It was fierce. 

It started with fumbling and tugging, and a clumsy kiss or two, but it quickly turned into mayhem. I think Mylo was somewhat taken aback by her presence at first but then, well, it rolled. 

Dunno how Mylo senses such things. But she does - she did sense her presence, and I am not talking about that big woman we had picked up in the park. I think Mylo might be in love with me. Hell, no...

Miranda's face had been forgotten. I thought so. It evaporated as soon as I found myself on all fours, watching Mylo walk round the bed and press her knees into its edge in front of me.

Miranda's voice had been forgotten, too; it had trailed off completely by when Falcon slid his hands under my thighs, lifted my buttocks, spread them and went, panting and cackling, into me like a goods train entering a tunnel. 

What a comparison, indeed... But I couldn't be bothered with comparisons then. That was just a fleeting thought, I even tried to articulate it but Mylo, never someone for much talk when the going's good, turned my head towards her - I had been looking back at Falcon's reddening face as he began his thrusts - and slid her penis into my mouth. 

The words 'hard as a rock' have always made me laugh, and only always internally. I'd hate to have a stony rod in my mouth at any time, and I didn't, for what Mylo gave me to suck on was warm, springy and rubbery. Not really soft, you understand. Her penile blood vessels were bursting full, I'm sure. Hard, yes? But 'as a rock', too? Dunno. No. Let somebody else suck on a piece of rock if he or she likes doing that. I preferred Mylo's thing that had the texture of apricot. Yes. It was like a strange long apricot that quickly became salty. I began to circle my tongue round it but lost my balance - I was on my fours - and nearly fell over headfirst. Damn. I regained composure and put my hands on Mylo's knees instead. It felt even better. Her knees went towards me and back again like pistons. So did her dick - back and forth, back and forth. Never out - I'd never let it, ha!

Now, Mylo is a strange thing herself. Himself... Herself... Well, it's "herself", I guess. Someone like Mylo is far from that 'I identify as...' gibberish - a simple tranny with smashing long legs, flat stomach, shoulders of a power-lifter and breasts like Juicy Rilde's. She's about as tall as Ava Nodds, too. But not olive-dark. Pale, actually. And the penis, of course - like a carob pod when calm and reaching her mid-thigh when erected.    

'You be ma bitch!' Falcon panted from behind as his thrusts were becoming frantic. 

I wanted to tell him a thing or two, instantly, but Mylo was going deeper and deeper, and I had to drop my jaw - almost to my chest, I imagined - to let her goolies in. The well-tended, hairless, surprisingly smooth goolies. A bit too small for such a large frame, but never mind. I sucked her whole equipment in and clamped my lips round it. And tugged at it, clenching my teeth slightly and squinting up at her. I winked at her. She smirked and shook her fist at me playfully. And all that without stopping for a second, mind!

I thought that, physically, she was even better than Miranda could ever hope to be. True, she had no cunt but she was gorgeous all the same. 

Miranda... Damn... 

I pretended I was one of those pneumatic suction devices that can devour a whole sofa. My throat - Mylo was almost there, or so it felt - became an aerodynamic test tube, and I sucked so deep Mylo's pelvis was pressed against my nose. The barely noticeable stubble tickled my lips and cheekbones. 

I removed one hand from Mylo's knee, kept it furled it round Mylo's dick for a bit and reached for my own - unattended - dick and began to stroke it. After all, someone had to take care of the poor guy, dangling there, hard and swollen, all by itself... 

Suddenly, the thrusts of the goods train stopped. My hand was grabbed, squeezed and thrown off my own dick, and it slid into a hot, sweaty fist. At first, I thought that was Falcon, doing me a kind turn, but his thrusts resumed - only to stop again as I felt a hot stream inside my rectum. Fuck! He has come, again. Too soon, again. He slapped my buttocks once or twice, grunted, and then His Flabbiness pulled out of me, followed by a hot stream that began to trickle down the inside of my thigh... until somebody's sandpapery tongue began to lick it off, and the hot, sweaty fist continued with my penis. 

