Dwayne gets angry at me for questioning his endurance, but he decides to punish me with sex. I would move out for an Amityville Horror scenario but not for a Sixth Sense. “Mmmm, you’re wearing my favorite outfit.” Adam is on me first, his hands slide inside my apron over the bow at the waist and move up to my breasts as he kisses my neck. I am not. Good enough for all three. I bear-hug all three bodies with my arms and legs, clenching every muscle, putting every fiber of my being into this orgasm. I savor the moment, taking in as much ghost saliva as I can, building my orgasm to even greater heights. Adam takes my extra squirminess as a sign that I’m ready for the main course. I grip Dwayne’s arm as an ironic tether to reality while losing myself to yet another orgasm, but I spare a thought for how silly I must look to the other two with my cupped hands in the air and switch to clenching the sheets instead.
