How you throw a party

I look up at the muscular one, still holding his phone, the red dot blinking. Then at the three men around me, spent and breathing hard. Then, finally, at Joe, still out cold on the floor, snoring through the whole thing.

I wipe a streak of cum from my jaw with the back of my hand, and I smile. Slow. Wrecked. Satisfied.

"That's how you throw a bachelor party."

I barely have time to lower my hand before the muscular guy's arms are around me. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, my legs wrapping around his waist on instinct as my back hits the wall. His mouth is on mine before I can say a word.

I taste myself on his lips — the salt of his cum, the remnants of the other two still cooling on my skin. His tongue pushes past my teeth, demanding and hungry, and I don't fight it. I kiss him back, my fingers tangling in his hair, my legs locking behind him.

The quiet guy says something from the couch, low and unreadable. The dark-haired one lets out a low chuckle. The bachelor's breathing is still ragged.

I pull back just enough to look at him, breathless, my lips swollen and slick. His cum is still drying on my chest, mixed with the others, and I can feel his cock hard against my stomach through his boxers.

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