If At First You Don't Succeed...

"There" she'd say, as his mouth closed over a stiffening nipple.

"I like that."

And of course he dearly wished she would fellate him, knowing that she would not. She'd stroke his cock for ever, though; while he caressed her breasts; while they kissed, long and deep; while he fingered her pussy, spreading its wings, sliding a finger inside, up to massage her clit with her own juice. She liked that, too, parted her thighs, sometimes moaned softly. If she'd only let him go on for long enough, he was sure he could get her off that way.

But she never did. She'd pull on his cock, guiding it between her thighs, which opened wide to accommodate him, then lie back, drawing his body onto hers, sighing as the tip of his cock nudged at her vaginal opening, then entered her. In, out – Don tried so hard to keep the slow fuck going, but his own body had other ideas. His cock thrust harder into her, all the way in, all the way out. It evolved a will of its own.

Don thought of all the things Sheena had taught him. She liked to come and made sure she did, in so many different ways. And she made him come, and come again, so he could fuck her, or she him, for longer and longer, in every position conceivable, stopping only when exhaustion set in.

Ohsure. Sheena was much more than he could handle. Off the wall! But sex with Jane now tended to the opposite extreme. When they began seeing each other, the sensuality of their foreplay had excited him. But now they were a pair, the sameness of their couplings – the routine -- became frustrating. Excitement gave way slowly to mere sexual relief, two, maybe three times a week.

And now even relief was denied him!

After eight days of being frozen out, Don received a curious text message:

'hey, don. p fancies u. u interested? rick.'

Confused, he had not replied.

Next day:

'Last chance don u know where u name time? rick'

Against his better judgment, Don found himself considering.

Tuesday was his evening at the gym. Afterwards, a few beers with the guys. When he arrived home, always feeling horny, Jane was usually asleep. Thursdays, Jane attended an aerobics class. Well, she referred to something more fancy --- tantric, meditation, were in there somewhere -- but Don did not take that nonsense seriously. Aerobics, then. Afterwards, drinkies with the girls. When she got home, Jim was always awake, and Jane was always ready for sex. Obviously, the exercise, or girl-talk or whatever, turned her on.

A Thursday had passed since the 'dinner'. He thought that night would break the rut. Instead, it broke with tradition. Jane returned much later than usual, and did not want sex. Don's frustration grew.

Perhaps that's why, in response to the second message, he texted:

'y me?'

'P want u want, right' was the reply, a short while later.

Swallowing hard, his heart pounding, Don texted,

'tuesday evening 7pm k?'

Back came.

'great xpect u tu 7'.

....................................................................................

Tuesday was not Don's best day at work. He just could not concentrate. Fortunately, it's easy for a software engineer to disguise that he is just doodling, not working on the code. He'd packed his gym stuff in the bag that morning. He'd go straight from work. He'd told Jane.

"Okay. Have fun," she'd said.

Civility had returned. Warmth would eventually and with it sex, of sorts.

Nevertheless, he was committed.

If only he didn't feel so damn guilty.

The day dragged on and on. As 7pm approached, Don grew more and more nervous. What the hell was he getting himself into?

Chapter 3: Pat and Rick and Don.

"Hey! Great," Rick said.

"Hi!" Don managed. "I..."

"Come right on in. Pat's really looking forward to this. She'll be down directly."

"Drink?"

"Er... Ok!"

Don fisted his martini, sipping cautiously.

"Mind ...er... explaining this a bit... Rick?"

"Sure, no problem, Don," Rick said in his comforting southern lilt.

They sat, at opposite ends of the sofa.

"You remember when we had you and Jane over for dinner?"

"Yes," Don said, cautiously.

"Well, to be honest, there was an ulterior motive."

"Which was?"

"I'll come right out with it, Don, if that's ok with you?"

"Yes, please. Be direct."

"Pat and I are interested in trying sex with multiple partners," Rick said, evenly, eyeing Don.

Who gulped. Of course, he'd guessed. All the talk, about the couples who announced to the world they had sex every day. Now he knew!

"We had no idea how it would work out," Rick continued. "Threesome, foursome, or notatall-some."

"And it's not the only time. We had two barren evenings -- four 'notatalls'. But Pat liked you, you obviously liked her, and I'm sure I'd go for Jane if....."

"Yes!" Don said, emphatically, cutting him off. Then,

"So we're talking about a threesome?"

"We are."

"You, me and Pat."

"That would be correct."

"And if I don't want to go for that?"

"Don, you know where the door is. No-one's forcing you to do anything you don't wanna do."

