Fun Times and Threesomes

byaussie_101©

"I don't know," I said, smirking at Brett and looking pointedly at his bulging jeans. "Are you safe to mingle in gentle company, Brett?"

To his credit, Brett was able to grin at himself. "I'll catch up in a minute," he assured us.

I couldn't help but share in his grin, even as Jamie practically dragged me out of the laundry and back into the house proper, where generations old and young carried on blissfully oblivious to the hard-core porno that had been playing out in the laundry.

"Fucking hell, Jamie!" I told her as we found a corner of the kitchen away from prying ears. "What are you up to? How could you keep this from me?" I added -- Mick Valentine be damned, that was actually the most important question of all.

"Mick and I wanted to keep this quiet," Jamie summarised.

"You guys are still together though, right?"

"Oh yes, very much so," Jamie quickly assured me. "We're more in love than ever. It's really highlighted our love for each other, trusting each other to see other people, bringing Brett in and the threesome we had with him—"

"Threesome!" I gurgled, almost choking on a new state of shock.

Jamie, ever-paranoid, looked around to make sure no one had overheard me. "We need to talk about this later," she hissed.

"No!" I cried. "I need it all now!"

"Later!" Jamie told me. "I've been writing it down, story-style. Remember how I used to write short stories back in the old days? I'll send you the details this afternoon. Just, please," she went on as Brett finally walked out to re-join us, free of tell-tale lumps in his pants, "can we not talk about this now? With our parents, and all of our children here and within earshot?"

"Fine," I groused. "You couple of dogs, you," I added, tormenting them mightily. "And you!" I added, turning on Brett. "You telling me you only had a crush on her, when you're actually—"

"Careful..." Jamie warned.

"Like that's the worst of it," Brett reckoned, in reply to my accusations. "I can't believe Jamie went and told you I have a crush on you! I told her about that in the strictest of confidence," he added -- and the wild spark of fire that was suddenly in his eye took my breath away.

"You shameless flirt, you," Jamie scolded Brett, unable to stop herself from cracking his upper arm with a playful punch. He cackled with evil glee, but it was short-lived -- there was a bang and a cry, which we recognised as a sign his little lady had done herself an injury, so Brett scurried away.

"I told you he was crushing on you," Jamie added, for my benefit, with a wicked grin of her own.

"You've told me nothing," I retorted, referring to the whole sordid scenario in general. "I want details, dammit!"

"You'll get details and more out of me later today," she promised. "I've actually been dying to share it with you, I'm glad I've got someone I can bounce all of this off. It's all really... complicated," she finished, significantly.

My morbid fascination with the scandalousness of it all finally gave way to sisterly concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's all good -- mostly," she said. "I... I just need to get you up to speed first."

"Okay," I declared. "I'll get my brood together and get going, so we can get out of your hair. You put that story together and send it to me as quick as you can!"

"I will," she promised.

"Oh, and Jamie? Thanks for the show," I added, leering enormously and unable to help it.

Jamie laughed at my shamelessness. "You pervert," she chastised. "Was it enough to make up for all the years of boring back-seat sex stories?"

"No -- he could at least have finished you off for me."

"Get the fuck outta here," Jamie scolded, laughing all the same.

"I'm going, I'm going. Write that story!"

"I will!"

*****

Jamie made good on her promise. Well, mostly: I waited all through the remainder of that day and sent some impatient messages to her, but all I got out of her was "I'm still writing, I'm typing as fast as I can."

"Type faster!" I groused in reply.

Her story eventually came through, at two o'clock the next morning. I slept through its arrival, but in the morning I quickly made sure the kids were parked in front of a particularly engrossing series on Netflix, and I sat down to immerse myself in Jamie's narrative.

*~*~*

CHAPTER THREE

*~*~*

It all started three months ago. On Tinder.

See, Mick and I had just celebrated our twenty year anniversary. I can't believe it's been twenty years since Mick and I first met -- how I had been patrolling with the Lifesaving Club, he had been trying to learn how to surf but his leg rope had snapped, and I had paddled out and rescued him... well, you know the story, Cal.

For our Anniversary Date Night we'd gone out to the local French restaurant, which of course was the place we went on our very first date. It was another lovely evening -- which in itself was somewhat disappointing. For both of us, it turned out.

"This is really just another night, isn't it?" Mick said, once we were into our second glasses of wine.

