You were surprised when you got the invitation. It was from a friend you’d met traveling, more of an acquaintance than a friend by the time he sent it. You would have RSVP’d with your regrets and best wishes, but you knew I’d never been to that part of the country before, and thought it might be fun to take me. It was an early wedding and reception, pretty light on the food and definitely light on the booze. We decided we might as well remedy the situation at our hotel bar before turning in for the night.
When we get to the bar there is a young man sitting there, dressed nicely and looking sweet but bored. You ask him what he’s in town for and he mentions his work. You know the company, and start discussing what he does. He lights up when he realizes you have some overlap, and the conversation wanders easily between the three of us over several drinks. He can’t look away from you when you speak, and I don’t blame him- I spent years trying to hide how much I wanted to look at you, and this guy isn’t even trying to disguise how much he enjoys it. He only ever glances at me though, unsure of how long to linger, pretending not to notice how short my dress is, the length of exposed legs.
I like to watch his face when he can’t see me. I love how excited he is by our attention, especially yours. If he felt down before, he now feels like the most charming person in the room- all of his stories are fascinating, his jokes are hilarious, he doesn’t know or care what time it is. This is a thing that happens to us sometimes, we make people feel good about themselves, special, like they’re shining a little brighter. The two of us have an energy that is almost tangible, a sort of force. Something so vast and vivid that we don’t mind sharing it with other people once in a while. We are happy to give it. We couldn’t restrain it if we tried.
Once we realize the bar is closing, you order a bottle for our room and invite our new friend up to drink with us. He’s happy to oblige, unwilling to end the night just yet. We collapse onto a large L-shaped sofa, you’re on one side and I’m next to him, my bare feet tucked beneath me, leaning against the arm of the couch. He seems a little nervous being that close to me, and I like that about him. After a few more drinks and some more conversation, you ask me to grab you a glass of water. When I set down the glass you ask him if he thinks I’m attractive. His eyes dart between us for a moment, wondering if this is some sort of trick, and he says “of course,” quietly. You ask if he’d like me to take my dress off. He turns bright red, and starts to say that it’s ok, I don’t need to do anything like that but you tell him you think I would like to. You ask me if I want to take off my dress, and I nod. I tell him I want to, but it’s alright, if he doesn’t want to see me I don’t have to take anything off. He looks at me, for the first time truly holding my gaze, and says “I do. I want to see you.”
I unzip my dress, letting it fall around my feet. I’m wearing a black strapless bra, panties that are lace and mesh. I am pretty sure you can see through them a little- enough to make out the small triangle of dark hair above the bare, smooth slit. When I notice you looking there, and his eyes looking everywhere else, I know that you can. You tell me to take off my bra too, so I unclasp it and let that fall away from my body as well. Whether from excitement or the light breeze of the air conditioning, you watch my nipples become hard, and you laugh a little. Lightly. You’re pleased. You ask him if he’d like to touch me.
This time he asks you if you’re sure it’s ok. You smile in an encouraging way- a way to let him know that of course it’s ok- and tell him to go ahead, knock himself out. He approaches me cautiously, reaching out to feel my skin, grazing my breasts lightly at first, fingers tracing my nipples, unsure of how firm or gentle he should be with me. You tell him I love having my tits played with, that he doesn’t need to be so careful. You get up from the couch and move behind me, cupping me in your hands. “Like this,” you say, and tug my nipples suddenly, firmly. I gasp because I wasn’t expecting it, so you do it again, harder. You tell him you can guarantee I’m wet now, if I wasn’t already, but we both know I already was. You tell him to check. He says nothing but looks at me for permission so I nod.
He slips his hand into my panties, his fingers probing, slick after easily discovering how aroused I am. He slides one inside of me carefully, and then another, I feel tight around them. He moves them in and out of me. You’re kissing my neck and back and still teasing my nipples, gently and then harder again. I find I’m subconsciously moving with his hand, pressing back as he fucks me with his fingers. He goes a little faster and so do I, my breathing is getting shorter and quicker, my chest rising and falling in your hands. I’m fucking close. But you know that, you always know, so you drop your hands away suddenly and grab his wrist. “She isn’t allowed to cum yet,” you inform him, and while still holding his wrist you slide his fingers out of me. He’s unsure of what to do with how wet they are. You make the decision for him, lifting his hand to my mouth. You want me to clean myself off of them. I draw his fingers into my mouth one at a time, lightly sucking each one. I taste both sweet and salty, and I don’t know what is me and what is his skin. I also know the fingers are an instruction, what you want me to do next, so I kneel down between you both.
