Читать книгу Come Play With Me Again: A Mischief Erotica Collection - Justine Elyot, Alegra Verde - Страница 6

‘You did what?’

‘I lost you last night at poker.’

Even though I hear the words again, it’s hard to wrap my head around them. I don’t feel lost. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m right where I belong.

Brad and I are in bed, recovering from our usual Wednesday-night sexathon – our ‘Wet Wednesday’ – that begins immediately after work and lasts until we can’t go any more, with occasional breaks for absolute necessities: food, fluids and trips to the bathroom. There aren’t usually many breaks, though. We much prefer what we’re doing in the bedroom.

Wet Wednesdays are our Happy Hump Days, our midweek celebrations of sex that carry the two of us from long, lazy Sunday afternoons in bed to Friday up-half-the-night fucking sessions. Other weeknights we’re busy, tired, distracted by other things as often as not. Sex, sad to say, isn’t always our highest priority. But on Wednesdays, we don’t cook, we don’t even answer the phone. We don’t schedule anything for the evening but us. We try something new, get down and dirty, block out the world and focus on each other.

Tonight has been typical: I arrive to find Brad’s car already parked outside the apartment building, since it was my turn to pick up dinner on the way home. I balance a pizza in one hand as I manoeuvre the key into the lock and enter to find Brad on the sofa, jeans open, cock in hand, a grin on his face.

‘Welcome home, baby. You got here just in time. The party’s about to start.’

I walk over to kiss my man, lay the pizza box down on the coffee table and then bend down farther to kiss the head of his cock. Mmmm. Lick it a little. Even better. Slide my mouth around the entire mushroom end and suck sweetly, just the way I know he likes. Just until I taste the tiniest droplet of precome on my tongue. Just until I hear that groan out of Brad that makes my own honey start to run.

That’s one thing Brad and I have in common – our steady streams of natural lube. He calls me ‘Slick’ because of how quickly he can make me wet, how easily my juice flows down and out, coating the swollen lips of my pussy, glazing my thighs, running (if he has me on my back) down between my split until it preps not only my cunt to take in his thick hard cock but also my tight-pink-rose behind. It puddles on the sheet. My man loves the wet spots I leave on the bed, the evidence of how much he arouses me, stud that he is.

He delights in teasing out my wet as much as I love doing the same to him, working him deftly until I feel the slow but constant drip, drip, drip of him on my tongue while I’m licking, sucking, fucking him with my mouth. The taste of his essence is just one of the reasons I love running my tongue over his swollen shaft, sucking at his head as if drawing on the end of a massive straw; pulling at it with my mouth the way I bring up the dregs of a soft drink from the bottom of a cup where there’s little left but a few spoonfuls of melting ice. Listening to the slurp.

Only that’s at the end of the drink. This is the beginning. I love the beginning.

I love taking him into my warm, wet mouth while I grasp him lower, on his shaft: one hand midway, one at the root. My man’s a whopper, veiny and thick, and it takes both hands to give him what he needs: the first release of the evening. I hold him tight in my hands, stroking up towards my tongue, the tongue I am circling his crown with, the tongue I am using to tease his frenulum, the tongue I am darting in and out of his sweet slit, licking, licking, searching for that next drop of deliciousness I know he has for me: the salt of the earth.

I sink to my knees then, between his, help pull his pants down to get at his balls, and slip one hand off his shaft to massage them gently. Next I replace that hand with my mouth to suck his warm nuts. He groans. While I am loving them, I continue to work his shaft, and I feel it continue to swell under my expert hands.

When Brad sits forward on the sofa, I know it’s time for me to get fucked, and I relax my throat to take him in as far as he’ll go, knowing this means my lips will be kissing his torso, his thick cock all the way in me, in my mouth, my ‘other pussy’ that welcomes and loves my big hard man.

And then I feel it, that last moment before he comes, when his balls rise up and his head swells that last little bit and he pulls out of my throat to shoot down it, spurt after spurt of warm, thick cream. I milk his shaft with my hands, emptying him of every drop. I suck and lick his tender head, cleaning him with my tongue. ‘Christ, Dana,’ my man groans as if in pain, yet I know he is spent and happy. His head is thrown back on the sofa, his face bathed in bliss.

