"Look at her," Marcus breathes, his eyes dark pools of hunger. "Look at this fucking body."
"I am," Mr. Callahan says, setting my phone aside. He pats the cushion on the floor between their spread legs. "Sit."
I sink down, my back to them, the plush carpet soft under my ass. For a moment, there's only the sound of my own shaky breath and the thrum of my pulse in my ears. Then their hands are on me.
Mr. Callahan's large, warm palms land on my shoulders, pulling me back to lean against his shins. At the same time, Marcus's hands slide around my waist from the front, his fingers splaying possessively over my soft belly. Their mouths find my neck at the same instant—Mr. Callahan on the right, Marcus on the left. Wet, open-mouthed kisses, then the sharp, sweet pain of teeth.
I gasp, my head lolling back. They're not gentle. Their hands move over me, groping, squeezing, claiming. Mr. Callahan's palms slide down from my shoulders, over the curves of my heavy tits. He cups them through the tiny bikini top, his thumbs finding the hard, pierced nubs beneath the fabric and rubbing hard, in rough circles. A whimper escapes my lips.
"Listen to that," Marcus murmurs against my throat, his voice a rumble I feel in my bones. His hands slide lower, over the black lace of my thong, his fingers pressing firmly against the swollen mound of my pussy. "She's already whimpering for us."
Mr. Callahan's hand leaves my tit and comes down in a sharp, stinging slap right over the thin fabric covering my clit. The shock of it makes me cry out, my hips jerking forward into Marcus's waiting hands. "Such a responsive little slut," Mr. Callahan says, his voice thick with approval. He slaps me there again, a little harder, the sting blossoming into a deep, throbbing heat. "Look how wet she's getting. Can you feel it, Marcus?"
"Oh, I can feel it," Marcus groans, rubbing his palm over my lace-covered slit. The fabric is instantly soaked, a dark patch spreading. "She's fucking dripping. Her cunt is leaking through this pretty little scrap."
Their hands are everywhere, roaming over my body—kneading the soft flesh of my hips, digging into the meat of my thighs, squeezing my ass cheeks through the thin straps of the thong. They leave a trail of sharp, sucking kisses and love bites along my neck and shoulders, marking me. I'm blushing so hard my skin feels on fire, a mixture of shame and dizzying, overwhelming arousal.
"Pull her thong to the side," Mr. Callahan orders, his breath hot in my ear.
Marcus hooks his fingers in the side strap of the red lace and tugs, hard. The thin material digs into the soft flesh of my hip, stretching tight and pulling the crotch aside to expose me. The cool air hits my bare, swollen lips and I moan, my hips rocking forward involuntarily.
"Fuck, look at that," Mr. Callahan says, his voice a harsh whisper. His hand slides down my front, his thumb brushing over my clit, which is already peeking out, hard and eager. "Her pussy lips are so fucking puffy. Like two fat, dark pink petals just begging to be spread."
"Let's see those tits," Marcus growls.
In one synchronized motion, Mr. Callahan pulls the strings of my bikini top, untying it. He drags the flimsy fabric down, baring my heavy breasts completely. The cool air makes my pierced nipples pull into even tighter, aching points. Marcus leans forward immediately, his mouth latching onto my left breast, sucking the full weight of it into his hot mouth. At the same moment, Mr. Callahan ducks his head and takes my right nipple between his lips.
I cry out, my back arching, pushing my tits harder into their faces. The dual sensation is incredible—Marcus's tongue is broad and flat, laving over my areola, while Mr. Callahan's is more precise, flicking rapidly over the metal barbell piercing my nipple. Their hands keep roaming—Marcus's slides between my spread thighs, his fingers stroking through my soaked folds, while Mr. Callahan's hand palms my tit, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.
My legs fall open wider, resting on the outside of their thighs. I'm completely open, completely exposed, being devoured from both sides. The sounds are filthy—wet, sucking noises from their mouths on my tits, the slick slide of Marcus's fingers against my pussy, my own ragged moans filling the room.
"Moan for me, honey," Marcus commands, his voice muffled against my skin. He pushes a thick finger inside me, and I gasp, my inner walls clenching around him. "Moan 'Marcus' for me. Let me hear you say my name while your neighbor's tongue is on your tit."
"Oh, god… Marcus," I whimper, the name a broken sigh.
"Good girl," Mr. Callahan praises, releasing my nipple with a wet pop. He looks up at Marcus, a dark, shared smile passing between them. "You've trained her well, haven't you? Made her into such an obedient little fuck toy."
Marcus slides a second finger into my tight, wet heat, stretching me. "She's a natural, marcus. Born to be used. Look how her cunt sucks my fingers in. So fucking greedy."
Mr. Callahan's hand leaves my breast and smacks my clit again, this time his fingers lingering to rub the stinging, sensitized nub. "Yes, she is. A very, very obedient girl." The praise, wrapped in such filthy words, makes me clench hard around Marcus's fingers. A fresh gush of wetness coats his hand.
They both stand up abruptly, leaving me panting and aching on the floor. I watch, dazed, as they strip. Mr. Callahan pulls his shirt over his head, revealing that broad, hairy chest. Marcus does the same, his muscles rippling under smooth, dark skin. Their belts clink, their pants and boxers are shoved down. My breath hitches.
