Loading the Dishwasher (MF, cheat)

[Jaime Austin]

This is a work of fiction.  You must be 18 or over to read this story.

We weren’t in the car more than a few minutes before Angela was sniffing and said, “Do you smell that?”

I didn’t reply. I noticed it the moment the doors closed.

She pressed the buttons to roll the windows down. It was a warm spring morning and the air was cool, but not too cool.

“Can you imagine rolling up to the drive-thru and the poor kid getting hit with that smell?”

“Maybe it would be some young kid who wouldn’t recognize it.”

The smell in question was that of sex. Pussy, semen, and sweat. We reeked of it. Angela was wearing a t-shirt and sweat shorts she’d pulled from the hamper in her bathroom. I was wearing clothes I had donned the previous morning.

We had made this Sunday morning run dozens of times. Her husband Mark lay in bed while we headed out to hit the local Jack in the Box for breakfast sandwiches and the nearby Starbucks for coffee. Ange would get in line at the drive-thru for Jack’s while I would walk into the Starbucks to get three coffees. It was a Sunday morning routine, but not routine today.

“Listen,” I said. “Maybe you should just drop me off on campus.” I was one of the few third-year students who still lived in the dorms.

“No fucking way, Timmy.” I hated it when she called me Timmy. “He’ll be up by the time we get back. We’ll set the stuff on the table and I’ll go right to the bathroom and take a shower.”

“And leave me alone with him?”

“Just start telling him about the redhead. He’ll be impressed and by the time I’m out of the shower he’ll have no idea I changed clothes.”

Mark and Angela threw the best parties. At least as far as the philosophy department was concerned. My metric for judging this was turnout. When other people hosted a party, far fewer people showed than when it was Mark and Angela’s turn. Why was this? Maybe because Mark was guaranteed to be there and he was the top dog, the shining star of the department. Grad assistants deferred to him. Full professors accorded him an unusual amount of respect. At least that was my take. Being a lit major myself, I only observed such things from the outside.

The same could be said for Angela. She was a journalism major and had no greater insight than I did. She thought it was because they were better hosts. Which could be true, but I still credited Mark. With his full beard and perfect grin, he just looked like a future philosophy professor. Add his cute wife and they were a magnet that automatically drew people to them.

Me, I was Angela and Mark’s third wheel. Everywhere they went, I went too. If it struck anyone as odd, they never let on. Ange and I were friends from the seventh grade on and Mark? Well, he and I were friends, fairly good friends, but there was never any mistake who I was really friends with. He showed up our freshman year of college and Angela was hooked from the word go. Their parents were relieved when they decided to get married. Me, not so much.

There was one party. I forget who hosted it. Nice apartment in an older building near campus. Typical turnout for a philosophy department get-together. Mark, of course, provided a great deal of entertainment, getting into elaborate debates with one and all. Angela and I commandeered the stereo, played all our favorite songs, and shared a large rocking chair. We also shared more than one bottle of wine.

I don’t think we even realized that we were necking until the room got quiet. I guess the last song on the playlist had finished and when someone turned to see what we’d play next, we were in that chair with our tongues entwined. Mark approached us and held out his hand to Angela. As soon as she was off me, I started more music and she and Mark danced and everyone, myself included, acted as though everything that had transpired was perfectly normal.

The three of us never talked about it, but Angela and I made an effort to be more circumspect at parties from that point on. But that was hardly the first or last time Mark saw us kissing. It was a habit we started back in High School. We never just said goodbye to each other. There was always an embrace and a full mouth-on-mouth kiss. She and I never dated. We were never boyfriend/girlfriend. We were just very good friends. Special friends. And the girls I dated and the boys she saw just had to deal with that.

Even after she married Mark, she would tell me I was her best friend. And at times, when she was drunk she would kiss me and say, “If it wasn’t for Mark, it would be me and you.” How do you deal with something like that? I just told myself that Angela and I were too much alike. That if we tried to be more than friends we’d destroy each other. There were occasions when I actually believed that.

It was not unusual for me to spend the night on Mark and Angela’s couch. I lived in the dorms on campus and if the hour grew late and especially if I was drinking, the couch was the place for me. There was even an oversized blanket that lived folded over the back of the couch that was there primarily for my use.

This Sunday morning followed a particularly successful party. I woke up on the couch naked and had to search for my boxers. The apartment was a bit of a disaster, so I quietly started putting things right, including loading glassware into the dishwasher. I hadn’t been at this long before Angela came out of the bedroom. She was dressed in a t-shirt that barely covered her ass. I recognized it as one she had stolen from me years ago. It once said Ocean Beach across the front, but now all you could read was “cean each.” Whatever paint they used for the O and the B faded in the wash long ago.

She went past me to the bathroom. I put coffee on and then a few minutes later, when she came out I handed her a cup.

“Sorry about last night,” she said, bending over to pick up a glass off the floor. It was clear she had nothing on under that shirt.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I heard that redhead shoot you down.”

I laughed.

“Why is that funny?”

“You never saw her leave, did you?”

That got her eyebrows raised. In the search for my boxers, I had also found a pair of leopard print panties. I walked over to the couch and waved them at her.

“Get the fuck out!”

“Evidently she’s into pseudo-intellectuals.”

“Timmy got laid! I’ve got to tell Mark. He’ll be impressed.” She shook her head for a moment. “I had no idea you were into souvenirs.”

“Found them in the blanket. She left in a hurry at first light and left them behind.”

“Ha! She’s probably at home crying, 'I fucked a pseudo-intellectual and lost my panties!'”

“Well, she’s going to have to be nice to me to get them back.”

“Maybe she won’t want them.”

“She has a matching bra — not that I ever saw it.”

Angela sat on a bar stool, inadvertently giving me a clear view of her light brown bush. Angela did not believe in shaving. Her legs were covered in a delightful soft down, her armpits as well, and her bush was luxurious. Not that I saw it often. “So how does a girl go from insulting you to discussing her underwear?”

“I’m not really sure myself. Maybe she felt bad about it? All I know is she was the last to leave. She was in the bathroom when you and Mark went to bed. When she came out, I was the only one here. She was quite drunk and I offered to call her an Uber, but she said no, she’d wait a bit until she sobered up enough to walk home.”

All the while I’m talking, I’m moving around the apartment, picking up glasses, plates, and anything else for the dishwasher. I loved talking with Angela, but I wanted to avoid looking at what she had on display.

“She told me I was sweet and gave me a kiss. Next thing you know we were on the couch necking and well, one thing led to another.”

“How did you end up discussing her underwear?”

“I told her I loved her panties as she was taking them off and she said she had a matching bra.”

“That she wasn’t wearing?”

“No bra on that girl last night.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Really?”

“I think that’s a boy thing, Tim.” She was up now, placing a glass in the machine. The loose-fitting shirt fell away from her neck affording me a view of her petite breasts. I quickly moved away.

Now Angela will tell you that she is flat-chested. I’ve told her on more than one occasion that that just isn’t true. We’ve gone skinny dipping enough that I know her body well, and she has breasts. Lovely, pert, and yes small. Even in the skimpiest of bikinis, she shows no cleavage. And I doubt there’s a pushup bra that could help. But there’s a curve to them, subtle, but there. And then there’s her nipples, kind of like the erasure on top of a number 2 pencil. Crying out to be sucked.

Angela wanted details. Was I still wearing my boxers when she took off her panties? Did we fuck on the couch or on the floor? I replied, “Just don’t turn over the sofa cushions.”

“Fuck, Timothy. That belonged to Mark’s grandmother!” I shook my head, knowing full well it came from Goodwill.

Back in the kitchen, we’re both loading the dishwasher and no matter how hard I tried, I was either looking down her top or getting a good look at her naked ass, all the while telling her about fucking a redhead on her couch.

“Did you go down on her?”

I moved close to her. “Smell my face.”

“Damn, bro, you need a shower as much as I do.”

I looked down at her and while she was fully covered, her nipples were poking against her shirt. I started to turn away.

“Timothy,” she said to me. Angela was the only person who did not routinely call me that. She got my attention. When I looked at her face, it was obvious that she was staring at my crotch, or more precisely my erection, which was pushing out the fabric in an obvious way.

“Is that for me or is it from talking about that girl?”

I paused for a moment. “Angela,” I said, “that shirt barely covers you.”

She looked down and seemed to realize for the first time just how short that shirt was. Then she noticed there was even a hole in it, just above the hem, and a few hairs were peeking out. She picked up the hem and gave me a full view of her abundant bush. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

My dick throbbed and she saw it. “Oh baby,” she said, taking a step toward me. I should have backed away, but I stuck a finger through that hole and pulled her closer. Her hands reached for my dick and we kissed. We probably both tasted like coffee mixed with morning breath, but neither of us cared.

My hands were under her shirt, caressing her back, her ass, and I pressed my erection hard against her. I looked toward the bedroom door.

“We fucked just before I came out. He won’t be up for an hour.”

With that, I tore her shirt open. Two hands working on that small hole until she was exposed from her neck to the hem of the shirt. My cock was sticking out the vent in my boxers and Angela had a firm grip on it. She rubbed the head against her slit until it was shiny with moisture. Then she rubbed some more until I sensed a brief tremor.

Maybe she thought that was going to be it. Maybe she didn’t get off when she and Mark had just fucked and needed a release. I don’t know about any of that. I took a step back, discarded my boxers, and then tore at her shirt until there was nothing left but rags covering her shoulders. For a moment I thought I saw fear in her eyes. Maybe this was a side of me she hadn’t seen before. But with her ass pressed against the kitchen sink, I entered her. To say she was ready was an understatement. Her hands bit hard into my ass pulling me deep inside her. I leaned back so we could both watch as we slowly fucked, my dick nearly exiting her body, then sliding back in as far as it would go.

She ground into me as if to hurry things along. But I wasn’t about to have any part of that. I was where I always longed to be and I was going to take my time. She pushed me away and rubbed her back where the countertop had cut into it. I turned her around and entered from behind. With her hands on the edge of the sink, she drove her ass back into me, again at a pace I didn’t want to match. I put my hands on her hips to hold us still. Then slid one hand up to tweak a nipple while the other dipped low, through her hair until I felt my cock.

Then I began to move again, one finger riding her slit while my cock moved in and out. I could feel her spasms with both my dick and my hand and yet I was still not done. Oh, I could have been. I could have driven hard and climaxed almost as soon as I entered her. But this was something to be savored and not rushed.

I pulled out and she seemed to think we were done, that she was going to keep loading that fucking dishwasher. But I pulled her to a nearby chair, where I sat down and guided her onto me. I pulled what was left of her shirt off, and we faced each other fully naked, my cock firmly embedded in her cunt. She rocked back and forth slowly, and we could see the gap between us where a few inches of my erection were on display before she rocked forward, ending the separation.

There was a look in her eyes that suggested tension, like she was aware of her husband just beyond the bedroom door, but also aware of how good it felt, how right it felt, to be fucking me that Sunday morning. I pulled her close for a lingering kiss. We kept our eyes open as if to ensure we both knew who we were kissing, who we were fucking.

She started rocking harder and this time I was in synch with her movements. I could feel it building in us both. The whole time I held her gaze, never turned my eyes away. Ever look into a woman’s eyes when you are close enough to kiss? You can see yourself reflected in them and you know that she can see herself as well. And you know how hard it is to cum with your eyes open? But we did it. We felt the tension mount, our breathing reach a crescendo, our bodies driving ever faster. But we never looked away. Not once. And as we came, another kiss with eyes wide open.

It was only minutes later that we were in her car, headed out to get breakfast like we’d done so many times before.

Standing in line at the Starbucks, I’m thinking just how much do I reek of sex? How long does that pussy smell linger on your face? And Christ, what must my dick smell like, the slimy bastard tucked inside my boxers and my cargo shorts? I just ordered Ange’s cappuccino, my latte, and Mark’s caramel macchiato.

Back in the car, all you could smell was food and coffee. Maybe we could pull this off after all.

Mark was sitting at the kitchen table reading something on his iPad. He’d helped himself to a cup of regular coffee. We set the bag of food and the coffee carrier on the table and Angela went straight to the bathroom.

Mark was staring at me, making serious eye contact. I was sure we were busted, but then he produced the leopard print panties. “Want to tell me about these?”

I just smiled sheepishly.

“Not the redhead?”

I tilted my head in affirmation, a silly grin forming on my face.

“Never saw that coming,” Mark said.

“Me either.”

“You have to understand,” Timothy, “in the philosophy department calling someone a pseudo-intellectual is a mortal insult.”
I sat down and we began to eat.

“To be fair,” I said, “she didn’t actually call me that. When I was trying to justify my spending the summer in Europe, which she said was extravagant, I said I thought that you really couldn’t appreciate your own country until you had spent some time outside it.”

“Which she said was a very pseudo-intellectual thing to say. A minor distinction, my friend.”

Angela came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel that afforded us both a view of her legs and a hint of bush. She tried to get past us, but Mark pulled her onto his lap, putting her even more on display.

“Your boy tell you he got lucky?”

“I made him give me all the details. Evidently, she has a bra that matches those panties, so she’s certain to want them back.”

“Her name is Connie Ferguson and she’s in my 11:00 class tomorrow. Maybe you want to meet me after class and accidentally run into her?”

I smiled my appreciation for the suggestion. Then rose to leave. Angela followed me to the door.

“You don’t want to step outside in the towel sweetheart. Timothy and I are one thing, but the general public isn’t quite ready for you.”

We both laughed.

“Good luck with Ms. Ferguson,” Angela said, her hand on my shoulder.

From the kitchen, we could hear Mark say, “Who loads the dishwasher and doesn’t bother to run it?”

Angela and I exchanged a look and then I was on my way.

[Pornhubby]

Great tale.  Thoroughly enjoyed. Woo. 

[Jaime Austin]

The following appeared as a separate post under the subject "Caught in the Act." Since it is really a further chapter in the story "Loading the Dishwasher," P'm adding it here as a reply. A third chapter will be added momentarily.

Caught in the Act

My only classes on Mondays were at 10 and 1. My plan was to meet my friend Mark when his 11 o’clock class let out and “accidentally” run into the girl from Saturday night.

I spotted Mark right away. Hard to miss a guy with an entourage of coeds hanging on his every word. Connie wasn’t one of them. He headed my way, ignoring the girls, as any happily married man should, and punched me in the shoulder.

“Feeling lucky?”

“Not in the least,” I replied.

“She should be coming this way, so let’s give her a minute.”

We started talking about football which had the effect of lighting up massive cigars whose smoke would drive away mosquitoes, women, children, and small animals. Mark’s entourage disappeared.

I glanced at the building Mark had come from and saw Connie heading our way. Trying to be nonchalant, I did not turn in her direction but kept chatting with Mark. The next thing I knew she was blowing past us with a quick, “Hey guys!” She never broke her stride.

“You are sure it was her Saturday night?”

I gave him a look that said, “Dumb question.”

“Well look at it this way,” said Mark, the eternal optimist, “she blew you off Saturday night only to leave her underwear with you on the couch.”

“Yeah?”

“So maybe she just blew you off again only to follow up later in a decidedly carnal manner. You did notice how her ass was swinging?”

“Hard to miss.”

This was not how I had excepted my day to go. I had envisioned a brief chat with the three of us and then me inviting her to lunch.

After my 1 o’clock class, I was back in my dorm room reading. My roommate, Dave, was sitting at his desk tapping away at his notebook. The door swung open without a knock and I looked up hoping to see my red-headed friend, but instead, there was Angela, Mark’s wife, my best friend on the planet, and as of the day before, my secret lover.

I never thought of Dave as being particularly astute, but he quickly packed up his notebook and was out the door. Angela and I just stared at each other. Dave must have read the look between us because it said one thing and one thing only. “I want you.”

I barely had a chance to put my book down before she was on me. There was nothing tentative in our kiss. It was a full speed ahead battle of the tongues. My hands were caressing her naked back under a loose-fitting t-shirt. She was wearing sweat shorts, her go-to this time of year, and I quickly had my hands around her ass, pulling her closer.

The thing I remember the most was how hot she felt. Almost like a fever. There are few things in life as arousing as having a beautiful woman desire you. She ground her sex against mine and for a moment I thought I would cum in my boxers.
We separated long enough to stare into each other’s eyes. Like the day before, it was as though we wanted to confirm who we were with, and what we were doing. She pulled her shirt over her head while I jerked her shorts and panties down. I didn’t think for a moment about my clothes. I just wanted to bury my face between her legs.

Her hands were in my hair, her thighs pressed against my face while my lips and tongue explored her every recess. She came so fast that it caught me off guard. My tongue was just finding its rhythm. But she was pulling at me, bringing my face to meet hers and she lapped up every hint of where my tongue had been.

Then it was my turn to strip. My shirt was over my head as she unfastened my cargo shorts. As my dick was set free, she latched onto it with her mouth. I felt her tongue, her teeth as she engulfed me. But that wasn’t what she really wanted. No, she wanted me inside her and I was quick to oblige.

“I’m not going to last long,” I whispered. She just pressed herself all the harder onto me, grinding and turning and devouring me with her sex. Far too soon it was over. I had released myself physically and emotionally into her very core and we both lay together panting.

It took a moment to realize that we weren’t alone. Evidently, Dave failed to lock the door on his way out and we had an observer. I’m sure we were both surprised to see Connie Ferguson leaning against the closed door.

I had no idea how long she had been there, but she had a misty-eyed look to her and a strange Mona Lisa smile on her face.

“You know these things lock,” she said, turning the latch and locking us in.

Angela and I were speechless.

“I think everyone in the philosophy department thinks you two are fucking except me. And now I know better. Silly me. After Saturday night, I thought for sure I was right. I mean, how could you fuck me on Angela’s couch if the two of you are having an affair?”

Angela found her t-shirt and put it on. I used mine to cover my lap. I guess we were presentable.

“It isn’t what you think,” Angela said.

“Really? I’ve never watched anyone fuck before, not in real life, but you two seemed really vested in it. If you try to tell me this is some casual thing that just happened, I’m not buying it.”

“The truth is,” I said, glancing at Angela, “We really don’t know what this is.”

Angela was shaking her head as if to affirm that she was clueless herself.

“You don’t mind if I sit down, do you?” She pulled the chair from my desk and dropped into it. “Watching you has left me a little weak in the knees.”

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“When I came in you had your face buried between her legs.”

That was pretty much the beginning. Angela and I looked at each other, amazed that we could have missed her.

“You two were pretty into it. I doubt you knew what planet you were on, let alone who might have slipped into the room.”

“I was hoping I would see you again,” I said.

“I doubt that very much.”

“No,” Angela said. “He wants to return your panties.”

“And send me on my way.”

“I’m certain that was not his plan.” Angela laughed. Somehow this situation was starting to feel normal. “He was going to negotiate with you.”

“For what?”

“To see you in the matching bra.”

Connie smiled. She made eye contact with Angela and then me and then she pulled her t-shirt over her head revealing a leopard print bra.

“I hate you,” Angela said without emotion.

“What on earth for?”

“Those breasts. I would kill to have your cleavage.”

Connie was pretty impressive, I had to admit. I know nothing about bust sizes and bra cups, but Ms. Ferguson had ample curves and I couldn’t help but imagine sliding my dick between her lightly freckled breasts.

“Big boobs are far more trouble than they are worth.”

“Bull.”

“No, seriously. Guys stare at them. They can’t see beyond them. Flash a little cleavage and it turns them into infants. Their lips start to purse like they’re ready to suck their next meal out of you.”

Angela looked at me. “Timothy isn’t doing that.”

“He’s different. A large part of why I like him. The other thing with big boobs is they always get in the way. You bump into things and people with them. It’s embarrassing. And you have to wear a bra constantly. Otherwise, they droop and pull at your shoulders.” She tugged at the center of her bra. “I don’t wear this for fun.”

“Timothy said you weren’t wearing one Saturday night.”

Connie smiled. “But I did. I just had a blouse and a blazer on over it.”

I started to speak, but Connie cut me off. “While I was waiting to see if Mark and Angela would grant us some privacy, I went into the bathroom and took it off.”

“Wow,” was all I could say.

Angela was smiling. “You wanted to seal the deal.”

“It thought of it as leverage.”

“Well it worked then and I suspect it’s working now.” Angela pulled my shirt from my lap to reveal the beginnings of an erection. I gave her a hard stare and pulled a pillow onto my lap.

“So may I have my panties back now?”

“Maybe,” Angela said.

“Maybe?”

I looked at Angela and then at Connie. I had no clue what she was up to.

“I think we’d like to see them both on you.”

“You want me to change my panties right here in front of you?”

Angela just smiled.

Connie began to unfasten her cutoffs. They were denim with strategically placed rips. Underneath she sported a pair of white bikini panties.

I climbed from my bed, carrying the pillow in front of my crotch to get her panties from my backpack. When I handed them to Connie, she said, “Lose the pillow, Timothy. We both know what you’ve got under there.”

My head was spinning. Talk about being overwhelmed. I mean this is the stuff wet dreams are made of and it’s happening right now in my dorm room. I set the pillow down and sat on my bed near Angela. She glanced at my semi-erect dick then looked me in the eyes. She wasn’t smiling.

“This is getting weird, Ange,” I said.

Still no smile.

Connie’s panties came down to reveal a thin covering of red hair.

“Nice to see you’re a natural redhead,” Angela offered.

“Yeah. I’ve been tempted to sprinkle a bit of ginger powder down there before going on a promising date.”
That earned a smile. “I asked Timothy if you were a natural redhead and he wasn’t sure.”

“Really?”

“It was dark,” I said.

“Not that dark.”

“It kinda was.” Now I was at full mast, looking at Connie’s snatch and recalling how I buried my face between her legs Saturday night.

Now the leopard print panties were on and Connie stood and turned around to complete our inspection.

“Guess it’s time for me to get dressed and leave you two lovebirds alone.”

Angela stood up, her shirt only half-covering her bush. “I’m the one who doesn’t belong here,” she said, looking for her panties.

“I don’t think Timothy agrees.”

Disappointment was etched across my face.

“Timothy has been my best friend since middle school and I love him dearly. But he doesn’t deserve this.”

“Doesn’t deserve what?” Connie asked.

“Two half-naked girls fighting over him.”

“I’m not fighting. He’s all yours.”

“But he’s not.”

“Look at that face. He sure wants to be.”

Truth be told, I didn’t want either of them to leave, but Connie had it right. I really wanted to be with Angela. If I was forced to choose, there would be no contest.

Angela walked over to Connie and gave her a hug. I thought it was a sweet thing to do until I realized she had unfastened the girl’s bra. I couldn’t see Angela’s face, but Connie’s smile was impossible to miss. Had I missed something? Was there some quiet signal sent between them? A glance, maybe? A quick furtive look away? If it was there, I missed it.

Angela tossed the bra to me and it landed on my erection, where it hung like someone tossed a hat onto a hat rack. I sat there motionless as Connie pulled the t-shirt up and over my best friend’s head. The late afternoon light was bright enough to illuminate both women. These were California girls, with tan lines year-round. Alison’s ass, where the sun has seldom shown offered two pale globes, each being caressed by the red head’s freckled hands.

I sat there, fully ignored with a leopard print bra hanging from my dick. I was tempted to clear my throat and remind them of my presence, but I was far too keen on seeing where this was going to go to make a sound.

Angela slowly dropped to her knees taking Connie’s panties with her. The redhead placed her hands on Angela’s head for balance as she stepped out of her last remaining garment. Angela turned to me and said, “We need the bed.”

Was I shocked? You could knock me over with the proverbial feather, but I still got out of their way. I stood by the door as Connie lay back on my pillow. Angela followed her closely and began to suckle the large freckled breasts she claimed to envy. Then she kissed her way down to the soft nest of red hair that I had explored with both my mouth and my dick less than two days ago.

Angela’s feet were on the floor and her legs were spread far enough for me to see her sex calling to me. I reached out to caress her gently and meeting no resistance, slowly took my place between her legs. It was hard not to rush things. I sorely wanted release. But rather than drive my dick into her with abandon, I used slow, gentle strokes.

I could hear Connie’s orgasm. She made no attempt to be quiet. And shortly thereafter, Angela pushed me away only to turn to me and kiss me with lips covered in Connie’s dew. Our tongues danced as I pressed my erection against her. I knew that with the least bit of attention I would explode, but once again, Angela pulled away.

She looked at me, at my dick, then turned and looked at Connie and I knew what she wanted. Connie stared at us both, her knees wide apart. And I fell on her, like a starving wolf on innocent prey. I was in her as far as I could go. And the two of us writhed, torturing the bedclothes, heedless of anything else.

I was vaguely aware of Angela’s hands on my ass. More along for the ride than directing me or pushing into our friend. I remember cumming, pouring every ounce of my consciousness into that lovely girl. And then the world went black.


“You need a shower.” That was Dave. He repeated himself twice until my eyes finally opened. I was sprawled naked on my bed and Dave had a look of mild disgust on his face.

“I didn’t want to open the windows with you lying naked like that. You’re on top of all your covers and I wasn’t about to cover you with anything of mine!”

I rummaged for a towel and my shave kit.

“Your friends left some time ago. Guess they literally fucked your brains out. You just became legend on this floor, bro.”
Legend? I was just a confused fool in desperate need of a shower.

[Jaime Austin]

Seeing Red

Dave was right. Guys on my floor looked at me with new respect. A Monday afternoon threesome was a thing of legend. I went from being the wise-ass lit major to being the resident stud. Or so it seemed. Certainly not in my mind.

No, for me it was a time of great confusion. I knew in my heart that what I wanted most in this world was to separate Angela from Mark. For her to finally see the wisdom, the correctness, of being with me. How that was to come about I had no clue. I was even less sure of where Connie Ferguson fit into things.

Tuesday morning I got a text from Connie: “Got UR # frm Ang. Wanna do lunch?”

We met at one of the campus eateries, got our lunches to go, and then found a spot with a view of the freeway, far below us in the valley.

“You know if we were at UCSD, we could eat with a view of the ocean,” I said.

“That must be why it’s so hard to get accepted there.”

“And why it costs so much.”

“You know I never did apologize for Saturday night.”

“What, calling me a pseudo-intellectual?”

She blushed.

“Mark told me that’s the philosopher’s equivalent of the unkindest cut.”

“And he’s supposed to be my friend. Technically, I didn’t call you that, just the BS you were slinging. Why are you laughing?”

“I’m still stuck on the unkindest cut. Last semester I wrote a paper on Shakespeare and discovered the full story behind that line.”

“Tell me.” I had her full attention and was loving it.

“Whenever I have a paper to write and I’m having trouble finding a theme, I turn it into a research project. Come up with all kinds of details that hopefully lead me to a theme or point of view. With Shakespeare, I went back to the source material, Plutarch’s Lives of Illustrious Men. The unkindest cut of all? Seems Brutus stabbed Caesar in the groin!”

“Ouch!”

“Yeah. I’d say that  was the unkindest cut.”

“Damn. Shakespeare had a sense of humor. “

“He did indeed.”

Connie set her food down for a moment and started tapping on her phone. “I’m stealing this.”

“What? Shakespeare or Plutarch?”

She kept tapping away.

“The whole thing. Research when in doubt, the Bard — a major philosopher by the way — and the traitorous stab to the balls.”

She finally put away her phone and looked at me directly: “What’s the deal with you and Angela anyway?”

”I’ve been asked that a lot over the years. My own mother even.”

“And?”

“The official answer is we’re friends.”

“Just friends?”

“I never called it that. No one would believe it.”

Connie agreed, “Tell me about it. “

I had nothing to add.

“So have you been in love with her from the start?”

We were still eating and I almost choked.

“I’ll take that as a yes. So you’ve been hanging on all these years waiting for her to come around?”

“I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“Of course not. You have to believe the friends story.”

“There’s a lot of truth to it.”

“So how did it start?”

“That’s easy,” I said, grateful for a question that wasn’t a challenge. “Seventh grade, we were in a class discussion about the news media and we were the only kids who listened to NPR.”

“KPBS. Love it.”

“Turned out we had other things in common and we quickly became inseparable.”

“But no romance?”

“We both come from broken homes. Mothers bitter from divorce. It can make you pretty cynical.”

“And all through high school, you never went out?”

“Not as a couple. We had friends we hung out with. Went to the same parties, rode to the beach with the same people.”

I paused to finish my sandwich. “You’ll love this: we double-dated once.”

“Once?”

“Yeah. Went to a concert in Chula Vista. Sat next to each other. My date on the far side of me, hers the same. We ignored them both the whole time. Behaved like we were the only ones there.”

“That is so believable.”

Connie pulled out her phone again to check the time. “I’ve gotta go. But listen, my roommate is going home for the weekend. I’ll be all on my lonesome Friday and Saturday night. Care to do something about that?”

My smile said it all.

“We need to find someone over 21 to buy us some wine.”

“I turned 21 back in February.”

“Fuck! You bring the wine.”

I sat on the grass watching her walk away. She was one of those girls who looked almost as good leaving as they do arriving. But then I thought of Angela and wondered what in the fuck I was doing.


It was a busy week. I worked Tuesday and Thursday evenings teaching English as a second language. Connie also worked part-time, so between that, classes, and school work, we saw very little of each other before Friday evening.

Angela, on the other hand, seemed to be avoiding me. We usually met up on campus several times a week. Friday nights I was almost always at her apartment watching a movie with her and Mark. Three or four text messages a day were not at all uncommon. But this week I got a terse “U OK?” Tuesday afternoon and after that radio silence.

The last thing I wanted to do Friday evening was to spend time with her and Mark. And without hearing from her, I didn’t feel the need to explain my absence. On the other hand, I did feel some pangs of guilt when I showed up at Connie’s dorm with a sack containing two very large bottles of wine.

“Wow!” She exclaimed at the size of the bottles. “You know you don’t have to get me drunk to get in my pants.”

“Angela always says more is better.”

“Of course she does.” If it bothered her that I mentioned Angela, it didn’t show.

“Speaking of Angela, I had lunch with her yesterday.”

My face was a living question mark.

“We talked about you and I told her about your coming here.”

F.U.C.K.

“That’s not a problem, is it? She didn’t seem to mind.”

I was starting to feel ill.

“Oh don’t look that way, Timothy. She would be here with us if she could.”

That really didn’t help.

“Look. I’m not trying to come between you and the love of your life. Whatever game you two are playing, and I know game is the wrong word, I just want to be a part of it.”

Connie produced two large wine glasses and I promptly filled them within a hair of the brim. She just laughed and took a careful first sip.

“Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

“You are kidding me?”

“No. It will be fun. The idea is to ask a question the other person doesn’t want to answer and the penalty, the dare, is they have to take off an item of clothing for each refused answer.”

I didn’t agree to this, but she asked the first question anyway. “How old were you when you had sex for the first time?”

“Sixteen. You?”

She took off her t-shirt. No leopard print bra, something better. It was pale pink with lace-edged cups that left a lot of freckle-covered breast exposed.

“Who was your first sex partner?”

I took off my shirt. Nothing underneath.

“Ah yes, a gentleman never tells.”

“When was your first experience with another girl,” I asked.

She pulled down her jeans to reveal bikini panties that matched the bra.

“Have you ever fucked a girl in the ass?”

“No. Have you ever been fucked in the ass?”

“No.” She paused for a moment as if trying to find something I wouldn’t reveal. “When was the first time you had sex with Angela?”

Off went my shorts.

“I’m glad to see your boxers, but I really thought you’d tell me that.”

“Have you sprinkled ginger power on your bush tonight?” I was so proud of this question that my grin went from ear to ear.

She removed her panties and beckoned me to see for myself. Indeed, there was the faint smell of ginger and when I probed
with my tongue I could taste it.

That was the end of the game. She slid back on the bed and I buried my face between her legs. I wasn’t sure about getting ginger in my eyes, so I kept them shut. I didn’t need eyes to explore her most intimate region. I slid my hands under her ass as if to lift her off the bed. She helped me to where I was on my knees, my tongue diving as deep as it could go.

I could hear the sudden intake of air. Delicate little gasps that matched the tremors I could feel with my mouth and my hands. Again with her help, I lowered her to the bed, her pussy rubbing against my body on the way down, coming to rest against my erection.

She looked at me with hooded eyes, but she smile said we were just getting started.

“Those boxers need to go,” she said.

“So does your bra.”

She undid the center clasp of her bra, but it did not fully release her breasts. The cups slid apart and seemed close to falling down. Her chest was moving from her heavy breathing and with every breath, more beautiful flesh was uncovered. But still, her nipples were covered.

I wanted to snatch that bra away, reveal her breasts in all their glory, but I waited for gravity to do its work. Connie looked down at her half-exposed breasts and smiled. “My nipples are so hard they are holding it in place.” My dick twitched like it was trying to escape my boxers. I didn’t know if she saw it, or felt it with her cunt. Either way, she laughed and the bra cups fell away.

It was like I was seeing her naked breasts for the very first time. The round underbelly, the puffy areolas, the sharp points of her nipples. My dick twitched again.

She tossed the bra aside and then kissed me, my face full of ginger-scented pussy juice. She devoured my tongue and my dick throbbed to where I thought I was going to cum in my boxers. Her hands caressed my ass, pulling me even closer as she ground her pussy against me.

God, I wanted to be inside her so badly. I pushed her back on the bed and pulled my boxers down enough to expose my erection. But before I could position it properly, she said, “I want it in my mouth.”

I was so afraid that one touch of her hand would put me over the top that I just froze. Lythe thing that she was, she quickly swiveled to face my throbbing cock, and without even a moment's hesitation, her lips were around the head and I was shooting jets of semen into her mouth.

What a beautiful face. Her red hair a tangled mess. Her pink lips wrapped around my cock. Her cheeks sucked in as she drained me. And those green eyes that never left mine. From the moment her lips touched my dick until the last trickle of jizz graced her tongue, our eyes were locked on each other. I watched as she released me, my rapidly shrinking member falling from her lips. Then she pressed her forehead against mine and said, “Are you one of the boys that won’t kiss a girl after you’ve come in her mouth?”

I answered with a kiss. A deep, full tongue probing kiss. Now we both tasted of semen and ginger and pussy and we held that kiss until we both collapsed on the bed.

I heard a noise from the hall and turned to look at the door.

“She’s not coming,” Connie said with just a hint of annoyance.

“I just thought I heard something, that’s all.”

Connie took a firm grip on my dick like she was staking a claim.

“How many times have you cum in one night?”

“Three,” I replied.

“We’re going to break that record tonight.” Then she laughed.

“What?”

“You’ve still got your underpants on!”

Barely. They were between my knees and my hips and I quickly stripped them away.

“Better?”

She just smiled.

We sipped some wine and then cuddled together on her bed, our fingers lazily exploring each other.

“So how old were you when you had sex for the first time,” I asked her.

“I’m not telling.”

“We have ways of making you talk,” I said in a pathetic German accent.

I was swirling a finger in the moist cleft between her legs.

“That might get me moaning, but it won’t make me talk.”

“We’ll see.”
I climbed between her legs, my erection coming back to life enough that I could rub it between her lips. She just laid back with her eyes closed and smiled. Just looking at that beautiful body and the tip of my dick nestled between her nether lips brought me fully erect. I slid in halfway. Stopped. And then withdrew until just the tip was buried.

“Tell me,” I insisted.

I slid in halfway again and stopped for a moment. Then I pressed on until I was fully seated and she began to grind against me. I watched as her breathing increased, her face was flushed, and then I withdrew again until just the tip was inside her.

“Tell me.”

She tried to pull me back in, but I held fast, just the tip of my dick inserted.

“You’re being mean,” she said, glaring at me.

“I just want some information. I answered your question.”

“Let me on top and I’ll tell you.”

We switched positions and she was towering above me. What a glorious sight. She bent forward so that I could lick and suck on her nipples as she ground into me. Our bodies quickly found their rhythm. Her back was arched, her eyes closed, and quickly I could hear those sweet gasps as her body shook and her inner spasms sent shock waves through my body.

She was done before me, but not by much. I could feel her breasts pressing against me, her breath roaring in my one ear while my cock spasmed and gave me the precious release. Softly, she whispered, “Twenty.”

After a moment of silence as we both caught our breath, I asked, “How is that possible?”

“Not everybody likes freckles.”

“Impossible. Not on a girl as staggeringly beautiful as you.”

That earned me a smile.

“I make you stagger?”

“And swoon. When they coined the phrase “Drop dead gorgeous,” they were talking about someone who looked just like you.”

“You have a way with words, Timothy. Must be from all those books you read.”

I responded with a shower of little kisses. Her eyebrows, jawline, shoulder, the underside of one breast. I placed my face between both breasts and breathed in her scent. Then I lay facing her feet, my cheek on her stomach, the back of my head nestled against her breasts. Again, I asked, “How is that possible?”

She stroked my hair gently, then spoke softly.

“I was always one of those anything but girls. You could put your finger in there, or better yet your tongue, but no guy was putting his dick in my pussy. I wasn’t getting an STD and I sure as shit wasn’t getting pregnant.”

“And you reciprocated?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but that wasn’t my first blowjob.”

I laughed. That thought had never crossed my mind.

“So your first time was less than a year ago?”

“Don’t go there.”

“Had to have been somebody in the philosophy department.”

“No it didn’t and this line of questioning ends here.” The look on her face was enough to make me back off. Almost.

“So how many guys have you been with?”

“You’re being a prick, Timmy.”

Ouch. Angela is the only person who calls me that and only when she wants to put me in my place.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I know that. You know how it is. You like a girl, you feel the need to tease her.”

“So you like me, do you?”

“To put it mildly.”

