Five Into Three Does Not Go

Note to reader – This story has both transgendered and lesbian themes. It arose from an extraordinary story I once heard that quite illustrated the difference between smut and erotica. There are two groups of lovers, one group makes love, the other has wild sex.

Not for the faint hearted!

Note – The story is told from the perspective of five people – Jim and his wife Kim, Michael/Mikayla and his wife Kristina and lastly Carl. Paragraph headings indicate whose perspective it is.

*

Kristina

It is waspish in the late evening out in the open in Portsmouth Harbour as we step out of the vehicle and walk over to the private section of the docks, the sign says Ceres St docks. Dark has long since fallen but lights, white, yellow and orange light up the skies. The feeling is one of a weak attempt at gay cheer under a sombre shroud of a sky. Snow is expected tonight, there will be snow on new year's day but the temperature is still going to be in the forties and the town is excited.

"The lights have not done too much damage," I say to the driver.

He agrees, the thing was a stupid idea to begin with. "They usually just put up wreaths of pine all around the main square for Christmas and set up antique lamps. But they got this new fangled idea this year. I was hoping they would take them the day after Christmas but no, its' been a week already."

The main square of the town lay completely deserted save for a cleaning crew that worked at sweeping up the Christmas detritus in preparation for the parade they would be having tomorrow. The docks are similarly empty, the boats have long since been locked up for the height of the winter. The staff for the docks is down to one, a middle aged man past caring, drinking his cocoa, I think. There is no one to challenge us as we walk into the section for medium sized yachts but we are in such high spirits that there is nothing that is likely to turn us off.

Carl is at the captains' wheel and waves to us, takes easy strides over to the gangplank, vaulting his long legs over the mooring line easily. He strides up, shakes Jim by the hand, gives Kim a generous kiss on her cheek, gives me a hug and with a devilish smile, pecks Michael, my husband companionably high up on my cheek, near his ear. He is dressed very sharply in a dress pants and sparkling white shirt, a Rolex lay around his left wrist and his hair had been trimmed to a no nonsense buzz. His sideburns traced an anvil path down his cheeks, pared down and ferocious.

"Easy ride, I hope, Mikayla and all?"

He'd sent over a limousine to pick us up at Boston and we had completed the sixty mile ride in high spirits or gin and tonic haze, as you please. That had not prevented Michael from kisses all around to myself and Kim as we tag teamed on them. I had to hurriedly repair my lipstick when the driver announced we were a bare couple of miles away from our destination.

Michael, slipping into his Mikayla persona replied, "No trouble at all."

"And the flight, no trouble there as well, I hope."

*

Mikayla/Michael

The four of us, Jim, Kim, his Vietnamese wife, Kristina and myself had flown into Boston from St Paul. Dirty snow lined the streets, hobos dawdled and it was sure nice to sitting snug and warm in a limo speeding to a special rendezvous. We had made a slight detour into the Hyatt at the harbour. Carl had arranged for a suite for us when Kristina had done her little number on me, as Jim and Kim watched on.

I stripped in haste as Kristina threw the large suitcase with my party clothes open. In it lay a number of skirts, of leather and lame, each one smaller than the rest. A number of tops, some with spaghetti straps, some without, snug spandex and tight synthetic. Lace push up bras, garter belts, stiletto heels, three different wigs, two black, one curly and another long and loose, sheeny and a third one of dirty blonde. Cool satin jackets, decorated with appliqué, that Kristina likes so much and which she has turned me on to.

Off came the khakis, the Oxfords, the semi formal shirt and the innocuous tie, off came a civil engineer from of Duluth, Minnesota in about the time it takes to say "Cum on my face".

In the morning, before we had flown out, we had gone through the basics carefully, in loving detail. Kristina and I had taken a warm bubble bath together, splashing and rolling in the water together. There was a little game called 'Where's the pussy, where's the cock' that we enjoy playing. Say, Kristina hides, she twists the body this way and that with only her head above the soapy water. I am at the other end of the bath and I have to guess where her pussy is, with my first touch, I have to put my finger on it. If I win, I am rewarded with a few minutes of caresses. If I lose, I have to do the caressing. I like games where you don't know whether you want to win or lose.

After a long bath, I patted myself dry and Kristina applied the hair remover all over me. After waiting a couple of minutes, I showered again and emerged, baby smooth and tingling. Kristina then gave me the works, one scented oil after another, reaching carefully to apply lotions in hard to reach places.

