Dolphin Dreams

by Jules Jones

  George laughed and said, “I think he’s got enough stamina for both of us.” But he pushed Martin away a little and dropped down to his knees.

  Martin went down on his hands, reaching again for George’s cock, and then realised why George wanted this position. Now that Martin was on his hands and knees, Patrick had easy access to his arse. A wet finger eased its way into him, exploring. He moaned around George’s cock, torn between wanting to thrust himself back on Patrick’s finger and not wanting to let go of the cock in his mouth.

  “I think he likes that,” Patrick said.

  “Don’t ... ahh ... distract him too much,” George grunted.

  “I don’t want to tear him.”

  They were really going to do it. They were going to fuck him in each end at the same time.

  But not quite yet. Patrick started playing with his balls, first fondling them gently, then squeezing them together. If he hadn’t been aroused already, it would have hurt, but all it did was make him ache to have Patrick’s cock in him instead of just one finger. Having George filling his mouth wasn’t quite enough anymore. He slid off George to beg, “Please, Patrick.”

  George didn’t try to pull him back on, just stroked his head and said, “Hold on a little longer, Martin. Get on with it, Patrick. I don’t want him biting me out of frustration.”

  Patrick let go of his balls and gave him a second finger, and he sighed in relief.

  “He doesn’t have much self-control for a bottom,” Patrick said, twisting his fingers a little. “I could hold out for ages yet.”

  “You’ve been having it regularly for the last two months, and he hasn’t,” George said. “Give the poor sod a chance; it’s no wonder he’s right on the edge.”

  Though George must have been close to the edge as well. His voice sounded a little less ragged now that he didn’t have his cock shoved into Martin’s mouth. Martin knew how he felt. Having just a couple of fingers shoved up him was keeping him satisfied without making him too aroused to wait.

  “Martin.”

  He looked up at George.

  “Patrick’s going to fuck you now. And you’re going to hold still.” George put his hands on Martin’s shoulders, squeezed them in a gentle massage. “You don’t touch yourself; you don’t try to get him to go faster. You wait. You wait until I tell you that you can move. We’ll wait, until he’s caught up with us.”

  “Yes, George.”

  “Good man. Patrick ...”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  He felt Patrick’s cock push against him, and then Patrick was in him, with a slow, easy thrust that didn’t go very far. He might have pushed back, but George’s hands on his shoulders reminded him to stay still. Patrick pulled out, and pushed back in again, a little further this time. And again, and he couldn’t quite help himself and tried to push back.

  “Easy, Martin,” George said, and there was no harshness in it, no criticism of his disobedience. There was only a reminder that he himself had consented to this slow fuck, had agreed not to move. And George was waiting with him. He held still again and waited through another slow in-and-out of Patrick’s cock. And then at last Patrick had worked all the way in, and all three of them held still for a moment.

  George sighed and said, “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  George’s cock nudged at his mouth, and he sucked in the tip.

  “Now you can move.”

  For a second he didn’t want to. Once again he was caught between the men at each end of him, desperately wanting to shove onto both cocks at the same time. Then Patrick pulled back and slammed into him, a good deal harder than when he’d been working his way in, and shoved him onto George. Both men started fucking him in earnest, filling him to capacity. Driving out the loneliness and longing, and leaving it no room.

  In another time and place he might have grabbed his own cock, worked it in his hand, but now he had no need. He was almost there already and needed nothing more than George and Patrick pounding into him. He was almost on the brink right now; he might come with just a touch on his cock. But he was determined to wait for them, as he’d agreed.

  And here was his reward, as George shuddered and then held still, gasping his name. He felt George’s cock pulse in his mouth, and then the answering beat start to rise in his own cock. As George sank down to rest, he followed, wanting to hold George in his mouth until they’d both finished, and his cock rubbed against the roughness of the woollen blanket. That almost did it all by itself, but then he felt Patrick’s weight full on his back as Patrick thrust deep into him, and he could hold back no longer. He came suddenly, pouring out his come onto the rough blanket, the sensation magnified by the feel of two powerful male bodies holding him securely.

  He hadn’t quite finished coming when he heard Patrick yell in triumph and felt one last thrust before Patrick held still. Even that felt good, and he savoured the sensation for a few seconds.

  Finally he let George’s cock slip from his mouth, and they all collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap. He was half on top of George, and Patrick was half on top of him, and both of them were caressing him even now.

  They lay like that for a few minutes, then disentangled themselves. He ended up lying with his head pillowed on George’s shoulder and Patrick snuggled up behind him, one arm draped around him.

  He lay safe and warm between two men who cared about him. Just like last time. But this time he knew they were real, and they were his. He settled down to doze in contentment.

  Chapter Five

  Martin thought afterwards that they must have dozed for twenty minutes or so. Then he started to feel chilled, even sandwiched between them as he was.

  Apparently he wasn’t the only one. George said, “Go and get us some clothes, Patrick. There’s a love.”

  Patrick grunted in discontent, but got up, leaving Martin feeling cold along his back. “If we’re finished fucking him for the moment, let’s have that lunch he promised,” Patrick said as he walked down to the water and rinsed his hands.

