The Mammoth Book of Threesomes and Moresomes

Ivo

Alana Noel

When my friend Micah was too old for a babysitter his parents hired one anyway to stay overnight with him. Giselle lived in the neighbourhood. His dad knew her dad, something like that. What Micah remembered about Giselle was she had whip-long hair pulled into a tight cord over one shoulder, and she’d painted her fingernails purple, fingernails she dragged across the kitchen counter when they were alone; and she’d ordered him to make her some scrambled eggs. Micah said he felt that drag of nails across his soul, like his electrodes shifted, and he tried to make those eggs perfect. Except he fucked them up or so she said he did. Giselle yelled at him, and the more this chick shouted at him in the kitchen by the stove, the harder his cock got. Micah said he beat off in the bathroom later. He jerked off reliving the heat of Giselle’s breath beating him in the face.

Now we were in a hotel room, Micah and me, and you could say the room was swanky because Ivo had class. The air in the room smelled like fl owers, and the furniture was plush in that upscale hotel kind of way. The bed was huge. A picture window overlooked Portland, a gleam from the Willamette River. Out on the balcony you could smell rain, just the smell though; the sky at the moment was clear and dark like a bruise.

Micah had started on the champagne. He continued looking at me over his shoulder. “What do you think she’s going to ask us to do, dude?”

“You know what she’ll ask us to do.”

“OK, so will you take it up the ass or will I? We should figure

this out.”

I shook my head. No way. “We do whatever she says.” “Yeah, yeah,” Micah said. And then he got back to the champagne.

Three months ago, I answered an ad. Woman seeks beautiful bisexual boy to do what he’s told. Apply with a phone number and photo. When I sent off my photo to a post office box, I didn’t expect a reply.

It was a Wednesday night, and I sat in an apartment I shared with Micah and watched him fast-forward through a porn tape looking for a girl who could squirt come from her cunt. “She ejaculates, man!” Micah was excited.

The cell phone in my jeans pocket vibrated, agitating my boner. I looked at my phone: caller unknown. Meanwhile, Micah couldn’t find the girl with the squirting cunt.

“Fuck, she was here.” His jeans were open, and his cock poked out.

I hit the answer button on my phone. “Yeah?”

“Tyler?”

“Uh-huh. .” My voice trailed off. Feminine voice. Unfamiliar. “Who’s this?”

“Who do you think? Elmore Park, one hour. Bench by the water fountain.”

“OK.”

She clicked off. I looked at Micah.

“I’m about to find her,” he said. I stood from the couch and zipped up. Shit, sweating already, an adrenaline rush, something. I felt dizzy. “Hey, I’ve got to go.”

“What are you talking about? I’m about to find the chick who squirts.”

I dropped my phone in my pocket then went to a mirror and looked at myself.

There was this actor, Jonathan Brandis, big eyes and darkish-blond hair, who did a show about the sea or something, and chicks often said I looked like him, so I figured, Hey, a good thing. Except I heard this guy had gotten depressed about his star falling out of the sky, losing his fame or something, and so he’d killed himself, and I’d imagine a supernova when I thought about this actor guy, a star that burns real bright before it’s gone, and then I got sad about it. Weird feeling.

Behind me in the apartment our TV glowed with an eerie silver-blue light. Micah liked to set a mood. I pushed my hands through my hair then turned my head side to side checking my face in the mirror. Heck in this light, I glowed.

Micah had settled in his chair, cock like a kickstand in his hand. “Look at this chick’s ass. God, I’d like to fuck that ass.” He yanked another second then said, “You ever fuck a chick in the ass, Ty?”

“No. Listen, I’m going now.”

“You suck, dude.”

“I know, see you later.” I waited for him to ask where I was going so I could tell him.

“Fuck,” he said. “I want some pussy!” Micah yanked harder. I went for the door. “Hey!” Micah yelled behind me.

“What?” I looked at him, waited. He’d twisted around in his seat.

“The chick squirts.”

I waved at him then bolted. Later, I’d give him the details.

