Hypothetically Speaking
 

a little mmf ... bi mmf to be precise. ;)

and don't let that bi part scare you, all you sqeemish readers. give it a chance, it's not a bad thing, i promise. ;)

Hypothetically Speaking

.......Let’s say there's these two guys—lifelong friends, actually—who come charging through the door to this woman’s bedroom. Well, for one of them it's his room too, but that’s a long story. Anyway, in this bedroom the woman is resting against the headboard, just beginning to slip into a nap, the latest Patterson still open on her lap … drowsing … mellow … quiet … still … just livin it up easy on a lazy Sunday morn when bam! the door crashes open.

.......Ya with me?

.......Good.

.......Okay, so they ambush this woman on the bed and of course, she’s pissed—who wouldn’t be, right?—so she’s pulling in a good lungfull for a proper set-down to two men who act like two boys way too often when one of them grabs her ankles—not all that gently, either—and gives ‘em a twist and a tug to lay her down while the other one—the one whose room this isn’t—plucks the book from her hands and chucks it over his shoulder.

.......This final bizarre act is just plain obnoxious, even for these two. She’s sleepy, she’s pissed, her book is probably ripped and she absolutely can not fucking believe she has to put up with this crap right now. She’s entertaining a quick fantasy where she calmly retrieves her book and then cracks the book-tosser upside the head with it when—to her utter astonishment—he rubs his crotch and winks at her. She’s completely stupefied. Her mouth snaps shut and anything she’s about to say shuts up in it.

.......Still with me? … Good. Okay, so, here’s the question then … do you think they’d take advantage of her temporary shock-induced coma to quickly remove every stitch of her clothing before they drizzled almost an entire bottle of oil (nimbly pilfered from a nearby drawer) all over her naked body, running their hands up and down and beyond her increasingly fiery skin, abandoning no reachable peak or valley or plane to the agony of neglect until she was too deranged to ask WTF let alone spell it?

.......Yeah, me too.

.......Then, I think they’d leave her there in the middle of the big bed while they undressed, stripping off shirts and freeing bobbing erections. One of them—the first one naked—would slide up her legs, squeezing oil between them as he coasted higher. His cock would lag behind, trapped in her thighs and bent at an impossible angle, sinking deeper as he moved on, finally reaching the bone-melting apex. He would wiggle a bit and adjust her hips to fit himself tip to ass and base to clit. He’d plant his hands on either side of her and rear up and ease out and push in and slide around and just plain get down in this exquisitely squelchy, hot hollow he’d just forged.

.......I think he’d probably do that alot…like a lot alot, ya know?

.......Eventually he’d back off, and tug her to the edge of the bed. He’d stand between her knees and urge her to hold her legs open for him while he stared for at least thirty seconds … thirty, thrumming, long, chest heaving, heart seizing, starkly revealing seconds. Then he’d grab a hold of her legs and move up real close, barely touching, perfectly poised to go in, straining to go in, pulse beating against her gate, making her hum from clit to cervix. He’d free a leg to grab his cock and she’d tilt her hips, more than ready to take him, but instead of fucking her, he’d shake it. Wildly. It would jerk and shimmy and jiggle, thumping against her clit and slapping her puffy pussylips.

.......She’d moan and thrash and whimper and try to snatch the occasional glance at the exhibition between her legs but she’d be trying try to watch the other guy, too ‘cause that one would be standing beside the bed, rubbing whatever remaining oil was left all over his chest, and stomach, and cock, and—well, mostly on his cock—but enough all over to get as buttery as she was. His skin would be all shinywet— mesmerizingly .... shiningly .... wet—and he’d reach out a hand and turn her head to the mirror, pointing to it for emphasis, reminding her of its presence and all it could show her before he moved behind his friend. She would watch in a daze as he took over the task of tormenting her dripping sex with a cock that wasn’t his own. He’d brandish it just as expertly as its owner had, using it to spank her clit, occasionally nudging its head into the darker hollows below.

