Overwhelmed, Part Eight
So, I find spit-roasting to be a vile term, but…
The entire time, I had a little bit of trouble keeping my thoughts in any kind of working order. I felt more used (in a good way) than I ever have in a sexual situation. Sir would fuck me, the thrusts would push my face onto SG’s cock, and so on. I felt incredibly functional and reliant. I was straddling the line between being passive and active.
Because I had my work cut out for me. I was gagging on SG’s cock. I was busily thrusting back on Sir’s, enjoying the feeling of him inside me. And I thought that was the fullest and busiest and most overwhelmed I could get, until I heard the click of Sir opening the thing of lube.
“I’m gonna put a finger in her ass,” he told SG.
I looked up to see SG smirk. “Good. Fill ‘er up.”
I wriggled as I felt his finger push inside of me. My body felt so very used and so very available at the same time. SG grabbed up a fist of my hair and buried my face on his cock, making me gag until I had to pull back and gasp for air.
“What’d I tell you?” he asked, slapping my face. “What’d I tell you if you weren’t going to suck it? I want that mouth busy.”
“I was going to lick your balls, I swear!” My voice was unnecessarily and hilariously panicked. He and Sir started laughing.
“I was, I swear,” he repeated, imitating my voice to a mockingly saccharine level and making a pouty-face. “I swear.”