Two cocks, two wonderful, hard cocks, and me pressed by a lovely man from behind and another in front.
My hands pulled Hal’s cock against my clit, and my hips pressed my clit against his cock and he slid in and out through my hands. As I ground on Hal’s cock, Don’s cock pumped into my aching puss and his hard torso pressed hard into my soft buttocks. Hal moaned and Don groaned.
Don’s mouth fell wet onto my neck, and I sighed as his hand slid around my stomach, down to my mound, down to join my hands, gripping Hal’s cock. Don’s cock was nuzzling right along my g-spot, and I came again, violently.
Thundering arcs of ecstatic tension spouted through my whole body and it shook as I shouted, “Fuck me, Don, yes. Yes. YES. Fuck me. Oh, Don, FUCK ME NOW!” My juices gushed with a force to splash on Hal’s cock and between our six thighs, locked together in lust. My knees were weak but Don and Hal raised the momentum to push me, farther and farther over the edge, and I burst inside with waterfalls of surging pleasure.
My poor puss was humming and sore, but still it moistened and pulsed more to see Hal, bent and stretched facedown over a wide bench, Don behind him, burrowing lubed fingers up between Hal’s shiny buttocks, holding and stroking his own fat cock, preparing Hal for penetration. In the way that Hal’s eyes rolled, as much as the height that his hips rose I could read the progress that Don’s fingers were making.
Don looked so predatory, so hunger-driven that, exhausted as I was and barely able to stand, I had to drag my bedraggled self in the clinging skew of my soaked dress to get a taste of Don’s tongue, and a stroke of his cock. On my hands and knees I crawled over. My hands slid first under Hal’s smooth stomach and down to feel and stroke the ridges of his hot shaft and squeeze his tight balls.
Then I made my way up to Don’s mouth and locked my tongue on his. It felt like a reunion of ancient adventurers, with unbelievable tales and yarns to share. He held me so tightly, my breasts still in the degenerating dress against his bearlike chest.
We felt – well, I felt and I’m sure he felt it too – some of those young lovers’ pangs where being together is such an urgent ecstasy that it carries a mournful charge of desolation, for all the moments in the future that you know you’ll be apart.
Our chests and our breath still locked together at our lips, I helped Don to guide his now sheathed cock into Hal, who took it with grateful whimpers and moans. I wanted to soothe Hal and hold him to my breasts, but not as much as I needed to stay locked with Don, and to feel the thrill of his mighty organ sliding, driving, pumping and pummeling into Hal’s ass. Holding Don’s balls and buttocks I felt the rhythm and I thrilled to it.
Don pulled Hal up by his shoulders, then his hands and my mouth went around to hunt Hal’s cock. Don held it forward and stroked it. I slipped my mouth over the tip and went to work beneath with my wet tongue. Hal’s moans were becoming louder, more anguished. I sucked him as Don fucked him.
The heat between Hal’s thighs was enticing, and the double blast of male scent was intoxicating. My hand squeezed through my wet panties on my clit and slid inside to reach for my vulnerable spots. I thrilled like a teenager at the two cocks and handfuls of balls I was able to hold. Hal pressed his cock into my throat and Don’s thrusts into his ass drove him harder into me.
Hal couldn’t take this much longer without splashing a salty load into my face, and I sucked him in my hot, wet mouth to bring it on, and to bring him off. And off he came, like a burst hydrant. My throat was jammed with him, and he dribbled from my mouth silky and slick and he shouted, as Don rammed him harder and harder.
My hand was diving up in my puss and my thighs and my stomach tensed and clenched as the rivers of sensation flashed and flooded through me. As Hal collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, Don moved around to present his cock to my cum-splattered mouth. He rolled off the sheath and I pounced straight onto the beast.
His hand following my mouth, the whole fat shaft straining along my tongue, he pumped and he held my head and he ground and he pulled my hair and I groaned, knowing how the vibration would drive him on. My thumb squeezed my clit now as my fingers strained for the spot inside.
He shouted, “Yes. YES! Suck it! Suck my cock! Suck that fucking COCK, you whore!” and I moaned harder to encourage him more, but he was there, pumping steaming hot cum into my already dribbling mouth as my hand in my panties, in my aching sex was filled with the splash of my juices. I moaned wildly and wordlessly as Don’s cum drenched and overflowed my mouth and spilled out onto my chin, my throat, my breasts and my soaked, ruined red dress.
After a while, Don said, “The steam room is nearly always empty at this time of night.”
Hal and I stirred and said, in unison, “Is it?”
“Most days it is. I’m often here around this time.”
On the plane home, I tried to focus on what I’d managed to accomplish with the meetings and the contracts and covenants, but I couldn’t stay focused.
