Take Three, Please (4 page)

“God,” Brandon said. “You have a beautiful ass.”

Ethan, who was stretched nearby, still breathing hard from
his own release, chuckled lightly. “You and asses,” he said.

“God. Look at it,” Brandon said.

“Oh, I am. I have.”

Morgan thought her ears might be burning. Who knew a
conversation about her ass could be so ... so ... erotic. The thought amused
her in an odd way and a surge of happiness rose up within her.

Here she was, naked, her butt in the air in front of three
men, being fucked by a man with hips that rammed her like a jackhammer. And
they were talking about her, about her ass. And it thrilled her, made her
happy.

She wanted to laugh with joy, but didn’t. They might not
understand. She was going to come again anyway. And she’d barely beat Brandon
to it, she knew.

So she bit back her laugh of delight and waited through the
remaining exquisite moments before another torrent of wonder washed through
her, over her.

Brandon slammed home hard enough to rattle her teeth. He
arched his back, cried out. He ground his hips against her as his cock twitched
inside her.

And Morgan came ... for the third time. The charm.

____________________

When Morgan awoke in the morning, it took a few moments for
her to realize where she was. She soon realized that she was snuggled in a
massive bed with three of the lustiest men she’d ever known, and with that
realization, she wanted to stretch herself like a satisfied, lazy cat. Oh yes,
life was good.

She couldn’t stretch, though. There was no chance, not when
one of those lusty men was spooned up behind her and had his hand between her
legs, slipping fingers inside her ever-wet pussy.  And not when the man facing
her was squeezing her breast and tormenting her nipples with pinches and pulls.

Ethan and Mark. Already rock hard and ready for her. Again.

Some way to wake up. She could get used to this.

Ethan whispered in her ear, “Are you too sore?”

She said she wasn’t. Not too sore. But she was sore, even if
it wasn’t enough to stop her from wanting more. No, she’d earned this soreness
and she cherished it. The evidence of the longest, sexiest night of her life.

Ethan made a mmm sound, then she felt his cock prodding at
her from behind, felt him angling himself inside her. He lifted her top leg to
open her up for him.

“We need to be quiet,” he said softly. “Brandon’s still
asleep.”

Morgan nodded, sighed in a combination of ache and pleasure
upon Ethan’s slick entry. He fucked her slowly, carefully, gently. Mark looked
at her lovingly, fondled her breasts and stole a passionate kiss.

They were insatiable, she thought. How many times had they
taken her during the night? She couldn’t recall, exactly. How many times had
they come? How many times had she? No clue.

She would think they were finished and would drift off, but
soon enough, one of them woke her, aroused her until she was begging for them
to fuck her again, and they obliged. They always obliged.

And when Brandon and Ethan shared her at the same time, one
in her mouth, one in her pussy, both of them pumping her at once, she’d thought
she’d hit the zenith of the night. But that was before Mark moved up, took her
hand and wrapped it around his hard cock.

Three at once. God, it was insane. Insanely hot.

Now it was morning and they wanted more. After Ethan
finished, she rolled over so Mark could take her the same way. And when Brandon
woke up and wanted his turn, she waited until Mark had his fill and then she
rolled over again, offering the same access to Brandon that she’d granted the
others.

Her body had entered a state of permanent arousal it seemed,
and every touch, every entry and exit of her pussy sent shivers dancing through
her. She trembled from it, shuddered, sighed and moaned, gave herself over to
the sublime novelty of unending bliss.

She came when Brandon did, and then they all dozed once
more, and she was snug between them, safe and warm. Replete, for now.

When she woke a second time it was to the smell of cooking
bacon. She realized with a start that she was alone in the bed, no big bodies
squeezing her from both sides, no big hands fondling her curves, prodding her
crannies.

Having space finally, she gave in to her urge and had a
lazy, cat-like stretch, loosening her stiffened, overworked muscles, pairing
function with pleasure.

