by Amy Brent
“Fine, okay, I admit it. I enjoy every freakin’ second of it. And I’m sure I’ll enjoy it even more when it happens again, probably tonight. But holy moly, Iz, I am sore in places I didn’t know you could be sore in. My tits and my ass and my cunt… I feel like I’ve been slammed by the entire WWE! I need a break!”
I stopped ranting long enough to look across the table at her. She had a blank look on her face, as if she were in shock.
“Iz? You okay?” I asked.
Izzy widened her dark eyes and held out her hands. “Are you finished?”
“What?”
“Are you finished?’ she asked, looking around to see if anyone else had been part of the audience to hear me complaining about the three-way relationship I’d gotten myself into with Professor Holden Moss and his best friend, Dr. Wynn Driver. “Because God forbid I interrupt you while you’re on a tirade about getting your clock cleaned by two gorgeous men at the same time!”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I felt my neck flush red hot. I put my hands to my cheeks and stuck out my tongue like a panting dog. “I didn’t mean to rant and rave. It’s just that, well shit, what the hell was I thinking?”
Izzy picked up her bottle of water and rolled her eyes as she took a drink. “Here we go again. What was I thinking? My tits hurt. My pussy hurts. My ass hurts. I’m having too many orgasms. I don’t know what to do with all this cock. Poor me. Blah, blah, blah, blah.”
“That sounds nothing like me,” I said with a hard stare, although it kind of did.
“It sounded just like you, you whiny bitch,” Izzy said with a grin. She picked up a French fry from her tray and swizzled it through the pool of ketchup she’d made. “I swear, Jude, you’re never satisfied. One minute, you’re bitching about a guy using you, and the next minute you’re bitching because you can’t get laid, and the next minute you’re bitching because you’re getting laid too much. What did you expect when Holden brought Wynn into the bedroom with y’all? Tag team fucking?”
I blinked at her because I didn’t know the answer. “I don’t know what I expected,” I said honestly. “I just thought it would be interesting to fuck two guys at once.”
Izzy leaned in and smiled. “And so? Is it interesting?”
I looked around to make sure no one was close enough to listen, then grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “It is fucking amazing!”
“I knew it!” Izzy said, clapping her hands and cackling at the top of her lungs. Every head in the cafeteria turned our way for a moment, but Izzy ignored them. She reached across the table and squeezed my arm. “Okay, enough whining. Tell me how it works.”
I knew what she was asking, but I wanted her to squirm a bit. “Tell you how what works?”
“How it works with two dicks and one pussy?” she said. Izzy was a black girl from Atlanta who was in the top 2% of her psyche class at Midwestern, but at the moment, she had switched into ghetto mode and was swaying her head back and forth. “Don’t play dumb with me. Tell me how it works. Who sticks what into where? And do they take turns? Is it like Red Rover and you call them over? Come on. Spell it out.”
I picked up my soda and brought the straw to my lips without taking a sip. “Well, honestly, the first time was a little awkward. I mean, we got naked and both of them were hard as rocks. And I gotta tell you, Wynn has the longest cock I have ever seen.” I held up my hands a foot apart. “I mean, Holden is like ten-inches, but Wynn is a foot long, like a freaking hot dog, I swear to god.”
“Damn girl,” Iz said, whistling. “And I thought my man was hung like a horse.” Her man was Earl Winston, captain of the Midwestern University football team. He was large and black and scary as hell to anyone who didn’t know what a teddy bear he really was. He looked out for me and Izzy like we were his two prized cubs.
Izzy put her elbows on the table and rested her chin between her hands. “Okay, so you got naked. Then what.”
“Well, we got naked and we kind of just huddled up together,” I said, sighing at the memory of the three of us standing naked in Holden’s living room. I wiggled in my chair because a warm flow of juices had started flowing between my legs.
“Then what?”