‘What, baby?’ I ask, my head resting a moment on his knee.

‘Nothing. Just – Christ!’ I smile. He’s beyond words, beyond sense. I like taking him there, leaving him speechless.

After a minute, Brad pulls himself back together and goes to fetch us plates and napkins. I eat a slice as Brad wolfs down two. He grabs a beer from the fridge for each of us and follows me into the bedroom. I’ve already kicked off my shoes, and Brad helps me out of the rest of my clothes and into my Wednesday-night attire: a loose T-shirt, cropped so short it barely covers my breasts. I love when he helps me undress like this, goes into my drawers to pick out what he wants me to wear, helps me put on one of the sexy tops he favours for fucking. He often babies me like this on Wednesdays; it’s part of our special midweek ritual, a subtle reminder to both of us that he’s the man in charge, while I’m at his beck and call when it comes to sex. He decides he wants panties on me tonight, so I leave them on.

Whatever my man wants in bed, I give him. It’s always been that way. My mother taught me long ago: ‘When you find the right man, you let him be the boss, Dana, and you be sure to always give him what he wants, what he likes. Please him. You treat him like a man, and he’ll treat you like a woman.’ I knew even then – I was barely fourteen – she was talking about sex. So far, it’s proved to be damn good advice. Just ask Brad.

He’s still in his jeans, but that’s because he wants to start me out with a good-girl spanking, over his knee, to lead us to the next focus of the evening: my pussy. He knows how wet he can get me with a dozen or two (or three) well-placed smacks on my all too eager derrière, and he likes to deliver them with me nearly – or entirely – naked, with him fully dressed or at least wearing pants. I’ve had all the cock I’m going to get for now. Until I’m spanked, soaking wet, sucked, licked, fingered and fully teased, and have begged him – begged him – for his cock, it won’t be sliding into my hot wet hole.

He begins, as he always does, by massaging my cheeks, an action that ups the ante between my legs. I feel my clit start to pulse in anticipation of what I know is coming. The first slap is playful, and I can’t keep back that sex-fuelled laugh that eggs Brad on whenever he hears it. It’s a sultry sound, I know, and it bubbles out of me whenever my man teases me like this: slapping, rubbing, caressing, following up the caress with another slap, a little sharper, then smoothing out the sting with his strong, hard palm. Slap! Harder again, rub, caress. Slap! Still harder, and another giggle escapes me, followed by a sigh. He keeps it up until my eyes are full of tears and my ass is rising up to meet his hand, my body craving the pain that soaks the panties he’s left on me, my wet collecting in front of me, soaking through them to leave a big moist stain on his jeans. Sometimes he only smacks one cheek, rendering it red and aching while leaving the other white and wanting. Sometimes, like tonight, he moves from side to side, pinking me on both, spreading the burn.

‘You spanked me longer tonight,’ I say, and the words come out in my sexy voice. I’m flooded with endorphins and ready for my next treat.

‘An even three dozen,’ Brad confirms with a smile. ‘I was having so much fun, I didn’t want to stop. I could’ve gone on for three dozen more, if I hadn’t wanted to get into you with my cock,’ he admits.

‘So much fun, so little … patience,’ I observe, my clit throbbing now. I want him to tell me where he wants me next. ‘You and me both,’ I add, not wanting him to interpret my words as a criticism. He’ll get no complaint from me. I’m already over the moon, and he hasn’t even touched my swollen, aching pussy.

‘You should see your pretty ass, babe. I can’t wait to get into you – I love fucking my pinked-up girl,’ he teases me, and my mouth waters for the evening ahead of us.

‘OK, on the bed with you now. I wanna see just how slick I can get you tonight before I fuck you, little miss.’

Brad pulls off his shirt, shoes and socks but leaves on his jeans, continuing to deny me the sight of his splendid cock. He knows what a tease it is when he keeps it from me like this – that’s why he does it. As always, I’ll be begging for a glimpse of it soon enough – for another taste of it, for the feel of it, for it rubbing my clit the way he sometimes does before he enters me, rubbing back and forth again and again, his hard, swollen shaft rubbing my tight, burgeoning bud. A thrill runs through me just thinking about it, runs right through my eager clit.

