Two Bad Groomsmen_An MFM Menage Romance

by Sierra Sparks

  I do not recall moving from the back of the wall to holding Waryn’s hand in mine. It is soft. And warm. And slightly bloody. Her face has a deep gash on the right cheek. Her eyes, still flashing red.

  “Come with me.” Hand in hand, I walk her to the store room cum break room, the kingdom of supplies we never use. There are clients in the waiting lounge that we pass by, and three of them are hunched over talking loudly. I hear the connotation “Bull”, but now is not the time to think it over, or its implications for the future. The latch is locked, and the key was already in my hand by the time I had Waryn with me. It opens.

  The air is stuffy and compact. Its soothing darkness slightly chills me up, but there is a change in pressure that lets a string come to the light. I tug on it in the old-fashioned way, and a bright yellow bulb lights the slowly dusting room up. I walk her in, and shut the door behind us.

  The last time I was here the walls were a slight pink. Now the color is green. Maybe Holland painted it in his free time. He hardly sleeps after his 3 am shift.

  “Sit.” I point to a cluster of boxes that are filled with ink. On the side is a black tray that has a plethora of medical supplies. From sewing kits to butterfly sutures, we are always set for a next level maddening rampage from any of our clients. Perhaps it is how we were so well tuned to handle the crazy bitch with the mouth, after the years of taking care of derelicts and clients that offer sex for money. She slowly sits, her vein popping back in, and pain sliding in to take over its convenience.

  “You’re awfully and uncharacteristically quiet Waryn,” I squeeze while taking a look at the gash. A few sutures should do it. She’s looking right at me the entire time.

  “She…said some things that were, are, far from the truth.”

  “And that meant clobbering her?”

  “Cool the jokes Tatum. This actually hurts.”

  I’m dabbing some alcohol over the wound. It tinges red.

  “She must have never washed her nails. And your threshold for pain is…are you alright?”

  I feel worried that she’s simply staring either into space or right into my eyes. Her temperature is calming down, and she didn’t get hit at all in the head. So…

  “Waryn…I need you to talk to me. Are you-?”

  “Remember that story about the swans that I told you about?”

  That’s out of the blue…

  “Yes, I remember it.” This is going to a place I am not ready for. The bleeding’s stopped, and I rip apart the sewing kit. She swallows hard.

  “I never really finished that with the right ending.”

  “Okay…Then what was the right ending?”

  “Every time Eric and I walked to the park in the company of our mother, I wished for one thing. You see, he never stood up for me at all while we grew up. Only after I became smoking off the oven did he finally realize I was his sister. The first time we saw the ducks and they chased him across the bridge and into the tiny briar patch by the end of it, I was fascinated at the switch.”

  “The switch?”

  “Yeah. The switch…where he felt afraid and I didn’t. It was only then that I realized I wanted to see him get hurt, to really make him feel what I had been feeling when the kids at school chased me and kicked and spat on me. For every scream he gave when they finally snapped their beaks at his shins, I cried in joy. Finally, I felt karma hit back and finally give us both what we deserved.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Equity. You see, the way I see it, we all want to be treated fairly and equally. But what we don’t get is that if everything in life came in equal measure, we would still be unsatisfied. I got my equity in the ending days of my childhood, but it took away from me more than I could have bargained for.

  When you knocked Eric to his sides and he lay there flat like road kill, I saw how you felt in your eyes. I remember Tatum, how and what you felt with the way you cried at him. The rest of the crowd couldn’t see. But I saw.”

  By this time, my hands are tied at the top of her face, frozen in time. She’s never mentioned it before. No one has. It’s always been a blur for most people who were there that night to watch the fight. Even the cameras focused on Eric more. But she, the sister who watched her brother fall and never rise again, saw what I dream of every time I close my eyes.

  “It’s what I felt when I heard that blonde bimbo scream out. She had no right Tatum. None at all.”

  We watch the dust settle between our faces. I suddenly realize how close my back is arched towards her, how close her thigh, her open thigh, is to me. I breathe in and smell the raging spark, the ash rising and falling in a crescendo of stars.