I gave her an evil grin. “Then, I took a cock in each hand while they started kissing me and feeling me up. I had fingers on my tits, in my pussy, in my ass…”
“Whoo, that sounds… whooo…” Izzy grinned at me. “So, you’re playing milking machine with their monster cocks while their fingers are doing the walking all around your booty hole.”
“My booty hole?” I smiled as my nipples pushed against my bra. “Yes, something like that.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then we went into the bedroom,” I said. “End of story.” I leaned back and folded my arms over my breasts and let my shoulders go up and down. I clamped my mouth shut and tried not to smile.
“End of story my ass,” Izzy growled, her forehead lining in a deep frown. “You… don’t even think about holding out on me. What happened next?”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my lips. I put my elbows on the table and leaned over them with my voice low like a man’s. “Well… then Wynn says something like, ‘I want you to suck my cock while Holden fucks you from behind, then we’ll switch’!”
“He did not say that,” Izzy covered her mouth and squealed.
“Yes, he did.”
“Oh, that nasty mother fucker.”
“Nasty is right,” I said. “Nasty and amazing.”
“So, you sucked Wynn’s foot long while Holden laid his pipe into you from behind.” She blew out her lips and shook her head. “Girl, you got me melting in my drawers. Then what?”
“Then we did everything you can imagine,” I said. I crossed my legs and put my hand in my lap beneath the table. I rubbed the tips of my fingers against my clit, which was so swollen I could feel it through the spandex workout pants I’d put on to meet Izzy for lunch. “They took turns on me, I took turns on them. We fucked and sucked and fingered and you name it. There was not a hole in my body—other than my ears and nostrils—that didn’t have a cock in it at some point during the night.”
“Damn…” Izzy said with a smile, absently rubbing her ears. She leaned back in the chair and let go a long breath, as if she was spent from my tales of great sex. “And you’re gonna do it again tonight?”
“With any luck,” I said, putting the straw between my lips to take a sip of my soda. “Holden and Wynn are at the association conference until nine or ten, then they’ll be back at Holden’s place and I expect the fun to begin again.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “You want to come join the fun?”
Izzy scoffed at the idea. “Girl, Earl would kill us all if that happened.”
I giggled and nodded my head. “That’s probably true.”
“Man, I bet your ass is tired,” Izzy said, head shaking, still snickering. “How long is this gonna go on?”
“Um, I think Wynn flies back to Los Angeles on Tuesday or Wednesday, so another couple of days.”
“Do you think you and Holden can just go back to being a couple after Wynn is gone?” Izzy asked. She picked up another fry and wiggled it at me. “For that matter, were you guys ever a couple?”
It was a good question, and one that I had asked myself several times over the last month or so, ever since I first seduced Professor Holden Moss, who was my grad school psychology professor and the latest target of my “Teacher’s Pet” fantasy.
You have to understand, I’ve always considered myself to be a bit of a nymphomaniac. Actually, Holden—the psyche professor— says there’s no such thing as a nymphomaniac. He says I just have a hyperactive sex drive.
Okay, whatever. Fuck me anyway.
Plus, I’ve also had a thing for older guys, especially older academic, authoritarian guys; like professors, teachers, executives, speakers, authors, etc.
It didn’t hurt that Holden looks like a Greek god and can do things to my body that had never been done before.
We fucked the first night we met and every night since then. No regrets, no remorse, lots of orgasms.
Then, his best friend and famous author, Dr. Wynn Driver, arrives in town for a weekend meeting and my fun suddenly doubled. I fucked Wynn on Holden’s kitchen table the morning after he arrived, then I fucked them both later that night when they got home from the conference.
It turned out that Holden and Wynn had planned the whole thing. They had done a lot of tag-team fucking in the years they had known each other. Wynn had probably seen Holden’s cock more than I had, given the number of women they’d shared. And now they were sharing me. I was having the time of my life, but the fun came with a few dark thoughts. And, as Izzy had so aptly pointed out, I had no idea what would become of the relationship I had with Holden after Wynn left town. Would things just go back to normal? Or were things really normal to begin with? Shit…
“How do you see your relationship with Holden?” Izzy asked, all serious now, her psyche training kicking in. That was one of the things about having all psyche majors and professors as friends. We were always trying to psychoanalyze and solve each other’s problems. “Do you see you and Holden as a couple? Or are you just fuck buddies or what?”
