by Violet Blue
I’d never seen two men kiss before.
The man with Simon was less classically good looking, but a few inches taller, and as blond as Simon was dark. His black trousers and white shirt outlined an equally muscular build. Lips and tongues moved in perfect harmony, merging and separating in an erotic dance, and their arms were wrapped tight around each other. I’d fantasized about watching two men kiss, but to see it for real… I wasn’t surprised when my body responded. My breasts became full and tight, and my nipples ached. Moisture trickled between my legs as the hard peaks rubbed against the silk, growing harder with each accidental touch. When I looked down, I could see them straining against the material, like little twin soldiers standing to attention. Oh, how badly I wanted to touch them.
But my attention was diverted by what the men were doing. Simon’s head was thrown back, and pleasure was written all over his face as the other man squeezed his nipples through the shirt.
“Paul…” Simon moaned, and the man smiled.
“You’re so turned on already. Did you see your hot little friend today?” Paul’s voice was deep, inviting and in total control. I was so seduced by it, at first I didn’t realize what he was saying.
Simon nodded. “She was out shopping.”
“I thought so. Seeing her always has this effect on you.” He unbuttoned Simon’s shirt and found his nipples again.
Simon shuddered and pressed closer to Paul. “She’s so…cute. I can’t help it.”
I couldn’t believe it. They were talking about me. I squeezed both my nipples desperately, and twin darts of pleasure shot straight to my groin. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted Simon’s large, calloused hands on my breasts, cupping and stroking. Paul’s mouth on my stomach, edging lower…
Simon moaned, and I remembered where I was. A real-life fantasy was being acted out in front of me. My imaginings could wait.
Paul was speaking: “…told her about us yet? I know how much you want to confess the horny details.” One finger was stroking up and down the bulge in Simon’s jeans, and Simon’s whole body was trembling.
“Please.”
“Imagine it. She’s so turned on. Her nipples are so tight and hard, and she’s moaning so beautifully. You can’t resist teasing them with your tongue, just for a moment. Yes, she likes that. Just a bit longer.”
Paul’s fingers were now inside the jeans, his hand wrapped around Simon’s cock, and Simon’s hips were bucking helplessly. He was nearing climax. I could tell from his face. I slipped a hand under my dress as Paul’s hypnotic voice continued the fantasy.
“Her breasts are so plump and soft, even through the material. You need to see them, don’t you? Quivering and eager, with hard, brown nipples. Such a naughty girl, not wearing a bra, but you’re so excited, you don’t care. You want your hands slick and wet, rubbing moisture all over those tits. You want to press them together so you can slide your cock in between them, trapping it in that slick passage as she squeezes her own nipples in excitement, watching you move back and forth, back and forth….”
My fingers were echoing his words, one hand on my breast and the other moving eagerly over my clit. I was close. And so was Simon.
Suddenly, Paul withdrew his hand and stepped back. Simon staggered for a moment, then recovered enough to glare at Paul. “What the hell are you doing?”
Paul met his gaze calmly, but I could see the bulge at his groin. “Punishing a bad boy for having such wicked thoughts about a close friend. She’d be horrified if she knew. I think…yes. A good spanking will do. Get undressed, but keep the briefs on.”
Simon licked his lips. “A spanking?”
Paul sat down on the bed, his eyes doing the talking. Standing up is supposed to be a position of power, but all the control was in Paul’s hands, and both men knew it. I never doubted what Simon would do.
He undid the last few buttons on his shirt, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms rippled invitingly as it dropped to the floor. Shoes and socks followed, and then he eased the jeans over his swollen cock and down strong, muscular thighs. The jeans joined the pile on the floor, and he looked at Paul.
Paul’s arms fastened round Simon’s waist as he placed him facedown across his lap.
“I feel stupid,” Simon muttered, and I wanted to laugh. But only for a moment. Paul’s hand came down sharply in response, and the slap was very loud in the silent room. Simon gasped.
“Again?” Paul asked, and Simon nodded.
