Satisfied at Last

NOTE: Some words and sentences are in italics to indicate a character's thoughts. Please retain that formatting

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Satisfied at Last

A vacation threesome we'll never forget

The first time I saw Melissa I nearly sliced off my finger. The ad agency where she'd been promoted to social media manager rented out the restaurant where I'm a line cook for a party. The place has one of those trendy (but annoying for the cooks) open kitchens. I was working at the vegetable station, slicing green peppers. I shouldn't have looked up, so what happened totally is on me. As I guided my chef's knife right to left across the pepper, I heard a group coming in. My eyes flicked toward the door. She happened to be scanning the room just then to get the layout. Our eyes met. Only for a moment, but the moment was, sorry to be corny, magic. The moment felt like forever. The thing is, magic doesn't last. I felt a pinch and looked down to see red staining the green pepper and to feel the sting of the capsaicin seeping into the incision I'd made in my index finger. I wrapped my fingertip in a bandaid and went back to my shift.

With me being on duty and her hanging with colleagues, we didn't get to talk. At one point, though, she came right up to me and asked a question about what was in a dish she especially liked. Now, it was a veggie dish, and my station was visibly piled with produce. Still, I wondered why she chose to ask me. I can't say we flirted, exactly. We definitely didn't exchange numbers. I didn't even know if she wanted to. But I felt a connection.

When I woke up the next morning, I realized that all of that except my throbbing fingertip could've been in my imagination. The restaurant was open to the public that night, and I was pleasantly shocked to see Melissa show up for dinner. The downside was she had a friend with her. A guy. I thought, Okay, boyfriend. When I got off my shift, though, I found her in the bar by herself, the friend having left. I worried that I was reading too much into our connection, but when I took the liberty of introducing myself she told me her name and invited me to join her for a drink.

We drank and chatted for an hour or two. As we talked, she casually dropped knowledge ranging from global politics to indie films, chamber music to old school hip hop. All of it seemed to pour out of her effortlessly, without any attempt to impress. She also displayed a wicked sense of humor and a vocabulary of swear words that put me to shame, even though I'd thought I was a master from having worked in so many professional kitchens. I worried about keeping up. As it turned out, I didn't know the half of it.

We left the restaurant that night and talked nonstop on the three-block walk to my place. Once inside, our mouths were preempted for kissing, licking, and sucking. The next day was a Saturday, the only one I had off that month. There was nothing to interrupt our growing carnal knowledge of each other until my shift on Sunday afternoon. We made the most of our time.

Before we parted, I told her how much I'd enjoyed our naked weekend. She looked me in the eye, suddenly serious. "You know what I thought the first time I saw you? 'If I ever get to fuck that guy, I'll never wanna stop.'" I smiled like an idiot and said that I couldn't get enough of her. I heard myself sounding like a lovestruck teenager but cared not in the least.

I know people say those things in the first flush of love or lust or whatever it is. For us, though, the attraction only increased, despite -- or maybe because of -- the fact that our schedules didn't jibe at all. Melissa works days, and often long hours when there's a deadline. I work mostly nights and go for overtime when I can get it. In the months that followed, our relationship consisted primarily of awesome stolen moments interspersed with stretches of delicious frustration. The moment I brought up the fact that I had a week of vacation coming up in June, she pulled out her phone and booked us a secluded getaway in four minutes flat.

The place was a three-hour drive from the city, a cabin on a large, pristine lake. The shore was dotted with other cabins, but none was too close to any others. In short, it was private. When we arrived, we felt like two caged animals let out into the wild. And we did get wild. Our days were blissfully alike: marathon fuck sessions interspersed with breaks to hydrate, visit local sights (farmers markets for me, antique shops for her), and cook meals (my specialty). Then back to business with renewed enthusiasm. We went days without wearing shoes or pretty much anything else. Soon we'd fucked in every possible spot in the cabin and were well into a second circuit.

After a couple of days, I was loving it, but I worried she might be pushing herself to accommodate me. I asked how she was doing. Did she need a break? She looked at me, incredulous. "Are you shitting me? I fucking crave this. I crave you." Well, you know the saying, No need to tell me twice.

