Take the Heat

“Yeah, right. Sit your fucking ass down or Lewis can't see, and he likes to watch.” I heard Glen's chair squeak and assumed the dumb-ass obeyed, but all I could really focus on was the iron-hard rod plunging in and out of my mouth…that and keeping my lips nice and tight around it.

Spike dragged me a little farther forward, across the table, so my thighs were pressed hard against the back edge and I had to spread them to take the strain. I felt the tension vibrating his hands in my hair, and was amazed that none of it could be heard in his voice. Instead, he almost sounded disinterested. “She likes it, the horny slut. Don't believe me, Glen? Get in there and feel her cunt—she's got to be creaming by now.”

I tensed, waiting for Glen's hand, wanting to feel him capitulate. To become complicit in the game. Nothing. Chickenshit. I wasn't surprised but found I was almost disappointed.

Spike was too, it seemed. “Did that sound like a request, Glen? You want my help; you better make it worth my fucking while.”

An instant later, I felt Glen's fingers on the back of my knee, and it sent such a thrill through me, I almost choked on the meat in my mouth but managed to stop myself from biting down. Glen's fingers began to trace a tentative trail up the back of my leg, under my skirt, his nails making a slight skreeing noise, skimming across the cheap pantyhose.

Glen hesitated for only a second at the cotton panel covering my now soaked pussy, then pressed inward slightly, feeling the damp. I knew he felt it—I heard him gasp.

Spike had slowed his pumping slightly but was going for depth, leaving me barely able to get enough air between thrusts. “Rip your way in and get a couple of fingers into this bitch's cunt.”

It took every ounce of my limited self-control to not move, to not thrust backward with my hips, to not show any interest in Glen's fingers—futilely rooting around, looking for a way through the hose.

“Pussy.” Spike dismissed him, pulling me abruptly off his cock so he could look into my eyes. “Maybe this fucker just gets to watch.” He didn't say it like he was asking me, just taunting Glen. “Or he can shut his eyes and listen.” He chuckled almost soundlessly. “Maybe stand in the corner.”

With this, I heard and felt nylon tear, and fingers invaded my steaming wet cunt. Even as I gasped, my mouth was once again filled with cock, and I was being invaded from both ends.

Glen was still fumbling, sloppily plunging two fingers in and out of my vagina, when Spike abruptly hit him with, “You like a good ass fuck?” Glen was stunned, and his hand froze, thumb pressed against the back of my thigh, sticky fingers tracing cold lines against my skin.

“No. Not m-me,” Glen managed to stammer, fear oozing from every word. I loved it, and much as I wanted Spike's attention for myself, I still took great pleasure in a cruel image of Glen being bent over the table and taken by force, crying and orgasming all at once.

“Too bad.” Spike pulled me hard against his crotch, mashing my lips into the hair at the base of his cock, choking me deliciously, then gave a long grunt and spewed a heavy load of jism deep in my throat. “If you…said yes…I woulda let you fuck her in…the ass. Guess you lose.” Then he groaned again and left the last few drops on my tongue as he pulled his cock out of my mouth, leaving me desperately swallowing and gasping for air.

Glen's voice was all relief, with a new sound—an undertone of deep hunger. “Oh, like that—”

“Fuck you.” Spike took a deep breath. “You lose. Sit down.”

Glen tensed his hand on my ass, then shoved his fingers deep inside my pussy, defying Spike. I gasped, and my back arched up, lifting my head and shoulders off the table so my nipples, in their silk and lace casings, just brushed against the surface.

Even through half-slitted lids, I could see Spike's eyes narrow in consideration. “Fine. You have until I get hard again to get into this bitch's ass. Ticktock ticktock.” Spike's gaze moved to me. “Start sucking, cunt,” as he presented his momentarily exhausted penis to my lips. I got my hands up in front of me this time and started to pump his cock, working my jaw to recover from the reaming he'd given me.

Glen flipped my skirt up over my ass, baring my split-open hose and soaking crotch. I heard more ripping as he widened the tear, then spread my thighs as far as they would go, palming my ass cheeks apart and sending a shiver up me as my tiny rosebud was exposed to the coolness of the air.

Spike pinched my ear, pulling my attention back to the cock knocking at my lips—it was already half-hard again. He was obviously enjoying watching Glen's desperate movements. I opened my mouth obediently, but he held himself back, just out of range—close enough that I could just get my lips and tongue around the knob, and I nibbled and licked as best I could, stroking the shaft with my hand.

Glen ran a finger up my wet crease to moisten it, and just as he finally pressed that bony intrusion hard into my tight little asshole, Spike shoved his cock to the root into my mouth again. The finger hurt, and when Glen pulled out and worked two of them in, the ache was terrible—and still thrilling.

Even though Glen had probably always wanted to fuck me, never in his wildest, nastiest dreams could he have thought he would be allowed—let alone forced—to sodomize me, all the while being watched by a convict who was ravaging my mouth. Forced. Yes. Poor little Glen was being forced to help rape me. That was almost as thrilling as the idea that they'd both be pumping into me at once—end to end.

Spike muttered, “Yeah, that's a fucking hot mouth, babe,” then louder, “Ticktock ticktock, better hurry, Glen.”

Glen groaned and began to furiously work at widening my asshole, constantly stroking through my cunt to moisten the smaller hole. Finally, I heard his zipper and felt his cock spring out, hot enough to almost burn the spot on my leg where it brushed me, making me gasp again on Spike's hard spike, and earning me an extra-deep thrust to gag me.

Then Glen shoved his cock into my pussy, hard. One thrust, then a second one, his groans so loud they drowned out the sound of my own gasping breaths. I had to amend the picture in my imagination—his dick wasn't tiny and spongy, but good and long—not too thick, but it felt like he had a huge knob on there, which would be difficult to slot into my tiny hole.

Before Spike could reprimand him, Glen shifted his now well-lubed shaft, moving it up and into position. He pressed hard but couldn't seem to make any headway. I was distracted from his clumsy efforts, though, as Spike pulled his cock out of my mouth and ran it over my lips, then rolled my head to the side and moved closer until his balls rested on my lips, demanding attention. I licked and sucked, running my fingers over his scrotum and teasingly up the length of his shaft, which earned me another twitch of that almost ready organ.

Glen shoved both thumbs into my asshole, making me squeal as he spread me as wide as he could, pressing his huge knob into the tiny gap formed by his straining digits. I had a distinct feeling he'd never done this before. And here we were, ruining him for anyone else.

I felt him pause with just the tip caught tight by my sphincter; then he pulled his thumbs out quickly. He would have lost what ground he had if Spike hadn't shoved me back hard onto Glen's fleshy prong—much to Glen's astonishment and my masochistic delight.

It hurt, but I was expecting it. Reveled in it. Took sadistic glee in Glen's willing unwillingess, and appreciated Spike's warped imagination all the more. I groaned long and deep, whether in agony or ecstasy I don't know, and reflexively tried to buck Glen loose, rearing up off the table as best I could as the huge head of his cock speared its way through my tight, protesting ring of flesh.

&nbs

p; Spike effortlessly held me there, suspended above the table, supported by Glen's cock and one tattooed, implacable hand. With his other hand, he caught the neckline of my white silk blouse and yanked, hard, tearing the delicate fabric with a shrill zipping noise and a rattle of escaping buttons, exposing my breasts, barely controlled by a simple white lace bra.