Cheez!

"But Pat is Jane's boss," he said, lamely.

"Believe me," Rick said, with emphasis. "Pat knows very well how to separate work from play. This is play. It has no bearing at all on work. Trust me on that."

"So Jane will never know?"

"Not unless you tell her."

Pause.

"So what is it, Don. In, or out?" Rick said, possibly innocent of the double entendre.

Ohshit!

"Me and Pat alone?" Don said, shaking his head as he spoke, because Rick was shaking his.

"Pat and me, we done just 'bout ev'erthing a couple can do. We talk' it over some. Time to experiment, we decided. I guess you got the honor. Our first, and from the looks of it yours too."

"Oh yes! Hell, Rick. I've never done anything like this before," Don said. "I have no idea how I'm going to react."

"Well, Don, this is crunch time. Either you want to try it, or you don't."

Rick paused. He sipped his martini. Don said nothing. He made no move.

"Can I interpret that as a 'Yes'?" Rick said, eventually, angling his head.

He was into it now. No going back. He felt no desire, only anxiety. Even when Pat joined them, her attributes every bit as much on view as previously. She greeted him warmly enough, but there was a tension in the air.

Pat tried to make small talk, unsuccessfully.

At least, Don thought, they're as nervous as I am.

"Oh hell," Pat said suddenly. "Let's get on with it."

Rick brought out the roulette wheel and placed it on the table in front of the sofa on which all three sat. Pat was in the middle.

"We changed the rules a bit, Don, since there's three of us," Rick said. "Red's still Pat's. Black's ours. Female, male 50/50. If it comes up black, we spin again. Red is you, black is me. Ok with you?"

"Kay," Don said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"And we drop the two hour, four hour thing. Ever' throw is one hour. That way, we all get at least one turn, on balance of probability."

"An' one addition," Rick added. "No-one gets left out, right. Whoever's choosing makes sure all three are involved. Right, Pat?"

Pat nodded. Her thighs were pressed tight together. She looked as though she'd rather be anywhere but where she was at.

In fact, this was not so. Pat had long fantasized about doing it with two guys. But fantasy is one thing, reality another. A spot of stage fright was only to be expected.

"One more thing, Don," Rick said, "Just so you know. We're not into pain, and Pat does not do ass-fucking. Kay?"

Gulp! Ass-fucking? Even Sheena was not into that! Don nodded, thankfully.

"OK," Rick said. "Here we go. Lady's honor."

He span the wheel, Pat sent the ball scudding in the opposite direction.

Six eyes focused as the ball came to rest in a slot.

"Ha! Black," Rick said, eyeing Pat playfully. Of the three, Rick seemed most at ease – or shall we say, least uneasy.

"Spin again. Your turn, Don."

Don took the ball, trying desperately to control the shaking of his hand.

Black again.

"Hey! Whaddya know. First hour is mine," Rick said, setting the alarm on the side table.

Pat eyed him nervously.

"Kay. Here's how we start. Pat, you stand, step back a pace, face me and Don and do a strip. Nice and slow."

"And you two?" Pat asked.

"Me an' Don's gonna watch, get out the old monkeys and stroke 'em some."

"And then?" Pat said.

"We get to that," Rick said, unzipping his shorts. "I want our new friend to admire the sexiest gal in town, as nature made her."

Until she met Rick, Pat had never stripped for a man. Perhaps because no man she cared for had asked her to. Perhaps, also, because of an innate inhibition – nice girls don't do that. Rick's quiet persistence finally persuaded her, and thenceforth they often began this way. Pat enjoyed it as much as Rick. They experimented and found what worked best. Neither was into sexy underwear, or stockings and suspenders. A simple dress, underneath just Pat. Shoes she could kick off. Or, as on that night, a blouse, skirt and strap-ons.

As she faced Don and Rick, eyeing them seductively, all nervousness evaporated. She'd fantasized stripping for a whole room of strange men. One would do, for starters, and especially one whose eyes were practically falling out of his head as her hand played with the top button of her blouse.

Pat had long since figured out what worked best for Rick. Three very simple principles. First, everything very slow and very deliberate. Second, minimal movement. Third, feigned disinterest. Just remove your clothing very, very slowly. Pat could stretch out the removal of a single garment interminably.

Two buttons undone. Don had seen nothing he'd not already seen. But his dick was already stiff as a pole. He stroked it mechanically, his eyes riveted on Pat's breasts.

