Spreading your fingers you visualize the rigid member of each man, feeling the soaking heat of each woman brushing against your knuckles as she rides her chosen steed, each couple now connected through your touch.
The tender kissing of Dante between your thighs, with Angelica and Minerva attending lovingly to each of your firm and swollen breasts, their combining, intoxicating and frustrating, your senses aroused and becoming all the more aware of the hollow inside, your body mourning for more.
Groaning with pleasure you call out to Dante, pleading your confession, needing something more. And with your eyes closed you summon fantasy, projecting and visualizing the pleasure you crave, a deeper itch that could so easily be satisfied by either of the cocks within the reach of your hands.
Curling your hands around the base of each man’s shaft, you groan with the wanting, feeling the sex of Minerva and Angelica, their sweet cunts tightly milking the heads of both men.
Sliding their weight down, pushing against your flattening fist, before rising up to tease at the tip of their chosen, treasured cock. Your ears filling with the sounds of their sex, the overwhelmed groans of both men, their eyes closed, with love’s confession whispered under their heavy breaths: “Fuck, fox, you’re so damn hot, so good and sexy when you own my cock”
Again you groan to Dante, appealing to him to help you heal the hurt you feel in the hollow of your soul. Vulnerable and exposed. Fearing the emptiness of abandonment, the hurt of every unloved, broken, promise, and the threat of a crushing grief.
Panic storms, swelling inside, as his lips and tongue withdraw from you, and lowering your hips slightly you risk breaking your own spell, opening your eyes and daring to peek down the length of your taut body.
Between the twin heads of Minerva and Angelica, each feeding at your breast, you glimpse Dante, catching the mischief of a burnt hazel heat melting in his eyes, brightly lit with devious pleasures, as he carefully swaps his Masquerade mask, slipping a harness over his head and where, from his bottom lip and chin, projects a perfect phallus of pure gold.
“I had this made just for you” he offers with a familiar deep, calm, and powerful voice, “It’s pure gold, cast to the perfect fit for you, no mortal could fill you as completely, no man could hope to complete you as fully”
Dante lowers his gaze and instinctively you raise your hips to meet his kiss, closing your eyes as the smooth tip of the gold shaft greets your minora, the promise of its pleasure, instant, the anticipation overwhelming.
You let go of the cocks on either side and reach your free hands down the center of your body, disturbing the kisses of Minerva and Angelica, your fingers reaching for the sward of Dante’s thick, luxuriantly wavy hair, and you scrunch his locks into your fists, tugging him onto you.
The solid gold phallus eases inside you, and there’s no mistake the fit is pure perfection, the width and depth stretching and stroking you to a point where the pleasure is maximum and where only pain could follow.