Author’s Note: All sexual activity involves legal adults only. This story is a bit long, and it’s focused more on sex and emotions than a narrative plot. If you decide to dive in, you’ve been warned.
***
I don’t have any recollection as to how the topic of discussion turned to threesomes. Listen, it’s COVID time, and my husband and I more often than not found ourselves having idle conversations where either of us were only paying half attention. Thanks to our meandering linguistics, we could start by talking about the price of bananas and end with camel spit.
So I don’t remember, not so long ago, how we got to the subject of the art of the ménage. Honestly, we are very sexual and open people and had discussed the possibility of having one much earlier in our relationship. My husband was agreeable to the idea, but I was vehemently against it. “Baby,” I had said, “you know I’m an anything goes (with consent) kind of person, and I totally respect the poly lifestyle and all its forms, but when I married you, it meant you were the only person I ever wanted to have sex with ever again.”
“One dick for the rest of your life?” he asked with pretend horror. We both laughed and moved on. He wasn’t invested in the idea either way, so he ceded to my strong feelings on the matter.
But somehow, the topic came up while we were both watching television one night and distracted by everyday minutiae. I remember absentmindedly saying something like, “When they’re good, they’re un-fucking-believable, but when they’re bad, it’s just the worst. And the odds are always much higher that it’ll be bad, so it’s just not worth it most of the time.”
“Sure,” he scoffed. “And exactly how many threesomes have you had to reach this equation?”
“Oh, gosh, I couldn’t even begin to count,” I replied. It took another several moments before my awareness fully joined the conversation, and I realized my husband had gone silent and still next to me on the couch. I turned to him, and his gaping mouth almost made me laugh, but I restrained myself.
“Seriously, Cameron?” he asked incredulously. I was confused by his reaction. Hadn’t I told him about my past threesomes before? Wow, I guess maybe I hadn’t. He never asked, and it just never really came up.
“Well, yeah,” I answered hesitantly. “I mean, it was only with three couples, but it was several times with each of them. Does that bother you?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You were just so strongly against it when we considered it that one time that I thought you were opposed to the whole idea in general.”
I chuffed in relief. “Babe, that’s because I’m monogamous in my relationships. If I’m single, it’s a different story.”
“So, you were always the third then?” he asked curiously. I nodded and knew what was coming by the look of interest in his face and that mischievous glint in his eye. One of his big turn-ons was visceral imagery. Basically, he loved when I told him things in exquisite detail. I accommodated him by learning to put intricate descriptions in my stories to get him off, and he would pepper me with questions until he had wrung every last drop of carnal information from me.
“Tell me about the first one,” he cajoled me after he put the T.V. on mute, and I did over the course of several evenings. After we lied panting on the couch, our sweaty limbs entangled about each other’s satiated bodies, he urged me to write it down just like I told him and “post it on one of those erotic sites, so I can read it whenever I want and know other people have read it too”.
So that’s what I’ve done.
***
How old was I at the time? I remember I was still in my senior year in high school. I turned eighteen in October, and things started around that winter. They were my neighbors down the street from where I lived. I used to walk their dog for some pocket money.
They loved bringing a third into their bedroom, and they did it all the time. I know for a fact they often had two or three women on rotation so they could indulge whenever they wanted. Isn’t it the best when your spouse shares your same kinks? Mmm, I know. Their absolutely favorite scenario, they told me, was to find a bicurious female with little to no experience with other women. They didn’t even mind if she was shy or nervous, the Husband said. In fact they preferred it. I asked them why, and he said something like, “Because their reticence means they think they’re doing something dirty or taboo. I love to coax them to explore their hidden desires, and the moment all doubts leave and her face is showing ecstasy from what we’re doing to her body is better than any drug.” Well, they used to find partners most of the time in bars or at parties, things like that. Back then, dating sites and personal ads still had the stigma of being only for losers or predators. No, they weren’t predators! I don’t know, they were probably late 20’s or early 30’s. Ugh, stop. Listen, even with the hindsight of all those years since, I can tell you they weren’t predators. Respect and comfort was their utmost concern with me.
Anyway, my situation with them was unique in that I was much younger than what they gravitated to — yes, I believe them! — and that they’re weren’t picking me up with my awareness about what was going to go down. They decided to seduce me, slowly and carefully. And if at any time I expressed denial or discomfort, they’d back off and abandon the idea.
Lucky for them, they picked the right girl. I told you before I knew early on how sexual I was. I wanted to experiment with so many things, but I lacked experience. I mainly had fantasies to sustain me. At that point in my life, I had only slept with my boyfriend. We had broken up a few months previously when he went off to college. We were both virgins, and it was awkward at best, but it made me aware how much I wanted to explore and learn about my sexuality.
I guess I can pinpoint the first time they made any kind of move. I brought their dog back, and the Husband told me to hang out while he went upstairs to get his wallet. The Wife was watching television or listening to the stereo or something and was enjoying a glass of wine. She poured one for me and pressed it into my hands with a smile. At that age, I accepted alcohol any time I could get it, so I sipped the wine, and she gave my shoulder a feather-light touch that lingered for several seconds. It was the first time she had actually touched me, to my knowledge, but before I could question it, she whirled away, laughing merrily. The Husband came back with my money and gently touched my elbow as he handed me the bills. I moved to leave, but they urged me to hang out for a little while so I could finish my glass, and I did. They frequently gave me these brief, breezy touches while we watched a movie. They were always organically done, but each touch was to gauge, gauge, measure, see what my reaction was. I honestly didn’t notice. I think I was more focused on the free booze than what they were doing. Regardless, I didn’t pull away.
It became a regular thing for me to drink wine with them and watch television or old movies after I walked their dog. They were the ones who introduced me to so many classic films I didn’t know about at the time and ended up loving. Those evenings came complete with the light touches and subtle bumping into my side on the couch. This was the basis of their seduction, an ascending climb with spacious plateaus on each step. They’d push forward a bit and then patiently spend time there, letting me get accustomed to the new stage, checking to make sure I was completely comfortable. So I can say this went on for a few weeks before they escalated to the first time I became aware of what might be happening.
I remember noticing a difference in our sitting arrangement one evening. I was usually sandwiched on the couch between them, but this time, the Wife was to my left and the Husband to the left of her. I did no more than make an observation before I focused on the T.V., the heavy warmth from the wine spreading through my body.
At one point, her hand rested on my knee, and I glanced over. To my shock, they were kissing right next to me. After my initial surprise, I realized it wasn’t gratuitous or all that inappropriate. It was really as though a married couple was doing something that came naturally to them and, other than the hand on my knee, forgot they had an audience. I tried to afford them what privacy I could and turned my focus back to the show we were watching. After several moments, I felt the Wife shift her weight. With a sigh, she leaned against me, her head on my shoulder. “I think I drank too much wine this time,” she giggled softly. Her other arm was wrapped around mine, her breasts pressing against me.
Outwardly, I made no move toward or away from her. Inside, I was frozen with the thoughts any eighteen-year-old would have. “Is she into me? Are they BOTH into me? Do they want sex? What would sex with them be like? No, stop it, you’re dumb. She’s just tipsy. Knock. It. Off.” As an adult with experience now, I realize I didn’t have the wherewithal to realize these were the wrong questions to ask myself. What I should have asked was, “Am I attracted to these people? How do I feel about them? How will things change if anything happens?” Alas, wisdom is rarely granted in youth.
As this tickertape of thoughts scrolled through my mind, she pushed back to the Husband, and I saw through the corner of my eye that they were softly kissing again. She alternated like this several times before my muscles slowly relaxed, and I eventually tilted my head toward hers the next time she rested against me. She made a small sound of contentment and said, “You’re really beautiful, Cameron. I feel like you don’t get told that enough.” Before my stunned brain could process her words, the show ended, which was always my cue to head back home. I upended the rest of my wine into my mouth in a daze and said I’d see them next time. They both gave me a friendly goodbye, the Husband’s arm around her as they turned back to the T.V.
I guess you’re wondering why there was such an elaborate scheme to get me where they wanted when I was curious and eager to explore. The fact is, even though I thought I was ready for something like that, I wasn’t in actuality and would likely have run off if they had proposed their idea to me directly. I’m sure a lot of people who want to jump out a plane have approached those open doors, looked out upon the endless expanse so far below and chickened out. So even though my hamster wheel of a brain was going over each moment from the evening and excited and turned on by the prospect of doing something, I didn’t really, really believe it was real. I figured I was imagining things and resolved to let it go. And if I masturbated that night while fantasizing about being with a faceless couple, well, I’m sure it was just coincidence.
So, I had more evenings like that. Drinking wine, sometimes smoking weed, giggling and talking with my neighbors while we watched reruns or movies. The Wife had graduated to snuggling against me regularly during these hangouts. I grew comfortable with it and would reciprocate. She was petite with dark shoulder-length hair, and even though I was taller, I remember the feeling of warmth and comfort when we were watching “Psycho”, and I would bury my face in her shoulder during the scary scenes, the relaxing, deep chuckle of the Husband spreading through me. Sometimes he would sit on the other side of me, his arm flung across the back of the sofa and just barely brushing against my shoulders. It was all so innocent that I totally believed they were just friendly people without agenda, even if I still touched myself at night to imaginings of three people joined together in all different ways.
I don’t remember how long things went on like this, building a friendship with these two in a bubble of lingering touches and soft hugs. But I know exactly when it turned, when it crossed a line, and I could no longer deny what was occurring.
This had to have happened at the beginning of the year or thereabouts. There was an ugly gray slush coating the ground and piling up in the gutters. I was freezing under my puffy parka as I walked neighbors’ dog that day. He gave a baleful glance back at me several times.
“D-do I l-l-look like I’m en-enjoying this either?” I demanded grumpily. “J-j-just do your business so we can g-get out of here.” He turned away with a disdainful sniff and lifted his leg at a nearby sapling. Relieved that was all he needed to do, I led him back to his owners as briskly as I could without slipping on the sidewalk. The dog trotted next to me, pressed up against my legs for warmth. All I could think about was getting back to the neighbors, wrapping myself in one of their super-soft throws and feeling the heat of their wine unspooling through my frozen body.
