The Mammoth Book of Threesomes and Moresomes

Blackberries

Nalo Hopkinson

“You want some blackberries?” I asked Tad. “They grow wild all along here.”

In fact, blackberry bushes lined the narrow winding road as far as the eye could see. I walked over to the nearest one, where there was a clump of fat, ripe fruit hanging just about level with my mouth.

“You crazy, Shuck?” asked Jamal. “Those things are growing by the roadside with all this pollution! You gonna make him eat those?”

As if to prove Jamal’s point, a semi came hurtling down the road, careening around the curves, belching blue smoke. It was huge and it stank, but there were still three cyclists riding in its wake. They had serious gear on, and straddled serious racing bikes. One of them looked sure to overtake the truck at the next bend. I shook my head. Vancouver. Gotta love this city. I’d only been living in her three years, but already she had my heart, with her tree-hugging, latte-sipping, bike-riding ways. Some girls are just like that. I waved a wasp away from the bunch of blackberries I was eyeing and pulled the ripest ones off. They just fell into my hand, staining it a little with juice.

“Here,” said Tad. “Lemme try ’em.”

Jamal sighed and rolled his eyes at his boyfriend. “Your funeral, sweetie.”

Tad smiled and made a kissy face at him. “And I know you’ll look hot at the wake, so cute in your tux.”

I put one of the blackberries into Tad’s mouth, enjoying the warmth and slight dampness of his mouth against my fingers. Tad had the kind of plump, ripe brown lips I liked. I imagined crushing the berries against them, and licking the juice off. Shit, the things I was thinking about my oldest friend.

Tad bit into the berry. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. I grinned. “The blacker the berry,” I told him. He responded with that flirty grin I remembered so well. Oh, gay boys could make me so randy. Gay boys and mouthy femmes.

“Come on, Jamal,” Tad said. “You really need to taste one of these. Here.” He took a berry from me and waved it in front of Jamal’s face. Jamal looked sceptical.

“Just smell it.” Tad put the berry under Jamal’s nose and winked at me. “You know how they say the way to man’s heart is through his belly?”

“That’s no belly,” I pointed out.

“You know it,” Jamal said. “I don’t spend all that time in the gym for nothing.”

Jamal was wearing denim shorts that looked like they’d been sewn right on to him, and a sinfully tight white tank top. Like many black men, he didn’t have much body hair to obscure the view. The white cotton made his skin gleam. His chest was a map of every workout he’d ever done. He was long and lean to Tad’s short, rotund muscularity. Ah, so what? I bet my arms were bigger than his. I bet I could take him. I felt the warm pulse come and go in my clit and smiled. That was the thing with me and some guys: this balled-up heat, this combination of competitiveness and good, hard wanting. A lot would satisfy it. Wrestling, maybe. Or … no. Shut it, girl. I didn’t know if I could flip these boys. Even if I could make them, just for a little while, hard for someone with girl bits, would it be someone like me? Every fag I knew was fascinated with breasts, and I was a little deficient in that department.

Jamal got a good whiff of the blackberry, and his face changed. He practically sucked it out of Tad’s fingers. Tad laughed.

Two lanky white guys in surfer shorts and skateboarding T-shirts scrambled around us on the narrow verge, trying not to stare at the tableau of three black folks together in the same space. Not a sight you saw a lot in Vancouver. They headed on towards the entrance to Wreck Beach, the smell of weed tailing them.

I slurped down the rest of the berries. “C’mon,” I said. “Let’s go.” We continued along the roadside.

Jamal and Tad were up visiting me from Seattle. Tad and I had been buddies when I lived there. We’d known each other since school days. Sometime near the end of high school, Tad had come out to me, like I hadn’t guessed! With his example to follow, I’d come out to myself — a good obedient black girl from a fine Christian family, engaged to a minister in training — and fled into the arms of outcast women like myself with no plan of ever looking back. Tad and I had stayed fast friends, but we’d stopped the outrageous flirting with each other that we used to do. No need, right? Now that we’d each shown our true colours and didn’t need the other as a shield any more. Except, when Tad contacted me a few weeks ago, we’d fallen right back into the sexual innuendo, the teasing. It felt familiar. Tad was my home. I’d invited him and Jamal to visit me and Sula, and I was thrilled when they accepted. The guys had landed at Vancouver airport a scant two hours ago. I’d whisked them off immediately to show them Wreck Beach.