  “Thank you Tatum, for –”

  Rationale is stupid. Thinking things through is never the right call. But letting the scissors fall and clatter to the ground carelessly and grabbing her by the arms and hoisting her up like a piece of art on the wall is the only straight thing I can think of before she ruins it.

  Before she says any more, I show her what words were to follow for the next thirty minutes with a simple grind of our pelvises. My nose stuffs gently onto hers, and rub together. Our lips do the same. She tastes of raw fish sticks and a little bit of honey, and her skin falls away at the very touch of my fingers. So does her skirt’s zipper.

  “Mmmmhhhh…” she moans into me. Her legs are broken apart and I am in between them trying to fix what we should have tried to a long time ago. The way she responds to me, the way her panties slush along my t-shirt and drench the cloth in agonizingly unquenched wetness; it’s all what I dreamt of last night. It’s what I wanted to do the moment she sat in my chair and my skin touched hers. It’s what I fucking wanted to do the instant our nipples collided on the dance floor, and it is what I most certainly want to do to her with no sign of stopping in sight.

  My hair is in her hands, and so is my heart. The heat is building up, rising palpably and taking away all sense. Desperation and the need to fulfill the crazy itch between us the entire time fill the empty cocoon, and she pulls me deeper and deeper into her.

  My dick is harder than the last time I can remember, and her tongue down my throat longer and more longingly than she should. Her breasts feel supple under the graze of my knuckles, and with a slight pinch she opens her eyes and meets mine.

  “Tatum…”

  “Waryn…”

  In a closet with all those people outside, huh? I never thought you were this fri- Oh my God…Tatum…if you stop I’ll bite your nose off!”

  Her back arches wide enough to allow a bird pass through the space between her spine and the wall. Her eyelids clench shut and she opens her mouth longer and deeper, just the way I like it. My lips lunge at her neck, sucking slowly and suggestively. Her heart beats harder and faster. I can’t lose this; my fingers have to keep up with the pace down here under her clit.

  “Mmaammmhh…” I try to moan her name in. She is furiously wet, and I totally want to do the sane thing and not let it go to waste. I want to lick it up and pleasure her more than my two fingers gently caressing her brown rose bud and deeply penetrating her pussy. I yearn to have her musk cream my beard and make her own it, only for me to kiss her full on the mouth with it as I slide my dick up into the end of her belly till she moans to sleep.

  “Tatum! Tatum…Tatuuumm…Oh fuck…Harder…faster…Tatum please don’t you fucking stooooopppp….haaauuuhhhhhh….”

  Cream after cream of squirt coat my fingers. Her inner walls and labia clench and unclench to cope with the stress of ultimate orgasm with her back on the wall and her butt in the air. Her legs crunch across my lungs praying, begging, for clarity, a way to understand what just happened to her body.

  My dick is simply wet and sloppy, but in this case, a woman’s needs always come first. She breathes into me, nails in my neck, and her lips on my cheek. Her entire body weight is leaned against me, heaving, sweating. I fling my arms around her and tighten them till out hearts beat in sync.

  I am never letting her g
o.

  Chapter 7 - Waryn

  His fingers are too large and too good to be thought of as mere appendages. He is a man of art. The caresses and the strokes down there, I wish I could see them now as he pokes and slithers his palm across my clit and fondles my pussy. He is taking me down to the river bed in my mind where all my water is waiting to go into his pouch. I hope it bursts.

  Right now all I can wish for is a comfortable bed, where he can lay me down and treat me like his own. I can’t even feel the pain on my face anymore. The hanging me on the wall thing kinda escalated though, and I really love his commitment to holding my weight this entire time.

  The high is fleeting. I don’t understand why. Can’t I just enjoy this for a little while longer? This orgasm of numbers, this flailing warmth that guards my loins and keeps them burning and escalating for more…

  Why is he doing this to me? It’s never constant with him, with being devoid of emotion and the angry outbursts. However tight his arms grab me, and however much his chest beats on mine, I get more confused. I pull away from him slowly and look him right in his eye.

