The Mammoth Book of Threesomes and Moresomes

Gift Exchange

Sommer Marsden

Evan brought it up as we were decorating the tree. I think he truly believed that, if he caught me off guard, I would agree without hesitation.

“You know what would make a great Christmas gift?”

I fully intended to say, “No,” but had to appreciate his creativity. “Dare I ask?” I laughed, hanging a tiny carved stone angel on the tree.

“My fantasy. You could make my fantasy come true for Christmas. Number five is a year to celebrate, don’t you think? ”

“So, since this is our fifth Christmas together, you’d like me to give you the gift of infidelity?” I took a delicate glass shamrock from the box of ornaments.

“It’s not infidelity if I ask for it,” he said, smiling. He looked a little crestfallen, though. Perhaps he had fully convinced himself his scheme would work. “It’s only cheating if you do it behind my back. I want you to do it in front of me.”

I stared at his face, set in stubbornness and hope. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you have to play, too. Not just with me. With him.” I only realized my words once they were out and a line of anxiety snaked through my belly. Where the fuck had that come from?

Evan’s look of hope turned quickly to shock. “What?”

I threw my shoulders back and swallowed hard. Apparently, I had a few kinks of my own. No backing down now. “You heard me. Here’s the deal — I’ll do it. You start him off. Prime the pump, so to speak.” I couldn’t resist the evil smile that stretched across my face. No way would he go for this. “And I’ll take him home. Right there in front of you. Whatever you want.”

Evan let the string of lights fall to the floor and sat heavily on the misplaced sofa. We’d had to slide it to the middle of the room to make way for the tree. Lucky for him. I think he might have just hit the floor had the sofa not been there.

“Allyson, I’m not gay.”

“I never said you were.” I calmly selected another bauble and placed it on the tree. That was that. I was off the hook.

“But wouldn’t that mean I was?” His face had gone a floury white with the exception of his cheeks. A red flush flamed across his cheeks like a brand.

“No. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the means to an end. That would turn me on and allow you to get what you want. You’d get your fantasy and provide me with mine.”

I was very proud of myself. I had not only discovered one of my secret desires, one I had no intention of acting out, I had also found a way to put Evan’s fantasy to rest. I smiled to myself, feeling quite smug, as I started to hang the glass pickle from Germany near the highest bow.

“OK, I’ll do it.”

The pickle shattered at my feet. Damn.

“What?” I turned around to find him smiling at me. My stomach did a flip that reminded me of being on the roller coaster as a kid. Sick and excited at the same time.

“It’s only fair. You’re absolutely right. Fair is fair. We both win. I can do that for you. I would do that for you.”

I let the conversation go until dinner. Even as I cooked, a swirling of excitement and dread rolled through my body. The dread was from being caught in my own trap. The excitement was over the prospect of actually doing this with Evan. For Evan. I hadn’t even considered the idea that I would actually like to see him with another man until I had blurted it out. I had most certainly never considered the idea that I would actually go through with something like this. Yet, as I cracked a nice bottle of Shiraz for dinner, I knew I would.

In the pit of my stomach the excitement burned brighter. A moisture started between my legs, insinuating itself into the soft fabric of my panties. I laughed out loud wondering if I would even make it through dinner before I fucked Evan senseless.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, poking his head in the kitchen.

“How hungry are you?” I asked, pouring two glasses of wine. Red like blood. Red for sacrifice. Red for desire.

I would sacrifice a long-held value for him, and him for me. I would give him his desire and he would fulfil mine. My nipples puckered under my blouse, my pulse slammed in my throat. I was blushing so fiercely my face burned.

He stared me dead in the face. Read my expression. He grabbed my hand. “I can wait.”

We made it to the landing. At that point, location didn’t matter. Not a lick. I shoved Evan to the floor where he landed with a startled “Ooph!”

“Sorry, sorry,” I murmured, but I really wasn’t. I was too busy yanking the top button of his button-fl y jeans. After the first one heeded to my brutal yanking, the others followed suit. I took his cock in my hand and let my body slide down several steps so my mouth was even with him. I was suddenly ravenous for him. Just to have him in my mouth. Feel the slide of his warm, engorged cock against the inside of my cheeks. Over my tongue. I sucked him in as far as I could, relaxed my throat, took him in as deep as I could. The thought of what we were considering burned under my skin like a fever. Could I? Would I? What would it do to us? All of this fl itted and capered in my mind as I worked him. Swallowed him.

