An Ace Can Be High Or Low

(Note to readers: All characters are at least 18 years old. All of the sex is vanilla, even during the threesome. I wouldn't call the sex interracial, although some people might.)

***

There were six of us sitting at a big round table, shaded by the even bigger umbrella that bloomed from the center post. We were shooting the breeze, sometimes in attempts at jokes, sometimes towards Great Thoughts. Zach tried for the latter, in the pontifical voice tone he took on at such moments.

"The measure of the health and success of a society," he said, "is the percentage of the population able to pursue pleasure."

My glance instantly went towards the two women. We were all single, all friends, dating elsewhere if at all. This statement seemed likely to change our mood, from relaxation after rock-climbing, to suspicion of sexual interest. Yes, I know, we all knew, that sex is a small subset of pleasure. But I saw from everyone's expressions, not just the women's, that attention had sharpened while defenses had risen.

"Remind me again," said Vivian. "You have how many degrees in Sociology?"

As we chuckled, Zach gave her the smile of his dismounting from the high horse. "None. But can you refute what I said?"

I sipped my not-very-hard cider, but continued to look over the rim of the glass at my companions. Vivian blotted a drop of chin sweat with the towel around her neck, and said, "I don't think that's necessary. Pleasure-seeking is a second-order result of success, or health, or prosperity, or freedom. First-order is moving past survival to how much an individual has control of their life. You could submit your insight to the academic journal known as 'Well, Duh!'"

That got a louder group laugh, maybe as a tension release.

Zach nodded and said, "I'll consider that." He still smiled, but I had a hunch he wanted to be bailed out by a change of subject.

No such luck. Jeff said, "It's healthy, if pleasure-seeking is at all levels. In the past, privileged classes could indulge in decadence, if their wealth was unearned. Or if they got it from connections. The society could shrug off the dissipation of such people, because the real work was done by the underprivileged. These days, a tech maven has to keep using his or her skill until reaching super-richness, at which point his or her silly indulgences are no damage to his or her work, or the world."

"Thanks for the pronouns," said Gail, "but the silly indulgers in the news all seem to be male."

Norm put in, "We just spent time and effort on recreation that didn't serve a higher purpose. Climbing an artificial rock wall accomplished what, exactly? It raised our self-esteem. Maybe it taught us other approaches to climbing. For me, it strained a calf muscle."

The fact that I hadn't said anything spurred me to chime in: "But our recreation was harmless, to anyone else. Better than, say, drag racing downtown?"

Norm nodded, Gail said "True," and I relaxed. Now I could revert to my comfort zone, of lurking and watching.

There wasn't much more to watch. Soon, as drinks were finished, we fared each other well, settled up with the concessionaire, and departed the park. Everyone went to address other matters in our lives, seeming unaffected by the breeze that had been shot. But I suspected that the subject of pleasure pursuit had lodged in their minds.

It had lodged in mine.

***

I've read about asexuality, and aromanticism. I've gone beyond clicking on links, I've actually done research. 'Ace' might be where I am. But I don't like the idea. I want to want sex, and connection. Yet I feel most comfortable, and I guess engaged, when I hang back and watch, while other people interact. Maybe I'm letting them experience life, so I don't have to.

I don't think I profile as a voyeur. The idea of watching others have sex, while I'm present or hidden, doesn't excite me. Porn does, sometimes, a little. But not as much as watching ordinary interactions of real people in normal situations, and wondering if there are undercurrents there. And my excitement is mental, not physical.

I should be the narrator of a story about other people. Like Nick, in The Great Gatsby. But soon after the chat that touched on pleasure pursuit, Gail asked me to play an active role. With sex. I was flattered enough to say yes. While I wasn't turned on, I thought maybe I could fake it 'til I (or she) made it. And maybe I wouldn't have to do much at all, because of what Gail said she wanted.

Some of us from the chat happened to be hanging out at a bar a few nights later. I was watching Zach and Vivian from a distance, because of their involvement in the chat. They were in a few brief, one-on-one conversations, then mingled separately. As always, I was trying not to be creepy, so now and then I'd look away or take a sip. It was in one of those moments that I saw Norm and Gail approaching me.

"Mind if we barge in, Dev?" asked Gail, already taking a chair at the table where I'd been alone.

"Sure, I don't own the place," I said, though I may have jerked a bit as I sat up straight.

