The Mammoth Book of Threesomes and Moresomes

by Linda Alvarez

  Ben’s hand snaked under Ian’s belly and stroked his best friend’s penis in rhythm to his own thrusts. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, of grunting and pushing drove Liz to thrust against her fingers circling her clit then dipping deep into her pussy. Liz would have thought them too intent on their own pleasure to notice her muffled groans and gasps as her lust built. She was wrong.

  “Lizzie,” Ian lifted his head and called out, “if you’re going to watch, then at least return the favour.”

  She didn’t wait for a second invitation. She dropped her bag by the door and left a trail of clothing across to the chair. There she plopped down so the two lads got a primo view of her cunny twitching from the action on the bed.

  The room was electric, permeated with the salty sweet smell of pussy, and the more meaty smell of sweating cocks. They were all thrusting and grunting and moaning, straining nearly to the breaking point. Ben’s hand was jerking at Ian’s cock as though there was a battle going on, and his engorged balls were slapping ever harder against his friend’s arse with each thrust. Liz matched their hammering with her own strokes, amazed at how in tune they all seemed to be with each other’s rhythm, so in tune that they all three came together. Ian spurted like a fire hose against the headboard of the bed, Ben convulsed against Ian’s arse nearly flattening him, and Liz practically fell off the chair when her orgasm hit full force, shuddering up through her cunt, across her belly and breasts, surging over the top of her head like a tidal wave.

  “How long has this been going on?” she asked afterwards, when the three of them were snuggled together in the big bed.

  “Not long,” Ian said. “We thought maybe showing you might be better than telling.” He offered her a wicked smile. “It wasn’t ever anything we planned. One night there was a big fire, and after, we came back here, watched a little telly, some porn rubbish. I don’t even remember. We were a little drunk when we started talking about, you know, what it felt like to be with a bloke. Then one thing led to another, the next thing we knew it just happened.”

  Ben continued the story. “We laughed about it in the morning, but we both knew we’d do it again. Doesn’t mean we don’t like chicks,” he added quickly.

  Liz chuckled. “I sort of figured that much.” Then they both listened while she told them her idea.

  At last, Ian spoke. “Let me get this straight, you want us to make Teri Dalton come?”

  “Both of us?” Ben asked.

  “It’s not like she hasn’t seen you with your cocks up. You two are my last shoot, late in the evening. No one else will be around. I’ve asked her to help out. All I’m saying is, if things head in that direction, just follow her lead. She just needs to boost her sexual confidence, that’s all.”

  Ian nodded. “Any decent bloke would do what he could for her.”

  Ben agreed. “Can we bring toys?”

  “You always want to bring toys,” Ian observed.

  “Just be nice and be gentle. She’s very innocent, but enthusiastic. We want this to be a good experience for her, not a scary one.”

  When Liz agreed to shoot the calendar, the firemen allocated the adjoining garage for the project. It housed extra equipment and an obsolete fire truck. The men had rigged up lights, hoses, a fire pole and several other props to make the photos look realistic. Teri was already busy checking equipment and setting up lights when Liz arrived. She looked angelic in a white vest and a pink cotton skirt, but Liz suspected this little angel could be very naughty.

  Right on cue Ian and Ben showed up for the last shoot in nothing but boots and waterproof trousers with braces. They stood by the fire truck, displaying broad chests and thick biceps like super heroes. Even Liz was breathless at the sight. “OK, lads, we’ll start with a nice shot of you two relaxing against the truck after a fire. Teri, there’s stage make-up on the table. These two need to look like they’ve just come from a fire. Would you mind?”

  Teri took the make-up and handed it awkwardly to Ian.

  “No, hon.” Liz came to her side. “They can’t reach to put it on their backs. You’ll have to help. I’ll show you.” She took a gob of black greasepaint and smeared it first on Ben’s cheeks, then across his chest and down his torso, watching his stomach tightening as her hand neared the waistband of his trousers.

  “Here, I’ll hold this and you can give me a rub down.” Before Ian could take the make-up from her, Teri tensed and a large blob of black greasepaint erupted from the top of the tube on to her vest.