“Christ, what’s gotten into you?” he mumbled and shoved his hands into my hair. Sifted his fingers through it so black strands brushed against my face. Tendrils got trapped in the moisture on my lips, slid along his length along with my mouth. I sighed against him and cupped his balls. “It’s this whole thing, isn’t it? You’re getting excited about it, aren’t you? Me doing that for you. Letting you see me do it. Now do you understand what I want?”

Part of me wished he would shut the fuck up. Part of me prayed he wouldn’t. I needed to hear this. Needed to know that he wanted it just as badly as I did. I was still reeling from the fact that I wanted it at all and if he told me he was OK, told me he wanted it, I might not question my sanity. Or my devotion. Or my love for him.

I nodded but didn’t release him. He wrapped my hair around his hands and pulled me in a little harder. Forced his cock a little deeper. I sucked in air through my nose and closed my eyes. The scent of him seated deeply in my sinuses. The feel of him making me crazy.

I felt him tense and laughed just a little around his cock. I loved that feeling. The feeling of pushing him right up to the edge and then shoving him right over it. Making him come for me. Evan had other plans. He pushed my head back and released himself.

“Evan. .”

“Over. On your back, Allyson. Now.” His voice was much deeper than normal and my body responded instantly. Extra moisture between my thighs. Hair standing at attention along the nape of my neck, like a sizzle of electricity shooting through all my nerve endings simultaneously.

He hauled me up the steps, flipped me on my back and undid my jeans. “Help me. These goddamn things are so tight I don’t know how you breathe in them.”

I lifted my hips, wiggled. When they were down around my thighs, he hooked his fingers in the sides of my thong and yanked that along with the jeans. Both items were flung down the steps.

No words. He was gone from words. His cock so hard and ready it was imposing. His eyes, usually brown, were nearly black. He shoved my thighs apart roughly and thrust three fingers into me so quickly I gasped. Then, grabbing my hips, he pulled me forwards and drove into me.

“Fuck,” he hissed in my ear. “Are we really going to do it?”

I rocked up as he pulled me against him. Two forces with the same objective. Wrapped my legs around his back to hang on. Felt my eyes roll back as the first forceful ripple of orgasm ripped through me. I rode it out. Let it fl ow. It spiralled out, a seemingly unending coil of pleasure. “Yes,” I sighed as I let my body go limp even as he clutched at me.

At the word, Evan came. His voice half growl, half sob. I’d give him his gift, and he’d give me mine.

When we finally sat down to dinner, I sipped my wine and then asked, “So who’s the third party?”

Evan shrugged and attacked his spaghetti, apparently famished. I laughed and he looked up and smiled. There was a tiny speck of sauce on his chin and I wiped it off. “We could scout someone out this weekend,” he said.

“What’s this weekend?” I hadn’t touched my food. I was perfectly content with my glass of wine and the speculation.

“The community block party. A Christmas jamboree.” He laughed. “We can see if anybody catches our interest then.”

I nodded, stirred my noodles but didn’t eat them. “Sounds good.” Now that he had put the thought in my head, I already had a possible candidate.

I hadn’t shared the information. I had somehow managed to keep it to myself despite some covert spying on the new neighbour. The more I watched him, the more I thought he would be perfect. I think my fear was that if I came right out and said it, instead of letting the idea come from Evan, he would think I desired this man more than him. That wasn’t the case. But the fear of him thinking so was enough to make me keep my mouth shut.

“Ready?” Evan pulled on his suede jacket — the one with the shearling lining. I joked it was his Marlboro Man jacket.

“As I’ll ever be,” I laughed. It was slightly high. Slightly hysterical. Not a calm laugh, but one full of anxiety and excitement. I cinched the tie on my leather jacket and fluffed my hair. “Let’s do it.”

The winter block party was about to begin. Much like a summer block party but the street was peppered with chimineas instead of barbeque grills. Most houses were open to guests. People congregated out in the cold, warming their hands and chatting around the small fires, or wandered in and out of each other’s homes for lovely buffets and booze aplenty. Any door that was open was an invitation to the open house within.

“You sure you don’t have any ideas?” he asked. His face said he thought I might. It was a gentle question, though, not an accusation.