I wished that someone had told me the secret years ago. That two men aren’t just double the pleasure of one. Three people together have infinitely more ways, more opportunities, more surprise variations to share and enjoy. They should teach it in school.
Hal and Don both already knew their way around another man’s body. Still, to share that with them, the electric excitement, the deep opening and awakening that comes from exploring another body. Two other bodies. The sensation of their rising excitement as I was surrounded by them.
Such passion, such elemental fire, how could anyone want for more than that? How perfect can a connection be, how could it ever be better?
I knew that there was something that I was avoiding, though. When Hal made the most discreet suggestions, dropped such careful and considerate hints that we might schedule some dates, make something less temporary, more of a firm, ongoing thing, a knot tightened in my stomach. I worried that I offended him, not wanting to take the connection to another level. But I realized that I just wasn’t ready.
These liaisons, these temporary trysts, here one moment and gone like smoke the next, that was all that I could do right now. I couldn’t risk commitment. It meant trusting another person with my feelings. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to do that again.
And who needs it? The burden of someone else when they’re not at their best. When you only want to play and they’re busy or they’re sick. No, I was all for lightweight encounters. All the benefits of love, and no consequences.
These little moments, for me they were like my own little island coves, places to hide from a stormy sea. I guessed this must be what it felt like for people who took drugs. An escape. Literally, a sliver of time where you could just be yourself, act on your impulses. Follow your drive and instincts. Relax your mind and open your body to the thrills and the calm of sensual experience.
It was like a parallel universe, where thought slept and only the senses mattered. The velvety touch of warm skin, the heat and scents of a lover’s hair, their breath, the smell of their neck. And the joy of them feeling, exploring, sensing and seeing you. To be seen only as your physical self, as you are now.
I knew that it couldn’t last and every time I found an oasis like this, something would always be there in the back of my mind, calling me back. Reminding me.
Telling me that my real life wasn’t this, that this was a transgression. A sin. Forbidden.
I was getting hot in my club class seat. My laptop screen had the summaries of what we had decided and agreed upon in the meetings, but I couldn’t point my mind at it without a reflection of the end of my marriage. And there it all was. It took me right back to those dark stone-gray days. There were parts of it I still wasn’t ready to face.
Chapter 4
HE DAY THAT I FOUND out, before my husband tried to explain, before he tried to smooth it away, that dark line from a movie dropped straight into my head. Was it The Godfather? I think it was one of those old Italian-American Mafia movies. Looking in his eyes as he warmed u
p his speech about no-one was to blame and we’d always be friends, the thought blossomed on its own like a flower in a darkening desert.
All of those years, we’d been on a journey together. Or at least, I thought we had. Somewhere along the way and I still don’t know where or when, much less why, one day he took an excursion and he went on a trip, and the trip became a path and it was all his own. He didn’t say that he was going and he didn’t invite me along.
Yes, he traded me for a younger model. That was hard enough to bear. But it wasn’t just me that he’d lost the taste for. No, his new partner was one that grew stubble and smelled ripe. Not ripe like a peach, ripe like a locker room. He left me for a man. How could he have changed so much and not have told me?
And, how could I not have known, how could I have let myself be so betrayed and abandoned?
Even at that awful moment of reckoning, our connection was still intimate enough that I saw in his eyes that he felt how it hit me. At the moment the words from that movie popped into my mind, I saw his eyes water. I didn’t say it, but it looked like he heard me when the thought burst in my mind.
You’re dead to me now. And a big part of me died, too.
From that moment, just going on was going to be hard, and I knew it.
When I called the salon to make an appointment, I was told that Max wasn’t there for the next couple of days, and would I like an appointment with one of their other stylists.
“I want Max, really.”
“Oh,” the bright voiced girl at the salon said, “That’s Mrs. Harper, isn’t it? This is Julie.”
“Oh, hi, Julie.”
“Mrs. Harper, I’m pretty sure Max would be happy for me to give you his cell number. Would you like that?”
“I would like that very much, Julie, thanks.”
I liked Max’s easy manner, and his strong, gentle fingers. His boyish good looks under the streaked black quiff and the wicked twinkle in his dark eye, not to mention a nicely firm bod made him pretty easy on the eyes. Swapping gossip and a little flirtatious banter was always fun, and it all made my hair appointments something to look forward to.
He had a great knack with my hair, too. My quota of admiring glances and covert smiles always spiked after Max had fixed my hair. Julie gave me the number and I called him. He recognized my voice right away, and told me that he was taking a few days out of the salon, but he could come by and fix my hair at home, if I would like that. I said that I’d like it very much and we set a time.
