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Gazing into my Old-Fashioned, on this Friday evening, I slowly swirl the ice in my tumbler. I arrived early, for this blind date, of sorts. I have often enjoyed blind dates, set up by a mutual friend, since I bring no expectations other than to learn more about the person I’m with. However, tonight is different. There is no mutual friend thinking we just might click.
Trading erotic short stories via email for the past few months, tonight we first meet. Good friends now, it seems, as such sharing naturally draws folks closer. Yet, we never bothered to exchange photographs. Visuals just did not seem important in our editorial connection. As a writer, I enjoy the mystery and intrigue of letting the story reveal its details only as it needs. Moreover, as writers of erotica, we have become accustomed to distorting the truth to better induce warming between our reader’s legs. This weekend, we take the next step – we collaborate.
I order another drink. As I sip, questions keep popping in my head.
How will we recognize each other?
Will we be disappointed with who we see?
Will I face a long drive home tonight? Or, will I stay as we planned?
I’m making myself a nervous wreck.
I tell myself this is like The Voice. I have heard something I like over the past few months, and tonight, I’m turning my chair around to see from whom it came. I will accept whomever I find as long as they seem sincere and safe. I’m typically not too picky about looks.
I order a third drink and close out my tab, as I continue to wait. It’s still a bit earlier than agreed. I don’t want to get drunk. Still I worry.
Might I have been “catfished”? Or, just stood up?
Might my new friend(s) aim to blackmail me?
Might this be a set-up by some private eye?
Might it be some police sting, although I can’t think of anything illegal I may have done?
Liquid courage, my ass. Maybe I should just leave.
Then the hostess walks up, asking if I am waiting on a table for three. I nod, take one last sip, and a deep breath, as I follow her lead toward a round table in a back corner, where a couple is seated with one empty chair. I extend my hand to the gentleman and introduce myself. Dylan shakes my hand knowingly, and introduces the lady, his wife, Jolene. I ask the hostess to send out a bottle of Chablis as I sit myself down, rather clumsily. I face the corner, and my new friends, unaware of anything else happening in this place. They seem almost as nervous as me. Good, this helps put me at ease.
We are all middle-aged and dressed conservatively. No guests or staff could have any clue what we hope to do this weekend. The couple is African-American, me white. What seems such an obvious detail now never came out in our correspondence, and I trust it won’t matter tonight. He wears a navy jacket over a purple argyle sweater vest, and she wears a lavender print dress. Their shoes are polished black. The table obscures their physique. I’m wearing khakis, brown sneakers, and a tweed sport coat with suede elbow patches. He is clean-shaven. I sport a beard.
Our waiter brings the wine and Dylan orders a dozen oysters to begin our meal. Jolene asks me how we met. This throws me, as I’m sure Dylan had already explained. Maybe, it was just an icebreaker to get us past the awkwardness hanging over the table. Anyway, it worked. I said he read one of my postings and contacted me about a story he wrote. We agreed to help each other improve our writing skills since most of the anonymous comments we had received were too general to be of much use. Specific constructive criticism is actionable and appreciated. It hones our skill. Whereas generalized slams, like “BORING”, are much more difficult to address, and so are ignored. Even when readers “like” my stories, but without any comment, I don’t learn what parts they liked best or worst. So finding a trusted friend to run things by is valued indeed. From this arrangement, our friendship grew.
The raw oysters arrive. “Excellent choice,” I say. “Eating oysters always feels so sensual to me. To my tongue, their soft texture is like that of a woman, albeit iced cold. And, when they slide down my throat, I sometimes imagine a slippery load.” I can’t believe I just said that.
“So it sounds like you’re bi-?” asks Jolene.
“Only curious, at this point,” I reply. She looks puzzled, so I explain, “I’m not attracted to guys. In fact, meeting a man triggers no lustful feelings at all. Whereas, nearly every woman I see, stirs me, at least a little. Yet, I fantasize often about taking a cock in my ass and my mouth.”
“You are, a wild one. I see.” She smiles and raises her glass. “We probably should watch how we speak in here as we eat. Besides, I’ve read all your stories. I know how you think. I am just curious about what’s real and what’s fake. By the way, please call me Joey”
“You raise a good point, Joey.” I explain. “Readers of this genre especially, want to believe the stories recount sariyer escort our own reality. I’m afraid most real life tales are rather unexciting. Hence, as writers we strive to spin a fantasy that maintains the illusion, to a great degree. To challenge our writing skills, we venture even further from our own personal experience. We lie, not to deceive, but to please.”