I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. It was solid and warm and familiar. A hand that had run over every inch of my body, given me untold pleasure, knew me inside and out. I squeezed again and tried to stay as close to the truth as possible. “I’ve considered a few. Some of them are definitely out; some are possible. We just have to be careful. We need someone discreet, preferably unattached. Open-minded.” I sighed and stood on my toes to kiss him.

Evan kissed me back. He cupped my face with those big warm hands as his tongue played around my own. I shivered despite the jacket. We were really going to do this. We were scouting for a lover. He would start; I would finish. Another shiver worked through me and he laughed. “Nervous?”

“A little.”

“Excited?”

“A lot.” This time it was my turn to laugh. I took his hand again and pulled him forwards. “Come on, then. He’s not going to come find us. We have hunting to do.”

I saw him before we were even halfway up the block. Christopher Sweet had moved in just two months earlier. He was just a guy. Not too pretty, not too slick. A normal guy with normal-guy looks. The only thing that really made him stand out from the crowd was the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, and the laugh itself. Slow and warm like thick syrup dripping from a bottle. The sound of that laugh was enough to warm me from the inside out. Starting deep between my thighs and spreading up and out like a starburst under my skin. There had been an attraction the moment I had introduced myself the day he moved in. I had ignored it. I knew it was human nature to feel attraction even in a committed relationship. Human nature to flirt, even. If I was honest with myself, though, if there was going to be a third party, I wanted it to be Christopher.

I felt Evan watching me watch Christopher. Then he turned to look too. “Is it him?” he said.

Before I could answer, Christopher spotted our combined stares and raised his hand in a friendly wave. He grabbed three beers from a snow bank and started our way.

“Allyson, he’s coming. Is it him?”

I was afraid to answer. Afraid of the feeling in the pit of my stomach. The trembling fl utter of my pulse in my throat. What were we doing? This was crazy. I loved Evan and I was risking it. This would ruin us. Ruin everything. I would lose him.

Evan squeezed my hand again and then he smiled. That warm open smile that had made me fall in love with him. A smile that always let me know everything would be OK. “Allyson, it’s OK. If it’s him, it’s OK.”

So I nodded and smiled back despite an aching urge to cry. “It’s him,” I breathed just as Christopher arrived.

“Hey, guys. Happy holidays! What’s going on?”

“Not much,” Evan said, accepting a beer with thanks. “We were just discussing what we were going to get each other for Christmas.”

I accepted a beer and my numb lips nearly lost the liquid as I drank. The only thing that kept me from dropping the green bottle and running was Evan’s warm arm around my shoulder. His fingers paling gently in my hair. Something that always calmed me. I laughed at a joke Christopher told and when he laughed along with me, I felt my insides warm a little. Some of the fear ebbed away and was replaced with a smoky curl of desire.

We wandered the street, the three of us, stopping to warm ourselves at the outdoor fires, laughing, chatting the way neighbours should. On beer three, Evan took the lead. Once the sentence was out, I felt a shock ripple through me. No turning back.

“Do you want to come home and have a real drink with us?” Evan asked, his gaze sliding to me for just a second. His smile was warm and comforting. “I’m getting a little cold, and judging from the look on Allyson’s face, she’s half frozen.”

I nodded, knowing full well that half of the cold blanketing my body was from nerves. “We have that nice bottle of Merlot.”

Christopher smiled and gave a good-natured shrug. “Sure, why not? I don’t know most of these people real well anyway. I could go for defrosting all my fingers and toes.”

We started up the street together, the two men ahead of me. Christopher taller and blond. Evan closer to my height, with thick dark hair. Two sets of broad shoulders. Two men walking side by side. For just an instant, my mind supplied another picture. Evan on his knees before Christopher. His mouth around Christopher’s cock. Moving. Sucking. I shivered again, but not from the cold. I had never realized how badly I wanted to see something like that. What it would do to me. How it would make me feel. In the next half-hour I should know if it was a possibility. At least with Christopher.

“Wow. I love the colour.” Christopher touched the newly painted wall in the dining room. I had chosen the colour. A pale buttery yellow. New England yellow. I watched his hands trail over the wall I had painted just two weeks before. My skin prickled as if he were touching me. A flush crept up from between my breasts to heat my face.

“Thank you. I had to choose a colour that wasn’t too girly.” I laughed, fl ashing a fake look of frustration at Evan.

“Well, you did a good job. Elegant without being too feminine. Enough colour to add to the house, but not overwhelming. Great choice. And it makes the furniture stand out. Really makes the old pieces look that much more elegant.”

