by Amy Brent
“Other things like what?”
I looked at my Rolex and shrugged. “We’ve got five hours to kill. Why don’t we talk about those issues of yours?”
“Fuck you,” she growled, directing her eyes out the window. We were headed east toward the sunrise. The sky outside the plane was clear and crystal blue. It was the start of a new day for us both.
“Hey, when will you ever get five hours with one of the world’s most famous psychiatrists who is will to help you work out your shit?” I asked with a sincere smile. “I mean, do you have any idea what I normally charge for this kind of thing?”
“Who says I have shit to work out?”
I kept smiling at her. “Oh, G, you have shit to work out. We all do.” I laced my fingers together on the table and pushed up my eyebrows. “Why don’t we start by talking about your father.”
The next five hours passed quickly and productively.
By the time she got off in Chicago, G’s mood seemed to be considerably lighter as if some of the weight of her world had lifted off her thin shoulders. When we parted on the tarmac, she kissed me on the cheek and gave me a hug.
“Thanks, Doc,” she said with a tearful smile. “I feel better about things. I can’t wait to talk to my dad and tell him all the things I told you.”
“Just be honest with him, G,” I said, patting her cheeks. “Tell him how you feel. Make him listen.”
“I will,” she said, sniffing back a tear. She held up her cell phone and wiggled it at me. “I have your number. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Yes, you do that, text me anytime.” I cupped her chin in my hand and gave her a fatherly smile. “And thanks for letting me brush up on my therapeutic skills. It’s nice to know I can still help someone one no one.”
“You’re wonderful, Dr. Curtis,” she said, drying her eyes. “This trip might have saved my life.”
I put my hands on her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “You have your whole life ahead of you, Gina. Enjoy the adventure.”
“I will,” she said, nodding as she backed toward the waiting car. The driver was holding open the door, giving me a hard look. G called back to me. “And this friend you’re going to see?”
“Yes?”
“She is one lucky girl.”
Chapter Twelve: Jude
It was a lazy Sunday as Holden, Wynn and I took our time crawling out of bed, taking separate showers, then meeting in the kitchen for a late brunch of black coffee, orange juice, Holden’s homemade waffles, and a couple pounds of bacon.
We were all ravenous, having spent most of the night going for silver, bronze, and gold in the sex marathon Olympics. There was not a single muscle in my body that was not sore. My poor cunt… There was no permanent damage, of course, but like every other muscle in my body, it was screaming, “Hey, bitch, how about a break? Okay… how about a short break?”
“So, what’s on tap for you boys today?” I asked, sitting at the kitchen table between them spreading butter on my third waffle.
“Well, we wrapped up the conference last night, so today is just a rest and relaxation day,” Holden said, sitting back to rub his full belly. He was wearing a pair of boxers and no shirt. Wynn was sitting across from him, wearing a pair of sweat pants and a UCLA t-shirt.
“And when do you fly back to California?” I asked, wishing that his answer would be never.
“I have a flight booked tomorrow afternoon,” Wynn said. “But I might change that if my friend Lane arrives today.”
My ears piqued. “Lane? Who is Lane?”
“Yes, Dr. Lane Curtis,” Wynn said.
“He’s a pal of Wynn’s,” Holden added.
I recognized the name immediately. On the famous doctor of psychiatry scale, Dr. Lane Curtis rivalled Dr. Phil for the top spot. I froze with a mouthful of waffle. Chewing, trying to swallow, I said, “Did you say Lane Curtis is coming here? The Lane Curtis? Dr. Lane Curtis?”
Wynn smiled and gave me a nod. “Yes, the Dr. Lane Curtis.”
I glanced at Holden, who seemed to already know all about the impending visit from the famous Dr. Lane Curtis. “Why didn’t you tell me? What’s he coming here for?”
“I just found out yesterday,” Holden said with a casual shrug. “And you didn’t really give me much time for chit-chat last night.”
I turned back to Wynn. “Why is Dr. Lane Curtis coming here?”
Wynn took on a Cheshire cat grin. “To meet you, silly.”
“To meet… or fuck you,” I said, giggling at the thought. “Seriously, why is he coming here?”
“He is interested in writing a book with me and Holden,” Wynn said.
“He is interested in writing a book with you,” Holden said, giving Wynn a nod. “He doesn’t know me from Adam.”
“He knows all about you,” Wynn said as he wiped syrup from his lips with a napkin and shook his head. “When I suggested the three of us work together he got very interested.” He gave me a little smile. “And when I mentioned that the most amazing girl in the entire state was right here at Midwestern…”
I blinked at him, not knowing if I should be flattered or offended. “What does that mean?” I cut my eyes between them. “Holden, what does that mean?” My face flushed red and I stabbed what was left of the waffle with my fork. “What am I? Just some piece of pussy you guys think you can share? What are you going to do, call all your pals from California to come here and fuck me? Well, let me tell you assholes something—"
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on a freakin’ minute,” Wynn said, putting a hand softly on my arm. “Nobody invited anyone here to fuck you. Lane called to talk about the book project and I invited him here to meet Holden. Yes, I told him I was staying with Holden and his lady friend, Jude, but I never said, ‘hey come on down and get in line to fuck her’.”
