Triple Major_An MFMM Graduation Romance

by Lana Hartley

  I sit down on one of the stone benches. It's warmed from the sun, and close my eyes trying to will my mind to think of something else. The problem is I can’t think of anything else except Vincent and Nathan. Here alone in the quiet of the garden with my eyes closed, I can practically feel Vincent's hands and hear Nathan's voice. What kind of woman am I turning into? There was a time when I would have dreaded the thought of having sex with not one but two men in front of the highest ranking members of the court. Now I feel like someone completely different.

  Dread was the furthest thing from mind when the time for the Bedding Ceremony arrived. I was eager, probably more eager than my husbands. I know it's because of Vincent and Nathan. The two of them drive me wild with desire and lust. I open my eyes and look around the lush green gardens. I know it’s more than lust. I’m falling in love with both men, and I believe they’re falling in love with me. It’s how they’ll get along with each other that has me concerned.

  Nathan and Vincent think they're so very different from one another, and on the surface they might be right, but the truth is they're very much alike. I suppose they would argue the point, but I know better. They both want the best for their countries and for me. Neither of them protested the Bedding Ceremony either, because they both certainly like to show off. Not that I blame them. Both my husband’s more than lived up to their legendary reputations, and that ceremony will be spoken of for ages. I feel strangely proud. There's something arousing about the entire court watching you fuck, but it's not just that; it was showing them that both Nathan and Vincent were devoted to my desires, my pleasures, to me. I’ve never felt quite so powerful.

  Nobody in the room could take their eyes off the three of us. Every man he in the audience was hard at the sight of my naked body. I have no doubt that the ladies of the audience grew wet looking at Vincent and Nathan. I mean, my god, it's not every day a woman sees a twelve-inch cock, well unless that woman is me. I'll be seeing two of them daily for the rest of my life. More than seeing, I laugh to myself. Maybe I should give up the idea of getting anything useful done. Maybe I should go back to bed. I know Nathan is having tea with my mother, but perhaps Vincent is still in bed.

  I remember how he looked asleep in our bed. His sculpted body mine for the taking. I think about sliding my hand under my dress, pushing my panties aside, and touching myself right now. I lift one hand up lightly brushing my fingers across my breasts. Through the thin fabric of my dress, I can feel my nipple sharpen. I remember the way Nathan's fingers felt on my body, Vincent’s lips on my skin. I bite my lip and pinch my nipple. I feel my pussy start to get wet. I lower my hand, playing with the hem of my dress. I really should be getting back to the palace, for all I know Vincent and Nathan could be killing each other. Maybe not killing but at the very least they might start arguing if I’m not there. That’s something I certainly don’t want.

  “Isadora.” I hear my name and turn. Vincent appears around the hedge. “You're finally out of bed,” I say, smiling.

  “Why didn't you wake me?” Vincent asks.

  “Because I suspect that if I woke you, we'd still be in bed,” I reply.

  Vincent smiles, a genuine one that reaches his eyes. He walks over and takes my hand, and just that alone is enough to make my pulse speed up. I stand take Vincent's hand, and together we walk deeper into the garden.

  “You're right, of course. If it were up to me, you'd probably never leave our bed.”

  “I wouldn’t be a very good princess if never got out of bed,” I laugh even though the thought of never leaving bed sounds very appealing. “Besides, my country would fall apart and so would yours.”

  “We'll let Nathan run everything.”

  “Vincent,” I say, giving him what I hope is a warning look. I’m going for mildly threatening, but the smile Vincent gives tells me I’ve missed the mark.

  “But, Isadora, I'm sure he's more than capable of running all three nations. He'll just persuade everyone to do exactly as he says.”

  I don’t miss the sarcasm in Vincent’s tone.

  “Vincent,” I say, laying a hand on his arm, “I know you and Nathan have never been close. You've never even gotten along. Do you think this can really work? Can the two of you be friends?”

  “Well, we're trying. And we do have a common interest.”