We made it back to their house, and I entered the unlocked door. I made sure to wipe both my feet and the dog’s with the towel left hanging on a hook near the door for us. I hung up my coat, unclipped his leash and scratched behind his ears. “Go, buddy! Have fun!” I watched him scamper off, the click of his claws on the kitchen tile alerting me that he was ready for the lunch that was waiting for him. I went into the living room, kicked off my shoes, lined them up neatly by the couch and wrapped myself like a burrito in that throw I had been thinking about so longingly. My neighbors weren’t already there, which was unusual, but I shrugged and reached for the remote. We were so informal at that point that I knew they’d join me shortly. My hormone-addled brain briefly wondered if they were upstairs having sex and what they would look like, but I shrugged it off and started channel surfing.
After a while, I noticed there was some muffled chatter and laughing outside. I turned off the T.V. and shuffled my way to their back patio glass doors. Blinds covered them from the glaring winter sun, but I peeked through and saw them both having a ball in the freaking pool!
Incredulous, I opened the glass door and stepped halfway onto the frigid concrete outside. “Have you both lost your minds?!” I screeched. “You’re going to get pneumonia! Get inside!”
The Husband dunked himself in the water, swam toward me and crested the surface with a splash and a mighty laugh. “Polar bear plunge!” he shouted, his arms raised triumphantly in the air. With him I could believe it. The Husband was a tree trunk of a man, his straight blonde hair and Nordic features pegging him as the perfect candidate to leap into frosty waters during the heart of winter.
The Wife swam up to him leisurely and rested her chin on her arms, which braced the lip of the pool. She laughed freely and said to me, “He’s just messing with you, Cameron. The pool is heated.” My cheeks flushed in embarrassment as I noticed the steam rising from the water for the first time. I had never actually been in their pool before. I always wanted to but didn’t want to overstep by asking. Not many households had pools in our neighborhood, and those that did were bombarded all summer by local kids begging to use them. I guessed by the eight-foot-high security fence around their backyard that they didn’t want to be one of those households. “Come on in!” the Wife said now, her husband softly kissing the top of her head before starting laps.
I bit my lip and looked down. “I don’t have a bathing suit on. I guess that’s my fault. I should have anticipated I’d be swimming when it’s eight degrees outside,” I said sarcastically.
She threw back her head and laughed again. “You can borrow one of mine, or just run home and get yours.”
I was uncomfortable at the idea of wearing one of the Wife’s swimsuits; plus, she was about six inches shorter than me, and I doubted anything she had fit. So instead, I turned around and hurried off, throwing a, “Be right back!” over my shoulder at her.
Once home, I tore through the back of my dresser drawer to find my bathing suits. I only had three: two one-pieces and one floral print bikini. My hand hovered over the bikini. I hadn’t worn it yet and wasn’t sure if I had the confidence to. I was at an age where all I did was criticize my body and was certain everyone else would only see the flaws if I didn’t cover up. You’ve seen pictures of me back then. You know I could weep now for not being aware of how cute I was. Aw, thanks, baby. You’re still pretty hot too. Anyway, I had that long chestnut-colored hair with a bit of a wave that almost reached my ass, which was my crowning glory, if I do say so myself. My boobs were they same as they are now, just so much perkier. My stomach was flat. I can’t believe I was so obsessed with thinking I was fat back then! But there I was, totally indecisive over which suit would make me look the least bad.
“Fuck it,” I told myself and grabbed the bikini. It was only two friends who would see me. They shouldn’t care if my body wasn’t great, and if they did, I’d know not to wear it again. Besides, it wasn’t even a string bikini; it had a halter top and wide straps to keep everything in. I put in on, scrutinized myself in my floor-length mirror and layered the rest of my winter gear over it.
I tore out of the house, excited at the prospect of swimming in January, and called out to my parents, “Be back later! Going to hang out with friends!” By eighteen, my parents were much more lenient with me, but they still wanted to know where I was. It wasn’t technically a lie.
I made it back to the neighbors in record time. I went back inside and heard them still splashing in the pool out back. I contemplated the least frigid way to get to the water and ended up taking off my clothes and folding them on the kitchen floor by the glass doors and wrapping a large fluffy towel from the bathroom around my torso.
The instant I made contact with the outdoors, the cold leeched its way into my bones. I shut the glass door hard and scrambled to the edge of the pool, the steam working its way under my towel and taking off some of the chill. The Husband and Wife were treading water closer to the deep end and turned to me as one.
“Come on in, Cam,” the Husband beckoned to me. “It feels almost like a hot tub, I promise.”
“Yeah, come on, sweetie,” the Wife said. “You’ll freeze in another minute!”
They were both observing me now, which made me more self-conscious. I looked down at my toes hanging over the edge and dropped the towel. My skin instantly pebbled in the cold air, my nipples like two points of stone. I saw from the corner of my eyes that they both went still and were watching me at full attention. I didn’t want to meet their gazes head-on to see their expressions, so I reached for the handrail and quickly descended into the warm, waiting depths. I didn’t know then that they were entranced by my bikini-clad body, that they were staring at my nipples thrusting against the fabric of my suit and imagining me naked under their bodies and tongues. They told me later.
The heat felt so good that I loudly moaned in pleasure as I sank in further and swam to the center of the pool. They both chuckled at my reaction and waded to meet me.
“You see?” the Wife asked after briefly touching my shoulder. “The hard part now will be forcing yourself to get out later.”
“I’m not,” I murmured, floating on my back and spreading out my arms. “I’m moving into this pool. I’ll take all calls and meetings here, thanks.” The Husband laughed and trailed his fingers along my palm before swimming away.
I fully relaxed into the pool, letting the heat work all the tension from my muscles as my stress floated away. Once they felt I had zoned out enough, the Husband and Wife splashed me, and we took turns dunking each other and laughing, hands gripping ankles, shoulders and thighs as we played. We tried Marco Polo for a while and eventually just kind of floated and talked while taking occasional hits from the joint that rested in an ashtray near the edge of the pool. They asked me about my plans after high school and what I wanted to do after college. I confessed I had no idea and was starting to panic, but unlike my parents, they were supportive and suggested I just spend freshman year taking classes that interested me. “The plans and goals will come later,” the Husband assured me. I had applied to a few schools but had yet to hear back. “You’ll get in,” the Wife said with total confidence. “You’re so smart and responsible. They’ll be fighting themselves to get you, mark my words.” I basked in the warmth of their praise as surely as the hot water surrounding my body.
In turn the Wife talked about growing up on a horse farm and her subsequent love of animals. Even though they only had one dog now and she volunteered at a local shelter, she eventually wanted them to retire to a farm or an animal rescue. The Husband told us that while he was making fairly good money in his current tech job, it wasn’t fulfilling him, and he’d like to find a career where he could work outdoors more. “Lumberjack?” the Wife suggested jokingly, and we all laughed. “You just want to see me in a flannel shirt cutting down trees,” he teased her huskily.
At that point, I drifted off and found myself resting the back of my head against the lip of the pool and letting my legs float lazily in front of me. I closed my eyes for a while and breathed deeply of the chlorine-laced steam around me, enjoying the high enveloping me. I felt like I was rising into the starry sky, higher and higher without end, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The next time I opened my eyes, I saw the Husband and Wife kissing not too far from me. It was a little more passionate than the times on the couch. In fact they were full on making out. Unlike the other times, I openly watched them. They were so in love with each other and always so attuned to their partner’s bodies. Her hands were tangled in his hair, which had gone dark when wet, and he was pulling her hips flush against his. Her hands drifted down to his solid chest as their mouths explored each other, and I could see their lower bodies faintly rocking as she sighed softly in pleasure.
I didn’t feel like a voyeur; it was almost like I was cataloguing what a real, loving relationship looked like as opposed to fumbled groping in the dark of a teenaged boy’s bedroom. I knew I’d some day have that when the boys around me grew up, and I wanted a peek to get accustomed. I told myself it was just that, but I couldn’t deny my nipples were peaked, and there was a telltale wetness between my legs.
I was so engrossed with my thoughts that I didn’t realize they had stopped kissing and were now regarding me as their bodies were still wrapped in an embrace. When I finally noticed, my eyes went wide, and I looked away to hide the mortification rising into my cheeks.
The Husband laughed quietly. I felt the water lap against me as they disengaged. “Please don’t be embarrassed, Cameron,” the Wife cajoled as she approached me. “We engage in PDA a lot. We can’t really help it! We just don’t think anything of it because we’re so used to being around you. But if it bothers you, we’ll make an effort not to do it when you’re here.”
Her words made sense as they sank into me. I actually thought they’d think I was the perv getting off to some innocent kissing, but they were afraid they’d upset me! They weren’t doing anything tawdry; they were just a married couple kissing in a pool. If anything, I wished my parents would be a little more affectionate with each other like our neighbors. There was the occasional peck good morning or goodbye, and that was it. I don’t think I ever remembered seeing my parents hold hands.
I turned my head back to them and saw the Wife was within arm’s length at the edge of the pool, the Husband behind her, his hands on her shoulders. They were both looking at me a little anxiously, and I couldn’t help giving a brief laugh in relief. “Oh my gosh, it’s O.K.,” I said, shaking my head. “I just didn’t know if you wanted privacy or not, and here I was looking over… ”
The Wife shook her head and grinned, her hand trailing along my arm and touching my elbow. “No, no,” the Husband argued. “We’re so comfortable with you that we just forget. Actually,” he dipped his head and almost shyly said, “you can watch if you want. We don’t mind. We like you. We just want to make sure you’re not uncomfortable.”
I was shocked by his words, and I really didn’t know how to take them. Did they WANT me to watch them make out, or did they just not care? Did THEY get off around voyeurs? Or were they just a really cool couple who didn’t have hang-ups and didn’t care if friends were around when they kissed? I didn’t know how to respond. I wanted to ask if they preferred I watch them, but I wasn’t brave enough.
I looked at them both. The sun had started setting, so their faces were in planes of shadow, but I still saw the warm regard in their eyes. The Wife squeezed my elbow gently, and it was then I noticed her full breasts just underneath the surface of the water. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I had a feeling whatever I said would set the tone of our relationship and could change things forever. I didn’t want that responsibility; I wasn’t ready for it. Instead, I looked down at the water, watching the remaining rays of the sun swirl along the surface as the cold breeze blew ripples around us.
She made a soothing sound and moved closer into my personal space. Her hand softly cupped my jaw, and her thumb stroked my cheek. “We overwhelmed you,” she whispered. “Cameron, we like you so, so much. We think you’re beautiful and special and unique. That’s all it has to be, if you want. We’ll enjoy each other’s company. We’ll respect your boundaries. But,” and here her voice got a bit huskier, the nail of her thumb now lightly scraping my cheek, “I think you liked watching us, and that’s O.K. too. If you did, don’t say anything.” I couldn’t look up yet, wouldn’t if you paid me, but I did snap my mouth shut. I couldn’t affirm, but I wouldn’t deny, and she knew that.