They're both hard, their cocks standing thick and heavy against their stomachs. They're big. So big. A fresh wave of heat floods my cunt at the sight.
But they make no move to put them inside me. They just stand there, letting me look, their expressions full of dark amusement at my wide-eyed stare. and they sat either side on me on couch.
"Get on your knees, sweetie," Mr. Callahan says, his voice rough. "Face me. Put those pretty tits in my hands."
I scramble to obey, turning to kneel in front of him. He sits back on the couch, and I shuffle forward on my knees until I'm between his legs. His hands immediately cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples. "Massage them for me," he orders. "Show me how much you love my hands on them."
I lift my own hands, placing them over his, and move them in slow circles over my heavy flesh, showing him how to knead and squeeze me. He watches my face, his own full of lust.
Behind me, I feel Marcus kneel. His strong hands land on my ass, spreading my cheeks apart. "Such a fat, perfect ass," he murmurs, and then he leans in. I feel the hot, wet stripe of his tongue licking from the base of my spine down to my exposed, soaked pussy. I moan, my head falling forward against Mr. Callahan's thigh.
"Keep massaging," Mr. Callahan reminds me, his voice a low growl. I move his hands over my tits, pinching my own nipples through his fingers, showing him how hard I like it.
Marcus's tongue delves between my ass cheeks, teasing my other hole before focusing on my pussy. He spreads my lips wide with his thumbs and just… gazes. "Fuck, Callaghan, you gotta see this. Her inner lips are so fucking long and dark. They're hanging out, all swollen and slick. Her cunt is literally glistening."
"Is she pretty?" Mr. Callahan asks, his voice thick.
"She's a fucking masterpiece," Marcus says, and then his mouth is on me again. He doesn't just lick. He eats. He sucks my outer lips into his mouth, runs his tongue through every fold, flicks my clit until I'm writhing, my hands gripping Mr. Callahan's thighs for support.
Marcus pulls back. "My turn up front," he says, his voice husky.
They switch. I faced Marcus on the couch and, my back to Mr. Callahan now. Marcus's mouth finds my tits, sucking and biting, while Mr. Callahan's hands spread my ass cheeks wide. I feel the cool air on my most intimate places, then the hot, wet pressure of his tongue licking up my slit from behind.
"Spread your legs wider, sweetie," Marcus orders against my breast. "Let him see that fat, juicy pussy."
I obey, sinking lower, spreading my thighs as wide as they can go. Mr. Callahan groans behind me, the sound vibrating through my core. "lets' Pour the oil on her, Marcus. Let's see her shine."
I hear the click of the bottle cap. A moment later, a stream of cool, golden almond oil splashes over my lower back, my ass, dripping down onto my exposed pussy and thighs. I shiver at the sensation.
Their hands are on me immediately, spreading the oil. Four hands now, sliding over every inch of my skin—my back, my ass, my thighs, my stomach, my breasts. They massage it in, their grips firm and possessive, kneading the soft flesh of my ass, sliding between my slick folds. The oil makes everything slippery, sensual, amplifying every touch.
"Look at this fucking body," Mr. Callahan grunts, his oily fingers rubbing circles around my clit before giving it a sharp, stinging smack. "So soft. So much to grab. Made to be played with."
Marcus pinches my right nipple, tugging on the silver ring. A sharp, bright pain-pleasure zings straight to my cunt. "Made to be our toy," he agrees, his other hand sliding down to rub my clit in time with Mr. Callahan's movements behind me.
The stimulation is everywhere, overwhelming. Their hands, their mouths, their filthy words. I'm a writhing, moaning mess between them, covered in oil and my own juices. My orgasm builds, a terrifying pressure in my core.
"She's gonna come," Marcus says, his voice full of awe. "Look at her cunt, it's pulsing. It's sucking at the air."
"Let it happen," Mr. Callahan commands, his fingers pushing two inside me from behind, curling up. "Come for us, you dirty little plaything. Come all over our hands."
The command, the dual penetration, the relentless rubbing on my clit—it breaks me. I moaned, my body seizing, my cunt clenching and fluttering around their fingers in violent, helpless waves. They don't stop, working me through it, until I'm slumped between them, trembling and sobbing, completely spent.
Marcus's phone buzzes loudly on the coffee table, shattering the heavy silence. He swears, pulling his hands from my slick body. He reads the screen, then sighs. "Gotta go. Work."
He stands, his cock still hard and glistening with a drop of pre-cum at the tip. He doesn't touch me again. He simply pulls on his pants and shirt, his movements efficient. He picks up my phone, taps the screen, and hands it to me. "My number's in there now, honey. Don't be a stranger."
He winks, a dark, promising look, and lets himself out. The door clicks shut behind him.
Mr. Callahan's hands are still on my oily skin, stroking my back. He leans close, his lips against my ear. "You had a very nice time with him, didn't you, sweetie?" he whispers, his voice dangerous and low.
I can only nod, my face buried in the couch cushion.
He pinches my ass, hard. "Don't think I've forgotten about your punishment for playing with others. I haven't." He stands, dressing quickly. "Be ready for me."
Then he's gone too.
I'm left alone on the floor, a slick, oily, used-up mess. The smell of almond oil and them fills the air. My body hums with aftershocks. I'm flustered, fucked-out, and utterly, completely owned.