Shelly's First Threesome

I'm Shelly. My roommate, Jeanie, has a face so beautiful that other people's faces visibly react when they see her for the first time. I'm not nearly as striking, but I'm not bad and I've got much larger breasts, so it works out pretty even between us when it comes to attracting men.

Saturday night we took a cab to The House of House. Once past the coat check, we pretended to survey the room while the room surveyed us. I was looking for sex more than romance and Jeanie was looking for romance more than sex. More specifically, Jeanie was looking for Eric, a guy we'd met on the House dance floor two weeks before. After a night of dirty dancing, he was stunned when Jeanie wouldn't give him her number. I guess guys who look like a macho version of Robert Pattinson and know how to dance don't get turned down much.

"Shelly and I come here a couple Saturday's a month," she told him. "Maybe we'll run into each other again and have another night like this one and I'll give you my number. Or at least take yours." Then she took his face in her hands and gave him one good, long kiss.

Naturally, we skipped the House last week (never appear too eager), but tonight we were back. Jeanie wore a tight, short, metallic silver cocktail dress and matching open toed kitten heel shoes with crisscross straps. The outfit was perfect for her, highlighting her second and third best features; long legs and a nice ass. I wore black yoga pants that fit like paint and a long sleeve, maroon crew neck top that fit my breast almost as tightly as the pants fit my butt. The wireless bra underneath didn't give me much support, but at 24 I'm still holding up well on my own and the clingy, synthetic material let my classic, natural 36Cs move just enough to make others wonder whether I had a bra on at all.

Jeanie put her hand on my bicep and said, "There he is." She had to speak right in my ear to be heard over the thundering music. "Don't look," she warned me, tightening her grip.

Jeanie has this thing about never acknowledging a guy until he has first properly acknowledged her. I didn't look, but it didn't matter: I saw him anyway. It was impossible not to, what with Eric getting up from his chair and waving his hands over his head to get our attention. He eventually made his way through the crowd to us. Once we had been properly greeted, Jeanie allowed him to escort us back to his table.

I've overheard other women complain that men treat Jeanie special just because she's beautiful, but they're wrong. Men treat Jeanie special because she never allows them to treat her otherwise. It's a lesson she's taught me well, and one I wish I'd learned a long time ago.

As we followed Eric, I noted he was looking mighty conservative. Two weeks ago it was ripped jeans, a CK tee and Jordans. Tonight it was a dress shirt, pleated slacks and Oxfords. There were two men at the table we were headed for; both dressed like Eric and neither one hard on the eyes. They stood as we approached – unusual behavior for the House. I wondered if they'd watched us ignore Eric and already learned their lesson. Once we were all seated we did introductions, to the extent that's possible inside a dance club running at full Saturday night throttle. Like Eric, his friends, Jason (Mason?) and Ronnie (Johnny?), were a few years older than Jeanie and I. I turned to her, but she was already in a tête-à-tête with Eric. I was on my own.

Some women can meet a guy and have a one-nighter on the basis of physical attraction alone. I know. I used to be one. But I've learned my lesson. Don't get me wrong: no one's ever accused me of being a prude. But I have learned to take the time to get a sense of a man before I let him inside me. And the House is not designed for conversation. If I was going to hook up with one of these guys, we needed to move the party to someplace more intimate. But not right away: a drink and a dance to start.

Jeanie and I led the men onto the floor after the first round. Did I mention? Eric is a great dancer. Jeanie and I know what we're doing and the three of us had sizzled the last time we were here. Tonight we sizzled again; joined together the way only shared rhythm can join, hands gracefully sliding across hips and chests and butts and biceps, legs straddling thighs, taking each other from behind, hands on our partner's hips, hard grinding against soft. Hot with a capital H.

As for Jason and Ronnie, the best that can be said about their dancing is that they shuffled with enough presence of mind not to make spectacles of themselves and they were an attentive audience.

The music at the House never stops, one groove segueing into the next. We danced hard for about half an hour. We could have lasted longer, but both Jeanie and I were eager to move the night along. So when she gave me the look, I nodded. She pulled Eric close and said something. He gave Jason and Ronnie the word. Jeanie and I headed for the coat check and the three men brought up the rear.

