Never Say Never

by Alison Tyler

  We lay in a warm heap of tangled limbs. I measured my breathing against theirs, first Will’s, then Adam’s.

  Dilo Keith’s ménage excerpt from Make Mine to Go explores an erotic M/M/M scenario:

  They expeditiously had me up against the headboard, with my cuffs affixed to the rails instead of to each other, and pillows between my back and the metal. With no warning, Paul straddled me and shoved his cock in my mouth. I struggled to back away, as if an extra inch would actually help me take him. Maybe it did, or maybe Paul eased off a little. It was more of a face fucking than a blow job, leaving me with little to do except breathe and keep my throat relaxed. Perfect. I couldn’t have been much harder, not without begging for release.

  From the sounds and movement of the headboard, I figured out Paul was holding on, using it for leverage. I groaned at the image of that and of Justin there watching me. I envisioned strong thighs driving Paul’s groin against me, my mouth stretched around him, and my arms held by leather, grateful that the camera was saving this for wanking to later. When Paul was getting close, Justin started jerking me off. He was doing himself, too, which was why the rhythm was a bit more like his, a little slower than I preferred. Not that the particular strokes mattered when two hot men had me at their mercy.

  Are you interested in M/F/M—or F/M/F? Or some scramble of the M’s and the F’s as yet undecided? (Doesn’t it sound as if we’re discussing a particularly sexy spoonful of alphabet soup?) Play out with fantasies before you make the first move. Then puzzle those pieces together.

  TANTALIZING TIPS

  •Put on a racy movie and pretend the people onscreen are in the room with you. (Read my story “Counterpane” for more insight.)

  •If you’re not ready to invite an actual third into your bedroom, incorporate phone sex or Skype to break down the barrier.

  •Ménages can be enjoyable in many different varieties. If m/f/f works for you one time, try m/f/m the next.

  FICTION: MÉNAGE

  MARGARITA MAGIC

  THOMAS S. ROCHE

  When Brian returned from blending margaritas in the kitchen, Robyn and Eve were making out on the love seat. If this turn of events wasn’t a hundred percent unexpected, it still came as a surprise, for at least one unusual reason. Eve was, it had always been supposed, very much a lesbian. Brian had lived in San Francisco long enough and had enough queer friends to know that getting with a straight girl was thought in the lesbian community to be a big, fat, juicy invitation to the kind of drama that Eve, it was said, detested. Wasn’t it an even bigger, fatter, juicier invitation for a lesbian to get with a straight girl while her husband was in the kitchen making margaritas?

  And wasn’t it even more so not to stop—or even slow down—when he came back?

  Okay, but Brian had to admit that there had been hints. Eve didn’t have a girlfriend and clearly didn’t want one. And there had been flirting even before there had been margaritas as a topic of discussion. In fact, there had been lots of flirting. Brian liked that; his taste in women tended toward the punky, and Eve was hot. But Brian wasn’t a cad; he hadn’t already counted a threesome in the bag. He was basically just counting on margarita magic to help the flirting continue. He hadn’t guessed that things might escalate into a make-out session on the love seat.

  But for margarita magic to even work—that is to say, for it to take a reasonable lesbian and make her think a threesome with a straight couple is an awesome idea, it usually takes at least a sip. Brian hadn’t even gotten Eve to taste the damn things, and here she was with his wife’s tongue in her mouth. Sure, that sweet mescal enchantment didn’t always need to cross the blood-brain barrier to work…but didn’t it at least need to pass Eve’s lips?

  Apparently not before Robyn’s tongue did.

  Brian set his intoxicating pitcher of frothy green sex on the coffee table. He sat in the soft easy chair facing the big, cushy love seat that held his wife and their guest.

  He poured himself a tall one.

  He took a mouthful of cool sweet magic and settled in to watch. Neither woman paid a damned bit of attention to him, which suited Brian just fine for the moment.