Her hand moved so that now her fingertip grazed along my bottom lip. I tingled everywhere she touched me, and I felt my body grow tight with lust. “I thought so,” she whispered again. “The truth is we were hoping you’d watch. And that you’d like it.” I didn’t move closer or further away from them. I was swept along in this current they created for me, and I had no desire to fight my way from it. I couldn’t believe what was happening, that my darkest instincts had been correct. Did I want this?
YES, I realized. I did want this. But I was also scared. Was this wrong? Were my urges wrong? Should I say yes? So many questions went through my mind in that instant, and I could barely parse any of them. Instead, I thought about what I wanted. What I knew about myself and what experiences I craved, and I took the leap.
“I did,” I whispered back. I heard the Husband take a deep breath through his nose behind her.
“Did what, sweetie?” she purred, her finger making circles around my lips.
“I liked it. Watching you,” I said haltingly. I chanced a glance up and saw the heat in both their eyes. It was so intense that I looked down again, afraid it would be too much. However, the confirmation of their desire encouraged me. “I liked watching your hands on each other while you kissed.” An unwelcome blush spread across my face.
“Did you want to put your hands on us too?” the Husband inquired tightly. He was very still, and I instinctively realized he was using all his willpower to keep from lunging at us. Even though that was more than I was ready for, the thought of the power I had over him at the moment was heady and flushed my inexperienced body with longing. I nodded, and he groaned.
“You poor thing, I know this is a big deal for you,” the Wife said and stroked my wet hair from my face. “We won’t go any faster or further than you want. Ever. But can I ask you… would it be all right if I kissed you?”
I was suddenly confronted with something I never really explored within myself. I had fantasies about being with other women, sure, but I didn’t know if I actually WANTED to be with another woman in reality. Sometimes I thought I did, sometimes the thought almost repulsed me. It would be several more years before I knew myself well enough to say that I was bisexual in bed but heterosexual in romance. It was even longer before I was comfortable enough to say it while people around me scoffed or questioned my sexuality. Lesbians would ask me, “How do you know you don’t want to be in relationships with women if you don’t try it?” I’d answer, “How do you know you won’t like being in a relationship with a man if you don’t try it?” Men would tell me, “Girls experiment at a certain age. You’re not really bisexual.” I’d counter, “Men like to tell women what they should feel and do with their own bodies, but I’m sure you’re not really an asshole.” Honestly, you were the first person who could hear me say, “Hi, my name is Cameron, and I like having sex with men and women, but I only like dating men,” and not judge me for it.
Maybe it was the weed at work, but this right now was just a kiss. And, oh my gosh, the Wife had the fullest, juiciest mouth. Her mouth and breasts were so ripe and plump, and in her small five-foot-four frame, they seemed even more enhanced. “Close your eyes if it’s O.K.,” she told me, and I did.
A moment later, I felt her warm breath fan my face and just the lightest touch of her lips against mine. She moved closer. Our bodies were now almost touching in the water. She pressed her lips to me again, just as lightly as before, and moved them left to right to cover every untouched spot. My nerve endings tingled with sensation. I gripped the wet concrete next to me, feeling it scrape my hand. I tilted my head toward her, deepening the kiss. She smiled against my lips, and her hand started weaving through my hair. I heard the heavy breathing of the Husband, but so far he stayed back. That was a good thing. I think I would have been overwhelmed with the two of them at once. They told me later that if I had accepted their advances, the Wife only would approach me at first for that very reason.
Her tongue licked at the seam of my mouth, and I let her in, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. What if I was a bad kisser? My boyfriend said I was good, but what did he know? Her tongue carefully explored the contours of my mouth, the slick, velvety glide causing me to moan softly against her lips. If it wasn’t for the pool, my wetness would have soaked my bathing suit. The Husband murmured, “Oh my God,” this time off to my left, letting me know he moved around to get a better view of the two of us. Emboldened by that thought, I pulled back just a little and sucked on her full lower lip, using my tongue to flick along the edge.
She jerked back and whispered, “Holy shit.” Instantly, I felt a wash of humiliation. I must have done something wrong. I cringed away, but she grabbed me by the shoulders. “No, no, Cam, don’t pull away. I just wasn’t expecting that. You’re so fucking hot that I had to pull back, or I’d jump you right here and now. Cam, look at us.”
Hesitantly, I raised my head. The Husband was now next to the Wife, and they were both looking at me with a mixture of worry and molten heat. Her breasts were heaving slightly with her quick breathing, and his jaw was hard and clenched with his repressed craving. But my eyes strayed to her mouth, a mouth parted and glossy from my tongue. My gaze darkened at the knowledge, and they both laughed in relief. “There’s our girl,” the Husband said. He swam to the edge of the pool and lifted himself out. I couldn’t help but be transfixed by the tall, lean line of his hard body, his muscles bunching and releasing as he got to his feet.
He soon returned with two dry towels, and I found myself awash in uncertainty. Surely, he didn’t want me to go to bed with them right away, right? A kiss was one thing, but sex?
The Wife swam to me and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. As if she read my mind, she said, “Don’t worry, tonight I just wanted a kiss. That’s all. You don’t ever have to be uncomfortable with us.”
The Husband smiled warmly at me. “It’s getting dark. If you don’t want to walk, I can drive you home.”
It surprised me that they were so at ease with not pushing me into something I didn’t want to do yet, and I was grateful. I had so many things to think about, so many moments to dissect, and I wanted to be alone and still when I did.
The thought of walking in the subzero air, even for a couple blocks, was too much for me, and I accepted the Husband’s offer for a drive. I wondered a bit at how easy it was for them to pull back as I sat ensconced in the black leather of the Husband’s SUV while looking out the window. Had they done this before? Or maybe I bored them? Was I just a distraction to these two, whereas I felt helplessly in their thrall when I was with them? To my astonishment, I found myself wanting them to be as mindless with need for me as they made me. I didn’t even know if I could accomplish that, but I wanted it.
Just as I was really starting to doubt myself and this endeavor, the Husband sluiced through some half-melted slush and pulled up in my driveway. We looked at each other in silence for a minute. I didn’t know what he was thinking, and I wanted to. Eventually, he reached over and unbuckled my seatbelt, letting his knuckles graze my jeans-clad upper thigh. “We want to give you all the time you require, but I need you to know something, Cameron.”
“What is it?” I whispered.
“Tonight, when my wife and I are fucking, we’re going to be thinking of you. We’re going to tell each other all the things we want to do to you and your sweet pussy, and when we come, it’ll be your name on our lips.”
We stared at each other in tense silence, our gazes locked on each other’s faces. I couldn’t look away in that moment if the jaws of life tried to pry me out of the car. I felt dizzy at his words and couldn’t get enough air. He squeezed my hand, and I had the feeling we both were wishing there weren’t so many clothes separating us. Eventually, I muttered, “O.K.,” and scrambled from his car, his deep laugh following me until I shut the door.
I have no doubt they carried out his promise. Just as I took my time that night exploring my pussy under the covers with the door locked. And though I stayed nearly quiet, their names were certainly on my lips as my orgasm rolled through me and through me and through me.
***
To say I felt awkward the next time I walked my neighbors’ dog would be an understatement. But when I returned him home and shyly stepped into their living room, there they were on the couch with an open bottle of wine and a DVD of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” queued up. They both brightened at my arrival and waved me in. I sank between them like I had dozens of times before. I could almost believe the episode in the pool was a dream.
The movie started, and the Wife rested her head on my shoulder like normal. I did the same. Somehow, during the second bottle of wine and right around when Doc Golightly catches up to Holly and Paul, the kissing started. At first it was slow, soft presses of our lips together, her mouth cool against my fevered face. Then it progressed to an open-mouthed joining, our tongues twirling around each other, soft moans punctuating the smack of one kiss ending an another beginning.
“I think he’s feeling left out,” she said at one point. I turned to the Husband on my other side, my eyes heavy-lidded and my mouth swollen from his wife’s kisses. “Jesus,” he said reverently. He squeezed my shoulder and brushed the hair from my eyes. At this point, I was aroused and tipsy enough not to hesitate.
“Kiss me,” I ordered him. He raised an eyebrow at my command but didn’t wait another moment to comply. He tried to be restrained, bless him, but his mouth was all over me, and it was just what I needed. I kissed him desperately as his tongue forced its way into my mouth and ravaged me while his big, strong body caged me. The Wife pressed against my back and kissed along my jawline, her hands tangling in his hair. My hands wound around his neck, and we three moaned against each other.
We made out until the end of the movie, and then I went home. It became a routine for us for a while. I’d walk the dog, the movie would start, and within minutes we would become tangled in each other. However, kissing was as far as it went. We stroked and caressed each other but never went under clothing or below the waist. We whispered dirty endearments but never anything that went beyond what we were already doing. Not like what the Husband said to me that night in his car. Each time, I was left empty and aching. But our evenings were so hot regardless, and I would feel a blush creep up my neck when memories came to me unbidden at inopportune moments, like during English class or at the supper table.
At some point, I found myself ready for the next step but unsure how to ask for it. Before, they had always taken the lead for me, yet now they were lingering at this plateau and not climbing up to the next ledge.
One evening, I lay with my back against the Husband, his obvious erection pressing into my ass. His arms were around me, and his hands cupped and caressed my breasts over my sweater. The Wife straddled the both of us, her lips laving mine with intense kisses. I held the perfect orbs of her breasts in my hands and squeezed each time her tongue delved into my mouth. The thought of actually feeling them, skin to skin, made my mouth water, and my hands unbidden crept under her sweatshirt and inched up her stomach. I kept my eyes closed while she made soft sounds of encouragement in my ear. The Husband turned my head to him for his own kisses. My hands reached the underside swell of her breasts, and I was surprised to find she wasn’t wearing a bra. I cupped them, marveling at the satiny smoothness of her skin there. My thumbs brushed her nipples, and she moaned, “Finally!”
I broke the Husband’s kiss and looked at her in surprise. “You were waiting for me?”
He chuckled and hugged me close. “We decided to wait for you to make the next move to be sure you really wanted us.”
I twisted my neck to look up at him. “You could’ve told me!”
