‘Oh for fuck’s sake! Can nobody do their fucking job right?’
Slamming a fist on the table, Vernon upset his coffee cup, which jumped off the edge and landed with a thud at his feet. Cheeks flushed and teeth grinding, he barely noticed. Instead he battered his laptop keyboard with furious strokes that set the entire table trembling.
Jesus, he hated people. If he could go back to the days when architecting had been a simpler job he would do so in a heartbeat: now it was all margins and interns and fucking sustainability. These days if he didn’t produce sustainable designs for his client anyone would have thought he’d just shot their puppy. Was it really fucking necessary? He had enough to deal with trying not to strangle the moronic interns and an accountant whose entire grasp of the English language was limited to ‘Vernon, this project is too expensive,’ not to mention a boss who constantly plagued him with lectures on funds, deadlines and cultivating the architects of tomorrow.
Inept, every last one of them. And Julia expected him to just abandon work for a full week? To relax? Stupid bitch. Vernon marvelled how she could be so blasé given that if he turned his back, even for a moment, his boss would surely set a different designer on Vernon’s projects. And if he couldn’t protect his work from the vultures she could say goodbye to the expensive house and car she was used too – her measly office job wasn’t about to cover the costs if he was out of a job, was it?
Still, he hadn’t been in the mood for an argument this morning. While she was in the house he’d headed down to the lake where he’d worked from his phone, but around noon he’d received a text from Julia letting him know she was catching up with Felicity at the Weaver cabin.
Perfect! She’d be there for hours! And with Lauren staying with the Kleins there was nobody to interrupt his work.
Fortunately the Silva cabin was the closest to the little cove where he’d spent the morning, and as such he was booting up his laptop within ten minutes of making his excuses to the rest of the group.
Absorbed in his work, it took a minute or two before Vernon felt the heat blooming over his crotch. Glancing down he swore.
The upended coffee mug had splashed its warm contents all down his front as it fell. The shirt was ruined, and already the coffee had made its way into his boxers.
Clenching his fists his cheeks burned scarlet: fucking Julia. If she hadn’t been gossiping like an airhead schoolgirl the night before they could have skipped the barbecue earlier and he wouldn’t have even needed the coffee.
Keen not to abandon his work, Vernon pondered ignoring the spillage. Eventually he thought better of it. His boss was prone to springing unexpected video conferences on him, and the last thing he wanted was to answer looking like he’d just been attacked by a coffee machine.
Huffing his frustration, he stomped off to change clothes muttering foul insults about his wife, and on the whole demonstrating to the empty house why almost the whole group had come to address him by the nickname Vile Vern.
Stripping down to his boxers, he rifled through the bedroom wardrobes. Wrenching hangers aside with increasing furore, Vernon ignored the sweaters and shirts Julia had carefully hung up knowing the state he could whip himself into if he found them creased or crumpled. Several of the hangers fell to the floor in his haste, though he didn’t bother to pick them up: for all he knew his boss could be trying to videocall his laptop right now. He couldn’t afford to waste time.
Where had she put his suits? No doubt Julia had slotted them away at the back of the wardrobe in the hope he might forget he’d packed them.
‘Dumb bitch,’ he muttered. Then, ‘Aha!’
As he’d thought, his suits were at the very back of the wardrobe, mixed in among a handful of other suits which must have already been here when they arrived. Batting aside the rest of the clothes, he leaned in to grab them. Before he could, however, there came a sequence of sharp snaps, a loud thud, then his world went dark.
Stumbling back, Vernon wrestled the cloying black mass from his head and flung it down on the bed. Breathless and shaken, he took a moment to compose himself. Then, approaching the black heap on the bed like it was about to leap up and eviscerate him, he stretched out a trembling hand and unfurled it with a flick.
‘A catsuit?’
The sleek, wet-look garment shone in the afternoon sunlight, spread out on the bed as if somebody had left their shadow behind. It was fairly small and looked tailored to a lithe figure. An image flashed through his head of the kind of woman who might wear it – slender, curvy and beautiful – and he felt an unrest in his boxers.
Peering up at the top shelf, he noticed a heavy chest pitched on its side with the lid hanging open. It was a wonder the lid hadn’t brained him when it dropped. What was more, a pair of glittery pink platform heels and a bright pink collar had tumbled out along with the catsuit. Lying on the floor beneath the open chest, they couldn’t have missed him by more than an inch.
