ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories)

by Donovan, Astrid Lee

  She laid back on the bed, bent her knees and slunk one hand back into her engorged pussy while the other picked up the motel phone and called reception.

  After an unusual amount of rings Ian picked up, “Um, yes, hello?” his breath was rushed.

  “I need a hand with something Ian, do you mind… coming over to give me a hand?”

  “Oh, um, I’m, um… is it an emergency?” his voice was wavering.

  “Things are a bit wet… I think I might need your capable hands on this,” she plunged her fingers into her slit and let a quiet moan escape into the phone, “Can you come?”

  After a muttered yes the phone clicked onto the receiver and she dropped the phone back into its cradle, her fingers soaked in her glistening juices.

  After an unusual wait, there was a knock at her door. Celia shimmied off the bed and still wrapped in her towel opened the door.

  Ian stood with a toolkit held in front of his crotch, a red blotching trailing up his neck. He tried not to look at Celia’s glistening skin.

  “You - you rang?”

  “Oh yes, please, come in Ian,” Ian stepped awkwardly into the room and Celia closed the door gently, “I have an issue that I’m sure you can help me resolve,”

  Ian turned just in time to come nose-to-nose with his guest. Celia took the toolbox and pulled it out of his hands, letting Ian’s stiffening pants press against her damp towel.

  Celia dropped the box onto the dresser and then took one of Ian’s hands, guiding it up her waist then back down under the towel, over her damp thigh and to the wet coils of her triangle.

  “This needs your attention, Ian,” she whispered.

  Ian’s hand reached forward and massaged her groin in a ‘come hither’ motion, his fingertips running over her clit deliciously.

  Celia unzipped his fly and found, to her surprise, that he wasn’t wearing underwear. The red and pulsating cock sprung from its entrapment and Celia wrapped her hands around its length and began pumping him appreciatively.

  “You’ve been a naughty boy Ian,” Celia’s voice was husky with arousal, “I heard what you were doing, and even though I called out for you, you never came,”

  She clicked her tongue in mock disappointment and squeezed a little tighter on his long cock. Ian groaned and gave his hips a small thrust.

  “You are such a naughty boy getting me all wet and slippery. I think I deserve a little recompense,” she held his cock and with her other hand gently eased him close to her pussy. Leading him by the cock, she took him to the bed and motioned for him to lie down.

  “Oh, I can’t. This is mother’s bedspread,” Ian looked horrified.

  “I don’t think she’ll notice,” Celia motioned again.

  “But… I mustn’t, this temptation…”

  Celia dropped her towel, fell to her knees and slid Ian’s cock into her mouth.

  The cock jerked excitedly in her mouth, and she swirled her mouth around its length before pulling away and looking up at the motel operator.

  “Alright you naughty boy, it’s time for your punishment. Take your pants off and get on the bed,”

  Ian fumbled with the button and let his corduroys fall before clambering onto the bed, sending the springs creaking.

  Celia climbed on top and was on all fours over his trembling body, Ian’s cock standing to attention like a third leg.

  Her full breasts hung deliciously over Ian’s face. Ian’s eyes followed them hungrily.

  “Would my naughty boy like to taste my tits?”

  Ian gave a tiny nod, “Okay naughty boy, lick my tit,”

  Ian’s head came up off the pillow and he ran his tongue over her breast, starting from the cup and working his way up to the nipple.

  “Now, suck,” she commanded as Ian opened his mouth and let Celia’s chocolate nipple slide into his salivating mouth, he sucked on it hungrily, making Celia’s insides flip and writhe with pleasure.

  “Now stop, my naughty boy,” Celia maneuvered backward, until she could feel Ian’s rigid cock twitching underneath the thickened lips of her labia.

  “I’m going to ride your cock until I’m done Ian, and you are not allowed to come until I tell you, understand?” Celia was using her best schoolteacher voice. Ian trembled underneath her and gave another nod.

  Easing herself down, she let Ian’s swollen head peel apart her thick lips and push at the entrance to her slit. Sitting a little heavier, she pressed down on the plum head and with a slurp her pussy enveloped the ridge. Teasing with her hips, Celia eased up and down on the head, her g-spot overflowing with juice so it trickled down Ian’s veiny length. Ian clenched his hands into the bedspread and grunted with the effort of holding his come.