Outside, the sky was the colour of an old bruise. Sitting inside my car, a Mustang I’d painted and reupholstered in high school, I stared out the windshield and got a case of the chicken shits. What if I bailed? Beat off, Ty; get it out of your system. Get what out of my system? A woman wanted to tell me what to do. And I wanted that. Simple. Like, use me, fuck me up. I figured we’d bring Micah into it eventually. A woman would lift the veil, force me into a full-on gang bang with straight sex, gay sex, all of it. I experienced a jolt to my crotch then almost cried. I leaned my head against the steering wheel then drifted, which I used to do in school.

I had a teacher in a high school, Ms Ryn. She got to me. Ms Ryn used to come up behind my desk while I daydreamed in class then slap her hands together, which made me jump so hard I’d hit my knees on the desk. Sharp pain.

When I’d look at her she wouldn’t smile, but her eyes would look glacial bright. “I want you to stay after school,” she said one day.

I didn’t ask why — for daydreaming, whatever, didn’t matter.

My friends complained. “Bitch.”

I shrugged. “Yeah.” What I didn’t say was, That bitch turns me on.

After school, Ms Ryn gave me a stack of paper and one pencil and then instructed me to write: “I will pay attention in Ms Ryn’s class. I will pay attention in Ms Ryn’s class. I will pay attention in Ms Ryn’s class.” I wrote until my hand cramped, until the callous in my middle finger was indented and I had lead under my fingernails. Maybe the punishment was. . elementary, demeaning? I don’t know; it wasn’t to me. I mean, it was those things, but I had a hard-on the whole time I wrote those sentences.

And Ms Ryn. . she was tall and reed thin, burning red hair, and a few wrinkles around those eyes she’d cast over me like I was. . beneath her.

Oh, fuck, I was.

An hour later, Ms Ryn put her hand on my arm. “Stop.”

I dropped the pencil then covered my lap. My arm, where she’d touched me, was intensely warm.

“Will you pay attention in my class, Tyler?”

“Yes, ma’am.” God that felt good. What if I got on the floor? My cock twitched. I wanted nothing more than to jerk off at her command. If only she’d tell me to do it. Call me a fag then say, “Jerk off,” until I shot a load, which accidentally got on her shoe, so she’d tell me to lick it.

Ms Ryn eyeballed me like, almost, something passed between us, recognition or acknowledgment, something. “You may go.”

You may go. Loved how she talked like that. I stood holding my backpack in front of me but then didn’t move or couldn’t or didn’t want to, something. Ms Ryn had walked to the front of the room then noticed I was still there. “Is there something else, Ty?”

A lot else, but how did you say that to a teacher?

That night in the shower, I jerked off imagining Ms Ryn. Writing You will pay attention in Ms Ryn’s class while she breathed in my hair before she pushed a hand inside my shirt to pinch my nipple hard. I came a bucket of jizz. And I groaned so loud I slapped a wet hand over my mouth worried maybe Mom might have heard me.

In high school, I used to skip school to smoke cigarettes with these other jerks, and of course we had no idea why we skipped school and smoked except we needed to appear tough. That was important: look tough to the chicks. Except I fantasized a woman who led me into all kinds of things: handcuffs, rim jobs, dildos up my ass and hitting me if I said no. And I do mean slapping the shit out of me.

Once, while a chick gave me head in the front seat of my car I said, “Would you hit me? You know, across the face, hard as you can?”

She’d shown me this google-eyed stare. “What?” You really would have thought I was the biggest moron on Earth by the look on her face.

“I don’t know. Never mind.” I’d pushed her head down and focused on the sensation of her mouth on my cock, but mostly on a voice in my head, which was supposed to be hers. “Sissy little piss ant, don’t you dare come.”

“Oh, fuck, fuck.” I’d shuddered, shoved my hips forwards, and then held the girl’s head as I’d shot off inside her wet mouth. Fuuuck.

“Geez, Ty, you could have told me.” The chick had twisted away to wipe her mouth. Maybe she’d been mad, thought I was scum.

“Maybe you should, you know, pay me back or something, punish me.”

The girl had sighed. “Just tell me next time, OK?”

