One Page - 5. Her Boy Toy Party

One Page Series - 5. Her Boy Toy Party

*Short and hot, stories in this series are meant for those ready to get off in under 3000 words.*

"He's standing over by the bar. The short guy, see?" Mrs. Lee pointed from their booth in the shadows.

"Where?" asked John.

"The only asian guy there, Horse," clearly exasperated.

John played dumb for her all the time. "Oh, yeah, skinny and glasses?" He downed his third Bud and let Mrs. Lee explain again.

"He's Nelson, a supplier to my places, I told you. I'm going to watch you two suck each other tonight, remember?" She rubbed the bulge in his jeans under the table. "I think you're into it."

"Turnabout is fair play, blah, blah, blah, yeah?" He leaned down to the diminutive, bare-shouldered woman and nibbled her ear, making her giggle. He could cover both of her small tits with one hand, but she pushed him away when he tried.

"Not here, Horse," she laughed.

So he put an arm around her and pulled her close, looking toward the glittering bar, "You're gonna fuck us both tonight, too, yeah, me and the fortune-cookie salesman?"

"You're a stupid, kinda racist bastard, Horse, but I like you," and she squeezed his bulge.

John knew what she liked and what she liked about him - about twice a week. Which was average for a new cougar on his list. The dirty-talking woman had her priorities, set her goals and met them. He had to admire that.

"Lilli likes me, too, I can tell," he whispered, "Did you promise me to her as a Christmas present?"

She chuckled, grimly. "We'll both be unwrapping you, Horse."

He'd been giving a lot of thought to what he could do with Mrs. Lee and her daughter on the long Christmas break. "There's twelve days to Christmas, right....?"

"Come on, let's get going," she pulled him from the booth and headed for the bar.

Fifteen minutes later they were back at her little mafia mansion on Lighthouse Hill. The bar meeting had been just a chance for Nelson to back out if he didn't like what he saw in John, but it seemed like six-foot-four, Sicilian studs were to his taste, too. John began to wonder if Asians had an Italian fetish. John observed the small, contained man in chinos and pink, knock-off polo who smiled at him whether he was trying to be funny or not. This Nelson was hardly any bigger than little Mrs. Lee, maybe five-four, one-thirty. Kinda girl-sized. Well, thought John, if I have to get blown by a man, maybe it'll be easier. And I'm not gonna be chokin' on his meat when it's my turn.

"You want a Bud?" he offered.

Nelson ran a hand up his bicep as he accepted the cold can. "You like your carpenter job, uh, Horse?"

"Well, I'm a design-build remodeling contractor, actually. And yeah, I do. Really, it's problem-solving and I like that."

"You've been solving some problems around here, haven't you?" Nelson waved the can toward the courtyard out the window where the pavilion was half-finished, an impish glint in his eye. He inclined his head toward Mrs. Lee just returning from the bathroom, now in a turquoise silk robe. "All kinds of problems."

"You boys going to keep me waiting?" She stood, hands on narrow hips and said, "Bedroom. Now!" John knew that she liked being in control. Until she wasn't. Until he gracefully overpowered her, ploughed her with poise and controlled force. Then she let the Horse run.

She led them all barefoot to her fabric-draped bedroom. John filled the lush space, feeling like a draft animal in Versailles, brawny and likely to break the furniture. Beside him Nelson was a bird, a crow maybe, sharp eyed, deliberate in movement, alert. The short man watched him closely as he followed Mrs. Lee's instructions.

"Take Nelson's clothes off, Horse." She sat in the upholstered chair by the window, just out of arm's reach, lying back, but tense, looking from one to the other thoughtfully, small hands holding her robe together. "Do it slow."

John began, not looking Nelson in the eye, loosening the two buttons on the polo and pulling it over his head and upraised arms.

"This your first time?" the shorter man asked, laying his coke-bottle glasses on the bedside table.

"Essentially, yeah," John shrugged. Then he knelt to unbuckle the chinos, release the snap and pull down the zipper. He looked up at Nelson's hairless chest, lean and smooth and Nelson looked down at him, hungry, confident and kind. John apologized. "I might be awkward."

He pulled the pants down to reveal black boxers, the man's growing boner hanging down one leg. John hesitated to go further.

"Nelson," commanded Mrs. Lee, who'd let her robe part and cupped one tiny breast in her hand, "you better suck John first. Ease him into it."

John rose and Nelson sank to his knees, pulling apart the 501s and yanking them down John's muscled thighs. The pouch of the red briefs barely contained the swelling organ that Nelson now stroked through the silk. John sat back on the edge of the bed and Nelson pulled the jeans from his feet, then, on his knees, between the taller man's furry legs, he eased the brief's elastic over the fat cock. It lolled, thick and purple, moving with John's pulse, dripping already.

Quickly Nelson stripped the briefs away and took the long organ in his hands, examining the veins, the foreskin, the flared crown, sticky with clear ooze. John watched him move closer and use a finger to swipe up and taste his juice. Both men trembled. Over on the chair Mrs. Lee stared, riveted, and a hand worked down under her robe at her crotch. John wanted to see her reaction when she got her fantasy, when Nelson took his cock in his mouth.

