2001-07-02 - 7:49 p.m.
Second Helping Of Third
Second Helping Of ThirdI was putting the finishing touches on Saturday night’s entry when the phone rang. It was Dan, of Steve & Dan. You know, the 30-something fellows I had a threesome with last May.
What a pleasant surprise. They were looking after a girlfriend’s cats, Dan explained, while she was out of town; her house was in my neighborhood. Did I want to come over for a BBQ?
“We’d love to have you come over, you know, as our friend. We don’t mean anything sexual by it, eh?” clarified Steve when he came on the line.
“Hey, sounds like fun,” I replied, breathlessly. “I’m up for, um, you know, whatever.”
Thirty minutes later I was on their doorstep. Well, their friend’s doorstep. I’d seen Steve downtown a few times lately, but I hadn’t laid eyes on babe-a-licious Dan since that torrid night. He looked pretty good, much as I’d remembered him. Kisses and hugs all around.
I felt awkward at first. This had been so last-minute, so spontaneous. What would happen? I was totally turned on at the thought of a repeat three-way, in the perfect space for such shenanigans. But Steve had made it pretty clear this would be a meal and some friendly conversation; that would be fine too.
I’d forgotten how much these guys like to tease me. They asked me how all my boys are doing, referring to the bevvy of young men I was involved with last spring. I brought them up to date, surprised at how much they remembered. No, Erik the hairdresser and Pierre the poet-carpenter were both more or less out of the picture; yes, sweet J.C. was still very much around, in fact he was now living in the basement.
Took a lot of insistence on my part to convince them there was no nooky happening between upstairs and downstairs. Steve and Dan fondly refer to me as a “tart”.
The conversation flowed well, but I was shy at first. They’re both extremely witty—wit verging on sarcasm, which I don’t usually like. Steve and Dan are a hoot; I certainly wasn’t bored.
I sat on the couch beside Steve, resting my still-sore shoulder. Dan sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. Then they started cooking dinner: barbequed curry chicken breast, Indian rice and garlic bread.
“Geez, this is the second meal we’ve cooked for you,” Steve said, winking at me.
“Yeah,” piped up Dan, “Next time it’s your turn to entertain us.”
I listed my culinary specialties—eggs and toast, or Kraft Dinner—but they would not let me off the hook that easily. Geez…
As the boys wandered back and forth from the living room to the kitchen, I told them I’d recently got a credit card and had discovered E-bay.
“Ah,” Dan said, “so whose sweaty jockstrap did you buy?”
Without a second’s pause, I shot back, “I was hoping it was yours, actually.”
Steve giggled and said “Hey, good one!”; Dan blushed and wandered out into the kitchen, mumbling “Well, I was wearing it just the other day, so I don’t think it was mine you bought.”
“I remember that lovely jock very very well,” I called out, watching the back of Dan’s neck go crimson. He was wearing loose old blue jeans; I wondered about the amazing buns underneath.
And something snapped into place, then. I realized where I was. I was in the company of two interesting gents with whom I’d once been exuberantly naked. And here we were, a year later, flirting and visiting. Whether sex would eventuate tonight or not, I was in erotic space. I was free to play.
And play I did.
I gleefully told them about my Haring acquisitions. Remembering all the Haring art I had on my walls, Dan and Steve rolled their eyes, called me obsessive.
“Guess your collection won’t be complete until you get a Haring jockstrap, hey?” quipped Dan.
“Depends. Would you model it for me?”
Gotta love that blush.
“Geez,” said Dan a few minutes later. “You were quiet when you first got here. Now you won’t shut up!”
The conversation at the dinner table revolved around food and sex. Dinner was yummy, and Steve kept teasing me about the meal I’d be cooking for them.
“We’ve decided,” he said, eyes twinkling, “that we’d like to give you a farewell fuck before you leave town. But you have to cook for us, first.”
“Ah, so I’d be dessert, huh?”
“Something like that,” he said. “Hey, and we don’t want this to go to your head or anything. But often when Dan and I are having sex, I’ll ask him what he’s fantasizing about. You’d be surprised how often your name comes up.”
I shot Dan a quizzical look across the table. All of a sudden fascinated by the mound of rice on his plate, he would not meet my eyes.