“That is a very good question,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Before Wynn arrived, I would have said that we were just two consenting adults having fun together.”
“And now?” Izzy asked.
“And now? I’m not so sure.”
She laced her fingers together and propped her chin on them. “What changed?”
“Another good question, Dr. Parks,” I said, sighing again as I stretched my arms toward the ceiling. I grunted like an old woman. Wow. I really was tired. “And again, I’m not sure.”
Izzy narrowed her eyes at me. “Okay, let’s try a different tact. How do you feel about Holden?”
I shook the ice loose in my drink cup and took a moment to ponder the question. “You mean, do I have feelings for him?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose I do… I mean, I’m not in love with him… Not yet anyway.”
“Okay, so you’re not in love with him, but you do have feelings for him.”
“Yes, I do have feelings for him. Definitely.”
“And have those feelings changed now that Wynn is in the picture?”
I snickered at her. “Jesus, what is this, the Oprah Winfrey Show?”
“Is that a reference to me being black?” she asked, mocking a frown.
“No, that’s a reference to you being nosy,” I said.
“Okay, fine, I’m nosy,” she said, wiping ketchup from her lips with a napkin. “But you still gotta answer my question.”
“Which was?”
“Jude, please,” she said, huffing. “Have your feelings for Holden changed since Wynn is now in the picture?”
“Honestly, Iz, I don’t know,” I said quietly. My tone had a little whine to it. “I mean, I really like Holden, and if Wynn had not come into the picture, who knows where that relationship might have gone. Or might still go. I mean, I’m not looking to settle down or even be monogamous. I don’t think I have the ability to be faithful to one guy. But if I did, I wouldn’t mind if that guy was Holden.”
She nodded slowly. “And what about Wynn?”
“What about Wynn?”
“How do you feel about him?”
“I barely know the guy,” I said, which was an awful thing to say given that I had fucked him every which way but loose over the last twenty-four hours.
“So, you don’t have the same feelings for Wynn that you have for Holden?”
“No, at least…”
“At least what?”
“At least not yet.”
Chapter Six: Holden Moss
I’m not going to lie to you. When the idea of bringing my best friend, Dr. Wynn Driver, into my relationship with Jude Allen first came to mind, I was more than a little hesitant.
It wasn’t because I didn’t think either of them would not be open to the idea. To the contrary, Wynn and I had done more tag-team fuck matches than any wrestler in the World Wrestling Federation. Our tag teams involved one (and sometimes two, three, or more) beautiful, hot, horny women that we shared to everyone’s delight. Call it gangbanging, tag-teaming, or the fancier term: ménage a trois, Wynn and I had fucked a ton of women at the same time. It was kind of our thing. And the women never complained. Ever.
And Jude, well, Jude seduced me by coming into my grad school classroom on the first day of class, sitting in the front row, and spreading her legs to show me her shaved pussy. She was one of the most sexual women I had ever met. She oozed sexuality and desire like a warm cookie oozes… well… whatever it is that a warm cookie oozes and makes you want to have a bite. You know what I mean.
She claimed to be a nymphomaniac, and had a long history of sexual relationships with teachers and professors. In fact, she told me outright that she wanted to be my pet… my teacher’s pet. And one look at her beautiful face and voluptuous body… one quick glance at her perfect, moist, pink pussy, and one taste of her lips left me without any options. She would be mine and I would be hers. There would be no turning back now.
