#HearMeRoar Crazy Things

By Alejandra Perez | Dec 9 | Love, Mr. Anonymous, Threesome | 0 Comments

 

Hey Lovies!

 

I’d like to thank Mr. Anonymous. You know, the crazy guy that dared me to take a chance on PDA, and sparked a fire under my belly to take you on. You sneaky devil. For those in the backrow, let me shock you just like I was. Mr. Anonymous—or should I say Misters—turned out to be the very men I was set up with. Yes, you heard me. MEN. Ally-cat has been tied up for days with two gorgeous examples of male flesh, and I can’t say I would have it any other way. Well, yeah, maybe I should say something. I mean, last post I was worried about being ready to even have a real relationship, but things have…changed. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had these guys by my side, calmly providing friendship, laughs, steamy nights, and some sweet moments. D is tough, commanding, and sometimes a lug head, but he cooks me breakfast every morning, rubs my feet at night, and ensures I’m always safe, while finding little was to show me he listens to my every word. R? He’s the kinder of the two, but no less strong and growly, given the right provocation. He’s probably the soothsayer in between D and I’s volatile sparks, and I love having that extra buffer.

 

What can I say? I think I’m falling in love. But is it possible? Can a person find love in a matter of days? A forever sort of love that seeps into the soul, pulls at the heart strings, and keeps you hooked? I would have said, as a hopeless romantic, that love at first sight was possible. On the receiving end of it, of course, my first response was abject fear. It couldn’t possibly be true. Maybe it is…and I’ve found it. Amid the crystal blue waters, towering trees, and wild landscape, I’ve found it.

 

Smooches xoxox

Ally

 

Ally pressed post on her keyboard before she lost the nerve. She realized that Deni and Rich could read it in a matter of minutes. After learning who the anonymous commenter was on her site, she realized that they may have known more about her than she believed. On her blog, she shared her weight journey, Bulimia struggles, and more. In pictures, succinct posts, and expressive memes, she’d shared her life, after her mother’s death, with the world as way to heal inside. Her heart and soul lay in the pages, and they’d searched through every piece. Or at least she’d like to assume they did. And even after all the ugly, they saw something beautiful, and reached out to her. The thought made her heart jerk in her chest. A ding on her computer stopped her from closing the lid.

“You hate spiders,” she read aloud. D was the commenter and she smiled softly.

“Well, yeah, because they are the spawn of Satan. They have to be,” she typed back.

“Your favorite colors are red and black, and you like to accent them with white when you can,” another comment popped up, this one signed R.

“You got me. Did the blog give that away?” she responded.

“You love pancakes and fresh fruit in the morning, something light and airy in the afternoons, and a hearty meal at night. But, dessert first is always an option,” D said.

“Unless there’s fish. Grilled fish will stop her from caring about any dessert you put in front of her,” R argued.

“You twirl your hair around your fingers when you’re nervous,” D said.

“And sleep wrapped around a body pillow,” R added.

“When you dream of your mother, you sigh into your sleep, and don’t like to be disturbed, but movement will pull you out, so the trick is to lay absolutely still,” D added.

She sucked in a shaky breath. What were they doing?

“You only eat what’s been put on your plate, and wait fifteen minutes at least before you go back for seconds, to make sure you are actually hungry and not craving to binge,” R wrote. “So, D and I watch your intake to make sure you don’t relapse.”

“We can smell hunger, hear your stomach, and know it’s genuine, if it wasn’t, we would stop you,” D added.

“I could give your age, weight, height, and marital status, but that’s stuff you can find out on an ID card,” R said.

“But we can tell you that you are young with life, just perfectly our size, completely taken by bears and off the market, and it’s going to stay that way,” D commented.

Ally backed away from her computer as comment after comment populated under her post. Her readers caught fire, rooting the guys on, others calling for her response. One regular told her she should “get her head out of her ass and admit she loved them,” to which she got a ton of likes. They had lost their minds. Her likes, dislikes, interests, and lifestyle played out for her on the screen, all shared by two men who’d known her less than a month. Words painted on a screen, but they knew her. From the way she liked to wear her hair, to her dreams and fears. Comments kept pinging, but she made her way out of the room, lost, terrified, and never more certain in her life. She could hear keys clicking from Deni’s room and she followed the sounds. She found the men on the bed, each with a laptop on their laps, faces scrunched with determination as they went back and forth leaving comments.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

Deni moved first, closing his laptop and putting it to the side, before Rich did the same. “Because you needed to know that time doesn’t matter.”

“But it does,” she told him. “It heals all wounds. It makes pain easier. Hell, they even say time will tell.”

“Doesn’t tell you how long, though, does it? What if it’s a minute from now? Or even a second? Did enough time pass then?” Rich asked.

She shook her head. “You know what I meant.”

“I think you need to find a reason, Ally, because you’re scared. Your life has been full of up and downs, painful moments, and scars that only just stopped hurting. That’s what you know, and you trust the pain more. But finding those reasons to hold on to old fears will only leave you bitter, and alone. IS it even worth it?” Deni argued.

