“Manlove Thursday,” Victor agreed lecherously. “Time for me to mount you and violate you.” It turned them both on, Ian swaying his rounded rump against his balls. Victor squirted cinnamon oil on his cock so eagerly it arced onto the tiled floor. He enjoyed the squishing sound when he squeezed it into the skin of his cock, but he gasped at how close he was to coming.
Ian flipped himself around so he faced Victor, grabbing him by both shoulders. “No, it’s time for me to mount you.”
Victor was so taken by surprise that when Ian sidestepped out from between Victor and the table, he nearly fell forward. That his foot in the desert boot stepped squarely into the stripe of cinnamon oil on the tile didn’t help. He went “ooph” as he fell forward onto the table, breaking his fall just barely. In retrospect, he was in the perfect position to be mauled by Ian.
And that was clearly what Ian had in mind. He must have swiftly greased his own penis, for the next thing Victor knew his ass was filled with two inches of uncut dick—something he’d never allowed before.
Ian jiggled his hips, inching his cock up his friend bit by bit. “Turnabout is fair play.” He echoed a line Felicity and Victor enjoyed using quite often, and he punctuated it by a resounding slap to Victor’s ass. “Admit it. You’ve fantasized about being violated by another man for a long time.”
It wasn’t true. Victor hadn’t fantasized about it until meeting Ian. They had been together six months, but things had moved slowly. With such irascible, damaged souls as Felicity and Victor, no one gladly gave an inch of their dominance. No one gave up the upper hand freely without an enormous power struggle in their top-heavy ménage. Now that Ian had been asserting himself as a top as well, there was a dearth of willing subs. Victor knew the time would come when he’d have to submit. In fact, he’d been panting and masturbating thinking about it for some time.
“I admit it,” Victor gasped. “I’ve wanted you to take me like a stallion. I want to feel you fill me with your hot jism. Ah!” Ian stabbed him deeper with his fat cock.
“You want this,” Ian surmised, cool as a cucumber.
“I want this,” Victor whispered. Louder now. “I want your cock up my ass!”
“Well, isn’t that handy.”
Both men gasped now. They twisted around as one unit to view Mistress Felicity standing in the doorway, one arm running up the doorjamb.
* * * *
Felicity was just razzing her men. She had been watching the scene for a minute or more, just knowing she would jump in when it suited her best.
And boy, did this suit her. Watching her submissive fiancé being fucked by another man was priceless, but she needed to bust in before Ian shot his load. She knew that when Ian jumped from surprise at seeing her, the shock would set his orgasm back a good minute or so. That suited her just fine.
“This is incredibly handy, having my two men already naked and hard for me.” Sauntering over, she slid herself between Victor and the abused massage table. She wore a form-fitting Hawaiian print halter dress, and she untied the bow at the back of her neck. She rolled her shoulders like an exotic dancer. She knew it made Victor weak in the knees to have her large breasts massaging his naked chest. Victor’s head wobbled on a weak neck when she took his jaw between her fingers. “You want Ian’s cock up your ass? This is new.”
Lazily, as though half-drunk, Victor gyrated his prick against Felicity’s lap. “Ian’s not satisfied being a bottom anymore. You have two Sirs now, Mistress Felicity.”
Her pussy lips were swollen with lust already. She rubbed Victor, her pubic mound massaging his pulsating dick. “That’s not so bad. I can switch. I’m flexible. It’s all about choice, after all, isn’t it?”
Victor seemed to still and consider this, though behind him, Ian made such a thorough lunge inside his friend, Victor’s eyes went wide, and he held his breath to accommodate Ian. After a while, Victor exhaled and smiled. He even wiggled his hips a little to give Ian more pleasure. “Yes,” he said lovingly. “Feminism is all about choice. You can choose to be the bottom and you’re still empowered. Having two Sirs doesn’t make you less of a feminist, if it’s what you want.”
