TRISTAN: Yes!!! Judith! Let’s go!
10:24√√
JUDITH: Stop texting me – I’m sitting right next to you!
10:24√√
~*~
Watching the game on Michael’s wide-screen TV was almost a spiritual experience. Tristan could see details about the play, such as the expressions on players’ faces, that he’d never have seen on their average-sized TV, and with the surround-sound audio in the den, it was like they had stadium seats.
It was also so much more fun when the person watching the game with him got as excited as he did. Judith would sometimes sit on the couch with him when he watched the game at home, but her attention was not on the game, but rather on her book or her phone. On occasion she’d even fallen asleep on the couch with her head on his lap. It was a different experience when the other occupant of the couch shouted at the referee or cheered for the goals along with him.
Tristan sat beside Michael on the couch facing the TV, an array of snacks and drinks littering the coffee table. Tristan and Judith had brought their game day party snacks and beer with them, adding it to Michael’s haul on the coffee table. At one point, Judith had disappeared into the kitchen, only to reappear with a bowl of microwave popcorn.
Judith was sitting on the other couch, bare feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table, and her laptop open on her lap. Michael had given her the Wi-Fi password an hour ago and she’d been studiously tapping away on the other couch.
At half-time, Michael stretched out his left leg, and rubbing at his thigh he looked over at Judith. “You winning?” He asked.
“I think so,” Judith said.
Michael stood and limped over to the other couch, then flopped down on the seat beside hers. He put an arm behind her along the back of the couch to lean in and see what was on her screen. Tristan tamped down a pang of possessiveness. They were negotiating a triad relationship; he should get used to the idea that Michael would be touching – even sleeping with – his wife.
“Wow – this is amazing,” Michael said. “May I?” At Judith’s nod, he lifted the laptop off her lap and transferred it to his own.
“I copied and pasted the limit list you sent us into a spreadsheet, and designed it so that we can all input our limits side by side, and so we can see where our interests overlap,” Judith said shyly. “I like to analyse things.”
Michael scrolled. “And graphs… This is amazing, Judith.”
“I was hoping… after the rugby,” Judith said, “we could ask you some questions? Perhaps help us to sort through some of the things on this list.”
Michael handed her laptop back, then sat back more comfortably. “Alright – perhaps we can educate Tristan about the joys of castration fantasies and ball stretching,” he said with a straight face, but when Tristan’s eye caught Michael’s, he could see the twinkle of mischief in his eye.
“Ha, ha,” Tristan deadpanned, then collected the beer empties. “Anyone for another one?” He asked.
~*~
Judith returned after carrying the last of the dirty dishes to the kitchen and loading them in the dishwasher. The glass empties she’d rinsed and dropped in the recycling, and the pizza boxes from their dinner were stacked by the back door, ready to go to the wheelie bin. She flopped down on the couch beside Tristan. He lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders, gathering her against his side, and she snuggled against him.
On the TV, the Stormers had won, the after-game interviews were over, and a music video played on mute before it was time for the news. Towards the end of the game, the guys’ interest in the game had taken a back seat to their limits lists conversation. They discussed their limits and interests, pausing to cheer whenever one of the players on the screen tucked the ball under an arm and made a break for the goalposts. Somehow, the game in the background seemed to relax Tristan’s awkwardness with the subject.
“Where’s Michael?” She asked.
“Bathroom,” Tristan said, idly tracing his fingers up and down the skin of her upper arm. Goose-bumps rippled up and down her spine. “We’ll also probably get going soon. We’ve watched the game, we’ve had dinner, and we’ve had our discussion.” Tristan sounded wistful, and made no move to get up from the couch.
“Yeah,” Judith sighed. The feel of Tristan’s fingers on her arm was feeling better by the minute, and she made no move to get up or to make him stop. “Tristan?”
“Hmm?”
“That feels really good.”
“Does it?” Tristan murmured.
