One Lucky Girl

by Natasha L. Black

  I held on to Brett, his mouth on mine as Derek upped the rhythm of his thrusts. I reached out one hand behind Brett. Derek caught my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. Palm to palm with him, his cock buried inside me, I felt so intimately close to Derek, so joined to him. With Brett kissing my neck, sucking just below my ear, I jerked, the orgasm coming on fast and hard, taking me by surprise. The hard clench of my body made Derek come. Brett kept kissing me until I turned away. He brushed my hair back from my face as I sat up, launched myself into Derek’s arms. We held each other for a moment and caught our breath. Then I pulled away, kissed Brett.

  “I owe you one. That was fun for me, but pretty thankless for you,” I said.

  Brett stood up, his impressive erection startling me. I knew it was hot having him crouched over me, servicing my nipples, but I had no idea it would turn him on so much.

  “Here, let me,” I said, reaching for him, my lips already parting to take all of him in.

  I held on to his narrow hips, my lips closing over the tip. I closed my eyes, tasting the salty drops that clung to his hard, velvety flesh. I stroked his length with my hand, my tongue flicking the underside of the head. His hands moved in my tangled hair as we rocked together. I felt Derek’s hands on my hips, lifting me until I was on all fours. I leaned down on my elbows, my butt in the air. I could feel the crackle of electricity in the room, the way we were all so turned on from touching, from watching. I sucked Brett while the blunt head of Derek’s cock, hard again already, nudged my slick sex and thrust in. With one smooth motion, he was within me. I moaned around Brett’s cock. Soon they were thrusting in tandem—we found our rhythm and it was intoxicating. I wanted to scream with ecstasy with every thrust, wanted to hum and squeal on Brett’s cock in my mouth as they both fucked me. I was coming before I knew it, pushing my hips back hard as Derek pumped into me, his hands holding me securely.

  I sucked harder but Brett pulled away from me as my orgasm crashed over me. I reached for him blindly. He caught me in his arms, l felt myself lifted, settled onto his lap. He lowered me onto his rigid cock, penetrating me as my head drooped against his shoulder. I loved it, being passed from Derek to Brett and back again, loved being so caressed and cherished, so thoroughly fucked. I clung to him, rocking my hips. His hand pressed the small of my back, his hips thrusting deep and slow. I mewed, my nails digging in to his shoulders as he held me tight, driving into me so deep that I thought I’d pass out. It was on the edge of too much, of overwhelming all my senses. He was taking me farther than I’d ever been, out past the stars that swirled in front of my eyes as he came hard inside me. I shuddered at the impact, at the primal rush I felt with his hot seed spurting into my depths.

  Derek scooped me up off Brett’s lap, still hard, not finished with me. I managed a weak smile as he laid me on the bed. I shivered as he moved down my body, his questing mouth, his insistent fingers. He stroked my throat, caught my earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently. Derek touched every inch of my skin, his fingers trailing along the palms of my open hands, up my arms splayed out in exhaustion. He stroked my collarbone, my breasts, made my nipples harden and distend under his fingers. He moved his palm to my mound, the heel of his hand pressing hard on my clit as he rocked his hand there. I was moving with him almost involuntarily, grinding against him for more friction. He tucked two fingers inside of me, sent me twisting and begging for more. He kissed my lips, hard and deep, his tongue in my mouth as if he’d wipe out any memory of another man. My arms found their way around his neck as he moved up, parting my folds with his fingers, seating his cock back inside me where it belonged. I drew a ragged breath, “yes,” I whispered in satisfaction. He moved just right, hitting that spot in front with every thrust. Bright pops of light started on the edge of my vision. My feet flexed, a spasm started in my stomach and thighs. I shook uncontrollably. He had to hold me down to finish fucking me. I was groaning, grunting, shrieking with the most incredible release I’d ever felt. He pounded into me until I came and came, forgetting everything but the man joined to me. I thrashed beneath him, unable to get my breath. He covered my mouth with his. I almost fought him, the waves of heat and sharp ecstasy ripping through my body made me feral. I pushed at his shoulders, but he held me fast, kissing me so tenderly I thought my heart would break. He leaned his forehead against mine, “I’ve got you, baby. I’m right here. We both are.”

  I let him slide out of me and hold me. Brett curled up behind me, spooning against my back. We slept the rest of the night the three of us together on the bed.

  I woke to one of them kissing me. I felt my body respond, stretching lazily, half asleep, lips parted to receive his tongue. I opened my eyes, was met with darkness. I felt for the blindfold, a soft length of silk—someone’s necktie probably, and grinned. They were making my last fantasy come to life.

  “Mmmmm, Derek,” I murmured against his mouth.

  “How do you know which one it is?” he whispered, trying to disguise his voice.

  “I know how you move, how you kiss me. You always touch my neck, and you’re more aggressive about pressing into my hips. And your tongue is divine. You do this thing where you stroke in three times and then go deep the fourth time. Curls my toes right up,” I said, with a satisfied smile.

  “Don’t say anymore. He already looks too pleased with himself,” Brett’s voice came grumpily, and I giggled.

  “Now you kiss me, and I’ll tell you how I know it’s you,” I prompted.

