Telling Tales by Charlotte Stein Page B

she suspects he’s about to struggle and try bucking them off.
    “That’s good, baby,” she says. “Just stay still and take it.” He has absolutely no clue what they expect him to just stay still and take, but God, those words. His body trembles all over, minutely, just hearing them. Lydia—sweet little Lydia—behaving like this, being this fucking dirty, fucking making him…it’s unreal.
    Even though he sort of knew it would come to this, all along. He could see it in her—this need to tease and torment, this desire for games he can barely fathom—only now that they’re being actualized he finds himself on uncertain ground. How far is she going to go exactly?
    Take it implies something very specific, he knows it does. Like maybe they’re going to do the kind of things that only girls usually get. Maybe they’re going to lube their fingers and fuck his body in a way he’s never thought of before, no, God, no, he’s never thought of anything like that before, not ever.
    And he’s certainly never thought of other things, like maybe something bigger and thicker, sliding into him.
    He thinks of those words again—take it—and bucks beneath their restraining hands, but then something hot and slick brushes the head of his cock and it’s like a relief. It’s like one, but maybe not quite all the way to being one.
    Still, it feels good. And it feels even better when he manages to push himself against the bonds of Lydia’s hand and sees Mindy with her skirt all the way up around her waist, the hair between her legs so fluffy and fine it’s barely there, sinking down onto his cock as though it meant nothing at all to do something like that.
    “Ohhhh God,” she moans, and there’s something thrilling about that. Something that makes him want to be smug, because she has her eyes closed and it obviously feels good to slide down on his cock like that. It must, because she starts rocking almost immediately, and when he glances up at Lydia she’s biting her lip.
    Then after a moment she tells her friend to hurry, and he understands in an arousing rush that she means to take her turn next. They’re both going to use him for a quick, hot fuck, and something about that makes him almost delirious.
    They don’t like him enough to talk to him or share themselves with him or ask him how his day was. But they like him enough to pin him down and fuck him like some loose little slut.
    “Oh fuck he feels so good,” Mindy pants, and he can see her tits jiggling underneath her T-shirt as she bounces up and down on him, and her little porcelain doll face is creased with concentration, and sometimes, sometimes he can see flashes of her slick, red pussy as it parts and slides around his cock. All of which should have been more than enough to get him off. He’s tugged himself to far, far less—just the thought of Lydia running a rude hand over his covered cock has been enough, in the past, to make him come.
    But right here, now, his orgasm is a distant, waiting thing. It coils, in anticipation of Lydia being where Mindy is right now. And even when Mindy moans that she’s coming, she’s coming, and Lydia says something that makes him flush, like I didn’t think he’d be this good , he doesn’t let his orgasm off the leash.
    Not yet. First he wants Lydia. Even in these mortifying circumstances, with Mindy hopping off him as though he’s suddenly become the latest ride at Disneyland, he wants Lydia. He can practically feel his body straining toward her as she takes Mindy’s place, those creamy thighs straddling his hips, her eyes all over him.
    He gets just the barest flash of her cunt, and then her hot little hand is on him. Stroking, briefly, before she aims the swollen head at that wet space he wants to be in most of all.
    “Go on,” Mindy says, and as she does so she threads a hand through his hair and tightens it, tightens it. Almost like pulling, but not quite. “Just slide it in slow.”
    For a moment he