M.U.F.F.

Content notice:

The following story contains depictions of negative body image, weight stigma, and diet talk.

I’ve done my best to portray these issues with empathy and sensitivity. Beauty comes in every size, and a joyous, fulfilling sex life is the privilege of anyone who wants one.

That said, if you’re someone who prefers to avoid such things altogether, you might try one of my other stories instead.

The characters depicted in the following story are all 18 or above. One of the themes involves sexual liaisons between young adult women and much older adults in a position of relative power over them.

The inclusion of this theme is for storytelling purposes only. It is not a comment on the advisability of such relationships in real life.

The Author

~

M.U.F.F., Part XI

It’s early morning when I leave Alex’s house. She walks me out to my car.

On the front walk, under the orange glow of the street lights, I broach the subject of Jack’s party to her.

I tell her, “It’s going to be me, Darla, a half dozen guys, possibly their spouses.”

I almost tell her that I’m not sure there would be anything for her to do there.

But I know there’ll be plenty.

“What kind of guys?” she says.

“I’m not sure. Middle-aged for the most part. Anywhere from 60s down to maybe 30s.”

“Do you know them?”

“I’ve probably known most of them.”

She mulls this over, and decides that, yes, she would like to go. Just to see what it’s all about.

She opens my car door for me. I get in. She closes the door and I start the car.

Before she turns to go back inside, I roll down my window.

“You’re going to have to watch me have sex with someone else,” I warn.

She smiles. “I know.”

~

That afternoon, Alex has her tea date with Courtney, the bookstore woman.

Meanwhile, I’m on a date with a guy I met online–Michael. Tall, dark, athletic, mid 20s. A regular date, not a booking.

When he shows up at the coffee shop, he’s significantly more casual than me.

I’m wearing a men’s button-down shirt with short sleeves, unbuttoned to show my cleavage, knotted just above the waist to show a hint of belly. I have on tight black slacks that flare a little at the ankles.

Underneath, I have on a matching black lace demi bra, boy short panties, high-waisted garter belt, and thigh high stockings. All fitted.

He has on a long t-shirt and sweatpants, which at least are reasonably slim-fitting. When he walks in, I could have seen the outline of his cock from space.

We have a nice coffee date.

We’ve exchanged about a dozen coded phrases in which he makes clear that he wants to get out of here and fuck me, and I make clear that I would like very much for that to happen.

We take my car. His apartment is about 10 minutes away.

When we get there, there’s another guy there, who could be Michael’s fraternal twin. He’s sitting at the end of the couch.

“Austin, Beth,” Michael says. “Beth, Austin.”

Austin gives me a nod from the couch, and puts his videogame controller down on the small coffee table in front of him.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I tell him.

“You’re our guest,” Austin says. “I don’t want to be rude.”

Michael offers me a drink. I ask for water.

“Austin?” Michael says.

Austin nods.

“A round of waters for everyone,” Michael says, and disappears around the corner into the kitchen.

While I wait, I sit down on the couch next to Austin. Apparently he and Michael have been best friends since high school, and roommates since college.

“I hope he’s treating you well,” Austin says.

“So far, so good,” I say.

He seems sweet.

He, too, has the pronounced outline of a large cock, lying off to the side in his lap beneath his sweats. I notice these things.

“Michael’s a good dude,” he says. “He’ll do anything for you. Give you the shirt off his back.”

“I bet he would.”

Michael comes back, balancing a tray with three waters on his hand.

“Dinner is served,” he says, laying the tray on the small coffee table with a flourish.

“Come,” I say, patting the cushion to the side of me opposite Austin. “Let us partake.”

We sip our waters. I might be imagining it, but the silence is thickening in a most delightful way.

I have something to say. I wait for them to finish their drinks, though. No cartoon spit takes today.

When the tray holds three empty glasses, I turn to Austin.

“Michael brought me back here to have sex with me,” I tell him.

His eyes go wide. His brown cheeks show a hint of red. Though none of us are touching, I think I feel Michael tense up to the other side of me.

I say, “I don’t mean to put you off. I just thought it would be rude to come here and act like you didn’t know that I’m about to fuck your friend.”

“It’s cool,” Austin says, avoiding eye contact.

I turn to Michael. “Look at him blush. He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Michael laughs a nervous laugh. “If you say so.”

“I mean it, though. Don’t you think he’s cute?”

Michael says nothing.

“Oh come on,” I say, playfully. “You have to answer.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.

“Sure what?”

“Yeah, he’s cute.”