"Could be your lucky day," said Norm, also sitting.

Gail was an inch shorter than I, lean and wiry. Norm looked to be 6' 2", and big-boned. He and Gail might have matched up well, in the compatibility of gender body types that's generally unspoken but often assumed. By me. I wondered about them as a twosome.

She styled her sandy hair in a way that gave her head a triangular look, long enough on top for thick waves, shortening from there down, trimmed at the base of the skull. It was like, feminine allure above, transitioning to androgyny below. She may have simply found that cut to be convenient for her athletic pursuits.

Norm's black hair was short, maybe receiving no more effort than a cheap chain-store haircut, and washing in the shower. His bone structure carried through to a lantern jaw, but departing from the template were his large, 'soft,' brown eyes.

Gail gave me a piercing look. Most of her looks are like that. It's from the way her steely blue eyes are set in her hawk-sharp face. "I've been thinking about how I live," she said. "I tend to be lazy about that, because I have things pretty easy, day to day. Decent job, nice apartment, healthy relatives. But I've decided that I should work out what the rest of my life ought to be. And before I do that, I want to empty my bag of wild oats."

Norm chuckled. Gail sent a glance his way, with a smile, but then returned to me.

"Dev," she said, "I think you're pretty hot. If you have a reason for always keeping your distance, I'll respect it. But until I know if this is a problem, I'll just ask. Will you join Norm to give me a three-way?"

I think even a totally horny cis/het male would have responded as I did. I gawked at her, jaw plunged.

Norm was obviously waiting for that reaction. He laughed, and said, "Hey, no pressure."

I was excited, maybe because I had just learned of a connection between Gail and Norm. "Is this, um," I said with a struggle. "Are you two, um, already--"

"We've never even gone for coffee together," said Gail, with a smile from what I guessed was pride in her boldness. "I dropped the same anvil on Norm's head ten minutes ago." Her expression grew more serious. "I've known you two for a while. I haven't picked up any warning signs. You might be a little like me, going with the flow, not looking for serious involvement. I'm wondering if this fling is something we can do without drama, and everybody walking away happy."

"I've already said I'll take the chance," said Norm, I think trying to shove me on board.

I took a breath, then looked at Gail and the diamond drills of her eyes. "I'd be glad to join you. I have to say, though, that I've never, um, 'menaged' before."

I said that to lighten the mood. It worked. Gail gave a self-deprecating smile and said, "Oh, me neither. Like I said, emptying the wild oat bag."

Norm said mock-seriously, "We should all do research. Send each other helpful porn links."

In a stroke of genius, I said, "I'll take an STI test."

I think they weren't expecting me to contribute that strongly. Gail straightened up and said, "Right! We all should."

"Good thinking," said Norm.

I think that, in all of our minds, this brought the 'fling' much closer to reality.

In the next few minutes, we agreed that this would happen at Gail's place, where she lived alone. We worked out the date and time.

When I headed home that night, I realized that I'd forgotten all about spying on Vivian and Zach. I was distracted by the way that pleasure had, somehow, pursued me.

***

I refuse to believe that my detachment has anything to do with me being a South Asian, among mostly Euro-Americans. I'm third-generation, all of my grandparents immigrated here. My parents are extroverts, and happy together. I have three siblings, so if there's asexuality in my genome, it never affected my parents physically.

My grandparents still maintain the withdrawn, low-profile conditioning of brown folks who entered an America that basically knew nothing about them. I have it a lot easier, among city dwellers two generations farther on. The curiosity I encounter isn't hostile, and is partially informed. Sometimes, when I introduce myself as Dev Singh, I'm then asked, "Why don't you have a beard?" I'm a little tired of saying, "Every Sikh is a Singh, but not every Singh is a Sikh." But it's better than being asked why I don't go back where I came from. I'd have to answer, "Because Delaware was boring."

Yet in their own way, all four grandparents were rebels, flouting the conventions of India. Their marriages were 'arranged' only by themselves, and for love. They even crossed caste lines. They raised their children as secular Americans, which they still are today.

