Klassy Lady: The Dandelion Field

Now, I watched for Mike's reaction. He did look surprised for just a second. Then he met my gaze affectionately, and said, "Oh, Chloe! Oh God . . ." He must have remembered from our conversation that I liked holding hands with Greg through the multiple orgasms, because he reached down and held my hand the rest of the way through this one.

One more thing that took some getting used to is the fact that I "ejaculate," sometimes heavily. Forget about a wet spot--I can soak the sheets down to a sopping mess. Of course, different guys react differently. Paul loves it. Most of my partners at Klassy Lady liked it well enough. But there were a few who acted totally disgusted, and one guy accused me of pissing on him (these were the same people who laughed at my noises--far and away, the ickiest sexual encounters of my life).

With Mike, I was practically upside-down, so the gushing effect wasn't as pronounced, but he obviously noticed, and gave my hand an encouraging squeeze.

When it was clear that I had finished, Mike pulled out. I expected him to squirt on me, but he didn't. I mean, he didn't squirt at all. He still looked pretty hard, about three-quarters erect.

"Did you come?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. While ago."

"Oh." That meant he came inside me. We had no birth control whatsoever. He didn't wear a condom, and my cervical cap was sitting in a bathroom drawer at home. I blush to admit it, but at that moment, the thought of getting knocked up by him crossed my mind, and suddenly I yearned for it with an intensity that shocked me.

"Problem?" he said.

"No." I smiled. "No." I made a mental promise to take a morning-after pill tomorrow.

With the hands we were still holding, he helped me to my feet. As soon as I got my balance, he let go and stepped away from me.

I realized my eyes were tearing up.

Mike looked at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Can I just, you know, get a hug for a second?"

He smiled. "Of course." He put his arms around me.

I buried my burning face against his chest. Tears streamed faster down my cheeks, onto his skin. I felt ridiculous, but I couldn't make them stop.

"Come on, now," he whispered. "Stop that."

Fortunately, I managed to, after he said it. I dried my eyes and said, "Whew! Sorry. I don't know what got into me."

"Well, I did, for starters."

We laughed. He tousled my hair. We hugged each other closer.

"I understand," he told me. "The better it is, the more confusing it can be sometimes. Even I got a little emotional after that one."

"Oh? I didn't notice."

"That was deliberate. Best if we keep this as unconfusing as possible--don't you agree?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

We put our lips together for a quick smooch.

I looked over at Greg. "You're next! What do you say we splash around a little in that beautiful stream?"

He grinned. "Sounds great!"

I put on my sandals. "Why don't I go on ahead, and take a minute or two to freshen up. I'll see you boys down there!" Alone, I started off into the woods.

At the pool, I washed all the stickiness off my tummy and labia and thighs. I splashed cool water under my armpits, which were starting to smell a bit, I noticed. I dunked my face under the surface, then thought what the hell, and went ahead and got my hair wet.

I wasn't completely over my emotional episode yet. I couldn't believe that I was dealing with these feelings! It worried me. No feelings like this ever came up at Klassy Lady. Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe all that casual fucking left me overconfident that I could fuck anyone and be perfectly casual about it. Mike just proved me wrong on that point. I've never wanted children, not in general, not with Paul, not with anyone--so why did I find the idea so appealing of getting pregnant with Mike's baby? Here's the best explanation I came up with: I didn't really want to have his children, but he fucked me so well that he touched me on that raw, biological level, and briefly triggered some instinctual urge to procreate. It was as simple as when the doctor hits you on the knee, except instead of a physical reflex, it was an emotional one.

I'd almost convinced myself of that, just about the time my two new friends joined me in the water.