  “Oh dear.” Ian produced a handkerchief from somewhere and wiped at the spot just above her left nipple, his strokes expanding to a cupping caress that spread the black across the whole of her now heaving breast. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Liz knows something that’ll get that out.”

  Flustered, Teri tried to push his hand away, but Ian folded his fingers around hers and brought both their hands and the blackened handkerchief to his belly, wiping a large smear all the way down to where the dusting of dark hair began just beneath his navel. “There, that’s perfect.” He smiled reassuringly. “If you could put a little down my chest and back and—” The handkerchief fell to the floor and Ian gasped in surprise as Teri slid her hand into the top of his trousers. “I don’t think I need make-up there.”

  “You have an erect—a hard-on.” She looked up at him wide-eyed. “It must be uncomfortable.”

  “Getting that way, yes.” He grunted, shifting against her hand. “Would you like to see?”

  She nodded. Her cheeks flushed. Her breath quickened.

  He caught Liz’s eye where she stood frozen with her smudged hand low on Ben’s back. She nodded approval. Then he offered the intern his wicked smile. “First take off your vest.”

  “What?”

  “You show me yours; I’ll show you mine. Shall I help?”

  She lifted her arms as he slid off her vest, then unhooked her bra. He took his time, admiring her, ignoring her impatience. Then, at last, he undid his zipper.

  Before Teri could do more than stare at his penis stretching stiffly towards her, Ian pulled her close and lifted her skirt. Trembling against him, she whimpered and her eyelids fluttered as he eased her legs open and slid his hand inside her panties.

  “You’re wet.” He nipped her ear lobe.

  “Fire safety.” She gasped. “Wet things don’t burn.”

  He chuckled. “Wanna bet?”

  Liz had been so intent on watching, she was surprised by the sudden press of Ben’s erection against her hand.

  “I could use some help with my hose. Would you mind?”

  “Always glad to help.” Liz stroked and Ben thrust, groaning his pleasure.

  Teri looked on wide-eyed, while Ian fingered her slit with one hand and caressed her tits with the other.

  As Ben undid Liz’s jeans and slid them down around her ankles, she had to admit the watching was almost as good as the playing. He guided her hands on to the fender of the truck. “Bend over and give us a look.” She heard both Teri and Ian catch their breath as Ben gently teased and exposed her pussy lips, then he knelt and helped her out of her jeans and knickers.

  A glance over her shoulder told Liz the intern was a captive audience. She understood why when Ben’s tongue replaced his fingers between her slippery pussy lips. His mouth closed around her distended clit, and he began to suckle. She braced against the truck as her first orgasm broke over her.

  “Would you do that to me?” Teri asked Ian, sounding a bit like a child asking for a pony ride.

  Another look over her shoulder revealed a changed scene, and Liz could see Teri was now bent over, hanging on to the fire pole with both hands, her cunny undulating against Ian’s accommodating tongue.

  Tension crackled through the room. Clearly Teri Dalton was enjoying herself, but it was only when she bellowed, “Oh my God, I’m coming!” and collapsed in a breathless heap at the base of the fire pole that the tension truly broke. She scrambled to her knees and gave Ian’s cock a deep-throated
kiss, nearly gagging herself before she came up laughing. “I had no idea it could be like this. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  The two men nodded to each other, and Ben stopped communing with Liz’s quinny and whispered in her ear. “Time to give Little Miss a proper initiation into womanhood. Follow our lead.” He reached into the truck and pulled out a penis-shaped vibrator.

  Then Ian lifted the surprised intern on to the hood of the truck. Both men scrambled up after her, and Ben handed the vibrator to his friend, and donned a condom.

  “You’ve been eyeing Ben’s big cock ever since he first unwrapped it,” Ian said. ‘Would you like a test drive?’

  Teri was already guiding Ben’s erection into her dilated pussy. With the first gentle thrust, her gasp was tinged with pain as she stretched to accommodate him. But pain quickly gave way to purrs of pleasure as Teri wrapped her legs around him and thrust back.

  “I saw you eyeing Lizzie’s pussy,” Ben grunted between thrusts. “You’d like a taste, wouldn’t you?”