The best way to be with these older women was to be what they wanted him to be. Sandy, the waitress, simply wanted a carpenter stud, Mrs. Lee, the self-made woman, wanted this, a kind of male harem. John could be suave for those who needed it. He wouldn't tell Mrs. Lee he'd studied art history in college, knew about Chinoiserie as a style and about the first passion in the West for all things Asian around a hundred-fifty years ago, that she looked like a painting by Whistler, lying in the pool of her silk robe, a porcelain doll with dark, black hair and ivory combs. When she slowly parted her legs and the robe fell away, then swirled her fingers down from her nipples to her hairy mons he thought of Japanese wood block erotica. But to her he was just Horse, a guido, a stallion in a China shop.

She watched the men and John watched her pleasuring herself. Her wet fingers slid in her folds and her chest rose, hard nipples crinkled. John could see her flick her pearl, eyes slitted, sliding down in the chair, sinking into her lust, knees wide, chin on her chest, hair a tangle already.

Then Nelson wrapped his lips around his cock. The heat and wet felt like every blowjob - if his nerve endings didn't care whose mouth it was, should he? Was he turned on because it was a man? Or was he turned on because Mrs. Lee was so turned on? She quaked in the chair, whipping herself into a first release. Nelson pressed his tongue against the cleft in John's crown and hummed around his cock, lips stretched tight. Then he began bobbing, letting John's cock pop in and out of the hot, wet hole, looking up at him with a hungry smile in his eye. He was ready for a mouthful.

But Mrs. Lee was, too, and she joined Nelson between John's thighs. He remembered seeing Lilli and her mother down there, pulling out a load, sharing it. This time he stood and the two at his feet knelt, so they could each take a side of his shaft and he could hold their heads as he sawed between them. Finally, he got to try true double harmonica. So what if one of the harmonica players was another man. They were both ravenous for his meat. And they mouthed him, tongued him, teased him like they adored what they were doing.

John was steadily dripping juice, getting close. The hot tingle of orgasm building, he felt his hairs stand up, muscles tensing from his groin to his scalp. His balls pulled up tight.

Mrs. Lee had a hand on Nelson's rod, pulling. Nelson pinched her nipples.

John's long, veined shaft slid between their mouths and they tongued it, bit at it, giggled at each other as they played with him. Mrs. Lee raised a hand to cup his balls gently, to massage the root of him. She'd cocked his gun and pulled the trigger.

Spunk flew onto the carpet. Two mouths darted to catch his bullets, smearing in a growing mess of white, sticky cum. One would get their lips over his thrusting pole, catch a pulse, then the other'd open for him and hungrily take another. Froth dripped on their chests, Mrs. Lee's fat nipples shiny with it, strings of it hanging down. It lubricated Mrs. Lee's hand as she stroked Nelson's tool. John felt him moan around his cock when he came, throwing strings of semen onto the woman's belly, jeweling her bush, sucking him hard as he came to her stroking.

Mrs. Lee laughed. They'd made her happy. She was shiny with their spunk and smiling as she played with it, finger painting herself gleefully. She brought a sticky finger to each of their lips and fed them to themselves. "Now you sixty-nine for me, boys, and get 'em back up."

Breathing hard, sweaty, weak from orgasm, John collapsed on the bed. Nelson stretched out beside him, languidly, head to crotch, his dark eyes hooded. He lay his head on John's thick thigh and pillowed there for a minute, taking his softened, sticky cock in his warm hand and, gently massaging it, watched it ooze on his fingers.

John swallowed hard, the taste of their mixed eruptions on his tongue, and admitted he'd always really wanted to try sucking a cock, if only to show how to do it right. Nelson's modest organ, red and shining, half hard against his shaved body, made John's mouth water. He reached and wrapped it in his big hand and raised up on one elbow to take it in his mouth. At first it was cool, wet and spongy and he just let it rest in him, warming, tasting the sweet metal tang of it, while Nelson began stroking and licking his dick.

Mrs. Lee, cross legged on the bed beside them and rapt, eyes darting from one to the other, got an eye and an earful of the two men slurping, sucking each other back to potency. John felt himself swell again and Nelson groaned appreciatively. In his mouth Nelson's prick lengthened and grew hot. He drooled and swallowed and the organ, glazed with the familiar taste of his own jizz (of course he'd tasted his own spunk before), stretched to fill his mouth, his tongue wrestling for space, feeling its way around the crown, the slick shaft, the spongy bulbous head, tasting the salty pulses of it. Nelson began rocking his cock into his mouth and he bobbed with the motion, taking it deeper each time, swallowing, grunting with the effort, feeling his own cock swelling again, the heat in him rising, their bodies twisted together.

