Formerly the writer r66dus

☆ Earth-1114 — THE WALKING DEAD A survivalist’s haven, parallel to our own universe, where survival is earned mile by mile and the air is thick with pine, woodsmoke… and the scent of pending decay.

Designation honors November 14, 2010 — the air date of “Tell It to the Frogs,” marking Daryl Dixon’s first major appearance in The Walking Dead.

M.I.R.A.: Signal saturation reached. This Earth is no longer accepting incoming requests. Further exploration will proceed under current coordinates only.

☆ Earth-1104 — Drew Starkey Here, the Hollywood Hills watch over the city like ancient sentinels, and the air is thick with both love and ambition. The lights never fade, the ocean never stops whispering, and the line between dream and reality is beautifully blurred. Almost identical to our own Earth, this timeline’s only divergence is the date of birth of the traveler, a presence that subtly bends fate’s threads in unseen ways.

The designation 1104 honors the birthday of actor Drew Starkey — a nod to the day the star of this Earth first entered the timeline.

☆ Earth-1110 — Simon “Ghost” Riley This Earth shares much of our timeline but it exists on the far side of the sun, a place where shadows rule and every victory comes at a cost.

Number assigned for November 10, 2009 — the launch of Modern Warfare 2, and Ghost’s first mission in our records.

☆ Earth-181938 — Clark Kent An Earth where hope soars as high as its heroes, where the horizon is always just a little closer to the clouds, and where truth itself can take flight.

The designation 181938 honors April 18, 1938 — the historic date when Action Comics #1 introduced Superman, the first superhero of his kind, whose legacy would echo across the entire multiverse.

☆ Earth-0424 — Joe Keery

An Earth layered with static and neon, where fiction and reality bleed into one another. Here, identities overlap and small-town streets hide doorways to something stranger beneath the surface.

The designation 0424 honors April 24, 1992, the birth of Joe Keery, the origin point of a signal that would later fracture into singer, actor and hero, each echoing through the same universe.

☆ Earth-66 — Dean Di Laurentis

An Earth fueled by hockey games, loud music, restless nights and the freedom that only exists before real life catches up. Here, college campuses blur into ice rinks under fluorescent lights and unexpected romance tends to arrive at the worst possible time.

The designation 66 honors Dean Di Laurentis’ jersey number, a signal now permanently tied to this universe’s frequency.

Hi travelers, welcome aboard!!

Who am i? | Questions answered

Request channels are always open so you can submit your coordinates if you wish to see more destinations. Each new request expands M.I.R.A's database, so more characters may appear over time.

I log and process requests in the order they arrive, though I occasionally interleave them with my own scheduled timelines to ensure quality navigation. Your request will launch eventually but patience protocols are highly advised. If a timeline (link) malfunctions, send a direct comm signal.

Data rights protocol: I do not authorize the translation, duplication, or reposting of these timelines to any external network. If you wish to support this vessel, the repost and like functions are installed for your use.

Advisory notice: This archive contains explicit transmissions (stories) and may include sensitive subject matter, always accompanied by the proper warnings.

You are responsible for the realities you choose to enter.

You loved press tours that whisked you across the globe, but nothing beat the ones that brought you home. The energy in Spain always hit different, between the warmer lights and louder laughs, that familiar rhythm of your mother tongue wrapped around you like a hug. 

You’d only been back a few days after wrapping the Stranger Things Season 5 press marathon and you were already sweet-talking your managers into extending the stay. 

“Just a few more days,” you’d begged with your best puppy eyes. 

Now here you were on El Hormiguero, sandwiched between Joe Keery and the legendary Pablo Motos, chatting about the most anticipated season yet.

The welcome had been epic. The second you and Joe stepped onto the set, the audience erupted in cheers that vibrated through your chest. You stood there under the bright lights, soaking it all in with a huge grin, letting the applause wash over you like a warm wave. 

You settled into your seat between Joe and Pablo. The familiar earpiece buzzed to life with the translator’s voice slightly delayed, as always.

“Hay que ver cómo he peleado para tener a estos dos aquí esta noche. Están viajando por todo el mundo para promocionar la quinta y muy esperada temporada de Stranger Things en Netflix.”  - “You have no idea how hard I fought to get these two on the set tonight. They’ve been traveling the world promoting the fifth and highly anticipated season of Stranger Things on Netflix.”

Pablo turned to you with that signature playful sparkle in his eyes. “Voy a empezar contigo, Y/n. Bienvenida a casa…” He chuckled warmly. “Veo que tienes la orejilla–” - “I’m going to start with you, Y/n. Welcome home…I see you have the little earpiece–”

“Me la quito, me la quito.” You laughed and immediately pulled the earpiece out, holding it up like evidence. “I’m taking it off.”

“¿Y para qué te la has puesto?” Pablo asked, laughing. “Why did you even put it on?”

“Pues que me das miedo,” you shot back with a grin. “Because you scare me.”

The audience burst into laughter as Pablo clutched his chest in mock offense. “¿Yo? Pero de qué hablas, si estás en tu casa. Las llaves son tuyas.”  - “Me? What are you talking about? You’re home! The keys are yours!”

You leaned in with a smile and an unconvinced shake of your head. “No, es que venimos de unos días en Nueva York y llevo ya meses inmersa ahí…seguro que los bilingües me entenderán. Tienes días buenos para un idioma y lo opuesto para el otro…y creo que todavía el chip no ha cambiado. Igual necesito algunos días más.”  -  “Look, we just flew in from staying a couple of days in New York and I’ve been deep in English mode for months now. I think the bilingual folks will get it…you have good days for one language and terrible days for the other and I guess the switch hasn’t flipped yet. I might need a few more days here to reboot.”

Joe, catching the translation through his own earpiece, grinned and jumped in. “And then there’s people like me…American, derogatory.” The audience roared. “Who only know one language… barely, some days. We’re brutes.” He nodded solemnly while you cracked up beside him.

Pablo turned to Joe with a mischievous smile. “Joe, ¿estás aprendiendo español o todavía no? Tienes una muy buena profesora aquí mismo.”  - “Joe, are you learning Spanish yet or not? You have an amazing teacher by your side.”

After the short delay, Joe looked at you, smiling. “I–I’m trying.” You both dissolved into laughter. “She’s saying how she’s scared today isn’t one of her Spanish days, but back in the US she actually speaks it way more than she thinks.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.

“¿A qué te refieres? Danos un ejemplo,” Pablo leaned in eagerly. - “What do you mean? Give us an example.”

Joe’s eyes lit up. “She has these moments where she just…fully drops English…and I remember this happening like it was last week…because it was.” The three of you and the entire audience lost it. “So for press tours, your employer and management fly you out and it’s often a very ‘last minute’ thing, which is exactly what happened.”

“Oh no,” you muttered, already sinking into your chair and hiding your face in your hands as embarrassment flooded in. You knew exactly where this was going.

“Esto va a ser genial,” Pablo cackled. - “This is gonna be great.”

Joe waited for the translation, then nodded with wide eyes. “I knew it would make a great story, but at the time…not so much.” He laughed. “We were at the hotel in Prague. Day off, we’d been out doing touristy stuff, came back and I was in the shower–” the audience already started giggling. “Door closed, singing to myself like an idiot.”

“Unos acústicos geniales,” you added smoothly. “Si no queréis pagar la suscripción de Spotify, pillaos a un cantante…pero no cantéis delante de él…” You chuckled, “Yo aviso.” - “Some amazing acoustics in there. If you don’t want to pay for Spotify, just get yourself a singer…but just don’t sing in front of him…Fair warning.”