Vernon frowned. How had the chest opened at all? He hadn’t knocked it and if the clothes were heavy enough to force the lid open he’d have expected them to tumble out as soon as he opened the wardrobe. The sequence of snaps had sounded like the lid clasps opening, though it seemed unlikely they had all failed at the same time.
Vernon was not a superstitious man, but he could not subdue the shiver that tickled his spine: it was like the cabin itself had thrown the clothes at him.
Returning to the bed, he took up the catsuit and rubbed it between his fingers. It was astonishingly sleek, like pliant polished marble. The finish was mirror-like, his reflection visible in mesmerising clarity.
Caressing the inky suit, Vernon felt strangely detached. So long as he was staring into the glossy material nothing else seemed to matter. Before long it didn’t feel like he was admiring the suit at all, but a deep, dark abyss woven intro fabric – crushing, suffocating depths stitched together.
The powerful catsuit quickly dragged him under its thrall. It was one of the most potent items in any cabin, exclusively reserved for the detestable men and women who required a forceful intervention, and unlike the droves of transformative items residing around the grounds of Lake Fantasy the catsuit didn’t wait to be used by chance – it sank venomous talons into the mind of its victim and refused to let go. And now Vernon was the prey.
Clutching the suit his concerns melted away. Work, Julia, Lauren, everything just faded, inconsequential compared to the pressing urge that overwhelmed every other thought: he had to try it on. He needed to, just the same as he had to breathe.
All at once he was stuffing his portly figure into the crushing confines of the suit. It was a horrific fit, painfully tight and stretched to capacity, and when he finally managed to zip it to his neck he looked rather like a watermelon somebody had tried to shoehorn into an apple skin. His flab bulged around the cuffs and over the low neckline, while his face was almost purple as he simultaneously struggled for breath and endured the pain of the suit’s crotch viciously crushing his balls.
Despite being fit to pass out, he tottered over to the mirror where he smiled awkwardly at his reflection. For all the pain imparted by the suit, it was a relief to have it on. His mind was so corrupted he wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if the suit’s terrible fit amputated all his limbs or rendered him impotent – he was a slave to its will, nothing more.
But the suit wanted more than his mind; it wanted his body too.
It started in his extremities, a slowly swelling heat that burned through his bones, quickly migrating throughout his copious figure.
Rolling up his legs the heat scorched away the fat, leaving them toned, slender and hairless. His new thighs were only marginally smaller than before, but the plush flesh was now pale and enticing rather than ruddy and blotchy. The flab of his arms and stomach shrank back – in the mirror it looked as though the suit was crushing him, forcefully compacting him to fit a frame he was not designed to carry. Bones snapped and muscles creaked, though what little of Vernon was left smiled through the agony.
The suit had already largely destroyed his balls, though there was still a surge of heat as the remnants were replaced by a tight slit crowned with a patch of fuzz. Just above, a thousand needle pricks assaulted the width of his hips, decorating his lower torso with a pair of dark, gothic tattoos he would find later.
When the heat filled his head it felt like his face had been forced into a furnace. His temples throbbed. His entire skull creaked. But in the mirror, the transformation was clinically precise: expanding eyes, condensing nose, softening lips, paling skin. The final reminder of the man – his balding scalp – was snuffed out with a sudden burst of hair that came tumbling down, so dark it blended seamlessly with the suit.
With the physical transformation complete the suit added a few finishing touches in the form of pink nail polish and a sultry face of makeup before everything fell still. Her deep cleavage heaving as she did, Veruca took her first breath.
Without hesitation she ran dainty fingers over her glossy curves, moaning softly as little bursts of pleasure followed her wandering touch. A devilish smile played across her lips.
‘Fuck, do I look hot,’ she purred.
The suit made her feel so alive – she didn’t ever want to take it off. Nothing else mattered beside the suit. Well… almost nothing.
‘I’m thirsty,’ she thought out loud, ‘I wonder if there are any hot guys in this place who can help me out with that.’
Just then, something glittery caught her eye in the reflection. Spotting the heels and collar she grinned. How could she have forgotten those?
Unlike the other transformative items throughout the grounds, the catsuit channelled a more primal power. It didn’t care for trivial matters such as carving out a fresh reality for the wearer, or replacing their lost memories. It simply drove the wearer to seek out sexual stimulation. Who or why or how did not matter, pleasure was all she needed. Only when she found it would she be whole.
