We Deserve Our Orgasms

Note: This serves as a sequel to "You Deserve This Orgasm", as Part 3; though this works just fine as a stand-alone story.

*****

"Hi there! My wife and I just wanted to say we saw your ad, and man, you sound amazing. I love what you said about touch and lovemaking and curiosity about cock! We're swingers: we express love for each other by exploring others' bodies together. Emma loves having sex with women and wants a lot more of that. Tom loves the occasional dick and Emma loves to suck me while someone else is taking her from behind. Actually we love a lot of things, and we're open to whatever will make you feel good! You could either meet Tom alone first or we could all be together and see what happens.

"If you'd like that, we could meet in a coffee shop and get acquainted first, see if we hit it off."

I was stunned, I didn't know what to say. I had merely put myself out there as a horny thirty-something who wanted to discover penis, and here was - gosh look at the pictures - here was a cute couple who saw my picture and wanted to play together. It sounded like the least 'me' thing there could be (I was a hopeless-romantic demisexual straight man, very-much not polyamorous, whose sexuality came out of romantic attachment except for occasional urges to taste penis). And yet, they seemed lovely, his penis looked magnificent (if a little big) and soft, her bum made me want to kiss the cheeks along the crack (something I'd only ever done with the last woman I'd loved), and they both looked so snugglable. I didn't even know a man could look snugglable.

I didn't respond for a while. It was a little too much. Either I would feel weird about the woman (because I didn't want to become romantically entangled) or I would feel weird about the woman (because I wanted to become romantically entagled). I wanted to fall in love with a woman, some time in the future after I had immersed myself in these new cock-worshipping feelings for a while and - get it out of my system, was that my goal? Was it my goal to drink cum until I didn't want it anymore? I don't even know. It was just that one time in recent history.

And then I was at Starbucks wearing a conspicuous it's-the-guy-from-the-Internet hat and yeesh what am I doing...

This must be how Josh felt, the man I had touched in my home, the young man I had invited over to strip and lick: vulnerable, nervous, excited, unsure, and conspicuously aroused.

And then they were both there, looking at each other and then at me, already with practiced disarming mechanisms. Our drinks were still being steamed and already they had found casual ways to bring up sexual interests, as seamlessly as a stealthy bra-unclasping. I felt like they had unclasped the bra of my awkwardness. But they were lovely about it, repeating words like Consent and Okay and Try and Boundaries, and we had a conversation about what I was all about and who had what restrictions. Finally they asked me what I'd like to do at the outset. While my first instinct was to get Tom alone and try his penis out (I needed a larger sample size of experimentation, I didn't even know if I was really into sex with guys) I said something completely different.

"Okay. If I'm throwing things out there, Emma, I think you're wonderful, and Tom's pictures looked really great, and if it's alright, I'd love to give both of you orgasms with my mouth." I managed to get that sentence out, but I had to pause to see if anyone around me had noticed those huge things I had just said. I had just said I wanted to give two people an orgasm. But no one around us took notice, they had far more boring things to talk about. I looked back and they were both grinning thankfully at me.

"That sounds amazing!" said the short, strong-looking woman to my left. "What would you like done to you?" I said I didn't have a script but that I loved oral sex, as it felt intimate and giving; and that I was extremely tactile and loved being touched and touched slowly.

There was a long talk about consent and about safety, as should be, and then we read each other and felt good about each other. We met once more and then the third time we met at their house. The conversation was so comfortable and playful that we first let hours slip by in happy conversation, and, seamlessly, decided we were ready to take off our clothes. And I was naked in front of two naked people. Which was weird. It was weird enough that my excitement wasn't enough to make me erect as yet (though enough to produce precum, revealing hours of thinking sexually about them).

Emma smiled at me and her left hand touched my shoulder. "Okay here's my touch. Is this okay?" She was not talking about my shoulder; her right hand was very gently touching my penis and scrotum. My eyes became enchanted and that inner passion awoke within me. My gaze became slightly more intense and Emma met the gaze benevolently. Equally soft fingers, albeit longer, joined the first set and Tom was touching me. I started touching both their tummies, affectionately, creeping my suddenly familiar hands along their midriffs, meeting Emma's surprisingly large breast experimentally, slipping down to meet and caress Tom's seriously-long erection with its big bushel of fuzz.

Tom and Emma slowly came together and kissed each other, swooning as they continued to touch my growing erection. Emma came to me and smooched my cheek in three places, my neck in two.