We were at Trail Number Six, the path that led to the beach. “Nearly there,” I told them. I took the first few steps down. Tad and Jamal followed me, then stopped to look around. We were in a forest, dark, damp and cool. Lean old maples stretched forever to reach the sky. The footpath angled sharply down in steps hewn out of the earth and shored up with planks. A deep ravine dipped down beside the footpath. It was overgrown with saplings, tangled blackberries and undergrowth. Here and there, a few giant rotted tree trunks jutted up out of it, looking like a giants’ caber toss.

“This leads to a beach?” said Jamal.

“Yup,” I replied. “It’s about twenty minutes straight down; ten if you’re fit.”

“Lawd ’a mercy,” muttered Tad. “The child still has a taste for hard labour.”

I smirked at him. “Ready to hike?” I said to them.

Shot through with bars of precious sunlight from above, a yellowed maple leaf drifted slowly down into the ravine. The leaf was the size of a turkey platter.

Jamal looked at me, a gleam in his eye. “Ten minutes?”

“For me, anyway,” I said. The gauntlet had been laid down. Would he pick it up?

“Betcha I can do it in seven.”

“You’re on!” I burst past him. He yelled and ran to catch up. I knew this path well; could do it in the dark. I had, one night, with my girlfriend Sula. And when we’d made it to the beach; well, mosquitoes bit me that night in places no mosquito had any right being.

I grabbed a sapling for purchase, slid around that little dogleg you get to about a third of the way down. I shouted for the joy of it.

“Please be careful, both of you!” yelled Tad.

I stopped, looked up at Tad a few yards above me. He was skating and slipping on the pebbles. He skidded to one knee, grimaced as he skinned it. He’d stopped about an inch from the edge. Jamal looked down. It was a steep drop over the side.

“He’s right,” I said. “I’ll race you, but let’s not do anything stupid, OK?”

Jamal measured me with his eyes. I let him look. My sawn-off jeans showed the bulges in my thighs, and my arms strained at the sleeves of my T-shirt. I was a fair match for him and we both knew it.

“All right,” he replied. “Nothing stupid. We take it easy. But I bet you I’ll be the one to make it down there without breaking a sweat.”

“In your dreams.” I turned and kept climbing down, Jamal neck and neck beside me.

“Tad, you OK up there?” called Jamal.

“You bitches better slow down!” he shouted back.

“Yeah?” I said to him. “You gonna come down here and make us?”

Tad chuckled. “I bet you’d like that.”

I could hear him puffing, his feet landing heavily on the steep stairs, but Tad didn’t ruffle easily. Like when he’d come and pulled me out of my parents’ house, where my dad had me under house arrest for the crime of being a bulldagger. Dad had reached for the baseball bat he kept behind the couch, but Tad had just grabbed it away from him and calmly told me to pack a bag, he’d wait for me. Been too long since Tad and I hung out.

“I can smell the sea,” Jamal said.

“Yeah,” I told him. “I love this part. The forest belongs to the land, but as you come further and further down, the sea starts to peek through. You smell it first, then you begin to see it. A few more steps, and … ah. There she is.”

We were at the landing, just a few yards above the beach. The sand stretched out on either side, with the water just beyond it, its gentle waves licking at the beach. The sea smelled like sex. Off in the distance, the Coast Mountains marched away from us, range upon range, disappearing into the mist.

Jamal stood tall, but he was breathing hard, and I could see the beads of sweat on his face. I bet they tasted like the sea. “Little winded, there, Jamal?” I teased him.

He sucked his teeth. “Don’t give me that, girl child. Look at you.”

He was right. I was puffing a bit myself, and my T-shirt was soaked. I pulled it over my head. I never wore a bra. Jamal literally jumped. I calmly tucked the end of the T-shirt into my belt. “What?” I asked him. “I told you it was a nude beach.” You weren’t supposed to get naked until you were actually on the beach, but I was feeling the devil rising in me. Wanted to see how Jamal and Tad would deal.

Tad had caught up with us. He burst out laughing when he saw me. “Susanna Paulette Avery, you’re still flat as an ironing board!”

“Don’t talk shit, Tad. This a thirty-eight inch chest. I work out hard to get this chest.”

“Chest, yes. But where are the titties, girl?”

“On your momma.”

Now Jamal was laughing too. He looked relieved. Probably cause he didn’t have to look at bouncing boobies on me. Even with my shirt off, lots of people still mistake me for a man. Nipples a little thicker than on most guys, is all.

I pointed to the Johnny-on-the-spot off to one side on the landing. “You guys want to use the facilities before we go down?”

