Past Pleasures

by Charlotte Stein

  Especially when he barely heard her whisper—

  “It’s all right. Tell me what you want. Tell me.”

  He shivered against her, to hear it. Just for him. Those words were just for him. And they forced his hands up, to cup her small, soft face. They made him want to look into her eyes, and say words to her.

  “I want to see you,” he said, and in reply she kissed him, slow and not like before. He could feel her hands between them, undoing her clothes.

  Beneath the first outer layer there was another, smaller one. It clung so tight that at first, he was sure it was a part of her—so this was what breasts looked like! But then she reached behind herself, and the other garment fell away, too.

  “What is it, what is it?” Aley asked, and he felt certain that any moment she would be turned from him, so that his companion could see, too. But that was all right, because he was permitted first. He got to lay his hands on her first, to fill them up with the swell of her flesh—she had nipples, like a man! And they were small and tight and when he laid his hands over them, she gasped.

  His hands seemed separate from his body. They fondled and stroked and tested the smooth round versions of what they had to make do with, but it was difficult to process how they really seemed. What the experience was like. Instead, his groin pulsed and pulsed and took over his entire body, nagging for release.

  “What do you think?” she asked, so sudden and so neatly cutting into the ache of pleasure that he was startled. He drew his sweating hands away and watched, as Aley took his place—turning her gently and cupping first one, then the other, in a way he wished he had the confidence for.

  “Do these work the same as ours?” he said, then—of all things—he ducked his head, and suckled on one of her nipples. Or at the very least, one of her potential nipples. Really, they could have been anything.

  Though she certainly behaved as though they did, in fact, work the same as theirs. He ached, thickly, thinking of how good Aley’s mouth felt, in a similar place. How good her tongue had felt, flicking over his own nipple. He was far more sensitive there than most men, and knew it, but she seemed to have the same issue.

  The noises she made echoed ones he had made himself, many times before. Delighted noises, guttural, groaning sorts of noises. They drove him half-crazed, pushing him to do things she was sure to find distasteful.

  Like shoving his hand down his trousers, to tug and relieve the ache in his balls. And maybe stroke, just a little. Just until that stifling tight pleasure uncoiled, a little.

  But then she looked to him, and her eyes turned to softness, and she said—

  “Does that feel good?”

  And it was all spoilt. Even if spoilt wasn’t exactly the word he was looking for.

  “Do you do that often? Stroke yourself? Or is it usually the Device?”

  He knew the answer, clearer than anything—the Device was quick and efficient. It dealt out the most satisfying climaxes. Who wouldn’t want to use it? And yet…when it was early morning, half-asleep, with Aley. And now, here, with her.

  Fortunately, Aley answered for him.

  “We do this, more often,” he said, and reached for Tem’s hand.

  It was just like always. He could climb on to the bed and feel the heavy weight of Aley’s cock in his hand and it was good. It was all fine. Her eyes were on them, bright and eager, as he let the slick flesh slide through his fist.

  “Show me,” she said, then Aley’s hands were fumbling with the front of his trousers, and finally, finally his swollen shaft met air.

  When Aley kissed him, it was the same as Kate’s kisses. Suddenly wet and open and forceful, with a hand wrapped tight around his rigid erection. He tried to match the pace set but in truth could only hold on to his own galloping excitement—Kate’s body behind his closed eyelids, Kate’s mouth on his, Kate’s hand pumping him steadily to release.

  He wondered if she would do it the same—a thumb slick and firm on that sweet hollow below the head, squeezing just ever so slightly too hard whenever he bucked or rutted into that practiced grasp.

  Probably not. She wouldn’t have the strength that Aley did, she wouldn’t know all of his secrets. And yet when Aley suddenly broke away and turned to her, breathless, Tem almost lost control at his words—

  “You try it, now.”

