Jan Springer: In Her Bed

“Climb onto Landon, sweetness,” Durango instructed.

She wasn’t even thinking as she followed Durango’s instruction and moved over the man. A man she barely knew. She did know she wanted him. Wanted his big cock buried deep inside of her.

Durango grabbed her waist, his two hands like brands of molten steel as he guided her over Landon. Squatting, she angled herself until Landon was able to penetrate her vagina. Then Durango’s hands left her waist, and his strong fingers curled around her shoulders as he pushed her downward.

She inhaled softly as Landon’s cock slid into her. His stiff, swollen flesh impaled her to the hilt. Then Durango was pushing her downward. She understood what he wanted and lowered herself, her breasts flattening against Landon’s muscles, and her mouth immediately fusing over Landon’s mouth. His lips were soft, yet firm. Demanding, yet tender as he kissed her. His hands smoothed over her back, and he held her tight to him, as if never wanting to let her go. She loved the tight embrace. Felt safe and wanted. Loved.

She moaned as Durango’s lubed, condom-sheathed cock slid into her ass. The full pressure unbelievably beautiful, it brought tears to her eyes.

“Turn this way, angel,” Tyrell whispered from her right side. She did as he asked. She realized he was squatting beside Landon and herself, sitting on the bed in such a way were she came face-to-face with his engorged cock.

Huge cock, she corrected herself. She opened her mouth and accepted him, his girth stretching her lips like they’d never been stretched before.

Goodness, but he was so big!

Gyrating her hips, she gasped at the erotic feel of being double penetrated. Of being sandwiched between two heavily muscled men. Both Landon and Durango were groaning, both bucking into her, the intensity of her arousal making her cry out against Tyrell’s cock.

Soon all three of the men found a perfect rhythm for themselves. Landon thrust his hips, creating a heady friction against her clit as he stayed inside her. Durango began a luscious thrust in and out of her ass, and Tyrell pistoned into her mouth.

She grew feverish, and an orgasm snapped through her at white-hot speed, making her body tighten, making her spiral out of control and into the world where nothing existed but pleasure. Pure arousal.

They fucked her like that for what seemed like an eternity. Bringing her to the edge of climaxes, holding her back, and then letting her soar into another one. She cried as swollen hard flesh thrust into her mouth, into her ass, impaled her pussy. By the time they were finished with her she was gasping for breath, and exhaustion snapped at her limbs. Her body was so sensitized to what they’d been doing that the sheets and then the comforters they placed over her literally shocked her body back into arousal mode, and she knew if she hadn’t felt so sensually dazed at the aftereffects of what had just happened, she’d be begging them for more.

She needed rest. Then she could ask for more. Lots more.

Liz curled against the first available hard, hot body and tucked her pillow closer beneath her neck. She slept.

Liz knew she was dreaming about the day the Catastrophe hit. Knew she didn’t want to relive it, but as always, she was powerless to stop it. Helpless to stop the sadness that enveloped her at losing all of her patients. She struggled to push away the dark emotions. Tried to wake herself up, but she couldn’t. Everything played out like a puzzle. Pieces here and there, jumbled, confused. And as always, she knew they would sort themselves out, and that horrible day everyone called the Catastrophe would play out.

After the Catastrophe, she’d mourned all her patients, going so far as to bordering on clinical depression. She dare not think about the old days and her dependency on electricity, restaurants, and frozen dinners. Or her dependency on a car.

Gosh, of everything she missed, she missed her car the most. But her car hadn’t worked, just like all the rest of the cars Durango and she had tried to start. Durango had used his mechanic skills for months trying to get a vehicle going. Nothing worked.

Even vehicles that hadn’t been running the day the solar flares hit didn’t start. Durango had never been able to figure out why. No one had.

He’d tried to fix other modes of transportation that hadn’t started either. He’d tried everything. Tractors, all-terrain vehicles, motor boats. Nothing worked. Not even a spark.

She didn’t know the ins and outs of how the Catastrophe had played out, but the prevalent theory she’d heard was it had something to do with solar flares attacking people with certain types of genes. Those people had, according to witnesses, simply disintegrated after a flash of light had been seen in the sky. They’d turned into fireballs, self-combusting and ending up piles of ash wherever they’d been at the time the flares had erupted.

The flares had fried electrical grids, radio towers, satellites, some of which had fallen from the skies. Even airplanes had fallen out of the skies. Trains had crashed. Boats devoid of people had floated aimlessly in lakes and oceans.

She still remembered the day when their lives had changed. Durango and she had been having a magnificent bout of mid-afternoon sex. Their shades had been drawn, the room was pleasantly dark, and their central air conditioner had been pleasantly humming away, pumping out cool air that bathed their perspiration-soaked bodies. She’d been orgasming when she’d felt unusually hot for a second. Had vaguely noticed the central air stopping as she cried out her release.

After her orgasm, Durango had cradled her in his arms, and they’d lain quietly in bed, their breaths quick in the after-sex glow. It wasn’t until maybe an hour or so later that Durango mentioned the central air wasn’t working. She had forgotten about it after drifting off to sleep. She’d protested when he’d climbed out of bed, but he’d noted that it would start getting warm in here if he didn’t get it started again.

He’d played around with the buttons for a couple of seconds before frowning. “Huh, not working. The digital here is blank. Ever had a problem with your central air before?” Durango asked as he sat back down on the bed and gazed at her. Even in the dimness of the room she could see the love shining in his eyes for her, and it melted her insides knowing this guy with the nice bulging muscles was all hers. She had the engagement ring to prove it.

He gazed at the clock on his side of the bed. “The digital clock isn’t working either. Power must be out.”

“Probably because everyone and their mother has cranked up their air cons, too. Or maybe we were just so hot that we fried the electricity?” she joked and laughed and realized it was getting stuffy in the room.

“Maybe we should let some air in?” She looked to the window.

He nodded in agreement. “Just a couple of minutes though. All that humidity is just gonna come in and ruin the remaining coolness.”

She watched Durango get up and stroll across the room toward the window. His big cock was already at half-mast, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before he wanted more sex. The man was killing her gently with all this sex.

Every weekend, it seemed, they spent in bed fucking each other’s brains out. And every night too after they came from work and then sometimes in the mornings before they showered and took off for work, they had sex. In the shower. On the kitchen table. Even on the dryer.

He was a highly sexual man, and until meeting him, she hadn’t realized how sexual she was either.

“I have to take a leak first,” he said and did an about-face and headed into the adjoining bathroom. A couple of minutes later she heard the toilet flush and noticed it sounded funny as if there wasn’t enough water pressure or something. Great.