Outside, the relative quiet was a relief to my ears and we were finally able to talk. As we buttoned up against the crisp spring night, Jeanie suggested we stroll down the block to a place she and I like; a quiet, leather and oak lounge with dim lighting, roomy curved booth seating and no dance floor. The men quickly agreed. Jeanie took Eric's arm and they led the way.

I took Mason (not Jason) and Ronnie's arms and we followed. The two men were a bit stiff, which might or might not be a good sign. You dance like Jeanie and I do, you learn to be alert for boys with loose hands and ugly mouths. It's the quiet, respectful ones, men not boys, able to master the tension of keeping their hands to themselves and their mouths pretty, that I'm interested in. That was the best case scenario. On the other hand, they could be tense because they didn't care for my company or they had girlfriends or they were gay.

"So how do you two know Eric?" I asked, hoping to relax them with small talk on our short walk.

"We're consultants," Mason said. He had a smoky baritone; sexy as all get out.

Ronnie added, "Manic Impressive is one of our clients."

"Manic Impressive?"

They exchanged a look and Mason asked, "Shelly, how well do you know Eric?"

"Not at all," I told him. "I mean, Jeanie and he hit it off a couple weeks ago when the three of us were dancing at the House, but that's it. I don't even know his last name."

This fact relaxed them and I could feel the tension flow out of their arms. That was when I knew the only reason they were holding back was out of fear of offending a client.

"What exactly does Eric do?" I asked.

"He's Manic Impressive's VP marketing."

The way he said it, I could tell he expected me to recognize the name, which I didn't. "And Manic Impressive is...?"

"A company that makes video games. A big one."

"And you two?"

Mason said, "We track the games market; what's selling where, what the trends are."

This could get boring fast. I decided to change the subject. They spoke with accents I couldn't place, so I asked, "Are you based here?"

"Hardly," Ronnie said. "We're Canadians. We fly down from Vancouver twice a year to brief the Manic Impressive executive committee on what the market's done over the previous two quarters."

"That's what you were doing at the House?" I teased. "Briefing the executive committee?"

They chuckled politely. "Actually," Ronnie said, "Eric brought us down here after dinner with the executive committee at the CEO's place in the hills. Nice but stuffy. We fly home tomorrow and Eric said he knew good place to let loose."

That explained them being overdressed. I casually let go of their elbows and dropped my arms to my sides. Within a few steps Mason's hand brushed mine. I gave his a little bump, he returned the touch, I slipped my hand inside his and he held mine. I like holding hands with a man when we walk.

So it would be Mason. Good to know. Keeping two men interested without eventually offending one of them takes way too much concentration for a Saturday night.

Just as I relaxed, Ronnie slipped his hand inside my free one. I thought, "What the hell," took his hand, too, and got back in the game.

Our second round had just been ordered when Jeanie decided it would be a good time to visit the powder room. We were talking to each other in the mirror.

"Mason and Ronnie seem like good guys," Jeanie said.

And they did; laid back, funny, good listeners. I said, "Definitely sponge-worthy," and Jeanie smiled at the Seinfeld reference.

"Eric and I are going to get going after this round."

"Our place?"

Jeanie said, "His," and grinned at the mirror. I was touching up my eyes, so my brows were already raised.

"What do you want to do? We can drop you and whoever off at home if you want."

"Too early." I was still waiting for one of the men to yield to the other, but neither one was showing any signs of backing down.

I told Jeanie about Ronnie and Mase staying out by the airport and flying back to Vancouver tomorrow. "They have to take a cab to the airport at the end of the night. Our place is on the way. They can drop me."

She said, "So it's Mase, now, is it?"

I shrugged. I didn't have a clue, and I needed one.

On the ride home I was, of course, in the middle. The cab had been waiting when we stepped out of the bar and I hadn't done up my coat. At the start of the ride it was just their hands on my knees. But by the time we pulled up in front of my place, the hands had crept a few inches up my yogi pants and their fingertips were pressing ever so gently on my inner thighs. And my mouth was dry. I invited them up for a nightcap and we sent the cab on its way.

The nightcap was Perrier. We hadn't had but three rounds all night, so we were buzzed more on pheromones than we were on alcohol. And that's the way I like it. The men sat on the sofa, expecting me to sit between them, I suppose. But it was getting late and it was time for somebody to make a choice. I sat in the easy chair across the coffee table from them.

"You know," I said, "I'd enjoy spending the night with one of you, but I can't decide who."