“You just don’t understand,” she began.

“But we do,” Deni told her. “We’ve listened, learned, and assuaged any fear you have. You have to make that final leap, and know we’re here to catch you, baby. We will always be here to catch you.”

“So how does this work? The mating I mean,” she asked.

“Well, Deni and I will both have to be inside of you. A little different than before,” Rich said.

“And then we will both give you our marks. I will first, as chief, and then Rich. It will solidify our bond, and the hierarchy between us. As a triad, we would then rule the Clan together,” Deni finished.

“So, I’d have to move here, leave my life I’ve built back home, and stay here?”

“Your blog can come here with you, and the move can be taken at your pace. We would help you every step of the way. What’s back in the Mainland that you want to keep?”

Her independence? Her fear? There were so many answers to those questions, but the more she looked at Deni and Rich, the way they appeared genuinely interested in her response, made her bite her tongue. Could she bond with them? Give her fears over to them when she didn’t’ know how things would turn out?

“I think I can,” she said out loud.

“What?” Rich asked.

Instead of answering him, she dropped Deni’s shirt she’d been wearing while working on her computer, leaving her bare and open to their hungry gazes.

“Are you sure?” Deni asked.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Yes, Sir.”

Deni went still, his hot gaze traveling over her body before he looked over at Rich. “Get a few things for me, will ya?”

“The prep bag?” Rich asked.

“Yeah. Alejandra, don’t move from that spot.”

“Yes, Sir,” she answered.

Rich got off the bed, shedding his clothes as he went, and heading into the closet just off to her right. Deni stood slowly, until he filled her vision. Then, with deliberate movements that made her breath itch, he slid the buttons to his shirt open until the material hung open. His thick pecs stood out over his muscular abdomen. Deni was built on the lines of fucking linebackers. She licked her lips, anticipation sizzling over her nerve endings. He dropped the shirt to the floor and then opened his pants, but he left it gapped open so the head of his cock peaked out, but didn’t go any further.

“Come here, and turn around,” he told her.

She slid across the floor, her heart beating loud in her ears. She turned in front of him, as he instructed, and waited. As his fingers skimmed over her thighs, and up over her hips, she sucked in a steadying breath. No other man, in her life, every affected her this fast, this easy. When Rich or Deni touched her, nothing else mattered. Fear, worry, and self-consciousness disappeared, and she could be free to be who she wanted. The mental freedom was intoxicating. He twisted his fingers into her hair, pulling at the strands, and sending electric streaks over her scalp. Musk and sex filtered into the air, her pussy already damp from just one touch from him. It took her a moment to realize he braided her hair down from her head. The man could French braid, who knew?

He applied pressure onto her shoulders. “Bend over. I need to get you ready for what’s coming.”

She did as he told her, falling into that fuzzy place where it was easier to follow his commands, and lose herself in him. His big hands squeezed the globes of her ass before a smack cut the silence. Warmth spread through her ass cheek and she gripped her ankles to stay in place.

“Such a good girl. I want you nice and red.”

Blows rained down, and she let go. She released her fear, her pain, her past, everything she could through screams and tears. The agony was cathartic, the edge of pleasure only pushed her higher. Her pussy wept with need, her gut clenched to have more, and she knew she wanted him to push her further, give her more. He rubbed the pain in deeper, pressing her stinging flesh until she gasped. But he wasn’t done. No, he spanked and rubbed, along the top and bottom of her ass, in alternating strokes, and reached between her legs with his free hand. Need connected her clit to her body, and her muscles ceases when he flicked the bundle of nerves.

“Hold your climax until the end,” he demanded.

He was out of his fucking mind, but his command did something. She sank further, into colors—black and red. Sounds—moans and whooshes of air. And freedom. Here she could taste the tang of each hit, smell the iron of her blood as he rose under her ravaged skin, and smell her arousal reaching feverish heights. His talented fingers played with her pussy, and the demand in his spanking punished her for taking so long to choose them, and praised her for being such a good girl. She reveled in it all.

Rich pressed his hands down her back, forcing her to bend more. Funny, how she knew his touch, the gentle demand, the absolute control of his emotions. Then he gripped her throbbing ass cheeks and spread them apart.

“Cold,” Deni warned her, seconds before lube kissed her hot flesh. She sucked in a steady breath as Deni spread the cold over the puckered skin of her anus, before pouring more on her.

“Breathe and bear down,” he told her.

A soft, rubbery object pressed against her ass, and she relaxed her muscles, familiar with anal play. She bore down for him as he pressed the thick plug into her ass, working it with a small stabbing motion. The wider center was the most trouble, but he pushed forward, working her until her muscles relaxed and she could take it all the way. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Now stand, but slowly,” Deni told her.

Rich was there, holding her upper body as she righted herself after so long bent over. Blood rush down from her head, leaving her shaky and that much deeper into her head.

“Perfect,” Rich whispered and kissed her on the lips. She preened at his compliment.

“Now you’re going to sit on my cock, like a good girl, until Deni has that ass lose enough to take. There’s no turning back.”

He lifted her in his arms, just as her knees went weak.