  Robyn was half-atop their guest, and the two women were going at it furiously—making out as if they couldn’t get enough of each other. In fact, they were more than making out; Robyn’s hand was well up Eve’s dress, though there wasn’t that much of the dress, really, for it to be “up.” Among their friends and the friends of their friends, Eve was the famous femme slut in any given room, and tended to sometimes push her luck…her luck being the plausible deniability when she managed to flash anyone who would be scandalized but no one who would be pleasantly titillated. This dress was the sluttiest of the bunch, apparently sewn from an oversized Stooges T-shirt, short in the hem and so low cut she had practically been falling out of it all night. Its structural instability was augmented by a tactical series of hacks and slashes cut right through Iggy Pop’s grotesque yet oddly compelling bod, as if the naked torso of Eve’s addled idol was about to start bleeding on her. Admiring Eve in barely there punk clothes was so completely part and parcel of being her friend that when she’d shown up in this one, Brian hadn’t considered it the obvious invitation that Robyn had. Hey, they were just a straight couple having dinner with their barely dressed lesbian friend and then inviting her back to their place to listen to some Tom Verlaine solo albums, right? Hey, what could be suggestive about that?

  Brian slurped. Margarita Magic exploded in his mouth.

  Robyn was all the way on top of Eve, now, their bodies pushed up together. Robyn pinned Eve’s wrists down on the cushy arm of the love seat, with one palm flat across them. Her other hand was up under Iggy Pop’s crotch and down Eve’s panties, which were visible between Eve’s wide-spread legs. They were pink, of all things, with red bows, sort of a see-through mesh, and they undulated as Robyn’s fingers worked fervently. His wife was urgently finger-fucking their guest while her ravenous mouth made bestial sounds all up and down Eve’s neck.

  Eve was moaning, her hips rising and falling with the motions of Robyn’s hand. Brian’s cock began to stiffen, but only a little; he wanted to watch until someone invited him in. Why kill the goose that laid the golden threesome?

  Robyn had magic fingers. Brian often kissed and sucked them; he loved to feel them digging sharp-nailed into his flesh. They weren’t sharp-nailed now; Robyn had just had a manicure, which Brian realized in retrospect might have been another sign that his wife had been thinking something could happen tonight between the three of them—or at least between her and Eve. Now, one of Robyn’s magic hands had both of Eve’s wrists pinned. Eve didn’t let this dissuade her from fully participating in her own ravishment. Eve’s hips worked sensuously up and down against Robyn as she sought to fuck herself more firmly onto Robyn’s other hand.

  The two kissed hungrily; Robyn never stopped finger-fucking Eve. There was something desperate and urgent about the way they kissed. Brian’s cock rose from half to full erection. He bit his lip, afraid that jumping in too soon might spoil everything.

  Slowly, deliberately, Brian took a long deep slurp of margarita.

  It wasn’t easy for Brian to keep his distance. One of Robyn’s perfect teacup-sized tits had popped out of her bra, showing a whisper of hot pink finger marks. Had Eve been pawing his girlfriend while he was making margaritas—before Robyn had pinned Eve’s wrists? Now that was fucking hot; he hadn’t been gone that long. They must have gotten busy almost the second he left. He had probably been barely out the door when Robyn and Eve surged together and made with the lip-lock…

  Brian’s eyes narrowed. Did that mean the pair didn’t want him involved? Was he even—maybe—fucking things up by being here, watching?

  Brian took a deep draught of margarita, never taking his eyes off the passionately kissing women.

  He was still swallowing when Roby and Eve looked at him at once.

  They started to laugh.

  And then it wa
s Eve who said in the practiced drawl of a forties film maven:

  “What’s the matter, big-boy, you just wanna watch?”

  Brian opened his mouth to say something stupid about how he wasn’t sure they wanted him joining in; he stopped himself barely in time. The two girls laughed and teased him. “He’s blushing!” they said. Any other time, that would have irritated Brian and made him blush more, but he decided tonight Robyn and Eve deserved a whole lot of slack.

  Brian got up, refilled his glass and approached the couch. Robyn, still laughing, reached up and plucked the drink from his hand; she planted those bee-stung lips on the straw and slurped up just enough margarita so that when she lunged back down to kiss Eve, the latter issued a purr, then a whimper as the cold hit her, then a giggle.

  Brian barely even noticed that their guest’s hand had found his belt and was grabbing and unfastening it.