He positions me on my back, feet planted on the bed, knees up and wide, and lowers himself between my inviting legs, pushing three fingers into me right from the start. I cry out from the tightness in my wet hole. My clit is already swollen, but Brad knows from experience that he can take me higher than this, and he does, circling my clit with his tongue as he slowly fucks me in and out with his thick, hard fingers.

My cunt loosens up to him, finally, and now he speeds up, plunges deeper into me with his hand. As he does, he tightens the muscle of his tongue and increases its pressure on me. Then he downshifts, alternating the hard, fast fucking with tongue and fingers with soft, broad-tongued licks from my vagina up to and over my clit, and slow, deep thrusts of his hand. Before long, I am whimpering and sighing, and soon I begin to clutch at the sheet beneath me, feeling my climax rising, spiralling, about to break like a wave off Waikiki. When it does, my hands tighten into fists that hit the mattress again and again and again while I wail out my pleasure to my grinning guy.

He crawls up beside me and slips his arms around me. ‘You needed that,’ he observes gently, revealing his concern and desire, as always, to give me what I need.

I just nod.

Then, my body relaxed for a moment, Brad suddenly decides to go serious Dom on me.

‘Lick it,’ he orders.

‘Lick what?’ I ask, my head still muddled from the high and the lack of blood moving through my brain. My cock buddy is nowhere in sight.

‘My face. Lick all your juice off my face, Slick. Every drop. Lick it clean.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I reply obediently, stifling a grin as I follow his order, licking his lips and cheeks and chin until he is satisfied and bends to kiss me deeply, again and again, until I feel my clit awaken once more and feel his cock pushing into my leg through his jeans.

‘How would you like me, sir?’ I continue the game, although it’s true that he is the boss between the sheets; he decides our positions du jour, he dictates the games whenever we play, and I’m happy to let him do so.

‘Stay on your back. Legs all the way up and back, feet over your shoulders.’ Oh, yes. One of his favourite positions. He can see my pinked ass; my pussy, too, is on sweet display. ‘I don’t think I’m finished eating you yet,’ he remarks offhandedly. I sigh with anticipation.

He starts on my ass, rimming me sweetly with his talented tongue. He’s bent on taking me all the way to the top tonight, I can see, and I wonder whether my ass will appear on the menu later, when he’s ready to start fucking, or whether the evening’s special will be all pussy and cock.

He moves up to lap again, this time running his tongue between my holes, circling the lower one, then running his tongue up into the lake of my cunt, circling it then running back down, licking, lapping, humming with appreciation for the flavour I know he loves. ‘Delicious,’ he’s told me more times than I can count. ‘You’ve got the tastiest pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating,’ he likes to say. ‘It’s my pleasure to serve you,’ I always reply.

‘Isn’t the monster getting hungry yet?’ I ask between whimpers as he keeps up the assault on my pussy and ass. I’m ready for penetration; I can’t believe he isn’t too. He’s showing amazing restraint, even more than usual.

‘Oh, it’s starving, but it won’t come out of its lair without a lot of coaxing. You know what you need to do, baby,’ Brad answers. ‘You know how to bring it out.’

‘What?’ I ask, playing coy.

‘You have to beg,’ he growls. ‘Beg like a little slut. Beg to be fucked.’

So I do. I beg. ‘Ohhhhh, fuck me, baby. I need your cock. Please? Give it to me? Please? I need you to fuck me. My pussy’s so lonely for you.’ I go on like this between whimpers and panting until not even Brad can hold out any longer, his steely resolve melting in the heat of our lust.

He slips off his jeans and his briefs, his cock fully erect and dripping again. I look at it hungrily, as if I’m ready to gobble it up, but he’s already grabbing me and pulling me farther down the bed. He arranges my legs over his shoulders now, and lowers himself into my wet and wanting cunt, and he thrusts and thrusts until we are both panting and groaning, listening to the sound of our combined wetness as he slap, slap, slaps his body into mine.

