Work Out Wind Down

"Relax baby," Louise purrs, "It'll feel really good in a moment. I promise."

"Oh, shut up," he moans, "Just shut up. You have no idea how that is supposed to work."

"Eh, it can't be that hard. You can use it. Rachel can use it. Saoirse, do you want a turn when I'm done here."

"I'm good, honestly. Never particularly felt the need. It does look good on you, I'll give you that much."

Louise beams and Saoirse starts stroking me. That's good too. I need some attention, otherwise I'm bound to get loose and break something. And Troy's made the offer so he's on that table. After Louise, maybe.

She has some sense about her. That must be a nice part of the whole kit. Control, she has control. There is no screaming feral instinct to disregard everything. The silicone is unfeeling and uncaring, slowly breaking into him and spreading him open. Despite his protests, he does take it well. His face contorts and bends, but never breaks. He is calm and collected and loving everything, despite his protests. His fingers dig into me, like I have the answers for the manic questions.

Louise is loving every second she has. It's in her eyes, this odd sparkle of madness. Even if she's not getting any sort of feedback from her tool, she is luxuriating in the position. She's moving his legs out of the way, bending him and pushing him and I think we need to work on his flexibility. I'm not quite at the level of ankles by my ears, but I can do better. That's an idea with Ken at least. Tai chi isn't quite the high-octane thrill ride of its contemporaries, but it certainly has its place.

Saoirse is good with her hands. They're warm and soft and simple. Much better than when I have to do it by myself. She's going up and down, up and down, nice and slowly. She refuses to placate my growing arousal. It's all an urge that needs to be tamped down and control. I reach over her shoulder and go to her breasts again, gripping the soft flesh to give her an ounce of pleasant pain under my grip. She likes it. She hisses and curses me, but she loves it. She loves everything about what we've thrown her into. She strokes faster and grips harder, and I never want to stop.

"Halfway big guy," Louise purrs, "You're doing so well for me. Good boy."

"Don't ever say that to me again," he growls, "I hate that so much."

"Fine, bad boy. You're an awful person."

"Don't say anything. I'm barely conscious as is."

"It's not that bad. I know firsthand. Right Rachel?"

"You were so loud our first time. Screaming and kicking. Like you were having a seizure. And you fainted twice."

"And you're doing none of that Troy. You're just slowly relaxing as I fuck you nice and deep. That is being good for me. And you're a man, but 'good man' doesn't really work as dirty talk. So, you're a good boy."

He is shaking a bit. I think she's found his hot button from the way he's leaking. So much, he's pouring out so much, pooling across his stomach in thick, heavy rivers. I'm tempted to break from Louise. He is being a good boy and that means he needs a treat. But then I wouldn't be able to play with Saoirse, so it's a conundrum. I guess I'll just wait right here and see how it all plays out.

Saoirse finally breaks from me and goes to his stomach, tongue lapping and licking and neglecting me. That's fine. I have her hips to play with. She doesn't know what she's missing out on. I move my hands away from her chest, as painful as it is, and start to move down. She's teaching and eager and warm, pulling on my fingers and I start to give her whatever she wants. Not quite that the level of what we can do, but it's something. It's nice and even, letting her dip a toe in the water of our act.

Really, I'm the odd one at this point. That is terrible. I have a body near me and a playing hand that's kind of sort of nice. But I'm really doing nothing at all. Saoirse's doing most of her work on that. She's moving and riding and I'm just giving her something to play on. I shiver and shift and move a bit more. There's a sigh and groan rumbling through me. I let out. They're all scared and terrified and none of them want to deal with me. I like the show, to be sure, but I like it better when I'm actually doing something. Louise is busy and Saoirse's lost in her own little world.

Troy, once again, proves himself to be the best of all of us.

He finds something in my eyes and looks down. He sees me, all of me, aimed right at him. I don't even have to ask. I don't necessarily want him to, but he is simply perfect.

He kisses my head and all of me buckles in response. I finally get some wonderful attention. Louise keeps going faster under him. She's found a good rhythm that pulls wonderful streams from him. Saoirse creeps closer and closer to the source and Troy is lavishing me.

I lean back and spread out. The circle is complete. We all have our act and our task. Troy's a bit too overworked in my opinion, but he's juggling the work well. A bit of overwhelmed, but he found it. Louise is working her hips slowly, letting us all unfold. Troy's getting eager. He takes a lick and runs it through his lips. That builds a good stream in me, bursting forth and spraying Saoirse. We are all stained and touched and painted and marked with one another. Mine lands on his face and he is taking it well.

He's not brave enough for a full-on throat deep exploration, but he does open his mouth and takes what he can. My fingers work more in Saoirse, and she angles herself a bit more. Troy angles himself up. We all compensate and align for the missteps of the others. All parts and interconnected and interwoven and flowing.

I move us all, just because we all deserve more. Louise has her fantasy, but I have something in mind. I lift Saoirse and lay her atop me. I give Troy space to breath and her a path to keep her chosen work apace. I find her weeping excitement flush and twitching. It needs a tongue. It gets a tongue. Not quite my strong suit, but certainly better than no tongue. And the way her thighs spasm and twitch mean I'm doing something right.