The hand came down once more, and Paul started counting. “Two, three, four, five…” Simon was squirming, and each slap was punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. His erection was rubbing against Paul’s groin, and watching their faces as their cocks rubbed together was driving me crazy.
I braced myself against the wall and my fingers found my clit. The picture of the two men in the next room was imprinted on my mind, and their aroused grunts and moans could be clearly heard. I flicked my clit faster and faster. I was going to come. Then the noises had stopped. Had they climaxed already? Damn it, I wanted to come with them. I opened my eyes.
Paul was lounging in the bathroom doorway, watching me with a smile on his face. “Don’t stop on my account,” he urged. Then, as I just stared at him in mounting horror, he said, “Do you have a name?”
I swallowed. “Would you believe me if I said no?”
“Jeanie, is that you?” Simon exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”
I closed my eyes, but opened them again when Paul chuckled. “So, you’re Simon’s hot little friend.” He eyed my heaving breasts with masculine appreciation. “Hot, definitely,” he murmured. “But little…certainly not.”
My nerve broke. “Excuse me,” I gasped, and ran for the door. I hoped to dash past before he could react, but he clasped my arms and swung me round to face him. His grip was firm, but his voice was gentle.
“You can’t leave now, we’re just getting to the good part. Simon will be so disappointed. Maybe I can persuade you to stay….”
His lips closed over mine, and my clit pulsed. They were warm and soft, coaxing me to respond, and his hands felt so strong. His tongue was slow and sure as it teased my lips, and they instinctively parted. His erection nudged my thigh and I wiggled eagerly, trying to get closer.
Another hard, male body was suddenly pressed against me from behind, and another pair of warm lips was trailing kisses down my neck. How did he know my neck was so sensitive? It felt divine, and I melted into their arms.
“Was this Lindsay’s idea?” Simon whispered in my ear.
I nodded.
“I must remember to thank her.”
Paul raised his head. “Indeed. But as stunning as you are in that outfit, it needs to come off.” He dealt with the fastenings in seconds. Clearly, it wasn’t his first time.
I stepped out of it, and nervously turned to face them.
“Beautiful,” Paul breathed, and Simon’s eyes echoed him silently. I blushed, aware I was grinning like an idiot, but unable to help it.
Paul gently removed my glasses and placed them on the windowsill. Then he put his hand on my stomach. “I’d love to explore these curves, but Simon’s about to explode.”
“I can last a bit longer,” Simon said quietly, his eyes fixed on my jutting nipples.
“In that case…” Paul took my hand and led me to the bed, lying down on it and pulling me down next to him. “I’m going to play with your tits, and I’m sure Simon wants to join me.”
I shuddered with delight as Simon joined us on the bed, one man on each side of me. Every caress, every look spoke of desire. I’d never felt so sexy, or so turned on. Simon’s touch was softer than Paul’s, less expert, but just as arousing. My nipples were stroked and teased, and the pleasure intensified when hands were replaced by mouths. Soft, warm lips suckled at each breast, and I got wetter and wetter. One dark head and one blond were framed against my fair skin, and the visual contrast was incredible. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
Paul kissed slowly down from my breast to my stomach, where he lingered until I was begging him to move lower. I tried to force his head where I wanted it, but he resisted, and then Simon caught my wrists and pinned them to the bed. I meant to tell him to let go, but I kept forgetting, and finally I realized I didn’t want him to.
Paul kissed all the way down to my foot, and suckled each toe in turn before licking an unhurried path up the inside of my leg. The back of my knee was given special attention, and by the time he reached my thigh, I was desperate. The evil snake used his tongue carefully in the crease at the top, then switched to the other leg and began the whole process again. “Bastard,” I hissed, and he dared to laugh.
Simon was enjoying my excitement. He let go of my wrists, pressed my breasts together, and took both nipples into his mouth at once. It felt great, and he’d somehow lost his briefs along the way so his erection was rubbing frantically against my thigh. That felt even better.
I stroked his hair with one hand and sent the other exploring. There were small male nipples that were deliciously sensitive, sleek muscles and soft, springy hair to discover. His penis was stiff and swollen, but velvety soft. I wanted more.