“Yeah.” Judith could feel her nipples tingling and looked down to see them pebbled through the thin fabric of her blouse. Tristan cupped her breast with his other hand and lightly strummed the nipple through the fabric, and she gasped at the sensation.
For a moment, they just breathed each other’s breaths, enjoying the intimacy, before Tristan took her lips in a carnal kiss. Her husband had rarely kissed her like this – as if he were starving, but determined to savour it. His hand on her cheek held her steady, and his other hand on the inside of her thigh spurred her desire.
The sound of Michael’s uneven footsteps halting at the doorway had her and Tristan breaking their kiss and looking at him. Michael watched them with hunger, but didn’t approach them.
Hands at the hem of her blouse brought her back to reality, and she turned to watch Tristan as he pulled the blouse up over her head.
She stared into his eyes for another moment before finding Michael’s, and what she saw there ignited the slow burn in her womb to a blaze. Michael sauntered over and sat beside her, gauging Tristan’s reaction, and unhooked her bra. There was something intensely erotic to having two men undress her at once. Her nipples were impossibly hard, and electricity crackled through her body when both men – now both her lovers – ran gentle thumbs over the tightened buds. Her hips bucked, and she threw her head back with delight. When she thought she’d become acclimated to the sensation, she raised her head, only to see both men exchange a glance.
As one, they bowed their heads and each latched onto a nipple, sending warm, wet, sucking heat straight to her core, short-circuiting rational thought, reducing her to a moaning, writhing, ball of sensation.
~*~
Tristan had to admit – this was hot.
Judith came alive in his hands, and he imagined if he were to hover his hand above her skin, he’d feel the crackling of electricity coursing through her. Her body was humming for him, and his cock was hard and aching for her.
His eyes met Michael’s on Judith’s other side, and he felt his cock twitch. The other man’s mouth was still latched on to Judith’s breast, and giving Tristan a wicked smile around the mouthful of flesh, he tugged on her nipple with his teeth.
“Michael,” she gasped, and instead of feeling jealousy that she called his name, Tristan’s cock lurched in his jeans again.
Breaking away, he retreated far enough to grasp her hips and man-handle her to lay on her back on the couch with her head in Michael’s lap. He yanked her jeans and underwear off over her hips, leaving Judith naked and laid out on her back on the couch between them. He stared down at her for a long moment, just appreciating the view, and settled between her thighs.
He wrapped his arms around her thighs, her legs thrown over his shoulders, and leaned forward, dipping into her pussy with his tongue, then dragging it up through her folds to latch onto her clit, making her suck in a breath and buck her hips into his face. He sucked on it for a few pulls, then let go with a pop, only to rasp his tongue against it while she writhed in his arms.
“Don’t stop – she’s almost there,” Michael ordered. Tristan looked up at him, his mouth still on his wife’s clit, and Michael’s intense stare spurred his own need higher. He sucked hard, and feeling the tension mount in her thighs, he sensed the right moment and nipped at the tender bundle of nerves.
Judith screamed, her back arching and her thighs clamping tight around Tristan’s head as her orgasm overwhelmed her.
“I think she’s ready for your cock, don’t you?” Michael said.
Tristan looked up along the length of Judith’s body, and saw Michael had already shifted to kneel on the couch at Judith’s head. Michael’s hardened cock jutted out from his open fly and hovered over Judith’s face.
Breaking away from Tristan’s stare, Michael looked down and painted Judith’s lips with his precum. Tristan scrambled to undo his own jeans, ripped down the zip and shoved them down his hips just far enough for his cock to spring free. He straddled one of Judith’s thighs, her other leg thrown over his shoulder, and then, his eyes on where Michael fed Judith his cock, Tristan impaled his wife.
She squirmed against him, and Tristan had to hug her leg tightly to his chest for leverage while he pounded into her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fucked her this hard – if ever.
His orgasm nearly took him by surprize, hurtling him over the edge of need and catapulting him into bliss so fast, he felt like he’d been cut off at the knees. He ground into her while he came, still clinging to her thigh for leverage and dimly aware that her sex was pulsing around his. When he looked up, he saw Michael’s cock was jammed deep in Judith’s mouth, one hand holding her head steady by a fistful of hair while he came down her throat.
