tagGroup SexA Cottage Caper Ch. 02

A Cottage Caper Ch. 02


Mike joins Angela in seducing Tony.

If you are offended by anal sex, or sex between men in a loving MMF threesome – then read no further, this story is probably not for you.

Thanks to MagicaPractica, my fabulous Literotica editor for her help with this chapter.


The seed was planted.

Fast forward to my first weekend with Mike and Angela.

Mike is a longtime friend of mine. I've known him since high school, but we were never close back then. However, over the past couple of winters, we just happened to play together on the same curling team. With the inevitable social time in the curling lounge after our weekly game, we got to know each other better, and our friendship blossomed. We discovered that we had many things in common. And our wives also knew each other: both from church, especially the quilting guild; and of course, they become casual friends through sitting together at our children's baseball and soccer games over the years. In fact, our two youngest children had gone away together to the same program at university last fall. The two boys were even making plans to share an off-campus apartment together next semester.

One Saturday afternoon last summer my wife, Lisa, and I ran into Mike and Angela while out birdwatching. During the subsequent walk through the woods together, Mike invited us up to their cottage for the upcoming weekend. Both Mike and I are keen bass fishermen. I knew that their lake was stocked with both large- and smallmouth bass, so I was more than keen to accept. But Lisa declined, she had already made plans to go and visit her mother.

"Tony, you go fishing with Mike," she said. "You know that I don't enjoy fishing, I'd be quite happy to visit Mom alone. I really ought to go, because I haven't seen her for a while. But I think that a weekend at Mike and Angela's cottage would do you good."

Lisa had no way of knowing how much good would come of it. And certainly, not in any way that Lisa might have suspected, or would have predicted.

The stage was set but, thus far, I only had half the script.

That Saturday afternoon, while Mike and I went out fishing, Angela stayed around the cottage. She planned to go for a walk with her binoculars and sketch pad, and then perhaps do a little sunbathing before preparing the evening meal.

While Mike and I were loading up the boat, Sam, their cat, came down the dock rubbing up against us while purring and meowing. He obviously wanted one of the minnows we had in the bait bucket. Mike scooped him up and put him in the boat. Apparently, Mike often took Sam with him for company whenever he went out fishing alone.

During lulls in the fishing action, Mike and I chatted about a good number of things: from kids to politics. Inevitably, at one point we talked about our previous curling season.

"Say, Tony, we had an absolutely awesome team on Tuesdays," Mike enthused.

"Absolutely." I agreed.

And we were awesome, not because of any athletic prowess, indeed we only won slightly more than half our games, but because we got along so well with each other, and had so much freakin' fun.

The Tuesday League at our club is mixed curling, meaning that each four-person team is made up of two men and two women: often two married couples. My previous Tuesday evening team had disbanded a couple of years before. Back then, Lisa and I played on a team with Karen and Bob who were almost a generation older than us. Then Karen and Bob had bought a condo in Florida to spend their winters down south and retired from the curling club.

When our team disbanded, Lisa took the opportunity to join the quilting guild instead, which also meets on Tuesday evenings. Angela who curled with Mike on another Tuesday evening team, also joined the quilting guild that year.

Mike and I got together to form a brand-new Tuesday evening curling team.

Kristin was the first to join us. She had been skip on a high school curling team I coached several years before. She had been away at college and had just returned home to take a position as a lab technician at the local hospital.

Karen and Bob's daughter, Sandy, had also returned home that summer. She's closer in age to Mike and me. After graduation, she went to work as a professional marine engineer. Over the years, she had several different postings in shipyards on the East Coast, mostly in New England and Massachusetts. But that summer she returned home to work on large freighters up and down the Great Lakes. Hence, she was aboard ship most of the spring, summer, and fall, but laid-off, effectively on sabbatical, all winter. She spent her winters reading and writing. Not only was Sandy very easy on the eyes, I mean, gorgeous to look at, she was vivacious with one of the quickest wits I had ever known, and was always the life of any party. She intrigued me, and we got along extremely well. She read very widely - everything from music to poetry and from philosophy to physics. We spent long hours chatting in the curling lounge and were often the last ones to leave the club on Tuesday evenings – or to be more precise, very early Wednesday mornings.