Felicity’s heart sped up with anticipation. She dropped the halter ties. Even Ian paused in his homoerotic humping to drink in the sight of Felicity’s bare tits jiggling against Victor’s chest. It was simple now to hike up her tight skirt and flick aside the narrow band of panty that might scrape Victor’s cock. Taking a little hop, Felicity was on the table. When Victor pierced her with his hard-on, Ian did the same up Victor’s rectum, and Felicity could feel it. The pressure of Ian’s fat penis prodding against Victor’s sensitive prostate made his cock bulge in her eager pussy. Her perineum was stretched to the maximum to accommodate Victor’s breadth, and she loved being filled like that.
“Ah,” she sighed. “I choose to feel two men on top of me at one time. Ian’s penetrating you. You’re penetrating me.”
Victor bit her jaw. “I want to fill you to the brim, woman. You’re going to be so full, sperm will be coming out your nose.”
Felicity giggled. It was silly, but the image made her even hornier, if such a thing was possible. “God, I love you. You ridiculous, elegant, cultured, arrogant ass. You’re my dashing superhero. I love you.”
Victor was polite enough not to make a big deal out of the moment. I’ve never said the “L” word before! I’ve been afraid, afraid to show any sign of weakness! Let’s hope he doesn’t pause, and discuss it, and want to have a roundtable discussion about it, and involve therapists and consultants, and belabor it forever. Let’s hope he just casually lets it go—
He kissed her mouth, but only briefly. He held her face still by gripping a handful of her bun. He murmured against her mouth, “And you are a sultry, perky tomato, Mrs. Reznik. I’ve known that you’ve been in love with me for a long…long time.”
His next kiss turned into a surprised moan, and suddenly his cock was spurting deep inside her. Of course Felicity encouraged him. “That’s it, darling. Come inside me. Come as Ian strokes your ass with his long, uncut cock. Feeling Ian fucking you is making you so hot you can’t stop pumping seed inside me. Oh God, that’s good. Fill me up. Flood me with your tasty cum. Ian! Are you losing your load inside Victor?”
She could tell by Ian’s strangled breathing, and how his cock twitched as Victor’s rectum milked it, that he was shooting inside his partner too. The two men were rigidly locked together, barely breathing or moving, lost in the spasms of orgasm.
“I love you,” Felicity whispered, just to test it out.
It didn’t feel half-bad. She hadn’t told anyone she loved them since Brad, so the words sounded like another language in her mouth. She reached behind Victor and caressed Ian’s spiky blond hair. “I love you too, Ian. You two are the loves of my life.”
Ian was the first to recover from his orgasm, but he didn’t disengage from the ass he was buried balls-deep in. He panted heavily, smiling. He had such a stunning smile. “I love you, Felicity.” He slapped Victor’s ass as if to wake him up. “And I love this one here.”
Felicity squeezed Victor’s twitching penis with her pussy muscles. Those Ben Wa balls were good for lots of things. This always made men wake up and jump, and now was no exception. Victor gasped as though electrified by a cattle prod, wide awake now.
Giggling, Felicity slipped out from between the men and the massage table. She fit her breasts back into their casings and tied the halter behind her neck. “You got all the malaria medication Sasha gave us?”
“Got it,” sighed Victor. “Only I’m not taking that chloriquine. The mosquitoes there are resistant to it. Last time I went to East Africa I got malaria anyway thanks to that crap. I’m taking the mefloquine.”
A fresh male voice came from the other side of the door. “I hesitate to knock, because I saw Miss Felicity slip in here a few minutes ago,” Sol yelled.
When she turned back to her men, they were in the process of reattiring themselves,
at least in their pants. “Just a second, Sol,” she called. She waited until Victor had buttoned his pants to open the door.
The lawyer with the ever-receding hairline clutched a flat express envelope. “I thought this might be important, since you won’t be able to read whatever it is in a couple of hours once you’re in the air.”
It was for Victor, from his Salt Lake home office. Victor looked stunningly hot and accomplished as he ripped open the cardboard envelope.