He holds himself back until he feels me come around him, my back arching, my limbs tightening, accentuating my pleasure. Then he shoots into me so hard that I feel it: once, twice, three times. He thrusts hard a few more times and my contractions milk him the way my hands and mouth did earlier. He lowers my legs, rests on top of me. We both try to catch our breath. As I lie beneath him, enjoying his weight on my body, I think about how much our Wednesday nights mean to me, how close they make me feel to my man.

* * *

We regain our equilibrium and lie together talking. Suddenly, Brad decides to drop a bomb on me about last night’s poker game at his best friend Tom’s.

‘So, I lost last night, Dana,’ he begins.

‘That’s OK, honey,’ I soothe, running my hand down his scratchy cheek. ‘You’ll do better next time.’ He plays every other Tuesday. ‘Did you lose a lot?’ I ask softly.

‘More than I ever have before,’ he replies, and I can tell from his voice he doesn’t want to say how much.

My heart jumps. He usually takes fifty bucks with him when he goes; sometimes as much as a hundred. I wonder how much was in his pocket this time.

‘How much, baby?’ I ask gently, wanting to encourage him to get it off his chest. ‘You can tell me – I won’t get mad.’

‘The whole hundred I had with me,’ he says, obviously having a hard time ’fessing up.

‘But that’s not the end of the world. You’ve lost that much a couple of times before. You’ll make it back,’ I assure him.

‘Well, that isn’t all. I thought I could win it back last night, and on my last bet, right before the end, when it was down to just Sam and me, I offered him something else so I could stay in the game. I had such a good hand, I was sure I would win.’

My concern for what he has lost deepens now. What could he have bet? Our savings to buy a house? Our summer vacation at the beach? His car? What?

‘What did you lose, Brad?’ I ask again, trying not to come undone before I know what he’s given away. ‘Tell me, baby.’

‘You. I lost you.’

‘You did what?’

‘I lost you last night at poker.’

* * *

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Sam said he’d keep playing if I offered something that would be worth it to him, and I asked what I had that he wanted, and he said the only thing he could think of was you. I thought he was kidding at first, and I think, in a way, he was, but then it turned out, once he had said it, he liked the idea. They all know about our Wet Wednesdays. I’m always bragging to the guys about how hot you get, how we fuck for hours, how you take whatever I give you. So I bet a Wednesday with you.’

‘A Wednesday. With Sam.’ I’m not asking, just trying to absorb the concept, make sure I understand what he’s said.

‘Yeah, Sam.’

Sam is our next-door neighbour. The guy who shares a bedroom wall with us and probably has heard an embarrassing total of cries, whimpers, thuds, shrieks, grunts and moans – not to mention headboard banging – from us over the years. Embarrassing to me, that is. I often blush if I run into him in the hallway on a Thursday, or some other day that follows a night of especially long and noisy sex. I’ve never heard much emanating from his bedroom – maybe he favours the silent types – and it’s true that, when he’s dating a woman, he seems to spend as much time at her place as his. Maybe, listening to us, he’s hyper-aware of how thin the walls are.

I apologised to him once, long ago, for the noise we’d made one particularly rowdy Saturday night, and he just grinned at me in reply. ‘Oh, trust me, Dana, no need to apologise.’ His hazel eyes twinkled at me. ‘I’m very happy living next door to you. And hearing you and Brad having fun with each other? That doesn’t bother me at all.’

I might have been creeped out if someone else had said that to me, but not when I heard those words coming from Sam. If anything, they turned me on. In addition to being a great guy and a friend, he’s tall and strong-looking and has dark blond hair that curls all over his head, and an even darker blond beard that he wears short. He is one beautiful man. I’ve often wondered why he doesn’t model for a living – that V-shaped torso, that chiselled jaw. I’ve fantasised more than once about sex with Sam, as Brad well knows.

‘So he’s coming here …?’

‘Next Wednesday, to collect. I told him it couldn’t be tonight because I needed time to tell you, and you needed time to get comfortable with the idea.

‘He asked what I would do if you wouldn’t go through with it, just in case I lost, and I told him that wouldn’t be a problem, that you and I have an understanding. That I make the decisions about what happens in the bedroom, and you go along with whatever I want. I told him that I knew you would let him fuck you if I wanted you to. I didn’t tell him you’d thought about it before.