  “I need you to be fucking honest with me Tatum.”

  “Okay,” he breathes out. This just kicked the wind out of him. I like that.

  No no no no. You have to put up the face!

  “What do you want with me? Do you want me or not?”

  “I don’t get where this is coming from Waryn.”

  “No. I’m not doing this with you. An answer. Now. I need to know right now what’s making us be this way. First, you ask me out after we just meet and you know my name. Then we talk in a way most people can’t even after years of friendship, and even share a cheeseburger. And that’s as sacred as two people can go Tatum. And I just realized how awkward this is with your fingers still inside me. Let me down please.”

  He does, but I step on his boots. No way am I letting my toes touch that floor.

  “Waryn, the truth is…I really wanted you last night. You were there and we had that moment.”

  “But then what Tatum? You think we can have this like iced tea and banana pancakes? Don’t you mind the reference; I’m angry with you. You come bring me food and pills after a hell of a night, and then you give me a job. But in between you act like we are plagued. Like there is nothing more between us that we can try to make it be. Have you even thought of what this is, and how epic it could grow? I just slapped a bitch in your shop man, is there any more proof you would need to know?”

  “Waryn I simply don’t know! You were fucking drunk last night, and I was on the verge of doing something I would regret for a very long time. I have no idea what we would have done after we mashed together and bumped till you couldn’t feel your legs, or till my fingers couldn’t work today. I didn’t know how to react to that kiss Waryn.”

  “What are you trying to say Tatum?”

  Our hands are locked in a trance, and our breaths joined in between the crossroads of our mouths. He purses his lips and gazes into me, fetching my soul from the playful wonders of the well down low and spelling it out for me to hear.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say, Waryn, is that-”

  He was going to say something incredibly stupid and I don’t want to hear it.

  Perhaps the cold frost on my lips clicked in and gave me an irrational action to perform. Or maybe it’s me missing the warmth of his tongue on mine, the way he inches closer and over the walls of my mouth. I think it has to be the way he catches his breath as he mashes hi skin to mine, and we exchange what is ours and what is not. His arms drop from my waist and to my ass, my cold ass which he grabs and squeezes gently. Then he parts them.

  The light shuts itself out of my mind, and I fall hard into him. He grabs me by the waist and lifts me to his. I feel movement, his, towards the door. The latch locks and settles in place. He doesn’t go for the light, but I see him through the slits under my eyes some boxes, empty, that he kicks around and makes room for the table at the back of the wall. One by one, his jacket, his t-shirt, his pants, they all fall off, with my help of course.

  He kneels with my knees on his shoulder and my pussy on his navel. The abs on him grind and soothe the tiny hairs on my sweet spot, my wet, silky sweet spot that’s begging to be filled and eaten like Christmas dinner on the balcony. He leans down, not once letting my body touch the non-sterile part of the room. In his eyes I see lust, and a longing for the simple touch of my skin. Right now, I want to be his, and him to be mine.

  Fingers fiddle along the underwire of my bra. It snaps open. No words are exchanged; none ever should. My legs straddle his underside, and I marvel at the tangibility of his tattoos. A doe by a shallow riverbed stares back at me from the corner of its eyes. There is a shallow creek by the end of its hooves, and following the river, tracing the eddies and shallow curves with the slither of my tongue, I follow it up to the gems of a tiger staring right at me.

  “Oh…that looks so real…”

  “Just like you on me?”

  “Mm-hh…”

  His beard is bushy beyond my wildest imagination, and it tickles the sensitive skin under my nipples. He pushes his fists right up my thighs and kneads them like play dough. One vein after the next, I suck and release. He cries out softly into mine.

  “Do you want this to last or what? I’m getting a really odd impression from you right now.” He heaves. I don’t know if there are others outside, but the creaks under the table are surely audible enough.

  “Shut up and fuck me Tatum. I’m wet and willing here.”

  RRIIIIIIPP

  “Did you just rip my panties off?”

  “Did I ask you to speak?”

  The general domineering builds up the fire, but his hand tightly clenched by my neck, and his rough mouth biting my nipple…God…this is just good foreplay.

