by Brill Harper
Behind me, Fletch squeezes my ass cheeks. It’s shocking at first, but not nearly as shocking as when he teases my clenched asshole with his lubed fingers. “Remember how Penelope used to watch porn for research? I’ve been doing my own studying. I don’t want to hurt you, but Shane?”
“Yeah?”
He kisses a line down my spine, making my legs quiver. “I’m going to make you mine tonight. You’re going to feel me for days.”
Oh hell.
He pushes one finger into me and I moan. I push back, bringing it deeper. Holy hell. I had no idea it would feel this good. I push up and guide my dick into Penelope. She’s so tight. Cold sweat breaks out on my forehead when I feel Fletcher’s hand part my ass cheeks with one hand and run his cockhead over my crack with the other.
He spreads me wider and pushes the tip in.
“Holy shit.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, keep going.”
“I can’t wait to be inside you, Shane.” He lets me relax some before sliding more in, and after the third pause, he buries himself deep in my ass. I strain to let him in, but with a virgin ass, his dick feels huge. It stretches and makes me feel full, but it doesn’t really hurt. Well, yeah, it does. But in a totally worth it kind of way.
Penelope moans. "Mmmm, that is so hot, Shane...you're taking it all."
“Yeah he is,” Fletch says into my ear. “You feel so good, baby. Your ass feels so good around my cock.”
I don’t answer, blinking back the stars as he gently rolls his hips, pumping into me really slow.
"You okay? You want me to pull out?"
“No. Please, don’t pull out.”
I bury my face in Penelope’s neck as he methodically pushes into me with long satisfying thrusts. I’m sandwiched between his granite hard body and Penelope’s sweet, steamy cunt. Every thrust from Fletch pushes me deeper into our girlfriend. I love them both. I just let the growing lust take over and push everything else aside. I let all the heavy shit go...I can deal with it later. This is everything.
My arms are already shaking, but there’s no way we won’t crush her if I don’t keep my form. Repeatedly, that big dick goes all the way out and all the way back in...it feels wild...fucking incredible. His hot, muscled body presses into mine, and I love it... I love the sensation of him pulsing inside me.
I find myself pushing back to meet his strokes...I want to get him deeper...I need him deeper. I’m the luckiest man in the world right now. My cock is enveloped in the sweet heat of the woman I love, and my prostate is getting a pounding massage by the man I love.
I can tell he is getting close when his movements stiffen. He bites my shoulder, not even gently. “I’m going to fill your tight ass, baby.”
“God, I fucking love gay sex,” I yell as he hits it just right and starts twitching that monster inside me. I tense up like the base of my spine just got electrocuted and spasm wildly, unloading so much of myself into Penelope we’re going to need to rent a carpet cleaner. I can’t stop thrusting wildly and maybe I’ll never stop coming. Maybe that’s fine. She doesn’t seem to mind as her tight channel is milking me hard, and I think she stopped breathing.
Fletch makes the sound I’ve heard in the weight room a ton of times that never sounded sexy until now. And then, out of nowhere, his hand lands on my ass with a loud thwack. And then another. And finally a third. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that for so long. Damn, look at my handprint, right there on your ass.” And the he unloads inside me, the sweat of his body dripping onto my back and I feel like the luckiest son of a bitch with the sorest ass of all time.
Chapter Five
THREE MONTHS LATER
Did you know spring makes you horny as fuck?
It used to be that I was just always the same amount of horny, but I’ve noticed I’m getting into a primal groove this spring with the warming weather. Which is awesome except when it’s not. Like, for instance, when you can’t stop stealing glances of your hot boyfriend in the locker room.
We’ve kept things chill in public still. Honestly, I probably don’t care if the whole school thinks I’m gay, but I do worry about what the whole school will think of my girlfriend for being with both of us and Fletch for being bisexual too. He’s on the law school track, man. He’s going to want a job in the spotlight or maybe even politics still. And I don’t want to go to prison for attacking someone for slut shaming Penelope which seems to be what they do to girls a lot.
I never paid that much attention to it before, but now I sense that most people have some kind of barometer for how much they think a girl can like sex before she registers in their Slut Zone. Dudes are the worst about it. They don’t want frigid girls, but they don’t want the chicks they bang to be dirtier than they are either. I’m the opposite. I’ve always liked the girls who get their freak on. Now that I’m in love, that hasn’t changed. I want her to be wild. I want Fletch to be wild. I want us to always be freaky—but I get that things will slow down some. Which is why I want us to be as freaky as we can get now.
I’m sure I’ll get my wish later tonight. But right now, it’s spring, I’m horny, and Penelope is trying to reach a box of pasta on the grocery shelf that is way to high for her. Her shirt is riding up and her ass looks perfect in her jeans, and I can’t stop myself from sliding my arm around her waist and rubbing my already hard dick on her backside while I grab the pasta for her as I grind.
She giggles. “Perv.”
“You ever do it in the bathroom of a grocery store?”
“Gross. No. And you know that since I’ve only ever done it with you in the room.”
I nuzzle her sweet-smelling neck. “We need to find Fletch and get this trip done faster. I want to go home and put the salami away.”
