There’s a robe behind the door, Melissa told the boy, and as we continued our bath, sudsing each other up, cleaning and scrubbing, the boy undressed slowly and slipped into the robe. Poor thing – he couldn’t resist the urge to stroke himself as he watched. “Better be careful,” Melissa said to him. You don’t want to . . .” But it was too late, he was too worked up; he came in several big spurts.
“Tsk, tsk,” said Melissa as she and I climbed out of the tub. “But of course at your age . . . it won’t take long, will it?”
She kissed him, then kissed me, and said, “We’ll just have to put on a show for him, won’t we – to help him along.” And so we dried each other in big, fluffy bathtowels and put a little powder on each other, doing everything very slowly and sweetly, showing off for the waiter, and then we went into the bedroom and sat the boy down in the easy chair where he could watch, and we dropped our towels and climbed into Melissa’s bed and Melissa went to work on me.
She was truly inspired. She laid me on my back and used her hands and mouth on my face, my breasts, my belly, the insides of my thighs; in fact she used her whole body, now rubbing and sliding her flesh against mine, now lifting away and tracing my contours with her nipples until I was squirming and writhing with joy and desire. And then she scooted down and put her mouth around my pussy and pushed her tongue between my pussy-lips and found my clit. She licked, she sucked, she nipped, and she was wonderful. I raised my ass up off the bed and pushed my centre against her, the better to feel her tongue pressing my clitoris back into the pelvic bone. Oh, the noises I made!
When she saw that I was close to coming she slowed down, eased up to prolong the fun. She turned me over onto my stomach, massaged my back and the insides of my thighs, kissed my buttocks and licked between them, and darted her tongue under, dabbing at my cunt again, prodding me up, up again, towards my peak, and then she laid down flat on top of me, pressed her tits into my back and pushed her pubic hair into the flesh of my ass and kissed me on my neck and licked my ears.
As I started to tremble Melissa reached under me and took hold of my tits, put her legs inside mine and hooked my ankles with her feet and suddenly, quickly, turned us both over.
Now we were both face up, with me on top, Melissa’s hands on my tits holding me against her, her ankles inside mine pushing my legs apart. And then I got it, I understood: she had gotten me into position and locked me there, spread-eagled and exposed, open and ready.
And sure enough, as soon I realized it, the waiter was there, climbing onto the bed, kneeling between my legs, looming. Inside my head I was saying, “No! no! Stop this, I’ve got to stop this, no . . .” But when I saw him move at me with his prick in his hand, ready to go, I knew I couldn’t get away and didn’t want to get away: I wanted to feel that prick more than I wanted him to stop.
The waiter placed his cock-head at my niche; Melissa squeezed my tits and raised our legs to cross over his calves. I was fully committed now: not only did I not resist; I thrust my hips upwards to capture the waiter’s invading prick.
The second his fat cock-head pushed through my lips and entered my channel, I came. I kept on coming, coming in great spastic clenchings, and so the entire fuck was contained within my orgasms. The waiter drove into me like a piston, his cock rockhard and strong and unstoppable, each down-plunge filling me up and keeping me coming. Sharp pangs of pleasure – stripes of ecstasy – streaked from my womb and coursed through my innards, galvanizing my flesh, sparking my nerve endings, singeing the very tips of my nipples and fingers and toes. It was all peak and no valley and it made me crazy: I thrashed, I bucked, I grabbed, grabbed any way I could, with my fingers, with my cunt-walls, fucking him back as hard as he fucked me.
The orgasm never faded, just kept rolling, but there was only so much bucking and clenching my body could do before I started to cramp, and eventually the pain overtook the pleasure and I had to stop. I tried to push him away or squirm free but I was trapped between him and Melissa, and all I could do was reach my hand down and pull the waiter’s cock out of me. I wanted to bend it downwards and back and put it in Melissa, but the waiter, panicked to find himself close to coming but bobbing unsheathed, momentarily eased up and I scampered out from between them, and he placed his cock himself and plunged into Melissa.