“Would have defeated the purpose.” The Wife smiled and tugged on a lock of my hair.
I looked from one to the other. “I want you. I want this,” I confessed. “I’m just… ”
“Scared?” the Husband guessed, worry creasing his brow.
I shook my head. “Overwhelmed is the best word, I guess. I appreciate how carefully you guys are moving with me. It’s just what I need. But I don’t want you to think I’m having second thoughts. I suppose what I want to say is… I’m in. I’m fully signed up.”
They grinned, and I can only describe those smiles as sunshine and beauty. The Wife met the Husband’s gaze, and their joy eased away during a silent conversation they had.
“What?” I asked, concerned. Were they having second thoughts about me?
The Wife pursed her lips a bit as she focused on me. “We don’t want to put you on the spot, Cameron, but are you a virgin?”
I blushed but shook my head. “No. There was one. One guy, but I mean, a few times. Not a lot. Several. Not several. A few.” I was babbling in my nervousness.
The Wife ducked her head with a smile, and the Husband squeezed me briefly and kissed the top of my head. I got a sense of relief from them.
“Why?” I asked.
The Wife looked back up at me. “Because he’s… well, he’s an amazing lover, but we thought he’d be too large and intense for a virgin.”
My eyes widened at the implications. I mean, I had a sense of his size at that moment on my rear end, but I hadn’t followed the observation through to its natural conclusion. “My ex-boyfriend wasn’t a lightweight himself, but I get what you’re saying. I’ve never been with a girl, though. Is that O.K.?” I asked anxiously.
The Wife grinned wickedly. “That’s completely O.K.,” she purred.
“Have you ever wanted to be with one?” the Husband asked before he gently bit my earlobe. His hands left my tits and reached out to pull his wife’s shirt up and over her head.
“Yes,” I whispered, the full globes of her breasts now bared completely for me. I weighed them in each hand. If I guessed, I’d say she was a D cup. They hung so full yet so pert on her frame. Her nipples were dusky rose, the areolas around them large with a browner tinge.
“Tell me,” he encouraged. His hands had returned to my own breasts and were kneading them gently. “What were your fantasies?”
I was mesmerized by the Wife’s breasts in my hands and found myself massaging them in a similar way the Husband was doing to mine. My fingernails gently scraped her nipples, and she moaned as they hardened under my touch. She pulled up and began kissing down my jawline.
“My current fantasy?” I mused absently. “I meet a woman at a club. She’s a lesbian with a lot of experience. She’ll take my hand without a word and lead me to an empty room. There she’ll strip off my clothes and, and — ”
“Go down on you?” he finished, his tongue flicking into my ear. “Eat you out?”
“Yeah. That feels so good,” I murmured. His tongue dipped in again. I pinched the Wife’s nipples, and she bit the delicate skin under my jaw in response.
“Do you touch yourself when you think about these things?” she asked, her breath hot on my neck.
“Oh, yes,” I responded softly. She pulled her body up higher, and I realized her breasts were now in front of my face in open invitation. I hesitated for a moment before pushing them together and pressing my face in between. She cupped the back of my head and held me there, lost in her softness. I kissed the edge of her right breast while my hand stroked and plucked the nipple on her left. She was making sounds that indicated to me that I was on the right track. I let my tongue trail lazy curlicues around her breast before I slipped her nipple into my mouth and sucked.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” she whimpered.
“Can I take this off?” the Husband said into my ear, his breath making me shiver. His hands fisted in my sweater.
I hesitated. The Wife ran her fingers along my scalp in a calming gesture. “I don’t know,” I hedged.
She pulled away. “That’s all right,” she reassured me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Are you just nervous, sweetie?”
“I… I’ve never let anyone see my body,” I mumbled. My times with my ex were all either under covers or with the lights out.
Both the Husband and Wife made cooing noises and pressed me tightly between them. “We think you’re so beautiful,” he said to me. “There is no part of you that you can show us that we won’t worship.”
“Sweetie, we want you, we want ALL of you,” she echoed. “Do you really not see what we see?”
They continued with their endearments to me, and eventually I felt comforted, adored. At some point I nodded my consent, and she pulled the sweater over my head as he unhooked my bra. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut while they did.
“Oh, God,” the Husband groaned when I was exposed to them.
“I wish my tits looked half as good as yours when I was your age,” she said.
My eyes flew open, my shyness momentarily forgotten. “But your boobs are bigger than mine! They’re perfect,” I blurted. Mine were just big enough that I needed a bra but not so big that they ever got in my way.
She laughed and pressed against me, our breasts crushed against each other. “The grass is always greener,” she grinned.
We began kissing again, and after some amount of time, we had all shifted so that I was lying flat on the couch. The Wife was on top of me devoting attention on one of my tits while the Husband knelt on the floor and had the other one secured between his teeth. My eyes rolled up as I clutched both their heads to me and moaned. My panties were completely soaked.
The Wife pulled up and placed her fingertip between my lips. I closed them and sucked. “Mm,” she said. “I want to eat you out just like your fantasy, Cameron.” I froze at her words, and she kissed me softly on the cheek. “Not today. Just know all I’m waiting for is your signal, your permission. Would you like that some time?”
I thought about it, and my pussy clenched in response. “I do,” I replied. “Yes, but have you ever, um?”
The Husband chuckled and stroked my hair. “Oh, yeah. You have no worries there. My wife eats pussy better than I do, I guarantee. But when you let her, would it be O.K. if I could watch you?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “Oh? Would you be meek and quiet in the corner while your wife went down on me?”
“Not so meek, not so quiet,” he replied with a wide smile. “But I wouldn’t get involved. I just want to watch.”
“Sure.” I didn’t know where it came from, but I then boldly asked, “But you’d like to join eventually, yes?”
“You bet your perfect ass, honey,” he rumbled.
So, we had reached another level. The dog would get walked, and then all three of our tops came off in the living room, a couple times in the pool. We took time to explore and become familiar with our upper bodies, theirs with mine and mine with theirs. I told you already about the Wife. She was slender but didn’t have much muscle tone. She was softness personified, a human downy pillow. After sharing a joint, there was nothing I loved more than to doze off on the creamy pale ripeness of her bare chest, her hands stroking my hair.
I also mentioned the Husband’s build. He was so tall (6′ 5″), and I often wondered how they fit together during sex. He wasn’t sculpted or overly ripped, but he loved exercising outdoors, running, swimming, etc. Every plane of his body was hardness, a delicious dichotomy to his wife’s suppleness.
I definitely wouldn’t say I was over my self-consciousness at that point. But my neighbors seemed, for lack of a better word, enchanted by my body. “Look at these little pink pearls on your tits! Just begging to be sucked and bit,” they’d say. It wasn’t like I completely believed them and their words of affirmation, simply that a sort of cold pragmatism had set in. “They’ve already seen you,” I’d tell myself. “If they don’t like it, they’re hiding it well, so just shut up and enjoy the ride.”
Often during these sessions, we’d talk and share our fantasies, going deeper and deeper into our psyches as time went on, and the alcohol and marijuana surged through our bodies. The Wife told us how she dreamed of being in a gangbang just one time. She wanted to be used and discarded by an endless stream of men, their hot, sticky semen drenching her body. She wanted every orifice taken as it pleased them, and when it was over, she’d go back to normal, but she’d carry the memory of it with her every day for the rest of her life.
As for the Husband, he said he tended to be Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in bed, that sometimes he’d lose himself and become absolutely ravenous. The Wife nodded in confirmation with a small smile on her lips, and I shivered at the prospect of him unleashing the beast with me, not sure if I could take it. But, he said, his fantasy was to engage in a full non-con role play. I might have been green in experience, but I read all the magazines, books and stories I could get my hands on in my insatiable lust for sexual knowledge, and I knew non-con meant non-consensual, or forced. He told us that the ultimate design of this setting was to have a woman completely at the mercy of his unrestrained hunger and go from scared and crying to begging and pleading for more as her body betrayed her.
I looked at the Wife after he finished divulging, and as if she read my mind, she shook her head ruefully. “We’ve tried it,” she explained. “But we know each other too well. He can’t immerse himself fully in the role play.”
“They’re just fantasies,” he said, hugging me to him. “Even if you could act them out, maybe you don’t really want to. Maybe just the excitement of the thought is enough.”
“Right,” the Wife agreed. “A gang bang may be my dirtiest, hottest fantasy, but I can’t imagine a situation where I would ever actually agree to one.”
I also told them some of my fantasies and kinks (like how turned on I got by dirty talk). The truth was, I wanted to try almost everything. I of course had my hard limits — I refused to entertain the notion of anything involving pain, animals or bodily fluids that were considered waste. But anything stamped as “healthy” sex had gone through my fertile mind at some point. However, I was reluctant to share my specific dreams about threesomes with them. I wasn’t sure why I hesitated, but I think now that it was because I wanted to be led down this path by them. I was afraid they’d want to try my scenarios if I shared them, and then I’d be in charge. That made me uncomfortable, as I felt most cosseted and accepted by them when I was the eager third, the innocent submissive in a way. This may have just been me projecting, but there’s no way to know for sure now.
Occasionally during these trysts, the Wife would tease the waistband of my pants, her fingers trailing my midriff while plucking at the elastic. I almost always wore sweatpants when I’d go over there. I was afraid of being too uninhibited with a skirt, and jeans restricted my movements. Not to mention I was afraid my drenched crotch would betray me in anything other than loose pants. I didn’t encourage her, and she didn’t pursue it further. As she told me before, she was waiting for permission.
Well, one day, I was determined to move forward in our arrangement. To steel my nerves, I had three glasses of their wine, boom, boom, boom, after I returned the dog and while they were channel surfing. It honestly didn’t matter what we settled on at that point. We were just looking for ambient background noise to our playtime. I think now that I was putting pressure on myself. I was afraid they’d get bored if we didn’t progress sexually, but in hindsight I really don’t think that was the case. Like I said before, they had other thirds on speed dial. If I had never wanted anything more than making out, I believe they would have been fine with it. I wish I could go back now and tell myself to relax.
As I whipped my shirt and bra off and joined them on the couch, I felt myself in that pleasant place between tipsy and drunk. My inhibitions were down, but I was still in control of my actions. Perfect. I reclined across their laps, my limbs moving languidly.