Joe chuckled once he got the translation. “You say that like I’d ever judge you,” he said gently, turning to meet your gaze while pointing at himself.

You grinned and shrugged. “You’re not giving pointers either.”

His mouth dropped open in fake astonishment. “Because I don’t want it to come off as judgment…who am I to judge?”

“Oh I’m sorry, do you not sell out concert venues?” You sat up straighter. “A ver cariño, no me compliques la vida… sigue con tu historia.” - “Come on, sweetheart, don’t complicate my life… keep going with the story.”

Joe pointed at you with his thumb for Pablo. “See? That, I understand. It’s all in the tone.” He grinned.

“¿Qué más has entendido?” Pablo asked, then turned to the public briefly. “Para los que no lo sepan, estos dos llevan años juntos, eh. Que no estoy desvelando ningún secreto.” - “What else did you understand? For those who may not know, these two have been together for years. I’m not revealing anything new here.”

“Uh…cariño,” Joe repeated proudly. “It’s similar to ‘sweetheart’.” The audience erupted in applause and affectionate “awwws.” 

You felt your cheeks heat up and couldn’t stop smiling. “Keep going with your story, please,” you said, waving him on. “Can’t wait to relive this humiliation.”

Joe laughed. “So yeah, I’m in the shower, suddenly I hear an argument outside the door. I turn off the water, thinking she might need me…In that minute of silence, the door slams open and I almost slip and die…It’s really sad that I caught myself but still got bruised…Anyway, I’m covering myself–” he did an exaggerated modesty pose that had everyone howling. “Soap everywhere, in my hair and burning my eyes, can’t see a thing. And she’s just going full Spanish for two straight minutes.” He imitated the rapid-fire sound: “Like…Takatakatakataka! angrily,” The audience lost it. “When she finally stops, she sighs and goes, ‘Why are you standing like that?’ in perfect English and suddenly I’m the one who looks crazy.”

The crowd clapped and roared with laughter.

“A ver, a ver, ¿puedo explicar algo?” you asked, still laughing. - “Okay, alright, can I explain myself?”

“¡Por favor, cuéntalo!” Pablo encouraged brightly. “Please, tell us!”

You turned to Joe first. “The amount of soap in there was enough to hide you, by the way. You looked like a snowman.”

He cracked up. “I don’t even know why covering myself was my first instinct…that’s the reason I fell!”

You kept going for the audience. “A ver, para el contexto. Teníamos dos días de descanso entre eventos, eran probablemente las tres de la tarde y recibí una llamada diciendo que tenía que estar en un avión a las cinco…a último hora para no sé qué. Y es que da un poco de coraje cuando sabes que te espera un mes entero sin parar entre aviones, coches y eventos.” -  “For context, we had two days off, it was probably 3 p.m. and I got a call saying I had to be on a plane by 5…last minute, for god knows what. Sometimes it just pisses you off when you know you’re about to be on planes, cars and at events, the whole circus...for a month without days off.”

Pablo chuckled. “Pero luego se lo explicaste en inglés, ¿no? Porque si no, tenemos un problema.” - “But you explained it to him in English later, right? Otherwise we’ve got bigger issues to deal with here.”

“No,” you shook your head with an apologetic grin. Joe did the same once he heard the translation, laughing breathily. “Se dio en el brazo y la espalda intentando no caerse…y te juro que nunca había visto un moretón aparecer tan rápido. Y es que todavía lo tiene, Pablo. Me dio pena.” You gestured toward him. - “He hit his arm and back trying to stop himself from falling…I swear I’ve never seen a bruise appear so fast…and he still has it, Pablo. I felt so bad.”

“You wanna see it?” Joe asked, already spinning on his stool and lifting his shirt. A cheeky whistle sound effect played as you helped him lift it higher, revealing a lingering purple bruise on his mid-back. 

“Cuidao’, cuidao’, que si lo subes un poco más se ven los arañazos,” Pablo warned and teased with a laugh. - “Careful, careful…if you lift it any higher we’ll see the scratches.”

You burst out laughing, head thrown back and quickly tugged Joe’s shirt back down. In the heat of the moment, it hadn’t even crossed your mind that those possible scratches from the night before might be visible under the massive studio lights. “Espero que los niños ya estén en la cama… y si no, ya es hora.” - “I’m hoping the kids are already in bed...and if they're not, they should be.”

Joe turned to the camera, assuring the audience with a heartstopping grin once he caught the translation. “A Demogorgon did that.”

“Seguro, seguro,” Pablo laughed with a shake of his head. “Y Joe, ¿cómo acaba esa historia?” - “Sure, we hope so…and Joe, how does that story end?”

“Thankfully not at the hospital…but that little accident did get Y/n her two days off back.” Joe nodded proudly as the crowd applauded. “So I'm happy it happened.”

Pablo turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “A ver…Y/n, dime la verdad ¿te sientes tan mal por ello?” - “Alright Y/n, tell me the truth…do you actually feel that bad about it?”

You grinned, cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling. “En América decimos ‘I plead the fifth.’” - “In America we say ‘I plead the fifth.’”

The audience exploded in laughter and applause. Of course you felt a little bad…but not that bad, especially not while laughing with Joe and Pablo beneath the bright El Hormiguero lights, your cheeks aching from smiling and the crowd still riding the story with you.

Some stories were worth the bruise…and judging by the way Joe was laughing beside you, he'd probably agree.

The podcast studio felt warm and low-lit, it was the kind of space that invited honesty rather than performance. Almost six years into your career, with several well-deserved nominations, wins and the first spot on the call sheet of major blockbusters, you still disliked being perceived. It came with an over-awareness of who you were, who you were becoming and the very small circle of people you let in. Being in front of cameras was part of the job, on a red carpet it required performance but in a podcast you could wear your own clothes, do your own makeup and actually relax. Nothing had to be scripted in what was supposed to be a real conversation.

Both you and Drew had been contacted through your management to appear on Amy Poehler’s podcast. It wasn’t tied to promotion for your upcoming movie together, just a casual chat about the strange, steady rush of fame that had carried you both from a streaming show to a major franchise, another modern take on “Mr. and Mrs. Smith”.

You had been together for about five years now but it was only around two years ago that paparazzi photos had finally confirmed it publicly, yet you both remained very private. There was a weird public expectation that the two of you should share more about the relationship, after all, fans had watched you grow up together through Instagram lives during quarantine and behind-the-scenes footage from Outer Banks but this part of your life felt sacred. 

Talking about it on a podcast still felt strangely different.

You sat next to Drew and across from Amy. The laughter from the previous segment had just faded and you felt comfortable there, leaning back in your chair and laughing easily.

Amy glanced at her laptop before speaking again. “About a month ago it was announced that you would both star in a remake of “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” and from what I could see, the internet went insane.”

Both you and Drew chuckled, your gazes meeting nervously for a second.

“Oh, don’t give me those looks. These questions are supposed to be vetted,” Amy said, chuckling nervously. All three of you glanced toward your management off-camera and when they nodded, everyone laughed. “Perfect…How was that casting process?”

Drew motioned toward you to start. You sat up a little straighter. “Ummm, it was a call for me. I got it when I was home.” You paused, thinking. “No, sorry. I got a first call when I was in London, and it was my agent saying…” You made a phone motion with your hand. “‘Hey, there’s this director who has a very ambitious project and he would love to meet up with you to talk about it.’ And I was already there for another meeting with a company just before going to shoot “The Odyssey”.”

“I cannot wait to talk to you about it. First of all, can’t believe I’m not in “The Odyssey” because everyone else is,” Amy said very seriously with a shake of her head, making both you and Drew burst into laughter.