‘And I was sure I was going to win, Dana. Really sure. You’re not going to make me welsh on him, are you?’

Well, this is one Wednesday-night surprise that surely stands out from all the others, even the Wednesday Brad first asked me to do anal. I don’t even know what to say. And then I think of something.

‘So, what are you going to be doing while Sam plays with your favourite toy? Are you playing too? Watching? Going out to a movie? What?’

‘Sam said he’d leave that up to us, that he’d go along with whatever we wanted, except he wasn’t interested in sex with me. Which I had no problem with.’

My guy has given away a Wet Wednesday with me, I remind myself, and I wonder if I should be mad about that, then choose not to be. Well, he hasn’t given me away, exactly; he’ll probably participate, knowing Brad. Maybe this will be like those other Wednesdays when we tried something new. I wonder what my own preference is, and I realise that I’d be happy with a threesome, with Brad as voyeur, or doing a one-on-one with Sam. They’d all be different experiences, and I’m interested in all of them, to be honest. But I’m nervous, too. This could be a big mistake.

‘Well, I’m leaving it up to you. I’ll do it, but I don’t want to make the decision about the particulars. And you need to decide whether you’re going to let Sam have free rein, or if you’re going to be in charge, the way you always are when we’re together.’

‘I think Sam expects whatever happens to be between the two of you. I’m fine with that. He knows, obviously, that I top you in the bedroom; I don’t know whether he’ll want to do the same.’

I think about Sam in charge of me in bed, the way Brad always is. Telling me what he wants me to do and how he wants me to do it. Making all the decisions. Calling the shots. Oh, yeah. Sam can top me. Sam can definitely top me.

‘Well, then, tell Sam I’m game, and he can top me if he wants. Tell him I’d like it if he does. If I see him first, I’ll tell him. The rest you’ll need to decide for yourself.’

* * *

A few days go by. I see Sam in the hall and ask whether Brad’s spoken to him yet about next Wednesday. He nods and smiles at me. I blush a little, wondering what he’s thinking.

‘I’m looking forward to it, Dana. I sure won the jackpot this time.’

‘Thanks,’ I answer, blushing darker. ‘Actually, I’m looking forward to it, too.’ Might as well be honest with him. He raises one eyebrow, and his smile turns into a grin.

‘We usually get home around six and have dinner before … playtime. You want to come over and eat with us?’ I think it will feel less weird if he actually has dinner with us than if he just shows up at the door for his appointment to fuck me.

‘Yeah, that’s good. I can be there around six.’

I let myself into the apartment, drop my stuff and sink onto the sofa. I’m really going to do this. On Wednesday I am going to have sex with my next-door neighbour. And, as far as I know, my boyfriend is going to be there too.

Wednesday rolls around. All day, all I think about is sex with Sam. I’ve seen him washing his car in the summer without a shirt on, in just a pair of cutoffs and flip-flops. I wonder what his cock will be like. I wonder what it will be like to be fucked by someone who isn’t Brad. I haven’t been fucked by anyone else in almost six years. That’s a long time.

I wonder whether doing this will make me feel like a slut.

I realise I really, really want to feel like a slut.

* * *

On Wednesday it’s Brad’s turn to pick up dinner on the way home. He’s stopping at our favourite sub shop. We debated getting ribs from This Little Piggy, but Wednesday is usually about bringing home something we can eat quickly and easily before getting on to the business of playing. We decide we’re not going to change the routine just because Sam will be there. Who wants to be wrestling with ribs and trying to get the smell of barbecue sauce off our skin before our orgy? Or should I call it a gangbang? A threesome? A one-plus-one-plus-one-some? The correct nomenclature eludes me.

The doorbell rings. Sam’s here before Brad. I open the door and he comes in with two sixpacks, which I take from him to put in the fridge. As he is about to hand me the beer, he leans down and kisses me. He’s a good kisser, just as I’d always imagined he’d be.