I knew Christopher made furniture. His praise of my grandmother’s pieces was touching. I cleared my throat. “I’ll go get that wine.” I moved a little too quickly into the kitchen. Evan might have noticed the urgency in my gait, I doubted Christopher did.

I was wrong. I heard him say, “Is she OK? Should I leave?”

I strained to hear Evan’s response as I grabbed three glasses and the corkscrew. It was fading, though. He was leading Christopher into the living room where we had built a fire. I uncorked the wine and realized my hands were shaking just as I nearly lost my grip on the corkscrew. It clattered to the counter and I put my head down to breathe. What would I find when I walked into the living room. What look would be on that nice man’s face? Disgust? Confusion? Fear? My stomach flipped again and I sucked in a breath as if I were drowning.

“You ’ll never know unless you go in,” I whispered to myself. I glanced out the tiny window over the sink. The sky was darkening and I could just barely make out the fact that it was snowing. A beautiful light snow that danced on the fading light. Elegant and peaceful. I stared for a moment. Let my heart rate slow, listened to the sound of the blood rushing in my ears fade. I would be fine. We were asking. The worst he could say was “No.”

Gathering the glasses and the wine bottle, I took a few slow steps towards the dining room. Let myself grow even more calm. Then I walked out to see if Evan was making any progress.

I walked in and both sets of eyes were on me. Two beautiful men. One blond and blue-eyed, the other with gorgeous dark hair and startling eyes the colour of chicory-laced coffee. Both were smiling. Easy smiles. I felt a spark of excitement lick up my skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Those two smiles on me were as intense as two sets of hands sliding along my skin. That intimate. That intense. I almost lost my grip on the glasses.

“How about Christmas Eve?” Evan asked, standing quickly and relieving me of my burden. He poured three glasses of wine and handed them out until we each had one. “The day after tomorrow?”

I cleared my throat to steady my voice. “It’s fine,” I said. Then I laughed. Another high, twittering laugh so unlike my normal throaty laugh. “Yo u ’re OK with this?” I asked Christopher. His eyes travelled over me, soaked me in, and again I had the overwhelming sensation of being physically touched.

“I am.”

“And Evan explained it all? All of it?” I said a little too forcefully. I could see Evan nodding in my peripheral vision. I knew Evan. Knew he had. Of course he had. I still had to ask.

Another slow nod from Christopher and another easy smile. As easy and slow and sweet as that laugh of his. “I get it. He starts, you finish. I’m the odd man out. Or in. I guess it depends on how you look at it. Either way, it’s fine with me.”

I nodded and tried to sip my wine. Instead I managed to down almost the whole glass in one gulp. “You OK?” Evan said in my ear. His breath hot on my skin and familiar. Safe. He filled my glass and handed it back. “You can change your mind. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Y o u ’re more important to me than anything. That includes this fantasy of mine.”

But I realized as I cautiously sipped my refill that his fantasy had become mine. I loved him. Wanted to make him happy. I also wanted what I wanted. What I had asked for and he was willing to give me that. Fear of the unknown would not eat this dream whole, I decided. If we got through this in one piece, still together, we could be that much stronger for the experience. The exchange. The giving and receiving could be the best thing that ever happened to us. Or it could destroy us. I knew this, too; I wasn’t a fool. But I was willing to take the risk and hope.

Christopher sat on one end of the sofa, watching me. Judging my reaction. I swallowed hard and fought off the cold finger of fear that trailed up my spine. I would be fine. We would be fine. Better than fine.

Evan took my hand and led me to the sofa. I took a final sip of wine and put the glass on the coffee table as I sat. Right next to Christopher. Close enough that my thigh pressed up against his. Evan sat on my other side and rubbed my arm. “You sure about this?”

I nodded not trusting my voice. Then he leaned forwards and kissed me. I tightened up for just a second, second-guessing something that is normally the most natural thing in the world for me. Kissing Evan. In public, in private, it didn’t matter. I did it easily. Now, though, feeling Christopher’s eyes on us as we kissed, I felt suddenly stiff. Then Evan’s tongue pressed against the seam of my lips. Licked me gently. I loosened, felt myself go soft and opened my mouth to him. The kiss deepened, he pushed his tongue into me further, probing gently and warmly with his. My body responded — years of pleasure, years of enjoyment. My nipples tightened. And, as the kiss continued, I felt hands that were not Evan’s on my breasts. Hands that I had looked at, wondering what they would feel like on my body. Now I didn’t have to wonder. A slow tremble worked through me, and I gasped into Evan’s mouth.