“The whole of Hollywood except us,” Drew added, which sent all three of you into harder laughter. The rest of the room joined in too and at this point you were leaning against him, grabbing his arm as you laughed. “I remember calling her while she was away filming like…” He shrugged. “‘Can you just ask Chris…Can I call him Chris? Maybe I can play a spec of dust in the corner or something.’”

You all folded into laughter that lasted a good two minutes. Eventually you sat upright, gasping for air and wiping away tears. “He took your number…he’ll call,” you assured, still smiling. “Um…so yeah, I was on set and I got a call from the director, a private number that I wouldn’t have answered if I had been busier trying to get Drew his part as a spec of dust.” More laughter rippled through the room. “He told me what the project was about and what it would require and I asked for time to think about it and to read the script…Those kinds of movies take serious training and in all honesty, I really enjoyed the movie with Angelina Jolie and he who shall not be named–” More laughter interrupted you. “I wanted to be able to give it a full yes and feel as passionate about the character as he clearly was about making the movie.”

Drew continued. “I forgot I had even auditioned, but I know it wasn’t open casting. My agents sent me the info, I taped it and then went back to work on a show. And then…on my last day I got a call about dinner with my agents…and the director was there. We had another meeting to talk about the character and soon after that I accepted.”

Amy nodded. “Did you guys know the other was involved when you signed on?”

Drew chuckled as he nodded. You kept your eyes on him as he spoke. “I did, sort of. The director mentioned wanting her involved once I signed, but he didn’t say in what capacity. I told him I wouldn’t get into that conversation…That’s not my place.”

“You guys ever consult with each other about projects?” Amy asked, shifting in her seat. “I ask because I know you’ve been together for years and have worked together before.”

“It depends,” you said. “I’m at a point in my career where I get to choose, and sometimes directors will work around my schedule, which is insane and something I’m very grateful for…but it’s still about timing. It’s about being away from home and living in that suspended state our relationship sometimes has to be in.”

“Is that maybe a reason why you might be more inclined to work together in the future?” Amy asked.

“One of them,” you agreed.

“It’s also kind of a ‘formula’ thing,” Drew said, using air quotes. “Directors who go after both of us already know the audience they want and what they’re going to get. They’ve probably seen us in Outer Banks and know how we work, both together and separately.”

Amy nodded. “Y/n, you mentioned a script, so I’m guessing pre-production’s started?” she asked carefully.

You chuckled breathily. “Ohhh, you're gonna get me in trouble.” Both Amy and Drew laughed along. “Um… what can I say.” You glanced at Drew. “Can I maybe say that we…”

He nodded, reading your mind. “I think you can. It’s also why we almost showed up late today.”

“You make it sound so bad,” you laughed, nose scrunching as the room laughed.

His eyes widened slightly. “Wait, no, it’s not like that,” he shook his head, ears turning pink.

“We started training about two weeks ago,” you continued, smiling. “And this morning we had a session with the fight choreographers and our stunt doubles.”

“Great, so you were all clothed?” Amy asked teasingly, which made all three of you burst into laughter again.

“We were, yes,” you grinned.

“If the action takes after the 2005 movie, I’m guessing it’ll be quite fast and violent. This question is also rooted in your characters from Netflix’s “Outer Banks”.” She turned to Drew. “Rafe Cameron is known to be quite rough and I remember in one of the earlier seasons, it was maybe season two, Rafe attempting to drown Y/n’s character.” You both nodded as she spoke. “I was curious how you two deal with portraying violence toward each other’s characters.”

“It’s terrifying,” Drew answered immediately and you nodded in agreement. “No matter how much you condition your brain into making that difference, it still is very scary and even more so when it’s someone you love.”

You nodded again. “We shot that scene only a few days after we officially started seeing each other. I had no idea what was going through his head that night, even right before rehearsals.”

“I didn’t know what to say,” Drew added quietly. “I didn’t expect it to hit me the way it did. For context, I don’t actually hold her under for long. When the camera was on my face, I wasn’t holding her under at all. But that whole scene…in the dark, on those docks, chasing her and hearing her portray that fear…my heart was pounding. It didn’t feel good.” He shook his head. “I know it’s work, but this was also the person I was very newly falling in love with. The idea of hurting her, even for a scene, terrified me. It still does.”

Amy hummed thoughtfully. “Has this gotten any easier over the years? You both seem pretty aware of what goes into playing Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Were there any doubts once you found out you’d be starring opposite each other?”

“Easier? Never,” you said. “The moment it becomes easy, that’s a whole different conversation we’d need to have as both coworkers and life partners. We’ve just gotten better at communicating with each other, with directors and with the choreographers. It also helps when there’s a bigger budget and more notoriety but honestly, everyone should be able to say, ‘Hey, I’m not comfortable with this and the safety risks it involves.’ Therapy helps a lot too.”

“Yeah,” Drew agreed. “You shouldn’t wait until your relationship is hanging by a thread to take care of it. We know our jobs are unusual but we’ve had this conversation so many times over the years…including the night we got together. We’re not willing to sacrifice our passion for our relationship, but we also won’t sacrifice our relationship for a risky take. There are always ways around it. You just have to work with people who are willing to take the longer route to get the same result.”

The conversation flowed naturally after that, the three of you settling back into lighter topics. Every so often Drew’s hand would brush against yours under the table, a quiet reminder that even in the middle of talking about the hardest parts of your work, you were still safe with each other.

A - Aftercare: Garrett takes aftercare as seriously as his role as hockey captain. It’s never an afterthought but a non-negotiable extension of his dominance and care. After an intense session where he’s had you bent over the edge of his bed in the off-campus hockey house, your thighs still trembling from the rhythmic snap of his hips, he gathers you close against his warm, hard chest. His skin remains slick with sweat as he strokes your back with those big calloused hands. His eyes lose their predatory intensity and soften into something tender and watchful. He often stays buried inside you for long moments, simply breathing together, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your eyelids and the corner of your mouth. Then he fetches a warm cloth he keeps ready, gently cleaning between your thighs while murmuring how perfect you were and how proud he is of you for taking him so well. He wraps you in his oversized Briar hoodie that carries his scent of ice-rink chill mixed with cologne, massages any spots where he gripped your hips and holds you through any emotional drop. 

Open communication flows naturally here as he asks how you feel, what you need and reassures you with a mix of sarcastic affection and genuine vulnerability. He fetches water or a snack he stashed earlier and refuses to let you move until he knows you are fully okay. For Garrett this proves he can be strong yet gentle, the opposite of the violence he grew up with, turning raw physical intensity into profound safety and devotion.

B - Bondage: Light bondage can suit Garrett well because he sometimes craves control without ever letting it feel coercive. He uses silk ties, softened hockey skate laces or even his hockey tape in ways that stay safe and reversible. Post-game adrenaline still surges through his muscular frame when he presses you against the wall of the house and binds your hands behind your back with tape. He drops to his knees, teasing you with his mouth until you beg, his dark hair falling into his intense eyes as he looks up with that cocky smirk. He checks circulation constantly, turning the process into extended foreplay with dirty talk about how gorgeous you look while remaining fully in control like he checks an opponent on the ice. 

The moment you say his name in that needy tone or use your safe word he releases you immediately so you can touch him. Every step involves communication beforehand about limits and during the act with frequent check-ins. The restraint sharpens focus and trust rather than causing pain, aligning with his stubborn protectiveness and desire to be a safe partner.

