Is a spitroast my sexual holy grail?

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What is the ultimate, best kind of sex? Oh, sure, we all have our favourite positions and our ultimate fantasies: bucket-list fucks with hot celebrities or specific sex toys we’ve always wanted to try. I have plenty of these myself. But is there one thing, above all others, that I’d give my eye-teeth to do? Yes. I would like for two dudes to fuck me in a very specific way: the spitroast. And I don’t just mean me sucking on one gent while the other fucks me from behind. I mean a properly co-ordinated spitroast: all three of us moving in harmony, so that the force with which the first guy fucks my mouth pushes me more tightly back onto the other person’s dick. And vice versa. Spitroasting has some pretty awful connotations, not least because the word itself sounds like something no human could possibly enjoy. There needs to be a better word for this – a word that is focused more on why it’s fun than on the specific physicality of it. I’m gobsmacked, to be honest, that the first group of three people who got together and shagged like this couldn’t come up with something better: the fuck-sandwich, for instance, or ‘cocktacular.’ What’s more, I hate that spitroasting has been co-opted by the kind of twatty jocks who guffaw about it, as if it’s a win that they’ve scored from the lady in the middle: one that implies she’s lost, and they’re high-five over her naked back as if they’ve one-upped her in some way. It probably doesn’t need to be said, but this attitude is some tedious, fucked-up bullshit. Not least because if you have any inclination that the person you’re fucking has ‘lost’? You need to go the fuck home, immediately. Nearly a spitroast I’ve been thinking about this very particular position ever since an amazing guest blog from a pro-domme, in which she and a colleague gave a client a pegging spitroast (please read it, it’s incredibly hot). The closest I have ever come to a spitroast was during the Best Night Of My Entire Life. Two guys, both of whom were utterly beautiful, funny, and just the right kind of kinky, stripped naked in a hotel suite and did… well… all the things we wanted to do. They fucked me, they fucked each other, they kissed right in front of me so I could marvel at the beauty of their faces smooshed together in silhouette against the window. One of them let me go down on him while the other fucked me from behind. And it was… so so close to a spitroast that it definitely counted. It. Definitely. Counted. The first guy was lying down, and I crouched over him. Hands gripping tightly at his thighs, and lips wrapped equally tightly around his spit-lubed cock. The second gent, with a cock just thick enough there was only one place it could go, rolled a condom on neatly to the base, gripped my hips and slid inside. He started slowly – as if going too hard would put me off my stroke. Then as I pushed back harder onto him he picked up the pace. Fucking me with solid strokes – crotch smacking against my arse with each of them. Pushing me forward each time, so I took more of the other guy in my mouth. I opened my lips wider and willed him to make me choke on it. He was lying down, not kneeling – so he couldn’t quite get the right thrust to have me trembling: I still had a certain amount of control over how hard and fast I took him in my throat. But it was enough. Because as the first guy put his hands in the small of my back, and slid me down onto his solid cock, I tightened in anticipation of the next movement: the end of the thrust. When the entrance to my cunt would meet the base of his dick pushing hard in the other direction, and the force would shove me forward, and my lips would squash hard against the base of the other guy’s prick. I got distracted: sorry. What’s my point? No point, really, except that I’d like to do this again. I’d like to try it harder. I’d like to match exactly the positions I see in porn, with perhaps the added possibility of the guys gripping hands across my back, pulling against each other so they can brace themselves and fuck me harder. So that in the middle I feel not just full but squashed. Aching. Crushed by the sheer force of their need, and their desire to give me exactly what I want. I want to do it again. And again. And again. Until the fantasy spitroast is practiced enough to turn the fantasy ending into reality: a chain reaction that starts with the twitch of my cunt when I come. Which leads to me choking. And the other guys tipping simultaneously over the edge. To the greedy, excessive pleasure of feeling one guy in my cunt, and another in my throat. Gulping down the thick, salty taste of one while the other pulses and throbs, in almost the same rhythm, behind me.