“Nah,” said Jamal. “We can piss in the bushes if we have to … oh. Excuse me, Susanna. Unless you want to?” He gestured towards the toilet. Damn. Show a little bit of girl parts, and he goes all gentleman on me.

“No.” I moved past him and headed for the stairs. “And shut it with the ‘Susanna’ crap. Everybody calls me Shuck.”

“Except your daddy!” Tad sung out. Giggling, he brushed past me on the stairs and raced down to the beach. “He calls you …”

“Don’t start, Tad!” I ran, caught up with him, tackled him to the sand.

“Ow! Big meanie.” Laughing, Tad got me in a chokehold, pinned my back to the sand, one arm behind me. The buttons of his shirt were plucking at my nipples. They swelled. I got my legs around Tad’s body. Men have the upper body advantage; women have the lower. I twisted, flipping Tad like a turtle. I sat astride him. Jamal ran up and stood there, watching us both with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Now,” I said to Tad, “what does my dad call me? Tell me.” And I started tickling.

Tad wriggled helplessly under me. “Bitch! Stop it! No!” He giggled, tried to slap my hands away, but I kept moving them, kept digging my fingers into his tummy, his sides, the bit along the bottom of his belly.

“Here, let me help,” said Jamal. He knelt at Tad’s head, grabbed his arms. Laughing, Tad struggled, but Jamal held him fast. I kept tickling. Tad started to squeal.

“I think you men need to go to the other part of the beach,” said a firm woman’s voice.

I looked up. She was pointing to where the gay men usually hung out. She looked part Asian, part something I couldn’t identify. She was completely naked, all soft curves, about fifteen years older than me, with a relaxed, amused grin. Just the way I like ’em. I stood up off Tad. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Oh,” she said, hearing my voice. “Maybe not.” She’d pegged me for a woman.

“Where is it?” Jamal asked her.

She pointed, but I said, “I can show you.” I took Tad’s hand, pulled him up off the sand. The woman raised an eyebrow at me, but only said, “I’m sure you can,” and sauntered off.

I watched her departing behind: chubby and round, like two oranges. I bet that ass felt good in the hands. It was bouncy, too. “Gotta be jelly,” I muttered.

“Cause jam don’t shake like that!” Jamal finished. We laughed, punched each other’s shoulders.

I led the boys further out on to the beach, to a nice patch of sunlight. Sunlight, like black people, was a rare and precious occurrence in Vancouver. Tad and Jamal stared around them. Even in early fall, some people still came down to the water. There was a mound of sand, human height, with a sand sculpture of a naked woman carved into its side. Over to our right, someone had stuck bleached fallen logs into the sand, angling them together into the shape of a teepee. Over to our left an elderly Asian woman and man, nude, sat on towels with their chess game on the sand between them. Three ruddy children and their dog played with a bright green ball. The children’s laughter and shouting and the barking of the dog ascended into the cool autumn air and were thrown back from the forest behind us.

“Water? Pop? Smokes?” The vendor strolling the beach was male, stocky, white. He swung a bright red cooler from either hand. He wore sturdy rubber sandals, a money pouch around his waist, a sun visor on his head and a bow tie around his neck, all in the same red as the coolers. Nothing else. Tad’s face as he spied him was a picture.

“We don’t have anything like this in Seattle,” he murmured.

“Hey, Philip,” I called out.

The vendor smiled when he saw me, and came over. “Hey, Shuck,” he said. “Nice day, eh?”

“Beauty,” I agreed.

Tad quirked an eyebrow at me. “Beauty?”

I shrugged. “Been here three years. Starting to talk like the locals.” Philip snickered.

“You guys thirsty?” I asked them. They nodded. So I bought some pop from Philip.

“Smokes?” Philip asked again. “I got tobacco and, um, herbal.”

“Reefer?” asked Tad. “You selling reefer out in the open like this?”

Philip just grinned.

“Shuck,” said Tad, “we’re the only black people as far as the eye can see. You know that if some shit goes down with the cops, we’ll be the ones doing jail time, not him.”

“Just chill, man,” Philip told him. The borrowed black phrase sounded odd in a white Vancouverite’s mouth. But hell, probably no odder than me saying, “beauty”.

“This is Vancouver,” I told Tad. “And it’s Wreck Beach. If the cops start picking people up here for smoking weed, the jail’ll be overflowing in an hour.”

Tad shook his head. “S’all right anyway, man,” he told Philip. “Thank you.”

“You guys have a good day, then,” Philip replied. He nodded at me and continued down the beach.