Sam’s lips are soft, and that’s how the kiss starts. It’s long and slow, and I start to relax into it. As his tongue finds mine, the kiss becomes more insistent. Suddenly my clit starts twitching and I can feel myself getting wet. His mouth tastes like peppermint. Sam pulls me closer, circling my waist with one arm while he still holds the two sixpacks, and I feel his erection starting to push out the front of his pants into my belly. When he releases me, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, then take the beer from his hands. Whew!

I put the bottles into the fridge and tell him to make himself comfortable. He’s been in our apartment a million times, but suddenly it feels strange to have him here. I wish Brad would get home. Or I wish Brad wasn’t coming back at all and Sam and I could just go into the bedroom and start fooling around. I feel like we have to wait for Brad, because how weird will it be if we start something and he walks in? I wouldn’t want to walk in on my boyfriend and another woman, even if I’d agreed ahead of time to the two of them having sex. I don’t want him to feel as if Sam and I want to fuck each other so much we can’t even wait for him to arrive.

Finally, he shows up; it turns out he decided to bring home burgers and fries instead. We all hang out in the living room and eat, although I’m so nervous, all I have is half a burger and I have to stop. I get a Coke out of the fridge to settle my stomach. I hang out in the kitchen by myself for a few minutes, trying to gather my thoughts.

Brad understands. He gives me a few minutes alone, then brings his and Sam’s plates into the kitchen. He puts them on the counter, then pulls me into a hug. ‘You sure you’re still up for this?’ he asks.

‘Yeah. Actually, I am. This just feels kind of weird right now, know what I mean?’

‘Yeah, I understand. I told Sam to go on into the bedroom for a minute, that we’d be right in.’

‘OK. Let’s do it.’

We go in, and Sam is sitting on the edge of the bed in his jeans. He’s taken off his shirt, shoes and socks. He gets up and comes over and kisses me. Brad and Sam stand across from each other and pass me back and forth between them. For a while, the three of us just stand in the middle of the floor, the two of them taking turns kissing me. The heat and electricity in the room are so palpable, I feel as if sparks are going to start popping around me, like something is going to burst into flames. Maybe it will be me.

Brad undresses me and opens the drawer where I keep my T-shirts. He’s taken everything off me except my bra and panties. He looks through the drawer and takes out my very favourite Wednesday-night top, an old green T-shirt of his that I’ve redesigned with a pair of scissors, cutting off the sleeves, cutting most of the shirt away so that it looks like it has both a racer back and a racer front. When I put it on, my breasts are completely exposed, and the bottom is cropped to just above my navel. He takes off my bra and slips the shirt on me, then turns me around so Sam can see. ‘What do you say, Sam?’ he asks. ‘Panties on or panties off?’

Sam runs his eyes up and down me. He looks at me critically, like he’s a fashion designer and I’m a runway model, and this is the most important decision he’s had to make all day. I almost start laughing, his expression is so serious, so unexpected. Finally, he looks at Brad. ‘Off.’

Off come the panties. ‘You won her fair and square,’ Brad says, as if I’m not even there. ‘You get first dibs for the evening. I’m going to hang back and watch for a while, but I’ll probably take a turn later.

‘In case you’re wondering, we do just about everything on Wednesday nights. Dana likes to be spanked, if you’re into that. All the usual stuff. She’ll tell you. She’s terrific in bed, Sam. You won’t be disappointed.’

I smile at him. I’ve just been given an outstanding performance review. It makes me feel good to know that my man is so satisfied with what I give him. I hope he’ll be OK with what he’s about to watch.

Sam puts me on the bed. I think he and Brad have talked a lot about what Sam should expect, because he is already taking the upper hand, positioning me, not asking me what I want, what I like. It occurs to me that the stuff Brad has just said to him is more for my benefit, to put me at ease, to let me know what to expect. I’m grateful for it.

Brad sinks into the chair in the corner and Sam strips down to his skin. His erection is big – longer than Brad’s, although not quite as thick, I don’t think. He looks just as I had imagined he would, like he ought to be posing for Abercrombie or something. Abs for days. I can’t wait to take his cock in me.