“What a lovely display!” the Husband laughed. He was so handsome when he smiled. I put my hands on his bare abs and felt them contract as he cupped my jaw and slanted his lips over mine. A moment later, I felt the warm weight of the Wife cover me as she focused her attention on my aching tits. I felt my pussy cream with desire, the wine being just the right accelerant to ratchet up my need. Suddenly all the thwarted pleasure I had been denying myself with them reached a painful point within me. God, my body was on fire! Unfortunately, that was not one of the days the Wife tested my boundaries, and my hands soon fisted the comforter beneath me in frustration.
“Please, please,” I breathed between the Husband’s hot kisses. My eyes locked with the Wife’s, and she went still.
“Yeah?” Realization dawned on her, and there was so much hope and longing in that one word. Her eyes practically blazed with suppressed lust. They were the electric blue of just-picked blueberries.
I nodded a fraction. “Yeah.” I felt like I had scaled a mountain and now was expected to leap off, but I refused to back away. I looked up at the Husband. He swallowed thickly but then carefully extricated himself from me, stood up and left the room. Before I could wonder where he went, I felt the smooth enamel of the Wife’s fingernails on my stomach as she reached her hand into my pants and underwear and let her middle finger glide through my slick folds. Something about the boldness of that one action, her total lack of hesitation, turned me on something fierce, and I moaned in response.
“Ooh, Cameron,” she crooned. “You’re so fucking wet. You’ve been ready for us for some time, huh?”
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “I’m always like that around you two.”
She looked away, and I followed her gaze. The Husband had grabbed a chair from the dining room and was now sitting several feet away, facing us. He was close enough to see the action but far enough that he couldn’t reach out and touch us. “It’s a flood,” she told him. “She’s so wet you could fuck her right now, no foreplay.” She slowly inserted her middle finger in her mouth and sucked. I gasped, and the Husband murmured, “Oh, damn,” as he watched us.
She turned back to me. It was like I had unleashed something wild inside her when I gave her permission to go further. She wiggled my pants and underwear off in one swoop. I closed my eyes tightly, but I realized something just then. Their slow seduction of me paid off in this moment. We had grown so comfortable with each other and our bodies that I didn’t tense up or try to stop her when she stripped me nude on that couch. Even still, it was difficult to reconcile spreading my legs before them. The Wife put her hands on my knees and murmured comforting words about how beautiful I was and how much she wanted to see my gorgeous body, how much I turned them on and what an amazing woman I was. Eventually, I let her words wash through me like the alcohol and allowed her to push my knees to either side.
There was silence for several seconds, and then I heard her whisper, “Fuck,” with such a powerful fervor that I opened my eyes for the first time since I had become naked. She was staring at my exposed cunt in rapture. I looked over and saw the Husband wearing the same expression. She had positioned me so that one leg was over the back of the couch and the other was on the floor, giving the Husband optimal viewing. Her hands squeezed my inner thighs, and I bit my lip. Damn, she was right about how turned on I was. I was wet with my juices even on my thighs. She glanced up at me. “You have an exquisite pussy, Cameron.”
“You don’t even know,” the Husband murmured in agreement. “We’ve spent so much time wondering what you looked like; it’s even better than we imagined. So pink and wet and tight.” Something inside me clenched at his words. I’ve seen my vagina in hand mirrors before. I didn’t think it was all that special. But under their gazes, I felt beautiful. I was glad I had taken the time to shave completely.
The Wife feathered kisses along my inner thighs, the tip of her tongue reaching out to taste my juices on them.
“What’s it like?” the Husband asked tightly. I looked over at him and saw him fisting his stiff cock over his cargo shorts as he watched us.
“He loves descriptions,” the Wife told me in a throaty voice (actually, you’re both a lot alike in that way). “Salty and sweet,” she answered him. “She tastes like pink salt and peaches growing in the sun.” He groaned, and I felt my cheeks color at her words. Without breaking eye contact with me, she leaned down and placed more kisses along my labia before taking a long slow lick along the entire length of my slit, the tip of her tongue only just slipping through my folds.
I leaned my head back and breathed deeply. My hands reached back, and my fingers dug into the arm of the couch, my breasts thrust up in display. “Yeah, like that,” I heard the Husband murmur.
“Has anyone ever gone down on you?” she asked as she used her fingertip to circle my freshly-shaven pussy. She stayed on the outer edges, never delving to the center.
“Yeah,” I breathed while I melted under her touch. “It was unpleasant.”
They chuckled. “You didn’t come?” she asked. I shook my head no.
“Poor guy. It takes a while to develop technique,” the Husband said sympathetically.
“You certainly seem to have that down,” I said to the gorgeous woman nestled between my legs. Taking that as her cue, she let her tongue wriggle into my pussy, using it like a tiny cup to catch my cream. I watched, eyes wide in shock, as she pulled up a bit and then let her tongue stick out flat so that what she accumulated could drip back down onto my aching clit. I bit my lip, and my clenched hands spasmed on the couch arm. She used her first two fingers to massage the liquid around and around into my exposed clit, and I moaned.
“Yeah?” she asked breathlessly. “That feel good?” I mm-hm’ed in response. “You like me touching your clit, sweetie, you want my mouth on it?” I nodded desperately, but she didn’t comply. One side of her mouth was quirked up in a wicked smirk, and I realized what she wanted.
“Please, please put your mouth on my clit,” I asked.
“Ooh, yeah, you love my tongue on this hot little clit of yours, huh?” she asked. “So fucking small and pink, just waiting to be sucked.” I realized she was indulging my desire for dirty talk, and it worked unbelievably. I let go and rocked my hips up toward her mouth. “Suck it, please!” I begged. “Be the first woman to make me come with your mouth, I need it, you’re so fucking hot and sexy!” The words were spilling from me without filter. I heard the Husband groan, “Holy shit!” the moment before his wife suctioned her mouth over my clit and began to frantically flick her tongue over it.
I cried out and reach one hand down to clench her hair. The electric sensations zinging through my tightly wound body were unlike anything I had ever been able to achieve on my own. She went from licking to desperately sucking on it, the accompanying squelching sounds vulgar and exciting. More liquid dribbled from my pussy, and she inserted one finger, then two, and began working them in and out of my tight passage. My hips bucked beneath her, but she rode me throughout it, her mouth never breaking the suction she created. I grabbed my tits in desperation and squeezed my nipples as I called out her name. Her head shook wildly left to right as though she couldn’t get enough of my smell and taste, and the fingers she worked in me sped up faster and faster until she was furiously finger fucking me to the third knuckle. She made mm-mm sounds as she continued to eat me out and then delivered the coup de grace when she sucked my clit between her teeth and lightly bit down. My back arched off the couch, and my thighs clamped down on either side of her head, but she refused to let up. Between my frantic shrieks, I could dimly hear the Husband chant, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” further away. The knowledge that he was watching such a dirty, intimate thing just compounded the sensations.
“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!” I cried. “I’m coming!” Sweat trickled down my temple, and when I looked down, all I could see was the fever brightness of her eyes locked onto me. She bit down on my clit again and then sucked for all she was worth as those clever fingers kept hammering into my sopping pussy. My whole body spasmed with the first shocks of my orgasm, and I shouted as I exploded in release. She rode me through the whole thing, and when it was finally over, she eased off and then let me go. She sat back on her knees, and my dazed mind took note that she was absolutely drenched in my pussy juice from her chin down to the top of her chest.
Oh, my God. I had never, never, never imagined I could have an orgasm like that. My sweaty limbs were splayed out on the couch, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to move again. My head rolled listlessly to the side, and I saw the Husband collapsed in the chair, his head hanging back. Slowly, he lifted it and met my eye. “I came too,” he admitted with a worn out laugh. I looked down and saw the wet stain on the front of his shorts. “That was one of the fucking hottest things I’ve ever seen. Are you O.K.?”
I opened and closed my mouth a couple times before I managed to croak, “I think so.” My throat was raw from my yelling.
“Good. You sounded like you were being murdered,” the Wife said, tiredly. I rolled my head back to her and saw her slumped against the back of the couch and wearing a huge grin. “It’s a good thing this house is soundproof, or else someone might have called the cops.”
I smiled and weakly reached out a hand to her. She crawled on top of me, and we embraced and kissed. I sucked my fluids off her tongue as I brushed her hair off her wet face. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for letting me be your first woman and the first person to make you come.”
“Thank you for being so good at it,” I replied. We giggled tiredly, and she nestled into my body as we watched the Husband observe us.
“You two together are literally the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he told us.
I frowned as an unpleasant thought hit me. “Oh, no!” I said to the Wife. “You didn’t come!” To be honest, the prospect of having to see to another person’s release just then made my head swim. I was completely and utterly exhausted by my satiation. Maybe it would be enough if I just used my hand?
“Oh, don’t worry,” she assured me. “I was fingering myself the whole time. I came after you did.”
Eventually, I was able to gather enough strength to sit up and look for my clothes. The comforter beneath us was drenched, and they laughed at my mortification. “Not the first time, won’t be the last!” the Husband said gleefully. They helped me back into my clothes before they donned their own tops again.
Noting my exhaustion, the Husband insisted he drive me home. When he pulled into my driveway, he parked the SUV and let it idle. He seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts before he turned to me. “Cameron, are you really O.K.?” he asked. I went to answer, and he put a finger to my lips. “Think about it for a second. We’ve been married for some time, and we’re used to this. You’re not.”
I did think about it. I knew I wasn’t in love with them and that they weren’t with me, but I never felt like they were using me. If anything, it came closest to a *friends with benefits* type of relationship, and I was fine with that. I had no regrets, certainly not for the hottest sex of my entire life, and I told him that.
The corners of his lips turned up in a faint smile. He observed me for several moments. “You’re incredible,” he said at last. “We’ve both never met anyone like you. All the times we fantasized together about what the sexy dog walker was really like, we had no idea it was someone so open-hearted, fun, inquisitive and caring. Hot as fuck, well, we already knew that,” he finished with a laugh. I blushed under his praise, and his gaze darkened. His eyes were also blue, but whereas his wife’s were like berries in the summertime, his were the cool, pale blue of ice covering a glacial lake in winter. It made me think upon first impression that he’d be cold in personality as well, but I had discovered so many facets to this man: humor, intensity, dominance, care and power. “Kiss me,” he commanded now.
I glanced around in panic. “We’re right in front of my house!” I squeaked. “Someone could see us!” It was an unspoken thing between us that this was our little secret. While we weren’t technically doing anything wrong, I could only imagine how my uptight, conservative parents would flip if they knew what I was doing with the neighbors down the street. And it would only take a careless word to the wrong person before the entire neighborhood would soon malign and judge them.