I lay on my side beside them, took his balls in my hand and held them gently as he fucked her, and I looked at her face and she looked at mine and we kept our eyes locked like that, even as the waiter started coming, and as he shot inside her, she smiled at me.
I was first to move. I got up off the bed and went to the bathroom. I won’t say that I was disgusted with myself, although I’m sure that on some deep level I was, but I was defensive; my thoughts ran to, “Okay, great, now I’ve done it, I fucked another man, big deal, it was great, the greatest fuck of my life, and I’m going to fuck again because I loved it and I want more and what difference does it make?” When thoughts of Doc flashed in my head I told myself he’d pushed me into this, which wasn’t all there was to it, but it was true to the extent that he wanted me to keep it going with Melissa no matter what. This was a what.
When I got back to the bed Melissa was on her hands and knees sucking the waiter’s diminished but not hopeless cock, and she looked at me and kept sucking him, taking him full inside her mouth, fucking him with her lips and bathing him with her tongue, but watching me, all the while looking straight at me, until at last he came, shooting into Melissa’s mouth.
From there on it was a debauch. I called home and said I was spending the night at Melissa’s – which was fine with Doc, of course. Melissa and I fucked each other while the waiter slept, and took turns fucking him when he woke up. I kept drinking wine and passed out.
At around midnight I woke up being fucked. Great, let’s get going, and I was into it. But as I fucked I became aware that the bed was shaking more than it should have been and the moaning and groaning and giggling contained too many voices. I opened my eyes and there beside were Melissa and the waiter fucking.
Who was fucking me, for God’s sake?
I looked up and saw someone I’d never seen before. “Oh, God I’m lost,” I thought as I thrashed and writhed beneath the stranger. Lost, as I lifted my ass up to meet his plunging prick. This was a first, even for me. The first time I lay eyes on somebody is while he’s laying me. Lost lost lost, as I fucked and fucked and fucked the night away.
Seems that while I slept the waiter had called a friend to come over, to even out the numbers. Melissa’s suggestion, no doubt.
Since we’d used Melissa’s car the day before, she had to drive me home in the morning.
During the ride I told her I thought we had to stop. I loved her, she was my friend, but I felt I was becoming somebody I didn’t want to be.
And it was true. I’m the first to admit that sexually there’s not much I won’t do. I love sex; to me it’s the greatest of all amusement park rides. But Doc is my honey and I love him and I won’t betray him. And I just had.
“And loved it,” Melissa said.
“Yes,” I said, “I loved fucking the waiter, loved the way it felt physically, loved fucking his friend, loved fucking you, but talk about amusement park rides, that’s all that night was – thrilling, but only thrilling, and when it was over, empty.”
“Like us?” she asked.
“You know better than that,” I said.
She was quiet for a while, then she took an audio cassette from her handbag and slipped it into the player.
It was a recording of Melissa and Doc, in bed, fucking, sucking, laughing, having a fine and dirty old time.
I didn’t say anything or shut it off. I let it play. It was still playing when we got to my house and I got out.
And that was that.
The funny thing is, I think our friendship could have survived but for one thing: that tape. Doesn’t that sound odd? She fucked my husband behind my back; okay, that’s Melissa, I could’ve lived with that. She did all in her power t
o make me betray my husband, and she succeeded, but somehow I think that wasn’t malicious: it was her way of showing me I was no better than she was.
But making that audio tape – she did that for one reason only: to hurt me. And it did.
Melissa tried me first, then Doc. When we both rejected her, she punished us by proving to us, separately, that we were both as capable of betrayal as she was.
Of course we were. Of course we are. Big deal. Betrayal’s our exception, not our rule. We’re together. She’s alone.
Eventually I told Doc about the waiter. Eventually he told me about his fucking Melissa alone. And – no question about it – the admissions caused pain and strain for a while. But we got past it – not by blaming Melissa, but by realizing what we knew down deep all along: that indulging our lust for her was going to cost us something.
I still miss the friend she was, though. I really loved her. And when I think about what happened, I don’t regret anything, because early along, our threesome gave me some of the sexiest, hottest, most loving moments of my life.
