Foursome?

Post-coitus, or should I say double coitus, Brett and Jamie and I were sitting out on their sunny little screened porch sipping jug chardonnay. The world seemed positively magical at the moment. Heaven should be so good.

After Jamie had finished in me I'd pulled my black panties back over my garter, freshened up my lipstick in the bathroom, adjusted my little black-lace A-cup and hand-combed my blonde wig. Then I'd joined the "boys" on the sunny porch where a chilled glass of white awaited. How considerate! What a sweet pair of guys!

Now I lounged across from them with my slender, stockinged legs crossed at the thighs, the red polish on my toes peeking through stockings' sheer black.

"Thanks for not kicking me out the minute you finished," I said.

"What do you mean?" Brett asked.

"Well I mean with most guys...as soon as they finish coming they're, like, done with you. You know?"

"You've been hanging out with the wrong crowd," Jamie said.

"That's because we're gay and not, what's the term? Bi-curious? We don't lose interest afterwards," Brett added with a smile.

"In fact, we're more interested than ever," Jamie's eyes dancing over my stockinged and pantied slender body. They both laughed.

"Thank you for not losing interest afterwards," Brett said.

I sipped some chardonnay and replied (this jug shit was awful; next time I'd have to bring a couple bottles of a half-decent white, or a cru Beaujolais perhaps), "No, but you guys both came. I didn't. It's different. If I'd come just now I'd be, like, five miles away by now."

Brett and Jamie both laughed again.

"Well we'll make sure that doesn't happen in the future."

"No touching his dick."

"Or sucking it."

More laughter. The wine was starting to kick in.

"You don't get hard when you're fucked?" Jamie asked. Or, rather, observed.

"No. Maybe when I was younger. Not that I was getting fucked in the ass when I was younger. But not now, no. Besides, that's male sexuality and I'm kind of more interested in playing the female at the moment. And females don't get hard-ons."

Jamie: "You'd be surprised!"

More laughter.

"More wine?" Brett asked, rising.

"Sure!"

As chardonnay gurgled into my glass from the jug Brett asked, "How long have you been dressing?"

"Is this our first time with a cross-dresser?" Jamie asked his partner.

"No. Well here? Yes. I think so."

"It's hard to keep track," Jamie said, holding his glass out for a refill. "Frankly, I'm not usually into cross-dressers. No offense," he said, with a wave of the hand.

We'd just met that day on Deanslist. But I knew this much about Brett and Jamie after emails gave way to a brief preparatory phone conversation. They were long-time partners who wintered here but summered in their native Michigan. Here being a comfortable, if somewhat-worn, little two-one in a well-manicured trailer park. Brett was a top and Jamie was versatile. Their long-time bottom, a fellow-traveler so to speak, had apparently dropped dead of a heart attack the previous year. Mourning period long since over, and tired of doing each other I presumed, they were now hot after a replacement. At least for the rest of the winter.

An hour or so earlier, sitting on this same porch and having a frosted glass of nerve medicine before retiring to the bedroom for anal sex, sex times two, Jamie had even brought over a framed picture of their former mate and showed it to me. I was a taken back a little. The guy was—had been—a chub. With a big pocked ass (he was standing naked in the pic, looking over a shoulder, with a swimming pool in the background). Was this their collective preference? Would they be disappointed in me, what with my slender build and relatively skinny ass? On the other hand I had sent ass pics (one with dildo inserted, one without). And they had complimented me on it. My ass, that is...

"About ten years," I replied, to the dressing question.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah. I got the urge after experimenting with a dildo. My wife's dildo actually."

"You're married?"

"Was."

"To a female?"

The question struck me as odd. But then again, these days...

"Yeah. This was sort of toward the end of things, however. She was dating a friend of mine by now—"

"Dating?"

"Yeah. Both literally—she was going out on dates with him, like to the movies and stuff. And figuratively I guess you could say—she was fucking him on a regular basis."

"Under your nose."

"Well...it was kind of an open secret. What choice did I have?"

"Divorce her?"

"She divorced me. Eventually."

"And married this guy?"

"Not Trey, no. They had a falling out, big surprise. She met somebody else. She doesn't even live around here anymore. Anyway, I'm alone in bed one night and I'm experimenting with our dildo, trying to do...the prostate massage thing. Milk myself. Something I'd read about on the internet, a technique..."

My new friends glanced at each other. Sort of a mutual double-take.

"But the next thing I knew it'd pushed all the way in and I experienced deep anal penetration for the first time. I didn't even think it was possible I so tight! Back then. I saw stars, man."

"I believe it."

"No really. Stars. And I got this instant urge, I mean instantaneously, to start dressing up in women's underwear. Something I hadn't done since [reference deleted]."

"So you had dressed up before."

"Yes but that had been a long, long time ago. So the very next day I stopped at the sex shop on the way home and bought a pair of those fuck-me pantyhose? The kind with the opening in the crotch?"

Brett and Jamie looked at each other again. Brett shrugged.

"Of course, now I live alone so I can dress any time I want. I have a whole closet full of stuff. Well, half a closet."

"You ever dress in public?" Brett asked.

"No."

Jamie: "Ever go to clubs?"