  Vincent brushes his lips across mine and I almost forget about our conversation, but I’m not entirely happy with the answer to my question.

  “Promise that you two will be friends,” I say.

  “I promise I'll try,” he says, pulling me closer, “but right now I'd like to know what you were thinking about.”

  “Why?” I ask “Did I look worried?”

  “Quite the contrary, you looked like you were thinking about something you enjoyed very much.” His eyes fall to my chest. My hard nipples obvious through the fabric of my dress.

  “I was thinking about yesterday,” I say, leading us further down the garden path.

  “I see,” Vincent says, and I hear just a trace of desire creep into his voice.

  “Yes, about the food, about the wine.” I can’t resist teasing him just a little. “About Nathan’s fingers, about your big cock.”

  His mouth quirks up at the corner. “You can do more than think about it, you know.”

  “Oh, I intend to do much more,” I say, turning to kiss him.

  Isadora

  Everyone needs their quiet time, to get their thoughts together, to take a moment from everything else—all the pressures of the world—and to just escape. Some people write poetry or make music, some people drink—Nathan—but my thing is jogging, and it’s also very healthy.

  I jog several miles then stop in the park to catch my bearings. I wonder what Isadora is doing right now. Is she with Nathan? What are they talking about? Does Nathan really care about her in the same way that I do? Or is he just trying to compete to see if he can win like he tries to win everything else?

  These thoughts make me want to run again. I run sometimes like I’m running away. Other times, I run like I’m running toward her, like I’m on some crazy feat to rescue her. There’s something about Nathan that bothers me, something troubling. I feel like he comes from a dark place, and he needs Isadora too much. She needs someone who can protect her and give her a great life, not someone who’s still battling monsters. Someone like that can drag her down.

  I jog far through the trail of the forest, but I can still see the castle off in the distance. The castle is so large and imposing it seems to be in sight no matter where I am. Bored with my run, I turn on the trail and go back the way I came.

  It’s quiet and the smell of nature surrounding me is delicious. As I approach the garden, slowing my stride to a cooling walk to slow my heart.

  "Vincent!” Isadora yelps, her spine straightening as her eyes grow wide. Her eyes roam over the sweat glistening down my t-shirt and bare arms. “You scared me. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” She reaches for me, but I step back.

  “I should go shower,” I tell her.

  “No, stay.” She moves closer and grabs my arm, my tired, sore muscle bulging beneath her small fingers. I follow her to the bench and sit down, exhaling an exhausted breath from my jog. Silence fills the air around us, the night still and calm. A firefly flutters about the garden, his bulb flickering like a child flipping a light switch on then off as he keeps playing with it.

  I look around at the breath-taking view. The way the valleys drop off, the hills, and not too far off is the pond and the horses.

  I take a deep breath and with it comes all the delicious smells of the garden. It’s such a pleasant aroma this time of night. And it’s quiet out here. With all those diplomats, all those busy bodies, all the people who work around here, the castle–even as big as it is–can still be quite noisy.

  I just can’t deal sometimes. I don’t think the noise bothers Nathan. Nathan is noise.

  I look down at Isadora. Having her out here is so serene. It�
��s perfect.

  “You like it out here?” I ask her.

  “Oh sure, why wouldn’t I?”

  She looks at my chest, which is fitted in a snug blue shirt, sweat drenching every inch of the fabric. My jogging pants are gray. A prince should match, even when it’s something like a jogging suit, but I didn’t take the time this morning. I’ve been running around all day, literally, thinking about her. I was thinking about how things would be without Nathan, if it were just her and I.

  Her poised form is elegant, like an angel statue in the cemetery. Her face is perfect, her bone structure, how her cheekbones are classic strokes along her face. Her lips. I have to kiss her. Right now, there is no waiting.

  So I place my hand on her chin and gently turn her to look at me. We kiss softly in the moonlight, and fireflies above her blonde hair portray a glowing halo.

  She kicks up her little feet in her perfect shoes.

  “Do your feet hurt?” I ask.