I turned to hand a can of pop to Jamal, and my mouth went dry. He’d kicked off his sandals. As I watched, he stripped off his tank top and shorts and slipped out of the skimpy black jock he was wearing underneath. When he bent, the hollow that muscle made at the side of his butt cheek was deep enough that I could have laid my fist inside it. Graceful as a dancer, he flicked the jock off, tossed it on the pile of his clothing, rolled it all up into a cylinder, and stood. Tad gave his lover’s body an admiring gaze. Jamal took the can of pop I held out towards him; somehow managed to do so without looking directly at me.

For a while we all just stood, uncomfortably silent. Sucking on the drinks gave us something to do with our hands. I led them to a pile of flat rocks, comfortable as armchairs. We sat and looked at the people around us, looked out to sea, anywhere but at each other.

Not too many people out today; it was early fall, and a little bit chilly for the beach. Two more nudists were playing frisbee not too far from us; both appeared to be in their sixties. He was tanned with a fall of long white hair tied into a ponytail, and elaborate mustachios. Both forearms a rainbow of tattoos. He carried his firm pot belly on his sturdy thighs like a treasure chest. She had long, blonde hair, a beautiful and weathered face, a toughness and pride to her movements. She had knotted a burgundy lace shawl around her hips, not that it hid anything. It seemed to be just for pretty. And she was pretty. Her breasts bounced and jiggled as she leaped, laughing, for the frisbee. She caught it, went and took the man by the hand. Together they walked over to a group of three children frolicking by the rocks. They had a family picnic over there, spread out on towels.

“There are kids here,” said Tad.

“Yeah. Everybody comes.”

“Doesn’t it get a little … racy for them to be out here?”

“No. Anybody starts to make out in public, people will stop them.”

“Oh.” He looked a little disappointed.

“Of course, what happens in the bushes isn’t exactly public …”

Jamal snickered.

“… I’m sure there’s a lot that goes on that we don’t see.” Hell, I’d played my own reindeer games here. That night with Sula and the mosquitoes, for example. No one was allowed down here at night, but we’d managed.

Over to our right, a young woman sat fully clothed on the sand, her knapsack beside her. She had a sketchbook. She seemed to be drawing the mountains in the distance. The two surfer dudes we’d seen earlier were skimming wake boards in the shallowest part of the water, hopping on to them and riding parallel with the shore.

“There’s nobody in the water,” Jamal said.

“Nah, not much. It’s cold and there aren’t any waves. That’s not the attraction of this beach.”

“No?” Jamal replied, a teasing tone to his voice. “Then what is?”

Tad gasped and grabbed my arm. “What’s that?” he hissed. He pointed out into the water.

Jamal looked where Tad had pointed. “Shit. Is it a dog?”

I smiled. “Seal. Harbour seal.”

“For real? A live seal?”

“For real.”

The seal had surfaced not twenty feet off shore, only its head visible. Its fur was black and shiny, its eyes large and curious in its big, round head. It was staring at the surfer dudes.

“It’s just curious,” I said. “Don’t make eye contact with it …”

Too late. The seal had turned to look at us and had seen us staring. Shy and cautious, it disappeared back into the water.

“Fuck, that’s wonderful,” whispered Tad.

“Yeah,” Jamal replied. He leaned back against Tad’s chest with a happy sigh. He leaned over, patted my hand. “Shuck, thank you for letting us visit. Really.”

“No problem.” They were gorgeous, sitting in a love knot like that. I think that was the moment I decided to see if I could turn them both on to me, just for the afternoon.

“Hold this for me will you, baby?” Tad handed Jamal his empty pop can and whipped his shirt off. He’d gotten a belly since I saw him last, and his arms and thighs were heavier.

“Being in love suits you, sweetie,” I told him. “You look good.”

He looked embarrassed. “Fat, you mean.”

“No, I mean good. Like you’d be good to hold.”

Tad raised an eyebrow at me. Jamal chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I just wrap my arms and legs around him and ride all night.”

I gave them both a measuring stare. “Yeah, I can imagine.” Jamal stared me back down. Tad just looked uncomfortable. Shit. Had I pushed too far? Maybe this was a bad idea. Tad was my friend, had stood by me all these years. Didn’t want to ruin that over a fuck. Better ease up a little, figure myself out. I stood up and said, “OK. Let me take you to where the boys are.”

