My memory of what follows is unreliable.
When Madeline was finally in New York, finally in my arms, my mind was awake and jotting notes, not wanting to miss a moment that I would later want to revisit.
When Marcus joined us, my mind simply couldn’t keep pace with our bodies. It finally gave up, throwing down its notebook to join the fray.
After lunch, we undressed in my bedroom. I kissed Madeline. But the presence of such a beautiful nude woman meant, perversely, that Marcus and I should make out. She would have to wait to feel the desire she caused in us. We would savor her patience, and the feel of her eyes on us.
This would be her first threesome. This would be the first time she saw two men make love.
I lay back on my bed. Marcus crawled over me, his long limbs lowering his lips to mine. I touched his face as we kissed, combing his hair with my fingers.
“I love you, sweetie,” he said, his white teeth gleaming.
“I love you, baby.” My eyes met his.
Madeline lay beside me. She parted her knees and touched herself.
Marcus’s mouth moved around my torso. My back arched involuntarily as he took my cock in his mouth.
As he sucked me, I watched as Madeline fingered her clit, listening to the already familiar sounds of her orgasm.
I thought, she finds this so hot? This is so simple.
The three of us made love all that grey, rainy afternoon, and into the evening. Madeline’s list of “firsts” grew longer.
She watched as I fucked Marcus.
Marcus fucked her, tucking his balls into her cunt for good measure.
She sucked cock as she was fucked. She sucked two cocks at once.
We washed and a quick shower turned golden when we pissed on her.
At one point, she was blowing Marcus, his head at the bed’s edge as he sucked me. He asked to eat her pussy. Never leaving his cock, she moved her body to comply with his request, giving it to him as she lay across his body.
I saw the opportunity to indulge in my very favorite position.
I slipped on a condom and entered her pussy. My cock slid across Marcus’s face as I went in and out of her. His face was full of our fucking. He licked and moaned with pleasure. I crouched a little to suffocate him with our sex.
Madeline came. Her body undulated and released a mouthful of juice onto Marcus’s face. He came almost immediately afterwards.
Later, we dressed and walked to an Indian restaurant. Marcus’s treat. We felt drugged and naked as we sat clothed, away from our cocoon. We hurried back home for more.
The next day, we would venture out again. As we walked the city streets, I was struck by how well synched we were. And how hot we all looked together.
We were like the fucking Mod Squad.
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Mod Squad
The life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
When told by my wife that our fifteen-year relationship was over, I found that everything in my life was upended. I took solace when friends and family pointed out I was no longer responsible for her personal happiness, just my own—and that of my four children.
I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
View My Complete Profile
I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
View My Complete Profile
2 comments:
Right on, Peggy.
Can't you just see Line and Pete working Julie on Captain Greer's desk?
Wait, Peggy . . . is that a coincidence, or . . . okay, 'fess up, Ms. Lipton. Is that you?
Groovy.
Solid.
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