by Leo Barton
'I've never really thought about it.'
'Liar.'
'I mean yes, I've thought about it. I think about everything, but...'
Have you done it?'
I paused for the slightest of moments.
'Aha - yes, you have. Who did you do it with? Not him? Please tell me it wasn't him.'
Maybe David thought Marie was getting too close to the truth. The bonhomie of the conversation had darkened a little as Marie's persistent questioning of us and her drunken assertions had added an air of tension to the evening. David certainly looked at me severely. He was angry, I suppose, that I was not the accomplished bluffer that he was. Trying to deflect the conversation, he said, 'If I recall that survey it was women, not men, who fantasised about doing it in threes.'
'You're not telling me you wouldn't like to do it, too? Men like to do it and they like to watch. They're much more visual than women when it comes to sex. But of course women like the idea of being taken by two men. Maybe they don't like the practice, but the idea: yes. I do,' she said, looking at me.
And so the conversation progressed. Marie refused to let the subject rest, and David grew a little irritated at her persistence.
Marie suddenly rose again and walked over to me, rather unsteadily. She sat on my lap. It wasn't so unusual for her to do this. We had an agonisingly tactile relationship. Well, agonising for me, at least, considering my feelings for her, to be that close and yet so far away. To smell her perfume, her skin, to feel her hands around my waist or resting on my shoulders was, to say the least, a bitter-sweet experience.
'Well, birthday boy, if I ever was going to do it, I wouldn't mind one little bit if it was with you.' She flopped her arms around my shoulders and kissed me full on the mouth, probing my lips and gently nibbling my tongue. She had never done this before. I could taste champagne and the sweetness of her lipstick blending with her moist tongue.
I did try to resist her. I was a little embarrassed at her display, not wanting to offend David. Now was not the time to pledge my devotion, not with Marie drunk and lecherous.
'She's a good kisser, your old lady,' I said, trying to maintain the levity of the situation.
'You're drunk, woman,' David said. I was not convinced he was being wholly jocular.
'Mm, just a kiss for the birthday boy,' Marie said, pulling away from me, looking over at David, and then sinking her tongue forcefully into my mouth again. Without warning she reached down and stroked the bulge in my trousers. 'Oh, big boy,' she breathed seductively, flitting her fingers lightly along the uncoiling length.
David looked decidedly agitated by now. He obviously didn't want to show his anger, but he clearly didn't like what he was seeing. I wasn't so sure either that this was such a good thing. I felt embarrassed that David knew I had an erection because Marie had embraced me.
'Come on, Marie, time for bed,' David said getting to his feet.
'Oh, I like the sound of that,' Marie purred, gazing into my eyes, grasping my cock tighter and giving it a squeeze.
'You've drunk too much,' David reiterated, as fearful as I was that things were getting out of hand.
'Of course I'm drunk, David. It is one of the advantages of drinking a lot. And one of the advantages of being drunk is that you can do wicked things and then forget about them, excuse yourself in the morning. Being drunk is perfect.'
David stood behind her and tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. She licked behind my ear, her hand now brazenly rubbing up and down my cock through my trousers. I didn't know what to do; my arms lay listlessly by my side. An intractable desire swept through me. I wanted to hold her, to take her, to tear her dress apart to pull off her panties and screw her as hard as I could. To screw all that love, all that frustration, the bitter regret, the sad nights of loneliness, the numerous pitiful wanks. I wanted to screw her with all that, to stuff her with my love for her. David looked at me imploringly, but there was very little I could do.
'Come on, David,' Marie said, turning to him, 'I want to screw the birthday boy and I want you to watch - or, better still, to screw me as well. I told you I wanted to have sex with two men. What other two men would I really want to do it with, apart from you two? Look, Jonathan's game. You should feel his dick.'
Still massaging the embarrassing lump in my trousers, she reached over and unzipped David, and pulled his limp penis into view. David didn't stop her, but merely stood like an imbecile before her.
