Twice the Pleasure

by Portia Da Costa

  Seems he likes being touched by women too, especially when they cup the tight rounds of his fine ass and start squeezing. Especially when they grip, and then press into the firm, defined groove between his cheeks.

  Now it’s his turn to groan into my mouth.

  He’s still making sounds of unfeigned appreciation when he abandons my breasts and whips his hand down my skirted thigh, then whips it up again, beneath the smooth black fabric. He pushes and bunches the cloth upwards, exposing my stockings and my garter belt. He flicks at the elastic, then drags his fingertips over the bare skin of my thigh as if testing its temperature.

  And it’s hot, boy…. God, it’s so hot!

  He plays around there for a while, then moves upwards, seeking more heat. Wetter heat.

  I’m lost in some kind of dream, but there’s still a bit of me thinking, What the hell is this gay man doing anywhere near my pussy?

  Why the hell is he brushing and toying with the little bits of pubic fluff that are poking out of the leg of my panties? Why the hell is he pushing a finger beneath the elastic there, and searching and burrowing towards the damp, sticky heart of the matter?

  And then he’s touching my sex, one long finger diving right in and going straight for my clit.

  Good God, he knows how to find it too, not to mention knowing what to do with it far better than any of the heterosexual men who’ve fiddled around down there!

  He settles on it unerringly and squarely, pressing with a firm, sustained pressure, then rotating in a way that makes me see stars and shout beneath the pressure of his lips. I’ve wanted him so long, wanted to be with him, wanted him even in the last quarter of an hour when I knew he wanted Steve and probably not me at all…. I’ve wanted him so much that I buck up from the mats and have a mini-orgasm within seconds of him touching me down there.

  The throbbing heat in my loins makes squirm like an eel, but he throws a leg across both of mine, keeping me still while he delicately flicks and fingers me.

  My eyes tightly closed, I’m whimpering constantly now, sobbing through my crisis, completely confused by this beautiful, sexually clever man. It doesn’t matter anymore that he might like men better or that he might just be fooling about with me out of some mistaken urge to make reparation. I don’t care that I’m a complete idiot for fancying him and this is just him administering some pity pleasure. I just love what he’s doing, and for the moment, I probably even love him a bit too.

  His finger rides me through a multiple orgasm. The first I’ve had in a long while, and the first ever that didn’t spring from the electric stamina of my vibrator. But eventually, I have to descend.

  And open my eyes again…

  Drew’s looking down at me with a strange, complicated smile on his face. As if, somehow, I’m a revelation to him.

  My heart surges. Maybe he didn’t realize he liked women too until he set eyes on me again? Could such a miracle be true? I open my mouth, just about to speak, when his glace flicks to my right, and he shrugs. But not at me.

  Oh no…

  Steve’s here. He’s sitting a few yards away, and I never even heard him arrive, or felt the dip when he joined us on the mats.

  “You—” I start to protest, attempting to surge up into a sitting position and cover myself. My breasts are bare beneath my pushed-up bra, and my skirt’s around my waist. Drew’s hand is still half inside my panties.

  Another mouth comes down on mine, but it’s not Drew’s this time. It’s Steve’s. He’s flung himself across the mat towards us in the blink of any eye, and now he’s kissing me and touching my breasts with as much apparent enthusiasm as Drew just did.

  I’m still struggling. Even though a part of me really, really, really doesn’t want to.

  It’s the same part of me that’s goggling in astonished wonder.

  Two men. Both touching me at once. Two gorgeous men. Both dedicated, for the moment, to my pleasure.

  I close my eyes again, and the urge to struggle fades instantly. Only to be replaced by the urge to surrender to four hands and two mouths. And two magnificent bodies and two imaginative minds.

  I wonder for a moment if I actually never woke up and this is just one of those mad sex dreams, the ones I wake up from with my hand jammed between my legs.

  But this is all too real. And while Steve continues to kiss me, his tongue in my mouth and tasting of the rather good wine I chose for this gig, another mouth latches onto one of my nipples and begins to suck.

  Oh, Drew! He plays with my clit. He mouths my breast.

  Oh, Steve! His hand, leaner and nimble, sneaks beneath me and starts playing with my bottom.