That earned me a kiss. A brief, but very pleasant kiss.

“I don’t know about you, but I need to pee,” she said climbing out of bed. She pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I did the same. “There’s a men’s room on the floor below us. Same position in the hall as the girl’s.”

There was no one about in the hallway. Must have been just passed midnight. When we got to the girl’s room, Connie pulled me in after her. It was empty.

We entered the first stall together. Connie undid my shorts, took my dick in hand, and pointed at the toilet.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” she said.

“Let’s raise the seat,” I added.

I took a long steady piss. For the first time, I noticed her fingernail polish. Pale silver. Looked nice wrapped around my dick. She reached for toilet paper when I was done, but I said, “Just give it a good shake.” She did and put me back in my pants.

“That’s a neat trick.”

“Just male plumbing.”

She put the seat down and took her turn. Afterwards, she reached for the toilet paper. “Female plumbing. A bit different.”

“Yes, but they fit together so wonderfully.”

That earned me a smile.

Back in the room, she asked if I was tired.

“Are you kicking me out?”

She laughed. “No way.”

“Good, because I promised my roommate that he wouldn’t see me until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Kind of sure of yourself, are you?”

“Hopeful.”
Connie opened my shorts and let them drop to the floor. “Seems like there’s a little life left in the old fellow. Back in the bathroom, I wasn’t so sure.” We quickly undresses each other and crawled back into bed.

“Are you one of those guys who won’t go down on a girl after you’ve cum in her pussy?”

Actually, I was. But I was determined to rise to the challenge. I pulled her legs apart and started to toy with her lips using my fingers. She whispered words of encouragement as I slowly lowered my face to where my nose was in her lovely red bush.

My fingers were slick and smelled of jizz, pussy, and just a hint of piss. I rubbed my nose in her bush and picked up a hint of ginger and I was ready to press on. But before my tongue reached its target, Connie sat up.

“I know what it’s called,” she said. “But I’m not sure how you do it.” So much for miss everything but.

“Lay on your side,” I told her. “Now lift your knee.” I lay down next to her, my face in her crotch and my slightly erect dick close to her face. From that point forward we both knew what to do.

I have to admit that the smell and the taste was a little off-putting. But there, in front of my face was her neatly trimmed patch of red pubic hair. I could see the innermost parts of her thighs, pale pink flesh covered in a million tiny freckles. And then I felt her lips around my dick and I lost all hesitation.

Maybe I didn’t drive my tongue quite as deep as I could have. Maybe I relied a bit more on my thumb and fingers than necessary. But her clit received the full benefit of my tongue.

Twice, she released my cock to catch her breath as spasms of delight wracked her body. The third time she actually pushed me away. I think she was trying to say “That’s too much,” but my third orgasm of the night caused her to slur her words.

We nestled together, drowsy with exhaustion and the relaxation your body finds in sex.

“You didn’t come nearly as much this last time.”

“That’s because I’m all used up.”

“Don’t say that. I’m going to need  another fuck before morning.”

“Good luck with that.”

She nibbled on my ear and pulled gently on what was left of my dick. “Oh, I think he’ll rise to the occasion.”

And then we slept.


She was right. Barely. That fourth orgasm was pretty weak and pretty close to dawn. We fell back to sleep afterwards.

Later, she made us coffee in the room.

“So who did you make it with three times in one night?”

“Girl I took to the prom senior year. Her parents weren’t home when I went to pick her up, so we did it once in her bedroom. Then after the prom, we all went to this kid’s house to change for the post-prom and we did it in a spare bedroom there. And then after the post-prom, we did it one last time in the back seat of Angela’s car.”

“Angela was part of your three fuck night?”

“She’s been a part of everything.”

Connie did not look amused.

“Sorry.”

“No. I should have guessed. What was she doing while you were fucking your date?”

“Fucking hers. Both couples got in the back seat. Boys on bottom, girls on top. It was a big car. Ange’s date almost lost it when the girls started French kissing and pulling each other’s tops open.”

“How about you?”

“Oh, I knew all about them. Ange and Julia were lovers for a couple of years by then. Ange’s date had no clue, but she kept no secrets from me.”

Connie checked the time. 6 am. “I bet I can sneak you into the showers.”

The shower room was only a few doors down the hall and we encountered no one on the way, each of us only wearing a towel. While we were under the water another girl came in. Connie stood between us and said, “He’s mine and I’m not sharing.”

The other girl smiled at that and proceeded to take her shower. Any time I tried to get a good look at her, Connie attempted to block my view. Back in her room, she complimented me for not getting hard in the shower.

“Baby, you’ve drained me. My soldier could be down for days.”

“Oh don’t say that!” She quickly squatted in from of me and kissed the tip of my dick.

“It’s quite sore.”

“It does look a bit red around the rim. I’ve got something that might help.”

She rooted in a dresser drawer and came up with a tube of antibiotic cream. “Let’s see what this does for you.” She coated my dick from the tip to my balls with ointment. “How does that feel?”

“It burns a little.”

“They say if it doesn’t hurt it isn’t helping.”

We spent the day together, behaving like a couple. On a blanket out in the common area where there was a bit of shade we did our class work, made notes for papers we were working on, and when we took a break, we would lay together, my head in her lap and then hers in mine.

Mid-afternoon I got a text from Angela. “Party at Dr. Joe’s 2 nite. Coming?”

I showed it to Connie. She pulled out her phone and wrote to Angela, “He’s coming with me.”

Angela replied, “Lovely. Want us to give you a ride?”

It was agreed that Mark and Angela would swing by campus around 7 pm to take us to a party at the home of Dr. Joseph. R. Watkins, dean of the philosophy department. This wasn’t going to be the least bit awkward.

[Jaime Austin]

An Awkward Evening

 We headed over to Panda Express to pick up supper. From there we walked to my dorm, so I could change clothes. As usual, Dave was there sitting at his computer. Today he had a headset on and was playing an online game. We heard him say he was logging off to get dinner.

“Damn, that food smells awesome,” he said, eyeing up or bag of Chinese take-out.

“There’s probably enough to share,” Connie suggested.

“No, that’s okay,” Dave said. “I had my heart set on a sub for dinner.” I started rummaging for clothes while Dave and Connie struck up a conversation.

“Are you from Temecula?” he asked.

“I am,” she replied with some surprise.

“I’m from Murrieta. Went to a lot of Temecula games. Your cheer squad was
pretty memorable.”

“Wait.. what?” I asked. “You were a cheerleader?”

“Is that so hard to imagine?”

“No. Not at all. It’s just...” I was stumbling for words.

“Just what?” she asked.

“I never thought a cheerleader would major in philosophy.”

“Right, we’re just dumb girls in short skirts.”

“You stepped into it there, bro,” Dave said.

“So you recognized her from high school?” I asked dave, trying to shift gears.

 “Like I said, their squad was pretty memorable. Connie here most of all. Homecoming Queen, Belle of the Ball. Her boyfriend was a three-letter man, football, basketball, and baseball. Such a shame what happened.”

“What happened?” I asked.

Connie wasn’t looking too comfortable with the conversation, and Dave paused.

 “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m being an ass.” Now Dave looked uncomfortable and quickly made his escape.

“Is there a mystery here?” I asked once we were alone.

“No. No mystery.” Her eyes were beginning to tear up and I wished I hadn’t asked.

“I’m surprised he remembered me.” she began.

“I’m not. You in a cheerleading outfit would be hard to forget!”

She gave me a slight smile.

“The boy’s name was Adam, and he was kind of the star of our class. We went together all through high school. Then the summer after graduation, he was killed in a car crash.”

She sat down on my bed before continuing.

“He was with his parents coming home from a Dodgers’ game. Drunk driver was at fault. Adam’s parents survived the accident. They were both wearing seat belts. Adam didn’t believe in them and he died at the scene.”

She paused for a moment and I had nothing to say, nothing to ask.

“I was supposed to be with them that night,” she continued. “That’s not quite true. I had been invited, but Adam and I were quarreling and I decided not to go. I guess I suffer from some sort of survivor's guilt.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah, well everybody has a story, right? We are still getting to know each other. Many stories to share. Much to learn.”

She looked at our bag of food. “Ready to head out?”

“Do you think I have time for a quick shower?” I asked.

“Sure. I’ll head over to my dorm & take a shower myself. Just bring the food
with you.”

“It’s going to get cold.”

 “Twenty seconds in my microwave and it will be fine.”

She gave me a chaste kiss on the lips and then left me wondering about the tragic tale I had just learned.

When I arrived at Connie’s room, I was surprised to find her wearing just a towel.

“Just finishing your shower now?”

“No. I just wanted to be naked when you got here.”

She dropped the towel as soon as the door closed. She took the bag from me and made sure there was no metal to mess with the microwave.

“Take your clothes off and we’ll have a naked picnic.”

Soon we had a blanket spread on the floor, our food in front of us. On a dare, we tried to use chopsticks. I kept losing food that would land in my pubes where Connie would pick it up with her fingers and eat it.

“Good thing I had that shower,” I said.

“I wouldn’t care.”

I felt a slight stirring in my dick.

You know how when you meet a girl and she’s wearing revealing clothing, but you don’t want to get caught staring? You end up making a lot of eye contact. Trust me, it’s even worse when she’s naked. With the turmoil in my brain, the last thing I wanted to do was make eye contact. The question that kept echoing in my brain — what the fuck are you doing? — was one I needed to keep to myself. So where to look? Avoid the breast, certainly. The muff, unless there’s food to retrieve. I settled on her left ankle. Seemed safe enough.

“What are you looking at?”

“The most beautiful ankle on the planet.”

“Timothy, you sling the best bullshit. What’s so beautiful about it?”

 “The shape. The curve. How it’s narrow in the back, broader in the front.”

 “It’s boney.”

“Beautiful bones.”

“And my toes?” she asked wiggling them.

“Lovely, but no match for your ankle.”

 “Then what about my calves?”

 “Perfection.”

“Not too many freckles?”

“Never too many.”

 “My thighs?”

 “Beautiful.”

“I don’t like them.”

“Really?”

“Too thick. Too soft. I’ll probably develop cellulite.”

“I love your thighs. They feel wonderful against my face.”

She laughed. “And where my thighs come together?”

“The gateway to heaven.”

By now I was sporting the beginnings of an erection. Connie reached for another clump of rice that had fallen in my lap. In the
process, she grazed my budding erection and said, “He doesn’t look too worse for wear.”

I just smiled. Then she dipped a finger in some sauce and smeared it on a nipple.

“Oops.”

I cleaned it thoroughly with my tongue.

“You’re not the only one who’s a bit sore, you know. But maybe if we are very
gentle?”

 We set our food aside and moved close to each other. Connie put her legs over mine, facing me and we moved until our most intimate parts were touching.

“Here’s where it gets a bit tricky,” she said, taking my dick in hand and moving it until the tip was just piercing her opening.

She drew in her breath.

“Okay? I asked.

“Gentle is the order of the day.”

Slowly but surely we eased my erection into her moist cleft. When it was in the whole way we sat still, facing each other.

“Why are you avoiding my eyes?” she asked.

I looked down to where we were connected. Looked at her lovely pink freckled breasts and then her lips, not smiling, but not frowning. Just a straight line drawn tightly across her face. And then those piercing green eyes, eyes that seemed to look right through me. Through any facade I might strive for. Seeing things I was trying to hide.

“Don’t look away,” she said.

I returned to her eyes.

“Are you thinking of me in my cheerleader outfit?”

I wasn’t, of course, but that sure made me smile. “I prefer your current outfit.”

She smiled back.

“You’ve said a lot of interesting things to me these couple of days.”

“I have?”

“Yes, and I’m wondering how much of it was flirty bullshit and how much of it you meant.”

“I stand by everything I’ve said.”

She squirmed against me. “At least a part of you is standing.”

 “I keep telling myself, don’t fall for this guy. His heart belongs elsewhere.”

 “Good advice,” I admitted.

“But when a guy tells you he finds you staggeringly beautiful, what is a girl to
think?”

“That you’ve found an honest man.”

“Then why haven’t I heard any of this before?”

“Maybe you’ve been with the wrong people?”

“Maybe.”

She slid back until my erection nearly came free, but then eased herself forward until I was fully captured.

“But does that make you the right person?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“What if I text Angela and tell her we are skipping the party?”

“That would be fine by me.”

“You know, I think it really would be.”

This time I slid back, just a bit. And then pressed myself tight against her.

 “We could just stay here and fuck until we truly couldn’t bear it anymore.”

“We can do that,” I agreed.

The whole time, I held her eyes and meant every single word. It wasn’t only that I wanted to cum. It wasn’t because I truly found her extraordinarily beautiful. But at that moment I did not want to be anywhere else or with anyone else. Realizing this left me even more confused. How is this possible?

Before I realized it, I had looked away.

She pulled my face back and kissed me deeply, all the while grinding into me. It was a long kiss. My hands were in her hair, stroking her back, tweaking her nipples.

 We were rocking now, moving in harmony, building to a climax when her phone chimed. I wasn’t about to stop, but she stretched to reach her phone and said, “They’ve just left their apartment.”

“Tell her we changed our minds.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Maybe it’s because it would be too easy on you. Let you keep your emotions focused on the girl in hand.”

She was serious.

I moved in for a kiss, but she dodged me.

“I will not be taken advantage of,” she said with a laugh and slid back until my slimy erection was free and pointing at the ceiling.

“Think pure thoughts, my love.”

“That’s going to be very hard to do.”

She was up, pulling on clothes. Once she had her girls nestled in a lace bra she turned her back to me and asked, ”Hook me up?”

I did as requested, but said “I much prefer unfastening them.”

I was still naked when she was fully dressed.

“I will go without you!” she threatened, still smiling. Then she took the towel that was still moist from her shower and cleaned my erection, which was just now starting to fade.

“That’s really quite red,” she said, holding me by that little tuft of flesh from where my foreskin had been removed some 21 years ago.

“Let me put a little more cream on it.”

On the walk across campus, she asked me about my balls. “They’re fine,” I said tersely.

“Not too blue?”

 “You know for a girl who claims to be quite innocent, you know a lot about the male anatomy.”

“Oh baby, I’ve been giving boys blue balls for years.”

I just shook my head in wonder. The way she looked. The way she walked. The way she must have looked in that tiny cheerleading skirt. I was certain she had given blue balls to a stadium full of men.

Angela was standing by the Prius as we walked up the sidewalk.

“Is she trying to impress us?” I asked.

“Trying to impress you, I’m sure.”

She was wearing a camisole tucked into a short denim skirt. A perfect look for a girl with long thin legs. As soon as she spotted us, she headed in our direction.

She went straight to Connie, giving her a warm embrace and a lingering kiss on the lips. Without releasing the embrace, she looked at me and said, “I’ve missed you.” Those few words were packed with meaning and made me light-headed.

“Don’t you two look collegiate?” Angela said, standing back to check us out. We were wearing matching SDSU sweatshirts over khaki: a skirt for her, cargo shorts for me.

“Aren’t you going to be cold later?” Connie asked.

“I have a half sweater in the car.”

“Half a sweater?” I asked.
“It’s called a cropped bolero cardigan.”

“Woo!”

“Twenty bucks on Amazon, so maybe not Woo-worthy.”

Once in the car, Mark said, “So coordinated outfits to announce you are
together?”

 Connie laughed. “No way they will miss that fact,” and then pulled me in for an extended kiss. “We are in the heavy PDA phase, so be prepared to be embarrassed by us.”

“Duly warned.”

Angela gave Connie a look that I couldn’t decipher. Not exactly hostile, but far from friendly.

“We almost didn’t come.”

“Really?”
“My roommate is out of town for the weekend.”

That got a laugh out of Mark. “I guess that means you won’t be needing our
couch tonight.”

Connie turned to me, “So did you announce it on the Internet?”

“He told Angela. Pretty much the same thing.”

Doctor Watkins and his wife had a small house in the Hillcrest neighborhood of San Diego. The area had been a magnet for hipsters for decades and not what one would expect for a stuffy professor of philosophy. But then “call me Joe” was not all that stuffy. Nor was his wife, Giselle, who met them at the door and thanked Mark for bringing two bottles of fine wine, “and these lovely people.”

Academic parties were not like your typical college gatherings. No drinking games, no bedroom with a revolving door. They tend to devolve into little clutches of people talking shop, gossiping, or doing both at one time. Angela and I were always the odd ones out, which is why we often got into trouble.

“Try to not embarrass me tonight,” Mark said softly when Angela pulled me close.

“I’ll keep them in check,” Connie offered, although he seemed to take little comfort in that statement.

 As for me, I had a beautiful woman on either side of me. I was doing fine. Except maybe for the few men scattered about who were giving me decidedly unfriendly stares.

“Why is that guy giving me stink-eye?” I asked Connie.

“Because he senses that you’ve been where he has tried and failed to go. You’ll get that look from more than one.”

“I need some air,” Angela announced and pulled me towards the door. The look she gave Connie caused her to stay behind.

“What the fuck, Timmy?”

I had no idea what she meant.

“Four times in one night?”

I had only left them alone together for five minutes and this is what they talked about?

“I can’t believe she told you that.”

“Why not?”

“Because she knows how I feel about you.”

“Yeah, well it feels like she’s staking her claim.”

“She told me she didn’t know what game you and I are playing, but that she wants to play with us.”

“That sounds childish. And a bit sleazy. I kind of like the sleazy part.”

We stepped aside to let a couple walking their dog pass. Then we embraced and kissed for a long time.

“Someone might see,” I said.

“Fuck ‘em.”

We kissed again and then started walking back to the house. “I wish I had the car keys with me. We could fuck in the car.”

“I’m a bit sore,” I offered.

 “I’m not. I haven’t had sex since Monday afternoon.”

We let that thought just sit there the whole way back to the party. Once inside I excused myself and headed to the bathroom. In older homes, there’s no powder room. Maybe you get a master bedroom with an en-suite, and maybe not. But the bath in the hall is always a full bathroom.

Before I could close the door, both Connie and Angela came in behind me. “I just want to pee,” I said.

“Go ahead,” Angela said. “I want to see just how damaged it is.”

“And I just want to watch.”

I unzipped my cargo shorts and fished out my wounded soldier.

“Why is it so shiny?”

“Antiseptic cream,” Connie replied.

How I ever managed to get a flow going is beyond me. I’m not one for shy bladder usually, but then I don’t usually pee for an audience. As soon as I shook the last drops from my dick, Angela grabbed it.

“It looks fine to me.”

“It’s still a bit sore.”

“But serviceable?”
“Jesus Christ, Angela. It’s not a dildo.”

“Maybe let him put it away? We don’t want him walking around the party with an obvious erection.”

I was starting to get hard.

“I guess not,” Angela said, dropping my dick like it was something she picked up by accident.

“We are going to get some strange looks coming out of here.”

 “Just touch your nose like you have the sniffles. Everyone will think we were doing coke or something.” That was Angela. There were a few people in the hall as we came out and we did indeed get some looks.

Later in the evening, Angela, Connie, and I were sitting at a table set up behind the house, enjoying the night air, drinking wine. Angela had donned her half-sweater and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. That short skirt, camisole top with a bolero cardigan. Adorable doesn’t even come close to it.

“That’s kinda creepy,” Connie said.

“What?”

“Bars on the windows.”

We looked at the house and indeed, there were bars on all the ground floor windows facing the patio where we sat.

“Joys of city life,” Angela offered.

Just then the door to the house opened and our host came out. Just-call-me-Joe was in his late 40s, sported a Van Dyke beard, short curly hair and wire rimmed glasses. He had an impish smile on his face.

“I just heard an intriguing story about you three.”

We had no response.

“The three of you together in my bathroom?”

 “Oh,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries. I was just wondering if you had any more?”

“More?”

He put his hand to his nose and made a sniffing sound.

“That’s not what we were doing,” Connie said in a rush.

 “Now that’s even more intriguing.”

The good professor pulled something from the pocket of his cardigan. A small stone pipe and a bag of weed. “Care to join me?”

 We were all smiles.

He started the pipe and then passed it around the table. It was potent shit and I felt an immediate rush. It went around a second time before he asked us what we were really doing in his bathroom.

“I had to pee,” I said and started to giggle.

Connie was shaking with laughter but managed to say, “We watched.”

Angela was silent. She reached for the pipe and took a third hit.

“I once taught a class on the philosophy of sex. My wife said I managed to take the most interesting subject on earth and render it dull and boring.”

“I bet it was fascinating,” Connie said.

“It was well attended, despite Giselle’s opinion.”

At that moment, Mark came out. Sniffed the air and said, “Dr. Watkins, are you corrupting my friends or are they corrupting you?”

Everyone laughed, even me. You see I was facing a dilemma. Connie and I were sitting side by side, but Angela’s chair was facing the opposite direction. She had to twist quite a bit to look at the house or smoke the pipe. What no one had noticed, not even Connie, was that Angela had her hand up the leg of my shorts, and had been caressing my dick and balls for some time. Even Mark standing on the doorstep didn’t deter her.

What to do? In a few moments a tell-tale stain might appear on my shorts. And if not, there would be a pronounced bulge when I stood up.

Angela must have sensed this as she sped up her assault on my dick. Connie had been generous with the ointment earlier and Angela’s thumb rode the little nub on the underside of my glans. I did my best to sit still, my face buried in my hands as I came all over her hand.

She slowly slid her hand from under my shorts, trying to leave as much jiz behind as possible.

 “Are you okay, Timothy?” Mark asked.

I just shook my head and said, “Dr. Joe has some serious weed, bro.” Everyone laughed.

Mrs. just-call-me-Joe was right behind Mark and the two of them joined us on
the patio. She seemed to be a little unsteady on her feet and held onto Mark for support.

“Has he been telling you about his philosophy of sex class?”

“How did you know?” Connie asked.

“He trots that out any time he’s high around a female audience.”

 I looked around to see if I was invisible or not.

“Did he tell you the difference between the clitoris and the penis?”

 “No,” I said, making sure she knew I was there. “He did not.”

“He’s got a quote from some long dead philosopher who said the clitoris exists just for pleasure, but the penis exists for both pleasure and procreation.”

“Does that mean the penis is inherently superior?” Mark asked.

“Not in my book,” said Angela with some force.

“Everyone else has left,” Mark observed. “I guess that’s our cue to hit the
road.”

“Are you okay to drive, sweetie?” Giselle asked him. She was holding onto him for dear life.

“Absolutely.”

“I’m glad to know someone is.”

Mark led her over to her husband and she dropped onto his lap. He seemed quite pleased so we made our exit before things got any more awkward.

[Jaime Austin]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the house? I can’t get this car near your dorm on a Saturday night. They’ve got the streets blocked.”

“We’ll be fine,” I said. “Just drop us where you picked us up.”

With seat belts on, Connie and I were somewhat separated in the back seat, but we managed to hold hands and exchange the occasional kiss. If she knew that Angela had secretly masturbated me just before we left the party, there was no evidence of it.

Mark pulled over to the curb and I climbed out of the car. Connie followed out the same side. To our surprise, the front door opened and Angela got out.
“I’m going with them,” she said in clear cold tones.

The three of us started walking away. I heard a car door open and then Mark called, “Angela. You’re stoned. Those two don’t want you tagging along.”

We never broke stride. Angela lifted her arm and gave Mark the finger while Connie draped an arm around her. The three of us continued, Angela in the center, Connie and I on either side.

I half expected to hear Mark’s footsteps as he ran after us, but instead, I heard a car door slam followed by that strange whiny sound you hear when someone tries to speed away in a Prius.

We walked for a while in silence. Then I suggested I swing by my dorm to take a shower.

“You need one,” Angela said.

“Did I miss something?”

Angela held her hand, still sticky with my jiz under Connie’s nose.

“When?”

“When Dr. Joe was getting us high.”

“You little bitch!” There was no anger in her voice.

“I told you he was mine.”

“No, you said he wasn’t really yours.”

“I lied.”

“I still need a shower and a change of clothes.”

“We’ll come with you.”

“I can’t do that to Dave. I don’t know what he’s doing, but he doesn’t need the three of us dropping in on him.”

Less than a half-hour later I rapped lightly on Connie’s door. Silence. I pressed against the door and it silently swung open.  The room was brightly lit, but no girls to be found.

I saw Angela’s outfit, half-sweater, camisole, denim skirt, and frilly boyshorts laid out neatly on one bed. For a girl who didn’t believe in shaving or wearing makeup, she sure liked stylish clothes. I sat my backpack next to them.

When I got out of the shower, I found three text messages. One from Mark asking me to call him, which I promptly ignored. One from Connie asking me to bring munchies, hence the backpack. And one from Angela asking me to bring her a spare t-shirt.

While I was loading my backpack from the vending machines near my dorm, I took a call from Mark. One thing to ignore a text, but quite another to blow off an actual call.

“Let me talk to her, Timothy.”

“She’s not here.”

“Don’t give me that,” he said in an angry tone.

“Seriously, she’s not with me. Call Connie if you want to, but neither of them are here with me.”

Thankfully, he hung up.

Connie and I still had most of a bottle of wine left and I poured myself a glass. Might not have been the best idea, but I felt I needed it. Soon the two women came through the door, arm in arm, wearing towels that were threatening to fall off.

I had spread my treasure from the vending machine on Connie’s bed and they made a mad dash for it.
“Kit-Kats!” cried Angela.

“Oh I love those,” said Connie grabbing for one.

“Easy ladies. I brought enough to share. We even have some Bear Claws.”

“And my shirt?”

I handed her a Grand Canyon t-shirt. One that I hadn’t worn all that often. She dropped her towel giving me a brief glance at her naked body. She saw my admiring stare and paused with the shirt around her neck, then slowly lowered it into place. No matter how many times I saw her naked, or played back naked memories of her in my mind, those small breasts, flat stomach and lush bush always made my pulse quicken.

“You could have borrowed a shirt from me,” Connie said.

“No, I always sleep in one of Timothy’s shirts.”

This was news to me, although now that I thought about it, I did see her many a Sunday morning wearing an old shirt of mine.

“How many shirts have you stolen from me?”

“Borrowed. I had four, but you destroyed my favorite Sunday.”

“I need to hear about this,” Connie said as she dropped her towel and pulled on a t-shirt of her own.

“He got a hard-on talking about your underwear and then practically raped me in my kitchen.”

“What?”

“My t-shirt had a slight hole in it and he stuck his fingers in and just ripped it until I was naked.”

“Let me get this straight,” Connie said. “You were wearing a t-shirt with nothing under it. One of his that covered you about as much as this one does?”

Connie and I both paused to admire the tuft of bush on display.

“Yes. And I loved that shirt. Wore it until it was barely there.”

“What was so special about it?” I asked.

“You don’t remember?”

I didn’t.

“You bought it at Ocean Beach the time we went just before my birthday.”

“He’s smiling,” Connie said. “He remembers. So tell me.”

“It was the first time he ever finger fucked me. In the back seat of his cousin’s car, under a blanket, on the way home from Ocean Beach.”

“Christ, how old were you?”

“Fifteen. He was 16. It was two weeks before my 16th birthday.”

“But you said you guys never dated. Were never boyfriend/girlfriend.”

“We were very good friends,” I told her, putting heavy emphasis on the word very.

“We might have become more if it hadn’t been for my sixteenth birthday.”

“Please don’t tell this story,” I asked.

Angela stopped talking. The three of us were gorging ourselves on the treats I had brought. I sat on a chair while the two girls sat on Connie’s bed, both flashing me the entire time. The girls had dimmed the lights quite a bit and the overall feeling was one of complete intimacy, but I really didn’t want to share one of the most humiliating experiences of my life.

“You have way too many clothes on,” Angela said to me. She started to unfasten my shorts and with Connie urging her on, she relieved me of my shorts and boxers.

Taking my limp dick in her hand, “Angela asked, “What did you do to him?”

“You had a hand in it yourself,” Connie replied.

Angela smiled. “Yes I did, didn’t I?”

She pushed me back on the chair and sat on my lap. Her t-shirt was up around her hips and neither of us bothered to pull it down. I could feel her abundant hair on my much-used dick. So used that it didn’t even stir, even when I reached down and tugged gently on her curls.

She leaned into me and bestowed a gentle kiss on my lips. “Let me tell her, Timothy,” she whispered. “It explains a lot.”

I nuzzled her head. Bit her earlobe and reluctantly consented.

“My mother threw a sweet sixteen party for me. Invited a dozen of my friends to the house. Timothy was there the whole time, helping to set up, helping to clean up after. My mother even agreed to let him spend the night on our living room sofa.

“Tim gave me such an amazing orgasm in the back of his cousin’s car that I was ready for sex. He wasn’t sure, but I kept telling him every day at school, “You’re going to fuck me and it’s going to be wonderful.”

“Of course, Timothy, even at 16, had read a lot and cautioned that first times don’t always go so well. Can you imagine? A sixteen-year-old boy trying to talk his girlfriend out of sex? Well, I teased the hell out of him for a solid week. Every chance I got, I’d stick my tongue in his ear, and rub what little tits I have against him. He was always carrying his books in front of him so no one could see his hard-on. I was merciless.

“After my party, I lay in bed waiting to hear my mother’s snoring. She has a very ladylike snore, but it isn’t quiet. As soon as I heard her I went out to the living room and dragged pour Timmy back to my bed.

“We got naked and crawled under the covers. His dick was limp. Trust me I had had my hands on his erection more than once! But it didn’t take much kissing and cuddling to get both of us going. He got as hard as I had ever felt him and I was burning up, wanting him to make me a woman.

“And that’s when things started to go wrong. First, he had trouble getting it in. I was wet enough, but my hymen was intact and evidently a little less pliable than some. It hurt. He wanted to stop, but I wouldn’t have any part of that. We pressed on.

“The pain quickly passed, but I felt surprisingly wet. I made him stop long enough to check and there was blood everywhere. The sheets were stained. There was blood on his dick and his pubic hair and more just kept coming and I freaked and called for my mother.

“She came into my room and found us naked in bed, blood everywhere and she just started beating Timothy with her fists. She kept yelling, “You stupid pig!” Over and over.

“I was crying. Tim was trying to protect himself. Meanwhile, the blood kept flowing. My mother went to get a washcloth. Tim left to put his clothes on. But nothing was stopping the bleeding.

“My mom calls 911. Tells them her daughter has been sexually assaulted and that we can’t control the bleeding. Timothy didn’t hear any of this, so when the ambulance and the police arrived he had no idea what was going on.

“He can tell you what happened with the cops, but I was rushed to the hospital. By the time we got to the emergency room, the flow of blood had let up, but the pajamas my mother managed to pull on me were covered in blood. I heard someone talk about a rape kit and this was the first time I realized that Timothy could be in trouble.

“Finally, a doctor examines me. He’s down there between my legs, using a speculum to get a good view. He comes up with an almost amused look on his face. “She’s having her period.”

“Evidently all the excitement, the first time pain, and everything triggered my period.

“Someone asked again about a rape kit and the doctor said there was no point. I spoke up for the first time to say that no one had raped me. I didn’t even have to spend the night.

“Tell your part baby.”

The whole time Angela was talking, I had my head buried in her hair. It all came back to me with such force that I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. I glanced at Connie and she was speechless. This was the first time we had ever told this story and now it was my turn.

“The cops called my mom, which was surprising, given how hostile they were at first. Angela’s mother had knocked me about pretty good and I looked like I had been in a fight.
 
“By the time my mom arrived, they had calmed down. They could see I was terrified and worried sick about Angela. Whoever was in charge released me to my mother. Told us to remain home in our house until we heard from the police the next day.

“An officer came to our door a bit before lunchtime to explain that Angela’s mother wasn’t pressing charges. That was some relief, but I still didn’t know anything about what was happening to Angela.

“I missed a day of school. Angela two days. When I went back I got a lot of stares. Especially from people who were at the party. They kept asking me questions I couldn’t answer and my emotional upset just fueled the rumor mill.

“The next day Angela shows up like nothing happened. She told a few girlfriends about having really bad cramps and claimed to have no idea why I missed a day of school.

“Later that day she took me aside and explained what happened. I was greatly relieved, but whatever budding romance there was between us died that week.”

Any buzz we picked up at the party was gone now. My glass of wine sat untouched on Connie’s desk. Angela, oddly, was pulling on a little tuft of her pubic hair. Her eyes glassy with tears.

“And you never had sex again until last Sunday?”

“Not with each other,” I replied.

“Angela,” Connie said softly. “I’m going to move your clothes. You and Timothy can have my bed and I’ll sleep over there.”

“If anyone is going to sleep alone, I think it should be Timothy, here. Give his worn-out penis a chance to recover.”

Connie didn’t seem to know what to say. I thought about arguing the point, but instead lamented the fact that we couldn't just slide the two beds together.

“Frames are mounted to the floor,” I explained.

“I think there's enough room to put the mattresses on the floor,” Connie observed. And that's what we did.

[Jaime Austin]

It’s My Fucking Car

Early the next morning we awoke to someone knocking on the door. Connie sat up, ruffled her mass of red hair, and called out: “Who is it?”

“I’ve brought breakfast,” came Mark’s voice from the other side of the door.

That set us all scrambling for clothes.


I had been fully dressed when we wrestled the mattresses to the floor, but that didn’t last long. Both girls were pulling at my shorts and soon I was just in a t-shirt.

Angela grabbed Connie’s shirt and was trying to tear it, but the redhead wasn’t about to have that. She twisted her way out of the shirt and naked, pulled my shirt off Angela. I could see where this was going and took my own shirt off. There we were. Three naked people and a floor covered in mattresses.

That Angela took the lead should not come as a surprise. She picked Connie’s shirt up and used it as a lasso around the heavier girl’s neck, pulling her close for an extended kiss.

They both stood above me in a naked embrace. Beleaguered as my dick was, it was quickly standing at attention. Connie’s hands were on Angela’s ass, pulling her tight to where their legs intertwined. She had to bend her knees slightly to allow the pivotal points of their bodies to meet.

The lights were still on and I had a clear view of the two women grinding against each other, perilously balanced on their feet. This clearly wouldn’t last long as their legs began to wobble. Soon they were both on the mattresses beside me, still wrapped in an embrace, hands groping each other's breasts, cunts pressed tight against each other.

I looked around the room and spotted a candle on Connie’s roommate’s desk. A further search located a lighter, and once the candle was lit, I killed the other lights.

I think it’s called scissoring when girls grind against each other. By any name, it’s incredibly hot to watch. Whatever this was doing for them sexually, it must not have been enough as they quickly maneuvered into a 69 position. Tongues and fingers provided more direct stimulation and soon both girls were breathing hard and working frantically to attend to the other while achieving their own goals.

Me? I was happy to watch. My dick was pointing at the ceiling and I found if I stroked the shaft, avoiding the tender glans, I could pleasure myself quite nicely. I wondered if my dick would have held up better if I still had a foreskin? That decision was made for me over 21 years ago, so I was clueless and I had no idea who to ask. I guess I could have shouted at my phone, “Hey Siri? What’s the benefit of having a foreskin?” But I was too intent on watching these lovelies getting each other off.

Angela was on top, her face buried in Connie’s red snatch. Connie, being taller, had to bend her neck to reach Angela’s lovely bush, but reach it she did. I didn’t notice who finished first, but no one was complaining as I looked at the two women, still breathing hard, eyes droopy in sated lust, both staring at an unseeable something far, far away.

“Do we want to help him?” I heard Connie ask. I was yet to get off.

Angela glanced at me and smiled.

“He should learn to do this on his own.”

Connie laughingly brushed my hand aside and took me in her mouth. She was very gentle, concentrating her efforts on my shaft. I could feel the tip of my dick against the roof of her mouth, but she avoided rubbing it with her tongue.

Releasing me, she said, “Let me know if you want me to stop.”

Angela was lying on her stomach, her hands between her legs. I could see her ass moving and it looked as though she was challenging me to a race to see who would climax first.

Connie noticed this as well and cupped my balls with one hand while the other rapidly stroked my shaft. Her lips embraced the tip of my dick in a gentle kiss, her tongue just touching the tuft of flesh below the glans.

I kept glancing between Connie's mouth, her naked body, and Angela’s beautifully round ass. Her gyrations were gaining speed, but I knew I was very close.

I finally came with a pathetically weak emission, but Connie could taste it and took me fully into her mouth. I may not have had much of a wad to shoot, but I collapsed in exhaustion. To my surprise and delight, Connie ran her tongue down my quickly wilting shaft and took each of my balls in turn into her mouth. I couldn’t remember anything ever feeling quite so divine.

Angela was still grinding away when we rolled her over. Connie went for her breasts while I went for the prize. My face was surrounded by Angela’s thighs. I couldn’t stop going down on her if I tried. And as my tongue plunged in and out of her innermost reaches, I could feel her feet on my back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She shouted as she pressed her cunt hard against my mouth. I could feel her tremors, could feel the hardness that ran from her vagina up to her clit. And the aroma that filled my nostrils! This was an orgasm she would not soon forget!
But now we had an unexpected guest. Angela was about to pull on a shirt when she said, “It’s not like he hasn’t seen us all naked before,” and opened the door.

I glanced at Connie because I was sure this wasn’t a true statement, but she avoided me while pulling on panties to go with her t-shirt.

Mark was carrying a sack of breakfast sandwiches from Jack-in-the-Box and a carrier full of Starbucks.

“I thought we could be civilized about this, but I’m not so sure,” he said.

Connie went for the food. The coffee cups had our names on them: caramel macchiato for Mark, a cappuccino for Angela, a vanilla latte for me, and an iced caramel macchiato for Connie.

“You remembered,” she said picking up her iced coffee.

