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When Luna Rose receives a VIP invitation to an elite members-only masquerade party, she figures that this may be the perfect opportunity to explore the other side of herself, if only for one night, but Luna doesn’t bank on meeting the mysterious stranger in the wolf mask that will unlock her deepest desires and set her whole world on fire.

 Follow Luna on this decadent journey of self-exploration, empowerment and sexual awakening, and experience the art of letting go.

***Press play on the specially curated playlist and begin.

Last night I met God. I realised my own divinity in the arms of another and I became her. I relive our blue moments, wedged between a sea of impatient bodies on the train platform, dreamily fingering the rim of my coffee cup, marvelling at how we were something, and nothing, and everything, all at once. Last night I was truly free for the first time in my existence, and after last night, I will never be the same again.

 Last Night…

 My bare leg slips out from beneath a floor-length red satin cloak and I step out of the black cab onto a quiet street in South Kensington. I thank the driver and gaze up at the grand Victorian townhouse sat unassumingly on the corner, wondering if this is the right address. In my hand is a gold foil invitation stating that I am a VIP guest at ‘The Garden’. I double check the address. This is definitely it. I adjust my red Venetian mask and tug my oversized satin hood lower, take a deep breath to calm my nerves, then step to the intercom and press the button.

“Password?” A smooth male voice answers.

“Eden Lives.”

The tall wrought iron gates swing open. I make my way up the marble path with butterflies in my stomach and fire in my veins, praying that this Valentine’s Day will live up to its promise.

“Good evening, madam,” the smooth male voice from the intercom smiles at me from behind the concierge desk. He’s topless and olive skinned, with dark hair that flops into his deep-set eyes, “May I take your coat?”

I shift in my heels and pull my coat little tighter around me.

“Is this your first time?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yes,” he chuckles softly. “It’s perfectly normal to be nervous, but I promise you it will fade.” He holds his hand out patiently.

I take another deep breath and hand my coat to him, reassuring myself that I still have my cloak to hide behind.

“Welcome to The Garden, Red Riding Hood.”

It’s a hedonistic midsummer’s night dream, the setting for tonight’s adventure more fantastical than I could have anticipated this unassuming Kensington townhouse to behold.

The grand foyer houses two winding marble staircases and a statue of Athena beneath a huge crystal chandelier. The stairs and the statue are strewn with honeysuckle and white gardenias that perfume the air with their delicate fragrance, and all around me monarch butterflies flutter gaily. Between the base of the staircases, a striking copper-skinned satyr with golden horns stands with a welcoming smile and a gilded tray of champagne in front of a heavy purple velvet curtain. He gives a small bow and hands me a crystal flute before parting the curtain, “Enjoy your evening, madam.”

I pass through the curtain into decadent wonderland of dreams and debauchery where chandeliers and organza winged acrobats in nude glittering bodysuits fall from the domed ceiling. Below them, a half balcony sits above several sweeping willow trees strung with pearlescent fairy lights and delicate purple flowers facing the huge stage on the opposite end of the room. Beautiful women in intricately beaded corsets and ostrich feathers gyrate and thrust their lithe frames in a provocative manner to Sade, to an audience filled with fairy tale characters at their most erotically refined. They make sin look expensive. They’re shamelessly draped across every available surface, including each other, blowing shisha from gilded pipes from Morocco and sipping the finest champagne from France, as they flirt and stare at the dancers in awe while nymphs and fairies’ plie them with party favours.

My apprehension subsides. I drop my hood and glide deeper into the glittering madness, each step purposely engineered to tease what lies beneath my cloak and conjure curiosity. I give the venue another scan...and then I notice him. I notice him the way you notice a jewel sparkle amidst the darkness when the light hits it just right.

He’s tucked away in the shadows of the gilded balcony section above me, his elongated frame draped sideways across a black throne, his face hidden beneath bone straight silver hair that falls to his waist and a white wolf mask encasing the top half of his face in soft white fur that flares across his cheekbones and blends into his tresses. A patch of soft white fur sits on his chest in stark contrast against his nightshade skin, and white leather trousers hang dangerously low on his hips.

I come to an immediate halt. How is he even real?

