Billionaire: Menage: Swinger: Let's Swing (MMF Bisexual Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Short Stories)

by Piquette Fontaine

  But Jeff was shaking his head. “We’d know if they were in the house. I think there are just more of them. They’re accumulating, or something.”

  She passed a hand over her face tiredly, letting her fingers toy with her long, frizzy red braid. “Well can’t they fuck off so we can get some sleep?”

  Jeff laughed again. She felt him shift his body closer to hers, and his knee brushed her thigh. They sat in an easy silence, their sides pressed against one another, as they listened to the cacophony of the mindless drone beneath them.

  “I don’t think Andrew is fucking someone else,” Jeff murmured.

  Now it was Casey’s turn to laugh softly, her head turned towards him so she wouldn’t wake Max. (God forbid.) “He absolutely is,” she whispered back, “but thank you for saying that.”

  All at once, she was aware of how close Jeff’s face was to hers, and of the warm air passing through the space between them. There was just enough light in the attic room to fall softly on his long eyelashes, casting faint shadows down his cheek. Casey gulped, watching his dark eyes travel across the planes of her face. She moved her fingers on her shins and let them brush his skin.

  “I,” she said, not knowing where she was going with this sentence, her heart hammering in her chest.

  “Case,” Jeff replied, and maybe he didn’t know what he was saying, either. Their faces were so close. Their mouths were even closer.

  The house shook as another wave of zombies washed up against the wooden siding. Casey couldn’t help but gasp.

  “We should go to sleep,” said Jeff. He moved away from her and curled onto his side.

  Casey sighed. “Yeah. Probably.”

  She laid her head down and stared at the ceiling, trying to think about anything but why her heart was still beating so hard.

  Day 6 of the zombie apocalypse. The undead threw themselves against the sides of the house, while upstairs, boarded in the attic, Casey frowned. The boys waited anxiously, watching her as she studied the situation laid out in front of her. The zombies screamed outside, but none of the three roommates seemed to notice. Finally she groaned in frustration and laid down the set of cards in her hand. “Fine. Fine. Yes, I have two Queens. You’re an asshole.”

  Max whooped, whirling his discarded t-shirt above his head in circles. “Take a shot and lose the pants, Red,” he hollered. “You’re just bleeding cards.”

  “I fucking hate Go Fish,” Casey muttered. She’d already lost her shirt, and now she’d be down to her underwear. Meanwhile, Max had only lost his shirt, and Jeff a pair of sweaty gym socks. How were these assholes bad at washing dishes and functioning as people, but so good at Go Fish? She reached into the center of the circle, took up the bottle of whiskey and the shot glass, and swallowed down her third shot of the night with a grimace. Then she obediently undid the zipper on her jeans and pulled them down to her ankles. She looked down, trying to remember which pair of underwear she was wearing, and groaned again when she realized it was her pair of Wonder Woman boy briefs. Jesus. She could have put on any other pair of underwear that morning while Jeff made baked beans on the camping stove for breakfast. It could have been those purple lacy ones, or at least something made for a woman. Casey felt her face burn in humiliation as Jeff and Max let their eyes run up and down her pale, freckled legs to the incriminating pair of underwear. ax fell back, laughing so hard his chest muscles rippled.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Red?” he panted gleefully. “Wonder Woman?”

  Jeff’s dark eyes slid up to her own. “I think it’s hot,” he said, and grabbing the bottle from her hand, he took a long swig while he held her gaze. Casey felt a grin tug at the corners of her mouth. Max rolled his eyes. He turned to Jeff.

  “Got any fives?” he asked slyly. Jeff narrowed his eyes.

  “Goddamn cheater,” he growled, and threw the card at Max’s forehead. Max caught the card easily and gestured at Max’s pants. “No pants for you either, champ.”

  Jeff tossed his blonde hair off his face, took a shot, and stood up. He let his jeans fall easily from his jutting hipbones, exposing the long, lean calves and thighs of a former soccer player and a pair of white briefs that stretched over what Casey could tell was an impressive bulge. She could feel her clit beginning to flutter and she stared up at the ceiling instead. She wouldn’t give this philandering idiot roommate of hers the satisfaction of knowing she was turned on by the sight of his barely clad body.