“And he often asks what I’m thinking about,” Steve went on, “and there’s been a few times when I’ve had to fess up that I’m imagining you fucking me silly.”
“Interesting,” I said.
But, Steve made sure to add, that wasn’t the point of this get-together. They just wanted to hang out. No sex, tonight; not until I cooked them dinner. Besides, they were grubby, Steve said. “We haven’t even showered today; we just came over here quick to feed the cats and, you know, we decided to cook dinner and we thought we’d just give you a call eh?”
I swear I could hear three crotches grinding antiphonally.
Or was it just mine?
After dinner we sat back down in the living room; sitting on the wooden dining room chair had bothered my shoulder. Steve sat back beside me on the couch; Dan back on the floor in front of us.
I was in a great mood. I smiled a lot. Steve kept commenting on my smile. “My god, that grin you’ve got happening,” he would exclaim. “It drives me crazy, eh?” He kept touching my lips with his index finger, squeezing my nose.
I liked all that. “Such a bad-boy grin,” he would say. “But hey, no sex tonight, right? We’re just getting together here as friends. No nooky till you cook us dinner!”
I batted my eyes, glanced at my watch. It was 10 pm, about a half hour after our scrumptious meal.
“So what do ya say?” I said, smiling first at Dan, then Steve. “You guys hungry? Wanna come over to my place and I’ll rustle up some grub?”
Steve belly-laughed, reached over and pinched my nose again. “You’re such a brat!”
I’m representing the dialogue fairly accurately here; in this couple, Steve does most of the talking. He’s pretty much the dominant one, and Dan gives off this quieter energy that I really like. He doesn’t say a lot. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him—his hair was messy, his face unshaven. Those blue-green eyes looking anywhere but at me.
Then Steve excused himself, went to pee. It was just Dan and I, then. I stared at him, a goofy, horny grin on my face.
He didn’t look at me for about twenty seconds, instead drumming his hands against the coffee table in time to Natalie Merchant.
Then he looked right at me. The usual smart-alecky expression was gone. He looked like a scared little boy. His eyes were squinty, blinky; they ached at me. As he held my gaze, my dick stiffened instantaneously. He looked like he was going to cry. I had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, it was turning me on big-time.
We heard the toilet flush. Dan glanced toward the hallway, then back at me. His face creased up with yearning. With a shy wave he beckoned me closer. Wordlessly, I leaned in over the coffee table, met his lips there. We kissed for approximately twelve seconds before the bathroom door opened. We broke apart, resumed our original positions.
Steve is no dummy. He walked back into the living room and instantly caught a whiff of something askew. “Alright,” he said to me, mock-confrontational, “What have you been doing to my boyfriend, hmmm?”
I shot him an innocent look. Dan insisted that Steve hadn’t missed a thing. Steve plunked back down beside me and grabbed ahold of my incriminating wood.
Oops.
What could I say? There wasn’t much to say. I just shot him another impish smile.
“That damned grin!” exclaimed Steve, continuing his rough fondle. “This was just supposed to be an evening of friendly conversation. Geez…”
As I writhed and squirmed under his kneading, I told him I was feeling mighty friendly indeed. “Brat!” he retorted.
But what the heck had that look of Dan’s been about? I was aroused and confused.
After a few minutes, Steve retracted his hand. We kept on talking as if the erotic dipsy-doodle had not happened. Every three minutes, though, Steve would berate me again for my smile.
I was thrilled. His sassy scoldings made me feel like such a bad boy. "I gladly accept all your projections," I said.
Then Steve had to pee again. Dan and I were alone again. This time he was painfully shy, wouldn’t meet my eyes at all. So I stood up and walked over to him. He squeezed my left calf; I knelt down and plunged my tongue down his throat for about twenty seconds before Steve came back. I hadn’t quite made it back to the couch when he saw me.
“Aha!” he cried. “I knew it. You guys are being naughty!” Steve grabbed my crotch again. It bolstered his claim.
“But we need to have a shower; we’re both filthy,” he protested.
“And brush our teeth,” added Dan.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” I said, wanting to be helpful. “Let’s all have a shower, eh?”
