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If you’ve been reading this memory series in its entirety, you might think this was a very short encounter. Let me assure you, it wasn’t. But words can’t adequately relay the passage of time. Oh sure, I could say, “And we did that for about 20 minutes,” but where’s the joy in writing something like that?  (Though Hank is definitely a short-game lover.)

All things considered, from the moment Kelly gave me the toy to the time Hank left the room, it was about an hour and a half of non-stop shenanigans. There were more positions and activities than I describe here, and Kelly and I continued alone for several hours thereafter. But that’s not the point of the story, and it’s not what I took away from the experience. It was the first threesome I really remember having (the second in reality, but I don’t recall many details of the first), and that’s what I want the writing to stress. So I am cutting off the story early because the rest was just more of the same. Exciting at the time, and in memory, but not necessarily fun to write.

And now, the thrilling conclusion. (Thrilling might be a strong word, but if you say it in that 30s pulp radio tone, it’s catchy.)

—————————————————————————————————————-

The tone of Kelly’s voice, equal parts demanding and beseeching, sends a shiver up my spine. But I maintain my composure as best I can. I approach the bed, and as I do, she shifts her body, rotating on her lower back, her legs locked around Hank’s waist to force him to move with her without removing himself from her. He doesn’t make the shuffle easy, as he insists on continuing to thrust into her, but she gradually completes the movement. Her head hangs over the edge of the bed, and she tilts it back, exposing her throat and smiling at me, upside-down.

I step forward, still lightly stroking myself, and Kelly grasps my hips and guides me where she wants me to stand. I can’t see her face through my hand and shaft, save for her chin, but I feel the warmth of her tongue and breath on my sack. I can’t suppress the gasp. This isn’t something she normally does, and I wholeheartedly approve. The slightly rough, wet sensation glides across my flesh only for a moment before Kelly reaches up, moves my hand aside, and grasps me by the base of my shaft. She pushes my hips back and guides me down, into her open, inviting mouth. We groan simultaneously, me because she has a truly gifted tongue, and her because she enjoys fellatio as much as sex. I feel her tongue against the head of my cock. She alternates between circles and gentle flicks against the tip, and the underside of her tongue is remarkably smooth. It’s an entirely new sensation to me.

But I relish it only for a moment before Hank resumes his jack rabbit routine. This time he falls to lie atop her, ruining my view of their penetration. He takes her nipple in his mouth, and sucks on it noisily, almost hungrily. I find it utterly distasteful, again, and lacking in any kind of civility, and despite the pleasurable sensations I can’t help but be put off by his style. (Sure, there is a time and place for that kind of vigorous fucking, but when it’s the only tool in your belt, it makes you kind of a boring partner.) On the plus side, with each thrust Kelly’s body rocks toward me, effectively causing her to bob her head and run her mouth along my shaft. She treats it as such, sucking me as if she wanted nothing more than that. She moans each time he pushes into her, the sound muted by my cock, and I run my thumb along her jawline. She grasps my hand suddenly, squeezing tightly and turning her head to remove me from her mouth.

“Jesus I’m gonna cum again!” she cries out loudly into the room, eliciting a groan from Hank. I squeeze her hand back and say, “Do it, honey. Come on his cock for me.”

That does it for her. She gasps at the words, and as I finish the words she bucks and tightens her abs, pulling her torso up and off the bed. She cries out again, and she doesn’t need to say it for me to know this orgasm is harder than the first was. Hank cries out as well, and I know how hard the contractions must be around him, because I experience it regularly. But he can’t cope. He suddenly pulls back and away from her. I watch him grab his shaft and stroke frantically, releasing several long ropes of cum across her stomach, her breasts, her cheek…

…and my thigh, and my groin, just above the base of my shaft. I jump a little, but not far. It was unexpected, but… not entirely unpleasant. I suppress the urge to taste it, but only just.

Hank laughs and points at my leg. “Oh man… I don’t normally shoot that far. My bad, bro.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. I know someone who will help.” Kelly released my hand as her orgasm subsided, and I stroke her cheek again. She breathes heavily, almost panting, but she rolls onto her side and look at my groin. She stifles a laugh, but snorts through her nose. “I can definitely help with that,” she says sweetly, and runs her tongue heavily up my leg, cleaning Hank’s cum off my thigh. The second rope has begun to run down my groin, across my shaft, and she cleans there as well, diligently licking every trace of him off of me.

I lean down and kiss her, and I taste him on her. Salty, much more so than I expected, and aromatic. Definitely different from my own flavor. It might be distasteful if I weren’t so turned on. Instead I groan against her lips and slip my tongue into her mouth, tasting more of the salty flavor, and strangely, unexpectedly, loving it.

Hank laughs again and falls onto the bed beside Kelly. “Man, you two are fucking freaky.”

Kelly breaks away and scoops some of his deposit from her stomach with two fingers. She rubs it gently on the head of my cock, and just as gently removes it with her tongue. I shiver.

“No we’re not,” she answers. “We just don’t limit ourselves.”

“Never,” I almost whisper. She smiles at me again, and delicately kisses the tip of my cock.

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2 Comments

  1. I understand… it can be very hard to convey passage of time without becoming quite repetitive and dragging the story down. Good stories (be they fiction or not) are tight, not necessarily short, but they move fluidly from one moment to the next, like you’ve done here. I did find it thrilling; not necessarily in the pulpy 30s way, but more in the dirty, sexy kind of way.

    xoxo

    • I actually find writing erotica to be substantially harder than anything else I’ve done. You have to keep coming up with new ways to describe, essentially, the same thing over and over again. Frankly, I’m not that creative. Which is probably why technical writing is so much easier for me. :/

      Thanks for the kind words though. That’s one hell of a compliment coming from you.


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