Never mind the cooler weather, gay Wreck Beach was hopping. A large man in a small, frilly apron circulated through the crowd, selling Martinis right off the tray he balanced on one hand. There was a volleyball game going on further down the beach, a serious game. I recognized those four guys; they came down here a lot, but I never saw them cruising. They really just enjoyed being naked in the sun. One of them jumped and spiked the ball hard, sending his opponent sprawling when he tried to stop it. A few people watching them applauded. Down by the water, some diehards were trying to swim. Better them than me. They had little triangular purple flags stuck in the sand near their towels. A nudists’ club, then. Three women and a dog lolled on the sand. They nodded and smiled at me. I nodded back. A man lay on a towel on his stomach, his perfect bottom upturned invitingly to the sun, and to the eye. A few guys just strolled the beach, alone, their eyes alert for opportunity. And there was plenty. The twinks were twinkling, the bears were bare, and the bushes were shaking. Before winter, certain of the man-handling men of Vancouver seemed determined to get in every last bit of naked cruising on the beach.

It was rockier here. Back at my and Sula’s apartment, my shrine had a collection of rocks I’d collected from Wreck Beach, all colours. All worn smooth by the water. We picked our way across the rocks and sand.

The three of us had drawn instant attention the second we crossed the invisible dividing line between the straight part of the beach and this one. No surprise; we had us some permanent tans. Up in the city, being black could get you followed by security guards when you went into stores. But down here, it was a different matter. Most of the guys scoped me for a girl and immediately switched their attention to Tad and Jamal; those greedy two were loving every instant of it.

A hairy man with a tall, thin body gave Tad a melting smile. “Hello,” he said as he walked by.

Tad dipped his chin in response. “’Ssup,” he growled, all serious and street, but when the man had passed, Tad grinned and gave himself a thumbs up.

Jamal was like to get whiplash, he was working so hard at seeing everything there was to see. “It’s hog heaven up in here! ”he hissed at us. He was getting his fair share of appreciation, too.

My shoulders were getting warm from the sun. It wasn’t too bright, but it could still burn. I fished the flat plastic bottle of sunscreen out of the back pocket of my shorts and smeared some all over my upper body. Better protect the nips. Then I flipped the bottle at Jamal. “Here,” I said. “Put some sunscreen on that pretty behind.”

He caught the bottle, looked at the label, sneered at me. “Girl, what you think I need this for? Got me more melanin than alla these motherfuckers out here!”

“All right, but don’t come crying to me when your hide gets hard and leathery like somebody’s old wallet.” I held out my hand for the bottle. Jamal cut his eyes at me, but he put the sunscreen on.

An older man came walking past us. He looked white, but he was tanned a deep brick red. His skin had settled into soft folds on his body, and he clanked when he moved. I spotted a pinkie-thick rod through each nipple, plugs and multiple rings through his ears, and a bunch more rings and rods through his dick. There were probably more I wasn’t seeing. Tad shuddered, but I thought he looked really interesting. Had to admire his dedication.

Then I got a better look at one of the men coming out of the water. Could it be? I wasn’t sure. He saw us, altered his trajectory so that his path would cross ours. Dragonfly tattooed on his left thigh. Yes, it was him!

As he passed by, he looked Jamal up and down, slowly. “Mm,” he said, “chocolate.” He walked on, gazing back at Jamal now and again. He flagged down the Martini seller.

“The fuck was that?” said Jamal.

I chuckled. “He didn’t recognize me.”

“Where you know him from?” Tad asked.

“Shuck,” said Jamal, “can we find somewhere to sit that’s a little bit private? All of a sudden, I’m not digging on these guys so much any more.”

Perfect. Just my chance. “They’re not all like that, you know,” I said. But I led them to the place I had in mind: a private little patch of sand surrounded by scrubby trees. Good, no one was using it just now.

“Where do you know him from?” asked Tad again.

I pointed to a large, flat-topped rock. “You can sit there,” I told them. “It’s almost like an armchair.”

“Susanna … I know you when you get like this,” Tad said. “What’s the story with that guy?”

I grinned. “You gonna take those clothes off? It’s warm down here.”

Jamal put his clothing down on the rock and went to undo the fly on Tad’s jeans. Tad made a show of slapping his hands away, then submitted. I sat on the boulder that was conveniently near the flat rock and watched. Triumphantly, Jamal yanked the zipper down.

“Wait, sweetie, wait,” Tad said. “Gotta take the shoes off first.” With a shy glance at me, he sat on the rock, put his balled-up shirt next to Jamal’s clothing, and started taking off his runners. To keep him company, I took off my sandals, put them on the boulder beside me. Tad got his shoes and socks off, snuck me a glance again, rocked his jeans off his hips, and pulled his legs out of them. He was wearing black cotton shorts underneath. So modest. He rolled the jeans up beside the other clothing.