Nor does my ethnicity stop women from taking an interest in me. Gail called me pretty hot, and she's not alone. My looks aren't far from the Bollywood heartthrob ideal, and while I'm only 5' 8," I have a medium build that responds well to gym work and athletics (see: rock climbing). By my early twenties, I was dating a fair amount, and doing pretty well in sex. Only...the novelty wore off soon, and I took less initiative. More and more, women dated me, not vice versa. I just wasn't as motivated as they were. I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, so I withdrew to the background. For my sake as well as theirs.

And now, I was going to be in a threesome?

***

Gail didn't ask for us to gather in public. Norm and I went to her apartment after everyone had partaken of an evening meal, separately. I think I would have liked a more gradual build-up. And maybe a chance to ask Norm if he wanted to be involved with me, or how he'd react if I showed even less interest in him than I had in Gail.

Earlier, however, she texted this to both me and Norm:

//Bring along your preferred liquid courage. I'm going to need mine.//

I bought a four-pack of cider and took two bottles with me.

I arrived first, I think four minutes early. Gail smiled, and may have been even more nervous than I. She was dressed casually, in a loose tunic and slacks, but had applied mascara and lip gloss. She had done it well, her features were more alluring and less forceful.

Norm arrived before Gail and I could converse. He toted a bottle of vodka.

"For the win!" Gail declared to him at the sight of the bottle. "I may need some of that." She nonetheless took a drink of her white wine. I twisted a cap, and downed a mouthful of cider.

We tried to make conversation, but we already seemed to have the same amount of information on the latest COVID-19 variant, and we were too antsy. Gail stood and said, "Let me give you the nickel tour. Of exactly one room."

Once we all had entered the bedroom, Gail put arms around our backs, and pulled us close for a slow tongue-kiss each. Whether she didn't want to address what Norm and I would be to each other, or she continued to think of this as mainly about her (as when she had asked us to give her a three-way), she took initiative to make this MFM.

As we began, only shoes were removed. Gail took the middle of the bed, which told me to pick a side. I happened to be closest to her right. Norm eased to her left.

Gail seemed content to start kissing and fondling that way, so that's what we did. Hips and legs slid around, slowly but with firm contact.

I was making out with a flat-chested woman who made no attempt to undrape the upper bodies of her lovers or herself.

I got the hint, and fondled her at waist-level and below.

As I did, her breathing quickened and her tongue augmented her kissing.

My lip-lock with her held for a while, because Norm sat up and started unbuttoning his shirt. I returned Gail's tonguing. I didn't much like it, but I was curious about how it would affect her.

Her left hand reached over and clamped on my crotch.

I did like that.

I diverted both hands to my belt and zipper, keeping my head in kiss contact.

Norm shed all his clothes. Seeing how Gail and I were occupied, he started undoing her slacks.

She broke the kiss, looked at Norm, and said, "Yes yes." Then, as I shoved down my pants and briefs, Gail put one hand around my cock, and with her other, gathered up my balls.

She had leaned up to do this, so I put an arm around her back. I drew her to me, and resumed the kiss, surprising her with this much action. I kept her steady as Norm pulled away her slacks, which lifted her trunk.

Gail pumped me rapidly, but with a light touch, sliding the skin over the meat. A huge rush made me groan in her mouth and wonder where I'd picked up this Ace nonsense. She groaned back, and with a glance I saw that Norm had pulled aside the gusset of her yellow thong, and pressed his face on her cleft

My hand wanted to grab a tit.

I demanded that my hand restrain itself.

Fortunately Gail released me and shifted in Norm's direction. She told me, "Straddle my head."

Norm pulled the thong off her raised legs, then held her legs apart as he resumed licking her sandy-tufted vulva. This left her in a plain gray sleeveless tunic. Setting knees on either side of her head, I stretched up and leaned forward, to keep my anus away from her face. I couldn't tell if she cared. Her sucking of my shaft came with vibrations of her moans from Norm's licks.

As occupied as she was, pun intended, she did something else for my sake, or hers, or both. She sent her hands inside my shirt to trace and fondle my abs. I yanked the shirt off, and I think with everything else that was happening, she might have laughed and said "Yeah!"

I nearly laughed too. It was nice to know that all the crunches I did, motivated by my own vanity, actually added to another person's enjoyment.

Gail's fellating wavered as Norm's munching took her to orgasm. I had thickened and hardened, but now wasn't getting rushes. Maybe it was because of her ecstasy, and indeed her mouth moved away as she cried out, but I also wondered again about Ace-ness, and if this was a point where my body went Yeah, whatever.