  The lips on my face, the hand on my neck moved away, replaced by a softer kiss, a hand gentle on my face.

  “Nope, still Derek. Nice try,” I teased.

  “We can’t fool her,” Derek said, “My skills are too magnificent to mistake for yours, Brett.”

  “Move over,” Brett said.

  This time, it was unmistakably Brett who kissed me. His stubble brushed my chin, his firm lips on mine. His palm cupped my breast, his fingers finding the pink nipple and plucking until it was a hard nub. He grazed my lower lip with his teeth.

  “How can you tell it’s me?” he said huskily.

  “Easy,” I said, “You go straight for the boobs, and despite your history, you do everything harder, with more of an edge than Derek. Do you remember the night we went out to the club? We were in the truck, and you kissed me at a stoplight and you pinched my nipple. I thought I’d come right then. No one had ever handled me that roughly, and it turned out I liked it. You’re the quiet one, the sweet one, but you’re more of an envelope pusher in bed.”

  “So I’m vanilla now?” Derek protested teasingly.

  “Never,” I said, “you’re both decadent as hell. But I have to work today.”

  “No you don’t,” Derek said, “We called you in sick. I said you’d been sick all night. You’d be in after noon if you felt better. So you can sleep it off.”

  “I can’t believe you called in sick for me!” I laughed.

  “So thank me properly. Do you want the blindfold off or on?” Derek said.

  “On, I think,” I said, turning back to kiss Brett.

  20

  I slept late, went over my notes and wrote out the article. The guys were already at work, but Derek had left me a sandwich in the refrigerator.

  I was very proud of what I wrote. It was honest and brave, a little bit funny, and a lot romantic and sexy. I called it “The Devil’s Three Way”—slang for a MMF threesome. I told it as an interview with a girl who called herself Katie, veiled the details about the guys and how we met, but really infused it with the sense of friendship and love, the ongoing relationship and how we were supportive of one another, that it was a meaningful choice. Then I detailed the sometimes hilarious and sometimes hot positions we tried out. When I was finished spell checking it, I emailed it to Liz.

  That night at the bar, I checked my phone on my break. I’d hoped for a message from Liz, but I knew she was busy, so it didn’t surprise me when she hadn’t responded with an exultant plea that I sign a contract a
nd start writing for her immediately. Instead of a message from her, I had one from my dad.

  My dad who never came to the city but who had suddenly decided to come visit me. Tomorrow. I squinted my eyes shut. Of course, it would be great to see him. I missed him. He was my only family. But I was thoroughly panicked.

  “Hi, honey. It’s Dad. I can’t wait to take my best girl out to lunch and hear all about how your life’s going. See you tomorrow,” was what the message said.

  His voice sounded cheerful in a forced way, like he was worried. Of course, he was worried. His sweet, wholesome only daughter had moved to the big dangerous city and done all kinds of things that would give him an actual heart attack if he knew about them.

  I messaged the guys, Dad coming tomorrow! with a panic emoji after it.

  Instantly, Brett called me, “What’s up?” he said.

  “My dad. Who never leaves the town where I grew up. My conservative, old-fashioned dad who raised me on his own. My church going, blue collar dad is coming to the city to take me to lunch tomorrow.”

  “And?” Brett asked.

  “He’s just—not going to love my lifestyle.”

  “You work at a magazine. You tend bar, which you also did in college. You may get an article printed in Envy. You’re happy and healthy and living the life you want. Right?” he asked.

  “Yes! But you’re missing the point. This is my dad. His opinion matters to me, so much. And he’s going to be so disappointed and ashamed of me. I can’t just say, hey, dad, good to see you. I just finished my article on orgy sex positions and I’d like you to meet my roommates. We all have sex together. I’m part of a throuple!”

  “A throuple?”

  “Look it up. It’s three people that are in a –"

  “Couple. I got it. And I’ve seen the kind of crap you look at online. I just don’t see why you’re panicking. Is your dad going to ask you about your sex life? Probably not. So why would you offer that information?”

  “I don’t think I can keep it secret. And anyway, he’ll find out what I’m writing about and know that—"

  “That you’re a grown woman? Honey, you owe it to yourself to be honest about who you are and what you do. You were proud of that article when you told us about it. But we won’t make a liar of you. You can introduce us as your roommates. I’ll stand there, shake your dad’s hand and tell him you’re like a little sister to me if that’s what you need me to do.”

  “Thanks, Brett. I appreciate your support. But don’t ever talk about being my brother again. Yuck.”

  “Just let me know what you need,” he said, and hung up.

  I went back to the bar, but I was rattled. My concentration was shot. I kept running through possible conversations with my dad. There was not one scenario I could imagine where things would go well. I wanted him to be proud of me, accept me for who I was. But I knew that my choices would make him unhappy.

  After work, Derek picked me up by himself.

  “Is Brett working?” I asked as I climbed in the truck.

  “No, I want to know what the fuck is going on.”

  “Excuse me?” I said, taken aback by his unusually harsh tone.

  “Your dad’s coming to town, so we’re putting on the Just Friends Show? This is bullshit, Lynette,” he said, fuming. His voice was low. He wasn’t yelling, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel and I could tell how angry he was.

