Trio of Non-Monogamies

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Note: A '99' is British speak for a soft-serve ice-cream with a chocolate Flake stuck in it.

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Trio of Non-Monogamies

I hadn't seen my old housemate Charlie in a decade. Meeting him again was wonderful. We'd been so close for several years, constantly chatting, cuddling, sharing all our worries and woes and our happier moments. We'd only shagged once, when he'd once been single for more than a moment, but we knew an actual relationship wouldn't work.

Our chat flowed, fluent and flirtatious as it ever had. To be fair, it did with all my old college gang, bantering round the table, but Charlie had always been special.

"What pub are we going to, after?" Charlie asked me, knowing we'd go drink in one. "Yeah, that'll do. Come on, Tash." Our other friends had to catch their trains back to suburbia. So we had rounds of goodbyes, "See you soon, Tasha! Don't leave it so long next time, Charlie!" until just the two of us could prop ourselves up in the nearest cheap watering hole.

He'd married, moved house, and been distracted by babies, shortly before I'd done the same, about nine years ago. But LinkedIn had enabled some of our mates to connect with him again. We shared updates on a dozen friends.

"How's Jenny? Is she well?" he asked.

"Er... No."

I had to explain Jenny's death in more detail than I'd wanted, Charlie not comprehending 'acute liver failure' as a euphemism for suicide. It hadn't been a surprise, I told him. She'd been more fragile than we'd appreciated at college.

"Ah. Sounds like Fran. My wife. She was the year below me."

"I remember her." I did, vaguely. Charlie and I had fucked shortly after his first one-night stand with her.

"Mm. She's... fragile. A bit broken, really." He swirled his drink, stared at it, and took another swig. "I always think of her as too fragile for this harsh world. She just doesn't understand people, and then they're upset, or she's upset..."

This did sound horribly like Jenny. The girl had married some twat, then unfortunately promptly had a baby, so she couldn't easily escape him. She'd got deeply involved in the Church on and off, which hadn't helped either; a natural atheist seeking easy solutions.

"I love Fran. She's a great woman, gave me the kids. I love her. But she's broken, if she has to cope without me. I'll never leave her, but she tells me to go get what I need from other people."

"Need?"

"Listening. No. Understanding. She listens, she tries. She does love me, in her way. But she doesn't understand... people. They say things, and she gets... Broken."

"Sounds difficult."

Charlie's voice caught. "It's like living with a housemate was, you know? Looking after her."

"Like me, you mean?"

"No.Not like you." He laughed, hollowly. "She tells me to go have sex with other people. Like she does. She doesn't see why anyone shouldn't."

"Really? You're OK with that?" Suddenly Charlie was back on my radar...

"Oh, that's really not a problem! We do screw each other, too. I know, it sounds bad, but seriously: who you have sex with? That's different from having a connection with someone. I used to have that connection with her. Be friends. But now? She's not a mate, now. I don't think she's capable of it. But I love her, and I look after her because I care about her. Because she's so fragile, delicate. So wonderful, when I can save her from being broken..."

I took a long sip of my pint, but still couldn't think of anything more profound to say than 'Oh.'

"It's been hard work, mind. Don't really fit with the local parent types, lost contact with lots of friends, like you. Jenny's mental health was bad for a long time, you say? Sounds like you really understood her." Charlie knocked back the rest of his gin.

"Yeah. Thank fuck I got my breakdown crisis out of the way, before and after graduation. Psychotherapy, man. Best £900 I ever spent," I told him, my mouth opened by the drink just like his.

"Mm." He told me about some medical problems he'd had a few years earlier. The pain and dealing with ongoing checkups weren't the worst. It was that mental side, realising you really weren't infallible, could be fragile. Even if now all was fine, just subject to six-monthly monitoring. Death was hovering in the background, and life could be hard to enjoy.

I agreed. "We're definitely middle-aged! Talking about our health problems. Sucks, doesn't it? Your body's weathered well, though. I've already bored you with half my ouchy stories. IknowI'm middle aged. I go 'Aaah!' when sipping a cup of tea, and everything."

He laughed, his sadness vanishing. "Nothing like a nice cup of tea and a sit-down! What about the others? Tania, Toby, Ross?"

I gave a quick rundown of their locations, jobs, Toby and Tania's families.

"Is Ross married?"

"Ross? No! Eternally single."

"Why's that? He's a good man, a good looking man, why's he not married?" Charlie seemed indignant on Ross's behalf.

