I said, “I am trying to solve a problem. C’mon, this is really weird.”
“But I hope a good weird,” Claire said.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Most definitely a good weird. Believe me, I’m not complaining.”
“You better not,” Tara said, squinching her nose at me.
Weird was right. Seeing my girlfriend sitting next to the beautiful babe that I had fucked at an orgy was downright surreal.
Of course, the whole orgy had been surreal, too.
Also, seeing Tara and Claire sit next to each other made me compare them. It simply felt natural to do so. But I didn’t say it out loud, which would’ve been impolite.
Tara had light brown hair and blue eyes. She had shown me pictures of her as a blonde, and she had a deep tan. She looked good that way. She said she went through a phase when she went blonde and had a tropical tan every summer. But now, she was in a natural phase, leaving her hair color alone. In the restaurant, her hair was swirled up and clamped in the back in the fancy way she likes when she dresses up for a nice occasion. She wore a black, crushed-velvet dress that plunged low to show titillating cleavage. A black choker necklace decorated her throat.
I have to come clean and admit that Claire was the prettier of the two. Don’t get me wrong: Tara was pretty. But Claire was flat-out gorgeous. Walking down the street, men would give Tara a second look. But Claire would make them stop and stare. We’re talking model hot. Stunning.
Claire’s hair color was a lustrous auburn with darker streaks here and there, as the waves of her hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes were lighter than my girlfriend’s. Claire’s skin was creamy and soft, with a smattering of freckles sprayed across her nose. This was the Irish/Scottish-type of skin that you knew would easily sunburn. I remembered how good her skin felt back at the Christmas party. Smooth, soft, sensuous. The crowd of freckles across her collarbones. Her creamy breasts jiggling as I thrusted into her.
In the restaurant, I could see some of the freckles across her chest, because of the low-cut dress she was wearing. She matched Tara in the fabric of crushed velvet, but Claire’s dress was deep purple. Soft, plush fabric. I wanted to caress the curves of her dress, and then rub my body against her warm skin.
Man, these ladies were lovely. A man couldn’t ask for better dinner partners. Well, there were some movie and porn stars that I could’ve asked for, but let’s not get crazy. This was crazy enough already.
“Just so you know,” Tara said. “We’re in charge of ordering the food.”
“Why’s that?” I replied. “Are you going to order something nasty that I have to eat, like on some reality TV show?”
“Hardly. We’re just going to make it a little fun.”
As if on cue, a voice outside the curtain said, “Excuse me.” We could see a silhouette on the other side of the red, opaque curtains.
“Yes?” Claire asked.
The silhouette parted the curtains, and our little, semi-private world became less private. We could more easily see and hear the other people out there. The silhouette turned out to be a waitress, who introduced herself and asked for our drink order.
“Champagne Cosmo cocktails,” Tara told her. “For all three of us.” She shot me an amused look.
“Got it,” the waitress replied.
“And we’d like to order appetizers now,” Claire piped up. “A dozen raw oysters.” Her turn to shoot me an amused look.
“Sure thing,” the waitress said and left, closing the curtains behind her.
Raw oysters. My fantasies for the evening were becoming more like good possibilities. The clues: Claire being with us on Valentine’s, the enclosed booth, and now oysters.
If Claire wanted me to eat oysters to simulate cunnilingus, then I was more than game. I had eaten her out at the holiday party, and I was more than willing to do it again. I was just as willing to fuck her sweet pussy again.
I told myself to not get ahead of myself. Don’t assume a threesome was in the cards.
“It’s awesome to see you,” I told Claire. “And it’s a big surprise. I didn’t realize that you and Tara had talked after the Christmas party.”
“We sure did,” Claire replied. “Now I know all your secrets.” She looked like a cat who knew the door to the birdcage was going to be opened, and all she had to do was wait for the bird to fly out.
“Well, not all of them,” Tara said. “Just the really good ones.”
“The juicy ones?” I asked with raised eyebrow.
The ladies glanced at each other, and then Tara said, smiling, “That’s right. The juicy ones.”
