Threefold

by Scott Hildreth

  As I came into a state of true serenity at the thoughts of where my life had brought me, I turned to face Cade. Fast asleep, he seemed at peace. I glanced toward his lap.

  Noodle dick.

  I rolled to the side and smiled at the thought of his innocence. I had no idea of the time that had passed since our sexual escapade, but I felt I should try to wake him.

  I carefully lifted his wrinkled cock from his leg, and wrapped my lips around it. As if I were trying to suck a kumquat through a soda straw, I began to suck his cock, pulling it taught as my cheeks caved inward. After a half a dozen or so slobbery attempts at sucking it into preparedness, it began to grow in my mouth. Although he shifted on the bed a few times, surprisingly, he didn’t wake up. Now with my mouth completely full of his cock, my pussy was in a fiery frenzy. I pulled my mouth from the tip, glanced at him, and shifted my gaze at his cock. As much as I wanted to mount him and have him wake to my tight pussy milking his stiff rod, I knew better. I gripped it in my hand and began jacking it slowly and steadily.

  I had always loved watching a guy jack off, and typically got equal pleasure jacking a guy off as well. Something about jacking a guy’s cock, and knowing in the end it was going to be over, left me with little desire to stroke a man to climax. Watching my delicate hand work up and down Cade’s stiff shaft was satisfying for other reasons, and my tiny fist made his cock seem twice as big as it was.

  “Ohhh,” he groaned as he shifted his weight on the bed.

  I continued to stroke it furiously.

  “What…” he breathed as he attempted to sit up.

  I stopped stroking it and leaned forward, taking the full length slowly into my mouth. As he was buried deep in my throat, I extended my tongue and attempted to lick his balls. Now holding my position, I began to lick more rapidly, slobbering all over his tight scrotum. The all-time high of the tingling in my pussy was a reminder of my need for some dick.

  As he sat up in bed, I pulled my mouth from his cock and grinned. He sat and stared, his face covered with a huge grin.

  I shrugged my shoulders, “Sorry, I was bored.”

  “I’m going to turn around, and point my ass toward you. Shove that big fucker inside of me and grab my hips, like when that slut with the white heels was getting fucked in the video, remember?” I said as I shuffled myself around in a half circle.

  “Uh huh,” he responded.

  “Remember, don’t be nervous. Just do it like they did in the video. Just like that, okay?”

  “Uh huh,” he breathed.

  I peered over my shoulder. Cock in hand, Cade worked his way closer and closer to me. I glanced down at the comforter and closed my eyes, wanting to be surprised by the penetration. As I felt him slowly slide the tip past my soaking wet lips, I bit my lower lip. As he buried himself inside me, he gripped my hips in his hands and began steadily working himself in and out.

  Be it the level of love I felt for Cade, or the fact I simply wanted him more than anything to love me at the same level I loved him - and had no way of knowing how he truly felt – something caused me to have an odd orgasm about four or five strokes into our sex. As Cade moaned, I opened my eyes and stared down into the comforter, surprised. Again, the feeling came sharply and without much warning.

  Little, short in length, but intense orgasms felt from near my clit. Not deep within me, but from outside. Unfamiliar with the feeling, and never climaxing immediately, I continued to stare blankly, surprised by it all. As the sound of Cade’s hips against my ass echoed throughout the concrete room, I inhaled and became immersed in the feeling.

  “Slap my ass,” I breathed.

  Cade’s hand almost immediately slapped my ass with the force most men would shoo a fly from a picnic table.

  “Slap it!” I bellowed.

  His hand came against my ass, stinging it no differently than if I’d been hit with a paddle. As my back arched, I inhaled a sharp breath in sheer shock, and my pussy clenched in utter satisfaction.

  “Again,” I squealed.

  As he continued to fuck my tight pussy, the sound of his flesh slapping mine turned me on more and more with each stroke. After a few strokes, his hand came down against my ass.

  Smack!

  The sound of his moaning, my heavy breathing, and our skin slapping together filled the empty room.

  Music to my ears.

