A Few Good Men

As I was moaning and crushing the sides of Jack's head with my thighs, I looked in the general direction where I thought Tom might be. I couldn't really see exactly where he was, but I managed (between moans, groans, and exhortations) to say, "Sorry, Tom. I've made my choice and it's Jack. Maybe next time?"

I could tell by his footsteps as he walked to the door that I had guessed wrong about where he was. Anyway, I heard the door open, and then close, and finally the problem was solved. I could devote all my attention to Jack, and it was a good thing, because Jack was busy driving me to a mega climax!

I had no idea Tom had not left the room, but instead opened the door for Kevin! They were getting off watching Jack eat me out. My nipples were so erect they looked to be reaching for the stars. I was moaning up a storm. I said, "Oh, God," a few times and gave a few "Fuck!" expletives, and then I exploded. My entire body shook and vibrated and I grabbed Jack's head and held it still. The sensations were just too, too intense.

Jack moved his head up. The part of his face below his nose was covered in juices. His face was close and I could see his expression. It scared me. He had the same face my father had when he ... when he ... when he what? I couldn't remember; terror, unmitigated terror, forced all intelligent thought from my head!

Now Jack was smiling. He had moved up my body, ignoring the silent pleas of my breasts to be fondled, as he slid up from between my legs and effortlessly placed his hard cock at my entrance. No need to guide a man like Jack to my pussy. He could have found it by smell alone. Even though his face was a sloppy mess, as he lay there, about to penetrate me, unprotected by a condom, he nevertheless kissed me, forcing me to taste my own juices, mixed generously with Jack's saliva. Isn't that what my father had ... had ... Why is my mind blanking?

I thought about my high school AP History paper. We had to write about the invention of something. Only 16 at the time, I think my teacher was surprised I chose the condom as my subject. I remembered now: The condom was thousands of years old, originally made of tortoise shell, animal intestines, and linen. They were lousy at preventing pregnancy or disease, but they were better than nothing. The big breakthrough was is 1839, when the American inventor Charles Goodyear used vulcanized rubber to reinvent the condom.

I had to read my paper aloud to the class. The boys looked at the floor, while the girls nervously giggled, and the teacher, a man in his 40's, who was as ugly as sin, looked at me as my father had, that day when ... when... when ... and my mind is again blank!

I got an A on the paper, and three guys from my class asked me out. You have to love AP History, don't you? I thought Marilyn would get all the attention with her paper on the history of the bra. She supplemented her talk with pictures of the bras throughout the centuries, even if much of the time women wore corsets, and bras came after. It was the pictures, however, that sealed the deal. She had the girls in the class (yes, including me) model the bras, both in pictures and a few in person, in front of the class. I modeled the bra burning of the 1960's and what it was like to go without a bra. I stood before the class wearing a wife beater T shirt, and no bra. That caused quite a commotion! That helped me to garner attention from the boys, but really, it was my paper on condoms that truly got them interested.

I find it surprising how my mind wandered as I lay there, legs splayed, and about to commit adultery for the first time in my life. It was under the wire, true, being the last two weeks of my failed marriage. One could argue that doing the strip tease for both men, and letting Jack eat me out to an orgasm, was already adultery, and maybe it was? But sex, real sex, you know, fucking, yes fucking, there I said it to myself, that was incontrovertibly adultery!

I had tried to get into the sleaziness of the situation. Picking up two men in a hotel bar? Shamelessly flirting with the bartender? Getting drunk on a few Rum Martinez cocktails, and they were really, really good cocktails, too. A married woman, wearing her huge rock of her engagement ring, and the gold band of her wedding, wantonly about to have sex, and ...

Strike that last thought. I was no longer wantonly about to have sex. I was wantonly having sex! Jack thrust his magnificent manhood inside me. The way he did it felt so familiar, too. It felt just as it had when my father had ... had... had...my mind is blank again, but who cares? I'm moaning as Jack pumps in and out, his thrusts being hard, powerful, magnificent, so strongly male! God, I love men, grown men, who know how to fuck a woman! Jack obviously knows!

The fucking is so good! I love hearing the sloppy sounds of squishes as his thick cock barely fits inside my tight, heavily lubricated, pussy. I wonder if it feels good for him, too? Of course, it does; why else would he do it? Oh, for lots of reasons, for example conquest? The conquering of yet another tramp? His fingers are caressing my engagement and wedding rings as he fucks the bejesus out of me. Does he like that he's conquering another man's wife? "Ooph!" My goodness this guy is powerful! Brad would have cum by now.

