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The House of Erotica
Absolute Threesomes
Collection
Publisher Information
Absolute Threesomes - published in 2014
by House of Erotica
www.houseoferoticabooks.com
and imprint of Andrews UK Limited
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © House of Erotica 2014
The right of the authors to be identified as authors of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.
More Holes Than Jeans
By Sommer Marsden
The Gundersons entered the dining room in an invisible puff of Mrs. Gunderson’s perfume. It was a juicy fancy scent that made me turn my head and smile. I gave them a little finger wave and gathered menus from the hostess stand.
“Your favorite patrons,” Jory said through the kitchen window. He set a hot white plate up there for table four.
“They’re sweet. He’s funny as hell. I’ll grab that in a minute,” I said, nodding to the order. “Sherilee’s sneaking a smoke so I’ll run that out.”
“She was supposed to quit.”
“I was supposed to lose five pounds,” I said.
“From where? But I was supposed to lose twenty, so I hear you.” He rubbed his ample gut and laughed.
I hurried the menus over to the Gundersons. “There she is, our Amy. The prettiest girl in the joint,” Jeremiah Gunderson boomed and I actually felt myself blush. He was a big guy. Big shoulders, big arms, big voice. A shaved head and a small mustache, wolfish blue eyes and his left arm was tattooed to no end. A full sleeve that made me envious. I set the menus down.
“Hey, y’all. How goes the vacation?”
“Simply great. Wonderful,” Paula Gunderson said. Her big green eyes reminded me of a silent film actress, big and expressive. Her short black hair curved coyly around her chin as if flirting with her skin. She smiled and I couldn’t help but smile back. “We toured that spice factory and I am telling you, the smell coming off my clothes are making me hungry!” I’d guess Paula to be a few years older than her handsome husband.
Why my twenty-eight year old self was wondering about their ages was beyond me. Chalk it up to a couple crush as Sherliee called it. When you bonded with a couple who ate at the restaurant often. I had my first couple crush.
“We can fix that,” I told her. “We have a fried Rock Fish special that’ll knock your boots off,” I said.
“Careful, when the misses gets her boots knocked off anything can happen,” Jeremiah said and something in his tone made my belly buzz with a sudden shock of excitement. Odd.
“Well, it will. And the hand cut fries are enough to make you fall in love.”
“We’ll take two,” Jeremiah said and I glanced at Paula only to find her studying my jeans.
“Look at these jeans, daddy,” she said to Jeremiah, though I knew they had no kids. There was something oddly kinky and arousing about the way she called him daddy in public. “I swear, they are more holes than jeans,” she said softly.
“Casual Friday,” I managed, but suddenly I felt naked and ripe. I was tempted to cross my legs and cover my breasts though fully clothed in beat up boyfriend jeans and my required red Kaley’s Kookery polo.
“But girl, they are falling apart,” she said softly and with that, she slipped a perfectly manicured finger into a hole in the seat of my jeans. The tip of her finger stroked the pink satin of my panties and I held my breath, ears buzzing.
“Um...they’re pretty easy about the dress code on Fridays and the distressed look is...oh...” Her finger was drifting back and forth, back and forth, stroking my silken panties in a very subtle but undeniably way.
“Now you’ve gone and distracted my baby girl,” Jeremiah said in his big, big voice and so entranced was I, I actually jumped a little.
Paula laughed and swatted my ass gently just as Jory banged his counter bell to remind me of Sherliee’s abandoned order. “Coming!” I yelped.
“If you play your cards right” is what I thought I heard Paula say to her husband, but surely I hallucinated that part.
I scurried to deliver the quickly cooling plate and returned to the order window for the fish specials. “So, ya gonna do it?” Jory asked. His grin was one to rival the Cheshire cat.
“Gonna do what?” I asked, grabbing the plats and wincing at the heat.
“Them? The Gundersons?”
I let out a burble of laughter and then snorted. Which made me blush. “Do the Gundersons? Are you smoking something? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on. They are legendary,” Jory said and shoved a French fry into his mouth. “They come here every year.”
“And?”
“They come every year, vacation, pick up some hot girl here at the hotel and then have a little fling and leave. You must be the girl this year.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it so hard my teeth clacked. Jory grinned. “Don’t believe me?” he asked.
“No way. You are insane.”
“Go on then, Amy. Go take their food to them.” He turned his back on me but his shoulders shook as if he were laughing.
Ass.
“Here we go,” I said with shaky cheerfulness. My hands shook violently when I tried to set their platters down and Jeremiah grabbed my hand and guided it to his placemat.
My brain--demented as it was--imagined him taking my hand to guide it elsewhere. Say, his cock. Or his wife’s pussy. Or some combo deal of previous mentioned debauchery. I could feel twin flaming discs of heat on my cheeks and my heart had climbed somewhere around mid-throat. Damn that Jory. He was always fucking with me.
“Easy, Amy. You okay, girl?” Jeremiah asked.