.......Hypothetically, this could drive her briefly insane but before that lamentable condition could become permanent, he’d leave the clit spanking to the cock’s owner and climb on the bed. He’d swing a knee over her head, bumping her breasts and neck and face with his bobbing erection as he settled into place to watch the show.

.......He’d lean forward and use both hands to spread her labia wider—impossibly wider—getting a good eyeful of her swollen vulva, his face a nonexistent breath away from the free-for-all goin’ on between her legs. He’d let out a long low wolf-whistle loaded with mischief and say—Bloody hell that's a pretty kitten. You should see her from here...she's all but bursting she's so puffed up, poor thing—looks painful. And glistening just like a raindrop. Mmmm, radiant. And the heat!…it’s just pouring off her in waves. That is one toasty-warm pussy right there. But such an angry purple she is…awe, I think you've bruised her. Or maybe that's just the way she looks when she's hungry. The poor little lass, she’s so hard-up she’s starving. Take pity on her, mate. She wants it so bad and she wants it right .... in .... here. You'd better quit fiddling with her clit and give it to her. Quick.— and the offending organ would stop fiddling and give it to her. All of it, all at once, and the woman would buck her hips to meet it and the man kneeling over her would tilt his head to meet it, casing however much of its surging and ceding length he could get at with his mouth, and at whatever angle he could get it best. Then he’d press the side of his face against her clit and massage it with his tongue from inside the hollow of his cheek and she’d cum against them both, suddenly, gasping.

.......Right about here is where I think it would dawn on her that her lovers had done this before. More than once, too. And she’d be damned if she’s gonna allow their little shock-party make her forget she’s a fuckin vixen in the sac … especially when it would mean missing out on vixenizing a couple specimens as altogether male as these two. Not to even mention this synergy thing they have going between them. I mean ... yowza. There's gotta be at least, what, sixty different ways that that could be useful, right?

.......Yeah. ............... Right. ........... So. ........ Whew. ..... Where was I?... Ah, vixen! ... Yes. ..... Okay, then ... on with the show.

.......So up til now, the most she’s done is buck a hip, right? Poor girl. She oughta be ashamed too. Tsktsk. We've gotta fix this. Let's see.......Oo! Ok. So she'd reach for that cock that's been swinging around her head and wrap it up good and tight in her fist. Then she'd bend it back and engulf the crown in her mouth, grabbing hold of the ridge with lip-cushioned teeth so it couldn't escape while she swirled her squirming tongue around the head and jacked the length of him from root to glans. At the same time, she'd burrow her other hand under the face splashing kisses all over her pussy and grope for the base of her clit. When she found it, she'd pinch it in her fingers and pull it up high and tight, stretching the tip to tickle the lips of her nearest tormentor.

.......And as for her other tormentor, when he shoved in on the next stroke expecting a supple pressure, he'd get a little extra succor from an auspicious clenching of female muscle instead. He'd widen his eyes in appreciation and dig in deeper for the ride. A couple dozen more of those and her stupid female wiles would spit in her face, pushing her over the edge before she could take either of them there first, but it'd be worth it.

.......And it isn't like she closed up shop just 'cause she was sated. Nope. The one she was milking so hard with those spiteful muscles would follow soon enough. His hips would seize as the tendons bulged on his neck and he emptied a few thick runnels of cum into her with a growl that did her ego good. When he pulled out (and he’d be feeling way too post-fucked here to do much other than collapse on the bed and pant) the man straddling her head would fall on her sex like a starving animal and lick her clean from every conceivable angle (and a few not) until she came again in a spent, aching sort of way that had her begging for an interlude, or at least for no-one to touch her clit for, like, two minutes.

.......He’d weave a complete 180, ignoring her modest request, and end up half crouched on the floor, half climbing the bed so he could grab her under the armpits and work her limp body awkwardly toward the pillows. (She would help but I think she’d be in such a stupor herself that she’d hardly be useful.) Only when he had her prone would he finally lift his head. He’d grab her by the ankles and close in on her, holding her legs to the side until they formed a crooked vee with him at its center. He’d prod her with the distended crown of his up-til-now denied cock, using twists and pivots that’d make Elvis look like Ed Grimley.....I must say.

