Fun Times and Threesomes

"Oh Mick," I sighed. "I want him."

"He surely wants you too," he reckoned. "We've dilly-dallied long enough, don't you reckon?"

I looked at Mick, and the encouraging grin on his face. "You think we should put the hard word on him?"

"What: 'hey Brett, how quickly can you come over and shag on with us?'" Mick laughed.

"Might be a bit much too soon," I allowed, with a grin. "Leave it with me." And I grabbed my phone as I settled in for a spooning with Mick, turning my back on him so he could read over my shoulder.

"How did you go?" I asked of Brett through Messenger, quick and simple.

"Pretty well!" he replied in short order. "You've just caught me basking in a nice little afterglow."

"Have we now?" I returned. "Well I don't mind reporting that Mick and I are very much in the same state."

"Yeah? That's awesome, Jamie," he wrote back, short but meaningfully.

"Brett, I have to say: it's really gratifying for me, thinking and knowing about what you've just done to yourself now -- and how those pictures of my body helped inspire you."

"I love to hear it, Jamie," Brett told me. "You certainly are very inspirational! Such fine shots of such a fine body. You're a fine woman all round, really."

"Thank you Brett," I told him, a nice big smiley-face emoji conveying the heavy contentment his praise brought me.

"And I tell you: the way you guys have so freely informed and involved me in your sexy-times of late, it riles me up like nothing else. I hope you don't mind me confessing as much, but even while I was drinking in the sight of your lovely bared back and your cheeky toned arse, I couldn't help but imagine myself into the room with you -- trying to see, trying to share in the fun times you guys were enjoying. Brought me to a big old roaring climax, if it's not too much for me to say."

"It's not too much to say at all Brett. I love hearing it." Mick nudged me in the butt before I could click send -- "We both love hearing it, honestly we do," I added before I fired it off.

"Listen to him, babe," Mick breathed into my ear, as we read over his last message again and again. "If ever there was a man asking if he could join us in a threesome, without actually going and saying the words 'may I join you in a threesome' -- this is it right here," he reckoned. "He wants it. He wants you. He wants to come and be with us, Jamie. He does."

Mick was right. He was right, and I knew it. "Only one thing to do," I told him, and I started typing:

"Brett, if you are free tomorrow evening, Mick and I would love to have you over."

"I'll be finished up at Lizzie's around seven," he wrote in a near-instant reply. "I can be over at yours by seven thirty."

"Wonderful," I assured him.

"Should I bring anything?"

"Box of condoms?" Mick murmured in my ear, which pushed me into a fit of giggles.

"Just your good self," I wrote instead.

"It's a date then!" he crowed. "Very much looking forward to it."

"As are we," I promised him.

"Oh boy oh boy oh boy!" Mick cheered with resounding glee. "It's on, Mrs Valentine! It's on!"

"Yeah -- if we all play our cards right," I allowed. "It must sound silly but I'm suddenly worried about turning him off somehow."

"What?" Mick cried. "No way. Not possible. No sane man on this earth would turn down a chance with you, babe."

"I love you for saying so," I promised him, squeezing the arm he had draped across my bare breasts. "But there's still a sense of the unknown here. I've never been in a threesome before—"

"Me neither," Mick assured me, as though I didn't already know.

"How do we go about it? How does it start -- do we initiate proceedings, or does he? Do we wait for some kind of signal from him? How do we know if he's really up for it? Sending saucy messages and photos of my bum are all well and good, but actually meeting in person and taking such a huge leap, considering the long and innocent friendship we've had with him—"

"Okay," Mick cut in, stopping me before I could truly work myself up and talk myself out of it. "Let's just take a step backwards. Things have proceeded really wonderfully so far -- you guys have enjoyed some really nice flirting, low-key at first but ramping up gently, slowly but surely, until we've found ourselves where we are. Right?"

"Right," I allowed, having taken a deep breath to settle myself. "It has been really wonderful so far."

"And I mean: strictly speaking, no promises have been made, no commitments have been given. Neither he nor we have gone and said 'we're having a threesome tomorrow night, come hell or high water!'"

"You're right," I said again. "We've all managed to leave everything fairly open-ended, haven't we?"

"Quite masterfully so," he reckoned. "So look, why don't we just go into tomorrow evening with an open mind and no expectations? That way, the night can go the way it goes, and we can enjoy it however it results, threesome or no."

