All I'm thinking about now is a Rhett and Bob threesome...
Rhett is seated deeply inside of you--so deeply that your body's reaction is to push you up non your tip toes and bend at the hips, face tilted towards the ceiling in the bedroom.
"y'good, darlin'?" Rhett grunts through grit teeth, fingers digging into the bend of your hips.
nodding silently, you just blindly reach forward until your hands find purchase on Bob's thighs.
he's sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Rhett take you from behind, his throat warm with desire.
"s'not too much, is it?" Rhett asks, experimentally rolling his hips and shivering when you push back against him like the good girl you are. "fuck."
he starts to roll his hips forward again, just barely pulling out of you before moving back into you. God, you're fucking wet. just from kissing Bob, just from letting Rhett lick your cunt, just from the sheer prospect of having both of them.
Bob's mouth is dry with desire the moment Rhett finds a good pace, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he begins to steadily thrust into you. the sounds you're making right now--god, they're fucking perfect. they're sweet and wanting and making his cock throb.
"god, you look fucking pretty," Bob tells you. without further ado, he cups your cheek with one hand as he slowly strokes himself with the other, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip. "look so pretty when he's fucking you, honey."
a ditzy, lazy smile tugs at your lips.
"only you are so polite during a threesome," you whisper to him.
and before Bob can respond, you're leaning into him, pressing your mouth against his. your soft lips coax his apart and then god, your tongue is in his mouth and you taste like white wine and honey and he's absolutely dizzy right now.
Rhett groans from behind you, cursing softly when your walls hug him tighter.
"fuck, Bob," he mutters. "keep kissin' her. she fuckin' loves it."
and then you're moaning against Bob's lips, reaching down and moving his hand out of the way so you can languidly stroke his cock a few times.
Bob whimpers and in unison, you and Rhett groan.
"how's that?" you pant to Bob, stroking his cock just right, thumbing all that precum and doing him the way you know he likes. "that good, Bobby?"
he nods against your lips, breath caught between his teeth.
"yeah," he mutters. "god, yeah--yeah, that's so fucking good, honey."
"oh, fuck, Rhett," you very after a particularly deep thrust. "that's so fucking good."
without a word about it, Rhett releases your right hip and moves between your legs, rubbing tight and precise circles around your clit until your legs are almost buckling.
"don't stop," Rhett encourages, picking up his face. "I wanna all cum at the same time now, alright?"
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AND I FEEL FINE
-SHANE WALSH (TRUCKS/MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE AU) X READER (3RD PERSON)
-SHANE'S POV
WARNINGS: VEHICULAR VIOLENCE/HOMICIDE - MENTIONS OF DEAD BODIES - GORE - BLOOD - HORROR - VAGINAL SEX - ORAL SEX (MALE AND FEMALE RECEIVING)
18 + ONLY/NO MINORS
No one ever in the history of fan fiction has asked for this AU. But here it is. It's based on the short story Trucks by Stephen King and the cocaine fueled Maximum Overdrive directed by the same. I copied the following synopsis from Wikipedia:
"Trucks" takes place in a truck stop in the United States. The truck stop is located off a freeway and it features a diner, a gas station, and a convenience store.
The story's narrator and a handful of strangers find themselves trapped together in a freeway truck stop diner after semi-trailers and other large vehicles are suddenly brought to independent life by an unknown force and proceed to gruesomely kill every human in sight.
A great big humongous THANK YOU to the uber talented and always fabulous @caffiend-queen. Without you I doubt I ever would've posted this.
“We’re gonna die.”
Her voice was composed, resigned but even.
The hysterics of 2 days ago had settled, much like the remains of her friend.
Shane had watched as their lime green VW Bug fishtailed into the parking lot, narrowly missing the concrete embedded pumps, an old International Harvester on their ass.
The driver had overcorrected, pitching the vehicle forward in a sickening roll.
Both occupants had escaped the wreckage, bloodied and disorientated.
The woman standing behind him had made it inside.
The IH had clipped her friend’s leg.
She’d spun, falling under the truck’s 24 inch wheels.
Others had followed.
All that was left was a vague dark shape, the oil stained limestone parking lot absorbing most of the gore.
It wasn’t the only body.
An elderly couple staring lifelessly from their Lincoln Towncar.
A boy, who couldn’t have been more than 16, half in, half out of his primered Nova’s windshield.
The balding, middle aged Bible salesman who had lost it last night around the time the electricity went out.
Babbling about End Times and God’s wrath against the sinners, he had bolted out the double doors.
A cement truck had pounced.
The impact had fling him a good 20 feet, flinging him in an overgrown drainage ditch.
His agonized wails had carried in the air despite the burbling diesels, putting everyone on edge.
No one would admit they had been relieved when it stopped.
Shane’s own patrol car was unrecognizable.
Each truck had a turn like a group of sailors with a cheap whore.
He’d been inside, shooting the shit after filling his tank when the first trucks arrived.
Trucks with no drivers.
Motion to his right brought him back to the present.
The woman had set down on the faded vinyl seat that now faced the tinted plate glass windows.
