The Trashy Virgin: A Menage Romance

And I kissed her haunches as I tunneled my fingers in deep, the hefty flesh squeezing me again and again as she shattered, gasping and screaming, those big boobs swaying to and fro as she struggled to maintain her balance, gripping the headboard, elbows locked.

“Umph,” I grunted, lapping her butt cheeks once more. “That’s it baby girl, let it all out, let it all out.”

And she threw her head back once more and shrieked again, loud, before dissolving into a series of small shudders.

“Oh god Jase, oh god oh god,” she panted, head dropping between her shoulders, haunches quivering and jerking. “Oh god!”

And finally, things calmed a bit, her breathing growing more even, stilling, that sweet, sleek form glistening with a sheen of sweat. It was only then that the pretty brunette looked over her shoulder, shy despite what had happened, with my digits still locked deep in her body.

“Jason,” she murmured. “That was amazing … but there’s more right? I mean,” and here she colored, “fingers don’t count right?”

And my cock popped out like a fucking jack in the box, ready to take, to own, to control. Because Katy was right, a finger fucking doesn’t count, and I was more than ready to do my duty.

CHAPTER SIX

Katy

It was so illicit, I could hardly believe what was happening. On the one hand, I’d given up my pussy cherry a mere twenty-four hours ago to Brent, a man I lived with. And now I was giving up my ass cherry to Jason, a man I’d adored for the last year. How did life get so complicated?

But the thing is that it wasn’t complicated at all because somehow things felt right. I was confused at first, my emotions tugging me this way and that because I felt like I had to choose. I felt I could only have either Brent or Jason, and that being with both was something that only trashy girls did.

But during fifth period, I’d looked it up on my phone. There were so many sites on “multiple love,” “polyamory,” and even teen magazines dispensing advice to girls who liked more than one boy. I chuckled at that one. Sure, I was still in high school so I guess I fit their demographic, but this was more than a passing phase, more than just a fling. I was in love with two men, couldn’t wait to have them both, and the question was how exactly we were going to work this out.

Because I desperately wanted it to work out. I wanted to have both men with me, separately or together I wasn’t sure, but there had to be some combination that would make sense for all three of us. I wasn’t sure what it was yet, the articles on-line seemed to harp on a lot of therapy, a lot of “open-hearted talking,” and at this moment, we hadn’t had a serious discussion. In fact, Brent didn’t even know about Jason yet, putting us at square one, if not square zero.

So I stepped into our trailer after school thinking that maybe we’d chat a little, maybe Jason and I had some more talking to do after our impassioned discussion this morning. I was totally prepared to sit down with him and brainstorm a little. But he’s an alpha male with something to prove, namely that Brent isn’t the only man in my life. So we started exploring almost immediately, our bodies hot and hungry for one another, not a second to lose.

But Jason, as much as I love him, pulled back. Again, it’s this male ego thing and I almost cried when he asked, “What did you do with Brent yesterday?”

I flopped around like a fish gasping for air because what good would it do if he knew? How would that help?

“Nothing,” I murmured, head down before looking straight at him again. Because being a shy pansy wasn’t going to get anything done, I needed to be direct. “What I did with Brent yesterday has no bearing on what we’re about to do,” I said seriously.

But again, male egos run strong especially with alphas, and Jason wouldn’t let it go.

“I have to know,” he growled, shaking his head. “I have to know.”

So instead, I detoured.

“Well,” I murmured, “I shaved myself yesterday, you know … like down there,” I said, demonstrating a little, parting my thighs and running an imaginary razor through my pink folds.

And that was enough. I didn’t have to say anything about how Brent shaved me, how he pulled my labia back with big, gentle fingers, and traced the razor carefully over my sensitive skin before dropping a kiss on my clit, lapping lightly at his work.

Instead, Jason was fixated on my pink pussy, how it creamed wetly, how I opened it for him, letting him look inside, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god, I’d been able to lead away from that dangerous train of thought and we could get back to our love play.