  Ian was already helping Liz on to the truck. Liz was more than a little surprised when the intern grabbed her by the hips and pulled her down snug against her enthusiastic mouth. She was a quick study, lapping and tugging at Liz’s labia and clit with a tongue that must surely be double-jointed. Then the two men nodded to each other again.

  “I want you on top,” Ben said, pulling out and shifting until Teri was sitting on his belly riding his cock.

  “Do you like toys, Teri?” Eyeing Teri’s arse, Ian revved up the vibrator.

  “Don’t you dare,” Liz gasped.

  “No, I want it,” Teri protested. “I want to know what it feels like to have . . . something up there.” She held Liz’s gaze. “You seemed to like it.”

  “You heard the lady, Lizzie. Would you do the honours?” He lifted the vibrator to Liz’s mouth and, for the sake of Teri’s tender arse, she gave it a good licking.

  “That’s a girl. Now, Teri, I’m going to show you another great way to come.” He pressed the head of the vibrator against Teri’s tight anus. She squirmed and groaned, but instead of pulling away, she licked her fingers until they were dripping with saliva, then began to probe and stretch at her own arsehole.

  “Put it in me,” she gasped.

  “You sure?” Ian asked.

  “I’m sure. I’m ready.” She leaned forwards over Ben.

  Ian obliged.

  The intern screamed and bucked hard. At first Liz mistook her orgasm for pain until she cried out, “Oh God, don’t stop. That feels so good! So good!”

  Then Ian guided Liz’s hand to the vibrator. “You do the honours, Liz. After all, she’s your intern.” He winked at her.

  Liz took over the controls. “I’ve saved the best for myself,” Ian grunted, as he lifted her hips and slid his penis into her wet snatch. “Your cunny’s still the best of the best, Liz. I can’t get enough of you.” He nodded to the vibrator. “Keep the pressure on. Our student needs the practice.” Liz was pretty sure Teri would be sitting carefully tomorrow.

  They were all properly smeared with greasepaint and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The wet sounds of sex filled the room along with the thickening scent of arousal. Hands groped tits and arses, mouths and tongues probed and suckled all to a soundtrack of thrusting and grunting and the low buzz of the vibrator up Teri’s arse.

  They were all close, so close. Ben’s muscles looked as though they would shatter from the tension increasing with each thrust, and Liz was pretty sure Ian had been holding his breath, riding the wave so near the crest. She clenched tight as another orgasm raged through her, and that was enough to send Ian, who gripped her arse and groaned. She could feel his cock convulsing inside her. Seconds later, Ben followed suit, and suddenly Teri cried out her own release.

  Later, when they were dressed and had finished the shoot, Teri nodded to the set. “If all the shoots were like this we’d never get this calendar finished.” Then she gave Liz a tonsil-deep kiss, followed by a good feel up of her tits. “But we’d have fun, wouldn’t we?”

  As the intern left, the two men each put an arm around Liz. “Are we squared on our debt now?” Ian asked.

  Liz pushed them away. “I’d hardly call something you both clearly enjoyed so much payment of your debt, would you?”

  “Then what did you have in mind?” Ben asked.

  Liz looked down at her watch. “Well, it is Friday night. None of us has to get up early tomorrow. I really could use a bath after our exhausting little shoot.”

  The two men looked at each other. “You want us to give you a bath?” Ben asked.

  “For starters. Then we’ll see what comes up.”

  “But we’ll enjoy that too,” Ian said. “At this rate, we’ll never get out of your debt.”

  “Now you’re getting the picture.” She gave them both a quick stroke of the cock through their jeans and headed for the door, with both blokes close behind, and anxious to service their debt.

  One Last Fling

  Kristina Wright

  “We’re Vegas bound,” Douglas said, helping me into the back of our sleek, black limousine.

  The neon lights outside Club Europa reflected off my silver-sequined minidress, causing it to sparkle like a disco ball. I made a half-hearted effort to preserve my modesty as I climbed into the limo, tugging my dress with one hand while I held a glass of champagne in the other. I wasn’t particularly successful at either, as I felt a cool breeze on my ass and the trickle of champagne on my wrist. I fell into the back of the limo in a fit of giggles and waited for my entourage to join me.