Slipping on the heels and clipping the collar around her neck Veruca admired her reflection.
‘Even hotter. Now, time to find someone to fuck…’
‘Mr. Silva?’
‘Uncle Vernon? Is anybody home?’
Stood at the door, Kyra and Alexis strained their ears for a reply but none was forthcoming; the Silva cabin was still and silent.
‘Weird,’ Alexis muttered.
‘Maybe he went out,’ Kyra said. ‘Clearly Auntie Julia isn’t here either, so they might have gone out together.’
‘Yeah, when pigs fly. You know he’d rather boil his own head than spend time with either Auntie Julia or Lauren.’
Kyra shrugged. ‘I suppose. Either way, it doesn’t sound like he’s here. I say we rustle up some lotion, leave a note and go before he gets back. I’d rather not have to talk to him.’
Nodding her agreement, Alexis followed her sister inside and closed the door behind them. The door was open when they arrived, though that wasn’t unusual – they were miles away from even a whisper of civilisation, so they had agreed to leave their cabins open during the day so they could come and go as they pleased without having to worry about keeping track of cabin keys.
The twins were here for some extra suntan lotion. Though the day was wearing thin the sun was still scorching beside the lake and they needed an extra bottle to last the day. They had already messaged their dad to bring some back, but neither he, Philip or Noah had returned and given the dropping sun it looked that they would be coming back to the lake today.
Unfortunately the nearest cabin they could borrow some from was the Silva’s. Then again, with a bit of luck they might be able to make tracks before either Vernon or Julia came home.
Beelining for the bedroom, the twins were shocked to find it in an absolute state. The wardrobe doors had been flung open and clothes were strewn across the floor as though a whirlwind had whipped through.
‘What happened here?’ Kyra asked.
‘Who cares? You check the drawers, I’ll check the wardrobe. They’re bound to have some kind of beach bag in here.’
‘How about the en suite?’
Alexis raised an eyebrow. ‘If you want to go through a bathroom full of Uncle Vernon’s toiletries, be my guest. Personally I’d rather leave that as a last resort.’
‘Good point.’
While Kyra rooted through the drawers of the bedside table, Alexis turned her attention to the wardrobe. Whoever had blitzed through it had left most of the contents on the floor. Among the survivors were a handful of sleek suits nestled at the back.
Assuming they all belonged to Vernon, Alexis donned one with a smirk.
‘Hey, Kyra, guess who I am.’ She laughed, doing a grouchy imitation of Mr. Silva reprimanding somebody down the phone.
‘Will you stop messing around?’ Kyra hissed.
But her sister wasn’t listening. Instead, Alexis was running her hands over the stylish attire. With the shirt open to display her crop top underneath and her frayed shorts a stark contrast to the glossy blue blazer, she looked ridiculous.
‘Damn, this feels so cool. Uncle Vernon might be a dick, but he sure knows how to pick a good suit. Here, you’ve got to feel this.’
Removing another suit, Alexis tossed it to her sister. Catching it deftly, Kyra made to throw it down only for a shiver to run through her. Alexis was right: it did feel good. It had the intoxicating softness of velvet – the kind of feel you never wanted to stop caressing – and was refreshingly cool in the warm room, as though impervious to the summer air.
When she looked up, Kyra found Alexis buttoning up her shirt and slipping into the matching blue trousers.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Relax, I’m not stealing it,’ Alexis said, zipping up the fly, ‘I’ve just always wondered if I could pull off a suit and this one’s pretty fucking dapper. I’ll only be a minute.’
Rolling her eyes, Kyra sank down onto the bed, looping the blazer around her shoulders. She had no interest in playing dress-up, but she couldn’t deny the suit was strangely comforting. Besides, if she had to wait for Alexis she might as well wait with the unusually frigid fabric keeping her cool.
Tugging at her cuffs, Alexis admired herself in the mirror. The suit was undeniably too large, but it fit much better than expected given it belonged to her Uncle Vernon. In fact, she struggled to believe he could fit in something as trim as this – it seemed tailored for a far more athletic man.
Despite the poor fit, she looked good. Alexis had always been more tomboyish than her sister and in a tailored suit she was sure she could pull off the suave swagger of a seasoned womaniser.
‘What do you think?’ she said, spinning to face Kyra.
