1 comments/ 7152 views/ 18 favorites iZombie: The Wanking Dead By: Zev95 "Hunh?" Liv asked, slurping up some brain. Ravi stared at her in patient apoplexy. Liv thought sometimes he was jealous he didn't get to eat brains, which were perfectly tempting once she put them through some prep: in this case, involving a pasta maker. Certainly looked better than anything he could get from Sizzler. "I said, have you imagined the possibilities?" Liv looked over at their latest customer: pale, overweight, and currently absent a brain. "We can find out if it's possible to die from a lack of tanning? What's the opposite of skin cancer, anyway?" "Healthy skin. And you're one to talk, indoor kid. You are aware that we have a titan of literature on our slab?" "What, some chick who wrote a few bodice-rippers? You know we have Grey's Anatomy for that now, right? And internet porn." Ravi huffed a sigh. "First of all, Meredith Connors did not write 'romance'. She wrote stories with important human themes." He ticked off on his fingers. "Elements of romance. History. Adventure. Mystery. Philosophy." "Ripping a woman's panties off with your teeth..." "In a tasteful way that shows the characters' growth." "That's what I have internet porn for. The growth." With a dismayed groan, Ravi returned to his microscope. "She's your first author, though. Imagine if her writing prowess lives on in you! Imagine if Stephen King died in the middle of writing a manuscript, but you were able to carry on his work and finish it for him!" "I've seen Maximum Overdrive. I think that's about as far as I want to get into the Kingster's head." Liv twined up her spaghetti in her fork and ate the last of it. "If my texts to you mention any heaving bosoms, promise me you won't take it personally." "Liv, I always assume your bosoms are heaving." She wiped her mouth off with a napkin. "Okay, so how's the cure coming? Not to rush you or anything, but the sooner you're done, the sooner I can have sex." "On behalf of all men, I am of course eager to see that happen, even though it clearly won't be to my personal benefit—" "Don't speak too soon. I may let Major have that threesome he's always wanted for his birthday." Ravi did a slight double-take before being sure she was kidding. "Slow-going, as usual. I thought I was on to some promising retardant effects, but I think it was due to the subject samples, not the prospective cure itself." "You've got anti-zombie rats?" "No, the brain matter I was studying the effects of the virus on. Some of it seemed resistant to the virus, but I think we can chalk that up to hormonal qualities at the time of death. Both women were, eh, in flagrante derelict at the time of their passing." Ravi stretched the corners of his mouth in an empathetic gesture. "Refrigerator fell right through the second story and onto the bed." Caught on the way to the sink to wash her bowl out, Liv stopped and set it down nearby instead. "Wait, so some endorphins released through sex hit the virus like a pesticide?" "No, I checked it against some brain tissue from that recreation of Fifty Shades of Grey that went so horribly wrong. Those were infected by the virus, same as ever. Did you just set your dirty dishes down on a body?" Liv looked at the sheet-covered cadaver on the table and picked up her bowl. "Fifty Shades was a man and a woman. Maybe that makes a difference." "You think that lesbian sex might be a sort of booster shot against the virus?" "Is it possible?" "Anything's possible. There's still so much science doesn't know about lesbians..." Liv sighed affectionately. "You're so smart, Ravi. And handsome." "It's just the beard. And the beard." Liv batted her eyelashes. "What's department policy on workplace fraternization?" "The word 'don't' comes to mind." "Shame." Liv undid a button on her blouse. It made more room for heaving. "Imagine it—two people, so similar, with such an intense connection, but forbidden to ever be together. Would it be worth it? One passionate moment of twisting fire, our desperate love aching and straining to only the night's acknowledgment... but then, if someone were to find out... the shame... the scandal... my only consolation, the time we shared, the sweet music our bodies made when we finally let them sing the duet bursting to be shared between us!" Ravi nodded. "I miss the Brony brain." *** "Hey girlfriend." Liv smiled to herself. What a wonderful thing to be called! Of course, it was Peyton, and she meant it totally platonically—all their college experimentation had been with other people, or in Liv's case, Mr. Snowball, Edward Clarke's fursona. But still, wouldn't it be