I saw the silhouette appear outside the curtains before I heard the waitress say, “Excuse me,” and open the curtains. She passed around our drinks: martini glasses containing pink liquid, in which two cherries floated.
Claire and Tara laughed at my face. Again, my expression was a source of amusement. I shrugged it off. It was part of the experience. Plus, I guess it could’ve been worse—the two cherries in the drinks could’ve been speared by a little plastic penis.
“Enjoy,” the waitress said. “Appetizers are coming soon.”
I took a sip of the pink drink as she left and closed the curtains. The drink was bubbly and not as sweet as I thought it was going to be. It wasn’t syrupy sweet like a frozen daiquiri.
“Not bad,” I said.
Claire fished out one of the cherries from her glass and placed it between her lips, which then held the cherry in place. She looked at Tara while she did this. Tara leaned toward her.
They kissed. On the lips. Oh. My. God.
Back at the orgy, I had seen my girlfriend get fucked by two other guys—one at a time, that is. My reaction to that had been complicated. I was anxious, jealous, upset, and disappointed. Yet, at the same time, an erotic thrill had tingled through me. I liked seeing Tara get pleasure.
Now, with my girlfriend kissing Claire, my reaction wasn’t complicated at all. I felt none of those negative emotions. Just the erotic thrill. My cock raged at my pants. I longed to sink my dick into them. A vision flashed in my brain: our three naked bodies intertwined and undulating.
But this kiss wasn’t in my imagination. Seemingly in slow motion, these lovely women kissed. It wasn’t a frantic rush to shove tongues into each other’s mouth. No, this was an easy roll of glossy lips taking their sweet time to enjoy the other woman’s lips. And Tara had sucked the cherry from Claire’s mouth into her own.
Yet again, the two ladies laughed at my reaction. Like I mentioned, I was getting used to it. Who could blame them? If I was in their high-heeled shoes, I would’ve laughed at me being thunderstruck by their kiss.
Through all of my awkward reactions, I realized that the possibility of my fantasy threesome coming true burned brighter. That kiss sure added voltage to the possibility.
“I have an idea,” Claire said. “How about we tell stories about our worst Valentine’s dates? I’d like to get to know you guys better.”
“Sounds fun!” Tara chirped.
“Um, okay,” I said. I wasn’t wild about the idea. I just wanted them to kiss some more.
“Oh, you’ll have fun,” Tara said. “I’ll start. You’ve heard this story before.” She was looking at me. “So don’t worry, this isn’t some new story about an old boyfriend that I’m dumping on you. Okay. This was several years ago. I hooked up with a guy at a New Year’s Eve party. It happens, right? Everybody’s partying, in a good mood, that stuff happens. So this guy—Brett—and I hooked up. We did the cheesy kiss at midnight, all that stuff.”
“Happens to all of us,” Claire said.
Nodding, Tara continued: “We started dating after that. It was okay, nothing special.” She smiled at me. “Not like my stud over there.”
I couldn’t help but smile back.
Tara went on: “But this Brett guy was so persistent. He always wanted to do stuff with me. Not just dinner and movies
on weekends, but he wanted to do stuff all the time.”
“The suffocating type?” Claire asked.
“Yeah, at times he was stifling. I wanted to spend time with my friends, you know? And here was this guy wanting to spend all his free time with me. I had to say no to him again and again. And then Valentine’s Day rolls around, and of course he wants to go out. Reasonable, sure. It’s Valentine’s, after all. And he was actually a nice guy when he wasn’t so cloying. So we went out. He takes me to a nice restaurant. Afterward, he wants to take a walk on the beach. Okay, sounds good. It’s romantic, and it’s Valentine’s, right?”
“Of course,” Claire answered.
Tara said, “So, we’re on the beach, and then he gets down on one knee. I’m like, ‘Oh my God, is this really happening?’ The guy actually proposed to me. Can you believe that? I mean, c’mon, we knew each other only for a couple of months.”
“What did you say?” Claire wanted to know.
