Slow Fires with bonus story Alligators & Orgasms

by Sarah Black

  Russ was moving faster. His body was rocking against hers. Kevin had her breast in his mouth ‑‑ he was laughing against her skin. Was there ever a sensation like this one, one man pounding into her, while another one laughed with her breast in his mouth? She could feel the orgasm building deep in her belly.

  Mia couldn’t speak. The breath was torn out of her throat, and she couldn’t remember their names, and then she couldn’t remember her own name. He pounded into her, fingers digging into her hips. She felt as if he flung her off a cliff ‑‑ she was in free fall. Then her body slammed down on his, the spasms between her legs in rhythm with his movements, and with her beating heart. He was yelling behind her, he was yelling underneath her. There were mouths everywhere, tongues everywhere, four hands on her hips holding her tight.

  * * * * *

  Mia woke up in a tangle of hairy legs and strong arms and broad chests. She put her hands up over her mouth, trying not to laugh out loud. How did this happen? If anyone had asked her, she would have nominated herself as least likely to engage in erotic, blissful, sex with two gorgeous young guys. She wasn’t bold. She didn’t grab life by the horns. She wasn’t ... This unprofitable train of thought came to an end when Kevin rolled against her back, reached around and cupped her breast. She wiggled back against him, felt his erection pressed up against her bottom. He held her like that for a moment, and she thought he had fallen back asleep.

  “I’ll make the coffee,” he murmured into her hair. “Stay in bed if you want, beautiful.”

  “Where are the new cups? The ones Russ made?”

  “The front seat of the truck, wrapped in newspaper.”

  “I’ll go get them, so we can use them this morning.”

  “Thanks. He’d like that, Mia.”

  Mia pulled on a pair of sweats and a tank top and slipped out of the house. Mrs. Miller was out in her yard, watering the dirt, and she walked over to their shared fence when she saw Mia.

  “You aren’t having more art supplies delivered, are you?”

  Mia shook her head, confused.

  “Overnight guests again? Mia, dear, this is school housing. I’m not sure this is appropriate. I believe we must at all times comport ourselves as if we were in the classroom.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Kevin stuck his head out the front door. “Mia, I think we locked up last night.” He was holding the keys to the truck out to her, but whatever he saw in her face caused him to come outside and join her.

  Mrs. Miller looked at him, wearing boxer shorts and nothing else, shoulders broad as a mountain. She looked at his angel’s face, and her mouth twisted like she had tasted something bitter.

  He handed Mia the keys, put his hand on the curve of her lower back. “What’s up?”

  “I was just explaining to Mia,” Mrs. Miller said, looking pointedly away from his bare chest, “that overnight guests are not really appropriate here. This is a very conservative community, Mia, in a conservative culture. The children could see you, or their parents. I felt I should speak to you before things went too far.”

  “Really,” Kevin repeated. “No overnight guests. That’s unbelievable.”

  Her mouth twisted again. “There may be two of you, but you can hardly be chaperoning each other.”

  Mia turned away, her stomach churning. “I’ll get the cups.”

  A rattletrap pickup pulled into her driveway, and a black-haired girl stuck her head out the window, a front-tooth missing. “Miss! Miss Artist! I got a bag of dung for you!”

  Mia waved at her feebly. “Great!” She turned. “Kevin, will you go get a dollar for this hard-working girl? I think I’ve got one in the pocket of my jeans.” Mia leaned in the window. “Thanks, Crystal. I’ve got all the dung I need, now that I have your bag. Tell the other kids, okay?”

  Crystal’s young father climbed out, tossed the bag into the back of her truck with the others. His eyes lingered on her bare arms, even when Kevin came back out of the house and handed her a dollar. Kevin wrapped his arms around her waist, stared at the other man, who grinned and nodded and climbed back into his pickup.

  “This is exactly what I mean,” Mrs. Miller said, when the truck pulled away. “You’re going to get a bad reputation, Mia. These people talk.”

  Kevin took the keys out of her hands. “I’ll get the cups. Go back in the house.” She studied the line of his mouth, the frost that had come into his blue eyes.

