Sex with my hot Gay best friends pt3

I woke to sunlight slicing through the half-open blinds, warm stripes across bare skin that wasn’t just mine. My body felt heavy in the best way—muscles loose and aching, the kind of soreness that reminded me exactly how thoroughly I’d been taken apart and put back together.

Jordan was sprawled on his back to my left, one arm flung over his eyes, chest rising slow and steady. Luca was curled against my right side, face tucked into the curve of my neck, his breath warm and even against my collarbone. Both of them were still naked. So was I. The sheets had twisted around our legs sometime in the night, but no one had bothered to pull them up.

The air smelled like sex and sweat and the faint trace of Luca’s cologne clinging to his skin. My thighs were sticky—dried evidence of everything we’d done. When I shifted experimentally, the ache between my legs bloomed sharp and sweet, a deep, internal throb that made me bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud.

I could still feel them inside me. Not just the memory—the physical echo. The way Luca had stretched me first, slow and deliberate, every ridge and vein dragging against sensitive walls that hadn’t been touched in months. Then Jordan, thicker, rougher, slamming into the slick mess Luca left behind until I’d felt impossibly full, bordering on too much, but never quite crossing the line.

My clit pulsed at the thought, a lazy, greedy throb. I was already wet again. Embarrassingly so.

Luca stirred first. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer until my back pressed flush against his chest. I felt him hard against the curve of my ass—morning erection, hot and heavy, nestled between my cheeks like it belonged there.

He nuzzled into my hair, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Morning, bellissima,” he murmured, voice gravel-rough from sleep.

The Italian again. It went straight to my core.

I turned my head just enough to meet his mouth. The kiss started soft—lazy, exploratory—but deepened fast. His tongue slid against mine, tasting faintly of last night’s wine and something darker, us. His hand drifted up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it tightened into a hard peak.

Jordan made a low sound and rolled toward us, eyes still half-closed but clearly awake. “Greedy,” he muttered, but there was no complaint in it. He propped himself on an elbow, watching Luca kiss me with heavy-lidded interest, then leaned in and claimed my mouth the second Luca pulled back.

Jordan tasted different—sharper, hungrier even half-asleep. He kissed like he was staking territory, teeth nipping my lower lip before soothing it with his tongue.

Luca’s hand left my breast and slid down my stomach, fingers dipping between my legs without hesitation. He groaned into my neck when he found me soaked.

“Already?” he whispered, two fingers gliding easily through my folds, spreading wetness up to my clit. “You’re dripping, Soph.”

I whimpered into Jordan’s mouth. Jordan broke the kiss to watch Luca’s hand work between my thighs, eyes darkening.

“She’s swollen,” Luca told him, voice low. “Still tender from last night. Feel.”

Jordan didn’t hesitate. His bigger hand replaced Luca’s, fingers thicker, rougher. He traced my entrance gently at first, then pushed one inside—slow, careful. The stretch burned in the most delicious way, my walls fluttering around the intrusion.

“So hot inside,” Jordan rasped. “And so fucking wet. You’re full of us still, aren’t you?”

I nodded, breathless. I could feel it—the slick mix of their come and mine coating my thighs, easing the way as Jordan added a second finger. He curled them, pressing firmly against that spot that made my hips jerk.

Luca’s laugh rumbled against my forehead, low and warm, but it carried an edge that made my spent body spark back to life. His fingers traced idle circles over my hip, dipping into the curve where thigh met ass, then higher, brushing the sensitive skin just below my breast. Every touch felt amplified—my nerves still raw, singing from the orgasms they’d wrung out of me.

Jordan hadn’t softened completely inside me yet. I could feel him thick and heavy, plugged deep, the slow pulse of his heartbeat echoing through the place we were still joined. When he shifted his hips just a fraction, testing, a fresh gush of wetness coated him—our combined release and my new arousal leaking around his base, warm and slick down my inner thighs.

“Eventually,” Jordan echoed Luca’s word, but his voice was darker, rougher. He flexed again, deliberate this time, dragging his half-hard cock through my swollen channel. The sensation was almost too much—overstimulated walls fluttering around him, the drag slow and filthy. I gasped, pushing back without thinking, greedy for more friction.

“Fuck,” he groaned against the nape of my neck. “You’re still so hungry.”

Luca’s hand slid between Jordan and me from the front, fingers finding my clit with unerring accuracy. He circled it lightly, feather-soft, but even that had me jolting, hips jerking between them.

“Sensitive,” I whimpered, not sure if I was begging him to stop or keep going.