“Fine, fine,” I nodded, smiled, nodded. I was like some damn diner bobblehead.
“I can’t get over these,” Paula said and I felt her slender finger work its way into a different shredded spot on my jeans. She hooked her finger in that hole and tugged just enough that it sent me off balance. Jeremiah grabbed my wrist and steadied me. I felt a warm slide of arousal in my panties, a flexing deep in my pussy that I only felt when I was turned on beyond belief.
Her poking and picking and prying and his strong steadying nature had me feeling dizzy and desperate and horny. Jory was a dead man.
“Sorry. Got a bit wobbly. Can I get you anything else?” I bit my tongue, waiting. Anticipating. Waiting for the men with butterfly nets and a nice white jacket with backward arms for me to wear.
“Now that you mention it,” said Paula. She had taken to stroking a ladder marked hole in the thigh of my jeans. Every time she stroked me I got wetter. Every time her fingernail scraped a trail on the faded denim I held my breath. “There is one thing.”
“What?” I asked. Ketchup? Napkins? Pepper?
“You,” Jeremiah said for his wife. He said it in at soft voice. The first time I’d heard him speak softly, so
I was sure I’d misheard him.
“Sorry?”
“He. Said. You.” Paula pushed her finger into a hole at the knee of my jeans and rubbed her fingertip over my now knocking knee.
“Oh,” I said, my eyes inadvertently going to the order counter. There stood Jory. Watching. Laughing. Gloating.
“If you are interest, dear sweet Amy,” Paula purred, “We’re in room 213, say sevenish? And we don’t bite.”
It was Jeremiah’s turn to lean in and he took my hand in a nearly fatherly gesture. “Unless you’re into that and you ask nicely.”
“Oh, daddy! Don’t scare her. I really want to have her come play with us.” Then Paula tucked into her dinner and said softly, “Think it over, honey.”
I nodded dumbly and rushed back to the break room. As I hustled past, hoping to miss him, Jory said “You gonna do it?”
I slammed the break room door behind me and surprised myself by whispering. “I don’t know.”
***
I knocked on the door at seven ten, I thought I might pass out. I had talked myself into and out of this whole thing a million times. All through my shift ending and my shower. While I slipped my beloved holey jeans back on since they seemed to enchant Paula Gunderson to no end. I had gone from dead set to wishy washy to elated to terrified of the whole situation.
But the bottom line was...I wanted to do it. So when the door to 213 opened, I felt a bit weak in the knees but stepped through the door when Jeremiah stepped back for me to enter.
“We weren’t sure if you’d be coming,” he said right up to my ear. The big booming voice absent for the moment, it threw me a bit.
“Me either. Until I knocked,” I admitted.
Paula emerged from the adjoining suite room, her white linen pants whispering softly in the quiet room. She handed me a glass of white wine and leaned in and kissed me on the lips.
Her lips tasted like the sweet wine and lip gloss. “There she is, daddy. And look, Amy wore my favorite dungarees.”
No one called jeans dungarees but my grandfather, but somehow her use of the word seemed foreign and sophisticated and marvelous.
I smiled, swigged my wine and before I could process, Paula Gunderson, dropped to her knees and started prodding my holes with her cool fingers. “Let’s see how many there are,” she said.
The sofa wheezed when Jeremiah dropped his bulk onto it and I think I wheezed myself as her fingers wormed into a hole near my right pocket. Her finger slipped inside my pants and rubbed the elastic along the edge of my panties. My pussy went wet, my vision went dim. I watched Jeremiah settle his hand on his zipper where an impressive bulge had grown.
I shut my eyes--but only for an instant--and felt her move onto the next shredded section of denim. Right by my left knee. “Here’s two,” Paula informed me, stroking my skin through the breach in my jeans. She leaned in and pressed her lipsticked mouth to my zipper and I felt heat seep through the denim and invade my pussy.
I shivered but I wasn’t cold. She’d leave lipstick rings on the crotch of my jeans. I didn’t care.
“And another!” Paula exclaimed, pulling back. Her fingers had taken a short trip to my hip where another frayed section yielded to her seeking fingers. “How can you wear these out in public, girl?” she laughed, greatly amused and a bit teasing.
“They’re my favorites,” I whispered, feeling lightheaded and praying for all I was worth that Paula Gunderson would say fuck the counting and take my jeans off of me. My body seemed to be jumping with each beat of my heart, eager for the feel of her mouth on me. Eager for someone to touch me. Eager, period.
“Might I make a suggestion?” Jeremiah said, his voice rich and deep, but tempered.
“Hmm?” Paula purred, slipping to fingers into a particularly big hole at the back of my left leg. She stroked the back of my knee and I jumped, made a small sound.
“Perhaps you could count the holes in her jeans later, baby. Our Amy looks...ready.” He chuckled deeply.
Understatement of the year. I was beyond ready.