Her sister raised an eyebrow. ‘I think you should take that off before somebody other than me sees you.’
‘Oh come on, Kay, you’ve got to admit I look good.’
‘I never said you didn’t, I just don’t fancy explaining why we’re wearing Uncle Vernon’s suits if he finds us in here.’
Just then, Kyra noticed an unusual darkness staining Alexis’ chin. Squinting, it took a moment for her to realise what it was. When she did her jaw sank into a gawp.
‘Uh, Alexis, you’ve got a beard.’
‘What?’ Rounding on the mirror, Alexis brushed her fingers over her five o’clock shadow. ‘The fuck? Holy shit, my hair!’
Kyra felt like she was watching a reversed time lapse. Her sister’s dark locks were rapidly receding, slipping through her grasp as she clawed at them frantically. A second later she was sporting a cropped style with a short quiff.
‘What’s happening?’ Kyra shrieked.
‘Probably the same thing that’s happening to you,’ Alexis replied.
Glancing down, Kyra realised her sister was right. Her own hands were sprouting dark hair on the back and she was beginning to fill out the blazer.
‘I don’t think these suits are Uncle Vernon’s, Alex!’
Then they were in the throes of transformation, their bodies barraged with new sensation. Swelling to fill their suits they bubbled with added muscle. Their feminine curves were abandoned in favour of robust, muscular frames and they were rocked by a blast of pleasure like the aftershock of an orgasm as thick, stiff rods lanced through the folds of their pussies.
The transformation was swift and intense, as was the scorching of their memories and the insertion of new personas. Unsure quite why they were breathless, Alexander and Kirk stared at one another.
‘Mmmh, I thought I heard voices.’
The woman in the doorway was astonishingly beautiful. Even in her towering heels she had managed to approach in silence and she stared at them with a devilish hunger. There was a fire in her eyes, like she had just seen something that aroused her, but whatever it was she didn’t bother to share.
Admiring her latex-wrapped curves, the brothers recognised her immediately.
‘Ah, Miss Silva. We were wondering when you would be showing up,’ Alexander said.
Leeching off the reality the suits had created for the twins, Veruca’s suit filled in her memories. She flashed them a dazzling smile. ‘Please, call me Veruca. I love hearing men moan my name. Then again, I’ve never had anybody call me Miss Silva before – that could be hot.’
‘We’ll have plenty of time to explore your fetishes if this goes well, my dear,’ said Kirk. ‘However, right now we are here for your audition, are we not? We are ready to begin whenever you are.’
Veruca moaned softly. ‘Oh, boys, I was born ready. But I’ve got a much better spot for it than this messy place. Follow me.’
Making sure they had a good view of her glossy ass, Veruca slunk off, giggling to herself as she heard them hurry after her. Lured by her hypnotic figure they soon came into a huge lounge, all tile and marble, set under the shadow of rich oak timbers and dominated on one side by floor to ceiling windows. Through them there was a stunning view of the lake.
‘Like what you see?’ Veruca said.
‘It’s definitely a view I could get used to,’ Alexander nodded, admiring the glittering waters.
‘I wasn’t talking about the lake.’
Frowning, the men turned to find Veruca wearing a seductive pout. The front of her catsuit hung open displaying her pale tits and she had hooked a finger in the ring of her collar to tug on it suggestively.
Alexander grinned. ‘On the other hand, I think I prefer this view.’
‘Then come and appreciate it.’ Veruca moaned as the brothers bore down on her. A second later, their rough hands were groping her ripe body.
Alexander immediately made for her breasts. Squeezing them roughly he admired the sheen of the outfit bulging between his fingers. Soon Veruca’s nipples jutted like press studs, drawing the attention of his fingers which pinched and pulled eagerly on the little nubs. As he played with her breasts his lips were pressed to her neck, rising and sinking over the pale flesh. She wore floral perfume, but there was a subtler aroma underneath – the smell of sex.
Kirk, meanwhile, was more interested in the woman’s ass. Initially mesmerised by her teasing strut he now caressed the perfect, glossy cheeks with a hungry grin. He couldn’t wait to get acquainted with this little bombshell. Spanking her sharply he chuckled as she yelped before soothing the spot with a tender hand.
Moving in closer, he snaked his hands around to rub her inner thighs, using his grip to pull his groin hard against her ass, his boner grinding through the cleavage there.