"Sandy sure has the hots for you, eh, Tony," Mike commented. "Have you ever thought of making out with her?"

"Um, no. Not really," I replied.

"Why ever not?" he asked with a broad grin.

"For one thing, Mike, she's a lesbian, I mean, exclusively into women only," I replied.

"No kidding!" Mike said. "How'd you figure that out?"

"Well," I replied, "do you remember the Christmas bonspiel and those vodka jelly shots?"

"Yeah. . ." replied Mike, a bit puzzled at the change of direction in our conversation.

"And do you remember how Sandy was the only one of us who could get all the jelly out of those dinky plastic cups in one slurp of the tongue," I asked.

"How could I forget," chuckled Mike, with a wide grin. "She has to have the longest, most pointed and talented tongue I've ever seen."

"Well," I continued, "later that evening when just the two of us were left at our table, I happened to comment on the dexterity of her tongue. You won't believe what she back with . . ." I said

"Well, what?"

"All the better to pleasure a pussy!"

"No shit," Mike laughed. "I can just hear her saying that! It's so like Sandy . . ."

"But she really meant it, Mike. After a comment like that, I quizzed her about being lesbian. She freely admitted that she was exclusively into women. She even went on to point out that's one of the reasons why she gets along so well on lake freighters with their typically all-male crew. She said that whenever they get to port she is just as sex-starved and looking for lady-love - and pussy - in all the local pubs and bars - as much as any of her shipmates."

Mike laughed out loud. "Oh, man! I can just picture that."

"But Tony, if she weren't such a devout lesbian, and if she made a move on you, tell me, Dude: would you take her up on it, eh?"

"Jeez, Mike!" I responded. That was getting kind of personal.

But he kept looking at me quizzically with eyebrows raised so I answered:

"I don't know, Mike, probably not. "

"Awe, come on, Tony," he persisted. "Don't tell me that an attractive lad like you hasn't had a bit on the side now and then, eh?"

"No, not at all, Mike, not since we married twenty years ago," I replied definitively.

"And why not," persisted Mike.

Holy cow, I thought to myself. Mike, like the good lawyer he was, sure wasn't shy about asking difficult questions.

"Well," I answered. "With the four boys and all the stuff they were into, you know - school, sports, clubs, cubs, scouts and, of course, my veterinary practice -there just wasn't the time." I replied.

"Nor the opportunity, I suppose," I added lamely.

"So then, does Ms. Lisa meet all your sexual desires?" queried Mike with a smile.

"Stone the crows, Mike," I almost exploded.

But he kept smiling at me as though expecting an answer.

"To be brutally honest, My Friend: no, she doesn't . . ." I had to admit.

"So, what ya gotta do, poor boy? What you gotta do, eh?" he asked in a sing-song way.

He was nothing, if not persistent.

"I jerk off, Mike. Just like every other guy on the planet," I said with exasperation, hoping that might be the end of it.

"So, how often?" he persisted.

I sighed, and answered honestly: "A few . . . well, perhaps several times a week."

"Atta-boy!" he murmured. I could just tell that he wasn't finished with his questions, so I continued before he could ask an even more difficult question:

"On those not-now-Honey nights, I'd lie awake waiting until Lisa was asleep. Then creep into the den, put on headphones, and pull up some porn on the computer."

"So, she doesn't watch porn with you, eh?" he teased.

"In truth," I responded, "I don't think she'd ever willingly watch any porn. She really gets down on me for looking at it as much as I do."

"So, tell me, what kind of porn do you enjoy, Tony?" Mike asked.

"Mike . . ."


"Nothing violent or forced, for sure," I responded. "Mostly gentle erotic stuff, especially if there's a good story line or spicy dialogue."

"Me too," admitted Mike. "Especially if Angela's watching it with me."

"She watches porn with you?" I asked, intrigued.

"I think she enjoys it even more than I do," he said, "especially lesbian stuff. She's the wild one in our bedroom. She's often the instigator of new things for us to try. And at times she has an almost insatiable sex-drive."

"That's awesome," I responded. "You know, Mike, I got into a ton of trouble a few weeks ago. It was one of those not-tonight nights. Thinking that Lisa was asleep I snuck into the den and was watching a group-sex video when she walked in on me. Because I had the earphones on, I wasn't even aware that she had come into the den - until she was almost on my shoulder. I yanked off the headphones and quickly covered up as best as I could, rather embarrassed at being caught."