Luca hummed, lips brushing mine. “We know. That’s why it’s going to feel so good when we make you come again.”

Jordan pulled out slowly—agonizingly slowly—letting me feel every thick inch leaving me empty and clenching around nothing. The wet sound of it was obscene, followed by the warm trickle of everything they’d left inside me spilling out. I felt it slide down my lips, over my clit, drip onto the sheets.

Before I could catch my breath, strong hands flipped me onto my back. Jordan knelt between my spread thighs, eyes fixed on the mess between my legs—puffy, glistening, flushed dark from use. He ran two fingers through the slickness, gathering it, then pushed them back inside me without warning.

I arched off the bed with a broken cry. My walls clamped down hard, still fluttering from sensitivity, the intrusion sharp and perfect.

“Look at her,” Jordan said, voice reverent and filthy all at once. He crooked his fingers, stroking that spot high inside that made my vision spark white at the edges. “Taking everything we give her and still begging for more.”

Luca moved up the bed, straddling my chest carefully, knees on either side of my shoulders. His cock—already hardening again, flushed and slick from my mouth—was inches from my lips. He didn’t push forward, just let it rest heavy against my lower lip, smearing the bead of pre-come there.

“Open,” he said softly.

I did, tongue darting out to lick the salt from his slit. He groaned, threading fingers into my hair—not guiding, just holding—as I took him deeper, sucking gently, savoring the taste of myself still lingering on his skin.

Jordan added a third finger, stretching me wider, scissoring slowly. The burn was exquisite, my body yielding even as it protested the intensity. Then his thumb pressed firmly against my clit, rubbing in tight, relentless circles.

I moaned around Luca, the vibration making him curse under his breath. My hips rocked helplessly, chasing Jordan’s hand, inner muscles rippling around his fingers.

He pulled them out abruptly, and I whined in protest—until I felt the blunt, broad head of his cock notch at my entrance again. He was fully hard now, thicker than before, veins standing out along his length.

This time he didn’t go slow.

He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust, bottoming out so deep I felt him in my throat. The stretch was overwhelming—almost too full, my oversensitive walls screaming in pleasure-pain. I screamed around Luca’s cock, the sound muffled and desperate.

Jordan didn’t pause. He pulled back and drove in again, harder, setting a ruthless pace—deep, punishing strokes that jolted my entire body up the bed. Each thrust forced Luca deeper into my mouth, the rhythm perfectly synced.

I was lost in it: Jordan’s cock dragging over every swollen ridge inside me, battering that spot relentlessly; Luca heavy and hot on my tongue, hips rocking gently now, fucking my mouth in shallow thrusts; hands everywhere—Jordan gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise, Luca’s fingers tight in my hair.

The pressure built impossibly fast, coiling low and tight in my belly. My clit throbbed with every slap of Jordan’s hips against it, the wet sounds louder now, filthy and rhythmic.

“Come on my cock again,” Jordan growled, voice ragged. “Want to feel you break one more time.”

Luca pulled out of my mouth just long enough to let me gasp for air, strings of saliva connecting us, before sliding back in. “Do it, bellissima,” he murmured. “Let go.”

I did.

The orgasm hit like a tidal wave—deeper, more intense than the others, starting from the very core of me and exploding outward. My walls clamped down in violent spasms, milking Jordan so hard he faltered, cursing vividly. I felt the hot rush of my own release squirting around him, soaking his thighs, the sheets, everything.

Jordan roared, slamming in one last time and holding deep as he came again—thick, pulsing jets filling me even fuller, spilling out around his base with every throb.

Luca followed seconds later, pulling out to paint hot stripes across my lips, chin, and chest—marking me as he groaned my name like a prayer.

We stayed frozen for a moment—Jordan buried inside me, Luca kneeling over my chest, all of us trembling through the aftershocks.

Eventually Jordan pulled out with a wet sound, collapsing to one side. Luca dropped to the other, both of them pulling me into the middle again, limbs tangled, skin slick with sweat and come.

I could feel it everywhere—dripping from me, drying on my skin, smeared across my thighs and stomach. My body felt used in the most perfect way: tender, throbbing, utterly claimed.

Jordan’s hand found mine, lacing our fingers. Luca pressed lazy kisses to my shoulder.

“Now,” Jordan said, voice hoarse but amused, “breakfast?”

I laughed—weak, breathless, deliriously happy.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “But I don’t think I can walk.”

Luca’s smile curved against my skin. “Good. We’ll carry you.”

And I knew, without a doubt, they would.