  All the struggle in me is gone now. I relax, submit, accept. I’m a mass of horny female protoplasm to be manipulated by these two wickedly and deliciously perverted men.

  After squeezing my bottom cheeks for a few moments, almost keeping time with Drew’s attention to my clit, Steve, too, slides his hand inside my knickers.

  I almost faint with delicious, melting shame.

  How much of a sleazy, wanton trollop can one woman be?

  I’ve got not one man’s hand—but two—jammed inside my panties.

  I mewl around Steve’s tongue as they work me.

  Drew says, “Hush, baby, we owe you this,” and his breath is hot against the crinkled peak of my nipple. When he blows on it, my clit flutters wildly.

  I daren’t open my eyes now, but inside my mind, I see this image of what’s going on below my waist.

  My knickers stretched and taut from the tension of having two big male hands buried beneath the lacy fabric. And they’re both moving, rhythmically rubbing and fondling. Drew is still circling and teasing my pussy, rotating a finger on my beleaguered clitoris while he sucks and nibbles on my teat. And beneath me, Steve rubs and tickles and gently pokes at my anus, teasing the nerve ends, those naughty forbidden nerve ends that a nice girl doesn’t acknowledge or even think about.

  I’m in motion now. Writhing. Out of it. Off my head. In outer space.

  I thrash and come and moan and struggle, but they hold me, subdue me with hands and tongues and the force of their strong, handsome bodies.

  Some while later, I open my eyes. I’m a sweating disheveled heap of tangled clothes, naked breasts, and a still thudding, racing heart. I feel as if I’ve just survived a tornado.

  Drew and Steve are sitting on either side of me, watching, waiting.

  With difficulty, I sit up. I’m completely befuddled.

  “What the hell just happened?”

  Shock makes me aggressive and I glare at them while I try to tug down my skirt and at the same time, grapple my bra back into place. It seems important to make myself decent in order to tackle these two. Now that I can think straight again, I can’t believe that I allowed them—both!—to make free with me the way they did.

  “I don’t really know,” says Drew with a smirk. He looks so wicked, so boyish and so fatefully handsome that my righteous indignation begins to waver already. “It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

  “What? Seduce a woman you haven’t seen for ten years?” I turn to Steve, who’s watching us both. He’s more wary, more thoughtful, more knowing. “And what’s your story? Do you make a habit of playing a tag team with him? I’d kind of got the idea that the two of you were gay.…”

  I manage to get my blouse done up, and to my astonishment, Steve looks disappointed. How can that be? I thought he was the one most interested in men, yet it seems he likes women’s bodies, too.

  “It’s complicated,” he says.

  I turn to Drew. “How about you? Is it complicated for you too?”

  He shrugs, flashes that heavenly smile again…and despite my misgivings and my annoyance at being manipulated, I melt again. Everywhere.

  “No, not really…I think I’m bisexual, but I’ve mostly been with women.” He glances quickly towards Steve. “It just seems hotter somehow, when he watches me perform.” He smiles, and his tongue sn
eaks out and flicks around his lips. “And vice versa.”

  The bastards! They’ve used me for their perverted sex game! I try to climb to my feet, but the rubberized mats are unstable and I tumble over sideways.

  Only to be caught firmly in Steve’s strong, wiry arms.

  “Don’t go, Caitlyn—it isn’t how it seems,” he says softly, gripping me by the shoulders, looking into my eyes.

  How strange it is, after all these years, to suddenly realize that I want him just as much as I want our mutual friend. His dark, brooding looks make me ache and yearn with longing.

  “Well…how is it then?” I say in a small voice, as Steve releases me and I shuffle to sit between them again.

  “We’re not lovers…strictly speaking…if that’s what you think,” says Drew quietly, taking my hand. “We’ve…um…dabbled a bit. It started way back here…right on these mats. But for years, we didn’t do anything about it. Just kind of suppressed it, I suppose.”

  I glance from one to the other, my mind filling with hot visions of what their “dabbling” might be like, and wondering how hard it was to ignore a deep attraction. Or something more. Hell, my own Drew-crush has survived ten years—and it’s even weathered today’s bombshell news.