Pat threw him an occasional, casual glance, but made no attempt at eye contact. The hand that played with the buttons also stretched the fabric of the blouse so it brushed across her nipples, which stood out ever more prominently. Her fingers would toy with the button, then desist and stray across to a nipple. She'd look down at herself, stroking the nipple up and down, back and forth with a casual forefinger. Then back to the button, releasing it, and moving across to the other nipple. It was as though she were alone, stimulating herself, enjoying herself. Don and Rick were merely voyeurs.

'Ohshit,' Don was thinking. 'Much more of this and...!'

He lowered his hand and began squeezing his balls. None too soon.

Pat's blouse hung loose. Buttons undone, she spent an age easing the garment out of her skirt. Suddenly – a barely imperceptible movement of hands and body – the blouse fell from her shoulders, slid down her arms and onto the floor.

Don's eyes fixed on two pear shaped breasts, perfectly formed, which hung in wondrous symmetry from squared shoulders above a flat stomach. A hint of ribcage, but the jewels in the crown were two erect nipples embedded in the flushed pink of puffy areolas.

The sight alone was almost enough. The lightest of touches would have Don's erupting. Manfully, he restrained his hand even as his retina absorbed the image that was imprinted on it – probably forever.

'Holy shit!' he mouthed to himself. 'How could he possibly survive the skirt?'

Perhaps Pat sensed Don was struggling to hold back, that further teasing would be counterproductive. She did not play with her skirt, simply unfastened it, allowed it to fall to her feet and stood still, a naked, shiny mound of Venus thrust just slightly to the fore. An absent hand stroked her breasts.

"Ain't that something, Don," came Rick's voice seemingly from the far distance.

"Holy shit," Don said, out loud, in a tone of extreme reverence.

Rick had been watching Don and knew that he was on the brink. A compliment to Pat. Don was a young man. He probably came easily. No tragedy if he'd come before they'd even gotten started. But Rick sensed that this would embarrass Don.

"Ok, next," he said. "You an' me, Don, we get naked, too. I reckon Pat has earned herself a little reward, here, and I happen to know there's little she likes better than the feel of a tongue on her pussy. You go first, Don. Use that cushion for your knees. Carpet's a bit rough. I'll stand at the side and fondle her delicious tits while she strokes my cock. Pat, one foot on the table please. Help Don get at you without breaking his neck."

Rick's voice, and divesting himself of his clothing, broke the spell, at least to the extent that semen was no longer straining for exit. His experience with Sheena had taught Don, also, that licking pussy, whilst extremely enjoyable, distracted from his own need. They'd 69'ed and 96'ed for hours and he'd managed to get her off -- tongue, lips, fingers and even fist – at least five times before he himself succumbed.

Pat had arranged herself for ease of access. When he dared look up, Don's inner voice said 'Is there anything about her that is not perfect?'

Prominent inner labial lips, slightly parted, revealed a glimpse of brighter pink, already moist. Taking a leaf out of Pat's book, Don resolved to proceed slow, real slow. Pat's muted 'Oh!' as the tip of his tongue grazed the underside of her pussy lip was music to his ears.

The initial hour ended just as Pat celebrated her first orgasm. The expertise with which Don used his tongue and lips on her vaginal lips, clit-hood, then, when it peeked out, her clit tip, had surprised her. Of course, she did not know about Sheena, who had taught Don the tricks of the trade. Where to start – tips of the pussy lips, then inside, at the base, where nerve endings were few. Then slowly inch forwards towards the clit, advance and retreat, waiting, for the telltale movement of the groin. The clit-hood, yes, along the sides, along the top. The clit-tip? Careful. Not too soon. First a little flick, wait for reaction.

Pat's clit was sensitive, but not unduly so. Perhaps because it was rather prominent. Don felt her hand grasp his hair as he worried it, tongued it hard. She gasped,

"Yes, Yes. Ohyes!...Ohyes Yes! YES! OHSHIT!!"

Shakily, her foot slid to the floor and her body flopped onto the couch, its ribcage heaving.

"Holy shit! I'm not going to ask who taught you that!"

She looked up at Don, admiringly.

Don was elated. He truly enjoyed pleasing a woman. Especially a woman who responded like Pat.

Pat and Rick glanced at each other. Both looked upon Don with new eyes.

Pat recovered quickly. They each took a sip of martini. The wheel was spun. Red! Pat's turn.

"Ha!" she said, gleefully.

She removed her shoes, settled into the couch, her thighs splayed, Rick knelt, bent forward and began where Don had left off.