‘Clearly you’ve come dressed for the occasion, bitch,’ Kirk growled, ‘but I think I would prefer you without it.’
Gripping her outfit, Kirk tore it hard. The catsuit split down to the groin, revealing the dark tattoos over her hips and the tight slit of her cunt.
Veruca retaliated like a striking panther. Rounding on Kirk she wrestled off his clothes as frantically as if they were on fire. Once or twice the expensive material tore, but neither of them cared.
While she worked, Kirk tugged on her collar so her features flushed red and her breath came in choked gasps. The lack of oxygen blurred Veruca’s sight at the edges, but rather than panic she laughed: they were going to be rough. She liked it rough.
Once Kirk was stripped, she turned her attention to Alexander. His clothes were just as quickly discarded.
Giggling, she snatched their cocks in pink-nailed fingers. The brothers were already rock hard, but she stroked them regardless, her grip so tight she could feel their heartbeat pulsing through their shafts.
‘Well? Are you just going to fucking stand there? I thought you said you wanted to test my limits?’
‘We do,’ Kirk nodded. ‘As you might imagine, a platform like ours has to understand the limits of our performers and we like to be hands-on in establishing them.’
‘Then today’s your lucky day, boys – I don’t have any fucking limits.’
Then, as if to prove her point, Veruca knocked Kirk down heavily into the sofa, dropped onto all fours beside him and inhaled his eight-inch cock balls deep.
In Alexander and Kirk’s line of work, there was rarely a boring day. Yet when you are perpetually surrounded by erotic, sexually deviant men and women, it is equally difficult to experience a truly remarkable day capable of casting all the hours of sex and passion into chilling shade.
The moment Veruca’s maw embraced his cock, however, Kirk knew today was one of those days.
Her tongue darted viper-like, coiling and writhing, and she worked with the violent enthusiasm of a truly shameless whore; her only focus was corrupting his rational thoughts with lust and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to achieve it.
She worked his cock faster than he could think. Lips pursed tight, she thrashed around tirelessly, jerking him off while taking him deeper and deeper in her throat. In a matter of seconds Kirk was skull-fucking the filthy brat without having to lift a finger.
God, he fucking loved his job.
He and his brother had been dirty bastards since their teens and they had never doubted they would wind up with a career in the adult industry one way or the other.
In their late teens they had made a living streaming threesomes and gangbangs with dirty local sluts, many of whom had followed them into the industry. From there things had escalated quickly. Amateur livestreams had become live sex shows, which in turn had become professionally produced porn scenes, which had now advanced into a studio of their own: Limitless.
Specialising in extreme porn that covered kinks from bondage to breath play and beyond, Limitless had grown from strength to strength since its inception and was now one of the best upcoming studios in the country.
Many of the performers were friends and lovers of the brothers, who had excitedly taken the chance to enter the industry where most of them had become stars in their own right. The brothers too were regularly in front of the camera, firmly of the belief they should never expect their performers to engage in anything they would not themselves engage in. Their casting process was infamous throughout the industry: only ever recruiting new, undiscovered talent, and ensuring auditionees were up to the extreme nature of Limitless scenes by testing their limits themselves. With active hands in everything from distribution to wardrobe design, the brothers had earned respect from across the adult industry and Veruca looked set to be their next star performer.
Of course, they would have to rigorously test her before anything was made official.
‘Come here, bitch,’ Alexander said, wrenching Veruca away by her collar. Dragging her around, he tugged her down to his own cock by her hair. Her mouth already open expectantly she swallowed him just as deep.
At the mercy of Veruca’s devilish skill, Alexander came to the same conclusion as his brother, his thoughts dancing with images of all the sordid things they were going to do with her after today.
Groaning, he clutched the collar of her catsuit and tugged it down, tearing it further. His hips bucked instinctively, forcing his shaft ever deeper until it was bulging in her neck. The back of her throat was as tight as a virgin pussy and he shivered as she gagged and writhed yet firmly refused to yield.
With each bob of her head Veruca sent thick strings of saliva dribbling down his shaft to smear the pristine leather, the frantic motion flooding the room with wet slobbering sounds.
Alexander tasted so good – they both did. She could hardly believe she was lucky enough to be auditioning for the Foster brothers, let alone that they were even dirtier than she had hoped. All the guys she had fucked before were incapable of using her in the ways she craved, but at last it seemed she had found her sexual equals, a suspicion Kirk confirmed moments later.