  Chapter Five

  Kate tried to think back, as to whether “threesome with two gorgeous, amazing, wonderful guys” had factored into any of her ideas of what the future might be. She tried to think back as to whether there were any clauses in her contract with Waites, that could lead to her getting sued for doing pervy things with time travel test subjects. She tried to do a lot of serious thinking, but unfortunately her mind only wanted to operate on one level—

  Tem and Aley are almost naked and completely naked, respectively, and they are touching each other. They are touching. One of them just asked me if I would like to join in. His saliva is still wet on my nipples. This is insane.

  Though the fact that it also happened to be both joyous and exhilarating factored into her decision to do whatever took their fancy, somewhat. She wanted to laugh, and hug them, and show them everything they’d been missing for a thousand years. She wanted to tell them—

  “I know this might come as a shock, but I have done that before.”

  Though it was also true that she’d never been with a man who looked as shivery and flushed with lust as Tem currently did. His frankly huge cock pointed deliriously skyward, pre-cum beading at the tip. Whenever Aley squeezed, he jerked.

  Clearly, they did do this often. Often enough that Aley appeared to know when Tem was close, and how to hold off his orgasm when that happened. Though she couldn’t imagine them doing a lot of kinky delayed gratification play—instead she saw the Minister of Urine-Biscuits calling them on their future-phone, and Aley squeezing his friend just so, right at the base, spasmodically, until the transmission had ended.

  Then it was all writhing and jerking and oh come on me, come on me.

  Or at least, it was in her head. She hadn’t previously thought of herself as much of a man-on-man sort of fan. Of course, it was nice to look at. But in reality…in reality, gay men didn’t want to shake hands with Mrs. Vagina.

  But this was very, very different. Tem’s gaze prickled over her skin, wherever it wandered. Aley didn’t seem to want to stop looking at her, not even when his friend’s prick was in his fist, and he was being stroked in kind.

  No men, of any type, had ever looked at her the way that Tem and Aley were currently looking. Even Tem, who appeared hesitant and ever so slightly unnerved, seemed to be waiting, hungrily, for her hand on him. And when she reached forward—hand shaking, just a little it was him who urged Aley back, to make room for her.

  “It’s going to be quick. I’m close,” he said, and she felt that flush of sensation spread through her, for what seemed to be the thousandth time.

  “Do it hard,” Aley urged, from somewhere behind her. “He likes it hard.”

  But she didn’t get chance to test that theory. As soon as she clasped her hand around the thick stem of his prick, he jerked forward, snap-quick. His eyes closed. A heavy groan escaped his lips. And he spurted in thick jets, all over her hand and the bedcovers.

  She didn’t have time to revel in the swell of desire this pushed into her, however. Mainly because Aley had grasped her free hand, and pulled it behind her back. Something thick and hot was pushed into her hand, then a few slick slides later, a grunt, and a spill of liquid over her fingers.

  It made her want to moan aloud. They were so eager. So full of pent-up lust. It was barely a disappointment that they had already finished. How could it be a disappointment, when there were so many other things to explore? When Aley was already pushing against her back, asking for her to show him, show him. When Tem brought her hand to his mouth, to clean her of the sticky fluid that gleamed there.

  The only problem was time. How long did she have left? A few hou
rs? Less? It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

  “Lay back,” Tem told her, and she obeyed without a word. She began to unbutton her trousers without a word, too. Her pussy shivered with anticipation, but oh God there was more, so much more than she could imagine.

  “Help her,” Aley said, and Tem didn’t hesitate, working the material down her legs until nothing but her underwear remained. Two pairs of eyes lasered in on that cotton-clad V—even when Tem pushed and wriggled out of his own trousers, he kept his gaze on her.

  “It looks smooth,” Aley said, and Tem nodded.

  Kate closed her eyes. If they were going to talk around her like this, she was going to have to fuck them inside out and upside down. Her hips were already rocking of their own accord. The earlier…thing might as well have never happened. She couldn’t even remember what that strange pleasure felt like.

  All she could feel was Tem’s thick cock in her hand. Aley’s mouth on her breasts.

