The Story of a DP - Part 1

Chapter 13

It was supposed to be just a maybe. A whispered desire between kisses and orgasms that he'd been bringing up for weeks, always circling the topic carefully—and with a hint of mischief. In my head, it all sounded exciting. In bed, in fantasy, at the tips of my fingers when I touched myself alone, imagining... everything seemed beautiful, dirty, and perfect.

But in practice?

I hesitated. I wondered if it was really his desire or just some dumb curiosity. One extra cock, just to see what it was like. An experience. But no—it wasn't that. There was hunger in the way he talked about it. Something denser, darker. It all started when I said I liked the idea of a double penetration. Those times when he'd fuck me hard and I'd slide the vibrator in alongside, moaning like crazy, feeling everything at once. He loved watching that. Loved seeing me spread open, surrendered, completely fucked.

But now... now it wasn't just the toy anymore.

There was a real man sitting on my couch. Real as it gets. Legs spread, that air of a guy who knows he's about to fuck someone, his eyes locked on me with a calm that, instead of soothing, made me shiver. And next to him, my boyfriend. Relaxed. Smiling. The two of them there... wanting to fuck me.

And me?

I was trembling. My body, my hands, even my breathing seemed off rhythm. I hadn't said "yes." Not outright. We'd agreed on a let's see if it happens, leaving the door open for a possibility. I was drinking to relax, but now I was almost drunk—and still nervous.

I sat next to my boyfriend during that little "get-together," trying to act natural. He kissed me in front of the other guy, and the kisses were different. Longer. Wetter. More teasing. Kisses with ulterior motives. But I always cut them short, turning my face away with that embarrassed smile of someone who still wasn't sure if she was ready. All of it... it was still weird to me.

Then came the voice in my ear.
Low, deep, hot:

"Tell me, did you like it?"

"Of course, babe, I thought it was all so fucking hot…"

"Don’t get too happy, ‘cause I’m gonna get jealous," he said, pretending to be all indignant.

"He’s perfect, but I’m more used to your cock."

And I was. Inside, it was an explosive mix of anxiety and arousal. I knew the guy we'd invited. We'd exchanged a few kisses in college, nothing major, just a lost night among others. I'd always thought he was hot. One of those guys who sparked a quiet little horniness, a quick fantasy in the shower... but that didn't mean I was gonna fuck him.

I mean... did it?

There, with both of them looking at me like that, with the warm buzz of alcohol in my blood and my skin prickling all the way to my thighs, I didn't know what it meant anymore. I just knew my body was starting to give in before my mouth could open and my head said no.

And it began.

The next kiss, I didn't pull away. I closed my eyes and let it happen. My mouth opened slowly, receptive, surrendered. I felt my glass being taken from my hand—I didn't see who took it, just noticed the sudden emptiness and the agony of losing that last bit of distraction. His mouth brushed mine with slowness, almost lazy, and everything in me started to melt: the tension, the fear, the self-control.

My body went soft.

For moments, I forgot I was being watched, until I felt hands sliding up, touching my breasts still over my shirt. A shiver shot through me. It was gentle, but firm. Teasing. My boyfriend was kissing my neck and already pulling off his own shirt, revealing that defined torso that always drove me wild—familiar, but now different. More exciting because it was exposed... to another.

When I glanced to the side, the other guy was still watching me. But this time, our eyes met. And we smiled. A short smile, conspiratorial, loaded with secrets that hadn't even been made yet. I think that's when my real surrender began.

My boyfriend's hand slid down my thighs, parting them, exploring my skin under my skirt like someone who already knew the territory—and still knew how to surprise. I was already wet, trying to resist the urge to spread wide open right then, fighting the last remnants of guilt that lingered.

That's when I felt the other one's presence.

From the other side of the couch, he moved closer. His body hot, now pressed against mine. He didn't ask permission. He just leaned in. His leg brushed mine, the side of his arm aligned with my body as if there was already intimacy between us. As if that was our spot.

And for the first time, I didn't pull back.
While I kissed my boyfriend, I felt another mouth. It wasn't his.
It was a new presence, hungry, bold—one that didn't ask to come in. It kissed my cheek hurriedly, grazed my ear lightly with teeth, and trailed down the curve of my jaw until it found my neck. When his lips touched there, my body ignited.

It was a silent explosion, internal, total.

In a blind impulse, I grabbed my boyfriend's hand hard and shoved it between my legs, pressing it against my soaked panties. Almost a desperate plea. Almost a demand. The friction was everything I needed in that moment.

My skin prickled all over, from my nape to my ankles.

An "oh..." long and drawn out escaped my mouth, loaded with relief, pure arousal, surrender. The sound was framed in an open smile, dazed, half-silly, half-dirty—the kind of smile that only raw pleasure can carve onto a woman's face.