I shrugged, not wanting to tell even Charlie that Ross was morose with guilt after too many contemporaries had died, and sworn off partners. After overcoming some bouts of depression, he still had the problems of hating campness, twinks, bears, and drag, which limited his options. The man could have found a relationship easily if he'd wanted, given his fine body, bright mind and sizeable income, but he restricted himself to finding guys on Grindr for quick fucks. If he wasn't going down some rather specialist types of nightclub.

I gave the pat answer. "Never met the right bloke, I suppose."

Charlie set his glass down heavily. "Ross's gay?"

Bugger. I hadn't meant to out the guy. But it was ancient news. Mike the gossip-queen had known by the time we'd graduated, so I'd assumed everyone in town knew.

"Er, yeah. You didn't know, at college?"

Charlie shrugged. "It's not that I'm surprised."

I spotted a familiar sparkle in Charlie's drunken eye.

Charlie thinking about Ross?Interesting.

He continued, "Just that Ross was really into Suzy, when I was getting together with her. And the two years I went out with her, now you mention it."

I laughed. "Darling,everyone was into Suzy." Ross had tried hard to persuade himself, but ultimately failed.

We both sighed, reminiscing. Charlie hadn't been sure which of us to go for, until I'd told him I didn't want a relationship. Too much cloying romance, he'd have given me. But I'd let on that I fancied women, in particular Suzy, soon after, so the pair of them flirting with me, snuggling, sleeping in the same bed, drawing the line only at snogging and sex, had continued during their entire relationship. Even then, they'd stayed on friendly terms. Suzy had escalated things with me, after. We'd split up and stayed friends, too.

"Yeah. I think everyone was into Ross, too." True. Ross's lush dark-blond curls, gym-shaped body, and huge dose of self-confidence, at least in public, made all of us consider him. It was the first admission I'd ever heard from Charlie, that he too might look both ways.

I raised my eyebrow. Charlie grinned, sheepishly.

"Well, now. We'll have to make sure Ross comes to the next meal. Should be fairly easy to persuade," I told Charlie.

We changed the subject after that. But about three months later I managed to pin Ross down to a date for another college reunion meetup, convincing him that fewer people, more often, was the way to go. Me, Charlie, three others.

It was another brilliant night. We might now look forty rather than twenty, but we knew how to chat and entertain each other.

Again, most of the group had to catch trains back to the suburbs. My local trains ran all night; Charlie had his bike. He'd evangelised cycling, his latest hobby, for a while; I'd taken the piss out of his new obsession, but only after ensuring Ross and Toby were happily geeking away with him. They'd done similar in my direction, laughing at my taste in music, the uncultured gits. It was one reason we were all still good friends: we knew when mickey-taking was fun, did it a lot, but never went too far.

The lads talked me into having dessert. 'Afters', it said on the menu, the restaurant being impeccably expensive and traditional, Toby's choice. Half of them went for the famous Sticky Toffee Pudding. With custard, of course. I selected a Trio of Crèmes Brulées. More French accents than I'd had to read since school.

"Man, those look beautiful!" Glassy amber caramel shattered with a mere tap of my spoon. Three small ramekins on my plate, each filled with creamy bliss. Charlie tried to pinch a spoonful. I knocked his hand away, but eventually let him try a morsel.

"They all look the same," Ross sniffed, scraping up his last spoon of dark brown toffee sauce, sponge and yellow custard.

"No, they're very different! This one's classic vanilla, only you can really taste it. That one's pistachio, see it's faintly greenish? And slightly red flecks? The other one may look like the first, but it's intense and almond. Might be a hint of rose water - it tastes like it should be in an Indian! More like kulfi. It's totally different!"

"If you say so," Toby said.

I let Charlie run a finger round the empty pots, and compare. "She's right, you know. Just because things look the same, doesn't mean they are. All great, though."

"Aren't you profound?" Ross said. "Sounds like a proverb in a self-help book." His tone was sarcastic, but I noticed him watching Charlie's finger reaming out the cream.

"Are you in a hotel, Ross?"

"Yeah. The Worsthorne. It's near Victoria."

Or in Belgravia, as someone less self-deprecating would put it. "No slumming it with a Premier Inn for you, eh, love?" I teased.

"Not when I can book far enough in advance, no," he retorted. "Are you both coming for a drink?"

We were. Toby and the others headed back to their homes in the outer zones.

"Bar, or your room?" I asked.

