9781618857569GettingitAllStorm

by Troy Storm

  Dorothy was down to some sort of sheer lacy, lavender-colored see-thru ribboned scraps that totally boned him. So much for the need of his underwear’s vaunted “enhancement.” He looked positively lewd, jutting out, reaching hungrily toward the both of them.

  Lucy’s simple pale blue push-up and thong did everything it could to set off her smaller frame.

  Holy moley, Matt groaned to himself. He was gonna blow before he’d even gotten out of his drawers.

  “Damn!” He grabbed them both and dragged the shrieking women toward the bedroom. “I was going to put on a little show for you girls, but…”

  “Oh, you’re putting on a big show all right, big boy,” Dorothy batted at his boner. “Fine with us. Should we give him a round of applause, Lucy?”

  “Oh, yes!” Scooting behind, she grabbed the back of Matt’s underpants and yanked them down, proceeding to paddle the exposed set of naked hard buns as Dot moved around front and began clapping her hands with his dick between.

  Matt was beside himself hanging on to his self control. He grabbed Dorothy’s waist with one hand and pulled her to him, dipping his head to nuzzle the top of her breasts as he hooked a finger in the waistband of Lucy’s thong and tugged her gently toward the bed onto which they all three tumbled, laughing like giddy teenagers.

  What followed was anything but teenagerish.

  Dorothy and Lucy’s expensive underwear came off. Not quickly, but slowly and seductively, piece-by-piece, each in turn as they enticingly wriggled and unwound to tower over their man as he lay throbbing desperately, spread out and pronged up on the bed below them.

  With no covering left on the ladies but the thong on Lucy’s slim body as she stretched her arms ceilingward, Dot bounced on the mattress behind her to seductively slither the tiny garment down Lucy’s hips and off, revealing in the undulating landscape of flawless sculpted flesh a most inviting slit pressed tightly closed, moistly waiting to be thrust through.

  Chuckling, Dot bumped her fuller hip against Lucy’s slim one. “Okay, big dude,” she looked down at Matt, “which do you prefer? A naturally decorated cunt or a pure and simple pussy?”

  Taking a moment to revel in what was being presented to him, Matt arced his hips in the air to strip off his pre-cum drenched microfiber briefs and toss them aside. His dick sprang free, raw and rampant. “I want ‘em both. I’m a greedy son of a bitch. Groomed and ungroomed. On you gals they’re both perfect.”

  Launching himself up on his knees he grabbed both women and buried his face in each crotch in turn, his chin forcing the legs slightly apart to allow his tongue to swab and thrust into their centers. Gasping and holding on to each other to keep from dropping like felled lumber, Lucy and Dot sank onto the bed as Matt’s hungry mouth continued to push into each center.

  Having achieved laying their sweet asses onto the sheets, Matt pressed their shapely limbs up and back, working from underneath their spread thighs. He stroked his tongue from assholes to clits, driving his drilling mouth organ into the molten depths to spread the luscious lips and revel in the inner soaked flesh.

  Sucking on each clit, his swirling tongue ignited them both as his roaming hands clutched and stroked and plucked, each woman howling with anticipation and urgency. His head worked back and forth, his big dick and heavy balls waving and flapping as his hips swiveled and he ministered, carefully driving both women to the edge of bliss.

  Dorothy should arrive first, he calculated. Her initial extended orgasm would last until Lucy joined her, exploding firecracker-like an instant later. Matt continued to devour one and then the other as they shrieked and thrashed and flailed their trembling legs over his head.

  Sensing the home stretch, with a feral growl he was up and over them, his dick first buried in Dorothy, then in Lucy, slamming his stuffed sausage home, pounding just long enough to keep their rolling orgasms crashing as they gasped and lurched.

  He blew his wad in two women at the same time, trailing cum and cunt juices from one to the other, delirious nerve endings exploding throughout his body and theirs. Their hands were all over him. Their orgasming bodies tangled underneath. Hips and thighs and legs and arms and waists coiled under him, gasps and groans of pleasure reverberating off the flailing flesh, as his dick, as if led by magnetic heat-seeking rocket guidance, found the pussies and the cunts and socketed even deeper with each exhausting, nerve-crashing thrust.

