Reese Gabriel - Captured!--On Film

Grigori moaned in reply and Giovanni muttered, “ Si, bene, bene ."

One after another she kissed their darling heads. Both cocks were languid, spent. She had her work cut out for her. Bending her head down, she licked each, full wet, playful slobbers. She followed this up with kisses to their balls. Now she touched them, lightly stroking their testicles. What magic there was in making a man excited. What sexier thing could a woman do, knowing that erection was going to fill her and pummel her and ultimately get her off?

"You are both so fucking fantastic.” She dabbed her tongue at their muscular thighs, expanding her area of worship. “I never thought I could feel comfortable like this. I admit it. I admit I love this. Even if it is wrong."

"How can it be wrong when it feels like this?” Giovanni wanted to know.

It was Grigori who got his erection back first. This was largely a function of age, though Julie wondered if maybe it had something to do with his feelings for her, too-all that passion transforming itself into testosterone. She wanted to take him deep, but the man had something else in mind. Sitting up, he grabbed her by the waist and scooted her around so that crotch was over his face.

He held her fast, pushing his tongue aggressively into her wet hole. She responded by devouring his sex in turn. Enjoying the fruit of her hard work, she slurped him to the back of her throat. Meanwhile, he was making the walls of her pussy clench greedily, craving even deeper invasion. Her clit welcomed him as an old friend, allowing him to loft her into the stratosphere. She wanted them to come together and fast.

Giovanni did not want to be excluded, however. Moving behind her, he slipped a finger up inside Julie's asshole. “You'll serve me here,” he told her. “You'll give me all I want or you'll face the whip again."

She moaned in reply. His anal touch was making her pussy spasm, which was challenging Grigori's tongue, in turn to press even more urgently. Their bodies were dripping perspiration now, the liquid instantly cooled by the breeze. It was slippery, silvery moon fucking, under white midnight light. Surrounded in silk, soaked in sex, body parts stinging from the whip, hearts stinging with shame.

"I will fuck you like a dog, Julie. You will howl and whimper. It's what you want. What you dream of. And no cameras to lend legitimacy. This is lust, pure and simple."

She squirmed as he worked the finger deeper, exposing her, splaying her, splitting her open as if on some pagan alter. All new, a virgin offering, the perfect sacrifice to the men's pleasure and to her own. She could do nothing but offer herself in kind, undulating her hips, seeking the maximum amount of contact. But it was the men who controlled everything, the amount of pressure she would feel, the parts of them that would touch her. Damned infernal teasing is what it was. Fingers and tongues. She needed their manhoods, iron-hard, silk covering velvet.

Julie could hold back no more. “Both of you,” she gasped, releasing Grigori. “I need both of you."

She scrambled over both men, creating a brief pile of sweating limbs. What she wanted was herself at the base of the pyramid, on all fours, open and ready for complete possession.

"Fuck me,” she begged. “In my mouth and ass … at once."

Grigori took the front. Straddling her face with his thighs, he put his cock back where it had been. She took it happily, allowing him to find all the space and pleasure he needed in the warm pocket of her mouth. His hands intertwined in her hair, exercising a loose but very real control. This made her pussy all the hotter and wetter.

Giovanni had her back end. Flicking a finger over her clit, he worked her to fever pitch, getting her to the place of accepting whatever he would do to her. He wanted her to take the ass fucking as willingly as a vaginal one, and maybe even more. She replied by wiggling her tail, pushing back each time she exhaled. She was breathing cock, breathing Grigori and she wanted to be as tightly pressed from behind.

Ambrosiano scooped at her juices, moving them from her pussy to the narrower chnnnel. Her puckered asshole tingled in response. Her every nerve ending was on high alert. If not for Grigori's cock functioning as a gag, she would have screamed out her sheer sensuous joy as he slipped the head of his long dick between her ass cheeks. No more waiting-it had finally come. She was going to lose her anal virginity.

Giovanni moved into her with steady finesse, like he had with Grigori. She was smaller, though, which meant he could not push as far as fast. His hands pressed at her back, his skin warm and demanding, wanting her compliance, her opening and intimacy. She could not think beyond the act, though, the sheer implications of being doubly stuffed with dick. Like a porn star or stripper, not a real actress.

Giovanni managed to get in half way. “You are incredible,” he reached for her pussy. “You have the spirit of two, three women. And the stamina."

Her back arched, a conduit between the men. He was massaging her clit. Oh, god, she needed to end this, to finish all three of them off. The pressure was just building and building. Giovanni gave a loud grunt, cleaving her. Grigori pulled at the roots of her hair. She swallowed more cock in response, offered up more ass. Faster and faster, the two men fucking each other through her.

They were coming … yes, they were blasting her full of their fresh loads, the sperm warm in her ass and mouth. It felt like rivers of the stuff, filling her belly and her back end. Giovanni gave her a reliease to go along with it, allowing her to rush with the river, bursting and cascading, bubbling, over the edge of a waterfall, the waters roaring and steaming plunging into a moist hot valley below, a virgin jungle of green, teeming with life, dew on the leaves, lizards and snakes rustling below.

At last all three collapsed together in a heap. They were too weary to rise. It was Julie who ended up in the middle position as the three of them spooned. Grigori had the rear position, cradling her with his body. Ambrosiano was in front, his soft breathing serving as a metronome for each of their hearts. They were in synch, their physical selves blending symbiotically. Could the same be said of their spirits? Time would tell, thought Julie as they drifted off to sleep, the sounds of the sea lulling away their conscious minds.

In the morning, when they awoke, that's when they would know what had stuck and what had not.

Ambrosiano swam the currents, his lithe muscles fighting for every inch. The motorboat he'd abandoned was drifting away behind him, heading back to shore without him. Were the craft a sentient creature, he would call it wise for doing so, though rather short on loyalty. It was true that he would be wanting no return passage from it, yet a witness of some sort might have been nice.

The Maestro was off to die. Death by drowning, induced by exhaustion. Death by salt water sucked into the lungs. Death by the flipping of the switch, the brain turning off its sense receivers and interpreters. A blank television screen. Death by the closing of the heart valves, too, this was another way to look at the matter. Some might say it was a function of depression or madness, but Ambrosiano had simply reached the point of no longer wishing to see, interpret or direct a single thing in life. Given that he had no other purpose or meaning in his life except to direct, this left only one option.

Why this sudden ennui? This utter intolerance to being? It was not as if something had fundamentally changed, after all. Things had been much the same for as long as he could remember. Perhaps they had always been this way. True, Sofia's death had been a demarcation, a cold knife dug into the meat of his world, but even this should have been translatable for the lens of the camera. All things were art, the greater the suffering, the more the art.