I wanted to find out whether that was NastyBoy or that girl we picked up at the cafe in the park a few hours ago. The palm on my dick felt narrow and gentle as I had noticed hers were, despite her general largeness, but then, so were NastyBoy's hands - he was a little petite pussy, that NastyBoy. The blond hair always carefully curled, always wearing make-up and flimsy clothes flowing and dancing on his little thin agile body. The girl was different - thin as well as but big: big-legged, big-arsed in a toned-up way, big-breasted, with long arms and, again, narrow, long palms and long, strong fingers. Well, who was that giving me a hand-job? I could not look because Mylo had squeezed my face between her legs and was having a field day. Or, better put, a mouth day.

The bottom line? I was getting no goods train, either way. 

That new girl was something else: it seemed the word "no" simply did not exist in her vocabulary. As we came back upstairs to NastyBoy's place, it all began with her dropping her mini-dress - and she was stark naked underneath it, mind - and slip-on sandals, plonking down into NastyBoy's fine leather sofa - he winced - and giving Mylo, Falcon and me a fine flute concerto. Only NastyBoy did not join in: he was not into women at all. I mean, the little bitch thought of himself as a woman. He just sat at the table and watched the girl - Nadia, her name was, it turned out to be - give us head. NastyBoy... Not a bit like Mylo, who was both 'he' and 'she' and whatever the fuck you would care to call her so long as you showed respect and paid up. And she charged by the hour, mind! My poor semi-annual bonus! 

NastyBoy sulked a bit at first. The self-proclaimed Queen of Fellatio was being upstaged by a big naked woman whose big breasts with bikini tanlines gleamed like two wet pink balloons as the three of us exploded all over them. She arched her back and watched the explosions and laughed - that life-worn, cigarette-scorched laughter of a woman whose body was a plaything, a playground and a commodity that was not going to lose its value for a bit longer. How old was she, I wondered. In her late forties? Fifty, even? She looked good, though. 

I suddenly thought she was bound to be in her late - very late - forties, perhaps; was bound to be even if she had looked fifteen. Which she didn't. Because? Because she had declared she was up for anything and, generally, came across as someone who would say 'yes' to being humped by a donkey so long as she was paid for it. They get more pliant as they age, know what I mean? Picky and acting as if they are doing you a favour when they are young and pretty but, as the top half of the hourglass gets emptier and there is more and more fine sand in the bottom tube, they... well, they will do anything. Almost anything, as I soon found out: while Nadia did not mind her big toned arse - tanlines, again! - penetrated by Falcon and me at once in a bit, she, amazingly, would not be eaten out... How odd it can get? This street broad did not like to be eaten out!

There was a sudden ugly image before my eyes - Miranda being humped by a donkey. Or by Mylo. I blinked and shook my head, and the revolting vision was gone.

'Keeping your fanny for your nanny?' NastyBoy asked Nadia across the room, rather tartly.

'No, darling - just for you!' Nadia answered, a teasing glint in her eyes.

NastyBoy made a gagging sound and pretended he was vomiting. Which only brought a volley of that battered laughter from Nadia.

Well. 

She sat back, legs spread, one foot on the sofa's armrest and another on Mylo's waist as Mylo fucked her - and as Mylo fucked her, she sat and watched, from behind Mylo's torso, Falcon and me chew NastyBoy's long pencil-like penis. Yes, you heard that right: we were not blowing the little shit but actually chewing his narrow and not particularly stiff projection. 

NastyBoy hated his penis so much he would often let it be chewed - and his balls, too. His little hairless balls. Falcon and I took turns chewing the pencil and the goolies of this little bitch who would not stop us even though he writhed with pain. Well. All consensual, mind! The offer's on the table - to chew or not to chew'd been the only question.

I suppose NastyBoy did not have the money for a sex change. Or, if he had the money, suddenly, he would not have the balls. Every pun intended.

The chewing show must have looked so weird that Nadia tried to gander farther to get a proper eyeful, so Mylo slapped her across the face really hard. We turned to the sound - smack! - and I thought Nadia was going to throw a tantrum but she seemed to like it. She ran her hand up and down Mylo's hip. So, Mylo gave her another one and then drove her knee into Nadia's shoulder. Fancy that! The prim old broad who would not be eaten out liked to be beaten up!