“I tried to be as nice as I could. Let him down easy. Told him we hardly knew he other. He said he knew me well enough to know he was in love with me. This guy was something else. He got real upset when I said, ‘no.’ He couldn’t understand why I’d deny him.”
“Can you blame him for being upset?” Claire asked. “Who wouldn’t want to marry a hot piece of ass like you?”
Tara, laughing, said, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I hope so.”
Tara grinned and purred, “Mmm.”
Two silhouettes appeared, with one waitress pushing the curtains apart, and the other—our original waitress—sliding the appetizer on the table. The oysters gleamed as they sat on half-shells, which rested on a thin bed of ice chips.
“Dig in, lover boy,” Claire said.
My cheeks blushed a deep crimson as the two babes across from me and the waitresses laughed.
“Uh, yeah,” was all I could manage to say.
It got worse when Tara ordered our main dishes. Seared tuna for me. Steak for her and Claire. The waitress had a huge smile.
One had to wonder: Was she imagining me having a threesome with Claire and Tara? That thought made the order less embarrassing. After all, I was the lucky stud who was going to fuck the two hotties. At least, I certainly hoped so.
As the waitresses left, I also hoped they were going to share the oysters and tuna comments with the other wait staff at the restaurant. Let all of them imagine these hotties and I were going to partake in a ménage a trios.
“Okay, my turn for a story,” Claire said. “This one Valentine’s Day, I got set up on a blind date. That’s the last time that’s ever going to happen. I had a couple of blind dates before that Valentine’s, and one led to a blisteringly hot fuck. So they weren’t all bad. But a blind date on Valentine’s is just asking for it. This guy—I can’t even remember his name. Let’s just call him Dumbass.”
Tara giggled, and I ate an oyster with a loud slurp. I had to be dramatic about it. The situation simply demanded it. Both ladies watched me intently.
Claire collected her thoughts and continued: “So, Dumbass and I have dinner at a nice restaurant. He acts like he owns the place. Struts around, hair’s all gelled and perfect, expensive suit. I know it’s expensive because he tells me how much he paid for it.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Tara said. “Don’t you hate those guys?”
“Yeah,” Claire said. “Seriously. And he didn’t stop there. He goes on and on about his job. He’s in stocks or bonds or something. I can’t remember exactly. He acts like he’s the biggest swinging dick on the planet. But he’s really the biggest Dumbass.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Tara said and giggled.
The redhead went on with her story: “But I stick around, ’cause it’s a really nice restaurant, and the food is amazing. At least I got a great dinner out of it.”
“So, chicks do that,” I said. “I knew it.” I ate another oyster. Not as loud of a slurp this time.
Claire replied, “Of course we do it. Some of you guys are hard to put up with. A free meal is payment. Simple as that. So, back to Valentine’s. Dessert comes, and he goes into the next gear. Asks where I work out, ’cause it totally shows on me. He can tell I’ve got a rocket body. Oh, and by the way, he boasts about working out. Says he does it all the time. Has rock-hard abs. He goes on and on.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Tara said.
“It’s ridiculous,” Claire said, “how much bullshit this guy piles on. I figure I’ve got to come up with some excuse to get out of the situation. I’ve got to nip it in the bud before he tries to move the party to his place. No way am I going to bang this Dumbass. So, I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. I wait awhile, and then go back to the table and tell him that I’m not feeling too good. Maybe it’s something I ate. Don’t know. But I’m getting queasy. It’s coming in waves.”
Tara laughed. “That’s too much.”
“Did it work?” I asked around a mouth full of oyster.
“Of course,” the redhead replied. “As bad as he wanted to fuck, he didn’t want to do it with a woman who was going to puke her guts out.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Tara said. “Smart move.”
Wait a minute. All of Tara’s mmm-hmms were making me suspicious. She had kept humming that during Claire’s story. I knew the type of voice she was using. She wasn’t just agreeing with Claire. No, this was different. Deeper. These were suspiciously similar to the sensual mmms that my girlfriend would murmur when I went down on her or stroked her.
Stroked her?
