He moved me. That’s the short of it, anyway.
See, he was the guy I hired off of Craigslist to come and transport my boxes and things in his van. My friends were all doing their thing, flaking out on me, so he was also my lifting partner.
“Zack,” he said, extending his hand. White, shoulder-length blonde hair, tall. Not usually my type.
“Melissa,” I told him. I lived in a small box of a place, ground floor, but was done with all that and needed a sunnier side of the street without my ex-boyfriend’s emotions oozing out of the walls and all over me whenever I moved.
Zack was funky in florescent blue shorts that reached his knees, black sneakers, and a Phish t-shirt. Acid-surfer dude. Or something. He was hot in his own way. Like a big man dressing down.
And I was horny, not gonna hide it. I’m a dirty young girl on my worst days… and on my best days. So you have nothing much to figure out, do you?
I wore spandex. Don’t judge. I wore a short, black, booty version of those spandex motherfucking bicycle shorts from the 80s and a baby blue tank top. Exercise clothes that flattered my slender, sun-kissed self. What can I say? Moving is exercise. I didn’t dress up for dude. I didn’t even know what white boy looked like before he showed up at my front door. But I did know that I was very likely to make a move. Because when I get sad or anxious or confused, I get horny. That’s just the way I’m wired.
My friends have no clue what bat shit crazy sex fantasies I have at all hours of the day and night—distracting me from work, distracting from life, from sadness, from anxiety. They don’t know how often I fuck the pain away, as the ditty goes.
I saw young Zack looking at my body as I was carrying my lamp and dart board outside, eyes darting to the tight fabric covering my large, jiggly titties. They jiggle no matter what I wear. Call me blessed. And I felt him panting at my firm, round ass as I strutted back, bent over, and really put my back into one of the largest boxes I’d overpacked. He almost forgot to help me.
After carrying my light-enough-for-one-person bookcase into the van, I needed a break. So I plopped down on the floor of the van, peeled off my shorts and t-shirt and stood there in my bra and undies, girl. I was wearing a matching gray sports bra and thong bikini bottom. You heard me. I stood there in the truck like an 80s pop star. All I needed was a motorcycle to grind up on and some hairspray. Maybe some leg warmers. A smoke machine woulda been good. I sat myself down on one of the larger boxes and spread my legs. I started touching myself imagining Zack coming back with my dresser in his arms and dropping it out of pure and utter shock when he saw me abusing his van, his sacred moving space, in such a flagrant manner.
And there he was, not with my dresser, but with my coat rack, and he didn’t drop it. I watched his hands closely, and what he did was he gripped the thing really tight.
“Melissa? What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” I squeezed my tits and looked at him. Smiling, biting my lip. I went on, all like, “Ever fucked someone in this van?” I took off my bra, opened my legs wide, and reached up to push my thong aside with him all staring and drooling at me.
Then he stepped up into the van, put the coatrack down, and shut the back door. It was pretty dark in there, but our eyes adjusted.
“You’re pretty hot,” he said, and I reached out with my legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him close. He felt around and his hands were on my generous tits, soothing them, making them feel. Squeezing. I let my head fall back. This was what I needed. A dark van and a stranger. Why not?
His hands fell to my hips and he pulled me closer, leaning in to kiss me. I kissed him back like I was fucking that boy’s mouth. I’m pretty sure no other girl has ever before fucked no boy’s mouth that way with her tongue. He moaned out loud, and as he did, I was already pulling off those blue shorts of his. He turned me around to view (or feel, rather,) my thong in all its glory, gripping my ass tightly with all his strength. I really liked the way he grabbed my ass. It made me feel alive. I mean, a man that grabs your ass like he really loves it, really appreciates it? That’s a man you want around on the bad days.
He kept roughly kneading my ass and started slapping it too. Bent me right over the bookcase, which I’d had since I was a child. And since I love to be fucking slapped, I started getting real wet then and moved my pussy and ass out to touch his cock. Wandering my wet, hungry holes in search of some hard medicine. Yes, I did just say that.
Zack pushed my thong aside and started kissing my ass, my cheeks, my asshole, in, out, and all around. Kisses. Some sweet and shallow, others deep and hot. As he kissed my luscious ass, he got more and more turned on. I knew because he was making those hot ass grown man noises men make and then his tongue was hunting and pushing into my ass. His hands went up to secure my cheeks, and, holding me like a ripe, round fruit, that boy Zack fucking ate my asshole like no boy’s ever eaten any girl’s asshole before. I mean, damn, he ate me. Slurping, licking, kissing, spitting. He kneeled down there and fucked my tight little hole with his tongue as I stood bent over in that van. I wanted him so bad. I wanted his cock in my ass.
