Thruple

Author's note: This is my first erotic story, as you'll likely be able to tell should you make it through to the end. I would really appreciate all the constructive criticism and advice that I can get, as that is the only way I can improve.

I toyed with which category to put this under but, as the story will contain transgender elements at a later stage, I thought it safest to enter it as such to ensure there aren't too many surprises for prospective readers.

I hope that you enjoy this first chapter and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Drake glanced at the phone in his hand, switching between the open navigation app to a message confirming which flat number he was after. He looked down the list of names until he found an A. Lee and pressed the corresponding silver button beside the nameplate twice in quick succession. The intercom speaker crackled into life almost immediately.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Drake; we spoke yesterday about the room you have to rent."

"Oh, you're here already? I'll buzz you up now."

The voice was soft and cheerful, a refreshing tone to hear after the berating he had suffered every night for the last night. Drake's girlfriend, Jess, couldn't understand why he insisted on renting a room from another woman, in her words "wasting" the money he was earning when the offer was there to continue living in the spare bedroom of her parent's house -- he'd lost the will to live after the fifth time of reciting his reasoning for wanting his own space.

Drake opened the heavy door as a solenoid buzzed to signal it had unlatched. He stepped through to a modest hallway, the décor looking just as dated as the outside of the building, with the aesthetic completed by rows and rows of faded chrome post boxes marked with names and numbers.

The lift was out of service, according to a crude sign that had been taped across the two silver doors - a detail he mentally stowed away to later be assessed along with the apartment. He didn't pass anyone whilst walking up the endless flights of carpeted and creaky stairs and wasn't at all surprised by how out of breath he was by the time apartment 316 came into view. The door swung open on the second knock.

"Hey there. Oh, sorry about the lift, we've been complaining to maintenance for weeks to get it fixed."

Drake slowly looked up from the floor, his eyes instantly drawn to the toned, lily white legs on display. His only prior reference for what Amy looked like was from the small chat icon that he now knew to do the raven-haired beauty a disservice.

Amy was shorter than the average woman, but she made up for it with curvaceous hips that he just knew were hiding a nice round ass, a little bit of a pot belly that he was taken aback by just how sexy he found the sight of it to be, a pair of full and perky breasts that strained at her sleeveless white crop top, and a smile that would launch a million ships. The smile only accentuated the dimples on either side of her face and caused her button nose to wrinkle up. Drake didn't know how long he stood there in silence, likely staring like a starving man shown an all you can eat buffet, and tore his gaze away to look straight into her blazing blue eyes.

"It's no problem," he managed between deep lungfuls of sweet air. "A bit of cardio probably will do me the world of good."

It wasn't just an icebreaker of a joke. Drake was just shy of six foot and, where once was the hard and toned body of a university athlete, some six months of office work had resulted in a few more pounds creeping on the scales. He had made the effort to join a gym only three weeks ago and was happy with the process he was fast making.

"Don't just stand there, come in and have a look at the place."

Drake stepped through onto the thick red carpet that covered the living area, the very same carpet he had seen throughout the building. There was a small L-shaped kitchen to his left, the oven looked like something he remembered his grandparents throwing out over a decade ago, and an open living room complete with an Alaskan sofa and 90's era television to his right. Opposite the kitchen was the larger of the two bedrooms, sharing a wall with the bathroom.

Between the bathroom and the second bedroom was a singular external window with a cuddle chair in front of it and a small table stacked with books and magazines.

"This room would be yours," Amy said as she led him into the modest sized room on the right. "You'd need to supply your own bedding, but the mattress and pillows were replaced after my previous tenant upped and left so no need to splash out on those. All bills are included in the monthly price and, since it's the first thing a few people have asked, the Wi-Fi is super fast."

"That's a relief, I've been living on practically dial-up speeds for months now. Strong Wi-Fi is a must, especially with all that 4K content out there."

By the look on her face Drake could tell Amy had no idea how to react his joke. Her nose scrunched up a little as a knowing smile spread across her mouth, before she regathered herself.

