The Writer Formerly Known As Goddessofthundathighs

Candace “Candi” Reed was a lot of things. Genius-level smart, whimsical, occasional pothead, and was the owner of the juiciest pussy in all of California (according to a few particularly generous subscribers to her Sweet Like Candi website).

What she wasn’t was late.

Ever.

Deadlines could be finessed, and content could be scheduled in advance, but showing up late to class legitimately made her skin crawl.

“Fuck.”

She should’ve never accepted the custom request. Well.. That wasn’t entirely true. Two thousand dollars was two thousand dollars, and it wasn’t like it had been anything complicated. Her favorite regular, BlackMamba69, had paid double for an uncensored body piercing tour, which he wanted done while she had her vibrating anal plug in. She’d shown off her butterfly nipple rings and matching belly ring, her back dermals, and her newest edition, her Christina. Filming had stretched well past 4 am, and somewhere between editing, exporting, and uploading it to her site, she’d mistakenly silenced all of her morning alarms.

Now, here she was sprinting across campus in a too tight, too short yellow mini sundress that had all of her upper body piercings on full display. To make matters worse, she’d forgotten to remove the plug before sprinting out of her campus apartment, a fact that became more evident with each hurried stride she took. And unbeknownst to her, the remote to it had been tossed into her bag along with her vlogging camera and mic.

“Ancestors, if y’all love me, this man will still have the door open and still be taking attendance,” she prayed silently as the door to her Abnormal Psychology class came into view.

Per usual, her request was granted.

Candi slipped inside as quietly as she could, taking her usual seat at the front of the class.

“Cutting it pretty close there, Ms. Reed,” Dr. Jordan remarked, bourbon and honey coating the lustful baritone of his voice.

“I know, and I sincerely apologize, Dr. Jordan,” Candi cooed sweetly as she walked to her seat. “It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t happen again,” a teasing voice called from the back of the classroom. Elias Moore. Senior psychology major, basketball phenom, and one half of the duo that had been the muses to some of Candi’s most powerful orgasms to date. And sitting next to him was his twin, Elijah. The Smokestack Twins, as they’d become known around campus, transferred from Clarksdale, Mississippi, and had taken the West Coast by storm. All the girls wanted them and all the guys simultaneously wanted to be them. Candi just wanted to fuck them. At the same time. On camera.

“Shut up, Stack,” she replied with a playful eye roll before turning her attention to his twin.

“You in my seat, Elijah.”

“My lap’s available,” he returned with a sly grin. 

“Nah,” she purred, eyes flicking down for a split second to entertain the seat in question. “I’m cool.”

“Lying ass,” he mumbled under his breath before sliding over one seat.

“That’s a cute dress,” Stack admitted, dragging his eyes lustfully up and down her frame. “You should let me take it off you after class.”

“Careful, boy. You gone bite off more than you can chew.”

“I’m a big boy,” he boasted. “I’m more than capable of cleaning my plate.”

Candi bit her lip discreetly, clenching her thighs at the thought of him giving her back shots over the desk while his twin fucked her face. She shook the thought from her mind before taking the vacant seat between them.

As the rest of the class filed in and got settled, Dr. Jordan began the lecture.

“Today’s lecture subject is paraphilic disorders. By definition, paraphilic disorders are recurrent, intense, sexually arousing fantasies, urges, or behaviors that are distressing or disabling and involve inanimate objects, children, or nonconsenting adults, or suffering or humiliation of the person or a partner, with the potential to cause harm. According to the DSM-5, there are eight paraphilias that most commonly evolve into paraphilic disorders. The paraphilias are: voyeuristic disorder, exhibitionistic disorder, frotteuristic disorder, sexual masochism disorder, sexual sadism disorder, pedophilic disorder, fetishistic disorder, and transvestic disorder. While we’ll be covering all eight over the course of these next two weeks, today, we’ll be focusing on sexual sadism and sexual masochism.”

Candi leaned down to grab a notebook and pen from her bag. As she slid the notebook out, the remote to her vibrator clattered to the floor. 

“Now how did that—,” she wondered aloud as she bent down to pick it up.

“Hmm, what’s this?” Stack murmured with a raised eyebrow, snatching it from her hands.

“Give it back, Stack!” she whispered aggressively.

“Tell me what it is, and I’ll consider it,” he teased, holding it away from her.

“It’s the remote to my—my camera,” she lied.

“Camera, huh?” Smoke inquired. “Let me see that, Stack.”

He took the remote from his brother, twirling it between his thick fingers as he looked it over. He noted the buttons on the top and shot Candi a knowing glance.

“You sure this goes to your camera, Candace?”

The emphasis on her name made her insides quiver.

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered.