And then he stopped. “You sure you want this?” His cock was sticking straight out like it was ‘bout to shake a hand.
“Yes. Please fuck my ass,” I said.
He lay down on the floor and said, “Come sit on my cock, then, babe.”
So I did. Facing the van door, with my backside to Zack, I hovered above him and slid my asshole slowly down on his throbbing cock. It throbbed inside my ass and I felt full up. I cried out. He was holding my hips and ass again, guiding me down to sit fully on his cock. I bounced up and down on that like a proper porn star. I played with my pussy too. My ass opened for him to the point where I could relax, sitting all the way down on him, and just grind into him, his cock hitting me right in that sweet spot all the way in. You know, the spot a man can hit more easily when you don’t care enough to close yourself off.
Just at that moment, there was a knock at the van door.
I stopped moving on Zack’s cock.
“Oh shit,” he said, but he stayed where he was. “I think that’s my buddy, Pete. I told him we could use an extra set of hands. I didn’t think he was gonna show.”
Pete managed to open the van door from the outside, and what he saw was naked full frontal me, spread wide and gaping all on his friend’s cock.
“Jesus,” said Pete.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m fucking your friend.” And I began sliding my asshole up and down on Zack’s throbbing cock again.
“Get in or get out,” I said. I didn’t want passersby to see. Gotta draw the line somewhere.
So Pete, who was stocky, hairy, and Middle Eastern looking, jumped up into the van, the zipper from his leather jacket gleaming as he did. And he shut the door.
“Dude,” he said.
“We need an extra set of hands,” I said. I couldn’t resist. I knew I was being reckless. I knew that.
“You’re a hot little thing, aren’t you?” said Pete.
I slammed my ass down on Zack’s cock and wined back and forth and all around. Zack moaned and held my cheeks open wide the whole time to get the best view. Our eyes had adjusted and contours were fully visible.
“Can I—can I have some, baby?” managed Pete.
“There’s more than enough to go around, Pete,” said Zack. “This little slut’s holes are ripe for the tasting and the fucking. In the middle of the move, I come in here, and she’s waiting for me half naked, all touching herself and shit. Asking me to fuck her.”
“Mmmm,” said Pete. “You sound like my kind of girl.”
“Shut the fuck up and fuck my pussy.” I can be a filthy slut. I can.
Pete rolled on a condom, which I was happy to see had materialized out of thin air, and dropped his pants. The buckles on his leather jacket clinked as he kneeled down and pushed his way into my pussy, slowly parting my lips and then the tight skin—all the way in. I took all of it and I squeezed him with vice-like desire. Pete’s cock was the missing piece of the puzzle. Don’t let anyone ever tell you the void can’t be filled. It can, my friends. It can.
That afternoon in the van with Pete and Zack did wonders for my sadness and my stress. As I moved my throbbing asshole up on Zack’s cock, which he regularly massaged with spit, Pete would plunge deep into my pussy hole, hitting the end of nothing. In sync, the three of us were highly sensitive cogs in a sex machine. My holes were making the pair of them sweat, pant, and muffle their screams. It was bliss.
Pete grabbed my calves in his hands and moved my feet up over my head, holding onto them there. And the two of them continued to fuck me. It was like I could feel their cocks rubbing against one another through my own skin. It was wild, and that precise sensation, the spot where all three of us were touching, together, was what sent me spiraling upward into a flailing, grasping, roaring mess. I convulsed. I rained. I fell backwards onto Zack’s chest. He caught me, wrapped his hands around my breasts, and held me there. And then Pete, from where he was, pushed my legs open farther and started eating my damn pussy. My swollen, wet, pussy.
Something about the secure feeling of being held close and tight around your chest area, your breast area by one man while another eats your post-cum pussy is simply too divine to put to words. He licked and sucked every crease, and it opened me right back up for more pleasure. And then, Pete, he slid back into me, grunting, while Zack kept holding me tight. Zack whispered in my ear, “That’s it, baby, Take some more. You know you’re good for it. Open up and take more of my buddy’s cock. Oooh, babe, you take that cock so good. Good girl. Spread your legs wider for my friend. Let him see your pussy is his.” He gently kicked my feet further apart as he said this. And he stuck his thumb in my ass while still holding my breasts with his other hand.
I moved in time with the bodies of two men I may never see again. I moved with them, onto them, through them, on from them. My pussy and my ass both seized up at once. I have never felt so damn full in all my life as I did at the moment I pushed them out of me, and catapulted into the air out of sheer pleasure.
They came too, but that’s beside the point.