Paula turned those green eyes on me and drawled. “Mmm-kay. I suppose.” Then her short navy blue fingernails tickled over the front of my zipper before she undid my pants. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath again until tiny white spots erupted in my vision.
“Take her pants all the way off, Paula,” Jeremiah directed. “Panties too.”
Paula obliged him and I shimmied my hips to help her along. I stood, bare from the waist down, my pale pink tee covering nothing below my belly button. I could see that Jeremiah was going to play director and Paula and I would be the players. For now.
“How’s that, daddy?”
He gave her a nod and she beamed. “How about you settle her in that chair there. Across from me. Push her down in that seat, baby.”
Paula nudged me back, scooting forward on her petite, sophisticated knees until my legs hit an overstuffed arm chair and my ass dropped into the seat.
“That’s good,” I heard his zipper.
My pussy grew wetter and my pulse pounded in my head so that everything seemed muffled. When Paula pulled my thighs wide, I let her. When she kissed up my inner thigh and my skin erupted in goose bumps, I touched her crow-black hair. When she blew on my pussy lips, the heat of her breath torturing my clit, I begged her. “You want it?” she asked.
I wanted to be pithy and say duh but instead I nodded maniacally and said, “Yes, god, yes. Yes, please.”
Good manners get you far.
She latched her glossed cherry lips to my pussy lips and sucked. Her cool fingers traveled up and over my tee, pinching my nipples through the thin fabric. She licked molten lines along my slit and nibbled my clit as I tried not to tug her hair out by the roots. Jeremiah kept his eyes on us. The sofa set for the perfect view. The primo seat. Front row, center to the girl on girl action.
“Put your fingers in her, baby,” he said
“Yes, daddy. I think she’d like that,” Paula whispered, her words vibrating up through my pelvis, setting me on edge. I could feel my orgasm rolling toward me like a great white wheel.
“Yes, she would,” I said and they both laughed.
“Go on, start with two,” he said.
Paula pushed her fingers deep into my cunt. So wet was I that she slipped in effortlessly. The pads of her thin fingers pressed my G-spot and I felt the first spasm slam through me. “She’s so, so, close,” Paula said conversationally. I could feel her wiggling and shifting between my legs. Her lips never stopping on my nether lips, but her whole body shifting and moving, seeking her own pleasure or relief.
“One more, then,” Jeremiah said. I watched him manhandle his cock with an easy assurance. A man watching a real life porn movie, starring me and his wife. A dirty, dirty porn movie that...
I came.
“Oh that is nice,” Paula said, pushing her fingers a bit deeper, sucking my clit a bit harder until I stopped jumping around and settled some. “She tastes like strawberries and pineapple,” she said.
“I don’t’ believe it,” Jeremiah said.
“She does!”
I watched them, realizing this as part of the scene. I was game. I could play.
“May I?” Jeremiah asked, rising. His cock poked eagerly through the open zipper of his pants.
“I...um...yeah.” I blushed but felt the flutter and bump of my excitement in my chest. “Sure.”
Paula settled on the sofa with a glass of white wine as her husband sank his girth between my legs. Only daddy had his own position in mind. He raised my legs high and settled my heels on the edge of the cushion. I was spread wide for him, bare and plump and I could tell by his gaze, that the ruddy look of my cunt turned him on. “Would you look at that?” he said to no one really. “You sure are a pretty one, Amy girl.”
Just as I opened my mouth to plead, he leaned in and gave my clit one slow, broad lick with the flat of his tongue. I jumped, my hips shooting up to meet his mouth and fast like a predator he slipped his hands under my ass and cradled me there, burying his face in my pussy where his wife had just been.
“He’s good at that,” Paula said to me and winked, her avid eyes never leaving us. She had pushed a hand down in her panties and it was moving slowly as she masturbated, watching her handsome husband go down on me.
Okay, so he was. He was good at it and I easily offered Jeremiah Gunderson an orgasm for the wet efforts of his tongue. He lapped at me, drinking me in and then turned to Paula. “Ya think?
She nodded, eyes shining. “If she’s up for it.”
“You up for it?” he asked, winking.
“What? Am I up for what?” Knowing deep down I was open for most stuff when it came to them. My couple crush came with orgasm capabilities.
“I’d like to fuck you, Amy. While my baby watches if that’s okay with you.”
I nodded, bit my lip, not trusting my voice.
Paula came forward, rolled a condom on her man, leaned over his shoulder and kissed me deeply. Her small warm tongue pushing against mine as she tasted my mouth. “Lucky girl,” she said.
My nipples peaked and Jeremiah took me in his big strong hands and turned me like a small toy he was positioning. He rested my belly over the back of the overstuffed chair, my calves braced against the arms. I felt the sheer size of him close in behind me, his energy like a brick wall at my back. “You’ve got such a nice ass, Amy,” he said, petting me. “Especially in those jeans.” Then he slipped into me inch by inch, stretching and filling me until all I could do was hang my head over the back of the chair. Defeated by arousal and want.
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