I Say Ass, You Say Arse: Again

He finally reached full depth, his balls lightly tapping against her, an exquisite teasing sensation. He didn't want to move, feeling so happy, his cock enclosed within paradise, but at the same time couldn't resist sliding nearly out and thrusting back inside her, the snug friction exciting him more and more.

His decision was made by Emily's wild gasping. "Yes! Oh, yes! Fuck me hard!"

He did. Bradley was obliging like that.

"Yeah! Fuck my slutty arse! Please, fuck my arse so hard!"

It was as if she'd been watching exactly the same porn he had.

He gave it his best, holding her firm round the waist, watching her braid of hair shake loose across her shoulders and how she tossed her head back to give a screaming moan. He knew that was a good sound from last time, and man, his dick felt so good, he wanted to do this with her at every conference on every continent for the rest of their lives.

Now that was motivation to finish writing his thesis, if anything was!

Emily was panting, a wonderful whining noise coming with every breath, and she pinched her nipple at the same time, enhancing the effect. Brad managed to lean forward and hold on with one arm as he reached to her other breast, copying her.

Her sounds rose to a frantic pitch as orgasm took her over. "You're so good, so good..."

The flattery was nice. The pulsing squeeze on his cock was even better. A few more thrusts and he'd be helplessly coming inside her, he knew.

Bradley tried to slow it down, control his breath in the stifling air of the room. Thrust. Pause, clench his own ass tight. Repeat. Oh man, this was so good, he just had to keep fucking her, slow but sure strokes, all the way to his root, he was getting there, closer and closer, nearly there, this was so good he didn't want it to end...

Then he heard a click.

A distinctive click. The noise of a hotel room door unlocking, and a door sliding open over the carpet.

No, it was his imagination. Must be.

"Don't stop!" Emily wailed.

Shaking images of invasion out of his mind, Bradley worked to build up his rhythm again.

That was the noise of the door slamming shut, making a gust of warm air waft over his back. It was definitely behind him, in Emily's room.

Then a man's voice. "Hey-hey! What's this?"

Bradley froze. The guy had used a key card, he must be Emily's boyfriend; this was the kind of scenario that got guys shot or, leastways, beaten up real bad. This was the sort of thing he'd always avoided, claiming the moral high ground, not enabling cheaters, but really, it was just him being plain scared of confrontation, or of the sort of crazy bitch who would try to make her man jealous by being found fucking another.

But Emily just giggled, her ass clenching him even tighter and sending the most amazing vibrations up and down his cock.

"Don't worry! Keep going!"

Brad tried, he really did, but came to a softening stop when the dude moseyed across the room and halted at the far side of the bed, where he could look into Emily's panting face and Bradley's beetroot one.

The tall guy was vaguely familiar, mousy hair drawn back in a ponytail, pale angular face, but he'd met so many people over the last few days...

"Hi, Brad, wasn't it? I'm Richie. Please. Don't let me interrupt!"

Oh, the fucking English, always so fucking polite.

Another terror struck him -- was this guy going to want to join in? As in, with him? Bradley knew English guys weren't all gay, but given this one seemed to be happily watching him fuck...

This dude was shucking his jacket and footwear and approaching closer.

Richie didn't look at Brad as he spoke to him. Bradley was desperately trying to concentrate on his own cock.

"She's got a great arse, hasn't she? Glad you've been able to fill it, cheers for that. Just a right desperate wee slut, aren't you, Em? Couldn't cope one night without something up yer bum, could you, sweetheart?"

The guy stroked Emily's cheek. She muttered something dismissive, focusing on wriggling her butt and pushing harder against Brad. He was grateful. For getting him properly stiff again, it worked.

Richie spoke calmly to Emily, bending down to her ear. "You enjoying him, love? You dirty girl. Dirty, dirty, sweet girl. Wanting a fuck so much, you couldn't wait for me."

"Yeah," Emily agreed, distracted, breathing hard. The sound got Bradley hard again, briefly.

"Dirty, filthy slut, aren't you?" This Richie spoke quietly, clearly using these words as endearments.

"Yeah," she gasped, thrusting onto Bradley's cock, which was managing to get back in the game.

"Yeah? That all you've got to say? Huh." His voice sounded almost bored. "Might as well use your mouth for something else."

The guy opened his fly, knelt on the bed, took Emily's chin, and placed her face over his stiff dick.

Emily could have objected, but she didn't.