“So you telling me, if I click this button,” he gestured to the plus sign at the top of the camera, “that it’ll activate ya lil camera?”

Candi’s eyes widened as his thick thumb clicked the button. The vibration sent a shockwave through her entire body, causing her to clench both sides of the desk to keep from screaming out loud. Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose, and although she wanted to delve into the habit of pushing them back up, she couldn’t. Her hands were occupied with the thick wood of the desk. Her ankles shook beneath her, and her breath hitched in audible arousal that she struggled to keep at bay in a classroom full of students. 

“Ain’t no fuckin’ way,” Stack’s deep baritone whispered from beside her. “Little Miss Innocent, Know-it-All got a vibrator in during class. You a filthy lil’ thing, ain’t you?”

“Turn it off,” she whimpered, looking up at Smoke with needy, pleading eyes.

“Absolutely not,” Smoke teased. “We just found out you be doing more than vlogging with that lil camera. We about to make some content, baby.” 

Somewhere between the definition of autoerotic asphyxiation and the treatment of sexual sadism, Stack’s fingers had found Candi’s clit and were rubbing slow circles on it while Smoke controlled the vibrator in her ass. They were both amazed at how well she’d been able to contain her moans, but it was obvious that she was close to coming undone. It was even more amazing to them that she’d indulged them by setting up her camera to record it all.

“You coming back to the room with us after class?” Stack purrs in her ear, slipping a finger into her dripping entrance. 

“Yeessss,” she hisses softly.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against her temple before pulling his hand away. Candi whined softly at the loss of contact, looking to Smoke for some type of reprieve. Out of her peripheral, as her body tried to come back down to earth, she noticed Stack licking his fingers discreetly. He hummed with a deep, primal baritone that sent a shiver up her spine. 

“Later, lil bit. Need you hot and ready when we leave here.”

This was unfair. A mutiny even. Candace was used to being the one in control and telling men what to do, yet here she was being brought to her knees by two Mississippi transplants. She had to get them back. She had to show them who was the true puppet master around here.

After an excruciatingly torturous hour and fifty minutes, the students gathered their belongings and started filing out of the classroom. Candace and the twins remained seated as they brought her close to the edge for the 5th time before pulling back.

“C-Can I have my remote back now? I have another class,” she whined.

“Aww, but we’re having so much fun, lil bit,” Stack taunted, slowly dragging his middle finger up her slick. “You sure you don’t wanna skip?”

“I can’t. I have a p–presentation.”

“Mmm, beauty and brains,” Smoke growled, increasing the intensity of the vibrator once more before shutting it off completely. “Go be great, lil fairy. We’ll catch up with you after practice.” He handed the remote back to her, and Candi watched in lustful awe as the twins made their way towards the gymnasium. 

The Moore twins had gotten entirely too comfortable thinking they could fluster her, and in public, no less. Somewhere between Elias' cocky grin and Elijah's maddeningly calm stare, they'd started believing they had the upper hand. Cute. Let them enjoy the illusion while it lasted. Candace Reed had built an entire career on reading men, finding their weaknesses, and making them fold with nothing more than an angelic smile. If the Smokestack Twins wanted to play games, she'd happily deal the first hand. They just didn't know they'd already sat down at her table.

Candace spent the rest of the afternoon planning and calculating. In between flashbacks of nearly cumming during her Abnormal Psychology lecture, she imagined all of the ways she’d have the twins all but drinking her bathwater once she was done with them. Under her innocent, good girl demeanor was a pleasure domme with an insatiable appetite for male tears. It made her chest swell with pride watching the biggest, toughest men turn into putty in her hands, oftentimes with little to no coercion. One of her favorite memories was with Keith Jones, the star quarterback. What had begun as an innocent study session on Sigmund Freud’s five stages of psychosexual development turned into Keith being cuffed to her bed with her pussy on his face and a vibrating dildo in his ass. She still couldn’t believe he’d allowed her to stimulate his prostate, but chunked it up to him being masochistic. Keith looooooved pain and bruising, and frequently visited her after winning games to boost his high. And each time, Candi happily obliged.

“I wonder if they’re into butt stuff,” she mused to herself as she made her way across the campus green to her apartment. Once inside, she lit her favorite vanilla shea candle and turned on her Bondage Sex & Cheerios playlist to set the mood.

“See, I just want your hands around my throoooat,” she harmonized with Ari Lennox as she made her way to the bathroom to shower. She lathered her skin with her homemade strawberry peach body wash before rinsing the day away beneath the steaming water. Once she’d finished, she moisturized from head to toe, spritzed herself with Good Girl Blush by Carolina Herrera, and slipped into a white button-up blouse tucked neatly into a black pleated mini skirt. She rolled a pair of black fishnet stockings over her chocolate legs before slipping on a pair of black patent So Kate Louboutin pumps. A gold rosary settled perfectly between her supple breasts, the cross stopping at the base of her black lace bra, while a few layered gold rings and tiny gold hoops completed the look.