We played around like three kids--who'd just discovered the joys of playing doctor. I had a lot of silly, fun, amorous contact with both of them, but it was Greg's turn, and I made a point to give him most of my attention. Finally, he caught me around the waist, and I knew that it was time. I wriggled back against him, while he cupped my breasts, played with my nipples, nibbled at my neck and ear, traced a finger through my belly button a few times, and started playing wth my barbell. I sighed at every contact. His cock, pressed against my ass, felt like a rod of iron. The pool was quite chilly, but still he was hard as only a teenager can be. The water made it easy for him to lift me by the hips. It took him a moment to line my pussy up just right over his cock, but he did it without needing any help from me. I said "Oh Greg!" as he lowered me and entered me from behind.

I wanted to bend over, to make myself as open to him as I possibly could, but I also wanted to keep my face above the surface. I waved Mike over, and said, "Here, come help me balance, please." Mike stood in front of me and held me stable. By leaning into him, I was even able to lift my feet off the bottom and spread my legs in the water. Greg gave me a wonderful, almost doggie-style fucking. Needless to say, I came again--not as hard as I did with Mike, maybe, but Greg still made his father proud. We were three happy, lazy campers when we walked back to the blanket and collapsed side-by-side on it.

We pretty well cleaned out the picnic basket. Then we lay on our backs and looked up at the fluffy white clouds overhead. I was holding both their hands.

Mike was on my left. He ran his thumb over my wedding ring and said, "Married?"

"Mm-hmm. You?"

"Divorced. Twice. So where is he now?"

"Home.

Mike hesitated for a second, then said, "Love him?"

"With all my heart."

Speak of the devil! At just that moment, my cell-phone rang. I checked the caller ID. I smiled at Mike and said, "It's him." I answered it. "Hi, honey."

"Hey, baby," Paul said. "So, you all settled in out there?"

"Oh, yeah!" I said. "I even made some friends." I winked at Greg, who looked a little uncomfortable with the situation.

Paul said, "Oh. I thought you said the place was isolated." He didn't say it like an accusation or anything. It was just a normal statement.

"Yeah, I thought it would be. Then I went skinny-dipping and ran into these canoers."

"Oh my," Paul said.

"Mm-hmmmmmm," I purred. "Here. I'll send you pictures." With my camera phone, I snapped a shot of Mike. I centered the picture on his cock, which was erect again. Also in the frame were his thighs, his gorgeous washboard stomach, and part of his chest. Best to leave the faces out of it, I thought. Then I turned to Greg and took essentially the same shot.

"Whoa!" Paul said when he saw the pics. "You really are having a good time, aren't you?"

"Aaahhh, heavenly!"

"Will they be with you all week?"

I looked at Mike, and then at Greg. I won't even lie--I wanted to take them back to the cottage. I could tell, though, that I was losing the struggle to manage my feelings. Mike was right about keeping it unconfusing. If I shared my bed and body with those two, slept with them, ate with them, spent another day or two like this with them, it would confuse me beyond anything I could deal with, for sure.

So I said, "Nah. We're just enjoying a sunny afternoon. It's lovely out here. Look at all these dandelions." I aimed the camera past my toes, at the field bursting with yellow.

"Well, honey," Paul said, "I wish I could be with you, but I'm glad you made some friends."

"Me too."

"Every detail, I want to hear."

"I'll call you tonight.

"Very interesting," Mike said when I put away the phone. "Does he get to make friends, too?"

"Nope. Just me."

"How does that work?" Greg asked.

"Hey," I said, "it was his idea. Why not? Haven't you enjoyed watching me today? When it wasn't your turn, I mean."

They exchanged glances. Mike said, "Since you put it that way, yes." Greg nodded.

"There you go. Paul likes to watch me, too. When he isn't there to watch, he still likes the idea that I'm fucking other men. What can I say? It's what he wants. I'm just trying to be the best little wifey I can be." I gave them a big, lewd wink, and we laughed together.

That was enough talking for a while, I thought. I started to rub their hands over my body. They took the hint. Greg and I were soon making out again, so hot and heavy that I swear we could have fogged up every window on a bus. Mike kissed my feet all over--then he sucked my toes! In its own way, amazingly, it felt almost as good as the cunnilingus. I'm sure there must be a word for erotic toe-sucking. If I can find out what it is, I'll buy the book and make Paul master it.