  Steve takes my other hand. “We stayed friends, and we run a business together. But we both started dating women, getting on with ordinary life.” His thumb runs over the back of my fingers, slowly, rhythmically, and it feels as if its stroking between my legs. “But…well…it’s a long story, but one night we ended up at a party—slightly drunk—and we ended up in a bedroom together and started to fool around.”

  I imagine their beautiful bodies writhing against each other. Back in the day, these two men had the finest physiques in our year. I try to picture what they might do to each other, but the image won’t firm up…. I need more. I need to know…. I need details.

  “So…if you fuck each other…who does who? I’d like to know.”

  “Not so much fucking,” murmurs Drew, lifting my hand to his lips and then kissing it. “More fondling, playing around…touching…masturbation.” His tongue pops out, licks my palm slowly and lasciviously. “When I fuck, I really prefer to fuck a woman.” He looks up at me, then winks at Steve, still wickedly caressing my skin with his tongue. “And so does he.”

  “H-how do you know these things…How do you work it out?” I’m rapidly losing the ability to think straight again. These two are messing with my mind, as well as my body.

  Steve’s thumb circles slowly, slowly. “It was that same party…. There was a woman. She stumbled in on us and asked if she could join us.”

  “What?”

  They both laugh. It is like an erotic tag team. They’re coordinated.

  “She was older…the wife of one of our first investors. She’d been around the block…done everything. She seemed to know what we wanted before we worked it out ourselves.” Drew places a hand on my midriff, just beneath my breasts. “And once she introduced us to the equation, it suddenly just seemed right.”

  “And you…um…do this all the time?”

  Drew’s worrying my shirt buttons again, but Steve speaks.

  “No…not really. Just once or twice with Clare. There never seemed to be a woman who was the right one.”

  I look from one to the other. They’re both smiling. Both their sets of eyes, blue and gray, are full of fire.

  “Until the reunion invitation arrived,” whispers Drew. “Then we both knew—without really have to ask each other—we both knew.”

  I shake. I feel faint for a moment. And the scales of a ten-year-old misapprehension fall away and I realize that the almost forgotten muddle of three-way jealousy was far more complicated than I realized at the time.

  “I don’t know about this…” says the voice of my mind, while my body ripples and surges in affirmation.

  What just happened…all the touching and the orgasms…was it just the taster for a delicious main course?

  “Don’t worry…. We’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

  Drew’s words are like honey in my ear, as Steve goes to work on my shirt buttons again, this time with purpose. A second later, they’re stripping it off, moving as a finely coordinated team.

  I swallow hard, moan with yearning and close my eyes again as Drew cradles my breasts while Steve unfastens the back of my bra. The elastic tension releases and then Drew whips the garment away. His hands quickly replace the lace and Lycra. He gently fondles me, while Steve attacks my skirt, unzipping it and pushing it down, then sliding his hands inside my panties from behind.

  Giddy with passion, I fling my arms around them, one around each set of broad, suited shoulders. While I cling on to them, they kiss and caress me and deftly strip off the rest of my clothes.

  Skirt, knickers, garter belt, stockings. They all fly away across the mat. Then I’m pushed gently backwards so that my skin hits the rubberized surface beneath us.

  It’s like I’m in a dream again, a delicious alternate reality where surrender is exquisite and exalting. I feel intoxicated, although I’ve barely touched a drop of alcohol.

  When Steve begins to touch me again, I writhe against the mat, unable to keep still as his palms glide over my breasts, pressing and moving the weight of them slowly and teasingly against my rib cage. His dark head dips, and he takes my puckered nipple between his lips, but as he begins to suck and mouth me, a slight sound to my right, draws my attention.

  Drew has stepped off the mat, just beside me, and is in the process of undressing. As he sheds his clothes, it’s like a poem of elegant, measured exposure.

  First his chest, broad and gleaming, golden and hairless. His condition is as perfect as it was when he was a youth, but now he’s a man, and full of power, full of glory. His muscles are packed hard, latent, almost menacing. I strain to reach out and touch him, even while his friend continues to suck and pleasure my breast.

