Linda Alvarez - The Mammoth Book of Threesomes and Moresomes

“Sure. If you’re game, this Friday would work. Speaking of games, you get to make all the rules. I could just be a voyeur or an active participant. But, reason I’m even asking you to consider this is that Hen says he’s had it with city life. The poor sod’s moving to Alaska of all places. Moving next week. So it would be a nice farewell gift …”

“Yeah, I get it. We screw each other’s brains to heaven and back then forget it ever happened. Henry in Alaska, though — I can’t picture it.”

Trev guided my hand back to his erection and I instantly wondered what Henry’s cock looked like. There was the penis before me and the phantom penis, the doppelganger dick. No point in choosing if I was being offered both.

The night of the assignation arrived and I was afraid my boyfriend would notice the extra care I took with my appearance. I couldn’t help myself; I was stepping into an erotic wonderland and I wanted to look my best. I brushed my long hair until it shined like chrome and painted my nails oxblood red. My dress wrapped around my body like a winding road of tulle, the material taking to each curve with the smoothest glides and motions. My silk-stockinged feet gladly conformed to the arches of a pair of very expensive stilettos. The delicate lace panties I wore were begging to be yanked off, and, with one muscular pull, they could be. I was ready. More than ready for a phallic overload.

“Wow, you look great,” Trev said, backing me against the wall in our hallway and roaming his hands over my breasts and hips. “This is going to be some night.”

“So do you. Look great, that is. I love that madras shirt you’re wearing. Your casually elegant attire always works for me.”

A half-foot taller than me, Trev dipped his head down for a kiss and rattled his keys in an excited fashion. “Well, let’s not keep the good man waiting.”

Soon we were knocking on Henry’s door in Pacific Heights, banging on the door, really. It was always a mystery how our friend could afford an apartment in such a tony neighbourhood, but Trev and I figured that was Henry’s business. Our friend had been a house painter for many years, putting himself through college working odd jobs. He was the most interesting, well-read person we had ever met but, for some reason, Henry just never found his niche. The poor guy deserved a break. He certainly deserved to get laid.

When the city’s most vaguely employed citizen opened his door, I did a double take. Who was this man?

“Come on in, folks. Let me introduce you to the new Henry.” Gone were the painter’s long black locks and earrings festooned to his left lobe. No more jewellery. No more hair.

“You shaved your head!” I exclaimed, stating the obvious. It was a good change for him, only it made him look employed, which I knew he wasn’t.

Trev and Henry shook hands then, possibly remembering what the night was about, gave each other a hug. Soft jazz was playing in the background, Sade’s sex in a voice it sounded like, and I unconsciously started to sway on my stilts. Henry led me by the hand to his wine rack and let me pick out something suitable for our soiree. I picked a grand Merlot.

The first bottle of wine was strictly for conversation and mood setting. Henry spoke of his plans to work on a fishing boat even though he was a resolute meat and potatoes type. In fact, Trev and I could never get Hen to join us for dinner at a seafood restaurant. Our friend was truly a mystery wrapped in an enigma folded into a hand towel.

Halfway into our second bottle of Merlot, I kicked off my heels and let my feet do a little dance. Henry caught one of my peds and began massaging it in expert circular motions. He had graduated from massage school but never got licensed or put up a shingle. Another topic best avoided. As if on cue, Trev started massaging my other foot and I let my head drop on to the sofa as body and soul melted into undulating waves of relaxation.

“Don’t get too relaxed,” Trev said, then covered my mouth with a deep kiss. When he pulled away, I noticed his trousers were unzipped and his cock was standing sentinel for duty. Without even thinking about it, I went down on him, taking in the length of his penis with long pulls and pausing now and then to canoodle with the bulb on top. A driblet of pre-come glistened at the slit like a dollop of dressing. Perfect complement to every meal.

Suddenly, Henry was taking my face in his hands and moving my mouth to his fully erect penis and I heard him say, “Sure this is OK? With both of you, I mean?” It sounded as if his voice travelled from the end of a tunnel.

It must have been fine with Trev who was now slowly stroking his hard-on and smiling in a blissed-out sort of way. I had to put Henry at ease and what better way than with a blow job?

Taking Henry’s cock for conspicuous consumption, while listening to the slapping sounds my boyfriend’s hand made as he jerked off and watched, was almost more than I could handle. I kissed Henry’s balls, licked the slope of his shaft then pursed my lips around the tip before sucking him all in, all the way down, until it seemed that his cock was exuding out of my very pores. Satisfying as it was to hear Henry moan and curse with pleasure, I ached to have that cock pounding me between my damp thighs.

As if reading my thoughts, Henry guided me to a supine position and pushed his throbbing cock into my wet cunt. Damn, it felt good. Each thrust took my breath away until he had my pussy pinned right where he wanted it and we settled into a rocking rhythm.

I wasn’t one to complain, but missionary-style sex sure gets tired fast, so I was secretly grateful when Trev let slip, “Hey, Hen. Erica prefers to be taken from behind.”

“Is that right?” our buddy asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, slightly abashed.

Henry pulled out so I could reposition myself on my hands and knees. For ballast, I sunk my hands in a space between the sofa cushions. I looked over at Trev, who was still smiling and stroking himself, and blew him a kiss. Henry’s first thrust in the new position absorbed all the moisture I had left and I may have mentioned how much tighter this posture makes me as I heard Henry bark with mounting excitement. He sped up his delivery while Trev exploded, jacking off on his friend’s shoulder and biceps, spackling my hip with a bit of splooge.

Henry’s orgasm was quite intense, as was my own. The three of us fell into a heap on the floor and started laughing then crying then laughing some more. We all agreed another dose of wine was in order, but that first a shower would be nice.

Our friend had an old-fashioned tub with a rust stain forming an orange moustache around the drain, but it was a sizeable porcelain beauty and it was in that shower where a long-time fantasy of mine came true. The three of us were clowning around and soaping each other up, when, on a whim, I sat on the edge of the tub and waited for the guys to rinse off. Before anyone could step on a bath mat, I had Henry’s cock in my mouth again, only this time just for a moment. I turned my head a notch to suck down Trev’s cock then alternated back and forth, going down on two magnificent cocks, listening to the appreciative murmurs of friend and lover as their penile fluids escalated towards fruition. Trevor shot his load all over my breasts. Hen took longer to come but come he did all over my lap and knees. I looked down and was glad I had trimmed my coffee-brown pubic hair that morning. The hair on my head is coffee-coloured too, and Trev liked to call me his ever lovin’ cup of cappuccino.

We were all spent after that … and starving. Henry suggested going downtown for burgers then remembered my little black cocktail dress. He frowned a little. He disliked going to fancy places … unless Trevor was paying.