Matteo inclined his head.
Vincent shuddered and dropped to his elbows, spreading his knees. Matteo pressed the tip of the prostate massager against Vincent’s hole and pressed steadily until it went in. I watched the emotions flit across Vincent’s expressive face as the toy stretched him, then seated itself inside. He mewled his pleasure and dropped his forehead to the bed.
Matteo adjusted the prostate plug to ensure it was sitting properly, causing Vincent to yelp. Then he reached under Vincent’s belly and gave his cock a few strokes, making it firm up even more than it was.
“You’re lovely,” Matteo sighed.
“Thank you,” Vincent murmured, his shoulders and back muscles clenching in anticipation of what was coming.
“I’m turning it on. If you get close, let me know,” Matteo murmured
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.” Vincent side-eyed me with a smug look because I didn’t always give him a break, even if he was struggling to hold back.
I shrugged. Matteo could play this any way he wanted to.
When the vibrations began, Vincent’s forehead creased and his mouth opened. Anal stimulation had a huge effect on Vincent, so we always started at the lowest setting. But even giving a mild vibration, the toy caused Vincent to stutter and stammer as his hips rocked and his buttocks clenched.
“Steady,” Matteo said, placing his hand on Vincent’s lower back. “Accept it. Stop fighting.”
Vincent visibly relaxed, taking a couple of deep breaths. Matteo tickled the skin at the top of his thigh. “You look gorgeously violated.”
“Thank you,” Vincent sighed.
It was fun to observe the two of them together. Perhaps that was what I’d needed all along—to give myself permission to step back and understand that Matteo and Vincent were capable of entertaining each other. Our sexual bond as a throuple didn’t rest entirely on my head.
I crossed one leg over the other and settled in.
Matteo continued to fondle Vincent’s cock while the prostate massager did its work. His forehead wrinkled in concentration as he knelt behind Vincent on the bed and used his fingers to touch and tickle him into a frenzy of frustrated arousal—a favorite pastime.
I loved watching Vincent struggle, because I knew that on some level he enjoyed every minute of it.
“Oh…fuck,” he moaned. “Oh, please,” he begged, arching his back and scrabbling his fists in the bedclothes. “Matteo. Matteo!”
“What’s wrong?” Matteo said, and I had to give him props. He sounded confused and oblivious to Vincent’s predicament, even as he played his fingers along the underside of Vincent’s arching erection.
“Oh my God!” Vincent swung his gaze to me in desperation. “Sir!Help.”
I raised my eyebrows, flicking an imaginary piece of lint from my pants. “Whatever for?” I said. “Matteo’s doing a stellar job with you.”
“Oh!” Vincent emitted a helpless groan and thrust against Matteo’s touch.
Matteo and I exchanged an amused glance.
“Matteo, that reminds me. What are you planning for Thanksgiving? Are we doing a turkey and the whole shebang?”
“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about it,” Matteo said. “Although, I would like to invite Zarah.”
“Yes, of course. The more the merrier. What about Daphne and Alexander? And Juno and Charles?”
We ignored Vincent’s moans and grunts as we discussed trivial details.
“And Taylor and Riley. Good Lord, there will be a lot of us.”
“We could always do a buffet supper. What do you think? A traditional menu?”
“Yes, I’ll cook a large turkey—with all the standard sides, of course.” He kept one hand on Vincent’s straining cock and drifted the other to his tight testicles. “New potatoes,” he said, cradling Vincent’s balls in his hand, pushing and manipulating them as if he were considering how to prepare them. “And roasted vegetables.” He drifted his fingers from Vincent’s balls, over his taint, to shove absently at the prostate plug, making Vincent squeal. “And of course, stuffing. Lots and lots of savory stuffing.”
With every syllable, he pushed at the prostate massager in Vincent’s rear, causing Vincent to grunt and gasp.
