“I’m kidding, hon.” Patrick stood up and yawned, too. He looked over at the clock. “Besides, the couch isn’t that comfortable anyway.”
“Exactly. That’s why I have comfy beds upstairs. And I paid a lot of money for that custom mattress.”
“Ah, so your concern is more of an economic thing, not the fact that you were sleeping with the both of us.” Sean threw her a disarming smile.
“Please, stop joking.” He got her hot thinking of the possibilities. If she asked them to join her upstairs, would they jump at the chance? Not a bad idea—if they weren’t such good friends.
She’d always considered herself the luckiest woman in the world; to have two gorgeous men as best buds. A lot of women envied her. Her best friend Rhonda always reminded her she lived every straight woman’s fantasy. She had not one, but two men to choose from. But was she really lucky? It wasn’t like they were asking her out on an official date.
No. She gazed at them like the expensive paintings she hung on her wall.
***
Sandra had a quick shower before hitting the sheets. Anything to distract her from her overnight guests. She dressed in her flannel pajamas and crawled between the covers. The nights chilled as winter came with a vengeance, and her Pomeranian could only do so much in keeping her warm.
Arf! As if on cue, Killer jumped up next to her.
“Hey, you.” Sandra rubbed her belly, then placed the dog at the bottom of the bed. “I think I’m going to use you as a foot warmer tonight.”
Arf!
After a few minutes of pretending to watch the weather channel, she switched off the television and turned on the lamp on her bedside table. She opened the drawer and fished out her magazine, determined to finish the article.
“Okay, where was I?” She flipped to one of the many dog-eared pages and started reading. All the stories amazed her. They weren’t particularly romantic. In fact, they bordered on porn, but they were all told from a woman’s perspective. This one turned out to be about a gal in Montana making out with two of her new farmhands. Goes to show you there’s more than farming happening in the Midwest. She snickered as she turned the page.
What really attracted her attention was that some women actually acted on their sexual fantasies and that most of them did it with strangers. Few did it with someone familiar. Like her, most didn’t want to either ruin their friendships or be judged. Sandra sighed and put the magazine down. Why did life have to be so difficult?
Going back to the magazine, she read blow-by-blow accounts of each woman’s encounter. “Finally, the good stuff.”
She snuggled down in the bed, nearly kicking Killer off the edge. “Sorry.” She returned to the first story. It started with the woman on her farm in Montana. She had two hot new farmhands working for her, and she wondered what it would be like to have sex with them. Sandra rolled her eyes. If this wasn’t a Penthouse letter…. She skipped to the good part.
The sexy farmhands came to the house for their chores for the day. The only chore she had for them was to do her.
Hmmm, looks like Farmer John wanted to plow more than land.
The farmhands, more than willing to get to work, grabbed her and carried her to the bedroom. Before the woman knew it, one man kissed, sucked, and caressed every part of her body while the other either watched or joined in periodically.
The woman feigned fear as they continued to be aggressive and threw her on the bed. One began eating her out. The other sucked her breasts.
At this point, Sandra would normally be hot as hell. But thinking of the guys as anyone other than Patrick or Sean left her cold.
Maybe if I give myself a little help. Sandra slipped her finger between her folds as she read how the woman tried to scramble off the bed, but the strong farmhands pinned her down and continued their sexual pleasuring. The woman orgasmed three times as they continued to have their way with her.
After a while, she succumbed to the pleasure and began to participate more by taking one man’s cock in her mouth and sucking it.
Sandra’s fingers pumped her pussy faster. So very easy to imagine Sean or Patrick in bed with her, while reading. Why do I always think about them?
Would she back down if her fantasy came true? Or would she continue to see how far she would go?
Again, she replaced her friends’ faces with others. Reading about the woman, now on her back and being fucked silly by one of the farmhands really pushed Sandra over the edge. The woman described creaming all over the sheets like a waterfall and feeling the hardness and strength of the farmhand’s cock as it plunged in and out of her soaking pussy, as the other caressed her, waiting for his turn to fuck her.