"Ooh, forward!" He flapped a hand at me, playing up to the camp stereotype for once. "I've got a bottle of wine - though happy to buy you something downstairs first?"

Charlie acquired an overpriced bottle of beer. I'd cope with wine. "Lead on, then," Charlie said loudly. "Take us up to your room. Don't you knowanything about hiring hookers?"

It was meant as a joke, to shock the other bar patrons.

Ross gave a slow smile. "Oh, yes. Don't worry, I can affordallyour services, darling..."

Ross draped his arm round Charlie's shoulders. Charlie gulped, not knowing how serious Ross might be.

Ross let Charlie go once we were in the lift, but looked him up and down. "Still pretty," Ross observed, a bit merry.

Charlie inhaled.

"Just saying, sweetie," Ross added, with a cocky grin making his flirting 100% clear to even the most bashful lad. Which Charlie had never been - with women.

I'd never seen him react to a man's advances. Men didn't do such things in public, twenty years ago.

In the typical hotel bedroom - a moulded picture rail, a painting, and a leather armchair were the only features proving this was actually a boutique hotel - I curled up with a tumbler of Ross's chilled white wine. Ross sat on the bed with his own glass. Charlie stood with his beer, looking awkward for about the only time I could recall.

Ross resolved that one, his years of casual sex on the scene paying off. He set down his empty tumbler, stood to face Charlie. Ross raised his hand and curled his fingers round the back of Charlie's head.

Charlie didn't move.

"You do know I'm gay, right?" Ross asked. I tried not to snort at the very rhetorical question.

"Yeah," Charlie mumbled. He knocked back the rest of the beer, and dropped the bottle on the carpet. I picked it up as it rolled near my foot.

"Uh-huh," Ross said. "You've had your fair warning, then." Ross kept his hand behind Charlie's head, and leaned in.

They were both fairly tall men, just-under and just-over six foot. So Ross could easily place his lips firmly on Charlie's. And did.

The kiss knocked Charlie out of his trance. He opened his mouth. The dam broke. Both of them launched into sudden frantic kissing. Tongues battling, teeth biting, lips pressing all over each other's faces, the works. Beautiful.

Charlie reached round Ross's back, clinging to his shirt with two hands, then grabbing at Ross's arm, his arse, his stomach. Ross was of similar mind, managing to grip buttons of Charlie's shirt and undo them.

Fabric flapped, obscuring my view of the two men. Then both were shirtless.

Two naked torsos. Charlie was worshipping Ross's taller paler body, kissing down his neck and pecs. Ross came across as indulgent, playing with Charlie's hair, smiling.

Charlie stood up straight again, blushing, to look Ross in the eye.

"You've kissed men before, then?"

Charlie nodded, silent.

"Have you done anything beyond kissing?" Ross was trying to add, 'It really doesn't matter', when Charlie dropped to his knees. Both Ross and I knew what that meant!

I put down my glass as quietly as possible. Ross made eye contact with me, raising one eyebrow, as if questioning whether I was OK with this. I nodded. Then I smiled and blew him a small kiss. I wasvery content to watch two hot guys get it on!

Charlie reached for Ross's zip, fingers knocking Ross's as Ross unbuckled his belt, helping. One of them succeeded in undoing the top fastening of Ross's perfectly-pressed trousers.

Ross gasped, the feeling of someone else's hands on his underwear always intense. Charlie squeezed the size of the package under his palm, flicked Ross's shorts down, weighed that sizeable cock and balls in his hands.

Ross leant back, his groin towards Charlie's face. His fingers scrabbled over the base of Charlie's skull. Charlie looked up at Ross. A small smile suggested Charlie was overcoming his shyness. His confident sinking his head down over Ross's cock confirmed it.

It looked like Charlie had added cock-sucking to his list of obsessive hobbies acquired over the years.

Charlie's practice was paying off. Ross tipped his face to the ceiling, mouth open. Incoherent moans came from at least one of them. Both were fully concentrating on the fellatio, neither noticing anything else in the room. They'd probably forgotten I was there.

I wondered how Charlie would cope with Ross coming in his mouth. But Ross pushed Charlie away before that happened.

Bereft. That was how Charlie looked, no longer in body contact. Like his face when he'd explained his marriage to me, that there was no friendship or support coming from his wife.