  She went into the kitchen, finished making the coffee, then climbed back into bed with Russ. She heard the front door open and Kevin go into the kitchen, but she stayed in bed, and Russ rumbled and growled and rolled over and wrapped her up in his arms.

  Kevin came in a little later, set the coffee down. The new coffee cups were gorgeous, round as a breast, with an elegant handle that echoed the curve of the body. The glaze was dark and rippled, the inside and lip smooth white with a tiny smear of blue. Kevin went back into the kitchen for the third cup, set it down on the bedside table, and climbed back in bed on her other side. He slid over until he could put his arms around them both, tucked his knees into hers. “That sanctimonious bitch. She’s over there gathering up rocks for the stoning.”

  “What happened?” Russ stretched, rolled over until he could look at Kevin. Mia was tucked between their two bodies, and she felt tiny and warm and protected. Nothing could get to her when they were with her.

  “The neighbor. Just like you’ve been saying, Russ.”

  Russ looked down at her. “I think there are some acceptable ways to be different these days, Mia. Our way is not really okay with the rest of the world. Gay seems to be okay, but a threesome ... Well, that comes off like some sort of demented polygamy. It makes people nervous. We’re pretty open about who we are, but we don’t want to drag you into that. The three of us, we need to be cautious. We make people uncomfortable, and sometimes I think uncomfortable leads to dangerous. Because it’s not just about sex for us. We’re not just looking for a kinky ride. Kevin and me, we’re a family. We’re looking to make a family. And that crosses a line. Somebody’s line, not ours.” He sat up and reached for the coffee cup. “We just need to be careful.”

  Russ gave the new kilns a reproachful glance when Mia reached in for the carved tile. “You didn’t have to give it a bisque firing.”

  Kevin bit his lip to keep from grinning. “It’s an inch thick, Russ, and heavily carved. You know the bisque will make it stronger for the fire, less likely to crack. Hey, look at this.” He ran his fingers over the carving. “Russ, did you see this?”

  “You trust me to take care of your pots in the fire, Kevin.”

  Mia reached for his hand, pulled him closer. “Russ, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  He stared down at her, then he broke into a grin and hugged her up close to his massive chest. “Just ignore me.”

  “Look at it, Russ. If you think we can raw glaze and fire, we’ll try that on the next one.”

  Russ leaned over and studied the tile. “Mia, that’s really something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tile carved like this, with so much precision and so much depth. I like the way the figure goes right to the edge and beyond, too.”

  “The figure,” Kevin repeated. “That’s you, hoss. She drew that sexy big shoulders thing you got going on. Mia, do his cock next.”

  Russ turned pointedly away. “Anyway, as the adults in the room were saying, I think we can raw glaze and fire with minimal risk of cracking. But it’s up to you, Mia.”

  “Okay, then. The next ones I give to you. You put them into your wood fire and we’ll see how they do.”

  “Don’t pander to him, Mia. He already thinks he’s the Fire God.” Kevin wrapped his arms around Russ’s waist, leaned up and gave him a kiss on the mouth. “I’ll love you no matter what, did I tell you that today?”

  Russ put his arms around Kevin, too. “Ditto.”

  Kevin wandered away, looking through the plastic bags on the studio shelves. Mia cou
ld see he was itching to get his hands in clay. “Kevin, I’ve got some clay of my own in the storeroom if you want to throw.”

  He rubbed his hands up and down on the thighs of his jeans, “Um, I wouldn’t mind ...” She pointed in the direction of the storage room, and a moment later she heard a yelp. He was standing in the doorway, staring down at the overflowing pile of plastic bags. The odor wasn’t particularly bad, but it was noticeable.

  Russ was rubbing his chin. “Now this seems to me to be a firing issue. Mia, we need to dig a very big pit. Do you teach any traditional handbuilding?”

  She shook her head. “Very little. The kids don’t have the patience for the old ways. They want quick. They want bright red and yellow glaze out of a bottle.” Russ grimaced. “They also want bright green, the color of a marijuana leaf, which seems to be the one shape they can all draw. I was thinking about asking Mr. Benally if he would come help with a pit firing and tell the kids some stories. His grandmother was a potter.”