Sandra put the magazine aside and reached into the nightstand to grab her favorite toy. She plunged it into her dripping pussy. She pumped it in and out as if she were in a race against time.
Determined to think of someone else and not of the two men she called her pals, she imagined another trainer. “Mmm, Kenny your cock feels so good and hard. Oh, Jerry your lips are so hot. Go faster, baby, harder.” Sandra used both hands, wrapping them around her dildo and pumping frantically, shifting only to massage her breasts. “Ah, that feels so good.”
A knock came on the door.
“Hey, Sandra, where are the towels? I thought I found them in the cabinet last time,” Sean hollered.
Sandra stopped mid-pump. Frustrated, so close to coming, she slammed the dildo down. “They’re under the sink,” she croaked out.
“Thanks. Need anything before I hit the hay?”
Just for you to go away, so I can finish. “Ah, no, I’m good. Good night!”
“’Night.”
Sandra reached under her sheets, fearing the interruption had cooled her off. But no, she was still hot and wet. The worst part—Sean’s and Patrick’s images had become ingrained in her mind. She decided not to fight it anymore. When she slipped the vibrator back in her pussy, it slid right in with no resistance. She resumed her pumping action, quickly reaching the point of no return.
“Oh yes, you feel so fucking hot,” she whispered. Sandra’s hips gyrated with the movement of the vibrator. Faster and faster, her hips went up and down.
After what seemed liked hours, Sandra stiffened and let out a low moan. She sank into her sheets, sweaty, exhausted, and yet still frustrated.
No matter which man she thought of, whether faceless or someone familiar, they could never replace Sean or Patrick.
And that was the problem.
Chapter Three
As Sean finished showering, a knock came on the bedroom door. “Come in.”
“I hoped tonight would be the night I would be in Sandra’s bed, not in the guest bedroom, with the creepy doll on the dresser,” Patrick groused.
“She still has that doll from Coney Island? Ewww, as Sandra would say.”
Patrick laughed. “Do you have any plans on how to approach her? I’m so desperate, I’ll even listen to your ideas.”
Sean threw him a look, grabbing his pajama top. “Thanks a lot. I’m working on it.”
Patrick threw one back at him.
“No, really, I’m working on it. You don’t bring things up like ménage a trois, or sex for that matter, in normal conversation, especially with your best friend and co-worker.”
“I guess you’re right.” Patrick sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed. “So when do you bring it up?”
Sean sighed and threw down his bath towel. “That’s the part of the plan that I haven’t worked out yet. I do know one thing. When we bring it up, we can’t make it seem so serious.”
“Uh-huh.” Patrick got up. “This should be good.” He closed the door behind him as he left.
Sean dropped onto the bed and turned on the television. He glanced over at a picture of the three of them on vacation in Milan during Fashion Week. Sandra had to go, no matter the cost. He and Patrick bought the tickets. Both of them had fallen asleep at the show, but he was sure Sandra stayed w
ide awake in her personal fashion heaven. All those crazy outfits had her hyped up for days. So the day before they left for home, he and Patrick again sprang for something she really wanted but didn’t dare ask for—a haute couture original. The ugliest thing they ever saw, but Sandra couldn’t stop talking about it to all her co-workers and family.
Not their thing, but they would do it again. It made them happy to see her smile.
Yep, the three of them were great friends. Did he want to risk that for a night of wild sex that might not be what they imagined?
Sean crawled under the covers and turned off the light. He would think about this tomorrow with a clearer and more alert head.
***
“Hey lady. What’s with the face licking? If I thought you wanted to play, I would have come into your room last night.” Sean sat up in bed, but instead of being greeted by Sandra, he stared into the muzzle of Killer. “Yuck!”
“What’s going on in here?” Sandra entered the room.
“Your mutt here slobbered all over my face.” Sean picked up the fur ball and set her on the floor. “Uh, you didn’t hear anything I said to her—did you?”