The waiter returns to take our order. Joey orders a petit filet served with wild rice and peas. Dylan orders the grilled salmon with bourbon glaze and brussel sprouts. I opt for the baked rainbow trout with green beans almandine – seems like an appropriate choice given my disclosures so far. The waiter asks if we would like another bottle of wine. I’m fine with water but encouraged the others to get what they like to catch up with my buzz.
“So Joey, I know nothing about you first hand, only what Dylan as chosen to share. Please tell me a few things about yourself that might interest me. ”
We continue getting to know each other better, in the usual sense, over dinner. Our conversation is much tamer than how it first began. Yet, I’m starting to suspect that Dylan is the straight man to Joey’s playfulness.
When we finish our dinner, the waiter brings me the bill. We previously agreed that I would cover the meals, while they get the room. I pull out some cash, and look over at Dylan. He glances at Joey, who gives a slight affirmative nod. Dylan reaches into his pocket, retrieving his keycard. I ask the waiter to bring us another round. Fruity drinks this time to sweeten our palates. Joey orders a classic Old Rose daiquiri, Dylan orders a Hemingway, and I say make mine peach. Dylan slides me his card. After the drinks, they return to the room. I wait a bit, and then walk to my car to fetch my knapsack.
–––––––
When I get up to the room, I slide the card in and open the door, slowly, just a bit. Dylan calls out, “Come on in”. Both had already changed in something more comfortable, as they say. Dylan wears a Bears jersey and running shorts. He looks of average build for a man our age. Joey has on a gold satin teddy that contrasts nicely against her dark skin, showing off her feminine curves. I was never attracted to the real skinny types, preferring to cuddle with gals who carry a little more padding on their frame. Someone I can sink my teeth in, so to speak. Joey fits this to a tee. She has medium-sized, round breasts and a matching round butt. How delicious she looks. I’m more rounded and furry, but cute like a big stuffed bear, one might win at the fair.
She is laying across the king bed, on her left side, with her head propped up on her hand, looking at Dylan as he sits in a chair. Good, a king bed to fit all three, I think to myself. I’m glad we won’t have to decide who sleeps with whom.
I unzip my knapsack, pulling out a bottle of Champagne. “I figure this might come in handy for cleansing our palates throughout the weekend.”
Dylan grabs the ice bucket and heads off down the hall. I take off my sneakers and hang my sport coat in the closet. I pullout my laptop and lay it on the writing desk. Then I step into the bathroom to ready myself. My knapsack now only contains a few toiletries along with clean boxers and socks. I hadn’t brought any play clothes, so I go bare. As I wipe myself down with some scented towelettes, I hear Dylan return and set the Champagne to chill. I brush my teeth. Then I spread some coconut oil around my anus and work it inside. Of course, I wash my hands, afterwards.
The room is rather quiet as I step in. Dylan is again sitting in that chair but now Joey kneels in front of him. I place some towelettes and the coconut oil on the nightstand, and then sit down on the bed, watching her head bob, slowly but rhythmically. Soon Dylan tenses up. Then there’s a calm washing over him. Joey stands, walks over, and pushes me back onto the bed. She leans in for a kiss. We swirl Dylan’s semen around in our mouths for a few minutes. Then she lies down on her back, unsnaps the damp crotch of her gold teddy, and invites me to dive on in.
Kneeling between her bent knees, I bend down, alternately kissing the inside of each thigh, starting at her knees and gradually working my way down toward her glistening prize. I bury my nose in her neatly trimmed bush, and inhale deep. Her personal aroma is unique from any I’ve had, yet quite intoxicating, to say the least. As I work my tongue deeper, her taste becomes tantalizingly sweet. Mesmerized, I lose track of time, as I feast. Then, I manage to point to the nightstand. Dylan walks over and I soon feel oil running down my own crack. He reaches under to catch it before it drips from my balls. The rubs this excess on himself and presses his cock against my anus. Taking a deep breath to relax, I push back until the head starts to slip in. I relinquish control of my ass as I re-focus on my tongue and her crease. The confluence of these two sensations literally drives me insane. She had a eskort head start so she came first, pulling my hair in her fists, and clamping my ears between her thighs. As she relaxes, I continued to lick lightly around her sensitive clit. Now my focus shifts to grinding my ass on his dick. Shortly, I feel his cock throb as he holds my waist tight. When he pulls out, I turn and take him in my mouth, briefly, just to say thanks.