Christopher’s hands were bigger than Evan’s. His touch was firm but gentle. Unfamiliar and intoxicating. I arched up into the kiss and into the hands that were on me. Pressing against two different points of contact that mingled into one vortex of pleasure. I felt Evan reach over my lap, heard Christopher draw a startled breath. Not breaking the kiss, I opened my eyes just a bit, just enough to peek. Evan’s hand slid the length of Christopher’s denim-clad erection. Each sweep of his hand defined the other man’s cock through his jeans. I watched, mesmerized. The kiss went on. Christopher’s fingers plucked my nipples. The sight of Evan stroking another man was. . A moan escaped me. I wasn’t even aware it was coming. I shifted on the sofa — the moisture pooling in my panties was both pleasant and torturing.

I watched Evan run his thumb over the head of Christopher’s cock, heard the scratchy whisper of denim being stroked. Then Evan broke the kiss. Christopher left his hands on my breasts. Then, after a long moment of warm contact, he removed them. Evan pulled his hand from Christopher’s lap, and we all regarded each other.

“Are we all still OK with this?” Evan asked in his normal, no-nonsense tone. There was just a touch of trepidation in his voice. Only I would notice.

I nodded. “I am.” My voice was small but firm. My heart was banging restlessly away in my breast. I felt just a tiny bit light-headed.

“I’ll be back night after tomorrow,” Christopher said, and stood. He brushed his hand along the length of my hair. Stroking me as if I were made of glass. Then he shook Evan’s hand.

“We ’ll see you then,” Evan said with a small smile.

“I’ll be here with bells on.” His rich liquid laugh filled the room for a moment and I held my breath at the sensual sound. Then he dropped me a wink and left.

“Bed? At least for a while?” Evan smiled. His eyes wandered my body, never staying on one spot for too long. I flushed under his gaze. He took my hand and led me to the bedroom without another word.

Sunday afternoon finally arrived, and I was already exhausted. Saturday had taken a hundred years to pass. I’d already had countless arguments in my mind both for and against what we were planning to do. One moment the anticipation and excitement nearly stopped my breath, the next the fear of it did. I would gasp. Unable to breathe. Panicky and unsure of my mental state. And then, for just a moment, I would see Evan. Unaware that I was watching him. Humming. Reading. Puttering in the yard. And I would think of how much I loved him. How much I wanted to give him this thing he had wanted for so long. To be the woman who finally said, Yes, I love you enough to do this for you and give you something you desire. And I would be OK, before the cycle started again.

Dinner came and we had an hour to go. I was too nervous to eat. I drank my wine and pushed my food around on the plate.

“Not hungry?” Evan’s eyes were kind. Worried even. They were that mocha colour that always made me stare a beat longer than I normally would. Flecks of green and gold and blue. Like looking at a picture within a picture, those unusual striations were one of my favourite things about him.

“Nope. Not even a little. I think I’m just a little anxious.” I ran my hands over my jeans. I mentally ran through what was on under my clothes. Black silk thong, black lacy bra. . and me. That was it. Simple, but hopefully effective.

“You can change your mind. I want to say that one more time. I won’t care.” He set his fork down and took my hand. “Just say the word and we call it off.”

I shook my head and tried to plot an answer. The truth was, I wanted it just as much as he did. Maybe more, I was shocked to find. How could I explain that it was simply fear? A black, sinister fear that I was throwing it all away. “No. I don’t want to call it off.”

He nodded and started to clear the table. “I love you, you know that. I don’t think I can quite explain why I want this.”

It was my turn to nod. “I can. You want to know that I would do it for you. I want to know that you would do it for me. The ultimate test. How far will you go for me? To give me what I want? To prove that you are mine?” I went and put my arms around his waist, talking out my own feelings under the guise of trying to explain his. “To prove your love and your desire to see me happy. .” I trailed off, absorbing my own words.

He put the dishes back on the table and stroked my jaw with his hands. “Wow. I couldn’t have put it like that if I’d tried. But that’s it. Here’s how far I would go for you.”

And I kissed him. It was the sweetest kiss we’d ever shared. It only stopped when the doorbell rang.