Sandra put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. That meant trouble. “You didn’t say anything derogatory to her, did you? She wants to be your friend. And Killer is not a mutt. She has papers.”
“Whatever.” Sean leapt from the bed. “Why are you up so early? I thought you wanted to sleep in.”
“That would be rude. I do have company.”
“Don’t worry about us. Go back to bed. Patrick and I have everything under control.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He threw his pillow at her. She left the room, Killer trotting happily behind her.
Sean walked down the hall to Patrick’s room. They needed to talk, but he heard the shower going in the bathroom. Okay, the talk could wait. He’d take his own shower first.
Patrick was already in the kitchen when he came downstairs twenty minutes later. “I’m hunting for something healthy to fix for breakfast, and oddly enough, our nutritionist has nothing of that sort.”
“A closet junk-food junkie. I knew it.” Sean peered into the fridge. “It’s the weekend; let’s fix her something good, hearty—and fattening.” He retrieved a pound of bacon.
“Okay, but don’t say anything when she’s hooked.” Patrick retrieved a skillet from the cabinet.
“We want to keep her healthy looking.” Sean winked, making big-breast hands.
“Speaking of which, have you come up with anything? Last night was bad for me. I dreamt about her most of the night.”
No stroll in the park for him either. They both had been thinking and dreaming about Sandra since day one. When the two of them decided to work at Boot Camp together eight years ago, they had no idea how popular the gym would become. But still, something was missing. Sean suggested a nutritionist. The boss agreed and told them to find one. Many came through the door, but Sandra Peterson stood out. Not only in appearance, but the whole package, and that’s what snagged everyone’s attention.
It was hard to find a woman with beauty, intelligence, humility and a giving spirit all in one package. Sandra was a rare breed. Patrick fell hard. But he didn’t say anything—at first.
As the weeks and months wore on, Sean picked up on the vibes and confronted him. Wasn’t it a surprise when he told him that he had the same feelings for her? They discussed in great lengths their feelings for Sandra. It wasn’t hard to realize they had both fallen for her and they both wanted to please her, in any way, shape or form.
Of course, that brought up new problems. She was their co-worker. Later, she became a friend—a real close friend. Now the issue wasn’t just about dating their co-worker and friend. They could handle sharing her, but if Sandra wanted only one of them, the other would have to step aside. Why did life have to be so complex?
“You think you have a monopoly on restless nights?” Sean huffed.
“Of course not. But I want to make sure she doesn’t go off and start dating someone else. You know what I mean?”
“Yes, I do unfortunately. We’ll brainstorm this weekend and feel her out. I don’t see why a ménage would be difficult anyway. We’re like the Three Musketeers.”
“Uh…this isn’t like making plans to go camping.” Patrick lifted the crisp bacon onto a plate.
“Don’t worry, my friend.”
“Love your optimism.” Patrick laid more slices of bacon in the skillet. “Her clients would die if they saw this.” He chuckled.
***
When Sandra arrived downstairs, the boys were already gone. She followed the scent of fresh coffee and bacon to the kitchen and saw the coffee maker on. A delectable breakfast waited in her warmer. Yummy! Splurge day!
Sliding her hand into a rose-colored oven mitt, she carried the plate to the table and sat down to eat.
Arf! Arf!
“Hey Killer,” she said. “Here’s a piece of sausage for you.” The walking powder puff accepted the meat and trotted off to her bed in the corner.
Sandra was digging into her food, when her cell phone rang. “Hello.”
“Hey, girl, whassup!”
“Hey, Rhonda. Nothing much, except eating breakfast.” She took another bite of her omelet, closing her eyes in food bliss. She must have verbally conveyed her appreciation, too, because her friend began to giggle.
“Oops!” Sandra grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth. “Sorry about that.”
“Must be good eatin’.” Rhonda laughed.