My staring alerts him to my bewildered presence and his eyes find mine. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side and they flash starlight at me. Gun metal claws grip the edge of the balcony and he leans down, holding me in place with his stare.

I take my scarlet painted lips between my teeth and push back my cloak, never breaking eye contact, to reveal myself to him. My curves are cinched at the waist in a bejewelled ruby corset that amplifies my provocative figure tenfold. My large breasts, almost bare, were it not for the sequined love hearts covering my steadily hardening nipples, and bejewelled peekaboo French knickers made of satin that hug my soft, round ass.  

At the sight of my ensemble, the big bad wolf stands and runs the tip of his tongue over his fangs slowly. Even though I’m safely out of his reach, I can’t deny how deliciously intimidating he is or how curious I am about what being bitten by him would feel like. My stomach feels like I swallowed a few hundred butterflies in the foyer, my skin is flush with heat, my thighs are quivering and a discerning tightness is forming at the apex. I steady myself in my heels and exhale.

Just as I balance myself, the wolf pounces onto the balcony ledge then vaults himself onto one of the unoccupied dancer ribbons hanging from the ceiling. Everybody gasps in shock then admiration as he glides down it, still staring at me, and dismounts gracefully into a crouch at my feet. He straightens up to tower over me and almost everyone else, and saunters closer till we’re almost skin to skin. Was it all a bit arrogant and contrived? Yes. Am I aroused by it? Definitely. The audience’s attention moves from the burlesque dancers to the wolf and I, some curious, others envious. I don’t know who he is to them but from their reaction and his throne up on high, he isn’t just anybody. A hum of gossiping voices floats below the music. Up this close I can see etchings of intricate tribal tattoos spanning across his arms and chest, that all but blend into his sculpted onyx skin, and breathe his irresistible scent of cloves and sex. My desire warms.

He lifts my chin with the pointed tip of his claw and leans in closer until his snout brushes against my nose. I swallow.

“My, what sharp teeth you have,” I manage to squeak.

He blinks at me, then laughs. It’s too deep and unsettles me in the best way that liquesces the tension in my lower region, even more so when his baritone breaks through all the noise and he replies, “All the better to eat you with.” He rakes his claw down my throat and to the tender hollow between my collar bone, “Is that the response you were looking for, Red?”

“Only if you mean it.”

He raises his eyebrow and licks his fangs again, “Do you want me to mean it?”

“I do.”

His face turns serious and he closes the gap between us. His lips graze my earlobe, “I’m a creature of many appetites, Red. Are you sure this is what you want?” he purrs, pressing his erection against my stomach. “I can’t promise I’ll be gentle with you.”

“I don’t want you to be,” I breathe, shifting against him to further stimulate his arousal.

He grips my throat and flashes his fangs at me, “Good.” Icy blue eyes bore into mine, watching, waiting to see my anxiousness for his next move increase. I can’t quite figure him out, a thought which both terrifies and excites me. I have no idea what he’s going to do next but I do know one thing for certain -the wolf intends to surprise me at every turn.

His grip on my throat tightens and I part my lips to make up for the heightened decrease in airflow. His eyes fall to my open mouth and he makes a low lustful sound, then slowly, he tilts his face to the side, leans in consumes me with a feather-light kiss that lingers and flows through me. I sigh against his pillowy lips and melt into his sadistic embrace.

“Tighter,” I moan, bringing my hand up to his and pressing it harder into my neck, “Hold me tighter.”

“Oh,” he smiles against my lips, “I can see I’m going like you a lot, Red. You and I are going to have a lot of fun this evening.” His claws prick my skin as his grip tightens further, delivering a fiercer contrast in sensation to his seductively lulling kisses. He draws back just a touch and releases me, “Let’s begin with dinner and a show, shall we?” He offers me his arm and walks me out of the main arena.

I furrow my brow, “Why are we leaving?”

“You requested that I feast on you so I’m taking you to watch something more suitable.”

“Oh!” I take a gratuitous gulp of my champagne.

Eyes follow us as we depart.