It wasn’t Mom. I know that would be an assumption: Mom knocked me around, under-mined my self-esteem, something. Mom was tough; she had to be. She raised me alone, and for a while we were dirt poor until she clawed her way into a good job. I respected Mom, thought the world of her actually, but there wasn’t a Freudian connection. Mom never did anything out of line with me.

I didn’t chicken out that Wednesday night. I drove to Elmore Park. Straight there. Into the arms of Fate. In the parking lot, I shut the car off then pocketed my keys before working my hand around my phone, bit of cold warmed by contact with my body. When I got out of the car, I inhaled oak trees, my own anticipation, then started across a stretch of grass. I walked fast, almost like it was a race. I knew where the fountain was. The sky was dark now, and the moon was a sliver, which reminded me of a woman’s fingernail.

When I got to the bench I sat. Then waited. When I looked at my phone, I saw I was twenty minutes early. Then I was on time. Then she was ten minutes late.

Fuck, had somebody snowed me? I started to think of ways Micah could have orchestrated the whole thing then imagined getting back to the apartment and him waiting there so he could laugh his ass off then say, “Whatever, asshole, sit down and jerk off.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket, ready to call him, laugh it off, hide my disappointment, never admit he’d nailed my exact fucking desire, and then I saw something near a light pole. A woman. Yeah. Leggy. Yeah, just over there.

“Hey,” I tried to say, but nothing came out.

“Hi, Tyler.” Same voice from the phone but clearer — not syrupy or husky either, just calm and collected. She stayed by the light pole looking at me, I guessed; therefore I couldn’t make her out like I wished I could — just a leggy figure with a backdrop of light.

“Hi.” Finally I found my voice.

The enigma stepped closer. She wore a leather jacket, pants and boots with a heel. Her heels clicked the pavement. I had no idea what else to say, so I stared at her, probably with my mouth open.

“You’re cute,” she said.

“Thanks.” Relief, she thought I was cute. “Chicks tell me I look like this actor, Jonathan Brandis, but he’s dead now; anyway, I get told there’s a resemblance.”

“He committed suicide,” she said.

“Yeah.” I swallowed.

“So what did you have planned before I called?”

“Just hanging out with this guy I live with, Micah.”

“Did you tell him you’re here?”

“No, not really, no.”

“Do the two of you fuck each other?”

Bam. I liked that. But sure, I got nervous. “Nah, I mean we haven’t yet.”

“You want to, though, don’t you? You like boys.”

“Well, I haven’t ever been fucked by a guy.”

Silence.

“We jerk off together a lot.”

Silence.

“I’ll do whatever you tell me.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.”

She stepped a couple of feet closer. “You go to college?”

“No. I mean, not yet, maybe later.” I swallowed again, harder. She smelled like something sharp. . and sweet. . like apple cider in the sun.

“You work?”

“Yeah.”

“Doing what?”

“Nothing cool, just deliver pizzas.”

“You make good tips?”

“Well, sometimes.”

“Have you ever delivered a pizza to the wrong house?”

“Once I did.”

“Did she punish you?”

“Huh? Oh.” I laughed, or my voice cracked, something. “No, it was a dude.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, the right house was just around the block, so I got there on time.”

“His pizza wasn’t late?”

“Nah, I’m usually early.”

“I noticed that.”

“Yeah well, that’s me.” I laughed again, incredibly nervous. “Hey, you want to sit? You can sit if you want.” My voice had just cracked again. Shit.

“I have to go,” she said. “But there’s a restaurant on Franklin Avenue, Three Brothers, know the place?”

“I’ve heard of it, nice place.”

“Be there tomorrow at eight. Dress nicely and comb your hair.”

“OK.”

“When you get there tell the host you have a reservation; give him the name Ivo.”

“Your name is Ivo?”

“Listen.” Her voice had taken on an edge.

“Sorry.” My skin got a chill. My cock twitched.

“A young man will bring a basket of bread to the table and a pitcher of water.”

“Cool.”

“That’s all you’ll be having.”

“No problem.”

“Don’t request anything else.”

“OK.”

Ivo was silent, a sinewy shifting silhouette with a blade of light across part of her face. I said what popped in my head next. “The name Ivo, it’s very cool.”