She closed her eyes, smiled and relaxed again. Mmm, that
bacon smelled so good.

“Are you hungry?” asked Mark, his voice familiar to her now
in a way it hadn’t been before their long night together.

She rolled onto her side and looked at him, standing at the
foot of the bed so tall and handsome, and gloriously naked. “Starving.”

“Good. We’ll be back in a few.”

And then he was gone. She watched his tight ass as he walked
away. Mmm. A twinge shot through her sore pussy.

What the hell was wrong with her? She was oversexed, that’s
what. And that was fine with her.

They ate breakfast in bed, bacon and eggs and muffins, fresh
fruit and orange juice. It was a feast, made all the better when her lovers
decided she’d dropped too many crumbs on her person and needed a thorough going
over to get her cleaned up.

It was Saturday, and none of them had anywhere to go,
anything to do, so they lazed the morning away in bed.

Brandon smiled at her, cuddling with her back against Mark.
“What’s your verdict?” he asked.

“I don’t follow,” she said.

“All three of us. Are we too much to take on at once?”

“Obviously not. I think I managed okay, don’t you?”

“Better than okay.”

Mark murmured an assent and snuggled her in tighter against
him. Ethan made a sound that implied he, too, believed her to have been better
than okay.

“How much better?” she asked Brandon.

“A lot.”

“That’s boring.”

“Infinitely better.”

“Hmm, not bad.”

“You’re fucking perfect,” said Ethan.

She laughed. “I doubt that. But I don’t mind hearing it.”

Mark murmured again, something that sounded like, “Perfect.”

Brandon raised an eyebrow. “No. Not perfect. Only practice
makes perfect. And we’ve just gotten started.”

“Have we?” she asked, knowing that there was more behind his
statement than what was on the surface.

“I hope so,” said Brandon. “It’s what we wanted all along.”

Warmth flooded over her at his obvious sincerity, and at the
little squeeze Mark gave her and the quick touch of Ethan’s fingers over her
cheek.

She reached out and laid her palm on Brandon’s smooth chest.
“Then I guess that’s what it is. A beginning.”

Brandon smiled, his eyes flashing. “A damned fine one, too,
I’d say. No reason for you to go home yet, don’t you think? Spend the day?
Another night?”

Easy questions for her. “Like you said, practice makes
perfect.”

“Mmm,” Mark nuzzled her neck, raising goosebumps on her
arms.

“Sexy and smart, too,” said Ethan.

She stifled an urge to giggle. Damn, she must be happy if
she felt like giggling. But hey, she had every reason to be happy. Three, sexy
passionate reasons, in fact. And that was more than she’d ever imagined, ever
dreamed was possible.

Cecile would be disappointed when she learned what happened,
how there’d be no leftovers for her.

Morgan had selfishly taken all three, just as she pleased.
And as they pleased, they’d claimed her in return. Over and over again.

Delicious.

Perfect.

And only the beginning.

Read on for a sample of

Jasmine Plays Her Hand
,

Also by Anwen Stiles

From
Jasmine
Plays Her Hand

Chapter
1

“I liked how the swim coach took the heroine from behind in
the swimming pool.” Jasmine fanned herself rapidly.

The other ladies tittered, eight in all, each one fondly
remembering that particular scene from the book.

“Ooh,” said Cynthia, “the way he yanked off her bikini and
bent her over the side of the pool. It was so ... so ... manly.”

Exactly. All the ladies agreed.

“And then when the other swimmers came out of the locker
room and saw her there naked. Oh my God,” said Layla, her face tinged with a
red glow, “I would have died of embarrassment.”

“Not me,” said Jasmine. “I’d do just what she did — tell
them to line up and wait their turn. I wouldn’t want too many of them falling
on me at once. I’m not some gangbang Wonder Woman.”

Half of the women laughed and the other half responded with
varying levels of scandalized expressions. No one ever admitted that their
guilty little fantasies might be something they’d like to try in real life.
They generally prefaced comments about erotic scenes with phrases like, “Not
that I’d do what she did,” or “It’s not something I’d want my husband/boyfriend
to do, but ...”