Jack's hands are going to my neck. Oh My God, he's going to choke me! I've heard about that. My little sister told me one of her boyfriends did that to her. He did everything to her; too much. That's why she left him, taking his small gun collection with her. Why tempt the Devil? She did like, however, the choking, even if she was scared he was going to kill her.

Would Jack kill me? Maybe -- I can't breathe! He's still destroying my pussy. I'm really into this! Who would ever have thought fear could be such a turn-on, but this is driving me over the top. I need air! Can't Jack hear me? I need air! OMG I'm going to cum. Yes, yes, yes, it's coming, it's coming, and YES! Oh, yeah. My hands go to Jack's hands to pull them away from my neck, but now I have no strength left, between the orgasm and the suffocation, OMG, I think I'm dying ... this feeling is so familiar ... Jack's hands are big and calloused just like Dad's, and Jack's still fucking me... maybe he's into necrophilia ... goodbye.

"Jack, stop it, you idiot! Amy's gone. You've choked her to death!" Tom screamed.

Jack did not stop, however, since he knew I had simply passed out and had not died. He removed his hands from my neck, and my pussy was still wet, warm, tight, and welcoming. He kept fucking me, determined to get his nut! Apparently, the body reacts in such a situation, and as I rejoined the party, my eyes fluttering, I gradually realized I was still being fucked and dammit all, I came again! I felt Jack squirting inside me then getting off of me and then getting on me again?

No, this was different. I compelled my eyes to open! Who on Earth was fucking me now? I could feel a scream building. My eyes were fluttering, but I needed to open them, to focus! Tom's head was descending towards mine. He was going to kiss me! He was raping me and he thought I would kiss him back? Tom had left! How was this possible? Where is my lover of the moment Jack? Why is he not defending my besmirched honor?

Oh, shit. You did this to yourself, didn't you, Amy! You had to know, or at least suspect, that when both men entered your room, "for a drink," they were also destined to enter you! You invited them both in. It's both of them fucking you, you little slut, said my mother, in my head. Do you have any idea how horrible it is to hear your mother lecture you while you're having sex?

Well, it's a fait accompli. A fact on the ground. A fact on the bed, a fact inside me, actually, on the 14th floor of the Hotel Sofitel: I'm getting fucked by two men. Maybe that's what I wanted? Isn't that the sweetest revenge I could have on my philandering husband Brad? He has his French sluts and I now have my threesome.

Good thing Jack was first and drove me to three orgasms since Tom is unloading inside me, and he gave me none. He's getting off me. Wait, who's now climbing aboard? Is Jack ready for round two, already? I've had enough of Jack, thank you very much.

"Hi, sexy babe. Remember me? I'm Kevin, the bartender. May I join the party?"

"Let me up, please. Maybe later, Kevin, I'm played out for now, and OH! Omph! Oh, Jesus, how long is it? Holy Mary, Mother of God!"

There was no comparison. Kevin must moonlight his bartending gig by starring in porn movies, or something. He has a ripped body, and one hell of a long cock, and he smells of sweat. I've seen a fair number of cocks in my time, more than my share I'm afraid (the times before Brad), but none of them came remotely close to Kevin's freak of nature cock.

I'm so sloppy down there but Kevin doesn't seem to mind. Nothing fancy like Jack or cursory like Tom no, Kevin's style is classic fucking, just like Brad. Kevin reminds me of Brad, even if Brad's cock is half the length of Kevin's. I miss Brad. I want him.

Then it hit me. Three men were fucking me! Jack, Tom, and now Kevin. The three key players of the cast of A Few Good Men, plus me as Demi Moore but I'm prettier. Brad says so. Well, go figure! Who'd have thought? Let Brad match something like that!

As I imagined it, Kevin was really Kevin Bacon. I began to get truly into this, my third man of the evening. I was getting a little sore, but who cares -- Kevin Bacon is fucking me! The cast of the movie A Few Good Men is fucking me! Top that, Sheila Henderson!

Kevin unloaded, and I quickly sat up, my boobs bouncing a bit, before Jack or Tom decided it was time for seconds!

"Well, that was nice, boys, but it's over for the evening. Jack, if you like, you can share my bed tonight. As for you Tom, and you Kevin, please leave. I'll walk you both to the door," I said, even if I wasn't sure, after four orgasms, that my legs would cooperate if I tried to walk. I ended up staggering to the door.