  Inch by throbbing inch, Celia eased her hips down onto Ian until his wiry public hair roughed her pulsing clit.

  His cock was longer than she expected, and he was pressed all the way back into her cervix.

  Grinding slowly forward and back, Celia rode the throbbing cock getting faster with each other thrust; the bed springs squealing with the effort.

  Breasts swinging free, Celia grasped onto her chest and let her hips rock with freedom. The rigidness spreading her pussy lips and forcing her centre to gush with juice.

  “You are such a naughty boy, getting your guests all wet and horny. Do you enjoy getting horny?”

  Ian squeezed his eyes shut, and gasped his answer back, “Yes, oh my god yes, I get horny all the time but mother won’t let me date,”

  “Are you a naughty boy to your mother?”

  “Yes…” he moaned, “I steal panties…”

  Celia smiled wickedly, clenched her pussy and gave Ian’s cock a deep squeeze that sent him bucking beneath her.

  “Ah-ah, Ian, remember the deal…” Celia continued rocking, “Oh Ian, your long cock is pressed all the way up inside me… Can you feel yourself deep inside me?”

  “Fu--- yes, I’m all tight inside you… you are so wet…”

  “I’m going to come Ian, so you must remember to stay hard for me, I’m going to ride your rigid cock all the way.”

  Ian grunted and clawed on to the bed as Celia’s rhythm picked up, this time her slit clamping and releasing Ian’s dick with her thrusts.

  With Ian’s wiry fuzz of hair roughly rubbing against her clit, Celia felt the unmistakable opening and drenching of a full-blown orgasm. Her pussy relaxed and she slid further down Ian’s long cock and the pressure on her love-spot increased tenfold. With a flurry of violent thrusts, Celia felt a hot gush of juice squirt onto Ian’s lap as she came to the throws of her rolling ecstasy.

  Ian had stayed true to her word and had not come and was still as hard as an 18 year old.

  “Now Ian, I’m going to turn around and finish you off,”

  Sliding her pulsating pussy off of his cock, she swiveled to face away from Ian and slid his ample cock back inside her. This time, she perched forwards to give Ian the best view of her voluptuous derriere.

  Leaning onto her hands, Celia threaded the cock in and out of her slit.

  “Oh my…” Ian began.

  “What do you see honey?”

  “Your… your… hole is just swallowing my cock, and it’s… it’s so wet,”

  “That’s a good boy, you keep watching,”

  Celia increased her bobbing, and played with dropping her hips down to swallow the length and just teasing the swollen plum head.

  Ian’s hands began to rove over her butt cheeks, pinching and slapping the tight skin as she moved. His fingers then wandered to her pussy, and as she slid down, Ian’s slipped a finger along with his cock into her slit.

  Celia groaned and ground her hips down.

  Lifting back up, Ian removed his finger and played with the skin that led to her bottom. With every drop of her hips Ian’s finger moved closer and closer to her anus.

  “Have you got something naughty planned?” she called over her shoulder.

  This time, as she dropped, Ian slipped his wet finger into h
er tight hole, sending a whole new sensation of fullness running up her spine.

  Lifting her hips, Ian led her slide to his smallest knuckle before she came back down again to engulf not just his cock, but also his fat finger.

  Moaning with awakened arousal, Celia renewed her pumping.

  Ian’s breathing quickened, and he dug his remaining fingers into Celia’s gorgeous ass.

  Bursting with her second orgasm, Celia propped herself up a little higher and plunged madly with her hips, letting her clutching muscles squeeze down on the throbbing penis and Ian’s thick knuckle.

  With an animal cry, Celia came again, letting another river of juice course down Ian’s cock. Watching Celia’s juice flow over his length, Ian’s balls tightened. He removed his finger from Celia’s ass, pulled her hips down on his jerking cock, and yelled as if in pain as a thick shot of his pent-up come slammed into her cervix and squirted out onto his lap.

  Celia collapsed forwards and slid her pulsing pussy off Ian’s spent cock, “That, Ian, was the best hotel service I have ever had.”

