Fun Times and Threesomes

"Aww, thanks Jamie," Brett returned.

"It sounds like fun, actually," I wrote onwards. "I might have a go at showering with my windows opened too!"

"Ha, your neighbours would definitely enjoy that," Brett assured me. "No doubt about it."

We chatted onwards a bit more that day, off and on between chores and child-wrangling and whatnot. Later on, in the early summer's evening while there was still light in the day, I'd put the boys to bed and I'd had an idea. "Mr Valentine: can you do me a favour?"

"Anything, Mrs Valentine."

"I'm going to have a shower with the bathroom window open. Could you go out to the yard and snap a few photos?"

Mick grinned hugely at what was a highly unusual request from me. "Can I guess who you might be taking these photos for?" he asked, rhetorically -- I'd included Mick in my Messenger conversations with Brett as a group chat; he'd been too busy at work to participate but he had since been able to browse through our to-and-fro at his leisure.

"Do you think Brett might be receptive to a photo or two?" I grinned, even as I started slipping out of my clothes.

"Now there's a silly question," Mick reckoned. I gave him a few short instructions before he left, and I got into the shower, making sure the window was opened nice and wide before I did so.

It was a wonderful feeling, actually, showering while on show. Aside from the fact I could see Mick snapping away in the back yard, I found myself sharing in the same thrill Brett had described -- not knowing if anyone else could see me, wet and naked as I soaped and lathered and rubbed myself all over, but knowing full well it might be possible.

Afterwards as I dried off, Mick came back and showed me his favourites of the roughly one hundred shots he'd snapped from outside. "These are great, babe," I assured him.

"It's all in the subject matter," he returned.

Just as I finished slipping into my nightshirt -- the fairly short one that only came to the tops of my buttocks, it came with a matching pair of short-shorts but I only ever slipped them on if I had to go and settle one of the boys through the night -- my phone chimed with the distinctive Messenger tone. Sure enough, as per my instructions, Mick had sent a message through to Brett via our group chat.

"Hey mate -- had a feeling you might appreciate this one," Mick had written in his succinct style. Attached to his message was a photo, one of the ones he'd just snapped from the yard.

And Callie: it was a beauty, if I may say so myself. It wasn't overly provocative, just a shot of me back-to-camera and framed by our second-storey bathroom window, so as such it only showed me from the waist upwards. But it still was a great shot: the skin of my bare naked back glistened and gleamed in the water cascading down it, my hair was slicked back as I was in the midst of rinsing it out, and by chance my head was turned just enough to see my face: eyes closed in the water, an expression of peace and calm upon my face, totally unsuspecting (or at least appearing so).

I grinned. It was done. Mick had sent the favourite of all my shots to Brett as a delicious little tease; and I waited with heart pounding as the little status icon against the photo changed to indicate that it had been received by Brett's phone, and shortly afterwards, to confirm that Brett was looking at it.

"Nice!" came Brett's reply, good and quick. "That's fantastic. Thank you so much Mick!"

Mick -- sitting across from me on the bed with a big dirty grin on his face -- merely replied with a standard thumbs-up.

My fingers flew across the screen as I typed. "Mick you cheeky little fucker!" I typed, to present an affected affront. "I didn't know you were going to send that to Brett! Bloody hell."

"Ooh, an unauthorised peep show eh?" Brett returned. "Mick, you naughty boy you."

"Don't believe a word she says mate -- I was operating under instruction," Mick told him, which made me throw a pillow at his shit-eating grin.

"Dammit Mick!" I chastised him, verbally. "I'm trying to play this low key."

"Are you really?" Mick returned, mock-innocently. "Well, I'm just trying to hurry things along a little." And I saw him click 'send' on another message.

I felt the colour drain from my face. "What did you send him?"

I found out soon enough: "She didn't ask me to take this one though," he had written, along with a photo I hadn't realised he'd snapped. It was me in my nightshirt from a bare minute before, back to camera again while I was stretched up on tip-toes to reach up high into our wardrobe. The combined action of me tippy-toeing and reaching high saw my nightshirt cinch upwards and -- what with my lack of clothing below the waistline -- all served to frame my bared arse perfect-centre in Mick's photo.

"Oh you'd better run," I warned him.

"Come get me!" Mick invited, brimming with victory and cheek.

I pounced him, landing (fairly ineffectual) blows and punches about his upper arms and mid-section. Mick absorbed the blows laughing, feinting and fending off what he could and attempting to grab and hold me, turning the struggle into a grappling wrestle.