She stroked him, running her forefinger and thumb down his shaft. 'Oh David, don't be like that. Let's play.'
'No,' he said firmly, turning his back on the scene.
Marie stood up angrily and left the room. David turned back to me, said something about her being too drunk, and tried to hide his embarrassment behind a pained smile.
I thought that that was the end of the matter. I assumed that Marie had gone to bed but, two minutes later, she returned and deposited a cardboard box in the middle of the floor, triumphantly turning to David and asking: 'What's this then, David? What's this?'
It was a rhetorical question because it was easy to see the contents of the box that David had hidden away from Marie. There were whips and gags and blindfolds, and I could see the glossy sheen of some specialist magazines that I think David utilised to aid his imagination during our sexual bouts.
David was furious. 'You - you had no right!' he stammered, his eyes narrowing vehemently.
'So punish me, David,' she goaded defiantly. 'Punish me like you punish all the others!' She pushed against his chest. She was taunting him, tempting him.
'I don't want to punish you,' he said softly, his voice weak.
But Marie was insistent, and prodded him again in the middle of his chest. 'Are you a hypocrite? Come on, David, let's share your filthy secrets. Come on, spank me.' She knelt on the patterned rug, lifted her perfect bottom, and pulled up the skimpy sequinned dress, exposing a pair of sweet red panties. 'Come on. Spank me, darling. I want you to,' she said more softly, more invitingly.
The sight of his lover, lewdly and provocatively offering her bottom in what he assumed was an attempt to humiliate him, made something snap in his mind. He grabbed her firmly by the upper arm and pulled her to a dining chair. 'Okay then... okay,' he panted. 'You want this, Marie? You want to play? Then let's play. Kneel over the chair!'
'Oh, you're so masterful,' she mocked, but sexily draped herself as he had instructed.
She looked over her shoulder to see what he was doing. 'Put that on her,' he said to me, his hand trembling as he passed me a blindfold.
I fixed it tightly over her eyes. David roughly pulled her panties down to her knees, revealing the firm globes of her bottom. He rummaged in the box and found a thick leather strap. He coiled it around his hand, and then without warning, he swept it down across her exposed buttocks.
I had never seen him hit anybody so hard. Marie was stunned by the pain. Her head snapped back with the force of the lash, and her beautiful bottom quivered beneath the impact. A pink blotch rose immediately.
Before the shock had worn off and she could utter a sound he struck her again, just as hard.
'Owww...' Marie protested, but she didn't move to protect herself; she was clearly loving this brutal treatment. I stood beside David, watching her magnificent white buttocks redden with every awesome stroke.
After six thrashes Marie said quietly, unable to hide the tremor in her voice, 'That's enough.'
'No, it isn't,' David said spitefully, turning his disappointment with Marie into a bitter anger. 'You wanted to play games, so now you have to take your punishment. Remember, it's the rule: you have to do what I say.'
'I don't know...' Marie said, her previous confidence dissipating rapidly. 'Perhaps we should—'
David retreated to the box and fetched a pair of handcuffs. It was too late for Marie to resist by the
time he had snapped them around her wrists and attached her outstretched arms to the legs of the dining room table.
'David, stop it,' Marie pleaded. 'What are you doing? You're hurting me.' At first this had been a silly, if painful, game. It was her way of getting back at him for needing the box of implements and not finding more than enough satisfaction in just her. But the game was now over, and David was just being mean and spiteful.
'You don't know how much this hurts me, too. You see, Marie, I know you want this. I've always known you wanted it. I've tried to fool myself into thinking that I was wrong, but I wasn't, was I, Marie? I'm sorry - I can give it to you, but I can't respect you.'
I noticed that the blindfold was damp with Marie's tears. David's eyes, too, were rheumy with alcohol and bitter sadness. It seemed like a moment of truth in their relationship, a culmination of so many things that had gone on before that I had no knowledge of.