To Austin, I say, “Did you know Michael thinks you’re cute?”

Austin says nothing.

I refuse to let it go.

“It’s a simple question,” I say. “Were you aware that Michael finds you attractive?”

I see a flurry of possible responses flash across his face.

Choosing a joke, he says, “Of course. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”

Gamely, I laugh. “I know I would.”

He’s even redder thank before.

I say, “What do you say to that?”

Again, Austin says nothing. I refuse to let it go.

I say, “I would want a piece of you. Wouldn’t you want a piece of me?”

Silence.

“It’s a simple question,” I say. “I’d fuck you in a heartbeat. Would you fuck me?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

“Yeah what?”

“Yeah, I’d fuck you.”

I turn to Michael. He looks like his soul is leaving his body.

I put my hand on Michael’s leg, feeling his thick quad muscle through the fabric of his sweatpants. My hand is right next to the prominent tent protruding from his crotch.

I move my hand onto his erection, silently inviting him to stop me. He doesn’t.

Watching Michael, but still talking to Austin, I say, “I’m here to fuck Michael. How do you feel about that?”

I hear Austin say, “He’s lucky.”

I say, “But don’t you think I’m lucky, too? That I’m about to be fucked by a handsome guy?”

Quieter, Austin says, “Yes.”

“Austin,” I say, “don’t you like Michael?”

He’s silent again.

I look into Austin’s eyes. Feeling by hand, I pull Michael out over the waistband of his pants. Austin’s eyes flick in that direction. I know he sees it.

Austin has a tent of his own. I place my hand on it and give him an affectionate squeeze through his pants.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I think I have your answer.”

I let them go and stand up. Their eyes follow me.

I bend over, slowly, my ass towards them, and slide the coffee table away from the couch, careful not to knock over the water glasses.

Then I straighten up and face them.

Addressing both of them, I say, “All you have to do is say something, and I’ll stop. Otherwise, we keep going.”

Staring at me, they both nod.

Starting with my shirt, I strip out of my clothes, revealing the lingerie underneath. I’m a little uncoordinated–after all I’ve done, I haven’t done a real striptease–but I do my best to make it sexy.

I stand before them, feeling resplendent in my next-to-nothings.

Going by their erections, I think they agree with me.

Michael’s penis is big, dark, and hairy, with a peach pink glans. Austin’s is still in his pants, but it looks like it might be even bigger.

“The question is,” I say, “who goes first?”

They glance at each other quizzically, not quite willing to meet each other’s eyes in their current state.

I add, “Whoever it is, the other watches. Then we switch. That’s the deal.”

After a few moments of no words exchanged, I make a decision.

“You,” I say, looking at Michael.

His eyes get big. It’s a cliche, but all I can think of is a deer in headlights.

I come to him, straddle his lap, put my hands on the back of the couch on either side of him, lay my belly and my breasts against him. His cock is sandwiched between us.

I kiss him, and he kisses back, and I feel his hands traveling over my lace-clad buttocks.

I flick my eyes to Austin to make sure he’s watching. He is.

I wave my hand to him, beckoning him to sit closer. He obeys, apparently without thinking about it.

I sit upright and back off a little, letting the two of them see where Michael’s dickhead presses against my belly.

“Austin,” I say, “do want to watch me suck Michael’s cock?”

Austin nods.

“You want to watch your friend get a blowjob?”

Austin nods.

I smile.

Instead of getting on my knees, I lie across their laps, my ass positioned in front of Austin like a child preparing to be spanked.

The fabric of his sweatpants and the hard lump underneath feel good against my soft bare belly.

My face is over Michael’s cock.

“Touch me, Austin,” I say.

“Where?” he says.

“Everywhere,” I say.

I feel Austin’s hand on my ass, first over the panties, then beneath the hem of the waist.

The way his big hand feels so small against the landscape of my bottom might have mortified me a lifetime ago. Now, I just feel abundant. Round. Soft.

Pleasurable.

“Austin,” I whisper, “tell him everything you feel.”

Then I envelop Michael’s glans with my mouth.

“She’s soft,” Austin mumbles.

I’m bouncing my head, letting the head of Michael’s cock prod the back of my throat and work up a good reservoir of thick saliva.

I feel Austin’s fingertips tracing over my cellulite.

“Her dimples feel nice,” Austin says.

Good boy.

He travels down my buttcrack, dipping a little further inside with every centimeter.

“Ooh, sweaty,” he says.

The two of them chuckle. I giggle into Michael’s cock.

I feel a fingertip encroaching on my asshole.