No time to dwell on that, though. Panting, Gail said "Spit roast!" She clambered to hands and knees.

Some awkwardness followed, but in time Gail settled diagonally across a corner of the bed, face towards the standing Norm, and quim towards the standing me. The condom fit tight, and I easily moved deep into her wet warmth. That felt fine, and I pistoned smoothly, but my pleasure plateau wasn't very high, and gradually I felt myself softening.

This didn't seem to matter to the roastee, or the other roaster. Gail, maybe still hyped, soon squeezed my dick with hard flexures, and Norm whooped several times, face in a teeth-bared rictus.

When their muscles relaxed, I pulled out my drooper. I tried to be happy for them.

While Gail held up a towel and spat what the spit (roaster) gave her, I thought about a quick ditch of the condom, and a quick wipe, and a lie about how hard I'd cum. But an important part of the etiquette is showing the lady that the latex remained intact. So I just stood there.

When she looked my way, she nodded, then scowled. "Did you cum?"

"This happens sometimes," I began, but she wouldn't let me get any farther.

"Everybody's, gotta, get satisfied," she said, grinning at her short breath. "What's it gonna take?"

Norm barely got above a mumble. "I like tits."

Gail's head dropped. She sighed audibly. "Sure you do. You're a man." Then she glared at Norm. "And you got satisfied!" She spat at his gut.

I took some heat off Norm by saying, "You asked."

"I did. Thought you might catch on, though, that I'm hiding them away, because they're tiny, and limp, and look awful!" She sounded like she was fighting off a sniffle.

"How do they feel?" I asked, then quickly added, "To you?"

She looked at me. "They...get excited."

I looked at Norm. "We can try to do that." To Gail: "Could you tell us how?"

Putting her back in charge may have improved her mood. She looked more aroused.

I leaned close and looked into her eyes. "Maybe with the lights off?"

She laughed. "Okay, sure." She stood, walked past me, and turned off the wall switch. Just before the darkness, I observed and appreciated the sleek skin and subtle muscle tone of her legs, trunk, butt, and arms. Why would any lover reject her body because of small breasts?

Then Gail sat on the bed and pulled off her top.

"Lick and finger," she said. "Not too light, that'll just tickle. And, hey, you each get one. Two mouths, that'll be different."

It wasn't pitch dark. The movement of our shadowy shapes intrigued me, as Gail went flat on her back and Norm and I lay on our sides, parallel to her. I found the breast I'd been offered, small and soft, scented by her sweat. Just beyond it I could feel the ribs that led to her sternum. My breath caught as my fingers closed on this nexus of womanhood, its compactness seeming to need gentle treatment, even protection from excessive male desire.

She had blown me. I had fucked her. But now, I was truly aroused.

I licked the soft nipple. It began to stiffen. So did my package.

She exhaled with a slight voicing.

I heard a slurp from Norm's side.

Her head and shoulders jolted.

Her arm was jammed between our torsos. She tried to grab onto me, but her hand wasn't in a position for that.

Keeping my mouth and right hand smoothly in contact with her breast, I shifted my body to free her arm. She whipped it behind me, and her hand seized my skull, clutched my hair.

"Ahhhh-ah-ah!" she gasped, her spine squirming, my contact with her breast steady, the silhouette of Norm's head also still. What I felt graze my hip was her leg bending at the waist, as her lower body curled towards the upper.

"Ohgodohgodohgod!" she yelped, and continued to invoke a deity, in time to spasms at heartbeat rhythm. Her nails dug into my scalp. I erected almost to pain, tongue trembling on a breast I cherished.

Then, her head tilting back and her knee grazing my jaw, she howled loud and long. In a reflex, I stopped licking and fondling, but remained on her bosom.

Then her legs fell away, and flopped audibly on the bed. Her breathing slowed.

I croaked, "Gonna cum."

"Mouth again," said Gail, head rising.

I shifted to a knee-stand. She turned, guided my boner to her mouth, and suck-pumped me.

Every muscle in my trunk clenched. I spewed, and hollered, and continued.

I was spent, but still dribbling, when she spat my load onto her torso. Norm jerked himself, and aimed there. Thus, two male signatures splattered her bosom, where gender-irrelevant mouths and hands had given her a pleasure she hadn't even pursued.