  It was Tem who began peeling her knickers down. She knew it was, even with her eyes closed. It was Tem who parted her legs, too—slowly, so slowly. Not like a science experiment or as though he thought she might break. Sensuously, she thought. Taking the effort to restrain himself from more, quick, now.

  She opened her eyes to find them staring, still stiff as boards, both uncertain and almost giddy with elation.

  “It’s nothing like—”

  “No.”

  Tem’s gaze flicked up to hers, steady and certain.

  “Show me how to touch you.”

  She knew it should seem embarrassing, being buried beneath such avid attention. And especially when they were asking her, essentially, to touch herself. And yet it sung through her body, loud and long. Her clit jumped, before her fingers had come anywhere near. Wetness trickled between the cheeks of her arse—she was flushed and swollen and ready for both of them. At the same time, if need be. Twice.

  Then her fingers parted her slick folds, and oh. Oh. She wasn’t sure how words were going to make their way out of her mouth.

  “Does it feel good?”

  “Where—where does he do it in you?”

  She couldn’t fathom why such odd, almost amusing words excited her so viscerally. Ridiculous Madonna songs ran through her head. Sliding one finger into her pussy felt unreal, impossible, as though it was something she’d never had or done.

  Every nerve and some that probably didn’t exist lit up. The sound of her own slickness thrilled her with its rudeness—what would they think? What on earth would they think of this slippery hole in her body, that made her shiver and buck?

  “Here,” she said. “Here.”

  And took Tem’s hand.

  He was breathing hard, as flushed in the face as before but now at the base of his throat, too. Aley nudged him and murmured something like go on, then those thick fingers were pressed to her slit, to the place her own finger had slid into not a moment before.

  He gasped, as she urged him on until he slipped in, knuckle deep. The gasp felt better than his explorations did, and she answered it with one of her own.

  “What’s it like?” Aley asked, and Tem’s words emerged dry and fluttery.

  “Slippery. She won’t need any lubrication, like…she won’t. And she’s hot, burning hot. It’ll be like a mouth, but so close. She’s clasping my finger—are you doing that on purpose, Kate?”

  He looked up at her, that slight frown between his brows. His pupils were fat, and lust-blown.

  “I do it when it feels good. You feel good. Go on—you won’t hurt me.”

  He slid another finger in, alongside the first, and pressed deeper. Behind him, Aley stroked a hand down Tem’s trembling back—and not an entirely companionable hand, either. It ended somewhere she couldn’t see, between his legs.

  “We have to make it wet, here,” he whispered, while Tem squirmed under his touch. “Sometimes just between, but sometimes inside, too.”

  He too looked flushed, when he glanced back at her. Flushed, and occupied by something that seemed to be making Tem push in and out of her, eyes sometimes closed. Eyes sometimes on what he was doing.

  “He doesn’t like to admit it, but he likes it when I do it. He moans and rubs against the bed—is it the same for you? When a man puts his penis in you?”

  Aley’s gaze was so clear, so direct. It scooped the answers right out of her.

  “I do when he touches me here,” she said, and took his free hand.

  At first he seemed unsure, and tried to touch where Tem touched. But he picked it up fast, when she pressed the tips of two of his fingers to her clit. His face opened up—he grinned wide and toothily.

  “Oh! So…oh that isn’t built very well. How odd—Tem, see here—”

  But Kate didn’t get to view Tem’s reaction. Pleasure put her head back, into what passed for a pillow, here. She thought of all the words she would usually say, at this point: fuck me, fuck me. Give it to me now. All those simple, crude instructions that sex was usually made up of.

  And of course she couldn’t say any of them, to two men who’d have no idea what she meant. She might as well tell them to fraggle the beefactor.

  Instead, she squirmed beneath their probing, tentative strokes, bucking up when they grew too faint and thin, sliding away when they found a sensitive spot. The pace became maddening, all the focus on such tiny details turning into a tease.