“Darkened windows,” he said softly. “No one can see from the outside. Now, you heard me.”
I shivered at the authority he always seemed to command in me and leaned across the console to kiss him. He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me closer to him, his mouth hard and demanding against mine. I opened to let him in with a sigh, and his tongue swept inside to caress and conquer mine. I whimpered against him in submission, letting him know he could take it all, he could have all of me. The knowledge that we were doing this practically in view of my parents or any neighbors sent an illicit thrill through me, and my pussy clenched in response. Suddenly, my arms went around his shoulders, and my kiss returned his demands. He murmured in appreciation before releasing my mouth.
“Yeah, honey,” he said, breathing heavily, “you’re definitely one of a kind.”
***
Now, I can safely say this stage was the longest of our relationship. What was once two or three times a week became four or five. I had to have been their only third at the time because I never walked in on them with anyone else. I didn’t seem to bother or interrupt them as long as I showed up after the Husband got home from work, around five or so. I even stopped walking the dog, as the weather was starting to warm, and they’d just let him out into the back yard. I’d enter their house (it was always unlocked), and they’d both greet me like they hadn’t seen me in years. There would be a flurry of kisses as they undressed me, and they’d usher me naked to the couch where the Wife would eagerly go down on me until I came while the Husband would watch from several feet away. After, I’d get dressed again, and we three would snuggle and kiss while watching T.V. I did feel guilty that I was the only one getting proper release, but they never pressured me in any way to reciprocate. Besides, they were married. I knew they had wild fuckathons the minute I left their house. No one had blue ball-itis there.
They weren’t all I thought about in my waking hours, but they were about 90%. I still ate meals with my parents, still studied, still talked to and occasionally hung out with my friends, but if it came down to a choice between those things or a blisteringly hot orgasm? I mean, come on!
I was accepted to my first two choices of colleges, and my neighbors were ecstatic for me. They wanted to take me to dinner and said we could go anywhere I wanted. I shyly brought up an idea I’d had for the last few weeks, and after a moment of hesitation, they agreed. So one Saturday, after I told my parents I was going to a friend’s house for the day, the Husband drove the Wife and me in his sleek SUV to the state capital two hours away, and the three of us spent the day kissing and holding hands out in the open. The city was large, so the danger of recognition was slight. And while a few people shot us dirty looks for our *aberrant* lifestyle, most people didn’t even notice, and we spent the day seeing the city, the Husband pointing out landmarks to his ladies with the enthusiasm of a little boy followed by a chilly lunch in a sprawling park in its first thaw of the year and ending with a romantic candlelit dinner at the Wife’s favorite Italian restaurant. I had the most incredible dessert when they each used a hand to graze up my skirt and meet at the seam of my thighs. While we nonchalantly ate the homemade tiramisu, they worked in tandem to stroke my pussy until I was at a fever pitch. The Husband’s eyes shone in the reflected candlelight. “Don’t you dare,” he ordered. I knew what he was demanding from me without having to finish the sentence. *Don’t you dare make a noise when we make you come.* Unfortunately, the waiter chose that inopportune moment to check in on us, and though I didn’t make a peep when my orgasm crested over me, I noticed my rigid body and glassy eyes gave him pause. “Good girl,” the Wife said after he left. The Husband returned both hands to the table and surreptitiously licked the fingers of the one that had been buried in my twat moments before, his lips curling up as he got his first taste of me. “The sweetest part of dessert,” he told me with a wink.
The next time his wife made love to me with her mouth, the Husband knelt by my head and asked if it was all right if he kissed me. It happened to be the exact moment her tongue was spearing my tight channel. I helplessly nodded yes and hung onto him during the onslaught like he was a life preserver in a storm. He then graduated to licking and sucking on my tits while having me tell him exactly what his wife was doing between my legs. After that day in the city, we’d sometimes get in the pool, them in swimsuits and me naked. It’s like once they saw me fully nude, they never wanted me wearing clothes around them again. They’d kiss me and each other while their hands roamed my body freely, usually ending with one manipulating my clit while the other fingered my tight pussy until I came wantonly crying my pleasure into their mouths so their neighbors wouldn’t hear. That was the other reason their eight-foot-high privacy fence was so practical.
They also indulged my kink for dirty talk and for the first time started talking in detail about further progression while servicing me.
“I bet you can’t wait to feel this pussy, huh?” the Wife asked her husband while she massaged my G-spot with two fingers crooked. My hips undulated with her rhythm as my arm rested against my forehead and I moaned. “This sweet, teenaged pussy? Think it’s ready for that big cock of yours?”
“It will be,” the Husband grunted as his hand moved up and down in his pants. “I’m gonna fuck her sweet pussy and then fuck that perfect mouth of yours, angel,” he’d say.
“Oh, yeah, I’d love to feel that cock,” I panted. “It’s so fucking big, it’ll feel sooo good slamming into my tight cunt.” All inhibitions and pretenses were gone. Even though the Husband had only fingered me at that point, we knew the inevitable would happen. I didn’t feel nervous returning their filthy words with my own because we were secure in the knowledge that it wouldn’t be that day, but it would happen when I was completely ready. And that day was coming soon.
***
And it did. I thought we’d ratchet up more steps before reaching the pinnacle, sort of like I had more levels to clear before I could battle the final boss, but it didn’t work out that way.
I went to their house, and just like any other day, they met me effusively at the entrance to the living room, kissing me and pulling off my coat.
“Wait!” I stepped away from their embrace and held out my hands in a *stop* gesture. They looked puzzled but stayed where they were. “I have a request.”
They exchanged that silent, knowing look that spouses share where it almost seems like they’re communicating telepathically. “Our teenager has a request,” the Husband said wryly. I could see a flash of humor in his features.
“We’d better hear her out,” the Wife said seriously. “I’ve heard they can get moody.” They turned to me with simultaneous expressions of expectation, and I couldn’t keep from bursting into laughter.
“You guys are the worst!” I said while shaking my head. I thought about what I wanted to ask, and I could feel my face starting to flush. I bit my lip and looked down.
“Ah, sweetie, we were just joking,” the Wife said. She approached me and put her arm reassuringly around my shoulders. “You can ask us anything.”
“Especially when you get that shy look like you have right now. God, that gets me so hard,” the Husband added in a tone of appreciation. I glanced at his crotch and saw that he indeed spoke the truth.
I lifted my head and stated freely, emboldened by their words, “It’s just that you both have been so incredible to me, always seeing to my satisfaction without ever asking anything in return. So lately, I’ve been thinking about doing something different, something where it’s not just about me — ”
“Honey, you know you don’t have to — ” the Husband began.
“I KNOW I don’t have to. I WANT to,” I interrupted. “I keep coming to the same idea over and over. I want to watch you two together.”
My words dropped into the room like stones and left stillness in their wake. The Husband and Wife looked at each other in silent commune again.
The Wife stepped back a little to study me. “That’s something you really want?” she asked. There was no disapproval or skepticism in her voice, just curiosity.
“It is.”
“Does the thought turn you on?” the Husband asked in a low voice. I met his gaze, and for once it was challenging and not meek.
“It does,” I confessed.
He shrugged. “O.K.” Wow, that was easy.
The Husband and Wife each took one of my hands, and for the first time in all the months I’d been going there, they led me upstairs to their bedroom. My heart rate sped up at the thought of finally being allowed access to something that had been denied to me up until that point. They may not have seen it that way, but it was how I felt.
They pushed open the door and stood inside. I stopped at the threshold and looked in. The room was spacious, with floor to floor soft beige carpeting and furniture in a rich, dark cherry wood. The bed dominated the space. It seemed massive to me, but I had never seen a king-sized bed before. It was high off the floor, had four posters in the same cherry wood and was absolutely swarming with thick, fluffy comforters and pillows haphazardly strewn about. If I was having sex as often as these two were, I wouldn’t bother making my bed either. There were full-length mirrors placed strategically around the room, and I noticed with surprise that there was even one on the ceiling.
“There’s a catch,” the Husband said after I got a good look at the room’s layout.
I rolled my eyes. Of course there was. “Which is?” I drawled.
“You have to be naked.” Ha. That was old hat to me by then. I dutifully started to lift my shirt before something occurred to me.
“Hang on. I have a condition as well.”
“Intriguing,” the Wife said as she leaned against her husband.
I met their looks square on. “It has to be like what you both do when I’m not here. When you’re completely alone with each other.”
The Wife cocked her head. “That a big ask. You’re asking to witness spousal intimacy.” I started getting nervous that I had gone too far, but then she continued. “But I think we can accommodate your request. What do you think?” She swiveled her head to look up at her husband.
He pursed his lips in thought before nodding slowly. “Yeah, it can be done. I suppose I’m willing.” That was the exact moment I realized they were fucking with me. I grabbed a pillow from the chair next to me by the door and threw it at his head. He caught it with a laugh and lobbed it back to me.
After that, we all three got undressed. I made sure to fold my clothes neatly and place them on the floor next to the chair before I sat down. When I focused back on the scene before me, I drew my breath sharply. I had never seen either the Husband or the Wife completely naked before. She was a slender yet curvy column of alabaster punctuated by bright accents of color: near black for the hair on her head and the narrow strip between her legs, royal blue for her eyes, pink for her lips and nipples (cherry for the former and champagne for the latter). As for the Husband, he was magnificent, very nearly the epitome of male perfection with his broad shoulders, lean hips and muscled thighs. His cock sprang proudly from his body. I admit I salivated at the sight. It was huge to my young eyes (and probably older eyes as well, come to think of it), long and straight with just a hint of an upward curve and flushed red. His balls hung heavy in a nest of well-trimmed dark blond hair. I felt like I could drink the sight of those two people in forever.
The Wife climbed onto their bed and knelt on all fours while presenting her ass tantalizingly to the Husband. She looked over her shoulder at him with a coquettish grin, and he padded over to her, as stealthy and dangerous as a lion. He seemed absorbed by her ass. He studied it and cupped it in his hands, squeezing each cheek as though he was comparing produce. “God, I love this ass,” he groaned.
“Have you seen hers?” she asked. “Puts mine to shame. I’ve grabbed it while eating her out. I’ve never seen an ass so firm that can still jiggle like that.”
I must have made a noise at that point because they both turned to me as though noticing me for the first time. “Come on, guys,” I scoffed. “This is supposed to be what it’s like when you’re alone. Don’t put on a show for me.”