  Mia heard a noise behind her in the studio, and looked around. “Mr. Benally! I was just telling my friends that I was going to ask your advice about a pit firing.” He was wearing canvas coveralls and had his keys and radio strapped to his waistband. “Let me introduce you. This is Russ, and Kevin.”

  Mr. Benally shook hands with Russ first. “Grayson Benally,” he said. He shook Kevin’s hand, too, and Kevin raised his eyebrows.

  “We’ve met!”

  Mr. Benally smiled at him. It was really impossible not to smile at Kevin. “I checked the wiring. You boys did a good job.”

  Russ gestured toward the bags of dung. “We were just talking about doing a pit firing. Where would you do one out here?”

  “I’ll show you. There’s a good place about half a mile north of here.” He gestured with his chin. “Around where those cedars make a ring.” He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a tiny, newspaper-wrapped shape. He peeled the paper away from a black seed pot the size of a plum. They all leaned forward, staring at the little pot. The opening in the top was just big enough to admit seeds. It was shiny black, the surface burnished so finely no marks were visible. A pattern of tiny, etched leaves circled the seed hole.

  Mr. Benally pointed to the ring of carved leaves. “She drew the leaves different on each pot. The leaves told you which seeds to put in the pots.” He straightened. “You can hold it.”

  Kevin picked up the pot, held it cupped in the palm of his hand. “It’s as lightweight as an eggshell. Look at that. That’s the perfect curve to the sides, like an egg, or a woman’s breast.”

  Kevin held the little pot out to Russ, and he took it. It looked as tiny as a toy in his big hand, and he rolled it over, found the mark on the bottom. “Look,” he said, holding his hand out. It wasn’t the artist’s signature. It was a little smear of dark red clay near the bottom. “The fire mark,” he said. “This is where it rested against a stone in the bottom of the pit.”

  He put the small pot gently in Mia’s hands. The ring of carved leaves was so lighthearted, almost dancing around the tiny hole. The pot seemed happy to her, and she could feel the contentment of the maker coming through the clay.

  “She was happy when she made this,” Mia said, handing the pot back to Mr. Benally. “Let me sketch those leaves before you wrap it back up.” She reached into her desk drawer for a little notepad, started drawing the leaves.

  “It’s the last one left,” Mr. Benally said, studying the tiny pot. “When I was a little boy, I would always look at the shelves of pots in her hogan. She had eight or nine seed pots, from this big,” he held his hands apart, “to this tiny one. I was always playing with this one, always touching it. Finally she told me to take it with me.” He sighed through his nose.

  “Thank you for showing us the pot, Mr. Benally.” Kevin patted his back, and Mr. Benally nodded at him, studying his face. “You two, you’re good boys.” He wrapped the pot back in the soft newspaper and slipped it into his pocket. Then he leaned over and studied the tile Mia had left on one of the studio tables. He looked over at Russ, his eyes lingering on his big shoulders. “He looks like a bear, Mia. He’s a strong one. That’s good.” His old hand touched the edge of the tile, then rested on her shoulder. “You’ve got a bear and a lion standing over you.”

  Kevin gave her a friendly elbow in the ribs after he’d gone. “Fuckin’ A! I’m the lion. Hey, we got time for a little love before lunch?”

  She was lying across her bed with her legs wide open. Kevin had his head pillowed on her thigh. He was exploring between her legs with tongue and gentle fingers. Russ was lying next to her, his head sharing her pillow, his long, lanky body stretched out next to hers.

  “I don’t know that I’ve ever kissed a man with a full beard before,” Mia said. She stroked his jaw. “It’s really soft. I guess I thought it would be prickly.” She moved her hands up into his curly hair. “And these curls are something else. I can picture exactly what you looked like when you were a little boy.”

  “We both look the same,” he said, reaching down for a piece of Kevin’s long hair, “except Kevin used to have a flat-top.”

  He kissed her. His palm was rough against her cheek. Russ was a slow kisser. He moved his mouth across her jaw, down her neck. It was the sweetest kissing she could ever remember. She felt her breathing and her heart rate slow, and something warm inside of her opening up to them.