Troy's struggling again, but he learns he can move his tongue too. And it's wonderful. Hot and swirling, with a little bob and turn so he doesn't end up spraining his neck. He's learning. He's learning fast and that means there are so many more things we can do now. All the pieces slotted together in so many new ways. I move my arm and a hand joins my mouth. Saoirse likes that. I think she's miming Troy now. His motions reflect back to him through a channel of mirrors. And he still is getting better. More of me is in him. More of Louise is him. And more of him is in Saoirse. Connected and joined more and more and more.

Something gives. I'm not quite sure where it starts. I think it's Louise. She hits something in Troy and that makes him whimper. That little noise finally sets me over into a tight clench and hiss. That hits Saoirse and she starts seizing. That goes back to Troy and the cycle starts again. I think there's a moment of teeth in there, and I don't mind that at all. Just a nip and tug to give the rest of the pleasure something to burst against.

To his credit, he tries to take it inside. It's too much, too fast, too incredible. My seed escapes from his lips and starts firing off randomly. It lands on his beautiful face. It rains down on Saoirse's back. It hits Louise's stomach. Or that might be his. Both and all of our climaxes hit and reverberate through our calls and drown out the world. It lands in heavy streaks across me. The warmth I gave is now redoubled and painting our world with viscous lust. The couch creaks and protests, but it's fine. It's had worse. It will get worse in the future. One of these days we'll finally break the damn thing and get something new to break.

I glimpse Louise pulling away. Her own little joy wasn't nearly so physical as ours, but she looks happy and flushed and panting. All of it was worth it. And to her credit, her length is still hard. It will always be hard. As good as I am, I don't think I can match that particular skill. Give it a good run for its money maybe.

Saoirse's winds down as well, nice and slow and even. She rolls away and gives herself some freedom to watch. The floor welcomes her, but she has to bend and turn to avoid our wonderful coffee table. An arm drapes over her eyes and she's smiling. I think I even hear a laugh bubble from her lips, still covered in our combined seed. Her chest avoided most of the paint, unfortunately. It always looks so good when it's all done up.

Troy's lost in a daze, so I have to take it upon myself to withdraw and give him some air. He appreciates it. His eyes say so. They smile and laugh and look down at himself, covered and painted and spent. He's still hard though. I think there's uses for that, if the rest of the spirit is willing.

"Why am I so winded," Louise huffs, "Like it can't be that hard can it?"

Troy and I just shrug.

"I went to the gym today," she says, "That must be it."

"With Ken?" Troy asks.

"Yeah, with him. Guy's a sadist. But I wore him down. Might even have him break out the dummy next time."

"You could just ask him," I say, "That's what he always has me do. Just bag work."

"Because you hit like a truck full of TNT," Troy sighs, "Guys tough, but not that tough."

Once again, Troy knows how to make him my favorite. Louise once said I was a natural disaster and that hit more or less the same way. He gets a kiss on the forehead.

We slowly start to peel ourselves out of the hazy glow of our aftermath. I could go a few rounds more, but I think Louise and Troy are spent. Saoirse's on the ground, with her eyes asking about a shower. Considering our better halves can't seem to walk, I think we'll get first dibs on that.

---

I slept so good. I barely remember falling asleep. I think there was a bit where I was sprawled out over the mattress, Louise snuggled into me, with Saoirse and Troy doing their best to make my arms fall asleep under their pressure. I think. Pretty sure that's how most nights go, just with the pieces all shuffled around. Sometimes I'm on the arms making them fall asleep and go numb. Sometimes I'm snuggled in and held tight. Really, I get everything, and everyone gets everything else at one point or another. No grand tally or scoreboard to keep track and I don't think there ever will be.

I do remember waking up, mostly because it's happening right now. And Louise is responsible. I yawn and stretch and that doesn't get her off of me. I look down and find her wriggling under the blankets, making fun tents and dips and rises with her body. I have a good idea of what's happening, but I leave it to my imagination for a bit longer. There are so many fun ideas I can come up with. But I get bored of my waking dream and take a peek.

Sure enough, she's there with a devilish grin, playing with my morning wood. That's nice. That's fun. She should keep doing that while I go on about my day. Might be a bit hard for her since it easily eclipses half of her face, but she can work around it. She kisses the underside and gets a yawning sigh from me.

"Good morning, sweetie," I hum, "Having fun down there?"

She nods and her hair tickles me. I've grown to like it. It suits her well. I still have my preferences, but I can compromise.

"You seemed kind of left out last night," she hums in between soft little kisses, "So I figured you deserve something a bit extra."

I am in no position to complain. I deserve this. I deserve everything. I put my hands behind my head and close my eyes. Already, I'm having a wonderful day.

"Hey," Troy shouts from the kitchen, "Waffles are ready."

And thus, I am presented with a terrible conundrum of pleasantries. Louise doesn't seem to mind the lack of food, but I am kind of hungry. And waffles are good. Everyone likes waffles. She kisses the tips and that's a movement in her favor. Then I smell bacon and that gets me out of bed.

Suddenly, I am struck by brilliance. I may not have a college education, but I can have my moments. It manifests in a tuck and roll and a scoop. Louise is over my shoulders, I'm open and hard and strutting through the world. She yelps and giggles and lets me do as I please. I have a new spot for her, and it's just under the table. Maybe I'll join her down there once I'm finished. But first, gloriously, I have to show off what I woke up to. The whole world needs to see it.