Luke crept closer, smiling enigmatically. Jacob’s hands went up under Avery’s soft, tight cotton sweater.
‘Expert?’ she moaned softly. ‘How big a slut do you think I am?’
‘Not as big as you’ll be in an hour,’ said Jacob.
Jacob’s hands went smoothly north. At first she thought he was just cupping her tits – then the shawl collar blinded her, as Jacob lifted it neatly over her head.
‘Oh God,’ she said nervously, her words muffled. She obediently put her arms up, letting him take off her sweater. Jacob tossed it on the couch. Luke moved closer.
‘You’re wearing my favourite bra,’ he said.
She could feel Jacob smirk behind her.
‘Nice one, isn’t it? She always wears it when she knows she’s gonna get laid.’
‘Are you two enjoying yourselves?’ she asked.
Behind her, Jacob got hold of her hands and gently held them behind her.
‘Now I am,’ he said, kissing her neck.
Avery stiffened; his lips on her neck combined with him sort of half-pinning her arms made her so fucking hot she couldn’t stand it. She sank into the sensation of Jacob kissing her as Luke moved in closer and looked her in the eyes. He reached for the clasp of her favourite bra – the thing was notoriously difficult to undo. Luke got it on the first try; Jacob let go of her hand to help Luke take it off of her, then reached down to unbutton her jeans.
The zipper stumped him, so Luke nudged Jacob’s fingers out of the way and pulled the zipper down. Avery could almost feel the sizzling energy from where their hands touched. Two straight guys partnering up to undress the girl they were both about to fuck; it was freaky for them. That was so fucking hot.
As Luke took over pants duty, Jacob moved his hands up to Avery’s tits; her eyes rolled back as he started gently working the nipples.
Luke lowered himself to his knees. He pulled Avery’s tight jeans down her thighs with some difficulty, peeling the tight fabric away – fuck, had she really worn those out in public? As he did, Jacob tipped her head back and kissed her, hard, his tongue easing into her mouth while his hands began to work her nipples.
She kicked off her wedge-heeled mules and let Luke lovingly ease her jeans over her feet; as she stepped out of them, she felt his tongue tracing its way up her thigh. Surprised, she squirmed a little, which put her more firmly in Jacob’s grasp. His big arms around her, he pinched her nipples more firmly, following the rhythms of her body. She writhed between them, feeling suddenly awkward. Jacob never let up kissing her deeply, and he never stopped working her nipples, building the pressure quickly until she was trembling with the intensity. Luke got hold of her slim, slutty thong and pulled it smoothly down her thighs. It was soaked.
How they made it to the futon, she’d never understand. It just sort of happened. Her two boys picked her up bodily, Jacob with his arms beneath her shoulders and his hands on her waist; Jacob with his palms across her buttocks, arms supporting her thighs. She felt like she was flying. As they settled her into Jacob’s lap, his hard-on pressed against her back. Luke took her panties off.
She let him take them, feeling a slight wave of panic as they slipped over her ankles and she was naked; she felt it acutely. Naked, pinned between two hot guys. She knew this simply couldn’t be happening – but here she was, naked between the two guys she was fucking. The two guys she was about to fuck. If she’d stopped to think for a moment, or been less buzzed, she never would have let it happen – thank God for fucking mimosas, she’d tell herself later.
Luke spread her legs. He bent down low; his tongue worked up over her thighs, nearing her cunt.
Before he could reach it, Jacob’s hand slid down and across Avery’s flat, tattooed belly and between her smooth-shaved thighs. Her lips, too, were smooth; she’d shaved for the occasion. In fact, she’d taken to shaving almost always; it vastly improved her life’s ratio of cunnilingus to fellatio, especially when Luke was around.
‘You like her shaved?’ purred Jacob in her ear as he caressed her smooth-soft lips and found her clit.
‘I fucking love her shaved,’ Luke answered, his breath against her cunt. ‘Like, fucking love.’
‘Me too,’ said Jacob. ‘It’s a guy thing.’