  Though the tease didn’t last as long as she began to fear it would. They talked and talked in their curious sort of way, and Aley told Tem to do it harder, harder, and somewhere in amongst it all her spine melted and sounds came out of her mouth, but it was all just agonising. Until Tem told Aley to move his hand away, and leant down to kiss the split of her sex.

  Vague awareness of Aley, saying—yes, taste it—came to her. But mostly it was the feel of Tem’s soft mouth against her pussy that pushed her to it. His tongue suddenly firm and slippery on her clit, though he had no clue what he was doing. It turned that sweet ache into something that coiled and snapped, and more words they wouldn’t understand came out of her mouth, “Yes, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  He moved the moment she urged him away. Both of them did. She could hear their panting, shivering breaths, and knew what sort of state they’d be in. But they backed away, as far as they could go.

  Then after a moment, she felt Tem’s hand, on her ankle. Just resting there, lightly, as though it might not be there at all. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew it was him.

  “Are you all right, Kate?” he asked. She had been right. He knelt to her right, hand on her. Eyes warm and liquid, forehead tight with concern. Mouth looking as though he’d just stuck it in a bowl of honey.

  “Of course she’s all right. I think she got to it—that’s what coming means.” Aley glanced to her. “It is, isn’t it?”

  She drew herself up, limp to the core and half-dazed with it, and almost laughed. They looked like bookends, knelt at the end of the bed. Bookends, with wavering stiff pricks.

  “Yeah. That was really…that was. It was.”

  “Good. Can we do it again?”

  Aley lurched forward before she could even get to words. Most of which would have been—I don’t think I can do that again for another month. But when she scooted back, so did he. Tem put a hand to him, but it wasn’t needed. He might have been the more confident of the two, but clearly he was as mired in stop-start/right-wrong as Tem.

  “Can I not taste you, too?” He clicked his tongue, and looked down—an expression so like ah, shit, she almost heard him say it. “No—you’re like us, aren’t you. You don’t want it right away.”

  Then he laughed, as bright as anything, and pointed at Tem.

  “She is just like us. Women are just like us! Gery will be so furious if we ever tell him.”

  Which would have been startling enough on its own, if he didn’t then draw Tem to him, quite suddenly, to plant a kiss right on the mouth. Combined, they formed a giant bag of startle that for
ced a little noise out of her.

  Were they going to just fuck each other, now? Is that what this was? Did they expect her to leave, while they went about it? Did they have a raygun on them, in order to force her away at gunpoint?

  Because otherwise, she had news for them. They had just received an anatomy lesson, courtesy of her body. She would definitely be staying for the up close and personal man-love tutorial, in return.

  When Aley broke off the kiss and turned to her, she braced herself for some ordering of them around. It was probably morally wrong and a violation of time travel codes of conduct, but it had to be done. They needed guidance. Who was she to deny it to them?

  The simple truth of it was, she could actually tell them what to do, and even more astonishing, have them obey her. She knew they would—there wasn’t a need for questions, hesitant prompts, are you into its.

  They were into it. She could have gleaned that much from the huge erections. Though further confirmation came from Aley’s next—and rather pleased—exclamation: “You taste like syrup!”

  She couldn’t imagine what he had thought she’d taste like, but syrup seemed infinitely preferable to bread made out of sweat, or the meat of a mutated bluebottle. Not to mention what then occurred to her—the real reason for the kiss. They weren’t asking for her to leave so they could get down to private man-love—no no no.

  He had wanted to taste her body, on Tem’s lips.

  The ache of wanting-to-go-for-a-second-round went through her, tingling and sharp, at the realisation. And thankfully, they were thoughtful and blundering enough to meet it just right.

  They kissed again, and rubbed against each other, briefly. Which wasn’t in any way unpleasant. Especially as they seemed to have learnt how nice licking could be, when your lips taste like woman. She watched their cocks slide together, the shuddering arch of their backs. All golden in the low light, all sweet.

  But then Tem pushed away from Aley, quite suddenly, and she heard him murmur into that fine blond hair—no. We should kiss her. We should kiss her and hold her, like you do.