The moment had come. Luckily, I was expecting it. That deer-in-the-headlights moment. The urge to simply get swallowed up in the panic and flee. Instead of capitulating, I simply poured drinks and did deep breathing. I never thought that yoga would come in handy during a threesome situation. I could hear the two men talking in low voices. Most likely about me. And “Would I go through with it? Was I OK?” I smiled at that thought. At least we had chosen a third party who was considerate. Kind. A good man. I gathered the drinks and went in, even though my heart was beating so erratically it hurt.

“Here we go,” I said, the cheerfulness only partly forced. “We should do a toast.” I laughed. “Something to honour the occasion.”

Christopher took over in a blink. “To good friends, new experiences and a lovely holiday. May your gift exchange be everything you want it to be.”

That sealed it. I clinked glasses and took a huge sip of my wine. Then I set it down and threw up my hands. “OK, let’s go. Let’s get this started.”

Both men stopped, glasses halfway to their lips and stared at me.

I stared right back. “What? Let’s just go. Down your drinks and let’s get upstairs.” My voice was high. My throat felt too small and my chest hurt from an invisible pressure that had settled there.

A small smile curved Evan’s full lips and he tried to stifle it. He knew exactly what was happening. “We can’t finish our drinks?”

I shook my head so hard my vision went wild for a moment. “No. Now. Let’s go.” The fear had pushed me to the point of annoyance. I was impatient and throwing a hissy fit.

Christopher laughed and ran his hand through his hair. “OK. Well. . Are you sure you’re OK with this? I can leave. You seem a little. . worked up.”

I sighed and suddenly felt so stupid I wanted to melt into the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flip out. There just isn’t a graceful way to do this, you know?” I regarded each one calmly. I wanted them to see that I was settling down. “It’s the anticipation and the build-up that’s driving me crazy. We all know why we’re here. I just want. . It would just be easier. .”

Evan took my hand and beckoned to Christopher. “I think it would be easier on Allyson if we just skip the preliminaries and the niceties.”

That invisible weight in my chest lightened and then seemed to drift away. “Yes,” I sighed gratefully, “much easier. Let’s just go.”

Christopher followed us up the steps and I could hear that thick honey laugh. “You are a very strange woman,” he said. Another laugh spiralled up the steps and curled up my spine like smoke, stimulating each nerve as it travelled. “I like you very much.”

I smiled in the dark.

The moment we hit the bedroom, I started unbuttoning my blouse. No time to waste. Do or die. Move or run. I was going to do one or the other. I knew myself too well. I chose move.

“Um, Allyson?” Evan said slowly, watching me with that bemused look of his.

“What? A slow seduction? Is that what you’re asking?” I let my hands drop and blew out a breath. “We either do this, or I run screaming from the room. I want to do this, so. .” I shrugged and attacked the last two buttons. “Let’s do it.”

The two men shared a look and, finally, Evan nodded. By then, I was down to the thong and the bra.

“Now?” Evan asked, just a hint of a laugh in his deep voice.

“Yes, now! Who’s first?” I demanded as my pulse slammed in my throat. My skin was hot despite the fact that I was nearly naked and the room was cool. I pinned each one with my gaze in turn. I almost felt angry but the arousal bubbled just below the surface. I focused on that. Then them, and finally closed my eyes and the mental image from the winter block party popped into view. Full colour, full view. Evan on his knees for me in front of Christopher.

They both stood staring at me. Now who’s the deer in the headlights? I thought and actually laughed out loud. “Are you two just going to stare at me all night? You-” I pointed to Christopher “-ditch the pants. You do the same, Evan.”

Another shared look and then both started to shuck their pants. Christopher’s khakis came down first, as did Evan’s faded button-fl y jeans. The briefs quickly followed. The shirts came off without request. Just whispers of fabric in the silence. Again they stared at me. Apparently, I was in charge. At least for the moment.

“Evan, would you. .?” I was losing my nerve. It was one thing to see it in my head. A completely different thing to articulate it. Out loud. In front of a third party. But he was irrelevant really. Nothing more than a cardboard cut-out, not to put too fine a point on it. This was about me and Evan. About us. So I pushed the words past my lips. “Would you get on your knees in front of Christopher. . please? For me?”

I shed my thong and sat on the bed. I didn’t think I could stand for this.