As Kristina gets the foundation on and begins to apply the mascara and rouge, Jim and Kim, tiring of the foreplay have stripped off, she tight and slim in her black thong and B cup, Jim, classic clean cut features, sandy haired and thin lipped, six pack in full relief as Kim goes down on his All American cock.

I had refused to believe the story the first time I had heard it, such things do not happen in real life. At college in Minnesota, where he made reserve on the football team, he was famous for rejecting offers for lays, the sororities had blackballed him and the rumours circulated that he was queer. Far from it. This is how it had all happened. His father, an executive in a toothpaste firm had spent four years in Vietnam as part of the corporate office there and Jim had returned when he was fourteen, just past puberty.

Some of us get off to blonde, blue eyed snow princesses, some of us don't. We get off to slinky large eyed, jet haired, full lipped Vietnamese hoochgirls who can tell a hundred stories through their eyes, never a word needed. There were no Vietnamese at the small college town that Jim went to and his sexual experience was limited to six magazines of strip club girls and a camcorder video that he had begged a friend on an exchange trip to get him.

The moment he graduated, he took a job in a consultancy firm and in six months had transferred to Hanoi. He sought out the girl of three years ago in the camcorder video, shot in a higher end strip club, Kim, bought her jewellery and her father a car. He wanted to return home, he said. Would she come with him.

Would he marry her? she asked as she outfought him in bed. Utterly exhausted and delirious with delight, he agreed. The morning after, he saw no reason to change his decision.

Kristina brings out the black wig, she had married me for my deep black eyebrows, she told me once, five years ago, a few months into our marriage. I had escaped the jungles of LA to seek out a quieter life in the north, had got a job as a civil engineer for the town of Duluth, an year out of college. Kristina worked at the town library, full bodied, devilishly attractive blonde, deep, deep blue eyed essential Nordic looks.

"You know what I see in you," I had said. "What do you see in me?"

She combs out a few small tangles in the smooth black wig and expertly appraising it, satisfied, covers my hair tightly with a skull cap and carefully arranges the wig to her satisfaction. Kim has engorged Jim's member and is playing out her patented trick, kneading the nine inch cock with her throat muscles, her painted lips wrapped around the base of the cock. Jim moans, as she nibbles ever so lightly at his member, running her tongue in long slow strokes along its base, gagging, but resisting, drooling deliciously all around.

I know what Jim feels like, every time Kim has given me a blowjob, a hundred shafts of thrill have shot into me at once, my cock on fire, the nerves in the area pulsing, the blood coursing, synapses blowing as they overload. When the world ends, I want Kim to be by me, giving me a blowjob. And Carl fucking, ah but we will come to that.

*

Kim

Kristina is working on her husband, making him a beautiful woman. I tremble when I see them together, he is a dark haired, dark eyes, rich skinned Spanish woman. Kristina is a northern princess who seems to be too beautiful to be real. I like nothing like being with them, three very different women, each a lover of a very different kind, rising and falling. But they are doing their make-up now. So, I have sex with Jim who has been very excited since we got on the plane. I suck him with all my skill. I search my mind for all the lessons I have learnt. I do all I can to turn him crazy with pleasure. I am there. I decide I will keep my pussy for the other two.

*

Jim

I am getting a top notch, sparkling blowjob and I do not dare to move. What a way to run the clock out on 2004, I think to myself.

*

Mikayla

The wig done, she does my eyes, choosing a lighter eye-liner to offset my dark brown eyes, a sparkly reddish eye shade and brown contours. Eyelashes go on, Kristina adjusting them as only she can, I have passed by bitches who have muttered under their breath, those can't be real, with a hopeless note to their voices.

She tints them, with a touch of silver, just as Jim erupts into Kim, against all her inclination, Kim clings on to dear life, digging her nails into Jim's reddening ass, getting a geyser of cum two inches into her food pipe. As she draws out her reddened face off Jim's cock, the look on her face is half pain, two thirds triumph, she has got all the cum in her throat, not a drop on her face. She holds up a finger, gurgles, shoulder slacking, sputters, blows cum bubbles, for we are all in a high mood.