‘I hope you weren’t planning on sitting down for the rest of the day, because the only lube I’m using is your spit, slut.’
Taking her by the hips so hard his fingers felt like they were burrowing through the bone, Kirk pressed his cock against her dripping sex and pushed. Her lips parted and he slid in deep. Even with her pussy slick with arousal the burn of friction ripped through her hips as he entered.
Her cry of surprise was enough to send Alexander over the edge. Firing his load, his eyes rolled as her cry melted into a moan and the vibrations alone milked him dry. Usually it took a ravenous whore the better part of an hour to best his stamina, yet Veruca had done it in a matter of minutes: fuck she was good.
And if her mouth was that good, what could they expect from her other holes?
Peering up at his brother, Alexander guessed the answer was ‘rather a lot’.
Kirk’s features were contorted with simultaneous ecstasy and torment. Alexander had learned to tell when his brother was fighting back an orgasm and it was evident in Kirk’s expression that, despite having only been fucking Veruca for a minute or so, she was pushing him to the edge.
The slut bounced her hips against Kirk sending ripples through her ass as they made contact. An ass Alexander was abruptly mesmerised by.
Surging up, he manhandled them both into a more suitable position. Forcing Kirk onto his back he swung Veruca around so she was riding his brother, drawing a slutty giggle from her lips.
Leaning down, he slapped her across the face before taking her chin in his fingers. ‘You like that, cunt? You like it when we use you like a dumb slut?’
Veruca smiled with cum-stained teeth. ‘I like it when you’re rough with me. I want you to fuck me until I pass out.’ A drop of cum trickled down her chin. ‘Fuck me like your slave, bastards. Use me up.’
‘With pleasure,’ Kirk growled. Hugging her close to his chest with powerful arms he slammed up into her so hard the clap of their thighs ricocheted from the walls.
Veruca’s eyebrows soared as she gasped. Alexander, meanwhile, knelt down behind her.
‘You may want to be careful what you wish for, my dear. As you can see, using bitches as cumdumps is kind of our specialty. Now let’s see if you’re really up to the task, shall we?’
Spitting on his fingers, Alexander smeared it over Veruca’s winking ass. Then, with nothing more than spit, the vestiges of cum stringing his cock and the runoff of Veruca’s cunt for lubrication, Alexander pushed inside.
They all three let out a moan together – Veruca’s shuddering and pained, the brothers’ euphoric and intoxicated.
The brothers groaned as their dicks rubbed against one another through her insides. The sensation was mind-blowing. Veruca’s hot, wet insides alone were enough to push them to the brink, but using her together was so good they could barely think.
Despite the pain, Veruca quickly melted into them. This was what she craved. The pain only enhanced the pleasure; the reduction of her body to a set of holes was the hottest fucking thing she could imagine. Right now there was only one thing they wanted in the entire universe and she was it, and the dirtier she became to pleasure them, the more they wanted her.
With her hips on fire and her body wracked with agonising desire she was soon begging for more.
‘Yes, yes, fuck me harder. Deeper. Use me. Punish me like the slut I am. Do whatever you fucking want just don’t ever, ever stop.’
Veruca’s hair hung lank with sweat. Ordinarily it might have stuck to her rosy cheeks, but Alexander saw to that by wrapping it in his fist and wrenching her head back out of the way. Meeting Kirk’s eyes they exchanged a devious grin.
‘You know, bro, I think our viewers are going to like this cumdump.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Alexander agreed. ‘As a matter of fact, slut, me and Kirk have been considering starting a new series: Extreme BDSM Gangbangs. Brutal, senseless fucking for hours on end with the central model used in more twisted ways than you can even imagine. We’ve struggled to find the right model for it, but something tells me you’d be a perfect fit.’
‘As long as I’m fucking, you can do whatever the fuck you want.’
‘I’d say that is an invitation, wouldn’t you, bro?’
‘Absolutely,’ Kirk nodded. ‘This bitch came to fuck the Foster brothers, so let’s make sure we don’t disappoint.’
Their perverted threesome only slowed when all three were fully drained, yet even then they did not stop entirely, instead groping and making out while sprawled on the leather couch, which they had made slick with sweat and cum.