Angela tossed me my clothes and started dressing.

“We need to leave,” she said.

“Good,” said Mark, but then realized that she hadn’t been talking to him. Angela brought the point home.

“Give me the car keys.”

“You have your own.”

“Not with me.”

“Angela…”

She cut him off. “It’s my fucking car. Give me the keys.”

On the way out, Angela embraced Connie and whispered something to her. Outside I asked what she had said.

“I told her it was time to take one for the team.”

The girl had balls. I always loved that about her
.
“What are we doing?” I asked.

“We’re going to my apartment to pack up my things. Then we are driving to my mother’s house.”

“We? Your mother hates me. You bring me home now and she’s likely to attack me again.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” she said with a grin. “She’s never been all that fond of Mark, plus she owes you for what happened that night.”

“I doubt she sees it that way.”

“Well, that’s the way I put it to her the other day.”

“She knows we’re coming?”

“Yes. I called her Thursday and explained everything.”

“So you planned this all out?”

“Not every detail, silly.”

It didn’t take long to pack her things. Mostly clothes, electronics, and school materials. It was a typical college apartment. Movie posters on the walls, no special items or souvenirs to gather up. There was a couple of pictures of her and Mark during happier times, but we left those behind.

“Isn’t that your TV?”

“It is. But it’s an old Plasma my grandfather gave me. It weighs a fucking ton. We can leave it as a consolation prize.”

Once in the car, I asked her about that comment she made about Mark having seen us all naked before. She gave me a funny look. Then I could see the gears shifting in her head.

“So I’m guessing Connie never told you about her and Mark?”

The look on my face was all the answer she needed.

“Last fall. I never had a clue until she told me this week.”

“Did she tell you he was her first?”

I thought Angela was going to wreck the car.

“Are you kidding me?”

“She’s only had two lovers in her life.”

“Holy shit,” Angela said. Then she stuck her tongue out in a most suggestive manner. “Better make that three lovers now!”
Angela’s mother lived in La Mesa in the same house where our teenage tragedy unfolded. And as I had expected, she wasn’t too pleased to see me.

“I’m only going to say this once,” she told us. “I do not approve. Leaving Mark is one thing, but leaving him for Timothy is another. Not that I’m surprised.”

It didn’t take long to unpack and I was sure Angela would run me back to school.

“No, baby. You are staying here with me.”

“So you do have it all planned.”

“I do.”

“But what if I don’t want to stay?”

“You do.”
“Yes, but if I didn’t?”

“Then I would collapse in tears and you’d feel like a real shit.”

“Not happening.”

“I didn’t think so.”

The three of us had an awkward dinner. Marion, that’s Angela’s mother, told us the walls were thin and would we please act like we weren’t sleeping together. Angela just smiled and said we’d do our best.

Marion went to bed early. You could hear the faint sound of a TV from her room. “Sometimes it’s on all night,” Angela said.

I took a shower and was pleased to have a few moments to myself. As I soaped my nether regions, I was pleased to see things were returning to somewhat normal. No burning sensation when I lathered up my dick.

Stepping out of the shower, I was surprised to see Angela sitting on the toilet. She was wearing another of my old t-shirts and nothing else. I heard the toilet flush.

“I was waiting for you to finish. Our plumbing is pretty shitty and a flush, while someone is under hot water, could give them a scalding.”

I thanked her for the consideration, while she reached out and fondled my dick.

“He doesn’t seem any worse for wear.”

“I guess it’s like the tongue, heals quickly.”

“It’s kind of like a tongue, isn’t it? One that can dip deeply into a lover’s mouth.”

“Mouth?”

“Yes,” she said, leaning over to wrap her lips around my nascent erection. “My other mouth is eager for you as well,” she added, after releasing me.

We exited the bathroom and began closing up for the night, locking doors, and opening windows to the cool night air. By the time we were in bed, my erection was gone.

“Fickle fellow, your dick,” Angela said, grasping me and then letting go in disappointment.

“He’s had quite a workout this weekend.”

“Oh you poor, sad thing,” she whispered without a hint of compassion. “I bet if that red muff were here he’d be standing at attention.”

I scolded her gently for any hint of jealousy. It seemed quite unfair after I had endured her years with Mark.

“It lasted longer than I thought it would,” she said, gently ruffling my pubic hair.

“Really?”

“Do you think if I’d been happy we would have scandalized the philosophy department?”

“I guess not.”

“I thought for sure you’d make a move. Especially after that party where we got caught necking.”

“I guess the timing never seemed right.”

“Or you were locked into some stupid male regulation about poaching another guy's girl.”

“You weren’t exactly his girl. You fucking married him.”

“Did you resent that?”

I didn’t say anything at first but then admitted that I did.

“Good. You should have.”

Easy for her to say now, I thought but kept those thoughts to myself.

She reached for my dick again.

“This is rather disappointing.” She gave me a not too gentle squeeze. “Let’s talk about Connie.”

“Let’s not.”

“Why? You are very much into her. No need to deny it.”

“And you?”

“A little. She has an amazing body. I really hate her for it. But she can work magic with her tongue.”

My dick began to stir. “Look at you. Just talking about her puts lead in your pencil. I should be offended.”

“But you’re not?”

“Maybe a little. But I doubt you would have raped me last week if you hadn’t had her first.”

“I didn’t rape you.”

“You did. I had no choice in the matter. Once you ripped my shirt open there was no stopping you.”

“You had your hand wrapped around my dick.”

“Just like this, didn’t I?” She began to stroke me. “But that wasn’t a license to fuck me. You took me three ways before you were done.”

“And did you even once ask me to stop?”

“No. I was too afraid.”

I laughed out loud.

She quickly covered my mouth with her free hand. “Quiet, baby. We need to be quiet. And that wasn’t funny.”

“But it was.”

“No, you were unstoppable and my husband was in the next room. I couldn’t dare make a sound.”

“You bit your finger when you came, trying to be quiet.”

The light was dim, but I could see her smile.

“I didn’t want to create a scene.”

“Neither did I.”

“Bullshit. All you cared about was cumming inside me. There was no other thought running through your brain.”

“Maybe one other.”

“Really?”

“That all my dreams had, at last, come true.”

“Your dreams of fucking me?”

“Of loving you.”

That earned me a kiss, a deep probing kiss. There were no more questions. I was hard, she was wet and I rolled on top of her. She guided my erection to her eager opening and we lay silently, locked together in that most ancient jigsaw puzzle.

Every move made the bed creak, and Marion’s TV was now off. If I slid my dick to where just the tip was inside, and then moved it back and forth just a small distance, the bed was silent. But that didn’t work for Angela. “Let’s get on the floor,” she said.

It was a small bedroom, but there was still space on the carpet for the two of us. I began to drive like there was no tomorrow and Angela raised her feet into the air. We were frantic, like duelists who offered their opponent no quarter. Every thrust of my dick was met with a parry from her hips and soon she was roaring over the top.

I covered her mouth with my hands, but she pushed them away so she could gasp for air.

“Did you finish?” She asked me.

“No.”

“Then don’t fucking stop.”

“But you were so loud.”

“I’m fine now. Don’t stop baby. Please don’t stop.”

“I was still as stiff as a ramrod and began thrusting away. Her feet were on the floor now, with her knees raised. The motion of her hips was less frantic but seemed intended to lead me to climax, and before long I felt the bliss of release.

I lay beside her on the floor, breathing heavily.

“I need a little more, my love,” she whispered in my ear.

I ran my hand from one pert nipple down to the matted hair between her legs and then dipped a finger into her moisture. I didn’t touch her clit, but swirled my finger in the frothy mess of our union until I could feel her tension mount. Then I laid a finger against her clit. Just the side of one finger with no further motion and then she exploded. Her face was in mine. Her lips opened in deep breathing just inches from mine. And I looked into her eyes and saw her looking back at me.

Her breathing subsided, and our lips met. After a while, we climbed back into bed. “We should have started this long ago,” she said.

I just smiled.

[Jaime Austin]

Seeing Red (Reprise)

In the morning I saw I had a text from Connie saying that we needed to talk. I carried my phone into the bathroom and sent a reply asking when and where. My big fear was that Connie was going to ask me to choose between her and Angela, and while there really was no contest, I hated the thought of making that choice.

I did ask myself why I felt that way. Was it just because Connie was such a beautiful girl? Was it because our time together, no matter how brief, had been wonderful? Compared to Angela, Connie was easy to be with. Ange, while I adored her, was often a challenge.

We agreed to meet for lunch at The Garden. It was covered by our meal plan and not a place Mark would typically go. I had been worried that she would want to meet right after her 11:00 class, which would almost certainly involve running into Mark. Something I was keen to avoid.

She didn’t look thrilled to see me, so I wondered what I was in for.

“Let’s just get some salads and go,” she suggested.

We found a place to make a private picnic and before we even began, Connie started to cry.

I didn’t ask anything and my eyes started to tear up as well. Finally, she said, “I’m really pissed at you and Angela.” That seemed to stop the tears.

“Did she tell you what she said to me as you were leaving yesterday?”

I just nodded my head.

“Well, I didn’t. You two left and Mark fucking collapses on my bed. He’s just laying there staring at the ceiling and tears running down his face. And instead of feeling sympathy for him, I just wanted to beat him with a stick and call him an asshole.”

“Did you?”

“No. I just grabbed my coffee and left. Didn’t go back for two hours and when I did return, he was still on my bed!”

“Jesus.”

“Exactly. I tried to talk to him but it was like he was in a coma. His eyes were open but he didn’t seem to see or hear anything. I didn’t know what to do, so I called Dr. Joe.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yes. Oh my god. What the fuck else was I going to do? Call 911?”

Talking seemed to calm her down and she opened her salad and started to eat.

“So Joe and Giselle show up and Mark’s still not talking or moving, but they manage to get him up on his feet and marched him out of there. I haven’t seen him since.”

“He wasn’t in your class this morning?”

“No. I guess I could call Dr. Joe and see what’s up, but I really don’t care. And now I feel guilty about not caring. I even feel guilty about being pissed at you.”

“You’ve got every right to be pissed at me.”

“Damn right I do.”

I reached out to touch her arm, but she pushed my hand away. I didn’t know what to think and started eating my salad in earnest. After a while, I reached for her again and she didn’t push me away.

“Why don’t you lay down, put your head in my lap and just try to relax?”

“No.”

“You look so stressed,” I said. “Can’t hurt to relax a bit.”

She relented and soon I had her mass of red curls in my lap, her emerald eyes looking up at me.
“You are a piece of shit, you know.”

“I guess I am,” I replied. “I never meant to be.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking getting involved with you.”

“Probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“I just really wanted to fuck you.”

Two people were walking near us as she said that and their heads turned at once. Thankfully, it made her laugh.

“Maybe I was looking at getting revenge on Mark.”

“By fucking me?”

“Breaking up your little threesome.”

“Angela says it was your fault.”

“Really?” She seemed quite pleased to hear that.

“She says you brought out the sexual animal in me and that’s why I practically raped her.”

“Practically?”

“Not at all. I might have been a bit aggressive, but she was an eager participant.”

“Fuck her.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“But I’ve got the green eyes for it.”

“Indeed you do,” I said with a smile.

“You’re thinking about kissing me,” she said. I smiled all the more because she was correct.

She sat up and we embraced tenderly. The kiss had some heat to it, but not enough to cause passersby to complain.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“But you want to be with me.”

“Yes, I do.”

She slid back down to my lap.

“I’m not going to ask you to choose between us. I think that would give you an easy way out.”

“Easy?”

“Yeah. You choose Angela and I’m history. Problem solved.”

“Nothing easy about that.”

“Bullshit. But if I don’t make you choose and I stay in your life, you’ve got a real dilemma on your hands.”

“Really?”

“Yes. There’s this girl you’ve been in love with for what, five years?”

“Six.”

“Six. And then there’s this redhead who makes you weak in the knees just by looking at you.”

I laughed because there was no denying it. She rocked her head a bit, sensing my nascent erection.

“So you are in a quandary. Is there some way you can have us both? Do you run the risk of losing one of us, or heaven forbid, losing us both?”

I let my hand drop to her face, where I traced a line for her forehead, down her perfectly shaped nose, across her lush lips, down her neck, and across her t-shirt to just discretely graze her left breast.

“Don’t you have a class coming up?”

“I’m not sure I’m going to make it.”

“Really? Have you ever skipped a class?”

“Not in college.”

“Now what could cause such a thing to happen?”

“Well, first of all, you would have to get up, which I really don’t want you to do.”

“And second?”

“I’d have to wait for my erection to subside so I wouldn’t embarrass myself walking to class.”

Connie stretched her arms, causing her breasts to stretch the fabric of her shirt. Then she rolled over, pressing her cheek against to bulge in my pants.

“You could ask me to get up.”

“Not happening.”

She rocked her face against me.

“Such a lumpy lap.”

“Keep that up and it will damp as well.”

“Really? Just this little bit of attention could get you off?’

“I think if I looked at you long enough, no attention would be required.”

“What a lovely thing to say. Sadly, it doesn’t quite work that way for me.”

“No?”

“Oh, I can get good and horny just thinking about you, Timothy. But I need a little help to get me where I’m going.”

We sat like that silently until it was too late for my class.

“You know if you carry your backpack in front of you, no one could tell you were hard.”

“And where would we go?”

“Your place or mine. Mine’s closer.”

“And you roommate?”

“She will either leave or die.”

I stayed hard the whole way to her room. The roommate was nowhere to be found, so Connie locked the door, then propped a chair against it. Might not keep the roommate out, but would hopefully apprise her that now was not the time to return.

I don’t know why, but I was the first one naked. Connie was still wearing her shorts and t-shirt while I ground my nude body against her.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” she said with a laugh.

“I don’t know if hurry is the right word.”

“Really? So are you just eager?”

As I unfastened her shorts I mumbled something about there not being any words for what I was feeling.

“But what if I change my mind?” she asked. “You know a girl is allowed to change her mind right up until the last minute.”

“Only if you are prepared to watch a grown man cry.”

“Oh baby, I might like to see that.” She took a step back and crossed her arms.

I dropped to my knees and slid my hands up her thighs, under her panties to caress her ass.

“I don’t see any tears.”

“Are you saying you’ve changed your mind?”

She didn’t reply as I slid her panties down to her ankles. I bent low and kissed her left ankle. “Still the most beautiful ankle in the world,” I said.

I put my hands back on her ass and pulled her towards me as I buried my face in her auburn bush.

“Never happen, my darling,” she said as she opened her legs giving me easy access to her treasure. She tumbled back on the bed as I continued to probe her every secret with my tongue. It didn’t take much before she was breathing heavily, her thighs pressed against my head.

The way she was saying “Oh God,” you’d almost think she was praying. I just kept working my tongue until I heard her say, “Fuck me, Timmy, fuck me now.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I firmly seated between her legs, my ever-ready shaft in as far as it could go. No gentle strokes of tenderness here, just thrust after thrust as I sought release. And when I came, it was overwhelming. Blast after blast of semen shot from my dick, flooding her garden, mixing with her own secretions until we were both spent, gasping for air.

“We’re going to have to open the windows and air this room out,” she said. Then she started to laugh. “My bed’s going to be a mess. I can feel your jiz running down my ass.”

“I don’t think that’s just me.”

“Probably not.”

We finally separated and lay side by side on her bed.

“Is it just me,” she asked, “or was that wonderful?”

“That was wonderful.”

“I thought so.”

She was still wearing her t-shirt and bra, both stained with sweat.

“What kind of guy fucks a girl without at least trying to get her naked?”

“I took care of the most important parts.”

She pulled her shirt over her head and began wiping us both. “Be interesting to see if this comes out in the wash.”

“I hope it doesn’t,” I said. “I hope it smells of sex forever.”

“Don’t say that. I won’t be able to take it home for the summer.”

“I hadn’t even thought about summer.”

“Well, it’s only a few weeks away. While you’re riding the rails in Europe, banging French girls in Hostel shower rooms, I’ll be sweating my ass off in Temecula.”

“Pretty sure I’ll be spending the summer in Escondido.”

“Really, what happened?”

“My mom’s car got hit by an uninsured motorist. My Europe fund is going to help get her a new car.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I don’t know about terrible, but definitely disappointing. Maybe after grad school.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“It was just a few days ago and things have been kind of crazy.”

By now we were both dressed. The windows were open and the chair put back by the desk. Conny’s roommate was bound to appear soon.

“So are you going back to Angela’s mother’s house tonight?”

“She wants me to, but I’m not sure. Her mom definitely doesn’t want me there.”

“I bet I would like her mother.”

“You just might.”

“One consolation about summer.”

“Yes?”

“Temecula is not far from Escondido.”

I gave her a kiss.

“No,” I said, “indeed it is not.”


Angela was in my room when I got there. She was watching Dave playing a game on his computer. He had the sound going through his speakers and not the usual headphones.

“It’s almost like watching a movie,” she said.

“Except that you are in it,” Dave offered.

“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” I said, grabbing a towel and heading for the door.

“Don’t bother,” Angela said. “I can smell it from here.”

That stopped me in my tracks.

“On second thought, take that shower. I don’t want you smelling like that in front of my mother. She’ll blame me.”

I glanced at Dave, whose face was bright red, and then headed for the shower.

When I returned Angela and Dave were sitting on his bed looking at a book. They looked surprisingly cozy, so to spite them, I took the towel from around my waist and used it on my still wet hair.

With no reaction from the two of them, I stood naked in front of my mirror and combed my hair. Then I donned a fresh t-shirt. Nothing else and still no reaction.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, still wearing just a shirt.

Dave looked up. “Bro! Put some fucking pants on!”

“He’s just trying to get my attention,” Angela said with a smirk. “Was that a cold shower? You’re looking a bit shriveled.”

I dug in a drawer for clean boxers and took my time putting them on.

“We’re looking at pictures of your friend Connie,” Dave said at last. “Borrowed a yearbook from Nick.”

“She’s in this thing 20 fucking times,” Angela said with mild disgust.

“Seriously?”

“Finish getting dressed and we’ll show you.”

Angela wasn’t kidding. In addition to shots of her with the cheer squad, where she looked like a knockout, I might add. There were pictures of her as homecoming queen, and it seemed like any school event they documented included Connie looking like she owned the place. I was impressed.
“So you’re banging a fucking star, big boy.” This was not spoken with any hint of admiration. Quite the opposite.

Look, Ange,” I said, hoping to change the subject, “your mother doesn’t really want me there.”

“I don’t care. At least if you’re in my bed I know you’re not in hers.”

Fucking Dave was laughing. I just gave him a dirty look.

“Pack a change of clothes for the next few days and let’s head for home.”

I suppose I could have said no, stood my ground. But that would be making a choice, something I wanted to avoid.

“You look pretty glum for the luckiest guy in California,” Dave said with a smile.

“Am I forcing you to do something?”

“No. He hasn’t seen your mother.”

“She’s a sweetheart. Now, let’s get the fuck out of here. Mom hates it when we’re late for supper.”

Before we left, she turned to Dave. “So his fucking the cheerleader from your wet dreams makes him the luckiest guy in California?”

Dave didn’t miss a beat: “I was talking about you.”

Angela blushed, while I marveled at Dave’s timing. I guess he really was smarter than he looked.

“You guys are so full of shit,” she said heading out the door. But at least she was smiling.

[Jaime Austin]

Life in La Mesa

“So what’s the story with Connie’s high school boyfriend?” We were in Angela’s Prius on the short drive to La Mesa.

“Car accident summer after graduation. I’m not sure that’s why her college plans changed.”

“Really?”
“Dave wouldn’t know, but I think they were close to breaking up before that happened. She had to have applied to SDSU before it happened or she couldn’t have gotten in.“

“Maybe it was her plan B.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but quite a come down from Princeton.”

“That’s an Ivy League, school, right.”
“Yes. Scott Fitzgerald and Eugene O’Neil went there. John O’Hara is buried there.”

“Who?”

“John O’Hara, probably one of the most successful writers nobody has heard of. Published nearly 200 short stories in the New Yorker.”

“Seriously?”

“Made a fortune. That’s probably what screwed him with posterity. That plus being an asshole.”

“Deadly combination. “
“And not unusual.”

If she knew I was referring to Mark, she didn’t let on. And to keep the peace, I wasn’t about to elaborate.


After supper, I volunteered to do the dishes. This was a deliberate effort to score points with her mother and it seemed to work. Instead of offering to help, Angela took a shower. In the meantime, I got a text from Connie asking me where I was. When I told her she replied, “That’s not playing fair.” I told her I didn’t think Angela was playing.

After starting the dishwasher, I went out on the patio and called Connie.

“Are you allowed to call me?” That was how she answered the phone.

“Evidently.”

“Where is her majesty?”

“Taking a shower.”

“Alone?”

“Well not with me.”

I told her about Dave having a Temecula yearbook and how he showed us all the pictures she was in. “You have a real admirer there, Connie.”

“Story of my life.”

“It probably is,” I laughed.

“Not as funny as you think, Timothy.”

“Perhaps not,” I agreed. “But it does make me wonder how the queen of the ball, champion athlete, ends up studying philosophy at SDSU.”

“And hanging with the likes of you and Angela?”

“No, that part I fully understand.”

That made her laugh.

“The two of you really don’t have any self-esteem issues, do you?”

“Maybe that’s what’s kept us friends for so long.”

“And here I thought it was unrequited love.”

I had nothing to say to that.

After a pause, Connie said, “If I knew Angela’s home address, I’d call an Uber and crash your party.”

“I’m tempted to tell you, just to see her mother’s reaction.”

“Especially if I lip-locked her daughter.”

“That would be priceless.”

“And then I’d pull your face right between my breasts and make it a three-way embrace.”

“You must be alone, telling me this.”

“No. My roommate is pretending to be asleep, but I think she’s masturbating to our phone sex.”

“Phone sex? Is that what this is?”

“It will be if you stay on the line long enough.”

“If you are trying to get a rise out of me, you have succeeded.”

“So where are you exactly?”

“On a patio, behind the house.”

“All alone?”
“Yes.”

“Can you undo your pants?”

“That I cannot do. Someone could come looking for me at any moment.”

“Wouldn’t matter so much if it was Angela.”

“That’s possibly true, but I’d have a hard time explaining talking on the phone with my dick in my hand to her mother.”

“Who knows? Maybe she would like what she sees.”

“Remember, she saw it before and that didn’t go so well.”

“So let me tell you what I’m doing.”

I didn’t say a word.

“I’m sitting up in bed wearing a t-shirt and panties.”

“Under the covers?”

“Under the covers. And now I’m sliding my panties down. Over the knees now. Down to my ankles. You remember my ankles, of course. And now using my left foot, they are off me completely.”

I again had nothing to say.

“So, can you visualize all that?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Whispering? Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes,” I whispered again.”

“Good. I’m touching myself, too. I’m pretending my middle finger is the tip of your tongue. Do you know what I’m doing with it?”

“I can imagine,” again a whisper.

“Good. Imagine it’s getting wet, very wet. And then imagine my nipples getting hard. There’s no bra to hide them, just a thin t-shirt. Now your tongue is sopping wet and you are rubbing my nipples with it.”

I breathed hard into the phone.

“Did you just cum?”

No reply.

“Timothy?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“God, you’re easy.”

“Oh shit,” I said softly.

“Mom or Angela?”

“Mom.”

“Timothy,” Marion said. “I didn’t know you were out here in the dark.”

“On the phone with a friend.”

“Don’t let me bother you, I just came out to sneak a cigarette. Angela thinks I’ve quit.”

Fortunately, there was a table between us and my still ample erection was hidden from view.

“So what are your summer plans?” I said into the phone.

“Besides fucking you every chance I get?”

“Yes, besides that.”

“I’ll tell you, but I have to cum first.”

I was hoping it was dark enough to cover my facial expressions.

“Your tongue is back between my legs and to be honest, you’re a little over-eager, going straight for my clit.”

And from then on it was just heavy breathing.

Finally, she was back. “I’ll think I’ll let you go now, darling. Good luck hiding your wet spot.”

“Talk to you later,” I said to a lost connection.

Marion tapped her cigarette on an ashtray and appeared to be looking in my direction.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.

“Really?” I asked knowing that was impossible.

“You’re thinking that I’m not really hiding anything and that Angels knows I still smoke.”

“Exactly right.”

“I like to pretend that she doesn’t know and she is kind enough to behave as though I’m getting away with it.”

She took a long drag.

“Kind of like the two of you pretending that you’re not having sex.”

I was glad she could not read my facial expression.

“Could I have one of those?” I asked, reaching for her smokes.

“Timothy, you’ve never smoked a cigarette in your life.”

“That’s not true,” I replied, lighting up with a flare I hoped had echoes of Marcelo Mastroianni. Or maybe Cary Grant. I drew the smoke into my mouth and let it out through my nose without inhaling.

“I’m talking tobacco, of course. Now that marijuana is legal, I’m sure it’s all over campus.”

“All over everywhere.”

“So can you tell me what happened to Angela and Mark? She says she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“I think you need to wait on Angela.”

“You know I’m going to blame you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“The thing is,” Marion said, “I never liked him.”

“You never liked me.”

“That’s not true. You know I felt terribly guilty after what happened to you.”

“Really?”

“I know I never apologized. And I’m not apologizing now. When I think of what I saw when I entered her room…”

“Something I try not to think about.”

“I don’t either. It makes me feel guilty all over again and I don’t like feeling that way.”

The back door opened and Angela came out wearing one of my t-shirts. It was a recently acquired San Diego Padres shirt that I’d only worn once or twice.
“Are you two playing nice?”

We made no attempt to hide the cigarettes.

Angela came and sat on my lap.

“It’s nice to see you two together even if you are corrupting my boyfriend.”

“So he’s your boyfriend now?”

“I’m beginning to think he always was.”

Marion laughed and shook her head.

“Baby, your pants are wet!”

“Sorry. I got a little careless when rinsing plates in the sink. Thought it would dry by now.”

“Go get changed. A t-shirt and boxers will suffice, don’t you think, Mom?”

“It’s dark enough he can come back naked.”

“What have you been smoking?”

As I left, I notice Angela raise her hand to her nose. I didn’t look back, just headed into the house. I made the mistake of leaving my phone behind. When I returned, Marion had moved on to another smoke while Angela was thumbing through my phone, obviously checking my call history and reading my texts.

“Come sit with me lover,” she said getting up. I sat down and she gently lowered herself into my lap.

Marion tamped out her cigarette and said, “I’ll leave you lovebirds alone. Don’t forget to lock up before going to bed.”

Even before Marion was back in the house I could feel Angela’s nails digging into my thigh.

“You were having phone sex in front of my mother?” She hissed.

“It was before she came.”

She sat silently for a moment.

“I can drive you back to campus. We could go right now.”

“No,” I said firmly.

She slumped into me, her face against my neck. She patted my face with a hand, then dropped it to my lap where she started searching for my cock. Soon she had me erect.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “For years, you were just here. Always here. And I loved you for that. But now you’re this sex fiend with two girls who both adore you. How did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

I reached between her thighs and discovered she was naked under my shirt.

“You came out here with no panties in front of your mom?”

“It’s dark. I thought I could get you hard. Tease you terribly in front of Mom. I had no idea you had taken care of things yourself.”

By now my cock was poking out through the vent in my boxers. My fingers had rendered Angela quite wet. She stood up enough to face me, then impaled herself on my erection.

“You’re not worried about getting caught?”

“Nope.”

She gently rocked against me and despite my earlier emission, I wasn’t going to last long.

Placing her hands on either side of my face, she asked me, “Do you love me, Timothy?”

“You know I do.”

“I know you like to fuck me. You’ve wanted to forever. But is that love?”

Part of me wanted to look away, but her eyes drew me in. There was a faint light from somewhere and it made her eyes shine.

“You know it is,” I replied.

“But I don’t. Not with that stupid fucking redhead seducing you every chance she gets. How do I know you don’t love her?”
All the while she’s grinding into me, my climax is approaching and she keeps her eyes locked on mine. It’s like an exquisite inquisition. Pleasure instead of torture used to drag the truth out of me.

“I love you both,” I confessed.

She closed her eyes, but never stopped her motion. Then I felt a little tremor and she pulled me close.

“You say that to me and I’m having an orgasm,” she whispered. “How fucked up is that?”

That’s when I came. Not the most powerful of orgasms. Slow and drawn out. Pure pleasure coupled with a gentle release.

I glanced at the house and thought I saw movement at a window. I couldn’t be sure. But if Marion had been watching, there was no mistaking what we were doing.

Angela kissed me. Light at first, and then stronger, our tongues dueling as our breathing drew heavy. We were still connected. Still locked together.

“You’re still hard,” she whispered.

I squirmed a bit confirming her observation.

“I like that,” she said. “Let’s just sit here as long as it lasts.”

We didn’t talk. Didn’t kiss. Just held each other quietly, calmly, until finally, my exhausted member made its exist.

“We probably should take a shower,” Angela said. “But I’m just going to fuck you again, so what’s the point?”


Neither of us had a morning class so we slept in until after Marion had left for work. We both walked around the house half naked, fresh from the shower. Any time Angela moved her t-shirt lifted, giving me a glimpse of her ass or her bush. My shirt kept riding up my hips to where my manhood and balls were on constant display. At least I wasn’t hard. You know how sometimes a penis can look like a mouse, peeking out of its nest. Get just a little bit of blood flowing down there, just a slightly elevated interest in sex, and it grows longer but still points to the ground. That’s how I was and it caught Angela’s attention.
“Maybe you should put some boxers on, Babe.”

“Feels good to air the boys out,” I replied.

“Yes, but I’m going to burn our eggs if you keep distracting me.”

I returned from the bedroom wearing boxers and carrying a pair of her panties. Our eggs were on the table and she was about to sit down.

“You really want me to put those on?”

I glanced at her tawny bush that was on full display, “Not really.”

She sat down without covering herself.

“But why do I need to wear these?” I asked tugging at my waistband.

“Because you have more self-control.”

“Wow. Can I get that in writing?”

“No. I already regret saying it. But keep yourself covered. We do have to eventually get to school.”

I reached over and tugged lightly on a tuft of her pubic hair.

She smiled and said, “That’s why I wear panties as seldom as possible.”

We were just about to clear away our breakfast plates when both of our phones chimed. Connie had sent us both a text. “We need to talk. Today if possible,” was all it said.

“You’re working this evening, right?” Angela asked me.

“I’m done at 9.” Two sessions of English as a Second Language.

Angela replied to the text, “Timmy has to work until 9. Is that too late?”

“Ok. I work until 7, why don’t you meet me then and we can both Shanghai him at 9?” was the reply.

“See you at seven.”

“So how come your high school star with a scholarship to Princeton has to do work study at SDSU?”

“Scholarships were probably gone by the time she decided to switch schools. I’m not sure I like the idea of you two getting tighter on your own,” I added.

“Yes. That’s why we do it. To worry you. Keep you on your guard.”

“And maybe find a place for some hot girl on girl sex?”

“I’ve never made it a secret that I enjoy walking on both sides of the street.”

She burst out laughing. “Just me saying that got you hard! You are such a pervert!”

I don’t know that I was exactly hard, but my dick was stretching the fabric of my boxers. I took two steps toward her. “No, no, no, she cried scampering away. No time for that. We’ve got to get to school!”

I glanced out the kitchen window. “Did you see this? I asked.

“See what?”

“The chair we sat on last night has lost its cushions. Looks like Marion hit them with the hose and set them out to dry.”

“Shit. I guess she was watching us.”

“Do we need to be more careful?”

“No. Time for mom to grow up.”

We were standing side by side looking out the window and I slid an arm around her waist.

“Timothy, there’s no time for that.”

“What, I’m just pulling you close.”

“Yes. With your dick jutting out.”

“Ignore that.”

“Can’t,” she said, her hand sliding under my waistband to grab my rising erection.

“We really don’t have time for this,” she said pulling my boxers down and stroking my dick with both hands.

I was surprised how wet she was. I entered her with ease, my dick probing her most secret depths. Just like the first time, we were fucking in a kitchen. But this time there was no restraint. She had her hands on the kitchen counter, her back to me. I drove into her with complete abandon and it was a race to see who would finish first.

Every time we came close to seperating, we’d slam into each other with cries of “Oh fuck,” and “oh God.” We were alone in the house and we let our emotions run rampant. I had my hands under her shirt, her nipples like hard nuggets against my palms. I could reach her ears with my mouth and nipped at them, making her cry out even more.

And the force she exerted against me. It was like dancing with a girl who wants to take the lead, and of course you offer no resistance. Just a ready cock to bury deep within her cunt.

Three times I rammed my dick in to the hilt, each resulting in a gush of semen spraying into her. She must have felt it because when I nearly colapsed at the end, she ceased her movements, just kept herself pressed against me. I had no idea if she had come or not. But my erection was soon lost, and we were dripping the byproducts of sex onto the kitchen floor.

Angela finally pushed me back, then turned to me. Tears were running down her face. SHe put her hands on my shoulders. “How can you fuck me like that?” she asked, her voice soft with a sense of wonder.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

She laughed. “Oh baby, if you only knew!”

Believe it or not, we made it to our classes on time, even with the added chore of cleaning the kitchen floor.

[Jaime Austin]

And Then There Were Three

After my evening classes, there’s usually a student or two who wants to hang around and ask questions about language they are too shy to bring up in class. Tonight it was a Filipino woman who wanted me to explain the concept of “cool.”

She was a lovely woman, perhaps in her early forties. Petite, with lovely olive-toned skin and almond-shaped eyes. I would be happy to discuss anything she wanted, even if I had two other women waiting for me.

“I hear people say someone is cool or something is not cool and I think maybe it’s the same as good?”

“That’s pretty much it. Maybe a bit more nuanced. We talked about nuance last week.”

“I not understand that at all.”

“Nuanced just means there is more to what’s being said than just the words. For example, if someone says you are cool, it does mean you are nice, but it also implies you are trustworthy.”

“But if something is not cool?”

“Then that’s the opposite of good. Very simple. Say you throw your trash in the can, but you miss. If you just walk away, not a very nice thing to do, someone might say that was not cool.”

She followed me out the door and down the stairs to where Angela and Connie were waiting for me. She looked at the girls, then pointed to me and said: “He is cool.”

“Yes, he is!” Connie replied, putting her arm around me and giving me a quick kiss.

“I think he say you cool, too.” And with that my student, whose name I could not recall, walked towards the nearest bus stop.

“Easy, Connie,” Angela said softly. “His ego is the size of Montana already.”

“I guess I’m safe as long as it’s smaller than Texas?” I asked.

“Oh we’ll be there before long, I’m afraid,” said Angela. Then she took me by surprise by saying, “Connie has a favor to ask and I think the three of us should head to my house and discuss it over wine coolers.”

Shit. “The three of us. At your house?”

“Marion will be in bed by the time we get there. We stop at Bevmo on the way home, get some coolers and then very quietly get buzzed on the patio. With any luck, she’ll be gone in the morning before we get up. No problem.”

Yeah, right. When we got home, Marion was in the kitchen with a loose robe over pajamas.

“I couldn’t understand why you were so late,” she said with a frown. “I was just getting ready to call you.” Then she noticed Connie.

As usual, Angela took over. “This is our friend Connie and she wants to borrow Timothy for a wedding she has to go to.”

“Really?” Marion wasn’t nearly as surprised as I was.

“So we are going to sit out back and discuss it.”

“Over wine coolers?”

“Yes.”

Marion looked at us with unveiled skepticism. “Well, let me make up the couch for your friend. The way you kids drink no one will be driving anywhere tonight.”

As soon as Marion left the room, Connie whispered, “That’s not happening.”

Angela gave her a quick kiss on the lips and said, “We’ll make it worth your while.”

I loaded up four tall glasses with ice, the girls carried two four packs of wine coolers and we retreated to the patio.

“Look, Timothy, the cushions are back on the chair.”

Connie gave me a look, but I didn’t feel like explaining.

“So what’s this about a wedding?” I asked.

“My cousin Nancy is getting married in Vegas weekend after next. My parents have been bullying me about going and it’s to the point where I have to go. They’ve even offered me my own room and agreed that I can bring you two with me.”

“Both of us?” I asked.

“There’s a catch,” said Angela before taking a large drink from her glass.

“I told my mom you were my boyfriend and that Angela was a mutual friend who would kind of be my chaperone.”

“That’s funny,” I said.

“No it isn’t,” Angela interjected. “Tell him the rest.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. My parents think Angela will be staying with me and that you will room in with my brother.”

“What?” I wasn’t happy with this at all.

“I talked to Jerry and he’s cool with the whole thing. The three of us can stay together. Jerry is hoping to bang a specific bride’s maid and has no desire for a roommate.”

About this time, Marion came out. She took a seat at the table with a slight smile. “I thought I saw you carrying four glasses,” she said, picking up the only untouched glass on the table.

“You girls must be really good friends if you’re brave enough to ask to borrow her boyfriend for a weekend in Las Vegas. Are you a journalism major, too?”

“No. Philosophy.”

There was a slight pause as the wheels churned in Marion’s brain.

“So then you know Mark?”

“We met Connie at Phil parties,” Angela offered.

Marion stared at Connie for a moment, clearly eyeing up her red hair. There is a phrase rarely heard these days. It stems from penny arcade days when you would put a penny in a slot to play a game. Sometimes the penny got stuck and you had to wait for the penny to drop, hence the phrase “The penny dropped.” I mention this here because you could actually see the moment the penny dropped for Marion.

“You’re the girl Timothy got lucky with!”

Connie glared at Angela. “Is there anyone you didn’t tell?”