“My lady friend?” Holden snorted, trying to lighten the mood. We looked at each other with the same question. What the heck was I to Holden and what the heck was he to me? How different from “girlfriend” was “lady friend”?
“Anyway, I did not invite him here to fuck you,” Wynn said. “Although I have to admit, I could not help but tell him what an amazing woman you are, both physically and mentally.”
“Oh, I’m sure he would be interested in my brain,” I said, huffing, rolling my eyes. “About as interested in it as you two jokers are.”
“Hey, I’m interested in your brain,” Wynn said with a smile of relief that my blood had stopped boiling.
“I love your brain,” Holden added. “It thinks up such interesting ways for the rest of your body to pass the time.”
I tried to act mad for a moment longer, but my lips betrayed me. I blew out a long breath and went back to my waffle. I couldn’t resist asking the most obvious question.
“So, Dr. Lane Curtis,” I said casually, as if I were just asking about the weather. “Does he do what you guys do?”
“What we do?” Holden asked.
“I mean, the gangbangs and the orgies,” I said. “Does he do that?”
Wynn’s lips curled into a devious smile. “Oh yes, Lane makes Holden and me look like rank amateurs when it comes to those things. In fact, Lane is famous for the things he does. Far more so than the two of us.”
“He holds orgies at his private resort in the woods,” Holden said, shaking his head as if he disapproved, but I knew otherwise.
I licked the syrup from my lips and watched Wynn’s eyes. “So… he may be interested in fucking… I mean…”
“In fucking you?” Wynn said, finishing my sentence. He sat back and sighed. “Oh yeah, he would definitely be interested in fucking you, missy.”
“The question is, would you be interested in fucking him,” Holden asked.
“Or would you be interested in fucking all three of us at the same time?” Wynn added. They both looked at me with raised eyebrows and naughty smiles.
I pondered the question for a minute. Would I be interested in fucking three gorg
eous men at the same time? How would that even work? Shit, back to the online porn for a little research…
I reached for the syrup as they watched my every move As I slathered the rest of my waffle in syrup, I smiled and said, “I guess we’ll have to just wait and see.”
Chapter Thirteen: Jude
After our late breakfast-early lunch, Wynn, Holden, and I were lounging on the sofa letting our bodies recover and our brains rest. Wynn was on one end of the couch with his long legs stretched out, his feet crossed at the ankles, heels resting on the coffee table, reading the Sunday morning paper.
Holden was on the other end of the couch in a similar position watching football on ESPN. I was lying between them with my head in Holden’s lap and my feet in Wynn’s crotch, wearing a short robe with nothing on underneath. Every now and then I’d grind my heel into Wynn’s cock just to let him know that I was not finished with him yet. He was leaving in twenty-four hours. I expected to get at least two or three more rides on his monster cock before he slipped away.
He set the paper aside and gave me a sideways smile. “Are you ready for more?” he asked, sliding his hand up my leg to tease my bare pussy, which was tired and sore, but ready for more. He rolled his thumb over my clit and slid his fingers between my moist lips. “Parts of you certainly are.”
“They certainly are,” I said, my heel grinding into his crotch. I felt his cock getting hard inside his boxers. I glanced up at Holden. “How about you, Professor Moss? Ready for round three?”
“Actually, it would be more like round ten,” Holden said, reaching inside my robe to cup my bare breast. My nipple swelled between his fingers.
I said, “Well then, why don’t we—”
Before I could finish my sentence, the doorbell rang. I noticed Wynn and Holden glance at each other, little smiles on their handsome faces, like two little boys sharing a funny secret.
Holden let go of my breast and said, “Jude, do you mind getting the door.”
“You want me to answer the door?” I asked, frowning.
“Well, we’re both are a little…” Holden gestured toward his crotch, then to Wynn’s. Their erections were poking through their pants like turtles trying to stick their heads out of their shells. Just the sight of them made me giggle.
“Fine,” I said, huffing as I rolled off the couch and cinched the robe around my waist to pad barefoot to the door. When I opened the door, there stood a mountain of a man so good looking that he made my jaw drop.
He looked like a football player, tall, broad-shouldered, muscles on top of muscles beneath the sport coat that he wore. His dark hair was cut short. His eyes were the color of blue ice. He had a Kennedy jawline and a Clooney smile. He stuck out his hand and gave me a look that made my knees wobble.
“Hey, I’m Dr. Lane Curtis,” he said, his hand closing around mine. Compared to my hand, his was the size of a catcher’s mitt. The moment his fingers closed around mine I felt a little chill run up my arm that made my nipples hard. “And you, you must be Jude.”
Chapter Fourteen: Lane
I know it sounds cliché, but my jaw literally dropped when the door opened and I first saw Jude standing there in the short pink, silk robe. She was tall, all tan and toned legs, voluptuous breasts, deep cleavage peaking at me from the top of the robe, and round hips that a man could really dig his fingers into. When she looked into my eyes I felt the breath catch in my chest.