C - Cum: Garrett has a deep possessive streak that shows in the raw, primal way he finishes. As the virile hockey player with that big-dick reputation energy, he loves coming deep inside you and then watching it slowly drip out so he can push it back in with his fingers while growling that you are his. In an empty locker room after practice he might pull out at the last second to paint your stomach or breasts, then rub it into your skin like a claim while using his sarcastic humor to say something like "Look at you, all messy for your captain." He always ensures you come first, often multiple times, before he lets go. Afterward in the shower, he loves watching the water rinse it away. 

Open communication also surrounds these moments as he asks what feels good for you and reads your reactions closely. The act blends filth with care, turning into tender afterglow cuddles where he holds you close and reaffirms how much you mean to him.

D - Discipline: His stubborn and sarcastic personality lends itself to playful yet firm discipline that stays far away from anything physical or punitive. It’s rooted entirely in obedience, teasing control and light denial rather than pain. After you tease him too much at a team party, he waits until you are back at the house before he takes charge. “Strip for me, slowly and keep your hands off until I say otherwise.”

He makes you hold the position while he watches, occasionally reaching out to trace a finger along your skin or tell you exactly how gorgeous you look obeying your captain. If you squirm or break position he adds delicious “punishment” in the form of extended edging, bringing you close with his fingers or mouth only to pull back and remind you, “This is what happens when you tease me in public, baby. You wait until I decide you’ve earned it.” He constantly checks in with soft questions like “Still good? Color?” and mixes in heavy praise when you follow orders well. The scene always ends with him pulling you into his lap, kissing you deeply and giving you the release you both crave.

There’s always communication and debriefs afterward to keep everything safe and connective. This form of discipline lets Garrett channel his dominant side while reinforcing his role as protector. It never echoes his father’s violence, only trust, control and mutual pleasure.

E - Experience: Garrett had casual hookups before you but nothing emotionally deep or kinky. With you he explores new territory through patient experimentation and constant communication. His discipline makes him an excellent student of your body, he quickly learns the exact pressure of his tongue on your clit that makes your back arch and the rhythm that has you gripping the sheets. He remembers every detail like memorizing a playbook and uses that knowledge to drive you wild. He remains open to trying new things but always discusses boundaries first and checks in during scenes. This shared learning process strengthens your bond and lets him grow into the attentive partner who prioritizes your pleasure and safety above everything else.

F - Foreplay: He never rushes. Extended foreplay is one of his greatest strengths and a way he shows devotion. He kisses down your body with his warm mouth and explores every curve with those skilled hands as if memorizing you. In lazy morning light filtering across his bed he settles between your thighs for what feels like hours, using his tongue and fingers in tandem while humming praises against your skin about how sweet you taste. He builds you up slowly with dirty whispers promising exactly how he will fuck you senseless afterward. His passionate and kind nature makes the foreplay deeply connective, turning it into an act of worship that leaves you dripping and desperate before he finally sinks inside you. Check-ins during these moments keep everything attuned to your responses.

G - Gagging: With his size and natural dominance Garrett enjoys light gagging during oral if you are enthusiastic about it. He guides your head gently but firmly with one hand in your hair during deepthroat sessions, groaning "That's it, take it all" in that rough voice. After a big win a celebratory blowjob in his fogged-up truck has his powerful thighs tensing as he hits the back of your throat. He watches your reactions closely the entire time, pulling back immediately if it becomes too much and praises you constantly for how prettily you take him. Midway kink keeps it worshipful rather than forceful. Communication before and during ensures it stays pleasurable, with frequent eye contact if possible and check-ins reinforcing trust.

H - Hands: Garrett’s hands are a centerpiece of his midway-kinky dynamic and he knows exactly the effect those big, calloused hockey-player palms have on you. Years of gripping sticks, fighting for pucks along the board and training have left them large, strong and slightly rough in all the right ways. He is deeply aware of his own strength and terrified of ever using it like his father did, so every touch comes wrapped in constant communication and care.

Picture a slow, heated evening in his bedroom at the house. The lights are dim and he has you laid out on his bed completely naked while he remains in just his sweatpants. He starts by kneeling between your spread thighs, eyes locked on yours as he asks softly, “Tell me what you need tonight, baby. Hard or soft?” Once he knows your mood, those hands take over. He runs them slowly up your legs, the faint scrape of calluses making you shiver, then presses one large palm flat against your stomach to hold you down with gentle but undeniable weight while his other hand slides between your legs. Two thick fingers ease inside you, curling just right as his thumb circles your clit with precision.

He talks you through it the whole time in that low voice: “Feel that? That’s me taking care of you. Breathe with me…Let me feel how wet you get for these hands.” He watches your face obsessively, adjusting pressure the second he senses anything less than pure pleasure, never pinning you harshly but using his size and strength to make you feel securely held in the safest way possible. When you start to squirm he might drape his upper body over yours, one hand gently but firmly pressing your wrists above your head while the other keeps working between your legs, building you higher and higher.

He loves making you come on his fingers first, drawing it out until your thighs shake around his wrist, then brings those same slick fingers to his mouth so he can taste you before he kisses you deeply. Later he guides your hand to his cock, showing you exactly how he likes to be stroked with long, firm pulls, his own hand covering yours to control the rhythm at first before letting you take over. The contrast between his powerful grip and the tender way he cups your face or strokes your hair afterward is everything.

Because of who he is, there is never any bruising force or sudden movements. Every hold, every press of his palm, every curl of his fingers is discussed beforehand and checked during. 

“Too much?” he’ll murmur against your neck, voice thick with lust but still clear and attentive. “Good? Tell me exactly how it feels.” 

Those hands become instruments of both filthy pleasure and profound reassurance, proving again and again that his strength exists to protect and worship you, never to harm. By the end you are boneless, marked only by the faint redness of thorough attention that fades quickly and he is already reaching for the warm cloth and water, pulling you into his chest so you can feel those same hands now gentle and soothing against your back.

I - Intimacy: Every kinky element Garrett engages in stays soaked in deep intimacy. He needs eye contact, his name on your lips and the feeling of true connection. He fucks you slow and deep with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air while the bondage, edging or possessiveness heightens the closeness. Intimacy includes conversations about feelings and desires before and after these encounters make the physical acts emotionally fulfilling. For him the kink serves to draw you closer rather than create distance.

J - Jack off: Mutual masturbation ranks high for Garrett. He spreads you out in front of him and strokes his cock while giving you precise instructions on how to touch yourself. He edges himself while watching you come undone, then finally lets go while groaning your name. On road trips the phone sex turns extremely descriptive as he tells you exactly what he wants to do when he gets home. These sessions involve plenty of praise and real-time communication about what feels best.

K - Kink level: He operates at a midway kinky level. He is confidently dominant and possessive with a strong praise kink, light bondage, edging, sensory play and discipline. He avoids anything resembling violence, pain, humiliation, CNC or degradation because of his father's legacy. Everything revolves around enthusiastic consent, frequent check-ins, safewords and a lot of aftercare. Your pleasure, trust and emotional safety turn him on more than any single act.

L - Location: Garrett favors the hockey house when teammates are out, his truck with tinted windows after practice, careful locker-room fantasies and hotel rooms during away games. He also loves lazy mornings in his own bed where time stretches and he can focus entirely on you. 

Each location comes with awareness of privacy and a discussion about comfort levels.

M - Mirror sex: Mirror sex perfectly combines Garrett's need for connection and visual confirmation. Late at night in his bedroom he positions you on all fours facing the large mirror. His muscular body cages you from behind, abdomen flexing as he enters you slowly with that hockey-honed control. One hand rests on your hip while you both watch every expression. He murmurs in that low sarcastic-yet-tender voice, "Look at us. Look how perfectly you take me and how beautiful you are when you fall apart on my cock." He narrates the expressions on your face and the way your body moves while adjusting his pace based on your reactions. No bruising force exists here, only deep rolling thrusts and constant praise. 