Mike guffawed, and I went on:

"Don't tell me that you're into sex between MEN, Lisa demanded of me in a voice that was somewhere between intrigue - and disgust. Then she hurried back to bed before I could even explain that the video was, in fact, three straight men with a girl: who was thoroughly enjoying the attention from three lovers simultaneously, any contact between the men was fleeting and coincidental. I got the cold shoulder at breakfast the next morning, and she didn't speak to me much for almost two days after that. Although at times I'd catch her with a dreamy look in her eyes. I'm not quite sure what to make of it."

Mike looked pensive for a moment, then turned to get us each a beer out of the cooler, and I reeled in to change lures.

"Orange isn't doing anything," I said "perhaps try chartreuse, and a worm instead of the minnow."

"OK, I think I'll try red with a rattle." Mike responded.

The beer was cold and the sun was warm.

"Oh, man," I said "it doesn't get any better than this."

"Well not much better, agreed." Said Mike.

Then after a while I picked up the conversation where we left off earlier.

"So, Mike, what about you and Angela? I'm sure that you must have had a bit on the side now and then?"

"No, Tony. We've been true and devoted to each other ever since high school."

I remembered that they had been high school sweethearts.

"That is, until Susan came into our bed a few months ago," he added.

"Susan! Oh, my God, no way." It was my turn to be surprised.

Mike proceeded to tell me all about their recent threesome in some candid detail.

Just then the fish began to bite and our focus shifted back to fishing.

Over the afternoon both Mike and I caught and released several good-sized fish.

In the late afternoon, I lost a huge pike right beside the boat. As I brought the fish up, Mike reached for the landing net. In retrospect, that net was probably way too small for such a monster anyway. Mike lunged with the net, which only succeeded in spooking the fish. Jerking and splashing, it hit the side of the boat with its tail several times, threw the hook, and was gone with a noisy swish and swirl, accompanied by several loud expletives from Mike.

Up to that point, Sam had been curled up asleep on a tiny area of decking at the bow of the boat. The sudden violent commotion woke and startled him. He sprang up with fur fluffed and back arched. Then with the rocking of the boat, he lost his footing and tumbled into the lake with a loud yowl and splash.

Mike tried to fish him out with the landing net, but that only seemed to make things worse. The poor, terrified creature valiantly tried to claw his way up the impossibly steep and slippery gunwale, while desperately avoiding the landing net. So, Mike put the net down and simply dove in for Sam. He caught him by the scruff of the neck to avoid his flailing razor-sharp claws - and then handed sopping-wet Sam up to me in the boat.

Then Mike was stuck. He had sunk almost to his knees into the squidgy, sticky mud a few feet below the boat. With considerable difficulty, and after losing one shoe forever buried in the mud, Mike eventually managed to scramble back into the boat. But in doing so he managed to somewhat wrench his shoulder. I used my shirt to dry off poor Sam, while Mike started the boat's small motor, and took us back to the cottage.

Despite our misadventure, the fishing had been fabulous. But perhaps not as good as the meal that followed, nor the bottle of wine I'd taken up to with to go with it.

At the end of the meal, before we cleared the table, Angela stood up, went around behind Mike's chair and started to rub his 'injured' shoulder. After a while, Mike stood up and took her in his arms. A passionate soul-searching kiss soon followed. Mikes' hands reached up to caress Angela's breasts and her hard nipples poked out in arousal under the thin fabric of her tight tank-top.

"Easy on there, folks," I pleaded with smile and chagrin. "Remember that you have company – and a poor lonely weekend-bachelor at that."

I'll never forget the strange, almost smug look I got from Mike; nor the very brief wink, at least I thought it was a wink, from Angela!

Nothing further happened after that. We simply got up and did the dishes together.

The evening wound down with us playing board games together for a while, then each snuggled into low armchairs on their glassed-in porch reading in the soft light of the setting sun which by then was glinting low across the lake. And Sam was peacefully asleep in his basket on the window seat.

I was so engrossed in my book that I barely noticed Angela going into their bedroom. Nor did I particularly notice her return some fifteen or twenty minutes later.

