Bobbi Jo in Ecstasy [Siren Publishing Ménage Amour]

by Robin Gideon

  Then, just minutes later, she was in her tightest Daisy Dukes and a snug white blouse. It wasn’t a revealing outfit, but she had decided a denim miniskirt and a halter-tied blouse were going too far, even if it meant tips from the oil rig workers wouldn’t be as generous. Halter tops without bras and miniskirts were a thing of the past…unless she was with Caleb and Jacob. Alone with them. It was different when they looked at her with fire in their eyes. With other men, not so much. Actually, not at all.

  The eventful evening with the brothers had changed her in many ways, she realized. They had, in the oddest ways possible, both freed her of sexual inhibitions, and imbued her with a whole new set of sexual rules that she would now have to follow.

  Braless halter tops during work hours were out.

  Giving one brother a blow job, and then fucking the other brother an hour later, was apparently in.

  Those were special circumstances. Just because I did that once doesn’t mean I’ll do it again. She closed her eyes and forced herself to not smile. Unless, of course, they want me to. She tried to force the thoughts away, but they’d no more started to retreat than they returned with a vengeance. What would it be like to be on my knees, sucking both of them, first one, and then the other? Or what about fucking one of them doggie-style while the other fucks my mouth? The thought made her shiver. Or what if they DP’d me, one of them fucking my pussy while one fucks me in the ass?

  This last thought brought a shiver and a small gasp from Bobbi Jo. It wasn’t that getting fucked in the ass was appalling to her on a moral level. She’d done it before. Her first boyfriend had insisted upon it. What she didn’t realize at the time was that he was dreadfully under-endowed in the cock-size department, so when he accused her of having a loose pussy, the real truth was that he didn’t have a cock anyone would brag about. She’d learned to take it in the ass, and actually sort of liked it occasionally, when she was in the mood for a little taboo entertainment.

  At the time, Bobbi Jo didn’t understand how undersized her boyfriend was. After having been with Jacob and Caleb, her horizons—and other parts of her, for that matter—had been significantly expanded. Her imagination had been working overtime since then.

  Would they even want me that way? Could I take them that way? I’ve done it…but they’re so much bigger than….

  “Bobbi Jo, booth eleven needs drinks and menus.”

  She shook her head, forcing herself out of the reverie she had allowed herself to escape to. So often, it was her mind that was her greatest refuge, her chief source of solace, though at times it was her worst enemy.

  “Hi, guys! How are you this afternoon?” she said, trying hard to not let the fact that she’d been intimate with both of them show in her expression.

  “Better, now that you’re here,” Jacob said.

  Bobbi Jo looked at him. In her mind’s eye she remembered seeing the pain in his eyes, and the bandage wrapped around his head, and his big cock in her hand. She had been saying something—she couldn’t remember what, only that her lips were rubbing against his cock as she spoke—and the expression in his gaze let her know that though he was a bit dinged up, he loved everything she did to him.

  Bobbi Jo broke eye contact. She had no regrets about what she’d done to Jacob. He hadn’t forced her to do anything. Everything she’d done, from the beginning of the blow job to swallowing his deluge of cum, had been done of her own free will. She was no helpless, hapless victim of a man’s greater willpower and psychological domination. If anything, she was the one who had seduced him, not the other way around.

  Still, it wasn’t entirely comfortable looking into his eyes, knowing that hours earlier, even though they’d never been on a date or had even shared so much as a single kiss, she wrapped her lips around the thick shaft of his cock, bobbed up and down, licking and sucking with every ounce of fellatio skill she possessed, and then swallowed his thick, pungent ejaculation. She’d choked a bit on the volume that he unleashed in her mouth, but she’d swallowed every drop he had to give her.

  I really can’t believe I did that. I’ve…I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m not the kind of girl who swallows cum. She closed her eyes briefly, and gave her head a small shake. Under the right circumstances, and with the right guy, I guess I am.

  She brought them iced teas and menus, and did her level best to be professional, calm, and courteous. The fact that her hands were clammy, her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could not forget for one single moment the things she did with these two men the previous evening made acting casual a touch more difficult than impossible.