He’d never seen another man orgasm before. He’d tried porn once, but feeling guilty and ashamed, like he was being unfaithful to Judith, he hadn’t even watched long enough to get to the grand finale and had promptly deleted the browser history on his computer. He hadn’t even wanted to look at his computer for a week afterwards.
His first reaction had been do I look like that when I come?
It was the first time Tristan had ever seen the Dominant unguarded. He groaned and grunted with his release, his eyes tightly closed, muscles of his abs and ass tightly clenched, and his mouth slack. And when Michael opened his eyes and made eye contact with Tristan, they were glazed with lust and satiety.
Michael withdrew from Judith’s mouth, and she gasped for breath, drool and cum dribbling down her chin. Tristan slipped from her body, and together, Michael and Tristan helped her to sit up.
Michael arranged Judith on Tristan’s lap. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Michael said, his voice hoarse, then left, only to return a minute later with a warm, damp washcloth, which he used to clean Judith. This task done, he stood awkwardly before them, the soiled cloth in his hand.
“Come here,” Tristan said, stretching his arm out over the back of the couch and making space for Michael to sit beside them. “There’s more than enough room.”
Judith looked up from his lap and smiled. “Yes, come sit with us,” she said; her voice sounded shredded, and Tristan discovered the hoarseness triggered his cock all over again.
Michael tossed the cloth on the other couch and sat beside Tristan. Tristan considered lowering his arm from the couch cushion to around Michael’s shoulders, but in the end he left it where it was while Michael sat close enough it could almost be called a snuggle and Judith stretched out her legs over Michael’s lap.
Judith reached for Michael’s hand and held on to it. “That was nice,” she yawned. She sighed with pleasure, snuggling her face deeper into Tristan’s chest.
“Yes, it was,” Michael agreed softly.
Tristan didn’t know how he felt about the experience, but he couldn’t deny he’d come harder than he’d ever come before. Michael watching them didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would; in fact, it was a turn-on to share his wife with the other man and know she was his to share. Judith’s moans had spurred his lust, even his competitive spirit, and watching Michael’s cock disappear into her mouth had been hotter than he’d thought it would be.
Now, feeling Judith warm, satisfied and naked in his arms, and Michael relaxed and satisfied beside him… It was new.
Maybe he liked it.
~*~
Chapter 9
Michael felt vulnerable.
He’d given all of himself during the scene, and when he’d stood before the Bennetts, it was like waiting for the axe to fall. Waiting for rejection.
And then Tristan had stretched out his arm for Michael to sit beside him, and even if he hadn’t actually put his arm around his shoulders, but left it draped casually on the back of the couch cushions, he still felt overwhelmed with emotion.
Careful not to show too much of how it affected him and possibly make them uncomfortable, he resisted putting his head on Tristan’s shoulder and instead slouched lower into the couch, leaning against Tristan’s side.
Judith stretched out her legs over his lap, and on impulse, Michael put an arm around them, his hand cupping the back of her calf. She reached for his other hand, and holding it in her lap, she sighed with contentment. “That was nice,” she yawned.
He loved a warm, satisfied subbie in his arms. “Yes it was,” he said. Amazing. Fulfilling. Intense. Intimate.
Careful, McIan; you’re playing with borrowed toys.
He deliberately pushed that little voice in his head away. Shh… just let me enjoy this for a little while.
Soon, he felt Tristan shift beside him. When he looked over to them, he saw that Tristan was looking down at Judith. “You still awake, Sweetheart?” He asked softly, but she didn’t answer. Her hands were slack around Michael’s.
“She’s sleeping,” Michael murmured. “We wore her out.”
A tender smile curved Tristan’s lips, and he kissed Judith softly on her crown. She sighed in his lap, and Michael’s heart ached with envy. “Are you okay?” Michael asked.