wonderful to be Peyton's girlfriend? Those strong arms wrapped around her at night, lifting boxes by day, those long fingers petting the cat they were co-parenting... Well, that settled it, Meredith Connors was the most repressed person Liv had mind-melded with since the guy who owned The Covenant on Blu-Ray because he liked the special effects. Peyton scurried closer to Liv's perch on the love seat, bearing a fast food paper bag in one hand like the head of a slain beast. "I know not much is happening with your sense of taste right now besides spicy foods, so I got Mexican." "Pey, my boss is Indian. I get all the spice I need." "Good. Then one of the enchiladas is mine." Peyton took hers, which Liv thought would've happened if her boss was five generations Minnesotan, and dumped the bag into Liv's lap. "Now, not to be a cliché or anything, but let's talk about boys." "I like their chances in the play-offs." Peyton Indian-sat beside her, swatting her arm. "You and Major. He, uh, giving you any brain?" "Did you come back just because you thought of that pun?" "Hey, I wasn't a hundred percent sure you were a zombie. You could've been a werewolf. Then I would've been screwed. Now, no more evasions. Tell me where, to the best of your knowledge, his penis has been." "Well, in my hot little hand while we took a shower together. And in some Calvin Klein underwear. Zombieism's a bitch. My entire body's an undead minefield for johnsons. We've been using toys; it's like I'm dating a lesbian with more hair. And he has such a nice penis too..." "So you're like two Mormons saving it for marriage?" "No, we can't do anal, either." "But you love anal!" Peyton teased. "I didn't say this zombie stuff was all bad. But Christ, does he have to have abs when I'm Rogue of the X-Men?" "You either need to marry a super-rich guy or hope zombieism is like chicken pox and you only get it once." "Only get it once." Liv blinked. "Peyton, you're a genius!" "Well, yeah, I've become a district attorney in my twenties—" Liv leaned over and kissed her. It was a tingling rush of heat across her extremities that pulled her to Peyton's lips like she was dousing a flame in cool water. Their soft bodies crushed together, the paper bag falling with a crinkling noise to the floor as Liv pressed Peyton back, her head bumping against the armrest as Liv's sweet tongue charged into her mouth. She felt Liv's soft, feminine hands moving up her sides; the zipper of Liv's jeans pushing hard against her abdomen as Liv covered her. And Liv's breasts, burning with cold against her chest, hard nipples chilling her deliciously. The kiss was devouring her, dizzying her. It seemed wonderful, dangerous, and made Peyton feel like she was those things too. Breathless as she was, Peyton didn't stop herself from slipping her arms around Liv's curvaceous body, pulling it even harder to her. Soft satin rustled and whispered under her fingers. Through the thin blouse she could feel the narrowest of bra straps. Underneath Liv's jeans, Peyton could feel nothing at all. Liv was all but naked under her clothes, and Peyton's hands dug into them, as if to tear away what little Liv did wear—and it really did feel like very little, compared to the body underneath—but that temptingly soft mouth was gone, Liv leaving her dashed across the love seat, perching over her on outstretched arms. "Do you, uh, kiss every genius you meet?" Peyton murmured. "Yeah," Liv replied, "multiple times for the cute ones." Peyton pulled back as Liv leaned in again, dragging herself up the armrest she was pressed against, making Liv drop into her cleavage. The chill of Liv's soft, keen face met thrillingly with the hot-blooded flush that ran through Peyton's breasts, making her moan embarrassingly loudly. She thought nothing could be as shamefully good as suddenly getting to second base with Liv, but then Liv looked up at her through her fringe of platinum-blonde hair, like a layer of glimmering frost atop the snow that was her face, and Peyton felt her pulse amplify drastically right at her center. "Imagine it, Peyton. Two friends, best friends, lifelong friends, who've always been there for each other, always loved each other... when suddenly they realize there's something more to that love, or that what's always been there can be expressed another way... a forbidden way... Peyton, Major is failing the desperate desires of my willing young body! Is it so wrong to seek the burning embrace of another woman?" "Uhh... no? This feels like a multiple choice question..." Liv ran her hand up Peyton's leg, into the little hammock of her disarrayed shirt, pushing underneath the hem