  “I’ve got some other tables to attend to, and then I’ll be right back for your orders,” Bobbi Jo said to the men.

  She walked away before either of them could protest.

  Are they comparing notes? Jacob’s probably telling how I sucked him off, and Caleb’s bragging about fucking me into a bunch of orgasms. How many did I have, anyway? A shiver went up her spine. She’d never experienced so many orgasms in so short a time period before. They’re poster boys for everything I’ve got to avoid in this town. They’re handsome, charming, rich as hell, and they intend to stay here. I intend to leave. Therefore, nothing good can come of getting involved with either of them. She stepped up to the waitress station, and for a moment closed her eyes again to focus her thoughts. Singly, they’re dangerous to all of my plans for the future. Collectively, they’re poison to everything I want for my future. Remember that. I can’t forget that. Not even for a second.

  She took their orders—both wanted steaks and baked potatoes, which came as absolutely no surprise to Bobbi Jo—and ordered beers to go with the food.

  They caressed her with their eyes, but neither man made any effort to touch her, and for that Bobbi Jo was grateful. One touch might be all it would take to trigger an avalanche of emotions on her part. Just looking at them made her want to do things which properly brought-up women didn’t do. How vulnerable would she be if they actually started caressing her, kissing her?

  She wouldn’t stand a chance of staying sane, and she knew it. She’d end up just like Ariel did in the saloon’s bathroom with her three men, fucking and sucking them while Bobbi Jo was there watching everything Ariel was doing. It was shameful! Horrible!

  Only it hadn’t really been that horrible to watch Ariel getting the Gold Star treatment from her three lovers. Perhaps Bobbi Jo had pretended that she hadn’t wanted to watch the activities taking place in the women’s restaurant of Wings & Things, but being unable to admit to liking to watch something wasn’t the same as not liking to watch that certain something.

  I’m such a hypocrite about things like that.

  Bobbi Jo kept her distance from Jacob and Caleb, even though she had caught them several times out of the corner of her eye trying to get her attention. She was too experienced and savvy a waitress to not notice when a customer wanted something.

  Forget about last night. They probably already have.

  She instantly felt a hollowness in her stomach at the thought. Yes, she decided, they probably had already forgotten about the things that they’d done with her, and what she’d done with them. They had vast experience with sexually willing woman. Hadn’t she heard all the stories so many times already? Weren’t there simply oodles of women willing to tell anyone and everyone of their latest sexual encounter with one of the men?

  I just never thought I’d be one of the conquests they’d talk about.

  Bobbi Jo didn’t go back to their booth until their meals were ready to be served. She could feel them watching her as she approached, but she wasn’t certain if their interest was a good or a bad thing. She couldn’t organize her thoughts where they were concerned.

  “You’re looking particularly delightful this afternoon,” Jacob said as Bobbi Jo slid a New York Strip steak in front of him. “Apparently, being on my sofa gives you plenty of beauty sleep.”

  She tried to shoot him daggers, but instead she just smiled
sheepishly.

  “As busted up as you were, I didn’t dare leave you alone. That goose egg you had on your head was big enough to would make a chicken cluck twice and then pass out when she laid it.”

  She saw the fury pass through Caleb’s countenance. Jacob might be able to find humor in what had happened, but Caleb sure as hell couldn’t. For a moment she wondered whether Caleb had hate-fucked her, taking the rage he felt for what had happed to his brother out on her body.

  He didn’t hate fuck me. It was D/s. I don’t doubt that. He wanted to dominate me into submission, and he did that in spades. But there wasn’t any hate involved.

  “Are you working another split shift?” Jacob asked. “Checking out at two, then back again at five?”

  Bobbi Jo nodded. “That’s what the boss has me scheduled for.”

  “I think we should talk,” he said, and Bobbi Jo felt her heart sink to the floor. “What about meeting us at my apartment? You know where it is.”