“You know,” said Sol, to make conversation while Victor’s eyes scanned the enclosed letter, “I’ve always wanted to go to Africa. But I’m never allowed to go anywhere other than between here and Provo.” Allegedly Sol lived in Provo where he had many other clients, but he rarely ever seemed to actually go there. “Taking your boy to Green River tomorrow will be my vacation.”
Sol was also a pilot, so he was taking little Travis back to his mother’s tomorrow. Xandra would watch the boy tonight until Sasha brought their plane back from Durango. Felicity said soothingly, “Green River is nice, I’ve heard.”
“Not when it’s the only vacation you’ve gotten all year. I’ve got other clients in Provo who I never get to see. Why is this damned lodge turning out to be such a full time gig?”
Ian said smoothly, “I’m glad it’s a fulltime gig for me. Victor. Are you going to tell us what that letter says?”
Victor smacked the letter to his thigh and stared at a shelf of turquoise rocks and topaz crystals. “My boss says I’m being awarded some Jeffrey C. Pulver Award for excellence in wildlife rehab for busting a major rhinoceros horn crime ring.”
Everyone was silent. Evidently, no one else had a clue what Victor’s boss meant either. Finally Sol broke the silence with a chortle. “I’d say accept the award anyway. It’s your boss’s mistake, not yours. What does the award look like? If it’s some cool trophy of a rhinoceros, you can put it on that awesome new river rock mantel of yours.”
“Yes,” Felicity said feebly, “along with your other two hundred trophies. No, thanks. Victor, you don’t have the slightest idea what your boss means?”
Victor looked at the letter again. “He says ‘the January 10 confiscation of rhinoceros horn from the perpetrator’…Oh, wait…‘The perpetrator of the illegal and savage massacre of the rhinoceros horn trade, Todd Beard of Bird in Hand, Utah, aka the Virgin Smuggler.’ What? I knew Beard did a lot of nefarious shit, but I didn’t know he was involved in rhino horn trade. Look, I’m going to call Glen.”
Shrugging into his shirt, Victor stepped into the hallway to call his boss. Sol said, “I got to hand it to you guys. You sure put a dent into a large and deleterious criminal smuggling operation. Beard seemed to be the main connection between Africa, Mexico, and the entire Midwest. There hasn’t been a peep of exotic smuggling since you found his operation.”
“Actually,” said Ian, “with Beard dead by self-tracheotomy, we’re not convinced we found all of his warehouses. We found that one place up Wobbly Canyon where he was stashing that ocelot and wolverine.”
“Yes,” agreed Felicity. “And the jaguar that was already dead.” After the raid, Victor had told her there were only a hundred wild ocelots left in America, and only three hundred wolverines left in the wild. So Beard’s smuggling hadn’t involved only exotics, but species nearly extinct right here in America. The wildlife rehabber was having a hell of a time figuring out where to release the ocelot and wolverine because he couldn’t find any existing ones for them to settle with.
Sol jutted out his jaw. “Well, you guys did good. I’m proud of you. I may not agree with a lot of the shit I see going on around this lodge, but you have your hearts in the right place.”
Audrey came back to clean up her room, so the trio drifted down the second story breezeway. From here they could look over the indoor swimming pool, kept warm in the winter. About forty people lounged around the outdoor swimming pool, being served healthful or relaxing drinks. Steps led up to the shiatsu pool with underwater space music. Beyond that one could see the multilayered mesas of the opposite side of Prism Canyon, shades of raspberry, watermelon, and strawberry sand making one hungry for meringue.
“You know what?” Ian said to Sol. “You can’t keep a good man down. Already Victor has cut back his lecture tour schedule and is focusing more on stopping the exotic trade. He’s going to go consult with Fish and Wildlife agents.”
“The black market for exotics only takes a back seat to drugs, dollar-wise,” said Sol, suddenly a fount of information on the business. “And they don’t get convicted for shit. The world’s most wanted butterfly smuggler got only twenty months in jail. Yet he was getting ten thousand Benjamins for one butterfly. Chances are your Beard would’ve just gotten a slap on the wrist if he hadn’t, ah, swallowed the anchor.”