  Until he could thrust no more and lay drained and gasping.

  And then, giggling and gulping, the girls together blew him, he was never sure whose luscious lips were pumping his meat back up to A-l grade and whose wide-stretched mouth encompassed his balls and sucked and swabbed them back to full capacity.

  He blew another huge load as they straddled him, each in turn, riding him to the finish line, until he thought his ass was going to blow out his dick as they double-dipped him.

  It was awe-inspiring. Two amazing women. Each separate and distinct, yet all three seemed to weld together, completing the fire circle until the sparks sailed off into the infinite dark heavens coalescing into stars drilled into the protective heavens encompassing them and them alone.

  It was awe-inspiring.

  They lay bleery-eyed and panting, entwined.

  “Think we can survive this kind of stuff every time we get together?” He was barely able to whisper.

  “I think we need…” Dorothy began.

  “More practice,” Lucy finished eagerly.

  “Which brings up,” Matt struggled to think straight as he shoved himself up on his elbows and struggled back against the headboard. “I’ve been thinking.”

  They snuggled on either side.

  “So have I,” Lucy said, brightly. “I’ve been crunching a bunch of numbers and…”

  “Yeah, me thinking too. But no numbers.” Dot hurried to add her two cents. “What do you say we…”

  “Stay this way,” Lucy piped up, “instead of trying to win a dumb bet or cut somebody out who…”

  “Nobody should lose anything,” Dorothy rushed on, her excitement growing.

  “We should all be happy.” Lucy was all but shouting.

  “Together?” Matt rumbled, cutting through the building tension. “The three of us? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  Silence as the waves retreated to regroup.

  “Yeah.”

  “Exactly.”

  Matt chuckled as he watched their anxious faces. “Good idea.”

  Another silence as they separately considered what they had suggested.

  “God, my cunt aches,” Dorothy groused.

  “I think my pussy is gonna be sore,” Lucy whimpered.

  “My dick might drop off,” Matt offered.

  “Then I think we should get to it again,” Dot suggested practically, “before any of that stuff happens. We can recuperate later.”

  “Hair of the dog.” Lucy giggled. First time tonight she had allowed herself to giggle. Matt was impressed.

  “Who wants to go first?”

  “Me!” they chorused.

  The waves crashed back in, happily swamping all three.

  * * * *

  Three days later, a distraught Dorothy watched Amelia resignedly flip the sign on the front door of The Crowning Glory to ”Closed” as her boss gloomily glanced back at the mayhem inside.

  Dorothy hadn’t meant for it to get this far. She had expected there might be a slight problem as she and Lucy waited out the goal they had set, but it was nothing they wouldn’t be able to handle.

  She had hoped.

  Lucy began to break down first. Insecure. Young. Dorothy bolstered her. They had made the right decision for the big decision that was coming. They had to think this thing through clearly.

  Lucy had done a great job of presenting her case for their living together in Matt’s little house. They would indeed save a bundle. They could take trips. They could buy a bigger house.

  Dorothy’s suggestion they take a week off from each other to thin
k about the huge step they had all so enthusiastically agreed to take, seemed like the next logical move for a proposed threesome of adults to take. Though she had made it in repressed panic and somehow managed to present it calmly and lightly as if it would be more of a validation than a threat.

  The doubts that being apart allowed to surface had gotten worse with every passing day, and now, in the middle of the week—in the middle of the day—Lucy had flown Carmen’s protective coop to face Dorothy down at her place of work.

  The women at the shop had all joined in the discussion. Enthusiastically. Irately. Romantically. No work was getting done. Amelia had rolled her eyes and moved to boldly declare the place closed for business until her friends could get their lives sorted out.

  Many apologies were passed out and promises to reschedule appointments, but none of the ladies even seemed to notice the slight interruption in their full-throated discussion of other’s lives.

  “As I said,” Marta Dalaport, her face uncharacteristically red with emotion, “I think it’s enormously wise of Dorothy to demand a time out for them all to reconsider their rash proposal.”