He puts me on my back and starts licking my clit right off the bat, and I moan with pleasure. When his short beard scratches the inside of my thighs and roughs up my slit, I don’t even care – I’m too focused on the riot he has incited in me with his tongue. He teases me relentlessly until I feel like I’m going to come. Then he reaches up with his fingers and pinches my clit, and I do.

I don’t know whether it’s the excitement of sex with a new man, or the knowledge that Brad is watching from across the room, or just Sam’s mind-blowing technique, but I am coming hard, really hard, like rockets shooting off in my cunt that blast through my body and exit from my fingers and toes.

All of a sudden, Sam pulls on a condom, climbs on top of me and slides in while I’m still coming. His long cock reaches all the way up into me and, when he starts pushing in deep, I can feel every thrust hitting my cervix. Oh, God. Every time I feel the impact, my pussy clenches. I start to tighten up inside, but Sam just fucks me right through it until I open up, and I realise he’s just going to keep on fucking me until he makes me come again.

When I’m getting close, he calls out to Brad, ‘She’s going to come pretty soon, man, and I’m about to come, too. How about when I do, I pull out and you push right into her, fuck her until she comes again? You want to do that? We’ll just tag-team her over and over until she can’t take any more.’

I feel like I’m going to come just listening to Sam’s words. The idea that my cunt is going to be battered again and again by their two hard cocks until I collapse arouses me in a way I couldn’t have imagined. That, and the way they talk about me like I’m a thing, a toy, a piece of meat, the slut I wanted to be tonight. I wait to hear what Brad will say, whether it will bother him that Sam’s taking over, making decisions for all of us. But Brad’s cool. He seems to like the idea.

‘Sure. Hang on – give me one minute.’ I look over and see Brad peeling off his clothes, then wasting no time getting over to the bed.

Suddenly, Sam comes. I can feel him push in deep and hold himself in me, pushing as hard as he can against my cervix, and then shudder. Part of me wishes he weren’t wearing a condom. I’d like to feel him against my skin, to know that his and Brad’s semen were going to be mixing inside me.

Sam pulls out and rolls over, making room for Brad, who pulls me down to the end of the bed and flips me over. I know what he wants me to do, and I put my head and forearms down and raise my ass for him to enter me. Brad pushes in from behind, slapping my right cheek with every thrust. He pistons in and out, spanking me again and again with his hand, then, when he can tell I’m close again, he reaches around and starts rubbing my clit in tight circles. When I explode into my third orgasm in an hour, my cunt contracting so hard it hurts, I let out a shrill yelp I don’t ever remember hearing come out of me before. Brad just laughs, sounding weird himself because the laughter is broken up by his panting and grunting and fucking and the noise that our wet bodies are making, the way hiccups interrupt you when you’re trying to talk.

I know why he’s laughing. Neither of us knew this would turn out to be so much fun.

I can’t believe I was worried about including Sam in the mix, especially on a Wednesday. This is as wet a Wednesday as we’ve ever had. Maybe the wettest. Before Brad comes, Sam crawls over on the bed until he’s kneeling in front of my face. His cock is almost flaccid but not quite, and I’m wondering what he wants from me. I look up at him as Brad continues to ride me from behind, and Sam says, ‘Bring me back up, Dana. I want you to suck me until Brad comes, and then I’m going to fuck you again.’

I take him in both my hands and start working him as I bend down to lick his head. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a cock in my cunt and another in my hands, and the experience is beyond sexy. Right away, Sam starts getting hard, and I wonder whether this is the first time he’s tag-teamed a girl. If it is, it seems to come very naturally to him.

Pretty soon, he’s almost completely erect and I take him in, enjoying the feel of him in my mouth, delighting in the taste of his cock. He groans as I run my tongue repeatedly through his slit, down to circle around the head, back up again to the top. He’s super-sensitive there. I lick him over and over, relishing the sounds he is making as I excite his tip.

‘How are you doing up there, Sam? I’m getting close,’ Brad announces, and Sam hesitates for a moment. I wonder whether he can’t quite make up his mind to abandon my mouth for my pussy. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to choose, that he can have it all. I look up into his eyes. ‘Whatever you want, Sam. You can have whatever you want,’ I tell him.