And he did. Dropped to his knees without a moment’s hesitation. Without my asking, he leaned forwards, because he knew what I wanted. I held my breath, watched, felt my heart go all erratic in my chest again. The moment his lips touched Christopher’s cock, starbursts of heat exploded under my skin. I could barely breathe as I watched Christopher’s cock sliding in and out of Evan’s mouth. Lips that had kissed me a million times sliding over another man’s erection. I didn’t let myself blink. I wouldn’t miss a second. Not one second of what he would do for me.

I watched Christopher watching Evan and my skin seemed to shift. Like mercury heating up and shifting form. When he placed one big hand on top of Evan’s head to guide him to go deeper, a small sound escaped me. A tiny sound that was nothing but desire. Without thinking, I touched myself and my fingers came away wet. Not just wet, but slick. Just the one quick flick against my clit made me feel as if I hung right on that edge. I could come with one stroke, maybe two. Just from watching Evan do what I had asked. What I had discovered was, for some reason, important to me. So he did it.

Evan couldn’t see me — I was watching him in profile — but his shoulders dropped just a little at the sound I made, as if he had been somewhat tense. Did I like what I was seeing? At that sound he knew how I felt and the tightness in his broad shoulders went away. He was fluid and moving slowly. No indication that he was uncomfortable or unhappy. And I let the next sound escape me as it welled up so he would know. Know how much I appreciated his gift. It was nothing more than a soft sigh but it slid out of my throat like a silk ribbon. On a breath, I managed one word: “Deeper.”

And he went deeper. His neck muscles were more defined, his features sharper in the half-light. Christopher’s head tipped back and he growled just a little. Just enough to make my skin feel raspy as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. My nipples peaked, and the fluid that had left my fingers slick now pooled on the bedspread between my thighs. When Christopher’s other hand slid into Evan’s hair and joined the hand already there, I had to grip my thighs to keep my hands from my clit. To resist the urge to slide them in and out of my weeping entrance. Despite this, I felt the tightening, oh so familiar, start in my cunt. A torquing of flesh that wants what it wants — release.

I watched Christopher’s cock disappear completely as Evan’s nose nudged the dark-blond pubic hair at the base. I felt my eyes well up just a little watching him in that submissive position before another man, for me. Doing something that most men would never consider because what would it mean? Nothing, really. Just that he loved me. Trusted me. Could give me that and let me watch, and know that I would not judge. One more long slide, one more glimpse of his throat working over Christopher’s erection. I heard him suck in a long breath through his nose, something I heard myself do too many times to count, and I let it be the last.

“OK.” That was it. That was all I said and they broke apart. Both looking slightly dazed. Evan checking my face for acceptance and then smiling when he found it. Christopher checking us both for approval. His cock stood out, fully erect and nearly purple. I licked my lips as I looked at Evan and laughed a little. Now it was my turn.

I didn’t trust my legs or my voice so I just used my hand to motion Christopher over so he stood before me. I could see Evan’s saliva, still wet and shiny, on his skin even in the dim light. I stroked it with my palm and his cock jumped. I circled the head with my finger and inhaled deeply. I could smell the scent of Evan that still clung to this man’s skin. Then I took him in my mouth and picked up where Evan had left off. I could taste him on Christopher, too. A distinctive taste I took away from every kiss. We all have a scent, we all have a taste. This one was familiar and comforting to me, considering I hadn’t done this for another man in five years.

“Allyson, go slower baby.” Evan’s voice, off to my left. I glanced out of the corner of my eye as I slowed my pace. He wanted to see. He wanted me to see everything and now I understood this. So I slowed down. An inch at a time, moving with care. It was probably maddening to poor Christopher, but this wasn’t about him at all. His hands found my hair, too, but he didn’t draw me in closer or faster. He just twined his fingers in my hair as I sucked him. I watched from the corner of my eye and the tightness inside of me intensified as I saw Evan stroking his cock, saw the length of him slide in and out of his closed fi st.

I took a deep breath and played my tongue along those mysterious ridges that are different on every man. Each dip and swell new to me. When I heard Evan suck in a breath, I did it again, arching my tongue out, careful to run just the rigid tip along the shaft. I could hear them both breathing. Two men, breathing hard and fast in this room. For me. Because of me. But only one mattered. Both were exciting but only one mattered.

“Say no if you want,” I heard Christopher mutter, and then he was pushing me back. Gently, but backwards. Big hands on my shoulders as I seemed to recline in slow motion. “Somebody say ‘stop’ and I will,” he warned again. His face had gone to dark, his eyes hooded, his voice always heavy now so thick it didn’t even sound like him. He was positioned over me, between my thighs. His big legs were pressing against my smaller ones, and forcing them outwards. The blunt head of his cock was right at the tight portal that would let him into my body.