She came around the back of my armchair - and started kneading MY shoulders.

I was immediately aware of two things. Firstly, her lovely womanly figure, which the lacy two-piece baby doll nightie did little to conceal. AND secondly, I couldn't help but notice a subtle, musky odor emanating from her. There was no mistaking the intoxicating smell of an aroused pussy recently probed by the same long fingers that were now kneading my shoulders.

The view of my book was suddenly masked by a cascade of Angela's mid-chest length auburn hair sweeping around my face as she leaned over the back of the armchair - and impulsively kissed me full on the lips.

Caught unaware, but totally on autopilot, I simply, and passionately, kissed her right back. With each flick of our tongues and mounting arousal, a most pleasurable budding tightness grew in my groin.

"Whoa! Whatever did I do to deserve that?" I asked, as we finally broke off.

As rational thought returned, embarrassment set in.

Sheepishly I looked over to Mike. I really didn't know what to expect. However, I certainly I didn't expect his broad, knowing smile - like a cat who'd just caught the canary. I'm sure that astonishment, and embarrassment, must have been written all over my face because Angela broke out giggling.

"Dude, have you never kissed a girl before, eh?" Mike taunted with a chortle.

"Well, I, I, I," I stammered.

"Not with my best friend's wife, AND him sitting right in front of me," I said.

Then it was Mike's turn to become a little tongue-tied, not quite knowing how best to broach the next step in this conversation.

"Well . . . well," he hesitated.

"Well, Tony, what do you think?

"What do you think of her, isn't she just about. . ." and Mike's voice trailed off.

I looked back at Angela who blushed a little.

"I, um," said Mike searching for just the right words.

Then, suddenly he cut right to the chase, and blurted out: "Well, wouldn't you like to do more than just kiss her, Dude?"

I was thunderstruck. I honestly hadn't seen it coming.

Yes, indeed. I really did find Angela incredibly attractive, and if she weren't happily married, and I were available, I'd have moved heaven and earth to be able to make out with her. And I said as much. Not really knowing, but hoping where this was going.

Then Angela, still standing behind my chair, ran a hand down under my shirt to pinch the nub of one of my nipples, causing it to harden in arousal.

My mind flashed back to the conversation with Mike while out fishing. What I had taken to be somewhat idle banter, I now saw in an entirely new light. Mike had obviously been fishing for more than just largemouth bass amongst the lily pads that afternoon. And I, if not the bait, had been his (and Angela's) quarry. He had been so masterful at angling his line of questions that I saw neither lure, hook, nor sinker.

Upon returning to the cottage, Mike had obviously given some sort of "go-ahead" to Angela that I was fair game: all set to be hooked up. Fish-on!

Angela continued to stroke my erect, hard nipple which by now was deliciously tingling under her gentle, but very persistent fingertip.

I must have been silent for longer than I realized.

"Well, what do you say?" Mike broke the silence and helped to clear my swirling, foggy thoughts.

"Eh Tony, you need to know," Mike began, "Angela and I have often talked about having a threesome, and agreed that we would welcome it if the person, place and time were right."

My mind was in turmoil. Here was this Aphrodite standing behind me, stroking my chest. Her subtle perfume that suggested nothing but wanton arousal. And what's more, as I looked over to him, there was Mike with that crazy, quirky smile on his face that I so admire: with an obvious, growing bulge in his crotch. A bulge, I might add, that he made no effort to hide. Indeed, quite the opposite. He was blatantly rubbing it in an easy, languid manner.

Another unexpected tongue dancing, mouth-probing kiss followed from Angela before I could even begin to collect my wits.

I was more than simply turned on – I was rapidly becoming hopelessly in lust with this sexy couple.

And I told them so.

BUT, wait, hold on! What were the terms of engagement?

I craved to have sex with Angela: who wouldn't? And I was sure that I would thoroughly enjoy watching Mike and Angela having sex together, making love. BUT, but, but what about the third combination? What of Mike with ME? What intercourse was expected between the two men in this threesome?

I told them that I was very excited by the thought of watching the two of them together. I love watching porn but had never had the opportunity to watch sexual intimacy in real life: which of course would be far more exciting.

And it goes without saying that I was immensely turned on by the thought of having sex with Angela.

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