As soon as the hand touched me hard, heavy and determined, I turned—blind with lust—toward the visitor. I sought his mouth without opening my eyes. Seeing would be like seeing too much, like bringing back the part of me that still doubted, that still clung to modesty. And I didn't want her there. Not now.

His mouth came, hot, familiar. And in an instant, I remembered how good his kiss was. A kiss full of horniness, tasting of the past and the urgency of the present. When our tongues touched, the world lost its edges.

Hands—lots of hands—roamed my entire body. A rotation of touches, caresses, squeezes. I leaned back on the couch, spreading my legs without resistance, like an offering. A voluptuous sacrifice, surrendered, impure.
My clothes vanished from me like magic. I didn't see, didn't think—just felt. Each piece removed was another part of me giving in.

I no longer knew who was who.

Mixed colognes, the scent of hot skin, raw desire, sex throbbing in the air, burning in my nostrils. Mouths raced over my body, up, down, crossing paths. My breasts were sucked hard, bitten, licked. Hands spread me open, fingers explored me, as if I were new territory, ready to be claimed.

And all I did was moan.

Deep. Wet. Wide open.
The tremor running through me was no longer nerves, but pure ecstasy. I was surrendered, undone, trapped in that spiral of pleasure that made my body forget itself.

But then... they stopped.

All the touches.

At the same time.

My body hung suspended in the silence, vulnerable, skin throbbing where the mouths had been. Still with my eyes closed, blind on purpose, I heard a muffled whisper and sounds around me. A subtle creak of the couch leather. A smooth, ominous movement that left me even more exposed.

I felt firm hands gripping my thighs, pulling me by the waist to the edge of the couch. I was dragged, sliding on the warm leather, until my pussy was spread open, at their mercy. I didn't know who it was. I didn't open my eyes. I just felt.

Another body, standing, positioned itself over me. Something hot and slightly damp brushed my lips. The scent was strong, musky. A cock. It was there, at my mouth, demanding entry with its touch. But I didn't know whose it was.

My body tensed for a second—not refusal, but tension.
Instinct screamed. Doubt too. But my mouth opened.
And before I could think, a tongue—another one—reached me between my legs.

The first lick was slow. From bottom to top, grazing every fold, every inch of my dripping pussy. The shock was immediate. I moaned with the cock pressing against my lips and the tongue opening me at the same time, like they wanted to split me in two directions. The mouth sucking me had no rush. It was firm, demanding, knew where to press, where to suck. Every time he plunged his tongue in, my back arched, and my hips lifted, like I wanted to swallow his face right back.

The contrast was insane.
Down there, the heat and sweat of his mouth sucking me like he wanted to pull my soul out through my pussy.
Up top, the warm weight of a cock pressing my mouth, insistent, pulsing, waiting for me to give in. There was no more who, or where, or how. Just sensations. My closed eyes turned everything into flesh, touch, scent, and cum. It was lust in its purest form. I moaned with my mouth full, moaned while being licked, moaned without knowing whose mouths they were—just knew they were all mine.

I gave in. My mouth opened, but my body didn't respond. I was useless, limp, dominated by that pleasure surging through me from bottom to top like a shock. With every lick down there, my body jerked, shuddered. And the man standing over me—my boyfriend—seeing my mouth wide open and passive, started pushing his cock against my lips like I was some stray bitch on the street, some random slut ready to be used.

The head of his cock was thick, heavy. It gagged me, choked me, took my breath. But even so, I wanted it. Wanted to serve, wanted to give pleasure, wanted to lick and swallow. I grabbed his cock with both hands, trying to control the rhythm, trying to breathe. When I felt the scent, the taste, and the weight, I knew right away: it was him. My boyfriend. My body recognized it effortlessly. Didn't even need to open my eyes.

I gripped his balls firmly, tugged with my fingers, massaged with lust. And there, between a lick I received on my pussy and a hungry suck I gave, I found myself swallowing him whole, down to the balls. I pulled with my hand as the cock slid down my throat, and I moaned muffled, feeling the drool running down my chin, my face pressed against his thighs.

"Babe..." he whispered, panting, "I want you to do something."

"What?" I replied on autopilot, without thinking, with his cock still brushing my lips.

That's when I opened my eyes.
Two men. Naked. Hard.
There.
Around me.
Both with cocks out, throbbing, wanting to fuck me. And for the first time, shock hit me—not from fear, but from realizing how surrendered I was. Right then, I was scared for myself, for the safety of my body.

"Come here, man," my boyfriend said, his voice firm.

The other one approached. And when I saw his shadow align on the other side, I understood. Understood everything. And accepted.

To be continued...