  “Not really. Do yours?” She points. “You’ve been jogging all day.”

  “True. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t smell fine,” she teases.

  “I said I’d take a shower!” I say, and we both laugh.

  “Maybe take this off,” she says, pulling my blue shirt away from my perfect body.

  “Well, someone’s in a frisky mood!” I say, fulfilling her request and pulling my shirt off. My odour pinches the air, and I’m somewhat embarrassed. Isadora, on the other hand, smells as sweet and lovely as the garden itself.

  “I think men smell worse than woman in general.”

  “It’s all that testosterone,” she says.

  “Yeah…”

  “And your lack of being able to express yourself,” she giggles. “You keep it all in; it starts to smell!”

  “Well, I bet Nathan’s a stinky little pisser!” I say.

  She leans into me as I wrap my arm around her, and she looks up at me and I kiss her. Then she lays across my lap, just splaying out like so. The back of her head rests against my crotch. My cock senses action and starts to get restless. I’m sure she feels it, too, pressing against my jogging pants. These pants offer a lot of room too for my cock and balls to swing freely as I jog, but right now that room is depleting, and I’m so hard I want to pull my pants down and let my cock out into the free night air.

  And into her.

  She sits up, and her hair is an elegant mess, all over her face, and she slips my jogging pants down so the tip of my happy ready-to-go cock is out.

  She looks down at it. “It’s so cute.” She touches the tip and it responds, wondering why its buddies—The Balls—are still in my pants. She obviously wants to play, so take the whole team out.

  She draws near so she’s in my crotch, and she glides her tongue over me like a snake would.

  “Tease,” I say.

  “I’m not done yet.” I wonder what she’s thinking. The musty scent has probably washed out the gentle sweet smell of the roses.

  She takes me back into her mouth and glides her sweet lips over my cock tight as a rubber.

  “Oh…” My head falls back and my hand gets lost in her hair.

  “You smell beastly,” she says.

  Do I? Is that good or bad? She sounds as if it’s good. And she is sucking harder.

  “Mmm…” My body shifts on the hard bench. If she’s not careful this could be a too much of a load for her to handle.

  I was planning to make love to her here, but this is a sweet surprise. Of course, we do have all night.

  “Oh…” She takes me down under another wave of pleasure. I pull on her hair. I try to not think about her blowing Nathan like this, although I’m sure she does.

  She has the smallest mouth, the tightest lips, and I suddenly lose myself, and a stream of hot cum spurts into her mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize, because it just goes everywhere, like a soda can that’s been shaken.

  “Why?” she asks.

  I reach around for a hankie and offer it to her, but she doesn’t need it. She’s licked me clean off of her.

  “Because I made a mess.”

  “No,” she leans into me, this naughty smirk on her face, “I made a mess,” she corrects.

  “Okay.” I look up at the stars and put myself back in my jogging pants. There’s a dark stain there where some cum hasn’t dried yet.

  “Do you feel bare? Like your insides are on the outside?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what love is.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do,” she giggles. “You feel all gooey and vulnerable, like the slightest thing, like a raindrop, can puncture you.”

  “Sounds scary,” I say.

  “Oh no, it’s wonderful.” She gets close to me, and I wrap my arms around her. We’re quiet and happy in the moment, just lingering there and breathing, and it actually starts to rain a little.

  “Do you want to go in?” I ask her. “I can’t have the princess catching a cold.”

  “No,” she says. Then she stands up and kicks her little shoes off and her bare feet touch the moist, hard cobblestones. “I want to stay. I want to have sex in the rain.”

  I watch as the rain falls harder, at a steady rate, to clean everything and make it new. Tomorrow, when the sun touches everything it will all have a brand-new shine.

  The rain soaks her white dress, making it cling to her soft little body. She strips it from her body, revealing her soft, creamy skin. Her skin is moist and soft, and I can smell the rain on her.

  I stand up and pull her close to me. My cock wants to enjoy the rain and the girl, too.