Despite all of our play, I still have not cum. Joey removes her teddy completely and Dylan follows suit. I lie down on my back next to Joey, and Dylan lies next to me. To a proverbial fly on the ceiling, we must look like one big Oreo. They both roll toward me, resting their heads on my chest, as I wrap my arms around their shoulders. They fondle my balls and tease my cock. I don’t really know who does which, and I couldn’t care less, as I head for my own blissful release. With this much tension built up, I shoot two feet, hitting us all in the face. After I cum, we wash ourselves up, and reconvene to cuddle and sleep. Oh, what a night.
––––––-
Saturday morning, I awaken first, but I remain still, sandwiched neatly between my dear friends. Joey wakes next and gets up to pee. So, I get up and await my turn, sitting in Dylan’s favorite chair. I quietly wash my face, brush my teeth and hair, dress, and head downstairs to the breakfast room. I am only a little hungry this morning, but mostly just wanting, to give my new lovers time to reflect and regroup as a couple.
When I return to the room, Dylan is already showering, and Joey remains nude on the bed. She compliments my oral skills from last night, and asks if I might indulge her again before she cleans up. As I dive in, I notice her scent is different from before, and her vagina seems warmer, and more wet. Her taste reminds me of our first kiss. Taking pause, I back away. She apologizes for not warning me that while I toasted a bagel they made a creampie, or should I say, a Sloppy Joey. I say that’s fine, and lie down on my back next to her. I then ask if she might hover over me. She straddles my head, facing my feet, as her pussy drips onto my face. I reach up, pulling her down tight, forming a seal with my lips, as I suck out every drop that I can. Then she leans forward to suck me off. Now, I’m not a big fan this position, but I make do, as I gently spread her cheeks with my thumbs, and begin to lick her backdoor. She asks for a well-lubed finger after I rim her a while. The reason I don’t care much for 69 is that the tongue’s movement seems in reverse. That is to say, most find it feels best when licked from bottom to top.
After I fill her belly with my seed, we shower together and brush our teeth. She goes out to shop, leaving Dylan and I to collect our thoughts as we begin to write. She says she’ll return for lunch. First, we type up what actually happened, and a little of what we wished did. Then, we add some embellishing words to describe how we felt. We decide to let our words sit until after lunch as we engage in typical guy talk for a while.
Joey returns just before noon, asking how we are doing, and if we need more material, yet. We walk down the street to a sushi bar for a light, lingering lunch. Then we part ways, as Dylan and I return to the room to edit our prose. I suggest that we remove our clothes to be more aware of how our cocks react to our words. Cocks rarely lie, you know. We changed a few little things and massaged our text into shape. Still, we must be patient and wait to see how our story evolves later tonight.
Taking a break, I ask Dylan if I may suck his cock, for research, of course. No man has ever cum in my mouth, so it’s not something I can credibly write about. He grants my wish but says he won’t reciprocate. He doesn’t swing that way. That’s fine; Joey seems to enjoy taking care of me. So, I start out slow, licking from his balls to the head. He’s of average length, roughly 5″ overall, and average girth, as am I. This is the first BJ I ever gave, and I hope it’s one of the best he’s ever had. Honestly, I’m more selfish than that. I want to thoroughly explore every aspect of this act, just in case, I never work up the nerve to try it again.
As I trace each vein with the tip my tongue, I eagerly watch for his pre-cum to form. Once a nice bead appears, I lick it off, savoring its sweet taste. Then, with my forefinger and thumb, I pull open the eye, and delicately dip my tongue inside. Next, I let my lips slide down slowly, around his shaft, and start working him in and out, until he plasters the back of my throat. I panic at first, trying not to gag, and hoping to shallow his salty jizz down. Realizing defeat, I relax, letting his cum flow where it may. Then I begin actually sucking, just on the head, to extract every last drop. Eying the tension in my own cock, he gives me a hand job. We clean up our mess and return to our text.
Joey comes back from shopping with a few bags, which she neatly places in the closet. We chat for beyoglu escort a while before heading out for dinner. We let her read our account of the afternoon and ask if she has anything to add from any previous experiences that I presume she has had. Says she’s been thinking of a few things she’d like to try while she’s got the attention of both of us guys. She’s been a great sport, so I am fine letting her drive. Besides, I’ve completed my research, by now.