The room floated, drifted in a blur of NastyBoy's posh electrical candles and our bodies as the night wore on. Or went on. Or rolled on. Not sure which, honestly. 

Falcon had been at it again, first with NastyBoy - I had been on and off NastyBoy and Nadia by then - and then with me. Nadia watched and smoked. 

At one point, Mylo did her and then decided to take a short nap, her head in Nadia's lap. Nadia had crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs together in case Mylo decided to eat her out, after all. My, that girl had principles! Well, at least, she had one. 

Falcon's thrusts had slowed, then stopped, and he pulled out, his spent bulk thumping into the bed beside me. 

'Good?' he asked, somewhat out of breath. And put his arm round me. I flicked it off and it fell in between the crumples next to him. 

'Don't go all tender with me, fucker,' I told him. 

'Don't be a bitch, lover,' he returned. 

I squinted at him. 

'I thought you said I was a bitch,' I said. 

Falcon only grinned. He was going to fall sleep. 

I looked up at NastyBoy, who was sprawled in the arm-chair with his long thin legs slung over its back. He was smoking and looking at the inky square of the window. The little fuck had not drawn the curtains again! 

'Nasty,' I said. 'You keep forgetting those curtains.'

He turned his face to me lazily. 

'So what?' he asked in a hollow voice.

'I don't want to end up on some fucking streaming platform, that's what,' I said. 

NastyBoy shrugged and said nothing. 

Mylo once told me NastyBoy had done porn somewhere a while ago. So, surfacing on some streaming service would be no big deal for him. I suppose so, at least. In fact, I always wondered how come he had never used that for profit. OnlyFans or something, know what I mean? 

But I did not want any of that. I was not that thing.

Sure as shit - Falcon had fallen asleep. His penis, glistening with my saliva and his own spunk, had given up the ghost. 

Nadia was watching us, silent, curious. I suddenly realised that she had never seen an orgy like ours, and it surprised me. A proper old girl, eh? Only boys and, well, aged boys. I was going to ask her about that later but forgot. 

And then, it was all gone. Everything ceased to exist. I was not in that room, either. I was somewhere else and I could send a concrete slab in place of Mylo, big and cold, coming slowly towards me until it touched my face and then my shoulders. It pushed me upwards and began to press me into... what? It was difficult to breathe. 

Where's Miranda right now, I wondered. Where's Miranda with her almond-shaped amber eyes and a careless smile?

Grief is a rain-soaked concrete slab, that's what it is. It stands before you as you peer in it until you cannot see anything, and then it heaves itself on you - on your chest, specifically - and would not let you breathe or move. You stop ticking. No feelings, either, save for the sensation of the enormous sodden weight  on top of you... 

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. It was Nadia, her eyes wild. 'My turn,' she growled, pushing Mylo's sleeping remains aside, spinning me on my back and straddling my face. Just like that. Her cunt was wet and ready, and I went to work at it. It tasted very fresh and sweet - I mean, for a veteran like her. No salty notes. Nothing acidic. I went to work on her clit with my upper lip while snaking my tongue in her vagina.  

Somewhere in front of me - and behind Nadia's body - I could hear Mylo's and Falcon's rhythmic breathing and NastyBoy soft whistling - he had that habit, he would sit and whistle some popular tune softly. He could do it for an hour or so. Non-stop. 

Two bodies fast asleep and one whistling... A no-show for the rest of the night. 

Some people just need orchestrating for them, I thought, and vacuum-sucked Nadia's clit so she suddenly squealed, jerked once or twice, and then was slumped over my head.

It could have felt good to have a woman's body pressed into my face except this one was the wrong body, I said to myself.

The damn feeling was returning. Miranda's face flashed before my eyes, her smile, her touch, her laughter. I pushed the thoughts away, focussing on Nadia's pleasant weight on my face, her stomach pressed against my forehead.