"Well, I've not had any issues with it. I've got all the streaming apps hooked up to the living room TV, not that you'd expect it from the look of it." He followed Amy back out of the room to stare at the vintage TV, only from the rear did he notice the various cables to adapt the small streaming device to something the TV could accept. "Just don't expect any of that new-fangled high-definition you youths are all about."

Drake couldn't help but laugh, especially with the cheesy grin Amy struggled to contain. It was shit humour, but it was his kind of humour.

After he had been shown the bathroom, complete with a small standing shower in the footprint of where the old bathtub had been poorly ripped out from, they finished the tour in the kitchen.

"We'd split the fridge and freezer shelves in half, though I'm not going to throw out any food if you need to borrow some space for a short time. I'm quite a passionate amateur chef, so if you want to chip in with some communal meals that works for me too, but we can discuss that should the apartment be to your liking. I suppose that concludes out tour; any questions?"

Drake took a long, slow look around the open plan apartment one last time, taking in the dated décor that he could tell Amy had done her best to liven up within the confines of her tenancy agreement. It was the cheapest place he'd looked at all week, and it showed, but maybe that was just what he needed.

"Only one; can I have it?"

Amy's eyebrows tried to escape her face in surprise at the request before she smiled in response. Drake couldn't help but notice her eyes quickly scan him from head to toe.

"It's first come first serve, so I suppose that you can. I take it you read all of the advert?" He nodded an answer. "Good, good. So, it's a month's rent in advance, I'll write down my account details for you. When do you think you'll be moving in?" Amy asked as she scribbled down the details.

"I can move tomorrow, so whenever is best for you really?"

"Tomorrow it is. Just give me a call first to make sure I'm not out at the time. I might get chance tonight to get a spare key cut for you."

"I'll see you tomorrow then." He said, taking the slip of paper.

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said that you packed light."

Amy placed the two cardboard boxes down on the small table in Drake's room as he followed her through the door, a large rucksack on his back and another box in his arms.

"I've quite a lot of stuff still left at my parent's house, but that is only sentimental crap that I haven't got the space for. Besides, I'm still on a graduate intern's wage so won't be getting a gold Rolex just yet."

"Hey, nothing wrong with getting a foot on that corporate ladder. I was expecting a few more trips up the stairs and am not complaining that we aren't left all hot and sweaty. Here, I may as well help you unpack."

Drake was facing away from Amy, struggling to get his arm free from the rucksack's shoulder strap to put it down. He wasn't quite quick enough at dropping the rucksack to intercept her as the woman started unpacking items onto his desk. By the time he was free she held a photo frame in her left hand whilst she rotated the tapered cylinder that had a distinct silicone front which couldn't be confused for anything other than what it was in her right.

Amy's cheeks were glowing. They might have completely skipped red and found a colour that, until this moment, was unknown to mankind. She hastily dropped the fleshlight back in the box and couldn't maintain eye contact with Drake.

"Err.. yeah, maybe it is for the best that I leave you unpack. I'll...umm...I'll get started on food. It's turkey chilli tonight, if you're interested?"

Drake was still frozen to the spot, processing what happened. He regained his senses enough to come up with an answer as the woman seemed to be staring at some loose strands of his brown hair, rather than look him in the eye.

"That sounds great, thanks. We can talk about how you want to split food costs and other communal items then."

"Okay, I'll give you a shout when food is ready."

Drake watched her leave and hastily shutting the bedroom door behind her. He had barely managed to keep his own embarrassment from showing, not that Amy had seemed able to notice over her own. He was thankful that the fleshlight, a gag gift a friend had bought him that had since seen daily use, was clean when she picked it up and turned it around to see the impression of his favourite pornstar's vulva.

Drake busied himself with unpacking his clothes, laptop, and a few personal trinkets he had kept all throughout university. He even found himself humming along to the music he could hear coming from the kitchen, which preceded the alluring smell of frying food that had been heavily spiced. Drake hadn't smelled food that good since the last time he had visited his folks and his stomach rumbled at the thought of it.

