nina semen.

Weed always made Giselle…friskier than she usually was. It lowered her inhibitions, and she loved it. After she returned from the kitchen with beers for the boys and handed Charlie his, instead of returning to her place on the floor between Nic’s feet, she settled down on his lap, her breasts in his face while she opened the beer behind his head. He kissed her cleavage, lightly, and looked up at her, smiling. He glanced over at Charlie on the other end of the couch, but she pressed his face back with her shoulder. She placed his beer on the end table and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. His hands searched her body, settling on the curve of her ass and squeezing.

She felt him start to stiffen beneath her, and when their mouths finally broke apart they were both breathless, her lips burning from his stubble. Giselle turned her head to the right to give Nic better access to the spot behind her ear that he loved the kiss, and her eyes met Charlie’s before he looked away sharply, ashamed to be caught watching.

A tingle went through Giselle. Charlie was sexy; as sexy as Nic, but in a different way. Where Nic was long and lithe and graceful, Swedish to the core, with pale skin between his tattoos, silvery blonde hair and wide eyes as deep blue as the Pacific, Charlie was shorter, by at least half a foot - though he was still a bit taller than most men - and he was thickly built, with broad shoulders and forearms you couldn’t close your hands around. He tanned easily, and his hair was dark brown; his eyes, evergreen, framed by blonde lashes thick and long enough to still be evident. His lips were his most noticeable feature - bright pink and plump, like bubblegum. Giselle wondered, for the first time since she’d known him, if they tasted as sweet as they looked.

She reached over and touched Charlie’s shoulder, letting her fingers trail down a protruding vein in his arm. He looked back at her, curiously, and she brought her hand up to his face, slipping a finger between those thick lips. He opened them and sucked her fingertip, reaching up to stroke her wrist, lightly. She let out a slight little moan and bit her lip, watching him. She pulled her fingers from between his teeth and moved them down to his chest, gripping one of his pecs tightly as she began to grind on Nic, who was rock hard by then and biting and sucking on the tendon in the side of her neck as if trying to draw blood.

She looked down at Charlie’s crotch, lifting an eyebrow when she saw his member struggling to rise under the tight denim along his thigh. She leaned over more to reach it. He gasped when she began to stroke. Nic released Giselle’s skin from his teeth and looked over to see what was wrong. It was obvious to Giselle what she wanted by this point, and she tilted herself backward, so that Nic could see what she was doing. His gaze followed her arm to her where her hand was and darted back to her, confused. When he saw the question in her eyes, this new, hesitant hunger he didn’t quite recognize, his face fell blank and she worried for a moment that she’d done something terrible, but then he pulled her face back down into a kiss and lifted them both up, scooting over until Giselle’s thigh was trapped tightly between his and Charlie’s.
 
Immediately, Charlie reached over and squeezed Giselle’s leg. It sent a tremor through her. When Nic’s kisses trailed from her face back to her neck, she took the opportunity to bring Charlie’s lips to hers. They weren’t sweet; he was tart from the beer, and a bit spicy, like cinnamon. He kissed her carefully, but deep and sure. It wasn’t long before his hand was tangled in her hair and his tongue was in her mouth. Then, Nic was lifting her shirt above her head, and her breasts were bouncing free for a moment before each man had a nipple in his mouth. Nic held one between his teeth, flicking his tongue over it, while Charlie sucked and pulled so hard on the other that it hurt. Giselle caressed the backs of their heads and moaned, arching her back, pressing herself into their faces.

Then there was a hand beneath the elastic of her shorts and then inside of her underwear, searching between her thighs. She knew it was Nic’s when he gasped, his fingers disappearing into how slick and wet she was, probably more than she’d ever been. The thrill of it all heightened every bit of pleasure she felt; this fantasy come to fruition. Not that she’d ever fantasized about Charlie in particular, or a threesome with Nic. Just…two men, at once. It’d always seemed delicious.

She reached down to free Nic from his jeans, lifting herself up a little. He sprang from his open zipper, long and thick, and she wrapped her hand around him tightly, pumping just the way he enjoyed it most. With her right hand, she started to unbutton Charlie’s jeans but couldn’t; he took the hint and did it himself. She craned her neck to look down and found his cock not quite as long as Nic’s, with a bit more girth, and uncircumcised. She smiled at how their dicks paralleled their other differences in appearance. She took it in her hand and stroked them both at the same speed and rhythm. Charlie seemed to like it just the way Nic did.