“We’re not,” the Husband said with a frown. “This is what we do after you leave. We talk about you like this.”
“O.K., but surely not all the time.”
“Not EVERY time,” the Wife said. “But more often than not.”
I found it difficult to swallow. “For how long?”
She looked back quizzically at her husband. “Probably since… maybe after Halloween?” He nodded in confirmation.
I went a little light-headed at the revelation. The knowledge that I, unassuming, unimportant Cameron, had that kind of power over these two people, that they couldn’t help but fantasize about me while fucking each other all these months, was overwhelming. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. Now, I felt a little flush of delight.
The Husband searched my face. “Do you want us to go on?”
I bit back a smile. “Yes. I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt again.”
“Good.” He turned back to the Wife and without warning smacked her right cheek with the palm of his hand. She jerked forward and unleashed a cry of pleasure. “Yeah, I saw it,” he told her. “Yours is still my favorite, but my God, what I wouldn’t love to do to that ass of hers.” He issued a sharp smack on her left cheek and then massaged the globes of her butt to soothe away the sting.
She arched her back and leaned into the caress. “She’s so close.” Her voice went deeper with desire. “I can’t wait to see you fuck that teenaged cunt. Just try not to split her in half.”
“No promises,” he murmured as he placed a kiss at the top of her ass crack. I shivered at their dark words. He reached his hand between her legs. “Ohhh, yeah, I love how turned on you get by her. Just the thought makes you wet, huh?” She practically purred in satisfaction. “Play with your clit, angel,” he directed. “Imagine it’s her.”
I could see her reach to part her pussy lips with her fingers and begin to play with herself. Like I said, she didn’t have muscle tone, so the arm bracing her up soon began to shake, and with a moan, she went down on her elbow. Of course this had the beneficial effect of thrusting her ass even higher for the Husband’s entertainment, and he took advantage of it by sliding his dick between her thighs. They started rocking together in a well-practiced rhythm, and once he coated his cock in her arousal, he pulled away. She took that as her cue and rested her forehead on the mattress so she could reach both hands behind her to spread herself open for him. From the angle, I could just barely see the deep pink entrance to her cunt and the trickle of juice leaking out. He pressed the fat, spongy head of his dick against the hole and then withdrew. She whimpered in frustration, and he did it again. And again and again.
“Please!” she plaintively wailed. “Don’t tease me!” She moved one of her hands back to the front and began rubbing her clit again.
“Fuck, you’re so hot!” As though he could no longer help himself, he gripped his cock at the base and angled himself into her waiting depths. Once he was completely sheathed, they sighed together in relief. She continued to manipulate her clit but brought her other arm forward to brace at the elbow so she could rest her head on her forearm.
“Ohhhh. Oh, yeahhh. So full,” she groaned. He grabbed her hips firmly and began to piston himself in and out of her, his ass flexing with each thrust. He grunted like a pig in heat each time he bottomed out, and soon they were desperately fucking as she rocked back to meet him with every plunge. Sweat ran down his chest and landed on her back. He fisted her hair into a ponytail and tugged on it to lift her head up.
Without warning, he put his hands under her arms and lifted her into a kneeling position identical to his behind her. I could see both of them clearly then. Her mouth was hanging open as her high-pitched cries escaped. Her eyes were half-closed, but she was looking straight ahead, and I realized there was a mirror on the wall further down from me. If there’s one thing I knew from our rendezvous, it was that the Wife absolutely loved eye contact. Thanks to the mirror, she was locked onto her husband’s face.
His was strained into a grimace with his effort. He held her up under her arms in bicep curls and his pelvis continued to slam against her ass as his cock kept working her. He repositioned his arms so that he could reach and pinch her nipples hard while still holding her up. Her cries went guttural at that, and her hand continued to helplessly rub circles on her juicy clit.
The most intense part of this tableau was the way they continued to look at each other in the mirror with a palpable mix of heat, passion, love, yearning and pleasure.
“Let go. Let go,” he begged as he smothered kisses down her neck.
“Again!” she cried.
“Let go for me. Give it all to me.”
Her body began to shake all over, but he still wouldn’t stop their endless dance. “So close!” He continued to encourage her until she exploded in a supernova of sensation. “I love you!” she howled to the ceiling.
A couple more thrusts, and he was ready to join her. “I. Love. You!” he shouted as his climax overtook him, and he unleashed his seed into her waiting body.
Oh, my God. I felt like I had just witnessed something more secret and intimate than they had probably intended, something that could shatter an unwary soul. Unable to help myself at the end, I reached down to stroke my clit, and my orgasm had sizzled quietly through me almost the instant I touched myself. When the last of it ebbed away, I looked over and saw the Husband and Wife collapsed onto their big bed. They had both rolled onto their backs and were now lying side by side in satiation, their eyes closed.
I had meant for that to be it as far as the evening’s activities went. But the orgasm I had ended almost before it began, and it left me feeling aching and unfulfilled. When I remembered the look of pure bliss on the Wife’s face when he dominated her pussy with that magic weapon, I could feel the emptiness within me. I was wildly horny, and even though they had just massively exerted themselves, my body throbbed with need. It was vital that I somehow be part of this thing they had created between them in this bedroom, this thing that was so big and beautiful and celestial that I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. I found myself, without conscious action, climbing into their bed, sliding between her legs and cleaning the cum from her beautiful pussy with my tongue.
O.K. I know it sounds crazy that I had mild anxiety for every new sexual act we embarked upon as a threesome but was now giving this woman head for the first time like I was at a Sunday brunch buffet. I get it. The only thing I can tell you is that there was no way I would have been that eager eating pussy for the first time if I hadn’t been so turned on. I was so horny and in awe that it almost felt like I had been drugged. And I couldn’t blame it on wine or weed this time. This time, it was all me. I wasn’t so concerned about her pleasure as I was mindless with the imperative to consume every last drop of their shared orgasms.
I’ve heard people describe the taste of a woman’s pussy, but I’ve always found, as I did this first time, that there was barely any taste at all. Sometimes it’s a little bit salty, sometimes it’s a little bit musky, but I’ve never found it to be unpleasant, and I revel in it when I’m giving my partner pleasure. As for the semen, well, I don’t have to wax poetic on what jizz tastes like. Most people have tried it, either through their partner or themselves. So even though a small part of me approached it with fear that it would be terrible, their combined flavor was fine. And in the middle of my sexual frenzy, I simply couldn’t get enough.
My tongue roused the Wife with a groan, and when she saw me positioned between her legs, her eyes went wide with wonder. I used the flat of my tongue to clean the outer edges of her puffy pussy lips first with long, wet licks before I delved in. I skimmed between her folds as I lingered on her clit, my nose pressed against the bristly dark hair of her landing strip. She whimpered in encouragement and spread her legs wider for me. That was when the Husband noticed something new going on and turned on his side to watch us, his gaze shadowed.
At the noises the Wife was making, I snapped out of my sexual stupor a bit and began to concentrate on spiraling her pleasure. I thought about all the things she had done to me, all the things I had done to myself, and tried to distill that into a confident action.
“Am I doing it right?” I stopped for a moment to ask.
“Oh, Cameron, yes,” was all she could say. I stepped it up another notch and sucked her clit between my teeth. Hers was a little longer than mine, easier to manipulate. I shook my head back and forth like a dog worrying a bone. She spasmed. “Too much!” she gasped. “Still too sensitive!”
“You can take it,” I said roughly before going back to the task at hand.
“Fuck, yes,” the Husband whispered.
I switched tactics anyway and instead sucked, sucked, sucked her clit like it was a lollipop. When she began to writhe beneath me in earnest, I moved my mouth down. Her pussy muscles still hadn’t contracted fully back to their usual taut state, and the hole before me gaped a little thanks to her husband’s girth. I could have easily fit three fingers in there right then. Instead, I crammed my tongue as far as I could to get to every delicious drop. When that wasn’t enough, I suctioned my mouth over her twat and sucked like I had her clit. Their milky fluids gushed into my mouth, and what I couldn’t swallow dribbled from the corners of my mouth. The Husband reached down to scoop up the rivulet with his finger and feed it to his wife.
“God, I’m gonna come again!” she cried as she helplessly sucked his finger.
I lifted my head to lock eyes with her, just like she liked. I used three fingers to roughly fuck her, twisting them in a corkscrew pattern. I used the first two fingers from my other hand to rub her clit up and down, side to side, around and around, all in a way to keep her from settling into a rhythm. “Do it,” I urged. “Come all over me. You were the first woman to give me an orgasm; be the first for me to give one to.” She grabbed the Husband’s shoulder and thrashed on the bed as her cries went higher and higher. Normally, I’d be second-guessing myself, unsure if I could get her off with my lack of technique. But that moment in that room, I had total mastery of her body and knew it on a visceral level. “Cream all over my hands,” I chanted. “Fucking come for me now.” A moment later, she broke eye contact as her body stiffened and she threw her head back.
“Fuck, yeah!” she screamed, her fists clenched on the sheets. I quickly leaned back down and removed my fingers to catch the warm flood of her orgasm with my mouth. This time, it was just her, and the only thing I could taste was a bare hint of brininess. After I licked her clean again, I sat back on my heels with a smile of triumph.
“Good job,” the Husband congratulated me with pride. As I shot him a smug grin, I noticed his member was at half-mast again. I stared at it, transfixed, and he shafted his hand up and down on it a couple times in response. “Like what you see?” he teased me.
I did. The feelings that had been coursing through me hadn’t dissipated. I was still ravenous. He stared at me in astonishment as I rolled away from the Wife toward him and smacked his hand away from his dick before taking it in my own.
It was still damp from earlier, and I couldn’t even wrap my fingers completely around the base. I’m sorry to say, babe, but I believe it’s the biggest one I’ve ever had. The thought of this thing inside me made my pussy clench in yearning. I stroked my hand up and down, up and down in an effort to revive it fully. It soon did, and I marveled at his texture of silky smoothness over steel. I used my other hand to cup his balls, and he twitched in response.
I looked up, and his face was a mixture of shock and hunger. Without a word, he adjusted himself so he was sitting against the headboard. His cock was pressed against his hard stomach. It was a study in ombre — pink at the base, red in the middle and an angry purple at the tip. I figured this was the most sensitive part, so I crawled to him on my hands and knees, lifted it to my mouth and swirled my tongue around his slit.
