Three to Come Page 5

  He captured my fingertip between his lips and nipped, then touched it with a soothing, wet tongue. When I shivered again, this time with renewed desire, Larry moved up behind me. His long legs stretched out on either side of my hips and the heat of his body warmed my back. When he scooted closer, I felt the pressure of his cock against my spine, and knew he was naked. Another shiver, and in response he came even closer, nestling my body against his, until his warmth soaked into my back and penetrated to my core. “Drink your wine,” he said, his voice little more than a ghostly whisper in my ear. “You need sustenance.”

  I tipped the glass, swallowed. As the bubbles tickled my nose, the heady wine slid down my throat and warmed me to the core. I let my head fall back against him, felt his chin dig tenderly into the top of my shoulder.

  A touch on my ankle made me open my eyes. They had drifted shut as I relaxed into Larry’s embrace. Pete was pulling my legs out straight, one on either side of him. His hands were warm—no, they were hot, burning hot. As he positioned each leg, he stroked up to the knee, higher to the soft, tender, sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Oh, God! I wanted to scissor my legs together and catch him. Wanted to pull him close and make him push inside me.

  He still wore his slacks, fine wool, pleated, loose-cut slacks. Usually they hid evidence of his manhood so well. I’d wondered how big he was, but now I saw. The wool molded itself over his groin, and I saw the shape of him. As stocky and wide as the man himself. He might not touch a woman’s tonsils—where had I read that silly comment?—but she would know he was inside her. I wondered if I could accommodate a penis of that diameter. With that thought, I felt the juices flow even more, until my panties were soaked and I knew I was leaving a wet spot on the satin bedspread.

  No, not a bedspread, I realized, as I felt a momentary concern. Someone had tossed the spread and blankets aside, and we sat on ecru satin sheets, slick, warm and soft. I hoped they were washable.

  Oh, God! why am I thinking of stuff like this? I forced my mind away from the mundane—where it spent far too much time—and to the men at hand. Larry was still behind me, and his fingers were stroking back and forth under the elastic back of my bra. I wanted to scream at him to stop. To take the damned thing off, to touch me...touch me...touch me!

  And then he did. A quick movement of his hand and the bra fell from my breasts, leaving me all but naked. My peach nylon panties were little concealment, especially with the crotch soaked with the fluid of my desire. I felt the bra slide past my arms, and it was gone.

  In the next instant, Pete’s mouth closed on my nipple. He suckled, and I gasped as I felt the draw of his mouth clear to my vagina, to my clit. I could feel the pressure of my panties against tender, delicate tissue, could feel a wrinkle in the slick satin sheet I sat upon.

  While Larry slowly, lazily stroked a thumb across the other nipple, I burned. Every flick of Pete’s tongue, every caress of Larry’s thumb sent arrows of fire down a myriad of nerve ending. I tingled up my spine, down my thighs, deep into the very feminine core of my being. And as I writhed, wanting friction to ease the throb of blood in my cunt, Pete stopped massaging my legs and rolled to one side.

  Come back, I wanted to scream. Come back. Touch me again!

  Instead he stood at the side of the bed and unbuckled his belt. Unbuttoned the slacks. Slo-o-o-wly unzipped them. And let them fall.

  He wore no underwear, as I’d suspected, His cock sprang huge and erect before his belly, its head dark red and already showing a droplet of moisture at its tip. The curling hair surrounding the base of that thick shaft was as gleaming gold as the hair on his head. His balls were tight against his body. I stared, again wondering how that cock would feel, pushing inside me, stretching me, filling me.

  He knelt and crawled back toward me. My legs were still open and he came right up between them, until his cock was staring me in the face.

  An inch from my lips.

  “Doesn’t it look good enough to eat?” Larry said, from behind me. “Wouldn’t you like to wrap your tongue around it, try to swallow it? How far inside could you take it, Cilla? Could you take the head, or more?”

  He had risen to his knees too, and I felt the hardness of him between my shoulder blades. His hands no longer reached under my arms but came down, over my shoulders and across the tops of my breasts. He caught the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and rolled them. It hurt. Oh, yes, such exquisite pleasure/pain. I cried out, and when my mouth opened, Pete’s cock slipped inside.