  I needed to see his face. I needed to see him enjoy fucking me.

  “Turn me…over. Fuck me on…my…back,” I said between breaths.

  As if he’d done it a dozen times, he twisted my body, and flipped me onto my back. As I hoisted my legs into the air and thrust my hips toward the sky, he climbed on and began to pummel my swollen mound as if he owned it. His hair was wet from sweat, and in his face, half obstructing his eyes. He looked like a man possessed, totally different than I’d ever seen him. I liked both looks, but for now, this one was my favorite.

  “Oh God…yes,” I moaned.

  With the backs of my knees against his shoulders and his hands fumbling with my tits, he continued to work his hips like magic. Lost in the feeling of having the man I loved inside of me, and sharing myself with him in the most intimate way I knew possible, I watched his cock slide in and out of my wet pussy.

  After a short time of enjoying seeing his manhood pound me from an up close and personal perspective, I began to tingle from head to toe. No more little orgasmettes, this was the big one. As the tension built inside of me, I held my breath in anticipation and waited.

  I felt as if all of the blood in my body rushed between my legs. I opened my eyes momentarily, and was met by the sight of his thick swollen shaft working against my pussy like he was in a porn movie of his own, and this was the final scene. As I closed my eyes, I exploded into an orgasmic state that cleared my mind of all thoughts.

  Present, previous, and future.

  As he continued to pound away, I opened my eyes to a black and white room that smelled like sex.

  With my ears ringing no differently than if I’d been knocked out in a prize fight, I stared up at him mindlessly and tried my best to speak.

  Nothing.

  The inside of my body continued to convulse from the orgasm, leaving me half unaware of my surroundings and completely vulnerable to making stupid decisions. Carefully, as he continued to grin and pound himself into my soaking wet pussy, I opened my mouth again and attempted to make a reasonably intelligent statement.

  “Roll…me…”

  “Over…” I sighed.

  As he leaned rearward, I pulled my tired legs from his shoulders. As soon as they were draped at his side, he reached under my waist and flipped me onto my stomach. As I rested on my elbows and lifted myself to my knees, I breathed my next request onto the comforter.

  “Fuck me hard, Cade. Take your hand and shove my head into the bed. Hold it there, like you’re trying to smother me, okay?” I said over my shoulder.

  “You sure?” he sighed, not nearly as out of breath as I was.

  I nodded my head, “Yes.”

  I no more than spoke, and he thrust himself into me. Shocked from the sudden penetration and feeling as if I had no warning, I gasped for a breath. As the air began to fill my lungs, his hand pressed against the back of my head and forced my face deep into to the comforter. As the feeling of my warm breath surrounded my face, he pounded his swollen cock balls-deep against my throbbing pussy.

  “Rain…” he groaned.

  With my ass in the air, and my tits pressed into the bed, his balls swatted against my clit with each stroke. His fat cock inside of me, his hips pounding against my ass, and his balls slapping my clit were more than I was able to stand, considering my face was smashed into the bedspread as if I were being hate-fucked.

  I fucking love this.

  “Ohhh…” I heard him moan as he continued to pound his hips into my ass cheeks.

  I began to tingle all over. My pussy ached for an ending to it all. Cade had become my sexual superhero, and I was
the recipient of his ability to save the world with his cock. I groaned into the comforter, my moist breath lingering against my face, until the groans turned to screams.

  I bellowed my pleasure into the comforter as I shook from head to toe in an earth shattering orgasm like nothing on or of this earth. As my pussy clenched against his steadily moving cock, I felt it begin to swell. I closed my eyes in anticipation and waited.

  “Rain…” he yelled, as if unsure of what was happening.

  The feeling I had always longed for, having the man I loved cum deep inside of me, began with his scream of anticipated pleasure. As the screaming became the only sound in existence, he released my head. I moaned a low rumble of pleasure, which was immediately drowned by his shrill cry.

  As I felt the cum shoot from the tip of his swollen cock and begin to fill me, I exhaled a sigh of relief at the exact same time my pussy extracted one last orgasm from my exhausted soul.

  He collapsed against my back.