  Lucy wept louder. Amelia went to calm her.

  “Marta, there was no demand.” Dot worked to keep calm. “And our wanting to live together wasn’t rash. We’ve practically been inseparable for weeks. It seemed like a good idea. We all had the same idea at the same time. We…we really think it’ll work…we think.”

  “This town is going crazy as it is,” one of the other ladies interjected. “Why I hear there might even be some young men or women living together under the same roof around here.” She glanced around apprehensively as if the invaders might already be outside the very venerable walls of this Main Street hallowed establishment.

  That caught Lucy’s attention. “What? You mean we’ve got normal relations going on in CoveHaven. I’m not sure the town’s reputation can take it.”

  “No. No. Of course we have normal relations,” the woman replied, totally unaware of Lucy’s irony, “I mean young men and women of the same sex.” She thought for a moment, not being used to discussing such sexual matters in public. Or in private, for that matter. “Uh, gay…people.”

  Brunhilde Mendle, roused her aching bones and straightened. “And what’s wrong with gay people wanting the same thing so-called normal people have? They pay the same taxes we do. They don’t want any special privileges. They just want the same privileges. That’s all that Dorothy and Lucy and Matt want. And they’re not even gay.”

  “That’s not exactly true, Brunnie,” Marta interjected superiorly. “Multiple households have been frowned on since, well, I guess since the Mormons were in the area.”

  “Some Mormons are still in the area,” Amelia pointed out dryly. “Pillars of the community. And we’re not talking polygamy, for heaven’s sake. Dot and Lucy and Matt are not getting married.”

  Lucy began to wail again. “We might not even be getting together again. It’s all your fault, Dorothy,” she suddenly spat out and then instantly collapsed.

  “I know, sweetie.” Dorothy went to her to relieve Amelia and hold her young distraught friend close. “You’re right. I did think it might be a good thing to take a few days before we committed ourselves to anything. I’m a scaredy cat. I just wanted us to be sure. I didn’t know we would start having all these doubts.”

  “Well, I think you were right, Dot,” Brunnie raised an arthritic finger. “Better to get all the questions that might crop up later out of the way right at the beginning. Some people like oatmeal. Some people like dry cereal. If more young people would think before they leaped…”

  “We’re not young people, Brunnie,” Dorothy said with resignation. “Two of us have been married, for heaven’s sake. None of us has been attracted to two other people at the same time before either.” She paused. That might not be exactly true. “It’s a little unnerving.”

  “Not to me,” Lucy snorted. “I know I want to spend my life with you and Matt. But, now,” she began to wail again. “Matt might decide not to. You might decide not to. And then where would I be? It’s not fair to have had something beautiful and then question it. Why, Dorothy? Why?”

  Dorothy sighed, slumping in a chair. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I guess I was just…a little too gun shy from before.”

  That wasn't all she was gun shy from. She had thought her and Matt's quick reunion behind the vans in the parking lot would suddenly and definitively put her mind at ease. And for the brief astonishing moments they had been coupled and the glorious afterglow her euphoria had truly been ecstatic. Then the old doubts had come crawling back in. The old disbelieving, suspicious Dorothy had clawed her way to the forefront. Slowly at first, itching and gnawing to regain ascendancy, then finally bursting into full-blown panic mode.

  It had seemed reasonable to suggest a hiatus. It had seemed mature and certainly a good example for Lucy. If the three of them were going to live together, there had to be her female, hard-gained adult knowledge to contrast with Lucy's still impetuous youth.

  She had never really understood how males thought. Did males even? Matt's contribution to her “let's take a break to catch our breaths” wouldn't really have mattered once Dorothy had made up her panic mode mind.

  That's what she realized now. If the ménage thing was truly going to work, she was going to have to change her way of thinking. They were all going to have to be in on a major decision right from the beginning.

  That's what she realized now.

  If it wasn't too late.

  “Well, I think you’re extremely wise to question the social implications of what you three are suggesting, Dorothy.” Marta's smug tone cut more deeply than Lucy's tremulous insecurity. “The town may be changing, but there are some things that we’re just not ready for, yet.”