  “Oh, but I’m not finished dancing!”

  Alex got in beside me, his long limbs tangling with mine as we made room for two more. “It’s three hours to Vegas and the girls are waiting for you. You’ll dance the night away tomorrow night.”

  “Fuck the night away, is more like it,” Douglas said, as he and Neil climbed in and sat across from us.

  Neil tapped the partition between the driver and us. “We’re ready,” he called. “Let’s get the bride to Vegas.”

  The limo pulled away from the kerb in front of my favourite dance club and I waved goodbye as if I would never see it again. I was giddy and tipsy and very cosy in the back of the limo with my three favourite men – besides my fiancé Simon, of course. What can I say? I’ve always been a tomboy and that has translated into deep, meaningful – and sometimes even platonic – friendships with men. Not that I don’t have female friends, I do. They were waiting for me at the Bellagio in Vegas and in the morning we’d be getting massages and pedicures and talking about boys before I walked down the aisle. But I had wanted my last night as a single woman to be spent with my three closest male friends.

  It had been Simon’s idea for my bachelorette party to end up in Vegas, where we were to be married the following evening. Now, I was floating happily along thanks to the beautiful, bubbly champagne that kept flowing into my glass from endless bottles provided by my attentive staff of three. I was dressed in sparkly sequins and smoky mascara, looking very much the part of a party girl out for a night of dancing and debauchery. I smiled like the proverbial cat that has eaten the cream and curled up contentedly on the leather seat next to Alex.

  “Well, lady, did we show you a good last night?” Alex asked, refilling my glass yet again.

  I giggled as I sipped the expensive champagne. “Absolutely. We made quite a scene on the dance floor.”

  It was true. We’d popped into three clubs over the course of the evening and caused a bit of a stir every time as I led the men out to the centre of the dance floor. Gyrating with three men is likely to garner a lot of attention. Not that I minded. I loved having all eyes on me and my boys. Alex, at six-four and with almost white-blond hair, often caused enough of a stir on his own. But throw in former football-playing Douglas with his rugged good looks and Neil, with the lean, muscular body of a runner, and I was certain every woman in every club was jealous of me. The best part was the
safe feeling I had surrounded by men who knew me at least as well as Simon did. I snuggled against Alex’s shoulder and sighed. Douglas and Neil sat across from us, drinking beer from the well-stocked limo fridge.

  “I could get used to this, if I wasn’t getting married tomorrow.”

  Douglas winked at me. “Why would you trade in wild nights of dancing with your own personal harem for boring married life?”

  “Aren’t harem boys usually eunuchs?”

  “Definitely no eunuchs here,” Alex said, gruffly.

  We laughed at that. Alex’s sexual conquests were almost as legendary as, well, my own. I’d tested those waters a time or two and decided he had earned his reputation as a cocksman. Of course, Douglas wasn’t a slouch in the bedroom, either. The only mystery for me was Neil. Bedroom-eyed, soft-spoken Neil was a big question mark to me. I glanced at him now – wondering things probably better left unknown.

  The limo turned a corner a little too sharply, which pressed me a little closer to Alex. “Hey, Mr Limo Driver,” I called through the darkened partition. “Please be careful! I’m getting married tomorrow.”

  The partition lowered enough for me to see blue eyes staring at me in the rear-view mirror. “Yes, ma’am. My apologies.”

  I giggled. “Is OK.”

  “It’s official,” Neil said. “She’s drunk.”

  I harrumphed in a very unladylike fashion.

  “I am not drunk. I’m just a little bit tipsy.”

  Alex’s hand, which had been on my knee since the corner turn, seemed to have accidentally slid up my thigh. “Well, I’m drunk.”

  As if to prove his intoxication, he stroked my thigh seductively. His fingers felt warm on my bare skin. I couldn’t tell if he was messing with me or being serious. The possibility that he might be serious was exciting – and also proof that I was most definitely a little drunk. I made a low murmur of pleasure and the three men laughed. I didn’t like that at all. I was the bride, damn it! I wanted to be pampered and coddled and . . . other things.