And now, dear readers, the moment you've been waiting for. You knew it had to happen, Lord knows I wanted it to happen, and it was beautiful, the way it just happened on its own. No words were needed, and none were exchanged. It was like, all at once, we decided together, silently, by touch, to go ahead with the ultimate fulfillment of the M-F-M fantasy that we'd been acting out all afternoon.

First, the anal penetration. Greg helped me lower myself onto him, reverse-cowgirl. "My Gggooood," I moaned. "Oooooh Greg." When I made it all the way down to his lap, he held his hand up for me. I laced my fingers through his, and we squeezed excitedly. With his other hand, he rubbed my stomach, until he found my belly button with his middle finger. He traced the tip of his finger down to the barbell. "Greg!" I cried, when his finger touched my clit. He planted kisses all over my upper-back and shoulders. Together, we lay back, facing up, with me on top. I moved my thighs further apart for the second penetration.

Mike knelt in front of me. He helped me raise my legs. I couldn't quite get my heels up over his shoulders, with Greg's cock so firmly, deeply in my ass, but I held my legs as high and wide open as I could. Mike supported them on his arms, while he reached underneath and grabbed me by the hips. He could have slammed in on one stroke if he wanted to, I guess. I did this sort of thing a fair number of times at Klassy Lady, so I knew what I could handle, even if I also knew that some things wouldn't feel so great. I think Mike must have been experienced as well, and he clearly wanted to make it good for me. With a long, slooooow, inch-by-inch push, he entered me halfway. He was determined, but patient, and wonderfully attentive. I'm a small woman, and there's not a lot of room "down there." With my ass already stuffed to maximum capacity by Greg's healthy endowment, every inch of Mike's that I took in was a very big deal to me, requiring me to catch my breath and get used to the feeling. Mike's sweet, considerate pace gave me that luxury. Slooooowly, he withdrew, then halfway in again. Out, then in a little further.

Greg held my hands, of course. Every time Mike pushed, Greg took it like a man when I dug my nails into his palms.

At last, Mike and Greg were balls-to-balls right up against me, as deep inside me as they both could go. I was sweating and trembling, but I couldn't have been happier. In a way, I'd come to love them, and I desperately wanted to make love with them like this.

Mike looked down between my legs. "Oh Chloe," he said. "If only you could see this."

It was very difficult for me to concentrate on anything besides the feeling of overwhelming fullness--stuffed is the only word for it--but I had an idea. I looked around for the picnic basket. Greg, stretching an arm back over his head, was just able to reach it and tip it over in our direction.

It took Mike a few trial-and-error shots to get it right, but it wasn't long before he handed my phone to me, with an amazing close-up of the double penetration. I let Greg see it, too, over my shoulder. I've seen pictures like it on the internet. They've always looked the same to me, and I've always considered them just about the raunchiest images around. I stared at this picture, though, in wonder. My lovers and I couldn't possibly have been bound together in that moment by a more intense physical intimacy, and the picture captured our sexual union in a manner that was breathtakingly direct and literal. The image of my little holes straining around their swollen cocks looked exactly the way it felt to me. I loved it, that I was giving myself to Mike and Greg--and Paul--so completely!

"Will you show that to your husband?" Mike asked.

"You're kidding, right? Of course I will! He'll probably jerk off to it nonstop until I'm home." I sent Paul the picture, then set the phone aside--still in reach, though, in case we wanted it again.

Mike placed his hands back on my hips, and started moving again. His thrusts were full and deep now. He stepped the pace up more than I expected.

"God, Mike, yes!" I shouted. I love to vocalize my enjoyment during sex, but I'm often self-conscious about being overheard. We were alone for miles, and nobody would hear me except the men who mattered. All afternoon, I'd been growing more relaxed and uninhibited with them. Now I decided to really let go, and be as loud and expressive as my pleasure inspired me to be. I moaned louder and more often, and--what is truly rare for me--I allowed myself to scream. I'm sure I must have sounded like the sluttiest come-track on any porno flick. I didn't care. In fact, I loved it! To this day, I look back on it with pride, that I was able to be so honest and unguarded in my sexual responses.