We had sex that very night and every night since our affair began. Jude was a sexual dynamo. An acrobat in bed. With no inhibitions or hesitation. She literally could go all night and never get enough, though she orgasmed in waves one after another and always begged for more. That, she thought, made her a classic nymphomaniac. Oh, and when she came her pussy gushed. And sometimes squirted like a water fountain on high. Jeez, I do so love a woman who squirts…
But, I digress… sigh…
As someone highly trained in psychology, and the inner workings of the human libido and brain, I did not buy into the concept of nymphomania, which is what Jude claimed to be. I informally diagnosed her as being “hypersexual”, which simply meant that she had a very high sex drive and acted upon it. She loved to fuck, so she did. A lot.
Better that than to suppress it as so many people feel the need to do. I believed was why there was so much cheating and infidelity among couples throughout the world these days.
Usually, it’s the man who wants and needs more sex, and his female partner who doesn’t give it to him because she doesn’t have the same hypersexual needs that he has.
Sure, some men cheat just because they are self-centered assholes, but some men literally cannot control themselves. Men who, like me, live and love for the sake of having sex. Yes, I admit it. Fucking is my favorite thing to do, followed closely by getting my cock sucked, and then returning the favors to my lover. If you asked me if I would rather breathe or fuck, I’d drop my pants, work up a hard on, and see how long I could hold my breath while hammering it to a beautiful girl. I’d either cum or pass out. Or perhaps both!
I loved sex.
I loved women.
I loved sex with women.
And I wasn’t so shallow that the woman had to be like Jude: a 15 on a scale of 10. I loved beautiful women, but to me beauty was only skin deep. I had had unbelievable sex with women of all ages, all shapes, all sizes, all colors, and all ethnicities.
Hell, one of my favorite fuck buddies was a fifty-year-old bisexual Russian History professor named Marsha Clarkson. Marsha was short and pudgy, with cropped hair and a penchant for flannel and baggy jeans. She was also one of the most amazing sex partners I’d ever had. Wynn and I gangbanged her the first time after a psyche association meeting in the bathroom at a dive bar called The Royal Crown Club. It was such a fun experience, banging a lesbian in a public restroom, and she was such an amazing fuck that we still tapped Marsha whenever the chance came around. Wynn wanted to seek her out this weekend while he was in town. Then he got a look at Jude.
Marsha was energetic, creative, horny as fuck and not afraid to try anything. We had had sex in restrooms, broom closets, classrooms, her car, my car, and a dozen other places. That was the key, I think. I’d had sex with a lot of beautiful women w
ho spent more time concerned about their hair than making me cum. When Marsha had sex, she went all in. And like the WWF, it was an all-out, no holds barred, see how many positions we can come up with and how much cum we can get out of each other fuckfest. I dreaded the day when Marsha met a nice lesbian and settled down. She would be one player sorely missed in our little world of swinging dicks.
Jude was a lot like Marsha, only forty years younger and a million times hotter. She was tall, naturally pretty, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, luscious lips, curvy, with big tits and a tight pussy that she could control like magic fingers around my cock. She was also a brilliant psyche student who would one day hang out her own shingle and help other women deal with the issues that she had overcome.
The thing I loved most about Jude (besides the incredible marathon sex we had) was that she made me happy. Truly happy. Like few women had done before. It was impossible not to sport a silly grin when Jude was around. I sometimes caught myself smiling like the village idiot. She was happy and carefree, even bubbly sometimes, and it was contagious.
And she was this teacher’s pet.
At least for now.
Back to my original thought…
Jude and I had been going at it pretty hot and heavy for a month. And she knew all about my… shall we call them… past group activities… especially with Wynn. I had been blatantly honest with her and she seemed to revel in the tawdry details of our misadventures. In fact, when I told her the story of Wynn and I banging Marsha Clarkson in the restroom at the Royal Crown Club, she got so fucking excited she nearly attacked me.
We talked about three-ways and four-ways and orgies Wynn and I had participated in. We talked about two guys and one girl, and two guys and three girls. I told her about the orgies we’d attended and the swinging we’d done with married couples on and off campus.
When I told her about the time me, Wynn, and another buddy named Jake Rule all three had sex with one girl at the same time, her eyes grew wide and she licked her lips.