That’s when she laughed, and the sound of it was like fork tines dragged across my ass. Then: “Shut up,” she said. “And. . get the fuck out of here.”

I jumped off the bench and went; I was very turned on.

When I got back to the apartment the place was dark and quiet except for the ten-gallon fi sh tank across the room. The tank light was on, giving the water a violet hue, and the fi lter gurgled like a fountain. I stood at the tank a minute and stared at the fi sh, mostly mollies and neon tetras, but we also had a betta in there. Naturally solitary and very aggressive, the betta was blue with fl amy feathery fi ns. It glided among the rest of the fi sh as if totally disinterested. Then it approached the glass, and I would have sworn it looked at me as it opened its mouth. I’d heard they had tiny razor-sharp teeth.

I went down the hall, dropped my clothes, and then slid into his bed next to Micah. He was slim as a knife in there. I touched his back with one hand, scooted closer, fitted my body against the length of him then wondered what it would be like if he fucked me up the ass. I couldn’t ever ask him.

Micah fi dgeted, woke up. “What?’ he said, sounding irritated, half out of it.

“Nothing.” I turned over then heard Micah yawn.

“You get some?” he asked.

“Nah. She’s into bi guys though.”

“She told you that?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s next?” Micah moved close enough his cock touched my back.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m going to see her again tomorrow. She’s amazing, dude, I mean it.” I cupped my hand around my cock. “Older than us, totally dominant.”

“Think I’ll meet her?” Micah shifted his body again; his cock bumped my ass.

“I don’t know, that would be cool, you know if the three of us. .” I wanted Micah to jerk off while Ivo orchestrated how and when he moved his hand before she gave the word to unload on my back, or in my face even.

“What’s she look like, dude?”

“Tall, very leggy, she wears boots and leather.”

“Dude, I love leather.”

I felt how his cock rested in the crack between my ass cheeks. I turned over.

“Let’s jerk off,” he said.

Nervous as shit the next night getting ready. I put on the only pants I had that weren’t jeans and a button-up shirt.

Micah stood in the doorway to my room checking me out. “You meeting her?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“Three Brothers,” I said, and then I looked at him. “I’ve never been there.”

“Place is totally overrated.” He eyeballed me. “Dude, you gelled your hair.”

“So?”

Micah smiled. He actually had a cool smile, attractive, like beguiling or something. I looked in the mirror again. “Do I look all right?”

“Yeah, good. You rub one out already?”

“I’m fine.”

Micah shook his head. “Ty, man, you’ve got to rub one out before you go.”

I checked myself again. Should I button all the way or leave the top button open? Shit, I’d already sweat on the shirt. What if I changed? Except this was my best shirt.

“Ty,” Micah said behind me. “If you bang this hot older woman and come too fast, you’ll never see her again.”

I looked at him.

“I’ve got a chick who squirts, dude, you know the movie.”

Time on my phone gave me an hour. “Yeah, OK,” I said.

We sat on the couch, pants opened and cocks out. The chick in the fi lm ejaculated from her cunt in a fan of nearly invisible rays. I’d never seen anything like it. My balls were full and about to blow, but then I realized I didn’t want to get jizz on my shirt. “Fuck,” I said aloud then looked at Micah. “Do me a favour?” He passed me his shirt. I came in it.

At Three Brothers I told the maitre d’ or whatever, the host, I had a reservation under Ivo. The guy, who had white hair although he really didn’t look older than thirty, gave me the most condescending look I’d ever seen; he swept his blue eyes over me like I wasn’t even a fl y in shit — whatever. And then he led me to a table at the centre of the room before he pulled out a chair and swept his hand in front of him like, sit, dweeb. He gave me a menu. “Thanks,” I said.

The guy laid another menu on the other side of the table then left. The place was pristine: soft lighting, piano music and autumn-coloured fl owers on every table. People were dressed to the nines, so I must have looked like I was playing dress-up. Another guy showed up with bread in a basket and a pitcher of ice water, just like she’d said. He asked if I wanted a wine menu. I said sure. He came back and presented the menu like it was the biggest deal in the world to give someone a menu. I tried not to smile too much.