Between them the brothers systematically fucked their new toy in every conceivable position as rough as they could manage. The lack of lube soon faded to insignificance since the mixture of their cum and her nectar had them gliding in her holes as easily as a hot knife through hotter butter.
From the moment Veruca bowed to blow Kirk to the moment they all collapsed in a heap there was not a fraction of a second when at least one of her holes was not in use, sometimes by both dicks at once. Taking the brothers in the same hole was something even Veruca struggled with. Never had she experienced two cocks of such size in one hole before, but the thrill only drove her wilder and eventually she was riding them both in her ass, urging them to fuck her harder.
At great length, they succumbed to exhaustion.
‘Damn, I’m going to ache in the morning,’ Alexander laughed.
Slotted between them, Veruca jerked them slowly. Her face was plastered with cum and spit. ‘Mmmh, I’d be happy to massage you wherever you need.’
‘I bet you would,’ Alexander laughed, leaning in to kiss her passionately.
Kirk leaned over to tease her throbbing clit, making her moan into Alexander’s mouth. ‘You know, Miss Silva, there are some substantial benefits to joining Limitless I’m sure you are going to love.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, our models generally sign Limitless exclusive contracts and therefore spend a great amount of time together. Time in which they form deeply intimate bonds, which invariably extend outside the workplace. Since the kind of models our company attracts are generally insatiably horny, you can expect as much sex out of work as on set.’
‘Yes,’ Alexander went on, ‘and if that isn’t enough for you we have quite the list of contacts. Contacts who could, for example, provide personal meetings with wealthy clients who will pay more than a pretty penny to have the chance of fucking a Limitless model, if that’s something you’re interested in. Eighty percent of the profits are yours, making it a nice bit of extra pay.’
‘Anything else?’ she purred.
‘One more thing,’ Kirk said. ‘Me and Alex, we’re not your bosses. That’s not how we like to relate to our models. We’re as involved in the scenes as you, so in the same way as models often fuck other models on their own time, we have what you might call an open-door policy. Any model can come to us for any needs they might have. Like, for instance, a brutal fuck over our desk.’
‘Now there’s a tempting offer,’ Veruca smirked. ‘So does that mean I’m hired.’
Kirk nodded. ‘Welcome to Limitless, Miss Silva.’
‘Mind if I have a celebratory drink?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Good.’ With that, the young woman pitched from the sofa and dropped to her knees. Opening her mouth she giggled as the brothers caught on and rose to stand over her.
Jerking them off she quickly bought them to climax and swallowed their hefty cumshots one after the other. With the remnants of earlier facials decorating her pretty features and her mascara blotting under her eyes she smiled up at them.
‘I don’t suppose you would mind me taking advantage of one of those benefits you mentioned now, would you?’
‘What did you have in mind?’ Alexander asked.
‘Well, since I’m all messy from my audition I was thinking I should probably take a shower. The thing is I don’t know how to work the one in your bathroom. I was hoping you might be able to show me. It might take a while – I’m a forgetful thing.’
The same grin spread over the brothers’ lips.
‘I’m sure we can arrange something, Miss Silva. How about you follow us, and we’ll see if we can’t help give you a thorough cleaning…’
Meanwhile, in the Rivera cabin…
Thanks for reading!
The model used in this scene is Veruca James, whose PornHub profile you can find here: https://www.pornhub.com/pornstar/veruca-james, and she is probably a model you have been severely missing out on. Whenever I see people discussing their favourite adult models, it is exceptionally rare I hear James mentioned and that is a sorry shame because if you ever need a fix of a kinky, wild, shameless whore, you cannot go wrong with Veruca James. I couldn’t think of any better model to showcase Vernon’s reduction to a sex-crazed slut. Personally I am a particular fan of her rougher BDSM-focused work, but she is just as alluring in her more sensual scenes and I really don’t understand how more people aren’t encapsulated by her work. If you’re into BDSM, she is also a regular face on Kink’s The Upper Floor, which I highly recommend you check out. As far as I’m concerned, if just one person becomes a fan of James’ work after reading this I can consider this story a success.
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Images: https://pixabay.com/photos/blueprints-entrepreneur-hands-1837238/
https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-photo-of-hang-clothes-in-wardrobe-1682699/
https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-wearing-blue-suit-jacket-1327446/
https://fuskator.com/thumbs/cIHhMay98jF/Shaved-Veruca-James-Enjoying-Double-Penetration.html
