Their cocks pulsated inside of me like terrified heartbeats while I rode them in a nasty cowgirl position I learned from my favorite pornstar. "Fuck!" I screamed.

It was the only word that could literally describe the act we were committing, and simultaneously express the true pleasure that I was feeling as their massive loads of cum slushed around my insides. And as I raised my soft ass, only for gravity to slam me back down onto their fat dicks, it occurred to me that they were both on their THIRD nut and hadn't stopped fucking my slippery holes yet.

I swear, I hadn't touched alcohol in like a year. And I couldn't explain it, but I was drunk. Drunk on top shelf dick. Never in my life had I been with a man who didn't need time to recover after busting a fat one all over my twerking cheeks, or... my toned stomach, or... my puckered lips, juicy tits, fetish-able feet, wherever. Cummer's choice. And now, I had not one, but... two, who had been breaking and entering my pussy and ass for what seemed like an eternity.

I forgot to mention that this all took place in the filthiest fucking gas station bathroom I had ever been in. It was the outhouse kind that is usually tucked around the side of a gas station convenience store, where anything could happen to anyone, anytime. Undetected.

Well, I ran the risk of becoming a statistic when I pulled my car off road in desperate need to piss in the isolated, germ-infested, box, that was beneath my stature.

Once parked, I grabbed my own roll of tissue and hand-sanitizer that I kept close for such reasons, and exited in my Instagram-approved bikini, that those pretentious so-called influencer bitches pressured us so-called real women into buying.

You see, I make it a point to live in coastal towns since I like my buns to be golden after a lovely day baking in the sun. And with me being the musical genius that I am, and a genius in general (duh), I ditched the 9 to 5 racket, and decided to become DJ Lana, AKA, the only bitch in my town who spun exclusively on the beach.

***

My greatest ambition is to rock Ibiza, in front of a crowd that stretches all the way to infinity. I know for a fact that they would love me. I go way harder than guys on the turntables, not to mention, I'm easy on the eyes. Yes? I'll fit right in with my Jello ass cheeks out and jiggling for all to see, and tits spilling over from my bikini top, as I energetically jump up and down while spinning throwback techno and trance from the late 90s - early 00s. Fact is, I'm the rave queen, and all of those sexy beach bums will worship the fuck out of me.

But in the meantime, there I was, squatting over the disgusting toilet bowl and letting out a stream that was stronger than my will to remain celibate for an entire year. "No lovers. No masturbation." My exact words. And I believe I even said, "The only thing I want deep inside me, is my broken self after I dive inward to rediscover, reinvigorate, rejuvenate, and reclaim" this, that, or whatever. Some stupid shit along those lines.

Fast forward, and all I knew was that it was month six and I was dying inside. Like, what was I proving? And to who, again? I couldn't even remember what set me on this absurd path in the first place. And that is why I knew it was time to get the fuck off. In more ways than one. And now!

Feeling and watching my piss spray violently into the toilet, reminded me of just how much I used to squirt when fucked like the proper slut I really am, despite my sweet girl-next-door face and charm that I offer up to the world. Though on that particular day, my offering was unholy.

I didn't mean to fuck them. It just happened. The janky door lock in the rancid bathroom was of course broken, and the knob was covered in God knows what. Thus, I refused to stretch my hand and pull it shut as I pissed. I simply hoped for the best and planned to yell out, "Occupied!" anytime I heard shoes within earshot.

Fortunately, I didn't have to. And by the time my undisturbed stream came to an end, and I had wiped myself clean, and bathed my hands, I couldn't help but think of the all-too-familiar sensation of pushing a hard flow of liquid out of my powerful pussycat whenever it got frisky.

And this is how I came to be leaned against the dirty wall with vulgarity written on it in permanent marker, ferociously rubbing my clit and poking my Gspot, when the door opened to some sort of God... I mean, man, that I had only seen on TV and the internet.

I swear, I've always been into naturally fit lovers. Guys, girls, whatever. But damn, this was something else to behold once you saw it up close. I assumed he was a professional wrestler, MMA guy, or something, by the way his muscles even seemed to have muscles.

And while guilt and embarrassment were on his face, the only thing on mine, was orgasmic pleasure when I squirted so fucking hard from the mere sight of him. This is why he didn't completely shut the door and chose to leave it ajar. He knew for a fact what he had seen. Caught me dead to rights. And yet, I kept going to a delicious finish while objectifying that chiseled flesh, he called a body.

Instinct told me that he was still on the other side, stuck about what to do, and wondering if there was actually something in it for him. But I surprised myself, and probably Mr. Muscles, when I opened my big fat dick-sucking mouth and shyly said, "You can come in if you'd like."

He opened the door faster than a cowboy could draw his pistol and graced me with a lengthier look at his God-like physique. And just as he prepared to enter, a male voice called out, "Hey man, is it a single, or room for two?" Naturally, his friend was referring to toilets. However, I was compelled to look Mr. Muscles into his predatory eyes that aimed to tear me apart and raise my two fingers.