When Max arrived at the door, he wore a black, short-sleeved shirt, open all the way down his chest and blue jeans that caressed his bulges beautifully. My breath skipped as I invited him in. Now that he was here I felt overdressed.
Or maybe I was underdressed and showing him too much cleavage. Maybe Max would see my attempts to generate some sexiness for exactly what they were, an older woman trying to light a spark in a much younger man. Foolish, ridiculous attempts that he would just laugh at and laugh off.
The soft, loose red blouse was opened low enough into my soft cleavage and I wore a loose, snaky silver belt low over a thin grey cotton wraparound skirt to the knee. The stiletto sandals tightened my tanned legs and, according to the mirror, perked my butt quite nicely.
Not that I was dressing up for a visit from my hairdresser, I just wanted to feel nice in the late afternoon warmth. The black and gold Coco de Mer bra and sheer silk panties may have been over the top, well, under the bottom I suppose, strictly speaking, but they complemented the outfit, even if nobody else saw them. And if somebody did, if somebody else caught a peek at them, well, who knows? They made me feel good, and that was enough.
The idea of the young, sparky hairdresser in my house had definitely put a fizz into my day. All the fun that I’d had until recently had been with my husband. That was a wonderful life, and I thought that it would be my whole life. When it came to an end, I was unprepared. I had no idea what was going to come next, what could or should come next. Money wasn’t a problem, but companionship, male companionship, I hadn’t looked for that since my teens. Now, I wasn’t even certain that I wanted it, well, in that way, but I knew that I hated the space that it left. Now I was left on my own to discover ways to amuse myself and find fulfillment.
As I held the door open I said, “Max, it’s really nice of you to come to me, and especially on your day off.”
He looked from my eyes slowly down to my sandals, not missing any points of interest along the way, and then made a slow return journey, as though he was fully acquainting himself with the territory. Making sure that nothing was missed. He got back to my eyes, and a shudder sank from my head to my knees.
“Mrs. Harper, it’s really a pleasure.” I loved hearing him say that, even if he was only being polite. The way that he was looking at me didn’t seem polite at all, but I could hardly trust my judgment at this point.
I stood aside to show him into the kitchen space. As he walked past me, as his jeans brushed by my skirt, as the scent of him so very close curled into my nostrils, I had to hold myself firmly in check just to stay standing. As his hips passed mine, a tingle rang from between my thighs that I swear he could almost have heard. My voice and my throat barely allowed me speak coherently enough to offer him coffee.
We sat in the morning sunshine on the tall stools at the breakfast bar, smiling as we looked at each other across our coffee cups. We caught up on a little gossip, it’s always extra fun when a man shares gossip, and the tantalizing, teasing speculations have an added charge.
We chatted about the salon. The stylists are mainly men, but most of the trainees and junior cutters are very attractive girls. I wondered whether Max dallied with them, but he said that he didn’t want to do that where he worked.
“Too complicated. And too messy.”
How about the customers? I wondered. I tried not to wonder it aloud, but it got out somehow.
“Mmm.” He said, “Some of the women are pretty interested, but it would really have to be someone super-special that I would take that kind of a risk with, you know. Someone really gorgeous and super-sexy, Mrs. Harper.”
My mouth was dry and as I stood to get some water, I brushed past Max’s shoulder. I just caught it with my breast. A jolt went through me as our clothes touched. Back on my stool, I held the counter with one hand and the glass with the other.
“How about the boys, Max? I think I’ve seen you twinkling at one or two of the other stylists, haven’t I?”
His eyes came up slowly to mine and a little grin poked its way across his face.
“You don’t miss much, Mrs. Harper, do you? Same rules apply, though.”
Max told me that he had been offered a partnership share in the business, but he wasn’t sure of the owner’s true motives.
“I’m not sure I shouldn’t be thinking of starting a shop of my own sometime soon. It could be that Carlos just wants to have me tied down.” Our eyes snapped together when he said, ’have me tied down.’ The tip of my tongue just slipped onto my bottom lip. Max’s tongue did the same. Heat rose in my cheeks. Other places, too.
“We’ll need a table with a mirror that you can sit in front of. Do you have something suitable, Mrs. Harper?”
“Yes, Max, I have a dressing table. It’s in my b…” I had to clear my throat for some reason. It really was getting hot in here. “In the bedroom.” Even then, the word ’bedroom’ seemed to have some difficulties getting out. It slipped down about an octave, and it sort of hung around.
I suggested that, since Max would be here a while, maybe I should order some food in. There’s a place nearby that I really like, and did Max like Thai food?
“I love it, Mrs. Harper. Reminds me of a summer in Koh Phi Phi and Phuket.”
I repeated, “Kho-Phi Phi and Phuket?”
“Mmm,” said Max.
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