  It was the last invitation that Bobbi Jo wanted to hear. Without hesitation, she said, “No. No, I can’t do that.” She lowered her voice, and bent a little at the waist to get closer to the men. “I can’t let anyone see me go to your apartment. Williston is a small place. So is South Williston, for that matter. People will see my car, and they’ll know that I don’t belong there. I…I just can’t. Reputation is everything in a little place like Williston.”

  “The boat,” Caleb said to his brother. “Let’s take her to the boat. The parking lot’s big and nobody will be able to put two and two together, even if they wanted to try. We can take her there and preserve her anonymity.”

  Bobbi Jo didn’t know anything about a boat, but she liked the sound of it. The only boats she’d ever been on were fourteen- or sixteen-foot aluminum fishing boats that were either powered by oars, or 20-horsepower outboard motors. Bobbi Jo didn’t know everything about Jacob and Caleb, but she knew enough to understand they didn’t do anything in half-measures, and a 16-foot aluminum boat just wasn’t going to be suitable to satisfy their needs.

  “But I’ll have to be back by five,” she said. “That’s when the night rush starts, and my boss is already livid with me. He’ll fire me for the slightest mistake.”

  Jacob smiled and replied cryptically, “Yes. Well, let me talk to your boss. I’m sure he can make an accommodation should time get limited.” He smiled, but it wasn’t particularly friendly. “Trust me. I can be persuasive when I need to be.”

  * * * *

  They were waiting for her in Jacob’s red Lexus when her shift came to a close. Jacob had promised Bobbi Jo that there would be no trouble with her boss, and he was good to his word. Whatever he’d told her boss had certainly satisfied him, though Bobbi Jo got the niggling suspicion that Jacob might have used threats or coercion or money. Her boss, in a most uncharacteristic manner, seemed entirely non-confrontational. Her boss practically said, in a most obsequious manner, that Bobbi Jo could take as much time off as she wanted, and whenever she returned to work, that was fine by him. He made it quite clear that she could write her own schedule, and that he wouldn’t object.

  “Sit in the front seat with me,” Caleb said, his voice low with a hint of intimacy in it, though it wasn’t outright flirtation.

  Bobbi Jo thought about it for a moment. She was glad now that she was wearing her shorts instead of a miniskirt. There simply was no ladylike way of stepping up into a big SUV, she decided. Especially not in a miniskirt.

  “You’re sure?” Bobbi Jo asked. Caleb’s lap looked more than inviting. So did the rest of him, but she was trying hard to not think about that. “I’ll squish the seam out of your trousers.”

  He wore a charcoal gray suit with a button-down white shirt. His necktie was red, with yellow or gold diamonds in it. His cowboy boots were handmade, polished to a T, and said authoritatively that the man who wore them was a man to be taken seriously. He looked like a thousand bucks, but Bobbi Jo knew that to be an understatement, because he was a double-digit millionaire. It was probably a two thousand dollar suit.

  “The dry cleaners will press the seam back in,” Caleb said, smiling and reaching a hand down to her. “Now climb on up so we can get going. Jacob and I are both dying to show you our little boat.”

  Under her breath, Bobbi Jo said, “I’ll bet it’s more like the Queen Mary than a little boat.”

  * * * *

  Bobbi Jo would be lying if she didn’t admit that, upon getting settled onto Caleb’s lap, she felt an immediate thrill go through her. The excitement that had she’d experienced the previous night hadn’t quenched anything, it only let her know what pleasures she was capable of feeling when this man turned his sensual attention in her direction.

  She was sitting on his right thigh, with her left arm around his broad shoulders. She was well aware of just how close her breasts were to his face, and of the strength in the thighs that were beneath her own.

  It all seemed harmless enough, though Bobbi Jo kept remembering the astonishingly erotic things she’d done with these men just hours earlier. They were memories she’d have for the rest of her life. Of that she had no doubt.

  The fact that she’d never again let anything like that ever happen again with these gorgeous brothers was another fact she had no doubts about. But in time, would they be fond memories, or guilty ones?