Ronnie said, "I'd be honored, Shelly."

I wondered what the rule was for this situation. Was it like calling shotgun? First dibs win?

Mase said, "I'd be amazing."

I guess the shotgun rule didn't apply. Feeling frisky, I put my goblet down and joined them on the sofa. Draping my arms along the top of the back, I told them, "Best kisser wins."

Ronnie leaned in. He put a hand on the back of my neck, pulled me closer, tipped my head to the side and began working his way up my neck with soft, moist kisses. I raised my chin and let my desire build. A hand was back on my thigh and it wasn't Ronnie's. My heart was pounding.

Ronnie worked his tender way to my mouth and kissed me there as he had kissed my neck and cheeks and chin. I was the one who parted their lips first, just a breath's worth. The tip of his tongue traced the inner curve of my lips and I opened more. He slid his tongue inside my mouth and I sucked on him. The hand on my thigh caressed my tight pants.

Time passed. Finally I broke the kiss, my breathing shallow. Ronnie released me. We looked deep into each others eyes. "Thank you," I sighed.

"My pleasure," he said. "Thank you."

I turned to Mase. "Your turn."

"My best kiss?"

I could hardly speak, I was so aroused. "Please," I said, mouthing the word more than speaking it.

Mase didn't lean in, as Ronnie had. Instead, he shifted himself a little away from me, bent over, laid his head in my lap and began kissing my pussy through my clothes.

It hit like a train; animal wantonness far stronger than simple desire. In my mind I spoke to myself very clearly. "Is this what you want?" I asked. I realized I had been working towards this threesome for most of the night and the answer was an emphatic: "Ooooh, yes."

My eyes closed. I took Mase's head in my hands and pulled him up from my lap. He didn't resist. When I opened my eyes the men were half turned toward me, looming, eyes dark in the moody lighting, their breathing rapid, hungry.

"Move the coffee table," I whispered.

As they complied with my request, I stood. They put the table across the small living room and then came close. Hands reached out but I shook my head no. I pulled Mase's shirttails out of his trousers and unbuttoned his shirt. When I was done I left him to unbutton his cuffs and turned my attention to Ronnie. I opened his shirt when I was finished unbuttoning it. His pecs had good definition and large brown nipples. I rubbed the nubs erect with my palms and shook my head no when he moved to return my touch.

Both men were shirtless now. I peeled off my top. My breasts felt huge. The men were entranced. I turned my back to them. Someone undid my bra clasp. Someone slipped a strap over my shoulder. Someone slipped the other strap off the other shoulder. I dangled my arms. My bra fell to the floor. I covered my breasts, thinking of them as tits now, with my hands and turned back to my lovers.

"Sit," I told them.

I turned with them as they sat on the edge of the sofa, backs straight. I stood close, my breasts inches from their mouths, and played with my tits; stroking, squeezing, teasing, mostly keeping my areoles covered but giving the men an occasional glimpse. My desire was immense, but my will to make this encounter last as long as possible was even stronger.

"Would you like to suck my tits?" I asked.

Ronnie and Mase exchanged a look. They held the look as Mase said, "Soon."

I smiled. It seemed I wasn't the only tease in our threesome.

Ronnie put a hand on my hip. We made eye contact and held it as he slid his hand around to the top of my ass, down the curve of me and cupped the tender bottoms of my buttocks. Mase put his hand on my other hip, slid it around to the small of my back and started kissing my bare belly. Ronnie squeezed my ass hard, trying to dig his fingers between my cheeks. My yoga pants resisted. In its heat his hand lifted, pushing my center of balance forward. I let myself go, turning as I tumbled in a controlled fall. Mase gave my belly a kiss as I fell.

They were on my breasts in an instant. I had never had both tits sucked at the same time. The depth of the pleasure was limitless. I sank into the realm of the flesh and I was my breasts, meaty and primal, their world my world; soft, warm, slowly but constantly moving, caressing and being caressed by pressures of wondrous kinds. The three of us rolled in the sea of ourselves for a long, long time, my nipples nursing their sweet mouths. I'd never been so alive, so centered. In the morning my breasts would be sore, like a dancer's legs and for the same reason: daring to enter life's center.

After a timeless period we broke, exhausted, nearly satiated. If we had stopped right then, it would have still been by far the most erotic experience of my life. But we didn't stop.