She loved being an ass slut. Arse slut. Any sort of slut, even, for a guy who appreciated her in and out of bed. And of course, sluts suck cock.

Emily sucked cock enthusiastically.

Bradley didn't have the greatest view from where he was kneeling, but watching the girl he had his dick in reaching up to this other man's cock -- her hair fell all around her head as she started to seriously get her mouth round the other man's leaking prick, slow but sure, knowing what she was doing -- like she'd done to him fifteen minutes earlier...

Bradley wasn't going to meet the other man's gaze, but soon the guy stopped looking toward Bradley anyway, his eyes becoming unfocused behind long blond lashes, his face raised to the ceiling.

Bradley couldn't take his eyes off the man's groin, only the hair round the base of his cock visible as his solid cock disappeared into Emily's soft mouth, just like Emily had done to him, too. She'd been so good at it.

Thinking of that, at the same time as Emily wriggled her cute little ass around his cock, was too much. Bradley held her hips still while he ejaculated harder than he'd expected. Once, twice, and a final involuntary thrust. Relief.

The cry Emily gave -- overwhelmed, a hint of pain, but mainly distress at the loss of that thick rod plugging her arse -- was almost enough to rekindle him, as his softening post-fuck prick sagged out of her, wetly sticky, unlike his hands which were just sticky and tacky from lube that dried in the heat.

Sadly, he wasn't super-human. If only... Bradley lay down beside Emily, with only a brief stroke of her gorgeous ass-cheeks, and watched the woman's mouth action. Her cheeks were stiff with the effort of holding her mouth in an O, her lips were red and rounded. Pushing in between them was a smooth cock-shaft, proving she'd got the guy's whole head inside her mouth. A perfect contrast to how she'd looked speaking on stage, earlier.

She took more in, with a little gasp and a little drool dripping out her mouth. Bradley remembered when she'd first knelt before him and given him an enthusiastic blow-job, looking so similar.

Her jaw stretched as the cock thrust.

Richie's load shot into her mouth.

She gulped, swallowing, though more creamy goo flooded out the sides of her mouth. Emily gave up on drinking it and let the cum flow down her chin, soaking the bed's counterpane.

Wet-faced, she curled up and grinned merrily in Bradley's direction, then at Richie who had collapsed onto the pillows.

Emily appeared to be speaking to the ceiling. "Aah... that's what conference collaboration is all about, innit?"

Bradley and Richie caught each others eye. Brad was nervous at first, then relaxed, though he was carefully not looking down too far, avoiding Richie's open fly. They agreed with her.

As if walking in on strangers shagging his partner was totally normal for him, Richie offered the others drinks, dispassionate as any waiter. "Rum? I got this litre of Carta Fuego, or some whisky... Water, to start?"

"Take your top off, at least. Don't scare Bradley! Got to be nice to the students."

"I just offered him a drink!" Richie protested, but then obeyed; he unbuttoned his shirt and laid it neatly over a chair. "Better? You're American? I'll put ice in the rum for you. In a glass, even. And a glass for you, Em." He stepped out of the room to re-fill the ice bucket, back before Bradley could think of anything to say. "So whose lab are you in? Sandy? Uh-huh. Good guy. He offered me a post-doc position, but I went to Cold Spring Harbor instead. Then I wanted to come back to the UK. Just need to confirm a PI grant, now. Hoping some Horizon funding comes through."

He couldn't be much older than Emily. "You're finishing your second post-doc already?"

"Mm. I got a bit bored of my first one, all wet bench work. I've decided computational biology is where it's at, structures and the proteome. I'd already got a couple Nature papers -- OK, one was NCB, but I'd been doing a bit of coding on the side, so the LMB near Cambridge were happy to have me. It's going nicely, so should get my own lab by thirty. Eighteen months to go."

"Richie, stop showing off."

"What? He asked! It's a conference, I'm allowed to talk about what I've done. It's the rules!" He sounded almost upset.

"I know, pet, but right now we're fucking. You can collaborate later."

Richie nodded. "If you insist. Brad, would you like a blow job?"

Bradley froze. Then, figuring a solution, relieved, he squeaked, "From you or her?"

Emily interrupted. "I can. Rich, what did I just say about not scaring the students?"

"I was trying to be nice! Oh, fuck it. How's your thesis going and would you like me to proof-read it?"

Head spinning, Brad managed his usual answer; it was coming along, still wanted a few more results to bolster it up but the central arguments were there. "And sure, if you like, but I'm not sure you'd have much to contribute if it's not your field."