Our phones both chimed, and we scrabbled to see what Brett had written in reply.

"Extra nice!" Brett praised. "Cheers, Mr Valentine -- hope your efforts don't land you in too much trouble mate."

"I'm beating him to death even as we speak," I informed him in my reply.

"Worth it," Mick wrote simply. "Always glad to share a glimpse of perfection with my fellow man."

"You knob," I berated him, even as I perched straddled upon his groin, my bare sex nudging through his shorts against his growing hard-on.

"Well I don't know how to thank you mate -- and thank you too Jamie, if you did indeed have any role in sending these shots my way?"

I grinned at Brett's probing efforts to determine just how keen I was for him to see me au naturale. "You're very welcome, Brett," I decided to reply -- which I reckoned was enough to subtly confirm that I'd approved at least one of the shots that had gone his way.

"Should I send him a few more shots?" Mick grinned -- referring to the ninety-nine other photos he had captured from the yard of me in the shower, standing at various angles, many with my bare chest and boobs and stomach proudly on display.

"Don't you fucking dare!" I told him, fighting back a groan of pleasure -- he had started gyrating his hips very gently, serving to work his ever-hardening rod deeper into my moistening mound. "We don't want to bombard him with nudie pics, what we've sent him so far is more than enough. Besides, we haven't even had any shots of him in reply," I added.

Mick's face shone as yet another brilliant idea came to him, and he reached for his phone.

"Could you at least let me read and approve this message before you fire it off?" I asked of him, fighting to catch a glimpse of what he was writing -- my struggles only serving to work me harder against his arousal and heighten my own rising pleasure.

"Trust me babe, you'll fully approve of this one," he assured me, even as his message whooshed off unseen.

I snorted with annoyance, and read it as it appeared on my phone: "Mate, best way to convey your gratitude is to return the favour!"

My eyes lit up. "Ooh, good idea!" I told Mick, pretending to sound surprised that he was capable of such a thing.

"Yeah yeah," Mick grinned, reaching up to pinch my nipples roughly through my nightshirt and making me jump -- he knows how much I like rough play on my nipples, the cheeky shit...

"Return the favour -- what, like send a glimpse of skin in return?" Brett checked.

"Fair's fair, champ," Mick told him.

"Well I'll be happy to do so," Brett began. "So long as I can be sure it's good and welcome to the both of you?"

"Aww, what a gentleman," Mick commented. "He won't send a rudey-nudie through unless he has your explicit permission. This guy's a keeper," he reckoned.

I was already typing away. "For sure -- feel free to return the favour!" I wrote. "It's the least you could do, really. My bare upper half in the first photo, plus my bare lower half in the second -- you've seen me top to toe!"

"Definitely only fair to even up the scales, as it were," Brett agreed. "Ooh, but it puts the pressure on, though. Very easy to overstep the mark in these situations, I've found from past experience."

"You didn't used to be one of those guys who introduced themselves with a cock shot, did you Brett?" I teased him.

"We all learn through our mistakes!" he replied with a cheeky ;-) on the end.

"Lol -- well I'm sure we can trust you to keep things classy," I told him.

"Don't know about classy..." he wrote -- and he'd already sent a photo through.

Remind me to show it to you next time we catch up Callie -- it's a classic. Most of the shot is taken up with half of his face; his eyes are looking up and off to the side, eyebrow raised, in a sort of shifty, conniving, up-to-no-good expression. In the background one can see he's standing with his back to a mirror, and in the reflection he was of course stark naked, top-to-toe, shoulders and back with a strong and proud set to them and below: bare arse, pert and perky.

It was perfect. He'd managed to catch up with me in terms of how much we'd seen of each other, and also managed to match my shots -- both my approved backyard-peeping-Tom photo and Mick's unapproved bum pic -- in terms of cheek, restraint and respect. Neither he nor I had launched straight into full-frontal shamelessness; it was a tease, a titillation.

"Nice arse," Mick commented.

"He always has had a very nice rump," I added.

"Oh has he now?" Mick challenged. "Well he's not the only one!" he added, reaching around and under me to grasp both of my buttocks, rough and punishing.

"Okay Mister Frisky-Pants," I told him. "Let's not leave him hanging -- and let's actually say goodnight to him before we start fucking each other, eh?"

"He didn't seem to mind too much last time," Mick chuckled.

"Yeah, but what will the guy think of us if we devolve into mindless fucking animals every time we chat with him?"

