This is the third time Hunter has kicked me in the shin under the table, and if he does it again, I’ll take him up on his earlier suggestion and punch the living hell out of him.
Mandy, twin number one, who is older by two minutes, has not so discreetly hinted at us having a good ol’ fashioned gangbang. Hunter, no surprise, is all for the idea, but me, not so much—hence, the under table violence on his behalf.
Now, I’m no prude and I have engaged in a threesome or two in my time, but never a foursome with my best friend and two horny sisters. This is gross on all accounts, but more importantly, I’m not interested in seeing Hunter live out his Hugh Hefner dreams with these wannabe incestuous bunnies.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Mandy says, offering a hand to her sister. “We’re just going to visit the little girls’ room.” They both giggle, blowing us kisses before they leave.
The moment they’re gone, Hunter quickly reaches over the small table and flicks me in the junk.
“Ow! What the fuck?” I yelp, holding onto my nuts. “What the hell was that for?”
“Oh, I dunno, I just wanted to check if your balls were still intact and you didn’t grow a vagina overnight!” he replies in a huff.
“Jesus, calm down.” I chuckle, still protecting my family jewels. “They just referred to the restroom as the little girls’ room. Do you not see what’s wrong with this picture?” I ask, shuddering.
Hunter does not appreciate my humor, however, and replies, “The only thing that’s wrong around here is you being a big pussy. I will not let you ruin this for me,” he says, jabbing his finger into my chest. I swat his hand away. “This has been my dream since I found out what boobs and vaginas were capable of,” he reveals in all seriousness.
I can’t help but laugh at his melodramatics. “It’s your dream to catch chlamydia?” I playfully counter, and Hunter goes for another round on my nuts, obviously not seeing the funny side to VD.
“Stop hitting me in the dick,” I wheeze. “At this rate, I will have a vagina.”
“What’s up with you, Dix? You’d usually be all over this offer like a fat kid eating free cake. But now it looks as if these hot, frisky twins have just asked you to donate a kidney. You’re not into them?” he questions. I can see the confusion behind his green eyes.
He has every right to be confused. Hell, I’m confused, but this just feels wrong. Juliet’s offer of a random threesome didn’t sit well with me, and neither does the titty twins’ foursome suggestion. It just feels so sleazy and sad. Two thirty-two-year-old men contemplating having a foursome with a couple of horny twins is as seedy as it sounds.
“This is what we came here for, right?” Hunter affirms and I nod.
This is indeed why we’re scouting the dark corners, looking for a willing victim to help dull the loneliness for a night. But as fate had it, our “victims” have found us and they come willingly, offering more than we ever expected. But I’m just not feeling it. Both girls are becoming more and more unattractive by the minute, and I’m quite certain if I were to agree to this little proposition, I would be below par in the sack.
“Listen, I’m not stopping you from living out your Hugh Hefner fantasy, but me, I’m pulling out,” I state while Hunter scoffs.
“Yes, you could be pulling out…of Marisa, but you’ve gone soft. You don’t deserve a dick,” he says, but his smirk reveals he respects my decision. “Oh well, your loss, more for me,” he concludes with a detached shrug. His implication of wanting to settle down just got shot to hell.
Before I have time to reply, the girls return and Marisa practically ends up in my lap.
“So, we were thinking,” Mandy says, her freshly painted lips blinding me with their shininess, “you don’t really look too keen at the idea of us all playing together.”
I try not to scoff at how loosely the term is used.
Hunter looks at me over the table and mouths, “Pussy,” but I ignore him and listen to what Mandy has to say.
“But we really like you two, and we still wanted to…play,” she concludes with a grin.
I have no idea what “play” means, but my questions are answered when Marisa slides her hand into my lap and softly rubs over my crotch. I jolt in surprise, grabbing onto the edge of the table for support while Marisa looks at me shyly, her hand now firmly affixed to my cock. Hunter raises a confused brow, so I widen my eyes and lower them to my lap. Thankfully, Hunter gets my facial charades and smirks.
“So, did you wanna play with me?” Mandy huskily asks Hunter, while I’m getting a discreet hand job under the table.
“Abso-fucking-lutely, sweetheart.” He quickly stands, wasting no time as he yanks Mandy out of the booth. “Have fun, Dix,” he says with a wink. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Before I can get a word in edgewise, he’s dragging Mandy downstairs.
Now that leaves me alone with Marisa and my emerging hard-on. My dick is standing at half mast, but a few more gentle strokes and I’ll be at full salute. Her fingers are attentive and slow, and it’s exactly what I need.
As a duo, Mandy and Marisa are downright creepy with the whole finishing each other’s sentences and wanting to fuck the same men. But as a solo act, Marisa is totally doing it for me.
Closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the seat, I allow her total control, and she takes it by unzipping my jeans and walking her fingers into my crotch. I almost always go commando, and now is no exception, so she’s touching my heated flesh the moment she reaches inside. The way her fingers hungrily stroke me and the small hitch to her breath points to the fact she’s as turned on as me. Her grip becomes tighter, and as she increases the speed, my sex-starved body sings in relief as my release is waiting in the wings, anticipating the right move to set me off.
However, the here and now comes down around me, and my eyes pop open when I remember where I am. I’ve come in worse places before, but as glorious as this feels, I really don’t want to be caught out ejaculating in a very public place, where a ton of witnesses would be more than willing to recount my depravity to the New York Times.
Pulling my hips away slowly, I watch as Marisa turns to look at me, confusion reflected in her aroused blue eyes.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, her plump mouth dipping into a frown.
Leaning forward, I whisper into her ear, “Let’s get out of here. When I come, it’s going to be inside of you. Not in some shitty bar.”
I pull back to gauge her reaction, and by her dilated pupils and quickened breaths, I know she’s all for the idea. Subtly adjusting myself and zipping up my jeans, I slide out of the booth and offer my hand to help Marisa rise.
I lead the way but don’t get very far, as the line to go downstairs is barely moving. Glancing overhead to see what the holdup is, I notice a couple of guys looking over the rail and pointing to something on the dance floor. Out of interest, I casually peer over the ledge, but I suddenly lunge forward to determine if what I’m seeing is actually happening. Marisa’s arm is linked through mine so I drag her with me, but I heed no attention to her complaints, because I’m about five seconds away from losing my shit.
“What is it, Dixon?” I vaguely hear Marisa ask, but I can’t even construct a reply as all my focus is on Madison, who is on the dance floor getting manhandled by Tim.
My feet act before my brain can catch up and I’m charging forward, pushing anyone or anything that stands in my way out of my line of attack. Thankfully, the sea of people part when they see me headed their way, but when Marisa latches onto my bicep to stop my sprint, I spin on my heel, my anger about ready to explode.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the first loose twenty I can find and shove it into her hand. “Here, call yourself a cab.”
“Dixon!” she cries, but I don’t stick around to find out what she has to say.