  My fingers explore her. Her skin is so soft and wet and radiant. I kiss her hard and place my hands on her bottom and handle her the way I know she wants me to. She moans as she presses her body against me, and the rain loves us both at the same time. It feels so good on me, washing away the long, hot sticky day from my skin.

  We find a spot over in the grass and lie down, our bodies pressing against the wet soil. We fall into each other the way the rain is falling over the garden.

  “Oh, Vincent…” she coos, reaching down and sliding my jogging pants further down to my ankles. The rain washes that cum stain away, and it all flows into the dirt and the flowers.

  I roll on my back and Isadora gets on top of me.

  “I want your strong manhood inside of me,” she says. Her hair is wet and plastered to her pretty face, and the rain has washed her makeup off. She’s so naturally pretty it’s almost agonizing how much I want her. She places me inside of her, and I feel the velvet rush of her heat all over me. We kiss really hard, and I sink my fingertips into the soft, moist ground as she starts riding me. Her tits glisten with drops of rain, and I lift my hands, my fingers covered in mud, and smear mud over her tits, tweaking her nipples as I do. She laughs adorably at all of this.

  Her hips move in a slow rhythm as I trail mud up her creamy flesh, our lips consuming each other’s. We’re soaked to the bone by the time I come inside of her. She slips to her side, and I hold her so we’re spooning, my arms around her as the rain softly taps our bodies. I kiss her shoulders, and her wet blonde strands are strewn along my face.

  We actually drift to sleep until I feel something crawling along my back, and I’m reminded that even the prettiest places still have creatures.

  Snakes. Spiders. Nathan.

  I roll around on my back and look at her. There’s nothing prettier than the sight of a peacefully sleeping woman.

  I look up at the sky. The stars are out now, those clouds that broke that delicious rain upon us have moved on. I bet tomorrow will be nice, maybe a little sweltering after the hard rain has left everything in a bit of condensation. As I think about wine, I start obsessing over the vineyards. I obsess over how everything helps it grow—every bit of weather, no matter how bad, temperamental or calm— it all comes together and helps things grow. I think the same about relationships. There has to be a mix.
<
br />   I look at Isadora as she starts to wake up. She opens her eyes and looks up at the sky.

  “Which do you prefer?” she asks me. “Day or night?”

  “Oh…” I have to think about this. “I like my mornings,” I decide. “Everything feels like a new beginning, you know? I like to get up and look out the window and just, I don’t know, breathe the new days in—as cheesy as that sounds.

  “That’s not cheesy,” she says. I appreciate her saying that, but I feel like it is. She shuts her eyes again.

  “I bet Nathan likes night,” she says. How dare she bring him up? But this is Isadora, she doesn’t hide anything. I bet she’s never told a lie her whole life.

  I look at her perfect little feet and for some reason, I compare her perfect feet to the fact that she doesn’t lie.

  “What about you?” I say, steering the talk away from Nathan, dear god, because I’d rather talk about anything right now than that boy. Cockroaches, the wars, anything.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, which do you prefer? Day or night?”

  She must think about this.

  “Well, it’s definitely not the afternoon…” she trails off, considering her answer. I see the bottle of French wine by the bench and partake in a sip. It’s sweet and light, nothing too overbearing. “In the afternoon, you know how certain things sneak up on you? Like I don’t know, sad thoughts. You know how you said mornings are like a new beginning? That’s true, and at night is when you can relax and, well, do other things if you feel so inclined. I like the mystery of night. I like fireflies. I like the things you can see in the dark.”

  “Oh, Isadora, that was great,” I appraise, taking another sip of wine. “I like you. And you clearly like night.”

  Nathan is like night, I realize. This scares me. Nathan is mysterious. Nathan is playful and sexy and all those things. Women like bad boys, this is just a fact.

  She touches the side of my face like she always does, with those gentle slim fingers of hers, and I shut my eyes. It’s no longer raining, but the fresh scent clings to the air, offering a sweet hug around us.