"Get on your back, Nelson," gasped Mrs. Lee and when he did she swung her leg over his head and settled her sopping quim on his mouth. "Do me doggy, Horse." She dropped her mouth over Nelson's straining rod. Above Nelson, John grasped her hips and pulled her up, then fisted his organ to aim it at her slot. She groaned around Nelson's knob when John sank into her, stretching the red, wet labia. He could see Nelson eyeing their union, watching his thick shaft pierce the woman, her muff crusted with the smaller man's seed.

When John eased himself deep, Nelson licked his balls, tongue probing, hot and firm. John held himself socketed and Mrs. Lee rotated, filled and grasping with her cunt while Nelson's mouth heated his sticky sack. John pulled back, let his cock drag slowly out of her, feeling each vein and ridge slip from her tight channel until the head remained, a cowl of labia wrapping it. Below, Nelson opened his mouth, extended his tongue, looked an invitation at him.

John slipped from the wanting woman and, pressing down with two fingers, guided the dripping purple knob of his cock to the waiting mouth. Different; it was smaller, firmer than the woman's pussy, unable to take him all in. Still, it was hot and wet and moving on him - a pussy couldn't do that. John sampled one then the other, splitting the woman, diving deep and hot into the tight, all-over wet velvet of her soupy hole, then pulling back and pressing down into the eagerly working and responsive mouth. Was Nelson trying to prove that men were better? He was surely giving it his best effort, a virtuoso performance of delicate and sensitive fellatio.

John was careful not to choke him. He didn't want to dominate or humiliate. Nelson was giving him a gift, widening his world and he was grateful for the man's enthusiasm. He was about to give him a gift of his own, the climax rising in him again.

Mrs. Lee made ever more fervent whines of pleasure when he sank deep in her and Nelson's hips rose sharply when she moaned around his shaft. John felt the three of them accelerating toward release in the room that smelled like fucking, humid and close. His sweat dripped on the woman's narrow back, her articulated shoulders, the bones of her curving spine. Her little round bottom in both hands, he drove faster, the flesh rippling with each wet smack of groin to ass. Nelson, writhing under the woman, tried to lick at the seam where they joined, his tongue randomly washing John's cock as he thrust.

John knew Mrs. Lee liked being filled by him once she was well and truly worked up. He was a craftsman - he knew his materials and what they could do, worked with the grain of a woman just like a piece of fine walnut, found the natural expression of the inner spirit of the living thing. There was a great satisfaction in making something beautiful, revealing the hidden excellence, the quality in something, whether a slab of lumber, a building, or a woman. Every cougar was a unique treasure and John knew how to uncover it, polish it, make it shine.

Or make it scream like Mrs. Lee was doing now, with him sawing into her, Nelson diddling her clit and her keening mouth full of urgent meat. Teamwork makes the dream work, he'd heard it said and Mrs. Lee's dream was about to come true. It was about to come in both ends of her.

His consciousness had centered in his balls, the rest of him obedient to the drive to plant his seed deep in the woman. Cleary Nelson was the same way, the spiraling urge to deliver rising in his loins, too, the small man's body stiffening. John entered Mrs. Lee deftly, with a fine control of the meaty piston sheathed in her tight and fragile body. But still, he was a piston and she was but a receptacle as far as their DNA was concerned - both bodies were determined to have sperm meet egg. John felt the power, from his cockhead back through his groin and up his spine, a taut spring uncoiling, made for throwing his essence into the future blindly. And he supposed it didn't matter to Nelson's straining organ that he would erupt in her mouth, the sperm were in a hurry now.

In this three-way ballet they'd danced well together. They'd reached a pitch of need, poised to release, toying with the explosion about to happen. John sawed steady and firm, her ass in his hands, her pushing back, Nelson moaning under them. What was it like for her, he wondered, filled from both ends, insistent organs swelling in her and her body craving that, softening, opening, thirsting for their spending? What would it be like to feel a man gush in his mouth at the same time as he emptied in Mrs. Lee? John imagined the hot, salty, slipperiness on his tongue, the force of the meat deep in his throat, out of control, the filling and the need to swallow or gurgle it out over his chin.

He came in a rat-a-tat firing of his cock, in a spastic thrashing, barely upright, jerking her small body back onto his pulsing pole and she shook in his hands as her release cascaded through her. Nelson bellowed, her mouth riding his rocking member, sounds of joy and abandon muffled in the squelching, frothing eruption.

John curled over her as his descending, slowing orgasm spent itself. All three bodies relaxed, and John pulled back, cock dropping heavily from her and pulling a stream of their juices with it. Nelson arched his neck and opened his mouth for him, reaching. John eased the wet knob down and Nelson sucked him in, lips working around him, swallowing the last feeble pulses of cum, then getting his mouth on Mrs. Lee's red and dripping vulva, licking deep and hungrily while she did the same for him. John stumbled back, watching the two embrace, shiny with juice and sweat. He fell into the chair and wrapped the too-small silk robe around himself, thinking about how badly he needed to pee. He didn't want to leave the room and miss anything.

Next time, he thought, I'll be even better at this.