“Holy Christ,” he said. His voice was low and husky and sent shivers through me. “Have you ever done this before?”
“Yup,” I said, continuing to stroke him. “Couple times. I asked for pointers, and all he’d grit out was, ‘No teeth!’ ”
The Husband chuckled and placed his hands on the headboard behind him. “That’s as good advice as any, I suppose.”
I covered his mushroom head with my mouth, and my cheeks hollowed out as I sucked. I went further and further down his cock with each bob of my head, one hand twisting at the base and the other caressing and lightly squeezing his balls. He kept groaning, and I heard the creak of the headboard as his hands gripped down. I was grateful then for the few pornos I had seen and all the Cosmo articles I’d read.
I finally became aware of the Wife as she pulled my hair back in a ponytail so the Husband’s view of his blowjob was completely unobstructed. “Try deep throating,” she said softly in my ear. I released his cock with a wet pop and turned my head to her, my expression inquisitive.
She gave me instructions and coached me through it as I made an attempt. It took several tries before I was able to relax my throat enough to let him in. He used iron control to stay still and keep his hands restrained to make it easier for me. When I finally got him past my throat, the feeling was so alien and wrong that I coughed and yanked my head away, tears streaming down my face and ropes of saliva flowing down his shaft.
“It’s O.K.,” the Wife soothed as she brushed my tears away. “This happens a lot. It takes a while before your body stops rebelling against it. Try again. Don’t let all that spit go to waste.”
“And thank you for not using teeth,” he said wryly.
I went back to it and was actually able to swallow him down to his base a few times, though never longer than for several seconds. The sounds of my muffled choking and gagging as I eagerly gobbled his cock were turning all of us on.
“God,” he growled. “You’re just a little cock-sucking slut, aren’t you?”
His words sent a thrill through me and I paused. I imagined what he must have been seeing: my tear-streaked face, my chocolate puppy dog eyes looking up at him, my lush lips wrapped around his pole. I freed my mouth and said, “I am. I’m YOUR cock-sucking slut.”
The Wife gasped with longing, and a predatory look came over him. This time he cupped the back of my head as I went back to fucking him orally. He held me still and thrust into my salivating mouth with ferocity. Though he took care not to force himself too far, I had no choice but to remain there and take what he was giving me. And I loved it.
Finally, he pulled away with a grimace. “I’m gonna come if we keep up like this,” he panted ruefully.
“In me,” I said stubbornly as I went back to stroking him.
“Wait, what?” He covered my hands with his to stop me.
“I want you come in me,” I repeated.
“In you where?” he asked cautiously.
I sat back on my heels and regarded them both. They couldn’t hide their lust, but I saw the worry for my wellbeing in their expressions too. They had more than proven themselves with their deference and concern. I recognized that I was willing and happy to place my total trust for the responsibility of my body and pleasure in the hands of these two people.
I met each of their gazes confidently and answered clearly, “In my sweet teenaged pussy.”
“Fuck!” they both exclaimed together. In a flash, the Husband used his easy strength to lift me under my arms and fling me onto my back. I giggled a second before the Wife’s mouth came down over mine, her hands plucking at my tits. I enthusiastically reciprocated, my own hands squeezing her heavy globes as I desperately returned her open-mouthed kiss, our tongues swirling together in a maelstrom.
He knelt at my feet and spread my legs, hissing at the site of my weeping cunt. Suddenly, he cursed and looked at me wild-eyed. “Shit, I can’t believe I forgot! Are you on birth control? I can get a condom.”
I pulled my head away from the Wife and ran my foot down his chest. He caught it and kissed my instep. “Yeah. For a few months.” I took it upon myself to go to the clinic when things had turned sexual for the three of us. Even if it turned out I was reading into things, I figured it would be better to be safe than sorry.
“We’ve been tested for STD’s,” the Wife said. “If that puts your mind at ease. We get tested every six months or so to make sure we’re clean.”
“If you still want me to wear protection, I will,” the Husband told me seriously. “I want you to be comfortable.”
“I am. I trust you both.”
“What did we do to get so lucky?” he asked, shaking his head in amazement.
“I ask myself that too.” The Wife laughed softly and kissed me. “It’s like you were made just for us, Cam.”
I smiled affectionately at her and gasped when the Husband leaned over me and pressed his cock into my slick folds. He didn’t penetrate me yet; he just rubbed back and forth to coat himself in the cream of my arousal. The head of his cock rubbed deliciously against my clit on every pass he made.
“How does it feel to have that big cock of his finally on you?” the Wife asked as she continued to devote attention to my chest.
“So good,” I moaned. “I want more.”
“You want more?” His voice was deep and gruff.
I looked at him. “I want more.”
He met my gaze. “If you’re having any second thoughts, you need to tell me now,” he said gravely. “Once I pass a certain point, I won’t be able to stop. I have to know that you can handle me.”
I smiled ruefully. “Mr. Hyde?” I guessed. The Wife chuffed a small laugh near my ear. “In all the months you’ve both checked in with me to be sure I was all right, exactly how many times have I backed away because I was having second thoughts?”
“None.”
“Exactly. Now fuck me or move over so your wife can see to my orgasm,” I commanded.
His eyes flashed with excitement. “Yes, ma’am.” Convinced he was fully lubricated, he gripped his cock and began to feed it into my aching hole as we maintained eye contact. His helmet head pushed into me and stretched me completely. I groaned in frustration when he seemed to reach a barrier.
He frowned. “I thought you said you weren’t a virgin.”
“I’m not,” I gasped. “You’re just too goddamn big.”
He chuckled and pulled out, his fat head leaving my opening with a pop. He surged forward again, this time breaching the tight ring of muscle at the entrance to my pussy. My eyes went wide at the sensation of being invaded so entirely by him. He continued this way, pulling free only to press forward again and again, further and further. My tunnel walls reluctantly loosened to give him access. It was almost a clinical process, letting my body accommodate to fit him until he was finally in up to his base.
“That’s it,” he announced, his eyes shining brightly with his restraint. “You O.K., honey?” I nodded. I could feel a faint burn deep within me at how far I was being stretched, but it was something I could ignore. Especially when I felt the bolt of electricity run through me as the Wife suckled on one of my nipples.
He continued to pull out and re-enter me. It wasn’t really fucking; he said I was still too tight for that and wanted to make sure my body was ready for him. I looked up and gasped when I saw us in the ceiling mirror. I was mesmerized the way his huge cock would disappear in my body only to re-emerge glistening with my fluids. Eventually, he was able to smoothly enter and leave me without any pain or difficulty.
“Yeah, honey, you’re ready. I’ve been dreaming of this for months.” And with that, he roughly reached under to grip my ass and pull me toward him. I struggled for breath when his cock slammed into me all the way and began to thrust with smooth fervor.
The Wife left my side, lifted my ankles one at a time and rested them on his shoulders. At that angle, he was able to penetrate me even more fully, and I lost myself to desire as his cock stroked places within me I didn’t even know I had. I ooh’ed with each plunge he made.
“Yeah, you like me filling that pussy for you?” he grunted. I cried out in the affirmative. “So fucking tight.” My walls clamped down on him at the words, and he shuddered and began really slamming into me. I cried out and gripped the forearms he had braced on either side of me for dear life as I rode out the onslaught of his fucking. My tits bounced with each hard jerk. I closed my eyes and arched my back, my face contorting with my need for more. And he gave it to me. He was practically a machine, pistoning in and out of me, the sound of his balls slapping against my lips. I writhed uncontrollably underneath him, mindless to everything but our joining.
Without warning, he reached under my shoulders and lifted me up so that I was straddling him as we both sat up. I wouldn’t have thought it feasible, but he went in even deeper that way. I was truly impaled on his cock. Our rhythm didn’t miss a beat, and I bounced up and down on his pole as his fingers dug into my ass and spread me wide. His mouth covered mine hungrily, and his tongue thrust in and out in the same tempo. The Wife slapped my ass hard, and I squealed into his mouth as I could feel my cheeks quiver in response.
“You’re right,” he gasped to the Wife, and I glanced over to see she was off to the side fingering herself. “This ass. It’s so fucking good.” This time he slapped it, and he didn’t hold back. I knew it would be black and blue in the morning, and I didn’t care. I threw my head back and chanted, “Yes, yes, yes!” to the mirror on the ceiling, my breasts jiggling with every bounce. His teeth bit one of my nipples, and I felt the deep stirrings of my orgasm within me. It made me flail even more wildly on him, if that was possible.
“You close, honey?” he asked roughly. I cried out yes, don’t stop, and he somehow seemed to swell even larger within me. My clit was hitting his pubic bone with the wet smack of flesh on flesh, and the combined sensations of everything I was experiencing spiraled higher and higher within me. My body abruptly went rigid like I was being electrocuted, and I yelled with the violence of my release.
My body shook and collapsed against him, but that didn’t stop him. He continued to pound into my cunt for what seemed like forever until he finally came with a roar and shot load after load of his hot cum into my exhausted body.
I drifted for a little while after that. I felt the Wife gently and tenderly cleaning his jizz from my pussy at one point with her tongue. “Not all of it,” I murmured. I wanted to feel the evidence of what he’d just done to me whenever I shifted my body. As if the pleasantly sated ache between my legs wasn’t enough.
Somehow, I found myself being held on his lap as he reclined against the headboard. I lazily opened my eyes and jerked up with a gasp when I saw the clock.
“Oh my God.” I scrambled off him and ran to my clothes.
“What is it?” the Wife asked, concerned.
“Yeah, hold on, Cinderella,” the Husband said lightly.
“My curfew was fifteen minutes ago,” I told them, panicked.
The Wife got out of bed and hugged me to calm me down. “It’s O.K., sweetie,” she hummed. “Call your parents now.” She gestured to the phone on their dresser. “Let them know you’re all right.”
I took a deep breath to settle my nerves and used their phone to call home. When my mom answered, I apologized for not calling sooner and told her I was at a friend’s house. She asked which one, and I said the name Ilsa without thinking. The Husband and Wife introduced me to “Casablanca” early in our movie dates, and I loved it so much that I had seen it several times since then. In fact you know it’s still my favorite film.
I’m not sure what my strategy was other than I must have worried that if I named a friend they knew, one of my parents might call over to that house for some reason and discover my ruse. I thought this way was better, but I had to swallow the terror lodged in my throat when my mother asked to speak to one of *Ilsa’s* parents. She sounded suspicious. I’m sure she thought I was with a boy. If she only knew.