“My mom,” I offered. “She didn’t or at least hasn’t yet told my mom.”

Marion took it all in stride. “You want something known far and wide, tell my daughter. She would make the world’s worst spy.”

“So I have discovered,” Connie replied.

“But now I’m really confused,” Marion paused to take a drink. Two actually. “If Angela left Mark for Timothy, why on earth would she let you, of all people,  borrow him for a weekend?”

“Angela would come, too.”

“We are all very good friends,” I said. With a significant emphasis on the word very.

Marion sat silent for a moment. “So you are telling me I wasted my time making up the sofa?”

“Timothy might end up out there,” Angela said.

Marion shook her head. “If I were that kind of woman,” she said to me, “this is where I would tell you that if these two toss you out, come and see me. But I am not that kind of woman.”

“I appreciate your telling me,” I said.

Marion got up and took a step toward the door. “Angela, this yard is not quite as private as you think.”

“Yes, mother.”

As soon as Marion was in the house, Connie asked for an explanation.

“We had sex out here last night. When we got up this morning, my mother had taken the cushions from the chair we sat in and cleaned it with the garden hose.”

“I was pretty sure I saw her looking out at us,” I added.

“Okay, but how did she pick up so quickly on Timothy’s very close friend's comment?”

“When I was in high school I had a girlfriend stay over and my mom walked in on us.”

“This was my prom date.”

“Of course. So what did she walk in on?”

“Come in the house and I will show you.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “What about Vegas?”

“You will come, won’t you?” Connie asked with real concern.

“I guess he could say no,” Angela offered. “I mean maybe he could say no to you. I kind of doubt it, you never know. But I’m fairly certain he couldn’t possibly say no to the two of us.”

I tried to discretely adjust my dick, which was no longer comfortably tucked away.

“But how are we going to play it. I mean you and I act as a couple while Angela plays the third wheel?”

“Exactly,” Connie said. “And we all have to play our parts convincingly. My parents, especially my dad, are extremely conservative.” She looked at Angela, “I just love your mom. I’m jealous. As far as my parents are concerned, I’m still a virgin and you are my first serious boyfriend since Barry died.”

“What makes them think you are still a virgin? You’re a junior in college!”

“You’ll love this,” Angela said with a laugh.

Connie looked quite distressed. “I was raised in a very religious household, as was my high school boyfriend. We took a virginity pledge at church.”

“Together?”

“Yes. As a teen couple, destined for marriage, we pledged to remain pure until after our wedding.”

I was appalled. “I didn’t know that was a thing!”

“I’m thinking of a Shakespeare quote,” Angela said.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

“I love that line,” Connie said, giving me a quick peck on the lips. Then she turned to Angela, “Don’t you have something to show me in your room?”

The two girls walked to the house holding hands while I was left to clean up our mess. By the time I had the unopened coolers in the fridge and the glassware in the dishwasher, whatever was stirring in my loins had dissipated.

Then I opened the door to Angela’s room. The girls were on the bed in their underwear. Or at least Angela was. Connie was on her back, with her knees raised and Angela’s face was buried between her legs. No sign of Connie’s panties.

“So this is what your mother saw?” Connie whispered.

“Yes,” Angela raised her head and whispered back. “And her facial expression wasn’t much different than his.”

“What did she do?”

“She didn’t say a word. Just stared at us for a moment, and then closed the door behind her.”

“Don’t you do that,” Connie said to me. Not that there was any chance I would!

You could barely hear Marion’s TV through the wall. This didn’t mean she was still awake because she often fell asleep with it on. I started to undress while Angela went back to the task at hand.

“Did Julia have her bra on?” I asked.

“Yes,” Angela replied, “But she didn’t fill hers out nearly as well as Ms. Ferguson here.”

“Quite true,” I said, slipping off my boxers.

My erection was only half-formed, which left it sticking straight out like a pointer. Neither girl seemed particularly interested in it. Connie’s eyes were closed and her forehead creased as Angela found just the right spot with her tongue.

I crawled onto the bed behind Angela and ran my hands up her thighs, under the leg openings of her panties and caressed her fully rounded ass. Connie opened her eyes for a moment, looked at me and said, “Doesn’t she have the most perfect ass?”

I just smiled as I continued my caresses. I moved closer and slid my dick between her legs, rubbing it against her sex through the thin cloth of her panties. I could feel the moisture there.

I released her ass and unfastened her bra.

“Waste of time,” Angela muttered.

“I don’t agree,” I said, cupping both breasts under her now loosened brassiere.

Connie reached up and pulled the bra down Angela’s arms. I supported Angela’s weight so that Connie could fully remove the bra.

“Lovely,” Connie said.
“Boring,” said Angela.

“Let her suck them,” I whispered to Angela. She raised herself from the girl’s wet mess of a bush, a long strand of spit mixed with pussy juice dripping from her chin. She leaned forward allowing Connie to suckle each breast.

“Now tell me that doesn’t feel good,” I said.

I was fully erect now and rubbing my dick in the moisture between Angela’s legs.

About that time there came a thumping on the wall. The bed was making a racket and Marion was not yet asleep.

“Sorry, Mom!” Angela called.

Time to move to the floor. Connie was again on the bottom, but now Angela was poised over her mouth. The redhead stuck out her tongue and Angela rubbed her still panty-covered cunt against it.

I spread Connie’s legs apart and began lapping at her soaking wet vagina. She clearly wasn’t going to last long. I stiffened my tongue and plunged as deep as I could. But then Angela pushed my face away with her ass. I rolled to the side and the two of us eyed Connie’s beautiful body, glistening with sweat, her eyes pleading for relief.

Angela gave me a long wet kiss, full of the taste of Connie’s luscious sex. “You’re up,” she whispered to me.

Angela sat on her haunches as I slid between Connie’s legs. My erection found its way in an instant and was quickly devoured by her voracious sex. She came almost instantly. Angela rushed to cover her face with a kiss, taking each raging breath into her lungs.

As soon as Connie calmed down, Angela was pulling me away. “You just lay next to her,” she said.

There was just enough room for Connie and me to lie side by side while Angela straddled my hips. She pulled the crotch of her panties aside and Connie helped guide me into place. There was nothing for me to do except let Angela grind herself into me.

Connie sat up and the two girls embraced. Passionate kisses as Angela continued to ride me. Connie broke away to suckle Angela’s breast, while Angela started tugging on the redhead’s bra. Connie took the hint, reached behind to unfasten it. I snatched it away and buried my face in one of the bra cups.
Angela lifted herself until my dick sprang free. The anguished look on my face earned me an air kiss as she stood up and removed her panties. The two girls exchanged a look, then Angela balled up her panties and handed them to Connie.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Connie stuffed them in my mouth. Angela dropped to her hands and knees. “You take them out and we stop,” She said.

Angela wrapped a hand around my well-moistened erection. Connie moved in and planted a kiss on the tip. Then as Angela’s hand retreated, she took me in her mouth.

I was breathing frantically through my nose. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get enough air. But the two of them ignored my plight, just kept teasing my dick.

Connie’s long red hair blocked my view, but who needed eyes when your dick was being tongue-lashed by two women?

Angela backed away slightly and I could see she had a hand between her legs, feverishly thrashing her cunt. Connie now had me deep in her mouth as I began to erupt. After the third blast of jiz, Connie pulled away to give Angela a cum laden kiss.

I pulled the panties from my mouth, fearful of passing out, while the two women continued their passionate embrace. Such a tangled mess of arms and legs. Hands at each other’s cunts, they clearly had no need of me. I just lay there panting, watching them pleasure each other until they were both making sounds of bliss into each other’s mouths.

They had been exchanging breaths again, almost to the point of passing out. Finally, they collapsed onto me and the three of us lay tangled on the floor.
That was when the door opened. Just slightly as it was hitting my head.

I didn’t see Marion, but I heard a short gasp. God knows what she saw or what she was expecting to see.

“For Christ’s sake open a window. And save some of this for Las Vegas. Some of us need to work in the morning.”

Angela’s voice, sounding like it was far away said, “Yes, mom.”

In the morning we found a note on the kitchen counter by the coffee maker: “New rule. No overnight guests on school/work nights!”

Back in the dorms, the rest of the week seemed to drag on until Friday afternoon, Angela drove the three of us back to La Mesa.

“What do you say we go to the beach tomorrow?” Angela asked. Connie and I both thought that was a great idea. Back at the house, we even offered Marion the chance to join us.

“Not on your life,” was her response.

“Got plans?” Angela asked.

“None  that you need to know about,” was the reply. Marion left before dinner and were we in bed, sated from another round of three-way sex when she returned.

“Think she got laid?” I asked in a whisper.

“You want to ask her?”

“Not really,” I replied.

The next morning we were off to Silver Strand State Park, located on a narrow strip of land that connects Coronado, home of the famous Hotel Del Coronado, to Imperial Beach.

We had to stop on the way to pick up SPF 50 sunscreen for Connie. The SPF 35 cream Marion offered us was not strong enough for a fair-skinned redhead.

Connie picked a spray-on bottle, which Angela tried to make her put back.

“It’s more fun to have him rub lotion on you.”

“True, but I need to assure maximum coverage. Gets ugly if I don’t.”

The beach was fairly crowded, even though summer vacation had yet to start. After all, the weather was beautiful and it was a Saturday.

“One time we tried to go to La Jolla on a Saturday,” Angela said as she started lotion up her arms. “Drove around forever trying to find a place to part. Great beach, great town, but god it gets crowded.”

There was a family situated not far from us and I saw the mother looking our way with displeasure. To keep the peace, I was very discreet as I applied lotion to Angela’s back. I had planned to slip a hand inside her bikini top, but the family vibe foiled that.

Connie was no challenge. She just stood tall while I sprayed every inch of her exposed skin. When I came to her chest, she pulled her top down to ensure I fully covered her cleavage, and nearly exposed her nipples. Just a hint of aureole received SPF 50 protection.

I glanced towards the family and the boy, maybe 10-12 years old, had obviously been watching us. His eyes were big as saucers. Fortunately, his mother missed it.

I whispered to Connie, “That lad is going to be masturbating to thoughts of you for the next week.” Connie just smiled.

“Spray or lotion?” Angela asked me.

“Lotion, baby. Put your hands on me!”

I heard a snort from the nearby family. Angela covered my back, shoulders, and arms with lotion. Then tossed me the tube. “You can reach everywhere else.”

I pretended to pout but lotioned up my abdomen and legs.

After roasting ourselves in the sun for a while, the girls decided to head into the water. I stayed on the blanket to admire them, Angela with her pert, rounded ass, Connie with a broader expanse thanks to hips made for carrying babies, as my grandmother would have said.

But I quickly followed them. The Pacific is not warm and I knew they wouldn’t be in long. Following them was fun as they both reached the waves ahead of me. Every blast of foam that knocked the girls aside caused Connie to adjust her top. Angela had the opposite problem. She was constantly pulling up her bottoms.

Just as I caught up with them a strong wall of water sent Angela’s bottoms to her knees, and I, being the gentleman that I am, quickly relieved her of them. The look on her face was priceless.

“You need to give those back!” She said sharply. I tossed them to Connie.

“This isn’t funny!” The water was receding and Angela either went with it or risked exposing herself to the world. This caused her to take several breakers full in the face before we were forced to take pity on her.

Back at our blanket, a lovely lifeguard in a stunning red two-piece swimsuit was waiting for us. She did not look at all happy. I wouldn’t say she looked angry, just pained.

“This is a family-friendly beach, guys. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Before I could protest she added: “We don’t give warnings.”

I saw a lifeguard Jeep with two beefy guys in it approaching, so we quickly packed our things to leave.

“Just the three of you?” The lifeguard asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“I thought maybe you had a second guy somewhere with a camera trying to catch your action for YouTube.”

“No, just us.”

She glanced at the two girls, packing our stuff, then made eye contact with me. The smile she flashed me was full of appreciation. We still had to leave, but she seemed to be agreeing with Dave’s comments about my good fortune.

Things went from bad to worse for Connie. She had decided to blow off a weekend at home to be with us, but she got a call from her brother. He was under orders to track her down and bring her home.

By the time we got to La Mesa, he was already there, parked at the curb in a Lexus RC 350.

“Mom let you drive her car?” were Connie’s first words to her brother.

“I left my POS back in Virginia, remember?”

“I thought maybe she’d make you rent something. She doesn’t let anyone drive her car.”

Angela asked why he hadn’t knocked on the door, and he explained that he had, but no one was home. Angela led us into the house with a smile on her face that looked to me like trouble.

“Tell your brother how you and Timothy earned us a lifetime suspension from California State Parks.”

“C’mon, Angela. They just kicked us out. We can go back.”

“What the fuck?”

Connie told the tale of playing keep away with Angela’s bikini bottoms. Jeremy kept glancing at Angela’s crotch as though he were envisioning her without a covering.

“I’m sure it was that kid’s mother who ratted us out,” Angela added. “That’s probably your sister’s fault as well.”

“What are you talking about?” Connie asked.

“Show him how you pulled your top down to get sunscreen.”

“I’ve seen this,” Jeremy offered.

“Really?” Angela asked. “Show him.”

Connie pulled her top down until the tan lines on her breasts were in evidence.

“Seen it.”

“Keep going Connie,” Angela insisted. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Connie pulled her top down a bit further and Jeremy’s eyes widened. I was pretty sure this was more of his sister’s flesh than he had seen in a while, if not ever.

“More.”

“Angela, my boobs are going to pop out!”

“They didn’t pop out at the beach, but you pulled it lower than this.”

Connie started to blush, but she slowly pulled further until the smooth pink or her aureoles just started to show. They were a lovely contract to the pale freckle covered breasts above.

“Good god, sis. That could have got you arrested.”

“She stood like that while I sprayed sunblock and there was a ten head old kid who got an eyeful.”

“Pretty sure it was his mother who got us kicked out.”

Connie adjusted her top to it’s more modest position, with just a hint of cleavage.

“I hate to spoil the fun, and you guys are clearly a lot of fun, but I’ve already received three texts from our mother asking if we were on our way.”

Jeremy looked a lot like his sister, only two years younger and a guy. Which is to say a good looking red head. The whole time we were together, he kept grinning at me as if to say, “Dude, what the fuck?” But he was cool and didn’t even flinch when the girls and I disappeared into the bedroom to put on clothes.
He was still giving me that look when we came out dressed in shorts and t-shirts. I did catch him checking out Angela’s nipples, which were very poky under her thin shirt.

“We’ll get together during the week sometime, Angela said. Then she gave Connie a rather lingering kiss on the lips.

For our goodbyes, Connie wrapped herself around me. Her hands were firmly in my hip pockets and I could feel the magnetic pull of her loins as she pressed against me.

“I’d ask you to come with us,” she said, “but next weekend is going to be bad enough. I’m talking about my parents. We will definite have fun!”

“Yeah,” said Jeremy. “You don’t want to take on our folks one-on-one. Not if you don’t have to.”

As soon as they left, Angela put her arm around my waist. “Marion’s not home and it is just the two of us. What will we do?”

By the time Angela returned me to campus Sunday evening, my balls had been drained four times. I had a text from Connie just after dark. “She said she didn’t leave anything for me.” How do you reply to that? There’s no emoji for deflated balls. A smiley face or a thumbs up were hardly appropriate. So I called her.

“She’s just messing with you.”

“Sounds more like she’s been messing with you.”

I made the mistake of laughing.

“It’s not funny! I would suggest we have a rule that says sex only when all parties are present, but nobody would follow it.”

“Would you?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

“Why don’t you come over and cuddle me?”

“What would your roommate say?”

“She doesn’t care.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Thankfully, I had taken a shower before leaving Angela’s, so I could head right over. There was no roommate to be found.

“What did you do with Millie?”

“She’ll be back soon. Just down the hall for a bit.”

“Did she really masturbate while listening to us having phone sex?”

“She did.”

“So what would she do if we had real sex with her in the room?”

“We’re not going to find out, Timothy.”

I had a hand inside her t-shirt caressing her naked breasts. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Things could get really messy, if you get my meaning.”

“Oh!”

“Just started this morning. Better now than while we are in Vegas.”

Millie came back, also dressed in just a t-shirt. At least that’s all I could see.

“Hi Timothy.”

“Hello Millie.”

“She promises you two will behave.”

“We will.”

“Okay.” She crawled into her bed, giving me a brief glimpse of pale blue panties.

“I’m not getting the lights,” she announced, so Connie slipped out of the bed, doused the lights and then crawled back in with me. While up, she had discarded her shirt.

“This isn’t going to work if I have to listen to kissing sounds.”

We promised to be quiet, and we were.

[Jaime Austin]

Viva Las Vegas (Part One)

By mid-week Monica had relented and the three of us were back in La Mesa. The first thing I noticed on entering Angela’s room was the bed frame was gone and her mattress and box spring were on the floor.

“Does your mother know?” Connie asked.

“It was her idea.”

The girls exchanged a high-five. Part of the discussion that got us readmitted to the house was the need to coordinate clothes for the big weekend. “We’re leaving Friday afternoon, mom. We really don’t have a lot of time.”

The end result of this was me being treated to a fashion show. Connie had brought several outfits from home and tried them on for us. We insisted that she not wear a bra, which was a delight for both Angela and me, but Connie assured us that her girls would be strapped in the entire weekend.

“I don’t know where you’d find it, but I’m pretty sure somewhere in my dad’s bible it says women must wear bras.”

While I got to watch the girls in every level of undress imaginable, completed outfits were displayed to Marion in the living room. With Connie’s first outfit, Marion insisted that something looked different about the girl. She just wouldn’t let go of the idea until Angela announced she wasn’t wearing a bra. Marion actually blushed.

“You look lovely, dear,” was all she could say.

“I’ll be wearing one this weekend,” Connie explained. My friends here,” and the word “friends” was dripping with sarcasm, “insisted I try things on without one.”

“I’m not wearing one,” Angela said.

“But you will this weekend.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Please, Angela? No pokey nipples in front of my parents, please?” She shot a look at Angela’s mother. Sorry, Marion.”

“Oh don’t worry about me. I’ve been through this many times already.”

We left school at 3:30 for the roughly 5-hour drive to Sin City. Angela had me drive and then proceeded to distract me by putting her bare feet on the dashboard, her long thin legs on full display. Anytime I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw Connie’s lovely face, green eyes, and flowing red hair. I was semi-hard the whole trip.

Before we arrived, Connie had a text from Jeremy saying that he had our room keys and that we should meet him at a bar on Fremont Street. Being California kids, we knew Fremont was closed to traffic and found a nearby garage to park.

As a kid, my parents took us to Circus Circus. If you are traveling with children, it’s the perfect place. This was before the divorce, of course. This trip we would be staying at the Luxor, which we regarded as the tackiest of tacky Vegas hotels. A fake pyramid? Are you kidding me?

But for now, we were on glitzy Fremont street. Maybe not the classiest place on the planet, but don’t confuse glitz for tacky. That animated display that provides a ceiling for the street is not to be missed. Yes, it’s not the dancing waters at the Bellagio, but what the fuck? It’s Vegas.

Jeremy met us on the street outside the bar.

“How did you get Mom and Dad to come here?” Connie asked with amazement.

“Oh, they’re not here. Wouldn’t even consider it. I think they were overwhelmed by the gaming floor at the Luxor, and then the elevators really freaked them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They don’t go straight up and down. They follow the slant of the pyramid. It’s actually kind of cool.”

Jeremy led us to a bar that looked like an old west saloon.

“Can we even get in here?” Connie asked.

“It’s more of a restaurant than a bar.”

“And Dad still wouldn’t come?”

“No. Uncle Dave tried to talk him into it. I think Mom was willing, but Dad said they would have room service at the hotel.”

“Jesus.” Connie shook her head.

Jeremy explained that he was told to see that we ate, but then he was to take us back to the Luxor so his parents could meet Connie’s friends.

“Oh great,” Connie said. “We’ll miss all the fun!”

“Maybe just as well. Uncle Dave, Tom — that’s the groom by the way — and the other guys are heading to a strip club from here. Cousin Nancy and the girls are off to a Chippendales-type show.”

We met the bride and groom and other members of the wedding party and their families. Her Uncle Dave to every opportunity to make fun of his straight-laced brother.

“I swear he was abused by a priest when he was a kid.”

“But Uncle Dave,” Connie complained, “we aren’t even Catholic.”

“All I know is,” Dave went on, “is that he was a perfectly normal 14-year old and then all of a sudden he became this tight-assed prick — sorry kids.”

“Well he managed to father us,” Jeremy offered.

“About that,” Dave began, but then he just started laughing. “I was going to cast aspersions on your parentage, but that’s too mean even for me. All credit goes to your mom. When Margaret was 19 she looked just like Connie here, and well, need I say more?”

Connie went beet red while everyone had a good laugh. The men all gave her a lecherous look. All in good fun, mind you. But not at all appreciated by Connie.

Jeremy insisted we turn down all offers of alcohol. “Nothing until you’ve met the parents.”

“And then?” Angela asked.

“The four of us can get politely shitfaced. We have adjoining rooms and Uncle Dave hooked me up. My bar is well stocked.”

By the time we parked the Prius at the hotel, it was going on 10. Jeremy texted his dad and was informed that Mom was asleep and that they would meet us for breakfast. He negotiated a meet time of 9:30. “Best I could do, guys.”

The rooms at the Luxor all have an Egyptian theme. The wardrobes look like tombs where you would expect to find mummies. The bedspreads were covered in hieroglyphics. Call it tacky if you must, but it seemed kind of cool. The exterior wall, with a window overlooking Mandalay Bay and the Delano Tower, sloped inwards, following the roofline of the pyramid.

Jeremy chatted away the whole time we were unpacking, rarely taking his eyes off Angela. Then I noticed why. She was braless under a thin t-shirt.

“You know, Ange,” I said. “You probably would have had to change before meeting the parents anyway.”

“Whatever for?” she asked.

I stared at her pokey nipples until Connie and Jeremy joined me in fixing our eyes on them.

“Jesus,” she said. “I brought three bras. I hope they get me through the weekend.”

“Don’t put one on for me,” Jeremy offered.

“Down, Junior,” Connie said. “Leave my friend alone or we’ll send you back to that religious college of yours.”

“You go to a religious school?” I asked.

“Liberty University,” he said with what was clearly false pride.

“Jeremy is a world-class suckup. My parents think he’s walking the straight and narrow path to heaven.”

“Probably don’t have much choice about that at Liberty,” I said.

“There’s a saying at my school,” Jeremy explained. “Just because a girl is on her knees, doesn’t mean she’s praying.”

Connie shook her head in dismay. “He claims that blow jobs, titty fucks, and hand jobs are as easy to come by there as anywhere else.”

“Maybe even easier,” Jeremy added. “Because next to no one is getting laid.”

“So you are saying that the girls there are willing to do anything but?” I asked, giving Connie a direct look.

“Don’t even go there,” she said to me. Then she added, “Okay little brother. We appreciate the booze, but the grown-ups are getting ready for bed since we have to be presentable at the crack of dawn.”

Before he reluctantly left, I asked him about the bridesmaid he had his eyes on.

“Her family isn’t arriving until tomorrow. Oh my god, wait until you see her.”

“She is very pretty, I give you that,” Connie said. “But I don’t see her coming up to your room.”

“She will if I invite her to party with you guys.”

Connie shook her head no, but Angela asked, “So are you hoping to seal the deal?”

“I have high hopes.”

“And reason to believe in those hopes?”

He held his hands up, “There is no place on her body these hands haven’t been.”

“What about your mouth?”

“Angela! He’s only 19!”

“Guys were going down on me long before I turned 19.”

Jeremy began to blush. Then he said to Angela, “My room has two twin queens just like this room if these guys start to crowd you.”

“How very thoughtful of you, Jeremy,” Angela said. “Don’t lock your door.”

Connie’s temper was starting to flare.

“And don’t worry, if I do come in I’ll be so quiet you won’t know I’m there.”

As soon as he left, Connie closed and locked the door on our side. “Count your underwear, Angela. He probably stole a pair of your panties to jack off with.”

Angela just smiled and dropped flat on the nearest bed.

“I’m beat. I need someone to undress me.”

Connie and I looked at each other and smiled. We both joined her on the bed and began to unfasten her shorts, which I pulled off and tossed onto a chair.

“So, Tiger,” Connie said to me. “Do you want to rip that shirt off of her?”

“No. It’s another one of mine.”

“Alright, then. We’ll be gentle.”

Connie took off her own shorts, then positioned herself above Angela’s head and slowly worked the t-shirt up and over her face. Before she got any further, I was sucking on Angela’s rock-hard nipples. Somehow it seemed they were always that way, crying out to be caressed or sucked.

“Maybe we should leave her like this and make her guess who’s sucking on which tit?”


We each took a nipple, careful to only touch it with our lips. Angela’s arms were tied up by the shirt, her face fully covered. How would she ever know?

“Connie’s on the left. I can feel her ponytail.”

“But how do you know I’m not just playing with her hair?” I asked. We both pulled back slightly as I used Connie’s hair like an artist’s brush, gently painting each small breast with delicate strokes.

“Fuck,” Angela said. “I don’t care who’s doing it, just don’t stop.”

Then we heard a light rapping on the adjoining door. Connie unlocked and opened it just a crack. “What?”

“I just got back from the ice machine and wondered if you wanted any.”

“Yes,” Angela called from the bed.

Jeremy tried to enter the room, but Connie blocked him. “I’m going to close this door, then come back with our ice bucket.”

He had blocked the door with his foot. “Trust me. I won’t open it any further,”

That’s when I realized that he could see Angela reflected in the mirror. With her face covered, her arms bound, her breasts bare, she was quite a sight. His eyes met mine and he raised his finger to his lips in the age-old hush gesture. I smiled and began to pull Angela’s panties down. She didn’t make a sound.

While he was pouring ice into Connie’s bucket, she looked back at the mirror and realized what her brother had seen. Setting her ice bucket aside, she said to her brother, “Don’t move an inch.” Then she walked to the bed, took Angela’s panties from me, and gave them to her brother. “Have a pleasant night and don’t worry. She won’t want them back.”

He was so stunned that she had no trouble getting the door closed and locked. Angela could feel the tension in the room.

“What’s going on? she asked.

“Jeremy brought us some ice.”

“I know that, but he’s gone now, right?”

“Maybe.” Connie brought the ice bucket with her to the bed. “Or maybe he’s here with an ice cube in his mouth.”

Connie stuffed an ice cube in my face and I began to suck on Angela’s nipples.

“Oh fuck,” she cried. “This is Timmy. You can’t fool me. I know how he smells.”

With the ice cube still in my mouth, I drew a wet line from her breasts down to her slit.

“Oh baby,” she cried, “that’s too much!” But I slid what was left of the ice cube between her outer lips.

“God, your tongue is cold!” I probed deep. The ice was gone and soon my tongue was warm as I slid it up and down, delivering glancing blows to her clitoris.

Connie set the ice bucket down and took charge of removing my shorts and boxers. She never got them further than my knees, but that allowed her to wrap her lips around my cock.

Angela was writhing under my tongue lashing and Connie left my dick long enough to whisper, “I think someone needs a serious fucking.”

I kissed my way up to Angela’s nipples while Connie guided my erection into heaven’s gate. She released me as soon as the tip was inserted and I quickly drove my weapon home. Connie said a serious fuck and that was what I intended to deliver. Each thrust was met with an eager parry and soon we were building to a mutual climax.

I raised myself on my arms so I could see Angela’s glistening nipples and watch her suck air in through the shirt covering her face. Then I felt lips on my lower back. Connie had an ice cube in her mouth and was dragging it down my back and into the crack of my ass. I felt the cold wet morsel of ice as she pressed it against my rectum. Then with a thrust of her tongue, it was in me! What a jolt! It was like a lightning bolt penetrated my ass, ran up my spine, and made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. It also made my dick nearly explode.

I couldn’t believe it. Miss everything but, Miss virgin until she was 20 had just rammed an ice cube up my ass with her tongue and was now licking my balls and the space between them and my asshole.

She grabbed my balls gently and kissed my ass, then gently nipped my flesh with her teeth. At the same time, Angela was rocking my dick with a major orgasm. I was on the edge of sensory overload when finally I came. One, two, three, four thrusts spewing every possible ounce of cum my balls could produce.

I lay with my dick still embedded in Angela’s flooded vagina while Connie gently pulled the shirt up and over the girl’s head. Angela was still breathing heavily. With her arms now free, she began to caress me. I looked at Connie and she was grinning from ear to ear.

“To prove that you love me,” she said, her green eyes flashing, “you have to kiss me.”

“You just had your tongue in my ass!”

“I don’t care.”

She came in for a kiss and I wasn’t about to deny her. I didn’t taste anything unusual, but I was a bit freaked as she fought with my tongue. I mean holy fuck, she shoved an ice cube up my ass with her fucking tongue!

“How come I’m the only one who’s naked?” Angela asked.

“Guess you’re just lucky,” Connie replied.

Angela and I both grabbed a few pieces of ice and thrust them into Connie’s bra. She screamed so loud that Jeremy was pounding on the door. I covered her mouth with my hand while Angela went to the door and assured him all was well.

“I think I need to come in there,” he said through the locked door.

“Pretty sure you don’t,” was Angela’s reply.

We didn’t hear anything further from him. Connie took off her bra and ice fell on the bed.

“I think this is the designated fuck bed and that one is for sleeping,” she said calmly.

I started to pull my pants back up, but Connie wasn’t having any part of that. I put up a fight just long enough for Angela to get in the act. Once they had me naked, Angela looked at my flaccid dick and said, “Well, that was a wasted effort.”

Connie looked at me and shook her head sadly. “Nothing left for me, you bastards.”

As soon as Angela scooped a few ice cubes up off the bed, I knew what was up and again covered Connie’s mouth with my hand. I was behind her and managed to pin her legs with mine while Angela pushed the ice down the front of her panties.

Connie tried to get away from me, but I held her in place while Angela pressed the ice firmly between the red head’s legs. That’s when she bit my hand and I let go. In a flash, she was up off the bed stripping off her panties.

She looked angry and was breathing hard. But she said not a word. She kept glancing at my still useless dick and Angela’s cowering body. Then she attacked, knocking Angela flat on the bed.

Her copper-colored bush was dripping ice water as she crawled over the smaller woman.

“Connie, that’s cold!” Angela cried.

Connie slide her bush across Angela’s stomach and brushed it against each of the smaller girl’s breasts. The redhead towered above her friend.

“Stick out your tongue,” she said.

Angela pressed her lips together.

“Timothy is going to force your mouth open if you don’t stick out your tongue.”

I didn’t move an inch, but Angela’s tongue slowly made an appearance.

As expected, Connie lowered her still dripping cunt until Angela’s tongue was pressed against her slit. I could tell Angela was pushing her tongue as deep as it would go while Connie ground away against her face.

Connie’s full breasts bounced with her movements, her nipples hard as stones. Angela was now caressing her ass, guiding her movements.

Connie gave me a look that seemed to say, “Are you just going to lie there?” I slid in place behind her, careful to keep my weight off Angela, and covered her full breasts with my hands. Then she turned her face so we could kiss.

Angela began to twist underneath us and I assumed we were becoming too much for her. I got up and pulled Connie with me. Angela lay on the bed rubbing her jaw. Then she said, “You’re not going to let him fuck you, are you?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Make him fuck you with his tongue.”

“His dick is bigger.”

Angela looked conflicted.

“What’s the problem?” I asked. I was gently rubbing my erection against Connie’s ass.

“It’s this whole two girls with one guy thing. It just seems wrong.”

“You don’t have to fuck him if you don’t want to. Shit, my brother would have been thrilled to take care of you.”

“It’s not that.”

“You’re saying you want to keep him for yourself?”

“It’s not that either. Not really.” She looked right at me and said, “Timothy, you know I love you, and you really are great. But I just can’t get my head around the notion that any guy, even you, deserves to have two girls fucking him.”

“That’s easy for you to say after you already got yours.” Connie was not happy.

Angela put her face in her hands. “I know. That’s not fair either.”

“Angela, you are a serious buzz kill,” Connie said and then left for the bathroom.

“I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

I didn’t say a word.

“Now I feel terrible like I need to make it up to her.”

“Maybe you should go in there and tell her that.”

The two girls were in the bathroom for a long time. I used what was left of the ice to fix myself a rum and coke. I stripped the bedspread off the fuck bed and draped it over a chair to dry. I had planned on sleeping naked with two girls, so I didn’t bring anything with me specifically to sleep in, but I began to feel silly sitting around naked.

Finally, the girls returned holding hands. I looked at them and thought, Dave was right. I am the luckiest guy in California. Long thin Angela with her curly light brown hair, lush muff, and peach fuzz-covered legs. Connie with her green eyes, luxuriant red mane, powerful physique, and full rounded breasts. I guess Angela was right, too. No one guy deserves all this.

But they were smiling now as they approached me. Angela gave me a brief kiss. “I’m sorry,” she said.

I just put my arms around her. Connie embraced us both. “Angela agrees that we need to find a way to make this work. Whether you deserve it or not, you have us both to contend with. And while that may sound wonderful, it’s not always going to be easy.”

Don’t I know it, I thought but said nothing.

Someone, I didn’t look to see who, had just wrapped her fingers around my dick. Connie slipped her tongue into my mouth and we shared a long-smoldering kiss as my erection formed. As soon as she pulled away, it was Angela’s turn. Our tongues danced for a moment until a third tongue intruded. This was new. I withdrew my tongue and the girls pressed harder against each other. I nibbled on an ear, then pulled on a lip. Someone pulled on mine. Cheeks were kissed, tongues felt the sharp edge of teeth. I would suck on Angela’s upper lip while Connie bit her lower. There was no method to this, not even a rhythm. It was awkward. It was messy. But we managed a three-way kiss until we were all a bit unsteady on our feet.

Connie guided us to the fuck bed where the three of us lay together briefly. Then Angela and Connie embraced. Someone, again I didn’t look to see who, was gently tugging on my erection as the two women kissed with increasing passion. Angela kissed her way down Connie’s neck until she was licking and sucking her freckled breasts. Then she continued to kiss her way down until her face was buried between Connie’s thighs, which were spread to give her full access.

By then I knew whose hand had ahold of me as Connie tugged me until I was near her face. She took my penis deep into her mouth, swirled her tongue around my glans, and held me there with suction and her teeth.

My eyes were closed in purest bliss. Then I felt another set of hands on my shoulders, caressing me. I opened my eyes to see Angela’s face as she came in for a kiss. I recognized Connie’s taste on her lips and my tongue sought to find every trace of it.

Now both girls guided me into place between Connie’s legs. Angela took my dick in hand and guided it to the russet muff I so adored. She rubbed my glans up and down Connie’s slit, covering it with her dew, and then guided me in, where I was enveloped by the warmth.

It started as a slow screw. Like two people who have been together countless times and felt no urgency. Angela took turns kissing us both as my erection slid back and forth, in and out. But then the rhythm changed. We were meeting each other and pressing harder with each coming together. And then the pulling back and pushing forward quickened.

Now it was just Connie and I kissing, Connie and I fucking. Although Angela made her presence felt. A touch here, a kiss there. As our pace increased, Angela seemed to concentrate her ministrations on my ass. Kisses, caresses, a moist finger that seemed to ride in the crack of my ass, just barely touching my balls.

As our passion built, I lost sight of everything but Connie. Our bodies meshed in perfect unison. And when I felt the first hint of her orgasm -- a slight tremor that sent shock waves through my dick -- my vision blurred and I began to unleash my seed. And just when I thought I had nothing left to give, Angela slipped her tongue between my ass cheeks, penetrating me there and my balls delivered up another load.

Connie and I lay panting, our bodies stuck together with sweat and lust. Angela rested her head on my ass, her fingers gently caressing my balls. She was the first one to get up.

“If you love me, you will kiss me,” she said to us both. And we partook of another awkward three-way kiss.

We set an alarm so that we could meet Connie’s parents in the morning as promised.

[Jaime Austin]

Viva Las Vegas (Part Two)

Jeremy and Connie were so worried about meeting their parents that it was a bit of a letdown when we were finally introduced to Steve and Margaret. They were all smiles and were obviously checking me out, as any girl’s parents would on meeting someone described as a serious boyfriend.

“The breakfast buffet here is awesome,” Steve told us. “Meg and I were down around 6:30 and ate then. You know people are gambling at 6:30 in the morning? Some of them looked like they were at it all night. And some of the women we saw wandering around the machines in skimpy little dresses, I think they were working girls if you know what I mean.” Steve seemed genuinely appalled. “Anyway,” he went on, “we’ll just grab a cup of coffee and then let you kids chow down.”

Steve was maybe six feet tall. What was left of his hair was definitely red. Connie had told me his hairline started to recede before he turned 30, and now 15 years later there wasn’t anywhere else for it to go. His face, while handsome, was marred by the scars from teenage acne. But even so, his winning smile and friendly manner took the edge off my fears.

Margaret, on the other hand, was stunning. She could easily pass as Connie’s older sister and her hair, figure, and face — freckles and all — bode well for Connie’s future. It happens to us all. You meet a pretty girl, and then you see her mother and go “Jesus, is this what she’s going to look like in 20 years?” It can get scary, but no worries here.

When we returned from the buffet, Steve eyed my plate, which contained a single scrambled egg and a large helping of fruit.

“They have bacon, you know. Or are you a vegetarian?”

“He eats meat, Daddy. But he doesn’t eat more than he needs. That’s what keeps him trim.”

This was just the beginning of the questions.

“Connie says you’re studying English, Tim?”

“He prefers to be called Timothy, Dad.”