Luke lowered his face between Avery’s thighs and planted his mouth hard against her vulva. His tongue went sliding across Jacob’s fingers; Avery could feel the pressure of Jacob’s hand on her clit and the caress of Luke’s tongue gliding over her pussy-lips. They changed places and Jacob’s fingers eased inside her, stretching her tight, wet cunt gently while Luke began to lick her clit. Luke had always been a consummate pussyhound – making up for a somewhat sloppy technique with the fact that every lick was totally his gig – not for her pleasure. Most guys were willing, sometimes even eager. With Luke? He thought of little else. And when it came to technique, a loose-lipped, free-form style usually got the job done.
It also meant he wasn’t that careful about where his face was in relation to Jacob’s hand.
For a second, Avery thought Jacob was caressing his face.
Fuck, that was fucking pervy. What if– she started thinking; then, Fuck it. That’s not gonna happen. Unless–
The phrase was in her mouth before she could stop it: ‘Are you gonna kiss?’
‘Probably not,’ said Jacob.
Luke shook his head; it sent a shiver through her clit.
‘I’d kinda like it if you did,’ she blurted.
‘’Cause you’re a perv,’ said Jacob, matter-of-factly.
It was true. A shameless fag hag since adolescence, Avery got instantly wet whenever she thought of two guys doing it. The fact that she’d historically only ever slept with utterly straight dudes had been one of the tragedies of her life thus far.
But that wasn’t why she’d figured it was time to make a play for a threesome with Jacob and Luke. When she’d hatched her half-baked plan, she hadn’t thought for a second Jacob and Luke would obediently augment her turn-on by touching each other; in fact, she’d completely dismissed the possibility.
But Jacob did not remove his hand from Luke’s face. It looked fucking hot. She might have been prejudiced, sure, since Luke’s expert tongue was working her clit faster and faster as his hands reached up for her buttocks and the small of her back–
‘Not there, dude. Here.’ With his free hand, which a moment before had been pinching Avery’s nipples, Jacob took Luke’s hand and guided it up the curve of her buttocks, past her hips, to the place–
‘Oh fucking Jesus!’ she cried as Jacob’s firm guiding hand put Luke’s fingers right where Jacob loved to kiss her.
‘See? It’s special.’
Luke’s face came up from between her legs; he grinned salaciously.
‘Nice!’
Experimentally, he glided his fingertips in circles around That Fucking Spot, and Avery twisted.
‘No, don’t–’ she gasped.
‘No, don’t?’ asked Luke.
‘Or no, don’t stop?’ asked Jacob.
Luke’s fingers tickled her there; she twisted, writhed, cried out; Luke’s face descended between her legs again; he started licking her rhythmically as he caressed; it sent uneven spasms of tickling pleasure through her, but Luke wasn’t nearly as practised at it as Jacob. Once Jacob had spent an hour licking there – she had basically come, or something like it. Luke was doing a damn fine job; her eyes rolled way back into her head and she shivered, gently humping her body up against him. But he wasn’t the expert.
She felt Jacob’s hand at That Fucking Spot: big, strong, heavy. ‘Do that thing with her feet,’ he said. ‘I’ll take over with her back.’
‘Oh, fuck, fuck – fuck fuck fuck,’ she thundered. ‘No. No please–’ she didn’t know what she was saying; she writhed spasmodically between them.
Jacob turned her slightly, getting on his knees on the couch behind her, and spreading her legs so that Luke could get more firmly between her thighs. Jacob grabbe
d her hair. He arched her back. Jacob put his other hand down at That Spot – caressing, while pulling her hair gently, while biting her neck, gnawing, sucking, while Luke put his tongue on her clit, while Luke put his lips around the upper swell of her cunt lips, and did that thing he did; she’d never understand it – it was like a suck and a slurp, with a pressure somewhere no other guy could ever fucking find – and as he worked her clit Luke took her feet, one in each hand; he pushed them up to tip her vulva back at just the right angle, and each thumb found That Other Spot in the balls of her feet–
Avery screamed at the top of her lungs.
‘Bad scream or good scream?’ asked Jacob.
She made a ‘Gaaah!’ sound, writhing back and forth.
‘Good scream?’
‘Gaah!’
‘Bad scream.’
‘Gaaaah,’ she howled, and clawed at his thighs. She shut her eyes tight, the movements of her body going fucking crazy. If she hadn’t been pinned between two humans vastly bigger than she, she would have spazzed her way across the fucking living room, and probably poured out the window to slop onto Fifth Street. As it was, she was helpless between them – as they played her like an instrument, two virtuosos playing in different keys.