A few times after we all three became lovers, we would go down to Doc’s and my bedroom, and instead of getting into bed with Doc and Melissa I’d plop myself down in the chair and say, “Okay you two, never mind me, go to it!” And I’d watch them. I would watch them undress each other. I would watch him go down on her. I would watch her blow him. I would watch them fuck. Now and then they’d look my way and I’d say, “No, I’m not here, forget me.” And they would. And you know what? They were the hottest, most stimulating sight I’d ever seen. I loved watching them. I loved the sight of her lips on his cock and his tongue on her clit and his cock pumping merrily in and out of her pussy. And lord, how I loved watching them come, Doc shooting his cream into her in great spastic jerkings, Melissa tossing her legs straight up in the air when she started to peak, heaving her hips upward, slamming her pelvis against Doc’s to make sure her cunt captured every available cock inch. Eventually I would join them, and love it, but it’s the watching I remember best, the watching that got me hot, the watching that put images in my memory that get me hot even now.
My husband and my best friend, fucking each other. Nothing ever made me hotter. Or happier.
3 One Night
Sarah wakes up in a champagne fog with questions:
Where is she?
Is it night or day?
Is she drunk or hung over?
Is she dreaming or is this real?
Whose mouth is eating her pussy?
The pleasures generated by that mouth make it hard to concentrate on anything else but, in addition to pleasure, Sarah feels something a little like panic because in fact she doesn’t know where she is, or if it’s night or day, or if she’s drunk or hung over, or whether or not she’s dreaming . . .
And then it begins to come back to her: how she and her husband – already tipsy – took another cold bottle of champagne and walked along the beach until they found a nice little niche in the dunes; how they’d cuddled and smooched like teenagers; how when she was sucking his cock they’d heard a titter, looked up, and found they had an audience: a young couple, beautiful, maybe twenty, as tipsy as she and her husband.
Don’t let us stop you, the boy had said, and Sarah had giggled and said, with a mouthful of cock, I won’t, but after another suck or two she’d stopped, self-conscious.
The kids had joined them in the dune, and they’d all chatted and shared the champagne, which was soon gone. Her husband went back to the house for more, and in his absence the boy and girl kept talking with Sarah but couldn’t keep their hands off each other. At one point the girl’s halter top fell away and her tits tumbled free, plump and white, and at the same time her hand disappeared into the boy’s fly and reappeared with a stiff white cock. A minute later the girl went up onto her knees and framed the cock with her down-pointing tits, then engulfed the cock with her mouth . . .
It is coming back to her, but recollections are mixed with sensations of the present as Sarah draws her knees up and turns them outward and lifts her hips to better access her cunt to the mouth making love to it – a mouth she knows is not her husband’s: it’s different, doing different things . . .
She is in her own bedroom, she knows that now, and it is still night. Does she remember returning to the house?
And this is no dream.
She’d watched the girl suck the boy’s cock, and at one point the girl had stopped sucking and offered the cock to Sarah. Sarah had simply sat in place, her eyes on the cock, but hadn’t moved, and the girl had resumed sucking. A few minutes later, with the cock bobbing and trembling and swollen to its grandest, the girl had offered it again, and this time Sarah had felt a hand behind her head, urging her to do it – her husband’s. And she had: she’d gotten to her knees and lowered her mouth and taken the boy’s cock in her mouth and tasted it all around, and then returned it to the girl . . .
She feels fingertips caressing her hips as the tongue caresses her clit, and then the fingers slide round to her ass and fingernails score her buttocks – long fingernails – and Sarah is sure now of what she has been suspecting: that her present lover is the girl.
She remembers drinking more champagne. She remembers watching the young couple escalate from sucking to fucking. She remembers admiring the boy’s lean body lying on the girl, his tight round ass clenching as he pumped his fine young prick into her pussy. She remembers liking the way the girl flattened her heels beside his knees and used them for leverage, raising her hips to match his downward plunges, and then, when the boy was about to come, wrapping her legs around his thighs and clamping him to her as he shot. She remembers watching the boy thrash and twitch and drain into the girl, then roll off onto his back, exhausted, and she remembers the girl, spreadeagled on the sand, still unsatisfied, masturbating . . .