  With his belt as a handhold, Eve pulled Brian down hard. He dropped to his knees beside the love seat. Sticky margarita splashed and dribbled down Eve’s neck, chased by Robyn’s eager tongue. Brian felt Eve’s hand unzipping his fly and tugging his jockeys out of the way. Her hand disappeared into Brian’s pants and came out holding his erect cock.

  By the time Eve got Brian’s cock out, Robyn had Eve’s dress up past her tits and was deftly undoing her bra. While Robyn was occupied with that, Eve took the margarita from Robyn’s hand and sucked down a healthy slurp. Then she made yum sounds as she lunged for Brian’s cock. She put her spit-wet lips on it, cool with margarita and sticky with kiss-ruined lipstick. Her mouth glided up and down the underside of Brian’s erect cock, her tongue slipping out as she got her bearings. She licked all the way down to the base of Brian’s shaft. Then she came back up to the top and engulfed his cock with her mouth.

  Brian sighed softly as he felt Eve’s mouth surrounding him, cool at first and then past the point where the sweet margarita had actively chilled her. Instead, as Eve pressed Brian’s cockhead up against the back of her throat, he felt the chill of the blended ice and the easy warmth at the back of her mouth. Eve had a piercing through her tongue, and Brian could feel it against his glans, strangely stimulating and hot. Eve’s mouth bobbed up and down while her eyes flickered up, the dark orbs smiling at Brian.

  When she came up for air, she said: “You have no idea how much I miss these when I don’t have one around.”

  Once again Brian opened his mouth and almost said something stupid (“You can visit this one whenever you want?” “This one misses you?” “They’re not hard to find?”) but managed to stop himself. Robyn had Eve’s dress up to her shoulders and her bra was halfway off, but Eve didn’t want to stop sucking his cock. She finally made a bratty little irritated gesture and put up her arms and sat up just enough so that Robyn could get the dress over Eve’s head. The bra went, too, tangled up with it, until all that was left were the panties and the big heavy cyberpunk combat boots with the big metal buckles. And while the boots looked impressive on Eve’s mostly nude body, the panties weren’t much to speak of. Robyn tugged them out of the way with very little effort as she slid down Eve’s body and started eating her out.

  Eve moaned softly as she worked on Brian’s cock, reaching around him to get his pants down over his ass, then down to his ankles. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of them, going to a great deal of trouble to get his socks off as well—the last damned thing he wanted to do was have a threesome in socks. He made short work of his shirt while Eve went to town on his cock. Despite rumors of her only liking girls, Eve was clearly an expert at this. Her mouth worked up and down his cock eagerly, her tongue gliding easily over the underside of his shaft. Every once in a while, however, Robyn—whose face was still buried between Eve’s tattooed thighs—would do something particularly delicious with her tongue, and Eve’s mouth would come off Brian’s cock. She would utter a noise of pleasure—whether a sibilant hiss or a soft, rolling moan—and launch herself into the task of sucking Brian’s cock with newfound abandon.

  And yet, she obviously knew what she was doing; she wasn’t building Brian toward a climax. The way her mouth worked, she could have—but she was teasing him, stroking him, gently coaxing more pleasure out of him while Robyn kept working on her sex. Robyn was no longer licking Eve but was using her hand to fuck her silly.

  In fact, Robyn—who didn’t get to play with girls very often—was showing an abiding obsession with Eve’s pussy. Her fingers had made their way deep inside her, and Brian could see Eve’s smooth sex stretched tight around three—no, four—of Robyn’s fingers, the ring through her clit glinting bewitchingly under Robyn’s thumb. At some point—Brian couldn’t be sure when—the panties had been slid over Eve’s boots, leaving the punk girl nude except for those giant leather and metal monstrosities.

  Eve worked her hips furiously, fucking herself onto Robyn’s hand. Although Eve’s own hand was still wrapped around the base of Brian’s spit-wet cock, it became very clear very fast that Eve no longer had the concentration to give him a proper blow job. She was losing it, mounting closer to orgasm with each eager thrust of her body onto Robyn’s hand—which made Eve’s own hand tighten around Brian’s cock as if it were a grab bar. Her cries of pleasure grew louder with each stroke. The expression on Robyn’s face was priceless—the kind of bliss only possible in a married girl who wants very badly to play with other girls, and finally gets to.