I’m hoping he’ll play with it, but he avoids it, skipping around to my perineum.

“She trims her pubes,” Austin says. “Very short.”

I don’t feel like explaining that I used to be bald, and only recently decided that I probably never will be again.

His fingers graze my outer labia.

I lift my head with a slurp, and Michael gasps. For a moment, several strands of thin mucus connect us.

“Michael,” I say, “would you like to tell Austin what you’re feeling right now?”

“Fuck, please keep going,” Michael blurts out.

“Are you gonna come?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna come.”

“Austin, I want you to watch Michael’s face and memorize the way it looks when he comes, and I want you to be finger-fucking me when he does.”

Then I lower my head again, coaxing Michael on and on towards his impending orgasm.

Austin’s fingertips are probing me, curious, slick.

I rock my hips against him, encouraging him to penetrate me, and he does. Two fingers, past the first knuckle.

Good boy.

I feel Michael getting close–the tension in his body, the shallowness in his breathing.

I chance lifting my head, one last time.

“Austin,” I say, “watch his face.”

I hope he’s listening.

Michael grunts and hisses and bucks and shimmies as his balls empty their contents into my mouth, which I swallow, convulsion by convulsion, rope by sticky rope.

As his output slows to a dribble, I swirl the head of him with my tongue, catching the few drops that squeeze loose with his waning contractions.

I don’t let his cock loose until it’s half-soft in my mouth. By now, Austin is actively pumping my pussy with his hand beneath my panties, as much for his enjoyment as mine. I like it.

Still…

I raise myself on my hands, pulling myself away from Austin. He withdraws his hand, hesitant, but cooperative. My panties are bunched at an angle about halfway down my ass.

I crawl into Michael’s lap, straddling him once more, his softening cock damp against my belly. I cup his face in my hands and kiss him deeply with my tongue, passing vestiges of his semen into his mouth.

Then I crawl into Austin’s lap and do the same, kissing him with my mouth fresh with Michael’s spit and semen. My hot vulva sits atop his hardened penis between the layers of our clothing.

He doesn’t resist.

I look meaningfully over at Michael.

Speaking up, ensuring they’re both hearing me, I say, “Austin, it looks like Michael has gone a little bit soft.”

Inches from my face, Austin nods.

I say, “Maybe if we put on a show for him, he’ll get it back.”

Neither of them says anything.

Okay. I’ll do the crowd work.

“Michael,” I say, “would you like to watch us?”

He nods.

“Austin,” I say, “would you like to fuck my mouth while Michael watches?”

He hesitates.

“Please?” I say, blinking innocently into his horny boy face. “I promise you, I have a very nice mouth.”

“Okay,” he says, thick, voiceless.

“Michael,” I say, not taking my eyes off of Austin, “Austin wants you to watch him mouthfuck me. I do, too. You can look at both of us, but I want you to watch his body. How it looks, how it moves.”

“Heard,” Michael says, sounding drugged.

I get up and stand back from the couch. Embarrassingly, one of my knees pops, but neither of them seems to care.

“Both of you,” I say, “strip.”

Austin does it first, standing up, full of vigor, shucking first his shirt, then his sweatpants and underwear at the same time. His body is hard, his large cock two-toned, his pubic hair neatly kempt.

Michael, slowly and awkwardly, strips without getting up from the couch. First his sweatpants–he’s a hairy boy–then his shirt. He, too, is hard-bodied.

Even at just a chub, Michael is almost as big as Austin.

Austin stands in front of me, towering over me, his dickhead about level with my navel. Michael becomes a haze to me somewhere in the corner of my eyeline.

Austin is leering at my body so intensely that I think I can see myself perfectly reflected in his big, dark eyes.

I can’t blame him. I look hot.

Not taking my eyes off his, I undo the clasps that join my stockings to my garter belt. I shimmy my panties down, bending over, letting Michael have a good look at the treasures that await him.

I stand back up and hold my wadded panties up to Austin’s nose. He breathes in deep, avidly sniffing the damp girlfunk.

Then I tie the panties loosely at the base of his cock. A decoration.

I drop to my knees, take his cock into my hand, and look over at Michael.

“Michael,” I say, “watch his face.”

Michael nods, his hand unconsciously touching his tilted half-erection.

To Austin, I say, “Hold my head and use your hips. Slowly.”

Then I put my lips on his cock, pushing them down his shaft, slowly, about halfway, then let him go. I steady myself with my hands on my thighs as he begins to gyrate his hips back and forth.