  “Two-track mind,” George said, “and the other track’s food.” He stroked Martin’s back. “I assumed you’d like a longer break before we get back to sex.”

  Martin wouldn’t have objected to more sex, but was happy to have some recovery time. “Mmm.” Then he wondered where the clothes for Patrick and George were coming from. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked around, to see Patrick walking towards the back of the cave. “Have you got clothes somewhere?”

  “The cave goes back a long way, and there are storage areas at the rear.” George sat up. “This place was obviously pretty active at some point, but nobody knows about it now. It’s fairly dry back there, so we can keep things stored.”

  Martin watched Patrick and was surprised to see just how far back in the cave he was already. “Doesn’t he need a torch down there?”

  “What for?” George asked.

  “It’s pretty dark even where he is. If he goes any further back, he won’t be able to see until his eyes adapt to the dark.”

  “Oh. Of course. You people can’t see properly.”

  What?

  And yet Patrick seemed to be walking perfectly confidently.

  Memory came back to Martin. George examining him and saying that he was hurt. Only then asking for a torch so he could examine the surface damage because he couldn’t see it properly in the poor lighting. And that strange buzzing in his head.

  Dolphins had a natural form of sonar. George, the dolphin who had happened to be in human shape at the time, had given him the equivalent of an ultrasound scan to check for internal bleeding and swelling.

  “You have sonar even in human form, don’t you?”

  George looked surprised. “Pardon?”

  Maybe George didn’t know the word. Or didn’t associate it with the ability Martin suspected. He tried again. “Echolocation. You can see with sound as well as light.”

  “Of course.”

  “George, the
re is no ‘of course’ about it. Standard-issue humans don’t have that sense.”

  George shrugged.

  “Any other differences you’d like to tell me about?”

  George stroked his face gently. “Are we going to get a chance to find out?”

  “If that’s a roundabout way of asking if you were good, the answer’s yes.” He scrambled up to sit beside George and took hold of his hand. “Very good. Even if you hadn’t been, well, I want to know more about you.” He caressed the palm of George’s hand with his thumb. “Besides, I liked you before I knew what you were. You were good company when I needed it, that week. I don’t think that’s changed.”

  “You were good company too,” George said. “You didn’t bother us.” His hand tightened around Martin’s. “You treated us like people, not some sort of living toy.”

  Time to get his mind off sex, and on to more practical matters. If he believed what George and Patrick, and his own mind, were telling him, he’d just fucked a couple of dolphins. He’d worry about the morality of it later, since they hadn’t looked like dolphins at the time. Even if Patrick had just walked into a dark cave without a torch, he still looked human enough. And there was certainly an adult human intellect in that body.

  But how the hell could that body change shape?

  “George, are all dolphins like you?”

  He felt George stiffen slightly, then relax. “No.”

  “All right, I know I’m being nosy, but what do you expect? The impossible happens, and I’m expected to ignore it?” He thought about what had happened the first time they’d brought him here. “You thought I’d know who you were.” He shifted around so that he was facing George. He wanted to be able to see his expression. “You thought I knew that there were ...” Things like you didn’t seem like quite the right thing to say.

  It was clear from George’s expression that this was not a good time to pursue the subject. “All right, this makes you uncomfortable. Let’s talk about your interest in fossils.”

  George grinned and hugged him. “So we’ve just fucked, and you want to talk about fossils.”

  “It’s the only other interest that I know we’ve got in common.”

  “Don’t forget books,” Patrick said, dropping a pile of clothes beside them. “Anyway, he’s the one who’s interested in fossils.”

  George picked up a shirt and shook it out. “Yes, we know what your interest in people in boats is. Have they got any chocolate?”

  “If more of them would read me books, I’d be interested in books as well.” Patrick started dressing. Both men seemed to have jeans and tee-shirts.

  Martin reached for his own clothes, then changed his mind and picked up one of the towels he’d brought for George and Patrick before heading down to the water.

  “Where are you off to?” Patrick asked.

  “Simon will worry if I come home smelling as if I’ve spent the day getting laid.” He gingerly splashed himself with some water, shivering as it hit his skin. “He’ll think I’ve picked up a stranger.” Washing in saltwater wouldn’t leave him much less sticky, but at least it would be a clean stickiness.

  “This is your friend with the boat,” George said.

  “Yes.” Martin splashed a little more water on himself. “And yes, he’s just a friend. But he doesn’t like it if I pick up strangers when I’m feeling miserable, because half the time I feel even more miserable afterwards.” He decided that he’d washed off enough that he wouldn’t make his clothes smell too high, and went back to the picnic blanket, drying himself on the way.

  “You didn’t tell him about us, then?” Patrick asked.

  “No, I did not tell him that my hallucinations included two dolphins changing into humans and trying to seduce me.” He picked up his shirt and slipped it on. “There are some things that one just doesn’t share.”

  “But he knows about us,” George said. “He took the trouble to tell us that you’d been to the hospital and you were going to be all right.”

