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Archive-name: 3plus/bedtime3.txt

Archive-author: David Wolf

Archive-title: Memory of Three, A



A Writer's Choice Bedtime Story





	It's an old, old fantasy: two women, one man, making love in 

joyful abandon. I can't remember how long ago the potent picture 

entered my mind: one woman straddling my cock, a second woman 

straddling my mouth, and all three of us consumed by pleasure.

	But I'll never forget the stormy summer evening when that 

lingering fantasy at last became a delightful reality -- or the 

love with which Lois and Monica gave me, and themselves, that 

memory.

	Lois has an old-fashioned name, but her outlook is thoroughly 

modern. Her warm, bright spirit draws people of like temperament 

to her, and she has built a large circle of dear friends, all 

fiercely protective and loyal. Though no advocate of "free love," 

she loves freely, and gives herself permission to embrace her 

friends with more than her heart. Over the years many, including 

several of the women, have shared her bed and attentions.

	And yet no one who knows her would for a moment think her 

promiscuous or predatory, for she blends discretion and honesty so 

well that ruffled feathers are rare. It's clear that these 

encounters are a bonding between friends, a physical affirmation 

of the trust and affection which already exist. When I met Lois 

and was invited into that circle, I had to throw out some of my 

own old-fashioned notions. 

	But I've been well rewarded for my willingness to change. A 

year after we met, Lois and I moved in together. That was two 

years ago, and I've never been happier or more sexually contented. 

What's more, Lois's friends, who at first scrutinized me 

suspiciously, the way a father does his daughter's date, have 

begun to accept me into their embrace.

		#

	Which brings me to Monica. 

	When I first met her, at an outdoor May wedding, she reminded 

me of a girl I had admired in high school: jet-black hair, olive 

skin, and a classical Italian voluptuousness. Her large breasts 

filled her white button blouse in a most provocative way, and her 

rounded hips and full bottom made the sight of her walking away a 

powerful temptation.

	Lois noted my interest with a smile. "I'll just say one thing 

about Monica," she told me. "Be straight with her. Don't play 

games."

	I took that advice to heart. When the chance for a private 

moment arose late in the day, I told Monica plainly how 

delightfully sexy I found her. Her eyes brightened, and she 

allowed as how she had always liked tall men, and thought I had 

fascinating eyes.

	Before that conversation was done, we had shared a first 

tentative but electrifying kiss, and I had learned a great deal 

about her history with Lois. They had been close years ago, before 

Monica moved a thousand miles east. After five years in what 

Monica called "urban exile," she had just returned to her home 

town, two highway hours away from where Lois and I live.

	She had no car, so we probably wouldn't see her often, she 

said. But she hoped to see us soon, under better circumstances for 

catching up. And then she casually confided that she had always 

been attracted to Lois, though she had never quite known how to 

tell her.

	"Maybe I'll just have to seduce you both someday," she said, 

her tone light, but her smile saucy.

	Then her ride called her away, and in a few minutes Monica was 

gone. So it was left to me to report back to Lois that Monica was 

interested -- in both of us. I watched as Lois's expression 

metamorphosed, in several stages, from startled to intrigued.

	"In that case," Lois said slowly, "there's something else I 

should tell you about Monica. I think she has the most beautiful 

tits--"

		#

	We didn't talk about it, but from that point onward, a 

threesome involving Monica, Lois, and me was somehow in the air. 

No one had made any promises, but all the pieces were there -- if 

only they came together in the right time and place.

	The right time turned out to be only a month away, though at 

first it seemed like an absolutely wrong place. The occasion was 

our group's annual weekend swim-and-sing campout in a nearby state 

park. Even though Lois and I knew Monica was coming, we also knew 

that sunscreened skin, mosquito-sprayed clothing, crowded tents, 

and narrow air mattresses -- plus no privacy to speak of -- didn't 

add up to anyone's idea of ideal conditions.

	But Mother Nature intervened. It was brutally hot and humid 

all afternoon, while we were at the lake. By dinner time, back at 

our campsite, the sky was a wall of dark clouds. By dusk there was 

no mistaking the ominous rumbles, and when the wind changed, we 

knew we wouldn't escape the downpour. A few hardy souls vowed to 

stick it out, but the rest of us quickly struck our tents and 

began to gather our gear.

	Monica, though, was in a temporary quandary. She wasn't eager 

to stay, but she'd been dropped off at the park by her housemates, 

who had continued on into the city and wouldn't be back until 

Sunday. When Monica looked at us hopefully, Lois and I looked at 

each other and saw the answer we wanted in each other's eyes.