It’s a cocktail of sensations–the heady feeling of Austin looking down at me possessively, the pleasant texture of his thick, hard cock sliding between my lips, his dickhead agitating my gag reflex.

His fingers grip the sides of my head like a ball, then gather my hair in fistfuls, pulling, causing a deliciously dull pain in my scalp.

A couple times, I gag and gulp. At one point, his cock pulls out of my mouth almost completely, and I cough strands of spit all over his cock and his thighs. He plunges back in. I make no move to stop him.

He’s thrusting in earnest, and when he comes, I can’t quite coordinate my swallowing with his thrusting. A thin, gooey mix of semen and mucus and saliva runs down my chin, onto my tits, belly, and thighs.

My lingerie is probably ruined.

Oh well. I’ll buy it again.

As Austin’s humping slows, I swallow the last of what’s in my mouth, then pluck my panties from his softening erection and wipe some of the mess from my face. Mostly, I just smear it across my cheek.

Austin is gasping, his face lit up with sweat and sexy brain chemicals.

Michael is actively masturbating, his erection having returned to full mast. He flicks the occasional glance at me, but, on orders, he seems to be watching Austin.

Good boy.

I’m feeling ravenous, as if I could swallow both of them at once with my insistent, sweltering pussy. My face feels red.

I cough a wet cough, then say, “You like watching your friend get sucked off?”

“Yeah!” Michael says.

I love his enthusiasm and his lack of inhibition. He must be pretty horny by now; it’s working its magic on his mind.

I glance up at Austin.

“You okay, buddy?” I ask.

Austin nods.

“Did you like being watched?”

He nods again.

“Do you like being masturbated to?”

He nods again. No hesitation–just gratitude.

“Michael,” I say, “you’re masturbating to Austin. How do you feel about that?”

“Good,” Michael says.

I stand up, peel off my bra, garter belt, and stockings, and toss them aside, joining my two lovers in our nakedness.

I stand before Michael, letting him drink in the sight of my body to his heart’s content. His hand begins to move faster, up and down his cock, as his eyes roam down over my many hills and crevices.

In the corner of my eye, Austin collapses onto the farthest cushion in a deep, somnambulant slouch.

I’m splattered in viscous liquids that cling to various places from my chin down to my knees. I drag a fingertip through it, across one of my breasts.

“Look at this,” I say, holding my finger out to Michael, showing the dangling drop of spit and semen that refuses to fall.

He looks at it.

“Wouldn’t you like to taste it?” I say.

He opens his mouth and extends his tongue, as if accepting communion. I place my fingertip upon it and wipe it. He swallows gratefully.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“Tastes weird,” he says. “Kind of musty and bitter.”

“Did you like the way it felt going down your throat?”

“Yes,” he whispers, a tremor in his voice that matches the pounding of his fist.

“Do you want more?”

Michael gets up and I lie down, on my back, lying on my back. Without Austin’s permission, I lay my head in his lap, next to his soft cock. My hair is getting spit and cum in it. I don’t mind much.

I look up at Michael. “Get down here and eat up.”

He positions himself over me on his hands and knees, his cock pointing at my belly like a spear. I hope it doesn’t escape any of us that by putting his face over mine, it’s also over Austin’s naked genitals.

He starts by lapping at my face. I giggle. He laps a few more times and swallows, and moves on, his straight boy hangups vanishing in the face of the excitement of this novel sexual experience.

Already, I feel Austin throbbing against the side of my head, getting bigger and harder. I flick my eyes up at his face; he’s watching Michael’s tongue as it descends down each of my breasts.

I have to grit my teeth when he spends some time at my nipples. Mercifully, he doesn’t linger.

He seems to enjoy my belly very much, licking and prodding it all over, tongue-fucking my deep navel.

He cleans up my thighs. When it looks like he has designs on my pussy. I put my foot on his chest.

“That’s enough,” I say. “There’s one more thing the two of you can do for me.”

I get up and make Michael fetch some condoms. I ask him and Austin to sit next to each other on the couch, as close as they can, bodies touching, arms around each other’s shoulders.

They do it without complaint. Two buddies, arms around each other, naked, voluminous.

Ah, my boys.

I climb on Michael’s lap, facing him, my belly on his and my tits in his face. Slowly, I impale myself on him. I ride him vigorously, my bare ass sliding backwards and forwards on his hard thigh muscles.

I invite both of them to touch me, to kiss me, their hands often grazing one another on my flesh, their mouths coming within a breath of touching as my mouth moves from one of them to the other.