  Martin used pulling on his jeans as an excuse to think for a few seconds rather than answer. The two men seemed worried about something, and his guess was that they were concerned about who might know about them.

  Did they really think that people would believe him if he said anything about them?

  “All Simon knows is that two dolphins kept me company for a week and looked after me during the thunderstorm. And that they understand spoken English well enough to know what ‘thank you’ means.” He turned away from them and bent to open the picnic basket. “It’s unusual, but it’s not particularly exotic.” The hairs on the back of his neck crawled, anticipating danger, but he reminded himself that if they were going to get uptight about him knowing about them, they could have silenced him before now. “You were obviously upset when you took me back to the jetty, and he probably thought it was worth trying to reassure you that I was safe, even if you didn’t understand all of it.”

  He unpacked the plates and handed them back. Someone took the stack out of his hand. “Look, guys, if I told anyone about you being more than dolphins, they wouldn’t believe me. I barely believe me.”

  Patrick walked around and knelt down on the other side of the basket, rummaging through the food. He glanced up at Martin. “We were always warned as kids ...”

  “... ‘you’ll end up in a freak show’,” George finished. “Or worse.”

  “Nobody would believe it.” Though a hundred years ago they would have. Maybe even fifty years ago. Now ... “Well, the News of the Screws readers might believe it. But creatures like you aren’t real. You’re legends, the sort of thing people believed in way back when they didn’t know any better.” He passed the salt and pepper back to George and took the chocolate away from Patrick.

  “I wasn’t going to eat it,” Patrick grumbled. “Yet.” He picked up the basket and set it in the middle of the blanket, then sat down next to it.

  Martin joined him, and the three of them started making sandwiches. After a minute or two of silence, Martin said, “There’s no room for things like you in our world. Not anymore. We don’t believe in you.”

  “You do,” George said.

  Martin shook his head. “I thought I’d dreamt it. And then when I realised that some of it was real, I thought you were two local men and I’d just got confused by the bang on the head.” Since they seemed more willing to talk about it now, he asked, “Are you dolphins? Or are you something else?”

  They were silent for a while; then George said, “We’re dolphins. And something else.”

  “We can talk to them,” Patrick said. “But it’s not like talking to you people. And there aren’t many of us.”

  “We get lonely, sometimes.” George took a large bite of his sandwich and finished chewing it before going on. “So we take risks. We spend time with your people, if they don’t threaten us. Sometimes we can change shape somewhere out of sight and swim to a beach, pretend we’re just more people on holiday.”

  Patrick stroked a hand down Martin’s back. “You came along, and you didn’t start being silly about how cute we were, or try to ride on our backs.”

  He’d thought they were cute. He’d been willing to do whatever seemed to keep the dolphins amused, to get them to stay with him. Though perhaps that was the key -- he’d paid attention to what they wanted. “I just talked to you.”

  George sighed. “You’d be surprised how few people will just talk to us.”

  “Or read us books,” Patrick added. “This ham’s good.”

  “I thought you’d probably had enough of fish.”

  “The prawns weren’t bad.” Patrick rummaged in the basket and started making himself a chicken sandwich. “And it was good of your friend to bring us some more as a thank you.”

  He hadn’t seen them change shape, but everything they said reinforced the fact that these men were the dolphins he’d spent a week with. There were too many casual references to things they could not otherwise have known.

&
nbsp; “So Simon is just a friend, then?” George asked, very casually. “He’s very good-looking.”

  “He’s also very straight, and very promiscuous, neither of which appeals to me in bed.” He leaned forward and tapped George lightly on the nose. “Jealousy does not become you.”

  “Can you blame me?” George set down the remains of the sandwich and stared at him. “I don’t know what happens when you leave here.”

  Martin had become almost casual, even in the midst of strangeness. Now the hairs on the back of his neck stood up again. George was looking at him as if he was far more delicious than anything in the picnic basket. He was suddenly very aware that he was with two big, muscular men who wanted to fuck him. Men who weren’t men.

  “You’re scaring him again,” Patrick said, very quietly.

  George broke the eye contact with Martin and looked behind him at Patrick. “You were worried he might tell people about us. I’m more worried that he might just leave and never come back.”

  “No,” Martin said. He sat back, reached for Patrick’s hand. “I don’t know if we can make this work.” There were practical matters; he had a job that would keep him away much of the time, and there was the problem of how they could meet without arousing suspicion about George and Patrick. And there was also the not-so-small problem of him never having been part of a trio before. At least not knowingly. “But I’m not walking away from you without at least trying to make it work.” He liked them. This might be only the second time he’d been with them when they were in human shape, and the first time he’d been sure they were real, but this wasn’t a simple bout of lust at first sight. He’d liked them before he’d known that they were people. “I meant what I said about it being the best date I’d had in ages, even if it didn’t occur to me at the time that you might be able to take it literally.”

  “Good,” Patrick said and squeezed his hand. “Don’t mind old George; he’s just been fretting ever since you left because he likes having someone besides me to talk to.”

  “And you?” Martin asked.

  “Oh, I’d have been quite happy if you’d decided to swim with us instead,” Patrick said. “But he’d rather hear about fossils.”