“Would you like recommendations?”

“Actually, I’m waiting for someone; I’ll wait for her.”

He left, and I sat there. What did I know about wine? I checked out the dinner menu: no prices. Anyway, I was having bread and water. My cock went stiff. Then my phone vibrated in my pocket. Micah. I hit ignore. Waited some more. I’d stay hungry all night. A woman appeared at the front of the restaurant: tall and narrow and older, black hair. I knew who she was and got scared.

Her name was Ivo. She had hair like Uma Thurman’s in Pulp Fiction, smooth and blunt and black. She was older than me. I don’t know how old: ageless. Her face killed me. Strong mouth, small nose, crooked teeth when she smiled, eyes like sky through an icy window. Crow’s feet and freckles.

I’d never seen a woman less perfect or more gorgeous my whole life.

Reason I got scared that night: I’d go through with it. That’s why. Up until that moment, no one had given me what I’d wanted, and as soon as I saw Ivo in the restaurant, full glory, in motion, I knew she’d give me what I wanted, and it was like when a person who was supposed to happen in your life was about to happen and then you knew your life would change for ever, and I’d do anything she wanted even if it turned out I’d be stripped of all my secrets, games up, make-believe, pretension, shot to oblivion.

“Did you always do what your mother told you?” she asked at the table, hand around a glass of white wine. Something bitter she’d said, with bite.

“I tried.”

“Teachers?”

“Pretty much.”

“What about lovers?” She ordered pasta with grilled salmon and a white dill sauce. Ivo ate everything put in front of her. Her mouth gleamed from the sauce and wine and from her licking her lips.

“Well. . I’ve only had a few. But the girls I’ve known, they never told me what to do, they always asked me, what do you want to do?”

“How’d you feel about that?” Later, Ivo asked for a dessert menu. She ordered sorbet. My stomach gurgled with serious intensity. I felt light-headed too.

“Bored, I guess, not happy.”

“If I tell you what to do will it make you happy?” The way she spooned the sorbet into her mouth, you would have thought it was the best thing ever to happen to her. I wanted to lick her bowl, the inside of her mouth if she let me.

“Absolutely.”

“Even if it hurts?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because. . it’s hard to put into words.”

“Try.”

“I’m not a strong person.”

“You’re not?”

“Well I don’t feel strong. I feel more like. . I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“You feel more like a girl?”

I laughed a little. “Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe. If feeling like a girl means feeling subservient. I know there are, you know, women who aren’t subservient, who are strong and in control, and I’ve tried to find them, you know, because I want to be in a situation where I’m a guy but not in control, because feeling helpless turns me on. A woman hurting me, demeaning me, using me, turns me on. Fuck.” I put my face in my hands. I’d never articulated it before like that and now. . Bam. “I want you to rip off my guise like when the school nurse ripped off a bandage once and all the fucking skin came off, and I could see my own flesh.” I shuddered.

“Tyler, that’s. .”

“Dumb? I fucking know.” I stared at my hands, dizzy or something.

“Honey,” she said. “Look at me.”

I did. And my vision cleared for one stark moment.

“Don’t cut me off again.” And then Ivo hit me in the face and everything swam.

When I could see again, Ivo motioned for the bill. Men at other tables looked at her. She ignored them. My stomach churned like you wouldn’t believe. I grabbed a piece of bread and chewed on it to calm the churning. I had to shift in my seat to give my boner as much room as possible, although it was suffocating in there, and the men in the restaurant looked at me like I was a joke or a fucking riddle. What the fuck is she doing with him? But the women, they smiled. Ivo reached across the table and took my hand. I felt heat all the way up my arm. She told me to wait outside.

That was the night I saw a shooting star, standing outside the restaurant; I mean the sky was full of stars and this one bolted, took a dive. It was beautiful; I almost cried. I saw Ivo through a window. She spoke to a man. He was distinguished looking or whatever, more the type you’d think she’d be with, and when the man put his hand on her arm then leaned over to kiss her ear or something I thought, That’s right, I’m chopped liver, and then I stood there like she’d told me, and Ivo pulled away from the man.