	"Why don't you come home with us?" I said. Monica's hopeful 

smile widened into a happy one. 

	On the drive home, the sexual tension filled our Accord like a 

glowing cloud. We talked about everything but sex, yet I could 

hardly think of anything else. It was hard to keep my eyes on the 

dark, rain-slick highway. The fingers of lightning fracturing the 

sky outside reflected the electric atmosphere inside the car.

	When we reached our townhouse, Lois opened a bottle of white 

wine, and I loaded the CD with jazz and Latin rock. We'd been 

building up erotic energy for hours, just as the thunderstorm 

raging outside had built through that sultry afternoon. But still, 

there was no hurry. I understood -- there was no need for haste. 

We had a night and a day together ahead of us.

	Finally, with sheets of rain hammering the living room 

windows, Lois set aside her empty glass, reached out to squeeze 

Monica's hand, and bent to kiss me. "Let's go upstairs," she said.

	We undressed by the warm light of one small lamp, and met in 

the middle of the queen-sized bed. Monica kissed me, then Lois, 

long deep kisses that seemed to drive the temperature in the room 

higher. The two women were a study in contrasts: Lois taller, 

catlike, her skin pale even after the day's sun, her hair a honey-

blonde cascade to mid-back -- Monica darker, her eyes jet like her 

hair, her lips as soft and inviting as her hourglass figure. Their 

scents mingled in my nostrils in a delightful confusion.

	Lois reached out and gently caressed the dramatic curves of 

Monica's breasts, which were even fuller and more luscious than 

her clothing had betrayed. "See?" Lois murmured to me, as though 

reading my thoughts. "Didn't I tell you?" Her fingertips grazed 

Monica's nipples, making the other woman shiver and close her 

eyes. My cock, already jutting upward, stiffened at the sight.

	I tattooed a line of kisses along Lois's shoulder, then cupped 

and cradled Monica's brown-tipped globes in my hands, enjoying 

their weight and warmth. Lois bent forward and experimentally 

teased a nipple with her tongue. When I did the same, Monica 

moaned and laid back on the bed, cradling her breasts in her own 

hands and offering them up to our mouths.

	We were quick to accept the invitation. Monica's nipples rose 

rewardingly under the eager attention we gave them, lips and 

tongue and nipping teeth. She squirmed on the black bedspread and 

made quiet mewling sounds of pleasure. At one point Lois and I 

pillowed our heads on Monica's breasts as we kissed, sloppy hungry 

kisses that seemed to arouse Monica almost as much as they did us. 

	Hands were everywhere, the unexpected touch part of the 

strange wonderfulness of three together -- exploring the familiar 

and the unfamiliar in turn and at once. Monica's fingers in my 

hair, Lois lightly stroking my now-throbbing hardness, my own 

hands firmly squeezing Lois's ass cheeks, the way I knew she 

liked, or tracing lines across Monica's belly and inner thighs, 

looking to discover what she liked.

	Before long, I slid down along Monica's body, kissing my way 

to the apex of her thighs, and parted her dark fur with my tongue. 

Her taste was complex, her fragrance intoxicating, and I happily 

buried my face there and began to give her the very best of my 

oral talents. Her clit swelled gratifyingly under my tongue just 

as her nipple had, and soon the whole bed was moving with Monica's 

ecstatic contortions. But, not long after, her moaning, from which 

I'd been taking my cue, seemed to stop.

	When I glanced up, I saw why. Lois had taken inspiration from 

what I was doing to Monica, and moved around to where she could 

lower her own wet pussy onto Monica's mouth. Lois's eyes were 

closed, her lips parted, her fingertips pinching her own nipples 

as she rode Monica's tongue in a haze of delicious sensation.

	Monica was pinned to the bed at one end by Lois's silky lips 

and at the other by my mouth. In between, she arched her back and 

clawed at her own breasts, squeezing them harder than I would have 

thought she'd enjoy. But Monica was at that point of arousal where 

pain and pleasure merge, and I began to tongue her faster, to suck 

gently on her swollen clit. Suddenly she let out a gasping, 

moaning cry that even Lois's thighs could not muffle, and Monica's 

body jerked in powerful spasm.

	Monica was near-faint in afterglow, and Lois moved from her to 

me, nudging me onto my back and lowering herself onto my cock. Her 

inflamed pussy was like a hot velvet glove sliding down over my 

hardness, but she was so wet that there was barely any friction. 

She leaned forward to let me suck her nipples, and rocked up and 

down on my shaft with a voracious, ferocious energy that brought 

me right to the edge of orgasm.