This was a meeting of The Ladies Naughty Book Club, not a
gathering of free-loving swingers. All of the women present lived perfectly
respectable lives, some of them married, some dating, some neither. What they
had in common was that they were not, in real life, terribly sexually
adventurous. A stolen kiss from another girl in college, or letting their first
boyfriend feel them up at a movie theater was the extent of their
experimentation.

These nine women (and several others who weren’t present
that night) had come together and formed the LNBC after reading a wildly
popular erotic novel and discovering their shared interests through a book
lover’s web site. They met at least twice a month, sometimes more often, to
discuss new group reads, all of them spicy, sexy romances with commanding
alpha-male heroes and spirited heroines.

It was great fun. For a while. As time passed, however, they
found that their tastes for sexier delights expanded the more they read. What
had once seemed too hard core and scary, became titillating, enticing them to
broaden their choices of erotica.

They developed an increasing tolerance for kink, smut even.
And now here they were, more than two years after the formation of the book
club and their latest group read was titled “Nancy Trains the Swim Team,” an
explicit, gangbang novelette. It wasn’t naughty; it was pure smut. And they
loved every minute of it, even Layla, the youngest and most reserved woman in
the group.

Now Jasmine had opened the members of the LNBC to the idea
that she, if no others, had contemplated doing something sexually outrageous in
real life. Not fantasy. Real life.

“You don’t mean that, Jasmine,” Layla said. “You could never
actually do anything so, so you know.”

“I don’t know.” Jasmine tapped her blood-red nails on the
arm of her chair. “I’ve been thinking more and more that I just might want it.
I mean, why not? I’m single, successful, still young and attractive enough to
have my pick, more or less. Why not live it up while I can? I just turned
thirty. Life’s short, ladies.”

Several women nodded, Cynthia among them.

“If I were single,” Cynthia said, “and didn’t have kids, I’d
feel the same way.  Come on, you guys. Admit it. Part of the fantasy of reading
these books is imagining being the heroine. What if you could do more than
imagine? What if you had the balls to actually do it?”

Jasmine leaned forward in her chair. “My point exactly. We
could do more than imagine. All of us, even if you’re married.”

Margie, a happily-married woman in her mid-forties, held up
her hand. “Not me. That would be adultery. I don’t cheat.”

“Me either. Or, only in my mind with my pretend lovers in
these books,” Cynthia said, with a wistful note behind her words.

“It wouldn’t be cheating if your husbands agreed to it,”
Jasmine said.

This brought on an uproar, and no insignificant hilarity.
The ladies agreed that the idea of asking their husbands to let them be in a
gangbang was laughable in the extreme; it wasn’t even a remote possibility.

After the chuckles faded away, Cynthia looked to Jasmine and
said, “But just because some of us are out of the mix, doesn’t mean you are. If
you did it, you could tell us about it, and we could live vicariously through
you.”

Margie rolled her eyes. “This is a book club, not a true
confessions sex club.”

“That’s right,” said Layla. “We read about sex. We don’t
actually do it.”

The women laughed long and loud, informing Layla that there
were many members of the group who, gasp, actually did have sex.

Layla blushed. “You know what I mean. I meant, we don’t do
the crazy stuff that goes on in these dirty books. It would be nuts. Dangerous
even.”

“Not necessarily.” Jasmine looked at each member in turn.
“What if we could have a second club, an addition to the main book club? A
place for acting out our fantasies, not just dreaming about them.”

“Yeah,” said Cynthia. “We’ve read about it, and now we go do
it. Or, you do it and tell us about it. Instead of a book report, it would be a
real sex report.”

Jasmine nodded. “Something like that. I propose we start
living our fantasies. For real. Starting right now. We could begin by arranging
our own gangbangs. What do you say? Who’s with me?”