  “Marta, don’t you understand? The three of us could live on an island alone and be totally content. The town has little to do with what’s upsetting us. We’re what’s upsetting us. We’re just not sure now and before we were and we just don’t know how to deal with that.”

  “Well, what does Matt say?” Another older woman waiting for a styling asked.

  “We don’t really know. That was the idea. That we not be in communication for a week, so we wouldn’t be influenced by the others.”

  “Except I couldn’t stand it,” Lucy sniffed. “The thought that what we had might not continue just broke my heart. I called Dorothy.” Her deep sigh was heart-breaking. “She held me off for a couple of days and then today I began to break down at the office. I told Carmen it was my period.” She looked around. “Sorry. I don’t even have bad periods.”

  “More than likely Mr. Bartholomew is crowing with his cronies about his impending harem rather than questioning its propriety,” Marta sniffed. “I mentioned it to my dear Milton and he looked positively envious for a moment.”

  Dorothy dearly hoped so. She would hate for Milton to be going through the hell that they were putting themselves through now. Any more than the hell he was normally put through by his loving wife.

  A young woman who had been sitting quietly listening to the back and forth arguments, spoke up.

  “I thought there were even more of you involved. Not just the three of you. All the gossip was that Mr. Bartholomew was dating a whole bunch. Wasn’t Christy Swanson involved? What happened to her?”

  Amelia guffawed. “Christy’s the one who started this whole thing. She’s the one thought up the bet to get Matt back in the dating business. Looks like once things got a little too hot, she just hot-footed herself out of harm's way. That's our Christy.”

  Dot found herself at least still able to smile. “Christy decided she’s too possessive to share, bless her. She bowed out. And then she met some guys who invited her down to a convention in Florida. That’s where she is, hanging around the Gulf with two, count ‘em, two very handsome and very sexy dudes at her beck and call. So much for out of harm's way.”

  All the
ladies whooped except Marta and one of the other more socially conscious women.

  Even Lucy grinned, wiping her tears with a styling cape. “I’ll bet if she were here right now, she’d have figured out what to do in no time flat.”

  “Probably took one look at you two doubting your instincts and moved right into Matt’s house, cutting you both out,” Brunnie smirked. “And I can’t say as I would blame her. If I were…thirty…forty years younger myself…”

  Everyone laughed.

  Dorothy felt somewhat lighter. Even Lucy seemed to be on the mend…or at least not wailing. Maybe the first indication of getting better was a forceful reminder that they would survive no matter what.

  Brunnie was up and tottering on her high heels. She motioned to Dot to get Lucy.

  “I need a bit of air,” she announced to no one in particular as the conversation turned on re-examining Christy’s exploits.

  Outside, Dorothy and Lucy bracketed the still-elegant old lady as they slowly moved down the street.

  “Thanks, Brunnie, I was beginning—”

  “What could be the worse thing that would happen?”

  Dorothy glanced over at Lucy.

  “I suppose everything would go on as it’s been going on,” Lucy murmured.

  “You’d all keep seeing each other?”

  “Uh…probably. We seem to enjoy each other’s company.”

  Dorothy nodded in agreement. Suddenly their concern did seem overblown.

  “Good. I thought it might just be nerves. Do you two girls want this to happen?”

  “Well, yes,” Lucy said. “Of, course. Right, Dorothy?”

  “I’ve been miserable these last few days.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I’m stubborn, Lucy. And bone-headed sometimes. You’ll have to learn to live with that.”

  “Or you could change it.” Brunnie lifted a finely drawn eyebrow. “If an old gal like me can try new tricks, then a young pup like you can be taught ‘em. Stop being so blessed bone-headed, Dorothy. You’ve been around the block too many times not to have learned how smart you are. You’re a survivor. And you, sweet Missy,” she turned to Lucy. “Stop with all the wailing. Most of us in that room would change places with you in a shot. You’re pretty and clever and apparently desirable to both your lovers. Live with it.” She smirked. “Or you both can remind Matt that I’m available. Now, give your man a call.”