And then they were kneeling. Both of them.

Tom and Emma smiled and grinned and giggled at each other on either side of my penis. Looking back at it, having apparently decided which was which, Emma brushed her lips (non-closing) along the moist tip of my penis as Tom introduced his tongue to the very bottom of my scrotum.

Both of the most intense ways I'd ever known to experience pleasure were happening together, and I fought my desire to close my eyes and thrash my head so I could instead watch this beautiful thing. In the presence of a woman my mind was remembering my intense love of the feminine form, and the eroticism of a woman interacting with a cock. Tom was trope-breakingly soft and lovely with his tongue, soaking and teasing my balls as they tightened.

Emma opened her eyes and watched Tom with erotic desire, who watched her back. They fucked each other with their eyes, and in fervour, Emma started to slide her tiny head impossibly far down my penis and up again, each thrust an exclamation of horniness pointed at her husband.

This time, in this one bizarre circumstance, this didn't overwhelm me with jealousy. I would love again and my lover and I would belong to each other, but this was a covenant that was thrilling me and soothing me through ecstasy.

They couldn't take it anymore and made out with each other, swooning and giggling, trading their new tastes. They looked back up at me when I was ready.

"How are ya? Is this okay?" I smiled as kindly as I could and nodded. "Emma can I taste your vagina now?" As I had admitted I had no script, and so I could only be frank. Emma was not surprised at all, with no sign of alienation from the way I had worded my request. She took my hand, kissed it, led me halfway to the huge double-deep fuchsia couch, stopped, turned and kissed me, turned back to sit down, and invited me with her eyes to come close as she lay back.

I was here to experiment but I was also here to be myself. So I touched her legs gently and affectionately, patiently, watching her face and listening to her breathing to find what she liked. This was my favourite thing to do when in love, though I was doing it to someone without context. Emma received the touch with affection and joy, and soon was kissing Tom, which made her pelvis begin to writhe. She adored him. It was time and I opened her knees, touching her thighs down to her genitals.

Like everything about Emma, (her voice, her smile, her disproportionate-to-her-height perky timpani-drum breasts, her buoyant hair), her vulva was adorable: a perfectly shaped rosy pair of lips, hairy with orange fuzz at the top and bare below, which had opened itself like a fuchsia lily to reveal a bud waiting to be received by some sort of touch. She was casual in her countenance perhaps as a comforting tool, but her desire for this was real. Something warm and wet was all at once upon me, tip to hilt of my penis, and the feeling was so sudden that my gasp opened my mouth tongue-first and brought me forward to improve my angle.

And with no further ado I was tasting rhubarb and cinnamon: something wonderful was in my mouth and I swooned as I slathered around. The sound above me was groan, sigh, and gasp in one breath, up and down octaves. I stopped again, remembering I wanted to let her have me slowly; I composed myself and tried to stay present (through the soft and slow up-and-down of a gentle mouth wreathed in downy beard) enough to soften my tongue and skate in circles around Emma's clitoris. Staying slow and staying soft was difficult when being siphoned and stroked (god his hands are there too, both of them, it's art happening down there), but at all costs I wanted to overwhelm this kind and lovely woman with the giant green eyes and the buoyant frizz of hair.

I couldn't stay away from the taste of rhubarb pie for long and I started an up and down of gentle clitoral licks and adventurous nuzzling past swelling labia. My mouth was cuddling her, and her groans became bassoon-deep. We stayed like that for a good while, loving the vulva into its first orgasm and then beyond, slowly licking (beyond the heteronormative goal of orgasm-and-finish) until she chose an end halfway along to the second event.

When Emma took me by the shoulders and kissed me it was indistinguishable in approach to an act of trying to drink back every drop of her own juices, sucking each lip, sliding her mouth along my cheeks and drenched neck...

She ended with one more smooch and, grinning with mischief only the green-eyed could muster, released and dropped me. Tom kissed his wife and then went behind her, obviously sliding his cock up and down her crack. She was an inch above a straddle with me and she spent long moments thrashing her head back and forth with joy, dancing above me in some sort of pagan reverie. He touched just the right spot on her and she froze for a moment, not breathing, and finally descended an inch.

The perfect labia slicked a single time along my shaft. And left.

She opened her eyes and looked at me. She grinned with her eyes but not her mouth.

The perfect labia slicked a single time along my shaft. And left.

It felt twice as intense that time. She allowed herself a heave of breath.