'So, Marie,' David continued, his voice mingling sadness with anger, 'I am going to give you what you want, but know that I never wanted to - not with you, anyway.' He turned to me. 'Hit her hard, Jonathan,' he said, handing me the thick strap.
He knelt and unzipped the back of her dress, down to where the hem of the skirt was folded up around her hips. It peeled open to expose her unblemished flesh, and then he ripped off her red bra. I knew her lovely full breasts had tumbled free, but from where I stood I could only just make out a little of the profile of one. I watched with envy as David cupped them, tenderly at first, and then I knew he had pinched her nipples painfully for she tensed and moaned with pain. He looked up at me. 'Thrash her, Jonathan... thrash her!'
The sight of her kneeling over the chair before me, bound and blindfolded, was too much to bear. Again and again I brought the strap down on the fleshiest part of her already flushed behind.
'You want this, Marie,' David taunted quietly, his mouth close to her ear. From the way she groaned I knew he was still pinching her nipples. 'Come on, don't lie to me. Tell me. Tell me how much you want this...'
'Yessss...' she moaned, the sadness in her voice overlaid with an insistent lust. 'Yes, yes, yes...'
I brought the lash down, the pain of each stroke reverberating through her body, a thunder passing through her, her moaning in time to the rhythm of the leather.
I observed the scene, trying to distance myself from the love that I felt. I saw her lustrous hair swaying against her shoulders as she gently shook her head in torment. I saw the glint of metal around her wrists and heard it softly chinking. I saw the black blindfold, stretched tight around the back of her head. And I saw a sheen of perspiration coating her skin. I felt such a mixture of confused emotions; of desire, love, and sadness. I swept the strap down again on her already beaten buttocks, in an attempt to block out all the tenderness and frustration of my passion.
Marie moaned. I reached between her legs and felt the moistness there. I found her clitoris. It was too much, and she instantly writhed and squealed as an orgasm swept through her.
David released her from the handcuffs, and then dragged her from the chair and onto the floor. He knelt down on the carpet beside her. 'Fuck her, Jonathan. Fuck her.'
Marie was still blindfolded. Needing no second invitation, I lay flat and pulled Marie's limp form on top of me. I penetrated her easily, and holding her trim waist, I slid her up and down on top of me.
As we were screwing, David pushed her down until she was squashed against me. Her velvety breasts felt glorious as they massaged my chest. He fed to fingers between her lips and made her suck them noisily. Then he pulled them out and leant over her back. I couldn't see what he did next, but from the cocktail of shock, discomfort, and joy freezing her beautiful face, I knew he had pushed the lubricated digits into her bottom. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened. I couldn't have been happier, for the unexpected intrusion made her writhe all the more and grind her cunt down onto my lucky cock.
'Fuck me Jonathan...' she panted in my ear, her breasts heaving on my chest. 'fuck me, please...'
I watched David squat behind her. He pressed on the small of her back, which tilted her bottom slightly and aided my penetration nicely, and then I felt Marie tense and knew exactly what he was doing. He winked at me as she clamped her mouth onto my shoulder. He moved slowly for what seemed an age, and then paused, his fingers buried into her fleshy buttocks, and I guessed he was fully lodged in her bottom. Indeed, I knew he was, for I felt his hairy balls sway around the base of my cock. Marie coiled her fingers in my hair, not realising quite how hard she was pulling and how painful it was for me. But I didn't care; it all added to my immense pleasure.
What a fantastic rhythm we managed to set between us. Her joy crescendoed as we increased our tempo. As she screamed at the moment of orgasm, I came too, and watched David's face contort as he did the same.
Five long years later, I can hardy believe that anything like this happened, that the woman I left had anything in common with the Marie of five years before. How could that Marie, who had so thoroughly enjoyed having two men fuck her, have been the same woman who would brush me aside in our domestic bed, or dismiss me with a hand-job as mechanically as if she was doing a domestic chore? It can't all have been me.
