Threesome

(c) 1993 nikolai kingsley
 

  I take this slowly, at first; as I know that even if he's familiar
with the idea, he isn't yet comfortable with it. I would have liked to
break the ice with a few videos, but circumstances didn't permit. I
settle for some Kahlua and hardcopy of some erotica I'd written (not
actually with him in mind, but recent circumstances had encouraged a
tend towards genericity...).  The apartment is warm; not too hot, but as
it's freezing outside, it's a welcome contrast. Cosy.
 
  I wouldn't have taken it this far, except that he'd confessed (to our
mutual friend) that he'd wondered what it would be like, to have me up
his ass (although, at the moment, that isn't what I have in mind...).  I
suspected that he was trying to impress her... I guess I'm about to find
out.
 
  ...and, no matter how I look at this, strategically, there's going to
be one point where I make a move that he's going to regard as `the
turning point'.  I may be regarding this too analytically... still,
supposing that I'm right, I then decide to make that first move a bold
one, as a sort of `I'm serious here!' gesture; I move close to him,
practically sitting in his lap, and place my hands between his legs. Our
eyes meet; we stare at each other, unblinking, for perhaps ten seconds;
I sense that, maybe, he's going to withdraw, so I move my hand against
his crotch, sort of cupping it around his balls (which I can feel
through the material of his jeans) and put my arm around his shoulders.
Well!  He doesn't run screaming from the room... on the contrary, he
closes his eyes and sinks back into the couch... and, yes, I believe he
has the start of an erection.  Which is a relief, as I don't think I
could go any further if he didn't.  I press myself against him, my head
resting on the front of his shoulder; I move my hand again, the palm
against his stomach, my fingers pressing into the bulge of his erection,
moving it slowly from side to side.
 
  She enters, dressed in her usual jeans and pink floyd T-shirt.  I
pause to admire the way the psychedelic design curves around her
breasts, aware that my companion is doing the same thing. She sits down
on the couch next to him, puts her arms around his shoulders (over mine)
and kisses him.  He rises to the occasion (so to speak ), pressing his
mouth eagerly to hers, and yet he doesn't appear to have forgotten me,
as he moves his crotch forward, pressing against my hand. We sit there,
the three of us, slowly shifting back and forth, until it proves too
much for him and he tries to push her away. She makes that snarling
sound which I've always translated as `Oh, no you don't - *I* make the
rules around here!' and shoves him over sideways so that he's forced
over the arm of the chair with her practically lying on top of him,
mouths still joined in a kiss.  I scoot around to his front and position
myself between his legs, thinking that she's a tactical genius. He's
still pushing back as I press harder against the front of his jeans...
he moans quietly as the heel of my hand rubs the base of his penis, and
suddenly he's trying to undo his jeans with his one free hand.  I help
him, unzipping the fly and tugging at his denims as he lifts his hips
(as much as he can with her holding him down).  His erection had almost
escaped the narrow confines of his underpants, so I help it, tugging the
waistband down ... I'm impressed! Either the head isn't noticeably wider
than the shaft, or that it's unusually thick (well, noticeably larger
than mine... :-\). I carefully take it in my hand, squeezing gently,
feeling its warmth as it swells even larger.  This is getting a tad
intimidating... as she pushes him further back over the arm of the chair
in what must be a rather uncomfortable position, his groin is thrust out
towards me.  I can't resist the temptation to touch the end of his penis
with my tongue; holding it steady with one hand (my fingers barely wrap
all the way around), I slowly, tentatively lick the underside of the
head, my tongue travelling around the end, eventually arriving at the
tip.  I taste the faint salt tang of the droplet of clear fluid that my
tongue encounters there; it sets off something inside me, and I have to
restrain myself.  I want to be close to him, closer than just hugging
him; I want him inside me.  Yes.
 
  This is something that I envy my female companion.  She's experienced
this; I'd seen her tease him for hours on end, bringing him close to the
edge and then withholding herself from him, pushing him until he'd grown
impatient with her games and had taken her, brutally, as I wished he'd
been able to take me.  I think of her, pressed underneath him, both her
hands held above her in one of his, her head thrown back in sensuous
ecstasy, his hips forcing her legs apart, his other hand darting below
to stroke her, to fold her open. I couldn't help but feel jealous.
Simultaneously, I'd wanted to be him, and I'd wanted to be her.
 
  I wanted to be below him, to feel his weight pressing me back into the
bed... to tense my muscles against his, to feel his hot breath against
my neck, but, yes, I wanted to be held down and fucked by him. I wanted
to feel his cock slide into me, feel the head pressing apart lips I'd
never possessed and had only vaguely dreamed of possessing.  I wanted to
wrap my legs around his waist and feel him fucking me, slamming into me,
his hips against mine.  Shaking my head, I return to the task at hand -
 
  I manage to suppress the fact that this is the first time I've even
touched another guy's erection (thinking, if I'm going to be a
cocksucker, I'll be a good one!) as my tongue makes a few more circuits,
my lips touching him, my head making slight forward- and backward
motions as I combine slow hand-massage and kissing.  My lips settle
around the end of the head, and I tease the underside again with my
tongue.  I gather from the sounds he's making, slightly muffled by our
mutual friend's attentions, that he doesn't object to what I'm doing.
 