"You're looking at the role of tyrosine kinase receptors in..." Richie outlined the work that had first brought Bradley to London, resulting in a joint paper from Sandy and Verity's labs. "That was a nice paper. I peer-reviewed that one."

Bradley eliminated various contenders.

"You're Richard Pardoe?"

"Obviously." As if he realised how arrogant that sounded, Richie added, "Em rates you and your work. So I'm happy to read your thesis."

"Thank you!" At last, he knew how to respond.

"You can have that and a blow job, if you like."

"Richie!"

"Oh. Heterosexual. Sorry. You see why I prefer talking about science? So, those last experiments of yours, what happened...?"

Richie was commiserating with Brad about the difficulty of getting certain techniques to work, discussing some possible solutions, when Emily interrupted.

"Do excuse me," she stated sarcastically. "But if you gentlemen are ready, I believe it's time to change ends."

A pause. Bradley wasn't quite sure what was being implied, and there were options he really didn't want to be involved in. How could he phrase that?

"Oh, chill out, Brad. He's actually nearly as straight as you are! It's my face and my arse we're talking about..."

When put that way, how could either man argue?

Both gazing at Emily's naked body -- with her wanting them both, right now -- they did not argue. Her sheen of glistening sweat looked amazing on pinker-than-usual skin.

Still without undressing, Richie pulled a rubber out and applied it to himself. Emily sat up and undid the guy's shirt, with a quick kiss on his cheek. "I want to see you." She threw the shirt aside.

"That'll be tricky, if I'm by your arse." He considered for a moment. 'I suppose you could turn to your back, but then it would be hard for you to suck him..."

"I'm looking at you now." Emily gave the bare-chested man a hug, nuzzling his sparse chest hair, then flicked the little bell-bar he had through one nipple. "So I'll know what you look like. It's the principle of the thing."

Richie shook his head, seemingly not understanding the woman but willing to go along with any whim which got him buttsex.

Bradley felt that if he was naked, he was very glad Emily was too, and that Richie really should be, but simultaneously that trying to explain that to Richie would be an exercise in futility. Instead, Brad concentrated on Emily's body, stretching out along the king-size bed, and reached to her shoulder, then along to her breast.

"Mm. That's nice. Rich, one minute. Brad -- get yourself comfy leaning on the headboard. That good? OK. I'll just rest my head here," -- on a rather sensitive part of his thigh, it was nice, her long hair everywhere. "Mmm, you do have a good cock!" She ran her tongue round his rim. "Yes, yes, yours is lovely too, Rich!" she called out, responding to a small huffing noise from behind her. "Now use it!"

From Bradley's point of view, Emily's excellent blow job continued to be so, but with a swaying, back and forth, as her body on all fours was pushed forward, then retreated from. He didn't want to think about why she was moving like that, so just tried to enjoy the feeling of her cute mouth all round him.

It was, of course, wonderful. Getting his cock into a willing mouth always was. However, curiosity proved too much. He opened his eyes to see what was happening at Emily's rear end.

Her ass was just bubbly enough to stand proud, high above her waist. Perfectly pale pink and smooth, with the cleavage between her buttocks shadowy and mysterious, a cleft made into a crevasse as her buttocks were held apart, Richie clearly going for the same hole Brad had used. Brad supposed it wasn't his sloppy seconds given he'd played safe, but all that lube and whatever juices of her own were there, this guy was now getting stuck into. With gusto.

Bradley tried to pretend he wasn't looking at a man. Richie had long hair tied in a shaggy blondish bunch, so really ought to be possible to seem feminine in Brad's fantasies later. A dangling earring, even. Only the guy had a clearly male chest, even if it was near-hairless. Besides the one nipple piercing there was a stud behind the hanging earring and a large hole in the other earlobe, with a wooden black retainer. More hipster than most scientists, but still totally male. Nor were his noises feminine in the slightest.

Brad was kept in the moment simply by how Emily's responses repeated Richie's sounds, only an octave or two higher pitched, and humming around Brad's cock. That vibration, Emily's clear enthusiasm, her peeping up to him with misleadingly innocent eyes, and just the fact that he'd somehow ended up in a threesome with another man -- even without being at all interested in the guy, the whole taboo factor was working on him.

Not just having a girl's ass, as forbidden as that often was, but he'd got anal with another guy there too, a second stiff dick there in her mouth. Joining in. Sharing his partner with Brad.