to pet bare flesh with the pads of her fingers. "Then let's be simple. Yes or no. I'm pretty sure that first kiss was a yes... then the second was a no..." She moved her hand higher, its outline rippling up under Peyton's shirt, until there was a sudden stillness at the cusp of her breast. Peyton took in air desperately, feeling fingers hook across the left cup of her bra, greet the nipple straining towards them... "And this really feels like a yes. But if it's a no... if any of this is a no..." "It's not a no... it's not a yes... I don't know what it is, I don't know what this is! It's all so sudden—" "Sudden can be good," Liv mused. "Death is still. Life is... different. Always different." "This is a brain. This has to be. You're never like this—" "It's possible that it's making me really good at crossword puzzles, what with all the adverbs, but I was the one who brought the wonderful, supportive, loving, best friend who would be superb for kisses to the table." Liv pushed her finger atop Peyton's nipple, covering it, summoning its hardness like some wicked spell, then taking her finger away to reveal the little dimple poking through Peyton's tight shirt. Liv lowered her lips to the hardness, crushing them around it, pulling with taut suction... "Yes! Yes! That's a definite yes!" Peyton cried, actually reaching to pull her shirt inside-out before she stopped herself. "No, wait—I'm still not sure how much is you and how much is the brain and how—Liv?" It looked disturbingly like Liv was about to pass out. "Do you need to lie down?" "Yes, we should definitely lie down together... no, wait, sorry—vision. Sex Addicts Anonymous. Ewwww, stale coffee tongue..." Peyton winced inwardly. "Yeah... that'd explain it." "No, no—" Liv corrected her, sitting back on her haunches and grabbing Peyton's hands to jerk her up so they were kneeling together, facing each other atop the love seat. "I thought Ravi was super-cute too, but I didn't jump him! Or Clive!" "Maybe you're just a racist?" Peyton offered. "Pey!" "You are really white..." Some days, Liv really regretted her high school pledge to never, never get a spray tan. But she had sworn on Britney Spears, Baby One More Time. No takebacks. "So it took nymphomaniac brains to figure out you had a crush on me?" Peyton asked. "Actually, given my dating history, that sounds pretty plausible..." "Mine too!" Liv cried, putting her hand on Peyton's thigh. "We have so much in common—like two hearts that can't help but in the same moment, and not just this moment, but every past moment, every moment yet to come—our hearts will always beat together..." "Okay, now you just sound like Mariah Carey." "You want me to wait for sexy time! You sound like—my life!" *** Major tried the door, and as soon as he found it unlocked, he was pushing through, surging into the apartment. No Liv. He tried the various rooms, anxiety mounting into outright panic. The text had been terse, worrying, his attempts to call her or text her back meeting only silence. But he forced calm, forced thought. Quick-dialed her cell again. Heard her ringtone through a few walls, followed it around corners to an open door, opened it, saw Gilda inside. She was in Liv's bed, naked, the sheets around her hiding the specifics but not much else. In her hand, she muted Liv's ringing phone. "Not funny," he said, teeth clenched. "What's not funny?" she asked, vocal fry running high. "I was just hitting you up—oh, did I accidentally use Liv's phone instead of mine? Oopsie. That happens all the time with us roomies. We share everything." "Good. You can borrow some of her clothes, get dressed, and get out of here." "Or I could tell Liv all about your nocturnal activities. I wonder which she'd care about more: that you've been knocking off zombies like a Call of Duty mode or that you've had your cock so far down my throat that I could put teeth marks on your balls?" Major laughed disbelievingly. "You're blackmailing me for sex? Because that's how hard up you are? You—you look like a model." "Awww, lover, you say the sweetest things." Gilda looked at her bare wrist as if anyone still wore watches. "Better hurry. Won't take long for Liv to get back from Peyton's Place—wasn't that a web serial or something?