“You are twelve.” She turns in my arms and kisses me.
“Oh my God. Are you kissing your best friend’s girlfriend?
Shit. It’s Aylie, the coach’s daughter. And Coach standing there with her.
Fletch rounds the corner with the bread and stops. “Hey Coach. Aylie.”
She points to me. “Your best friend was just macking on your girlfriend.”
“Aylie,” her dad intones, “this is none of our business. Go get the things on your mom’s list.”
“Dad! He deserves to know they are cheating on him.”
“It’s not our business.”
Fletch puts the bread in our cart and lets out a heavy sigh. He’s weighing the situation carefully, like he always does, but I see the determination in his eyes. I tell him with my eyes to shut it.
Dude, let it go, I beg without talking.
It’s time. We don’t need to live a lie, he answers.
Let’s talk this through first.
He shakes his head. “Coach,” he says aloud, “Shane and Penelope are not cheating on me. The three of us are involved in a relationship.”
Coach is a solid dude. A man’s man. I’m not sure how this is going to go. He clears his throat. “What are you saying, son?”
“We’re in love with each other. All three of us.” Holy shit. That was me. I said it.
“Oh my God,” Aylie says, her jaw dropping open. “You’re gay?”
“Aylie, let me handle this,” her dad tells her, and his voice is one you don’t mess with. When she’s gone, he folds his arms across his chest. Little bit seems intimidated, so I grab her hand. Coach clears his throat again. “Guys on the team know?”
“No, sir,” Fletch answers. “It’s really no one’s business but our own.”
“You got that right. But it’s going to get out now. My daughter is probably already texting anyone she thinks will care.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You best keep it together for the season. I don’t want any romance drama keeping us out of the playoffs. So, if you’re going to break up, do it after season is over.”
“Sir?”
“I mean it. I don’t give a shit what happens at your house, but you bring any crying t
o mine, we’ll have problems. You can do whatever you want after we win, but until then, you two better do everything you can to get along. Take care of your girl and keep the drama out of the locker room.”
“Yes, sir.”
He rolls his eyes at us and moves along. My heart beats fast in a delayed adrenaline rush.
“Did he just tell us we can’t break up?” I ask.
“I think so,” Fletch answers.
“Well, I guess you’re stuck with us for the season, little bit.”
“Is he always so imposing?” she asks, taking my hoody out of the cart and putting it on like she’s cold. It’s adorably huge on her, but I like seeing her in my gear.
“Yep,” Fletch says. “He’s right about Aylie. She’s still in high school, but she goes to a lot of parties on campus. You know it’s out now, right?”
Penelope shrugs. “I know you guys are worried about me, but really, I’m sleeping with two totally hot jocks who love me. I don’t think I’m going to deal with more than jealousy.”
“We are really doing this?” I ask, still astounded even after the last six months that it’s working so well. That they both still love me. That I am actually good at being in love.
“You heard the man,” Fletch says and slaps my ass. “We’re together now whether we want to be or not. Your ass is mine through the season.”
THREE MONTHS LATER
Of course, it’s not always easy.
We took a bit of shunning from some of the guys on the team. Penelope doesn’t talk about it, but I know she hates going to parties now because when we walk in, it’s like a record scratches and the topic of conversation becomes our sex life.
There are people who I thought would be cool and weren’t, and people who I thought would be douche canoes who didn’t give two shits about us. We didn’t make the playoffs, but I don’t really think anyone thought we would.
I’m doing the summer semester of school, so I don’t have to go home. Fletch comes home to me on the weekends when he’s off from his summer job in his dad’s office and Penelope comes home on her two days off from the Pizza Hut where she works. They don’t always overlap, so it’s been a few weeks since the three of us have been together.
I’d like to say that I’m totally cool with everything, but being alone so much and not being with both of them together in so long is starting to make me doubt more than I should. I’m supposed to be strong, right? Why am I acting like such a pansy-ass?
I get a text from Pen: Do you ever go outside?
What?
I hear a tap on the kitchen window. Then another. It sounds like someone is throwing rocks at the glass. I open the back door to yell at some kids and find the loves of my life sitting on a blanket in the backyard. Fletch lets go of the pebbles he’s been tossing to get my attention.
“What are you guys doing here?” I say, hoping they don’t hear how my voice choked up a little there at the end.
“Okay, we’re not as good at planning these things as you are,” Pen says, “but I think we did a good job. Come sit.”
I kiss them both and look at the spread. There is wine, cheese, and crackers. But I don’t even care. They’re both here. “I thought you had to work.”
Fletch rummages around the basket. “Shit I forgot the knife. Dude, how do you always remember all the stuff for surprises? It took us a long time to manage this much. Oh, and we both arranged some time off so we could surprise you.”
Pen crawls across the blanket and lays her head in my lap. “It’s been too long.”
It has. Everything seems right again. We lounge on the blanket for a long time just hanging out. This is perfect. Everything I want. I mean, I want sex, too, in a little while. But this, the three of us, feels like all the pieces of me come back together again.
