Free Sexual Solstice by Tracey B. Bradley

rose to her feet, crouching over Anthony. Henri slipped down by Anthony, so both men were on their knees at her pussy. “Then he just leaned into me and at first it was so um––”
    “––painful?”
    “Well, no just unexpected. But then he fucked me. His whole naked hairy body on top of mine. I put my hands on his hairy ass and pushed him into me with all the strength I could muster.” But the two men were silent now. Their fingers slipped from inside her to be replaced by their fighting tongues. The two men moaned and Gillian looked down to see their brows in the dim blue light, rising and falling as they pleasured her with their tongues. “And he fucked me,” she whispered. “He fucked me and fucked me and fucked me, so long and so hard.” Her breath became so short she couldn’t continue to speak. She saw the men’s arms moving almost in unison as they jerked themselves off, taking turns at her and then both at the same time. Gillian felt like a queen. She was dizzy and light and full of a kind of joy. She wanted to say take that, to Edgar. She wanted him to see all that she had been missing and all that she so deserved. But she also just wanted to absorb the sheer pleasure of the moment and the fact that she was pleasing two men at the same time, as they pleased her.
    “He fucked me, and then he came and I know he came because his hairy body went taut and he bit my lips.” The men’s vibration increased and they moaned louder now, the sound crescendo’d until they were almost yelling their pleasure. The sound shook Gillian, her face stung, her scalp turned to pins and needles and a feeling of pleasure rocked her to the point that her knees almost gave out and she nearly fell to the floor. The men let out one last long “Ahhhhhhhhhh,” as they came on the floor of the cabin, and recoiled gasping to catch their breath. Gillian could barely contain the absolute pleasure and release she felt. She took a breath, sat on the jump seat, slowly collected herself, and pulled up her panties.
    “He almost got stuck inside of me.” Gillian said. “My cast had shifted, but he got his cock out.” The men laughed, wiped the sweat from their faces and tucked their full flaccid cocks back into their pants.
    “Henri got to his feet. “You’ll have to tell us when you are back this way again, tell us another story––it makes the time pass.”
    “Yes, it makes the time pass.” Gillian agreed. “I might even feel like a little nap now. Let me know if you see my husband.”
    The men laughed again. Gillian patted her hair into place, gave a small tug to her skirt and left the cockpit.
    Chapter Five – Room Service at the Mandarin Oriental
    T he remainder of the flight was uneventful but extremely relaxing for Gillian, as if some weight she had been carrying for ages was now gone. She felt as though she had been welcomed back into the real world––not her world of fairy tale romances and waiting years for one particular prince who was never going to come. She closed her eyes and thought of the two men above her in the cockpit. When she opened her eyes again she heard their voices announcing the beginning of their approach into JFK. JFK, so easy to get to Brooklyn and see family, but Edgar insisted on downtown Manhattan. The luxury of a five-diamond hotel had lost its allure––although staying at her family home could be fraught with discomfort, mostly the emotional kind, and the broken dreams of a life that could-have-been, weighed against what had become her reality.
    At JFK she waited for Edgar at the end of the walkway from the aircraft, no Edgar. She searched above the sea of heads at customs. No Edgar. She looked for him at the luggage carousel. No Edgar. No Edgar’s luggage. She finally decided to take her query to the customer service. “I seem to have lost my husband. Edgar Pritchard. He got on the plane. I know that much.”
    “I’ll have them check the plane,” said an obliging gnomish male