—and she probably won't buy that you slipped and fell on your dick, with me to break your fall." "So you're a sick bitch just doing this for kicks?" Gilda nodded. "My roomie, I love her to death, but sometimes—you just really wanna fuck her boyfriend, you know?" She flipped the sheet off her body. "You can put it anywhere." Major knew he should resist. That was what you were supposed to do under these circumstances, in movies or books—not keep secrets, not cheat on your girlfriend, not kill people. But after all the build-up of getting back together with Liv, of seeing her beautiful body again, of waiting for Ravi's tests and then the anticlimax of being told they couldn't be together... he needed something. Not sex, but to stop fighting the current for one moment, to go with the flow and try to enjoy himself. One more thing he could make up to Liv later. Or one more thing to even the scales between them. She was good, too. Major didn't know if that made it better or worse. He didn't compare her to Liv, at least. His memories of her had Midased their way into pure emotion, romance, nostalgia. Gilda was visceral pleasure, just flesh and skin and some kind of twisted thrill in making her come before he did, or surrendering to her efforts and letting her mocking laughter ring out. But it wasn't like she was just anyone—just a warm body. Through the nostalgia, he remembered that if Liv wasn't some kind of seductress, she had a charmingly boundless enthusiasm. She'd bounced and wriggled all over the place, trying a little clumsily to get the right tempo, him struggling right beside her until they found it, or something like it, or had a good enough time that they didn't care. And the girls who weren't Liv, or Gilda, they'd seemed not to care. Maybe he'd just had bad luck, gotten with women who were incompatible on some level with him, but they'd seemed to just lie there, making pleased sounds, letting him do all the work like it was a privilege that he could have sex with them. But Gilda, Gilda had technique. It was almost like a dance with her. His moves were made, anticipated, responded to. She rolled her hips, twisted them, thrust them, counterpointing his motions, overriding them sometimes. He'd heard about those old 'backward in high heels' song and dance numbers that a good dancer didn't look half as good without a good partner. With Gilda, he could believe it. Whatever else, she made him feel more virile, more skillful, made him take more pleasure in the simple satisfaction of being inside her, naked with her, kissing her. Gilda was enjoying it too. Both of them were so filled with lust, they weren't aware of anything else. Least of all the fact that the bedroom door was ajar a few inches. And peering through it was Liv Moore. She'd come home fast after her chat with Peyton at Major's place, still confused over who had killed her romance writer, what her feelings towards Peyton were, and if they were hers or those of a really kinky corpse. The last thing she'd expected to find back at her apartment, in her own bed, was Major. Well, okay, that wasn't that unlikely. But with her, not with Gilda. And not having so much fun. Christ, Gilda really did sound like a cartoon character getting electrocuted. Major had his face buried in her crotch, arms around her thighs, struggling to hold on as Gilda kicked and thrashed wildly. She was clawing at his back in a delirium of lust, jerking her naked sex furiously into his licking mouth. "Oh, baby, oh, honey, lick it! Suck my clit, lick, suck—darling!" Liv felt her heart hammering—such as it could—against her ribs. Was that what sex was like again? It seemed a lot more—obscene—than she remembered. More exciting, too. Gilda doused in sweat was sexy as ever, but naked? Fucking? She was delicious. And Major, hunched between her widely spread legs... had his cock always been that long, his balls always so hairy and big? Confused and shocked, it actually occurred to Liv how odd it was that her foremost reaction was lewd excitement. Maybe it really had been too long, or maybe she'd unlocked her inner slut, gone on some Eat Pray Lesbian journey or something. But it seemed to her like maybe this was a healthy reaction. Being glad that the two of them were getting some, happy that at least someone had a Major boner inside them. And it wasn't like Major hadn't done well for himself. Gilda was hot as hell. And a natural redhead, to boot. Liv felt herself tremble. It'd been a while since she'd even masturbated, the notion seeming depressing to her, like drinking nonalcoholic beer to make up for never being able to have red wine. But watching her roommate turn over onto her belly, knees folded under her, lush and creamy ass presented like she was posing for a pin-up—Liv may not have been able to pop the cork, but she could definitely smell the bouquet. "Fuck me like a dog," Gilda panted, nudging her asscheeks back toward Major's cock as he knelt upright behind her. "Give it all to me, bitch, every inch! Ram it to the hilt! Don't let me stop