  “Derek,” I said, “My dad is old-fashioned. He’s traditional. He doesn’t go in for alternative lifestyles. He really, seriously believes that gay people are gay by choice. So he’s not going to understand and accept the fact that his daughter is having sex with two men at once.”

  “Your dad sounds like a jackass. I don’t have a lot of respect for men who go around judging the lifestyles of others or who try to force their beliefs on me. And I won’t lie to get his approval.”

  “I don’t expect you to care about his approval, Derek. But I do. I don’t even drink in front of him!” I said dejectedly.

  “If you cared so much about his approval, why did you choose to live your life the way you do? Write about sex, hook up with your roommates and have a threesome? Those aren’t the actions of a woman who’s worried about what her family thinks. I figure it’s one of two things: Either you don’t give a shit about us and you’re just sowing some wild oats as a temporary thing before you chase after the suburban dream, or you’re ashamed of us. Either way, it really sucks,” Derek said.

  Tears sprang to my eyes. I turned and looked out the window so he wouldn’t see. What he said had cut me to the heart. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I was afraid. I didn’t want my father to look at me like some stranger, like someone he could never be proud of. I wanted to hide, and I wanted him to think the best of me. I had thought I could have it both ways, living the life I liked and hiding it from my father. It was childish, and it was hurtful to Derek whom I cared about deeply. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I felt miserable. I even thought of making an excuse and not seeing my dad at all.

  As soon as we reached the firehouse, I hopped out and ran up the steps to Brett. Hectic, swiping at my tears, I collided with his chest as he stepped out the door to meet us. I buried my face in his chest and sobbed. It felt so good to be held, protected. He stroked my hair and shushed me, comforted me.

  Derek brushed past us and went into the loft. I heard the refrigerator door, heard him pop a beer and turn on the TV, heard the metallic shift as he kicked back the recliner. I lifted my face to look at Brett. My eyes still swam with tears. He kissed my forehead and led me inside.

  “Are you this upset about your dad coming?” he asked softly.

  “She’s pissed because I called her out on being ashamed of us,” Derek called from the recliner, not turning around.

  “I’m not!” I cried. I went for the paper towels in the kitchen and mopped my face.

  He pushed down the footrest and got to his feet, a storm in his eyes.

  “Damn it, Lynette. I’m serious about you. I have feelings for you. We both do. This isn’t something you can throw away, some dirty little secret.”

  He stalked out, slamming the loft door behind him.

  21

  Derek stormed out and left us there. I turned to Brett.

  “Do you feel the same way he does?” I asked. I hoped it was a no, hoped his supportive and caring routine from earlier was the truth of how he felt.

  Brett walked away from me and got a glass of water. He leaned on the sink, facing away from me. When he finally turned around, the frown lines around his mouth from the first time we met were back, bracketing his beautiful lips.

  “I want you to do what’s right for you, always,” he said, and sighed.

  “But?” I prompted.

  “But it’s hurtful. That you would rather pretend we’re nothing to you, rather than tell the truth and risk the disapproval of a narrow-minded person who doesn’t value you for who you really are—I care about you, too. Too much to walk out when you hurt me, but too much to lie to you either. Yes, I feel the same way Derek does, even if I show it differently.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. He’s not just some guy on the corner, he’s my dad. The only family I have left. ”

  Without a word, he turned, went in his bedroom and shut the door. I went to bed alone, lonely and worried. I didn’t sleep, just freaked about what the next day might bring. What I could possibly say to my father, and how I could make him understand, or how I could handle the guys, make it up to them that I was selfish and didn’t prioritize their feelings. I didn’t come up with any answers that made me feel better at all.

  Late into the night, or maybe in the early hours of the morning, I heard the front door as Derek returned. He knocked softly at my door. I was still awake and miserable, but I didn’t want to talk. I especially didn’t want a renewal of his feelings about how I was being a callous bitch. He didn’t understand that I was hurting, too. That
I was truly scared about losing my dad forever. So I didn’t feel like getting up in the middle of the night, tear stained and worried, to hash out the problem again.

  I turned my face to the wall and pretended to sleep. When I didn’t answer him knock again, I figured he’d gone to his own room. Then I heard the whisper of my door opening as he looked in on me. My heart pounded and for an instant when I thought he might try to wake me up. When he went back out and closed the door behind him, I laid still for a long time, silent.

  I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to show off my happy and successful city life to my dad. I wanted him to be proud of me, and to think that I was using my education to get an opportunity at a major international magazine. That I was a hard worker like him who supported myself financially. That I made a smart, safe choice in moving in with two cops. That my life was going well. And that I was in love.

  But I was afraid of what he’d think, what he’d say if he knew I was sleeping with both Derek and Brett, that I was, in my father’s views, a slut. A woman who had sex outside of marriage, who was possibly an abomination for being part of a threesome. I was a good girl growing up. I ate my vegetables. I sold Girl Scout cookies. I made good grades and turned in my homework on time and almost always remembered to do the dishes and make my bed. So it would be a shock of the worst kind for my dad to know what I was doing.