“Yeah, the boys made me a Spanish omelet, hash browns, bacon, and sausage.”
“Yum! Say hello to them for me.”
“I will. They’ve left already.”
“They spent the night, as usual?”
Sandra mentally groaned. Rhonda fancied herself a member of the, Why-don’t-you-try-it-you-might-like-it, Club. “Yes, Patrick and Sean slept in the guest rooms.”
“Okay, okay, I wasn’t implying—”
“Oh, please, if your voice dipped one more octave…” Sandra replied.
“All right. I won’t say any more. So what are you doing today? Do you have to go in?”
“Not this Saturday, thank goodness. The week kept me very busy.”
“Not surprising. Summer’s approaching fast. People are trying to eliminate the muffin tops and cellulite after storing fat all winter.”
“Yeah, but it’s February. This is the time New Year’s resolutions wear off.” They both laughed, because they knew how true it was. “But hey, it keeps me employed, so I can’t complain.” Sandra shoved some hash browns in her mouth and chewed for a moment. “Let’s see if Bloomies is having a sale.”
“Girl, please. The only way Bloomies will have a good sale is if they’re going out of business. But let’s head there anyway. I need some more foundation, and they’re the only ones that carry the brand I want.”
“Okay, let me finish eating, then jump in the show–” Her call waiting beeped. “Hey, it’s Sean. Let me call you back when I leave.”
“Kiss them for me.” Rhonda giggled.
“Whatever.” Sandra switched to the other line. “Hey, Sean. Thank you for breakfast, and thank Patrick, too.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Whatcha doing today? We didn’t really plan anything after the movie last night.”
“I’m sorry. I made plans.”
“That’s fine. We have things to take care of before Monday anyway. So what are you going to do on your rare Saturday off?”
“Hang with Rhonda. By the way, she blows kisses you guys’ way.”
“Blowing them back. You want to do something tonight?”
“Like what?”
“We’ll figure something out when you get home. We know how you are at the stores.”
“Okay, smarty. Talk to you later.”
Sandra folded her cell and finished eating.
She was emptying the dishwasher when kinky thoughts of the dynam
ic duo popped up yet again. Wasn’t it bad enough that she masturbated to an article, thinking of both of them last night?
Once showered and dressed, she poured some Dog Chow for Killer and checked herself in the mirror before stepping out. Maybe paying ridiculously high prices for stuff worth a tenth of the cost would distract her.
Chapter Four
As she drove, Sandra thought about the boys—again. Damn it, why did they have to be so fine? Better question: why did they have to be her best friends? They had a platonic relationship. Everyone else misinterpreted it. Not her. She came to a red light and groaned. “You protest too much.”
At Rhonda’s house, she blew the horn and waited. Her friend came out, head stuck in a magazine. “Hey, lady!” She reached for the door handle. Not once did she lift her head and actually acknowledge her. She opened the door and slid in.
“Girl, what has caught your attention?” Sandra pulled away from the curb.
“This article in the latest Just for Women. Did you read it?”
Her stomach tightened. She knew what the latest magazine held, but thinking about it would only frustrate her more. Bad enough she’d masturbated to articles.
She tried to keep her eyes on the road, occasionally glancing at her friend, yet trying not to show any interest. But she did have interest in it. And she would have loved to share some girl-talk about it. But if she showed an inkling of curiosity, Rhonda would grill her like a cheese sandwich.
“It says here that eighty percent of single women and forty-five percent of married fantasize about a ménage à trois,” Rhonda said, her face still buried in the magazine.
Sandra nearly swerved off the road. Oh God. “Really?”
“Yep, and get this.” Rhonda poked her side. “It says at least thirty percent of women have tried it once. They even have actual accounts.”
“They are bored with their sex lives, I bet.” Sandra pooh-poohed.
“Please! They’re adventurous.”
“Well, you’re the thrill seeker in this duo. Why don’t you give it a try?” Sandra turned to her as they came to a red light.
Cabin Fever Page 2