In no time he had mostly filled the small two door wardrobe, and had his laptop setup on the desk. To the left of his workspace was a photo of he and Jess, which she had given him as a Christmas present several months after they first started dating. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he could care less about couples' photos, which is why he always kept it on display to prevent any more arguments, should she visit.

The fleshlight was hastily buried deep in his underwear drawer. He made a mental note to never leave any clothes in the dryer in case Amy tried to be helpful and found herself face to face with an unsolicited vagina again.

Since he was unpacked Drake decided that the least he could do to repay Amy's hospitality was to offer his help in the kitchen. Drake opened his bedroom door and came to a sudden stop at the sight before him.

Amy wasn't merely listening to some background music, instead he found her singing and dancing along to the portable speaker balanced atop the kitchen's microwave. She was tending over two pans on the stovetop, rapidly stirring one as she shook her rear in time to the beat.

Drake hadn't noticed up until that moment just how well she filled out the skin-tight light grey sportswear. He knew the leggings weren't for show, Amy obviously was no stranger to squats to keep herself in the shape she was in. The matching sports top, which cut-off somewhere near the base of her ribs, showed off her little bit of belly and her waist that tapered out to a voluptuous ass.

He had to give it to her, the woman could dance. Drake wondered, since he had not yet asked, exactly what it was the woman did for a living. He could quite easily picture her as an exotic, and highly erotic, dancer, except the woman would be filthy rich with skills like hers and would never live in a place like this.

Drake found himself staring for a lot longer than was acceptable and adjusted himself, feeling the throb of his crushed member protest at such treatment, before walking over to the active chef. It became all too apparent that he had messed up as soon as Drake tapped a finger on Amy's shoulder and the woman screamed.

The wooden spoon in her hand was waved around as she flailed at the surprise, an arc of sauce flung from the utensil that splattered across Drake's white t-shirt. He was entirely caught off guard as chilli dribbled down his face and Amy stared at him, mouth half open between surprise and amusement.

"Oh god, I am so sorry; I didn't even hear your door open. Quick, get those clothes off before they stain."

Drake was still catching up as Amy placed the spoon safely back in the pan and grabbed his t-shirt by the hem. In one smooth motion she lifted it up and over his head; Drake didn't even feel in control of his body as he raised his arms to help the woman.

"And the shorts, unless you want blue with red polka dots."

Drake unbuttoned his shorts and, before he could turn to maintain his modesty, Amy dropped to one knee and pulled the clothing straight down. It was a minor miracle his underwear didn't come with it, and for that Drake said a silent prayer.

She seemed entirely unfazed by the sight of his bulge, straining at the fabric of his boxers; thankfully he had calmed down from initially seeing her erotic dancing, but the current situation was fast diverting all blood flow to his member.

He stood, rooted to the spot and mouth agape, as Amy looked down at the splatter that had caught her tank top across the bosom. Drake couldn't believe it, and even if he wanted to turn away, not a muscle in his body would respond as he watched on whilst Amy stripped off her top.

Before him were two perky breasts, perhaps a C or D cup by his inexpert assessment, barely contained behind a bright pink bra. He could see twin peaks poking through the thin material and couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight.

Only when the washing machine door slammed closed, and an electronic beep signalled that the wash cycle had started, did Drake come back to the present.

"Oh, you don't need to stand around, sweetie. Best go get dressed before someone," here she looked down and, though it might have been his imagination, Drake was sure she smiled with something other than amusement at his package, "gets the wrong idea."

'Yeah, sure, sorry.. thanks for washing my clothes." He said meekly in appreciation before hurrying back to his room.

Drake dressed slowly and wasn't surprised to hear that the singing didn't resume. He could still vividly picture the sway of Amy's toned rear, her ass cheeks almost forming a heart shape that stretched and filled out the leggings. In that moment he would have given anything to sink both hands into all that assmeat, if only to feel something so fucking hot, let alone to tear the clothing from her and ravish that beautiful body.

