Halfway There, Part Eight

Flint checked on me a couple of times before leaving the girls to finish up dinner in the kitchen. He took a seat on the couch, propping his feet up on my back. I adjusted myself as he used me as a footrest to watch television, making sure I wasn’t buckling too much under the pressure at the small of my back.

“Lida,” he said, “come here.”

I heard her walk out of the kitchen and over to me. He must have been motioning to her or have mouthed something, because I heard her say, “in front of her? Are you sure?”

“Your mouth first,” Flint replied.

Lida stepped over me and moved onto the couch. I blushed and buried my face into the carpet when I realized she was sucking Flint off, my cheeks burning even harder when I heard her moans as she climbed onto him and started riding him. Flint pressed one of his feet into my back, using my body as leverage as he thrusted back up into her. I couldn’t see them from my position, but the fact that they were essentially using me as a fulcrum for sex was – and I’m embarrassed to admit – maybe my favorite part of the night. 

Eventually, he sent Lida back into the kitchen to finish the food and bent down to check on me.

“Was that okay?” He asked.

I nodded and he reached down between my legs. The second his fingers made contact, he started laughing. “Are you serious?” He shoved a few fingers inside of me and I moaned against the tape over my mouth. “That…that got you this fucking wet? Lida, she’s soaking wet.” He wiped his fingers on my face and grinned. “You’re disgusting, you know that?” With that, he rose to his feet and moved back into the kitchen. 

Blushing, I squirmed a bit in my bonds. The smell of my wetness on my face was basically inescapable. I hated admitting that I was into this sort of thing – it took me forever to admit to Sir – and now I’d just silently confessed it to Flint and Lida.