Looking the picture of innocence, she allowed her mind to fantasize about the morning’s events. She closed her eyes and imagined Stack’s thick fingers pumping deep inside of her sex as Smoke toyed with the speed and intensity of the anal vibe. She remembered the delicious torture of each orgasm she was denied, mentally tallying the number she’d set for the two of them when the time came. A sinful grin spread across her face as she imagined Smoke on his knees worshipping her body like the fairy goddess she was. After a final once-over, Candi grabbed her tote bag and left her apartment.

The smell of strawberries and bad decisions trailed behind her as she climbed the steps to the second floor, the clink of her So Kates echoing through the breezeway. She adjusted the strap of the tote, her mind still replaying flashbacks of the morning. The teasing. The way they’d somehow exposed the crack in her armor. Stack’s charisma living in his mouth and Smoke’s gaze steady enough to make you submit without a second thought. 

She remembered how her eyes dropped to their laps. Two heavy, unmistakable ridges stretching the fabric of their joggers. But it was the unique blunt bulges that weren’t as identical as their faces. The bulges didn’t just point; there was a thick, curved silhouette that suggested a dick designed to specifically arc into the deepest, most sensitive parts of a pussy. All Candi could recall through the haze of her edging torture was the thought of what it would feel like to be stretched by those curves. To have them both so deep she couldn’t form thoughts.

It still irritated her. She was determined to make the Mississippi boys regret ever toying with her. By the time she reached apartment 2B, the corners of her mouth had curled into a devilish smile. Whatever they thought was about to happen when she knocked on that door, she intended to make sure they were wrong. Candace raised her hand and knocked three times, the sharp raps carrying through the apartment before she folded her arms and waited.

Smoke answered the door shirtless, the diamonds in his Cuban link choker catching the porch light just enough to make Candace pause for a second. He exhaled slowly through his nose, filling the space between them briefly with weed smoke. He didn’t hide the way his eyes hungrily drug across her frame, lingering a moment too long on the rosary before letting them drift back to her face.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he stared down at her.

“Toys. Wanna play with me?” she purred as she pushed past him and into the apartment. Her eyes found Stack manspreading on the couch with a blunt hanging from his lips. He was also shirtless, his chain nestled between his pecs. Candi mentally drooled. 

“So you came into the tiger’s den dressed like prey?” he growled, his thick Mississippi drawl amplified by the weed smoke.

“Is that what I did?” Candi asked, feigning ignorance. “And here I was thinking I just looked cute.”

“Cute ain’t the right word. Immaculate is more like it,” Smoke’s deep baritone called from behind her, caging her in between him and his brother.

“I asked a question that neither of you answered,” Candi noted, slipping from their clutches to place her tote on the coffee table.

“What kind of game did you have in mind?” Stack inquired, attempting to peek in the tote.

“The kind where the two of you bend to my every command,” she stated matter-of-factly. Elias threw his head back, the roar of his laugh echoing off the walls while Elijah tried his hardest to contain his dimpled smirk. Candace didn’t see the joke. In fact, it only fueled her lustful wrath.

“C’mon guys, it’ll be fun,” she pressed, rubbing a gentle hand down Smoke’s chest.

“Aight, sweet cheeks,” he purred softly in her ear. “I’ll indulge. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Candace slid her hand up his torso, stopping at the base of his throat. She squeezed ever so slightly before leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“On your knees,” she cooed, feeling the reservation in his body.

“Nah, I prefer to stand,” he challenged, carefully placing her arm back to her side. Candace only chuckled before pushing him down on the couch, the heel of her So Kate digging into his chest before he could process the action. Smoke’s lips curled into a dangerous snarl as he stared down at her foot, then back to her face. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn she heard a faint whimper escape the back of his throat.

Got him.

“Choose your next move carefully, lil bit,” Smoke warned as his dick strained against the fabric of his pajama pants.

“Ain’t nobody worried about you or your lookalike, Mr. Moore.”

“You sure about that?” Stack called from behind her. “You playing a dangerous game right now, ma.”

“I know,” she giggled softly. “But unlike the two of you, I’m going to win.” She drove her heel deeper into Smoke’s chest, watching the ragged breaths escape him in waves. He was ready to pounce, and she knew it.

“You wanna touch me, don’t you, Elijah?”

“I’m about to fuck you,” he corrected.

“You are,” she agreed. “But first, I want to have some fun.”

Candace’s heels clicked loudly against the hardwood as she disappeared into the dining room. Both twins’ heads snapped up when the scrape of furniture echoed from the darkness.