To be fair, we didn't spend all our time having sex. A rowboat came with the rental, and afternoons we'd float on the lake to soak up the sun. When we were away from the shore and out of sight of prying eyes, Melissa would drop her bikini top while I stripped off my t-shirt. After slathering each other with sun block, we'd lie back to read or sleep or simply gaze at each other. She was in great shape (truly), and the sun made her cornflower hair glisten. And if I had cook's pallor, she seemed willing to overlook it. The way she looked at me made me feel like a stud.

One day, Melissa felt like she was starting to burn, so she covered up with my t-shirt. Not five minutes later, we heard a guy's voice say hello. Turned out to be another renter who'd rowed by to be friendly. We chatted a minute before he rowed off. "Good thing I had your shirt on," Melissa said. "I didn't hear him coming. Dude could've gotten a show." I laughed and forgot about it. Until later.

Evenings we switched it up with the help of various items we'd brought along as props. Our favorite turned out to be a cheap, digital camera I'd bought. We'd role play scenarios where an innocent photo session turned into a seduction, trading off being the photographer and the subject. When our last evening arrived (too soon) we came up with a special game to make it memorable. There was a bar a short way up the road. We'd gone there for burgers and beers the first night we arrived, before we'd had a chance to shop. For our last night, we decided I'd go there alone and she'd show up shortly after. We'd pretend to be strangers and pick each other up.

I drove us the short distance. She rode in the back seat with a duffle bag full of clothes. She told me to go in, have a beer, and give her a few minutes to change. Ten minutes later I was sitting at the bar, nursing an IPA. She came in wearing cutoff denim short-shorts and a button-down shirt (mine, as it happened), sexily knotted under her breasts. Beneath the shirt she wore a white tee cropped to display her firm abs. Her crimson-painted toenails wiggled in blue plastic flip flops. The duffle rested on her shoulder.

She looked around the place, paying no attention to me. Appearing dismayed, she caught the bartender's eye (easy, given that outfit), and asked if a red-haired woman called Kristi had been looking for her. Melissa gave herself the fake name of Jackie. When he said no, she shook her head, muttered "Shit," and sat down, saying, "So I wait for her again." Then she looked my way, but not at me. Pointing to my drink, she told the bartender, "I'll have one of those."

I smiled, finding myself enjoying the pretend snub, and bided my time as she sipped her beer. Right when I was about to say something to her, a guy sitting on her other side spoke up. "Friend stand ya up?" I hadn't noticed him before. He looked about my age, dark hair, scruffy beard.

Melissa gave him the side eye. "She'll be here." She said it in a tone so icy I actually felt sorry for the guy, despite the fact he was, without knowing it, hitting on my girlfriend. I gave it a moment and was again about to speak when he slid over closer to her.

"Sorry, shoulda introduced myself," he said. "Jose." He smiled in a way that even I found charming. Melissa seemed to think so, too. She smiled back.

"Jackie," she said. A lie, of course, but, you know, a friendly one.

The two started chatting. She kept her voice loud enough for me to hear easily. The story she told him was one she'd obviously made up for me about how she was up here from the city with her roommate, Kristy. "We have a cabin over that way," she said, pointing the opposite direction of where ours actually was. "The place has a rowboat, and Kristy and I like to float around with our tops off so we can get even tans."

Jose nodded and smiled. "That must be a sight to see. Lot cheaper than a strip club."

I wondered if that comment would make her write him off as a sleaze. Instead, she smiled. "Ya think? Should'a been there this afternoon. We didn't hear this guy row up. He caught us with our tits out." Jose laughed. She joined him. "No big deal. I've been to nude beaches before. But it felt awkward, so I put mine on. Kristy, though..." She shook her head. "She acted like she couldn't find hers, even though it was lying right at her fucking feet, pardon my French."

I grinned to myself. Kristy was the name of her actual roommate, but Melissa had clearly invented a character for "Jackie." For one thing, Melissa never apologizes for swearing.

"So what happened?" Jose asked. Gotta admit I was wondering where she was going with this little yarn myself.

"Kristy liked this guy, obviously. First she made sure he got a good look at her boobs, then she flirted with him until he asked if she wanted to go to a party. She was all smiles to him, but she shot me this look saying, 'not you'. I didn't want to go anyway, and I said so. She got into his rowboat. I rowed back to our cabin solo and hiked my ass over here. This is where we said we'd meet. Did I mention she's late? We're supposed to drive all night to get home. I've got my clothes." She pointed to the bag she'd stowed beneath the bar stool. "She's got our car and the rest of our shit." Story finished, she let out a breath and took a big swallow of her beer.