And Sarah remembers the look in her husband’s eye as he watched the girl.
Sarah tosses her head from side to side as the girl lavishes her pussy with her tongue, knowing, as only a woman can know, where and how. Sarah tightens her fingers and realizes – or has she known all along? – that she has a hard cock in each hand, and she strokes them . . .
“You want to fuck her, don’t you?” Sarah remembers saying to her husband as they watched the girl on the beach separate her cunt-lips with the fingers of one hand and expose her clit to the ministrations of her other hand. She remembers her husband nodding, and she remembers saying, “Then fuck her . . .” and she remembers taking the girl’s hands from her crotch and urging her husband to his knees between the girl’s legs, and she remembers saying, “Go on, fuck her,” and he did . . .
Sarah trembles as soft waves of pleasure ripple outwards from her womb; but just as they start her lover abandons her clit and cunt and slides up along her body, kissing her stomach, her tits, her neck, her mouth . . .
She remembers the four of them swimming naked in the surf, and then all their hands on her, all over her, caressing her. Her turn. Everyone had come but Sarah. But that’s all she remembers.
They must have brought her here. Home.
The girl flattens her plump tits against Sarah’s tits, presses her pussy against Sarah’s pussy, explores Sarah’s inner mouth with her cunt-flavoured tongue, and Sarah kisses her back, lifting her middle upwards the better to match the labial mesh of flesh and hairs, trying to continue the climb started when the girl was eating her.
Then, as if reading Sarah’s mind, the men slide their cocks from her fists and rearrange the girl, turn her around so that the girl’s face returns, blessedly, to Sarah’s cunt, and the girl’s pussy lowers to Sarah’s face. Sarah takes the girl’s buttocks in her hands and pulls her down so Sarah can eat the girl as the girl eats her. Once again waves of pleasure begin rippling from deep inside Sarah’s cunt, the waves take her to the shore, to the edge, she’s going to come . . .
And on the very edge, virtually as she tightens in advance of her first orgasmic spasm, the girl lifts her face
from Sarah’s pussy and lifts her pussy from Sarah’s mouth and departs, but there is no abandonment here, no frustration – the interruption is only temporary, only momentary – for when the girl crawls aside, she is instantly replaced by the boy, who lowers himself between Sarah’s legs and with one smooth stroke slides his rock-hard cock into her wet, hot cunt.
As soon as he enters her Sarah comes at last – oh, how she comes! – and thus the whole, glorious fuck is contained within an orgasm. The boy fucks Sarah – oh, how he fucks her! – with long, even, pistonlike plunges of his big, hard, youthful prick, each thrust of the shaft stretching and filling her cunt until the bulbous crown taps her womb and stirs the hot, lavalike liquids there; then it vacates, then fills her up again, each in and out an ecstatic journey, each penetration a prod activating her every muscle, awakening her every nerve-ending. The pit of her stomach clenches and contracts with an exquisite cramp that shoots tremors outwards and upwards, inside and out, up into her stomach and tits and head, down through her cunt-walls and clit and all over her skin. This is no mere orgasm, it is the climax of the climax, and it keeps coming, coming, turning her into a thrashing, gripping, chattering organism.
“Comecomecomecome on,” she cries out. “Oh, fuck me, fuck me, ride me, keep coming, fuckfuckoh, God, fuck me . . .” and she wraps her arms around his back and clamps him down against her and wraps her legs around his and kicks the heels of her feet into the back of his legs and against his ass as he fucks her and fucks her and fucks her until at last she asks him to stop, begs him to stop, not because she’s done – she could come forever – but because it hurts, she needs to rest, just for a minute, a moment, Oh, please, stop but wait, wait, wait . . .
And he stops.
She clamps him to her, keeping his cock inside and, with his cock still fully implanted, the boy gently takes hold of Sarah’s buttocks and turns himself and Sarah over until they have reversed positions and he lies flat on his back and she lies on top of him, his cock undisturbed.
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