Meanwhile couples came out of the restaurant; the men would speak to a valet while the women glanced at me.

Ivo came out. I stood with my hands in my pockets. “Hi,” I said.

“Hi yourself.” She let one side of her mouth curl. Like a sneer. Like she hated me. Then her eyes lit up. “Come here.”

I went.

“Closer,” she said.

I got closer, an inch away. Ivo tilted her head. I tasted the wine on her breath, the pasta. I felt heat. My hands itched to touch her. Anything.

“Never mind,” she said.

Ivo’s apple-cider smell brushed past me. Ivo was across the room again. She told me to look at her. I did. She walked back and forth a few feet away, and her body became a musical as she dropped her clothes on the floor and swayed like a cattail in a breeze; her skin reflected light while her eyes burned like the blue on a flame.

“Fuck,” I said. “You’re amazing.”

When Ivo opened her mouth, one side curled back further than the other, and I caught a glint of sharp tooth before she said, “You ass.” Ivo was closer to me now; I reached for her, one second of cool smooth flesh, her narrow, boyish hip, and then she turned on me screaming. “Prick!” She wailed on me full throttle, palms across my head and face.

“Fuck, sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you, sorry.”

I dropped to the floor. I liked this game, a lot. My face felt like army ants had gone at it, and my ears rang. Meanwhile, my cock throbbed so much I thought, This particular boner is never going away; it’s fucking permanent.

Ivo smiled at me. “Tyler, take off your shirt.”

I did.

“You have a beautiful body, so skinny. Open your pants.”

I did.

“Let me see it.”

I pulled my cock out. Already oozing pre-come.

“Sit over there.”

I sat.

“You know what you’re going to do for me?”

“No.” I shook my head, holding my cock.

“You’re going to take that friend of yours, Micah, to a hotel.”

I swallowed. “OK.” I noticed a flush spreading across Ivo’s chest.

“I’m going to meet you there later.”

“That sounds good.”

Ivo smiled, one side of her mouth, showing me that tooth again — one hell of an incisor. “I want to watch Micah fuck you, Ty.”

“You do?” At this point my cock had gone so stiff it was like a body with rigor mortis. I was terrified and turned on beyond belief.

“Jerk yourself off.”

I did. Ivo sat on a table in front of the chair where I sat; she opened her legs, so I saw wiry hair, meaty pink cunt lips. I stared at her, swallowing, using my hand on my cock. “Slower,” she said. I slowed down. “Faster,” she said. I got a cramp in my elbow. Her nipples were hard. The flush had spread to her neck and face.

“I’m going to come, is that OK?”

“No,” Ivo said.

I took my hand away from my cock then sucked in a breath.

Ivo slid her hand over her cunt. With one finger she moved the meaty lips around and then open. I watched her sink one fingernail into her cunt, and then her finger disappeared up to her knuckle. Ivo closed her eyes. “Jerk yourself off,” she said.

I started again.

“Want to fuck me, Ty?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

I watched Ivo fuck herself with her finger. She pulled it out after a while then rubbed her clit in tight, concentrated circles.

“I want to fuck you,” I said. “Can I fuck you?” I was about to blow.

“Stop,” Ivo said. She opened her eyes, glacial bright. She moved her finger over her clit and stared in my eyes.

“Fuck,” I said “Fuck.” I gripped the sides of the chair. A drop of come oozed free of my cockhead.

“I’m coming,” Ivo said. Her body gave one definitive shudder.

She arrived in the hotel room: leather pants and a white shirt you could see her nipples through. She had tight tits and quarter-sized nipples. Right away I caught my breath. Her lips were the colour of blood when the scab comes off, wet and bright. The rest of her face was pale and freckled, crinkles around her eyes. She’d tucked her hair behind her ears. She had big ears, actually. No jewellery. Ivo regarded us without a word. The air became humid with what I guessed you’d call sexual tension.

Micah stared at her, looked at me. I met his eyes. “Feel her power, dude?”

“Yeah.”

I went to my knees. This was the night of all nights. Micah swallowed so hard I saw the lump in his throat bob. “What are you waiting for?” Ivo said to him.

