Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“So, um…” Kipp casually attempts to reclaim the conversation causing me to turn away from his best friend, “what exactly do you need me to do?”
“Start by opening those.” A small gesture is delivered to the cheeses. “And I’ll open these.” My finger whirls around the remaining ingredients. “And then we combine them all in that big ass bowl.” Our eyes connect again. “Normally, you would then use a mixer to stir everything together, but I get the feeling you don’t have one-”
“That’s what Kipp’s for.”
“-meaning we’ll have to use our hands.”
“It’s a good thing I’m great with those,” he teasingly winks.
“Lots of practice?” Nolan playfully pokes prompting me to press my lips together to stop from snickering.
“Yeah.” He picks up the cream cheese packet to tear open. “I’ve built up amazing grip strength over the years.”
“By yourself?” his couch partner in crime impishly prods.
“With my tool.”
There’s no stopping me from shooting Kipp an amused expression.
“Between me and my tool.”
Mirth-filled cringes can’t be helped.
“Such crass language, young man,” Nolan laughs loudly, pulling my attention once more over my shoulder to see it.
To admire the openness, he allows himself to have here.
In their home.
With his person.
His person I don’t wanna take away from him.
Maybe just…share?
For a night?
For a…moment?
“You know what…” Kipp lightly chuckles upon realizing his poor choice of wording. “Why don’t you get your ass up, wash your hands, old man, and I’ll prove the shit to you. Right here. Right now.”
“In our kitchen?” Nolan juvenilely continues to taunt yet rises to his feet to join us, igniting unexpected butterflies to flitter in the pit of my stomach. “That’s really bathroom and bedroom behavior.”
“Keep talkin’ shit,” the man now opening the bag of shredded cheese insists, beam so bright it damn near burns my soul. “I’m about to destroy you.”
“Please,” his roommate sneers at the same time he turns on the hot water. “I’ve been using my hands a lot rougher and a lot longer than you, Kid.”
His choice of phrasing pulls a small, thoughtless whimper out of me.
Forfuckssake, if they keep this shit up, I’ll throw myself in a bowl for them to really prove themselves with.
The meek sound, which I swear isn’t loud enough to be heard, evidently is.
And given the fact that I not only see two sets of hunger filled eyes but hear two different pitched growls, I think it’s safe to guess that they wouldn’t mind the idea of mixing me instead, either.
Rather than pitch that idea – that deliciously terrible idea – or acknowledge how their bodies are now gravitating towards mine, boxing me in from each side, trapping me in a small space like two hunters willing to share the same prey, I slowly add the contents into the dish.
Allow them to open the remaining ingredients I initially said I would, but now can’t fathom the idea of picking up let alone being responsible for freeing.
By the time we’ve got everything inside the container, my body as well as my breathing are steady again. Thankfully. “Hands in fellas.”
“Yes, ma’am,” is spoken in unison.
All at once, the three of us sink our fingers into the cold mixture. While I’m expecting exactly what I get – after all, it’s not my first time doing this – the two of them are obviously surprised.
“Fuck, this feels weird,” Nolan grumbles, large fingers scooping underneath mine.
“Yeah, not what I expected,” Kipp echoes, his slightly thinner ones gracing them from on top.
“I don’t know,” I coyishly flirt, leaving my hands to be caressed versus actually assisting in the process, “I kinda dig it.”
Both men grunt a chuckle.
Knead another handful.
Purposely grip my fingers through the thick mixture.
Nolan continuously gathers the largest amounts he possibly can in between squeezing my entire palm, locking it in his possession, demonstrating he can dominate any situation, in any space, in any moment, yet Kipp executes more agile movements. Slips between my fingers. Between his best friend’s. Collects and strokes and diligently leaves no area untouched. No ingredient unmixed. No component unincluded. Over and over and over again, two unmatched but undeniably irresistible motions work in tandem to create something almost unrecognizable leaving me with an inability to do anything other than shut my eyes.
Inwardly moan.
Outwardly whimper.
Fight against the wobbling in my knees and swallow the begging that’s on the very tip of my tongue.
Wetness doesn’t waste time soaking my lacy, thin panties nor does my pussy entertain the idea that this shouldn’t be happening.
That it shouldn’t be aching for their touches and tightening in anticipation of being explored next.
That it shouldn’t be ready to be split and spread and stroked while my lungs burn from pleading and moaning and screaming.
Hot air unexpectedly feathers one side of my face; however, before I know it, the sensation is swiftly mirrored on the other as if it’s impossible for one of them to have more of me than the other.