"I was just thinking that," I agreed. "We're kind of in a rut, aren't we?"

"We are. I'm sorry, babe," Mick told me, reaching across the table to hold my hand.

"No! Don't be sorry," I tried to assure him. "I'm sure this is what twenty years feels like if you're doing it right. We waited so long to have kids, then we went and had twins."

"And then they both had all their health issues," Mick added.

"It's been intense," I sighed. "And now things have finally settled down, the boys are ready for kindergarten next year, we're finally getting on top of their diet and sleeping regime -- we might just be exhausted, is all. Don't you think?"

"Well, there is that," Mick allowed. "But still -- I've just got this feeling like I'm letting you down, like I'm not doing enough to keep things above the ordinary."

"I feel exactly the same! Like I'm not doing enough for you," I assured him -- the absolute truth.

Mick took heart in that. "Well," he began. "How can we spice things up?"

I'm sure I grinned at him. "Spice things up, eh?"

"Don't tease me, shithead," he laughed. "Work with me! What can we do to lift our game, climb back out of this rut?"

"Well, I'm up for anything," I said. Which I probably hadn't properly thought about, it just came out.

Mick cocked an eyebrow. "Anything?"

I was instantly on guard. "What do you have in mind?"

"Okay, stay with me now," he began, as something of a warning. "Now look, Jamie: I love you."

"And I love you too," I returned, warily.

"I know you do," he smiled warmly. "I have utmost faith and trust in you, and I trust in the strength of our love. I believe, truly I do, that our love is strong enough that we -- you and I -- could safely see other people, and not jeopardise our relationship."

I was not expecting him to say that. "Really?" I frowned. "You... you want to sleep with other women?"

"Well kinda, yeah," he admitted, right out of the box. "But I mean, don't get me wrong -- I'm not gagging to just up and go shag some other lady. I love what we have and I would never give it up, not for anyone or anything. I love you, Jamie," he reminded me.

"Yes, you keep saying that," I dismissed, with a laugh at myself for how I said it. "Just: get back to justifying how you think it's a good idea for us both to sleep with other people, please?"

"You seem interested," he reckoned, optimistically.

"I am," I allowed, very much surprised to realise as much. "I'm not sure why. I've never considered it before -- not actively, at any rate. I just..." I struggled against the wine I'd imbibed, attempting to translate my concerns into words. "I don't know if I like the idea of you doing it with another woman. Or if I understand how you wouldn't mind if I got down and dirty with another guy?"

"Okay," Mick began, pausing to take a deep breath. "See: it's all about trust. I trust in you, and I trust in the utter strength of your love for me. I do. And similarly, I have that same trust in myself and in the sheer enormity of my love for you. You're my everything, Jamie," he assured me. "You're my Mrs Valentine. You know this."

I smiled at him. "I've always appreciated it," I nodded. "And returned it in kind."

"And I know it," he nodded. "So much so that, in thinking and thinking on it, I'm only becoming more and more sure that if you and I opened up our marriage to seeing other people -- good people, not just any people," he threw in, "that it would do no harm."

I nodded along with him, absorbing his logic and assimilating it into a new viewpoint on our love for each other. "It sounds crazy -- but it also sounds right," I said. "I really think you're right."

"Really?" he grinned, hugely.

"Really!" I grinned in return. "It wouldn't do us any harm at all -- in fact it could do a lot of good."

"For sure," Mick enthused. "I mean, the idea of you with another guy -- initially it prompts a jealousy response. But when I think more into it, visualise and fantasise about it, seeing you in my mind's eye with that beautiful look on your face as you hit orgasm after orgasm -- honestly, it's a turn on," he confessed. "I love it. I love you, and I love to see you happy, pleased and in pleasure. So the thought of that, the thought of you happy, it trumps my initial jealous response. It makes me happy."

I nodded along with him more and more. "It would be likewise for me," I realised. "Very much so. And knowing that afterwards you'd come back to me, you'd still love me and I'd still love you -- it would reinforce our love, wouldn't it? And we could tell each other all about it, describe it for each other, turn each other on in the telling of it..."

"It would definitely spice things up," he pointed out.

"And you might even get taught a few new moves, too," I added, teasingly.

He laughed at that. "I love you, babe."

"I know. Although..." I added. "I mean: how do we go about it? Do we just finish our dinner, hit the night scene and see who we can drag home tonight?"