"That we're awesome?"

I rolled my eyes at him, and I rolled off of his hard-on so as to craft a reply to Brett's photo. "Very very nice, Mister Brett!" I assured him. "You're better at this photo-swapping business than you give yourself credit for."

"There's an art to it, isn't there?" he agreed. "You're quite the masterful pic-sharing pair yourselves, Mr and Mrs Valentine. Tends to suggest you've done this before!"

"Does it now?" I returned, simple and succinct.

"Ha, not going to bite at that bait, eh?"

"Hey now, you've got a good show of bare skin out of us tonight," I told him. "A lady is entitled to a few secrets."

"Indeed she is," he happily agreed. "Far be it for me to show any lack of appreciation for what I've seen tonight! Top stuff Jamie -- and Mick, thanks again mate."

"Bit of fodder for the old fap-bank there, eh mate?" Mick fired off.

I reached over to slap at him again. "Fuck's sake, Mick!" I laughed. "Have you ever heard of a thing called subtlety?"

"Not sure I could even spell it," Mick returned with a poked-out tongue. Our phones chimed simultaneously, and Mick beat me to it -- "ooh, look though!" he crowed.

"Lol," Brett had written. "You're reading my mind mate! The train to Fappy Town is all set to depart," he assured us, following with a :-D emoticon to convey the huge cheeky grin his statement was delivered in.

My jaw hung low with surprise and amusement. "Is he seriously going to wank himself over my bare arse?" I murmured.

"Jamie just said: is he seriously going to wank himself over my bare arse?" Mick reported.

"Mick!" I shrieked. "Stop telling him everything I say!"

"She also just yelled at me for telling you everything she says."

"Give me that fucking phone!" I nearly hollered at him, but he held me at arm's length.

Brett's reply came through good and quick: "Haha, well: can you really blame me? It's a damn fine arse after all. And I hope you guys don't mind me saying so, but I've kind of been secretly yearning to lay eyes on those buns for a good long while now."

"Oh wow," I murmured at Brett's confession. "Don't fucking tell him I said that!" I added.

"I won't, I won't," Mick assured me as he typed on regardless: "Mate, I cannot fault you for that at all. Now if you'll excuse us: the Fappy Town Express might be departing your place, but I've got two tickets here for the slow train to Shagville and I'm pretty keen to get on board!"

"Droll," I told him, laughing all the same.

"Nice," Brett added, via message. "Might be a good time to leave everyone to it, eh?"

"Absolutely," I wrote in my reply. "Have a good evening Brett -- hope you enjoy your little train ride!"

"Lol, I'll try my best. Same to you guys!"

And we left off, Mick flinging his phone away and rolling over to set about me anew. "So then," he asked of me, testing my moisture with his fingers without anything in the way of a how-d'y-do, "how hot is it that our good mate Brett is probably already pummelling himself while staring at your bare naked butt?"

Since we had apparently dispensed with formalities, I rolled myself over Mick, reefed his tented shorts down low and impaled myself on his cock, simple as that. "Hot as fuck," I told him, revelling to see that I had taken Mick's breath away with my unexpected move.

"Hot as fuck is right!" he moaned. "Damn, Jamie -- you're burning hot down there!"

"You know why," I told him through gritted teeth, even as I started riding up and down on him.

"Fucking oath I do."

"Tell me why," I hissed at him, grinding myself roughly into his twitching rod. "Tell me why my cunt is burning your cock right now."

Mick was nearly beside himself with shock and awe at my unaccustomed, extremely rare dirty talk. "Oh Jamie," he sighed. "I'll tell you why: you're hot because you want him."

"I want who?" I demanded, swirling my hips around slightly to work his cock into me at every angle.

"Brett," he cried out, loving what I was doing to him. "You want Brett!"

"What do I want him to do to me?"

"You want him to take you," he informed me, gasping and groaning it out, rising towards his peak quickly and dangerously. "You want him to kiss you. Lick you. Eat you out -- taste your juices, lick your clit, tongue fuck your hole. You want to ride him -- you want to pin him down and plunge yourself onto his cock, you want to take your burning hot cunt and slam yourself down on his hard cock, just like you've done to mine; you want to fuck him, pump yourself up and down on him and fuck him, grind yourself on Brett's cock like you're doing to mine, fucking hell Jamie, fuck..."

"Yes Mick," I confirmed, riding him rougher, harder as I saw the signs on his face that his orgasm was gathering, pooling at his base. "I want to fuck Brett."