Dan flushed. Steve groped me again. But the shower idea wasn’t really an option; they had just filled their girlfriend’s bathtub with balloons as a “welcome home” surprise. “I suppose we could always move the balloons,” Steve said. But the idea got dropped.
Soon Dan said he’d like to join us on the couch. He squeezed in between Steve and I. Our lips immediately locked. Steve shouted, “Yummy!”
“Oh, but my bad breath,” Dan said, pulling away. Grabbing the back of his neck, I yanked his mouth back to mine. The tasty circulation of our juices made me moan.
“Oh my god, this is so fucking hot,” said Steve, peering at us with a horny smile. I reached my hand out and squeezed his arm as I chewed on his lover’s lips. My other hand kneaded Dan’s sturdy shoulders, wandering beneath his collar and tracing his exquisite clavicle line.
Then Steve had to pee, again. I don’t know what the guy was drinking—beer, actually—but it was going straight through.
Alone, again. Emboldened by our proximity, Dan leaned into me—wild-eyed, looking, again, like he might cry—and whispered, “You know, I could really fall for you.”
I kissed him.
“I wish he wasn’t here,” he said, gesturing towards the bathroom.
I kissed him.
“Do you look at all the guys like this?” he asked. “Like you’re looking at me right now?”
I kissed him.
Thankfully, Steve came back. “Alright boys,” he said, “What did I miss?”
Oh boy. If only you knew. I was in shock. Dan’s whispered endearments caught me totally off-guard. This wasn’t how a threesome was supposed to go. My cock sure liked the sound of his secrets; throbbingly, I opted to shelve further reflection until later.
Gotta love situational ethics…
Steve moved over to the easy chair by the coffee table. A better view. “Alright,” he said to me, “I want to watch you kiss my lover.”
Happily, confusedly, I complied. Kissing Dan is a special treat. I noticed that Dan positioned himself so that when he would pause between fervent kisses, he could look into my eyes without Steve seeing his.
I pulled his shirt off. There was that extravagantly furry chest again. I’m not all that much into fur, usually; Dan’s torso is a fabulous exception. Yowsa.
I stuck two fingers in his mouth as I made love to his left nipple with my tongue. He whimpered as I fucked his throat, as Steve cheered us on. My tongue wormed its way up towards his left armpit.
“But but but,” protested Steve, removing my fingers. “I told you, I haven’t showered or anything today.”
I gagged him with three fingers this time, continuing to slurp my way into heaven.
“Undo his pants, Dan,” ordered Steve. “I think there might be some precum there that needs your attention.”
Was the guy psychic, or what? Dan complied, unbuttoning my jeans, yanking down my underwear a few inches, dabbing my ooze onto his thumb, licking it clean. “Wanna taste?” he asked, sticking his big wet tongue out at me.
“Dan, are you sure you got it all?” asked Steve. “I think you might have missed a drop or two. I’d better check.”
He did. Apparently, Dan’s dab had not been thorough. “Yum,” said Steve.
Yum is right.
I started groping the enormous bulge in Dan’s jeans as we kissed. Whether memory or anticipation, my throat spasmed at its prospect. I got those old jeans off, my heart jumping at the sight of him in black boxers, mouthwateringly tented.
I laced my fingers through Dan’s left hand. I shot Steve a naughty grin. I stretched Dan’s arm out straight, stroking his big forearm with my other hand.
“I’ve got this ridiculous fetish, eh?” I said, my eyes locked on Steve’s.
“Oh yeah?” he said.
“Yeah. What good is a forearm fetish, anyhow? I mean, maybe if I was into fisting or something. But aside from that, what does one do with forearms?”
My fingers running up and down and up and down Dan’s lovely specimen.
Steve laughed. I kept my eyes on him as I raised Dan’s arm up to my mouth, as I chewed along the expanse of that lovely limb, my dick throbbing against the waistband.
“Hey,” Steve said after a moment or two, “Is your arm okay?”
I assured him that my sore shoulder was the last thing on my mind.
Dan leaned me back against the couch, licked my nipples and chewed on my arm. Steve came over to help out, to kiss me, to kiss Dan, to slurp new oozy trickles off my dick as his hands caressed my thighs. Then he went back over to his chair. “I’m such a voyeur,” he said. “This is so fucking hot!”