coming!" Liv tried to keep from panting too heavily—it should've been easier, since she wasn't much breathing—as she watched every movement with an avid frustration. Like it was a drug taking hold, she felt her hand flow down her body, following the leaden blood that seemed nearly molten inside her. She felt the strong, sure curvature of her belly give way to the silky softness underneath her belly button, the little wisps of hair as thin and fragile as spider's silk, the sudden warmth hidden like a flower about to blossom... She bit her lip to keep the outcry in her throat. It was so intense, dipping into that almost forgotten power, feeling what she could make herself feel. She built a rhythm, stroking her fingers to the tune of the throbbing at her core, her softly rounded hips swaying delicately to the music... And all the while, Major clutched Gilda's creamy ass in his hands, letting her reach between her spread thighs to seize his cock in her hands. She pulled it to herself with merely a stroking fingertip along the underside of his shaft, and he nudged into her quivering wetness. A long, dreamy sigh escaped Gilda's throat. iZombie: The Wanking Dead "Ooooh, not bad. Fuck me slowly now, baby, give me time to get reacquainted with that big cock... mmmmmm, just the way I remember it. Only not... as... deep..." In the doorway, Liv didn't seem to be in control of the frantic rhythm her fingers possessed. She was only letting them rub inside her, outside her, the stroking feverish but the pleasure unhurried. She felt as if she'd been waiting for this—patiently awaiting every iota of pleasure she now felt. All the fantasies she'd ever had, all the old love affairs, were a pale echo compared to this intoxicating spectacle. As close as a zoo animal behind glass, and as far away. Major was giving Gilda the depth she'd asked for, refreshing her memory as much as she required. Soft cries of pleasure filled Gilda's mouth, barely contained by propriety, almost eclipsed by the sound of her body scrabbling over the bedspread in a frenzy of desire. Liv wasn't sure if she was trying to meet Major's powerful, steady thrusts or get away from them. Gilda clawed at the sheets beneath her. Whatever she wanted, she was getting his cock. Pistoning into her as savagely as Gilda could possibly ask for. "I'm gonna come," Major gasped, slamming himself into her audibly, his thrusts as loud as her hands rending the sheets. "Let's see how hot that warm cunt gets—when I've come inside it." "It'll be on fire!" Gilda dug her fingers into the mattress. "Just like it is now!" Liv stabbed two fingers inside herself, her hips grinding down on the fuck she was giving herself. She thought of walking in on them, demanding to join them, her clothes left far behind. Just the thought of their eyes on her naked body pushed her inward, centered all her clenching body on her madly rutting fingers. She felt it on her fingertips, the tension and the release at the same time. She was touching her orgasm. "Shoot it in me!" Gilda demanded, arching herself, her sex into sucking circles on his prick. Fucking the mattress as hard as she was fucking him. "All of it, in me, I want it all!" Major crashed on top of her, his broad body engulfing hers, and he pressed into her and she pressed into the mattress, buried so deep that all Liv could see were her outstretched hands, her splayed feet, curled toes begging eloquently for relief. The bed finally had its say, bedsprings croaking as Major violently made his conquest. If he was coming, it was for more than a minute, splattering the aching walls of Gilda's cunt with his release. Liv imagined Gilda's womanhood sucking needfully at his dick, draining every molten drop from him, as her own once had. Until it had to end, fingers pried free of the mattress, toes falling back into neat symmetry. Major rolled off Gilda with a long sigh, and Liv could see her again, perspiring, skin as red as her hair, lingering spasms of joy animating her like a disinterested puppeteer. "Oh, sweetie, I needed that," Gilda moaned. "And I don't think I was the only one." She certainly wasn't, Liv thought. "Liv?" She whirled around. Peyton was there, her olive skin and dark hair coolly rounded away in the darkened hallway—a vampire come with a claim on Liv's soul. Vampire Peyton, Liv thought. Yummy. "I didn't like the way we left things," Peyton said, hesitantly confessional. "I tried knocking, but no one seemed to be answering, and the door was open and, uh... I heard noises... what... were you doing?" "Let me show you," Liv said, beckoning her closer. *** "First of all, I'm not upset," Liv said, bursting