He walks behind me as we climb the winding marble staircase. I can feel his heated gaze admiring my figure as I slink and sashay my hips from left to right. We pause at the top and he draws me to him, “I’ve never had a guest as tempting as you in my establishment before, so I’m not sure what you like. Tell me, Red,” his hands reach between my legs and he strokes my pussy through the satin, “I want to know what makes you cum?”

It’s HIS establishment? Well that explains the stares. I try not to appear too impressed or embarrassed by his question. “Tempting, am I?” I sigh, the alternating sensation of soft flesh and sharp claws caressing my clitoris taking hold of me.

“Oh, very much so,” he kisses my neck. “I know you saw them staring at us.”

“Yes…”

“I’m very particular with whom I choose to be intimate with. It’s almost unheard of for me to choose company, but then I saw you…you’re fucking exquisite. Your confidence, your beauty, your aura…you have this divinity about you.” He pushes my thong aside. Skin meets skin in soft circular motions. I whimper and press into his touch. “I had to have you. So, tell me, I need to know. Do you have any fantasies that require fulfilling?”

I blush, “There is one…”

“Yes?”

I shake my head and giggle, “I’m not sure that I’m far gone enough to tell you yet.”

“Well then,” he slips my thong back into place and puts his fingers to my lips. I clean them off one by one. He smiles, “Let’s get you a little closer to the edge.”

I crush my mouth to his and he groans, applying more pressure and slipping his tongue inside. My legs quiver.

The wolf leads me down on of the dimly lit baroque hallways where sultry classical music leaks from the speakers, providing a beautiful instrumental to the symphonies of pleasure that cascade from behind every door. He comes to a halt, gun metal claws curl around a crystal doorknob. He looks over his shoulder at me and flashes his fangs, “A warm up.”

Voices quieten when he enters, eyes widen, breaths catch and intimacies slow. He doesn’t address it or make any show of acknowledging the writhing rainbow of bodies enveloped around and inside of each other on the gigantic four poster bed in the centre of the room. I stare. And stare. And stare. Everywhere my awestruck eyes travel reveals a new absurdly fantastical scandal; minotaurs and elves, mermaids and dragons, pirates and seraphim. They’re wickedly wonderful, half of their costumes discarded in vibrant glittering heaps around the floor of the bed, whilst tails, and horns, and wings rise and fall between painted flesh and masked faces joined at the hips and mouths.

He leads us to the gallery on the outskirts of the room, where those too shy or simply biding their time, observe the action. He stands behind me and nips at my earlobe with his fangs, “Watch them.”

My focus falls to the copper-skinned high elf, with perfectly pointed ears peeking from beneath her crowned dreadlocks, in the lap of the naked Minotaur. She’s facing him, clutching at his thick horns as she bounces and rolls her hips up and down his girth, her pert breasts brushing against the soft, dark hairs on his chest. He’s gripping her waist, guiding her pleasures, pulling her down harder, harder, harder_

“Fuck!” she cries, “Don’t stop!”

The wolf’s claws tickle the outside of my thighs as the lowers my underwear. His lips brush against my neck, “I’m starving,” he growls throatily. Skin meets skin once more and he slides his finger gently between my folds, spreading my mounting liquid arousal across my sex.

I whimper and grind my ass against his erection, “Do it.”

He undoes the clasp holding my cloak together. Before it hits the ground, he is in front of me, on his knees, pulling my soaking wet thong all the way off. He gathers the scant red satin in his fist and brings it to his snout. He inhales. He growls.

The seraphs wings rush back and forth, violently discarding pure white feathers with the force of his every thrust as he drives himself deeper into the dragon, tugging her ponytail between her iridescent sequin scaled wings, forcing her to deepen the arch in her back. She claws at black velvet bed sheets, groaning through gritted teeth, her hooded eyes resting on us; Red Riding Hood about to be devoured by the Big Bad Wolf.

Starlight eyes glisten between mahogany thighs. A tongue, soft, pink and warm as the object of its consumption, darts out to deliver a long indulgent taste. The wolf’s eyes flutter shut and he hums his satisfaction.

His hands tangle in his silvery hair as he untangles the strings of his mask, and I pay attention, ready to meet my lover for the first time.