The perfect labia slicked a single time along my shaft. And left.

This went on for ten fucking minutes.

Until she crawled downward, licked my shaft once, licked my foreskin once of its newest batch of precum, and repositioned herself in a way I still cannot describe (what leg did what to move her there so quickly?) She was in an almost-on-her-back now, and (presumably) her legs lifted me up to just near her head.

She spoke. I had forgotten about words.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. I'm definitely okay, thanks for asking. What would you li--"

Her adorable lips and tongue were slathering my scrotum. I arched and somehow found Tom's penis. I don't know where he had been for the past few moments but something in my hind brain had told me where to find the pretty penis and suck on it. I had a large mouth, I knew this from popsicles and one or two penises, but I wasn't able to take him all in. As my desire had soaked him in drool, I made of my hand a soft grip to extend the sensations throughout his large erection.

My balls had reached the saturation point of stimulation, and had somehow numbed to that wondrous tongue and those ten adventurous fingers. Almost as though she noticed, she moved her fingers away somewhere as her tongue started tickling my foreskin. Her eyes were making intense contact with mine, drilling into me as she tongued me. She lost tactile contact with my penis for a moment as it flexed in confused pleasure at another sensation. It came back and she got it in her mouth, groaning perhaps only to vibrate her throat for me.

My sphincter was being slid along, up and down, by two fingers moving in slightly unpredictable motions. Tiny feminine fingers were touching an ass that never even dared want pleasure from anyone else but myself. A beautiful woman, with giant green eyes gazing at me, wanted my ass to feel nice. I momentarily forgot Tom's cock as I became lost in those eyes. They looked back at me, now softer, kinder, keeping me soothed and ready, keeping that gaze as a far more obvious feeling came over me: two knuckles of two small fingers all the way in me. Someone was inside me, a she was inside me, someone who wanted this. I had time for one loving thankful look as my brain again became terribly confused: I had no idea what was happening, only that it involved movement and gentle pressure somewhere inside.

For the second time, this time in reverse, like something feminine, like something feline, I thrashed into a backwards arch, displaying the front of my body as though it was something alluring, at the exact angle of penetration, in the exact shape of Yes. Emma had moved her head up to meet my balls and something happened in both locations at once, and everything was white and stars for so long. When I became present again I at first felt slightly sad, assuming that the orgasm meant it was all over. My penis flexed autonomically (which also grasped the fingers tight with my colon), and my penis, to my surprise, wasn't just still hard, but had no over-stimulation at all. It had not ejaculated. I looked down at it, vaguely registering the confident woman grinning at me as she slid her fingers out, and saw a cock still loaded and desperately ready.

The orgasm had had nothing to do with my penis.

"That's a prostate, sweetie! Hang on, I'm gonna wash my hands." Her face slipped away and she skipped off. There was Tom approaching me, and before he could offer anything else to me, I was on the lower part of his body, pouring into his whole genital area my gratitude, surprise, hunger, and remaining energy. He gladly accepted. Before I knew it he had begun his orgasm, first into my mouth and then along my neck. His hand was stroking my cheek lovingly, thankfully. Another hand was stroking me just as lovingly along my tummy, and I knew Emma was back. She licked up the semen along my neck and smooched my cheek.

I thought I was spent, and would have gone home smiling, not washing a single part of what had happened off of me, with not a single thought of reservation of 'what it meant'. Tom and Emma escorted me to their ridiculously comfy couch, and dismissed my reservations of putting my bum on the cushion. When my sleepy head leaned back, the back of my head touched two thighs and some damp pubic hair: Emma was behind me, astride atop the couch, her legs on either side of my torso and her hands stroking my cheeks. I let myself accept the touch, letting go for a moment of my need to give back. I closed my eyes let myself be touched.

Via order of elimination, I deduced it must be Tom's tongue on my penis. As I flexed my groin my colon felt sensitive, but his touch was gentle. Slowly and softly he sucked on my penis, up and down, humming with apparent gratitude. I smiled shyly with disbelief and gazed up at Emma once more, who watched me patiently. Tom's touch had no goal such as ejaculation or completion or timeline; which is exactly why I now raced towards explosive orgasm. The impossible softness and gentleness of his touch awoke in me an orgasm that for the first time was dedicated lovingly to two people. I gave every gush of release to Tom's mouth as Emma beheld my gaze, reading the journey I went through in my eyes, clearly happy I was so happy and held.

I was happy and held.