	But, reaching down to where we were joined, Lois seized my 

cock at the root and clamped her fingers around it in an iron 

grip, staving off my explosion while she rode me to her own. Her 

almost agonized cries of joy and a warm, spreading wetness between 

us declared the intensity of her release.

	By this time, Monica had sat up, and was biting her lower lip 

and watching us intently. "Is there any of that left for me?" she 

asked hopefully when Lois, emerging from her flushed haze, finally 

noticed her.

	Lois shimmied playfully atop her impaler. "Feels like it to 

me," she said, leaning forward to kiss me. "What do you think, 

sweetheart?"

	"By all means -- it's only polite," I answered with a smile.

	So Lois gave way, moving to the side and helping Monica kneel 

astride my hips, even guiding my cock inside her friend's hungry 

opening. The differences in texture, in temperature, in enveloping 

sensation, between the two women was remarkable. But Monica was no 

less exciting than Lois had been, especially when she began to 

enthusiastically bounce up and down, her muscles milking my cock 

and driving all coherent thought from my mind.

	I scarcely noticed Lois moving until she was at my head and 

above me. But when I looked up and saw her glistening crimson gash 

descending toward my mouth, a shiver of delight ran through me. 

When her lips were sealed against mine, my tongue tasting her 

exotic dew, I was transported to heaven.

	It was the picture out of my fantasy, only better -- because I 

had always seen it from the outside, and now I was in the middle 

of it. I licked Lois eagerly, thrust my cock deep into Monica, and 

asked for nothing else but for it to go on forever. It couldn't, 

of course, for there's no way to store that kind of sexual 

electricity, to endure such exquisite stimulation, for long.

	All too soon -- and at the same time, none too soon -- I was 

lost in a storm of my own, flooding jets of come into Monica and 

sending a lightning charge of pure animal pleasure from my arching 

body into both my partners. I think that one, maybe both, of the 

women came for a second time soon after, either from what I had 

given them or from what they had been doing to each other.

	But it wasn't important enough to ask about as we collapsed 

into a happy, fragrant huddle of warm, tired bodies. All that 

mattered was how close we felt in that moment, and how lovely -- 

and loving -- it had been.

		#

	There were three more episodes of erotic exploration -- in 

different rooms, moods, and combinations -- before Monica was 

picked up by her housemates late the next day. But the time I 

remember most fondly was early Sunday morning, when I awoke first, 

savoring both the warm contact with the sleeping women on either 

side of me and the memory of what had happened in that bed the 

night before.

	Monica was the next to awake, and turned to snuggle closer to 

me. The snuggling gave way to soft sleepy kissing, and then to 

wide-awake caresses and short-breathed sighs. Both of us were 

eager to go farther, but reluctant to exclude Lois, a late sleeper 

by nature, and loathe to give her a rude and uncomfortable wake-up 

surprise. But Lois stirred enough as Monica and I were purring at 

idle to become aware of what was going on.

	"Is it all right if I borrow him for just a little while?" 

Monica asked, reaching across me to brush a lock of hair back from 

Lois's cheek. 

	"Sure," Lois said with a heavy-lidded smile. She kissed me on 

the shoulder and murmured, "Go ahead, it's okay," as she burrowed 

back into her pillows. It was more than permission -- it was 

confirmation that the warm bond among the three of us was still 

there, that there were no regrets or second thoughts.

	This time, the love-making was simple and straightforward. 

"Please fuck me," Monica whispered, and shifted in the bed so that 

she could open her legs and invite me atop and inside. Leaning on 

my hands, I thrust my morning-hard cock into her with long, slow 

strokes, deep to the hilt and then pulling out until only the tip 

of the head joined us. After a time, I dropped to my elbows so 

that I could once more enjoy her wonderful breasts and large, 

suckable nipples. Monica's arms went around my waist to hold me 

close and deep, and she seemed to welcome my weight on her.

	Then, as our movements grew gradually more energetic, and we 

both began to draw ragged, gasping breaths to fuel our pounding 

hearts and blood, Lois edged closer, still sleepy, and curled 

against us, holding my hand, resting her head on Monica's arm. She 

had no energy for any more, but joined us as three, and basked in 

the sensual halo surrounding us, smiling with an inner 

satisfaction as first Monica, then I cried out our joy and our 

release.

	Strange as it may sound, I felt, somehow, as if I'd been 

making love to both of them again. And I knew, resting back on my 

pillow, that these were two special women with whom I was sharing 

an extraordinary weekend and feeling, and I counted myself a 

lucky, lucky man.



==================================================================

A version of this story was published by VARIATIONS in September,

1991 as STORM OF DESIRE by Drew Parsons. This is the original

unedited text, as the author meant it to be read.

==================================================================



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