I don’t know what to expect the wolf’s true form to look like, but it definitely isn’t what he reveals to me -a face unreasonably blessed by Oshun. He is almost too pretty -all sharp angles and soft, upward sweeping brush strokes -but my god, he looks heavenly with his pretty mouth puckered to kiss my lower lips.

Claws grip my hips and his soft lips whisper back and forth across my labia, parting them briefly to graze my clitoris. He kisses it lightly; not enough pressure to make my knees buckle, but enough to make them tremble.

I push forward.

He moves back.

Another light kiss. Then another. And another.

The dragon’s mouth is slack, eyes locked onto the wolf’s teasing mouth. She’s panting, almost smiling, but too far gone in the sensation of the seraph deep inside her to express herself.

I want to feel what she feels -that delectable state of blissed-out eroticism that surpasses any drug.

She watches me and I watch her back, both of us growing hotter, wetter, more undone by our lovers.

The wolf takes all of me into his mouth all at once. I throw my head back, close my eyes and focus on the feeling of his tongue sliding up and down between my slick folds, circling my clit, dipping inside of my opening and repeating the process until he masters the perfect figure of eight. It’s so warm. He palms my ass as he pulls my hips back and forth, grinding my sex against his tongue.

I run my fingers through his hair and hold on, guiding him lower, encouraging the penetration he’s teasing me with.

His tongue goes ramrod straight, firm and fully extended. He pushes it inside me and forces my hips down harder so that he can taste more of me. I follow his lead, riding his face like there’s no one but us here, knowing full well that we are the centre of attention, from the lovers on the bed to the audience in the gallery right next to us.

I peek from through my lashes at the bewildered fairy tale characters in the gallery. Some of them are watching us with their lips between their teeth, others sipping champagne as they undress us further with their eyes, their hands exploring their own bodies and one another’s.

The sensation of his insatiable mouth intensifies and new wave of heat engulfs me. I gasp. Something otherworldly takes root inside me, pressing at the confines of my flesh, intent on liberation. He stops thrusting and wraps his muscular arms around my waist, holding me in the vice of his blue undoing as his tongue explores my walls. I can feel every lick, every swirl, every stroke that searches deeper within for my finale. I hear his efforts mixed in with the moaning, gasping and heavy breathing of our company; this deliciously wet sound, gluttonous and self-serving, seeking the kind of salvation only a man who truly enjoys eating pussy can conjure.

My knees finally buckle and I collapse into arms that catch me before I fall.

“S-sorry,” I gasp at the innocent bystander as the wolf growls ardently, sending vibrations into my vulva, this new position giving him better access.

“I don’t mind,” the innocent smiles down at me, a crown of flowers adorning his tight, sunset curls. That’s the only thing he’s wearing…save the pointed ears, array of butterflies stuck to various parts of him and leaves painted up his sides.

I’ve fallen into a forest nymph.

His face is softer than the wolf’s; a little less angular, with a smattering of chocolate freckles across his nose and cheeks, but kohl lined, honey hued eyes and a full beard make him almost as daunting. His wide, smiling mouth is a brighter shade of pink, full and soft. He licks them as he watches my body writhe between his arms and the wolf’s mouth. His hands are supporting me under my bust, at the side of my ribs, and each time I move my breasts skim his fingertips.

I move more.

He cocks his brow then moves his hands closer together so that they sit right under my chest. “May I?”

I smile devilishly and nod. I don’t know what’s come over me. I came to The Garden to step outside of my comfort zone, but never in a million years did I imagine that my experiment would lead me to having two beautiful men worshipping at my alter.

The nymph massages my breasts, squeezing them between his large, thick fingers and circling them so that they brush against each other. He catches my hardened nipples, still concealed beneath sequined heart shaped covers, and rolls them between his index and his thumb.

It’s becoming overwhelming. I don’t know which man to focus on because the moment I lock onto the sensation of one, the other sparks something elsewhere, and they collide and blend into one huge orgasmic feeling that thrums in my bones and coaxes the otherworldly feeling out of my pores.

I throw my head back and cry out. The nymph lets me rest my head against his chest as my breaths become shorter and sharper and my hips turn wild, undulating mercilessly as the wolf slurps greedily at my sex.