Hold on. I hadn’t seen Claire’s hands in awhile. Or Tara’s hands. Something fishy was going on here. Purring mmms and Tara’s dreamy expression and none of their hands were above the table?
I leaned down and checked under the table.
There it was. My suspicions were confirmed. Spread legs and hands busy between them. Two sets of pussy lips seemed to smile at me—as if they were amused from holding the secret from me. Tara and Claire were getting each other off. No panties were in sight. Both had worn dresses, and they must’ve pulled up easily for handjob access.
I surfaced above the table to find the two ladies wearing enormous grins. Just as I’d imagined their pussies doing.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed.
“Yeah,” Tara said. “And I’m very close.”
I ducked under the table again to see Claire’s fingertips stroking the top my girlfriend’s pussy. Hitting the sweet spot of the clitoris.
Sitting back up, I saw Tara close her eyes and push her lips together tightly. A sound came out that could’ve been a grunt or her clearing her throat. There it was. The face I knew well. I had seen that face when I went down on her or when I massaged her clit. That face I loved to inspire with my tongue or fingers. Then Tara bared her teeth in what I guessed was the peak. My heart pounded as I watched her in fascination. My dick pushed against my pants. In a few moments, Tara’s face relaxed. Her eyes opened. She took a big gulp of her Champagne Cosmo.
“Wow,” she gasped.
Claire followed soon after. I also enjoyed watching her expression as she rose to the climax and rode the waves of pleasure. She, too, only let a faint sound escape.
You had to hand it to these two ladies, being so controlled. Before this, I had heard my girlfriend burst out in yells during orgasms. But what she and Claire let out in the restaurant was nothing like that. I was quite impressed.
Once finished with her orgasm, Claire took a big drink of her cocktail.
When these two hot women had kissed, I was floored. Now, after seeing both of them climax right here in a restaurant booth, I was blown away. I stared at them, back and forth, awed into silence.
Their hands returned to the tabletop. Instead of drying off their hands with the cloth napkins, the women licked them clean. Slowly. They stuck a finger in their mouths and sucked. Glossy red lips puckered up around each finger.
Oh fuck.
Two women simulating fellati
o on their fingers that were slick with pussy juice? I was blown away even more. I fought the incredible urge to unzip my pants and stand on the table and demand a blowjob. Like Ralph had done back in the holiday party.
But I was successful in not doing that—because we were in a public place. If we were in our apartment, I probably would’ve done it.
Once they finished sucking their fingers, Tara and Claire polished off the remaining oysters. This time, they didn’t laugh at my expression—which had to be a laughable one. They were taking pity on me.
“Take a deep breath, honey,” Tara said to me.
“Yeah,” I said, letting out a long breath that had been held in.
Tara leaned in and kissed Claire. This didn’t have the shock of their first kiss. After that mutual handjob, this felt downright innocent.
“Thanks babe,” my girlfriend said to the redhead as their lips parted.
“Thanks back at ya,” the redhead replied.
“Did you guys do that before tonight?” I had to ask. “Did you hook up?”
“She wanted to,” Tara answered. “But I didn’t want to do it behind your back.”
“She’s devoted to you, lover boy,” Claire said.
I beamed from this display of Tara’s devotion. My love for her had grown since we moved in together, and I appreciated her not wanting to cheat on me. Even though she was clearly turned on by Claire and could’ve easily had sex with her without me knowing it. I was impressed that Tara waited to be with Claire until they were with me.
My hopes for a fantasy threesome now seemed silly. A threesome now seemed inevitable. How could these lovelies not let me join in the fun? Tara was probably waiting until we brought this gorgeous redhead back to our apartment.
Problem was, I didn’t want to wait that long to join in the fun.
“Um, babe,” I said to my girlfriend, “we need to hit the alley out back. I’ve got a huge hard-on I’d like you to take care of.”
“Oh? You haven’t creamed in your pants yet?” she asked.
“Almost,” I confessed.
Claire turned to Tara, asking, “Okay if I handle this?”
Tara & Steve: A Tale of Swingers Page 7