Kristina works on my lips, dark crimson, laying a line of white to make the lips seem luscious, lip gloss, shaping it perfectly. "All it takes is a little cosmetics," she says.

"That and a pair of testicles," I say to laughter.

I slip on a tight black leather skirt and a tighter mauve top that leaves my midriff bare. Impossibly tightening breast forms go in and I have to wiggle to catch my breath.

Jim gallantly stoops and rolls up sheer fishnet stockings, he has to slide up my skirt to snap the garters and takes his time getting out of there. Kristina hands me a pale white choker, slips on silver earrings, Kim gets started on my nails and I am ready to roll. And as ever, I hold my breath as they turn my chair to the mirror, I open my eyes slowly and gasp, "You are fucking hot today," says Jim. I am a fucking prom queen, a bitch for hire, a college slut who lays for kicks.

I smile as I realise that all I have to do is beckon and I can have my pick of men, a natural blush rises to my cheeks. Kristina kisses me full on the cheeks, is gently tugged away by Kim who inserts her tongue into my mouth and slips a last few drops of Jim's cup into my dry mouth. I giggle, tonight will be the night.

*

Kristina

Each year we plan a little new year's day getaway, preferring some out of the way spot and we had settled on a trip to Panama this year. However, a couple of things had popped up. Early in October, Michael and I had realised that we had been married five years. That is always a sobering thing and had given us pause for thought.

Neither of us are very sentimental and previous anniversaries have been occasions for no more than a dinner in a nice restaurant and phone calls from our parents. However, this being the fifth anniversary made us pause and think awhile. Take stock and ask a few question, you know, standard stuff. So we sat down to a long week off for both of us and exchanged opinions on TV shows, cities of the country, presidents and told stories of visits to the zoo when we were young.

We re-evaluated our marriage. It was a happy arrangement, we were comfortable, I would come home to dinner on Mondays and Wednesdays and she would come home to dinner on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On weekends we would dining when we were not visiting. Our sex life was fun but no great shakes, I would look at her and smile and she would get up from the couch or she would smile at me and I would smile back.

Occasionally I would go in hard, sometimes she would play coy, we knew each other's rhythms and seemed already settling into middle aged comfort. Till we realised with a shock that in early November of this year, we would have completed five years of marriage and what was palpable missing was sparkle. So we thought up stratagems, overcame natural inhibitions to games, played daddy and daughter, Hansel and Gretel and Phantom of the Opera.

One fantasy led to another, doors were opened, confessions made, we experimented. The plans for our getaway had been cancelled and here we were speeding north on new year's eve for a weekend on a little island off the coast.

*

Mikayla

On board, Carl leads us to the warm cabin room and graciously takes my sable coat off, hanging it easily on a hook inlaid with mother of pearl. Kristina, Kim and Jim take their coats off as well, Carl serves drinks all around. I have another Gin and Tonic, while Kristina and Kim have a glass of Red Wine apiece. Carl and Jim toss off a bourbon each and slosh themselves a chaser.

The yacht is a mid sizer, down the coast of the Americas variety, a Cheoy Lee Tom Fexas Motor Yacht ten years old, with a well stocked cabin, ideal for short trips. Carl is biggish shot in real estate, he's made his way up the world hustling horses, running a limo company, up to music records and now the security of real estate.

He comes up to me, his powerful chest looming over me, clean shaven in incredible close sideburns, his monstrous hands knotted sinew as he dwarfs the drink in his hand, six and a half feet of man mountain, "Mikayla, you look stupendous tonight."

I blush, grip my drink harder to keep my balance, I don't know what to say. He continues, "Could I pour you a refill?"

I cannot refuse, he brings the bottle of gin over and passes his hand over mine to hold the glass, I feel powerless in the firm grip of his warm flesh. As he pours, I look up at his face, his brilliant eyes in his dark face are gleaming, the blood rushes into my face again, I turn away.

When I look up again, he has not moved, he takes the drink from my hand, places it on the sideboard, lays a doorbuster of a left palm on my ass and draws me unto him. If I tried my uttermost, I could not have resisted, but I have no intention of. I yield, rushing up to his firm but yielding lips, my hands are around his neck, I am swept up, on my toes as he kisses me, powerfully, his tongue in my mouth, his lips exploring mine, enjoying the light cardamom feel of mine.