“Stand up,” I said. “Let me see you.”

Slowly, he did. His thighs were thick, his calves full and muscled. “Well, look at you,” I told him.

Jamal was smiling at me thoughtfully. Was he egging me on?

“Lover,” he said to Tad, “turn all the way around for your friend. Let her look at you.”

He was egging me on.

“Two of you are shameless,” muttered Tad, but, to my surprise, he did what Jamal asked. I took my time admiring his butt, the fullness of his belly. He turned to face me, but I’d barely glanced at his package in his shorts when he sat down. “So,” he said, faking nonchalance, “you gonna tell me about that guy?”

“You wanna know what happened, you have to take the shorts off.”

He cocked his hand on his hip. “Is the story worth it?”

“Worth seeing you in the full, glorious flesh? It’s a high price, baby, but I think I can meet it.”

He made a face at me. But he looked pleased, too. This felt good. This felt like the way we used to tease each other. I just wanted to push it up a notch, that’s all.

Maybe Tad was thinking the same thing, because all of a sudden he pulled his shorts down, stepped out of them, grabbed them up off the sand, and sat down. He tossed the shorts on to the pile of clothing and turned back to me. “There,” he said. He crossed his hands in his lap, conveniently hiding his crotch. “So, tell me the story.”

Jamal sat on the warm sand beside Tad’s knee.

“All right,” I said. “You asked for it.”

I settled comfortably on my boulder, leaned forward. “Well, Sula and I have this game, right? Every so often, one of us dares the other one to do something outrageous. If you chicken out from doing whatever it is, you lose, and you have to be the other person’s sex toy for a night; do everything they say.”

“Oo,” said Jamal. “Kinky.” He stroked Tad’s calf.

I snickered. “You don’t know the half of it. One time I lost on purpose. Could barely stand the next day, after Sula got done with me.” The memory of that night was making my nipples crinkle up. All those girly pantyhose that Sula owned had made the most fiendish restraints. I didn’t know I could bend in some of those positions.

“You’re stalling, Shuck,” said Tad.

“No, just setting the story up. Cause, this one time, I took her up on her dare. There’s this gay bar called Pump Jack’s, a men’s bar. I’ll take you there on Friday. Sula said she wanted me to go in there and get one of the guys to let me jerk him off.”

“No!” from Tad.

“Yes. And I did it.”

“With that guy we just saw?”

“With that guy.”

“How?”

“I went to the bar in drag …”

“In a dress?” asked Tad.

Jamal chuckled. “No, silly. She went in guy drag.”

Though come to think of it, I pretty much look like I’m in drag when I wear a dress, too. “Yeah,” I said. “Little goatee, little bit of extra swagger in the walk. Wore my regular clothes. Walked right in. I mean, I go in there as a chick, so I thought the bouncer would recognize me. He got this look like he almost did, but then you could see he didn’t make the connection. I didn’t speak the whole time. Ordered a beer at the bar by pointing at the draught spigot. When I started drinking it, I knew I’d have to do something soon, before I needed to go and piss.”

Tad was shaking his head. “Susanna, you are something else.”

“Susanna left home. I’m Shuck.”

“What happened then?”

“I saw this guy looking at me. That guy, the one on the beach. I started staring him down, looking him up and down. If I did that to a woman, she’d probably run a mile. But this guy, he came and sat next to me. Said hi. I didn’t answer, just pointed with my chin over to the bathroom. Shit, I didn’t think it would work! Figured he’d see I was a woman, and I’d have to pass it all off as a joke.

“But that didn’t happen. He just gave me this rude, slow smile. Leaned over and whispered that he’d see me in there. And off he headed, to the john.

“My heart was fucking hammering in my chest, I tell you. But I put down my beer, followed him. He slipped into a stall, and I slipped in behind him. He reached for me, but I didn’t want him touching me too much. Women’s skin has this soft feeling, you know? Even mine. Didn’t want that to give me away. So I pushed his back against the stall door. I sat on the toilet, unzipped him …”

“Shit, that’s hot,” said Jamal. He was leaning forwards, his mouth a little open. His cock was firming up. I was getting a tingle in my shorts, too, telling this story.

“He was hard the second I got his dick out of his pants. I slid my hands up under his shirt, grazed his nipples, pulled on them a little.”

Tad swallowed.

“I ran my tongue around the head of his dick. He moaned, kinda low. I held on to his dick, gave it a good squeeze. It jumped in my hand.”