“Since he was five years old,” Angela offered. That brought stares from both parents.

“Angela and Timothy have been friends since middle school.”

“And our mother’s worked together at Sharp Grossmont. Best friends. I have no secrets from Angela.”

“I thought Angela was your friend, sweetheart?” Margaret asked slowly, evidently confused by the situation.

“She is, Mom. My best friend on the planet. I met the two of them around the same time and we hang out together all the time.”

“Hey, Dad,” Jeremy spoke up. “Did you get your car yet?”

“No. I talked to them Friday before we left home. Could be another three weeks.”

“My Dad has a Tesla on order.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s great. Those cars are great for the planet.”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve said. “I think all this climate change talk is a bunch of nonsense.”

“Says the man with a roof covered in solar panels,” Jeremy said.

“That’s got nothing to do with climate change,” said Steve. Then he turned to me. “Look, I’m no idiot. Climate change is real. But the climate has been changing for millennia. The Sahara used to be grasslands, half this country was once buried under ice. I just can’t believe that car exhaust and cow flatulence is driving the current cycle.”

“But all the same,” Jeremy interjected.

“Yes,” Steve went on. “All the same, I’ve got a solar system at home. Anyone who owns a house in the American Southwest who doesn’t is throwing money away. It gets hot in Temecula and between the air conditioning and running the pool pump all summer, I had electric bills over $500.”

“Not anymore,” said Jeremy with a grin.

“No. We generate more electricity than we can use, so I’m getting an electric car that I should be able to drive for free.”

“Those cars are expensive,” Angela said.

“True,” said Steve. “But guess how often they schedule service on a Tesla?”

No one answered.

“Never,” he said with a smile. “No oil changes, no fuel filters, no catalytic converter to be stolen if your car’s parked outside overnight.”

Steve paused long enough to finish his coffee. “Like I said, I think all this climate change stuff is bogus. I’m into solar and electric vehicles for the economics. Plain and simple.”

Margaret touched her husband’s arm, “Darling, we should let these kids eat in peace, don’t you think?” And with that, they made their exit.

“Well played, bro,” Connie said, giving her brother a high five.

“Anytime my Dad swings into uncomfortable territory, get him going on one of his favorite subjects. Works every time.”

“And besides solar and electric cars?” I asked.

“What do you know about sports?”

“Next to nothing, I’m afraid.”

“Timothy’s a book worm.”

“I watch movies,” I said in my defense. “Everything I know about baseball I learned from Bull Durham and Field of Dreams.”

“How about golf?”

“My mom plays golf.”

“Mine, too,” Angela added.

“I know who Arnold Palmer is,” I said with a grin.

“The iced tea guy?” Connie asked.

“My mom likes it with a little splash of vodka,” I said.

Jeremy shook his head sadly. “World famous golfer.  No longer with us, by the way. Talk to your mothers about the game. Learn what you can. Wouldn’t hurt to get lessons. My dad claims to be a very religious man, but his real place of worship is the church of golf. He’s even skipping church tomorrow to play golf before it gets too hot.”

“What about Mom?” Angela asked.

“Can’t fool Mom,” Connie said. “She picked up on your connection in a heartbeat.”

“Not that she has a clue you’re banging both of these lovelies,” Jeremy said before his sister punched him in the arm.

“I very much doubt she suspects that,” Connie said. “But she clearly senses there’s more here than meets the eye.”

“So is she a problem?” Angela asked.

“Not like my dad,” Connie said. “He gets mad and throws stuff. And if he doesn’t support what you are doing — like majoring in philosophy — he won’t pay your college bills.”

“You get no money from him at all?” I asked.

“Not for school. My mom helps. She has her own money he doesn’t know about. But he’s the reason I’m doing work/study to get by while asshole here,” she paused to hit her brother again, “is getting a free ride.”

“You could have gone to a church school.”

“Right. I can just imagine what the philosophy department must be like at Saddleback College or Liberty U.”

“I’m not sure we have one.”

“My point exactly.”

As we were finishing up I asked if there were any pitfalls to avoid when talking with Steve.

“Do you know who Billy Graham was?”

“Sure.”

“Never say anything negative about him.”

“Or his weasel son,” Connie added.

“It’s best to avoid religion and politics completely,” Jeremy said.

“And women’s issues. He really believes a woman’s place is in the home, having babies and cleaning house.”

“But you said your mother has her own business.”

“Economics,” Connie said. “He can’t argue with the money she brings home. Plus Mom gets her way 90% of the time with him.”

“I can understand that,” I said.

“Really?”

“Your mom’s gorgeous.”

“I’m sure your dad can’t say no to her any more than Timmy can say no to you,” Angela said without a trace of humor.

“So watch your step with Dad,” Jeremy said.

“If he’ll let you,” Connie added.

“That’s why you need to be prepared to shift the conversation to something he can pontificate on. As long as he’s talking and not asking questions, you’re home free.”

“Just watch your facial expressions.”

“God, I love my mom,” Angela said.

“Mine, too. And yet your folks seemed so nice.”

“They are nice,” Connie said. “That’s how they trap you. They lull you into a sense of security until all of a sudden you realize they are talking about what a waste of time and money a liberal arts degree is.”

“Or somehow the subject has changed to premarital sex.”

“So your dad thinks you are both virgins?” Angela asked.

“Pretty sure he does,” Connie replied.

“And Mom?”

“No. My mom knows. You can’t get anything past her. She looked at Timothy and me holding hands and I saw it register on her face. She knows we are having sex. She even suspects we had sex with you in the room.”

Jeremy cleared his throat. “We either need to leave now or change the subject or I’ll be stuck at this table for a while.”

Angela laughed. “Connie, I think we’re giving your baby brother a woody.”

“Someone get me another cup of coffee?”

We left him there to return to our room.


The wedding was scheduled for four o’clock, followed by a dinner at PF Chang’s Planet Hollywood. The plan was to spend some time at the pool and then get dressed for the big event.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you wearing jeans,” I said to Angela as she was pulling them off.

“Connie said her dad was a Neanderthal, so I thought I’d keep my hairy limbs covered. That’s why I’ll be wearing pants tonight as well.”

She turned to Connie and said, “ See? I do love you.”

“Thank you, my love. You were perfect this morning.”

“Other than giving out my intimate details.”

“She can’t help it, baby. What Angela knows, Angela tells.”

“You two know me too well.”

That called for a three-way kiss, which Connie ended quickly.

“Let’s not start anything or we’ll never make it to the pool.”

Connie stripped completely naked and I sprayed her from head to toe with sunblock. This turned out to be a bad idea as the three of us were coughing from the fumes.

Angela presented her nude form for suntan lotion, which Connie and I expertly applied. I made sure her nipples were covered, to which she said, “Seriously, the sun’s not going to get there.” And at that, Connie applied lotion between her legs.

“Maybe we should forget about the pool,” Angela said.

“No, we’re going swimming. Jeremy is meeting us down there. We might even get to meet his heartthrob.”

We were almost out the door when Connie caught hold of Angela’s arm.

“Girl, you need a trim.”

There was quite a bit of fluff escaping from the crotch of her bikini.

“You didn’t say anything last weekend,” Angela complained.

“I didn’t notice. Your hair is so light, it almost blends in. But you got enough sun that your skin is darker and it’s impossible to miss. Don’t worry, I’ve got scissors.”

The two girls went into the bathroom where Connie gave Angela a proper trim of her pubic hair. It occurred to me that I was finally getting used to being around these two in various states of undress to the point that I did not find this in the least titillating.

By the time Jeremy showed up at the pool, we had been in and out of the water and were enjoying the bar service.

“Guess I’m driving to the church?”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Connie asked.

Standing next to him was a lovely young girl with long brown hair, wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

“This is Emily.”

“I remember Emily,” Connie said. “You look so grown up, girl.” Emily blushed. “You’d fit right in on campus.”

“One more year of high school and then I’ll be there,” she said with a smile.

“Listen,” Jeremy said quickly. “Her folks think She is staying with you guys.”

“What? The three of us?”

“No, just you and Angela. They think Timothy is bunking in with me. That’s what I told Mom and Dad, too. Can I have a room key, so we can put her things in your room?”

“Jeremy, this isn’t going to work. Timothy’s clothes are all over the place in there. His shave kit is in the bathroom.”

Panic was etched on Connie’s brother’s face.

Angela stood up. “We’ve got this. Grab your stuff.”

The two girls wrapped skirts around their waists and all five of us headed into the casino.

“Mom, Dad,” Emily said, “This is Connie and Angela. They’re going to help take my bags up.”

“And I’m Timothy,” I said, stretching out a hand to Emily’s father. “Not that anybody cares.”

Her father laughed. “All anyone cares about are the girls. Especially at a wedding.”

“Are you sure you two girls don’t mind a little high schooler staying with you?” Her mother asked.

“No,” Connie said with a smile. “We’ll ditch these boys and the three of us can do our hair and nails.”

“And toes,” Angela added. “I don’t know what the bride’s maids are wearing, but I’m sure between the two of us we’ve got a color that will match.”

“So don’t worry,” Connie said. “She’s in good hands and we’ll have a great time.”

And with that, we left her parents to find their elevator, with fortunately was nowhere near the one we needed.

We had a car to ourselves, and soon as the door shut, Emily said, “You guys are fucking awesome!”

Connie didn’t look happy.

“I don’t like lying to people,” She said. “I feel like we are aiding and abetting some criminal enterprise.”

“The only thing you are abetting,” Emily said, and it sounded like abedding, “is young love.” And with that she was all over Jeremy, grinding her crotch into his thigh.

“Just be careful,” Connie said.

“Don’t worry,” Emily replied. “He’s got condoms, don’t you sweetie?”

“Box of twelve,” Jeremy replied.

Connie kicked me in the shin when I said, “I hope that’s enough.” Everyone else laughed.

When we got to the rooms, Jeremy said, “I had to give her parents the room numbers, so can we put Emily’s stuff in your room and move Timothy’s stuff into mine?”

Connie unlocked our door and we pulled Emily’s two fairly large suitcases into our room. Then she pushed Jeremy back into the hall. “You go to your room and maybe, just maybe, I’ll unlock the connecting door.” The look on her face was enough to force compliance.

Angela headed for the bathroom. “You sort out your family issues. I’m taking a shower.” And with that, she began to strip without closing the bathroom door.

“Angela!”

“What?” She was standing in the doorway in just her bikini bottoms. “You need to get Timothy’s stuff out of here, don’t you?”

She turned around a slipped off her bikini bottoms. The three of us stood there admiring her perfect ass. I glanced at Emily. She looked at me and said, “I wish I had an ass like that.”

“Don’t we all,” said Connie.

I heard Jeremy rapping gently on his side of the connecting door and let him in.

“Your sister’s friends are amazing,” Emily said giving Jeremy a full-body hug that ended with a kiss.

“You boys get Timothy’s stuff from here and the wardrobe. I’ll get his bathroom shit.”

Jeremy noticed the shower running. “Angela?” He asked.

“That girl has the most amazing ass, Jerry. Don’t you think?”

“Not as cute as yours, ‘Em.”

“That’s the right thing to say, even if we both know it isn’t true.”

By the time Angela was out of the shower, all my belongings were next door and the adjoining doors were shut.

“Jeremy said not to lock them in case her parents show up and she needs to dash in here,” Connie said. “And lover boy here needs to disappear.”

“Fuck!” I said.

“What?”

“I have no clothes to change into. I’m stuck here in my swimsuit!”

“Knock on the door,” Angela said. “They probably still have their clothes on.”

“No,” Connie said. “She was taking her top off before the door was even shut. And you, of all people, should appreciate that we don’t want to interrupt their first time.”

“Fine,” Angela said, dropping her towel.

“Angela, the door’s not locked. They could walk in any time.”

“Then they will get to see what a blow job looks like,” Angela said as she pulled my trunks down.

After the pool, wet trunks, and the air-conditioned room, my penis was barely visible.

“Connie,” Angela whispered. “Come look at this.”

Connie joined Angela at cock level and they both studied the tiny pink mouse peaking out from my nest of hair.

“Look how small his balls are.”

Indeed. It was like I was twelve years old again.

I heard a sound. It was the door opening and Emily stuck her head in.

The three of us stood frozen in place. Me, with my swim trunks around my ankles, Connie and Angela kneeling in front of me.

The girls stood up. Angela doing nothing to cover herself, Emily looking directly at my pathetic excuse for a penis. She stepped fully into the room. Her t-shirt was a mass of wrinkles and the rest of her was naked, delightfully so, with a narrow landing strip just above luscious pussy lips and legs as long and thin as Angela’s.

“Jeremy needs Tim,” she said.

“What’s the problem?” Connie asked.

“He can’t get the condom to work and now he’s locked in the bathroom.”

I pulled my trunks up and went next door.

“What’s the problem, Jeremy?” I called through the bathroom door.

“Is my sister with you?”

“No.”

The door opened a crack. He showed me an unused condom, looking like a balloon waiting to be filled. “I have no fucking idea how to use one of these.”

“What did you think you were supposed to do with it?”

“I don’t know. I thought there would be instructions.”

“Weren’t there any on the box?”

“I didn’t bring the box with me.”

“Haven’t you watched any porn?”

“We can’t at school. Our Internet is locked down tight. I’ve seen porn, but never with someone using a condom. At least not that I could tell.”

So I conducted sex ed 101, explained that you got hard first, then opened the condom, and while it looked like a ring, slip it over your penis and then roll it down the shaft. If it doesn’t want to roll, then you have it on upside down. Just turn it over and roll it down.

“So I should just throw this one away.”

“You’ve got eleven more, buddy.”

“I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. Emily didn’t have a clue either.”

I glanced at the door and saw Connie leaning in, her face full of concern.

“It’s going to be alright,” I said to her.

She said, “We are soon going to be out of time.”

I turned to Jeremy and said, “Maybe you should save it for tonight. Dance with her at the wedding, steal a kiss if no one is looking, then come back here and start all over again.”

Jeremy changed into his tuxedo. I put on my one and only suit. I bought it thinking I would wear it during my ESL classes, but Angela thought that would be a dick move. “You look very professional, babe, but these folks have enough issues to deal with without being intimidated by their instructor. Save it for when  you are a grad assistant, or get your first teaching job.”

The girls approved of our attire. Connie said I looked very professorial. Emily said I would look older with a beard, but Angela and Connie vetoed that idea. “It would mess with the whole Cary Grant thing he’s got going with his chin,” Angela said.

“Cary Grant?” Emily asked.

I had been looking forward to sitting around in my underwear watching Angela and Connie paint each other’s nails and toes. Any excuse to watch them together, you know? But Jeremy was anxious and still nervous over his condom disaster, so we went down to the casino floor and spent $20 playing slots. At one point we were up $80, but by the time I got a text from Connie telling us to come back, we were broke.

Back up in the room, the girls looked beautiful. Even Emily’s bridesmaid gown was stylish, although the turquoise color clashed with her completion. I always understood that bridesmaid’s gowns were meant to make the bride look like the only beauty in the wedding party, so I guess it could have been worse.

Connie was wearing a pale green dress that showed zero cleavage. But it still managed to emphasize her bust and she looked fantastic in it.

Angela called her outfit a jumpsuit, but it was diaphanous, with a scooped neck and multiple layers. There was never a risk of cleavage, of course, but her girls were encased in a light bra that would keep her nipples in check. Or so I was told.

Emily gave Jeremy a lingering kiss. “It seems obvious now, doesn’t it?” She said to him. Evidently, the girls told her about condom etiquette.

“It does,” he admitted.

“So we’ll be fine, Jerry. Besides, these girls are a wealth of knowledge.”

Jeremy looked at his sister and Angela, who were standing arm in arm, both smiling broadly.

“I think you will find,” Emily said softly, “That it will be well worth the wait.”


The Little Church of the West has been hosting weddings since 1943. Betty Grable, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Judy Garland, Cindy Crawford, and Angelina Jolie were all brides there. The chapel only seated 50 guests, but the service was broadcast live at PF Changs for those who didn’t make the cut. I guess Angela and I should have been flattered to be there.

We sat on the bride’s side, even though Angela and I knew no one there. The service was short but sweet. The older women cried, the men, or at least the father’s, looked misty-eyed. Connie’s mother kept glancing our way, which made me a bit nervous. I was having second thoughts about the wisdom of this adventure.

At the restaurant, Jeremy sat with Emily at the head table with the wedding party. We were assigned to a table with Steve, Margaret, and the bride’s parents. Without Jeremy to run interference, we were at the mercy of Connie’s dad.

“So what will you do with a degree in English?” he asked.

“Nothing really,” I said. “Just follow it up with a master's degree and then a Ph.D.”

“A professional student then?”

“Dad!”

“I plan to teach, and do research.”

“Research?” Steve found this hard to comprehend.

“The past is prologue, according to Shakespeare. There is still much to learn. New manuscripts are still being found, caches of letters discovered.”

“But what’s the point?”

“He means how does that earn any money,” Connie said with a frown.

“They say no one gets rich by working for a living, and that’s certainly true about teaching and academic research. But someone has to help preserve our cultural heritage.”

“And Timothy is very good at it.”

“He has never received a grade below an A in his entire academic career,” said Angela. “At least since I met him in the seventh grade.”

This wasn’t entirely correct, but I didn’t feel the need to undermine Angela’s assertion.

“Baby,” Connie said to me. “Could you refresh our drinks?”

I started to get up. “Wine spritzer for me and Angela?”

“Rum and coke,” she said, waving what was left of the brown liquid in her glass.

Connie gave me a worried look and I returned it with a wink.

I asked the bartender if by any chance he had any non-alcoholic rum.

“You know, I do! We get all types in Vegas. But I have to warn you, it’s not very good.”

I returned to the table with the ladies' drinks.

“Nothing for yourself?” Steve asked me.

“Designated driver.”

“I thought that was Jeremy.”

We all glanced at the head table. Jeremy’s bow tie was gone, his frilly shirt largely unbuttoned and his face covered with a silly grin. Steve started to get up, but Margaret stopped him with a touch. “He’ll regret it in the morning, darling.” She turned to me, “Hopefully he won’t keep you up all night.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“He’ll dance it off soon enough,” Connie added.

Soon the DJ was working, the bride and groom had their first dance as husband and wife. But before the rest of us were invited to the dance floor, there was the ceremonial toss of the bridal garter.

Angela snickered as the groom raised his bride’s dress. I noticed Connie kick her under the table. Jeremy had told us that the bride was going commando under her gown, and damn if he didn’t position himself to find out for sure. He made no attempt to catch the garter, but he did flash me a thumbs up.

Connie and I were out on the dance floor for a long time. Slow songs had us swaying together in a manner that would confirm her mother’s suspicions. Connie’s dad danced with the bride, then his wife, and for one slow song, pulled Angela onto the floor. I saw her smile at him, but stare daggers and Connie and me.

The next fast set, we pulled Angela onto the floor with us.

“What did you put in my drink,” she asked me.

“Rum and coke.”

“It tasted like shit and I’m stone sober.”

Connie and I laughed. “He got you one with non-alcoholic rum.”

“You bastard!”

“Hey,” I said. “There are little kids around.”

“And little moms,” Connie added.

Angela went to the bar and I assumed took charge of getting her drinks for the rest of the evening. By the time we were ready to leave, she was as unsteady on her feet as Jeremy and Emily.

“Why do I have to sit in the back with the children?” She asked crossly.

“Where would you like us to put you? Connie asked.

“It’s my fucking car. I should be driving.”

We all had a good laugh at that.

When we parked the car, I turned and saw that Angela has passed out, while Emily was giving Jeremy a rather enthusiastic hand job.

“Children,” I said. “We have to walk through the casino to get to the elevator and I can see Emily’s parents getting out of their car.”

That put a quick stop to their fun. Jeremy struggled to get his erection back into his pants and his tuxedo pants buttoned up.

“Let’s just wait a minute,” Connie said. Emily’s mother was hanging onto her husband for dear life. “Yeah, sweetie,” Connie said. “I don’t think your parents are going to be noticing anything. And I’m sure you won’t be the first guy to walk through the casino with a lump in his pants.”

Everybody climbed out of the car except Angela.

“Okay, Timothy, it’s your job to wake sleeping beauty.”

Angela appeared to be down for the count. I tried to pull her from the car, but she just pushed me away.

“Just leave me here,” she insisted.

“Not happening, Ange.”

“Fuck you.” This was said with little emotion.

“Anything you say, Ange, but please get out of the car.”

She slowly got to her feet. Between her and Jeremy, I wasn’t sure who needed the most assistance. Then Angela doubled over and puked next to the car.

Upstairs, the five of us entered our room. Jeremy couldn’t be bothered to find his room key. He walked to what we called the fuck bed and collapsed across it, his feet still on the floor.

“No, no, no, little brother. You’ve got your own room.”

Angela meanwhile flopped onto the other bed, and I was worried she might get sick again.

“Angela, do you need the bathroom? Are you going to be sick?”

“I’m okay. Get these clothes off of me.”

I looked at Connie, who was dealing with the “children.” Emily had undone Jeremy’s pants again and was pulling them off, all the while Connie was trying to get him to sit up.

“Emily,” she said, “you’re not helping.”

Emily succeeded in getting Jeremy’s pants off, which she promptly dropped on the floor. She looked at Connie and smiled.

“You’re such a good sister,” she said, then proceeded to strip off her gown. The bride wasn’t the only girl who went commando to the wedding. She kicked the dress aside and then walked over to Angela wearing just a pair of stylish heels. “Let’s get this girl naked,” she said.

I looked at Connie. “Maybe we should go next door and leave the three of them here?”

“Tempting, but we’re putting my brother to bed.”

We got Jeremy on his feet. Maybe he was naked from the waist down, maybe not. His shirt tails covered everything of interest. With every step he took, the two of us holding him upright, the more he began to wake up. By the time we had him in his room, he wanted to go back and get Emily.

“We’ll deliver her to you,” I said.

“Jesus, Timothy. What if he forgets to wear a condom?”

“One thing at a time. We get the girl, we deliver a lecture on safe sex, then we return to our room and close the door.”

When we returned to the room, Angela was still fully dressed, but she had her face buried between Emily’s legs. The young girl’s eyes were wide in amazement. She was propped up on three pillows, her legs spread wide, her heels nowhere to be seen. The one thing she wasn’t doing was protesting or complaining.

Angela may have been drunk. She may have been half asleep, but she was still rocking this seventeen-year-old girl’s world. Emily’s puffy nipples looked like overripe fruit, ready to burst on the vine. My first inclination was to latch onto one with my mouth.

Connie, on the other hand, appeared to be genuinely in pain. Then Jeremy came into the room, saw what was happening, and did exactly what I had wanted to do. Connie slumped onto the empty bed and I took a seat beside her.

What was there to say? Evidently neither of us knew. We just sat there and let things play out. Jeremy’s erection kept peeking out between his shirt tails as he sucked on Emily’s breasts, while Angela was working her usual magic with her tongue and before long Emily was cumming hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she repeated over and over again. Angela sat up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“My work here is done,” she said, getting up and heading into the bathroom.

Jeremy was obviously getting ready to mount his sweetheart, so Connie and I quickly intervened.

“Back to your own room and put a condom on that dick of yours. We’ll bring the girl.”

“She has a name,” Connie said coldly.

“Cut me some slack, babe. We’re in unchartered territory here.”

We gently guided the naked Emily to a bed in Jeremy’s room, and before we closed the adjoining doors, Jeremy came out of the bathroom, his latex-covered member jutting between his shirt tails. We knew that soon it would be buried in the promised land.

“I wonder if there will be an extra charge for cleaning that shirt?”

Connie was not amused.

This was not at all how I envisioned the evening going. Jeremy was achieving one of his life’s major goals, while I stood in a room with two women who were far from pleased with me. Or each other, for that matter.

“What were you thinking?” Connie asked.

“Oh go fuck yourself,” Angela replied.

“And what are you so angry about?”

I was tempted to lock myself in the bathroom, but I needed to see how this was going to play out.

“What do you think? I had to sit on my ass as you two pawed each other on the dance floor. Your father, for fuck’s sake, had to give me a pity dance. Even Jeremy asked me to dance. Everybody but you.” This last statement was directed at me.

I moved over to the other bed and put an arm around Angela. “I'm so sorry, Ange. We knew this was going to be difficult.“

“Look at the two of you having your pity party while my brother is next door fucking that poor child.”

“She’s seventeen,” Angela said. “Weren't you having sex at seventeen?”

Connie just glared at us.

“Well, you should have been.”

Connie took off her wedding dress, revealing skimpy underwear that looked like a bikini made out of silk and lace. Before I could comment on it, she was pulling on jeans and an SDSU sweatshirt.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Someplace without the two of you.”

“Connie,” Angela said, “a girl on her own in Vegas? You'll be hit on nonstop!”

“Maybe I'll find a guy I don't have to share!”

She stuffed her driver's license and a room key in one hip pocket, several $20s in another. Then she was out the door.

“Should we follow her?” Angela asked.

“She’s dressed for air conditioning. My bet is she doesn't leave the casino.”

“That won't keep her out of trouble.”

I thought about this for a while. It was one of those damned if you do, damned if you don't situations. If we followed her, we risked a scene on the casino floor. If we didn’t, she might not forgive us. I was pretty sure she was capable of avoiding trouble.

We decided to go to bed and left a light on in the bathroom so she wouldn't come back to a totally dark room.

Naked, under the covers, we cuddled briefly, then started to drift off to sleep. Then I sensed movement in the room. I sat up thinking Connie had returned, but what I saw was a naked Emily, who approached us and crawled under the covers.

“What are you doing, hon?” Angela asked.

“Jerry fell asleep.”

“He looked wide awake when I left,” I said.

“He was. And I am officially a non-virgin.”

“Was it okay?” Angela asked.

“You mean like first-time issues? They tell you it can hurt and that you might even bleed, but there was none of that.”

Angela and I exchanged a look.

“No, we really did it. Maybe after years of getting myself off on my own, I lost whatever it was that's supposed to affect your first time.”

Then she started to tear up. “Maybe I did it so often to myself that I ruined it. After all this build-up, sex was pretty much of a letdown.”

“So what happened with Jeremy?” I asked.

“He got the condom on, and after fooling around with you guys, I was more than ready. But before I really got going, he was heading for the bathroom to get rid of the condom. Then he came back to bed, gave me a quick kiss, and fell asleep.”

“So no fireworks for you?” Angela asked.

“None that I didn’t give myself.”

“If you can get yourself off, you didn’t break anything.”

“So why are you here?” I asked, trying hard not to sound annoyed.

“I couldn’t sleep and I saw a light on over here and thought I would see if anyone wanted to play.” She looked right at me and said, “You know my mom says you’re much cuter than Gary Grant.” Yes, she really said Gary.

I pulled a pillow over my face as I screamed, “No!”

“What's the matter with him? And where's Connie.”

Angela patiently explained the situation while I remained with my face hidden. I stayed that way while the girls were talking and moving around. Then they became silent, and I lifted the pillow to see Emily with her face between Angela’s thighs.

“What are you doing,” I stupidly asked.

“Returning a favor.”

“Don’t distract her, Timmy.”

“Have you gone down on a girl before?”

“No, but how hard can it be?”

“You’re doing fine,” Angela said. “You’d be surprised how many boys find it challenging — present company excluded.”

Emily returned to tonguing Angela’s most intimate places. The light was dim, but both naked girls were on full display, and my penis responded accordingly.

Angela looked at me and said, “I think someone wants to play.”

“Not me!” I quickly replied.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” she said, wrapping her hand around my growing erection. “I was talking about him,” and with that, she gave me a squeeze.

Emily looked at my erect penis and said, “Now this is something I have a lot of experience with.” She quickly brushed Angela’s hand away and engulfed me with her mouth.

Her tongue was indeed experienced, and I was powerless to stop her.

Angela had a gleam in her eye. “Emily,” she said, “Let’s not let this go to waste.”

“Ange,” I started.

“She needs to know what a well-trained penis can do.”

“Penis,” Emily said. “You guys talk like school teachers. It’s a cock and I would very much like it in my cunt!”

“Let’s get you ready, little one,” Angela said. She pushed Emily onto her back and began to give her expert stimulation with her tongue. Then she turned to me, “Batter up, my darling.”

I recognized this as a mistake, but here I was with two naked girls. One, a beautiful seventeen-year-old with smoldering eyes, puffy nipples on her breasts, and a pussy slick from my lover’s attentions. What could I do?

The two girls locked lips while I slid my member through heaven’s gate into the blissful garden that was her sweet, innocent vagina. She moved under me in a natural response to my every move. Nowhere near as skillful as Connie or Angela, but sufficient to get her where she needed to be. Once again we heard the soft litany of fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck as she earned her fireworks writhing against my cock.

Angela was at my hips, pulling me away. Emily didn’t complain in the least. The smile on her face said it all. Then Angela turned to her and said, “Watch and learn little one.” She gave my slimy dick a squeeze and directed me onto my back. “This is called a reverse cowgirl.”

Emily watched with amazement as Angela inserted my dick into her opening, and with her back towards me began to raise and lower herself on my erection. Angela leaned back so that I could caress her breasts while her back was pressed against me. The pressure in our loins produced a pleasure that bordered on euphoria. When she turned her head to kiss me, it was like we were the only people on the planet. And for that one brief moment, I forgot we had an audience.

Then I remembered Emily, who was now lying on her belly, a hand tucked between her legs. Her head was turned so she could watch Angela’s every move. Could she see where our bodies were joined together? Could she see my erection as Angela raised and lowered herself on it, sometimes visible, often times not? I had no idea. At this point, I could hardly care. Angela’s body had a tight grip on my rigid member, and soon I could feel her contractions as her pleasure peaked.

I was so close when Angela left me. I cried, “Wait, baby, I'm not there yet.”

Angela turned to Emily. “Want to finish him off?” she asked.

Emily got up as though she meant to take Angela’s place. “No, no, no, sweetie,” Angela said softly. “That’s a loaded weapon. Use your mouth.”

I could see fear in Emily’s eyes. Maybe she had delivered blow jobs in the past, but it appeared she never had one go off in her mouth.  But the girl was game, and soon her head was bobbing up and down on my shaft. I did not last long. The first blast went right down her throat. The second caught her full in the face as she started to gag, and the third splashed her breasts.

Angela quickly kissed the girl, her tongue probing deep in her mouth, leaving the young one breathless. Then she began to lick my discharge from Emily’s face, neck, and breasts.

And of course, Angela now turned to kiss me. There was a time when I cringed at the thought of kissing a girl whose mouth was full of my jiz, but those days were behind me. I’m still not fond of the taste of spunk, but tasting your essence in your lover’s mouth is a very special thing, and our lips were locked as our tongues dueled for some time.

Emily was watching us closely.

“You guys fucking rock,” she said, climbing out of bed.

“Where are you going, sweetie?” Angela asked.

“Time to wake Jeremy.”

“Good luck with that,” I said.

“Oh, I won’t need luck,” she said, opening her mouth and running her tongue seductively around her lips.

Angela and I fell into a deep sleep. So deep that we never noticed Connie return during the night. We didn’t stir until we heard her in the shower around 9 am.

The door to Jeremy’s room was closed. And when Connie came out of the bathroom, she was fully dressed.

“I’m riding home with my parents,” she said without looking at either one of us.

“Jeremy’s off with Emily. You’ll need to take him to the airport when he gets back.” And with that, she closed her suitcase and left without a further word.

“Jesus,” I said. “She must be really pissed at us.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have fucked her brother’s girlfriend.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

“Maybe she’s been told.”

“You were an accomplice,” I said defensively.

“And I was happy to help.” Angela stretched and climbed naked from the bed. “Very glad to help. She’s a very sweet girl.”

We showered together. No sex, just gentle teasing. As we were drying, Angela said, “Maybe my days of having to share you are over.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“The question is how do you feel?”

“I don’t know. To be honest? I hope you are wrong.”

“Don’t feel bad, babe,” she said giving me a kiss. “I hope I’m wrong, too.”

By the time Jeremy came to our room, we were both dressed and had our bags packed.

“What are you doing out here in the hall,” I asked.

“I already checked out.” He was standing there with one medium-sized suitcase.

“When’s your flight?”

He pulled out his phone to check the time. “Not quite three hours from now, but any time you want to take me is fine.”

Jeremy didn’t look too worse for wear. There were pronounced bags under his eyes, but the smile on his face and the spring in his step suggested those bags were well earned.

“I don’t know what you two did with Emily,” he said as we headed to McCarran Airport. “I won’t tell you how she woke me up in the middle of the night, but she was clearly looking for sex.”

“And did she get it?” Angela asked.

“Oh my god,” Jeremy said. “It was fucking amazing. She was on top and I never felt anything like it. I don’t think she did either! I asked her what got into her. And she said to thank the two of you.”

“You are most welcome,” Angela replied. “I’m saying that for both of us.”

“But where was my sister?”

“She’s rather annoyed with us, I’m afraid. She went down to the gaming floor before Emily visited.”

“She must be more than annoyed if she’s riding home with my parents. My dad will probably have to run her down to San Diego tonight. Damn if she isn’t going to get a grilling.”

Jeremy was sitting behind Angela, but he was able to reach over and put a hand on my shoulder. “You should know,” he said softly, “you are taking the blame for whatever happened.”

“I assumed as much,” I said.

As soon as we dropped Jeremy at the airport, Angela asked for my phone.

“What do you want my phone for?” I thought maybe she wanted to review my text history again.

“You have the best playlists, Timmy. What’s the one with all the 70s hippy music?”

“Road Trip #3.”

Soon we were listening to Bruce Springsteen singing about Thunder Road. Not exactly hippy music, but definitely from the 70s. Angela reclined her seat and said, “If you stop in Bakersfield, I’ll take over from there.”

And so ended our weekend in Vegas.

[Jaime Austin]

The Long Hot Summer

With my trip to Europe canceled, I spent the summer in Escondido. Mom got me a position as an orderly. I thought it was going to be at the hospital where she worked, but it turned out to be at a nursing home affiliated with her hospital. She told me it would be hard work, but I had no idea. Imagine emptying bedpans and wiping the butts of Alzheimer's patients. Hard wasn’t the word for it. Fortunately, the local community college was glad to have me teach several sessions of English as a Second Language and I was able to reduce my hours at the nursing home. Don’t get me wrong. I have enormous respect for the people who do that sort of work. It just isn’t for me.

Angela scored an unpaid internship at the San Diego Union-Tribune, so we only saw each other on the weekends. After Vegas, Connie refused to reply to any of my text messages and she declined all of my calls. Twice I tried to waylay her on campus, but both times she saw me first and turned away. I don’t know if it was pride or shame that kept me from running after her.

My mother was now an administrator, which freed her from the shift work nurses usually endure. This meant I could borrow the Rav 4 plug-in hybrid I helped pay for to drive to Angela’s home in La Mesa on evenings I was free. On weekends, she would pick me up and we’d head to the beach.

When we both lived in La Mesa, the Silver Strand was our go-to beach. A bit farther than the San Diego beaches, but less crowded and easier to find parking. Leaving from Escondido, we scouted northern San Diego county beaches like Oceanside and Carlsbad. But the crowds and parking issues drove us farther north.

If you know anything about Southern California, you probably know we have this strange habit of referring to our highways using the definite article. We don’t drive on Interstate 5, we drive on the 5. Escondido isn’t located on I 15, it’s on the 15. You head east on the 8 or the 10 and to get to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach, you take the dreaded 405. Yeah, people rarely say just the 405. It’s that notorious.

So when we headed further north for beaches, we would take the 78 to the 5 and hope traffic wasn’t too awful. The first exit north of Marine Corps Camp Pendleton is Basilone Road, and from there you can access San Onofre State Beach. The beaches were quite a hike from the parking areas which kept the crowds thin. Even in the height of the summer season, we never had trouble finding parking or a place to pitch our umbrella on the beach. And with it being just the two of us, we never got into the sort of mischief that would get us kicked out.

The big debate all summer long was whether we should get an apartment together near school, or commute from her mother’s home in La Mesa. Marion said we were welcome to stay with her, but it always felt weird. Even with Angela’s bed on the floor, it was still hard to keep quiet when having sex. Plus we both liked to wander about the house naked, which we could only do when her mother wasn’t around.

I never completely gave up trying to contact Connie. She never stopped declining my calls, but I did manage to leave a few voice mails and my text messages were full of apologies and groveling.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have fucked her brother’s girlfriend,” Angela offered when I mentioned my efforts. We were on the beach with no one around.

“She doesn’t know that,” I said.

“But she does.”

“What?”

Angela was silent, so I placed my hand on her chin and turned her to face me.

“Explain yourself.”

She tried to avoid my gaze, but I wouldn't let go.

“I didn’t tell her if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking that. I’m wondering how you know anything about it at all!”

She pushed my hand away and stretched out flat on the blanket. “Connie and I have been talking.”

“Since when?”

“The beginning of summer.”

“What the fuck, Ange? I thought she was more pissed with you than me.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But evidently not. Anyhow, Emily told Jeremy and he told his sister.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yep, you be royally fucked, baby.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve said anything to help me out?”

“What’s there to say? I grabbed his dick and forced him in?”

“Well, you did.”

“Sorry, friend. I merely guided the way. You were so full of lust you didn’t know up from down.”

“And you told her that?”

“No way, Timothy. I’m on your side.”

“Why on earth would Emily tell him?”

“Probably to bring him down to earth. He was so full of himself after having sex with her. Plus she was pissed about him going back to Virginia for the summer.”

“Connie told you all this?”

“And Emily.”