  Hot. Oh, so hot. So soft/hard. So pulsing, pushing. I licked the salty drop from the tip and savored it. Without volition, my right hand lifted, closed around his balls. Their pebbly surface imprinted my palm, and I wondered how long the pattern would remain there, reminding me of this night.

  I sucked, and Pete groaned. He thrust and withdrew, nearly choking me until I adjusted to the size of him and the penetration. I was ready to take him even deeper, but he withdrew, with a groan.

  “God, woman, you’ve got a mouth on you,” he muttered, sitting back on his heels. “I would’ve come in another second.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath.

  “My turn,” Larry said, from behind me. I felt him backing away, and was bereft. His hands had been so warm. So soothing. So arousing.

  “Lar, she’s still got clothes on,” Pete said. “Are we gonna let her get away with that?” Larry stretched out so that he lay along my side. “Clothes? My goodness, so she does.” His fingers crept under the leg of my panties and pulled. The nylon and lace stretched. “We can’t have this,” he said. “Lie down, Cilla.”

  Mindlessly, helplessly, I obeyed. I slid down on the bed, rolled to my side.

  “Uh-uh, on your back.” Pete commanded. “Here. Use this.” He slid a fat pillow up beside me. “Put your head here.”

  I did, and relaxed into the downy depths of it. Until Larry took hold of my panties. His hand slipped under one side and gathered the fabric tight. In one smooth motion, he’d stripped them down, over my none-too-slim hips and down my thighs. I felt them leave streaks of wetness as they slid, and swallowed in embarrassment.

  Pete must have understood, because he said. “So wet with your honey, Cilla. A woman should weep honey like that. It shows her body knows what it’s supposed to be doing. A woman wet with this—” He lifted the panties to his face, inhaled. “She can’t lie about her desire.” He inhaled again, then pressed the panties against his face before tossing them over one shoulder.

  Larry, meanwhile, had been kissing his way from my foot to my knee. More than once I twitched as he nipped me, not hurting, but a gentle pain like no other I’d ever felt. When he reached my knee, he kissed and nipped his way down the other leg. Somehow at the end of his journey, he ended up kneeling between my legs.

  Automatically I tried to pull them together, but he was in the way.

  “Don’t try to hide, Cilla. Don’t you know that there’s no prettier sight than a woman’s petals, her sexy little bud, her inviting, open cunt. You just make me want to climb in and stay forever.” He touched me then, a fairy-touch, a butterfly-wing stroke that had me arching my back in an attempt to prolong the sensation. His thumb moved idly, not quite touching my clit, but making itself felt nonetheless.

  “You’re ready, aren’t you? Oh, yes, I can feel it. I can smell it. You want me. You want me to fuck you. Deep and hard. Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I panted, “Oh, yes.”

  I had forgotten Pete, as Larry had tortured me. But no longer. Because just then his thighs framed my head and he leaned over my face. “This isn’t going to work, you know. She can’t reach me.”

  Larry sat back on his heels. “You’re right. There’s got to be a better way. She needs us both at once, not taking turns.”

  “Wait a minute!”

  “No problem,” Pete said at the same time. “There are ways. D’you want head or pussy?”

  “Toss you for it?”

  “Just take your pick, Lar. Which do you want first
?”

  “Pussy, then.” He leered at me, then winked. I’ve never seen a grown man so much like a bent-on-mischief kid. “Are you game, Cilla? I promise we won’t hurt you, and I guarantee we’ll pleasure you. But I need to know the limits before we start.”

  I swallowed. Although my fantasies had always been on the adventurous side, I’d never been one to experiment with unusual positions. Bill didn’t enjoy oral sex, so I’d never really had an opportunity to see if I liked it or not. One the other hand... “Noting un-unnatural,” I faltered, not completely sure what I meant.

  “Right,” Pete said. “We’ll keep it nice.” He grinned. “But not so nice it’s no fun.”

  No guarantee, but somehow I knew I could trust Pete to stay within whatever boundaries I set, now or later. I nodded.

  The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, surrounded by men. Well, only two men, but they seemed to outnumber me by way more than that as they knelt, large and somehow overpowering, on either side of me.