He pulls you upright against his chest near the end so you come together while watching in the mirror, his arms wrapped protectively around you. 

N - No and Nipple play: Garrett draws hard lines against anything violent such as slapping, choking, degradation, CNC, blood or heavy pain. On the positive side, nipple play showcases his attentive passion. In a steamy shower after practice he pins you gently to the tiles and latches onto one nipple with his mouth while his calloused fingers work the other or lower. He alternates gentle sucking, light grazing with teeth that never truly hurts and precise pinching while his free hand circles your clit. His endurance lets him spend long minutes building sensation until you tremble. He constantly checks in with kisses and questions about pressure. The play often leads to him dropping to his knees in the cascading water or fucking you slowly against the wall while still teasing your nipples, turning it into pure sensual devotion.

O - Oral: Garrett is an enthusiastic giver. He holds your thighs apart with strong hands and devours you with his talented tongue for ages until you shake and try to close your legs around his head. He loves your taste and gets off on making you come on his face and when you go down on him he offers constant praise and heated eye contact. 

P - Pace: He masters both urgent hard and fast fucking after big wins and deep controlled strokes that let you feel every inch. He prefers grinding against your clit with each thrust to draw out pleasure. He communicates throughout about what pace feels best in the moment and switches seamlessly based on your responses.

Q - Quickie: He EXCELS at quickies. Between classes or before a game he pulls you into a storage closet or his truck, yanks your panties aside and fucks you with deep grinding thrusts while his fingers work your clit. His own mouth muffles your moans as he promises to make you come even in the short time available, the urgency adds excitement while his stamina ensures satisfaction. 

R - Risk: If risk is something you like, it definitely makes Garrett hard and he makes a real effort to make it happen for you. The controlled thrill of semi-public places like an empty locker room after everyone has left or the back of his truck in a dark parking lot heightens his arousal and his body responds instantly to the idea of taking you somewhere he could technically get caught, that adrenaline mixing with lust as his eyes darken and his cock thickens in his pants. 

He stays careful because of his future in hockey and his protective nature, always discussing boundaries and details with you beforehand in honest conversations. “You sure about this spot, baby? Tell me exactly what feels hot and what crosses the line,” he’d say, voice already rough with want. Once you confirm, he puts in the work to set it up safely by scouting the timing, parking in the darkest corner or waiting until the arena is quiet.

Picture this…after a late practice, the locker room echoes with silence except for the two of you. He has you bent over the bench, your hands braced on the cool wood while he stands behind you, thick cock driving into you with deep, controlled strokes. One big hand covers your mouth to muffle your moans, the other gripping your hip as he growls low against your ear, “Quiet for me, baby. Don’t want anyone hearing how well you take your captain’s cock.” The risk makes every thrust feel sharper and every wet sound louder. He checks in constantly with whispered questions and reads your body language, ready to stop and leave at any hint of discomfort. The danger turns him on fiercely because it’s something you want, when you come hard around him, clenching and shaking, he follows right after, burying himself deep while kissing your neck. Afterward he helps you dress, holds you close and does thorough aftercare once you’re in the clear, proving again that his strength and desire exist only to make you feel good and protected.

S - Sensory play: He uses his precision and discipline for sensory play that heightens pleasure without any punitive edge. He blindfolds you, then teases you with ice cubes from his water bottle followed immediately by his warm mouth. He drips heated massage oil over your skin and kneads it in with strong hands before ghosting feathers or fingertips everywhere. Filthy sarcastic commentary accompanies every sensation, once you become a needy mess he removes the blindfold and sinks into you, the heightened sensitivity making everything electric. 

T - Toys: He stays open to toys and likes using them on you. A vibrator against your clit while he fucks you or a plug in your ass while he takes your pussy intensifies everything. He buys high-quality items and makes the experience entirely about your pleasure. He discusses each toy beforehand, checks in during use and incorporates them into longer encounters with plenty of praise.

U - Undress: Garrett savors undressing you slowly, kissing and touching every revealed inch like a gift. He also enjoys the opposite frenzied ripping of clothes when tension breaks. He especially loves fucking you while you wear nothing but his hockey jersey, the fabric bunched around your waist as he drives into you.

V - Volume: Garrett is vocal with deep groans, filthy praise and your name spoken like a prayer. He wants you loud too and loves when you cannot hold back moans. In the hockey house he kisses you through orgasms to muffle the sound while smirking against your lips. He encourages you to tell him exactly how he feels and responds with more dirty talk.

W - Wild card: Edging is Garrett's standout wild card. He brings you right to the edge repeatedly with his mouth, fingers and cock, then backs off until you beg and whine for release. When he finally allows it, the orgasm shatters you. He watches your face the entire time like it’s the best view in the world and communicates constantly about when you are close. The buildup and release become intensely intimate.

X - X-Rated: Everything between you stays explicitly raw. Garrett describes in detail how tight and wet you feel around him and how perfect your pussy looks stretched on his cock. He wants the same descriptive feedback from you. No vagueness exists, dirty talk and narration keep the encounters immersive and connected through an open exchange.

Y - Yearning: Garrett yearns deeply when apart on road games. Texts and calls grow increasingly filthy and needy as he counts down the hours until he can touch you again. When he finally returns the reunion becomes intensely emotional and physical, full of pent-up passion balanced by tender check-ins and reaffirmations of love.

Z - Zzz (Sleep):  After the intensity of a scene, the raw sex, the thorough aftercare and the whispered conversations, Garrett pulls you onto his broad, warm chest and settles into sleep with you wrapped securely in his arms. This is the moment where his protective dominance shifts fully into peaceful devotion. His muscular hockey-player body, still slightly damp from the shower you shared, becomes the safest place in the world as he tucks you against him, one large hand stroking slowly up and down your back while the other rests on your hip. He keeps the oversized Briar hoodie nearby so he can pull it over you if you get cold, the fabric carrying his comforting scent of cologne, ice and home.

In the quiet darkness of his bedroom at the hockey house, with the distant sounds of teammates occasionally filtering through the walls, he talks softly until you both drift off. “You were incredible tonight,” he murmurs, lips brushing your forehead. “Tell me how you’re feeling right now. Any sore spots? Anything you want me to do different next time?” These late-night check-ins are sacred to him, they let him make sure the kinky elements never leave emotional residue that could hurt you. Because of his past with his father, falling asleep with you like this brings him a profound sense of peace and redemption. You are the proof that he can be strong, dominant and passionate without ever becoming violent or cruel.

He sleeps deeply and better with you there, your head on his chest rising and falling with his steady breathing. If you wake up in the middle of the night from subspace drop or a random emotion, he’s instantly alert, big arms tightening around you, voice sleepy but caring as he fetches water, offers more cuddles or talks you through it until you feel safe again. 

You didn’t know where you stood on the spectrum of sexuality and sensuality. You had never felt the touch of a man, yet you were no saint. You owned toys, you read erotica and watched porn when the mood struck. Most of all, you liked the part of yourself that refused to wait for a man to drop out of the sky before you could feel pleasure.

Your friends had plenty of experience with men and you were happy for them but you simply preferred to stay in control of your own.

For a long time that had been more than enough. You could take care of your own needs in under five minutes with the cheapest vibrator on the market or with your fingers in ten if you were worked up enough. Dildos had never done it for you, no matter the material, the shape, the length or the width, they left you feeling little and never brought you to orgasm. That fact had left you uneasy about the idea of sex with a man. You hoped that when it finally happened, penetration would feel good, you'd make sure of it, but a quiet fear lingered. Were you numb?