You unzip your pants first, ask if he wants me to help with his. He says it’s ok. Your dick is out first, closest to my face, and so I run my tongue down it. His cock is cute, flushed and firm and smaller than yours. Someone might describe it as non-threatening, but only if they mistook you as the kind of person who could feel threatened. You aren’t. You know exactly how grateful I am for your body. You feel it every time I take you in my mouth, press you into the back of my throat, try to fill myself with you. I move my hand up and down his shaft while I suck you, even pause to tease his balls a little. He giggles, and I’m sure he’s embarrassed by that but it’s sweet. You squeeze my shoulder, a sign for me to switch.
I take your hard, wet cock in my hand and bring his into my mouth. I move up and down both of you together, glancing up to see if he’s watching me or you. He is without a doubt following my hand moving along your dick, and this turns me on even more so I go faster. You ask him if he wants me to make him cum or if he wants to fuck around some more. He is struggling with this one, I can tell, so I flick him a little with my tongue. Say more, I hope. “More could be fun,” he says. I am trying to send you a secret message, some psychic note that this one was a good find when out of the blue he asks you if he can taste me. You raise your eyebrows, almost proud of his now active participation, “I’m sure she’d love that.”
You instruct me to pull off my panties and make me walk over to the bed in front of you both. You have me lie back on it, opening my legs. You tell me to open them wider, that I have a beautiful pussy and I should stop acting shy about it. I open them wider, wet and dark pink and glistening. I’m completely exposed. This time he’s the one to let out a slight laugh, surprising us both again. “This night is fucking great,” he says in wonderment. He comes over to the bed, kisses down my thighs. His tongue finds my clit and I have to admit, the guy knows what he’s doing, quickly figuring out which speed and pressure I respond best to. It feels incredible, but you know it’s hard for me to cum like this sometimes.
It’s such a specific, almost delicate feeling for me, like I’m floating, and I need to be grounded. You tell him how to ground me. “Fuck her with your fingers too,” you say gently. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know. He listens and moves them inside of me, pacing them with his tongue. I am so close now. I look at you for permission and you smile, tell me to go ahead. I arch my back and dig my fingers into the sheets. If it was you I’d be running them through your hair, my nails digging into your shoulder. But he’s not you so I don’t touch him, just let the orgasm run through me, contracting around his fingers while it reaches out to every part of my body before finding it’s way back home.
I’m breathless afterwards, slightly damp with sweat. I realize I’m the only one of us who is naked. You give me a moment to recover, tell him to undress and ask if he needs a condom. He does, so you tell him where to find them. You come up to me and kiss my arm, ask me if I’m ready or if I need more time. I’m ready.
I watch you while you strip. It’s my favorite thing to do. I see that he’s staring at you as well, eyes wandering down your chest and your back as you turn to set clothes aside, shamelessly watching you remove your pants, eager to see your legs, your ass, your cock again. He was right. This night is fucking great.
You grab a pillow off the couch and sit on the floor, reclining back against it with a knee up. You tell me to come to you, get on all fours on the rug, so I do. You tell him, simply, straightforward, that he’s going to fuck me from behind. He has no complaints, not a goddamn word or chuckle this time. I take you in my mouth as he pushes into me carefully, slowly at first. The harder he pushes into me the deeper I take you in. He’s grabbing my ass and I know he’s looking at me, his thumb presses against me and for a second I’m terrified he’s going to try to enter me that way so I tense, but he doesn’t, he just squeezes my ass hard and swears and we both know he’s done. He pulls out, says he’s going to clean up. When he leaves you lift my head, kiss me, and tell me I’m not done being fucked yet.
I lie back on the rug, wrap my legs around you while you guide your bare dick inside of me. I am always surprised by just how good it feels, that moment. Like it’s brand new no matter how many times we’ve done it. We move together like this, I grab on to you tightly when you slide your hand under me to angle my hips. I kiss your mouth, your shoulder, say your name when I’m almost there. I close my eyes but you tell me to open them. To look at you. We keep our eyes locked when we cum, watching them while you empty yourself into me. We don’t care that someone else is watching too. We don’t even remember he’s there.