The dim glass showed her reflection.
Her eyes were still swollen and bloodshot from sobbing, lips chewed raw, a drawn, pinched look to her cheeks.
She reminded him of one of his Grandma Jean’s Limoges figurines, fragile and ready to shatter at the least provocation.
The short Flamingo pink sundress she wore was dotted with blood, hem torn.
“Make love to me.”
“Huh.”
Her words caught him off guard.
He glanced at the woman, trying to gauge her sanity.
She continued to stare straight ahead.
“Make love to me.”
There was no mistaking this time.
Faint, tinny music from an ancient battery operated boombox floated from the kitchen.
Time is the essence
Time is the season
Time ain’t not reason
Got no time to slow
Time everlasting
Time to play B sides
Time ain’t on my side
Time I’ll never know
Burn out the day
Burn out the night
I'm not the one to tell you what’s wrong or what’s right
I’ve seen suns that were freezing and live that were through
But I’m burnin'
I’m burnin'
I’m burnin' for you
“I’m not sure this is the right time or place darlin.”
She reached over, placing her hand in his lap.
Her fingers traced Shane’s dick under his uniform.
“It’s the end of the World.”
Despite the circumstances, he felt himself react.
Fucking her might be a Grade A Asshole move but it wouldn’t be the first one he’d ever made.
“Where to?”
He made to stand up but she stopped him.
“Here. I don’t care who, or what, sees.”
She dropped to the worn, pitted linoleum, situating herself between his legs.
Shane expected her to be fumbling, desperate.
Instead she was calm, drawing his shirt over his head, unzipping his pants, pulling his hard length free, her eyes glazing at the size.
She licked him from base to tip, swirling her tongue around the head, taking more of him with each swipe.
The woman hollowed her cheeks, bobbing her head, hand pumping in a synchronized pattern.
Shane hissed, leaning back.
He lifted his foot, dragging her dress down.
She dipped her head over and over, saliva pooling on her chin.
Tittering on the edge, he gently pushed her away.
She stood, shimmying her dress to the floor.
Shane ran his knuckles through her slit.
“Damn girl, sucking my dick got your pussy all kinds of messy.”
The urge to bend her over and slam his dick home was strong, but if this was the last time he wanted it to be good for her too.
He bent forward replacing his knuckles with his tongue.
Her breath caught.
He grabbed her ass, bringing her closer.
He lapped at her cunt circling and sucking her clit.
Low moans spurred him on.
He worked her faster, inserting two fingers, sweeping her nub, raising her to her tiptoes.
She braced her hands on his back, nails digging in, her legs starting to tremble.
Shane doubled his efforts.
She came hard, incoherent cries bubbling from her lips.
He held on as she ground her pussy on his tongue, dragging out her orgasm.
Gradually the shaking resided.
He set back, lifting his hips, pushing his uniform pants down.
“Climb on.”
The woman straddled him, knees spread wide, hands balanced on his shoulders.
His hands settled on her lips, guiding her.
She whimpered as he slipped in.
A small smirk formed on his lips.
“You can take it all darlin.”
Her legs slid further apart, taking more of him.
“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”
With a pained sigh she enveloped him to the hilt.
Shane gave her a moment to get accustomed to his size then slapped her ass.
“Ride me girl.”
She rolled her hips, hesitant at first, more confidently as her walls adjusted.
He caught a nipple, his mouth hot on her cool skin.
Arching her back, she tangled her hands in his hair.
One hand snaked from her hip to her sopping cunt, thumb caressing her swollen nub.
Shane’s other hand held her, his hips rising to meet hers.
Her pussy clenched around him, a sure sign of her impending orgasm.
“You gonna cum all over my big dick?”
The woman nodded, biting her lip.
He stroked her clit quicker.
Her rhythm was chaotic as she came, squeezing his dick so hard he growled.
Before the aftershocks faded Shane caught hold of her hips again, fingers digging in her flesh.
“Hold on.”
She leaned forward, clasping the back of the seat.
Shane lifted his hips, thrusting inside her velvety warmth.
He fucked her mercilessly, bouncing her on his dick, her tits swaying.
He caught one, then the other, sucking and nipping.
She dropped her hand between them, fingers twitching violently at her overstimulated nub.
“That’s it darlin.”
He gritted his teeth.
“That’s it. Show me how bad you want it.”
The bench springs squealed in protest.
She let go, her cunt clamping, head falling back as she came.
Shane hooked his arms under hers, holding her to him.
He pistoned his hips, driving up into her, harder, faster.
Beyond control Shane used her body like a fuck toy, her head flopping like a rag doll.
Grunting he came, his cum dribbling from her abused cunt.
When their breathing slowed, she shifted, settling beside him.
He situated himself, zipping his pants.
The woman retrieved her dress.
Headlights splashed across the windows.
A faded yellow bulldozer had joined the others, smoke stacks belching fire.
She wiped a silent tear from her cheek.
“It won’t be long now.”
Shane wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.
He kissed her forehead.
They watched………..
And waited.
Burnin' For You / Blue Oyster Cult 1981
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