Still, you felt no rush to enter a relationship just to test the theory. You had watched enough friends tumble into messy entanglements and then ignore every piece of advice you gave them. 

Why would they listen to you, right? But after all, coaches never played…until tonight.

You sat around the crackling fire, thoughts drifting. You had come camping for a few nights to get some distance from your usual life and step down from your unpaid role as couple’s therapist to your friends. The first evening, Dean and Beau had set up camp near yours. They were university students like you, barely a year older, friendly and easy to talk to. 

You had fallen into hiking and kayaking together with surprising comfort and now the three of you sat around their fire, the night air cool against your skin while the flames threw warm light across your faces. Since this whole trip was an experiment and a chance to push your own limits…why stop at flirting?

“Are you two…?” Your question trailed off as you gestured between them. You sat in the middle, each of you in your own camp chair.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “Best friends…Not that he isn’t a good-looking guy.” He motioned toward Beau. “Look at him.”

Your gaze slid to Beau. He smiled, a little shy and sweet, clearly less bold than Dean. Still, the firelight traced the strong line of his jaw and the breadth of his shoulders.

“He’s right,” you said quietly.

Beau nodded, cheeks warming. “Uh, thank you.” He took a sip from his soda can. “Only one of us is Six Flags, though.” He grinned and Dean laughed.

You looked between them, lips curving despite yourself. “Six Flags? What does that mean?”

“He’s a ladies’ man,” Beau explained. “They come for the ride and then leave.”

“And I’m okay with that,” Dean added, raising a finger as if to make the statement sound more sincere.

You nodded slowly, eyes returning to Beau. You lifted your half-empty soda can in his direction. “And what kind of ride do you offer, handsome?”

Both of them turned their full attention to you, lips parting.

“Offer?” Beau repeated, voice low.

You hummed in confirmation, letting the moment stretch. The fire popped softly as crickets filled the silence between your words. “Just seeing if I could get two-for-one access tonight.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose as a slow, interested smirk tugged at his mouth. Beau’s gaze darkened as he set his can down on the ground beside his chair. The easy conversation from earlier fell away, replaced by something heavier and charged.

Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees, firelight dancing in his eyes. “That’s a bold ask, sweetheart.”

You held his stare, pulse quickening. “Think of it as an experiment…I figured the woods were a good place for it.”

Beau glanced at Dean and immediately caught the eager look on his face. Dean looked about two seconds away from saying yes on the spot. Before he could, Beau cleared his throat.

“Hey, man. Can we… talk for a minute?” He asked, the last part tilting up as he motioned away with his head.

Dean blinked, then shrugged as he stood. “Sure.” Before he took a step, he turned and flashed you a quick smile.

Beau stood next and walked a short distance away from the fire as Dean followed, far enough for a private conversation but still in your line of sight. You kept your eyes on them, heart beating faster. You did not know what you were thinking, but you wanted this to happen. You wanted the overwhelming feeling of several hands on your body at once. The idea of sex without commitments felt like the perfect answer to your questions tonight. You wanted to try the real thing and the mere thought of being greedy enough to take both of them was making you awfully wet.

Beau crossed his arms. “Did I understand her right? She actually wants both of us? Like…at the same time?”

Dean grinned, nodding eagerly with his hands on his hips. “Sounded pretty clear to me.”

“What if she asks us to kiss?” Beau pressed, voice low but urgent.

Dean turned his head and looked straight at you. Your eyes were locked on them, curious and steady. Beau followed his gaze, then dropped his eyes lower. Dean was already visibly hard, the outline clear against his pants. Spending the past few days with you had been fun, and you were undeniably pretty.

Beau smacked him right on the cock with the back of his hand.

Dean doubled over with a groan, hands flying to cover himself. “Fuck, dude! The fuck was that for?”

“Can you focus for a second?” Beau hissed, eyes returning to Dean’s folded-over posture.

Dean straightened up slowly, still wincing but laughing under his breath. “One of us clearly is. Come on, isn’t this what we came here for? You wanted spontaneity. This is as spontaneous as it gets out in the woods.”

Beau rubbed the back of his neck, glancing back toward you. “We take this to the grave, right? No matter what happens. And if it gets too weird, we can always take turns instead of… everything at once. It’ll be her choice. I’m big on communication.”

“So am I,” Dean said easily. “But I’m not worried about ‘weird’. I have no issue seeing your dick, man. I’m a hockey player. I shower in rooms full of them and I can tell you that eventually your eyes start to wander.” He reached over and gave Beau a firm pat on the shoulder. “It’s not ‘if,’ it’s ‘when’… and that time comes pretty soon.” He nodded, eyes tracing Beau’s worried face.

Beau looked down at himself. He was getting hard too, though it was not nearly as obvious as Dean’s situation. Still, a flicker of doubt crossed his face as he wondered if size would be an issue once things got started.

Dean caught the look instantly. “Comparison is the thief of joy, my friend.”

Beau let out a short laugh despite himself, the tension easing a little. Dean’s grin returned, cocky and sure.

“I can show you a nude right now so there’s no surprises,” Dean added, his grin spreading wider.

Beau groaned. “Size isn’t all there is. It’s how you use it.”

Dean chuckled, nodding. “That’s my boy.”

During the conversation they had not noticed you stand and walk closer. When their eyes finally left each other and found you, you were only a couple of steps away.

“Don’t worry, guys. I don’t think we’ll hit max capacity of my tent tonight.” You smiled as you walked toward your tent without looking back. Both of their gazes followed your steps, matching smiles spreading across their faces.

“I think I just came in my pants,” Dean sighed.

“I’ll go first then,” Beau said, patting Dean’s chest. “You should start getting used to coming second…or even third.” He started walking after you. A second later, Dean followed.

The air inside the tent was thick with the scent of nylon and the musk of three bodies humming with anticipation. You sat there, trembling slightly, heart hammering against your ribs. 

You hadn't told Beau or Dean that this was your first time, that the dildos you’d tried in private had left you feeling cold and empty, leaving you with a nagging, terrifying fear that you were somehow broken. You didn't know if you could actually feel pleasure but as you looked at them, the desperation to find out outweighed the fear.

The clothes had been discarded in a frantic heap, leaving you all in just your underwear. The space was cramped, which only added to the intensity, forcing your skin to brush against theirs at every turn.

Beau, always the sweeter of the two, had laid back first. He looked up at you with soft, wanting eyes as you climbed over him. You straddled his hips, settling your weight down so your core pressed firmly against the hard line of his cock, separated only by the thin fabric of his boxers and your own underwear. When you started grinding against him, you gasped, eyes widening slightly. He was warm and pulsing beneath you, the thick ridge of his erection rubbing right against your clit with every roll of your hips. 

You began to rock yourself on him, moving in a slow, experimental rhythm. The friction of his clothed cock sliding against you sent sparks through your nerves, a sensation so vivid it almost made you cry out.

Dean was right behind you, kneeling and straddling Beau’s thighs to get closer. He was a wall of heat against your back, his confidence radiating off him in waves. His large hands reached around, sliding up to capture your clothed breasts. He squeezed and massaged them firmly, his fingers kneading your flesh while he leaned in to bury his face in the crook of your neck. He nipped at your skin, teeth grazing your pulse point, sending shivers racing down your spine.

Your hands rested on Beau’s chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath your palms as you moved while his hands locked onto your hips, fingers digging in to help guide them, pushing you down harder onto him with every roll. 

Whenever Dean got close enough, pressing his front to your back eagerly, you could feel the hard, thick length of his cock pressing firmly against your ass, a promise of what was coming.

