Ocean Of Need

28 Disintegrate 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

11th May cont...

My panic starts to build the further away Roxy gets. Just as she reaches the stairs next to the cage, she lets go of both their hands and spins around. Her eyes wildly searching. They land on me, and she runs back to me, throwing her arms around me, as she shouts, "Amber, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you on your own." She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the couple, who are climbing up to get into the cage.

Roxy pushes me up first, then follows close behind and the next thing I know the four of us are in the cage and it's being raised up. I look down at my feet, and notice that the bottom of the cage is glass. Everyone below us is looking up at us.

Shit, I didn't even have time to figure out if I wanted to do this. But I would definitely rather be in the cage with Roxy and two strangers, than outside it with God knows who.

Roxy's hand is on my back, rubbing in circles. My breath starts to slow, a sense of calm activated in me. The relief of being safe makes a feeling of gratitude wash over me. I lean towards Roxy and kiss her lips. The kiss lasts for 100 years as music thrums through me.

She is such a beautiful kisser. One of her hands is wrapped around the back of my neck, the other is on my hip. They feel so gorgeous like a brand or a delicious burn.

I feel warmth behind me and turn to see the woman that looks like Roxy's second wife smiling at me. Her breasts are pressed into my back, and she kisses me as she snakes, her hands around my rib cage, and up onto my breasts. I lean back into her and groan, as Roxy's hand moves from my hip down to my thighs, disappearing under my skirt and cupping my pussy.

Jesus, I start to levitate, the three of us floating inside the bubble of the cage. Something rough rubs at the side of my face and I open my eyes to see the man that looks like Roxy's first husband, kissing my cheek. His stubble roughing up my skin wonderfully.

I turn to him and kiss him. He pushes his hand up my neck and into my hair, scruffing his hand into it. Making my scalp tingle with the tightness.

I whisper, "Hello," into his mouth and feel him press against my side. He's already hard.

Someone's hands are rising up inside my T-shirt, and I lean even further back against Roxy's once-would-have-been wife. Arching my back as my nipples are tugged, and a hand slides inside my panties, skimming between the folds of my pussy.

My knees buckle, but I am held between the three of them, so I let myself go further into the pleasure of six hands on my body, not knowing whose hands are where.

Every one of my nerve endings is alive and burning with desire as we become a work of art, hanging from the ceiling with the dancers below watching us through the glass bottomed cage.

I feel myself sliding backwards as Roxy's maybe ex-wife slowly kneels, lowering me to the floor, while her maybe ex-husband holds his arms under the small of my back, lowering down too, and Roxy holds my hands as we all slide towards the floor of the cage.

I'm sitting between the legs of the ex-wife on the floor now, my back against her chest, facing away from her. The ex-husband is still to the side of me, but now kneeling. He pushes my skirt up around my waist, as Roxy kisses up my legs from my knees, towards the tops of my thighs.

I close my eyes, unable to connect my thoughts. I am only a body and feelings and desire, and the desire is a chemical mix of all four of us inside the cage. We float in the chemistry of each other, and of all the people below us, slow dancing as they watch our lockstep of decadence.

My panties are moved to the side, and I feel rough stubble on my hips as he kisses them and then feel his calloused fingers holding my lips apart, and her velvet tongue on my clit.

I float above my body, watching my eyes, roll back in my head, as her tongue writes poems on my clit, engraving, love and lust, and beauty, across the stratosphere of nerve endings that are singing to her tune.

And then my orgasm is breaking out of the cage as it explodes, and I'm screaming as someone strokes the side of my face. Hands firmly hold my legs apart, and fingers are pushed into both my holes. Tongues are on my nipples and my orgasm climbs higher.

The cage inside my mind is disintegrating, as I realize that this is my kind of love, a free-from-possession kind of love. A love that turns us all into art, and makes an exhibition of our desire to be shared and loved and experienced.

I am an artist of my own making, and I can decide how I want to paint or sculpt, write or play,  and there is no cage that can confine me. Even the cage of you.