  I'd formed a vague sort of list of things to remember; try to keep my
teeth out of the way, things that turned me on when she was doing this
for me.  It all vanished in the face of this, this object - his erection
- it was getting bigger as I applied suction to the head.  I closed my
eyes and, for a moment, I submerged myself in the feeling of complete
submission, a sense of being reduced to nothing except that which gives
him pleasure.
 
  I had no idea as to what to do next; he solved this problem (or,
perhaps, our mutual friend's attentions compelled him) by thrusting
forward.  The motion was slight, a matter of a few inches, but it forced
the trunk of his erection past my lips, the head pushing my tongue flat
against the bottom of my mouth.  The section just behind the head is now
-much- wider than before, and I'm glad I'd taken a deep breath just
before he pushed. Coordination!  I squeeze as hard as I can with my lips
and slide back, trapping the head and sucking; with the fingers of my
right hand encircling the base, I can feel the blood rushing into him as
I suck.  With thumb and forefinger, I tighten my grip gently and draw
upwards as my lips move down again. Prepared, this time, I manage to
comfortably encompass the first three inches (my best guess), my lips
sealed tight around the middle, my tongue tracing the bulging, pulsing
veins, flicking over the channel that runs along the underside, pressing
the head against the roof of my mouth.
 
  After experimenting with a few different motions, I settle on a
combination of squeezing the base, my hand moving slowly up and down,
with my lips moving over the end, my saliva lubricating the head (which
has grown to the size of a large egg), quickly sweeping down, taking in
as much as I can before fastening my lips and slowly drawing back.  From
the sounds he's making, I can tell this is going to work.
 
  My other hand pushes his underpants back further and I reach down to
hesitantly touch his scrotum.  In the warmth of the room (and, most
likely due to the ministrations of our mutual friend and, of course, my
performance!) his balls move loosely within their skin. The tips of my
fingers trace their outline, divide them, gently squeeze them; while my
hand- and mouth-motions continue (increasing only slightly in pace), I
ever-so-carefully encircle the scrotum with my other hand, his balls
held firmly in my grip. I tug downward; he moans and bucks his hips with
renewed enthusiasm.  The edges of my mouth, straining around the
wrist-sized circumference of his cock, twitch momentarily in a smile.
Holding his balls in my left hand, I extend my index finger and press
the tip into his perineum.  This is where his penis joins his body; I
can feel its base, and (this is quite a complicated manoeuvre, in
retrospect) I'm sucking on the head, massaging the middle and rubbing
the base, all just enough out of synchronisation so that he doesn't feel
obliged to come.
 
  I can't tell what our mutual friend is doing, but she must have done
something; he arches his back and lets out a muffled groan. I draw back
with his motion, then I shove my head forward, my lips meeting my hand
as I take (I'm guessing again, but at least) five inches of his cock in
my mouth.  I relinquish my grip on his scrotum, both hands joined around
the base of his penis, pressing together and pushing; moving my head
from side to side with a sinuous motion, I work my lips even further
down, the head pushing towards the opening of my throat (my gag reflex
was there, but not so insistent that I couldn't ignore it), the sides
rubbing against my teeth despite my jaw being open as far as possible,
my lips closing eagerly around the exposed section of the base above my
hands.  I close my eyes and suck, my tongue flattened along the
underside, the insides of my cheeks pressing in against him, feeling him
swell even larger than before; then, I move my thumbs underneath his
balls and press them into his perineum as hard as I can.  His cries are
muffled, but his reaction is immediate; his hips buck involuntarily, his
cock jerks within my mouth, and he comes.  In a moment of serene
detachment, I can feel the hot fluid coursing down the channel;
carefully, I open my jaws just a bit wider, clamp down harder with my
lips and, ignoring the rapidly growing collection of semen at the back
of my mouth, slowly, sensuously, draw my head back, my lips caressing
each contour, each raised ridge and vein along the way, the bulge behind
the head squeezing its way out, the clearly-defined edges of the head
trapped behind my lips.  I can taste him now; slightly bitter, salty,
and hot. My hands press into him and surprisingly, he jerks and comes
again, a drawn-out, straining climax that floods my mouth with warmth. I
drink it all down, my tongue massaging the head, darting out of my mouth
to lick the underside again.
 
  I encircle the base of his penis with my right hand and slowly,
carefully milk the last drops from him.  He's slumped back in the chair
after his second climax, our mutual friend kissing and licking sweat
from his face.  I glance up at her and she winks back at me. The end of
his penis, still rigidly erect, slips from between my lips and I bury my
nose in the wiry pubic hair, nuzzling him, relishing his scent, his
warmth.  I feel his erection pulse against my cheek, and I smile. I
think he's probably ready for some more...