The feeling of being sandwiched between two men, the weight of them and the heat of their breath created an overwhelming sensation. You weren't close to coming yet but the tension was already building, in a new coil of heat tightening in your lower belly that you had never experienced before.

Dean’s hands moved, fingers hooking into the strap of your bra. With a swift, confident motion, he flicked the clasp and peeled the fabric away, exposing your breasts to the dim light of the tent.

Beau let out a low groan at the sight of your breasts spilling free, hips bucking upward instinctively. He looked up at your chest, eyes glazed with lust and breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Fuck," Beau choked out, his voice strained. "You're so beautiful...It’s gonna make me cum."

He tightened his grip on your hips, pulling you closer as you ground down against him. He held back, fighting the urge to come in his underwear while the two of you moved in a desperate, sweaty rhythm.

Dean stayed pressed behind you, mouth hot on your neck and shoulder, kissing and biting softly as his hand slipped around your waist and slid slowly beneath the waistband of your panties. 

His fingers found your slick folds and immediately began drawing slow but firm circles over your clit, the sudden direct touch making you moan loudly into the space. 

Meanwhile, his other hand stayed cupped around your breast, thumb brushing across your nipple in time with the movement of his fingers, forcing pleasure to surge through you from both angles. 

Your hips lifted on instinct. Breathing hard, you reached down between your bodies, slipped your hand into the waistband of his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his thick, heated length. You pulled him free, stroking him once from base to tip as his breath hitched sharply.

You then hooked a finger into the side of your soaked panties and tugged them roughly aside, exposing your dripping pussy completely to him. 

Dean chuckled low against your neck. "Taking initiative, I love that…Beau here likes spontaneity."

Holding Beau’s cock steady, you lined him up at your entrance and slowly sank down onto him. 

The stretch was immediate and intense. A broken moan and gasp escaped your lips as his warm, bare cock pushed inside you, filling you inch by inch. It truly was nothing like your toys, he felt alive, hot and so much fuller than you had imagined. You kept sinking until you were fully seated in his lap, walls fluttering and clenching around him then releasing in ways no toy had ever made them do. "Holy fuck," you breathed.

"Nothing holy about this," Beau answered, voice rough. "Get to riding."

You laughed shakily as Dean’s laugh vibrated against your skin. "And here she thought you were the sweeter one."

"Please," Beau added, smiling up at you and the word made your lips part around another curse.

Dean’s hand left your breast and slid up to the back of your neck, pressing you forward firmly until your chest was flush against Beau’s, nipples brushing his warm skin with every breath. The new angle pushed you deeper onto Beau’s cock, drawing a shared moan from both of you.

Behind you, Dean rolled his hips, grinding the hard, clothed length of his cock between your ass cheeks. The thick ridge of his erection, still trapped in his boxers, dragged slowly, applying steady pressure against your most sensitive area. He matched every roll and lift of your hips as you rode Beau, thrusting in perfect sync so that every time you sank down onto Beau’s cock, Dean’s pressed firmly against your ass.

His fingers never stopped their steady circles over your swollen clit, slick and fast now, pushing you higher with every stroke. The sensation of being filled by Beau while Dean ground against you from behind left you trembling between them, caught in a rhythm that grew steadily more desperate.

"Tell her again," Dean said, grinning. "I’m pretty sure her pussy will thank you for your manners."

Beau’s hands settled on your waist, guiding your drags up and down his length. "Ride me, sweetheart. Nice and slow so you can feel every inch."

You kept moving and each time you rose, Dean’s dry thrusts pushed you forward again, the fabric of his boxers catching and dragging against sensitive, wet skin. The tent felt smaller with every breath and shift of bodies while your knees slid over your sleeping bag as you found a rhythm, Beau’s cock stretching you as Dean’s fingers kept your clit puffy and throbbing.

Beau’s grip tightened as he grabbed handfuls of ass. "Fuck, you feel so good…so tight around me."

"She’s dripping down your cock already. Keep talking to her, Beau…she likes it." Dean grinned.

Beau’s voice stayed soft even as his hips failed to lift to meet you halfway. "You’re doing so well…taking me so deep. That’s it, let Dean play with that pretty clit while you fuck yourself on me."

Dean’s fingers pressed firmer, faster and your moans broke into something higher. The combined sensation from Beau filling you and Dean’s cock grinding against your ass while his fingers worked your clit, made your thighs shake. You rocked harder, chasing the feeling you’d never found with silicone.

"That’s right," Dean murmured. "Use us. Show us how you want it."

Beau’s hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. "You can go faster if you need to, it’s all yours to take."

You did. The wet sounds of your pussy taking him fully grew louder inside the small tent. Dean’s dry thrusts grew more insistent, the head of his cock catching on the thin fabric of your panties with every roll of his hips as your clit pulsed under his fingers, every circle sending sparks up your spine.

Beau’s breathing turned ragged, eyes fluttering shut. "You’re squeezing me so tight…Fuck, don’t stop."

Dean’s hand pressed firmly on the delicious curve of your spine…Fuck, he wanted to lick along it. "She won’t…not until she comes all over your cock. Right, beautiful?"

The words hit you harder than you expected. Your hips stuttered for a moment, then resumed their frantic rhythm, chasing the edge that had always stayed just out of reach with your toys. 

Beau’s hands gripped your waist, steadying you as you rode him and Dean’s fingers never faltered on your clit, circling with relentless pressure. The three of you moved together in the cramped tent, bodies sliding against each other, hot breaths mingling in the thick air while the quiet night outside faded completely.

Beau pulled you into a deep, searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he met every desperate roll of your hips, which you were greedy for. You rode him harder, walls clamping down tightly around his thick shaft with every downward plunge. The wet, filthy sound of your bodies meeting filled the small space as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, centered beneath Dean’s skilled fingers.

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning, violent and overwhelming. Your back arched sharply, pressing your chest harder against Beau’s as your hardened nipples dragged across his heated skin. The kiss broke with a wet gasp as a loud, broken moan tore from your throat. 

Your pussy spasmed hard around Beau’s cock, milking him in powerful, rhythmic pulses while pleasure tore through every nerve in your body.

You were so drenched that your juices coated his length and dripped down onto his balls, the slickness becoming too much. With one final, shaking shudder, Beau’s cock slipped out of you with a loud and obscene wet pop. You slumped forward against his chest, gasping for air, your empty pussy visibly twitching and pulsing in the open air between your spread cheeks.

Dean, who had been watching the entire spectacle with dark, predatory hunger, let out a low hiss. Seeing your walls contract and flutter had pushed him past the point of restraint. He snatched his hand away from your clit, the sudden loss making you whimper in protest and in one fluid motion, he shoved the front of his boxers down, freeing his thick, rigid cock. 

He leaned forward, lined the swollen head against your soaked entrance and began pushing in.

You let out a loud, shocked moan against Beau’s lips, your eyes widening at the sudden heavy intrusion. Beau had been long and smooth, gliding easily along your walls, Dean was thicker and the wait had made him even harder. He was ridged and pressed firmly against every sensitive spot as he moved. He stretched you to your absolute limit, forcing your walls to open around his girth as he sank deeper.

Beau reached down with both hands and gripped your ass cheeks. He spread them wide, fully exposing your dripping pussy to Dean’s relentless push, the new position leaving you completely open between them.

Dean gave a few slow, careful thrusts at first, testing how your body responded while it was still vibrating from your orgasm. The waves hadn’t faded, instead, they continued pulsing around his cock with every shallow stroke, drawing a deep groan from his chest.

You whined, a high and needy sound escaping your throat. Dean rested his forehead against the back of your neck for a moment, breathing hard, before he straightened up again on his knees.