After a few minutes, she pulled herself away from their groping hands and mouths, and sank down onto the floor, onto her knees. She looked from one cock to another, deciding whose to taste fist. She decided on Nic’s - because she was his, after all - never moving her hand from Charlie’s. Nic moaned gratefully when she wrapped her mouth around him and gathered all of her hair into his fist. Just when she had built up a pace and his body started to tighten beneath her, she released him with a pop and moved over to Charlie. He throbbed with anticipation on her tongue, saltier and saltier each time, and she closed her eyes. She reached over to get Nic back into her hand but he stood and she tried to lift her head, see what he was doing, but Charlie held it firmly in place, and she didn’t struggle. She heard clothes rustling and then a few moments later she felt hands on her hips, pulling her bottoms off, and then her body was being pulled down. Her pussy dropped onto Nic’s tongue and she bucked up for a moment, startled, then settled herself onto his face. He lapped at her, sucked at her clit and as he moaned into her, she moaned into Charlie, their three bodies one as the sounds reverberated through them.

She came quickly; Nic drank her and continued on, more gently. She felt Charlie grow even harder and larger in her mouth and then he pulled away and lifted her gently beneath the arms. She climbed onto his lap and he held his cock upright. She cried out as she sank down onto it, her body spreading to accommodate him.

He fucked her deeply at first, not thrusting but only gyrating, and she felt him in the very base of her. It seemed he’d push past everything. Then, he was fucking her with the entire length of him and her face was being turned to the right. She found Nic’s cock there. She took it in her mouth, struggling to keep a steady flow on both of them. It proved difficult, bouncing and bobbing all at once. In porn it looked so easy; she had a new appreciation for those women.

It wasn’t long before Charlie was coming, warm and thick, deep inside of her. He gripped her tightly, nails digging into her back, his deep groans fading into a soft whimper before just a whisper of “goddamn” in her ear. She stood to give him a moment to compose himself and he leaned forward, cupping his mouth around her clit, and his nonchalance at tasting his own come excited her so much she trembled with orgasm as easily as before, her knees giving way. She didn’t fall; Nic held her upright and then he was picking her up by her waist, wrapping her legs around him and thrusting himself deep in. He kissed her. “Good?” he asked into her mouth as he pulled away. She tucked her chin into her chest and looked up at him, nodding shyly. Her head was swirling, from disbelief, from coming, from the weed, from excitement. He smiled and carried her to their bedroom; Charlie followed them, where it all continued.

he was incomplete; no scars, no facial hair. his shoulders were held back even as he relaxed on the couch. he was incredibly attractive, high cheekbones, eyes the color of a bottle of vanilla extract: brown, dark brown, but with this subtle amber sheen in the right light.

he kissed me, soft full lips expertly twisting into shapes around mine that turned my knees to jelly, working down to my clavicle. he traced the tattoo there with his tongue, like the others before him, but better.

i slipped my hand in his boxers, he gasped and groaned. his dick was big. that was all i needed to know. i turned around, placed my hands on the wall, looked back over my shoulder. all he needed to do, slide my panties down, go to work. he didn’t.

dropped to his knees, pulled them to the side, pushed his face into my ass and fucked me with his face. i hyperventilated, it felt so good i couldn’t breathe. i couldn’t come because i couldn’t breathe. but it felt so good. an incredible torture. i reached back. his hair was too short to grab hold. he took my hand, slipped one finger into his mouth, then into my ass.

he finally stood and worked into me. i was so wet; it was loud, sloshing and slapping with every thrust. he turned me around, wrapped my legs around his hips, my arms around his neck. i was about to climax, he told me he wanted to get me pregnant.

i didn’t come; neither did he.

i’m screaming, i didn’t realize it. he’s fucking me so hard it’s painful; i love it. “i’ve missed you” he groans, his voice resonating through me. i try to tell him that i missed him too but my voice cracks and i only manage a pitiful whimper. he laughs, lightly, squeezes my sides. “i’ve missed your pussy. so fucking tight. i’ve missed fucking you so much.” i love it when he talks to me while we fuck. it sounds so…naughty, his posh British accent coating such filthy things. “you’ve missed me inside of you, huh?”

“yes, god,” i moan. he’s pushed me over the edge with his mouth: i come again, my body convulsing, and he slows his rhythm, relishing my sounds, the way my body trembles.

he lets me fall onto my stomach, slips out of me. i feel his cock hard and wet against my lower back when he lies down on me. he brushes my hair away from my ear. “would you like more?” he teases. i can hear him smiling as he says it and i start to turn over. he lifts himself up just enough so that i can, settles down between my thighs. i wrap my arms around his neck and he kisses me softly, sweetly, his lips like warm pillows, soft and plush against my mouth, my chin, my cheeks. as he does it he works his hips, sliding his cock against my clit, up and down, up and down.

i slip my arms beneath his, grab his cock and guide him into me again. my pussy is tender and swollen, wet and slick. i wince as my flesh spreads to accommodate him again. he fucks me, not as forcefully as before, propped up on his hands, stretching his face to the ceiling as i dig my nails into his back. i writhe beneath him, matching his rhythm, the swirls of his pelvis. his arms are trembling with tension. he looks back down at me, begins to speed up and i pull him closer against me. he falls onto his elbows; i close my eyes.