  They crossed the Lake Sakakawea Bridge, and the difference between Williston, north of the river, and South Williston, on the south, hit her sharply, nastily. She was of old Williston. The ancient, historic, rundown part of the city built north of Lake Sakakawea, when it was just another sparsely populated cattle town in the appropriately named area of North Dakota called the Badlands.

  South Williston was new, spawned by oil money, growing larger every day. Everything was new. The restaurants were first-class, and high-end. If it wasn’t upper-middle-class, it was upper-class. Chain restaurants had been banned. Liquor stores were few. The apartment buildings were four or five story structures, all sparkling and new, and the rents were high enough to make sure that only oil executives and people of their ilk could afford them. It was easier finding an apartment in Manhattan.

  The Lake Sakakawea Yacht Club was on the south side of the lake, abutting the Lake Sakakawea Bay. The people residing in the Lake Sakakawea Bay Condominiums all had beautiful views of the yacht club from their balconies.

  The world looks better, they knew, when one can look down at it.

  Bobbi Jo felt butterflies in her stomach as Jacob eased his luxury SUV down into the yacht club’s parking lot. She looked around, consciously afraid that someone she knew would see her.

  “Relax,” Caleb said. His palm was on her naked thigh, and she didn’t object. The heat of his body warmed her blood. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t belong here,” Bobbi Jo replied, with more honesty and sincerity than she had intended.

  “Of course you belong here. You’re just talking a lot of proletarian nonsense.”

  “Oh, really?” she asked, looking into Caleb’s eyes, which were so close to her own. “Do you really think I’d be welcome here if I weren’t with you? This is a Members’ Only yacht club, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Jacob said, easing out of his side of the SUV, moving slowly. She could tell his ribs were still bothering him. “But you’re with us, so that’s all that matters.”

  That’s an easy thing for you to say, Mr. Independent-Oil-Millionaire.

  She got out of the SUV and off Caleb’s lap, thankful now more than ever that she wasn’t wearing a miniskirt.

  I could be wearing a hooded winter parka from head to ankles and I’d still feel half-naked around these guys.

  “Do I have to sign in as a guest, or anything?” Bobbi Jo asked, the sarcasm in her voice intentional and completely undisguised.

  “You’re with us,” Caleb said, his fingertips lightly touching Bobbi Jo at the small of her back. “The Second Well is down there, near the e
nd. If it’s any consolation to you, it is forty feet long, which means it’s about the same size as most of the other boats, but there are bigger ones. Much bigger.”

  “I think you’ll like it,” Jacob said, getting in stride beside Bobbi Jo. He eased his hand around her arm, just above the elbow. “Rides the waves like a dream, has a sun deck that’s a little piece of heaven, sleeps six comfortably, and docks as easy as parking a car.”

  “The Second Well?”

  “When the first well came in, we really couldn’t believe our luck,” Jacob said. “We didn’t spend our money. Then the second came in, and when the third well came in and all three were pumping nicely, we decided to give ourselves a treat. That’s when we got nearby apartments instead of living together in that old shack the folks handed down to us, and bought the boat. But it was the second well that gave us confidence.” He smiled down at her. “We usually don’t use it at the same time.”

  That’s because they bring your women here one at a time. The thought caused Bobbi Jo’s stride to falter for a moment. The boat’s where they bring their women to have sex with them.

  They stepped onto the dock, and Bobbi Jo at last saw the object of their obsession. It was gleaming white and chrome, new and sleek and powerful. It whispered of wealth and success.

  “Is this where you bring your women to seduce them?”

  She immediately wished she hadn’t put voice to the question.

  “Actually, you’re the first women we’ve both brought here,” Jacob said quietly, a bit uneasily. “You’re a first for us.” He paused a moment, and then added, “In more ways than you can imagine.”

  Chapter 8

  Bobbi Jo thought she was immune to the allure of bourgeois creature comforts, like a forty foot yacht, but the moment she stepped onto the deck, she immediately understood why powerful men liked their boats. Once she was on the boat, she had a marrow deep sense of prestige and privilege and power that she’d never before experienced quite so deeply, so intimately. She suspected she shouldn’t like it, but that didn’t make her immediate emotional reaction any less real.