“You’ve been talking to Emily?”

“The two of them came to see me a few weeks ago. Drove down in Margaret’s Lexus.”

“You call her mother Margaret?”

“I call my mom Marion. And by the way, Emily saw ‘North by Northwest’ on TV this summer. She now knows who Gary Grant is.” She laughed at the joke, but I wasn’t amused.

“Why am I just hearing about this now?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to tell you. You’re not exactly taking it well.”

“I should think not. Listen,” I said, “you need to get her to talk to me.”

“Why would I do that? I’m enjoying having you to myself.”

“Because you are my friend. Because you love me and I asked you to.”

“It’s a big ask, Timothy.”

“Please, Angela?”

“Ask me again tonight after we’re in bed and I’ve had my second or third orgasm. I suspect about that time I could deny you nothing.”

That’s what I did. I didn’t even get off myself, just lavished attention to nearly every square inch of her body. The sucking sounds I made as I lapped up the essence created within her sex had Marion banging on the wall.

“Sorry, Mom,” I cried out because Angela was completely speechless.

When she found her voice, she whispered her promise to do her very best. Then I did my best to bring her off again by plowing her not-so-fertile field with my trusty blade. Marion must have fallen asleep because we both were whimpering before the end and there was no further pounding on the wall.


Black’s Beach is the best-known clothing-optional beach in San Diego county. It’s a bitch to get to, which is probably why California’s anti-nudity laws can be flaunted there. It’s also not easy to find. But a friend of Angela’s from the newspaper promised to be our guide.

Saturday morning, I was ready to go. I had on a good pair of hiking shoes, packed swim trunks, a towel, and sunscreen in my pack, along with bottled water and a couple of power bars. I knew it was a nudist beach, but having trunks along gave me options.

Angela said she would be here by 8:00 and I watched her pull up to the curb near my mother’s condo. I could hear loud voices coming from the Prius as I approached, only to discover Connie Ferguson sitting in the passenger seat. Her face was red with anger. Evidently, Angela was pulling a fast one on the two of us, much to Connie’s displeasure.

Angela lowered her window. “Surprise!” she said.

Connie was silent.

“Jesus, Ange.”

“It seemed like a good idea,” she offered lamely.

“You need to take me home,” Connie said bitterly.

“Get in the back and don’t say a word,” Angela told me and I did as bidden.

“Angela, I’m serious. I want to go home.” Connie’s face was a little less red, but there was still plenty of anger in her voice.

“I don’t have time to do that. My friends are expecting us in less than an hour.”

“Fuck.” Connie sat back in silence as we pulled away from the curb.

In typical Southern California fashion, we headed south on the 15, then turned east on the 56 headed into La Jolla (pronounced La Hoy ya). On the way, Angela tried to make small talk.

“Timothy, did I tell you Connie is also looking at Santa Cruz for grad school?”

“No, Angela. You did not,” I replied like it was a question in a lame interview.

“Guess I’m not going to Santa Cruz after all,” Connie said.

“What?” Angela asked. “You can’t even be on the same campus? This next year is going to be a lot of fun.”

“You just keep that rapist away from me.”

“He is not a rapist!”

“You said he raped you.”

“When?”

“When he forced himself on you while you were still with Mark.”

“That wasn’t rape.”

“You said he didn’t give you a choice.”

“That’s because I didn’t want a choice. Timothy has never forced himself on anyone in his life, have you, babe?”

“I doubt my word carries much weight.”

“You have that right! You committed statutory rape against my brother’s girlfriend. Let’s not forget about that.”

“Connie,” Angela said, “I was there. She was practically begging him for it. She came into our room looking for someone, anyone, to get her off. If you had been around, she might have hit on you, too.”

“So instead the two of you tag-teamed her.”

This struck me as funny, but I held onto my best poker face.

“Whatever we did, was welcomed and appreciated. Your brother even thanked us.”

“That’s before he found out she’d been raped.”

“No, Connie. He was mad because Emily told him Timothy was a better fuck. That’s what pissed him off.”

“Still rape. She’s seventeen, under the age of consent in California.”

“Well, then I guess it was good we were in Nevada.”

“What’s the age of consent in Nevada?” Connie asked.

“Twelve,” Angela replied.

“No,” I countered, “that’s West Virginia. Nevada is sixteen.”

“How do you know that?” Connie asked.

“I looked it up just now on my phone.”

“Seriously, Connie. You want to claim that every high school couple who has sex is committing rape? Who’s the rapist, the girl or the guy.”

“The guy, obviously,” I replied.

“Usually the guy is the initiator,” Connie said.

“But what if the girl is seventeen and the boy is fifteen? Who’s the rapist then?” I asked.

“Timmy!” Angela shouted.

“What?” Connie asked, looking intently at Angela. “You had sex with a fifteen-year-old when you were seventeen? Seriously?”

“It was my cousin Phillip. We were at my grandmother’s house over New Years and we were bored silly.”

“That’s one hell of a cure for boredom,” Connie offered.

“You should see how her cousin looks at her even to this day,” I added.

“It was once and done. Clearly a fond memory for the boy.”

“I’ll bet it was. Are you seriously looking at Santa Cruz?” This last was directed at me, the first time she had actually spoken to me on this trip.

“Yes. I know I talked about Santa Barbara, but Santa Cruz looks more flexible. Definitely more progressive.”

“I don’t know how you think a master’s thesis about John O’Hara counts as progressive.”

“In a sea of political correctness, I hope to be that one throwback that illustrates the true inclusiveness of their program.”

“Wait,” Angela said, “I thought you were focusing on British writers.”

“That’s for his PH.D.”

“I even have a book idea to go along with it.”

Connie turned to face me. “What is it?”

“John O’Hara’s Pennsylvania. The thesis will be separate. The book just added research to help make my case for rehabilitation. Think of it as literary criticism masquerading as a travel book.”

“What do you know about Pennsylvania?” Angela asked.

“His great grandparents were from there.”

“And my grandmother keeps in touch with a few cousins in the town O’Hara grew up in.”

Angela sat quietly for a moment. “I guess you two do more than just fuck when you are alone together.”

It felt like a dam had broken, or an ice age had started to thaw. The three of us chatted like the friends we had been until the disaster of Las Vegas.

We talked about Connie’s plans for a master’s of philosophy followed a Ph.D. unique to UC Santa Cruz, the “History of Consciousness.”

“What got you interested in that?” Angela asked.

I answered for her, telling the story of Connie finding a book at her grandparents' house called “The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind.”

“My grandfather belonged to some kind of book club, where they sent you hardcover books in the mail,  and got it by mistake. He said he never read it, but I found it fascinating.”

By the time Connie finished extolling the concepts of Julian Jaynes and telling us that he was her inspiration for wanting to go to Princeton, we were pulling into the dirt parking lot by the Torrey Pines Gliderport.

The Gliderport has to be the coolest spot in that coolest of San Diego neighborhoods. Perched on a cliff over the Pacific, it offers hang gliding, paragliding, and sailplanes: people call them gliders, airplanes without motors.

Angela’s friend Nathan, and his partner Roy were dressed like twins. Matching Doc Martins, military-style pants in a green and tan camo design, topped with black t-shirts. The only difference was Roy’s had a cartoon rabbit on it with the words “Bad Bunny” underneath. They were very handsome men, impeccably groomed, and could have been used on a Marine Corps recruiting poster if not for the earrings: small diamond studs on each ear.

Turns out they met and fell in love in the Marine Corps. Nathan was from here, Roy from Puerto Rico via New Jersey.

“Were you guys a couple while in the marines?” Connie asked.

They laughed. “Not that anybody knew,” Nathan said. “Don’t ask, don’t tell ended long ago, but trust us, it ain’t cool to be gay in the Marines.”

“But we are out now, in every sense of the word!”

I thought Roy was checking out Connie’s legs, but he was really just eyeing up her sandals. “Guess we take the sissy route,” he said.

“No flip-flops on the Ho Chi Minh trail,” Nathan said with a laugh.

“These are Tevas,” Connie said with a snort. “They can handle anything your Docs can!”

“Except maybe rattlesnakes.”

Angela said she wasn’t up for dealing with snakes, and both men laughed. “The trail is a little sporty, but you should be fine.”

I asked how the trail got its name and they explained that surfers, back in the 60s, started calling it the Ho Chi Minh trail after the famous route in Vietnam.

“PC locals are trying to get people to call it the Saigon Trail, like anyone really knows who Ho Chi Minh was anymore.”

We climbed into the back of Roy’s 4-door Wrangler Unlimited. “Parking can be a bitch, so Roy will drop us off at the trailhead,” Nathan explained. “We’ll take the sissy route back to your car later.

They weren’t kidding about the trail being “sporty.” There was a narrow beam of a board that led across a ravine, at places the trail and a spring-fed creek bed seemed to merge. Sometimes the trail was just a notch between sandstone walls that towered above you, but with the views, the desert meets the ocean scenery, it was well worth the effort.

The last stretch leading down to the beach was so steep that it featured a rope you could hang onto. It wasn’t quite rappelling down a cliff, but I wouldn’t want to do that drop without it. And looking up from the bottom, I was glad to know there was an easier way out.

Nathan told us the beach never gets crowded, but it was far from vacant. There were maybe a dozen surfers in the water with friends and family on shore. There were some kids building castles in the sand and lots of people were craning their necks to watch the hang gliders overhead. The whole time we were on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, we were constantly descending, and now the cliffs towered above us.

“No naked people,” Angela said with disappointment.

“There will be,” Nathan said with a laugh and started leading us north.

Once we passed the sissy stairs that would take us back to Angela’s car, swimwear was definitely optional.

“How do they get away with it?” Connie asked.

“The beach is remote and if all the naked people come here, the park service doesn’t have to deal with them elsewhere.”

The beach still wasn’t crowded, but we passed clusters of people camped out on their beach blankets. Topless girls, bottomless guys. Lots of bottomless guys, many of whom were not the least bit shy.

“Do you know what Grindr is?”

“It’s an app, right? Kind of like Tinder?” Angela asked.

“Yeah, well it’s a hookup app used primarily for gay guys, and practically every guy you see looking at his phone is looking for a hookup.”

“Here on the beach?” Connie asked with some trepidation.

“Yep. People are usually fairly discrete. They’ll disappear into the bushes or head up next to the cliffs. There’s little cave-like nooks back in there that offer ample privacy, but it’s pretty risky.”

“Bad people?” Connie asked.

Nathan laughed. “No, everyone here’s cool. It’s just the cliffs are highly unstable. You take your life into your hands when you get up close to it.”

While we were navigating the trail, Roy had returned their Jeep to the Gliderport, and come down the easier trail to the beach. We saw him up ahead walking towards us. You couldn’t miss his smiling face or the fact he has wearing his Bad Bunny t-shirt and nothing else.

“Dude,” Nathan said. “These are my friends.”

“Hey, they came here to get naked, right?”

Roy’s equipment was on full display, and let me tell you he was well endowed. I could feel my dick shrivel up in shame at the sight of his thing. He wasn’t erect, but he wasn’t fully limp, either. And of course, he was meticulously groomed down there.

Connie and Angela seemed to be spellbound. Try as they might to move their eyes away, they kept being drawn back to that massive penis.

“Ignore him,” Nathan said. “He lives to show off. Back when we were in the corps, they called him Donkey Dong after he flashed that thing in the showers.”

“I am sure people noticed,” Angela said with a smile. Connie was rendered speechless.

“Unless you want to be surrounded by a bunch of gay exhibitionists like my friend here,” Nathan said. “This would be a good place for you to spread your blankets. We’ll catch up with you later.”

Once they were out of earshot, Angela said, “Did you see the size of that thing?”

“I just can’t imagine,” Connie said. “It would tear me apart.”

“Maybe it doesn’t get that much bigger when he’s hard, you know, just firms up.”

“It wouldn’t have to get any bigger.”

I avoided the discussion entirely as I carefully spread Angela’s large beach blanket on the sand.

“Looks like there’s not much beach here at high tide,” I said.

“If we’re still here when it comes in, we’ll grab our stuff and go,” Angela said.

I was about to ask who wanted to go first at getting naked, but Angela was already stripping off her clothes. First the t-shirt, and for once it wasn't one she stole from me. Then her bikini top followed by the bottoms.

“So we’re doing the full monty?” Connie asked. She clearly had concerns about this.

“Don’t be a pussy, Red.” Angela started rubbing SPF 35 cream onto her arms and breasts. I just stood there watching. “Put your eyes back in your head, lover, and do my back,” she said handing me the tube.

I started at her neckline and made my way down to the curve of her spine.
“You should really have your shorts off to do this,” Angela said.

“Why?”

“So we can see if you get hard while putting sunscreen on my ass!”

My dick remained limp as I covered her delightfully round ass, her thighs, and legs. I guess I was still intimidated by Roy’s monster.

Angela took the tube from me and finished her front, leaving her lush bush shiny. I almost whimpered.

In the meantime, Connie had stripped down to her bikini bottoms and was rooting around in the sack Angela had brought with us. She came up with a tube of SPF 50 sunscreen.

“Ange, you know I prefer the spray-on stuff.”

“Yes, but I thought Timothy would prefer something that made him use his hands.”

“What makes you think I’m letting him touch me?”

“Good luck covering your back, miss I-don’t-tan-I-burn, because I’m not helping.” And with that Angela walked toward the water.

Connie started with her breasts. “You’re just going to stand there and watch?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

She turned to face away from me, spoiling my view. I turned to look at Angela, ankle deep in the surf, and when I turned back, Connie’s bottoms were off and she was applying lotion everywhere she could reach.

“Try to not enjoy this,” she said, handing me the tube. I started with her shoulders and worked my way down to her ass. For someone who claimed they did not tan, the lines of her bikini bottoms were well defined.

I dropped to my knees so that I could fully examine my work. I covered her ass, reaching down between her legs to brush her sex when reaching for her thighs.

“It’s not a massage, Timothy. Just lotion me up.”

I lovingly caressed her legs, her world-famous ankles, and even the tops of her feet. Sure, she could have done much of that herself, but if she was going to let me, I was going to make the most of it.

Angela returned. “Okay, Timmy, get those clothes off!”

I took off my shirt and carefully lowered my shorts and boxers. I tried to turn away from the girls, but Angela was keeping close tabs on me.

“You bastard,” she said. “You got hard from touching her! I looked, I couldn’t see any bulge in your pants when you were doing me!”

Connie was trying hard to suppress a smile, but when Angela grabbed the SPF 50 tube from me and began covering my dick, it was a lost battle.

“Ange,” I said. “You’re going to get us kicked out of here.”

“I walked up the beach and saw two guys with serious erections. I have no idea what they were talking about, but I’ll wager it wasn't the weather. Turn around and let me get your ass.”

When she finished, she tossed the SPF 35 tube to Connie, saying, “This should do for the rest of him.”

I stood still while Connie covered me from head to toe in lotion. I never offered to do any part of it myself, and she didn’t ask. She never once made eye contact with me, but she couldn’t hide her smile. And she couldn’t help staring at my erection which showed no sign of abating.

The three of us lay face down on the blanket for a while. Angela put me in the middle, which is where I definitely wanted to be. Even with contact with the blanket, my erection started to fade.

We talked about school, about where we were going to live in the fall. “I really thought the three of us would get a place together,” Angela said.

“I’m not living with him,” Connie replied.
 
“What, you can afford your own place?”

“There are seniors in the dorms.”

“I seriously doubt it.”

I just lay there in silence. Angela usually gets her own way, I was hoping she would with this as well.

I rolled onto my back. It felt good to feel the sun on my boys. Somewhere I read getting sun on your balls increased your testosterone levels. I don’t know about that, but it sure felt good.

Angela turned toward me and said, “He’s not that much bigger than you.”

Connie snorted.

“Ok. Roy is unusually well endowed. But look at this. It’s a normal-sized penis nesting in his fur. Quite lovely.” Connie did not look.

When we headed into the water, Connie even let me take her by the hand, although it took some scolding from Angela. So there we were, the three of us, holding hands, entering the surf.

Damn, when the water hit my balls, I thought I was going to die. The two girls were practically holding me up. “How are those external sex organs treating you, champ?” Angela asked with a laugh.

I broke free and dove in. It was cold, but it was exhilarating. Beyond all that, it felt wonderful to be naked in the ocean. Even when we started to head for shore and the water dropped to my knees and my shriveled-up balls and barely there penis were laughed at by the girls, it still felt great.

Nathan and Roy showed up. Now both naked. Thankfully, Nathan looked like a normal human being. Of course, they both laughed along with the girls at my equipment.

“He never goes into the water,” Nathan said of Roy.

“Vanity,” said Roy. “I admit to it. No offense, but I never want to end up looking like that,” he said glancing at my pale ghost of a penis.

“I doubt that’s possible,” Angela said with a grin.

Connie touched my shoulder as if to offer moral support.

“I’ve seen him in the cold,” Nathan said, holding his fingers an inch apart. “Practically disappears. When we are out here on the beach, he surreptitiously pulls on it, causing it to puff up a bit.”

“That’s more than a bit,” Angela said.

Roy beamed with pride.

“Even with SFP 50,” Connie said, “I can only stay in the sun for so long before I start to burn. We need to get going.”

Nathan and Roy bade us farewell and headed further north on the beach. Connie and Angela pulled on bikini bottoms and t-shirts while I opted to get fully dressed before we hiked up the hill to the parking lot.

Once in the car, I sat behind Angela as she drove her Prius. Connie took her Tevas off and put her bare feet up on the dashboard. From where I sat, I had a glorious view of her shapely legs.

I have no idea what the girls were chatting about. I just drifted in and out of sleep. Connie’s beautiful legs were burned onto my brain, and in my half-sleeping, half-awake state, I envisioned caressing them with my hands and my lips.

At some point, I noticed that the girls were paying attention to me.

“You are such a bastard, Timothy,” Angela said.

“What?”

“All Connie needs to do is show up and your dick begins to swell.” I looked at my crotch and indeed, there was quite a bulge.

“He was probably dreaming of having sex with you, Angela.”

“Not a chance. He’s back there ogling your legs. Maybe he was dreaming he had a dick like Roy’s!”

They both had a good laugh at that.

“So who are you taking home first?” Connie asked.

“I thought we’d head to La Mesa and see what Marion is up to. She won’t feed us, but we can raid the fridge.”


“It’s so nice to see the three of you together,” Marion said with a smile. She was wearing a cute dress and had fixed her makeup. “Moira and I are going to the movies. Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio. It’s like a dream come true.”

We laughed as Marion picked up her phone. “Slight change in plans, babe. Angela has friends over and I thought maybe I would stay at your place tonight.”

This must have been agreeable to Moira because Marion quickly packed an overnight bag and was on her way out.

“I’ll probably be back by lunchtime, so if you are up by then, put some clothes on!”

We left our beach gear by the front door and went into the kitchen to see what we could find in the fridge. I was standing right behind Connie and I couldn’t resist the temptation to put my arms around her from behind.

“Don’t!” she said sharply but didn’t push me away. Angela turned to face her.

“Don’t be an idiot, Connie.” Angela leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

They were both in t-shirts and bikini bottoms and I did my best to keep my rapidly forming erection away from Connie’s ass. But when she took a step backward we made full contact.

“He’s hard already,” Connie said with mild disgust.

“It’s you, babe. He loves us both, but when he gets near you, he loses all control.”

Connie made no move to pull away, so I raised my hands to her breasts. Her nipples were so hard they almost poked holes in her shirt. Angela reached a hand between Connie’s legs and said, “I think the same thing is true for you. Maybe that’s why you are so mad at him.”

Connie pushed us both away. “I’m mad because he’s a dick. I should be mad at both of you because I know he doesn’t do anything you don’t tell him to.”

“Trust me, Connie. I never told him to fuck you!”

“I bet you would have. If you had walked in on us in your apartment that night. You’d have urged him on.”

“I don’t know about that. Pretty sure I would have watched. And I for sure would have noticed you were a real redhead!”

That put a smile on Connie’s face.

With some effort, I turned Connie to face me. Without a bra, her breasts were not nearly as high and proud as usual, but her nipples were telling me I had a decent chance at forgiveness.

I took both her hands in mine. “You know I never meant to hurt you. And surely you know how much I’ve missed you.” She would not meet my gaze, and quickly pulled her hands away.

Angela came up behind me and pressed herself against my back. Connie would look at her.

“Don’t be an idiot. Just because we were, doesn’t mean you have to compound the problem.”

No smile, but at least she looked Angela in the face. Then Angela began to unfasten my shorts. No reaction from Connie, but she did not turn away. My belt buckle was undone, the snap unfastened, and the zipper slowly pulled down. No one said a word.

With just a slight tug, my shorts fell to the floor. My boxers jutted out in front of me, my arousal quite evident.

“Just touch it,” Angela said.

Connie reached for me, fishing my penis out through the vent in my boxers.

“Now isn’t that a welcome sight?”

Connie said nothing, but held me lightly, her fingers shifting as the blood filled my organ.

“He has no choice when you are around. He thinks you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.”

Connie started to deny it, but Angela interrupted. “No, he does. I do too. So take off your shirt so we can admire you.”

Connie felt the little tremor those words sent through my dick. A smile half was forming on her face as she released me and then pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor.

Angela had both arms around me and two hands on my dick. “You know you want to kiss it,” she said.

Connie brushed her hair back, lowered herself to her knees, and placed a chaste kiss on the tip of my dick.

“Oh, you can do better than that,” Angela said.

Connie took me in her mouth until her lips were against Angela’s hands. “Just stay like that a little while,” Angela said. “Feel how hard he is. Feel him tremble.”

Connie still wouldn’t meet my gaze. Even with most of my penis in her mouth, she wouldn’t look at me. I leaned backward against Angela. Brushed my face against hers. She nibbled on my left ear, then released my dick so that she could pull off her shirt.

“Look at me, Connie. I’m just a skinny girl with a cute ass.”

Connie released me as though she had something to say.

“No,” Angela continued, “You are a great beauty, I will never argue that point. And Timothy here, he can’t help himself. I just mention you in a conversation and he gets hard. Sure, it’s annoying, but I enjoy his erections just the same.”

Angela pulled her bikini bottoms off and stood before us naked. “Your turn, babe,” she said.

Connie reached for my hands and placed them at her waist. “You do it,” she said to me.

I hooked my thumbs under the waistband and slowly lowered her swimsuit. As I drew it lower, I began to crouch until my face was level with her freshly exposed bush.

I could smell her arousal as I placed my hands on her ass, drawing her close. No scent of ginger now, just a bit of ocean, sweat, and the musk of her arousal. I could feel, more than see, Angela embracing her, keeping her upright while at the same time kissing her.

I heard a moan as my tongue slipped between her outer lips, parting them and pulling one at a time into my mouth. She trembled when my tongue dove between those lips, reaching as far inside as I could go.

I was certain my hands would leave marks on her ass, I was squeezing so tight. Angela let go and we tumbled to the hard tile floor of the kitchen. We could have moved to the bedroom. Angela’s bed was still resting on the floor. But I had to be in her now, not at some point in the future, even if it was only a few moments away.

Like a blind man, I had no sense of my surroundings. I placed my hands on her hips, slid my body between her legs and my penis found its way home on its own. While I was overwhelmed by desire, I still felt the need to savor this. To taste fully of this moment I had been waiting all summer for. I paused as soon as my glans was in place. Then withdrew ever so slightly before entering halfway to heaven. And then finally, that last gentle thrust to where I was fully engulfed, fully gripped by her sex. I could feel the edge of her opening around the base of my dick and knew I could not go any further.

And then I paused, raised myself on my hands to where I could see her face and see the tears and the quivering lips. I put my nose against hers, rubbed it lightly. Then placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I fucking hate you,” she said with a sob.

“I know you do,” I said kissing her again.

And then her tongue was in my mouth as she rocked her hips and I could feel that heavenly caress as my dick slid in and out, back and forth.

I felt teeth on my ass as Angela bit me. “I don’t recall saying that you two could fuck.”

We ignored her completely as we stared into each other eyes. Connie playfully bit my lower lip.

“I want to be on top,” she said.

I reluctantly pulled away. It felt like she did not want to let go, that I was held in a gentle grip that sent tremors through my body. But I slid out, climbed over her legs, and lay on my back on the cold hard floor.

“You know there is a perfectly fine bed right down the hall. This floor isn’t even all that clean.”

We ignored her. Connie grasped my erection with her hand and adjusted the angle until we were connected again, and she could raise and lower herself at will.

Angela never liked being ignored and threw a dish towel at us before leaving the room. It fell across my face and I said to Connie, “I want to see you.”

She lifted the cloth, smiling at me, and said, “Oh you do?”

My eyes locked onto hers, then shifted to her breasts and then back to her green eyes. I raised my knees so that she could lean back on them. I was like a lounge chair made out of flesh. I could feel her long red hair on my legs as she tilted her head back. The pressure on my dick was sublime. and as she rocked her hips, I could feel my orgasm approaching.

Then she stopped. Froze for a moment, and then lifted herself off of me.

“How did you take Angela that first time?”

“In her kitchen, after I had been with you?”

“Yes.”

I told her and she stood by the sink, placed her hands on the counter, bending over. Her ass jutted out towards me and I could see her opening, where my dick had just been.

Again, she helped guide me in, and once in place, we began to grind against each other with abandon. I put my hands on her hips and pulled her towards me as I thrust deep inside her. I wasn’t going to last long, but I didn’t care. I had wanted this all day, all summer. I wanted to come inside her womb, flood her with every last ounce of my passion, my lust, my love. And soon, very soon, the moment arrived, and with each thrust, I emptied every ounce of my emotions, my desires, my essence into her welcoming body.

It was obvious that I was spent, but Connie whimpered, “Baby, I’m not there yet.” I pulled out, my cock still fairly ridged, and slid it against her slit. The shaft of my penis grazed her clitoris and I kept sliding back and forth until she was shaking. My hands on her hips were no longer holding us together, they were keeping her from falling.

I leaned gently against her back. We were both covered in perspiration, both gasping for air. I cupped her breasts with my hands, her nipples like stones against my palms.

“Don’t let go,” she said. “Don’t ever let me go.”

We stayed like that until our bodies began to cool, and I felt like my legs were soon going to cramp up on me. I stood up, pulling her with me. We turned to face each other, both of us smiling, our eyes locked on each other.

“This is very special, isn’t it?” Connie asked me.

I agreed.

“Then the next time you are tempted to fuck it up, don’t.”

Easier said than done, I thought, but I agreed with this as well.

“I guess we better go and find Angela,” she said, leading me down the hall toward the bedrooms. We found Angela, naked, lying face down on her bed.

“What can you say about that ass?” Connie asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, but dropped to the bed and started to caress the firm round ass of our friend.

“Looks a little pale, though, don’t you think?”

I just smiled.

Connie slapped Angela’s ass with significant force.

“Hey!” Angela cried.

“Just putting some color in your cheeks, babe,” Connie said.

Connie and I sat on either side of Angela and took turns swatting her. Connie’s blows were stronger than mine at first, but then I got into it, and you could see my handprint after one particularly forceful blow.

Angela cried out each time we struck her but made no move to stop us. That’s when I noticed that she was lying on her right arm and that her hand was between her legs. We stopped and watched Angela roll her ass, grinding against her hand. Connie began to caress her flesh, which was quite red now.

My dick started to stir and Connie noticed. She began to pull on Angela’s hips, trying to get her ass up in the air. I climbed between her legs, and once Angela realized what we were up to, raised her ass until I could slide my cock against her slit.

Like with Connie, I didn’t penetrate, but merely grazed her clitoris with my shaft. Soon Angela was on all fours and I was able to enter her vagina from behind. Connie slid underneath our friend, inserting herself between Angela and the mattress. The two women were kissing frantically as I pumped away for all I was worth.

I didn’t expect another orgasm, not this soon, but I was hard enough to deliver pleasure where it was desired and when Angela’s contractions subsided, I was content to collapse onto the bed beside the two girls.

Connie was cradling Angela like you would a child you were trying to console. “Do you want more, my darling?”

Angela replied with a smile and the word, “Yes.”

I was content to watch as Connie dominated her friend. She climbed on top of the slimmer woman, dangled her breasts in her friend’s face. Then lowered her body so that nipples could rub against nipples and I could see both women were highly aroused.

Then Connie began to kiss her way down Angela’s body. First the lips, then the nipples, then the stomach, and finally, that special place between Angela’s legs.

I pulled Connie’s hair back so that I could see her suck on Angela’s labia. She moved her head to one side without releasing her treasure, which allowed me to latch onto the other. Two mouths, two tongues, delivered maximum pleasure. Angela, rarely a noisy fuck, was making the most astounding sounds. Had Marion been home, she would be running to ensure all was well.

But there was no need for concern, no need for alarm. But there was just one small problem. I was still hard, with nowhere to go.

Angela felt me on her leg and said, “Keep that thing away from me!” It wasn’t revulsion, she was just so amped up from her climax that she couldn’t bear any more stimulation.

Connie took pity on me. Caressing my shaft she said, “But Angela, we can’t leave him like this.”

Angela sat up.  “Don’t they make rings you can put on a guy’s dick so it can’t get soft?”

“He doesn’t need one of those.”

“But if we had one, couldn’t we save it for later?”

“That sounds cruel.”

“More cruel than slapping my ass?”

Connie made a ring with her thumb and index finger and tightened it around my cock.

“This is probably all the ring he needs.”

“Or maybe this,” Angela said, moving so that she could wrap her lips around my erection.

“So what’s better,” Connie asked me. “A blow job or a fuck.”

“A fuck,” I said without hesitation.

Angela let me fall from her mouth.

“Alright. You win. My nipples are still so hard they feel like they are going to explode, but if a fuck is what you want.” She plopped back on the bed, her legs slightly parted, looking like a virgin prepared to endure being ravished.

“Maybe a blow job isn’t such a bad idea,” Connie suggested.

“Come on, Timmy, just be gentle.”

“The name is Timothy,” I said, sliding between her legs.

“You children play nice,” Connie said. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Angela was so wet that I easily slid into place. She stroked my ass and said, “There’s dirt from the kitchen floor all over your ass!”

“We’ll take a shower.”

“And we’ll change these linens.”

I had been gentling sliding my cock in and out but now stopped.

“Don’t do that, Timothy.”

“What?”

“Don’t, for the love of god, stop.”

We picked up the pace and before long I could feel her climax. I wasn’t quite there yet and began to fear I would be left wanting more. But she could tell I was still hard, and rocked her hips, delivering smaller spasms of bliss to herself, until finally, I collapsed on her chest panting. After being with Connie in the kitchen so recently, there wasn’t much volume in my release. But it felt so sweet nonetheless.



Late the next morning Marion came home to find the three of us in the kitchen making brunch. We were dressed in t-shirts and hoped she wouldn’t notice that that was all we were wearing.

“I’m starving,” Marion said.

“We’ll fix you a plate,” Angela said.

“I’m way overdressed,” her mother replied and she disappeared down the hall. She returned shortly sporting a t-shirt herself. “When in Rome,” she said.

I could tell she had no bra under that shirt. She was small-breasted like Angela and shared her daughter's provocative nipples.

We sat at the kitchen table while Marion told us about her movie. “I don’t want to give anything away, but it’s the only Tarantino film I’ve really liked. I mean it was the best movie I’ve seen in years. I’ve already downloaded the soundtrack.”

I accidentally dropped my fork and bent down to pick it up off the floor. Without even thinking, I glanced at Marion under the table and saw she was wearing nothing at all under that t-shirt. And not only that, Angela’s mother believed in shaving. There was no hair to be seen anywhere, and trust me, had there been, I would have seen it.

“Get yourself a clean one babe,” Angela said.

I didn’t trust myself to stand up. I couldn’t get the image of Marion’s bald pussy out of my head. I glanced her way, and the slight smile on her face seemed to ask, “Did you see anything you liked?”

“I’m done with mine,” Connie said and licked her fork clean.

I smiled and used it to finish my eggs.

“So what are your plans for today?” Marion asked.

“Connie’s folks are out of town, so we thought we’d go skinny dipping in her parent’s pool.”

“It’s quite private,” Connie added. And then she asked if Marion would care to join us.

It was all I could do to keep from choking on my food.

“I don’t think Angela would approve,” Marion said with a laugh.

“Mom, you are welcome to come with us.”

“Seriously? Would you mind if I brought a friend?”

“You would have to drive,” Angela said. “There’s no way we can put five adults in my Prius.”

“Not comfortably,” I added.

“No, I would want to drive anyway. Let me call Moira.”

As soon as she left the room I whispered to the girls that I wasn’t sure this was such a good idea. I also mentioned that Marion was naked under her t-shirt.

“So are we,” Connie replied.

“Did you know your mother shaves her pubic hair?”

Angela’s eyes went wide. “When you dropped your fork?”

I just nodded my head.

“It took some persuading, but Moira will be here shortly. Can I help you clean up?”

“No, Mom. We’ve got this.”

Marion left to get dressed.

“Do you think she and Moira are?”Connie asked.

“I’ve often wondered that, but I’ve never asked.”

Marion came back into the room wearing a skimpy bikini. Why can’t all women over 45 look this good? was the first thought in my head. “I’ve got a wrap and a blouse to go over this.”

I began to wonder if she missed the part about skinny dipping.

Moira arrived wearing an outfit not unlike Marion’s. As soon as she looked at Angela and Connie, who had donned t-shirts over bikinis, a look of grave concern covered her face.

“I’m sorry, Marion, but I can’t go skinny dipping with these girls.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Look at me!”

I wouldn’t go so far as to say Moira looked her age, which I assumed was well north of 40, but she was not tall, not thin and while I wouldn’t say she was fat, she was a big woman.

“Moira, you are probably the most fit person in this room. She runs, plays tennis and when we play golf, she refuses to rent a cart and it’s all I can do to keep up with her.”

Moira kept glancing at Connie, and I had no trouble understanding her feeling a bit insecure. Connie saw it too and spoke up immediately.

“Moira, would you come with me a minute?”

Connie led her down the hall to Angela’s bedroom. They were gone for several minutes and the three of us just stared at each other. When the two women returned, Moira was all smiles. She was wearing one of Connie’s t-shirts with no bra underneath. Connie had obviously abandoned her bikini top as well.

Marion looked at the two of them and smiled. “I can see you two are going to be friends.”


On the way up to Temecula, on the 15, by the way, Connie explained. “I told her I thought she looked very fit, and she said she was nothing compared to me. So I took off my t-shirt and my bikini top. Now my boobs don’t exactly sag, they’re not that huge. But you both know the difference when I don’t wear a bra. Christ, Marion spotted it when we were trying on clothes. I got her to take her top off and ditch her bra and we compared boobs. Her’s are about the same size as mine and without support, we look very much the same.”

“And that’s all it took?”

“I did give her a kiss.”

“You didn’t?” Angela asked, gripping the steering wheel.

“Yes, and I am almost 100% sure that she and Marion are lovers.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Have an orgy with my mother!”

“Who said anything about an orgy? We’re just going to be naked like we were yesterday at the beach.”

“But Timmy here is going to be walking around with a perpetual boner the whole time!”

“His name is Timothy and he’ll be fine, won’t you babe?”

I didn’t say a word.


When the five of us were in Connie’s living room, she explained that no one could see us when we were in the pool, or sitting on the furniture near the deep end. But the patio space right outside the house was visible from the neighbors' second story, so we needed to be covered whenever we entered or left the house.

“The neighbors know my parents, ladies, don’t let your towels slip in the slightest if you need to come inside to pee!”

I helped Connie carry snacks and drinks to a table in the safe part of the backyard. Moira was the first one naked and dove into the pool.

“God, this feels wonderful.”

“Soto Voce,” Connie said softly. “The neighbors might not be able to see us, but they can hear us.”

“This feels wonderful,” Moira repeated in a whisper. She was floating on her back and we could see that, unlike Marion, she had pubic hair. Neatly trimmed in the shape of a heart.

“Angela, dear,” Marion said. “I do have something I need to tell you.”

“If it’s about where you shave, Timothy already let that cat, pun intended, out of the bag.”

Marion smiled. “I was pretty sure he got an eyeful.” She quickly stripped and joined her friend in the pool.

“So, are you ready for this?” Angela whispered to me. Not going to embarrass us?”

“I hope not.”

I quickly stripped down and dove into the pool. The water was far warmer than the ocean had been, but still cool enough to have the desired effect on my manhood. I may not come out of the pool looking like a 12-year-old, but there would be very little of my penis on display.

In the pool, Moira swam near to me and said softly, “Marion tells me you three have formed a throuple.”

“A what?”

“That’s what they call it when three people are in a serious relationship with each other. Two people form a couple, three makes it a throuple. It’s a real term, you can Google it. The more common expression is triad. A little easier on the tongue, maybe.

I smiled and said, “I hadn’t thought much about what to call it. Lately, I’ve come to think of us as a trio, you know like Soprano, Alto, and bass. But mostly, I’ve been confused.”

“A boy with one too many girls?”

“Something like that. But then Angela and Connie sort of discovered each other.”

“And did that complicate things?”

“No, just the opposite. The two of them together makes the whole thing make sense. It’s what makes it work.”

It’s impossible for me to think about the girls without getting aroused. Angela claims I have an automatic hard-on if I just think about Connie, but it’s the both of them, singular or together. And here in the pool, despite the cool water, I was having my typical reaction and Moira didn’t miss it.

We were waist-deep in the water, and I could see Moira was checking me out.

Connie swam over and put an arm around me. “We don’t share,” she said with a smile.

“That’s lovely,” Moira said. “But you don’t have to worry, Marion and I don’t do dick.”