That Emily, once out of her neat skirt suit, was one filthy bitch.

Bradley was finding the contrast hot as all hell.

Bradley gasped as Emily swallowed and slurped around him. He was disappointed for one moment, when she dropped his cock out of her mouth, then realised it was because she was losing control from reaching a climax.

From getting fucked in her tight little asshole, she was moaning -- "so good," was the only phrase Brad could make out. But then she muttered, "need more," gripped Brad's dick firmly again, returning to sucking his head like a lollipop, grinning at him as she lay on his leg, her lower half shaking beyond her control.

Emily might be having an orgasm triggered by another guy, but it was Brad's eyes she was staring into. Which rapidly meant it was his spunk all over her face.

She'd been beautiful to start with. Rivulets of cream dripping down her face and some soaked hair only made her more so.

Emily smeared her face on the bedspread, but didn't bother going to clean up. She simply rolled to be beside Brad on the bed, and patted beside her to make Richie join them. Richie's blank expression had relaxed into 'quietly satisfied'.

"I wasn't expecting you so early, Rich?"

"I got a flight via O'Hare. The previous flight was running late so they asked if I wanted a seat." His expressionless face crinkled slightly. "I wonder how many others on that flight have walked in on people?"

"Who knows? Yes, more rum, thanks." A bit more conversation, planning for the next few days. Emily filled some glasses with water and ice -- sorely needed refreshment for all of them. She downed her drink and refilled it. Then she needed to say something. "Brad -- thank you for not screaming and running away!"

"Run away? In the middle of screwing a hot babe's ass? That would be rude, surely?"

"Fair point," she replied. "You were clearly brought up with nice manners. Unlike him. Now, you two might be sated for the moment..."

"She means, she wants muff-diving," Richie told him, as off-hand as ever. "Want to start? I warn you, she's bloody insatiable."

Emily had the grace to look embarrassed as she hauled herself to the top of the bed, to lie back on three hastily-piled pillows.

"Go on, spread your legs, sweetheart. OK, Brad, mate? Get in there!"

Bradley happily got in there. Her pussy was as sweet-smelling as before -- no, more sultry, wetter, lips all swollen and obvious, clit hood also sticking up and easy to see. Wonderfully aroused. He kissed and licked until her clit came out to play, sucked her lips, licking along them and above, some stubble getting in the way but mostly so easy, then poking his tongue to touch her clit...

She spasmed, as if electrocuted. He lifted his head.

"Don't stop!" It was becoming her catchphrase.

"Well okay, then..." He went back to his task, clinging on tighter.

She moaned and rocked onto his face, ruining his control. Then it became easier, with her only moving a smaller amount, though the squeals got even louder.

When Bradley paused to take a deep breath, he noticed her reduced movements were because Richie was lying on her other leg, most of his weight on her chest as he held down her shoulder and sucked at her breast.

"More!"

Bradley returned to his work. Not work: pleasure, even if it was concentrated effort.

Emily continued to make those cute little squeaks, but wasn't completely getting off. Even if she had done so not that long ago, that shouldn't be a problem for a woman? Bradley wasn't an expert on biology at the whole-organism level.

Richie slithered down to be eye-level with Brad. Bradley sincerely hoped there wouldn't be a kiss.

"I think we'll need to co-operate. You lie on her legs, stick some fingers in her cunt, let the little one stray back to her arse. Nice. Put your thumb just there -- good. Right, cool, don't scratch my mouth..."

Richie jumped up, straddled Emily's chest, and doubled over so he could take over giving oral sex. His hair was warm in Brad's hand, oddly pleasant, but Bradley focused on Emily.

The squeals were sharper, more urgent, turning into cries.

"Fuck'er wiv' hand," Richie directed, muffled with his mouth full. Bradley got the idea, pistoning his fingers in and out of her, starting to feel her clench onto them and slide away.

A sustained soprano sound, as if in distress, but Bradley had the feeling she wasn't. Richie knew her fairly well, they'd been seeing each other for eight months, albeit at odd intervals. He seemed to know how her body worked, anyhow.

Richie must have intensified what he was doing with his mouth. Emily's noises now were definitely cries, but in between there was a voiceless repetitive whisper, 'more more more more...'

That desperate word from her lips was the most erotic thing Bradley had ever heard. Lying there, her head arched back, just visible behind Richie's ass -- he was glad Richie had refused to undress further -- she had totally abandoned herself to feeling what what being done to her. Like a goddess of sex.