The nymph kisses my cheek, “You’re almost there.”

I reach up and pull his head down, crushing his full pink mouth to mine and surrendering. My body twitches violently and everything is hot, too hot, with erratic bursts of cool in-between, encouraging my madness further. Blinding lights flash beneath my scrunched-up eyelids and my war cries vibrate along my tongue into my new lover’s open mouth.

The wolf growls and holds me firmly in place, his tongue unrelenting, swallowing every drop as I keep coming, and coming, and coming…

Cries from the bed match my own. I’m not sure whom they’re coming from -I’m too deep in my own oblivion -but their moans carry me deeper into my break point. I can’t take any more. I collapse into myself like a house of cards, my limbs limp and twitching from the aftershock, my skin damp and glowing under the candlelight around the room.

My lovers release me.

The wolf kisses me, granting me a taste of myself before he gathers me up in his arms and holds me close. His rigid appendage threatens to tear through his trousers. “Are you ready to tell me what you want now, Red?” he groans, grinding his erection against my pussy.

I reach down between us, my hand brushing against the V shaped cut starting at his hip, and undo the button at the top of his trousers. I slip my hands inside the white leather to discover that he isn’t wearing any underwear. I squeeze his size and a bead of clear pre-cum produces itself at the head. I swipe my thumb over it and slip his nectar into my mouth.

His eyes burn brighter as he exhales through his teeth.

“I was thinking we could get a little privacy,” I reach behind and take the nymph’s hand, trying to ignore the flush of heat burning my face at my boldness, “All of us.”

The wolf regards the nymph properly for the first time, then looks back at me with a raised eyebrow, “This is your fantasy?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never done anything like this before?”

“Never.”

He looks the nymph over again then nods, “Okay.” He bends and scoops me up into his arms then walks us over to the bed, “Clear the room,” his baritone rings. I avoid making eye contact as couples and spectators are stopped mid-fuck to make way for me.

Once everybody’s gone, he sets me down on the edge of the bed and they both stand before me, two black men as different as night and day, beautiful, and aroused, and craving me.

I take a moment to study the nymph a little more. He looks like the sun, with his butterscotch skin, fiery hair and halo eyes. His full thick beard makes his softer features more serious, he stands only a hair shorter than the wolf, his build not as broad, but even more chiselled to the point that his skin looks like it was vacuum wrapped over pure hard muscle. And his dick… I blink at it and swallow hard. The butterflies and the flower crown take nothing away from his masculinity.

The wolf’s hand dips into his trousers and he pulls his length out so I can see if my touch deceived me. It did not. I shift further back onto the bed. He flashes his fangs at me and wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly, from base to tip, watching me as he does so. “How do you want us, Red?”

I squeeze my thighs together. I want to do this. I’ve fantasised about it for years as I lay in my bed with my hands under the covers, but it’s one of those fantasies that you never speak on or admit to, one that you never imagine you will ever act out because the idea of a threesome is usually something that favours men. Requests of two women fawning over them and each other, or two men having one woman at their mercy. I’ve never admitted to my thoughts of this because women aren’t always granted the courtesy to own and/or indulge in their sexuality the way men are. One woman and two men means she is theirs to use and ruin (reputations beware), never that she gets to experience double the pleasure, the worship, the exhilaration of pure, unadulterated liberty.

I look up at the wolf from under my lashes, “I was hoping you’d take the lead.” I don’t miss the sly smirk he brandishes in the nymph’s direction.

The wolf lifts his chin and rolls his broad shoulders back, assuming the stature of the alpha, clearly pleased with my choice. “You want to be dominated.”

It’s not posed as a question but I nod anyway.

The nymph takes my hand and closes it around his shaft, guiding my caress, “How do you want it?”

“Slow,” I move at my own pace, squeezing his girth as I stroke, “Intimate. Like we have all the time in the world.” I stand and take the wolf in my other hand, summoning the courage to meet his burning gaze, “I want to enjoy this.” I hold his stare until he nods that he understands because I don’t want this to be some tortured recreation of aggressive pornography catered to the male gaze. I want unselfish sensuality, something rooted in love, something so good that if I ever work up the courage to discuss it with my girlfriends, they will lean in eager to hear more and say, ‘Well okay, sis,’ snap their fingers and encourage me to keep living my best life.