Tad got this odd look. He squeezed his knees together and said, “You know, you better stop talking like that, else you might see something you don’t wanna see.”

Oh, yes. Now we were getting somewhere. Jamal looked up at his lover, gave him an evil grin.

I stared right into Tad’s eyes. “What you covering up there, Tad?” I said. Jamal snickered, but I held Tad’s gaze like the headlights hold the deer’s. “Something I’m saying getting you horny? Something about the way I pinched that man’s nipples, and took his dick in my fist and slid up and down, squeezing whenever my fingers went past the head?”

Tad gulped. He cupped his hands tighter around himself, but he wasn’t fooling me; those hands were rubbing up and down, ever so slightly.

“You didn’t know I did guys, did you? Only sometimes, Thaddeus. Only when the man is as gay as I am, and there’s no hope in hell of pretending that the sex we’re having is straight sex.”

Jamal shot me a look. Was that admiration? I set my focus back on Tad. Jamal could match anything I could dish out, throw the challenge back in my face. We understood each other. Tad was the one I’d have to convince, if this was going to happen.

“Tad,” I said.

“Yeah.” His voice was raspy.

“You know what I did next?”

“No.”

“I had my fist around that dick, feeling the little surging swells as he got more turned on. I took the other hand away from his nipples …”

“Aw!” protested Jamal.

“Hush, you,” I told him. “I took my hand away from his nipples, slid it flat down his belly, towards his cock. Held the head in one hand, just pumping a little, back and forth …”

“Oh, God,” whispered Tad. He was openly stroking himself now, hiding the view from me with one hand, sliding the other up and down over his cock and balls.

“… held that head, and drew my nails, very lightly, up the underside of his cock.”

Tad’s mouth opened.

“He moaned again, louder this time. He leaned back against the door. He had his hands at the top of the cubicle, hanging on to either side. I could see the muscles straining in his arms.”

Tad made a little breathy noise.

“He got a drop of pre-come at the tip of his dick, just twinkling in the eye. I rubbed my thumb in it and used it to moisten the head of his dick.”

Jamal moved in closer to Tad, laid his head on Tad’s knee. Tad jumped, and Jamal stroked Tad’s inner thigh. “Shh, baby, it’s OK,” he said.

Tad’s eyes flicked from Jamal to me, a desperate, needy glance.

Jamal chuckled. He ran his tongue along the outside of Tad’s thigh, licked his lips, and said to me, “So, did you suck him off?”

“Jamal!” Tad sat up straight. His hands slipped a little, and I could see his cock: compact, dark like the rest of him, with a pretty pink tip. Nice. “Jesus Christ, Shuck. You’re my friend. We shouldn’t …”

Jamal pressed Tad back against the rock, stroked his tummy. “Don’t fret, Daddy. This is fun.” Bless the boy. He looked back at me. “So. Did you?”

I shook my head. “Suck him off? Not my thing. You know what I did instead?”

“What?” whispered Tad. Jamal gave him an encouraging smile.

“I spat on the place where my hand and his dick met, got it nice and wet. I started pumping his whole dick, slow.”

Jamal ducked under Tad’s leg, moved Tad’s hands away from his cock and balls, held them out away from his body. “Like this?” he said. He spat on Tad’s erect cock. Tad gasped. His hands made clutching motions. Jamal let them go. Tad held on to Jamal’s shoulders, threw his head back. “Like this?” Jamal asked again, and started sliding Tad’s cock between his fist. Fuck, they were lovely.

“Kinda like that,” I told Jamal. “Keep going.” I opened my own knees, thumbed my shorts open and yanked the zipper down. I could smell my own musk. I slid my hand between my belly and the spread-open zipper. No underwear; I mostly don’t bother with it. The crisp curls of my pubic hair were damp. Jamal dipped his mouth down to Tad’s cock, ran his tongue slowly around the head of it. Now both Tad and I were moaning. I splayed my legs wider. My fingers found the folds of my pussy lips. They were hot and slick. My clit was puffy in between them. It jumped at my touch, at the sight of Tad, eyes closed, mouth open, his hand around the back of Jamal’s neck. Tad was bucking his hips now, slowly, popping his cock in and out of Jamal’s mouth. Jamal, greedy Jamal, kept reaching for more.

“Jamal,” I said. I was hoarse. “Can you get to your knees?”