Mick seemed taken aback. "That's maybe a bit sudden," he said, backpedalling somewhat.

"I absolutely agree," I assured him. "I've never been one for picking up at bars anyhow. Or being picked up."

"Yeah, you're much more the type to fall for the handsome lout you're rescuing from a minor surfing mishap," he reminded me.

"Is that how it happened?" I challenged. "Here I thought it was the handsome lout who fell for his dashing heroine."

"That's absolutely how it happened," he allowed, with a smile. "But enough about that. How can we actually get into this 'open marriage' deal?"

"Well," I began slowly, thinking as I spoke. "What if we found a half way point -- some way to ease into it, rather than just going our separate ways into separate beds?"

Mick nodded along -- then I saw the light bulb snap on over his head. "Ménage a trois!" he cried, loud enough to attract glances from neighbouring tables in the restaurant.

I just laughed at him as he apologised to our neighbours. "Really? A threesome?" I asked of him.

"For sure!" he urged, a little less loudly than before. "That's exactly the stepping stone we need in going from a closed marriage to an open marriage. We'd both still be there, together in the same room, still making love to each other -- there'll just be someone else in the room joining in with us!"

"You're not thinking a female, are you?" I said, distastefully. "You know I've no interest in shagging the womenfolk."

"Yeah, I know, I know," he assured me. "I'll never ask you to do anything you're not fully into, you know that."

"So another man, then?" I checked. "You, me and... some guy?"

"Well I'm not into the guys either," he began. "But that's okay, we can both make you our sole focus."

"Like a pig on a spit?" I suggested, grinning at the idea -- and I have to admit, I was already moistening up at the idea too...

"Very much so!" Mick crowed. "Are you in, Jamie? You're in. I can tell you're in," he added, sounding triumphant.

I let him simmer for another few seconds, though I couldn't help but smile. "I'm in," I told him. "Let's find us a third wheel!"

Mick celebrated, and we quickly finished up and left the restaurant. As we set off down the street, he was already bending his mind as to who or how we could find someone to join us in an illicit threesome -- so he was quite surprised when I grabbed him, dragged him down a darkened alley, and jumped him.

I kissed him hard, fast and urgent, to show him exactly how horny I was. His surprise quickly morphed into delight, and it was on -- his hands were all over my body, rough and greedy, raking his nails down my bare arms, slipping his hands under the high hemline of my best evening dress and digging his fingers into my buttocks, finding them smooth and bared by the wearing of a G-string.

"Mmm!" he moaned into my mouth. "Mrs Valentine!"

"Do you remember?" I asked him between tasting of his mouth, hotly and deeply.

"I remember," he assured me, moving to muzzle my neck. "Twenty years ago after our first date, I was ready to be the perfect gentleman and walk you home -- and you grabbed me, dragged me into this very alley, and fucked my dumb lucky brains out."

"Right on this very spot," I added, growling as I ground my sex against the sudden tent in his trousers. "Do you remember what I said?"

"I do. Say it again," he whispered hotly into my ear.

I paused for effect, and turned to murmur my own hot words into his ear: "Push my panties to the side and fuck me now, surfer dude."

Mick made a sound like he was melting -- echoing the same response he gave me twenty years ago -- and he did exactly as instructed. He hitched my short tight dress up over my hips, carefully pulled the tightly-drawn triangle of material away from my dripping cleft -- even as I defeated the fly on his jeans, the button-fly on his boxers, and released his hard twitching cock -- and three seconds later we were fucking like crazy.

Callie: it was awesome. It was just like we had discovered each other anew, all over again. He held me tight, held me near; his cock slipped in and out of me easily as I grasped at him with my muscles, kneaded and stroked at him using only the grip of my pussy. We were hidden only at the very edge of safety, tucked into a shallow alcove in the alley next to the restaurant. Pedestrians walked blithely by on the street no more than ten yards away, slivers of light from car headlights picked and plucked at us, illuminating an elbow, or a foot, or a flash of my butt. We may have been caught any second, and that only heightened the wickedness of our very risky, very public fucking.

Similar to twenty years ago, neither of us lasted very long. I whimpered into his mouth as he kissed me while he pushed me over the edge, and not very long after I felt the sharp hiss of air and his own sing-song moan of delight as he emptied his hot white load into me. We rode the high for as long as we could, Mick thrusting his cock into me in time with the surge and spurt of his seed, the waves of my own orgasm pushing onwards with each of his precious last thrusts until finally, mercifully, he was done and I was spent.