The wolf tangles his fingers in my hair and tilts my face up to meet his. He kisses me, slow and strong, taking his time when he pulls away, only to rush to pull me back in and catch my bottom lip between his teeth. I moan and continue to stroke them both in time. Their breaths are out of sync with each other. Their moans are sporadic and breathlessly earnest, one like gravel, the other like velvet. It’s a heavy, sighing, skin-tight, quivering-lips-singing-in-alto kind of sound, that bounces invariably from staccato to reverb between them. The sensual sonata collides with the luxury of the wolf’s tongue caressing mine. I whimper quietly into his mouth. He releases me into the arms of the nymph, who takes my face in his hands and guides my smeared red lipstick onto his mouth. He’s more fervent, his need vibrating along his skin like an electric current. His tongue travels further, deepening the kiss, and it’s borderline face fucking. He touches my sex and the wolf palms my breasts. The overwhelming sensation starts again.

We three sink onto the edge of the bed, me in the middle with them either side of me. The wolf pulls my legs open further and watches the nymph’s thick fingers rub my clit. He crawls his claws along my inner thigh. The nymph goes lower and inserts a digit into me, and the wolf picks up where he left off; one massaging me from the outside and then other from deep within.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” the wolf groans before his teeth pinch my neck.

I gasp and tear my face away from the nymph’s to breathe and watch what they’re doing to me. My mouth forms an o, and short sharp breaths burst between moans at the sight of not one, but two hands provoking me. It looks strange, like I’m being pried open and explored by men who are seeing a vagina for the first time and have decided that they like it, but also, I feel powerful because all of this attention is on me. I peel off my nipple covers and raise my chest, and like bees to honey they flock to fill their mouths. It’s surreal.

My temperature sky rockets and I’m writhing for them, my body readying itself for another escape into oblivion.

“Turn over,” the wolf barks. All action comes to a halt as I crawl further into the huge bed, kicking off my heels and sticking my ass in the air, enjoying making them watch. I hear their hands slapping against their own flesh and the removal of leather.

The wolf stalks onto the bed and moves in front of me, on his knees and pulls me upright. His expert hands unhook my corset, “Before we indulge you, I want you for myself.” He throws my glittering bodice to the side and yanks me to him and it’s all skin, on skin, on skin, hot and aching to be pressed together till we become one. He pushes loose strands of my hair away from my face, “I wanna get drunk on you, Red,” he kisses my behind the ears, “Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

He gestures to the nymph to give us some space. The nymph moves to the other side of the bed and stretches himself out like a jungle cat.

The head of the wolf’s hardness bumps against the opening of my softness and he nuzzles into the crook of my neck, “Tell me your name, Red.”

“Red Riding Hood,” I smirk.

“No,” he pulls back breaking the skin on skin, “Your real name.” His eyes serious and inquisitive as they search my face for truth. Hesitant hands reach for my mask.

I shift back, “What are you doing?”My focus shifts between him and the nymph, “I want to keep it on.”

“Then how will I know you?” he frowns, putting emphasis on the word know like it means so much more than seeing the face behind the mask. “You asked for intimacy -names and faces count, don’t they?”

“I don’t know your name,” I frown.

“You never asked.”

I didn’t ask because I don’t want to know. The whole point of coming here was so that I could indulge myself and remain anonymous. No names, no faces, just sex and mystery. I fold my arms.

“I’m Lilu,” he says without prompting.

“Paris,” the nymph chimes from his side of the bed.

So much for mystery.

Lilu takes my hand in his, “You have nothing to be afraid of. I created The Garden so that people us can be free to be who we are. You are safe here.”

I sigh and remove my mask but keep my head down, working up the courage to meet my lovers as myself, after all, what is freedom isn’t free if it comes with restrictions.

Paris takes my mask from me.

They wait.

“Luna.”