  The sensation of the warming wood behind my back is thrilling, and the swinging bulb above doesn’t make it any less steaming. His tongue is moistening my inner thigh. Higher…then lower…down and up along my knee. He kneads the pressure slightly into my bud…and rubs it gingerly.

  “Oh Tatum…just kiss it. A little bit…just…please”

  “I didn’t say you could speak Waryn. That gets you more of less…”

  “Oh…”

  He grabs my hips and shoves them by the sides of his neck. Blood rushes to my mind, but the significant amount rests at the hot prick between my legs. It’s engorged now, and his nose is right there, waiting for my signal. Waiting for me to give in to the head rush. I moan. He dives in.

  The oceans blow and the winds crash when I shut my eyes. This feeling of immense static coursing through my nerves is exhilarating. His arms are along my hips and his tongue muffles inside me. Lick after lick he owns me and all I am. My hair jumps along my face with each stroke of his rough and silky tongue. I cannot feel my toes. I don’t want to.

  “Fucking hell Tatum…so…so long…”

  Mmmmmhhh…sluuuuurp

  I drip and spit through my bellow lips. Out I spasm, taking his head crushed between my knees, my ass in the air, clammy from the heat and fuzzy feel of his beard. He grabs my hands and holds them tight. I love this. I love this beyind any other thing I could ever dream of. The light fades from my eyes, and I aink into a double orgasm once more. He does not stop kissing and rubbing my clit all the way, till I lay down and my feet fall by the edge of his waist.

  His skin feels soft, his bones harder than the one standing in ovation before me and between us. Its shade is slightly pink, hot and dripping from foreplay. I get on my knees, and kiss him. The flush rushes from my nipples up my throat and down my clover. I make more room on the table for him. He obliges.

  His ass is on the wood, and my thighs onto his. We meet at the middle and slowly join in one motion. My hands are in his, his eyes onto mine. I see a darkness rising and falling at the center of him, and his tongue rolls out at the rough grinding underneath us. His helmet slowly picks up the pace, and rubs onto my clit as I push ont
o him, lathering myself up with his manly soup. Tatum’s junk is harder than ever, and I know where he can park it.

  “Lemme help you with that,” I whisper. He is up and standing, and I follow suit and drop. We are one. I am in him and him in me.

  “Fuck Waryn…”

  “What else could you…mmmhh…possibly be doing right nnnooww?” I wonder aloud. God his dick is thick. To the hilt and back again, where his fingers give some love to my nub and clit. Both are fully pleasured. More than I could bargain for-

  “Fucking faster Tatum. You have clients outside and they need your full concentration.”

  “I know baby. I know…” he sighs.

  Faster and faster we go. I knead his shoulders for support and take him harder. His thumb finds itself into my mouth and I fucking suck that bitch. It tastes of sour and sweet juice….it tastes of me, and him, mixed and flavored…I suck that thumb like it’s his second dick till…

  “You just got bigger! Holy fuck Tatum…You…just…got…ungh…big-g-g…”

  I guess that did the trick.

  He pulls my hair from behind me and pounds the living quirm out of me. Gravity is his best friend right now, and I can safely assume that my life is in his hands. The stands of the table are rickety and creak under our weight and his impressive speed. Pound after pound of flesh he sets his record for most orgasms in a woman in three strokes…

  He flips me over and takes his mouth right where it is meant to be. Its purpose is finally…

  “Mmmmmuhhh!” He just found the spot I’ve been hiding. His thick and engorged piece of meat hangs at my face. With no effort, I kiss it.

  Time to make love to you

  With my hands at his balls, I slurp that thick sloppy piece of luck all the way from the slightly purplish head to the hairy bottom. His globes get a taste too, and a slight squeeze. He likes that. I can tell from his pause from munching his lunch.

  I have to be careful with my teeth…just so that he can fully feel what he’s trying to get. It is a full taste in my mouth. Like a large hunk of beef, only raw and thick, and beating and pulsing like a real heart, down the cavity of my mouth and into my throat. I want to gag.