He was grunting and thrusting into my hand. I tugged his head away from my breasts and looked into his eyes. “Please,” I whispered, and tried to guide him sideways. He moved quickly once he realized what I wanted. Soon he was flat on his back on the bed, angled slightly so I could reach his groin, his feet pointing past my head. Paul was just sucking on my little toe, and I took all my frustration out on Simon. Payback can be such a bitch.
Simon’s eyes burned with lust as my fingers teased his inner thighs. I savored the warm satin and his erection strained toward me, but it would have to wait a bit longer. I rolled his balls tenderly in the palms of my hands, and he sighed with pleasure.
Paul’s mouth, which had been edging toward my thigh, stopped. “What a great idea,” I heard him say, but was too distracted to look. I leaned forward, wrapped a hand around Simon’s cock, and took the head into my mouth. He tasted of sweet salt and male arousal, and smelled like Simon. His hips thrust faster and faster, and I felt him lift his head to watch. He was enjoying the show.
There was movement to the side of me near Simon—Paul’s legs and lower body were wiggling about in my peripheral vision. Finally he relaxed on the bed. His cock was erect and straight, and the tip twitched as his hand idly caressed it. Simon’s cock was swelling and throbbing in my mouth, and I knew he was watching Paul touch himself. Then Paul’s tongue returned to my thigh, and my pussy flooded. Damn, I wanted to come. But Paul again refused to speed up—until, that is, Simon’s mouth closed round his cock. That was what Paul’s maneuvering had been for. His tongue slipped a little toward my muff, but resumed its teasing. Simon was clearly used to giving head, and from the look on his face, he loved it. I certainly loved watching him.
Paul’s tongue was still tormenting the top of my thigh, and I’d had enough. Paul seemed quite prepared to stay there all night.
I started sucking Simon’s cock in earnest, rhythmically stroking the shaft, and almost immediately it had the desired effect. Simon’s increased arousal was passed on to Paul through the mouth clamped round his cock, and Paul faltered. I took his head in my hands and urged it toward my pussy.
He tried to resist, but I think the scent of my arousal drew him on, and after his first taste, he was hooked. His hands parted the soft folds and his tongue began to probe inside. I trembled as he flicked my clit over and over again. It was a delicious chain reaction, and I wanted it to last forever, but of course it couldn’t. Pleasure was quivering along every nerve, and I was too close to the edge. Simon was thrusting faster and faster into my mouth, but my eyes were fixed on his tongue wrapped around Paul’s cock, and the look on his face as he teased and coaxed Paul to climax.
Pressure built inside me with every flick of Simon’s tongue I glimpsed, and with every corresponding suck Paul gave to my clit. Their grunts of arousal and their harsh breathing was the sweetest of music, and their excitement was irresistible. I came fast and hard, and the peak was so intense, I almost forgot where I was. But Simon still hadn’t come, and his moans were getting desperate.
I ran my nails lightly down his perineum, that responsive area of skin between balls and anus, and squeezed his shaft with my other hand. He shouted my name as his seed spurted into my mouth, and I swallowed without thinking, claiming my prize. A few seconds later, Paul’s cries joined ours, and I couldn’t stop trembling as I watched Simon swallow as eagerly as I had.
When I recovered, my head was cushioned on Simon’s thigh, and Paul’s head was resting on mine. Simon’s head was in a similar position on Paul’s stomach.
Paul’s stomach was flat and beautifully toned and gazing at it, I felt all my insecurities come flooding back, but I refused to let them ruin the moment. The men loved my curves, they’d made that clear, and besides, there had to be enough of me to go round. There were two of them.
My clit pulsed, and I smiled. Even the thought was exciting. A spark of light caught my eye, and I looked over to see the three of us reflected in the distant bathroom mirror, all curves and soft edges in the shadows. “How beautiful,” I whispered. “A perfect triangle.” Then I giggled. “A sex triangle.”
Paul stirred and planted a gentle kiss on my stomach. “Not a sex triangle,” he corrected sleepily. “A love triangle.”
Simon murmured in agreement. My heart swelled as I looked at them, and I was still smiling when sleep claimed me, lured by the warm contentment that surrounded us.