“Fucking glorious, right? So warm,” Beau murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Dean chuckled, the sound vibrating through your spine. “She’s still cumming from your cock, dude.” He paused, his voice softening even as it stayed dominant. “I’m not hurting you, am I, sweetheart?”

You shook your head gently, breath coming in short, jagged gasps. A powerful wave of relief washed over you. You weren’t broken or numb, you could feel everything, every ridge, vein and throb of their cocks inside you. The sheer intensity proved you were more than capable of this kind of pleasure.

Dean’s arm wrapped around your waist and hauled you upright, pulling you off Beau’s chest and holding you tight against him in a firm bear hug, your back flush to his front. Your skin burned where it pressed against his.

“Do me a favor and wrap that pretty hand around Beau’s cock,” he whispered hotly against your ear.

He began to thrust in earnest, each powerful stroke driving deep and pushing fresh wetness out around his thick shaft. You melted back into him, head falling against his shoulder as a full-body shudder ran through you.

“Come on, be a good girl,” Dean murmured, voice rough with passion.

He looked down at Beau’s cock lying hard and twitching against his stomach, shiny and dripping with your juices. The swollen head glistened under the low light while a thin string of your slick stretched from your pussy to Beau’s skin every time Dean pulled back and slammed in again.

Your hand reached down on instinct, fingers wrapping around Beau’s slick, hot length, feeling it pulse strongly in your palm. You stroked him slowly at first, spreading the wetness up and down his shaft while Dean fucked you steadily from behind, the three of you locked together in the cramped tent.

You guided the broad head of Beau’s cock firmly against your swollen clit and the drenched opening of your pussy. Every time Dean slammed his hips forward, driving his cock deep into you, the force pressed your pelvis down onto Beau’s shaft. The friction was electric, a constant, slippery grind that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves. You whimpered, head tossing back against Dean’s shoulder anew as pre-cum and your own slick lubricated the filthy contact.

Beau’s chest tensed beneath you, his muscles rippling as he fought for control. “Ugh, fuck,” he moaned, the sound vibrating through your thighs. You let out a breathless chuckle between your moans, fingers digging into his skin to keep his cock pressed tight against your throbbing clit.

“You guys…do this often?” you gasped, voice trembling as Dean’s thrusts grew more urgent, hitting your cervix with blunt, satisfying thuds.

“We can, if you call us,” Beau answered instantly.

Dean let out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated against your back. “Took the words right out of my mouth,” he said, teeth grazing the shell of your ear before he gripped your waist tighter and pulled you back harder onto his cock.

The pace changed, becoming a relentless, kinky assault on your senses. Dean began to rotate his hips, grinding his cock deep inside you while you continued sliding against Beau’s tip. The wet, slapping sound of skin meeting skin filled the tent, mixed with the heavy, intoxicating scent of sex and musk. You were drowning in it as pleasure built into a towering wave that stripped away your ability to speak. You could no longer form words, all that left your lips were high, needy moans and broken whimpers.

As you lost the ability to talk, the men took over. Their voices became low and praising as they talked about you like a prize, describing exactly how your tight walls squeezed Dean and how your clit pulsed against Beau.

“Look at her,” Dean groaned, his breath hot on your neck. “So fucking wet for us. I can feel her twitching around me, trying to suck me dry.”

“She’s perfect,” Beau rasped, his eyes locked on your blissed-out face.

Suddenly, Beau sat up, his movement fluid and hungry. He lunged forward and wrapped his mouth around one of your stiff nipples, sucking hard while his tongue swirled around the sensitive peak. At the same time, his hand reached up to massage your other breast, kneading the soft flesh with a firm grip. The combination of Dean’s deep pounding from behind, the constant friction on your clit and Beau’s hungry mouth on your breasts pushed you right to the edge.

Your back arched sharply, toes curling. “Fuck…I’m gonna cum,” you wailed, your internal muscles clamping down violently around Dean.

“Hold it,” they both commanded in unison.

The sudden order snapped you out of your haze for a split second. They didn’t stop moving, if anything, Dean slowed to a torturous, shallow grind, teasing the entrance of your womb, while Beau kept his cock pressed firmly against your clit. They went right back to their seductive murmurs against your skin, praising how your body trembled and how desperately you were leaking for them. They kept you hovering right on the precipice, denying your release and stretching the tension until your entire body hummed like a live wire, trapped in agonizing, wet ecstasy.

The friction continued, a relentless, slippery torture. The sheer amount of lubrication, a hot cocktail of your soaking wetness and their pre-cum, made every movement smooth and loud. 

As you ground desperately against Beau, the slickness became so intense that his cock suddenly slid from your clit and glided effortlessly toward your entrance.

You gasped, eyes widening in shock as you felt the broad, blunt head of his cock press firmly against your opening, right beside where Dean’s thick shaft was sliding in and out. He didn’t push inside but the overwhelming pressure of two cocks fighting for the same tight space was too much and the dam broke. 

You screamed, body convulsing in a violent, crashing orgasm. Your walls clamped down hard on Dean in rhythmic, desperate pulses, milking him with every spasm. You whined and moaned, voice breaking as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking and breathless.

The intensity of your climax triggered both men. Beau, feeling the frantic pulsing of your pussy against his sensitive head, let out a raspy moan into your nipple. His body stiffened as he erupted, thick ropes of hot cum shooting across your drenched pussy and mixing with the mess already coating your inner thighs.

At the same moment, the crushing grip of your orgasm pulled Dean over the edge. He let out a low, animalistic growl and buried himself as deep as possible, filling your womb with heavy, pulsing loads of cum. He kept thrusting slowly and heavily, pumping every last drop deep inside you while your body continued to shake between them.

Eventually, Dean slowed and pulled out with a wet, suctioning sound. The sudden emptiness left you feeling sensitive and open. 

You collapsed forward onto Beau’s chest as he lay back down, breathing hard against the crook of his neck. 

Your skin was warm and glistening with sweat and seed…And just as you started to relax, Beau reached down and delivered a sharp, loud smack to your ass.

You whined, the sting sending a fresh spark through your exhausted nerves while Dean groaned, voice thick with lingering lust as he stared at the sight of you. 

“How’s it looking?” Beau asked, glancing at Dean, who seemed completely mesmerized by your lower body.

Dean leaned in, eyes tracking the way their mixed cum and your wetness dripped from your swollen and still pulsing folds. “Like an overfilled twinkie,” he muttered.

The absurd comment shattered the tension and all three of you dissolved into tired, breathless laughter. You propped yourself up slightly, lifting just enough to capture Beau’s lips in a deep, lingering kiss. Your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as you tasted the salt and heat of everything you had just done.

“You might not be Six Flags,” you whispered against his lips, a playful glint in your eyes, “but they should make you employee of the month.”

Beau grinned triumphantly and surged up to reclaim your mouth, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass firmly, kneading the flesh.

“Hey…how come I got no kiss?” Dean’s voice drifted from behind you, mock-offended.

You didn’t bother to look back, too focused on Beau’s tongue sliding against yours but you had to pull back. “You came inside me,” you murmured breathlessly. “Don’t be greedy.”

You sank back into the kiss, feeling Beau’s chest rumble with a chuckle.

“Few more minutes and I’ll come on it too,” Dean whispered, voice low and promising as you felt Beau grin against your lips.

You had never seen men as the answer to much of anything, least of all your pleasure. So maybe the next thing you would acquire wouldn’t be a boyfriend, but a nice, realistic, warming and throbbing dildo to add to your collection… and perhaps a couple of phone numbers to call on those nights when your toys needed charging.