  Max leaned back onto a heap of sleeping bags, a smug look of contentment on his face. “Alrighty now,” he drawled. “Let me see.” He studied the wealth of cards in his hand with mock severity, and even though the (barely) sober, reasonable part of Casey’s brain knew that this was just a dumb card game they were playing to stave off the real terror that was banging and moaning against the doors downstairs, her palms began to sweat. What if he asked for her last remaining 3?

  “Red,” said Max, his eyes drifting down over the soft cups of her breasts and her stomach to her Wonder Woman underpants. Casey glared at him. He smirked. “Got any Jacks?”

  “Ha!” Casey cried triumphantly, her arms pumping up into the air. “Lose the pants, Max, I gave all my Jacks to Jeff!”

  Max’s face crumpled into a grimace. He let his cards fall from his hand and, sighing, he leaned back and unzipped his own jeans. Then he looked right at Casey, his green eyes flickering strangely, and began pulling the pant legs down his long legs. She could feel her face burning with embarrassment and something else she wasn’t willing to acknowledge. Of course Max was wearing gray, soft boxers that flowed around the hard lines of his body. They were probably made of some kind of special bamboo silk or something equally annoying and luxurious. Casey tried desperately not to admire his legs and the large cock evident beneath the thin material, but his legs were just so impossibly long and browned. God, she must be drunker than she thought. Max lifted the shot glass to his lips and licked the rim. Casey looked down at the pile of blankets beneath them. Sober up, sober up, sober up, she said to herself.

  Jeff threw down his cards. “I’m sick of playing Go Fish,” he said, drawling more and more the drunker he got. His eyes flashed. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

  Casey put up a freckled hand in protest. “Only if no one dares anyone to go downstairs and get eaten by zombies,” she said, hiccuping. “That just seems like a dick move to me.”

  The boys nodded solemnly. “Agreed.”

  “Truth or Dare,” Jeff shot at Max. Max shook his head and took another shot.

  “Dare, asshole,” he said, a pearl of whiskey at the corner of his mouth.

  Jeff grinned. “I dare you to get completely naked.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Wow. Very creative, Jeff. I’m so impressed with your intellectual prowess.”

  “Do it,” Jeff hooted. “Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!”

  Max rose unsteadily to his feet. Slowly, like a sinuous cat, he let the fabric of his cotton t-shirt rise inch by inch over his head until his muscled chest was bare, the shirt falling to the floor. Casey realized she’d never really looked at Max’s body before. Being a massage therapist really had its perks, she thought to herself drunkenly. Max tossed a wink in Jeff’s direction. “That was for you,” he said to him, slurring a little. Then his green eyes found Casey’s again.

  “And this,” he said, his thumbs hooked around the dark waistband of his obnoxiously dreamy undergarments, “is for you, Red.” He slid the fabric down his legs and his large, half-hard cock sprung free into the open. It was an impressive member, thick and veined and begging for her mouth to come lick it until it stood on its own, shining and ready to plunge into her… Casey felt an immediate rush of heat down into her groin. She desperately clenched her fists in the blankets. They were too drunk. They were all too drunk for this game, and, for that matter, for any part of what was happening right now.

  Jeff looked back and forth between Max and Casey, a conflicted look on his face as though he could feel the he
at passing between them. Then he, too, got up from his nest of whiskey bottles and cards. “Fuck this,” he said, and slid his briefs down to his ankles. And now for a second time, Casey was faced with another impossibly beautiful cock, rising and bending upwards, soft and pink and long and smooth, and if she could just get her tongue to lick up and down its length and ready it to be stuffed inside her… Casey violently shook her blushing head and took another gulp from the bottle of whiskey resting by her ankle.

  “You trying to compete with me, Jeffery?” Max said, looking at him sideways. Jeff jutted his square jaw in Max’s direction.

  “Don’t think it’d be much of a competition,” Jeff replied, shrugging, and the motion made his member bob up and down. Casey’s ears blazed as she realized she was wet, and it would probably soak through her stupid Wonder Woman underpants at any moment.

  Max glared at Jeff. “Truth or Dare,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Jeff glared back. “Dare,” he said.

  Max snarled, “I dare you to a jerk off contest.”

