“We need to use your mouth”

Image by the incredible Stuart F Taylor

A few hours before we’re due to go out, I’m pottering around the flat and these two hot people are hanging out in the living room. You’ve met these filthy fucks already – a few months ago they absolutely annihilated me in the kinkiest threesome I’ve ever been treated to. I choose that phrasing carefully: it really was a treat. Like a brutal sports massage for my masochistic subby side, performed by depraved heroes who really leant in to my request: ‘please ruin me.’

I know! I lead a charmed life! I promise I don’t take it for granted – I wake up every morning extremely grateful indeed. Also horny.

While I flit around getting my stuff together for the evening, they’re both in the lounge: chilling out, making out, and generally radiating sexy joy, when I hear her call my name:

Sarah! Can you come in?”

I scurry eagerly in. Submissive people-pleaser that I am, I’m really hoping she’ll ask me to make tea or assign me some other menial task – one that essentially amounts to ‘jump’ so I can swiftly respond with ‘how high?’. But they’re cuddled up on the sofa, radiating such a powerful atmosphere of horny tension that I immediately realise it isn’t tea she’s after.

“Come here,” she says, as he starts to unzip his jeans, “we need to use your mouth.”

I could write you an entire blog analysing individual words in that sentence and what makes each of them so hot, but for now I’m just going to tell you that the sexiest one by far is the first word: ‘we.’

We need to use your mouth.”

Both of us. Together. The two of us. ‘We’.

The second I hear that, I drop to my knees. He pulls his fabulous, already-twitching-hard cock out and proceeds to fuck my face.

In exactly the style foreshadowed by the word ‘use‘, he is brutal. Harsh, rapid strokes, angled so the head of his dick hits the soft palate at the back of my throat, making it impossible for me to crack out any of my more active blow job tricks. This is not an opportunity for me to show off, it is very much a ‘using‘ scenario: her words wrote a cheque and his actions cash it instantly.

He fucks me in the mouth as I splutter and choke, then she gets up from the sofa to stand behind me. Pressing her crotch against the back of my head so I can’t move back to gasp for air.

Somewhere above where I’m kneeling, they kiss.

I can’t see, but I can hear – the soft, wet, almost gentle way they snog contrasts so beautifully with the harsh way he’s using my mouth. And her too, now, she’s using it too! She shoves her crotch forward into the back of my head, pushing me further onto him, forcing my lips even further down his shaft.

Like she’s fucking his dick with my face.

I gag and gasp and slick my knickers, happily ensconced in this weird new place – one I’m having fun exploring both with these two and in my fantasies. This semi-lonely, hyper-horny world in which I’m an accessory instead of an active participant.

This is why ‘we’ is the hottest word in that sentence. It isn’t about him getting a suck job, or her offering him my mouth: it’s about both of them using me together. The privilege of being allowed to worship at the feet of their powerful dynamic. Brought out to be played with like a new kind of sex toy, while they kiss and touch in a way that’s almost private – paying no attention to what the toy thinks while they do it.

I get off on being that toy. Being called ‘it’ and summoned when they need a mouth to use. Being unequivocally the lowest-status person in the room.

At one point, I reach up to touch her and she grips me tightly by the wrists – pulling my hands up and behind my shoulders, her crotch still firmly in place to hold me still while he ploughs my throat. The strength of her grip makes me wonder if I might get some bruises tomorrow – I’m already looking forward to seeing them, as I’m looking forward to that brief flash of confusion when I wake up with a vaguely sore throat. A moment of genuine bafflement thinking: ‘wait… I’ve given up smoking, my throat shouldn’t feel this terrible any more!’ before a grin and an ‘OH!’ as I recall how deep he hammered into it with his cock.

Talking of bruises, there’ll be plenty on my chest too: he pauses for a moment to unbutton my shirt and yank my tits out, then fully cracks his knuckles before delivering a round of harsh slaps.

Any of these things in isolation would be more than enough to wank about. Her hands gripping my wrists; his knuckle-cracks that reverberate through my cunt with ‘I’m gonna fuck you up‘ promise; her crotch pressed tight against my head to shove me further down; the phrase ‘use your mouth’… but each detail is rendered many times hotter because of the fact that it’s being done by ‘them’ – both of them.


The easy, playful way these two collaborate to casually wreck me elevates any individual action far beyond how hot it would be if it were done by one person alone. Or even if it were done by two people who didn’t really know each other. Sex with one hot person is fun. Sex with two, even more so. But threesomes with a couple who know each other well? The hotness of that is factorial. Fucking, multiplied and magnified and condensed into something so much greater than the sum of its parts.

When they’re done with me in the lounge, I’m dismissed to go and clean myself up before we head out for the evening – wash the blow job spit off my chin, change my drool-splattered shirt and start to get ready for the party.

Because yeah, we’re off to a party.




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