Connie’s laugh could be heard for miles.

Angela and Marion soon joined us. “What’s so funny?”

“I just explained rather crudely that you and I have no use for men when it comes to sex.”

Angela turned bright red.

“What?” Marion asked. “You’ve been fooling around with girls since you were in middle school.”

“But you’re my mother!”

“Deal with it, darling. Think of all the drama you’ve put me through over the years.” She embraced Moira and they began to kiss. The whole while, though, Moira was looking at my dick.

“For ladies who don’t do dick,” Connie said. “You were sure excited about seeing that movie last night.”

“There’s an exception to everything,” Moira said with a laugh.

“There’s an old expression,” Marion said, “I wouldn’t mind letting Brad Pitt park his shoes under my bed!”

The two older women laughed. “And Leo can go down on me anytime,” Moira added.

“Maybe we need to keep Timothy away from you two,” Connie said. “Moira has been checking him out.”

“He is a handsome young man,” Moira said, once again looking at my dick through the water.

“You have nothing to fear from me, girls,” Marion said. “I’ve known him since he was twelve. It would be too weird.”

“But would it?” Moira asked and they laughed again. Connie and Angela seemed less amused.

“So how does that make you feel, Timmy,” Angela asked. “My mother and her lesbian lover think you’re cute.”

That just made the women laugh harder until Moira pointed at my now erect penis and said, “At least a part of him approves.”

Connie threw her arms around me and pressed her body against my erection. “Remember what I said about not fucking up?”

Angela embraced me from behind. “His dick has a short memory,” she said, wrapping a hand around it.

“Moira,” I heard Marion say, “It’s not polite to stare.”

“But the three of them are so adorable”

“Nice try,” Angela said. “But we are not going to let you watch.” And with that, the three of us exited the pool, wrapped ourselves in towels, and headed into the house.

You could see the pool from Connie’s bedroom and we stood together watching Moira go down on Angela’s mother.

“Ange, you need to see this,” Connie said.

“I’m not watching my mother have sex.”

“But she looks beautiful. And Moira really knows how to use her tongue.”

Angela flopped onto the bed. “Maybe I can get her to come in here when she’s done.”

“Someone is pouting, Timothy. What should we do about that?”

“We can’t smack her ass because she is laying on it.”

Connie grasped my dick and led me to the bed. “Look at this Angela.” She was holding my erection with two fingers, pressing it down and then letting it bounce up. “Here we have something that they don’t, and maybe we should take advantage of that.”

“I think he was hoping we would let them watch.”

“I think he just got harder from you saying that.”

“Timmy,” Angela said and I made a face at her. “Timmy,” she said again for effect, “I’m beginning to think you are a bit of a pervert. Or at least an exhibitionist.”

“You might be right, Angela. He just got harder still.”

“In all the years I’ve known you, Timothy,” she dragged the syllables of my name out so they were distinct: Tim-Oh-Thee, “I’ve never seen you masturbate.”

“I’m sure he’s done it,” Connie said.

“They all do. But let’s have him do it for us.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I said. And when I said it, I think I meant it.

“Why don’t you look out the window again and see what my mother is up to now? Describe it to us.”

“She’s on a lounge chair, on her back.”

“And?”

“Moira is kissing her. She has a hand between your mother’s legs and she dry humping your mother’s thigh.”

“Now look here.”

I turned to see Connie doing the same things to Angela.

Connie’s ass was toward me and I was about head for it dick first when Angela said, “Stay where you are!”

I glanced at the girls in the room, then turned to the women outside, and my dick throbbed.

“What’s Moira doing now.”

“She’s doing down on Marion again and she’s fingering herself at the same time.”

I turned to see Connie doing the same thing. It was checkmate. I started to stroke my dick while the girls turned to watch. I took a step toward them but was again told to keep my distance.

Connie began to rub her hand between Angela’s legs, and Angela returned the favor. The sight of my two loves pleasuring each other soon got the best of me and I began to cum. The first blast landed just short of the bed, the second hit Connie as she was coming toward me, and the third happened after she had wrapped her mouth around my erection.

Angela chided her for giving in. “I wanted to see him standing there with his dick in his hand once he had no more to give.”

“You are hard on him.”

“Says the girl who beat my ass until it was black and blue”

“I’ve seen your ass today and there isn’t a mark on it. We just made it a rosy red.”

“Sounds like fun.” That was Moira standing in our doorway. Connie still had a hand on my dick and there was jiz on her breasts and the floor.

“We’d like to take you kids out to dinner,” Marion said. They were both wearing towels and clearly enjoying the view.

“That would be great,” Connie said, still holding my rapidly shrinking dick. “Any place in particular?”

“We heard there was a great seafood restaurant not far from here.”

“You probably mean the Blue Water Grill, over near the mall.” There was still some jiz dribbling from my penis and Connie paused to catch it in her mouth.

Moira laughed and said, “We’re going to shower and get dressed. Anytime you kids are ready, let us know.”


Dinner was pleasant. No one who saw us could have imagined the scene in Connie’s bedroom or in the backyard by the pool. Talk turned to our plans for the fall and the three of us agreed that Connie would take the lead on finding us an apartment near campus. Living in La Mesa, it would be easy for her to scout the situation.

“It’s not that you’re not welcome to stay with me,” Marion said, “but I’m sure the three of you will be more comfortable in your own place.”

Moira and Marion headed to La Mesa from the restaurant. We went back to Connie’s to drop her off before we made our way to Escondido.

“Can’t you guys stay the night?” Connie asked.

“I have to be in Chula Vista early tomorrow, sweetie. I really need to get home.”

Connie put her arms around me. “What about you?”

“Bedpan duty. Crack of dawn.”

“I don’t know how you do that,” Connie said.

“Neither do I,” I replied. “I treat it like an out-of-body experience, pretend it’s not really me dumping pans, wiping asses.”

“You’re going to make me puke,” Angela said.


In the car on the way to my mother’s condo, Angela said, “I can’t believe my mother.”

“She’s not that old,” I said.

“Yes, but it felt like she was throwing it in my face.”

“I think she enjoyed being with us. The three of us. And you have to admit Moira is fun.”

“I don’t care what she said to Connie, that woman would jump your bones in a minute.”

“I’m no Brad Pitt.”

“Give me that Cary Grant smile.”

I did my best to oblige.

“Is your mother home? Any chance I can come up for a quick fuck before I go home?”

“Mom won’t care.”

“And she probably won’t want to watch.”

“Probably.”

[Jaime Austin]

Back at School

If we were attending college in the northeast, I would be telling you about the leaves changing color as they start to fall. About the crisp, cool nip in the air. About the first hint that winter is coming. How you start wearing sweaters during the day and jackets at night.

But it doesn't really happen like that here. San Diego is known for having the best weather in the country, summers never too hot, winters never cold. This fall temperatures were running a little high. Our one-bedroom apartment had an air conditioner. One of those window units only it was mounted in a hole in the living room wall. It was pretty useless, so we just kept the windows open, ran a floor-standing fan that Connie brought from home, and dealt with it as best we could.

The casual nudity of the summer inspired me to be naked in the apartment.                    much as weather would allow. The girls sometimes complained, but for the most part ignored me. Angela’s most frequest complaint was that all Connie had to do was show up and I would get hard. I had to admit there was some truth to that, but I was getting better at keeping things under control.

“You are not erect,” Angela said one afternoon after Connie got home. “But things are obviously stirring down there.”

I was sitting at a card table we used as a communal desk in the living room.

“Well, I have a story that will shrivel him up,” Connie said.

It looked like she had been crying, but she was just perspired from riding the bus.

“I could have come and got you,” Angela said.

“No. I needed time to process my meeting with my advisor.”

“Dr. Joe?”

“The one and only.” Connie poured herself a glass of wine, unusual for mid-week. “I thought he wanted to discuss my application to Santa Cruz, but he wanted to talk about Mark.”

“What?” Angela and I both had the same reaction.

“I told you he was back. I really haven’t done more than say hi to him, but I guess he’s been talking to Dr. Joe.”

Then Connie launched her story. Dr. Joseph R. Watkins has a small office on campus where he meets periodically with his students, and as Connie’s faculty advisor, she saw him often. Every visit was difficult for her because he always seemed to be talking to her breasts. Sometimes her legs, but rarely her face.

Today was different. Lots of eye contact as he asked her questions about Mark. Did she know why he dropped out last semester? How well does she know Angela? Very personal questions that made her wish he was talking to her boobs.

“I’m reluctant to tell you this,” he said, looking into the distance as if trying to find the strength to continue. “My wife is something of a sexual predator. Nothing criminal, nothing truly nefarious, but she loves students. Her Students, my students. Boys mostly, but not exclusively.”

Connie had nothing to say to this.

“When Mark left school, he sent me an email saying it was a personal matter. No details. But I suspected it had something to do with Giselle. Something about the way she was hanging on him at that last party before he left school.”

“His wife left him,” Connie said softly.

“Yes, I did hear that. But I wondered if it was because she found out about Mark and Giselle.”

“Was there anything to find out?”

“I’m afraid there was.”

Giselle was a bit of an amateur photographer. She owned a couple of expensive cameras and various lenses and other accessories. She had her own computer, which Dr. Joe never touched. Didn’t even know the password to it. But one day while Giselle was on campus he noticed a memory card plugged into her laptop.

He popped it out, plugged it into his computer, and was astonished to see a collection of photos of Mark. Mostly naked, many of him having sex with Giselle. She must have used a tripod. But there were also other pictures of naked students, including a picture of Connie.

“That can’t be,” Connie said with conviction. “I’ve never been with your wife!”

Dr. Joe pressed a few keys on his office computer, then used a mouse to open a folder of photos. Soon she was looking at multiple pictures of herself.

Connie was stunned. She recognized her dorm room. Then she saw herself putting on a bra in the back of a Prius. Her face turned red with anger.

“I don’t think you knew you were being photographed. Notice that you never once look at the camera. But how do you explain this picture?” He opened one of Connie naked on the floor, her legs partly spread and her red muff on full display. The room was unmistakably Dr. Joe’s living room.

Connie’s face was in her hands. “Please put those away. Please delete them,” she said through her fingers.

“Obviously, Giselle was fucking Mark. Was she also fucking you?”

“God, no. Mark must have taken those pictures. Not that I knew anything about it. Must have used his cell phone.”

“Then the only thing I can think of is that Mark gave them to Giselle. Maybe they looked at naked pictures of you when they had sex. I should add that you’re not the only girl in these photos.”

“Are you confronting the other girls like this?”

“Oh, Connie. I didn’t want this to feel like a confrontation. Well, maybe I did when I suspected you and these girls were carrying on with my wife.”

“Then why am I here?”

“I’m trying to figure out what happened to Mark.”

“His wife left him. He didn’t take it well and he dropped out. That’s all there is to it.”

“Did he delete the pictures,” Angela asked when Connie was done.

“I don’t know. I just wanted out of there.”

“That’s the whole story?” I asked.

“No. I told him about the three of us.”

“Why?” Angela cried.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want him to think I was some bimbo Mark fucked and then shared pictures with Dr. Joe’s wife.”

Dr. Joe had complained to Connie about not attending philosophy department parties. He said socialization was an important part of the university experience. Meeting and befriending your peers was something not to be missed. Maybe that’s why she told him.

“He’s invited us to dinner.”

“No fucking way,” Angela said.

“Just the three of us with Dr. Joe and Giselle?” I asked.

“God, he probably thinks we’re into kinky sex and wants us to party with him and his nympho wife.”

“I think,” Connie said slowly, “he wants to have sex with me, that getting to know us better will either make up for that not happening…”

“Or help him achieve his goal,” Angela finished the thought for her.

“So you said no, right?” I asked.

“I said yes. Friday, seven pm.”

“Why?”

“He’s my faculty advisor. I’ll never get into Santa Cruz without his support.”

“Does that mean you are going to fuck him?” Angela was on a roll.

“Of course not. But how much can it hurt to have dinner with him and his wife?”

“Sounds to me like they are both predators and they are stalking us.”

Connie glanced at my dick. “I told you this would shrivel you up.


“We can’t all dress the same,” Angela said. Connie and I had selected khaki shorts and university sweatshirts. By Friday, the weather had returned to normal and sweatshirts would have been fine.

“Timothy,” Angela said, pointing at me, “You are the least likely to be hit on, so you can wear shorts and a golf shirt. Connie and I will cover our legs. One of us in khakis the other in jeans. I’ll wear a bra for once under a silk blouse I have. Probably take a sweater. You my love,” she said turning to Connie, “get to wear an SDSU sweatshirt to hide your girls.”



“Let’s take a break before dessert, shall we?” Joe invited us into the living room while Giselle disappeared into the kitchen. Dinner had been more of a group interview than the usual mealtime chat. We decided ahead of time to persuade them that Dr. Joe misunderstood what Connie told him. That Angela and I were a couple and Connie was our roommate. They seemed to buy it.

When the topic of Mark came up, which it was bound to do, Angela suggested that Mark’s ego and not his heart was shattered by her moving out. She explained that the two of us had been friends since middle school and that things just clicked for us as her marriage was coming apart.

The whole time this was going on, Connie had slipped off her flip-flops and was running her foot along my calf, as if to remind me that this was just pretend.

I wasn’t sure if Giselle knew that Dr. Joe had found her pictures until the topic of Connie’s affair with Mark came up. The pictures were not mentioned.

“It just seems so odd to me,” Giselle said, adding more wine to our glasses, “that two women who had been involved with Mark, both ended up with you.” And of course, she was looking me dead in the eyes.

I don’t know if it was the wine or Connie’s foot rubbing my calf or Angela putting her hand on me frequently as she talked, but I just calmly told them the whole story of how Connie and I had sex on Angela’s couch and how Angela and I had sex in the kitchen while Mark slept after Connie had gone home.

Connie’s face was bright red. Angela had a look on her face that seemed to indicate she was proud of me. Joe and Giselle seemed quite pleased with my story. That’s when we moved to the living room.


There was a nice oriental rug that almost filled the room and you could see the imprint from a coffee table that had been removed. I wondered if Connie had been lying on that rug when Mark took her picture. It occurred to me that Connie hadn’t explained how that had come about.

Things would have been interesting if the girls had worn skirts. I wondered if Connie knew something we didn’t. Or at least I didn’t. Joe brought out his stone pipe and we passed it around, Giselle coming into the room to take her toke and then retreating to the kitchen.

I wondered how we were going to get home, but it was early yet. Not quite dark out. Plenty of time to lose the buzz. Giselle came and sat down between Connie and Angela, leaving our red-headed friend next to her husband.

Connie’s sweatshirt prevented her from having a cleavage contest with Giselle. Even in Connie’s best bikini, the older woman would win by a wide margin. Her girls were fully on display in a low cut dress with major cleavage, and I noticed that Angela couldn’t keep her eyes off them.

“Let’s see if I understand this,” Joe began. “Both girls have had sex with both Timothy and Mark and now the three of you are living together.”

“I find that rather intriguing,” Giselle said with a smile.

“It’s absolutely none of our business,” Joe offered. “But we would love it if you would indulge our curiosity.”

“And how would we do that?” Angela asked in a flat tone of voice.

“You could tell us how it works. Who’s in charge?”

“Why does someone have to be in charge?”

“Well, in human relationships there’s almost always some kind of hierarchy. Even in the most democratic of couples, usually one takes a slightly more dominant role.”

“We’ve never talked about that,” Angela said.

Connie called her by name.

“What?”

“You’re the boss. You know that.”

“No, I’m not!” Angela seemed offended.

“You’re the alpha. Timothy and I are betas. Don’t get me wrong. We both like being betas.”

I wasn’t the least bit comfortable with this conversation, but the third passing of the pipe had me glued to the floor.

“That’s interesting,” said Giselle. She was slurring her words slightly. “I would have thought Timothy here was the alpha. A guy living with two girls. Sleeping with them both.”

I was about to say something when I noticed Giselle’s nipples were hard under the thin fabric of her top. I glanced at Dr. Joe, and he seemed to lump his pants. Was this conversation some form of mental foreplay? Or was Giselle an anthropologist getting her jollies trying to figure us out?

“Who says he sleeps with either of us,” Angela said.

“Point well taken, my dear,” Giselle said. “But you would have a hard time convincing me he’s not.”

“What makes you say that?” Angela sounded cold and argumentative.

“Body language, mostly. The three of you seem to move as one. You finish each other’s sentences. And then there’s the way Timothy looks at you both.”

I could feel eyes shift to me. I’m sure my expression reflected the fact that I had no idea what she was talking about.

“I see a mixture of protection, admiration, pride, and not a small amount of lust.”

Busted.

“He’s not very good at poker either,” Connie said.

“Except maybe strip poker.” That earned Angela a laugh, but I was afraid Giselle would break out a deck of cards.

Connie made a comment about feeling warm and pulled off her sweatshirt.
“That is a lovely bra,” Giselle said, reaching over to feel it. She didn’t just touch the fabric but drew imaginary lines with her fingertip until Connie’s nipples showed their presence.

Angela didn’t say a word. She just reached a hand into Giselle’s cleavage. The older woman brought her hand away from Connie’s breasts and touched Angela’s face.

“My girls aren’t as lovely as yours,” she said looking back and forth between the two girls.

“My girls are pretty much lads,” Angela said with a laugh.

Giselle dropped her hands to Angela’s breasts and found a nipple. “Feels very lovely to me, darling.”

Joe was reloading the pipe. I was trying to discreetly adjust my penis, growing awkwardly in my pants. But Giselle noticed.

“The blinds are drawn, children. If you’ve got something that needs to be set free, boys, go right ahead.”

I guess we knew who the alpha was in this household.

“I need to use your bathroom,” I said standing up.

“Let me show you the way,” Giselle offered. Before I could tell her I knew where it was, she was on her feet and leading me by the hand. I glanced back at Angela and she was smiling although her eyes were like narrow slits.

Giselle pulled me down the hall, past the bathroom, and into a bedroom. “Let’s get you comfortable,” she said, unbuckling my belt. She pushed me back on the bed so that she could remove my sandals and then pull my khakis clean off.

“Now we can take care of business.” She led me back to the bathroom. “How are you going to do this without creating a mess?”

I pulled my boxers down and sat on the toilet. My dick was pointing at the ceiling. I slid my ass as far back on the seat as it would go and bending forward, managed to angle my penis below the rim of the bowl.

“You’ve done this before,” Giselle stated as my stream hit the porcelain just above the waterline.

She didn’t stay to watch me finish but left the bathroom carrying my boxers. There was nothing left for me to do but walk into the living room in just a t-shirt.

Angela was on her feet complaining about her stylish khakis. “I’ve got to pee and I can’t figure out how to get these fucking things off.” To be fair, the slacks had a built-in belt and the buckle was made of plastic and you had to press and twist just so to get it undone. Giselle had it mastered in a flash.

“You look very comfortable, Timothy,” Joe said. He was smiling and his eyes were tiny slits. Connie’s eyes were closed, and her upper body seemed to be swaying to music that was playing only in her head.

I sat down, covering myself as best I could with my t-shirt. When Angela returned she was only wearing a t-shirt as well. Was someone building an underwear collection?

Giselle had lost her dress along the way. Her breasts were nearly falling out of a lace bra and her matching panties covered very little. For a woman in her forties, she was very fit. Even more so than Marion or Moira.

“Darling, you look ready to burst,” she said to her husband. “Angela, can you help?”

Angela snorted but helped Giselle get the man to his feet.

“Look, Joe. The girl doesn’t shave. Look at her legs.”

Joe managed to open his eyes a bit wider, but he was looking at the tuft of pubic hair just barely showing. Then the three of them disappeared down the hall.

I sat next to Connie, and when she swayed in my direction I guided her head onto my lap. I was still fairly hard and my erection got tangled in her hair. Her face was against my thigh and I could feel her breath on my skin. Full and rhythmic. The girl was out.

After a while, my back began to ache. I spotted a pillow nearby and slid it under Connie’s head. Then I crept down the hall to see what the other three were up to.

I heard grunting as I approached the bedroom where Giselle had stripped off my shorts. I don’t know what I expected to find. Two women going down on the good professor? I didn’t think he had the energy for much else. But no, a naked Dr. Joe was energetically fucking his wife. But the sound I heard on my approach seemed to have been coming from Angela. She was facing the headboard, her back arched, with her most intimate region poised over Giselle’s face. There was that most beautiful ass, moving in rhythm to Giselle’s tongue, clearly devouring all that was before it. No one saw me. It wasn't possible. Joe seemed to be intent on leaving love bites on Alison’s ass. Giselle had no vision beyond Angela’s thighs. And my darling Alison was facing the wall.

Two things struck me right away. Dr. Joe is one hairy fucker. Hair on his back, hair on his ass. The other was that Alison was a committed participant in the scene I was witness to.

Before anyone saw me, I returned to the living room and huddled next to Connie. The next thing I knew, Alison was kicking me with a bare foot.

“Timothy, it’s after 1 am, we need to go.”

She was dressed in a huge t-shirt I had never seen before. It was loose across her shoulders but reached her knees.

“Her slacks were just too much to deal with,” said Giselle who was wearing a similar garment, although hers barely covered her ass. She handed me a Whole Foods shopping bag. “Everyone’s clothes are in there, including yours.”

I was still wearing just a t-shirt, my lazy manhood on display.

“Help me get Connie up,” I said to Alison.

We managed to get her on her feet, but she never once opened her eyes. “She might need to pee,” I said to Alison.

“Jesus,” was her reply.

Giselle stepped up. “Might as well get rid of these jeans here.” She undid the belt and slid the faded denim jeans down to Connie’s ankles. With a little effort, she managed to get them off.

Angela carefully walked her to the bathroom. Fortunately, Connie made an effort to help, though she still appeared to be asleep. Once in the bathroom, I held her steady while Alison slipped her panties down. As soon as her ass hit the seat, there was a waterfall of piss pouring into the toilet.

“That could have happened in your car.”

“Then I guess this was a good idea.”

We managed to get Connie into the passenger seat of the Prius. Angela crawled into the back and I drove.

“You’re sure you are okay to drive, sweetie?” Giselle had asked me. I assured her that I was. We never saw Joe.

On the drive home, Angela asked me, “Are your naked balls resting on my seat?”

“Yes, Angela, they are. Is your naked ass sitting on the back seat?”

“No. This nightshirt of Giselle’s has got me covered.”

“Where’s your t-shirt and your panties?”

“In the Whole Foods bag with your clothes. Say, Timothy,” Angela started, then checked that Connie was indeed out, “let’s not tell Connie I fucked Dr. Joe.”

I hadn’t known that she had and said so.

“Giselle thought you had looked in on us.”

“How did she know? You were sitting on her face at the time.”

“Damn, I was pretty messed up. Not that I didn’t know what I was doing. Joe and Giselle kind of tag-teamed me.”

“Didn’t look like you were resisting.”

“Not at all. Damn, but the doctor has a pair of hairy balls.”

I couldn’t keep from laughing. The image of his hairy ass flashed before my eyes.

“So how do you feel about me being with them?”

“I don’t know, Ange.”

“You and Giselle had a moment in the bathroom.”

“She told you about that?”

“You impressed her with your flexibility.”

“Me and my bendy dick.”

“It’s such a sweet dick, baby. Please don’t be mad at me.” She was leaning forward now, her hand on my shoulders. In the rearview mirror, I could see she was crying.

I covered her hand with mine. “We’ll be fine,” I said, and then said it a second time.

She sat back and said, “I don’t know why, but I just don’t want Connie to know.”

There is a fact of life in Southern California that few people will tell you about. Nearly every neighborhood has more cars than available parking. You get home much past 10:00 and good luck finding a place to park. I did two rotations around our complex without any success. Finally, I stopped in the single-lane track past our staircase and parked the car in the middle of the lane.

“Let’s get Connie upstairs, then I’ll search for a spot.”

The staircase was wide enough to let me walk Connie up the steps. Angela followed behind to break Connie’s fall if I let go. It was slow going, but I managed to coax her one step at a time. Muscle memory seemed to kick in because there was no way I could carry her.

The whole way up the stairs, into the apartment, and into the bedroom, she never once opened her eyes. She wasn’t really awake, but still followed my step-by-step instructions. Once on the bed, Angela crawled in next to her.

“Good luck, babe. Just remember where you park it.”

When I returned nearly 30 minutes later, both girls were sound asleep. I stripped naked and wedged myself between them. I was quite tired, but the stress of finding parking and the long walk back to the apartment had me wide awake.

No matter how I turned, there was a naked or nearly naked girl pressed against me. I thought about retreating to the bathroom to masturbate alone, but it felt so good to rub my erection against Connie’s panty-covered ass, that I figured what the hell. If I slipped my dick under panties, maybe the cum would dry by morning.

I don’t know if she woke up or not, but on some sleepy level, she realized what was going on and slipped her panties down. Her back still towards me, I managed to slip between her thighs and rub my erection across her slit. It was a bit like a hot dog in an undersized bun, her labia partly wrapping around my shaft. But then she pushed her ass firmly against me and I felt fingers guiding me into her opening.

The angle was such that there wasn’t much penetration, but it felt so good. Better than I expected and far better than I deserved. My orgasm, when it came was slow and almost gentle. I can recall a time when fooling around in my mother’s car, a girlfriend was jacking me off in the front seat. The jiz flew from my dick and hit the ceiling with significant force. We made such a mess that I had to pull into a 7-11 to buy Handi Wipes to clean the car. I often wondered what my mother thought about her freshly cleaned interior the next day, but she never mentioned it.

This night my orgasm was nothing like that. It was as though a valve had opened and all my troubles, all my worries, just sweetly flowed away. The next thing I knew it was morning, Angela was gone and Connie was nudging me awake.

“I think somebody fucked me last night,” she said.

“That would have been me.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“I had trouble sleeping and was going to jiz in your panties, but you invited me in.”

“That sounds familiar. A mercy fuck.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I took pity on you.”

“What a sweetheart you are.”

We snuggled together. “Yes, I am. And you know you can have me anytime, my love. I will never say no to you.”

“Never?”

“Not ever.”

I took her up on that immediately. We kicked the covers off the bed, and I was quickly inside her.

“You owe me an orgasm, you know.”

“We aim to please madam,” I said with a smile as I thrust myself as deep into her essence as possible.

But then I felt a hand smack me on the ass. “Where’s my fucking car, Timothy?” Angela was back and she didn’t look happy.

“I sent you three texts and finally called you. Where’s your fucking phone?”

I reluctantly pulled out with Connie begging me not to stop.

“I’m sorry, guys, but I need my car. I’m going to be late as it is.”

I got out of bed, making no effort to hide my glistening erection.

“I need to find my phone,” I said.

“No. You need to put some clothes on and find my car.”

“I took a picture of it,” I explained.

At least I had the presence of mind last night to pull my shorts out of the Whole Foods bag, take out my phone, and use it to document where I was leaving Angela’s car. Sadly, the picture was not helpful.

“Jesus, Timmy. You are supposed to take a picture of a landmark to help you find your car. Not a picture of the car. And this is so dark I can barely recognize my Prius.”

“Hang on a minute.”

I clicked on the info icon and scrolled down to the map. Below it read San Diego, with a greater than symbol next to it. Clicking on San Diego brought up a full map with a pin indicating where I took the picture. Zooming in showed a location about four blocks away.

“Put some clothes on,” Angela said, “and come with me to make sure it is there.”

“He has important business to attend to,” Connie said in a plaintive voice.

“I’m supposed to go with my mother to help her convince Nana it’s time to move into a nursing home. I’m already going to be late!”

The pin was dead on and we had no trouble finding the car. It was, however, blocking a fire hydrant.

“You're lucky I didn’t get a ticket.”

“Or get towed! I’m sorry. It was dark and I didn’t notice it. No wonder this space was available.”

Angela drove me back to the apartment. “Your grandmother is never going to agree to a nursing home.”

“No, she isn’t. But Mom is determined to try and I need to be there for moral support. More to help Mom accept failure than anything else.”

Back in the apartment, Connie was making breakfast.

“You put clothes on,” I said with disappointment.

“Just this shirt. Only an idiot cooks bacon naked.”

I immediately began to strip.

“What are you doing?”

“I like being naked.”

“I know you do, but now?”

I came up behind her and slid my hands under her t-shirt to caress her breasts.

“Let me finish here and watch out you don’t get burned.”

“Baby, I’ve got you to protect me.”

Bacon and eggs never tasted better. The bread was toasted to perfection and the coffee? Well, it was coffee. One day we might splurge on a fancy coffee machine, but for now, it was store brand drip grind in a hand-me-down Mr. Coffee.

“You want to do these dishes while I take a shower?” Connie was putting our plates in the sink.

“I was hoping to take up where we left off,” I said, wrapping my arms around her.

“I’m beginning to think you are insatiable.”

“I am around you.”

“So I still take your breath away?”

My answer came in the form of a kiss, where my tongue slipped between her lips and my newly formed erection pressed against her stomach.

“I was going to go to the gym this morning.”

“You can go later.”

“Later and I’ll have to deal with guys hitting on me. Happens every time.”

“You wear short shorts and a sports bra, there’s no way that’s not going to happen.”

“It gets annoying.”

“I guess I could come with you.”

“You could use some exercise.”
“I beg your pardon?”

“There’s not an ounce of fat on you, but you could use some muscle tone.”

I laughed and rubbed my dick against her. “I have a muscle you can help me with!”

Connie didn’t make it to the gym. In fact, we didn’t even leave the apartment. We spent the day naked, mostly in bed, but also on the couch, talking, reading, doing a bit of school work, but mostly we cuddled, kissed, snuggled together, and from time to time we had sex.

Sunday morning we woke up alone. Angela had sent a text around 10 pm saying she was staying overnight in La Mesa. I nuzzled Connie’s ass with my morning wood and we had slow lazy sex.

“That’s six times in 24 hours, stud. How are you holding up?”

“I’m just fine, my darling.” We took a shower and decided to dress for breakfast, which would be a short stroll to the local Denny’s.


They say that women who live together frequently get on the same cycle with their periods. I don’t know if this is a proven scientific fact, but it happened in our place. What that meant for me, of course, was that every 28 days or so I had two irritable roommates, and a period when I had no sex whatsoever.

Angela began to joke about it, calling it Timmy’s dry spell, and both girls tried to be provocative around me, just to amp up my frustration. It took some effort because I was used to seeing them in t-shirts and no panties. If I was going to get excited every time I caught a glimpse of bush I’d be stuck with a perpetual hard-on.

They would do things like sit on my lap while watching TV. If I appeared to ignore them they would place my hands on their breasts and wiggle their panty-covered asses until my erection made itself felt. Then they would leave to take a shower.

They knew I was incapable of ignoring girl-on-girl action of any sort. Many times I would come home late from my ESP class and find the two of them naked on the couch. One would be reclining, legs spread with one foot on the floor, the other on the back of the couch. The other would be between her legs using tongue and fingers to delight her lover. This was irresistible to me. Sometimes I wouldn’t even strip, just release my penis and find a mouth or pussy to worm my way in.

When they were having their periods, the same scene could unfold, but they would have their panties on and it would just be cautious fingers trying to get each other off. No matter what I did, they didn’t want me to play, so I would head to the shower to jack off in private. Usually one or the other, sometimes both, would come into the bathroom and insist on watching me shoot my jiz under the blast of the shower.

One time Angela called me into the bathroom. She was naked and frantic. The string from her tampon had broken and she wanted me to help her get it out.

I dropped everything to rush to her aid. She had one foot on the floor, the other on the open toilet seat. Her bush was so thick that you had to part it to see her slit, and then pull her lips apart to see if there was anything to latch onto.

What I found was the tampon string stuffed between her lips and Angela began to laugh hysterically. I stood up and she rubbed the bulge in my slacks. Tears of laughter streamed down her face. This was one night I wasn’t going to be left to take care of it myself.

I chased Angela into the bedroom and tackled her on the bed. I pulled her panties down despite her constantly kicking at me.

Once I had Angela’s panties in my hands, I stripped off my slacks and boxers. I crawled on top of her and said, “Let’s see what happens when I pull that string.”

“No!” she shouted.

I forced Angela onto her front and lay with my erection between the cheeks of her ass. About this time, Connie entered the apartment and looked at us with some amusement. Turning to face her, I said, “Get me the butter.”

Connie’s eyes went wide. All three of us had seen “Last Tango in Paris” where Brando gives it to his lover up the ass.

“Hand lotion will do,” I added. Connie handed me a bottle from the dresser.

“Timmy, what do you think you are doing?” Angela asked with genuine fear.

I slavered hand lotion all over my dick, then lodged it between the cheeks of her lovely round ass, and without penetrating anything pumped my dick between the gorgeous globes until streams of spunk splashed her lower back.

Connie watched this all without saying a word. She jngastened her shirts and with one finger in her mouth, the other pressed deep between her legs. The way her knees were bent and her back was pressed against the wall, she was very close to cumming.

I used Angela’s panties to clean her up and when she sat up, I threw them in her face.

“No more teasing,” I said solemnly.

She just nodded her head and went into the bathroom to shower.

One night I came home and only Connie was there. She was lying on the couch reading. Her naked legs, firm from her time in the gym were slightly spread. Her panties just visible under a t-shirt.

“Damn you look good,” I said.

She smiled and stretched. Raising her arms caused her breasts to press against her shirt and I could see her nipples were hard.

“What on earth are you reading?”

“Erica Jong’s version of Fanny Hill.”

“That can’t be for a class.”

“Sure it is. 18th-century attitudes towards sex and the philosophy of the Enlightenment.”

“I think I’m going to enjoy reading that paper.”

It was again that time of the month and I didn’t want to start anything we couldn’t finish, so I turned and walked to the bedroom. I was going to strip and shower. Maybe treat myself to a hand job. But Connie had other ideas.

She followed me into the bedroom and pulled off her shirt. Damn, those breasts. That red hair. Those green eyes. My slacks were halfway to my knees and my dick was stretching my boxers.

Connie help me take them off and began to stroke my dick.

“What are you up to?”

She turned away to pick up a bottle of hand lotion. As she pumped the cream onto her hands, I thought she was going to use it on my erection, but instead, she coated her breasts, paying extra attention to the valley between her twin freckle covered orbs.

“Why don’t you get naked and put that lovely dick of yours right here,” she said running a finger down the valley between her breasts.

I had seen tittie fuck porn, to be sure, but this was new territory for me. I did my best to keep my weight off of her while sliding my dick back and forth between her luscious breasts. Sometimes she would angle herself so that my erection raked across her nipples. Or she would press her breasts together, simulating the squeeze of her vagina.

Whatever pleasure she derived from this had to be from watching my penis as it emerged from between her globes like a dolphin breaking the surface of the sea. And of course, watching my face contort as my orgasm approached. It arrived as a jet of semen that grazed her chin and landed on her hair. Subsequent blasts hit her open mouth and then under her chin, running down her neck. I watched it all with a sense of wonder, including the huge grin on Connie’s face. She looked like the little girl whose father just won the giant stuffed panda for her at the county fair.

I flopped onto my back next to her, exhausted.

“Aren’t I good to you?” she asked.

I gasped that she was.

“Don’t I love you?”

“Of course you do,” I whispered hoarsely.

Then she took my hand and placed it between her legs. I could feel her slit underneath the thin fabric.

“You just keep your fingers outside my panties and make me feel good,” she said, “and we’ll be fine.”

It was like being back in middle school. Cautiously exploring a girl’s most intimate reaches without removing her underwear. It was amazing what girls would let you do if you kept that little bit of fabric between your fingers and their delicate flower.

It didn’t take long before Connie began to tremble. She hugged my body while her involuntary reactions rose to a crescendo. She relaxed and told me again that she loved me. She told me she would go into the bathroom to take care of things, then I was to join her in the shower.


From time to time, Angela would ferry the three of us to school and back, but mostly we walked. Just Connie and I. If Angela had to make an appearance on campus she drove without fail.

Anything we needed to carry: computers, research materials, snacks, and drinks, were in our backpacks and for the most part, we walked hand in hand like a couple of high school sweethearts. Our conversations were never-ending. Some days we revealed parts of our life histories, stories about cousins, aunts, and uncles, and the adventures of our grandparents. The full gambit of our lives from earliest childhood until the present.

We talked about our future goals, our grad school applications, and the specific things we hoped to accomplish with our studies and our research. I always thought Connie had the easier task, of understanding my work. Her studies involved pedagogy I had rarely been exposed to, mine was the analysis of literature, much of which she was familiar with.

At home, we became each other's champions. She read my papers like an editor making cogent suggestions that improved my efforts, improved me. I tried to do the same for her, and while she said I helped, it was hard to believe I contributed that much.

“I’m no match for you,” I complained.

“So says the guy with a 4.0 GPA!”

“So do you. And you’re smarter than me.”

“Don’t be silly. I didn’t earn all A’s throughout my entire academic career.”

“Neither did I!”

“That’s not what Angela says.”

“She skips over 8th-grade phys ed.”

“Wait, how did you fail gym?”

“I didn’t fail. I got a B.”

“Oh my,” she said with false compassion. “How did that happen?”

“Gym teacher coached wrestling and insisted we all learn how. I refused.”

“You refused?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to fight anyone. It got ugly. Asshole wanted to fail me for the marking period. We even ended up in the principal's office. I ended up with a C for the marking period and a B for the year.”

While I didn’t believe for a moment in her sympathy — she was a cheerleader after all — she did agree with Angela that gym didn’t count.