  Brian took it upon himself to extricate his cock from Eve’s death grip and sneak his hands up under Robyn’s arms. He got her shirt open quickly and worked on her bra; even when he started kissing her, Robyn would only let him slide one of her hands through the armhole and strap, because she wanted to keep fucking Eve. Her blouse and bra hung awkwardly from one shoulder while Robyn’s fingers plunged deep into Eve. Robyn’s skirt was much easier, because by then Robyn was half standing to get leverage, and Eve was very close to a climax. But Robyn knew what she was doing with a pussy almost as much as Eve knew what she was doing with a cock, so she didn’t rush forward and get Eve off quickly; she toyed with her, while her husband slid her clothes off.

  By the time Robyn lunged forward onto Eve and leaned in hard to kiss her and fuck her harder, she was stark-raving naked. The two women lip-locked eagerly while Brian, winded from the wrestling match it took to get Robyn undressed, took a slurp of margarita—and to his surprise, got pulled in hard for a kiss, Eve’s hand on the back of his head.

  She kissed him hungrily while his mouth was still full; sticky sweet margarita went everywhere. Robyn lapped after it; the three of them kissed while Brian’s hands traced rivulets of margarita over Eve’s perfect little tits.

  Then Eve’s arms circled their shoulders—left arm over Brian, right over Robyn. She formed another death grip—this one just about unbreakable—and pulled both of them firmly against her. She let out a thunderous moan and told them she was coming.

  With her fingers buried deep and fingertips, Brian guessed, probably pressed hard against Eve’s G-spot, Robyn never let her thumb stop doing the work. The three of them writhed together on the big, cushy love seat, the smell of sweat and of sex intoxicatingly mingling with the margarita magic. Eve cried out over and over again, until she finally begged for mercy under the couple.

  Eve’s fingers tousled his hair.

  “You know,” Brian finally said. “We’re not bohemians. We do have a bed.”

  Both Robyn and Eve thought that was a great idea, and for a while they let Brian do all the work. The margaritas were all melted by then, but no one seemed to mind drinking straight from the bottle.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TRADING SPOUSES—

  SOFT SWAPPING

  Let yourself be open and life will be easier.

  —BUDDHA

  Some couples are happily contained in a neat little one-on-one unit. Others like to play with multiple partners, but as fantasy only. Still others break the rules wide, well, open. Within the genre of open relationships, there are multiple types. Are yo
u interested in an orgy, a free-for-all fucking event? Or an even swap—two partners gently shaken, possibly stirred? For hands-on information, Tristan Taormino penned the guide Opening Up. For erotic thoughts on the matter, I like to turn to my bookshelf.

  “Counterpane,” a short story I penned a while back, features two couples—one hetero and one gay. This story explores voyeurism, exhibitionism, anal and a twist:

  “Roll over.”

  That was something Ry said to her, in just the same way:

  “Roll over. Show me that sweet fucking ass of yours.”

  Now, she watched as the top started to rim his lover. Fucking god. More than talking to Ry about who’d abused this hotel room before, she liked seeing what the two boys would do.

  Her heart pounded at the way the brunet roughly pulled apart the blond’s cheeks and licked in a tight circle around that tiny pink bud. She clenched her own thighs together. Ry had never done that to her. Nobody had. But she desperately wanted to own that experience, a tongue against her there. Wetness. Warmth. She thought that the sensation alone might make her come. Would it feel like Ry was suckling her clit? Would it make her feel like a boy?

  My novel-in-progress The Trade focuses solely on a fair swap. I’ll take your wife, you take mine:

  “He’ll fuck you, Jordy,” Killian whispered. “In front of everyone. And they’ll all know what I know. They’ll all know what a dirty little slut you really are.”

  My cheeks burned, but I wondered if—in spite of his cocky words—he truly could handle the reality of this scene. What would it do to Killian to see another man taking control of me? Breaking through a crowd of people and putting one hand on my shoulder. Forcing me down to my knees. Making me behave.