  I collapsed onto the comforter.

  “Rain,” he breathed heavily against the back of my neck.

  “Yes, dear?” I breathed without turning around.

  “I love you, too,” he sighed.

  After a long moment of searching my mind for answers, it dawned on me that he was responding to my expression of loving him earlier.

  My body immediately relaxed into the comforter. In lieu of speaking, I chose to wallow in the thought of Cade, and his love for me. As I filled with thoughts of his love for me, and mine for him, I realized he had just lost his virginity. Although I knew I wasn’t able to give him mine, in some respects I felt I had.

  “Thank you,” I sighed.

  “Don’t thank me. Just love me in return,” he said.

  “I will,” I said under my breath, “I promise.”

  And, with those two words, I felt my fate was sealed. And I knew in my heart of hearts I’d never regret it.

  ETHAN

  We all have wounds, some more severe than others. The light scars eventually fade away, and the memory of the incident which caused the wound fades right along with it. The more prominent scars generally depict an injury of greater severity, and the memory associated with it lingers within us, a scar in itself, attached to our inner being. Picking at a wound before it has totally healed slows the process of repair, and guarantees the remaining scar will be a memorable one.

  I’ve never picked at my wounds.

  “Dude, you know I’m a sucker for good Mexican food. Damn, you made these motherfuckers?” I said as I glanced around the table.

  “Rain and I did, yes,” Cade grinned.

  “Holy fuck. How many are left?” I asked as I stared at the last bite of my tamale.

  Still grinning from ear to ear, Cade lowered his fork and responded, “There’s an entire pan of the chili, and more tamales than you could ever eat.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” I said as I scooped up the last bite.

  Tamales with chili, Spanish rice, beef enchiladas wrapped in my choice of corn or flour tortillas, and Cade’s famous elote made for one fabulous meal. As I drug the edge of my fork along my plate, hoping for another morsel of the chili, I realized there was plenty more.

  “Anybody?” I said as I stood.

  Rain glanced up as she shoveled the elote in her mouth at a pace that would choke a horse. Cade shook his head from side to side as he chewed, and motioned toward his still full plate with his fork.

  “Good, more for me,” I said as I turned toward the kitchen.

  There was no doubt in my mind Cade’s cooking spoiled me. Many men would stay married to a woman for all of eternity for her ability to cook alone. Cade’s capacity to prepare a meal was second to none. His constant consideration of what I liked, preferred, and didn’t care at all to eat was something I admired about him. Over the years, he had prepared several things I didn’t like, and although I was sure he cared for them, they never returned to the table.

  I loaded my plate with three chili covered tamales, rice, and two corn enchiladas. As I walked to the table, I whistled, happier than I could remember being in years. Corn enchiladas were a favorite of mine growing up, and eating them now reminded me of times that had escaped me and would never return. As much as I would expect heartache and pain to come with the memories of my childhood, it rarely happened.

  I inhaled the spicy smell of the enchiladas as I sat down, eager to demolish another plate of Cade and Rain’s offering. I glanced up and grinned as I cut one of the tamales in half, wondering the entire time if I could shove the entire thing into my mouth. As I forced the entire thing past my lips, I did my best to grin at them both, proud of my accomplishment.

  “You know,” I said as I chewed.

  “This is the best fucking food on the planet,” I breathed past the steaming hot tamale in my mouth.

  “Thank you,” Cade nodded.

  “Appreciate it, Rain,” I said as I picked up my beer and tilted it toward her.

  “I love learning to cook. Cade’s a good teacher,” she grinned.

  “Well, I’m going to stay out of that class. I prefer the eating to the cooking, that’s for sure. I’ll leave the cooking up to you two,” I said as I pushed the tip of my fork into the second half of the tamale.

  “Another thing, just for what it’s worth. These corn enchiladas bring back memories from being a kid. Damn, I like thinking about it. You know, the further I get from my childhood, the fewer memories I have. It’s a damned shame I don’t have pictures. Hell, by the time I’m 50, I’ll probably not even remember half of what I do now. Damned shame,” I sighed as I lifted my fork to my mouth.