"Okay," I said, settling into Mick's perspective and his suggested approach. "Okay," I said again, more confidently. "That's really good actually. Let's just aim to have a few drinks and a few laughs, and anything over and above that will just be a bonus."

"Right!" Mick agreed. "However it turns out babe, I'm sure tomorrow night will be great. He's a top bloke, he's nice and he's fun and always super-respectful, even after having found out that we're a couple of wicked nymphos keen on cultivating multiple sexual partners."

"Multiple?" I repeated. "How many birds are you fixing to shag?"

"Any number higher than one counts as multiple," he returned. "Though I mean really, if the ladies start lining up, what kind of gentleman would I be to turn them away unsatisfied?"

"You pig," I laughed, jamming an elbow softly into his guts. He groaned theatrically, but he hugged me tightly in return, and that's the way I went to sleep -- feeling as loved as I ever had.

*~*~*

CHAPTER SIX

*****

"Good Lord, Callie," Jamie wrote onwards as I read, wide-eyed and utterly locked into the story she had sent me late in the night after I had caught her getting it on with Brett. "Look at me -- ten thousand words and I haven't even scratched the surface.

"I'm sorry but it's two A.M.," she wrote onwards. "It's so late and I'm almost falling asleep at the keyboard. I want to keep going, I want to get it all out but I just can't, I have to stop for now. I'm sorry I've only moved us forward slowly, I've provided all this detail and all this background but, I don't know -- it just seems important that I convey to you all the reasons, the thoughts and the feelings that we were all experiencing back when it began... not just to explain it all to you, but to get it all straight in my head too," she wrote, which again spoke volumes of things she was not yet ready to tell me.

"I have to leave it here for now Callie," she had written. "Forgive me. I'll get back into it soon and bring you up to speed as best I can. I apologise again. I love you Callie," she signed off -- and that was the end of the story for now.

And I was nowhere near satisfied. Fuck but those were some intense sex scenes she had treated me to. Jamie had always been free with tales of her encounters with Mick, but these stories, these descriptions: she had immersed me deeply in the action, taken me and involved me as surely as if she had dragged me into the room and fucked Mick in front of me.

I was dripping wet, absolutely soaked through the crotch of my pyjama shorts, and I desperately needed release. Checking in on my progeny -- still deeply engrossed in their Netflix series, praise be to the gods of streaming TV -- I snuck away to the bathroom and rubbed myself to my own very keenly-anticipated release, tweaking my nipples roughly and beating my sopping clit mercilessly until I nearly buckled under the intensity and I moaned and groaned out in climax, words and images from Jamie's tales of fucking Mick in her Brett-inspired frenzies cycling through my brain all the while -- and thinking back too to what I'd seen the day prior, Brett's cock pumping madly into Jamie's hot wet pussy even as I watched from three feet away...

Damn but I came hard.

I knew it would be a long time until Jamie would get back to writing the rest of her story. I was highly impatient. The way I had seen her and Brett getting into each other -- kissing each other so steamily, with such wantonness bordering on a depraved need, an insatiable hunger for each other...

It was clear where the tale was going. They did indeed have their threesome, only certainly. And they obviously hadn't stopped there, what with Brett and Jamie going at it separately and apart from Mick, it seemed, and from Brett's reports Mick had succeeded in getting a piece of tail of his own.

While it seemed there weren't many twists in the coming tale, all the same I wanted to know more. Needed to know more. I was gagging for it, desperate for it. I couldn't wait.

So I messaged Brett. "Hey Brett. Tell me about this threesome, then."

My phone soon beeped in reply: "Lol, and a very good morning to you too Callie!"

"Yeah yeah," I typed shortly. "Look, Jamie told me all about how you guys came across each other on Tinder, and the flirty fun that followed. She wrote it in a story for me."

"Wow, really?" Brett wrote in reply. "Any chance I could see that story?"

"Oh yeah, for sure -- it's so fucking hot, Brett. She didn't leave out any details at all," I wrote. "I'll forward it to you now."

And I did. And so what? I mean yes, I know Jamie wrote the story for me, with implications that it be kept in strictest confidence. But I've never really cared for minor details such as those. I knew that Brett would get a huge thrill out of reading Jamie's words -- words full of high praise for him, for sure, but also the intricate detail, the steam and vivid imagery in her descriptions of her fun-times with Mick, as inspired by thoughts of Brett...