Jose nodded. "So you're screwed."

"Nah," she said with a sly grin. "I think Krisy's having that pleasure right about now."

I'd never heard her speak so provocatively with another guy, and I have to say it stirred something inside me. I signaled the bartender to bring all three of us fresh drinks. When he set them down and pointed to me as the buyer, Melissa glanced over to say thanks. Jose seemed a little miffed (understandably, since as far as he could tell he was making time). I slid closer and said I couldn't help but overhear that she was from the city. I was, too, I said, and we compared stories about neighborhoods and such.

Jose must've felt left out, because at that moment he got up and suggested we play a game. In the back corner there was a long table where you can slide a puck over sensors and get a score, kind of like bowling. Simple and easy. Perfect for when you're drinking. He went first and got a good score. I went next and did the same. Then Melissa, who usually kicks my ass at games, took a turn and totally fumbled the puck. She scowled and said she needed room to move.

She took off her shirt and hung it on the back of her bar stool. The tee underneath was white, thin, and spaghetti-strap. So, yeah, it hid nothing. I was amused by Jose's bug-eyed reaction, even though I totally got it. As she leaned over the table to try again, the sleeveless tee gave us a perfect view of her breasts. He looked at me as if to say, Whoa, hot. I couldn't help but return the look. An instinctive guy thing, I guess. She fumbled the puck again. Clearly it was on purpose, because she said, "Can one of you guys show me?" in a sort of little girl voice. Jose stepped right up and leaned over her back, his hand on hers to guide her shot. You couldn't slide a piece of paper between them. Her blue jeaned ass nestled against his groin. It was getting hot in there.

Tease me all you want, Babe. I am so gonna take this out on you back at the cabin, I thought to myself. Lost in my reverie, I suddenly realized that Jose was suggesting we step onto the porch for some air. We followed and found him sucking on a vape pen. He held it out to Melissa, who said she never touches tobacco. He said, "Who says it's tobacco?" She took a sniff, liked what she smelled, and proceeded to inhale a lusty lungful of weed before handing me the pen. After a few more hits, we were all mellow and quiet.

Jose gazed at Melissa like he was looking for the meaning of life. "What are you staring at, perv?" she asked. But she said it with an affectionate laugh.

"Just wondering whether you got an even tan from all your topless floating around," he said.

With a wicked grin, Melissa lifted her tee and flashed us both. "Not bad," said Jose.

I was speechless. Clearly it was time to bring the preliminaries to a close. I hoped Jose wouldn't get all upset when she cut him loose, but it sure made the game more interesting. I explained that I was an amateur photographer. Had she ever done any modeling? She replied with a bashful no. Well, I had my camera at my cabin, not far from here. Would she like to come over for a shoot?

She seemed to be weighing my offer cautiously. Jose leaned in close and spoke quietly. "He seems like a nice guy, but you gotta be careful," he said.

She knitted her brow as she thought about it. I was admiring her acting skills when she finally spoke: "Would you come along?" As in, Jose. As in, back to the cabin for our "photo shoot." He said sure and ducked back into the bar, promising to grab her bag and shirt while he paid his tab.

I looked at her, incredulous. "Mel, what the fuck?" I said. She glanced down at my crotch. Only then did I become aware that I had a blindingly obvious hard-on, straining against my jeans. She winked and gave it a squeeze through the denim. I almost spurted in my pants.

Jose came back out with Melissa's stuff and said he'd follow me in his pick up truck. Without a pause, he invited Melissa to join him. She said she would and slipped her arms back into the shirt while she climbed into the cab. On the short drive to the cabin, I eyed them through the rearview mirror. She was sitting really close. It drove me crazy wondering where her hands were.

As we entered the cabin, we all kicked off our shoes. Melissa padded barefoot around the place, as if seeing it for the first time. I opened three beers. We clinked and drank.

There was a moment of awkward silence, broken by Melissa. "So where's this famous camera?" I got it out, took a blanket from the sofa, and spread it on the floor. She sat cross-legged and smiled at the lens. "How's this?" she said. I clicked the shutter. She changed positions, stretching out her legs (click), then pointing her toes (click), then turning away and looking back at me (click). Jose crouched at my side, watching intently.