"Thank you for the great time on the bed," Kevin said. He was dressed again, but I was still naked.

"I enjoyed it, too," I said, as I realized in fact I did enjoy it. "You make an excellent Rum Martinez, too.

"Am I your first bartender?" he asked.

"Second, if you count my brother," I said. Where was that coming from? It just slipped out.

Kevin stared at me, as I just had admitted to incest with my brother. I joined him, staring at my myself, wondering why I had just said that! It's true my brother worked for a time as a bartender, but he and I had never ... ever... had we? OMG, had we?

"You're an amazing woman, Amy," he said. "May I see you again?"

I held up my left hand, and waved my rings in his face.

"Well, I don't mind that you're married. Maybe your husband might, but not me. I love enjoying the pleasures of another man's wife. Where is hubby, right now?" Kevin asked.

"Paris, France."

"Are you staying another night at the hotel? Tomorrow I'm off, but I can come in and make you a Rum Martinez if you like," he said. "My treat."

"And then come up to my room, too? Tempting, Kevin, but I'm not staying a second night. Thanks for the offer, though," I replied.

"Goodnight, Kevin," I said, and he left with a big smile on his face. One down, one to go.

"Time to leave, Tom," I said.

Tom came over. "Kiss goodnight?" I noticed he didn't say kiss goodbye.

"That's how this started," I said.

"Honey, it started when you let Jack and me walk you to your room. Anyway, maybe I'll see you at breakfast. I hope so," Tom said, as he pulled my naked body up flush against himself, and kissed me tenderly, even lovingly, caressing my boobs as we kissed. My hands went up to his neck, and then he pulled me up to his full six feet, just as my brother had once done, and while holding me up he unzipped and slipped his hard cock inside me, yet again.

"Tom, you've already had your fun! You need to stop right ... God, this feels good," I confessed as Tom's cock slipped in and out, fucking me as his strong arms supported me. It felt so similar, so reminiscent of that time ...

I managed to extricate myself. I looked down at Tom's hard cock that had just been inside me. I took down his pants, got on my knees, and slipped that obscure object of desire into my wet and warm mouth. It took a good three or four minutes, but I got my reward, showed it to him on my tongue, and then swallowed his load.

I rose, shoved Tom out of the door, and used all the strength I could muster to close the door. I then leaned against the door. Good: both Kevin and Tom were gone. That left Jack, who was lying on my bed, with an erection resembling the Washington Monument, pointing at the off-white ceiling.

"Sorry Jack, I'm done for tonight. Maybe in the morning? But no choking, okay?" I said.

"Maybe a goodnight blowjob like you gave Tom? You deep throated him!"

"I had to. I had to get rid of him so I could give all of my attention to you," I said.

"I loved seeing his cock bulge in your adorable little neck, Amy. You are a wonderful woman."

"I'm a wonderful married woman, who wants to go to sleep now, and wake up to a morning fuck, and then French toast in the hotel dining room," I said.

"The Yale Club is around the corner, and if you like you can have a French toast breakfast there, especially if you forget to wear a bra again," Jack said.

"You went to Yale?" I asked.

"Yes, I did. Why do you ask?" Jack replied.

"My father went to Yale. He's a member of the Yale Club, too. He's around your age, as well."

"Maybe we seduced some of the same women?" Jack said, as he took my hand and again caressed my rings.

"Maybe you did. Dad liked girls from Smith. They could really fuck. Mom went to Smith. Her motto is Smith: One hundred years of women on top."

"Your father told you he loved to fuck Smith girls the most? He told you that?!"

"No, he told my brother. My brother told me," I said.

"Where did you go to college?" Jack asked.

"Smith," I said.

"Do you like to be on top?" he asked, chuckling just a bit.

"I just like to fuck, Jack. Top, bottom, tied up, upside down, blindfolded, outdoors, in elevators, doggy, I like it all. Except choking. I didn't like being choked," I replied.

"Your climax gave every indication of being spectacular," Jack said.

"It was. The fear of dying turned me on, too. It was wonderful, something to remember. I never want to do it again," I said.

"You know, I liked Smith girls too, when I was at Yale. It seems I still like them," he said, as he continued to fondle my rings, while playing with my boobs. He had the biggest smile I had yet to see on him.

"Did you play squash in college?"

"Yes, but not with anyone named Collinsworth," he said.