“He wanted the money for plastic surgery,” Felicity told Sol. “He wanted to look just like Madonna.”
Ian scoffed. “He probably just wanted the money, period.”
Victor still looked like a zombie as he returned down the breezeway, his hand that held the phone hanging limply at his side. He looked in between Ian and Felicity with a faraway gaze. “Felicity, remember those drugs you snagged off Beard’s coffee table?”
“Of course.”
“It wasn’t drugs. Well, in a way, I guess it was.”
A sick feeling started oozing through Felicity’s entrails. She knew what Victor was going to say. That the “crack” was powdered rhino horn. “Yes, no one ever got back to us with lab results.”
“Well, they thought they did. The express envelope we confiscated later from Beard’s house? The sender was traced to a rhino poacher operating out of South Africa. Beard’s horn was destined for Vietnam, where they believe it cures cancer.”
“No shit.” Ian’s voice was hushed and reverent. “Isn’t that stuff worth more than gold by weight?”
Sol said, “I saw a special on TV about that. Twice the price of gold. How much did you steal from Beard?”
Felicity felt weak. She leaned against the railing. “Ah, I’d say the bottle weighed about a pound.”
“A pound, easy,” Victor agreed.
Sol said, “That’s about thirty thousand dollars.”
Felicity drifted down the breezeway a bit. Her brain seemed to be bleeding, she was so overwhelmed with events. We busted a rhino murderer. That would probably be the greatest thing she would ever do in her life. If she had even saved one rhino by snatching up that bottle of what she thought was drugs, everything had been for a reason.
A very good reason. She was still stunned by the enormity of it all when Victor came beside her to lean on the railing too. “Never a dull moment here in McQueen Valley.”
She looked at Victor. His beautiful superhero profile nearly overwhelmed her. She was wrenched so deeply with love for him, it frightened her. She was getting over that fear, though. “I love you, Doctor Reznik.” Maybe saying it more often would help her get over the fear.
He looked at her. She was glad he didn’t feel compelled to say it back. It didn’t always have to be tit for tat. “Would you like to see a wild rhino in Africa?”
Felicity inhaled in surprise. “That would be amazing,” she whispered.
“I think we’ll have a chance. Some new acquaintances of mine are making a documentary, and they’ll be in South Africa next week filming rhinos.”
Felicity had to breathe deeply and look out at the meringue mesa. Everything was happening so fast. Her life was more thrilling now than when she’d ruled as Mistress Klara in Stockholm. That seemed like decades ago.
“Hey, Dad!”
They both turned to see Travis running down the hallway waving something black and floppy. “I’m done with my chores, Dad! Can I fly with you to Colorado?”
“Hey, hey, hey!” shouted Sol. “No running on the slippery floors!”
Ian went forward to take the object out of Travis’s hand. The kid was so full of himself that he insisted on reporting the details of his chores
to his dad. “I dusted all of your African masks that’re on the great room walls.”
“That’s excellent, Travis.”
Victor beamed with fatherly pride, but Ian was standing behind the child, all expression gone from his mortified face. Felicity went round to see what object Ian held. It was her suede black and purple mop flogger, usually used to provide a pleasant sting to someone’s buttocks.
“It’s a little dusty now,” said Ian, shaking it out.
Felicity burst out laughing. The laughter just flowed from her, easing and soothing her. No, life would never be dull. Not as long as she had these two men by her side.
THE END
WWW.KARENMERCURYAUTHOR.BLOGSPOT.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Karen’s first three novels were historical fiction involving pre-colonial African explorers. Since she was always either accused or praised (depending on how you look at it) for writing overly steamy sex scenes, erotic romance was the natural next step. She lives near Napa, California, where she shoots archery, collects minerals, and does other “guy” things.
For all titles by Karen Mercury, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/karen-mercury
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Two Sirs, with Love [McQueen Was My Valley 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 17