Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Then he pulled my nether lips apart even wider to look straight up my cunt, enjoying the view of ruby rose insides, the walls wet with need and want.
“My dick goes there,” he growled, before diving in to lick my inner channel, hungrily kissing my puss, making me squeal with desire. “But I’m not sure it’s going to fit.”
“Oh it’ll fit,” I gasped. At least I hoped it would, I prayed silently to myself. I’d seen that dong and it was godawful huge but I looked forward to the challenge, I wanted it in me, wanted to be impaled, to feel the commanding presence of a big dick deep in my vag.
To get me prepped, Blake slipped a finger in me, first one, then two, letting me sigh and moan, tossing my head in ecstasy as he rubbed my pussy walls, stretching me out.
“Fuck you’re a slut,” he said while nuzzling my clit with his tongue, his fingers still pounding me. And I guess I was. I was nude now except for those high heels, a man’s fingers buried in my cunt as I toyed with my own breasts.
I was just about to cream on his hand, my pussy going into little throes of pre-spasms when suddenly a clapping sound penetrated the clouds, another deep, low laugh intruding on my senses.
“Huh?” I asked, half-dazed, turning my head, sure that my mind was playing tricks.
But it wasn’t my imagination because just inside the door stood Bryan, applauding, watching avidly even as he let out a deep-throated chuckle.
“Room for another?” he asked, his member already at full-bore, and I could do nothing because my pussy was clenching … tight, tight, tight as I came hard on Blake’s hand.
7
Bryan
The girl was beautiful to watch as she orgasmed. Her body was all luscious curves and jiggling flesh as she lost herself to the mini-death, her eyes rolling up in her head a bit as my brother stroked her cunt, his hand buried in her soft folds.
And my twin was fucking near the edge as well, I could see his donkey dong from where I stood, the mast fully erect, glistening and glossy with saliva. Or wait, shit that wasn’t saliva, there was just so much pre-cum that it was literally dripping down his pole, coating his balls, even running down his thighs.
And I didn’t blame him. Callie was intriguing and smart, just the kind of girl that we like to romp with. Unfortunately we have to do bimbos as part of our job as undercover cops, building up our cover. But sex on the clock is just that. It’s just a job, and the girls were usually dirty and nasty, the kind of ho you’re praying doesn’t have some kind of weird disease.
So meeting someone like Callie … god, it was amazing, a welcome breath of fresh air. She’d been so innocent in class, fainting because of that cat, and the interactions we’d had in the intervening week only proved that she was a woman of quality.
Because one of the things about this particular assignment was that we knew the perpetrators were likely college-bound kids, as one of the victims had gotten into Harvard early admission. So we couldn’t exactly be taking remedial classes, Blake and I had to socialize with the so-called “smart crowd,” the kids who actually had the grades to get into Ivy League schools.
But that’s the awesome thing about being twenty-five … we’d already graduated from high school and even the advanced classes were cakewalk for us. Not that the material was useful in any sense of the word, life on the beat was a thousand times more educational, but these kids would find that out for themselves.
So we were in a ton of our classes with our favorite girl, and without her nincompoop of a friend Chrissy. I appreciated the blonde, for sure, she was outgoing and seemed to host a lot of parties, but frankly … there was nothing going on in that airhead.
During English, I’d seated myself near Callie, the better to get to know her and do some investigating at the same time.
“So Callie,” I said nonchalantly. “You look like you could be a cheerleader,” I’d winked. “Did you know Brian Adams? We heard he was a great guy, what happened to the football team after he died?”
Callie had grown quiet at the mention of Adams’ name.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” she said. “I mean, I’m not a cheerleader but we all knew Brian. Most of us have gone to school together since kindergarten,” she clarified.
Oh right, in these ritzy neighborhoods all the kids knew each other practically since they were babies, born with silver spoons in their mouths.
“But Brian was always nice to me,” continued Callie. “I started in this district in third grade on scholarship, and I think it was the Adams’ money that made it possible. I’m not sure of course,” she said hastily. “The board never said which donor sponsored my seat, but I think it was Mr. and Mrs. Adams.”