This was not in the script, but I found that I wanted it. That strange slide of another man. That first startling stretching of soft tissue around hard tissue. The electrical current of someone unfamiliar entering you for the first time. My eyes darted to Evan. I wasn’t close enough truly to read his eyes, but I saw the brisk nod. A decisive nod. If he didn’t want me to, he would have hesitated. I knew that for certain. I arched up and pressed the moisture between my legs against the head of Christopher’s cock. Inviting him. With another low growl he took me up on it. And slid into me.

One quick thrust, and my breath left. Then it was movement. Sweet and effortless. I was so wet it was like dancing. His body dancing into mine. Intoxicating. But my eyes never left Evan. The sight of him stroking himself. Eyes pinned on us as Christopher fucked me. Pinned on my face, moving to my hair, taking in the way my breasts rose and fell. The way Christopher bent — still sliding into me, out of me — and nipped my breast through my bra. Worked his tongue over the stiff flesh, forcing the lace of my bra against the sensitive tip. I groaned and saw Evan’s head tilt back, his eyes drift shut. A look I knew. He was close. Right there. And then he seemed so far away.

My cunt was so tight I thought I might scream with the heat that builds before an intense orgasm. I was wetter than I ever remembered being. It was all there, and Evan was a million miles away. And I hated it.

“Come here, Ev. Please. Hurry.”

Again, he did it instantly. All he needed was to hear my plea. Hear my voice and he responded. As he always had. As he always would. Now I saw that. He came. Knelt on the bed and waited for me to tell him what I wanted, what I needed from him.

I pulled at his thighs, pulling him over my head. He continued to stroke his cock, his eyes locked on the place where Christopher and I were joined. Mesmerized by each thrust and each retreat. I could read his eyes now. Could read the look. Magical. He had my trust, and that could never be questioned again.

Christopher’s movements intensified, nearly jerky. His breath tore in and out of him and his eyes were fi xed on some distant point. A lock of hair had fallen into his eyes and I had the urge to brush it away, but then the first sweet curl of pleasure shot through my belly, blazed a trail through my cunt. And, without thinking, I cried out, “Oh, Evan.”

Evan growled, and Christopher became more frantic, pushing into me almost brutally hard. His movements drove me closer to Evan, under him, and I watched as that beautiful hand worked that beautiful cock. It jerked, Evan cried out, and I grabbed his hand and opened my mouth. His come was like a baptism. And, as soon as the hot liquid hit my face, my orgasm burst apart inside me. I came. Another man in my body. The man I loved over me. Bright sparks of blue and purple behind my eyelids as I gave myself over to two points of pleasure. Two points that were only relevant in one context. Giving.

There was no three-way post-coital tangle on the bed. That had been made clear to Christopher, and he was fine with it. He left shortly after, and was just as friendly and kind as when he arrived. I had no worries that we had ruined a friendship with him or alienated him in any way. The mission of the evening now accomplished, I simply wanted to be with Evan.

With a bottle of wine and two glasses this time we went to the bedroom. He wrapped himself around me in normal fashion. Holding me as close as ever. Trying to press all of his skin against me at once, which usually earned him teasing. Tonight it earned him the same. I tried to have every part of me against him at once. If I could have crawled into his skin with him, I think I would have.

He kissed the nape of my neck, his fingers playing slowly in my hair. Gently. Barely a touch. Enough to make me drowsy and happy.

“We ’re OK?” he asked and kissed my ear. I could hear in the tone, he already knew the answer. He just needed me to say it.

“Better than fine. Thank you.” I kissed his fingers one by one and, as was my usual joke, sucked on his index finger until he groaned.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“You gave me something I wanted. You had the courage to give it to me,” I said and kissed his other fingers in turn.

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you? You did the same.”

“That was the point,” I said. “We did it for each other. With each other.” Then I kissed his palm and closed my eyes. I was suddenly very tired. I relished the feel of his warm mouth against the back of my neck. So familiar and now even more treasured.

“Do you think you’d ever want to do it again?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Do you? Think you’d ever want to do it again?”

“I don’t know either. I guess we’ll find out,” he said and then yawned softly.

“Together. We can find out together.” I let myself drift off. I was safe. I was cherished.