I tongue his mouth now, nibbling at his underlip, till we break contact with a soft plop. Jim has come up behind me and is running his hands up my breasts, nuzzling my neck, I am between two strong, powerful men and I am startled as I realise that despite it all, it is I who am in control! Jim nibbles my left ear and Carl goes down on my lips again for another prolonged kiss. I turn to Jim and we tongue kiss, Carl kneading my shoulders and guzzling at my pits.

Across the room, Kristina and Kim have twined their tongues and are destroying each others' lip gloss. They twist and slide as they reach for the purchase of the others lips, their brilliant nails sliding around baring bosoms. They go slow, their lips dart out, they touch for what from my exposed position seems an eternity, Kristina lifts a perfectly manicured finger and slides it slowly down Kim's cheek. Kim waits, plunges, kissing the other's cheeks, then lower and lower, her neck now, now lower, the collar, lower still, her cleavage, pulling away her straps, her flaming, hard, erect nipples, till she reaches her navel and devours it with a tigerish flick of the tongue.

Kristina moans in ecstasy, draws Kim closer, bends, her hands on Kim's thighs, runs her hands up into her flaring skirt. Kristina and Kim's love making has a unique rhythm to it. After a brief but intense prelude, they back off and become sapphic, they talk, they smile, they kiss, but slowly. Their love making then quickens but in slow stages, remaining gentle and soft for long periods before climaxing suddenly. Kim has told me that it is a piece of wisdom that is common where she lived, she described it as spraying the fires with some thyme, to make them spurt up briefly, so that they would burn steadily and richly later.

"We had better get going," says Carl, to get the tide. Jim and Carl slip on their coats and walk out to the wheel, in a minute the engines start up. I walk over to where Kim and Kristina are fused into a molten, heaving mass, Kristina under Kim's skirt invisible save for her thick hair, Kristina has her hands raised, her breasts protrude as she buckles under the bolts of pleasure that dart through her.

I huddle down by Kim, raise her skirt and peel off her lemon coloured thong and thwack her bubble ass a couple of times, to her giggles and Kristina's moans, I dive in, tonguing her asshole, drawing her ass cheeks apart, wedging my chin in, driving my tongue deeper. I give her ass a thorough rimming, Kim grunts in feral agitation, lavishing herself on Kristina's' pulsing vulva, as our moans reach a height, Jim looks in and gives us a huge wink.

For a new year retreat, we are heading to a lodge Carl owns on one of the smaller isles of shoals, the name of the island is peculiarly enough, Lunging. The island has four lodges, all of which, Carl informs us are currently empty, we will have the island to ourselves, "No old ladies to scare away."

"We can fill the air with our screams," Kristina sagely suggests.

The island is a short ride away, eight miles, the out rushing tide and the powerful motor means we will be there in a mere fifteen minutes. The waters out of Portsmouth harbour are not for the inexperienced and through the windows, I can see Carl at the wheel, calmly smoking a pipe but keeping a careful lookout nevertheless. A powerful headlight lights our progress, as we pass the mile mark, Carl and Jim give a wave to the river pilot's lookout, who flashes a yellow and then a green light.

Jim ducks in, "Well girls, we should be there in no time at all," he leans into the drawer of a large table and draws out a transparent white dildo, which he laughingly tosses to us, "Have fun, ladies. Put on a show."

He steps out and lights a cigarette, returning Carl's lighter to him. Jim loves Carl the way a dog loves a master, the way a football team reservist loves the starting linebacker who broke every record there was to be broken. They were college mates and in the circle of women who lusted after Carl and men who adored him, Jim was the foremost. Carl reciprocated, when his contacts steadily pushed him up the corporate world, he kept in touch with Jim and threw him a few bones.

Somewhere down the line, the patronage turned into genuine affection when Jim stood by him and helped him out when a few business deals soured and they are now the best of mates.

I caught the dildo smoothly and get their attention. Kristina whispers in Kim's ear and after another slithery kiss, they turn upon me. Up goes my skirt, down go my boy cut panties, Kim spits on my boy cunt and Kristina slides the dildo in.

*

Carl

"Quite a show that, is it not," I murmur appreciatively as Kristina slides the dildo I call little Joe into Michael, damn that, Mikayla's ass. Jim's wife Kim, stretches his, damn that, her ass and coos murmuringly. Mikayla utters the softest of moans, I feel my awakening member at that motherfucking sound.