I could not disagree.
“Dan, don’t you think he’s got the most kissable lips?” asked Steve.
Dan looked over at his lover, up at me, then dove in for another taste before answering.
I was in fucking heaven, sucking on Dan’s big dick. I sucked and sucked and sucked. He placed himself over top me, lining our dicks up in his hand and pumping us both. I loved that, but I could also feel myself starting to get sore.
Damn, I thought, Why did I jerk off this afternoon?
I took mine into my own hands, began to jerk off. Dan looked down at me, said “Oops. I left a couple marks on your chest.” Sure enough, two purple blotches along my left collarbone.
I didn’t care about that; I was ready to pass out from the sight of Dan pumping that gargantuan cock. Steve cheered us on—“Oh, your two hairy chests together like this—it’s driving me crazy!”—now seated beside us on the floor. Dan’s muck sprayed out of him and all over my chest for nearly a full minute.
Okay, now I was in heaven.
I continued to pump myself, but I pretty much knew by this point I would not get there. And I didn’t care. I was already radiant and transfused.
So I told them not to worry about it, explained what had happened. “Next time, you guys gotta give me more notice so I don’t jerk off first eh?”
Steve—who hadn’t undressed whatsoever—wouldn’t let me pull my pants back up. So I sat there with my underwear around my ankles as we all lit up smokes. “My god, your cock is still so hard!” he noted. “Geez, I’d really like it inside me.”
I laughed, said that wasn’t going to happen tonight, with my shoulder the way it was. “Okay, but how about this," Steve countered, "Let’s get together soon, and I want Dan to fuck you and I want you to fuck me. His dick’s too huge for me, you know. It’s like, we’ve tried it a few times and I’m like, Ow! Get out! I can’t believe you like getting fucked by a big dick.”
(We’d had this same conversation a year ago.)
I said that sounded just fine to me. So we have a date for the weekend after next. At my place. You know, dinner, the works. Should be interesting.
Ten minutes went by. “My god, would you look at that!” said Steve. “You’re still rock hard!”
I was. It probably had something to do with the kisses I kept planting on Dan’s lips, the look and feel of that incredible bulge through his boxers.
We chatted some more; after much protest, Steve allowed me to pull up my pants so I could walk to the bathroom and pee. He insisted that I pull them back down once I returned but I said no, I was going to go home. Steve wanted me to spend the night there with them—I think he was hoping for that fuck in the morning—but I did not bite.
“Well, you know, if you weren’t leaving town, Dan and I would want you to be our perma-third,” said Steve. We giggled at the term ‘perma-third’. Had a nice ring to it.
I asked them if they’d had any other threesomes since ours last spring. No: they’d exchanged a few emails with prospects but none seemed quite right. “Well,” I said, impishly, “It means a lot that you two haven’t ‘cheated’ on me eh?”
And so here I am, a day and half later, still glowing; it was an amazing sexual experience. The dynamic with luscious Dan is a bit fucked-up, but is that my problem, I wonder? Is there anything I’m called upon to do or not do, knowing what I now know—that he’s seemingly obsessed with me or whatever? Hmm…
I don’t know. I’m certainly going to get together with this interesting pair again. If Dan continues whispering sweet-nothings in my ear whenever Steve turns his back, I’m not sure what I’ll do. But should he make one-on-one contact—by phone or email or, heaven forbid, showing up at my door—I know I’ll behave responsibly.
I’m totally hot for Dan, and not all that attracted to Steve. I find Steve’s talk sexy, and there’s a saucy, fun vibe between us. And it works out great because Steve’s mostly a voyeur anyway. I’m not too thrilled about fucking him, but the idea of Dan’s big throb definitely works inside me.
Yeah, I’m totally hot for Dan, but I don’t have any romantic feelings for him. I suppose it could be argued that it’s unethical to continue these threesomes, knowing there’s all this extra stuff going on for him.
Hmm…
I think for my remaining few weeks here, I can just go with whatever. In the meantime, I’ll have to think some more about all that.
But man, did I ever have a fascinating evening…
Sex is not all there is to life, but sex is my favorite way to puzzle over its questions.
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