  Rain glanced up from her plate, seemingly confused. “Why do the corn enchiladas remind you of being a kid?” she asked.

  I nodded my head as I chewed and considered what to say in response. After I swallowed and took a drink of beer, I laid my fork against my plate and rested my elbows on the table. As I rested my chin in my clasped hands, I glanced back and forth between Cade and Rain.

  “Well, my dad grew up in southern California, and although he was white, he grew up in a Hispanic neighborhood. According to him, his parents were poor. They ate the corn enchiladas, and he said the rich families ate the flour. My mother, as a result of my father’s selective taste, learned to cook from his mother, and she only cooked the corn,” I paused and recalled my excitement of eating Mexican food as a child.

  “We ate Mexican food more than anything, and probably had corn enchiladas three days a week. If it wasn’t for them, my brother and I would have starved,” I chuckled as I glanced down at my plate.

  As I lifted my fork and studied the food on my plate, Rain and Cade spoke at the same time.

  “You have a brother?”

  I glanced up, somewhat confused.

  “Excuse me?” I asked openly.

  Cade swallowed heavily, lifted his glass of water, and took a drink. I glanced at Rain, who sat silently, and then shifted my eyes toward Cade.

  “What did you say?” I asked as I dropped my fork onto my plate.

  “You said you and your brother would have starved. If uhhm, if it wasn’t for the enchiladas,” Cade said as he lowered his glass to the table.

  “I did?” I shrugged.

  Cade and Rain both nodded their heads and leaned into the table.

  I pursed my lips, pressed my tongue against the backs of my teeth, and thought. I couldn’t recall exactly what I said, but I suspected they may have been right. Now, finding a way to talk about it without getting worked up would be the tough part. As with everything, honesty would be the best policy; but I needed to decide just how much to say.

  “A younger brother. A year younger. Had, not have. He died,” I said.

  It was easier than I had thought. The words came out without much emotion attached to them at all. Surprisingly, it had been over ten years since I spoke of it to anyone.

  “I’m so sorry,” Rain immediately snapped back.

  I nodded my h
ead and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  Without incident, just how I’d hoped.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Fuck.

  Here we go…

  I felt if I just started talking, and told the story as it happened, it would come easy. The difficult thing for me was that everything about the loss of my only brother was subject matter that was not open for discussion; therefore I hadn’t spoken about it for thirteen years – to anyone. I realized - according to professionals - not talking about it was unhealthy and prevented me from dealing with the death, but Ryan was gone and there wasn’t much else that mattered. I felt talking about it was not accepting it, and placing it on a shelf was.

  Cade had no idea of my brother or my loss, but considering Rain asked…

  I studied her. Innocent and beautiful, she gazed my direction. Mesmerized by her eyes, and powerless to her request to know more, I felt compelled to do my best. I pushed my seat away from the table slightly and wiped my mouth with my napkin. I reached for my beer and realized my hand was shaking. As the bottle dangled between my thumb and forefinger, I gazed beyond her with unfocused eyes, and began.

  “I was eighteen, and he was seventeen. His name was Ryan and he was my brother, my best friend, and my only sibling. We were inseparable. We had big plans,” I lifted my bottle of beer, took a short drink and nodded my head.

  “He was. He was uhhm…”

  It was more difficult to say it than I had thought. What originally drew me to Cade was witnessing the treatment he was receiving in the hallway from several bullies who assumed he was gay. Immediately, he became my brother, and I was able to do for him what I was unable to do for my previous brother. Even today, Cade remained my only family member in my eyes; a brother, yet my best friend.

  “He was gay…”

  I glanced up.

  No response.

  Okay.

  I glanced down in my lap and eventually studied the bottle of beer as I spoke.

  “There were some kids who always messed with him. We uhhm. We grew up in a small town. People in these shitty little towns are so closed-minded you know. I raced dirt bikes back then, and I had this race coming up. And just before this race, these kids had been fucking with him pretty hard,” I paused and glanced up, knowing it was going to get more difficult to continue.