Mike worked up to a rhythm that drove me wild, out of my mind. He was smacking me so hard now that each thrust moved me up Greg's cock. With his hands on my hips, then, he'd yank me back down toward him. The motion in both holes sent me into ecstasies. Double penetration, I've found in my experience, tends to give me altered consciousness. What I mean is that the feelings are so insistent--they so completely occupy so much of my attention--that everything else seems to disappear. Whether it feels good or hurts or does both to me at once, there almost always comes a point when I experience myself as nothing but the double penetration, nothing but two holes getting fucked, just like the picture.

In such a zen-like state, my orgasm rocked my world and my whole being. It shook me through-and-through. Dear readers, words simply fail at this point. I wish I could give some inkling of what that experience was like for me. I'm sorry, but I can't. Perhaps it's for the best, though. If any moment ever deserved to be passed over in silence, out of reverence and respect for the privacy of such an excruciatingly intimate connection between lovers, that moment is the one.

When it was over for all of us, when I came back into my mind, just before we began moving to disentangle ourselves from each other, I almost said something stupid like, "I love you!" I almost asked them back to the cottage. The crazy doubt swirled through my head that maybe I belonged with Mike instead of Paul. Fortunately, I was gasping too hard to say anything regrettable, and I recovered my wits before my breath.

Now, when I have anal sex, things have to relax and open up back there. Afterward, they tend to stay relaxed and open for a while, instead of immediately contracting to normal. What I'm trying to say, as delicately as possible, is that anal sex leaves my little asshole gaping wide open and red around the edges. It closes up in time, back to normal, a pink rosebud, as good as new, but until then, it's a startling, dramatic sight, and it looks like some gigantic cock has permanently reamed me open. The first time I saw it, I freaked out, but I've gotten used to it, and now I even look at it as a part of the experience to be enjoyed. I showed Greg, and let him admire his handiwork. At first, he was concerned that he had hurt me, but I reassured him that I was perfectly okay. I embraced him, and whispered in his ear what a stud he'd been to me. Mike suggested that perhaps my hubby might like a picture of my bottom in that state, and I thought that was a great idea. He snapped one, and I sent it on to Paul.

Our time was almost up, I knew. I started to get weepy. I never, ever cried at Klassy Lady after sex. I still don't understand why sex with Mike, both times, got to me so much, but there's no use pretending. It definitely did. He didn't tell me to stop this time, either. He and Greg both put their arms around me in a warm group hug. They comforted me tenderly. I felt myself bonding with them to a dangerously confusing degree. I tried to make them leave, but they wouldn't until I stopped crying, and until they felt sure that I would be all right.

I exchanged pecks with both of them on the cheeks. Mike asked if I wanted them to walk me to wherever I was going. I thanked him, but declined. Nor did I offer to walk them back to their canoes. They put on their bathing suits, and went their way to the stream. I put on my sandals, tossed the blanket in the basket, and returned to the cottage.

Wednesday and Thursday went by in a blur. I made damn sure to take care of the morning-after birth control. Other than that, I spent my days all alone in the dandelion field. I lay naked on the blanket, fingering my barbell, drinking wine straight from the bottles, gazing at the clouds, reliving every moment, laughing and crying as I processed what had happened.

Friday morning, I did my best to set everything in order, and leave the cottage as I found it. I straightened. I swept. I washed dishes. I put out trash. I ran out for some groceries, to restock what I'd eaten. I splurged on the most gorgeous, rustic-cottage-style floral arrangement I could find, which I left on the table with a note to my friend:

Thank you for lending me the use of your cottage. My time here has been wonderful! I just can't tell you how good it's been for me.

Forever grateful,

Chloe