  “What,” Casey choked. “What. No. What. You. No.”

  But Jeff gave Max a hard look. “How would you even evaluate that?”

  “Red can judge,” Max shrugged.

  “No,” said Casey helplessly. “For fuck’s sake, what are you even…”

  Jeff’s mouth was set in a hard line. “Done.”

  Max rifled through several boxes surrounding them and extricated a bottle of lotion. He squeezed some into his hand and tossed the bottle at Jeff, who caught it easily and gave himself a large dollop.

  “What the fuck are you doing,” Casey demanded. “What is happening. This is so deeply weird and fucked up and can you please just both sit down and put your pants back on and we can go back to the part where we aren’t insane? Why are you doing this? What is this about?”

  Jeff’s hand was poised above his quivering cock. Max gave Casey a glare that burned a path through the air.

  “Come on, Red,” he said. “You know what this is about.”

  “What…” Casey said again, not comprehending his meaning. But then suddenly it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered – not the zombies downstairs, nor the fact that they were trapped in their attic for the unforeseeable future – because the two boys, with a final glower, began stroking their cocks. Casey’s mouth fell open. They were really doing this. And she was going to watch. She was beyond the point of mortification now: her underwear was soaked with the juices flooding her folds, and she could feel her clit throb.

  This was… this was hot. Max, ever the massage therapist, had a way of stroking himself that was slow and sensual, his fingers trailing along the veins that bulged in the wide shaft. He pumped at himself so slowly, it was as if Casey could feel the pressure building inside his thick, shining member. The head glimmered with tiny white pearls of pre-come that dribbled down the sides into the coarse, dark hair that curled around his ball sacs. Casey felt herself begin to rock her pelvis against the floor, letting the friction of her underwear rubbing against her clit push her into a rhythm that matched Max’s sure, steady hand. Jeff, on the other hand, pulled on his length with quick movements that slipped and slid over the long, pink member that was now slick with lotion. Casey could see his muscular chest ripple with each brutal movement of his rough hand, his green eyes bright and his mouth open. Casey rubbed her clit harder against the floor. She couldn’t help but think of the two of them filling each and every one of her holes, coming inside her mouth, letting her swallow their salty white come… Fuck it. She reached a hand down and began stroking a finger against her folds and her button of pleasure through the fabric of her underwear, and before she could stop herself, she was moaning with pleasure of her own.

  Without stopping their movements, Max and Jeff looked over at Casey. She knew she should feel embarrassed that her idiot roommates were watching her rub at herself while they jerked off, and maybe it was the whiskey or the impending doom that stank of death and refused to stop screaming down below, but Casey didn’t give a fuck anymore. She pushed aside the fabric of her underwear to where her dark entrance hid beneath a puff of curly red pubic hair and let her fingernails drag up and down along her hot, slick folds. Jeff grunted and tugged harder at his cock, which now bent in a curving line up against his stomach. Max’s mouth fell open and, moaning, he brought up his other hand to flick at the purpled head. The sight of their hands increasing their pressure and speed made Casey hum with pleasure, and she let one finger trail around the circular space surrounding her opening.

  “Do it, Red,” Max hissed, his eyes on her cunt in a way that suggested he wanted to eat her alive. Shivering, Casey thrust her own finger inside herself. She was tight and soft and familiar inside, and she couldn’t help but add a second finger, and then a third.

  “Jesus Christ, Case,” Jeff gasped, his hand flying up and down his cock.

  Casey, panting with pleasure and greedily drinking in the sight of these two boys masturbating to her body, brought a hand to her chest. She pulled her full, ample breasts from her bra and tweaked her soft, pink nipples, eliciting a sharp cry from her own mouth and grunts from the boys. She pushed her fingers in and out of her cunt, letting them slam against her walls and scrabble at the softness. Max mirrored her movements and picked up speed, his hand making smacking sounds as it slammed up and down his engorged member. Jeff licked his lips and thrust in and out of his own hand. The sounds of the three of them gasping and pumping and sliding filled the room, until none of them noticed or cared about the zombies down below. Suddenly Casey saw come beading on the twin sets of aroused heads.

  “Come on my tits,” she cried.

  Max and Jeff gave her identical sets of incredulous looks.