Following instruction, Don stepped onto the couch and placed one leg on its backrest. Pat raised a hand and began to stroke his cock and balls.

"Mmm! Nice," she murmured, though whether referring to Rick's ministrations or Don's stiffening cock was not discernable. Probably both.

Now she was into it, Pat found that the reality of two men was even better than her fantasy. Don's expert cunnilingus had surprised her and turned her on in no uncertain way. Of course, Rick was no less proficient. Oral sex was not only an integral part of their repertoire, it was its centerpiece. Control. Draw it out, long and slow, or a quickie, before dinner, whetting the appetite for later.

In one regard, Pat and Rick agreed. It was much better when they did it sequentially. He did her, she did him. 69 just did not work as well, however hard and often they practiced. One could not concentrate on one's own arousal while at the same time stimulating and enjoying the response of the other.

Now, with Rick lapping the inside walls of her pussy lips, then taking them one by one into his mouth and sucking gently, the tactile sensations of one-on-one cunnilingus were combined with the pleasures of a second cock, which she could watch, stroke, take into her mouth – whatever she pleased.

Her eyes rose to meet Don's.

To Don they seemed like dark pools of desire.

Pat's hand guided his cock to her mouth. She began to lick its tip, using a slow circular motion, breaking off occasionally and throwing her head back in response to Rick's stimulation.

Don adjusted his stance slightly and slid his cock to and fro along Pat's lips. She opened them out and raised a hand, pressing Don's cock against her lips with her fingers. Her other hand stroked the back of his scrotum, then its underside. Long fingers fondled his balls.

Rick worked Pat's pussy harder now, using the flat of his tongue in broad strokes from the base of her vagina up to her clit hood. He kept this going for a long time. Stage two. Rick knew very well how to raise the level of Pat's arousal in increments. Her groin began to move, in syncopation with the strokes of Rick's tongue.

Don was thinking how wonderful it would be to slide his aching cock into Pat's mouth. Perhaps he transmitted this desire unwittingly, because on the next backstroke, Pat opened her mouth wider and used her fingers to press Don's cock tip inside.

OhmiGod!

He stood now, both feet planted on the sofa. His cock slid slowly in and out of Pat's mouth, which opened and closed around its shaft. She began to suck, at first gently, regularly, then more vigorously, wildly. Her hand grasped his balls, drawing his cock deeper and deeper inside her mouth and tonguing its underside furiously.

Suddenly she grabbed his butt with both hands and pulled him into her. Her lips closed around his cock, trapping it. Her nails dug into his butt. Her body began to shake.

Rick had administered the coup de grace, taking Pat's clit hood into his mouth and sucking, while flicking his tongue across her clit tip.

Pat's body heaved and bucked as the orgasm broke and washed over her.

Don understood, finally, and tried to withdraw. But Pat clung to him, holding him in her, sucking, releasing, sucking, releasing. He waited for her to collapse.

But she did not.

"Fuck my mouth," she panted, releasing him suddenly.

Don hesitated.

"Come on, fuck," Pat demanded.

"If I do that I'll ... come," Don stammered.

Pat just grasped him by the butt, driving his cock in and out of her mouth. She sucked greedily. Soon there was no need. Don's cock remembered it had a will of its own.

Don could not know that Rick had inserted two fingers into Pat's vagina and was finger-fucking her furiously, still sucking on her clit hood and tonguing her clit. He knew Pat. There was always more than one.

There was no holding it. Streams of semen shot along his shaft and emerged in massive spurts into Pat's mouth, which sucked greedily as the fluid hit the back of her throat. Still, she sucked, her body taut, tense....

Don's cock felt the force of her inaudible cry as Rick took her over the top a second time. Her body was taut as a coiled spring, her rump was raised up to meet Rick's thrusts ....then, after an age, fell back.

They remained still for several minutes, Don's cock, spent, but still stiff, embedded in Pat's mouth, three fingers of Rick's right hand deep inside her vagina, his thumb fondling her clit hood gently.....

They'd disengaged. Rick had fetched fresh drinks while Pat used a hand-cloth to wipe saliva and the few drops of Don's semen she had not swallowed from her lips. She handed Don the cloth.

"Dry me off", she'd said, her head falling back. "I haven't got the energy."

Than which no task could have pleased Don more! Pat's pussy lips were engorged, splayed out and soaked in vaginal fluid. Don wiped reverently, adoring every square inch.

"God, Rick, if I'd only known it'd be this good! We should have done this years ago."

Rick chuckled.

"Maybe it depends a bit on the company?" he said, nodding at Don.