Still facing away from us, Melissa took off her shirt and peeled the tee over her head. All we saw was the smooth pink expanse of her bare back, but both of us gasped (click). Then she put the button-up shirt back on and turned toward the camera (click).

She took Jose by the hand and started making poses for the two of them. Heads leaned together (click). Her sitting in his lap (click). Him behind her with his arms around her shoulders (click). From that position she brought his hands under her shirt to cup her breasts (click). She shucked the shirt and faced the camera with only his hands as cover (click). Then she turned to face him and lifted his shirt over his head. She wrapped her arms around him, her breasts crushed against his chest, their faces to the camera (click). Then she turned around and leaned her back against him, her beautiful breasts fully to the camera, nipples proudly erect (click).

I couldn't seem to do anything but stare and snap the shutter. Maybe this was all we were doing. Maybe in a minute I'd find my voice, say that I had what shots I needed, and we'd tell Jose good night. Or maybe not. Melissa upped the stakes by sliding his hand down her stomach (click) and into the top of her shorts. I could see through the denim as his fingers reached down, and from the look on her face I knew they'd entered her (click). Without comment, she unbuttoned her fly, giving him more room to work. Her eyes got wider as her pleasure clearly increased (click).

So now I knew what this was for them. What was my role? Documentarian? I can indulge in voyeuristic fantasies as well as the next person, but I hadn't planned to cap off my week of glorious fucking by watching a show, no matter how sexy it was and even if it starred my favorite female. Then it struck me that my brain, still a tad foggy from the weed, was making all of this harder than it needed to be. I set down the camera and stepped over to join them.

Melissa's pert breasts pointed toward me. I took one into my mouth and sucked noisily as my tongue swirled around her engorged nipple. She started whispering, "Yes, yes, yes." I wondered whether she was referring to his fingers in her pussy or my mouth on her tit. Then I realized it didn't matter. I moved to suck on her other breast. At the same time I reached down to slide her shorts to her feet. That's when I noticed that she'd skipped wearing panties.

Suddenly, she laid her hands on both our heads and said, "Wait." Shit. Was she getting cold feet about how far we were taking our game? I breathed a sigh of relief when she said, "Why am I the only one who's naked?" Jose and I couldn't strip fast enough.

Melissa looked at me expectantly, my cue to say, "The bed's in there." She practically skipped into the bedroom and leapt up onto the king sized mattress, spreading out her naked limbs on the soft comforter. I jumped on a few seconds ahead of Jose, and she and I started making out like horny teenagers, kissing and rolling and grinding and rubbing. Jose positioned himself beside her. After a minute she turned and grappled with him, leaving me watching and, to be honest, panting. Nobody was in a hurry. I can't even say how long Jose and I spent roaming up and down her body, licking, biting, and kissing. She generously returned the favor.

I went down to her feet and started sucking on her toes. The only other time I'd done that, she'd just found it ticklish. Tonight she seemed to love it. I gradually brought my ministrations all the way up her body until I reached her lips. We were sharing a kiss that was surprisingly tender, given the context, when suddenly her body tensed. Her tongue shot down my throat. I looked to see Jose's face between her legs, his mouth on her pussy. I hope it doesn't sound too cocky, but I take a back seat to no one when it comes to giving women head. Gotta confess, though, based on her reaction, Jose knew exactly what he was doing.

Melissa moaned and writhed as he worked his wonders. I knelt beside her, fascinated, even a little grateful, to get such a clear view of her face and body as she went through stuff that I usually had to peek at from between her thighs. It felt a little strange to watch another man pleasure her. At the same time, it was one of the hottest things I've ever seen. She reached out to grab my cock and started pumping. I moved closer and rubbed the tip on her lips. She slurped my manhood into her mouth and started working it with as much gusto as he was using on her clit.

After a few minutes, her legs began to vibrate. My cock fell out of her mouth as she started shouting, "Oh, my fucking god. Oh, my FUCKING GOD." I watched, entranced, admiring Jose's concentration as he brought her over the edge into a screaming orgasam that wracked her whole body and rolled on for ages. I felt like I was cumming myself. At first I assumed I was empathizing with my spasming girlfriend. Then I looked down to see that she'd grabbed my cock again and pumped it. I was spraying huge gobs of cum onto her breasts.