  “First we need to make sure you’re ready,” Larry said, his voice dripping syrup. He leaned forward and took my nipple into his mouth.

  On the other side, Pete did the same.

  It was as if they shared thoughts. Their hands touched me in unison, their mouths followed parallel paths from breasts to throat to mouth, back to breasts, to navel, and on down until warm breath warmed my clit. But neither of them touched it. Soon their hands were between my legs, pressing on my mound, squeezing my buttocks. I was so caught up in what was happening to me that I lost all sense of time, of place. I became one enormous mass of sensation, yet I was nowhere near orgasm. It was like being outdoors on the first warm, sunny day of spring. I needed to soak up all the warmth I could, because my body was parched and dry.

  An eternity later, Larry rose to his knees. For the first time I really noticed his penis. It was enormous. I had though Pete large—and he was, in diameter. But Larry’s was long—just like his tongue. I gulped. If he stuck that all the way into me, I would feel it on my tonsils.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Pete rolled onto his back. “Do me, Cilla. Take me into your sweet mouth and suck me off. But gently, slowly. Take your time.”

  I stared at him. I’d been able to take him into my mouth for those few short seconds, but would I be able to keep him there long enough for him to come. Without gagging or choking half to death.

  “Sure you can,” He grinned. “Just take it easy.” With a wiggled of his hips, he made his cock move invitingly. “Here, kneel between my legs.”

  I did. And bent to touch the tip of him with my tongue. He smelled of musk and sex and a faint hint of the spicy aftershave he always wore. And he tasted like...like more. I swirled my tongue around the tip of him. Then closed my lips over him. Suckled.

  “Whoa! Not too much of that.”

  “I’ll distract you,” Larry said from behind me. “Can you get up on your hands and knees?”

  I sat back on my heels, with this awful vision in my mind of my breasts hanging like a cow’s udder and my belly sagging. “No, I’d rather not.”

  The men exchanged a glance.

  “You don’t want us to see you in such an awkward position, do you?” Larry sounded as if he understood.

  I nodded.

  “Well, I won’t promise to close my eyes, but I will guarantee that I won’t be paying attention to what you look like, Cilla. See this?” He held out his hand. It shook with a fine tremor. “I want you so bad I’m almost sick with it.”

  He took me into his arms. “Cilla,” he said, he face close to mine, “all that’s happened until now has been foreplay. Tonight is our last chance. I want to make love to you. And I promise—I give you my word, sweetheart—that I don’t give a flying fuck what you look like when I’m inside of you. All I care about is how we fit together, how we pleasure one another, how much joy we share. Understand?”

  I nodded, unable to get words past the lump in my throat. What had seemed like a lark, a daring, sexy adventure a couple of hours ago—heck, a couple of minutes ago—was now so much more than that. In some oddly temporary way we were committing ourselves to each other.

  I glanced at Pete, and he was nodding. “Me too, Cilla. This is our moment out of time. Fate gives us occasional precious moments, and tonight is ours. I won’t close my eyes, because I guarantee that you can’t be ugly or awkward to me. You’re beautiful—and tonight I love you.”

  Still I hesitated.

  “One more thing,” Larry said. “If you want to back out now, do it. This is important to me—to us—but not as important as having you feel good about it. You’ve got to want this as much as we do, or it’s not going to work.”

  His mouth firmed, but his eyes pled with me.

  I held out my hands to them. ‘“You are two of the nicest men I’ve ever know. Thank you for trusting me as you have, and thank you for wanting to share one night with you. I’ll stop worrying. I trust you.

  “More than trust. You said it, Larry, Tonight—just for tonight—I love you. Both of you.”

  Their arms went around me. We three held each other in a solid, loving embrace, skin to skin, our hearts pounding in anticipation, and in a shared rhythm.

  Chapter Eight

  All that happened after that is a blur. A lovely, erotic blur bejeweled with some vivid memories.

  I remember once...