Jamal made a garbled sound of assent around Tad’s cock in his mouth. Tad reacted to the vibration with a slight shudder. Somehow Jamal managed to get into position, just like I’d asked. He spread his knees for traction, released Tad’s cock from his mouth, only to start licking and tonguing Tad’s balls. His perfect ass was displayed to my view, firm and dark as a cherry, two halves with the split between. Fuck. With my three middle fingers I started rubbing my pussy, fast and flat against my clit, fingers just dipping into my cunt with each push. I was creaming up inside my shorts.

There was sweat running down Tad’s chest and heavy belly. More of it beaded in his tight, short hair and the beautifully groomed goatee.

“God, you two are hot,” I muttered. Tad opened his eyes, saw me looking, squeezed them shut again. He slowed his incursions into Jamal’s mouth. I got a flash image of a black-furred head disappearing shyly beneath the water. Oh no you don’t, Tad. I wasn’t going to let this scene end here.

“So that guy in the bathroom?” I said to them.

“Mm?” mumbled Jamal, around a mouthful of Tad’s cock and balls.

“I’m working him up with one hand. I hold the other hand up to his mouth. I’m still not talking, but he gets the idea. He starts licking my hand. Gets it good and wet.”

“Shit,” whispered Tad. But the rhythm of his hips had sped up again.

“I took that hand, cupped his balls with it. But just for a second.” Remembering that forbidden night got me even wetter. I kept working my clit, slipped a couple of fingers on the other hand into my cunt, just at the entrance, beckoning against the front wall. Shit, shit, yeah. “Then,” I said, “I slipped my hand past his balls, back, until I touched his asshole. He jumped a little.”

So had Jamal. The motion pushed his ass out even further into relief. His little pink rosebud of an asshole winked at me. I could see the curling black hairs that ran from the small of his back down towards it, like an arrow. Here’s the honey. Here. Jamal had one hand on his own dick, stroking hard.

“I slipped one fingertip in …” I said.

Tad started to pant. His eyes were wide open now, fixed on Jamal’s busy mouth.

“His asshole squeezed tight around my finger, like a little kiss. Then it opened up for me.”

Jamal was making little groaning noises around Tad’s cock. I pushed off from my rock, dropped to my knees beside them. Knees would pay for that later. My clit under my strumming fingers felt like a marble in syrup. The fingers of my other hand stroked hard against the spongy ridge just inside my cunt. It pushed back. Soon. “I …” My body was shaking, my crotch jutting towards Jamal and Tad. My thigh muscles knotted. It felt good. “I pushed one finger inside him. Then two. He took them both.”

“Shuck,” muttered Tad, “it’s … I’m …” Jamal had his fist clamped tight around the base of Tad’s cock, his mouth working the head. His hand between his own legs was almost a blur. He was screwing his ass around in the air. He looked so nasty.

“I plunged those fingers in and out of him, feeling him clasp them with each push. His dick was hard as iron in my hands.”

The letting-down feeling started inside me, muscles starting to push down and forwards. It was like I needed to piss.

“He slammed his shoulders back against the door. His crotch was arched way out. He was calling out for Jesus. He started to come. It spurted …”

Tad made this low, deep growl. His body began to spasm. Jamal pulled his mouth away so we could watch the gouts of juice rhythmically pumping out of Tad’s cock. He stared, intent, at his lover’s crotch, then came himself, hard and roaring.

That put me over the edge. My hand was flying at my clit, my forearms like cables. My own body pushed my fingers out of me, and I let go, and I was flying. I howl and laugh when I come, and I squirt. Lots. When I was done, the front of my shorts was sopping, and Tad’s foot and Jamal’s knee were in a puddle of girl-juice-soaked sand. I collapsed on to my side, breathing hard. Was going to be hell getting the sand out of my dreads.

I heard a noise behind us. I pulled my hands out of my pants and rolled over. Two eager heads had just pushed through the bushes to see what all the commotion was about. “Oh, excuse us,” said the two men. They tromped away, giggling. I heard one of them say, “Was that a woman with them?”

Jamal started laughing — a low, slow roll. He put his head on T a d ’s knee and said to me, “Girl, you are some dirty bitch.” He reached out and high-fived me. Our hands made a wet noise as they slapped together.

Tad still looked a little sheepish, but his whole body was more relaxed now. He leaned back against the rock, stroked Jamal’s head. “Is this Canadian hospitality, Shuck?” he teased me.

I put my head against the warm sand, reached out a foot and slid it along first Tad’s leg, then Jamal’s. I was going to have quite the story to tell Sula tonight. I admired our skins, the three shades of brown against the pale sand. “Look at us,” I said.

“Three black sheep,” Jamal joked.

“Three black berries,” I replied.

Tad gave a happy sigh. “And such sweet juice.”