Camouflage

Fully threaded, Maria rocked back against Julian, and forward onto Marc – back and forth, deep-throat and deep-ass, oral and anal. And, she realized, she was doing all the work – if it could be thought of as work – actively fucking herself. She could feel the heat intensifying from both ends, like fuses lit, hissing and sparking along her spine, towards the centre. When they met, gathering like a fireball in the very centre of her being, she went off like an A-bomb, quivering and shaking and jolting – and dragging both of her partners over the precipice, embroiling their climaxes in her own. She gulped and swallowed Marc's offering, as she luxuriated in the warm, fluid feeling of Julian's injection. Maria went limp, held up only by the persistent integrity of the rods still piercing her at both ends.

"All that's left," stated Marc, rather matter-of-factly, "is a DP sandwich."

"And we just love DP sandwiches!" exclaimed Julian, "whenever we get the chance."

"Double penetration," Marc explained, at Maria's puzzled look. "One in your cunt..."

"How crude! Pussy, please!" Julian admonished.

"Okay. Pussy. One in your pussy, and one in your ass!" He smiled down at her as he watched her mouth slip off his still semi-erect cock. "And I get your ass!"

Maria wobbled again, and finally collapsed forward, pulling off Julian's prick to fall onto her side on the couch. Then she reached lazily, blindly if unerringly, for the two dripping, turgid members. When she'd gripped them both, feeling their substance in her hand, she began a lazy, heart-beat squeeze. To her surprise, she could feel the increasing firmness as they, each, once more, aspired to greatness.

As their cocks began to rise to the occasion, The Boys lifted and positioned Maria, pulling her reluctant hands free of their woodies. Lining themselves up, they entered her – Marc first, pushing, with little resistance, into her still relaxed, still lubricated rectum; then Julian, into her surprisingly grippy, surprisingly eager snatch. And once they were fully inserted, once she was fully seated, fully supported by their sturdy staffs, Maria threw her legs around Julian's hips, her arms around his neck. A delicious feeling of warm security overwhelmed her. Despite everything, she felt safe and loved – there, cuddled up in a fantastically erotic embrace.

Marc's hands were on her hips, covering the outside of her buttocks; Julian's went to the outside of her chest, brushing her breasts. While they strove to find a rhythm, jostling lazily, Marc planted kisses on her neck, while Julian gently kissed her lips, her nose, her forehead; until she turned aside and tucked her head into his shoulder, like a child seeking comfort.

Presently, their rhythm clicked, and a synchronicity engulfed them, morphing into a feeling of oneness, and, as the double fucking, double penetration progressed, Maria felt that she had never, at any time, been closer to two people – literally and figuratively –as she was at that moment. The stimulation, the sensation of serene arousal, gradually triggered, in Maria, as she bounced lazily between her two partners, a soft, gentle, comforting orgasm – all rounded, not spiky.

Coming down off her climax, Maria could still feel their rigid scepters dueling within her – or dancing – delighting her senses. When they finally came, she could feel their ejaculations like warm caresses within her, sort of soothing in their unhurried delivery. Notwithstanding, Maria's energy finally gave out. The three of them collapsed onto the big sectional, and laid in silent afterglow for a period, Maria's thoughts in turbulence. She had lost track of how many orgasms she'd had – half a dozen, easily! More than she thought possible. "And God only knows how many loads of sperm I've taken!" Julian and Marc's thoughts were more straight forward – they were simply self-satisfied.

After a while, Julian broke the breathy quiet, addressing Maria. "You've probably already figured out that we're not really gay – right?" He nodded, getting a vague nod back, then went on, "Bi, maybe, sorta – but not even that, really." He looked over at Marc for confirmation, before continuing. Between them, they admitted it was really all an act. They were simply libertine, one might say 'omnisexual' – whatever, wherever, whenever, with whomever, however many participants, however many times. "My record," Julian proudly announced, with just an echo of his exuberant gay affectation, "is five full climaxes in one hour. He's only done four."

"Okay, but I've beat you in orgasms in one session," snapped Marc in retort. "I've done eight; you've only had seven."

The gay persona, they explained, was used as camouflage. "You'd be amazed at how often it works!" The Boys proudly showed Maria a few risqué pics of other conquests. Although she was not sure exactly how to feel about that. The existence of others seemed to foster feelings of – not exactly jealousy – but some sort of possessiveness, perhaps.

Then they showed some of the photos and clips from earlier that evening; in which it was clearly evident that she was a willing, indeed eager, participant in all the lurid activities. If the shadowy spectre of blackmail – unspoken, unexpressed – lurked somewhere, 'way back in the gloaming, Maria ultimately chose to ignore it. In the final analysis, The Boys effectively – if tacitly – dared Maria to try to explain to her husband her cooperation in her own ravishment, her own complicity in the events of the evening. "Better to let sleeping dogs lie," they concluded.

It had been a long, incredibly long evening. Maria had no idea what the time was – but it had to be well into the wee hours, as The Boys helped get Sam back to their own RV and into their own bed – no mean feat. Still somewhat befuddled, Maria had to agree to "letting sleeping dog lie." "Besides," Marc pointed out, giving her a final passing grope between her legs, "You certainly got into it, eh?"

The next morning Sam was hungover. He apologized for getting so drunk, and they debated staying over one more day. Eventually, though, they began packing up to leave, as planned, and Sam complained, bitterly, about having effectively missed the party. "Sixty-four and I can't keep up anymore!" He snorted his disdain. "Anything interesting happen?"

"No. Just chatted and drank. Lot of laughing. Silly jokes." Maria felt only vague misgivings about fibbing – after all, what choice did she have? No, it was much better this way.

"Yeah," Sam shook his head, "Pretty funny for a harmless couple of gays." Maria just agreed mutely, betraying a fleeting touch of some sort of smile. Confused? Bewildered? Or was it satisfied?

Now, cruising the highway, Maria surfaced from her reverie with a broad smile. Watching the world flash by, she thought to herself, "Well, I've never done anything like that before," and after a while she had the surprising thought: "Perhaps I should have!" Contemplating that, she let the road noise fill her silence for a while. "From a strictly hedonistic perspective," she rationalized with herself, "it was perfect!" adding, "Whatever it was – casual, adulterous sex; participation in a threesome?" She smiled at her reflection in the window, as the minutes and miles swept past her.

"I..." Maria just caught herself. She had almost asked aloud the question that now glowed deep within her. "I wonder how I can contrive to have it happen again!"