Angela grew annoyed with us. She scoffed when we bought printer paper that had the binder holes pre-punched. We would print our assignments, load them into skinny binders and ask the other to mark them up as necessary. She thought it was ridiculous, that we should be doing it all online. What she didn’t understand was doing it this way, we could implement as many or as few of the suggestions as we desired. And there was never any risk of submitting an assignment with our partner’s notes attached.

The deadlines for our applications to UC Santa Cruz were early December for Connie and early January for me. I guess our cycles had synced as well because we both submitted our applications the week before Thanksgiving.

We managed to dodge the many Thanksgiving invitations from our families. It was perfect beach weather and we celebrated with Turkey subs from Jersey Mike’s on a part of San Onofre State Beach that was clothing optional. Nathan and Roy came up from San Diego to join us and we had a great time playing naked Frisbie and dancing in the icy waves. Even Roy entered the ocean and damn if that monster penis of his all but vanish in the cold water. Angela said it was like being at a party with three pre-teens. I fluffed my pubic hair and said, “I don’t think so!”

Nathan shook his head, shot a glance at Roy, and said to Angela, “Please don’t get him started.”


There was no dodging Christmas. We agreed to spend two nights with all three families. With Connie’s parents, the two girls shared Connie’s room. Jeremy had his own room, of course, and I slept in the guest room. The first night, I heard giggling across the hall. I tried the door, but it was locked. I sent Connie a text, “Let me in.”

I tried the door a second time and entered a darkened room. I couldn’t see a thing until Connie lit up her phone. When I got to her bed she whispered that I had to be quiet. I glanced at Angela and saw she was staring at the ceiling, looking like she didn’t even notice I was there. That’s when I felt the bed moving, ever so gently. Connie lifted the covers until I could just see Jeremy’s head, buried between Angela’s legs.

Connie and I crept across the hall to the guest room where we still talked in whispers.

“How the fuck did that happen?”

“I went to the bathroom and when I returned, he was there and Angela was pulling at his pajama bottoms.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I watched.”

She laughed at the surprised look on my face. “No one said to leave and you know Angela. She was on her knees in a flash.”

“And you watched her give your brother a blow job?”

“It was kind of hot. Very wrong,” she added, “but you know she has that magic tongue.”

“So you got to see your brother’s ‘O’ face?”

“No, I turned out the lights. That would have been unbearable. Your text came right when he finished and I could see that Angela didn’t spill a drop. Brother or no brother, that was very hot. A horny 19-year-old is going to unload like nobody’s business.”

“And you know this from experience?”

She smiled proudly. “When I said anything but, that left a lot of options open.”

In the interest of being quiet, we pulled the blankets off the bed and made a nest for ourselves on the floor. Watching Angela and her brother had definitely turned Connie on, and soon she was on top of me, treating me like the mechanical bull in a cowboy bar. I did my best to throw her, no small feat, let me tell you. But each time I bucked, she stayed impaled on my cock and we both felt the thrill of the moment.

That was Christmas eve. The next day we left for my mother’s condo with promises to return on New Year's Day.

My mother has only two bedrooms and she made up the couch for me and said the girls could sleep in my room. My grandparents came for Christmas Day dinner and we exchanged modest gifts. Mom gave Connie a broach she had had for years. It was a lovely thing and had colors that brought out the green in her eyes. Angela received a pair of dangling earrings.

“I know you kids don’t dress up that much, but you are getting older and when you start your careers, a little jewelry couldn’t hurt.”

That night, I snuck into my room, but the girls said the bed was too small and sent me away. I was only slightly disappointed. Something in the way they kissed me goodnight left a promise of good things to come. Especially since the next night would be in La Mesa.

Long before dawn, I felt someone crawl on top of me on the couch. The long hair meant it was Connie. When she kissed me her face smelled of pussy. “What have you girls been up to?” I whispered.

“Can’t you smell it?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“Then don’t be stupid and see if you can fuck me without ruining your mother’s couch.” My brave girl had walked naked from the bedroom to interrupt my sleep. I was both grateful and proud.

To preserve the couch, I found a hoody of mine in the hall closet and we placed it under Connie’s ass. We performed the work of missionaries with reverence and silence, and when we were done, the hoody now had a substantial stain. I would later roll it up and stuff it in my backpack.

To get Connie back to bed, I went into the powder room and came back with a ball of toilet paper. She held it between her thighs so that there would be no tale-tell drips leading back to my bedroom.

Things took a turn for the crazy at Marion’s house. Moira was there and it looked as though they both were a bit tipsy. They were both dressed up. Angela’s grandmother had been born in England and insisted on celebrating boxing day. They had recently returned from her apartment.

“Can you kids stop at Nana’s on the way back to school?”

“Sure,” Angela said. “But we were going to spend a few days here before heading back to Temecula. We’ve been invited to a New Year's Eve party.”

“It’s not at church, is it?” Marion asked Connie.

“No,” she replied with a laugh. “It’s at my Uncle Dave’s house. His New Year’s Eve parties are legend.”

Moira fixed us all drinks. She was clearly familiar with where everything was in the house. When she sat down, she asked us, “You kids don’t have any weed with you, do you?”

Connie and I both started to answer in the negative while Angela went to her purse, from which she retrieved three substantial joints.

“Where did you get those?” Connie asked.

“An early Christmas gift from Nathan and Roy.”

Connie started to laugh.

“What?” I asked.

She just blushed and shook her head no.

I stared at Angela.

“I might have had sex with them,” she said lighting up a joint.

“Might?”

“Pretend you’re my mother and don’t ask me questions you don’t want an answer to.”

“Who are Nathan and Roy?” Marion asked. It was clear she was merely curious.

“Two gay guys Angela is friends with,” Connie replied.

“Nathan’s bi.”

The joint made two passes around the room. While it may have made me high, it did nothing to reduce my curiosity.

Connie on the other hand kept looking at Angela and laughing.

“You know obviously more about this than I do.”

Connie grinned and said in a deep voice, “Dead men tell no tales,” and then giggled so hard her breasts were bouncing.

“Damn, that’s some potent shit you have there darling,” Moira said. She walked across the room and planted a kiss on Angela’s lips. I couldn’t help but notice the older woman had a hand on Angela’s ass.

“Anybody want to play a game?” Moira asked of the room.

“She loves games,” Marion said.

“I do, too,” said Connie. “But these two make fun of me.”

“That’s because no one out of middle school plays truth or dare.,” Angela said.

“Oh that’s far from true,” said Moira. “But I was thinking of a card game.”
Marion laughed and Angela said, “You get us drunk and stoned and want to clean us out of our money.”

“We don’t play for money, dear,” said her mother.

Moira produced a deck of cards and sat on the floor. Marion asked me to help move the coffee table out of the way. And then we began to play strip poker. Yes, on the day after Christmas I was playing strip poker with four women.

First, we had to count up how many items of clothing we were wearing. Angela and I had three each, Connie four because she was wearing a bra. Marin had to think for a moment. “Belts and jewelry don’t count, do they?”

“No,” Moira said. She had four items on as well, and it was agreed that Angela and I would get a pass for our first losses.

Without the two older women, the game would have been pointless. If the three of us wanted to get naked, we’d just take off our clothes. And while we saw both ladies naked in Connie’s pool, somehow this added an element of spice.

After a few hands, Angela and I exercised our passes, Marion and Connie lost their tops and were sitting in their bras.

“Even my mother has bigger boobs than me, Angela complained.

Next round Angela lost her shorts, then I lost my shirt. After that Marion lost her slacks and Connie lost her shirt. I was beginning to wonder if Moira cheated.

Then I lost two hands in a row. Nothing was said when I peeled off my jeans, but the boxers were dropped to great applause. I was asked to stand in the center of the room and to slowly remove them.

I did a little bit of a dance. Pulled down the back until you could see the crack of my ass. Then the front until my pubic hair was in evidence. Angela and Connie exchanged a look and each one grabbed a leg of my boxers and down they came.

I was tempted to cover myself, but what the fuck, I thought. I stood there with my manhood on display. I wasn’t erect, but I wasn’t flaccid either. My dick was pointing straight ahead.

“Don’t point that thing at me!” Moira said.

“It’s your game, Moira,” Marion said laughing.

I thought for sure they would have me sit out the next hand, but no, I was still included. I had no idea what would happen if I lost again.

Fortunately, Connie lost, and off came her jeans. Then Marion lost her bra followed by Angela losing her top.

“I think we need a new dealer,” Angela announced. “Moira is still fully dressed, Timothy is naked, and Connie is about to lose her bra or panties. Mom only has her panties left. How is this possible.”

“It’s just a matter of luck,” Moira said with a glint in her eye. She handed the cards to Angela who promptly lost her panties.

Next hand Connie lost her bra, and all three women stared at her newly bared breasts with lust and envy. “I would give anything to kiss those nipples,” Moira said.

“Then you better hope I lose two more hands.”

Angela handed the cards back to Moira, who promptly lost three hands in a row. Sitting in just her panties, her breasts the size, if not the shape of Connie’s on display. “I told you it was a matter of luck.”

She handed the cards to Marion who promptly lost her panties. Sensing a pattern, she handed the cards to Connie who lost twice in a row.

“So now what happens?” Connie asked.

“I would have said the dealer gets to kiss your nipples, but that’s not going to work.”

Connie smiled, pulled up on each breast, one at a time, and flicked her nipples with her tongue.

“Now I totally hate you,” Angela said.

Connie handed the cards to me. “It’s going to be pointless if I lose.” Moira took the cards from me. She shuffled the deck several times then slowly dealt our hands.

I lost. For a woman who claimed she did not do dick, she sure had a hungry look in her eyes. Moira gave Angela a questioning look.

“You said dealers choice.”

Then she looked at Connie who repeated the phrase.

“Come here, young man.”

I stood and took two steps toward her. My semi-erect dick was pointing right at her face. She looked at Marion, whose eyes were big as saucers.
 
“I've wanted to do this ever since we were together in the pool.” And with that, she puckered her lips and locked them around my glans. Placing her hands on my ass, she drew me further in, and her tongue began to swirl around my shaft. She had to rise up on her knees to keep pace with my growing erection.

The other three women had hands in front of their mouths, I assumed to keep from laughing. Marion was the first to speak. “I think that's quite enough, dear.”

Moira released me and my dick was pointing at the ceiling.

Connie stood up and announced that the game was over. Moira began to complain, but Connie said, “I'm not about to waste this,” taking my erection in hand, “and I'm not fucking him in front of you three!”

Moira continued to complain as Connie led me down the hall. We stopped in the bathroom. “That was fun, but I don't want that woman's spit on your dick.” She washed me off with a washcloth, then gave my member a thorough going over with her tongue. “Can't have you wilting on me.”

Connie pushed me back into the bed, then straddled my face. She still had her panties on. “Let's see if you can eat your way through them.”

She pressed her fabric-covered slit into my face. I used tongue and teeth to pull and poke and stretch the material. Soon the gusset of her panties was soaked with my saliva and her juices. Twice, she cautioned me about my teeth.

Undeterred, I grabbed the waistband and pulled down, but the way her hips were splayed and her pussy was grinding against my mouth, I made very little progress.

I managed to work my tongue under the sopping wet band of cloth that covered her opening. I used a finger to gain purchase of the gusset and pulled it to the side. Now I could suck on her lips, grip them lightly, ever so lightly, with my teeth, and plunge my tongue into her opening.

This was all too much for her and she tumbled onto her back. Our eyes met and we both grinned at each other. Both of us shaking with lust. I rolled on top of her, positioning my erection for entry, but she told me to stop.

“Maybe Moira had it right about dick,” she said slyly. “I mean what is it you plan on doing? Stick that thing in me and then make a mess?”

I brought the tip of my dick to her lips and pressed ever so slightly forward.

“Are you saying that doesn’t feel good?”

“Oh, no. I’m not saying that.” Her grin was infectious. Her green eyes were lit with a fire from within. “I’m telling you to use your tongue, lover.”

I used my tongue, but not as she expected. I forced it into her mouth, swirled it around her tongue, and did not withdraw until we were both gasping for air. Just as I had done with her labia, I bit a lip lightly and pulled on it. All the while I continued to hold the tip of my dick against her opening. With a single thrust, I could have been buried to the hilt, but that’s not what the lady wanted.

I withdrew both my mouth and my penis as I slid down her body. I paused to suck on her nipples until I was sure they were raw. Then I licked the undersides of her breasts, and buried my face between them, before kissing my way to her navel.

Here I used my tongue again to tease and she complained that it tickled, so of course, I put more effort into it. She pushed on my shoulders with her hands, her feet dug into my thighs and I finally relented.

My face was a slobbery mess from all the kissing and licking and nipple sucking, so I wiped it dry on her pubic hair. Her neat, trim, gloriously red pubic hair. And then finally, I addressed the lips of her labia with kisses, tongue lashings, and gently bit both with my lips and cautiously with my teeth.

I placed a finger in her opening and watched as her inner lips closed around it. Then I used the flat of my tongue to press against the hood of her clitoris. It was hard underneath and I was careful not to approach it directly. The tip of the tongue can be too sharp of an instrument in these delicate matters.

But pressure was brought to bear, both by me and by her lifting her ass from the bed to force the issue. Then came the tremors, the loud gasps, and then finally the words, “Fuck me.”

Her body was still in turmoil from my attentions and my dick felt every tremor as I pressed it home. I lay still for just the briefest moment, the pressure from her hips begging me to get on with it. Then we began that ageless dance. Like the waltz of the stars, the movements of the planets, and the ever-constant turning of the earth, our bodies met as one, nearly fell apart, then meshed in the unfolding bliss.

After a while, Connie spoke. “I love you Timothy, but I don’t want to be here.”

“Where would we go? We don’t have a car.”

“I could call Jeremy. He would come and get us if I asked.”

We agreed to do that in the morning.


Sometime during the night, Angela joined us. She didn’t wake me, but I became aware of her presence. Her hair was damp and she smelled of soap.

Later I found my morning wood pressed between the pert globes of her all too perfect ass. Just a few moves and I would be shooting jiz onto her spine. Connie sat up, pulled the sheets back, and saw how I was positioned. Instead of pulling me away, she cuddled against my back and used her body to cause my dick to slide up and down, up and down.

Angela stirred slightly, but I don’t know if she knew what was happening until I fired my rockets. Her back and my belly were made slick.

“I’m going to need another shower,” was all she said.

“I think we all need one,” Connie said.

Angela sat up and turned to us. She had a serious look on her face. “Do you guys mind if we head back to San Diego today? We can still go up to Temecula for New Years.”

Connie and I looked at each other and quickly agreed.


Connie’s Uncle Dave was an attorney and he lived on a couple of acres on the outskirts of Murrieta. His New Year's Eve party featured lots of food, lots of booze, and plenty of scantily clad people wandering in and out of the house as well as diving into a large custom pool.

If you have a heated pool, you can almost always have a pool party New Year's Eve. A few years ago, they had a freak snowstorm this time of year, but no chance of it today. The temperature had peaked at 85 degrees, and even with the sun gone, it was still pushing 80.

As if the property wasn't secluded enough, one side of the pool was encased in a tall rock formation. It was probably poured concrete, but it looked real enough to me. There was a stone arch that helped form a secluded grotto. “Never go in there with my Uncle Dave,” Connie cautioned us. Angela raised her eyebrows. “He’s not a total perv, but you have a good chance of losing your top.”

“Your uncle pulled your top off?”

“First time it happened, I was 17. He pulled it down to pop my boobs out, buried his face between them, and then told me the get the heck out of there.”

“Jesus. What did your parents say?”

“They were long gone. They always make an early exit from Uncle Dave’s parties.”

I assumed they were gone before we arrived when I saw a topless Emily come down the water slide. She was clutching her breasts to keep them from bouncing.

“Is this going to turn into an orgy? I asked.

“I doubt it. People have been known to fuck in the grotto, but usually, you’ll see a couple disappear into the pool cabana or head into the house. You know what’s up because it’s difficult to hide an erection wearing swim trunks.”

“Timmy’s doing okay so far,” Angela said. “But you’re brother isn’t.”

Emily was pulling Jeremy out of the pool. He was trying to resist her, but once his obvious erection was above the surface, there was nothing to be done about it. They walked to the small building that housed a toilet and changing rooms.

“Does that door lock?” I asked.

“Nope! There’s a padlock for when things are closed up, but Uncle Dave thinks the lack of guaranteed privacy is part of the fun.”

As the evening progressed, bikini tops were disappearing left and right.
“Now aren’t you glad we came?” Connie asked me.

“I will be when this disappears,” I said, hooking a finger in her cleavage.
“Let’s check out the grotto.”

We had lost sight of Angela some time ago but found her in the grotto sitting on a ledge just above the water. She still had her top on, but her bottoms were missing and some guy was giving her head. He looked up for a moment and we saw it was Tom, the groom from the wedding in Vegas.

“Where is Nancy?” Connie asked with some small element of rebuke.
“She’s in the cabana with your brother and Emily.”

Angela pulled his head back between her legs. Connie had an impish grin on her face. I watched as she reached underwater for Tom’s dick. You could tell from the way his ass clinched that he was both surprised and pleased. Connie met no resistance as she worked his trucks down and off. Then we quickly left the grotto.

“What are you going to do with those?” I asked, glancing at Tom’s trunks.

There was a section of latticework next to the house that had numerous pegs on it. Most were sporting bikini tops. Connie added Tom’s trunks to the mix.

“I don’t see any bottoms on the wall,” I said.

“It’s still early.”

“I wonder what happened to Angela’s?”

“He probably ate them.”

This was a California New Years' Eve party. When the ball dropped in New York at 9:00 Pacific time, everyone cheered, kissed those near them, and a barrage of fireworks was set off. This was repeated for Chicago at 10 and Phoenix at 11. By the time midnight rolled around pretty much everyone in the water was naked, including Connie’s Uncle Dave. Those of us not in the water either were wrapped in towels or blankets as the temperature had dropped quite a bit.

From a rock outcrop over the grotto, Dave stood naked with an equally naked girl on either side of him. Despite shivering in the cool night air, they each had a bottle of champagne, which they shook and sprayed everyone within reach. Then there was another round of fireworks. Dave and the two girls jumped into the pool and swam into the grotto.

“Things have gotten a lot wilder since my Aunt Maddie died.”

Connie and I walked into the house and headed for the bedroom wing. We walked past more people having sex than Tom Cruise did in that Stanley Kubrick movie.

When we got to the room we thought was ours for the night, the door was open, and inside was Angela, Emily, and Nancy performing a three-way sex show to the obvious pleasure of Jeremy and Tom. Both boys sat in chairs with their erections pointing to the sky.

Angela was aggressively finger fucking the other two girls, both of whom had their tongues in Angela’s mouth. Angela’s ass was waving towards the boys, and before we left, Jeremy was approaching her, dick first.

We made our way out to the pool, where we found Connie’s uncle relaxing on a lounge chair, a wrapped in a blanket.

“Uncle Dave?” Connie asked. “We need a room.”

He looked at us with confusion at first, then he laughed. “I should have given you a key so you could keep your door locked.”

He looked us up and down, Connie in particular. “You two are seriously overdressed.”

He got up, wearing his blanket, and asked us to follow him. There was another sliding glass door facing the pool. This one was closed and there were no lights on inside.

Dave punched a few numbers on a panel by the door and slid it open wide enough for him to reach in and switch on a light. It was the master suite.

“We can’t take your room, Uncle Dave!”

“Don’t be silly. I won’t be using it tonight. I like to fuck under the stars,” he said with a raucous laugh. “Just be sure to lock the door and draw the curtains unless you want company or an audience.”

We celebrated the New Year with just the two of us, quietly, gently, and lovingly.


The week before graduation, our acceptance letters from Santa Cruz arrived. Connie and I were thrilled, but Angela cried.

“You could come with us,” Connie offered.

“No. There’s no work for me there and I’m so ready to be done with school. Nathan says he doesn’t have anything for me at the Union-Tribune, but he has a friend

[Jaime Austin]

Coda

Growing up in a religious family in Temecula, California, Connie had always dreamed of a big wedding. I guess if you are the head cheerleader, homecoming queen, and bell of the ball at your high school prom, you expect to be sent off into adulthood in style.

Her parents attended what I would call a big box church. It looked more like a Costco or Home Depot than those pretty little white buildings with tall steeples you see in movies and on Christmas cards.

Inside it was a modern auditorium with projection screens flanking the stage. I guess you call it a stage. The front of the sanctuary. It was bizarre to see Connie’s image up on both screens as her father walked her down the aisle. And I couldn’t help but wonder where all these people came from.

My side of the church was clearly outdone by the bride’s side. There was my mother and grandmother. My roommate Dave was accompanied by Connie’s roommate Milly. Angela with Nathan and Roy. My faculty advisor was there, along with the few classmates I was friends with. There was also Dr. Joe and Giselle plus a few other philosophy students — but not Mark. They could just have easily sat on the bride’s side, except there wouldn’t have been room! I had a few aunts and uncles and of course, my many cousins, most of whom I rarely saw.

Jeremy was indeed my best man, and he reveled in the role. Emily was the maid of honor after all. Angela turned down the role, saying she was willing to attend our wedding but wanted no part in it.

The ceremony was a straightforward affair. Much to the pastor’s consternation, we wrote our own vows. There was no Angela exception, but then there was no statement of fidelity or any admonition to honor and obey. It was just a simple commitment to love, support, and nourish each other from now until the end of time. Things we were already doing.

The bride did not go commando. Not this bride. I suspect the day came pretty close to matching whatever little girl dreams of the perfect wedding Connie had imagined. All except the part where Angela helped me to undress her in our honeymoon suite.

The reception was held at one of the local wineries Temecula is famous for. A big hacienda on a hill overlooking countless acres of vineyard. You couldn’t ask for a more beautiful venue.

Connie’s Uncle Dave made fun of the fact that his straight-laced brother insisted on a cash bar. Wine and champagne were served as part of the meal, of course. But if anyone wanted more, they would have to pay for it themselves.

I mentioned the bride did not go commando. There was one little boy who had to be 10 years old or less, who seemed determined to find out. At the ceremony of the garter, he was on his knees, doing his best to look up the bridal gown.

And what a gown it was. White lace from tip to stern, with a serious train. All during the dancing, Connie had it draped over her arm so that no one would step on it.

No one seemed to notice when Angela left the banquet hall, nor that Nathan and Roy left the winery without her. Earlier in the day, I had slipped her a key to our suit, and she used it like a thief in the night to enter our room well ahead of us.

Was ever a bride undressed with more loving attention than Connie on her wedding night? I seriously doubt it. So many buttons, so many fasteners, Angela and I had our work cut out for us.

And so many garments! The train was a separate item, and the gown seemed to be made of multiple layers and sections that had to be undone and carefully removed. It took forever to get her stripped to her underwear and even then we were not finished. There was a slip, then a camisole. Stockings and a real garter belt that no one, other than that precocious ten-year-old, saw.

Angela left the bra for me, saying that was only fitting. I removed it and covered her pink freckled breasts with dozens of kisses. The panties, which we laughed about because they looked like granny panties except for all the frills and lacework, were a team effort. One on either side of her, we slowly drew them down revealing the crushed mass of her red pubic hair.

She stood there for a moment, like a goddess being adored by her minions, then Angela pushed her back on the bed and began to use that magic tongue of hers while I quickly removed my far simpler clothes.

Once naked, I crawled onto the bed next to Angela.

“You have far too many clothes on,” I told her.

“Don’t make her stop,” Connie said softly and I watched as Angela continued to devour my bride. I tried to unfasten Angela’s clothes, but it was the same outfit she wore in Vegas, a one-piece pantsuit with various diaphanous layers and I had no clue how to proceed. Why she hadn’t taken it off before we arrived was beyond me.

Connie clutched my hand and pulled me close to her. She wanted my lips on hers and I was more than willing to oblige. Her eyes were open and locked on mine. As her breathing increased she held me tighter and even as we kissed, our tongues dueling in time to her breathing, we never once looked away.

Then her orgasm arrived and her eyes went wide. It was like she was looking through me, through the walls of the winery, and into another reality altogether. She still held me tight, but where her thoughts were, if she had any thoughts beyond the extreme pleasure of her climax, I could not say.

Angela placed a sloppy kiss on my ass as she rose from the bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her carefully remove her outfit. Evidently, it was quite a simple process if you knew how. Meanwhile, Connie looked like a redheaded rag doll that someone had dropped by accident. If her eyes weren’t open, I would have thought she was asleep.

Angela’s underwear matched the pale off-white color of her clothes. She was looking at me as she undid her bra and dropped it on the floor. She caressed her nipples, already hard as stones, before slowly lowering her panties. She was doing this as a performance. Maybe for me. Maybe for Connie, although I don’t think my bride was conscious of it.

Angela’s pubic hair was only slightly matted by her panties. She revealed her bush in stages. First, just a hint of tawny hair, then a few more inches, when she paused to fluff what was visible. Finally, her panties were just below where her legs met, her full bush on display. Again, she used her fingers to fluff her marvelous mane of tight little curls.

I felt Connie’s fingers as she slowly grasped my cock. She had a gentle touch, as though she were just trying to take the measure of my erection. Did she mind that my eyes were glued to Angela’s display? Or had she joined me in admiring the unveiling?

Angela turned away from us to bend down, remove her panties and pick up her bra. She took two steps further away from us to lay them carefully on her clothes. Then she just stood still for a moment, turning just her head to see if we were both admiring her firm round ass.

Her smile said it all. I turned to Connie and she had to take her eyes off Angela to meet mine. She tightened her grip on me and said, “It’s a shame he only has one of these.”

“Isn’t it though,” Angela agreed, coming to the bed. “It’s a shame this bed wouldn’t fit in our apartment.” It was a California King. Perfect for the three of us.

“But we have it tonight,” Connie observed, now gently stroking my manhood.

Angela bent low to take the tip of my penis in her mouth, while Connie continued to stroke me. Without a word being spoken, or a gesture being made, we quietly formed a triangle on the bed. Angela held me in her mouth, my erection growing harder by the moment. Connie lay on her side, one knee raised toward the ceiling so that my cheek could rest on her thigh, my tongue lapping up the mess that she and Angela had created earlier. Angela formed much the same position, with Connie using her tongue and fingers to part the lush fur of her bush and pleasure her secret place.

It was a sweet moment, but it could not last. As much as I loved her, I had no desire to cum in Angela’s mouth. No, I wanted to fuck my wife.

I rolled away from the two girls and stood looking down at them. My erection, slick from Angela’s ministrations, pointed straight up. I met each woman’s gaze in turn, then lowered myself onto my beautiful wife’s pink freckled body.

No one needed to guide my dick. I was in with one quick action. We were both wet and ready. This was no gentle, sweet fuck, I was driving like a madman and Connie rocked her hips and raised her legs to meet my every thrust.

Angela positioned herself above Connie’s head, and caught her feet, pulling them toward herself. The contact between my love and I was so total, so intense that we were both panting like sprinters near the goal line of an impossibly long race.

Connie trembled in ecstasy, turning her face into Angela’s thigh, latching onto it with her lips, and sucking until she left an impressive love bite. Then she realized that I was still hard and had not cum.

“Angela?” she asked softly. “I think there may be a little left for you if you want it.”

I barely had the time to feel the airconditioned air on my dick from the time I left Connie until I was buried in Angela. I tried to hold back, not wanting this to end too soon, but Angela was aggressively grinding into me.

“You know you want to be on top,” Connie said. Angela must have agreed because both women were rolling me onto my back, my dick still engulfed in Angela’s tight vagina.

Now all I had to do was lay there. Angela did all the work. She rocked and lifted and rolled from one side to the other directing the pressure of our connection to various parts of her most intimate places.

Connie was behind Angela, arms wrapped around her friend. Fingers stroking nipples, diving to where our bodies met, and then carrying the moisture she found to Angela’s lips. I could feel Angela’s orgasm build and when it arrived, I thought I would explode, but I was still hard as a rock. I hadn’t yet cum.

Angela climbed off of me and the two girls stared in amazement.

“Did you take something?” Angela asked.

I shyly confessed that I had. Connie’s Uncle Dave had slipped me some Viagra and suggested it might make for a memorable wedding night.

At first, they were mad, then they were laughing. They took turns squeezing my erection and wondering just how long I could last.

“Not much longer,” I assured them.

Connie told me to lay back against the pillows and both girls lay between my legs to deliver a blow job for the ages. Two sets of lips, two tongues, two mouths. I had never felt such pleasure in my life.

“Tell us before you cum,” Connie said. “We want to watch.”

I barely had time to warn them before jet after jet of jiz shot from my dick. It was everywhere. On me, on the girls. In their hair. Even in my hair!

Angela had a finger covered in semen which she promptly licked clean. “That is the most jiz I have ever seen.”

“Really?” Connie asked. “More than Roy?”

I might have been fading away after that monster orgasm, but this woke me up.

“You’ve been with Roy?”

“Timothy,” Connie said patiently, “I told you she hooked up with them.”

“But you didn’t say she fucked Roy.”

“I haven’t. He’s really not that fond of me. Nathan had to bully him into letting me blow him.”

“And his big balls produced less cum than Timothy?”

“Well, it might not have been his first cum of the day.”

The shower was big enough for the three of us, and thanks to Uncle Dave’s magic boner pills, I managed to entertain my beloveds through much of the night.



Connie’s parents treated us to a honeymoon on Maui. We had a small apartment just a few miles north of Lahaina and a tiny Mazda 2 to explore the island with. The apartment was even smaller than our future home in Santa Cruz. That unit even had a stacked washer and dryer, here in Hawaii we had a single washer/dryer, you know, one of those machines that both wash and dry a load of clothes,  tucked under the kitchen counter.

But what the apartment lacked in space, it made up for with its view. An end unit, there were huge windows on two walls giving us a 270-degree view of the islands of Lanai and Molokai.

The apartment building had a tiny beach. On our first evening there we encountered two women, probably in their sixties, trying to take a selfie that included a bucket of Coronas.

“It’s our ‘we found our beach’ picture.”

I offered to take a photo for them and got a great shot of the two women, the ocean in the background, and the bucket of Corona beer. They in turn took a picture of Connie and I, the island of Molokai visible in the distance. We had the photo printed and mounted and it hangs on the wall of our living room to this day.

We booked a tour of Molokai, which became the highlight of our trip. The island was peaceful, uncrowded, and full of beautiful vistas. One such vista was the Kalaupapa lookout. From there you could see what was once the famous leper colony where Father Damien took care of those afflicted with Hansen’s Disease.

From there, a small hike into the forest led you to the famous Molokai phallus. Only a few members of our tour group chose to go look at it. It’s a huge rock formation that indeed looks like a ten-foot-tall phallus rising out of the earth. It’s base an enormous ball sack only partly visible. Legend has it that if a maiden spends the night by the rock, she will be pregnant in the morning.

We weren’t going to put that to the test, but after the others began to head back, I took several photos of Connie, positioned away from the rock, so she could appear to be giving it a blow job. The tip of the phallus is split, looking like it’s about to unload. We got a picture where Connie appears to be sticking her tongue in there. No one but Angela would ever see those photos.

As we headed back to our tour group, Connie said, “You know, it looks more like an angry tortoise than an erect penis to me.” I looked back and had to agree. The balls looked a lot like a turtle shell, and that split at the tip implied he was ready to spit!

There was a young couple we kept running into as we explored the island. Turns out they were also newlyweds and also from San Diego. We agreed to have dinner with them at Bubba Gump Shrimp one night. They were staying in Lahaina and had taken a few tours, but they didn’t get around all that much without a car.

“Have you ever been to Black’s Beach?” the husband asked us.

Connie blushed slightly as I said that we had.

He continued to tell us about Maui’s only clothing-optional beach. He even had detailed directions to get there, just no car. So we agreed that the four of us would crowd in the smallest car I had ever driven, and check it out.

Makena State Park is south of Wailea on the narrow, two-lane Makena Road. The key thing is the road is paved, the whole way into the parking lot. The car rental agent made a big deal of telling us that absolutely no off-road driving was permitted.

The official parking lot, with lines on the pavement, was full, but we managed to find a spot where people were creating their own parking. A more substantial vehicle could not have fit there. Then we hiked to Big Beach, which was quite lovely, and walked to the northern end. If it wasn’t for people coming toward us, I would have thought beach access ended at a lava rock outcrop. But no, there was a narrow pathway cut through the rocks that led you to the much smaller beach.

The view was to die for. Classic Hawaiian, sun-baked sand under swaying palms. Gentle ocean waves crashing on the shore and in the distance, the island of  Kaho’olawe, and closer, the crest of Molokini Crater just above the surface of the water.

The beach was a lot more crowded than Black’s Beach, and most people were dressed in swimwear. But some naked people were in the water and lying on blankets in the sun.

Connie was hesitant to strip, but our new-found friends were hardly shy. Before we were naked, they had lost their clothes and were dancing in the waves.

As usual, I sprayed Connie with SPF 50 lotion. She was topless at first, but then when I went fully nude, she lost her bottoms and I enjoyed spraying lotion on every exposed inch of her body.

We had cautioned our friends that we couldn’t stay long. Even SPF 50 didn’t last forever and we didn’t need Connie turning into a lobster. They came back to our blankets before Connie’s spray-on sunscreen had dried.

“But you have tan lines!” Leo said with some surprise.

“Yes, I do tan a little. But like most redheads, I need to be careful. I burn very easily.”

Leo seemed to enjoy checking out her tan lines a bit more than I thought necessary, so I was glad to leave them behind when we went into the water.

I was standing in ankle-deep water when a wave rushed around me, nearly bowling me over. The water was so warm and felt wonderful as it caressed my balls.

“So is the ocean giving you a blow job?” Connie asked with a laugh.

“You know,” I said, “I think it is!”

We went further into the water until the swells, when they came, covered us up to our necks, and no one on shore would even know we were naked.

Looking back to shore, I said, “I’m getting a weird vibe from Leo.”

“Me, too. You know, I can’t even remember his wife’s name.”

I laughed as I couldn’t think of it either. She kept calling him Leo, but I couldn’t remember him ever using her name. One of them must have mentioned it at some point.

“I think we need to drop them off in Lahaina and then maybe get dinner at a restaurant closer to our hotel.”

“I hate to give up the views you get in Lahaina,” Connie lamented, but we both agreed the couple was creeping us out.

After a few hours, even with an additional application of sunscreen, Connie’s skin was turning red.

“Sorry, guys,” I said, “but we’ve got to go.”

On the way back to Lahaina, Leo asked about our dinner plans. Connie had things covered.

“I promised Timothy a candlelight dinner on our balcony. Just the two of us, steaks rare, a fine bottle of wine, and the sunset.”

Leo looked disappointed but his wife said she thought it sounded lovely, but they didn’t have a view from their hotel. If she was fishing for an invitation, she was out of luck.

We did not have dinner on our balcony, but we did consume fine steaks and even finer wine at an excellent eatery not far from our apartment. The wine was so fine and so plentiful that I had to be extra cautious on the short drive home. Connie was navigator and driving coach, and we both issued a sigh of relief when we pulled into the parking lot.

We didn’t dine on our balcony that night, but we did have sex there. The lights were out, no one could see us. Connie had her hands on the balcony railing, I took her from behind. Our foreplay had begun in the car, continued on our walk to our building, and if anyone had been in the elevator with us, we would probably have been arrested!

The hallway was more of an elongated balcony, apartments on one side, a railing, and mountain views on the other. No one ventured out to observe whose hands were where, why we paused to giggle and kiss. By the time we were in the apartment clothes were coming off, kisses were becoming more urgent and we were very soon out on that balcony, gently fucking to the sounds of the waves and the twinkling of the stars.

“That’s Molokai out there?” Connie asked.

I said that it was.
“Wouldn’t it be great if there was someone there with a night vision telescope watching us fuck?”

“Maybe they would send us pictures?”

About that time we heard a cough from a nearby balcony. We ran into the apartment, laughing so hard I almost lost my erection. Almost.



A few weeks later, back in California, we were headed north on highway 101. Don’t ask me why, but no one calls it the 101. I was driving a u-haul truck with all our worldly possessions, and Angela was following in her Prius. Connie alternated between the two vehicles, changing places every time we stopped.

According to Google Maps, the scenic route along the coast would only cost us an extra twenty minutes, which seemed a reasonable investment of our time.

Between traffic and driving at U-haul speeds, it took us nearly 8 hours to make the trip. We camped on the floor of the apartment, leaving unpacking until the next day.

Angela was a great help in getting the place set up. After returning the U-haul, we drove to the Ikea in San Jose to purchase desks and a few other necessities.

The second night, we had our bedroom complete, and the three of us were almost too tired to fuck. Almost.

Angela cried, of course. She hated to leave us, but she had her life to live and we all hated it but understood it just the same. Maybe it bothered me more than I was willing to admit. It was going to be very strange to have Angela so far away.

I couldn’t sleep and crawled out of bed. I looked back at these two women who I loved. They were side by side, Connie on her back, Angela laying face down. Light from the window fell across the bed. The twin curves of Angela’s ass looked like the twin moons of some distant planet. Below them lay the verdant patch of Connie’s mound of Venus. Her red pubic hair looked almost brown in the pale light.

I found my phone, made sure it was in silent mode, and carefully, lovingly, documented these two beauties. I took pictures from every angle but always returned to the view that first caught my eye.

Standing there, I thought to myself, maybe Dave was right, maybe I am the luckiest man in California. But then I thought, no, the luck belongs to us three. No matter what the future brings, I thought, we will always be a trio. I set my phone down, gently inserted myself between the two sleeping women, and then gently, blissfully,  drifted off to sleep.

The End