He sighed with heavy frustration of the sexual kind. Sat atop his desk, representing a snapshot in time that was nothing like present day, was a photo from happier times. He and Jess, mid dance at one of her cousins' weddings, staring lovingly into each other's eyes. Two years and comfortably fifty pounds later that passion was long since dead, mostly on her side, but Drake, if he were to be honest with himself, was no longer as angry at the lack of sex when the alternative would be romancing a woman who looked nothing like the one he fell in love with. It wasn't just a lack of physical attraction, her personality had changed too, and not for the better. Jess was lethargic, rarely showing any interest in hobbies or social gatherings, and the only topic she seemed to bring up these days was how much money Drake was either earning or saving as her singular focus was them buying a house together.

He didn't have the courage to confess the truth and sit her down for such a harsh discussion on their relationship being all but officially over. Instead, Drake had taken the cowards route of continuing with his miserable existence until one of them outlived the other.

When Drake heard Amy call through that food was ready he put the photo back down, positioning it to face towards the window rather than his bed.

"When you say filthy, just what are we talking about here?" Gary's voice was kept quiet enough that Drake could barely hear the question.

"I mean I ate her ass like my life depended on it. Bareback anal is just out of this fucking world; you've got to try it." Ben's voice boomed across this section of the office, causing a few squeaky chairs to turn as their owners picked up on the peculiar topic.

"But wasn't it, you know, dirty afterwards?"

"Nah mate, it takes a bit of preparation first but when done right it should be clean enough to eat...which it was."

The two men burst out into laughter, which Drake knew he should have taken as his cue to turn back to face his monitor before Ben caught him eavesdropping. He silently cursed his own curiosity as the older man looked across at Drake.

"Here, Drake, you've been tied down for a few years now, surely," Ben clicked his fingers a few times, whilst staring away from Drake, "Jess, that's it! Surely by now you've kissed that chocolate starfish on a few occasions. Just how big a fan of eating ass would you say that you are?"

"Well I-I can't say I've ever done that before."

Drake could feel himself getting red as he tried in vain to calm his rising embarrassment. The look Ben gave him was part pity, part disbelief at Drake's response.

"Never, not even once to try it?" Drake shook his head in answer. "You've got to change that, pronto. She'll be like putty in your hands afterwards, you could probably ask for a threesome and she'd say yes."

"That sounds a little far fetched, my lass barely puts out twice a week at a push, I can't see a bit of ass eating solving that problem." Gary weighed in with.

Twice a week? Was he fucking kidding? If it weren't for his fleshlight Drake would need to carbon-date his dick to find out the last time something other than his hand had touched it.

"No doubt Ben is bragging, as always, but he's not wrong. The path to a man's heart might be through his stomach, but a woman wants that tongue to eat it's way there."

Sally, who occupied the cubicle directly in front of Drake, had an almost ear-to-ear smirk on her face when the three men turned towards her. This wasn't the first time she can come out with something shocking whilst Drake worked at Inglewood, but it easily made the top three.

"Talking from experience there, Sal?" Ben asked.

"Perhaps I am, or perhaps I'm basing it on what some of the girls tell me; you losers will never know."

Ben blew a few noisy kisses her way, which were rewarded with Sally giving him the finger; Drake assumed that signalled the end of that particular conversation.

"Speaking of Jess,' Sally began, "we still haven't met her. Why don't you invite her for the social next Friday? It's a bank holiday weekend, so plenty of time to recover from the hangovers. We've all seen that cutesy photo on your desk, but it would be good to check that she exists and isn't tied up in your cellar."

He forced out of a laugh to join in with the others, but really Drake was chuckling more at the thought of what her answer would be. In the six months of his employment Drake had been invited on four events, one of which was thrown for someone who was leaving the company that had quickly expanded to act as a joining party for him. Jess had been invited on the last three events, and given increasingly more pitiful excuses for each occasion, resulting in Drake either missing the event or having to head home first of anyone when Jess texted to complain how she was bored and lonely.

If Drake were honest with himself, he was starting to get concerned that Jess's introverted side was only getting worse, holding them both back from truly enjoying life.