  Larry was behind me. Curled around me spoon fashion. My leg lay over his and one of his was between mine. His cock pushed between my legs. He slid it in...and in...and in, until I really, truly did think I could feel it with my tonsils. I was full as I’d never been before. When he moved, I wanted to scream, because it was such delicious, incredible torture. But I couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing, because Pete’s cock was probing at my lips, demanding entrance. I opened to him. And took in that enormous, that thick and glistening shaft. I gagged, then found a way to hold him inside. My tongue found a path around the slick, fleshy head. Discovered a tiny fissure in which it could probe. Because he was in front of me, I could use my hands on him, and I did. I clutched his balls, squeezed just a little.

  And this time he screamed. Moaned? I don’t know what to call the sound he made, agonized, and ecstatic all at once. I clasped both hands around him, squeezed, as he started pumping into me.

  But I was quickly distracted, as Larry pulled almost all the way out, then pushed inside again. Slowly. So-o-o-o slowly. His enormous cock filled me again, until I could feel its tip at the very entrance of my uterus. Oh...my...God! I had never felt anything like this before. I was impaled. I pulled away, to escape the awful pressure, yet in the next instant I was pushing back with all my strength.

  I wanted...deep, hard and deep. I wanted to feel the hard strength of him all the way to my belly. I writhed and twisted on him, yet at the same time, I was sucking on the monstrous shaft filling my mouth. Larry slammed into me, shaking my whole body, and with each slam, I sucked harder.

  I felt the climax coming, a wave of heat, a pressure climbing from my toes, tightening my calves, stiffening my knees, hardening my thighs. The heat rose like a wildfire, until I wanted to scream with the pain of it—with the pleasure of it. And then it hit. I did scream, I know, because the memory of the sound is still in my head.

  I screamed and Larry yelled and Pete shouted.

  Larry was rigid against my back, his hands clutching my breasts with a painful grasp. Pete’s legs were wrapped around me, his hands were clutched tight in my hair. And his spurting cock was all but choking me as he pumped himself into my mouth.

  I swallowed the salty gism, loving the flavor of it—of him—on my tongue.

  Gradually we all came to rest. Pete’s cock shriveled a little, until I had to hold it between my teeth, or lose it. I opened my mouth and let it free. It slipped down to lie quiescently against my throat. I licked my lips, taking the last bits of Pete-flavor into my mouth.

  Bill had said once that ejaculate was unsanit
ary and far too salty to be ingested.

  I thought it was delicious. Like dessert. But I’m not a doctor. All I could think of was that it would be good with champagne.

  Larry’s arms held me tightly against him. He was still inside me, still filling me, but without the insistent pressure of before. I felt a trickle of moisture ooze out of my vagina, and knew he’d come far more than I could contain.

  I wondered what he tasted like. Different from Pete?

  “Sweet Cilla,” he said, rising onto his elbow so he could kiss me on the mouth. “I can hardly wait to taste your pussy.”

  I felt the heart of embarrassment flood my whole body. He must have too, because he said, “You didn’t think I’d let you give and not ever take. Next time...” He kissed me a gain. A promise of more delights.

  He lay back down behind me again and cupped my breast in his hand. “It’s so comfortable here.” He pressed against me and I felt his penis grow hard again.

  Already? We’d barely finished.

  He did nothing more, though. And neither did Pete. Not right then. I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew was when Pete rolled away from me. At the same time, Larry scooted back and sat up. “We need more champagne,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  While he refilled our flutes, Pete was arranging the bed. He gathered the fat down pillows into a pile in the middle, then he sat back on his heels and looked at them. “I want to eat you,” he said, “but I don’t know where to put Larry.”

  The shiver of anticipation that shot from my head to my heels left me gasping. I’d never had more than one orgasm in a night in my life. Was he seriously planning to entice another one from me?

  Oh, God, will I disappoint him? For a moment I wished I’d never agreed to this insane adventure.

  “No, this won’t work. There’s got to be a better way.” Pete moved the pillows, making a pile at the edge of the bed. “There,” the said, once he had them laid in a brickwork pattern. That should work. “Come here, Cilla.”

  I let him arrange me as he wished, wondering what he had in mind. He made me lie on top of two of the fat pillows, with my legs hanging over the edge of the bed. He stepped back and looked at me, making me grow hot with embarrassment. As if sensing how I felt, he leaned over me and kissed my belly. “Stop fretting, Cilla. Don’t you know nothing you do tonight is unattractive to us? Just relax and enjoy. We are.”