Lilu tilts my head up and brushes his thumb across my lips, “Luna.” His inquisitive eyes drink me in and from the expression on his face I believe that he is getting drunk because he’s staring at me like I created the constellations. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” His arms hold me tighter and in one swift move I am on my back beneath him. He slips on a condom and then…then he is inside me, pressing down, stretching, snaking and filling me to the brim with him till there is absolutely no room for anything more.

The sound that bursts from my mouth is inaccurate; it does him no justice. It should be a long, hard scream of pleasurable disbelief, but all I manage is a minuscule squeak followed by stunned silence. I’m not breathing. I can’t remember how to. All I can do is cling to his back with my mouth wide open and feel.

He feels like a rebirth, and I know that sounds weird to say because how on earth does a person feel like being born again? I was going to say it’s like waking up, but this is more than that. I woke up and I KNOW stuff now.

He gasps and drops his face into my neck, pushing and pulling in and out of me, cursing and fisting the sheets. “Fuck!” He picks up the pace.

I release a long sigh, melting as I curve my hips up to meet his so he can know me more.

We collide at the hips.

His claws tear holes in the sheets and white fangs sink into my throat.

“God!” My eyes snap open and I can see Paris with flowers in his hair, thrusting into his hand, lids low, mouth slack and breathing in time with me. I reach out for him, “Come.”

Lilu pulls out and sits back on his heels as I switch position onto all fours.

Paris presents his sex to me and presses it into my wanting mouth.

Lilu trails kisses down my spine as my tongue wraps around the head of Paris’s dick. It’s smooth like hard candy, slick with my saliva and his pre-cum and as I moan, Lilu slips back inside of me.

At first my thoughts are scattered, I can’t tell my head from my tail. It’s similar to when you lose your virginity and you’re trying to get used to the realisation that, yes, you are actually having sex. But it’s worse…in a good way…an unusual way, because this time I know what I’m doing but I just can’t seem to function correctly. Dicks thrust between both sets of lips, both individually amazing, but together they are epic.

I push back against Lilu, trying to regulate his speed and make room to propel onto Paris. Eventually they slow and follow my lead, and that’s when the pressure starts to build. It begins in my stomach and the otherworldly thing fighting to free itself from the confines of my skin seeps from my pores and flows over all of us. Our bodies are flush, glowing with sweat, our sounds growing louder, wilder, rougher. It doesn’t sound pretty anymore. Grunting, gagging, groaning and growling over the slapping and squishing of hard bodies in wet orifices.

I need them deeper. I need to lose myself in this because lord knows if I’ll ever do this again, so this time has to count. I arch my back and drop the back of my tongue.

Paris’s length slides further into my throat and he grabs a handful of my hair. He’s not following my lead anymore, he thrusting hard and I’m doing my best to breathe through my nose and take it.

Lilu slows and curls his waist as he strokes, letting Paris take centre stage. “That’s right baby,” he growls, “Take all of it.” I tighten around him and I can feel him fighting to wait his turn.

Paris’s throat fucking turns jerky and his thrusts are drawn out. He soon spills into my mouth with a strained groan, pulling my hair at the roots and squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that his lashes disappear into the folds. He lets me go and falls back to watch the finale.

Lilu keeps his new, slower pace, but his strokes are more articulate. He rolls and grinds his length into me, hitting every wall with fluid precision. I sigh and sink my upper half into the bed. It sounds pretty again, like how lovers sound in the movies, filled with passion and poetry.

“Are you ready to cum for me, Luna?” he says in a voice that feels like 90s R&B.

“Yes,” I moan.

He pulls out a little and twists my hips so that I’m laying on my side with one leg between his and the other adjacent to his torso and resumes his forbidden dance, with his eyes locked onto mine. “Don’t look away,” he orders gripping my thigh, “I want to watch you cum for me.”

You’d think that the two of us would be overshadowed by the three-way that just took place, but as I stare at him and he back at me, something clicks into place and we start to burn brighter than anything I’ve ever known. We’re riding each other into insensibility and there is nothing but us in those last moments. He’s too deep for comfort, his hips slamming against mine, the start of him crashing into the end of me, but I don’t care. I’m delusional, high on the thing that teeters along the fine line between pleasure and pain. I want his destruction and all the chaos that comes with it…

And it comes…

And like rain…

I storm for him.