I stopped. And I pinched him off, right at the root of his cock, just below his balls.

He jumped, and winced immediately in pain. I didn't often like to forestall Mick's pleasure -- I love to please him, to suck him, fuck him or let him fuck me, to earn and win his release. It's always been a source of pride to me that I can make him come so hard and so well, and seldom do I ever try to ward off his orgasm.

But there was more that needed to be said.

"I want to fuck him. And to get fucked by him," I went on, releasing him and restoring my fucking motion -- slow but meaningful. "I want to bend down and suck him, suck his cock. But," I added, rubbing where I'd pinched him both in placation and arousal, which served to bring Mick right back to his simmering point. "But, I want to suck him while you fuck me."

"Yes," Mick hissed.

"I want two cocks in me, Mick," I cooed, my own pleasure building mightily -- pushing all the higher at the very thought. "Your cock and his. Brett's in my mouth, yours in my cunt, Mick."

"Yes..." Mick hissed again -- I saw he was dangerously close to brinking, so I pinched him off again, earning another strangled cry.

"And then," I went on, swirling around on top of him again even as I kept on pinching off his perineum, adding ever-more exquisite agony to Mick's situation as he surely worried I'd snap his cock off with my vice-like grip. "And then I want the two of you to spin me around and swap: your cock in my mouth, Mick..."

And I suddenly levered myself off him, provoking the loudest cry of frustration from Mick yet, until I fell upon his cock with my mouth and sucked him, cutting off his cry and replacing it with a sigh.

"Your cock in my mouth," I said again after three long, quick, hard strokes of my mouth upon his rod, up-down quick and hard. "Covered in my cream, Mick," I added, slurping up the thick heady juiciness of myself off him which I knew he loved more than anything -- and which again I basically never ever do, only when I really want to make myself feel like a mad slavering fuck-hungry deviant do I ever lick my own juices off him but Cal, Cal I needed it now, I ate my juices up greedily as I sucked him.

"And his cock in my cunt, Mick," I went on, pinching him off yet again as I saw his balls twitch, making him yell out wordlessly against my merciless torture. "Brett's cock in my cunt, ramming, fucking me hard."

And my fingers fell to my cunt and I plunged into myself, fucking myself, moaning and groaning and rising to let Mick see, see what I was doing to myself, one hand pinching him low and the other pounding into myself and thumbing my clit with every pussy-slap.

"Mick, I want you and Brett both to take me. Use me. Break me. Put me on a spit-roast, two long hard rods, yours in my mouth and his in my cunt—" I paused to release him and suck him, three quick hard thrusts, and he bucked and trembled beneath me "—Mick, Brett, I want you, I want him, I want you both, I want to be fucked, fucked by you both," I moaned and groaned, and it was time: my pleasure peaked and folded over itself, I lost myself to wordlessness and I simply devoured Mick's cock, I sucked and I slurped and I deep-throated and I gagged mildly as his cock entered my throat, which I knew Mick loved to hear, and I pounded at my pussy as rough and merciless as I had treated him and I came, I roared wordlessly around his cock and I squirted all over my hand and he came as he watched me squirt and come, his cock twitched and throbbed and his essence came shooting out and painted the roof of my mouth, and I came off it to holler my pleasure out wordlessly, letting Mick's jizz paint my face, shooting over my cheeks and into my hair and dripping down my chin, all of which I seldom ever do and all of which I knew Mick loved, to come on me, all over my face as I shrieked and yelled against my rough treatment, and I came and he came and we came together.

When we finally settled down, I let Mick watch as I scooped up all of his spilled essence and ate it up for him, fixing him in the eye the whole time -- daring him to say something, to call me a slut or a good girl, to denigrate me.

But I knew he never would, even if I secretly wanted him to. "I love you," he said instead.

I smiled warmly -- he might never call me a slut, but professing his love was always just as good. "Love you too," I returned.

"Fucking hell but this has been intense," he declared. "All we've really done is talk about bringing Brett on, and look at us!"

"It's definitely taking us to new places," I had to agree.

"Wonder if Brett's orgasm was as good as ours?" Mick grinned.

I felt a new surge of horniness at the image that suddenly leapt into my mind. Brett, trousers down, phone in hand, scrolling between the two shots we'd sent him: drinking me in, memorising my form, each curve and rise of my body, my back, my arse, the cleft between my cheeks and the tiny air-gap between my thighs...