"Nope. Too shy. Besides...I'm too old for that."

"No you're not."

"You'd be a big hit, believe me. With those million-dollar legs?"

"They're girly," I admitted, blushing. "I'll give you that."

"They'd put you up on stage, honey."

"You'd get laid every night, that's for sure."

"My ex used to say that with my legs I should've been a—"

The landline rang. Jamie jumped up. "I'll get it!"

Brett watched me drain yet another glass of his chardonnay before he, too, rose. I took this as my cue. My wonderful visit with the "boys" was nearing its end. Now I would have to dash into the bedroom, remove my wig and go about pulling on my scattered street clothes. The lipstick and eye shadow I would leave on for the trip home, partly hidden by a baseball cap. Just as long as I didn't get stopped for speeding I'd be OK.

"Thanks for the wine," I said, handing Brett the glass.

"Oh, you're very welcome," he said, his circling free hand giving my pantied bottom a squeeze. He leaned in, gave me a tidy kiss—on the lips. I kissed him back—on the lips. I put my arms around him. We necked, briefly.

"Oh, baby," I said, as Brett broke the kiss off, let go of my ass and backed away a step.

"Don't let Jamie catch us," he said. "He gets jealous."

I laughed. Nervously. Though no longer touching, we still stood quite close. My heart was racing. My pantied cock was hard. The kiss had done it.

Getting fucked in the ass may not give me an erection but a passionate kiss sure did the trick.

"I hope this won't be a one time thing," Brett said.

"No. Absolutely." My eyes were wide. I was more nervous than when I'd arrived, sober. I was close to coming. Ejaculating in my panties involuntarily. Handlessly. I was afraid to speak. To move.

"When can you come back?" Brett asked. "During the week?"

"I work all week," I blurted. "Um...this time next Saturday? Or maybe Friday night after...?"

"A week's a long time," Brett said, his face so close to mine I could feel words' pulse.

I tittered. I tottered. "Can you guys...save it for me?"

Brett laughed. "Only if I keep the Viagra locked up from Jamie."

My momentary hysteria was way out of proportion to the joke. But I was glad for the relief. The release. I looked down, frantically. Did it show?

"That was Randy," Jamie declared, bursting into the fading sunlight. "He..."

The world stopped. But the room was spinning. For me. I had to get out of here!

"What's going on? Why is his—her—panties all wet in the front?"

Brett looked down. I looked down again, open-mouthed. They were black. How could he see it?

"Whatever...," Jamie said, coming over to me and, perhaps in an effort to upstage his partner, throwing an arm around my skinny waist. He kissed my cheek. I blinked. I kissed him back, guiltily.

It had been an odd threesome. Actually it had not be a threesome at all. Rather, a pair of twosomes under the same roof. First Brett and I had gone in the bedroom, while Jamie waited outside. Then, after Brett had finished with me, and while I was still in the same receiving position, Brett had left and Jamie had entered. I'd sucked Brett's cock some before rolling over onto my hands and knees, ass ready. But Jamie had walked right in with a bobbing erection (owing to the Viagra, undoubtedly). And plunged his cock into my spermy hole.

"So Randy called...," Brett now said, stirring the air with his free hand.

"Oh. Yeah," Jamie replied. "He was just confirming his February dates."

Brett looked at me and said: "Randy's another old friend of ours. From Michigan. He's going to be staying with us a couple of weeks."

Jamie chimed in: "He's a vers too. But primarily a top. But watch out..."

"Yeah," Brett confirmed. And he made a letter C with his free hand about the diameter of a Coke can. "He's gi-normous."

"Really. We'll have to get the ass pump out," Jamie said to Brett, who looked at me, smiling.

"It's a ball about so large," he indicated, squeezing his hand, "You put it up a guy's ass to open him up a little."

"A lot," Jamie clarified.

"Fisters use it."

"And Randy's cock is bigger than my fist," said Jamie, modeling his before my eyes.

"Anyway," said Brett. "That's something to look forward to next month, if you're into getting fucked by three guys."

"We'll have to get the pump out sooner than that, though," Jamie said to his partner.

"We still have a few weeks."

"I know, but..."

"He'll be OK. He's pretty roomy inside."

"Yeah but Randy is like your cock and my cock together in one. It's..."

They were talking as if I were no longer in the room. In the trailer. Which, moments later and speeding across the causeway at 85 mph in my eye shadow and lipstick, I wasn't.

In spite of my depleted state, when I got home I sent the "boys" an email thanking them for having me over and hoping I would see them again soon. I got an effusive reply back, from Brett.

"We can't wait to take turns fucking you again!" it said. "See you next Saturday if thats [sic] the soonest you can make it. Dont [sic] sweat the pump. Jamie was just joking (sort of). Randy's a helluva nice guy and would be gentle and make sure your [sic] comfortable. A threesome would be awesome however! But for now, hugs & kisses & see you nest [sic] week! xxoooxxx

PS - your [sic] a great kisser!

Reading this, or rather, re-reading it, I came again, limply, on my own shaved belly and balls, and on the towel covering the chair. I not only had a new pair of fuck-buddies, I'd made a new pair of friends. Real sweethearts. With a possible third on the way...

How lucky can a gurl get?