All Hands Meeting

Derek didn’t hesitate. He stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and unzipped without a word. You and Mason exchanged glances. The air had already shifted—no longer surprise, no more uncertainty. Just the sound of wet fucking, soft gagging, and Tiffany’s high-pitched little whimpers echoing off drywall and glass.

She was bent over the desk still. Hair disheveled. Her dress now bunched around her waist. Her white thong halfway down one thigh, twisted and useless. Her black lace bra had been pulled under her small tits, the cups crushed, nipples hard and dripping sweat. Her arms trembled where they held her weight on the desk.

Her pussy—already stretched around your cock—was visibly twitching. Every thrust made her moan louder around the one in her mouth. She was gone. Used. But wanting more.

Mason leaned over her, thrusting slow into her throat, controlling her pace with both hands in her hair. You were behind her, hips snapping now, fucking her pussy deep—soaking wet, sloppy, clenching around your cock like she couldn’t let go.

You pulled out for a moment. She gasped—air finally returning—and whispered:

“Don’t stop.”

Derek chuckled.

“Jesus, Tiff. You really are a needy little slut, huh?”

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t answer. Just wiggled her hips, presenting her soaked cunt, still glistening with slick and spit and pre. You grabbed her ass. Spread her wide.

Derek stepped in.

“Is she open?”

“Check for yourself.”

Derek’s fingers slid between her cheeks, then lower. He groaned.

“Holy fuck. She’s dripping.”

“She’s been begging for it,” Mason muttered, wiping his cock along her flushed lips before stuffing it back in her mouth.

Derek rubbed the head of his cock against her hole.

“Gonna take her ass.”

Tiffany moaned. It wasn’t a protest. It was a yes.

You moved aside. Let him align. He didn’t go slow. She cried out—muffled by Mason—as Derek forced his cock into her ass. It stretched tight around him, puckered and twitching. He spat. Rubbed it in. Then drove deeper.

Tiffany bucked. Eyes wide. But she didn’t scream. She moaned.

Mason groaned above her.

“She’s fucking drooling.”

You knelt down, spread her pussy open with two fingers. It was a mess—slick and pink, stretched, cum starting to bubble at the edges.

“She’s leaking.”

“She’s loving it.”

“She’s made for this.”

They took turns now. Derek slammed into her ass. Mason fucked her throat. You stroked yourself beside them, watching her shake, her body so overstimulated it twitched with every slap of hips.

Then another voice from the hallway.

“Hello? Guys?”

The door creaked open again. A fourth one. Ethan.

You didn’t stop. He stood in the doorway. Froze. Stared.

And Tiffany looked up at him—her eyes glazed, tears streaking, face dripping with spit—and said:

“…Please…”

He blinked.

“You want me to join?”

She nodded. He stepped inside. She was gone now. Compliant. Open. Bent and filled and gagging and still ready for more.

They laid her on her back next. Threw her legs over the desk. Ethan lined up at her pussy. You at her mouth now. Derek never left her ass. Triple stuffed. Every hole claimed.

Her body jolted. She came mid-thrust. Again. Then again. They didn’t stop.

Her cunt was a sloppy mess now. Her ass gaped around Derek’s cock. Her throat raw from Mason, now replaced by yours. You pulled out just to hear her beg.

“…Please—please keep going—don’t stop—I can take it—”

She didn’t know who was inside her anymore. Didn’t care. All she wanted was more. More cock. More heat. More cum.

Derek finished first—grunting, cock buried in her ass, cum spurting deep. He held her there as it dripped back out around his shaft. Ethan followed, emptying in her pussy, pushing her legs back to fill her deeper. You came across her chest. Mason across her tongue.

She swallowed it all. And whispered:

“…Is there anyone else?”