“open,” he says softly, and i obey. i look down and watch him move in and out of me. “look at me,” he says. i do. we lock eyes. his lips are held tightly together in a heart shape, repressing a smile. i bite mine to keep mouth somewhat closed, try to stifle the yells gathering in my throat. his grey eyes search my face, his jaw clenching and narrow nostrils flaring.

he’s getting close. his eyelashes are fluttering, his movement becoming more rigid. i spread my thighs farther, bring my ankles up beside his shoulders and he slips them over his arms. i am stretched, the tops of my thighs flattening my breasts. i can barely breathe. he comes with a yell and then a groan, muscles tightening and twitching. he lets down my legs, and lays against me, still working me gently, emptying himself. i run my fingers through his hair with one hand, stroke the small of his back with the other until he finishes. his face collapses into the crook of my neck, his shoulders heave as he pants.

sighing heavily and rolls off of me, slips a thick arm beneath my waist, pulls me close. i lie on my side against him, draping one leg over his wet crotch. it twitches against me, still hard. i love this about him: he could come two, sometimes even three times without losing his erection. i lay my head on his shoulder and listen to our breathing slow. he clears his throat.

“you’re beautiful when you come” he says quietly and i bury my face in his chest, embarrassed, giggling. he presses his mouth into my temple. “you are!” he laughs. “i’m going to keep telling you every time until you just accept it” he pulls my arm across his body.

“shut up” i mutter and he lifts me on top of him easily, like i weigh nothing.

“you are.” he repeats.

i’m on my knees and elbows, head resting on my forearm. he has me spread open, licking me, sucking and tasting. i bite the inside of my elbow, try to muffle my own screams but it’s in vain. i can’t help myself. we’re only in this position for a few minutes before i’m moaning his name and shuddering, my body wanting to collapse, but he slides his hands from my ass to my hips. they don’t let me fall. i try to move forward, needing a break from his relentless mouth but i can’t budge. he won’t stop. he does ease up a bit, moving more slowly, letting his tongue soften and spread flat and wide, lapping me up. after a while he rises onto his knees behind me.

he slips a finger in me, two, then three. he curves them downward, the tips pounding against my g-spot and i gasp each time they do. he pulls them out, curls his naked body over my back and brings his hand around to my face. i suck his fingers clean; he groans. he nudges my legs apart with his wrist and slips into me. his cock stretches me so much more than his fingers did, reaches so much deeper. he wants to remind me of how big it is and pushes in as far as it will go, grinding his pelvis into my ass.

i rise back onto my hands and knees like i was in the very beginning of it all. he grabs a shoulder, uses it for leverage, but only for a moment: he grabs a bunch of my hair instead, using it to pull me back as he pushes himself forward. with each thrust he moans hungrily and i squeal between sharp intakes of air, struggling to breathe. he leans over me again and grabs my tit, squeezes. my eyes float up in my head when he slides his hand from my chest to between my thighs and begins to rub.

i can’t hear anything, my mind is empty, fuzzy. i’m engulfed by heat, inside and out, from him and from me. i disappear into this bliss for a moment, a heavy handed smack on my ass brings me back.

i’m starving. not sure why, i just ate lunch a few hours ago. i’m standing in front of the open refrigerator, mouth twisted up in concentration. i decide on a green apple but before i can get it he smacks me on the ass. hard. i turn around and frown at him, unconvincingly - i love it when he does that and he knows it.

“why are you wearing so many fucking clothes” he asks, grabbing me roughly by the forearm and pulling my body into his. i’m only wearing black hipsters. he slides his hands up my sides, palms as much of my tits as he can. “more than a handful” he smirks, like he does every time, leaning down to flick his tongue over one nipple, then the other.

“you’re wearing more clothes than i am” i reply. i yank down his boxers mid thigh. kiss his chest. drop to my knees. wet my lips, open wide, take him as far into my mouth as i can. he’s pushing past my uvula before the tip of my nose comes anywhere near his pelvis. i start a rhythm; he groans, pulls off his t-shirt. he gathers my hair in one hand and guides me the way he wants me. controls me, gently.

i’m looking up at him, lips puckered, sliding over him; he’s smiling, he loves that. doe eyes, he calls mine, much too innocent for such an incredibly licentious woman. he’s telling me he’s going to come and i force him down my throat to a point that would gag the average. swallow down what he shoots. warm, salty, lush. his dick is throbbing against my tongue, his body is shuddering and twitching, the veins at the bottom of his abdomen are flexing. his groans soften into a simple whimper, then a satisfied sigh. 

i stand back up, laugh at how exhausted he seems. “i love you,” he says, “and not just because you give great head.” he kisses me. “you love me because i love giving you head” i tell him. he quirks an eyebrow and before i realize what’s happening he’s tearing my panties down to my ankles, lifting me onto the cold granite counter top and lapping at my clit like there’s no tomorrow. and i love you because you love giving me head too i think. i would say it out loud, but i can’t get anything but moans to come.