink at this angle, and some of it dribbles onto the table.

When I’m done, Jamal takes my glass, and I collapse again. Then, without hesitating, he curves one big hand tenderly around behind my neck, and shifts forward, so that the end of his cock kisses my lips. Even after all this, he’s still quite hard. And as his phallus fills my vision, I find my earlier impressions confirmed: Jamal is staggeringly well-endowed. His thing is a dark walnut color, uncut, graceful, imposing, and oh, so big. It’s the sort of dick that starts out wide, and then just gets a little wider and a little wider, all the way to the base. The words ‘divine instrument’ flit through my head, eliciting another giggle out of me.

Realizing what he’s after, I open my mouth and allow him to snake it inside, just a few inches. The glide of my lips over his shaft causes the organ to jerk and swell with renewed arousal. Strawberry daquiri and pussy and semen mingle on my taste-buds—tangy, verdant, intoxicating—and I suck onto him more eagerly, caressing his glans with my tongue. Groaning with satisfaction, he strokes his free hand affectionately along my jawline, all the while swaying gently back and forth, using my face to gratify himself.

Despite the fact that I’m plastered down onto the table, I keep having these waves of dizziness spill over me. Also, my eyelids seem to want to drift shut. I decide that’s ok, though, and I’m just about to let them, when a fresh development suddenly snaps me back to myself. There something going on behind me. First, a brief sensation of movement, and then ... an object starts shoving its way into my passage.

For a split-second, I feel perilously out of control. One hears stories of drunken women in bars where matters get out of hand. But almost at once it becomes clear that the object is a penis, and I relax. I mean, I hadn’t bargained on that. Certainly hadn’t agreed to it. But at least it is among the category of things that are supposed to go in there. And now that it has, I can’t honestly say that I mind. I guess I really am up for more fucking.

I’m unable to speak with Jamal’s cock in my mouth; but I dart a sidelong glance at him while all of this is racing through my mind. Catching the gist, he gives the nape of my neck a reassuring squeeze. “‘Don’t worry, just my man Parker.” Ah, one of the finance bros, dark-haired, didn’t make much of an impression on me. “You don’t mind if he takes a shot at you, huh.”

Um ... that wasn’t really inflected as a question. And, given how the anonymous body behind me has already started slapping up against the back of my thighs, it seems ‘Parker’ is well on the way to taking his shot, whether I mind or not.

Nevertheless, I sort of bob my head a little at Jamal—signaling acquiescence the best I can under the circumstances. For my own sake, at least, I want to feel like this was a choice.

And, to the extent I had any say in the matter at all, I quickly decide that this choice was the right one. My pussy is still so wet and engorged and sensitized that this new penis slides into me easily. Almost too easily, in fact. Either Parker is a good bit smaller than Jamal, or I’m badly stretched out. I miss the friction from before; and yet, there is a certain perverse pleasure to how effortlessly this new cock glides in and out of me—how whorishly open I am to it—and I lean into that.

I’m still so aroused, so extraordinarily wired-up, that I know it will take next to nothing for me to climax again. And suddenly, I find myself enormously greedy for it.

Yes, this is wonderful. Parker is fucking me fast—not forcefully or hungrily like Jamal, but with a clean, incessant, staccato clap-clap-clap against my ass. Meanwhile, I go on servicing the dick in my mouth as best I can, amidst the quivering jostle of getting plowed. Jamal doesn’t seem to mind the fitful nature of the blowjob, and I suppose he likes the view.

As for me, my brain is tingling, seething, frothing. Added to the orchestral symphony playing out in my crotch, are the delicate accents and grace notes of cock on my lips, tongue, palate. But spicier than all of that is the utter debasement of it. Oh my God: I, Jessica L. Tanner, am taking a man at each end, like some porn actress. Spit-roasted. Bareback. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could be this girl!

Fuck, it’s just too obscene—and at that thought, I go tumbling straight into another bout of ecstasy. “Mh-mh-mh-mh-mh MMMHMMmmhmmmhmmmhhh!” My eyeballs roll back; as high-pitched mewls and whimpers come welling up in my breast, seeping out muffled around the hinderance of Jamal’s shaft. My brain has split wide open, and the resulting chasm is filled with the crackle and burst and tingle of little bubbles of joy, like champagne when it gets in your nose. And they don’t stop, or even slow down, but just go fizzing on and on and on.

I’ve never conceived of anything like this. There’s so much happening that I can’t possibly keep track of it all, but must simply allow it to flow over and through me. Parker spikes into my vagina and slaps my ass. Jamal thrusts into my mouth and ruffles my hair. And my heart, my heart keeps boiling over with fresh waves of euphoria and abandon. I’m so desired. I’m so depraved. It’s so wonderful.

There comes a point, rather unexpectedly, when I hear a low rumble in Jamal’s throat, feel his fingers tense against the back of my head. Then, all at once, a slimy, salty gush of heat spills into my mouth. Given that this is not my sort of thing, at all, I expect to be grossed out by it. But strangely, at this particular moment, it feels marvelous, as if I’ve just scored a coup of some kind. Like the final-tally of the evening will be measured in ounces and gallons of cum, and I just made a touchdown.

My own orgasm has begun to subside. Yet, the gentle, effervescent aftershocks of it continue to judder through my uterus, and they lie comfortably alongside the throb of Jamal’s release. Two parts of a harmonious and satisfying whole. Steadily, unhurriedly, his dick twitches and pulses, decanting out the contents of his balls. And given that the man already came in my cunt less than half an hour ago, it’s surprising how much he still has to offer.

I allow the liquid to pool on my tongue until it seems like he’s slowing down. Then, rolling it around my mouth, I swallow. I never did that before. It feels like an oyster, or a raw egg sliding down my throat.

Next, even before the financier is done, I sense that his co-worker has begun ejaculating too, adding his seed to Bryan’s and Jamal’s in the growing lake collecting in my womb. So, I set my hips free to convulse. Bucking and grinding, they do their level best to milk the enigmatic Parker—coaxing every last potent drop, from the prick of a man whose face I can’t even conjure right now.

I think there must be something beautiful about this moment. About three human beings, with very little in the world to bind them, all coming together and climaxing in unison like this. It makes me want to sob with joy. I never even knew to want something like this.

When Jamal tugs free from my mouth, I open my eyes. I’m surprised to see that he’s holding up a phone. I guess someone must have handed it to him at some point. “Makinn a recordinng?” My lips are floppy, and it causes me to talk silly.

“No big deal, babe. A little keepsake is all.”

I don’t know. I don’t think he’s supposed to be doing that. But I’m trying not to be the type of girl who spoils things by saying no, so I decide it should be okay.