Ross clocked it, too. Despite having dropped to sit on the bed behind him, he reached and wrapped his arms round Charlie, pulling the man upright again. They sat side by side. "Hey, mate? It's ok, lovey. Nothing wrong with what you were doing. Just - could I do more? Would you like that?" Ross's voice dropped, to nearly a purr. Queer as Folk's Stuart Alan Jones had nothing on Ross's deep rolling tones. "Do you like getting fucked, you gorgeous, gorgeous thing?"

Again, Charlie was lost for words. His stubbled chin possibly dipped as it rested on Ross's chest, his eyes unfocused over Ross's shoulder.

"He's not denying it," I observed, wandering up and stroking Charlie's hair. He'd always enjoyed that.

"I've never..." Charlie got two words out.

Ross cottoned on. "You've never been fucked, you pretty, pretty boy?"

"That is a crying shame," I agreed. I was hoping to see more of the two guys together.

"Would you like to be?" Ross's voice somehow got even lower, more seductive. I'd jump at the chance, myself, though I knew Ross wasn't at all interested in my female body.

Charlie gulped. He was still silent, but, hugged between the both of us, he was confident enough to make a definite nod.

"Oh, yeah!" Ross oozed satisfaction. "Don't you worry, mate. I'll make it good for you. You just bend over where you want, and relax. Where shall we put you?"

Charlie's eyes swung wildly round the room, panicking. Was he about to run?

Ross, thinking he'd put his foot in it, going too far, froze. Not helpful.

I'd have to help, if I wanted the boys to get it on.

"Come on, Charlie. Onto the bed. You can lie down on me."

I removed my boots. Then my dress, over my head. I was left in my bra, my leggings. That was on a par with the lads, risqué yet not indecent. And it grabbed Charlie's attention. My large breasts rippled where they spilled over their crimson silk containers.

I sat myself down in the middle of the bed, leaning back on the headboard and a few fat pillows. "Come here, Charl. Yeah. Knees between my legs. Yeah, get your face in my tits like you want to! Been a while, hasn't it? There's a love. I've got you, pet. Now, Ross's going to look after you, aren't you, Ross, love?"

Ross was delighted. "Yeah. We've got you, mate. I'm only going to do things what make you feel good, yeah? We care about you, y'know?"

He was rubbing over Charlie's black jeans, up his muscular thighs, over the guy's arse, then round to the front.

Charlie lifted himself momentarily away from nuzzling my breasts. He undid his belt and opened his fly-button, a clear signal of where he wanted things to go, then dropped back to all-fours, hiding his beetroot face in my cleavage.

I slipped my bra-straps off my shoulders, giving Charlie more access to my breasts. I was enjoying the gentle sucking, and grinned up at Ross.

I indicated Charlie's backside with my eyes, then raised an eyebrow. Ross returned a questioning expression.

I'd got as far as I could without words. I mouthed, "Be kind to him!" I'd have hissed, but I didn't want to alert Charlie, who seemed to be finally relaxing, enjoying lying on me. I got the impression this sort of cosy comfort was what he didn't get at home. Now he was leaving my nipple alone, this was all remarkably chaste and friendly. Like we'd been at college. A group of close, caring, friends.

Ross rolled his eyes. "I will," he mouthed silently back. A smug wink. "I might want to have him again."

Ross hadn't got any less cocky over the years. But despite his insistence he didn't want to settle down with a partner, 'aping heterosexuality', I figured he might want someone, maybe multiple someones, to care for. Tonight, that would be Charlie.

Ross kissed down Charlie's back. Charlie seemed almost asleep in my lap. Only it might be hard to sleep with your arse in the air.

Almost ceremoniously, Ross pulled down Charlie's jeans, exposing silky black shorts. I couldn't read the name of the designer, large letters upside-down round the waistband, but it wasn't Calvin Klein. More expensive, for sure. Ross rubbed both cute curves appreciatively.

Charlie gave a little wiggle. He might be lost for words, but he was content, warm against me, Ross's presumably-warm hands on him. As Charlie knelt between my splayed legs, he moved his knees apart to encourage Ross to touch all over.

Ross had had enough of fabric in the way. He shoved Charlie's pants to the bed, revealing the guy's naked arse. Ross and I grinned at each other. We both approved of the view.

Ross reached down to Charlie's good thick cock, tugging it a couple times to get it to maximum stiffness, then lifted and jiggled the boy's balls. When he dropped them, the hairy weights brushed against my thigh.

Charlie pushed his clothing down past his knees, as if annoyed by it all. Ross pulled everything over Charlie's feet and tossed the clothes aside with satisfaction. Now, we had Charlie all naked. What a beautiful toy, perfect to play with!