Micah looked at me then seemed to register I was on my knees. He knelt too.

Ivo walked around the room. She inspected the empty champagne bottle Micah had left in the ice bucket. “Did you enjoy it?”

Micah nodded then met my eyes again. Ivo looked at me.

“Take off your clothes, Ty.”

I remained kneeling as I took everything off. There I was, skinny and naked.

“Stand up,” Ivo said. We both did. “Not you,” she told Micah.

He dropped to his knees again.

“Bend over,” Ivo told me.

After a minute I did.

“Did you hesitate?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Look at me.”

I met her eyes. Two pools of ice in a snowdrift. Ivo hit me so hard in the face one side felt as if it had split like ice over a pond.

“Shit,” Micah said.

“Shut up,” Ivo told him.

I looked at Micah through water in my eyes. He had his hand over his crotch.

“Let’s try again,” Ivo said. “Bend over.”

I did. My cock throbbed like a stubbed toe.

“Open your ass for me, Ty.”

I pulled my ass cheeks apart. I felt her move closer; she burned me there with her eyes until my own vision blurred as I stared at my feet.

“You’d like your friend Micah here to fuck you in the ass, wouldn’t you?”

I bit the inside of my arm then said it. “Yeah.” Good thing I couldn’t see Micah. Had no idea how’d he feel about what I’d just said.

“I’d like that,” Ivo said. “And you’ll do it for me, won’t you?” I knew she spoke to Micah, but I didn’t hear him answer. I felt Ivo touch my ass cheek. She rubbed it in a circle with her palm then dragged her nails across my skin. I bit my arm again.

Micah said, “Can I yank on myself?”

“No,” she answered. I felt her finger on my asshole; she rubbed my hole in circles until it felt good. Until blood rushed to colour my skull. “Come here,” I heard her say.

I felt Micah stand then come over.

“Touch him,” she said.

“Where?” Micah sounded anxious.

Ivo hit him. Smack. “You know where,” she said.

Micah fingered the edge of my asshole.

“Rim him,” Ivo said.

I felt my asshole flower. Oh fuck. Fuck me. Yeah. That felt nice. I’d never had a tongue at my hole before. Shit. That was so nice. I felt Micah lean over me, gripping each side of my bony ass with his hands while he rippled his tongue through my crack then concentrated on the brown flower of my hole. Fuck. Jesus. That was good.

Ivo said, “The bed.” We all went. “Take off your clothes,” Ivo said, meaning Micah. My friend looked as skinny and white as me. His cock was short and fat. I’d seen it before. Now I let myself really see it. “Together,” Ivo said. Micah and I scooted together. I felt the taut reed of his leg against mine, the brush of short hairs. Ivo looked pristine in her clothes. She wanted me on my back, Micah on top. For a second our cocks were like two rulers side by side. Then she gave Micah lubricant and instructed him to oil up. His cock glistened. He didn’t meet my eyes.

“Gentle at first,” she said as Micah pressed the head of his cock to my ass.

“Shit,” he said, like he didn’t want to fuck me but really did.

Ivo leaned over me then kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. “You ’re so sweet,” she said into my mouth. Then she kissed me all over my face, and I kissed her back, tongue in her mouth, my hands in her hair. First time I’d ever touched her like that.

I felt the head of Micah’s cock in my ass. I felt how I opened.

“Easy,” Ivo said.

Micah moaned, sank deeper, fucked me. I grabbed Ivo. I was like a butterfly on a pin. She kissed my ear lobe. “Deeper,” she told Micah. “Come in his ass.” His face had twisted above me. The word “Shit,” broke from his lips, and then I felt jizz bust out of my cock like pus from a wound. You know how that is after, right?

I woke with spunk leaking from my ass. Micah was asleep under the covers, pillow to his face, a familiar stranger. I smelled that apple-cider smell of Ivo, but she wasn’t there. I figured she had another life opposite of what she’d left in the hotel. After Ivo, Micah and I were like what you’d find through Alice’s looking glass. I was cracked open, naked as an egg. Happiness is totally scary like that.