“Yeah,” Tristan said. He was quiet a few moments. “It was hotter than I thought it would be.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“And this?” Tristan glanced at him, and Michael swallowed. He was almost afraid to draw Tristan’s attention to it. “Sitting together like this?”
“It’s fine,” Tristan said. He paused. “I like it.”
Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Good; I like it too.” Love it, really.
They sat in quiet companionship for several more minutes. Tristan shifted. “If I don’t go to bed soon, I’m going to fall asleep right here.”
“Right,” Michael said. Gently, so as not to wake Judith, they rose. Tristan carried Judith and followed Michael to a guest room. Michael pulled the covers back, and Tristan laid her down in the bed and pulled the covers over her.
Tristan walked him to the bedroom door, and there followed an awkward moment as they couldn’t seem to decide how they should part. A handshake didn’t quite seem right. A hug seemed too intimate. A kiss; definitely out of the question.
“Thank you,” Tristan said. “That was…”
“Yes.”
“Good night,” Tristan said. Michael nodded, then stepped back into the hallway, and Tristan closed the bedroom door.
Michael stared at the door for a moment. “Good night,” he whispered, then limped to the master suite. He stared at his king-sized bed, and couldn’t bear climbing into it alone, so headed for the en suite bathroom instead.
He undressed while he ran a bath, and after a moment’s thought he poured some bubblebath and a measure of arnica oil under the stream of water. When he finally lowered himself into the tub, the water was almost too hot, but he lay back and rested his head on the edge of the bath, and slowly the warm water undid some of the knots in his muscles.
Imagined caresses tingled on his skin, rippling up and down his ribs, over his abs and around his groin. His dick stirred to life, and he slid a hand down his abs, slick from the soapy water, to wrap around it while random images flashed through his mind.
Judith, on her knees; Michael’s hard cock in her soft, little hands; looking up at him with big eyes; ready for his command…
Tristan, his wrists cuffed and chained to the beam in his playroom; his upper back, ass and thighs glowing red from his flogger; cock straining and weeping with arousal…
Judith twisting her own nipples between her fingers while he fed his cock into her pussy; moaning with sensory overload…
Stop torturing yourself, McIan!
Michael reached for the bubblebath, poured a small amount into his hand, then gripped his cock again.
Judith and Tristan kissing; Tristan’s firm, rounded ass cheeks clenching with every long, deep thrust into her; Judith’s moans; Michael kneeling behind them with his cock in his hand…
Michael came with gasping, pulsing intensity. He squeezed his cock and strained into his fist to milk every last drop, then sagged backwards when the last pulse of his orgasm dissolved.
When he finally recovered, he became aware of his surroundings again. The fogged mirror with overhead light, spanning the width of his bathroom… The wash basin surrounded by his all-male toiletries… Toilet with lid neatly closed… Tub with cooling water and lonely Dominant.
~*~
Judith nuzzled deeper into the cool, firm pillow, and breathed in the scent of clean linen. Behind her, Tristan hugged her tighter around her middle and nuzzled the back of her neck, and she sighed with contentment. She couldn’t move, but she wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Morning, beautiful,” he murmured into her neck.
She turned her head to smile at him. “Morning, handsome.”
“You okay?” He asked. “After last night?”
“Better than okay,” she purred. She squirmed in his arms and turned to face him. Their faces were centimetres apart. “Last night was wonderful; thank you for being an incredible husband.”
He searched her face for a few moments, before holding her tight to his chest. “You’re welcome,” he whispered. His hand slid down her back to her ass, and he pulled her hips tighter against his; he rolled his hips, and she felt his erection trapped against her mound.
Judith moaned. “You feeling frisky, Mr Bennett?” she asked.
“Very frisky, Mrs Bennett,” he growled and rolled her over onto her back. He propped himself up on his elbow to look down at her, and never breaking eye contact with her, he guided his cock slowly into her channel. When he finally bottomed out, his pubic bone nearly crushing her clit, he started to roll his hips in a slow, sensuous rocking.
Michael Page 9