‘Good scream,’ sighed Jacob. Avery’s back arched; her belly undulated; her thighs shook; her head rolled against the tight hard grip of Jacob’s hand in her hair; they kept going. They just wouldn’t stop. Neither guy would let up. They worked every fucking erogenous zone she’d ever known she had, and a few she’d forgotten about, minus the two she could reach with her hands – which she started to do, totally shameless, planting her hands on her tits and working her nipples hard, pinching, prodding, squeezing, digging her fingernails into her flesh as she mounted toward–
‘Orgasm,’ said Jacob, matter-of-factly. ‘Our girl’s about to have an orgasm,’ said Jacob.
‘Our girl?’ said Luke, his voice thrumming through her pubic bone.
‘Our girl,’ said Jacob emphatically. He stopped gnawing on the back of her neck and tucked her upper body firmly into his arms, still holding his hair.
Then he kissed her. His tongue went in deep, thick and wet, stifling her moans as she mauled her own tits like a maddened little vixen. His mouth came off of hers with a big wet snap of spit, and she lapped at it, teeth working violently like she couldn’t get enough of him – them – of herself. Of fucking everything. She was crazed.
‘Come for us,’ purred Jacob, one hand pulling at her hair, the other gently caressing her face. Her eyes popped open wide and that was what did it; she’d looked into his eyes as she’d climaxed before – as creepy and Tantra as that sounds – but never like this. She came so hard she felt her fillings crack.
And neither boy had ever really heard her scream before. In fact, no human ever had; no creature had, except her cat. Which was not as dirty as it sounded; that is to say, when she came as hard as she came that day, it was usually vibrator-driven after hours of porn – and no one was listening, because Avery was always too embarrassed to seriously let go.
But this time, people were listening; two people, and probably the neighbours; possibly much of this city block and some of the next. She screamed anyway, at the top of her lungs, thrashing wildly back and forth until she had to push Luke’s face away and shut her thighs and beg them, ‘Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!’
‘Really stop this time?’ asked Jacob.
‘Uh,’ she said, and clutched him close. Luke took a seat on the couch, with her feet in his lap; she shot him a warning look and he grinned.
‘So, whuddaya say, dude?’ It was Jacob: the cheeky one.
She was so brain-dead from screaming and coming that she didn’t follow the innuendo, until after it was over. Even as Luke shot Jacob a sketchball look, she just lay there gaping and drooling.
‘She said it’d really turn her on,’ said Jacob.
Luke sighed.
‘Weird,’ he said. ‘Fucking weird.’
Jacob eased himself out from under her; he tucked pillows under her back and leant way over toward Luke.
‘Let’s try not to make it too gay,’ said Jacob, as he came in for the kiss.
And then his mouth was hard on Luke’s – not even tentative; not a girl-kiss; not even a girls-while-their-boyfriends-are-watching kiss. Just a kiss; a fucking open-mouthed, lots-of-tongue kind of kiss. And it lasted.
When their mouths came apart, there was spit. There was spit. Avery moaned.
Both boys looked at her, smiled, turned back; they kissed again, deep again, and Avery watched, gape-mouthed, moaning, wide-eyed.
It just came out of her mouth before she could stop it – in a low, soft, rapturous moan, rich with promise.
‘Oh, my God. Thank you. Thank you!’
They finished kissing and high-fived.
One of them said, ‘Let’s go to bed,’ and that was good enough for her.
The Untouchable Tabby
by Lana Fox
I was her student at college when we first met, and the way she fixed me with that sky-blue gaze I thought I saw whole worlds there. When she laughed, she did so lightly, as if she hadn’t a care, and I alone could see the sadness in her face. ‘Tabby is such fun,’ the other girls would chime. ‘The way she talks! What a cutie.’ But sensing Tabby’s wounds, I believed she ran far deeper. Like my father before he divorced my mum, Tabby possessed a kind of blackness, and this pulsed behind her flirtations in a low, sad beat. In her quirky pageboy caps and skinny, ribbed tops, which barely covered her pale breasts, she would scrawl spider diagrams on the board, calling, ‘Come on, darlings! More!’ and I always imagined her gasping those words in bed, and the thought would make me writhe in my seat. ‘Read the next paragraph,’ she’d tell me, with a cheeky wink, and I’d hear the others whispering, ‘Why does she always choose Val?’