‘I’ll be back, Dana,’ he says finally, as he pulls out of my mouth and gets off the bed to take his place beside Brad.

‘You only spanked one side,’ he observes, remarking on my sole reddened cheek.

‘Yeah, I know. When she’s over my knee, I usually hit both. When I spank her while I’m fucking her, it’s easier to slap her like this, because I’m right-handed.’ I suddenly remember that Sam isn’t, and my pussy clenches on Brad’s cock.

‘Mind if I get the other side for you?’ Sam asks.

‘Go for it,’ answers my generous man. ‘Makes her wet.’

We all laugh. I’m so wet now there are spots on the sheets. I’m so wet that, with Brad fucking me, I’m making loud, sloppy noises. How will we even be able to tell if Sam makes me wetter? There’s a river running down my thighs already. But I still hope Sam will spank me. I want to feel his hand on me.

Brad comes. He thrusts into me hard three times, the way he always does, and then pulls out, and Sam takes his place. I’m so turned on, I can hardly see straight. I’m tired and panting but I never want to stop. I feel like I could keep this up for days. Sam starts slapping me on the left cheek with every thrust, like Brad did, until he moves that hand up to my hip the way he’s holding my right side, and now he starts fucking me harder, even deeper, faster, and I’m wailing and he’s pounding and grunting. Suddenly, I come like Armageddon, harder than I have ever come in my life, with Brad lying on the bed beside me, smiling into my face, and for some reason I can’t even understand, I am shrieking and laughing and crying all at the same time.

I collapse on the bed. A minute ago, I felt like I could fuck like this for ever. Now, all I want is to be in Brad’s arms, and as quickly as the thought enters my mind, I am. Still panting, Sam peels off his condom and goes to look for something to drink. I lie with Brad, who keeps kissing me all over my face, telling me how much he loves me and that I’m the sexiest, most wonderful girl in the world.

The three of us hang around on the bed for awhile, naked except for my cut-up T-shirt, a guy on either side of me. The three of us talk the way Brad and I talk on Wednesday nights, and I feel close to both of them. It feels like we’re a real threesome, and I realise that Brad and I haven’t lost anything by sharing a Wednesday with Sam. They play with my tits, and I tease their cocks with my hands and my mouth, but the big stuff is over for the night. I wonder whether I’ll be able to walk the next day.

When Sam says he needs to get home he pulls on his clothes and we both walk him to the front door. I feel sore and stiff.

‘Thanks, you two,’ he says to both of us.

‘No problem,’ says Brad.

‘My pleasure. Honestly,’ I tell him. We all laugh.

Sam leans down and gives me a long, sexy kiss goodnight. As he does, Brad runs a hand over my ass. It has been the best night of my life.

* * *

‘So,’ Brad asks me the next morning as I walk gingerly into the kitchen for coffee, ‘would you ever do that again?’

I smile at him. ‘Sure. Feel free to bet me at poker. Consider me the chip up your sleeve.’ I know all the guys he plays with. Not one of them is hard on the eyes. All great guys, too. None I’d say no to.

I’ve heard strip poker can be fun if you’re playing with the right people, but I’ll bet it’s not as much fun as fuck poker. For the next several weeks, every other Tuesday night, my stomach is aflutter. I wonder whether Brad will be coming home to tell me one of his friends has won me, and there’s going to be another Wet Wednesday threesome. But the Tuesday after my evening with Sam, Brad wins without ever having to bet me. Two weeks after that, the game is called off. Two weeks after that, it’s at our house.

Sam gets there first, and when he comes in he gives me a quick kiss. ‘I had a really great time with you, you know, Dana,’ he says. ‘I’ve been trying to think of ways I can cheat, just on the off-chance Brad will bet you again, and I’ll win another Wet Wednesday.’ I blush, flattered, and I think how much I’d like that. ‘You never know,’ I tell him. ‘You could always win me again. I wouldn’t mind.’

Brad arrives and the other guys drift in, one by one, until Reese shows up at last and the game gets under way. I’m watching TV in the bedroom while they play, but every so often I go out and collect empty beer bottles, bring in snacks, playing the part of hostess-with-the-mostest.