into the bedroom before Major could put on his pants. "Sit, sit—you can be modest if you want, that's fine, but I'm not mad. Gilda, letting it all hang out, nice, nice. Not mad at you either, by the way. How could I be mad at my boyfriend for being a man and sampling the succulent feast of your creamy bosom? Oh, and this is Peyton. We've recently begun experiencing the forbidden dance of lesbian desire together." Gilda didn't move her lips saying "Is she high?" "I don't think so," Major whispered back. "Isn't the forbidden dance the lambda?" Peyton said. Liv folded her hands together, running them over her cheeks like a schoolgirl with a crush. "Major, I know we can't have sex because of... my Kabbalistism. But we can still have sex! Just with other people! While we're together! Maybe while recording it or watching it from a discrete distance—I didn't feel any jealousy, watching as you delivered Gilda to the rapture that she can only find in the arms of a lover. And would you be jealous as I tasted the sumptuous fruit of Peyton's garden, savoring the flavors that only a woman can truly taste?" "A... a literal garden or a sex-garden?" "I only have a sex-garden," Peyton said nervously. "And what a sex-garden!" Liv said. "Oh, and the... Kabbalistisa is totally cool with me and her sex-garden. Or Gilda's sex-garden." "Female sex-gardens in general," Major guessed. "Yes," Liv confirmed, then nodded at Gilda. "Hey." "Hey." "And Major, Peyton's wanted to bang you since she walked in on you in the shower!" "I have not!" Liv took her hand and squeezed it. "Pey, this is a safe space for being a slut. Look at him. Look at how cute my boyfriend looks. Think about all the good that banging him will do our relationship. And I can practice lesbian sex with Gilda while you're nestling his mighty staff in your fertile loam." "I'm good with everything but the sex-garden metaphor," Gilda said. "That's gone too far." "You want to be part of some menage a quatre with your roommate and her boyfriend?" Major asked. "Just like that? Spur of the moment? You don't think it'll just be a lot of lesbian sex on the way to heartbreak and shouting matches?" "Oh, of course, it'll be awesome, like following one of Taylor Swift's relationships on TMZ." "Okay," Peyton said, "I have never wanted to bang your boyfriend, no matter how attractive he is or what he does in the shower, but since you're offering—" "She's offering?" Major asked. "You're not?" Liv asked. "I know I am," Gilda said. "Even if I haven't ever walked in on you in the shower." "It was a brief glimpse," Peyton stressed, "and I'm not the one who didn't buy the pebbled shower doors that you can't see through and that the whole of Western civilization thinks is a good idea! Liv, you had us living like savages! Savages!" "Can I fuck Peyton too?" Gilda asked. "She seems nasty." "I haven't even read Fifty Shades of Gray!" "It's alright, honey," Liv patted her on the shoulder. "I know you're a sweetheart. Now go suck Major's cock. I don't think I ever quite got the hang of it, but maybe you can. Gilda, you go to the fridge and bring back whatever vegetable is big enough to trigger your gag reflex." "Don't have one. But I'll guesstimate." Gilda got out of bed and slunk past Liv, offering her a seething gaze. Liv smiled at her in return, nudging Peyton in the ribs to encourage her to take a look. Peyton didn't exhale until Gilda had passed them. "We should have more redheads streaking in this apartment," Liv said. "It really ties the room together. Peyton, I notice you haven't said much. If that mouth isn't doing anything else..." Peyton looked at Major's phallus, throbbing between his legs. She guessed there was only so much a guy could listen to plans for a foursome before it got to him. With one last look at Liv, she crossed the room. Major pulled the sheet away, swinging his legs out off the bed, spreading his knees. She knelt between them, wetting her lips, feeling them tingle after the tracing of her tongue. Then she lowered her head. Major felt a kind of dizziness as the pleasure pulled him this way and that, the shocking sway as he got used to Peyton and she got used to him. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and smiled at the feel of Peyton's mouth around him. Gilda came back while Liv was watching. Wordlessly, she held up the zucchini she had found. Liv's jaw sagged a little, but she thought she could manage it. They moved to the foot of the bed. Liv laid down on her back; Gilda laid down across from her, their legs brushing together. With a wicked smile on her face, Gilda opened her thighs and ran the head of the zucchini over the hungry lips of her sex. Liv opened her legs. A moment later, she felt the other end of the zucchini rubbing against her like some affectionate pet. Gilda pushed it at her. It separated her lips, opened her up, entered her. Gasping, Liv reached down to wrap her fingers around it as she thrust herself onto it, inches entering her all at once. Gilda was penetrated at the other end, soaked and split open. They writhed in harmony, drawing their bodies closer together, losing the makeshift dildo between them. Squirming on the bedspread, Liv closed in on the redhead, who was holding onto the nearest bedpost for support. More of the zucchini slid deeply into her, but Gilda was too wet for Liv to take all of it. She wiggled and screamed, her body throbbing with Liv's closeness. Peyton's lips and tongue were driving Major just as crazy. She blew on his balls for the few seconds she could taste smelling his musk but not tasting it, then swooped in to lap her tongue up his balls, his shaft, his pulsating cockhead. His moan seemed to propel her back downwards as she returned with a sensuous motion of her tongue to his testicles, batting them from side to side with her tongue before sucking one into her mouth. She sucked hard, pulling back with her head, letting the orb nearly escape her lips before she surged back to smother it in her mouth again, sucking and swathing even harder with her tongue. Major's breathing was deep and very uneven. Liv and Gilda continued thrashing on the foot of the bed, the zucchini completely soaked, spanning both their sexes, engorged in either of their bodies. They had been constantly struggling toward each other; in a few moments, their lips would press together. The dildo would be completely buried inside the two women. Liv reached up, took hold of Gilda's ankles, and pulled roughly on them. Their bodies met deliciously, quivering cunts joined totally. Gilda came. Liv came. There was simply no holding back anymore. They seemed to have burnt out on anticipation. But they kept working the zucchini inside their cunts, their shared orgasm a living thing, a flame, a constant jogging of pleasure as their pussies met and its penetration shifted and tensed inside them. Peyton's head was bobbing up and down as she massaged Major's cock with her lips, teased him with the narrowness of her throat. He was fighting hard to control himself, but Peyton wouldn't let him relax. As he sweated with the force of the orgasm he was trying to contain, Peyton straightened up, his cock slipping from her mouth. Instead of overwhelming him, she teased him. Her lips moved to the underside of his rock-hard cock, her tongue snacking across the bulging veins, the lightest touch of its tip craning upward to reach his shiny dome. For several moments she was motionless, her tongue curled in mid-air, her mouth less than an inch from his cockhead. He felt her hot breath leaving her parted lips. She lowered her face, touching her tight lips to his crown. Pushed the two together, her lips reluctantly drawn apart to take him inside her encroaching mouth. She swallowed the rounded head of his column, closing her lips over it, inhaling him with a slow, delicious suction. Major felt his whole body relax as he came, with a sharp core of release inside him as a long, drawn-out ejaculation carried him into Peyton's mouth. He staggered and slipped backwards, lying on his back as Peyton slurped her way off his weakening erection. She went to Liv, still scissored together with Gilda's well-pleasured body, and kissed her—Liv moaning aloud as she tasted Major's cum, fresh, warm, and cut with a taste that was uniquely Peyton's. No sooner had she swallowed then she started giggling, Peyton falling over her onto her other side, between her and Major. Then, with a thick exhalation, Gilda pulled herself off Liv, both of them moaning in chorus as the zucchini was removed, tossed aside. "Major, you're closest," Liv said. "Please set an alarm clock. No more than one hour's catnap, then we're testing out another arrangement. Anyone who wants to eat my ass will be given priority." Major reached over to blindly grope for the clock on the nightstand. In his clumsiness, he knocked it to the floor. "Okay, new plan," Liv continued without missing a beat. "As soon as Major gets hard again, we start over. Anyone who wants to get started on that has my blessing." "Just stay right there," Gilda told him. "I'll get right on that as soon as I can move. But I also want to eat Liv's ass. Can I call dibs on that too?" "Maybe if we have a daisy chain," Peyton suggested. Liv hugged her. "I'm so glad you're part of my orgy."