David and Marie eventually went to bed. I did not follow. I got the impression that, after this incident, I certainly wouldn't have been welcome. We had all gone too far. We had stepped over the mark, crossed boundaries that maybe shouldn't have been crossed.
I wondered what they thought as I slept on David's sofa and Marie and David lay in the room next to me. For my part, I was confused. I had enjoyed the sex with Marie very much - the fact that she was submissive added to her attraction - but it didn't necessarily mean that I was any closer to my goal of stealing her away from David than I had been before. Perhaps, in the broad light of day, it might seem that I was further away. By participating, by allowing myself to participate in this little orgy, I might be banished from their company. What had happened had changed completely the nature of our relationship. Nothing could be the same between any of us any more.
But my thoughts about my relationship with them were secondary to my suspicion that the events of that night had irrevocably changed the bond between them. I remembered David's words as he towered above the handcuffed girl, telling her how it hurt him, telling her that he could no longer respect her.
Marie was the first one up, next morning. She woke me, pecking me on the cheek as she usually did when we met or we were parting from each other's company.
'Come on, sleepy-head, time to get up.'
I looked at her beautiful face as I forced myself to consciousness; and, as I shook off my slumber, every earth-shattering detail of the night before was recalled from my memory before her sparkling eyes. 'Last night,' I mumbled.
'Last night things got a little out of control. I'm not sorry I did it. I wouldn't have liked to have gone through life without being acquainted with you sexually, or receiving a thrashing like that. But once is enough, big boy.'
She pecked me on the cheek again and smiled down at me.
'Marie...' I wanted to tell her then. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, that I was prepared to give up everything for her, even my long-standing friendship with David. I knew it would hurt him to be deceived by me, but the love I felt for her was too overpowering. But I couldn't say anything. The words locked inside me refused to come out.
'Look, David is in a bit of a funny mood about this. He's a bit angry. He's a bit angry with you and with me, too. I don't think he has much right to be, but that's the way it goes. He's like that sometimes. The thing is, I don't think it's a good idea for you to hang around here today. Look, I'll sort everything out. I don't really see what the fuss is. We had a great one-night stand, but you know what David's like. He can be a real sanctimonious git sometimes, a bloody hypocrite. Just go, Jonathan. I'll give you a ring in a couple of days, or David will.
.. but not now, all right?'
Things didn't exactly work out like that. I didn't hear from either of them for a fortnight. An agonisingly long fortnight for me, as not only had I thought I'd lost my best mate, but more importantly - much more importantly - I had blown it with the woman I loved. I drank myself through two weeks, hovering by the phone, resolving to ring one of them and then at the last minute letting my resolve weaken.
It was Marie who broke the silence first, bursting through my door at four o'clock on a Sunday afternoon, her eyes red. She was distraught, restless, unable to stay in the same position without agitatedly flitting from one place to another. Nor, at first, could she speak.
'What's wrong, Marie?'
'It's David. He's gone round the twist. He's off to Argentina.'
'What?'
'He's off to bloody Argentina. He's been headhunted. He's got a job with some cable company. He's leaving in two weeks, and... and he's not taking me.'
The story came out slowly, disconnectedly. He had told her that it had nothing to do with her, but that he wanted to work in a different environment. It certainly had nothing to do with what had happened between the three of us, he assured her. That was just a sign that something was wrong. He didn't love her, and that was that. What he loved was his freedom.
I knew that David could be ruthless. I had seen evidence of it in his working life, but all this seemed unnecessarily cruel. I surmised that he had been prompted into this action by the events of that night, whatever he had said to Marie: that somehow he naïvely separated women into two categories, the ones that did and the ones that didn't, and that Marie had fallen from saint to sinner. In truth, I didn't know.
There certainly wasn't any real reason to go to Argentina professionally. Even if he didn't want to take Marie, some cable outfit in the far-flung corner of the world seemed a considerable second-best to a man like David, who was maybe weeks away from being offered a weekly column for one of the more respectable broadsheets.