Melissa
The fantasy had been chewing at me for weeks, but yesterday it finally clawed its way out of my mouth.
I was still sore from the apartment—thighs bruised where Henry’s fingers had dug in, ass tender from the plug he’d left buzzing inside me while he f****d me senseless. Philip couldn’t sit without wincing; every time he shifted in his chair during morning lecture his breath hitched and his cheeks went pink. I loved it. Loved knowing exactly why he was leaking into his boxers right now, right beside me, while the professor droned about Derrida.
But the new thought was filthier.
I wanted to be full—stuffed, split open—while Philip was getting wrecked at the same time. I wanted to feel every brutal thrust Henry gave him travel through Philip’s c**k into me. I wanted to be pinned