She suggests a more casual dinner tonight, of burgers and beer. The concierge directs us to a pub about six blocks away. We walk over there and order our beers. Joey gets a Spotted Cow because she likes them light. Dylan orders a porter since he likes his dark. I can go either way, of course, depending on my mood, so I opt for something in between, amber ale, tonight.
We continue to chat but Joey still doesn’t reveal what she might be thinking about. We order our burgers and another round. Joey orders a grilled chicken breast since she had beef last night. Dylan orders Angus with peppercorns and blue cheese. I choose mine, a grass-fed bison patty, since I’m trying to eat lean. Nonetheless, we order a big basket of parmesan fries, to share.
After our meal, we walk around for a bit, enjoying the evening air while our dinner settles. We stop for another beer just before returning to our playroom. This time, I order a coffee stout.
Back in our room, Joey points out I’ve not fucked her yet, nor sucked on her tits. How rude of me, although I recall, eating her twice. We undress as Dylan watches. Says he really enjoys seeing his wife being pleased by another man with a cock bigger than his. I make no such claim as to my size, but otherwise, I’m only too happy to oblige his fantasy. Joey lies on her back, with her ass near the edge of the bed. I lift her ankles up to my ears, and slide my dick in. I pump and I pump, holding on to her thighs, until she lets out a satisfied moan, and we cum. I collapse on the bed beside her, cuddling for nearly an hour, as we recover. Dylan continues watching from afar, as I massage her breasts and take her nipples into my mouth.
Joey next requests a DP with Dylan in her pussy and me in the back. He lies on the bed as she sits on his cock and leans forward onto his chest. They kiss as I spread some oil on her and me, then I slowly work my way in. This is a new experience for each of us. We are a little clumsy at first, but after a little trial and error, we find a rhythm that suits all. I feel Dylan’s cock sliding, through her thin inner wall, as I’m sure he feels mine. Our balls rub together just outside of her crotch. With all these sensations, our orgasms shouldn’t take long. However, our middle-aged bodies are starting to fatigue from all that we’ve demanded of them this weekend. We have to work at this for a while, until the payoff finally arrives.
We all shower and crawl back into bed. Joey sleeps in the middle tonight.
–––––––-
When I awake Sunday morning, I quietly go to my laptop to update our story.
Joey awakes in about an hour and walks to the bathroom rubbing her eyes. As she returns, she hands me a cup, mumbling something about morning tea. I take the cup in both hands. The tea is lighter in color than most and feels a bit cooler than I’d typically expect, 98 degrees, I would guess. Recognizing her test between fiction and truth, I move the cup up to my lips. I notice the scent first, and then take a taste. The first draw of the morning is the strongest blend, pungent and salty, of course. Yet, I drink it most eagerly, and thank her, for thinking of me.
After Dylan gets up, Joey says she has one last request. She would like to watch Dylan suck me, but he refuses. Then she suggests he take my dick up his ass. Again, he says that’s not something he’s ready to try. She grabs one of her shopping bags and goes in the bathroom. After a few minutes, she walks out wearing a purple strap-on with a long, thin silicon probe. Ordering Dylan and I to drop down on our knees, she demands we take turns sucking on her new toy. Then she grabs the oil, telling us to turn and bend over the bed. She oils our assholes and that purple dong. I can tell Dylan is scared and nervous as hell. I’m nervous as well, anticipating yet another fantasy will soon be fulfilled, by this playful lady.
She does me first to ease his worry, by my example. He sees me enjoying every second of it, and every inch. As much as I like it, I don’t usually cum from this sort of fun. In fact, my dick sometimes goes limp even though my ass is in heaven. So after a while, she moves over to do him.
At first, he resists her invasion. I coach him to relax and let it happen. When he does, he finds some enjoyment from her action. As she pumps his ass, I turn to watch. She reaches over and strokes me back to life. Then she motions for me to get by her side. She pulls out all the way out and then slams back inside. After a few reps, she motions for me to take her place. He notices the change in size, letting out a short little grunt as I thrust myself inside. I hold my position until I feel him relax, accepting his fate. In this final act of our story, I fill his ass with what’s left of my seed. I am totally spent.
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