Many years later, when I was home visiting my father, I bumped into Tabby in the post office queue. She was mailing a bright parcel with coloured balloons all over it – a birthday present for her niece, she said. Her hair, still short and curly, had gone from brown to cherub-blonde, and she wore a pair of black-rimmed, mock-preppy glasses. The little, slender lines on her face betrayed her age – late 30s, I decided – but she was still covered in those sweet brown freckles, which covered her cheeks, nose and throat. She was sucking a sweet that smelt of cherries, and it bulged behind her cheek as I invited her to visit. ‘Watch out, peach,’ she said, laying her hand on my arm. Her fingertips were cool. ‘You might get what you ask for.’
A couple of months later I received the call. Tabby said she was going to a conference in London, and her train made a stop in Leicester where I lived. Might she visit and take me out to dinner? It just so happened, I had two free tickets for the theatre that night. When I told Tabby, she agreed to come along.
I met her at the station, looking radiant, in a pair of curly pigtails with an armful of red roses. On the train platform, with the throngs passing by, she thrust the scented flowers towards me and gave me a quick kiss. When we embraced like old friends, she felt so slender beneath her top, with her breasts pressing against my own. Now our teacher-student barriers were lifted, I assumed we’d screw like we longed to, and when, in the car on our way to mine, she leant in close and touched my thigh, whispering, ‘This is nice, isn’t it?’ I took it as a come-on.
Back at my basement flat we had to change in a hurry. The play was starting in an hour, and we’d follow that with dinner. My bondage friend, Ray, phoned while Tabby was changing. Ray had been my sex-buddy for months and was part of the play we were going to see. ‘What’s cooking with the teach?’ he asked.
‘Kiss on the mouth. Red roses. Already groped my thigh.’
‘If that doesn’t spell fuck me,’ said Ray, ‘I’ll eat my own eyebrows.’
‘I’d say join us, but she might be kind of vanilla.’
‘She’s all yours, bad girl. Don’t torture her too hard.’
I went upstairs t
o use the bathroom, but paused on the landing outside. Tabby had left the door open and, with her back to me, was pulling a top over her head, while a pair of black, lace briefs cupped her tight freckled buttocks, the scalloped edge sinking seductively into the cleft. And dear mother of fuck, those thighs! Lean and glossy as if she’d rubbed herself with oil! There I stood, gobsmacked, in my little black number, thirsting to lick and grind ... and as if this wasn’t enough, when Tabby glanced back across her shoulder, smoothing the flared white dress about her hips, I saw no shock in her heavy-lidded eyes. Instead, she looked up with a sexy pout, and winked as she slammed the door, leaving a blast of tantalising scent.
In my room, I sent Ray a text. Caught her changing. She’s wearing lacy knickers.
He replied, Slut needs a spanking.
But for all my bravado, I sensed something wasn’t right. Don’t be silly, I told myself. You deserve this. Enjoy it. So I applied my own perfume, which Ray called bitch’s blend, dabbing my pulsepoints before spraying my auburn hair.
As I blew a kiss at the mirror, I jumped to see Tabby behind me. With her hair still in curly, blonde pigtails and her lips slicked with transparent gloss, she was wearing a Marilyn-style halterneck dress, white, like the starlet’s, and plunging, revealing a lightly freckled cleavage. She looked so hot she made me catch my breath.
Leaning against my doorframe, she said, ‘Come on, sweetie. We’re late.’
In the auditorium, I hardly watched the play. Ray, who was the translator for folks who were deaf, was signing with his hands while mouthing the lines. His face, which had always been riotously expressive, seemed far more alive than the actors’, and the way he gestured with his hands made me remember how he smacked my naked buttocks once a week, or teased me with his fingertips as they slid around the edge of my slit.
The play was Twelfth Night, my favourite of Shakespeare’s, but as time went on I became more taken with the way the light danced across Tabby’s face, glancing off the shiny lips and brightening the blue eyes. I was enchanted by her scent and the way she laughed, dropping back her head; yet when I laced my fingers through her own, she turned to me, alarmed, before pulling her hand away.
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