He cracked a sinful smirk and raised his two all the same. Thus, his friend hustled over and was equally surprised by me. The feeling was mutual. He was built just like the first guy. As for the bodybuilder logo on his tank top, it helped me better understand that they in fact weren't terminators sent back in time to fuck me so hard that I would end my celibacy, and eventually give birth to my daughter, who would lead the Bad Bitch vs. Machine rebellion in the future of 4084. I mean, after all. I'm that bitch, but not like, that important. I'm still me. The fuck puppet formerly known as Three Hole Lana.

Well, back in college anyway.

I digress.

Both men rushed the door and literally couldn't fit through at the same time. You know, like in the cartoons? And while the visual would normally tickle my funny bone, and nipples that were harder than both men put together, I had no choice but to wonder if they would have the same problem when trying to simultaneously fit inside of me.

The late friend took a step back to allow my first admirer into the bathroom, which was tighter than my aforementioned holes. Then, the other would enter and attempt to lock the door. "It's broken," me and the first man said in sync. To which, we smiled at one another. You know what they say about couples who finish each other's sentences.

And even though I was a complete stranger to the both of them, I noticed and appreciated the tiny glimmer of jealousy in his friend's eye, for the fact that he didn't have a moment with me first. Which is definitely why he took his short-lived emotions out on the stainless-steel chopsticks keeping up my thick hair, when he unexpectedly pulled and snapped them in two with his bodybuilder strength, and commenced to do some MacGyver shit when he jammed one of the pieces through a mechanism on the cheap door and got it to stay locked.

Fast forward, and the oddly placed mirror on the wall had weakened, and eventually shattered, when one of their Godly backs used the wall for support, with me wedged in between him and the other God. And while they continued to welcome my heavenly pussy and ass out of hiatus with a ruthless fuck, my hands, feet, and head suddenly went limp, and I would only move involuntarily off the force of their stiff pounding.

At this point, my mind, body, and soul, submitted to the indescribable feeling of feeling something new after being sexually active for so many years. I mean, hello. DPs on-site with bodybuilders? There's levels to this shit.

So yes, I desperately wanted to know which one of these giants was more responsible for the orgasmic spell that I was under. But then again, even if I did find my guilty man, I couldn't imagine how I could thank him better than I already had been. So in the end, I didn't care. All I needed to know, was that I felt everything, everywhere, at the same time, and that I was grateful.

They ravaged my paralyzed body while I watched myself make up for six months of self-inflicted punishment, as we reflected in the fragmented pieces of mirror on the floor. The irony wasn't lost on me that broken mirrors superstitiously brought bad luck, and yet, I had never felt more luckier than in that moment with my mouth salivating, cumming myself, and flopping helplessly in between two pillars of Godly flesh.

Soon, Atlas would shrug, and his legs would tire. And with his veiny cock stuffed deep inside my leaking cunt, he braved sitting his bare bottom onto the dirty sink, allowing us a chance to relax in cowgirl, while his friend braced his knees and worked my now-protruding rosebud long and deep from behind. And I could tell that Citizen Dick still had a little more jealousy to work out by the way he pounded so mercilessly. I mean, they were both rough, but he was rougher.

Which reminds me. Between our collective weights, and the massive force of our three bodies fucking as hard as they could on the tiny sink, the cheap porcelain structure would develop cracked lines everywhere, unexpectedly give out, and send us all cascading down to the floor.

Surprisingly, we only received minor cuts on our bodies from the impact, and, our continued fuck sesh in the pool of carnage. As for the burst water pipe, it sprayed all over. Kinda' like myself and two new friends as we repeatedly sucked, fucked, and hosed our cum in all of the hot places.

I remember thinking that the bathroom was almost as filthy as the anonymous, risky, unprotected, sex, we were having. And that, we were extremely lucky no one else was desperate enough to use that bathroom and could hear our ritualistic fuck-chants on the other side of the door. I mean, after all. A bitch really wasn't trying to catch a public lewdness charge, but sometimes you just gotta get your fuck on.

Fast forward, and we've been in a love triangle for the past five years. We make it work, although, it is kind of annoying, but also exciting, when so-called progressive folk are trying to be overly accepting of our unique relationship and inquire, "Where did you all meet?! "

And to be fair, I just don't have the inclination to bullshit with human beings, so I always tell them the truth. Well... the soft-core version anyway. But damn it, at the very least, I don't hide the fact that I "made love" to BOTH men at the same time. And whether they admit it or not, they go home and fuck their partners vicariously through me, DJ Lana, AKA, the only bitch in my town who spins exclusively on the beach.

Soon to be Ibiza.

Anyway, I'm currently naked, playing with my pubes, and stretched across both of my faithful fuck Gods on the couch, watching a girlie show they both hate but pretend to like out of respect for me, as I smirk superiorly at the dumb bitch on screen who just uttered that she is thinking about becoming celibate.