  Drew’s skin is hot, very slightly moist as if finely perspiring. It ripples beneath my fingertips, and he sighs as if the simple touch delights him. For a moment we’re all frozen, immobile. Then I withdraw my hand, and he unbuckles his belt, peels down his fine suit trousers and steps out of them.

  Somewhere along the line, he’s kicked away his shoes and peeled off his socks, and now he’s nude, but for his fine jersey trunks.

  His cock bulges hugely beneath the soft cloth, pushing against it, hungry and proud. Dimly I wonder just who it’s so rampant for. Is it for me? Or for the dark, enigmatic lover who’s licking and flicking my nipple with his tongue?

  As if to bring me back to my own body—and his attentions to it—Steve nips me ever so slightly, his hard teeth pressing against my teat in delicate menace. The sensation is so intense that I groan, my pussy fluttering. I’m so turned on, I barely need to touch it, but even so, I slide my fingers into my cleft, and find my clit.

  I touch myself and squirm, still watching Drew, and the way he cups his swollen groin. He jiggles himself, he toys with himself, all the time smiling slightly, like a sly cat, in my direction. It’s as if he’s teasing me, denying me a full view of him. I make an agonized, impatient sound, my fingertip hovering. He shrugs beautifully and peels down his briefs.

  Oh, he’s big. Very big. His cock is like a stiff, rosy branch springing from his groin, the tip swollen and stretched shiny and weeping pre-come.

  For me?

  For Steve?

  Who cares!

  Drew flaunts his hips forward and puts his cock within my reach. Like a greedy kid reaching for a lollipop, I grab for it with my free hand, still caressing myself with the other.

  The fine silky skin of Drew’s penis is very hot, almost unnaturally so. It’s like he’s on fire, burning with the same lust that I am. Meanwhile, Steve worries and nibbles at the tip of my breast, and I have to fight not to squeeze the rampant flesh in my curled fingers.

  I wonder if it’s part of that dark devil’s game. I can’t see his face, but Drew grins and
then licks his reddened lips and jerks his pelvis forward. He wraps his big hand around my little one, folding our cupped fingers around his flesh.

  For many moments, we rock and squirm together. Hands and mouths in combination, as Drew leans over me to kiss my mouth as I caress him, and rests his hand on Steve’s dark head as his friend sucks and plagues my swollen nipple.

  My consciousness drifts, sharp yet dreamy. I feel like a goddess of sex, served by two devoted knights. Despite Drew making groaning appreciative sounds and thrusting within the grip of our wound fingers, I sense that this dance of the bodies is about me. All about me.

  And that’s so mellowing.…

  I forget the years of yearning and wondering. I forget the lingering resentment. The sense of what might have been. There’s only the now, and the now that is wonderful.

  “Do you want to fuck, beautiful Caitlyn?” murmurs Drew, from up close. His voice is ragged, as if he’s having a hard time keeping it together. As he gasps in my ear, his sweet cock leaps lightly in my hand. He’s very close, but he’s holding on. His jaw is hard with tension.

  Do I? Oh God, yes, I do!

  “Yes…oh please, yes…” I groan. Steve’s laving my nipple slowly with his tongue, flicking the other with his fingertips, but when he hears my voice, it’s like a signal, and he relinquishes me.

  When I whimper, bereft of his touch, he whispers, “Hush…don’t worry,” then slides his hand into his suit-jacket pocket and brings out a handful of condoms.

  Ah, so well prepared, my lads, a worldly-wise part of me observes. But I smile. Better prepared than not. Oh yes, far, far better.

  He drops his treasure onto the mat, but tosses one to Drew, who in turn, gently pries my fingers off his shaft and sets about enrobing it in latex. I wonder dreamily what it would be like to watch Steve put it on him, but obviously that’s not to be, this time at least. I mark it down as something to ask for in the future.

  Future?

  The thought shakes me, but then it’s wafted away on the breeze as Drew briefly presses his condom-clad erection into my hand again. He lets me hold it and explore the delicate, silky sheen of the rubber and the rock-hard living magnificence it encloses. Then he unfolds my fingers again, and sighs, “Relax, love,” as he moves on over me.