Silence fell over the room. No one spoke for several
minutes, each woman contemplating Jasmine’s call-to-arms. Some of them, their
eyes wide and flitting from one member to the next, would have liked to step
up, but didn’t have the nerve. Some of them had the nerve, but were in
committed relationships. Layla had neither the nerve nor a prior commitment.

Freya, an unattached, attractive brunette in her late
twenties, showed interest in Jasmine’s request. “Even if I wanted to do it, and
I’m not saying I do, I wouldn’t know how to go about it. I mean, it would have
to be safe, and controlled somehow. Where would we find the men?”

Margie snorted. “Finding the men wouldn’t be a problem, I’m
sure.”

Jasmine agreed. “I’m thinking about that, and I have a few
ideas.”

“But they have to be the right kind of men, and I don’t just
mean looks. Safety first. If you could manage that, I might be interested,”
said Freya. She looked surprised with herself and backtracked with, “I mean, if
you could work out the details maybe. I don’t know.”

“Gee, that’s clear as mud.” Jasmine laughed. “Anyone else?”

One other woman, a quiet blonde in her early forties named
Pamela, raised her hand. “I might be. If I didn’t have to find the men. I’d be
too embarrassed.”

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “You’re comfortable being in a
gangbang, but you’re too shy to ask some men to come fuck you?”

The question brought on another round of titters and
exclamations until Jasmine called for order.

“That’s okay, Pam,” said Jasmine. “Maybe I could get
together a regular crew sort of, of interested men for us to pick from. I’m
already thinking of who I can ask. Come on, there has to be more than just me,
Freya and Pam. Step up, ladies.”

Everyone else shook their heads. No, they didn’t want to be
in a gangbang, but they all liked the idea of the three braver members going
through with it.

“You go first,” Margie said to Jasmine. “You can report
back, tell us all about it. If it goes okay, then who knows, right? Others
might want to.”

Jasmine glanced around the circle of women. “Okay then. I’ll
go first. I’ll find the men, too. We’re going to do this thing. Every one of
us. Even you, Layla, before we’re done.”

Layla shook her head, blushed hard.

Cynthia patted Layla’s leg. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie.
No one’s going to make you do anything.”

Jasmine sighed. “Of course we won’t. But let me tell you,
girl, this could be the opportunity of a lifetime. Who knows what we might be
capable of? So, what’ll we call this new club? I’m thinking ‘Gangbang’
something.”

“Gangbang Club,” Pamela said.

“Boring,” said Margie. “Gangbang Ladies.”

“NGG, Naughty Gangbang Group,” said Cynthia.

They tossed around a few more equally uninspired ideas until
a quiet voice cut through the chatter.

“The Gangbang Guild,” the voice said.

The women turned and looked at Layla, the girl behind the
voice. She shrugged.

“Perfect!” cried Jasmine.

The others agreed readily. Layla smiled and waved aside
their enthusiastic acceptance.

“The Gangbang Guild it is then,” said Jasmine. “Some members
aren’t present. They’re seriously going to be p-o’d that they didn’t come
tonight.”

“That’s okay,” said Cynthia. “I’ll call and fill them in on
everything. For now, I think Jasmine should be the acting president of the new
club. What do you all say?”

Everyone agreed.

“Good.” Jasmine’s expression sobered. “I accept the position
of acting president. And I offer myself as the test subject of the new club.
I’m going to go out and get myself in a gangbang if it’s the last thing I do!”

The ladies smiled at one another. Jasmine was a beautiful,
powerful woman, and they had no doubt that if she wanted a gangbang, then she’d
have one.

“And then you’ll come tell us chickens all about it,” said
Margie.

“Exactly,” said Jasmine.

The club members hadn’t been this excited in a long time.
Someone they knew was going to live out the fantasies they had only dared read
about.

It was a heady, exhilarating evening — the night the
Gangbang Guild was formed.

Jasmine Plays Her Hand

The Gangbang Guild No. 1

Available
in the Amazon Kindle Store