  *****

  After Ian left her alone in the room, Celia showered and riffled through her belongings to find a decorative box.

  Celia pulled the box’s bow free and eased off the lid to reveal several layers of white tissue.

  Beneath the tissue laid her costume - a spectacular arrangement of deep crimson, gold and black soft leather. She couldn’t wait to put it on.

  *****

  An official sounding rat-a-tat on her door told Celia her ride was here. She had just finished curling her glossy locks into long, soft romantic curls, and was finishing her eye makeup.

  The assistant, Diane, was impeccable in appearance. She wore what could only be called a medieval interpretation of her Greek goddess namesake: a woods woman costume with a layered brown and eggshell blue knee-length tunic that was tied at the chest, soft leather knee-high boots and brown leather forearm guards, her ashen blonde hair pulled into a loose side plait.

  Diane beamed when she saw Celia, “I was told you were a stunner, but no one prepared me for this,” Diane whistled.

  Gathering her bags, Celia did one final sweep of the room before heading to Trent’s car, the costume giving her ample insulation against the autumn chill.

  The sun was setting and the motel was slowly coming to life with lights. Returning to the foyer to drop off her key, Celia saw Ian catch his breath as he laid eyes on his favorite guest.

  “You look stunning Miss,” he breathed.

  “Thank you, I couldn’t have asked for a better fit really,” she did a twirl, “Here’s the key, Ian, thank you for the memorable… afternoon,” she winked.

  “Happy to have you any time Miss, and err… your Grandma is a very special woman to have you go to this trouble. Don’t be a stranger round here,”

  Celia had to bite her tongue to stifle her laugh - what a story she would share.

  Returning to the car, Celia stuffed herself, and her costume, into the passenger seat and let Diane sweep her away from the motel into the hills.

  *****

  They followed a pitch-black trail deep into the forest and it was some minutes in total darkness before the trees thinned and the car emerged on the shore of an enormous lake. Lights from various shore-side properties glistened across the lake’s black mirror surface, but nothing outshone the vision that Diane was driving toward.

  Squatting on the edge of the lake was the largest stone and timber-built house Celia had ever seen. It looked like a picture book Swiss chalet complete with multiple chimneys and balconies on its first and second levels overlooking the water.

  “Wow, who owns this?”

  “My boss and party host, Anton Bertoli, and his son. The son uses this for his family holidays over summer to show off all the money he has, while Mr. Bertoli uses it for sex parties. The son thinks it’s some bloody fishing and hiking retreat for his dad,” Diane laughed, “Truth is, most of the son’s fortune has been built by the parties his father hosts; nothing like making a deal over the back of a delicious babe, or in Mr. Bertoli’s case, dude,”

  Celia looked stunned.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m just gossiping. Mr. Bertoli is 80 per cent gay, but for appearances he married a wonderful lady and had three beautiful, but dim, boys. I’ll introduce you to both if you like.”

  “Oh, ok, sure… And are you joining in tonight?”

  “Perhaps, I usually take care of Mr. and Mrs. Bertoli on nights like these by making sure they have a good time and everything is as they need it.”

  “So you’re the party planner for this?”

  Diane shrugged, “Not really, that’s more Mrs. Bertoli. I just make sure things turn up and my bosses get what they need,”

  For the rest of the ride Diane chatted away until the car pulled up into the underground garage and Celia was ushered into the private resident elevator.

  Diane gave Celia a final head to toe fix before the elevator pinged, signaling the ground level.

  As the doors swept open, an expectant crowd in similar medieval costume gathered in the vaulted living room in front of a real crackling fire.

  Among one of the tallest, Trent stepped out of the crowd and motioned to one of the servers with a drinks tray.

  Diane bustled forward with the introductions, “This, ladies and gentlemen is Celia, Trent’s very special guest.”

  There was a ripple of waves, warm smiles and welcoming “hello’s”, but the real treasure was seeing Trent’s dish-like eyes sweep over her costume.

  Celia wore the most opulent of dresses she could ever imagine. The dress was made of rich crimson velveteen overlaid with golden embroidery that set off her warm chocolate skin tones. The arms were loose and funneled open from the elbow, the many petticoats and padding in the back of her dress made the skirt blossom outward. Against the historical accuracy of the time, a leather corset had been matched with the dress and pulled in tightly to scoop out a deeper waistline, flattening her tummy and pressing her ample breasts up into the deep square neckline to make it look like her breasts were on their own shelf.