We laughed a little at each other as we settled down, descending into a warm embrace as his cock deflated and fell out of me, a feeling I always love -- knowing that I've serviced his pleasure to my utmost and earned the release of his arousal, yet again. As we headed out of the alley and onto the street back towards the beach, I decided -- again just like I had twenty years ago -- to leave my underwear pulled to the side, to let the cool evening air slip under my dress and kiss my moistened mound, and to allow our combined essences to seep downwards and rub between my thighs as I walked.

"So I hope you'll forgive me, but I've kept on thinking about our quandary," Mick began.

I was momentarily lost, but then I remembered what we had been discussing pre-coitus. "The ménage a trois? Of course you have," I teased him, laughing. "And?"

"And I thought about all our male friends, acquaintances and colleagues, and whether we could ask any of them to join us..."

"And you decided no," I finished for him.

"Well, they're almost all married," he allowed. "And it's too risky, anyhow."

"Gotta maintain our sweet and innocent reputation, eh?" I grinned.

"Exactly," he smiled in return, even as his hand slipped under my dress and pinched my bare bottom.

"So what, then?"

Mick shrugged. "We advertise, I suppose," he said. "Get ourselves out there, and see what -- or who -- we can find."

Eventually we settled on Tinder, mostly because we couldn't think of anything else. Mick confessed he had plans to utilise Tinder to find himself his own extra-marital, wife-approved bit of tail, and he thought getting the both of us on Tinder in seeking our 'third' would be a good way to learn the ropes and refine his technique.

So we set up a joint profile, as best we could. We quickly learned that Tinder isn't really built all that well for couples seeking threesomes, but we made do. We created a profile under my name and uploaded a bunch of photos featuring the both of us, and a few photos just of myself -- nothing lewd at all, of course, but flattering to the utmost: some shots in nice dresses, a few pics in bikinis, as you do.

Under the section where one can post a few details of themselves, we spelled out our case. "Male (40) and female (39) seeking a third male (35-45) for our first threesome. She (Jamie) is slender, fit and athletic, as is he (Mick). You need to be respectful, clean, and preferably good-looking in order to fill the bill. Send us a message if you're up for the challenge!"

I thought it was a fairly good spiel: short and to the point, with a hint of cheek at the end to illustrate some personality. We ended up attracting quite a lot of interest from various males of varying ages and backgrounds, though predictably not a lot of them earned any interest out of us in return. Far too many of them seemed to miss the "respectful" requirement -- after a few days I resolved to immediately swipe left and reject any lad who had either a shirtless profile photo, or a photo showing tattoos, or a photo showing a car, or a photo shot in the gym. Invariably, any guy with at least one of those prerequisites turned out to be an arsehole.

A couple of weeks had passed in this frustrating fashion, and both Mick and I were beginning to despair. Just as I was thinking I might never come across anyone on Tinder I'd be even remotely interested in spreading my legs for -- we found Brett.

I was astonished. "Mick!" I called out -- it was just before we went to bed for the night, the boys were safely asleep, I was lying in bed swiping away somewhat dejectedly and Mick was brushing his teeth in the adjoining bathroom. "Mick! Brett's on Tinder!"

I heard Mick gag on a mouthful of toothpaste in surprise, before he spat and poked his head out the door. "Who -- Lizzie's Brett?"

"Yeah. Come see!"

Mick did come to see, as I swiped through the pictures Brett had uploaded to his Tinder profile. They were photos I had seen before, as one is able to upload Facebook profile photos to Tinder -- but they too were all flattering, showing off his trademark cheeky grin, broad shoulders and strong profile. With his shirt always on. No tattoos. No cars. And not a hint of gym equipment to be seen.

'He ticks a lot of boxes...' I found myself thinking, very much to my own surprise.

"What did he write for 'About Me'?" Mick wondered.

I shuffled through his profile to check. "Recently divorced single father and professional," I read out. "I am exactly as disorganised and shambolic as that makes me sound, but I'm also devastatingly handsome so I tend to get away with it."

Report Story

byaussie_101© 7 comments/ 37866 views/ 15 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

PreviousNext
9 Pages:1234

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar:

   Cancel