I wanted Brett to know. Needed him to know. And apparently he needed to know it too, because he came back to me via Messenger in surprisingly short order:

"Fucking wow," he wrote.

"I know, right?"

"This is incredible, Callie," he told me. "I mean, the power in her writing, I never knew she had it in her! And the insight. I had no idea they had approached our messaging in such a fashion."

"Oh I bet you didn't," I reckoned, grinning at myself.

"I mean, they played it really cool. I tried my best to match them," Brett went on. "I was really worried about dropping the ball somehow, saying or doing the wrong thing and turning them off -- I was never even truly certain that they were considering me for a threesome at all, we danced around the issue so carefully I could never be sure."

"That must have been so frustrating," I part-sympathised, part-prodded for more.

"Cal, you have no idea," he promised me. "Even when I sent her that butt shot, you remember from the story? Over the shoulder, wagging my tail at the mirror?"

"You better believe I remember," I told him, mentally cursing for forgetting to ask Jamie to forward that very photo.

"I tell you," Brett went on, "I was beside myself when I sent it. I very nearly convinced myself that it was too much, I was doing the wrong thing."

"But Mick had sent you two photos of Jamie!" I returned. "That photo of her in the shower, and the next one with her bare naked butt. And they prompted you to send a pic, too. Surely you knew they'd be happy to see at least that much in return?"

"Yeah, but I mean: when it's just me, on my own, trying to figure my way through such a potential minefield -- we were exploring such uncharted territory, the Valentines and I. And it's true what they reckoned, I really do value their friendship enormously. Especially given the troubles I've been having with Lizzie, the way Mick and Jamie -- and all of you, the way you've remained warm and friendly to me has meant a lot. I just worked myself up immensely, worrying that I'd done too much, sent too much their way in firing off that butt shot -- and it might have sounded like just a few minutes in Jamie's story before she replied after I sent, but Callie it felt like two lifetimes had passed before she finally let me off the hook. I was shitting bricks while I waited, I can tell you!"

"Lol, I bet you were," I wrote with a snigger. "So you've read the story, and you know how far she's brought me. It took her an age to get all of that out Brett, she promised it to me yesterday but she didn't get it done until two in the morning. It's going to take her forever to get through the next part, and that's the part I've been gagging to hear -- the threesome!"

"Threesome? What threesome?" he wrote, tagging a :-P on the end.

"Don't you tease me, shithead."

"Ha ha ha," he returned.

I growled audibly at his insouciance. "Brett: I just can't wait," I told him, getting straight to the point. "Jamie's busy today, she won't even start typing again til after the boys go to bed tonight. I need you to keep the story going. From your point of view."

"Uh huh. Jamie's busy, but you assume I'm not?"

"Aren't you at your cushy government-department desk job for the next nine hours?" I retorted.

"Touché. Yeah, okay," he relented. "Story time it is! I'll try my best to match Jamie's level of detail and knack for the steamy, though I seriously doubt I can write with anywhere near as much élan as her."

"Brett: if you can successfully use a word like élan in context, I'm sure you can write just fine."

"I was hoping you'd pick up on that," he confided, the cheeky bastard. "Okay, I'll give it a good crack."

"But don't you run away and type it all up in a twenty-page Word document," I warned him. "I want it real-time. Send it by Messenger, a sentence at a time."

"What: tap it all out on a five-inch screen? My bloody thumbs would fall off. How about I send it to you a page at a time via email, so I can smash it out via keyboard?"

"Fair compromise," I allowed. "But don't you let anything unimportant like actual paid work get in the way of my story, or I'll have to come up there and sort you out."

"Promises promises," he quipped. "I'll do my best."

And what follows are the pages sent by Brett, pieced together as I received them.

*****

CHAPTER SEVEN

``*~*''

Okay, so the story so far, as told by our Jamie: two lovebirds seeking spice, agree to advertise for a threesome on Tinder; this dopey mug stumbles across their profile, can hardly believe what he sees, ponders for an age whether or not he should swipe right -- says "fuck it" and swipes right, no immediate response, assumes they swiped left as soon as they saw him and it would never be; a few hours later, dopey mug receives notice that they had actually gone and swiped right...