I don’t know how something like this works in the forever world. It seems like we still have a lot of shit we’ll need to go through, but if we can always come back to this, this inedible cheese, bad wine, too many ants yet perfect picnic in the backyard, then life is just going to work out fine, isn’t it?
Epilogue
Penelope
FIVE YEARS LATER
“Are you ready?”
I blow out a breath that’s been constricting my chest all night during our Christmas Eve festivities. Am I ready?
Yes? No?
I try to remember what life was like when I thought I would never understand relationships or people or sex. Now I don’t think it—I know it. People make absolutely no sense at all. We’re not a very logical species. We can’t seem to ask for what we need or say what we mean. We talk in circles. Relationships are unfathomable too. They are always changing, and if you don’t grow, if you’re too rigid, then the relationship breaks. It’s hard for me to always remember to allow growth and change. I prefer things like gravity and quadratic equations—things that have rules that don’t bend.
And sex—well I know for sure I’ll never understand that. How each time it’s different. How different moods and tones and feelings change the intensity and duration of an orgasm. How sometimes it seems to take me an hour to get there and sometimes just a mouth on my boob sends me into orbit in thirty seconds.
Shane opens the door to our bedroom and gestures us inside, “After you, Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” Fletch answers.
Yeah. We all changed our last name to Smith. We can’t get married legally, but we can all share a name. We chose Smith on a lark. Shane insists he wasn’t high when he suggested it. It’s solid and ordinary.
We are solid and very unordinary.
Case in point, we are wearing matching red thermal pajamas. We just took Christmas portraits of ourselves next to our tree. The cat appears in half of them because cats do what they want, even at Christmas, and she refused to pose.
Tomorrow, we drive two hours to our hometown, well, the hometown of Fletcher and me. We will have dinner with both sets of our parents. I will spend too much time giggling with Jenna rather than acting like adults, and everyone will pretend it’s not so weird that we are a triad instead of a couple.
But tonight is our night. Shane goes all out every year, managing to surprise us with his productions. He always tells me that I was the last puzzle piece, that I’m the reason we are together. I think it’s him. He’s the glue of our family. The one who didn’t have one growing up is the one who knows how to make ours real.
But tonight, tonight we are taking a new step.
“Mrs. Smith, are you ready to get inseminated?” Shane asks.
I shoot him a look.
Fletch is trying not to laugh. “Real romantic, dude.”
Shane rolls his eyes in mock frustration. “Fine. I’ll try it your way.” He leans down and looks into my eyes, deeply, fully. “Mrs. Smith, my love, and I say that knowing it sounds cheesy but with all the earnestness in my heart, are you ready to make a baby with us?”
We’ve talked about it a lot. I mean a lot a lot. We’ve calculated and timed and gone over scenario after scenario and I know this is the best time. We’re young, yes, but we want to be young parents. There are three of us, which I think will make it easier because six hands has to be better than four. And we’ve been married for two years. The glue is working well.
But it’s scary anyway, right? I mean, yikes. Me a parent?
But looking into Shane’s eyes, knowing he’s ready and he’s the one who had the most doubts about ever having kids, knowing how much love he has, I can’t help but smile. Fletch wraps his arms around my waist from behind and I feel his solid strength seep into my bones.
Fletch kisses my neck. “Are you still sure about how you want to do this?”
“It was my idea.”
“Yeah, but little bit,” Shane says, “we all know what it’s like to be penetrated by one dick in this house. That’s already a lot. Two is...”
“Probably going to hurt,” Fletch says.
“And be really messy,” Shane
adds.
Judging from the bulge pressing into my back and the way Shane’s thermal pants are stretching in front of me, they are both excited about the possible mess.
“I want to try it at least once. And when better than when we are trying to conceive?”
“Say breed,” Shane says. “It’s hot when you say you want us to breed you.”
“That’s kind of gross yet oddly hot,” I tell him. And it is. Two gorgeous, muscled cavemen are going to breed me tonight like we’re animals.
I move to the end of the bed and turn around. They are standing shoulder to shoulder, watching me—probably watching my face to make sure I’m not freaking out—but watching me just the same. So I make slithering out of thermal Christmas pajamas as sexy as I can and stand in front of them naked. Exposed. Vulnerable. And trusting. I trust them, I trust love, and more importantly, after all these years, I finally trust myself.
They both start stripping and I can’t imagine a better Christmas gift. They are still chiseled even though they’re done with college sports. I’m spoiled by the masculine display and everywhere my eyes settle makes me wetter. I scoot onto the bed and they follow me on all fours, stalking me like I’m prey.
I sit up and they get on their knees, their cocks jutting out like they are trying to impress me. I am indeed impressed. I always am. My freshman year obsession with dicks didn’t exactly go away. I just focused a lot more of my attention on the two I currently reach for. They are solid, heavy—Fletcher’s has more pronounced veins and Shane’s is darker. I love the way they hiss in unison on my upstroke. Shane hooks Fletch around the neck and brings him closer so they can share a kiss, bringing them hip to hip. I bring them together even more and wrap my hands around the two cocks.
Fletcher groans. I know how much they like the feeling of their cocks rubbing together, so I smile and treat the two like they are one.