Lindsay never lets me forget that it was all her idea. Simon and Paul treat her like a beloved younger sister—much to her pretended disgust. She knows they would never look at another woman except me, and what on earth would make me want to look at other men?
They will insist on giving me chocolates. They say I need the calories to replace the ones we burn up together. Once I suggested dieting, and they threatened to throw the diet sheets out the window. “One of the first places you’ll lose it from is your breasts,” Simon said fervently. “No way.”
It’s nice to be appreciated. Though if any of us does put on weight, we’ll all have a hell of a time fitting on the bed, huge as it is. Lindsay joked we should replace all the furniture with a gigantic wall-to-wall bed that takes up the whole room.
Now there’s a thought.
HET CATS
Jean Roberta
The call of the saxophone pulled me into the room. The notes were brazenly sly, with a vibrating undertone that slid under my midnight-blue halter top with the built-in bra and the clingy sarong skirt that was supposed to make me look like a Wild Woman from the Tropics, even though the outfit matched. I licked my crimson lips and pushed my wavy chestnut hair out of my eyes.
“Hey, girlfriend!” sang Barry in my ear, over the insinuations of the horn, the tinkle of the keyboard, the bump-and-grind of the drums. He pulled me close by sliding a hand around my furthest hip, taking his time. I knew without looking that the warm hand leaving invisible tracks on me was lightly-furred, bold-knuckled and neatly manicured. I shifted my weight, teasing him with my haunches. “Love the color, Lee,” he teased back. “You’re finally learning what goes with your skin.” So bitchy, so Barry.
Spotting one of his favorite young men, he called, “Hey, twink! Who’s your daddy?” As the last note from the saxophone left me hanging, Barry moved away without a backward glance. As he casually showed me his back, I noticed the tight leather that encased his narrow male butt. Did anyone besides bikers wear leather in the 1950s? I made a note to myself to look it up. I touched my metal garters through the shamelessly synthetic fabric of my skirt; they were as authentic as I could find.
The band kicked into a high-energy rock song about a second chance at love. I needed a dance partner, someone to seduce in classic style at Fifties Nite in the queer bar.
Gail, my ex from several years ago, was standing at the ba
r in a Dick Tracy suit and fedora, her hand on the back of a woman in a full, polka-dot skirt and frizzy blonde hair. “Gail!” I announced, touching her shoulder. She turned, looked and grinned before she spoke; that was a good sign. I smiled at her companion, who looked uneasy.
The lead male singer and horn player was clutching a mike as though he wanted to make out with it. He looked like a Mike himself. “Bay-bees,” he crooned, “all you hepcats and kitties in jiveland, we’re gonna rock you one more time and then take a break and we’ll be right back atcha. I’m your big daddy Eugene, and our lovely lady here is Joo-dy”—she smirked to a drumroll and a chorus of wolf whistles—“and our man on the skins is boppin’ Bob”—ba-dum!—“and here’s Len on geetar”—twangg—“and Reg on the keys.” A pair of hands rolled smoothly over the keyboard from low to high. “We all drink Molson because We Are Canadian.”
“Wooo!” answered the audience closest to the stage. I recognized Barry’s baritone.
He never needed a mike, and I couldn’t lose track of him as long as he was making noise. I knew he liked to sing, and I wondered if I could ever get him to do it just for me.
“Dance with me, Lee, you hussy,” chuckled Gail, reaching for me as she patted her date reassuringly. We moved to the dance floor in synch, like old friends, even as I remembered why I had broken up with her: her double-bind games. She had a way of showing me off, then blaming me for attracting too much attention, especially from the wrong people. I wasn’t planning to stop now.
Gail could jive as though she had lived through be-bop first-hand. She twirled me and swung me, and I welcomed the distraction. I could still keep up with her.
Barry was dancing beside me with his twink of the moment, watching me. He was swiveling his hips and moving his shoulders, showing me his moves as though I cared. The boy followed Barry’s eyes, then gave me the patronizing smile of a senior to a freshman. Obviously he thought I was no threat: only a chick.