  “I said,” Casey snapped, “come on my tits. Come on my fucking tits, you goddamned idiots, I want to wear your hot jizz and lick it up so fucking come on my tits right now.”

  The two boys stumbled towards her, their cocks in their hands leading the rest of their bodies. Casey rubbed at her clit frantically with one hand and jammed her fingers in and out of her cunt with the other, watching two hands pump at two magnificent throbbing erections, sweat pooling between her breasts, the zombies distantly groaning and her own urgent cries rising louder and louder and suddenly streams of warm, salty come were spilling down onto her nipples and her pale, freckled skin and catching in the dip in her throat and dripping in a viscous trail down her stomach, and the thickness of it and the warmth were so overwhelming she found she could do nothing else but throw her head back and feel her whole body seize as orgasms wracked her from head to toe…

  When Max, Jeff, and Casey woke up the next morning, they noticed three things.

  One: zombies had filled the entire neighborhood. They were completely surrounded by the undead. If they’d had any notion of escaping, that notion was now dead.

  Two: their food supply couldn’t last them forever.

  Three: they were all very naked, crusted with come, and hung over.

  None of them said much of anything for the rest of the day.

  Day 12 of the zombie apocalypse. They hadn’t really spoken since the drunk Truth or Dare night. Considering there were only three of them in this damn attic, it was quite a feat to never make eye contact or speak or even touch one another. Casey was ready to murder both of them. They sat in a silent circle and opened three cans of beans for dinner. Max reached across Jeff to grab the can opener. When he accidentally brushed Jeff’s thigh, Jeff jumped.

  “Don’t touch me, dude,” Jeff muttered as he shoveled black beans from their can into his mouth.

  “Didn’t mean to, dude,” Max replied. He jabbed the can opener into the tin and began twisting the knob to make it cut the top of the can clean off. Casey rolled her eyes, waiting for her turn. Max held the can opener to Casey without looking at her. Suddenly, Casey wanted to punch him in the jaw. She snatched the can opener from his hand and punched him in the bicep.

  “Ah, what the fuck, Red,
” Max snapped, rubbing his arm but keeping his eyes carefully down.

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Casey sighed. “Will the two of you look at me?” Jeff and Max looked at her sideways. Whatever. It was better than nothing.

  “We were drunk,” she began. “We were exhausted. Zombies had been pounding non-stop on our walls for days. There’s nothing else to do. Whatever excuse you need to feel better about whatever the hell happened that night, use it and get the fuck over it. We’re trapped in here indefinitely and I’m sick of playing ’99 Bottles of Beer On the Wall’ by myself.”

  Jeff finally turned and looked at her full on, his bright eyes catching flecks of sunlight from the one window in the attic. “You don’t feel weird about it,” he said. Casey wasn’t sure if he was asking her or making a statement of observation; either way, she refused to feel weird about it. She refused to think about it, because every time she had glimpses of what had happened she started to feel the familiar heat pooling in her belly and her hips began to grind against the floor in…unhelpful…ways.

  Max turned to look at her too, and now she had two sets of eyes and two startlingly beautiful faces examining her every movement and reaction. Casey tried hard not to gulp.

  “You’ve got some freaky tendencies, Red,” Max smirked. “Coming on your tits…”

  “Stop!” Casey pursed her lips and tried to breath deeply through her nose. “Stop. We’re not doing that. We’re not acting like there are other options for entertainment here. We can do crossword puzzles, we can play cards, and we can jerk off. We don’t get to be embarrassed in this tiny attic. And by the way,” she added, “no one is pairing off with anyone, or we’re going to kill each other, and that doesn’t seem like where we want this year of our lives to go. Am I right?”

  “Always the boss,” Max muttered, but a genuine smile was forming on his face. It was quite arresting, actually. Casey couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him smile in a way that wasn’t meant to be ironic or mean. She caught herself staring at the corners of his mouth that were turning up in interesting ways, and shook her head slightly. She turned to Jeff and was surprised to find he was looking at her in a way she could only call “tenderly,” his eyes soft and a small dimple catching in the corner of his cheek. Casey’s heart started fluttering. Good Lord, cut it out, Casey, she thought firmly. This is strictly about survival. Get with the program. Be professional or something.