"My maiden name is Butterfield. Tom Butterfield is my Dad's name," I said.

"Tom Butterfield?? He was my college roommate! We shared our women, especially the Smith girls. The best one, I remember, was Joanie Edwards. She was amazing. Wow," he said, as he remembered the good times destroying one of the many Smith Sluts.

"She's my Mom. You've fucked my Mom??"

"Wow," Jack said, squeezing my hand, hard.

I had to heave, but I managed to tough it out.

"Wow. Mother and daughter. We shared your Mom, but Tom's daughter is mine," he said.

"Not really," I said, very quietly.

"You mean, you and Tom ...?"

"I only have a fragmentary memory of it, but there was this time, in the family cabin up in Vermont, when my mother went into town for supplies, and I was alone with my father and my brother, and I think I was still high from some drugs my boyfriend had given me, and ..."

"Both your brother and your dad?" Jack asked.

"I think so, yes," I said. "Kind of like you and Tom. You remind me of Dad."

"I remember your family cabin. Tom took me there once, and I remember getting it on with your Mom when ..." Jack said. He stopped in the middle when he saw the horror on my face.

"Brunch at the Yale Club, on the rooftop, tomorrow, for sure. Maybe your Dad will be there, too?"

"Maybe. He and Mom go to brunch there from time to time." I wanted to see my dear Mom's face when she saw me with Jack. I'd make it clear we'd been intimate.

"Ah, Joanie Edwards. What a piece of ass she was," he said. He added, reflectively, "And she probably still is one!"

I suppressed the urge to heave.

"Don't talk about my Mom like that. Especially when you've got your own piece of ass in a Sofitel bed, naked, right next to you, Jack," I said. "Hey, want to pretend you're my Dad, fucking his daughter, his very own daughter?"

Jack spread my legs, and once again just plunged right in. As he was pounding away, and I was loving it, he said, "You know, you fuck just like your mother. Just like her!"

It's the power of suggestion. I thought it, but didn't say it.

When it was over, and I had climaxed, and he had dumped another load of sperm inside me, I asked him why he thought I fucked like his memory of my Mom? His description was frighteningly accurate. You see, one time, again up at the cabin, I had entered the cabin after a walk, and on a hunch, I entered silently. My reward was getting to watch my brother fuck Mom. I had repressed that memory, too! I had to admit, our styles were similar.

No wonder I was doing this revenge threesome, or foursome, counting Kevin. It was in my blood.

The next day, brunch at the Yale Club Rooftop Dining, was memorable, as Mom and Dad saw me dining with Jack, and of course knew from how I draped myself all over him that I had slept with him, and knew I was still (albeit barely) married to Brad. More importantly Jack saw the woman he had never gotten over, even if I had done my best to help him to get over it, my Mom, the one and only Joanie Edwards Butterfield.

Mom always looked younger than she was. Even though I am her daughter and am 27, she looked as if she were a sexpot in her 30's. I could see Jack's lust for her in his eyes, even though I was right there. Maybe it's just men? Are all men horndogs?

The Yale Club rents room for just such occasions, but I wanted nothing to do with that. Besides, I was fucked out. Day one of my ten days had come and gone, and now I had cum and I too was gone, as soon as the lunch ended.

As I walked around the corner from the Yale Club, back to the Sofitel to check out of my room and retrieve my car from Valet Parking, Brad called, using What's App of course.

"Miss me, my love?" he asked.

"More than you could know," I truthfully replied. I guess I'll always love Brad, married or not. I stopped in at the local CVS. I bought yet another pregnancy test. I knew I had to tell Brad, sooner or later, that he was the father of a six-week embryo. I just couldn't bring myself to tell him now, while he was fucking every slut he could find in Paris.

Despite the Supremes, abortion is still legal in New York. It's not a problem at six weeks; I could just use pills. I had decided, though: I'm keeping the baby. I was glad to have had the choice. It makes it even easier to love the baby after it's born. I wonder if Brad likes to fuck pregnant ex-wives? I wonder if Jack likes to fuck pregnant divorcés? I wonder what will happen to me, to the baby? I guess I'll be a single mom once the divorce comes through.

Brad will certainly be surprised when he returns. Maybe he'll be as surprised as Mom and Dad were just now, when they saw me with Jack, my new lover? The single word 'surprise' hardly captures their reactions. I left Jack talking with my parents, and looking lecherously at Mom, as Dad was checking me out, his own daughter.

As for Brad, one can only hope.