  The effect was mesmerizing, and even looking in the mirror she knew that Ben had outdone himself in the choice of costume.

  With Trent’s gaze fixated on her, Celia gave a fake curtsey.

  “You look incredible - absolutely, incredible,” Trent stepped forward, cupped her cheek and drew out a long kiss.

  A server appeared at Trent’s elbow and proffered a frosty glass, a vodka, lime and soda, Celia’s favorite.

  Taking a deep sip, Celia let her eyes wander around her partner and the room. Trent was wearing a Robin Hood-esque costume with wide black belt over a deep green tunic, black boots underneath a calf-length pair of dark pants and some of the manliest forearm guards she had ever seen. The costume made him scream of sexiness, and his bare upper arms rippled as he moved.

  “Looks like you’re coordinating with Diane tonight,” she smiled appreciatively.

  Trent laughed, “Yes, that was a happy accident. It’s the last time I try to get the host, Anton, to describe to me what to wear,”

  Trent guided her over to the crowd by the fire where the men were wearing richly colored tunics over dark colors while the women wore stunning gowns.

  The man at the centre of attention could only be Mr. Anton Bertoli. He was a little older than the rest of the guests, perhaps in his early sixties and was describing a culture clash that led him to befriend and fall for his latest boyfriend, a gorgeous Indian guy in his early 30s. Decked in a plum tunic with thickly embroidered sleeves, fur waistcoat and pillowy flat-cap Anton was the picture of wealth.

  Scoping out the crowd, Celia soon found Mrs. Bertoli. Wrapped in a slightly redder shade of plum, Mrs. Bertoli’s dress was simple and elegant. The dress had a built in corset that puckered her breasts upwards, while the folds in her skirts winked at hidden layers of gold. She smiled warmly along as the crowd chuckled and guffawed at Anton’s story, she seemed so a
t ease that Celia thought something had to be wrong. That was before Celia saw where Mrs. Bertoli was hiding one of her hands; the fidgeting of a male guest wearing a St George soldier tunic gave away that Mrs. Bertoli was more than occupied keeping her neighbor entertained. The man was slowly folding down on himself as Mrs. Bertoli’s hand moved ferociously within his costume. Only moments from realizing what was going on, Celia saw in awe as the male guest stifled his moan and twitched next to his host. After a moment of stillness, Mrs. Bertoli extracted her hand, dipped one long finger into her mouth, smiled, and stepped away from her spent guest. It was an impressive show if ever Celia was to see one.

  A little while later…

  A deep ache thumped in Celia’s pelvis as she straddled a man dressed in a monk’s habit. Her lips were sore from his bristly beard, but she renewed her passion as she fought her ample skirts to give the hardness that poked through his cloak a chance to enter her.

  The dress had proved successful and a hindrance. The guy in the habit, Remy, had given her ass a playful squeeze during the evening’s introductions, and she had wasted no time finding him.

  Celia had not bothered with panties for this costume, and counted her blessings that it was one less layer to remove to get Remy’s hard knob into her aching pussy.

  Remy’s cock sat up from between the brown fabric folds trembling, it curled slightly to the side revealing a thick throbbing vein.

  Finally feeling the cool evening air on her creaming hole, Celia lined up her slit and dropped violently down into Remy’s lap, the curve of his length stretched her opening deliciously.

  They sat on an oversized wingback armchair, and Celia wrapped her hands over the back and dipped her hips down to suck in more of the rigidness.

  Remy grasped at her dress and buttocks, leaning forward to kiss Celia’s bouncing breasts.

  Mid-thrust, a wiry hand clasped onto Celia’s forearm and the shrill call of Diane broke her concentration.

  “Celia, you most come with me. There’s a special game that you must play,”

  Diane all but hauled Celia off of Remy’s lap, and while he was slightly annoyed, another woman, sans skirt, leapt into the chair and using Celia’s slick juices to lubricate her own entry bounced enthusiastically on his cock.