Eagerly I accepted all that steaming, vigorous spunk. I had wanted it so urgently, and it was everything I asked for and more.
Jackson fell forward, panting, and released my hair. His dick went semi-flaccid and slipped from between my lips, landing heavily against his thigh. I was sad to see it go.
Declan rubbed my ass cheeks affectionately as his dick slipped out, unfurling with a wet sound against his leg.
Taking a deep breath, Jackson pulled his boxers and jeans back up and then turned gracefully to fall in the seat next to me. He was still panting, moaning and sort of half-laughing under his breath. Suddenly he leaned toward me and planted a sweet, lingering kiss on my cheek.
“Wow…” he whispered. “Wow.” His hand groped for my arm in the darkness, then slid down and rested against my hand. He locked his fingers in mine and squeezed our palms together.
I slid off Declan’s lap and turned, kissing Jackson tenderly on the lips. He could taste his own cum on my breath, I was sure, and I hoped he liked it as much as I did. Then I turned and kissed Declan as well, nuzzling the excellent coarse stubble on his jaw.
As I pulled my damp and stretched out panties back up, bliss washed over me like the fog from the machine had. That poorly concealed hidden hunger had finally been satisfied.
The boat lurched and the hum of a motor started up. Water slapped against the sides of the boat as we started moving again.
I realized my heart was hammering mercilessly in my chest. Some part of me knew I should feel guilty about it, but the thrill of being completely ravaged by these two virile, mysterious men overwhelmed any doubts I might have had.
As we emerged from the other side of the tunnel to a railing and staircase leading out to the carnival lot, all three of us straightened our hair and clothes like nothing had ever happened. Another faux-carnie in diva drag held out his hand to help me out of the boat.
“I am sorry for the delay,” he said, his voice dripping with the oily tones of some foreign accent. “You must have been so terrified.”
“What? Terrified?”
“Ah,” he continued. “I see you have two beeg strapping mens to keep you safe. Good… is good. Come again!”
He led me down the metal stairs, winking lasciviously or so I thought. The realization of what we had just done began to flood my mind but I stubbornly pushed it back. Now was not the time to crumble, or turn into some kind of shrinking violet. If I turned to dust in front of them, what would they think of me now?
Declan and Jackson walked up behind me. I wanted to be breezy but my heart was hammering in my chest like a caged bird. Taking the high road, I said, “That was fun!”
Jackson blinked his eyes in what may have been surprise. The sudden deluge of neon and reverse calliope music seemed to have overwhelmed him. Declan just smiled broadly and sincerely. He ducked and kissed me sweetly on the cheek.
“Well!” I sighed, looking from Declan’s to Jackson’s faces. They stared at me expectantly as though waiting for my command. The thought of that was more than a little thrilling. My hand fluttered up to the pendant at my throat, fingering the small, rough charm.
“You know, I really should check on Bridget. We’ve probably been gone a while?” I added sheepishly.
“Oh, go… Go,” Declan said grandly. “Just not too far. Your dates are not patient men.”
“Oh, ha ha. OK,” I chuckled uncertainly.
“Go,” Jackson agreed, planting a lingering kiss near my ear and sighing sweetly. He pulled back and stared at me. Those eyes… I could fall into them. “Declan’s just teasing. We’ll be here,” he reassured me.
As I walked away I could feel their eyes tracing over my back, my dress, and my body moving underneath. I felt them almost as clearly as if they were there running their hands over me. Though the onlookers also watched me closely, I felt insulated and protected by the Burkes’ sincere and thorough attention.
I could see Bridget in the same spot, still rooted by her drastic choice of outfits for the evening. As I passed the breezeway I tried to shield my eyes from my installation, but a tiny pinprick of blood red caught my eye and I found myself veering that way.
The small card was tucked up close under the bottom of the painting’s frame, but there it was. The red dot. It had sold. I backed away, stifling a victorious arm-pump and glanced at the painting next to it, and then the next.
I couldn’t believe it and stood there for long moments, my jaw going slack, my eyes wandering from card to card while I seared the image into my memory.
Each had sold. All had sold. All nine paintings.
Scanning the front gallery, I caught Bridget’s eye. She seemed to have been waiting for me and gave me a huge, glorious grin. Fanning myself deliriously, I made my way through the crowd toward her waiting, open arms.