Once I'd caught my breath I stood, slipped my yoga pants and socks off as gracefully as such things can be done, and walked, nude now, to the hallway to the bedrooms. I could feel their eyes like hands on my ass. At the hallway entrance I turned, showing them my pussy for the first time, crooked my finger and waited. The men got naked. When they were done, both paused, by instinct no doubt, preening, showing me the erect cocks they would use on me.

I smiled and nodded and said, "Yes." Then I turned and entered the hallway.

Moments later we were on my king size bed, the covers pulled back to the top sheet, the room lit by the 40-watt incandescent in the lamp on my dresser, me on my back. Mase and Ronnie were on their knees beside me, their cocks in my hands. Ronnie was leaning over, one hand on the mattress, so I could suck his. While I sucked him, stroking his shaft and caressing his balls, I was using the head of Mase's cock to abuse the nipple of the tit he was squeezing with both hands.

Eventually I took Ronnie out of my mouth long enough to tell Mace, "Lick me," and spread my legs so he knew where to lick.

He released my tit, stretched out between my legs, spread my labial lips and sucked my engorged clit into his mouth. I cried out and quickly went back to getting my mouth fucked. It was the only way I could continue without waking the neighbors with more screams of pleasure.

Like that, sucking one man's cock while another man ate my pussy, we made love; great love, the love of men aroused by a woman's arousal, the love of a women aroused by her power to arouse.

There came a time when I needed it all. The men read my signals and paused their loving ministrations. I rolled onto my stomach and rose up on my knees, turning to face the foot of the bed as I did so. I tipped my head in the direction of my nightstand.

"Bottom drawer," I told Ronnie, who was behind me now. "And the bottle of lube."

He retrieved the condoms and oil and placed them on the top of the nightstand. "Put one on," I told him, and went from my knees to all four. "You," I told Mace: "not until I'm done sucking your beautiful big cock."

I looked over my shoulder and watched Ronnie open the foil envelope with his teeth, toss the wrapper aside and roll the prophylactic down his thick shaft. When he was done I gave my hips a wiggle. He got the message and slapped my ass, hard. I groaned, told him, "More," and moved my knees further apart. He gave me an underhand slap between my legs, smacking my pussy. I groaned harder; a queen, a slut, a female in heat with nobody to answer to. I put my head down. All I could see was my big, beautiful tits. Ronnie hit my pussy again. I shifted my weight to one hand and grabbed tit with the other. Mace, kneeling in front of me took my hair in his fists and pulled my head up. Ronnie grabbed my hips and penetrated my wet, hungry cunt. Mace pressed his cock against my lips and I took him in my mouth.

The men fucked me, long and hard, in my cunt and my mouth. They were part of my body now and through me we were joined as a single creature and I could feel what my lovers were feeling.

Our orgasm was calling. I could feel it stirring, like a beast waking in all of us. Yet there was still more that I desired. I turned my head and Mase's cock slipped out of my mouth.

"Stop," I moaned. "Stop."

Though it couldn't have been easy for them, the men slowed the thrusts of their hips and eventually came to a rest. My mind produced an image of horses being walked after a race. Ronnie pulled out and we were still. More than a moment passed without motion or touch and I knew they were staring at my body. Then Mace, in his smoky voice, whispered, "You are a goddess, Shelly. You really are," and Ronnie sighed, "Amen."

I rose up on my knees and retrieved the bottle of lube and the remaining condom from the night table. I handed the condom to Mase and poured lube into my cupped palm. I reached behind me and lubricated my anus, my back arched, by big breasts hanging. The men were mesmerized by my wantonness. I slipped a finger inside my most intimate place, arched my back some more and watched them watch me finger fuck my own asshole.

My voice low and hoarse, I told them, "If you're ready to cum, I'm ready to go."

The men nodded.

I told Ronnie, "Lie on your back," and he stretched out beside me. I told him, "Spread your legs," and he did.

I lay on my back on top of him. His arms embraced me, a hand on each breast. I reached between my legs and found his cock. I took him in hand and stroked myself between my cheeks, slowly centering on my glory hole. When I was ready, I gently pushed myself down his shaft.

I'd only taken it in the ass a couple of times before and I hadn't really been ready either time. But this time, I was the one who craved it. When the head of Ronnie's cock breached my sphincter, my ass welcomed the penetration as I knew she would.