She was naturally beautiful, even without makeup, with long blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders. She was truly a vision to behold. My cock twitched in my pants like a snake detecting prey.
She had a confused look on her face as she let me in the door. Wynn, wearing a pair of sweat pants with a big bulge in the front, greeted me with a firm handshake and a loose hug. He introduced me to Holden, who was wearing a pair of boxer shorts with a similar bulge. Obviously, I had just walked in on something that was about to get very interesting. I wondered if they’d be willing to let me take part.
After a few minutes of chit chat, Wynn and Holden disappeared down the hallway to get dressed, leaving me sitting at the kitchen table watching Jude. She had fixed four glasses of lemonade and set them on the table. I sipped mine and watched her from the corner of my eye. When she reached up into the cabinet for the sugar bowl, the short robe rode up and gave me a wonderful peak at her bare ass. My tongue darted between my lips and slid around for a moment. I was salivating at the sight of her. Wynn was right. This woman oozed sexuality. And she knew it. We both did.
“So,” Jude said, taking the seat to my right. “Dr. Lane Curtis.”
“So,” I said with a smile. “Miss Jude…”
“Allen,” she said. “Judith Allen. My friends call me Jude.”
“As in…”
“Don’t say it,” she said with a grin. Our eyes locked for a moment and we both knew what the other one was thinking. If I knew Wynn, he had already planted the possibility of their threesome becoming a foursome. I was up for anything, but I would prefer to have Jude to myself the first time to make sure we were compatible. Yes, sometimes you run across a girl who looks and acts like she’d be the best fuck of your life, but turned out to be like fucking a dead fish. I didn’t think Jude would be that way, but as Arianna was fond of saying, “You never knew how sweet the grapes until you’ve tasted the wine.” It was just a pretentious way of saying that you couldn’t know how good a lay a girl was until you tapped that ass.
“Hey, we hate to do this, but we’ve got to run out for a bit,” Holden said as he and Wynn came back into the kitchen, fully dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Holden was holding a set of car keys in his right hand.
Jude looked up, startled. “What? Why?”
“There’s some issue at the conference center,” Holden said. “We wrapped up things there last night, but apparently there’s a laptop and a projector that has gone missing and the manager of the Conner Center is losing his mind.” He leaned down to give Jude a kiss on the head. “Don’t worry. We won’t be long.”
Wynn moved in behind me and put his hands on my shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “Yeah, we won’t be gone long. Maybe an hour. Maybe two. I’ll text you when we’re heading back this way.”
Jude and I looked at each other for a moment. She smiled as Holden and Wynn went out the front door. We weren’t fools. We both knew what was happening. We were being left alone so we could get better acquainted.
“Well, could that have been any more obvious?” she asked, giving me a dreamy look that made me swallow the lump that had formed in my throat.
“I know,” I said, putting up my hands. “Look, Jude, I don’t know what those guys told you, but—”
“Just shut up,” she said, getting out of the chair, pushing it back with her legs. She tugged open the sash and pulled the robe back slowly to reveal her perfect body to me.
Her skin was flawless…
Large, firm breasts with dark areolas and nipples the size of the end of my little finger…
Her pussy was shaved clean…
Her long clit was plump and pink.
She came around the table and held out her hand.
“Come on, Dr. Lane Curtis,” she said, taking my hand. “We’ve just got an hour. Maybe two.”
Chapter Fourteen: Jude
Fine, call me a filthy slut all you want, but damn it, the one thing my time with Holden and Wynn has taught me is that life’s too short to beat around the bush—which is why you should always keep your bush trimmed and ready for action!
When you have a rich, handsome, hot guy sitting across the table with you, eyeing your tits like a kid in a candy store, licking his lips as he gazes into your eyes, you just have to take the bull by the horns—or the stud by the balls—and do what feels good. And I had a feeling that what Dr. Lane Curtis was about to do to me was going to feel freakin’ amazing.
I took Lane by the hand and pulled him out of the chair and into my arms. I pressed my naked body to his as his hands slid
around my waist and found my ass cheeks. His fingers dug in and lifted me up as if I didn’t weigh an ounce. He pulled me into the hard-on that was pushing through the front of his jeans. I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes to reach his lips.
He was huge, taller than Holden and broader than Wynn. His body was one big muscle, like a boulder beneath my hands. His mouth was warm and wet. He kissed me like a man dying of thirst, drinking from my lips, sucking on my tongue as if he were pulling sweet life from it.
“Wow, I didn’t expect this,” he said, sighing into my mouth. He looked into my eyes, just a few inches from his. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to pressure you.”
I smiled. Like Wynn and Holden, Lane actually gave a shit about what I wanted, about what I was willing to do. That alone was enough to make me want to fuck his brains out. It was so rare to meet a man who gave a shit about anything other than getting his own rocks off.
“Oh, trust me, I want to do this,” I said, my fingers pushing the sport coat off his broad shoulders. I started opening the buttons on his shirt. He was wearing some kind of cologne. A faint aroma of musk wafted off his bare skin when I opened his shirt. His muscled chest was shaved clean. His nipples hardened as my hands ran across them.