“Fuck she doing?” Stack muttered.

“Hell if I know,” Smoke answered, eyes narrowing as the scraping sound grew closer. The little fairy appeared moments later, dragging two wooden chairs behind her with surprising ease. She positioned them in the middle of the living room, nudging and positioning them until they sat perfectly back to back. Once the task was complete, she turned back towards the two confused men, an impish grin spreading across her innocent face.

“How do y’all feel about rope?”

Her fingers snapped before either of them could process what had happened. Not only were they both seated in the chairs, but their hands were tied behind their backs and to one another. Instinctively, they each tested the restraints, growing annoyed when the realization hit that they were moving in tandem.

“How the fuck you do that?” Stack growled, tugging harder at his restraints.

“Just a little fairy magic,” Candace replied with a nod. “Now be still before you give the both of you rope burn.”

As Stack glared at her lustfully, Smoke’s expression remained stoic. Though he was horny as fuck, there was no way he was about to be caught slipping twice in one night… Or so he thought.

2 hours and five delayed orgasms later, Smoke was about to burst. He stared up at Candace with awestruck eyes as she rode him like the mechanical bull at the county fair. He desperately wanted to touch her, to lock his hands around her waist and bounce her until they both exploded, but he couldn’t. She relished every second of it, alternating between fast-paced bounces and gentle slow grinds. Smoke was in heaven. Her walls hugged him like they were made for his curve, her slick coating his shaft in the warmest river of pleasure. She slid a delicate hand up his chest, stopping once again at the base of his throat.

“Papa,” she purred sweetly.

“Yeh baby?”

“What would happen if I did this?” His eyes widened as she gripped his chain, twisting so that it choked him ever so slightly. His hips bucked up into her, pulling a deep, guttural moan from the back of her throat.

“Mmm, I like that,” she cooed, twisting tighter.

“Candiiiiii,” Stack hissed, not sure if he would be able to hold back being brought to the edge for a sixth time. While Smoke had been buried deep inside of Candi’s sugar walls, Stack had been blindfolded and forced to listen to it all. His imagination ran wild with images of what could possibly be happening just behind him. 

While Smoke’s right-curving dick stroked deep into the back of her pussy, Candace ogled Stack’s neglected dick. That made her pussy clamp tighter around Smoke, causing him to groan. Both of them were almost as wide as her wrist, mapped with thick, throbbing veins that coiled around the girth like vines. Stack leaked pre cum while Smoke tried to maneuver his hips to thrust up, but Candace’s downward bounce left him immobile. She felt so powerful and sensual all at once. 

“Aww, both of the babies are on edge,” she taunted. “That’s cute.” She slowed her hips in Smoke’s lap before standing up completely, the loss of contact making him groan in defeat. “Good boys…now, just breathe. Stay hard for me. I want you to remember that I’m the one who decides when you get to cum.” 

“Look, we’re sorry for earlier,” Stack pleaded. “We was just fuckin’ around. Please just let a nigga bust.”

“And you promise you’ll never do that to me again?”

“We promise,” they replied in unison.

Candi giggled softly as she snapped her fingers again, removing their restraints. Smoke instantly reached out and grabbed her, positioning her back on his leaking tip while Stack settled in the back of her throat. He gripped her locs and fucked her face relentlessly while his twin rocked into her like a fuck doll. Candace was in sexual bliss. She’d never expected her fantasy to play out like this, and she also wasn’t mad at it. 

“Look at you,” Stack admired, stroking her cheek with unexpected tenderness. “You throating that dick like you wanna own it. You claimin’ my shit, Candi?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head as Smoke’s curve drummed her g-spot with expert precision. Stack smacked her face lightly to bring her back to reality.

“I asked you a question, Candi. You tryna make this your dick?”

She looked up at him with those big doe eyes, and for a second, his resolve slipped. Candace noticed, reaching up to wrap her hand around the base of his shaft. She stroked and sucked his dick to the pace that Smoke set beneath her, causing Stack to go wild.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he roared, thrusting his length deeper down her throat.

Candi pulled off with an audible pop, still stroking his length slowly.

“You close, Stack?”

“So fucking close, Candi,” he panted.

She turned her gaze to Smoke, whose bottom lip was swollen and puffy from how hard he’d been biting it.

“You too?”

“I hope ya IUD workin’ otherwise, you bouta have a Moore baby,” was all he said before a final thrust released his seed deep into her walls. The motion sparked a domino effect, with Candi squirting all over Smoke’s lower half while Stack’s unborn seed painted her esophagus. She swallowed it all, staring up at him with the most innocent, angelic expression.

“You dangerous, ma,” he chuckled, rubbing his tip back and forth across her lips.

“Just the way y’all like it.”