  Kevin sighed between her legs, his breath warm against her skin, then his tongue moved delicately against her body. “She likes that, Russ, whatever you’re doing. She’s opening like a flower down here. You should see this. She’s this delicate rose color inside, flushing brighter pink, and I can see the dew right here.” One finger pressed gently into her vagina. “This tastes just like the morning,” he said. “Spring morning, and sunshine.”

  Russ reached a hand down between her legs and stroked Kevin’s hair.

  “Yeah, this is nice,” he said, raising his lips from her neck. “Nice to take our time, not hurry through before our lady starts to tense up and get nervous and tells us to quit fooling around and get down to business.”

  Mia laughed, and he kissed her again, his beard tickling her cheeks. “I don’t think I can get tense. My bones are melting.”

  Kevin was stroking her again. “She’s a little red down here, Russ, right where you go in.”

  “Was I too rough on you this morning, Mia? I hope I didn’t hurt you.” He moved down to her shoulder, one hand still on Kevin’s head.

  She shook her head. “No, you weren’t too rough. I was just ... It’s been a long time for me. But it doesn’t hurt.”

  Kevin pressed his lips to the opening like he was kissing a skinned knee. It was a little sore, but she wasn’t going to tell them that.

  “You do look like a flower down here,” he said, fingers stroking inside her labia. “I wasn’t just trying to be poetic. Man, that Georgia O’Keeffe was a genius. This little bud here, for instance.” His tongue lapped gently up one side of her clitoris, then up the other. “Now this is beautiful.”

  She had her arms around Russ’s neck now, and he was leaning in ‑‑ kissing her in earnest, concentrating. She felt a pulse beat start low between her legs, and Kevin took her clitoris between his lips, sucked on it like it was a Popsicle on a July afternoon. One finger slid into her vagina.

  “She likes this, Russ,” he said, lifting his mouth and looking up at them. “I bet we can kiss her until she comes.” Kevin nuzzled between her legs again, his nose and chin wet, and he put her clitoris between his lips. He was sucking to the slow rhythm of her heartbeat. Russ was kissing her, his tongue dancing against hers, tracing her teeth, tracing her lips. He was kissing her like he wanted to reach deep inside her and hold her beating heart in his hand.

  Her legs fell farther apart, and Mia felt herself melting into two pulse beats, heart thumping slowly, in rhythm, his mouth, between her legs, slower and slower. She couldn’t tell where it started ‑‑ the gathering up of sweetness and
aching and yearning, moving into her two centers, coalescing deep inside her belly. Her back arched, and she might have flung herself off the bed, but they held her together, held her close to them, the sweetness and the heat moving through her body and out into their mouths, and they tasted her love, and swallowed it, and they were one.

  * * * * *

  “What were you two like when you were kids?”

  “Same as now,” Kevin said. They were sprawled out next to her again, long thighs pressed against her. “Russ is in charge.”

  “And Kevin is our brilliant idea guy,” Russ said. “I may have to build him another tree fort, though. His best ideas always came after he spent the afternoon sleeping in the fort.”

  “It’s the quiet,” Kevin explained. “I need quiet to think. I spent a lot of time dreaming about girls. Women. Pretty ones like you, with long legs and brown eyes, tucked up just like this, between me and Russ.” He hesitated, drawing his hand down the lines of her belly. “I couldn’t have imagined it would be so good.”

  Russ reached over and put a hand on his head. “You’re a romantic, Kev. But, yeah, I know.”

  “So when did you meet? In school?”

  “Yeah,” Russ said. “Kindergarten. Then we found out our dads were in the same unit of the Marines. They were always gone at the same time. We just got used to hanging together.”

  “They still around?”

  Russ nodded. “Now they’re starting to get a little worried. They want us to back away from each other, and start separate lives.” He shrugged. “They love us, but they really don’t want to know what we’re up to.”

  “Have you two ever tried to be apart?”

  Russ nodded again. “Yeah, we tried.”

  “We didn’t like it, Mia. We were lonely for each other,” Kevin said. “You ever feel lonely?”