Sorry, you know all about that. Still, Cal: I simply could not believe, still can't believe it really, the massive stroke of luck that arose out of me re-joining Tinder. To have received such awesome shots of Jamie in the buff -- and to have received them from Mick himself, my mate Mick Valentine, sharing of his missus so freely and trustingly...

I cannot overstate the appreciation I felt, how very humbling it was that they should entrust me with such a delicious secret in their aspirations for approved extra-marital adventures. Not to mention the tantalising hint that I just might find myself involved!

That night after signing off with Jamie, I struggled to sleep, a million thoughts and fantasies whipping through my brain. And the day following dragged interminably. Usually I can't wait for my working day to be over so I can spend time with Little Missy, but this time I'm guilty to confess that my time with the young'un dragged on as well. If a day can pass any slower than that day had, I don't want to know about it!

Once I finally had Little Miss abed at Lizzie's house, I thanked Lizzie -- as I always do -- for letting me spend the time with them at her place before I hit the road at speed. I'll confess, I felt no small measure of guilt in knowing I was leaving Lizzie's house to go straight to her sister's house, with the naughtiest of intentions and without Lizzie's knowledge -- no small measure of guilt, but still not enough to actually make me stop. Such as I am.

I'd had the presence of mind to pack a change of clothes for the evening, and I'd pulled over on a quiet side-street along the way to struggle out of my office attire and into my nicest jeans and T-shirt, hoping to strike the right balance between informal and presentable. I even treated myself to a little spritz of cologne, something I hadn't troubled myself with for the longest of times -- not since my first meeting with Lizzie, as it happens. Ah jeez.

Upon finally arriving at Jamie and Mick's place, I knocked at the door with more than a little trepidation. Questions that had troubled me since, well, pretty much the moment I first saw Jamie and Mick's smiling profile photo on Tinder, presented themselves for a final parade.

What was I doing? Was this right? Was this safe? Mick and Jamie Valentine -- I loved what they were doing and I loved having played a fairly small part in it so far, but taking it any further... and what right did I have to even think they had any interest in bringing me in for their threesome? Was that what they intended tonight? If it did happen, would it be okay -- where would it go? What could it lead to?

But all of that evaporated when the door opened to reveal Jamie Valentine.

Fucking hell but she's gorgeous, Callie. You know that, I'm sure I'm wasting my time in telling you this. But there she was: in a really lovely dress of a pale rose colour, hemline above the knee and sort of loose and billowy about the skirt but tight from the waistline up, accentuating those lovely feminine curves, the cut of her neckline none too devilish but still somewhat low to allow the hint of a shadowy cleavage...

And her smile. Callie, her smile. Warm and lovely as always, but in it tonight there was something new: a glint, a hint of the thrill that I knew she and I had shared from our words and photos of the nights prior. And I found myself sharing in her smile and returning it with change.

"Evening, Mister Brett," she greeted me.

"And a very good evening to you too, Mrs Valentine," I returned as we leaned in for our usual peck-on-the-cheek -- though this time it was more than just a customary formality, there was warmth in it, and an extra second or two spent lingering cheek to cheek.

I heard her take a quick whiff during our close contact. "Nice cologne," she commented as we separated.

I grinned at myself, as I often do when suddenly embarrassed. "Good to have an excuse to use it," I replied. "Makes a nice change from the usual Eau de Baby Vom."

Jamie laughed at that. "I'm all too familiar with that particular fragrance," she assured me as walked into their lovely house. "Mick! Brett's here."

We found Mick in the kitchen, wrestling with the cork of a nice-looking wine, and I secretly rejoiced to see he had gone the T-shirt-and-jeans route too. "Brett! Mate!" he greeted, matching Jamie with an equal new measure of warmth and a knowing twinkle of the eye. "Fantastic that you're here -- you can have a go at cracking this open," he added, palming the bottle and cork opener off to me.

"I'll do my best," I assured him, swapping him for the bottle of plonk I'd brought along.

"Bubbly, eh?" Mick observed, eyeing my bottle of neither-cheap-nor-hideously-expensive Chandon Brut with a praiseful eye. "Got something to celebrate, have we?"

'Not yet, but hoping we will!' was what I very nearly said, though I managed to stop myself just in time. "Isn't every day a day worth celebrating?" I quickly offered instead, even as I figured out their elaborate cork opener and popped open the chilled white with a flourish.