.......Eventually, her moans would let him know when she was feeling less tender/more hungry and he would enter her in one slow intricate stroke, doling out scant centimeters at a time—nanometers even—until he was in as far as the tilt of her hips would allow. And he'd be telling her how positively dewy she was. How cum and oil and spit and cunny juice were seeping and pooling and dripping. How that sparkly, mouth-watering elixir got there.

.......She’d fight back by flexing against his thickness, dislodging his cock a centimeter, maybe two, and forcing more of that liquid sex to trickle from the dank cusp of their bodies. He’d groan at that and begin his danse érotique while she reached out her hand to grab the conveniently available and undeniably talented cock of their single audience member. He’d be sitting up on the bed by now, still panting (but for different reasons), and she’d stroke the slackened length of him. She’d watch his face and he’d watch the action while she told the story of the thickest cock that ever occupied any eager tunnel available on her entire body and what it was doing right now to the willing wet walls of her well-fucked pussy.

.......Her watcher’s pupils would grow large, and his gaze would linger on the performance before flicking to her shifting hand. Or to her mouth when she’d say ...watch you fuck... or ...your cock deeper. or make my cunt beg. His hands would steel down to make a tandem grip with her ‘round his shaft and he’d swell in her hand a little. He’d ease gently into her fist at first, slowly pumping life into a burgeoning possibility, but soon—really soon actually—that mere possibility would be a force to be reckoned with and he’d be holding her wrist and squeezing her fingers in a vice so tight they’d eventually go numb and giving himself the tightest handfuck she’d ever had the pleasure to attend.

.......By now she would see that clearly this was the one with the hair-trigger libido and since she’s turned out to be no shy flower in our little scenario we’ve cooked up, I think here’s where she would mention that while it’s true that everything being done in and around her nether regions was mind shattering, if anything could make it better it would be the monkey-sex encounter of a rigid cock stuffed inside a tight ass while a front is stroked and petted and indulged. She’d add how thoroughly extraordinary it must feel to actually be able to do that; to truly, really, actively, physically, nakedly, wildly, wickedly fuck a slick, tight behind (especially a behind that is just begging for a slick, tight fucking.)

.......He’d release her hand and climb on the bed. Her throat would go dry thinking about what was to come, but once again these two would astound her and instead of getting repositioned for the double fucking she was sure she’d all but gotten notarized, she watched as he scooted up behind his friend looking glazed and greedy and positively lecherous.

.......There would be moans and grunts and much adjusting as he found his path, slipping and pushing all the way in, but very little talk. She would have to pay close attention to the cock settled snugly within her, acclimating to the sporadic swelling and ebbing goin' on inside, but all that did was throw TNT on an inferno. She’d know when the cock she had just been jacking was fully seated somewhere else because the man atop her would exhale a hurricane of sweltering hot air against her neck, as if he’d been holding his breath forever, and his cock would finally decide that staying hard was a done deal—in fact, it was ancient history. She’d sense the curve of a smile against her cheek, and he’d say—It’s the first drive that’s always the hardest, ain’t it luv—with a waggish air, just to break the tension, and she’d bob her head in total fellowship, much too stunned at her own unbelievable luck to speak.

.......That wouldn’t be all the man above her would have to say, though, and she’d steal looks in the mirror now and then as she listened to a story about two hungry cocks, a wet pussy and a tight ass. She’d take it for as long as she could—the head-to-toe oily, tits-to-chest sweaty, spooey gooey slippage; the grunting, rowdy, bed-squeaking bounces; the spine-zinging, cover your ears, don’t you ever stop, pornographic pillow talk—but really, how much could a human being take? Ultimately, she’d demand to be flipped over, citing the universal law that declares you can call dibs on more than one drive—as one of her lovers had so aptly named it—whenever the possibility presented. With a speed that would dazzle even you, she would be flipped and entered and I swear it would appear that the cock inside her slipped not a whit as she rolled. And do you think they would tell her the story of how the only thing that separated two hungry cocks was a slippery scrap of nerve-packed skin?

.......Damn right.

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